Archive of Our Own

Something was wrong.

Something was very very wrong.

And the fact that it was happening this second... even worse.

Carina’s vision was swimming. Rippling. Pulling in and out. Blurring and refocusing.

That shouldn't be happening, not when she was part way through doing a closing stitch in someone's abdomen.

She set the needle down as carefully as she could, her hands trembling.

"Dr DeLuca," her resident said. "Are you okay? Is there a problem?"

Carina blinked and shook her head, the dizziness immediately clearing. "No, but I think it's time for you to try and finish, Matheson. I've left you two sutures."

She was probably okay to finish, throw the last couple of sutures herself, and let Matheson and the surgical nurses dress the wounds, but it had been weird. Ten seconds of unsteadiness. Ten seconds where she couldn't process what was going on.

So Matheson was getting her big moment. Carina stepped down and moved around the table, taking the residents position, ignoring the momentary head rush she got.

"Okay," she began, talking Matheson through, until two neat stitches had been thrown.

"Matheson, that was great, well done. Okay, you and the surgical team can dress the wounds, I'm going to go and talk to family," Carina said, pulling her surgical gown off.

She grabbed two paper cups of water on her way down the hall, drained one without thinking, and carried the other with her into the family room.

The conversation was brief. Straightforward. The kind she’d had a hundred times before.

Halfway through a sentence, the edges of the room blurred.

Her grip tightened on the back of a chair. She paused, whatever she’d been saying leaving her mind. She took a careful breath. The floor steadied. The words came back.

"Sorry," she smiled, shaking her head, continuing on with her summary.

She finished, answered their questions, nodded, listened. Professional. Calm.

By the time she stepped back into the hallway, the cup was empty and her scrubs clung uncomfortably to her back.

"Okay, I need lunch before I chart," Carina said, pressing a hand to her stomach. It had been a long surgery, and maybe her blood sugar was teetering.

She needed to change first, her scrubs clinging to her back; the result of a particularly warm OR.

She thought ahead to what she had for the rest of the day, screwing her eyes up to try and ease the weird brain fog that had set in, which was yet another reason she needed to head for lunch, and decided putting on new scrubs was her safest option. The last thing she wanted to be doing was catching a baby in her clinic clothes.

So she headed for the locker room on the OB floor, punching her number into the scrub machine. It flashed up with a cross, she frowned. She definitely had scrub credits, she hardly ever changed her scrubs during a shift. She squinted at the machine.

code inputted wrong

She sighed in relief, thankful she had just typed something wrong, plucking at her top that was now clinging to her. She tried again, inputting the right code this time, grateful when the door popped open revealing a fresh pair of scrubs.

Carina tugged her scrub top over her head and sat on the bench to kick her shoes off.

She stayed there longer than she meant to.

The locker room hummed softly around her, vents, distant voices, the muted clatter of carts in the hall. She rested her elbows on her knees, head bowed for a moment, waiting for the faint swim in her vision to pass.

It did. Mostly.

Her scrubs lay pooled at her feet, and she stared at them, absently noting how damp they were, how warm her skin still felt beneath the thin cotton of her bra. Exhaustion settled heavy in her limbs, out of proportion to the morning.

That was new.

Carina straightened, rolling her shoulders once, twice. Long case. Early start. She’d only eaten half her breakfast; the case had presented as emergent. She reached for the clean top, pulling it on with a decisive tug, as if momentum alone could shake the feeling loose.

She finished changing, tied her shoes, and stood.

The room tilted, just a fraction, just for a moment, and then steadied.

She exhaled through her nose, grabbed her badge, and headed for the door.

Lunch.

Then she’d be fine.

Carina ended up at the surgeons’ table out of habit more than intention.

She sat with a tray that made very little sense; half a cup of soup she hadn’t touched, a roll she’d broken open and abandoned, a carton of juice in a flavour she didn't particularly care for. She nudged it into a neater arrangement and listened.

Teddy was talking about staffing. Jo about a patient who wouldn’t stop googling her own symptoms in front of her. Amelia was half-turned in her seat, attention drifting between them and Carina without being obvious about it.

Carina nodded at the right places, smiled when she was expected to. The noise in the room pressed in, cutlery scraping on plates, voices loud and booming, the constant low hum of the staff cafeteria wearing on her.

