Chapter Text
River Cartwright has had a lot of terrible, horrible, no good, very bad days in his life and while this certainly wasn't going to top the list, it might crack the top ten.
He had barely slept the night before, his throat on fire as if he had consumed the spiciest level of Nando’s. River spent the night alternating between shivering and sweating, dumping all his covers and then pulling them tightly around himself again. He wasn’t sure he got more than 30 minutes of sleep in a stretch. Exhaustion clawed at him, threatening to pull him under.
He should call in sick; he knew that, but he was supposed to finish the reports Catherine had asked for yesterday. He abandoned them at half-four, his head pounding in what he now realised was a warning sign of the sickness overtaking him currently. But Catherine had barely been back at Slough House a month, and this was the third time River had failed to finish an assignment by its due date.
River owed Catherine more than he could ever repay for the danger he heaved onto her literal doorstep when he arrived with his grandfather in the middle of the night shortly after River’s previously unknown half-brother had attempted to murder the O.B. Couple that with the last time they worked together before Catherine quit, he had insulted her and ignored the man that ended up kidnapping her.
Oh, and he also forgot to bring milk into the office.
Which—shit.
He had forgotten again.
River slumped into his chair at 9:08, greeted with an eyebrow raise from Louisa.
“You look like shit.”
“Feel worse,” he answered truthfully.
“What’re you even doing here?” Louisa asked. “You should be in bed.”
“I need to finish the parking reports Catherine gave me the other day.”
“Shit, you’re still working on those?”
River tried not to feel judgement from her question. Louisa hadn’t implied it, but River’s guilt, particularly when it came to anything Catherine related lately, had a way of twisting words in ways they weren’t intended.
“Yup,” River added as he typed in the password for his computer.
Louisa walked over to his desk, leaning over his shoulder. "What do you have left? Give me half, and I’ll help, and then you can go home.”
Just as River was about to hand her a folder, a loud thumping noise greeted them from the ceiling. River gave Louisa his best sad wet cat look; the last thing he wanted to deal with right now was Jackson Lamb.
“Fine,” she rolled her eyes, understanding and acquiescing to his unspoken request.
River sneezed in thanks, rubbing at his eyes afterwards as a shudder rolled through his body.
“Thank you,” he called after her once he could function enough to form words again.
River took a deep breath and opened the folder on his desk, the words blurring together in a mishmash of numbers and letters. He blinked, attempting to clear his vision, dropping his head to his hand as he massaged away some of the pain settling behind his right eye. He heard Louisa coming back down the stairs. She hadn't been long with Lamb, which usually was a good thing, but today, of all days, River didn’t trust it.
“Did he have a riddle for you?” River asked, not looking up.
“A riddle?” Catherine asked.
“Sorry,” River winced, his troll joke falling on deaf ears. “I thought you were Louisa.”
“No, she’s still in with Jackson. Do you have those applications finished?”
“I’m sorry,” River said, putting on what he hoped was his most apologetic and pathetic-looking face.
“That’s what your face always looks like, Cartwright,” he heard Lamb say in his head.
“I’m working on them now, though, swear down. I left a bit early yesterday with a headache, but I’ll have them done soon. And I forgot–”
Catherine placed the back of her hand on his forehead, cutting off anything further he intended to say. The action surprised River so much that he lost his complete train of thought.
“River, you’re burning up,” Catherine exclaimed.
“I told him he should be at home,” Louisa said as she returned to the office and grabbed her jacket from the coat rack.
“Where are you going?” River asked.
“Lamb has an errand for me,” Louisa said before turning to Catherine. “I shouldn’t be long. I can finish those when I’m back.”
“Thank you, Louisa,” Catherine said, eying the folder. “It’s fine. There’s no rush. I’m going to make sure River gets home.”
River looked back and forth between the women, who seemed to be talking as if he wasn’t in the room.
“Good,” Louisa said.
“I’m fine. I can finish,” River said, which would’ve been more convincing if he hadn’t followed it with a sneeze.
“Thanks,” Louisa replied, laying a hand on Catherine’s arm. “Let me know if I can pick up anything for him.”
“I’m still here, you know,” River objected.
“Not for much longer, you won’t be,” Catherine said, handing River his coat. “Do you have gloves or a scarf? A hat?”
“No,” River replied quietly, and Catherine pursed her lips and sighed slightly.
“Stay right here. I’m going to get my coat.”
River watched gratefully as Catherine walked from the office. He listened as she climbed the stairs and attempted to hear as she spoke with Lamb but could only make out muffled voices. Catherine’s heels clacked on the steps moments later, and River pushed himself to stand, holding onto the edge of his desk as white spots danced across his vision.
Worry creased across Catherine’s face, and River pushed away from the desk. He was fine.
“I can finish–”
The look Catherine gave him in response was enough to whither any further reply. Guilt overwhelmed him as he trudged down the stairs after Catherine. He was reminded of another time he traipsed after Catherine on the same outside staircase and he felt just as terrible as he had now.
“I can–” River started once they reached his car and Catherine held her hand out for his keys.
