Color Blind

Chapter Twenty-Three

AN: Pearl Jam's 'Alive' (you have no idea how many times my fingers tried to type 'Alice' just now).

* * *

It was four days before Cole finally stopped retching and was able to keep something in his stomach. Nancy had gone back to work on the third day and he had subsequently spent the morning and most of the afternoon in the bathroom. The rugs weren't as squishy as they'd been on Tuesday, but they were better than nothing.

Nancy did not have class on Friday, much to his relief, and she was off of work by two-thirty. He was asleep when she got in, but he woke up when the shower turned on.

That was a funny thing he'd noticed about Nancy. She tried to be a good nurse and she was-just the right combination of sweet but firm-but when she thought he wasn't looking the façade fell. Her eyes would get hollow and she would take very long showers. Usually she'd just take one really long shower, but on Wednesday he'd been woken up in the middle of the night by her taking another one.

Weird it may have been, but she came out of the shower looking perky and content. Huh. Well, whatever made her happy. It wasn't his water bill, after all. At least, not at the moment.

"Hi, Nance."

"Did I wake you up?"

"No." he lied. "How was work?"

"Done." Well. That was enlightening. "How are you feeling?"

"I've been worse."

He supposed he'd been better, too, but he couldn't honestly remember when. Being high didn't count, because he always came down from that.

"How's your fever?"

"Don't know."

The thermometer had wandered off somewhere. He wasn't that upset. He'd hated it. It always felt weird and he didn't relish it breaking in his mouth. Stranger things had happened.

"I don't know where the thermometer went...ugh. Never mind. You aren't talking to frogs, so you're probably okay."

O-kay...maybe she wasn't feeling too well. He had to admit, she looked a little green.

"Nance, are you okay?"

"Just tired, that's all...one minute."

What? That didn't make sense.

She was already running down the hall. A minute later he heard her throwing up. Ohh. Lovely. Probably stomach flu, then. Or something remarkably similar.

He thought back to the few times he'd had stomach flu. He vaguely remembered his mother making him something that eased the nausea. What had that been again...tea. Peppermint tea, if he remembered right.

When Nancy came back, he forced himself to sit up.

"Nance?"

"Blergh."

"Do you want some tea?" She blinked at him and he hastened to clarify. "Peppermint tea sometimes helps your stomach...i-if you're not feeling well or something..."

"Peppermint?" He nodded. "I don't have any."

"Do you have any leaves?" Okay, now he was going out on a limb. He'd never made tea that didn't come from a box before.

"Um..."

"Can I check?"

"If you want."

He had no idea where anything was and it took him several minutes to find the spice cabinet. She did have dried peppermint that looked to be free of mold or dust. It would do. He could do with a cup himself, to be honest. He still wasn't comfortable here.

Now what? Tea-in-a-box had to steep for a while, so presumably this worked the same way. Umm...

He ended up boiling the leaves for a while before it looked like the right colour. He took a sip. It tasted like the kind in the box did, so it was probably done. Hopefully it was done. He didn't really trust his taste buds, in all honesty. Everything usually tasted pretty bland to him.

Dammit. He'd managed to make it...what, twenty minutes?...without thinking about it. Time to start over. Again.

He took the tea in to Nancy, who was curled up on the other side of the bed. She really didn't look well. Probably flu, then. Yuck.

"Nance?" She looked up. "Here. It'll help, promise."

"You're sweet."

She took the cup and clutched it. He half-expected her to start rocking and muttering 'precious' over and over.

God, he hoped she wouldn't do that.

He took a sip of his own tea. Yeah, it had turned out fine. To him, anyway. He was still half-asleep, in all honesty. Maybe he wasn't the best judge of taste.

"Thanks." she rasped. "How'd you make this?"

"I don't know." he admitted. "It just...happened."

That made her laugh and he relaxed. Whatever what wrong with her wasn't that bad, then. Good.

"Thanks, Cole."

"Sure. How're you feeling?"

"It's just the flu."

Bummer. He pulled his blanket over his shoulder and leaned into the couch cushions. They were squishy and old and they smelled of...detergent? Had she washed this thing recently? How the hell did you wash a couch, anyway?

"How're you feeling?"

"Me?" She nodded. "Fine. I'm okay. How was work?"

"Queasy."

Well. He'd never gotten an answer like that before. He'd had reason to give an answer like that before, but he'd never been asked.

This was comfortable. Nancy had turned on the TV in his absence and there was some old cartoon or other on. He didn't remember being this relaxed since...fuck.

Ten minutes. Time to start over.

Yet again.

* * *

Nancy didn't have the stomach flu. Far from. Dr. Call-Me-Tom had gotten back from his vacation and spent all his free time talking to her. She could have cried when the afternoon girl came in a few minutes early.

She hadn't intended to doze off on the couch next to Cole, but this bed had always been comfy and the tea had made her pleasantly drowsy.

She stayed in some kind of hibernation for a while, rousing a little when Cole put a blanket over her. After that, she went back to sleep and remained there for the rest of the afternoon.