A dull pressure began to gather behind her eyes.

She sighed, resting her head on her elbow.

"Are we boring you, DeLuca?" Teddy said, smiling.

"Sorry," Carina shook her head, trying to ignore the dizziness it induced. "Just- long case. Emergent hysterectomy. Sorry."

She rubbed at her temple with two fingers.

“You okay though?” Jo asked, casual, but watching.

“Yeah,” Carina said immediately. Too quickly. “Just a long day.”

Teddy frowned at her tray. “You eating?”

“I will.” She took a sip of juice, then set it down untouched. The sweetness turned her stomach. “In a minute.”

The pressure in her head tightened, not sharp, just present, like something she couldn’t quite shake. She leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes for half a second longer than a blink.

When she opened them, Amelia was looking at her openly now.

“You look like crap,” Amelia said mildly.

Carina huffed a quiet laugh. “Wow. Thank you so much Dr. Shepherd.”

“I mean that lovingly.”

“I’m fine,” Carina said, automatically. She straightened, reached for the roll again, then stopped. “I just need to eat and chart.”

Amelia didn’t respond right away. She reached across the table instead, nudging the soup a little closer to Carina.

“Eat then,” she said. Not unkind. Not optional.

Carina broke off another piece of bread and chewed dutifully, the headache pulsing faintly in time with her heartbeat.

She didn’t stay long.

She took her soup, and headed back up to her office, feigning that she had forgotten to do something and would have a working lunch instead.

The soup remained uneaten, abandoned on the edge of her desk as she tried to chart. She'd taken to sipping her water every few minutes. It was the only thing that stopped the occasional dizziness and the weird dry feeling in her throat, though she assumed that was from the air-conditioning. She'd tried to have it off, but it was the only thing keeping her from sweating through another pair of scrubs.

She looked up from where she had been zoning out trying to describe the patient's uterus for 5 minutes, when there was a knock at the door.

She straightened, pushing her hair back, flattening her scrub top as she called "come in."

"Hi," Amelia said, "I brought you- oh-" she stopped in her tracks, "you look worse than before."

"Amelia-"

"I was coming to bring you electrolytes and a dose of caffeine," she held up the packet and the paper cup, "but you're clearly sick."

"I'm fine. It's just- I'm tired. Thank you for bringing me coffee, it's much appreciated," Carina said softly, holding her hand out for the cup.

Amelia didn't pass it to her immediately. "You're not just tired. You're weirdly pale, super sweaty despite you having the air-con cranked all the way up, you haven't touched your lunch. Your hands are shaking. Carina, you're not fine."

Carina opened her mouth, then closed it. She gave a faint shrug. “I had a long surgery. I’m just… tired.”

"Have you checked your temp?"

"Amelia-"

"Humour me. Let me check your temp, I'll leave you alone if it's fine." Amelia said, crossing the office to retrieve a thermometer from the cart in the hall, as Carina continued her feeble attempts to chart.

"I don't need-" Carina tried to argue.

"You're all sweaty. So… humour me," Amelia said, already putting a probe cover on the end of the thermometer.

Carina gave up, focusing on her screen as Amelia approached. She'd read the same sentence four times trying to figure out what she should write next, all because Amelia kept interrupting her.

"If you don't have a fever, I'll be stunned," the other doctor said as she slipped the thermometer into Carina’s ear. "I can feel the heat radiating off you."

It beeped.

Amelia pulled it back.

They both looked.

"Non è vero,” Carina murmured.

"I don't know what that means, but you just got yourself a first class ticket out of here, DeLucs."

"Do it again," Carina said, spinning her chair, so her other ear was facing Amelia.

"I really don't need to, you have a fever of 102. That's not on the cusp of anything."

"Humour me," Carina said dryly.

Amelia chuckled and slid the thermometer into her other ear. They waited. It beeped. "102.3."

Carina huffed, leaning back in her chair.

"You must feel like crap," Amelia said.

"I'm fine. But-" she said before Amelia started arguing with her, "I will go home, I know policy. I just- I have to finish this first, and hand over my pagers and... yeah."

Amelia nodded. "You text me when you're leaving. Okay?"

Carina nodded, turning her attention back to the screen.

It took another hour before Carina was ready to leave.

