RideForever Janice Sager – A Pox on It!
A Pox on It!
by Janice Sager
A hanky. Ray had thought his mother was the only one who still used them. He carried one at her insistence and out of childhood habit; and because a clean cotton surface was sometimes handy for checking out evidence. Ray was not surprised that Ben carried one. He'd just never expected to see it used for its originally intended purpose. And it wasn't the first time Ben had fished it out today.
"Head cold?" he asked, keeping his eyes carefully focused on the road ahead.
"Apparently," Ben answered, tucking the soiled linen away to be washed later. He sighed silently and closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the head rest.
Ray frowned. It had been a rather frantic day. A couple of hot leads had paid off and they'd managed to bust the head of the car jacking ring they'd been working on all week. Who'd a thought it was a woman? Or that she'd freak and pull a gun. At least no one had been hurt, but he had more than a bit of paperwork facing him tomorrow after the resultant car chase and then foot chase...
Dief offered a worried whine from the back seat. Ben brought low by anything, let alone a head cold, was hard to accept but Ray realized his friend hadn't been quite as fast on his feet as usual there at the end. Apparently the chase had taken the last of his energy reserves. "I suppose even Superman has to catch a cold now and then."
Ben offered an irritable frown but made no move to open his eyes or lift his head. "I'm not Superman," he grumbled, "and I'm not sick. Or not much, anyway. It's just a head cold. I'll be fine in the morning."
"Uh-huh," Ray muttered as he made the turn onto Racine. He finished the turn and reached out to lay a hand on Ben's forehead. Ben jerked at the unexpected touch and immediately swatted the hand away, but not before Ray had learned what he needed to know. "You're running a fever."
"I would hardly think that uncommon with a head cold," the Mountie groused. "Especially after chasing down a fleeing suspect."
"Got any NyQuil or Dristan in your apartment?"
"I'll be fine, Ray," Ben answered, picking up his hat from the dash and swinging the door open as Ray brought the car to a halt.
"Yeah, but miserable," Ray rejoined and threw Ben an irritated frown of his own as he insisted, "Now you got anything to take for a head cold or not?"
"Yes," he answered with a sigh. There were a number of herbal remedies he could prepare that would help alleviate his symptoms just as well, if not better, than the over the counter medications Ray was thinking of. Some tea, a lite dinner and a good night's sleep would see him feeling much better tomorrow. He'd been fighting it for two days now. Ray had simply been too busy working the Angier case to notice before this. "I'll be fine."
The last three words were said quite firmly and Ray knew better than to push. "Okay," he sighed, throwing up his hands in defeat, "but if you're still running a fever when I come to pick you up tomorrow, you're calling in."
Ben didn't have the energy to argue. He merely rolled his eyes and exited the vehicle, holding the seat forward for Dief who joined him with alacrity. "Night, Ray," he called politely as he closed the door. Forcing a normal posture and swift stride, Ben escaped his friend's overly concerned gaze and disappeared into his building. Only when he heard the Riv pull away and was sure there was no one about, did he let his shoulders slump and slow his stride. He was hot and tired and his head was pounding. For the first time since he'd moved into the apartment, he wished the elevator was working.
***
Ray pulled up before Fraser's apartment building earlier than usual the next day. He knew perfectly well that, sick or not, Ben would be down at the curb at 6:45 sharp. By arriving early, Ray hoped to catch him off guard, and maybe get a better idea of how his friend was really doing. If he was still sick, Ray was going to have a fight on his hands to get the Mountie to stay home. The man was the living definition of the word 'stubborn'. He didn't want to have to sit on the guy, but...
It was stupid, and he knew it! He was acting like the guy's mother or something. Everybody got head colds, right?
Everybody except Benny.
That was the problem. Benny had been roughed up and stabbed and shot and hospitalized more than once over their two year friendship. He'd jumped out of windows and off trains and onto moving cars and trucks. He'd faced down cars and guns both, taking on the mean streets of Chicago and refusing to bend. And no matter what, he'd always come out on top of it all. Mr. Invincible!
Well, most of the time... Victoria had been the exception that proved the rule.
Still, the idea that a stupid little germ could knock someone like Benny on his butt was... Well, it was scary, quite frankly. Ray quickly locked his car and headed upstairs. Old bat-ears had probably heard him pull up so he had to hurry if he was to catch his partner unprepared... if that was even possible! Despite the horrendous hour, he actually smiled as he came up to 3J. Ben would be more than surprised to see him this early.
