Back & Blessed

“The CT results are back for your patient in South 5.” She said, handing over some papers.

“Thanks, I’ll take a look.” He nodded briefly, turning around as his eyes fluttered shut and his head snapped towards the ground. “TszCH! H’eTSHuh!”

Robby, who happened to be walking in for his shift, jumped out of the way with arms in the air.

“Whoa, say it, don't spray it brother!”

For someone who spent 90% of their waking hours running an emergency department, Jack could sometimes be a little lackluster when it came to covering.

The younger man straightened out, clearing his throat and sniffling against his wrist. “Sorry, caught me off guard.”

“No worries,” Robby chuckled, looking his partner up and down, “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Jack said - at the same time Lena said, “headache.”

Jack shot her an unamused look and turned back to Robby, who was looking at him expectantly with a raised eyebrow.

He sighed, “I think I’m coming down with something but it’s nothing, really.”

“Probably one of the bugs going around the ED.” Robby frowned.

“Probably. It’s my day off today, so I’ll just rest up and be good by tomorrow night’s shift.”

Robby hummed, taking in Jack’s appearance more fully. “Okay well, let’s run through the handoff and then you can go home.”

“In that case, I believe this belongs to you now.” Jack forced a smile and handed Robby the CT results he was holding on to.

The two men did a quick round through the ED as Jack gave Robby the run down on the current patients and various things to keep an eye on as attending physician.

Not fifteen minutes later, Robby was back at the nurses station where Dana was starting her takeover as well.

Jack appeared shortly after with his backpack slung over one shoulder, coughing against the back of his wrist. It was that stupid tickle he couldn’t seem to shake.

Now that he was off duty, he could really take stock of how much worse he felt compared to the beginning of the shift.

“Hasta Lavista, suckers. I’m going home.” He mustered as much humor as he could on his way out.

Robby walked closer, putting a gentle hand on the small of Jack’s back, being careful about PDA. He leaned in, lowering his voice.

“Hey, get some rest, hmm? If you need anything, call me.”

Jack nodded in defeated silence, and Robby turned back to what he was working on.

“He looks like Hell.” Dana muttered, looking up from her clipboard.

Robby sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, “He’s… not feeling well.”

“Poor guy. I keep telling him you two work too hard.”

“Put a reminder for the night shift not to call him in for anything later, will you? He needs his rest.”

“You got it, Cap.”

***

Thanks to living close to the hospital, Jack was able to be home, showered, and in boxers and a black tee by 8am. His prosthetic was propped against the wall, and he’d switched to his forearm crutches.

The warm spray of the shower definitely eased some of the tension he was carrying in his joints. He sat on his shower chair for a little longer than usual, letting his body relax and hoping the steam would magically get rid of the congestion that he could feel settling.

Once he felt he had washed all of the ED germs off of himself, he shut the blinds in his bedroom and drew the blackout curtains. Second only to Robby, those blackout curtains were probably the love of his life as a night shift attending.

He had crawled into bed, and pretty soon after his head hit the pillow, he was asleep.

***

Friday - 4pm

When he woke up again, it was almost 4pm. He’d slept a full 8 hours - far more than he normally would - and yet, he still felt absolutely exhausted.

The first thing he noted was how gross his head felt. He was completely stuffed up now, but his nose must’ve been running in his sleep. As it turns out, not grabbing a second or even third pillow was a fatal error. His nostrils were certainly paying the price, remnants of dried mucus around the edges and his throat scraped raw.

He sat up slowly and blinked past the fogginess in his head to grab his crutches, the initial reason for waking up demanding his attention: his bladder.

Jack made his way to the bathroom and relieved himself. As he finished washing his hands, he took in his appearance in the mirror.

“Ugh, fuck…”

His skin tone had gotten at least 2 shades paler and he could practically feel the weight of the eye bags that had materialized in his sleep.

Whatever thoughts he was having about vanity and appearance in that moment were immediately brushed aside by the tickle flaring in his sinuses as he buried his nose into his left shoulder.

“ii’TSCHk! Eh’tSHh!” His breath hitched again, but the third sneeze evaded him.

This was horrendous. He’d seen and dealt with so many extreme illnesses and injuries in his line of work that he forgot how painstakingly awful the common cold could be.

He ripped off a few squares of toilet paper and blew his nose, coughing at the tail end.