She finished her surgical notes eventually, the screen staring at her impatiently as she searched for the right phrasing. She handed off pagers, masked up and checked her surgical patient from afar, answered questions she normally wouldn’t need to think about with difficulty, and sat down more often than she usually allowed herself to. Everything took longer. Everything required intention.

By the time she was finally free to go, her head ached steadily, her limbs heavy, and her head pounding. The familiar hustle and bustle of the hospital exacerbated every symptom. She walked out slower than she would have liked, eyes fixed ahead, determined not to draw attention to herself.

Carina drove on autopilot.

It wasn’t until she signaled for the familiar exit that something tugged at her attention- a flicker of wrongness, a quiet lag in her thinking. She hadn't taken this exit in months.

She canceled the signal, heart thudding faintly as she realised where she’d been headed.

Maya’s place was the other direction.

Their place.

She adjusted her grip on the steering wheel, forcing her focus back into the present, and kept driving.

Her head was pounding by the time she pulled up in the parking lot. The scratchy throat had escalated into a full blown sore throat and she could feel the sweat clinging to her whole body.

She leaned forward, taking a minute, pressing her forehead to the steering wheel as she mustered the energy to move. She knew she'd been feeling a little off since the weird incident in the OR, but now she really didn't feel good.

Carina straightened, unsure of how long she'd been sat there, blinking against the pressure in her head, and pushed the door open.

The cool February air hit her all at once, raising goosebumps along her arms despite the heat still trapped under her skin. She locked the car with a wince, the beep too loud in the quiet lot, and started toward the building.

The stairs were worse than she expected.

She made it up the first flight on momentum alone, hand skimming the railing, breath coming shallow and uneven by the time she reached the landing. She paused there longer than she meant to, leaning her shoulder into the wall, waiting for the tightness in her chest and the swim in her head to ease.

"Ascensore, prendi l'ascensore," she mumbled to herself, suddenly remembering its existence. She and Maya rarely used it.
[Elevator, take the elevator]

Carina stumbled forward, through a door and into the main corridor. Relief flooded her system as she saw the shiny metal doors. She clumsily hit the button, almost falling, as the doors opened immediately.

When she finally reached their front door, her keys felt foreign in her hand.

She fumbled once, then steadied, pressing her forehead briefly to the cool wood before unlocking it and stepping inside.

"Maya?"

Faintly her brain reminded her Maya was on a thirty-six hour shift and wouldn’t be home until seven am the next day,

Exhaustion weighed on her, as she kicked off her shoes haphazardly. "Letta," she mumbled to herself, as she wobbled through the apartment and collapsed onto her bed.

She was asleep in minutes, the fever pressing in on her, as her head spun and pounded, her chest ached and her throat burned.

Maya twisted her key in the slot, as the clock ticked closer to seven thirty am.

It had been a long shift, full of firefighter evaluation, incident report auditing and more than a few fires.

She couldn't wait to cuddle up to her girlfriend, even if it was only for a little while until she would have to leave for work.

Her shoulders were stiff as she stretched, her body humming with the kind of exhaustion that came after a long day.

She kicked the door closed behind her and toed her shoes off automatically, and then stopped.

Carina’s bag sat by the door, half unzipped. Her coat was a crumpled mess on the floor instead of hung up. A pair of shoes were abandoned in the middle of the hallway, not kicked neatly aside the way Carina usually did.

Maya frowned.

“Carina?” she called, already moving.

The apartment was quiet. Too quiet. Even for seven thirty.

"Baby?" She said, following the trail- a sock, a water bottle, Carina’s lanyard- through to the bedroom.

Carina was asleep.

Draped half over the edge of the bed.

Still in her pink scrubs.

Maya crossed the room in three steps, hand hovering just above Carina’s shoulder before she touched her. Her skin was hot. Too hot. Damp with sweat despite the cool air in the room.

"Shit," she crouched down, brushing the hair off Carina’s forehead as she laid her hand there. She was burning hot.

"Baby," Maya said softly, rubbing her damp back. Carina’s eyes opened, unfocused and pained.

"Bam-bina," she croaked.

"Hi sick girl. How long have you been here for?" Maya said softly, gently stroking her flushed cheek.

"Amelia. Home. Work."

"I don't know what that means, baby," Maya said softly, resting her hand on Carina's back. "You sound very crackly, honey."