The smile suddenly became a frown as he realized that Ben might also be a little pissed. Quickly, he pulled out the stem of his watch and reset it. If Ben was doing better, Ray could claim his watch was acting up. If Ben wasn't doing better...
But he would be, Ray assured himself, refusing to acknowledge the worry that had him standing here so early. He lifted his hand and gave the wood a sharp rap. Dief greeted him from the other side with a single bark. Ray leaned his head forward, listening for Ben.
"...Ray?" came the muffled reply to the wolf. Ray smirked, then quickly schooled his face as he heard Ben shuffling to the door.
Shuffling?
"Come on, Benny!" he called, hoping to reinforce his cover story for being so early. "We're going to be late!"
Late? Ben paused and glanced at his own watch in confusion. 6:30. Ray was a good fifteen minutes early... Ben couldn't remember him mentioning anything about needing to be in early today? Then again, Ben wasn't exactly up to par at the moment so... He squared his shoulders, remembering Ray's promise to make him call in sick if he were still running a fever. He suspected he was, but he had no intention of missing work because of a silly head cold!
Unfortunately, straightening his shoulders hurt and his expression when he greeted Ray was therefore a bit stressed and not the stoic, perfectly normal face he would have liked to present.
"Benny?" Ray asked in obvious concern.
Ben turned from the door and forced himself to walk as normally as possible to the closet where his red serge tunic and Sam Brown waited to be donned. "I'm not calling in," he told the other man simply, hoping to forestall any argument. "And you're early, not late."
Unfortunately, he spoiled the effect by coughing.
"Hell," he heard his friend mutter and hurry forward. "No you don't." Ray grabbed his arm and stopped him in mid-reach for his tunic.
The unexpected move threw the off kilter Mountie even more off kilter. He was surprised to feel Ray jumping forward to steady him and even more surprised to realize that he needed it. The room wasn't exactly spinning but... "Whoa..." he muttered, waiting for the room to right itself again. The last time he'd felt like this, he'd had a serious concussion...
"That does it," Ray ordered brusquely, firmly assuming control. "You're calling in: no if, ands or buts about it." He placed a cool hand upon the Mountie's forehead. "You're burning up! When's the last time you took some Tylenol?" He didn't wait for Ben to answer but instead turned him toward his bed before he fell over.
"A low grade fever isn't necessarily a (cough)... a bad thing, Ray." He frowned as he felt himself falling back upon the bed with nothing more than a light shove from his friend. The minute he was down, he was trying to stand again. "I can't call in," he complained. "We're hosting this month's diplomatic round table. Inspector Thatcher is going to--"
He was interrupted by another coughing fit that set him right back on the bed. Oh god but his head felt like it was going to split open!
Ray managed to discover the box of Kleenex Ben had placed on his night stand and shoved several tissues in his face. "Low grade fever, my ass," he muttered curtly. "You shut up and do as you're told or I'm hauling your butt to the hospital! Which will it be?"
Ben couldn't answer. He needed to blow his nose instead.
"That's what I thought." Ray nodded and fished out his cell phone, flipping it open and hitting the speed dial for the Consulate. "Turnbull should be there by now..."
"Ray..!" Ben complained, tossing the tissue toward the waste basket and missing. He frowned in irritation, and then turned his gaze to Ray to stare up at him in pained frustration. Dief offered a concerned whine and came over to push his snout into Ben's hands. "I'm fine," he assured the wolf, then glanced back at Ray. "It's only a head cold! Can't we just get some of that NyQuil or Dristan you mentioned the other night?" Ben hated taking medications like that but right now he'd do anything to end this talk of calling in. He had to go to work! He couldn't believe that a little head cold was making him feel so weak and miserable. "This isn't necessary. I won't be exerting myself. I'll simply be sitting down all day!"
"You mean you'll be sleeping all day," Ray rejoined firmly, moving away so Ben wouldn't be tempted to try and take the phone away from him. "Turnbull, it's Vecchio. The Dragon Lady in yet?"
Fraser rolled his eyes and tried to stand. This was ridiculous! He--
--Oh heavens, but it hurt to move like that! He discovered yet again that he ached all over. He'd been hoping that getting up and moving around would help, but it hadn't. And apparently the willow bark tea he'd made earlier hadn't kicked in yet either. He knew it was the effects of the fever. He knew he was being a wimp. He also knew he couldn't hope to jump to his feet and get the phone away from Ray before Turnbull finished his diatribe about calling people names.
"Right. Right, whatever," Ray interrupted him, "is she there yet? ...Okay, well, take a message for me, okay?"