‘Fucking fantastic,’ he thought to himself as he walked to his kitchen, ‘first day off in two weeks and I’m fucking sick.’

He filled a glass with water and set it aside, opening the cupboard where he kept his medications. He shook 2 Tylenol out of the bottle and swallowed them, wincing past the sore throat.

He was on his way back towards the bedroom when he stopped dead in his tracks. He pulled the collar of his shirt up over his face with a sense of urgency.

“Ek’TSSH! T’sSCH! … H’itCHiew!”

He sniffled wetly, making a face at the damp spot that was left on his shirt. Shoving the box of tissues from the table under his arm, he coughed his way back to the bedroom.

Jack eventually flicked on the police radio that lived on the opposite nightstand and turned the volume down. He just needed some kind of white noise to take his mind off of how disgusting he felt.

Being more mindful this time, he also made sure to grab an extra pillow out of the closet. He propped himself up as he got back into bed, wiping at his nose with another tissue.

Blinking turned into small periods of resting his eyes, and before he knew it he was asleep again.

***

Friday - 7pm

“…eed backup on scene. Multiple victims needing rescue and assistance.”

Jack jerked awake, coughing against his wrist. Who was talking???

“Two suspects from the stolen vehicle on their way to the hospital in police custody…”

Oh yeah, his police radio was still on. He must’ve fallen asleep.

“Multi-vehicle accident caused by the stolen car, including a public bus and three civilian vehicles. Extracting victims now. Two DOA, everyone else being sent to the Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center.”

“Shit.” Jack hissed, rubbing a hand over his face. He picked his cell up off the nightstand and checked for missed calls from the hospital.

Any kind of mass-casualty event like this is an all hands on deck situation, and yet there were no missed calls or messages from any of the crew at The Pitt.

Swinging his leg to the side of the bed, he started prepping to attach his prosthetic. He’ll just throw on a clean pair of scrubs and he could be there in twenty minutes to help.

All hands on deck, that included him.

**

In the ED, things were definitely ramping up. Day shift had been getting ready to finish their last minute charting or clock out and go home when the call had come in about the MVC and having all casualties from said accident diverted to the PTMC.

“Alright everybody, change in plans.” Robby commanded the room. “Day shift, you are now assessing and assisting. We have multiple incoming traumas and need to make sure we are treating the most time sensitive and serious injuries first.

Night shift, you’re on triage. This will be led by Dr.Shen and Dr.Elliot. Dr.Crus and I will be going around and helping where we’re needed. If you aren’t sure about something, ask a resident. Again, this is an all hands on deck situation, understood?”

There was a hushed roar of “yes” and “yes, Cap” before everyone split up as ambos started arriving with victims.

***

Friday - 8pm

When Jack arrives, it’s sensory overload. Everything is loud and bright, and his nose is incredibly sensitive from this stupid cold.

He’s back in a clean set of black scrubs, white undershirt barely peeking out from the neckline. His backpack is slung over his left shoulder, hand gripping the strap. His right arm, however, is preoccupied.

As he walks up to the hub, he has to stop, ducking into his elbow.

“N’xxt! H’xxTCH!”

Lena and Dana look up almost simultaneously, sensing his presence before anything.

“Absolutely not.” Dana scolded. “Abbot - go home.”

“Come on, Dana…”

“Don’t ’Dana’ me. There’s no way in hell I’m letting you see patients like that.”

Jack looked to Lena for help, but she shrugged in agreement with Dana.

“I’m already here.” He sniffled, gesturing to the chaos, “and you could clearly use the help.”

She looked around and huffed a sigh, “Fine. But you wear a mask at all times, and if Robby catches you, I had nothing to do with it.”

“Deal.” He gave a half smile, pulling a mask from the box she was holding out and looping it around his ears. “You won’t even know I’m here.”

**

After masking up, putting his backpack away, and washing his hands, Jack made his way out to the extremely busy ED floor. He wasted no time jumping into action.

“How can I help?”

“Oh! Dr.Abbot, can you assist with this?”

Mel was struggling to calm down a young girl in her early 20’s. The girl was screaming in a clear state of shock.

“My arm is numb! Why is my arm numb?? Oh my god am I paralyzed?!”

“Passenger of one of the vehicles,” Mel explained, “took an air bag right to the face and presenting with… Dr.Abbot?”

Jack was listening, but his eyes were half lidded as he stared off in the distance.

“H’xxTCh! H’XT!”

