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Maru looked up from her desk as you walked in, “Oh, good morning farmer! Harvey’s off sick today. Sorry.”
“Sick?”
“Yeah, he’s got that cold that’s going round. If it’s urgent, I can note your symptoms and take them up to Harvey for a prescription?”
“No, no. It’s fine, I was just bringing him some coffee.”
Maru looked down at her computer, “You two are getting kind of close, huh?”
You blushed, a dead giveaway, “Yeah, we get along well.”
Maru snorted, “Okay, you can take his coffee up to him if you like. He’s taking a day of bed rest for a cold, he’s not dying. Well, he’d better not be, or I’ll be out of a job.” she chuckles.
You lifted the coffee flask in a salute, “Thanks Maru, I’ll go and see him now.”
“No funny business!” She warned as you opened the door to the stairs that lead to Harvey’s apartment.
Ignoring Maru, you ascended the stairs.
When you got into Harvey’s apartment, it’s dark. The curtains are drawn and all you can discern is a shape under the duvet. A shape that begins to sneeze repeatedly and heavily.
“Harvey?” You murmured, waiting for him to emerge, blushing as usual, accepting the coffee with his self-effacing comments, “Oh, you shouldn’t have” or “You’re so good to me farmer, I’m not worth the time.”
Instead, “Go away.” From the be-duveted bump.
You opened the curtains just a touch. This isn’t the first time you were seeing his flat. You were here by chance a couple of weeks ago when Harvey managed to contact a pilot flying over the valley, a rare event these days with the war with Gotororumbling on. The two of you had watched him fly overhead at the window.
While you watched the chem trail stripe the sky, Harvey had shared some of his past, and the man who was closed off to so many in the town, opened up to you.
You began to revel in the time you got to spend with him, fleeting moments stolen in the waiting room, coffee when you could afford it, his favourite blend from The Stardrop Saloon. You started to fall, deep.
You’d not been in Pelican Town for long, just three seasons, but the friendship you had with Harvey felt solid and real, not flighty like Elliott, or shunned by Shane. You had a connection with Harvey that you wanted to explore to its furthest boundaries.
But now, that man was just a bump in a bed. Sneezing loudly.
A hand reached out from under the duvet, groping for a box of tissues that were on the bedside table. He blew his nose and went silent.
“Are you still there?” said the bump.
You stifled a giggle, “Yes. How do you feel?”
“Like death.” A muffled and bunged up voice replied.
“Like man flu death, or proper death?”
“Like death, death. I’ll be fine in a couple of days, come back then. I don’t want you to see me like this.”
“Have you taken anything?” you approached the bed in the half light.
“No. Too sick.”
You carefully peeled back the duvet that’s hiding his face, “Oh Harvey.”
He looked awful. Red nosed, bleary eyed, pale skin with a sheen of sweat, squinting against even the dim light.
“Hey farmer.” He attempted to smile but coughed instead.
“Harvey, who looks after you when you’re sick? You spend so much time looking after, caring for everyone else. Who doctors the doctor?”
“I’ll be fine.” He pulls the duvet back over his head. “Couple of days, I’ll be right as rain.”
“Okay, Mr Martyr.”
“Not being a martyr, that’s just how it is.”
“Have you eaten?”
“Bleurgh.” Comes the answer.
“Right, doctor man, consider this your medical appointment. An intervention, whatever you want to call it. I’m now here to take care of you. No arguments.” Even though he couldn’t see you, you folded your arms in determination, “Firstly, where is your thermometer, let’s see how bad this really is.”
“In the drawer in the bureau with the radio.” Croaked Harvey.
You felt a little triumphant at his cooperation. This was going to be easy.
After some rooting around, you located the thermometer and uncovered the sick doctor enough for him to put it in his mouth. A quick check on the internet told you what a high temp was and what to do about it.
The little machine beeped and you extracted it from your patient. “39.7?! Harvey, that’s a high fever! Like really high! We have to do something about it.”
You searched in his little bathroom and managed to find a small bottle of Tylenol. Keeping a check in online as you go.
“Okay, Harvey. You’re really sick. This isn’t going to get better in a day. Take these.”
“He frowns, “What are they?”
