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It started out as a simple cough that wouldn’t go away after a two alarm fire. He was quickly checked out and given the okay to continue his shift, with some semblance of hesitation.
Then it was the pale shade his skin took after finishing restocking the engine, to the point he was sent to sit and rest for a bit. That only resulted in him taking an involuntary nap for thirty minutes while everyone wondered why he wasn’t himself.
Finally, it was him not wanting to eat Bobby’s Mac and Cheese, which he had been requesting for two weeks. Instead he just sipped on chicken soup and tried not to nod off again.
Luckily for the 118, it looked like Los Angeles was giving them a calm night for once, with no major call outs. It gave Bobby time to make a quick call to his wife regarding his sick subordinate. Then he just had to wake the man (who had fallen back to sleep on the couch, which was proof enough that he was ill), just long enough to stuff him into Athena’s SUV and send them on their way.
One near-silent car ride later found him tucked into the Grant-Nash’s guest room bed, a cool cloth resting across his forehead.
“Sleep well, Buckaroo.”