His head bobbed slightly as he stifled behind the mask.

“Uh, Bless you.” She paused awkwardly, unsure if she should continue.

“Eh’TSCH! Sorry, continue.”

The last sneeze was more productive than expected and left his nose dripping uncomfortably behind the cover of his mask.

He instinctively moved his hand up to wipe his nose, but stopped himself remembering both the mask and the scrubs preventing it.

“She presented with head trauma from the air bag. One small laceration to the forehead. And now numbness in the left arm.” Mel continued on.

A tear rolled down the patient’s face past her C Collar.

“Hey, we’re gonna get you taken care of, okay?” Jack reassured the patient, maintaining eye contact.

He clicked on his pen flashlight and looked in her eyes, flicking the light back and forth a few times.

“We’re gonna order you an MRI to check for any spinal injury. That’ll tell us if it’s whiplash or something more serious, but you’re in good hands with Dr.King.”

“Thank you.”

Now it was Mel’s turn to give her a reassuring smile.

Jack nodded politely, “Good work, Dr.King. Excuse me.”

He sighed as he turned around, walking with purpose toward the bathroom. Picking an empty stall, he locked the door and removed the mask, grimacing at the mess.

He trashed it and grabbed a handful of toilet paper, blowing his nose a few times. When he emerged from the stall to wash his hands, he started to question the decision to come in. Helping people was in his DNA, but he’d only been here half an hour and could tell this was going to be a rough couple of hours.

“Hey Dana?”

She locked eyes with him and went into mama bear mode. “I told you - mask at all times!”

“I know.” He coughed into his elbow, “Had to trash it because it was…dirty. Can I snag a few more?”

She handed the half empty box over. “Take them all. I’ll get more from storage.”

***

Friday - 9pm

It was a little after 9pm when Santos approached Robby, who was finishing with a trauma patient being sent up to CT.

“Hey Robby, have you seen Dr.Abbot?”

“Jack?” The attending blinked in confusion a few times, unsure why he was answering this question. “Jack is sick, he’s at home?”

Trinity made a judgmental expression before she could stop herself.

“Unless I hallucinated him, he was just assisting with this patient. I need an attending to sign off on the results.”

“Let me see that.” Robby snatched the file and did, in fact, see Jack’s name on the orders.

He stormed over to the nurses station, chuckling in frustrated disbelief and shaking his head.

“What the hell did I tell you guys?! One simple fucking request.”

All the nurses looked up, Dana stepping forward, “I know you’re not taking up that attitude with us, Robinavitch. What are you yelling for?”

“Which one of you called in Abbot after I explicitly made a note not to bother him? All of a sudden, none of you can read?”

“Hey hey hey! Knock it off, Robby. They didn’t call me, I came in myself.” Jack came rushing over when he heard the commotion, practically throwing himself in front of Dana and the nurses.

“Why the fuck did you come in? You should be resting!”

“Because I heard about the mass casualty event on the radio and knew it would be all hands on deck.”

He tried to hold his ground, locking eyes with his partner as long as he could before the tickle in his nose made itself known again.

Jack twisted to the side, burying his head in the crook of his elbow again. “N’xxt! X’TCH! … h’xtCH!”

“Bless you.” Robby frowned. Jack knew he didn’t like it when he held them in like that. “Do you have a fever?”

“N’do.” The younger man grabbed a couple of tissues off the desk and blew his nose.

“Are you sure?” Robby reached the back of his hand toward Jack’s forehead.

Jack pulled back, dodging the temp check. “It’s a cold, Michael.”

“Yeah,” Robby grumbled, “Sounds like a pretty bad one.”

***

Friday - 11:30pm

It’s a few more hours before the ED starts slowing to the typical amount of busy. The MVC victims are all taken care of or awaiting test results.

The med students from Day Shift have all slowly gone home, leaving only Robby to tie up some loose ends.

Robby is calmer now, but can see Jack is really struggling. He’s leaning against the nurses station, resting his head in pillowed arms. Every so often a cough wracks his body and Dana rubs his back.

She’s got her things and plans on heading out as soon as they do. Robby walks over, finally tapping out. He gives Dana an apologetic smile for the outburst earlier and mouths ‘thank you’ to her for looking after Jack. She nods at him in quiet acknowledgement and heads to her car.

“Hey you,” Robby leaned down to try and meet Jack’s eyes. “What do you say we get the hell out of here? I’ll give you a ride home.”