"Cold," Carina mumbled, "sent... from work."

"You got sent home from work?" Maya said, resting her hand back on Carina's forehead, still stunned by the heat radiating off her.

"Mmmm."

"Okay, I'll- I'm here now," Maya muttered, panic flaring in her chest. Carina seemed really ill. Granted, she'd never seen Carina ill before, but she seemed very, very sick. "I'll- I can- I'll look after you, get you feeling better."

"Did I fall asleep?"

"Yeah, it's seven thirty."

"No."

"No?" Maya asked, as she looked around, trying to figure out what to do.

"It was three thirty."

"I-" Maya digested that information. "Uh- I- I think you've been asleep... for a while."

Maya swallowed, nodding like that explanation made sense, even as her stomach tightened.

“Okay,” she said gently, smoothing Carina’s hair back again. “That’s okay. You... you probably needed it.”

Carina shifted, a small sound catching in her throat before it turned into a weak cough. She winced, pressing her face into the duvet she was lying on top of.

“Hey,” Maya said quickly, sliding an arm under her shoulders to help her up a little. “Easy. Easy.”

Carina clutched at the front of Maya’s sweatshirt, breathing shallow, eyes squeezed shut. “My head,” she whispered. “Hurts.”

"Okay," Maya nodded, feeling the panic bubble away below the surface. "Okay."

She pressed her forehead briefly to Carina’s hair, breathing her in; sweat and soap and something sharp and wrong. She straightened, decision clicking into place even as her pulse raced.

"I'll look after you. You just- it's probably the flu or something. Okay, first thing," she looked around the room for an idea, as Carina tipped forward into her chest.

Her eyes landed on her pyjamas. "Right, yes. First thing is to get you out of these scrubs. You've sweated through them. You'd probably want a shower but you seem dizzy... are you?"

Carina nodded almost imperceptibly. “Everything… spinny.”

“Alright,” Maya murmured. “Then you’re not going anywhere, I'll bring everything to you." She stepped back, hoping to leave Carina sat up as she went to gather things she'd need, but the Italian wobbled dangerously.

"Okay, here," Maya hooked her arm under Carina’s legs, looped her arm around her back and picked her up, settling her against the headboard. "That's better. Okay. Definitely no shower. But maybe I can like... wipe you down a little. And get you some pyjamas. Oh and medicine, definitely medicine."

Carina gave a weak cough, her eyes unfocused as she watched Maya disappear into the bathroom.

She was back in under a minute, arms full; washcloth, pyjamas, a glass of water, bottles of medicine, a thermometer, a sats probe.

“Okay,” she said, like she was briefing a patient instead of her girlfriend. “We’re gonna cool you down a bit.”

Carina barely protested as Maya peeled her scrubs away, movements careful and efficient. The fabric was damp, clinging; Maya grimaced despite herself as she tugged it free.

“Wow,” she muttered under her breath. “Yeah, these had to go.”

Carina pressed a hand to her stomach as Maya wrung out the cloth with cool water and pressed it gently to Carina’s neck, then her forehead. She shivered immediately, a soft sound slipping out of her.

“Too cold?” Maya asked, pulling it back.

“No,” Carina said hoarsely. “Just- feels… strange.”

“Okay.” Maya nodded, filing it away. She wiped her down slowly, methodically- arms, chest, back, legs. "Hey, is this itchy?" Maya asked, pressing her palm to where Carina’s bra had been. Her skin was a little more red there.

Carina shrugged.

"Alright, let me know if it gets itchy, you might have a little rash," she said, pressing her hand to it a few more times before pulling back. "Okay, jammies. I don't want you to overheat, so we're doing a tank and changing your underwear because they're soaked, that's it."

When she was done, she crouched in front of her, hands resting lightly on Carina’s knees.

“Alright. Can I check you?” she asked gently. “Just basics.”

Carina nodded.

Maya moved on instinct now, her fingers at Carina’s wrist, counting silently. Too fast. Not alarming, but not great. She checked her breathing next; pulse ox, resp rate, followed by pressing her ear to Carina’s back since she didn't have a stethoscope. It wasn't the most accurate but she was satisfied Carina’s breathing was mostly okay apart from the occasional cough. The thermometer came next. "Did you check at work?" Maya asked, tucking her hair behind her ear.

