Protected Abroad [AmazingPhil / Danisnotonfire]

noTwenty-One: Fever

I woke silent, resigned. I did not move as I felt a presence I was not used to when I would wake from a slumber. Somehow during the night Phillip had moved from his half of the bed and took his share of mine. He was warm. It sparked a feeling inside that I hadn't felt before. If I had, I don't remember acknowledging it. I woke on my back, Phillip's arm thrown over my abdomen as he slept chest down, face turned away. How could that be comfortable?

I put my hand to my forehead, as it felt odd. Little beads of liquid were there. I questioned as to why there was sweat there. My stomach growled, and I was surprised that Phillip did not stir in his sleep from it. Soon enough, I felt dizzy. Was I deprived of food for too long that I felt sick? Was it fever? I decided, for the good of me for once, to slide from the bed. My intent: to get a glass of water. That usually helped to decipher if I was hungry, or not.

Moving blankets and covers over towards the middle of the bed, I tried to shift Phillip so I could escape from the oven of duvets. I took a few steps successfully before I fell to the ground, a dizzy spell overtaking me. I hit the ground with such a force that it hurt me, but I did not cry out, as well as wake Phil from his slumber. After few sleepily mumbled words he fully awoke and hoped down from his spot in bed.

"Are you alright? How hurt are you? How are your stitches?" His words flew at me in a flurry of questions. I still felt lightheaded.

"I don't feel good at all. Dizzy and lightheaded. I might have a fever..." I drifted off. At least I was on the ground. Standing made me feel as though I was in an airplane at insane altitudes. Phillip asked if I was able to get up and stand. I replied with shaky words, saying that it might not be a good idea.

With a mind of his own, and without a word from me, Phillip kneeled beside me. He placed his hands underneath my knees and at the small of my back. Before I had a chance to revolt, Phillip already had me in the air by his arms.

"Whoa! Wh-" I exclaimed in fright. I wasn't expecting anything, nor have I had the experience of being carried anywhere. He laid me on top of the covers of the bed.

"I," Phillip began to say as he took long strides over to the door, "am going to find a thermometer to take your temperature."

I don't need to be treated like a baby, I thought with some contempt. Although I don't think I could take care of me while I'm in the state I am in. I could only imagine what else Phillip is going to do for me... Why did he pick me up? I could have gotten to the bed by myself, with only some assistance. My thoughts were interrupted by Phillip entering the room carrying what he promised to bring.

"No, really. I don't need to be cared for-"

Phillip spoke with a strong voice, seeming to know exactly what he wants. "No, you need help. That's what I'm here for. If you're so ill that standing is hard, then you really do need assistance. From someone. Now, please." By now he had took a place beside me on the bed, and was motioning to put the thermometer where it could take my temperature. I took it from his hand and placed it in the place I was taught. Under the tongue. I studied it while it sat in my mouth. It could be read in either Ferinheight or Celsius.

Once Phillip deemed an amount of time right to see, he took the instrument and observed it. His reaction showed that he might not know what a normal temperature is, or what a normal 'hot' temperature. "One moment, please." He said. With that, he left the room. I figure to get an opinion from Daniel. The dizzy feeling subsided a little bit, but the lightheaded feeling would not leave me; plaguing me.

He returned and came over to where he sat beside me previously. Daniel emerged from the hallway and chose to lean against the doorway of his friend's room. "Well," Phil began, "your temperature is 38.9 degrees."

I looked at him with disbelief. It took a moment for my brain to function. Celsius. "Um, sorry. The U.S. school system is quite... Bad and awful."

"Right. Its about..." Phil looked at the instrument again, as if to make sure that he was reading the right numbers. "102. Which is remarkably high, but I don't think it's high enough to pay a visit the the doctor's."

"Fluids will help her not become dehydrated. Plenty of tea. Or-iced tea might be a better choice. I'll go make some." Daniel added to the conversation and promptly left to follow up on his offer. I felt fine, just fine. Simply very... Lethargic.

Phillip came to lay beside me to reach for his cell phone on the bedside table. My eyelids felt heavy, so I closed them, seeing perhaps if that would rest them. I stayed conscious as I heard everything around me, although I did not know how long I had my eyes closed. Footsteps traveled from the doorway to the other table next to me. No one spoke, so I assumed they figured me asleep. The sound of the door closing about halfway invited me to open my eyes. Phillip was still on his phone, a web page on the screen.

"What are you up to?" I half whispered, half spoke. I turned and slowly picked up the coffee mug with two ice cubes dancing in it. One sip told me that it was the tea made with loose tea leaves, and didn't have any bad toxins in it like high fructose corn syrup. I took a few more gulps before setting it back down on the coaster that caught the condensation.

"Looking up things to help fevers."

"Really, I'll fight it off eventually. I'll be fine." I insisted. I would be healthy. Eventually and with time. "Could you get my book? I think it's on the couch in the living room." That's where I can think of where I had it last.

Phillip nodded and obeyed my request. "The Crossing by Winston Churchill, right?" He returned to his previous poistion on the bed. His bed, and asked a question I did not expect. "Can I read for you?"

"Well," I didn't know. It was a fair exchange: today for last night. Although why would he want to? He didn't know anything about the book. What benefits did he get from reading to me? I could see none. I didn't understand, but continued with my unfinished sentence, "why not? It's the dog-eared page."

He settled in beside me, similar to yesterday. Neither of us were under the warmth of the covers and Phillip sat upright against the headboard while I chose to rest my head against his shoudler, so I could see the words somewhat, of course. Nothing more. He opened the book to the page I had dog-eared and began the page, even reading the title of the chapter: 'In Sight of the Bue Wall Once More'.

" 'Polly Ann lived alone with her granfather, her father and mother having been killed by Indians some years before. There was that bond...' "