Jack looks up, his nose red and raw, “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

***

Jack piled into the passenger seat of Robby’s car, his backpack in the footwell. He leaned his head against the window and closed his eyes for a moment.

Robby got in the driver's seat and closed the door, pausing as he buckled his seatbelt to look at Jack.

“How are you feeling?”

Jack just shook his head no, eyes still closed. Not good, then.

“Achey?”

This time, Jack nodded before his brow furrowed. He pitched forward with little to no warning into a closed fist.

“Ng’tCH! H’xTCH!! Sorry…”

The apology was breathy and helpless, making the older man frown.

He reached over and put a hand on the nape of Jack’s neck, instinctually rubbing gently with his thumb.

“You don’t have to be sorry, Jack. But I don’t want you to stifle them anymore, it’s not good for you.”

“Sorry. Still on ED autopilot I guess.”

He rifled around in the glove compartment for some napkins to blow his nose while Robby started the car and backed out of the PTMC parking lot.

It wasn’t a long drive to Jack’s place by any means, but it was long enough to give Robby some time to fill the silence.

“Hey, I’m sorry I made a scene earlier about one of the nurses calling you in...”

“You keeping tabs on me now, Robinavitch?” He could hardly muster a smile, but the tone was joking.

“Not tabs.” Robby insisted, “I was just worried about you. Wanted to make sure you got some rest.”

“I appreciate that, but it’s not your call, babe.” Jack softened, “However. I think you happened to be correct this time, though. I feel like shit.”

“I’m sorry.” Robby glanced over, “We’re almost at your place.”

“It’s after midnight. Do you want to just stay the night?”

They periodically switched off whose place they stayed at depending on the circumstances. Robby knew he had his own drawer at Jack’s. But he also knew he had to be up again in roughly 5 or 6 hours and didn’t want to wake his partner up or make him feel obligated to play host when he was sick.

Robby sighed, rubbing the back of his own neck in contemplation.

“I’ve gotta be up again in a few hours. I’ll probably go back to mine for a nap and a shower. But I’ll come by tomorrow after my shift? See how you’re doing.”

The younger man nodded in understanding as they pulled up to his driveway.

“Thanks for driving me.” His words were already rounded from congestion again.

“Any time.” Robby gave a sympathetic smile and kissed the top of his head before letting him get out of the car. “Get some rest. Remember to hydrate!”

Jack gave a weak thumbs up in response. Once his back was to the car, he winced as he walked up to the house. Just bringing his key to the door was taking a toll on him. Everything hurt and he was fucking exhausted.

After the door was unlocked, he turned and gave another sad wave toward Robby, who was waiting in the driveway until he made it safely inside.

There was an ache deep behind his eyes now, and he felt like he weighed a ton. The bedroom was the first priority. He grabbed a clean t-shirt and groaned, sitting on the edge of his bed.

He stripped off the scrub shirt and tossed it to the side, putting on the fresh tee in its place. He groaned in pain as the fabric touched his sensitive skin. Everything felt prickly and sharp. Even his hair hurt.

Taking care of his prosthetic was next. He carefully removed it after taking off his scrub bottoms and shoes. He put on some clean socks and pajama pants and all but collapsed into bed.

It wasn’t ten minutes before he was dead asleep, the fever already starting to run its course.

***

Saturday - 12pm

Jack woke up wishing he hadn't. A part of him had forgotten that this much of his body could hurt at once - skin, head, throat, muscles, face. To top it all off? He was fucking freezing.

He knew he had a fever because once chills set in for him, it was usually game over in terms of hoping he could beat it.

Desperate for a change of scene, he slowly and painfully got out of bed. He grabbed one of the grey hoodies from the closet, quickly putting it on, even though it still hurt against his skin.

He brushed his teeth and used the bathroom before using his crutches to head to the couch, grabbing a blanket off his bed on the way.

Jack used the throw pillows to prop himself slightly against the armrest of his living room couch, jacket zipped up to his neck and blanket over his lower body.

“Eh’TCHuh! TschIEW!”

He scrubbed at his nose with a sleeved hand. Sneezing definitely hurt more today than it did yesterday. Really, everything hurt more than it did yesterday.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Taking it out, it had one missed call and several missed texts from Robby. Jack knew he should call him back, but also doesn’t want to worry him with 7 hours left in his shift.