"Amelia... 102."

"102," Maya repeated, trying not to be alarmed.

"Sì."

"Okay, baby," Maya said softly, slipping the thermometer into her ear. The beep came and unsurprisingly her fever was still high. "Shit, okay, 103.1, okay. Crap. That's- that's high. Is that like... urgent care high? If you've already been sick for more than twelve hours. And you're really congested."

"M'okay Maya. Just- medicine."

"Medicine, right. Okay, do you have a stomach ache, you keep putting your hand on your belly."

"Just- dizzy."

"Dizzy, okay baby, is it making you feel nauseous?"

"Un po',” she mumbled, pinching her fingers together to show Maya.

"Alright, hopefully we get your fever down and you'll feel better. Yeah?"

"Sì."

Maya nodded, even though Carina’s eyes were already drifting closed again.

“Okay,” she murmured. “Medicine. Then snuggles.”

She measured out the doses with care, hands steadier than she felt, and guided them to Carina’s lips one by one, passing her the glass of water between each. Carina swallowed obediently, wincing as the pills went down, her throat screaming, but managing a faint grimace that almost passed for a smile.

“Electrolytes,” Maya prompted, passing Carina the bottle she'd made up. “Small sips.”

Carina did as she was told, coughing once after, then settling back against the pillows with a soft exhale.

“There,” Maya said quietly. “Good. Or... what is it in Italian? Va... bien?"

"Bene."

"Va bene," Maya chuckled, "right, let's get you comfy cosy."

She tucked the blankets around her, not too tight, not too heavy, and brushed her thumb over Carina’s temple where she guessed her girlfriend’s headache lived. Carina leaned into the touch without thinking.

“I’m just gonna get changed,” Maya said, keeping her voice low. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Carina nodded, already half-asleep.

Maya was quick. She washed her hands, changed into soft clothes, moved with the kind of efficiency that came from not wanting to leave the room for longer than absolutely necessary.

She set herself an alarm for four hours’ time when Carina would next need her medicine then carefully climbed into bed on her side. Almost immediately, Carina shifted, a groan pulling from her lips as she tried to move closer.

"I've got you, baby," Maya whispered, as she gently pulled Carina into her chest, one arm snug around her back, the other resting warm and steady against her side.

Carina curled into her immediately, forehead pressing into Maya’s shoulder, breath uneven but easing.

Maya stared at the wall for a long moment, listening. Counting breaths. Feeling the heat of her seep through the thin cotton of the tank top.

“I’ve got you,” she whispered again, more to herself this time. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Carina burrowed deeper, a feverish sleep taking her, exhausted and fragile. Maya stayed awake long after, holding her, watching her, ready if anything changed.

Maya didn’t really sleep.

She drifted in and out instead, the way you do when part of your brain refuses to stand down. Every time Carina shifted beside her, every change in her breathing, Maya was awake again, her hand reaching out, palm settling gently on Carina’s back or forehead, checking without fully opening her eyes.

At some point, the February grey outside the window softened into morning.

Maya counted doses, set alarms she didn’t trust herself to hear, nudged water into Carina’s hands when she stirred enough to drink. Carina never fully woke up, her sick body moving on autopilot to Maya’s request.

Maya simply dozed between it all, recouping from her night shift through shallow sleep and twenty minute catnaps with Carina squeezed against her side.

By noon, her body finally demanded movement.

She lay there for a while longer, staring at the ceiling, listening to Carina's snuffly, congested breaths. Only when she was sure she was properly asleep did Maya ease herself out of bed, moving with exaggerated care, like the floor itself might creak and wake her.

She paused in the hallway, hands flexing at her sides.

Part of her wanted to run. To try and burn off the leftover adrenaline. To attempt to outrun the worry sitting heavy in her chest. Instead, her eyes caught on the mess scattered through the apartment, and the thought stalled.

“Okay,” she told herself. “Clean. Be useful.”

She started with the obvious trail Carina had left behind. Shoes went back by the door, lined up neatly. A sock disappeared into the hamper. Carina’s work bag was unzipped just enough for Maya to see an untouched lunchbox. She pulled it out, and rinsed and stacked to dry without really thinking about it.

She moved quietly, methodically, one small task bleeding into the next.

Coats were hung. The counter was wiped. Water bottles were refilled with electrolytes and left within reach.