Ben propped his elbows on his knees and dropped his face into his hands in defeat. Dief jumped up on the bed and lay down next to him. Ben reached over and gave him another reassuring scratch. This was so stupid...
"...Fraser's sick. He ain't coming in today." There was a long pause in which Ben was quite certain Turnbull was expressing his concern. Darn, but he hated having someone worried about him! "...No, it's not serious, looks like a bad head cold, but he is running a good fever. I'm going to be taking him over to my place and sic Ma on him. She'll get him back on his feet in no time."
"This isn't necessary..." Ben sighed in vain.
"Tell the Dragon La-- Inspector Thatcher -- that she can call me if she has a problem with it, okay?" Again there was a bit of a pause while Turnbull spoke. "Right. Talk to you later."
And that was that. Apparently, he wasn't going to work today...
***
"Ma!" Ray shouted without preamble as he held the door open for Benny. It was obvious he didn't want this kind of fuss, but Ray wasn't giving him a choice. The man was pale, his cheeks rosy with fever and his eyes looked like three inches of cracked glass. Even so, the proud Mountie fought to hold himself straight and not sway as he tried to dissuade his friend one last time.
"Please take me home, Ray," he asked. "If I stay here, I'm just going to spread it to your family. Surely, you don't want that?"
"We've probably already had it, Benny," Ray answered, gently kicking Dief forward so he could shut the door. "The kids are always bringing stuff home from school."
Ben cleared his throat and couldn't resist scratching a spot on his chest. His Henley under the tunic was itching for some reason. Probably the sweat from the fever. "Still, if you're not certain--"
"Ray?" Frannie's surprised tone carried to them a moment before the young woman appeared at the doorway to the dinning room. "What are you doing her-- Benton? Oh my God, you look terrible! What happened?"
Ray rolled his eyes at what he decided was typical-Frannie-over-reaction to the situation. "Nothing 'happened', Frannie," he corrected her in disgust and stepped between her and Fraser in a futile attempt to shield the defenseless man. "He's sick. Where's Ma?"
"Maria was taking her to the grocery store after they dropped the kids off at school," his sister answered, easily side stepping his attempt to protect Benny and frowning in concern as she took in his flushed face. She reached for his forehead but Ray swatted her hand aside.
"Hands off, Frannie," he ordered brusquely. "The poor guy's sick. He doesn't need you pawing him."
Frannie awarded her brother's comment the look of utter disdain it deserved. "I had no intention of 'pawing' him. I just wanted to check him for fever."
"Of course, he's running a fever!" Ray exclaimed. "You can look at him and see that!"
"I can't tell how bad it is--"
"--You can't tell that with your hand either, Frannie!"
"Yes, I can, Bro," she claimed sharply. "I've been baby-sitting Maria's kids when they get sick since they were born, which is a hell of a lot more than you can say. Stop acting like I'm going to rip his clothes off and let me help him! Frankly, he looks like he should go to the hospital." She frowned up at him in concern again and again reached for his forehead. This time Ray didn't stop her. "He's up there all right," she decided. "A hundred and two, easy. When's the last time you took any medicine, Benton?"
"He hasn't," Ray answered, taking Benny by the arm and leading him past Frannie toward the guest room. "Wanta help? Get a thermometer and some Tylenol."
"I drank some willow bark tea earlier," Ben supplied. "It's a natural--"
"--Willow?" Frannie interrupted him. "That's, like, what they make aspirin from isn't it?"
"Yes--" Fraser was interrupted from saying anything more by a coughing fit.
"Where'd you learn about where aspirin comes from?" Ray asked in surprise.
She rolled her eyes. "I know a hell of a lot more than you ever give me credit for, Ray. Hey..." Frannie frowned, noticing something on the side of Ben's neck and leaning in to peer closer. "What's this?"
Ben jerked back in surprise and Ray had to grab him to keep him from falling over. "What'da ya think you're doing?" he exclaimed in disbelief while stiff arming Frannie away. "You trying to catch this too?"
"I'm trying to see what's on the side of his neck," she rejoined irritably. Ray was always so melodramatic!
"What?" he asked, turning back to Ben as the Mountie managed to control his cough and stand upright again. Ray frowned at his neck. "Here?" There was a small, red dot on Ben's neck, just above the collar of his tunic which Ben had insisted on donning. It was either that or change clothes all together as he refused to leave the apartment in a partial uniform. "Looks like... like a bite, maybe?" It was a little bigger than the size of an eraser but Ray couldn't distinguish a center point like for a bite...
Ben lifted a hand to the spot they were looking at but couldn't feel anything.