**

Robby is between patients at the hub staring at the wall of blue message bubbles on his phone.

12:21 am

Home safe! Get some rest. x

6:43 am

Morning handsome. I hope you’re feeling better. I’ll try and get out as soon as shift ends today.

9:38am

How are you doing?

11:45am

Outgoing call to Jack

12:09pm

You still sleeping? Text me when you wake up. I love you!

“What are you looking at over here?” Dana teased as she walked over with a fresh chart.

“I haven’t heard from Jack today. Just worried about him.”

Dana softened. “I’m sure he’s okay. Probably catching up on his sleep debt.”

Her words were reassuring, but seeing as Jack usually didn’t sleep more than 4-5 hours at a time, this was extremely unusual.

As he was contemplating, his phone lit up with a goofy picture of Jack, vibrating with an incoming call.

“Speak of the devil. What did I tell you?” Dana nudged him playfully.

The attending clicked the green icon and held the phone to his ear, lowering his voice slightly.

“Hey baby, how are you f-”

“ii’TSCH! At’CHuh! ..hhh… hih… H’ATSHiew!!”

Robby pulled the device away from his ear, exchanging a concerned look with Dana, who heard the outburst through the phone.

“Bless you! Times three.”

“Thag’ks snff! Ugh I can’t stop.”

The older man could just barely make out the undeniable squelching sound of Jack rubbing his nose aggressively on the other side of the line.

“Not feeling better then, I take it?”

“Sig’dificantly worse, actually. Everything hurts. M’fucking freezing.”

Dana matched Robby’s frown without looking up from the paper she was writing on. She was pretending not to overhear the entire conversation, but in her defense, the volume on Robby’s phone was so loud, she couldn’t miss it.

“Sorry baby, I’ll be there in a few hours. Do you need anything?”

A short coughing fit tore through Jack, sounding deeper and wetter than Robby would have liked. Even Dana looked up from the paperwork to wince.

A pained, “no” was all that came out after the fit had died down.

“Try to get some more rest. I’ll be there soon to take care of you. I love you!”

Dana heard Jack’s muffled “love you too” and waited for the End Call tone before she scolded Robby.

“You are not making that man wait another seven hours in that condition. Get your things. I’ll call Shen. Go take care of Abbot.”

“I…” Robby looked at his charts, shrugging with uncertainty.

Dana snatched them from him and looked them over.

“Langdon! You got time to pick up two more?”

He looked at Mel, who was working with him, and back to Dana, “Yeah, sure. We’ll take them.”

“Would you look at that?” She turned back to the attending. “They’re capable people. Shen is on call today and we have enough backup to call if I need it. Go.”

“Okay.” Robby sighed, already heading to get his things “Thank you!”

“You got it, Cap. Give Abbot my best.”

***

Saturday - 1:30pm

It’s a little over an hour later when Robby gets to Jack’s place. He’d stopped at the store on the way over for a few supplies.

Backpack over his shoulder and grocery bags in hand, he unlocked the front door, making use of his spare key. He toed his shoes off at the door, and headed towards the kitchen.

“Jack?”

He called out softly in case his partner was sleeping - a theory quickly put to rest by the coughing that erupted from the couch.

Jack props himself up on one elbow, patting his chest. He looks awful - nose red, hair disheveled, and the unmistakable flush of fever dusted across his cheeks.

“What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be at work.” He rasps.

“Dana sent me to check on our favorite patient.” The older man chuckled as he placed the grocery bags on the kitchen island and washes his hands.

Jack pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. “She worries too much.”

Robby takes in the state of his partner and the living room, “I’d say the concern is justified. Is your thermometer still in the bathroom cabinet?”

Jack nodded, leaning back against the armrest of his sofa. He still has his hoodie on and a blanket draped over his legs.

With little notice, he clamped his elbow over his nose, bobbing up and down on the pillows. “M’ptch! Eh’TSSH! Hih!…. Hi’TSCH!!”

“Bless you! You sound like shit.”

Robby returned to the couch, thermometer in hand. His own jacket sleeves are rolled to his elbows, and his stethoscope is around his neck.

“Open.” He prompted Jack by holding the device to his mouth and pressing the ON button.

Jack obliged, taking the thermometer in his right hand. He turned away from Robby to sneeze two more times in rapid succession before placing it under his tongue.

“Jesus, Jack.”

