Chapter Text
“How is this even possible? This shouldn’t be possible!” Hetty looked down at Trevor, who was stretched out on his bed, shivering, the colour high in his cheeks.
“How the hell should I know?” Trevor propped himself up on one elbow. “I woke up feeling like a truck had run me over. The last time I felt this bad was when I had measles as a kid.” He fell back onto the pillow with a sigh. “I’m also pretty sure I have a fever.”
“You can’t have a fever, you’re dead.” Hetty’s words came out sharper than she had intended.
Trevor shot her a glare. “You don’t say.”
Hetty perched down at the edge of the mattress and before he could protest, laid a hand on his forehead. She almost pulled away in shock; he was burning up. “You are indeed quite hot.”
“Mmmhh, I know.” Trevor had his eyes closed and was leaning into her hand. The innuendo seemed a reflex, uttered with only half his usual fervour. “I’ve never appreciated your cold hands so much before.”
The earnest way that he said it made her leave her hand a moment longer before she snatched it away. She cleared her throat around the lump that had formed there. “Come along then.”
Trevor’s eyes snapped open, confusion in their dark depths. “What, why?”
“Well, you can’t stay here. In an hour, this room will be full of people fighting over the TV and you won’t get any rest. You will take my room until you feel better.”
Hetty had expected some sort of protest and was surprised when none was forthcoming. Trevor just agreeing with her was a bad sign indeed.
A few minutes later he was curled up on her bed. Hetty had moved to the door. “I will ask Samantha to do some research on this. Let’s see what she finds out.”
Trevor let out a small laugh. “What is she gonna look for? Ghost illnesses?”
Hetty frowned. “It’s better than doing nothing.”
“Can’t argue with that.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “God, the whole room is spinning.”
Hetty watched him for a moment, despising how powerless she was feeling. There was nothing they could do to physically help him. Neither cold wraps nor pills would work. What good was modern medication when it couldn’t be used? Trevor was dead, they were dead. How did you cure someone who by all accounts shouldn’t even be able to fall ill in the first place?
“Just get some rest. I’ll be back later.”
***
“Samantha!” Hetty strode into the kitchen. Sam looked up from her laptop, alarmed at the tone of Hetty’s voice. “We need your help. Trevor’s sick.”
“What do you mean, he’s sick?”
“Sick! As in he’s down with fever and the chills.”
Jay, who was whisking eggs at the kitchen counter, perked up. “Who’s sick? Our guest in the Maple suite? Oh God, I hope he made it to the bathroom and there’s no puke all over the sheets.”
“No, not the guest. Trevor.” Sam replied. “Hetty says he’s running a fever.”
“Trevor? But he’s a ghost.”
Hetty rolled her eyes. “Yes, hence my agitation. Samantha, what are we going to do?”
“I…I don’t know. What can we do? We’ll just have to wait for it to pass, I guess.”
“But it’s unnatural! If there’s one upside to being dead it’s that we have left such annoying matters as catching diseases behind. I have never seen anything like it. Something dubious is at work here, I can feel it.”
“This is something for my ghost notes.” Jay sounded excited. “We should definitely find out how No-Pants got sick. This is so much more interesting than the wall / chair enigma.”
“Jay!” Dismay was evident on Sam’s face.
“What?” Jay looked at his wife. “He’s dead. It’s not as if he can die again, so what’s the problem?”
“What’s the problem?”, Hetty sputtered, indignation rising in her chest. “So this is what we are to you? Just something interesting to be studied?”
“I’m sure Jay didn’t mean it like that.” But even Sam didn’t manage to sound convincing.
“Come on, Babe. We’ve all been down with the flu before, let’s not make a big deal out of this.”
Sam ignored him. “I can try to find something out, but I expect it’s gonna be a dead end,” she said to Hetty.
“What is going on here?” Isaac appeared in the doorway. “I can feel the intrigue just by looking at you. You’re going to find what out?”
“Trevor’s apparently caught the flu and Hetty wants me to do some research on the matter.”
Isaac stared at Sam as if she had grown a second head. “I think I need to clean my ears out, because I understood only gibberish. I thought I heard you say Trevor caught the flu.” He wiggled his finger in his ear and shook his head.
“Isaac.” Hetty rushed to his side and gripped his arm. “You agree with me that this warrants some deeper inquiry, do you not? This can’t be a normal occurrence.”
Isaac’s eyes grew wide. “You’re serious.”