"Outta the way, Bro." Frannie gently shoved him aside. "Let an expert take a peek."
Ray rolled his eyes but allowed Frannie her look. She did handle the kids and stuff a lot more than he did.
Ben was a bit more hesitant about the inspection, but one look at the real concern on Francesca's face forced him to drop his hand -- 'though he did hold his breath in what he knew was quite surely a futile attempt to keep her from being exposed to his germs.
Frannie put her hand upon his neck, noting again how warm he was. She also noted when he scratched his chest again... She quickly scanned the rest of his neck and found a second, lighter mark up by his hair line.
She frowned sharply. "Frase--" She started to ask him something, then decided she had to be wrong. He was too old. Not that there was really an age limit or... She saw him scratch yet again in a different spot. She bit her lip in confusion and dared ask the question she'd thought of, hoping he wouldn't laugh at her. "Frase... have you ever had... chicken pox?"
***
"Chicken pox!" Ray echoed incredulously.
Ben got a surprised look on his face and glanced down at his hand which was arrested in the act of scratching yet another itch. He didn't show the slightest inclination toward laughter.
Ray easily read Ben's dumbfounded look. "You haven't, had you? The worst thing you could name a couple months ago when I asked you about being sick as a kid was pink eye. You've never had chicken pox!"
"One of the Gamez family in my building recently suffered a case of chicken pox," Ben answered, putting the final pieces together. "I must have been exposed and not realized it."
"That's where you got it," Frannie nodded decisively. "Ray, get him up into bed and get him comfortable while I go get what I need. And by comfortable I mean *comfortable*: T-shirt and underwear. And if he's wearing those long johns of his, give him some of your stuff. That wool, or whatever it is, is only going to make the itch worse."
"How do you know about his long johns!" Ray exclaimed in surprise.
She rolled her eyes at her brother's over defensiveness. "It's none of your business how I know. I know, okay?"
Ray turned his glare on Benny who could do nothing but stare back in confused mortification. He'd already explained to Ray before that he couldn't... His sense of chivalry refused to let him explain. *Oh dear,* he thought.
Frannie sighed and turned away, exasperated with her brother. Still, Benny was kinda cute when he was all flustered... "I promise not to jump him..." she threw a flirtatious smile over her shoulder, unable to resist teasing him even as she hurried away, "...unless he wants me too."
"Frannie!" Ray shouted.
"Oh dear..."
"I'm joking!" she called back while trying to choke back her laughter as
she disappeared around the corner. Men! And they called women the
illogical ones.
Ray shook his head as she disappeared and then turned to regard his
rather shell-shocked friend. "It was that night, wasn't it," he accused
Ben. "When you said she threw herself at you."
"That's not what I said, Ray."
"When she 'offered' herself to you, then! ...You're still not going to
tell me what happened, are you?"
Ben merely stared at him in helpless silence... until he was forced to
turn away by suddenly sneeze.
Ray sighed, knowing he'd never get it out of him. "'Might be a better
idea if I took you to the hospital after all, Benny," he suggested.
Ben frowned. "No," he refused bluntly. "There's nothing a doctor could
really do for me in any case, Ray. Chicken pox is a viral infection.
It has to run it's course." Another coughing fit interrupted him. Ray
grabbed hold of his arm to steady him.
"One look at you and any doctor in his right mind would slap your butt in bed!" he claimed.
Ben straightened painfully. "I'd be sent home with a large bottle of calamine lotion, instructions to alternate acetaminophen and ibuprofen for the fever, and told to sleep," he rejoined.
Ray offered a rather unsympathetic snicker. "I can just see you laying in bed, encrusted in bright pink lotion and staring up at the ceiling in that sauna you call an apartment while exerting all your concentration not to scream because of the itching!" He began leading Ben toward the steps to the second floor only to have the Mountie dig in his heels once more.
"There's no need to exaggerate my condition, Ray," Ben sighed. "I'm sure I'll be uncomfortable for a few days, but there's no reason to think I can't manage on my own. It really would be best if you simply took me home. Chicken pox is highly contagious. I don't want to expose your family to it."
"Stop arguing and get up these stairs!" Ray got him moving again with a gentle shove. He simply didn't have the strength to put up any kind of resistance. "Everyone in the family has already had the chicken pox except little Sylvia and I think she got vaccinated against them a few months ago."
"The chicken pox vaccine is very new, Ray," Ben argued. "No one is sure how effective it is."