Robby perched on the edge of the couch, running a hand through his partner’s grey curls. They’re damp with sweat at the roots, and the heat coming off of him was evident.

“Have you been like this all day?”

Jack nodded, sniffling thickly.

With one organic motion, he went from stroking Jack’s hair to resting the back of his hand on his forehead. The thermometer beeped and Robby slipped it out to look at the reading. Fever glazed eyes look at him expectantly.

Robby shook his head disapprovingly, turning the screen around, “102. No wonder you feel so bad.”

He set the thermometer on the coffee table and motioned for Jack to sit up. Robby’s fingertips gently trace Jack’s jawline, noting that his glands were a bit swollen. He then moved his thumbs inwards, softly pressing on Jack’s cheeks.

“Ow!” Jack pulled back reflexively.

Robby tutted in disapproval, “Well, I’m officially diagnosing you with a sinus infection.”

“I could’ve told you that before you started pressing on m’by face.” Jack grumbled, “I’m a doctor too, you know?”

Robby sighed, “I told you not to stifle so much. It traps the bacteria.”

“Noted.” Jack rolled his eyes before starting that god awful coughing again.

“That doesn’t sound good, Jack.”

“It doesn’t feel good, Michael.”

“Smart ass.” Now it was Robby’s turn to roll his eyes. “Lean forward. Let me listen.”

Jack turned himself so he was at a slight angle facing away from Robby and leaned forward. The older man removed his stethoscope and put the ear pieces in, placing the chest piece on Jack’s back.

“Deep breaths.” He instructed, as if Jack wasn’t familiar with this inside and out.

They repeated this a few times, Robby moving it around Jack’s back and chest to get the full picture. Robby could hear some slight wheezing and crackling. Not good, but not nearly bad enough to trigger his PTSD around respiratory illnesses.

“Two for two - sounds like bronchitis, but I want to keep an eye on it so it doesn’t get any worse.”

“Lucky me.” Jack’s voice was dripping with sarcasm as he leaned back on the couch again, arms crossed. “What’s in the bags?”

Robby looked over his shoulder towards the kitchen, remembering his shopping.

“Oh, I got some ingredients to make you some soup later. I also got some nighttime cold medicine to help you sleep.”

The younger man couldn’t help but smile at the thoughtfulness. If he got too stuffed up or chesty, it made it super hard for him to sleep - and evidently, Robby knew that.

“Thank you,” he quickly uncrossed his arms, ducking into tented hands, “eh’TSHH! Hih! ii’KSHTT! Ugh, sorry I’b so gross right n’dow.”

He grabbed a handful of tissues and blew his nose, though it didn’t do much to relieve the overall congestion.

“You know I’ve seen worse.” Robby started unloading the groceries, “I got you something I think you’ll like.”

“Is it a swift and merciful death?” Jack quipped.

“No, it’s a humidifier. Should help to clear you up.”

“Sounds promising.”

After putting the soup ingredients away, Robby set up the humidifier with some distilled water that he also picked up. He placed it on the coffee table by the couch and turned it on.

“Lean over this, I’ll get you a towel.”

Jack sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees and hovering over the mist. When Robby came back, he had a towel in hand that he draped over Jack’s head.

“Breathe that in for a while, I’m gonna make a phone call.”

“Okay.” Jack coughed, holding the towel tented over him.

Robby stepped into the other room and placed a call to Dana, who he has on speed dial. She picked up on the second ring.

“Robby, how’s the patient?”

“Double whammy - chest and sinus infection.”

“Poor guy, I bet he’s miserable.”

Robby sighed, “Yeah, he’s pretty uncomfortable. I’m actually calling to say he’s going to be out for the next week.”

“I should hope so.”

“I’m also gonna need the next 2-3 days off. I wanna make sure he gets past the worst of it before going back to work.”

He can practically hear Dana grinning on the other end of the line.

“Good on you, Robinavitch. We got ya covered.”

The tension left his shoulders as he sighed with relief that things would be okay while they were both out; something that’s almost never happened.

“Thank you.”

I don't know the details yet but I need to put one or both of them in a situation with Mugwort because it's a plant known as "witch's herb" for a reason...plus is extremely allergenic when in bloom, and extremely sternutatory when in its dried/powdered form.

R/io being allergic to cats and Agatha guffawing: "what kind of a witch are you, anyway?"