When she headed back toward the bedroom to gather the scrubs so she could wash them, she slowed, peering in. Carina had shifted in her sleep, face still flushed, hair stuck damply to her forehead, one arm slung across Maya’s pillow like she’d been looking for her.

Maya stood there for a beat longer than necessary.

Still sick, she thought. Still needing her close.

She crept in just far enough to reach the discarded uniform, pausing when Carina coughed to watch her chest rise and fall. Only once her breathing settled again did Maya retreat, scrubs bundled to her chest as she slipped back out on tiptoe.

Scrubs, socks, and whatever laundry she could find went into the washer. Maya set the cycle, then stood there for a moment, suddenly unsure what came next.

She checked the clock and blinked. Nearly one.

She’d forgotten to eat.

"Okay," she mumbled, "food."

Her mind immediately went to a lean green smoothie with all of the good stuff, wanting to preemptively fight off whatever Carina had picked up. On instinct, her hands started reaching for things; spinach, broccoli, mango. She paused. She froze, hands hovering.

“Nope,” she whispered, scolding herself as she glanced toward the bedroom. The blender would be way too loud. Carina needed sleep more than she needed vitamins.

Maya stared into the fridge, recalibrating.

“New plan,” she said quietly.

Maya stared into the fridge for a long moment, longer than was necessary when there were tubs of leftovers from meals Carina had cooked. Eventually, when the fridge beeped at her for being open too long, she sighed, shutting it with a soft thud.

“Later,” she muttered.

She stretched, looking around the apartment again, trying to find something to do. Her feet carried her back to the bedroom on instinct. She hovered just inside the doorway, eyes trained on Carina who gave a loud snore followed by another cough. Maya started forward, instinct telling her to rub Carina’s back, but she stopped. Carina was still asleep. Rubbing her back would wake her up, and she was fine. Just sick.

Slowly she backed out, leaving the door ajar.

Maya returned to the kitchen. Carina would be mad if she found out she had skipped breakfast and lunch. Her girlfriend was always casual about her eating, never forcing it but often silently putting a plate in front of her with a kiss on the forehead.

Carina would tell her to make the smoothie in this situation, but her mind was still stuck on not waking her up, so she settled for a piece of toast she barely toasted and didn’t bother buttering, standing at the counter while she ate it in small, absent-minded bites. It tasted like nothing. She washed it down with a couple of swigs of orange juice and called it enough.

It wasn’t, but it would do.

The restlessness didn’t ease.

She drifted toward the treadmill instead, still in her pyjamas. It wasn’t ideal but she needed to move, to shake off the panic that Carina was sicker than she'd assessed. She pulled on her trainers, winced at the fact she wasn't wearing a bra, and hopped on the treadmill.

The machine hummed to life, mercifully quiet. Maya set it slow at first, eyes flicking instinctively toward the hallway, listening.

She managed three minutes before she paused it again.

Carina groaned.

Maya was off the treadmill and halfway down the hall before she fully registered the sound, stopping in the doorway to check. Carina was still asleep, breathing uneven but steady, flushed and warm beneath the blankets.

Okay.

Maya went back.

She tried again. This time she lasted five minutes. Then seven. Each time she stopped, it was for something small; her mind telling her she'd heard Carina move, a noise from the pipes, the sense that the apartment had gone too quiet.

Eventually she gave up, straddling the belt as it slowed. She hadn't even managed half a mile.

Defeated, she sank onto the sofa, resigned to wait for Carina to need her, or the next alarm for medication to go off.

Carina woke to light instead of pain.

The headache was still there, dull and persistent, but it no longer felt like it was splitting her skull in two. Unfortunately, her throat burned when she swallowed, her chest ached when she took a breath, her nose was blocked and her skin felt tight and overheated beneath the sheets.

Maya wasn't pressed against her.

She lay there for a moment, orienting herself, then sat up carefully. The room tilted, but only slightly this time. Manageable.

Carina swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat there for a moment longer, letting the lingering dizziness settle.

Doccia, she decided.

The bathroom light felt too bright, but the cool tile under her feet was grounding. She barely had time to turn the shower on before her stomach rolled unpleasantly, a sharp warning that sent her towards the toilet.