"Then I guess we're going to find out, aren't we?" he answered, forcing Ben upward. "Maria will probably have Sylvia up here climbing all over you just to make sure she does get exposed. It's supposed to be a lot easier for kids to handle than adults. Ah shit!" He suddenly exclaimed as a horrible thought occurred to him. He stopped dead in his tracks and glanced back to make sure Frannie hadn't reappeared. "You gotta go to the doc!" he whispered. "You could wind up sterile from this!"
"Sterile?" Ben echoed in surprise.
"Yeah, sterile!" Ray hissed in concern. "Like as in 'not being able to ever have any kids' kind of sterile? Shit, I forgot about that..."
"Ray," Ben sighed, rolling his eyes, "that's an old wives' tale."
"No, it isn't, Benny!" Ray exclaimed softly. "Why the hell do you think they used to have chicken pox parties? Used to be if a kid in the neighborhood got the chicken pox, the mothers would all get together and throw a kind of party for him so as to expose all their kids to it too, cause you wanted to make sure you got it as a kid and not an adult when it could, you know, do permanent damage!"
"Yes, Ray," Ben sighed. "I know that, but there is no actual documented evidence of the chicken pox causing sterility in adult males, or if there is it is very rare. Mumps on the other hand..." He suddenly glanced behind him as he remembered that Francesca was in the house. He cleared his throat and continued, softly. "But I don't have the mumps. I have chicken pox. Apparently. And while it is true that it's much harder on adults than on children, it's not something to be overly concerned about." He had to pause to wipe his nose.
"You sure?" Ray asked, knowing full well that Benny was a fount of strange little trivia like this but that didn't mean he couldn't be wrong.
"Quite sure, Ray," he answered, looking rather worn out by the whole discussion. "Besides, even if there were a danger of... of sterility..." He glanced around again to make sure Francesca was not about to rejoin them. "...there would be nothing a doctor could do. As I already explained, chicken pox is a virus, not a bacterial infection. Antibiotics won't work against it. All a doctor can do is treat the symptoms."
"Yeah, well, maybe I'll call a doctor later just to be sure." Ray grabbed him by the arm again and started pulling him upstairs. "I know how you hate hospitals."
"I do not hate hospitals," Ben rejoined, giving into the inevitable with ill grace as he let his friend drag him upstairs. "I simply don't see any need to go to one right now."
"Whatever. Come on grumpy boy, lets get you safely settled before that sister of mine reappears and tries to embarrass the hell out of both of us again."
Ben answered Ray's teasing with a definite look of fear.
He laughed. "Don't worry," Ray assured him. "I'll read her the riot act. And I'm not about to leave here 'til Ma gets home. She won't try anything then. You'll be safe."
"Thanks, Ray."
"Not a problem, Benny."
***
There was a small part of Frannie that was tempted to hurry, grabbing just the basics and then rushing upstairs to insist upon helping to get Fraser undressed. She grinned unrepentantly at the thought. It was a nice fantasy but hardly smart. Ray would have a cow, and Frase... Despite her brother's thoughts otherwise, she wasn't completely insensitive!
And after the fiasco of her attempted seduction the night he'd been so badly beaten by Frank Zuko's goons... She shuddered, remembering her horror at discovering his injuries. She'd forgotten all about what she'd had on, or the lack there of, and hurried to his side in concern, asking what had happened and what she could do to help. He'd sat frozen, staring at her in a mixture of embarrassment and shock.
And then that long, slow, sweeping glance...
He might want to deny it, and he might not have been able to do anything about it, but he'd wanted her. They both knew it. And she'd thought he'd die of embarrassment. If he could have crawled into a hole somewhere to hide, she was sure he would have.
Instead, they both started talking at the same time. He was apologizing for somehow making her think he'd welcome such an advance and she was apologizing for doing it! She was so embarrassed, coming onto a man who looked like he should be at the hospital rather than in his own bed.
The night hadn't gone at all the way she'd hoped. How could it?
But this would be different. She'd show Benton that there was more to her than... She blushed just thinking about what he must have thought of her that night. She'd worked up her courage and approached several of her friends about a week later, seeking advice, because she was afraid... She was afraid she'd lost his respect forever, and somehow that was more devastating than if he'd simply told her he wasn't interested. They'd all pretty much disbelieved her and that had hurt too. She'd wound up saying things she shouldn't have.
She hadn't expected the whole sordid tale to get back to Ray! He'd said some very hurtful things to her, but they were said out of love and had made her stop and think.
Later, when Benton had asked to walk her home... she'd been too embarrassed to accept, though she did think it was awfully kind of him to offer. At least it proved that she hadn't destroyed their friendship utterly. But she knew perfectly well, that if she ever wanted anything more, she had her work cut out to repair the damage she'd done.