R/io always sneezing in multiples and Agatha, on more than one occasion getting annoyed [because she keeps getting interrupted? is distracted? turned on?] and snapping: "can't you just... consolidate all of....that?" -> cue R/io finding a way to prolong things (eg. intentionally stifling because doing so only multiplies Things) PURELY out of spite

R/io will often bless A/gatha just before she sneezes -- often before A/gatha is even aware she has to sneeze -- leading A/gatha to wonder if this is some kind of a prophetic blessing (so to speak) phenomenon or if R/io is somehow causing this to happen for her own pleasure -- because she does not/cannot believe for one second R/io "could just tell." (they argue about this often)

Does A/gatha ever attempt to cover a sneeze? That depends: does lifting one hand up halfway towards her face without appearing to know where it means to go and occasionally sneezing towards/at it~ count? if so, then yes. sure. let's go with that.

A/gatha being allergic, or at least uhhhh ~sensitive~ to things with purple flowers, R/io pointing this out, A/gatha vehemently denying it. R/io smirking, manifesting a sprig of lavender and saying "...care to prove me wrong?" maybe they fight about it later. maybe they fuck about it. who am i to say.

R/io seems like someone who would have a paradoxical reaction to cold medicine and instead of getting drowsy would stay up all night and annoy the hell out of Agatha -> see also: modern/Domestic!AU in A/gatha wakes up at 1am to find her rearranging the pantry and gets her back to bed with considerable protest, only to wake up at 3am to find R/io outside, watering the garden while shivering and entirely unaware of how cold it is outside and how much worse she's probably made herself

Despite her back-to-back infections, she refused to cancel her lectures, determined to make tenure to prove to her aristocratic old money-family that her decision to go into the academic field hadn’t been a waste of time… but to make tenure she couldn’t be seen as more frail and weak than she was already perceived among the old guard of tweed-wearing, pipe-smoking men that made up 99% of the faculty.

Today she was battling yet another cold, heavy, thick congestion had settled deep within her sinuses where the pressure indicated that she would soon have to make yet another trip to the doctor for yet another round of antibiotics. And even though her sinuses were bricked up with congestion, her poor irritated nose was streaming at the same time. The persistent trickle of liquid kept making her nose tingle, and she could try to fight the urge to sneeze, but the physical reflex would always win in the end. Willpower alone didn’t stand a chance against her physiological collapse.

Right now she was fighting for her life – or at least her academic pride – in front of seventy students who were there to learn about Victorian literature and not about her talent for turning the smallest virus into a buffet of cold symptoms, but unfortunately got both.

“...which betrays the ultimate tragic irony of the Victorian elite… snrfff… their obsession with preservation is precisely what accelerates their d-decay... heh… excuse me one moment…”

She reached into the pockets of her blazer, frantically looking for a fresh tissue, but all she found were used and crumpled ones. The prickle in her nose intensified and eventually she had to settle for one of the used ones, bringing it up to her nose and mouth just in time to at least save herself the embarrassment of getting mess everywhere.

“Haah-AATSSCHH! AATSSCHH! Excuuhh… HAA-ATSSCHHuh! Excuse me.”

She immediately blew her nose, only too aware of her body’s little quirks. If she didn’t blow her nose, she would usually just keep sneezing in one prolonged fit. It was ridiculous, but at least that particular quirk was something she was used to. It appeared to have been hardwired into her early on, while her proclivity for catching everything that came her way had only lasted a few years. She kept hoping it would end as suddenly as it began, but so far it kept happening.

The sneezes hurt her already sore throat and she blinked away tears of pain when she heard a loud whisper – the kind of whisper that aimed to be heard – from one of the rows in the back.

“And there she goes! Professor ATSCHfield delivers again!”

Giggles followed this remark, and she felt her cheeks heat up from more than the developing fever, but something inside of her had had enough. She stared down the student in the back, and though her voice was raspy and thick, it held a core of the ice that would become legendary later in her career.

“If you gentlemen in the back find human physiology more intellectually stimulating than Dickens’ prose, I suggest you transfer to the medical faculty. If not, I expect your full attention on the subject matter of this lecture. Do I make myself clear?”

The students in the back nodded without looking at her.

“Yes, Professor Ashfield.”

She knew, though. Once that nickname had been spoken aloud, it would take hold, just as certain as every virus she inhaled took hold in her sensitive mucus membranes. Most teachers got nicknames eventually. She’d just hoped hers would be a little bit more dignified.