“Of course I am. Trevor’s not well, he looks quite terrible.”
“Does he?” Hetty had the distinct impression that Isaac was focusing on the less important part of this information. “Where is he anyway? I haven’t seen him yet.”
“He’s in my room.”
Isaac stared at her, mouth open in shock, hand on his chest. “Hetty!”
“For convalescence! There’s no peace to be had in his own room, and you know it.”
But Isaac had already turned away from her, striding purposefully in the direction of her room.
***
Trevor had his arm over his eyes, shielding them from the sunlight falling through the window. It was too bright and made his head hurt even more, but since he couldn’t close the curtains, he was resigned to the fact that a dark room was beyond his reach. He jumped when he heard Isaac’s voice.
“Dear lord, my eyes are burning. Have you no sense of decency, Trevor?”
Trevor slowly lowered his arm. A sharp spike of pain flared up behind his eyes, but that didn’t keep him from giving Isaac his best glare. “You’re the one who just barged in here, so screw you.”
Isaac gasped. “My, you really do look terrible.”
Trevor prepared himself for a retort when Sass’s head popped through the wall. “What’s this I hear, Trevor’s sick? Ah, there you are.”
Trevor’s glower cut them both. “What am I, a circus attraction? Just leave me alone.” He was in no condition to endure their theatrics at the moment.
“Someone’s testy.”
“You just insulted his good looks, what did you expect?” Sass didn’t even try to hide his smirk.
Trevor scoffed. “Please, it’s not possible to insult my good looks. T-Money always kills it.”
“I beg to differ,” Isaac replied. “Have you looked in the mirror lately?”
He hadn’t and he also suspected that he wouldn’t like what he saw, but he would rather drop dead, again, than admit that.
“Trevor, I made some sage tea for you to smell, maybe that will make you feel better.” Sam appeared in the doorway, holding a steaming tea pot before her. She spotted him on the bed and her eyes went wide. “You look awful,” she exclaimed, a look of worry passing over her face.
“Seriously? Is that all anyone can say to me?” Now he actually did feel insulted.
“I’m sorry,” Sam said. She looked contrite as she placed the tea on the nightstand. “How are you feeling?”
“Better now that I smell that delicious tea.” He worked up a smile for her. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Should I close the curtains so that you can get some sleep?”
“Oh God, yes. You’re a gift from heaven, Sam.” Trevor had expected an eye roll at that, but got a sheepish smile instead.
“This sick business seems to bring about some motherly instinct in Sam. She seems to be amenable to do anything Trevor asks. You think he might be contagious? This could be quite useful.” Even when Issac tried to whisper, he failed miserably. Sass chuckled, unapologetically delighted at Sam’s outraged expression.
“I think even if you were to get sick, you just ruined any chances you had of getting favours out of Sam.”
“Damn right, Sass. I can’t believe you guys, seriously. Sometimes I think you expect my whole purpose in life to be waiting on you hand and foot.” Sam pulled the curtains closed with so much force that Trevor was afraid she was ripping them off the hooks, then stormed past the both of them without a second glance and slammed the door behind her.
Isaac sighed. “And here I thought I was the dramatic one.”
“Oh, believe me, you are.” Trevor turned his back to them and closed his eyes. “Just go and apologize.”
***
Trevor woke up some time later to the sound of birds fighting outside the window. A second later the pounding in his head joined the clamour outside. He groaned, scrunching his eyes shut again. When would this end? He stayed still for a moment longer, then took a deep breath and pushed himself upright. The room was dark, illuminated only by the slightest sliver of light falling onto the carpet.
Well, time to get up. T-Money was not going to stay in bed like a wilting flower. Whatever was happening to him, it was not going to get the better of him. Determined, he swung his legs over the side and stood up. Dizziness swept over him almost immediately and he had to grab the nightstand to keep himself from falling. “Fuck,” he murmured. He waited a moment for the light-headedness to pass, then made his way over to the window to peek through the gap that showed between the curtains. The reason for the bird squabbling became obvious and a smile blossomed on his face.
“Look at you. You’re playing with fire, little one.” A squirrel had run up to the birds’ nest in the tree, trying to get at an acorn that had fallen into the nesting material. The two robins looked ready to attack at any moment. But the squirrel was quick. It snatched at the acorn, then ran down the trunk and was gone.
Trevor left the birds to themselves and set off to find Sam, or rather, her iPad.