This was her chance to do that, and she wasn't going to blow it.
So, instead of rushing upstairs, she took her time. She grabbed a bucket from the kitchen and went to the bathroom. Thermometer, rubbing alcohol, cotton balls, calamine lotion, wash cloth, Kleenex, Tylenol, Advil, cough syrup... Back to the kitchen. She put on some soup while she fixed a jug of ice water. She'd make some sun tea for him later. She put the jug, a plastic cup and a straw in the bucket with everything else. Then she fixed Benton a breakfast tray. Chicken soup wasn't exactly morning fare, but if he felt anything like what she'd felt like at sixteen with the chicken pox, his stomach was probably starting to get into the act and she'd have a hard time getting him to eat anything.
Orange juice!
Vitamin C was suppose to help fight disease. There was some in the fridge. She added it to the tray and then paused to think if she'd forgotten anything. Ma always prescribed oatmeal bathes too, when the itching got really bad, but they weren't there yet. Besides, she was going to have a major fight on her hands just getting him to let her help with the calamine lotion.
She glanced at the clock. Twenty minutes was long enough. She grabbed a bud vase and stole a flower from the dinning room table. There. Perfect. With a smile, she picked it all up and headed carefully up the stairs. She'd prove to Benton she was more than the shallow twit of a sister she was sure Ray always harped about. She'd take good and proper care of him.
And when he was well, he would thank her. Her smile grew at the thought.
Maybe Ray was right and she was living in a dream world, but those dreams weren't hurting anyone and at least she wasn't afraid to reach for them. She would be the richer for having tried and failed, than if she never tried at all, right?
Balancing the tray carefully, she lifted her hand and knocked.
***
Ray glanced up from his arms-folded, seated sentry duty at Benny's side and exchanged a questioning glance with the wolf who lay beside the bed. Frannie had knocked? Would wonders never cease! He didn't know what had taken her so long downstairs but he was glad it had. He quickly rose and went to the door, but he didn't open it far enough for her to come in. "Shhhh!" he hushed her instantly, realizing at a glance what had taken her so long. Soup? Was she crazy? "He's asleep. I want him to stay that way."
"I need to take his temperature and give him some Tylenol," Frannie hissed, straining her neck to see around him.
"He's sleeping!" Ray repeated in a hiss.
"Get out of the way unless you want to wear this soup," Frannie insisted and pushed her way forward. Ray had no choice but to give way, knowing too well she'd be happy to dump the soup on him if he didn't. He rolled his eyes heavenward and shook his head. He'd told Benny he'd be better off at the hospital!
Frannie moved forward, silent as a ghost, and set the tray down on the night stand beside the bed. Even so, she knew Benton must really be out of it not to hear her and waken. She gazed down at him, noting with satisfaction the white cotton of his Henley peeking out from beneath the covers. With a frown, she reached for the top blanket.
Ray grabbed her, jerking her away. "What do you think you're doing!" he hissed angrily. "He's sleeping. Leave the poor guy alone!"
"He's running a fever!" Frannie hissed right back. "He doesn't need that many blankets. It'll only make the fever worse!"
Ray frowned irritably, not trusting her motives for an instant, but recognizing the logic behind her words. "Okay," he relented, "but I'll do it."
Frannie rolled her eyes. It didn't matter who did it, as long as it got done! She folded her arms and watched him carefully fold the coverlet back. Ben turned his head to the side but didn't wake.
"All the way," she whispered when Ray went to straighten. He'd left the heavy folded material over Ben's lower legs. "Take it off the bed if you have too."
Ray glared at her.
"How fast do you think you'd cool off in the summer if you had a blanket over your feet?" she asked pointedly.
With a sigh, he turned back to the bed and lifted the blanket free, turning to put it on the chair for now. "Happy?" he asked.
"He still needs some Tylenol and cough syrup."
Ray shook his head and would have argued the point, but his cell phone decided to ring just then. He grabbed at it frantically in the vain hope of keeping it from waking Benny. A glance at the bed showed his head shifting upon the pillow again, and this time tired gray eyes blinked open in confusion. Damn it! "Vecchio!" he snapped, still keeping his voice down and turning his back on his friend as he dealt with this unwanted intrusion.
As Ray moved away, Frannie took advantage of the moment and slid into place on the edge of the bed. Dief glanced up from where he lay but offered only a single happy thump of his tail before laying his head back upon his paws. Fraser's tossing and turning had kept him up most of the night. Frannie turned her attention back to her patient. "Hey, Benton," she greeted him softly, offering a sympathetic and non-threatening smile.
