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Nathan looked worn around the edges.
It was as if the past few days had sucked the colour out of his face and the spark out of his body. He typed slowly, hitting the back-key more than any other on the keyboard. Abandoning her own work Audrey snuck up close to him, pressing her upper body tight against the curve of his back. Reading over his shoulder she found three typos, which by itself was reason enough to call it a night.
Her mind went elsewhere though, startling at his lack of a reaction. Her hair should have tickled his neck. Her breath should have been wet and warm against his skin. Her chin, digging into the tight muscles of his shoulder, should have left him squirming. Her very presence should have sent him arching back against her. God knew it always had previously. Now Nathan just glanced over his shoulder, as if to confirm that it was her, and smiled. It was a nice smile, tired but genuine. Heart-felt. But even so she mourned for what had been lost to them. Mourned and clung tighter to him, meaning to reassure herself with the heat of his body and steady beat of his heart.
Instead she found him cold, his skin tight with goose bumps. Pressing her fingers against the side of his neck she found his heart beating fast and hard. Frowning, she detached herself from him and spun his chair around so that he faced her. He turned easily, no resistance in his body and only mild curiosity on his face as their eyes met. Amazing to think that they still had that after all they'd been through in the past year.
Trust. Such incredible trust.
"You all right, Parker?" he asked, tilting his head.
Instead of answering she peered into his face, trying to read his face and pupils. Trying to think back to the past few days to see if he could have hurt himself. Nothing came to mind but that didn't keep her fingers from itching with the need to undress him. To peel off layer after layer until he stood bare in front of her and she could see for herself that he was whole and undamaged.
"Parker?"
"You look bad."
He blinked at that, eyes widening comically and one hand rising to, of all things, run through his hair. Nathan Wuornos, all bashful and self-conscious. That was a new one and she suddenly wished for Duke to be there with them so that they could share a laugh. As it was, she just grinned at Nathan.
"Not bad-bad," she corrected. "Sick-bad."
"Thanks?" His lips twitched slightly. "I guess."
"You feel sick?"
The half-smiled disappeared and he shrugged.
"I'm fine."
And even though he kept his face turned towards her, she knew that she had lost his attention as sure as if she had started talking about different brands of lip stick. Nothing made Nathan tune out of a conversation faster than discussing the state of his body. Recognizing a lost cause when looking it straight in the face, she gave up on that particular battle. Focusing instead on the war, she fetched a scratchy old blanket from the sofa. It had been the Chief's once, for those times when he hadn't made it home at night, and still carried the smell of cigarettes. She draped it over Nathan's shoulders, hiding a smile when he didn't move to shake it off his shoulder.
xxx
That night, she woke to find him twitching and muttering.
Colour had returned to his face now, his cheeks flushed hot and warm. Dry to the touch though and she curled herself around him like a child around a hot water bottle. For a long while she just laid there, listening to his breathing and to his mumbling. It seemed like he spoke to the Chief. She dragged the palm of her hand over his back, a gesture with no power to comfort anyone but herself. Eventually she got up, crossing the floor to the kitchen. She gazed out through the window for a moment, taking in the pale swell of the moon and the glittering of the stars, before pulling it shut to keep out the cold.
Then she poured a glass of water, taking the first few sips herself as she carried the glass back to the bed. Kneeling down by Nathan's side of the bed, she paused for a moment. Not stumped as much as just drawing to a still as she remembered that she could no longer wake him by just touching his face or shaking his shoulder. Drawing a breath, she bent forward instead so that her mouth was just next to his ear.
"Nathan," she said. "Nathan, honey, wake up."
His eyes opened in an instant, the frown left-over from his dreams still on his face.
"What?" he asked, sleep-hoarse.
"I said wake up," she repeated, holding out the glass to him. He took it, confused only for a moment before chugging it. His thirst seemed to take him by surprise. In a few seconds the glass had been emptied and returned to her.
"Before that," he said. "What did you say before that?"
She thought back.
"I said Nathan. I said... oh. I said honey."
He plucked the glass out of her hands, placing it gently on the bedside table. His hands were big enough to wrap around her wrists, thumb and fingers overlapping. His skin was hot, almost to the point of discomfort, but he didn't seem aware or bothered. She couldn't claim to be terribly surprised when he pulled her down into the bed with him.
xxx
That morning the bed sheets were soaked in sweat. His damp hair stuck flat to his head and his face was rosy red. He emptied the glass of water she brought him and she refilled it without commenting. She wondered though, as she sat watching him empty the second glass only somewhat slower than the first, what other symptoms they were missing. Did his stomach hurt? Did his bones ache? How odd, not to know if you had a cold or a stomach upset. How frightening to be left so unaware of your own body.
"You wanna take a shower?" she eventually asked.
"Last night you told me that I looked bad. Now you tell me that I smell?" Nathan smiled up at her as he spoke, taking the edge out of the words. "I'm just saying, a guy could get a complex for less."
"Just go," she ordered, laughing to herself as she went to fetch clean sheets for the bed. And to think that she'd spent a life-time believing she'd never be able to take care of as much as a goldfish.
xxx
Duke made them brunch. Nothing fancy, just tomato soup out of the can mixed with whipping cream and a liberal sprinkling of cayenne pepper. He toasted some bread for them too, moving easily through the kitchen of the Grey Gull as they waited by the bar . Nathan sat hunched over, though by now he looked more tired than sick. A tall glass of water stood by his elbow, half-filled with ice cubes and with a slice of lemon decorating the rim. Duke had offered it without being asked, at the same time as he had carried out a large cup of coffee for Audrey.
"You two look like road kill," he'd greeted them.
Not in the mood to listen to the two of them bickering she had pushed Nathan towards a chair. He had nearly tripped over his feet, but at least it had kept him from answering.
"Nathan's got a fever," she had answered, holding up a hand before Duke could open his mouth. "No 'playing doctor' or 'nurse' jokes, please. Just, for the love of all that's good and right in the world, bring me some coffee."
He had laughed of course, but also snapped off a salute. And brought out water for Nathan and fed them as if they were stray cats showing up to beg at his door. As if, despite all the bad things that she and Nathan had brought into his life, he still didn't have the heart to send them away. A good man, she thought as her shoulder bumped into Nathan's. He didn't notice, of course. But just a few minutes later his hand reached out for hers, squeezing it too hard.
"Thanks," he murmured, his lips stained red in the corner. "For last night."
Two good men, she amended. And thanked whoever looked after Haven that, in the middle of all life's madness, at least she had been given good company.