It wasn’t surprising, her stomach was always sensitive after having a fever and whilst the details were hazy, she could feel she'd had a high fever for a few hours.

“Che schifo,” she muttered under her breath.

Once her belly settled, the worst of the cramps over, she stood, flushing the chain, making her way over to the shower as she peeled off her tank top.

By the time she stepped under the water, she was already exhausted again. She kept it lukewarm, leaning one hand against the wall as steam curled around her, washing away the sweat and the worst of the fever-haze. Her head still felt heavy, but the pounding had dulled to something tolerable.

When she stepped out, she caught her reflection in the mirror and grimaced; pale, flushed, eyes a little glassy.

Still sick. Just… less.

She did feel better after her shower, more human and a little less feverish. Even her stomach had calmed down under the hot stream, her cramps easing to nothing.

Getting dressed felt like too much effort. She settled for a little night dress, tugging it on carefully, skin still sensitive and warm. That was enough. Anything else could wait.

The apartment was quiet when she padded out of the bedroom.

Maya was curled on the sofa, one arm tucked awkwardly under her, head tipped back against the cushion. She must have drifted off at some point, exhaustion finally catching up with her.

She gasped awake at Carina’s almost silent footsteps.

"I'm awake I- oh. Hi, what are you doing up?" She said, on her feet immediately, her eyes scanning Carina as she approached.

“I’m sorry,” Carina said, before Maya could say anything else. She hovered near the end of the sofa, arms folded loosely around herself.

"Hey, no, honey. No," Maya said softly, guiding her over to the sofa. "It was a new experience, that's all. I don't think I've ever seen you ill before. A cold maybe... but not- yeah," she trailed off, not wanting to say too much. She could see under everything Carina was embarrassed. “No need to apologise though.”

Carina gave a faint, self-conscious huff of a laugh. “I don’t usually get that sick. I don’t know what happened.”

"You picked something up at work," Maya shrugged, as if it was the simplest thing ever.

"Mmm... but I don't think I've ever been- I promise this isn't a regular occurrence."

“I believe you,” Maya said, stepping closer. Her hand hovered, then settled gently on Carina’s knee. “But you were… really out of it this morning.”

Carina’s shoulders dropped a little at that, the admission landing heavier than she expected. “Mm. I don’t remember much after coming home.”

“Yeah,” Maya said, not unkindly. “That tracks.”

There was a brief, awkward pause, an air of new-relationship, where neither of them quite knew what came next.

Maya broke it first.

"Let's get you checked over now you're upright," she said, springing into action, heading for the bedroom. She returned only moments later, her arms full of the supplies that had been on Carina's nightstand.

"Okay, so, your last temp was 102.3, and you seem much more with it now, let's see," she said softly, brushing Carina’s damp hair behind her ear as she slid the thermometer in. "Look at that, 101.1. Way better, you still very much have a fever, but you're two degrees lower than at 7am. I am counting that as a win."

"I definitely feel more... me."

"Good. You still sound congested, how does your breathing feel?" She asked, resting her hand on Carina's back.

"Okay. I feel a little... gunky."

"Yeah, you've brought up some stuff with me, a little yellow. We can keep an eye on it, take you to the doctor if it persists."

Carina watched her, something tender and rueful in her expression. “You didn’t have to do all of this.”

“I know,” Maya said simply. Then, softer: “I wanted to.”

She tucked a blanket around Carina’s shoulders, adjusting it until it sat just right. “How’s your head now?”

“Dull,” Carina admitted. “But manageable.”

"Are you still dizzy?"

"Not really. If I move too quick, the room kind of spins," Carina explained, the exhaustion beginning to weigh on her.

"You were nauseous earlier. How's your stomach?"

"It's a little..." she pressed her hand to it, "unhappy? Not... vomiting but..."

"A little bit upset?" Maya offered, resting her hand by Carina’s.

"Sì."

"We can keep an eye on it, maybe get you some medicine if it persists."

There was an awkward pause before Maya moved, sitting on the sofa next to her. She raised her arm and let Carina cuddle in, running through everything in her mind to make sure there wasn't anything she'd missed. "Dammit."

"Cosa?" Carina yawned.

"I forgot something."

Carina lifted her gaze. “Hm?”