"Leave him alone, Frannie!" Ray snapped from across the room.
"I'm not going to bite him," she snapped back. She turned back to Fraser with a gentle smile. "He thinks I'm an idiot," she told him even as she laid a gentle hand upon his brow. He gazed up at her in a mixture of embarrassment over his own helplessness... and fear. She chose to ignore the look and frowned. His temperature had gone up. She reached for the rubbing alcohol and a cotton ball. Deftly, she cleaned the thermometer and then checked to make sure it was shaken down before turning back to him. "Open up," she ordered. "Let's see just how bad
this fever Is."
He obeyed. Frannie glanced at her watch and then went about unpacking her bucket. In the background they could both hear Ray quietly arguing about something. "...Yeah, Frannie!" he exclaimed, drawing her attention. "He's sick! I can't leave him alone with--" There was a pause in which the two siblings exchanged speaking looks. "No, it's just the chicken pox, but-- ...no, but... There's no one else who can do it, Sir?" he asked. Ray listened, then closed his eyes and dropped his head in defeat. "On my way," he finally relented and slapped the cell closed. He turned to Fraser in apology. "Dewey's still laid up with that abscessed tooth of his and Huey has to serve a warrant over on Madison. Guy's suspected of murdering his wife. Welsh wants me there yesterday, before he decides to flee or I won't have to worry about being late to work again."
Fraser nodded ready acceptance of the situation. "I understand," he croaked and offered a sharp frown as he cleared his throat.
"I promise not to hop in bed with the poor guy the minute your back is turned," Frannie rolled her eyes in answer to the warning look her brother was drilling into her. "Sheesh! You'd think I was somekinda... I'm not even going to say it!" She threw her hands up in disgust. She frowned down at Fraser as she watched him shift the thermometer in his mouth. "Give me a little credit here, Ray. All I want to do is help him get better."
"Fine," he answered, "but don't be smothering him while you're at it. You take his temperature, give him the Tylenol and then get out. You understand me? He needs to sleep. He doesn't need you fluffing his pillow every five minutes!"
"Excuse me, but who was it who took care of you the last time you got the flu, huh?" she asked. "Ma was down in Florida, remember?"
"I wasn't that sick," Ray argued, refusing to admit that Frannie had been anything other than her normal irritating self when he was flat out on his back during the worst of it.
"Ray," Ben spoke around the thermometer, interrupting them before the 'discussion' could turn into a full scale argument. Frannie glanced at her watch and retrieved the item from his mouth. "I'm sure Francesca knows what to do. I'll be fine." He finished with a massive sneeze. Frannie silently shoved some tissues into his hand.
"Yeah, well, I'll be calling in to check with Ma later," Ray offered, still frowning at his sister, "and if I find out you've been bugging him too much..."
"I'm not going to be bugging him!" she exclaimed even as she frowned at the thermometer.
"You throw her out if she does, Benny," he ordered the man in the bed. "No Mr. Nice-guy. Promise me."
Ben shook his head, looking utterly exhausted. "Ray, I'm sure--"
"Promise me!" Ray insisted.
"I'll be fine, Ray," Ben insisted back, refusing to promise to be rude! He shoved his head back into the pillows, wincing when even that slight movement hurt. His head was pounding, his mouth tasted like pond scum, he ached all over and he was starting to itch. The last thing he needed was an argument!
Ray cast a pointed look Frannie's way she easily read. "103.5," she answered the unasked question with a shake of her head. "Ibuprofen and a sponge bath." She threw a warning glare of her own Ray's way as she stood and took hold of Fraser's remaining blankets, stripping them down to the foot of the bed before either man could react. Fraser was left laying in his long sleeved Henley and starched boxers. She refused to acknowledge the sight or what it did to her pulse. "And don't be giving me any grief," she ordered both of them. Long sleeves? She was going to have to get rid of that. "If that doesn't break the fever, you're going into a luke warm tub. After that, I call 911. No arguments,
clear?"
"Why Advil and not Tylenol?" Ray asked, hesitating to leave.
"It works faster against fever," she answered, pouring Fraser a glass of water.
"And you don't think he needs an ambulance now?"
"Not yet," she decided without glancing up. "We'll see if this works first. It could be just the blankets made him spike." She handed Ben two tablets and then helped support his head as she held a straw to his lips. Dief watched her as avidly as Ray. To both their amazements, her touch remained completely cool and detached. After he'd taken the medicine, she glanced pointedly back at Ray. "You trying to get fired?"