He handed them over without comment and walked to the passenger side, sliding gratefully into the seat. River had spent the drive to Slough House earlier with a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel, as the nausea and lightheadedness fought to overwhelm him. He was more than happy to allow Catherine to drive him if she insisted on seeing him home. She watched as he buckled his seatbelt, waiting to see if he needed assistance before securing her own and adjusting the seat, side, and rearview mirrors.
River rested his head against the cool glass of the window; despite the car being freezing inside, it felt nice against his feverish forehead. His eyes drifted shut as Catherine put the car into drive.
“River, we’re here,” Catherine said, her hand gentle against his thigh.
Still, he startled at her touch, and upon realising they were parked near his East End flat. It wasn’t a long ride, but he had slept enough to be hazy and disoriented once the car stopped. Or maybe he already felt like he was underwater. It took all the energy he could muster to push himself from the car and begin the Herculean task of walking to his fourth floor flat.
He had to stop half way as the floor felt unsteady and River didn’t want to risk tumbling down the stairs and smooshing Catherine.
“We can take a break if you like,” Catherine said, her hand comfortingly placed on his lower back.
“I’m alright,” he said pushing himself forward.
Not since his return home after Catherine was kidnapped had his stairs seemed so treacherous. That time it followed his run ins with Duffy and Cheiftan and he dragged himself to his flat with a sprained ankle, bruised ribs and bruises and abrasions covering more of his body than not. This time he just had a cold, why did it feel like he was climbing Mount Everetst? He fumbled with the key when they made it to the door, Catherine waiting patiently as he eventually unlocked it and pushed it open.
“Why don’t you change into something more comfortable, and I’ll make some tea?” Catherine offered.
“Yeah, that sounds good. Thank you, Catherine. Not just for this,” he said, vaguely motioning with a hand to the fact that they were in his flat when they should both be at work. “For everything last month with my grandfather. I don’t know if I said it before, but–”
“You did River. You did,” Catherine smiled. “You’ve done more than enough to thank me.”
He might have, but he wasn’t sure thank you would ever be enough. River made it a habit of buying Catherine a coffee whenever he stopped to get one for himself, which admittedly wasn’t often, but he made sure to when he did. And he had bought her lunch when they got takeaway the week before, but Catherine wasn’t one to let him continue with things like that, and while they were nice offerings, buying her thanks wasn’t something he intended to do.
River simply had no idea what the going thank you was for watching one’s grandfather after faking your death and fleeing to France to find answers for who was attempting to kill said grandparent and doing all this while lying to the Dogs and (attempting to at least) Jackson Lamb. There wasn’t an edible arrangement large enough to cover the level of grateful River was to the woman.
“Now go change,” Catherine admonished when he still hadn’t moved.
He nodded and turned to his bedroom, rummaging for a clean pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt to pull on over the t-shirt he grabbed from his drawer. The kettle was whistling when he returned to the kitchen and Catherine motioned for him to sit at the small table as she poured cups for both of them. River wrapped his hands around the warm mug, letting the steam filter over his face before sipping. The tea was just the way he liked it because, of course Catherine would remember something like that.
“Thank you,” he said, watching as she rummaged through his cabinets, stopping only to sip her own tea.
“What do you need?”
“Just seeing what you need,” she said before disappearing into his bathroom.
Catherine returned with a mostly empty bottle of paracetamol and a frown.
“Is this all you have?” she asked.
“Yes,” he answered and felt the heat on his cheeks that wasn’t from his fever. “I was going to go to the chemist during lunch.”
“River, you don’t even have a thermometer.”
“I did,” River defended. “But the battery died, and I haven’t gotten around to getting a new one yet.”
“When was that?” Catherine raised an eyebrow.
“I don’t remember,” he lied.
It was before he moved to Slough House, but Catherine didn’t need to know that.
“Did you take any paracetamol this morning?” Catherine asked, checking her watch for the time.
“Ugh, yeah, I took two about eight.”
“Well, it’s a bit too early for more,” Catherine said, placing her hand on his forehead again.
River shuddered slightly under her touch, and more concern etched across her features.
“Are you cold?” she asked as another shiver lanced through him.
“A bit,” he fibbed. His fingers felt like icicles as if someone had dipped them in a frozen lake and turned the heat off in his flat.
“Do you think you can sleep?”
River nodded and grimaced as pain lanced through him at the sudden movement. Catherine placed a firm hand under his elbow and levered him to stand with a grasp firmer than it seemed she would posses. She guided him to his bedroom, and River had a second to feel his ears turn red in embarrassment–or fever but more likely embarrassment in this case–that the bed had been left unmade this morning. He could blame it on the sickness, but his nan would be disapointed that his bed was left unmade more often than not.
Catherine made no comment though as she held the covers up and motioned for him to climb under. The shivering was coming more consistently now and River curled onto his side in the foetal position, trying to find some warmth from curling his body as tight as possible.
“Thank you,” he whispered as Catherine slipped from the room.
River squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to sleep, when he heard the bedroom door creak open again. A blanket was laid gently over him, the edges tucked gently around him.
“Thank you,” he said again.
Catherine carded a hand through his hair, “Just rest, River.”
This time, he was asleep before she reached the door.