“You had a bit of a rash,” Maya said vaguely. “Right here. Under where your bra sits," she sat up, gesturing to her own ribs. She paused, suddenly aware of how it sounded. “It didn’t look angry... or viral, just… irritated. But I want to make sure it hasn’t spread. Did you... when you showered?”

"I didn’t really look." Carina’s ears pinked immediately.

"May I? With the fever and other symptoms, I just want to check it's not changed or something," Maya added, already sounding apologetic. “If that’s okay.”

There was a tiny hesitation, new and fragile, before Carina nodded. “Okay.”

She turned for Maya, and hooked her fingers into the hem of the nightdress and lifted it. Heat crept into her cheeks when she realised she didn't have any underwear on. She felt absurdly shy about it despite everything else Maya had already seen today.

Carina jumped a little, as Maya tucked the blanket securely around her hips, so she wasn't exposed.

"Thank you."

"It's nothing. You'll have to lift it a little higher, though, honey, it's right around here," she rested her hand on Carina's ribs.

The Italian nodded and threw caution to the wind, pulling the article of clothing off, clutching it to her chest.

Maya, for her part, barely blinked.

Her focus narrowed immediately, hands warm and sure as she checked the faint redness along Carina’s ribs and back. “Still there,” she murmured. “But it looks better. Less raised. Though in the light I can see you have a few more patches.”

"I get heat rashes sometimes."

"It's probably that. Heat and sweat and fever. You were still in your scrubs when I got home."

"This is so embarrassing."

"It's not, you really didn't feel good," Maya said, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

"Mmm..." she hummed, pressing her forehead into her nightdress. "Bambina."

"Yeah," Maya said, carefully pressing her hand to a patch near the base of her spine.

"I have cream for when I get it, it... helps."

"I could put some on, if you want. Tell me where it is?"

"In my drawer in the bathroom. A white... tubetto. It's called... words."

"I'll bring all of the white tubes and tubs," Maya said, leaning forward to kiss her cheek.

Maya was back a minute later, arms full despite her promise.

“I brought… options,” she said quietly, setting the assortment on the coffee table. “We’ll figure it out.”

Carina smiled weakly, still clutching the nightdress to her chest.

Maya held up various items until Carina nodded, "sì, that one, hydrocortisone."

"Of course, okay," Maya said, leaving the pile on the table, climbing back onto the sofa behind her. “This might feel cold,” she warned.

“It’s fine,” Carina murmured, eyes flicking away as Maya’s hands returned to her ribs.

Maya worked slowly, deliberately, like she had all the time in the world. She took a little longer with a patch that had appeared on Carina's side where the seam of her bra usually sat.

“Hey,” Maya said gently, noticing the way Carina’s shoulders had drawn in. “This is still just irritation. Nothing scary.”

“I feel ridiculous,” Carina admitted softly.

“You’re sick,” Maya replied immediately. “Your body’s just… doing sick body things.”

That earned a quiet huff of a laugh.

Maya smoothed the cream into the other patches, her touch steady and careful, never lingering longer than necessary but never rushed either. “You might actually feel better without clothes for a bit,” she added, pragmatic. “Let your skin breathe. You could lie on your belly against me."

Carina hesitated for half a second, then let the nightdress slip from her hands.

“Okay,” she said, voice small but resolved.

Maya didn’t react at all, just finished applying the cream and wiped her hands on a tissue. Then she pulled Carina gently onto her, reaching for a blanket to cover her lower half, leaving her back exposed to the air.

“There,” she murmured. “Much better. Let this skin breathe.”

Carina melted into her almost immediately, forehead pressing into Maya’s collarbone, bare skin warm against her. Maya’s arm came around her without thinking, holding her securely, thumb tracing slow, absent lines against her shoulder.

The embarrassment ebbed, replaced by something quieter. Safer.

"Thank you."

"Always," Maya said, pressing her lips to Carina’s still warm forehead.

"I can't believe the first time you see me ill is with the highest fever I've ever had as an adult," Carina mumbled, "I didn't even ease you in with a stomach ache. Or a blocked nose."

"Maybe your body wanted to test me," Maya said lightly.

Carina scoffed, and sighed, "you passed."

"Good."

Carina hummed, eyes already drifting shut again.

They settled like that, no rush, no awkwardness left to smooth over. Just warmth, breath, and the quiet understanding that this was what it looked like when your relationship softened into something more.