“Tylenol.”
He relents and holds his hand out for the tablets. You give him water and he swallows them with a wince.
“Does your throat hurt?”
He shakes his head, “Don’t like taking pills.”
Okay well, they’ll bring your fever down. I’m going to strip at least one duvet off you to try and cool you down.”
“But I’m freezing.” You notice that he’s shivering, despite being under 3 thick covers.
“That’s the fever,” You quote knowledgeably, phone in hand. You’ll feel better with the Tylenol.”
You leave him for a while, as you go into his kitchen, with the plan of making soup with some of the meagre supplies he has in his kitchen. You throw a load of veggies in a pot with some stock and hot water, simmering it for 30 minutes, straining the vegetables out and pouring the liquid into a bowl.
When you return, your ‘patient’ is at least uncovered. His head on the pillow, but not hiding from the light anymore. He’s awake, but he still looks miserable.
“I’m still cold.”
“I know. And you should know that it’s going to take regular Tylenol every 4 hours to keep that fever down. Then you’ll start to feel warmer. Can you sit up a little? I’ve made you some broth.”
He looks at your strangely, “You made..?”
“Yes. Don’t look so surprised. It’s not magic, it’s just some boiled veggies, with a dash of miso I found in your fridge.”
You settle on the edge of the bed, and hold the bowl, handing him a spoon. Harvey is shivering so much that he can’t hold the spoon properly. Eventually, you take it from him and feed him a couple of spoonfuls. After managing a little, he shakes his head, “No more, thanks.”
“Are you sure? It’s really good for you.”
Another shake of his head. He looks a little green around the gills.
“Lie back.” You instruct him, plumping his pillows.
“I’m fine.”
“You keep saying that, but every medical clue points to the opposite. Hey,” You push your fingers through his curls, “You are the worst patient, doctor. Just let me look after you, okay?”
His eyes were closing already. You kept carding his hair until his breathing evened out and he slept.
~~**~~**~~**~~
You stayed at his apartment for the best part of a week, taking care of him by day and sleepin on his little sofa at night. Marnie and Shane kept an eye on the farm, Maru looked after the clinic, allowing you to take care of the town’s doctor.
His fever broke early on the third day, but he was so weak. You brought him light meals, you measured out his Tylenol, made sure he was drinking water. Little by little, he got better and on the sixth day, he managed to get out of bed and into the shower. You hovered outside the bathroom, making sure he was okay.
He was so exhausted by the effort of showering, that he crawled straight back into bed.
You put your fingers through his hair again.
“I- I like it when you do that. It’s very soothing.” He admitted. “Thank you for looking after me. You’ve been wonderful. I usually just go to bed and ride it out until I can stagger downstairs for work again.”
“Hey, that’s what friends are for right? And I’ve enjoyed being here, doing what I could. I’m just glad to see you feeling better.”
“It means so much to me. I’m not great at looking after myself, and it wasn’t your job to nurse me, but I appreciate you so much.”
“And I appreciate you letting me in when you were vulnerable.” You stroke his cheek.
He takes your hand and kisses your palm, then looks immediately anxious, “Sorry.”
“For what?” You say gently.
“For that.” He nods to your hand, “If it helps, blame the fever?”
You leant over him, smoothing out his hair. Your fingers lingered on his jaw, a light touch stroked along his jaw line, your thumb on his cheek. His stubble was rough, he hadn’t had the energy to shave, not yet.
Your lips met barely as you delicately kissed him, “Can I blame this on your fever?” You smile at him, his eyes wide as saucers.
“Um…” He was lost for words. His hand brushed over his lips in some kind of wonder, as if he couldn’t quite bring himself to believe what just happened.
“Now, you’re too sick for anything else, but let me tell you, Harvey. I’m here, all the way with you. When you’re sick, when you’re well. I like you, so much. SO, how about when you’re well enough, we…” You wink at him, “Take this one step further?”
When you thought his eyes couldn’t go any wider, they did.
“And go for dinner at the Stardrop Saloon? Our first official date?” You grinned and slipped your hand into his.
“Yes doctor.” He muttered, bringing his hand to his head in a salute, his eyes alredy closing, "Love you."