At least it’s not ‘Professor Sneezy’, she thought tiredly and reached into her pocket again, pulling another crumpled, unpleasantly soggy tissue from its depths. She proceeded to turn towards the chalkboard and blow her nose.

Or even worse, ‘Professor Snotnose’, she thought and shook her head a little as she felt the tissue flood with the overly generous contents of her inflamed nose. Good God, I’m a repulsive mess. It’s a wonder no one has walked out of my lectures in protest of the biohazardous environment yet.

Still holding the tissue to her nose with one hand, as she felt another sneeze beginning to prickle itself into existence deep within, she reached for the chalk with her other hand. She wrote three words in her elegant handwriting and underlined it twice.

Preservation = stagnation = decay

She put the chalk down, but she still didn’t turn back to face the class. She was definitely going to sneeze again, and she’d rather get that over with first. She was getting quite tired of having an audience for every moment her body decided to betray her.

She took a shaky breath, closed her eyes and stopped fighting the sneeze; it was coming no matter what she did. Her head bobbed forward as she sneezed again into the damp Kleenex.

“Uuh-AAATTSCCHHH!”

She blew her nose once more, tired beyond words, dabbed at her chafed pink nostrils, waited another couple of seconds to make sure there wasn’t another sneeze coming, and when she was reasonably sure there wasn’t, turned back to the class. This time she didn’t bother apologising, she just went right back to the lecture, tissue crumpled up in her hand.

“What happens is that the elite’s armour becomes its own coffin.”

She paused briefly, waiting to see if any of the students would be cocky enough to make a snide comment about her frail health and a coffin, but no one said a word.

Good.

She quickly glanced at her wristwatch and was relieved to see that she only had to muddle through this lecture for another ten minutes. Then she could finally go home, have some soup, and take a hot shower. Maybe it would clear out her sinuses so she’d be able to breathe through her nose for a few hours. That would be nice for a change.

Ten more minutes. She could do ten more minutes. No problem.

But she had barely finished the thought when the urge to sneeze hit her so suddenly there was no time to even un-crumple the tissue in her hand, she just pressed her half-fist with the tissue inside against her mouth and nose and bent over at the waist, practically exploding into the well-used ball of paper.

“HaaATSSCHH! HATSCHHOO!”

She sneezed so hard several blonde strands came loose from her French twist, and then she started coughing, a raspy cough that wasn’t quite painful yet, but she knew from experience that her lungs would soon feel like she was breathing through two bruises inside her chest.

“It’s like being taught by an actual Victorian, pale, feverish and ailed by consumption,” a student in the first row mumbled.

“Miss Wallace?” Clarissa said, her tone calm but her voice husky and on the verge of giving out. The student swallowed and looked up at her.

“Y-yes, Professor Ashfield.”

“I can assure you, what ‘ails’ me today is a cold, not consumption.”

“I’m sorry professor, I… I didn’t mean…”

But Clarissa was unable to listen; the sickly professor had already turned away to spray yet another sneeze into her used, crumpled, sad tissue.  

“Hah-ATSSSCHHoo! Oh my God… excuse me.”

Clarissa blew her nose again and dropped the now disintegrating tissue in the bin. Annoyingly enough she still felt that prickly, almost fluttery sensation in her left nostril, and she just knew this cold was nowhere near done humiliating her in front of her students.

“That’s all for today,” she sniffled, suddenly feeling unable to push through the last few minutes of this lecture-turned-public humiliation. “Next week we’ll discuss how Dickens’ way of portraying women reveals the Victorian man’s greatest fear.”

The students began packing up their stuff and heading out. Clarissa waited until they had all left the lecture hall, then she leaned her hot forehead against the cool chalkboard and closed her eyes for a moment.

It’s just a cold. Just a garden variety, run-of-the-mill head cold. I’ll just rest up over the weekend and I’ll be fine on Monday.

With the pounding sinus ache growing steadily behind her cheekbones, she didn’t really believe it herself. And even if it was true, who knew what the next thing would be to knock her off her feet? Another cold? A stomach bug? Flu? Mono? Last semester she’d somehow managed to get chickenpox, a childhood illness! Wasn’t she too damn old to get childhood illnesses?

Clarissa sighed deeply, and then she started coughing again.

A modern woman with a Victorian-style constitution. That was what she was.