Ray frowned, torn between worry for his friend and the fact that his boss was more than slightly pissed. Ben was looking even worse than he had only a few minutes ago! Unfortunately, he really had no choice. He couldn't risk losing his job. He was going to have to trust Frannie to deal with it. Ma would be home soon, and he had no doubt Benny would be in good hands then. With a nod for Fraser and a last parting glare for Frannie, he hurried out the door. "I'll be calling!" he yelled over his shoulder in both reassurance for Benny and warning for Frannie.
There was nothing else he could do.
***
Ben listened to Ray hurry down the stairs and watched as Francesca rose to take her bucket to the upstairs bathroom. He heard the water turned on even as the front door opened and shut again. He suddenly realized he was alone in the house with Francesca, in bed ... about to be given a sponge bath by her...
This was not acceptable!
He forced himself upright on the bed with a slight grunt. Laying down seemed to have only magnified his many aches and pains, 'though he knew in fact it was simply a side effect of the fever gripping his body. He'd been sick so infrequently in his life that this was a cognitive recognition, not an experience that he could really remember. Forced to realize once again that he was far more ill than he wanted to admit, he gave up the thought of trying to get up and dress before Ray's sister returned. As much as he might want to see himself as capable of doing so and then returning home to fend for himself, he was beginning to realize he couldn't. He doubted he could make it down the stairs without falling. Instead, he reached for the blankets at the foot of the bed and quickly grabbed hold of the sheet. Francesca returned as he was drawing it up over himself and laying down again with a soft groan.
"What do you think you're doing?" she protested, hurrying forward as quickly as the water in the bucket she carried would allow. He closed his eyes and prayed she would just go away. "Benton..." She put her bucket down and reached for the sheet. He gripped it tightly. "I know you're cold, Benton," she offered gently, sympathizing with how badly she knew he must be feeling even as she tried to take the sheet away. "It's the effects of the fever. We have to get you cooled off."
It wasn't working. He blinked open his eyes and stared up at her uneasily. "That's all right, Francesca," he answered, and was disturbed to have to clear his throat again before he could continue. "I'm sure removing the blankets and giving me the medicine was sufficient. A sponge bath isn't necessary. Really."
"I'm not trying anything, Frase," she assured him. "It's going to be several minutes before the Advil can kick in. We need to get your fever down *now*." She tugged gently.
Her only answer was a glassy, wide-eyed look and a tighter grip on the sheet.
She tugged again. "You gotta let go of the sheet, Benton."
"No." He wasn't about to let go of the sheet, and that was that!
"Frase, I can't give you a sponge bath through the sheet."
Exactly. "What would your mother say if she were to return and discover you giving me a sponge bath?"
"She'd tell you to stop acting like a child and let me help you!" Frannie answered readily. "Then she'd send Maria out for a big tub of ice cream."
Somehow, she'd known that the idea of sending Maria out for a tub of ice cream would distract him. He relaxed just a fraction as he absorbed the mental image, but it was enough. Francesca, yanked sharply on the sheet, tearing it from his grip before he knew what was happening. "Francesca!" he exclaimed, suddenly finding himself minus even the slight protection the sheet had afforded him. He felt his cheeks heat as he hurriedly lowered a hand to assure that the opening of his boxer shorts remained closed. She ignored him, concentrating on stripping the sheet to the end of the bed, well out of ready reach.
"That's better," she proclaimed and put her fists on her hips. She knew how to be stubborn too and she wasn't afraid to fight dirty! Seeing his look of shock and rather obvious blush, Frannie sighed and shook her head, then bent to retrieve a towel she'd brought with her from the upstairs bathroom. "Men!" she offered in exasperation. She stood again and draped it smoothly over his groin. "I was married for two years, Fraser," she informed him curtly. "You don't have to be modest around me."
He dragged his hand out from under the towel and made sure it was covering him as best it could. "Be that as it may--" He interrupted himself with a sneeze. Damn! It was hard enough to argue his point without being incapable of completing a sentence!
Francesca handed several more tissues over without comment. He blew his nose, *again*, and then continued. "Be that as it may, this is hardly appropriate. And while a fever of 103 might be high; by itself, such a fever isn't worth undue concern. I'm still quite cognizant and alert. Besides, I was under blankets before you took it. A sponge bath really isn't necessary."
Francesca answered by putting her hand upon his brow. "Really?" she offered sarcastically. "It's 103.5, not 103, and I suspect arguing with me about it has only made it worse. Now, you can either sit up and take your shirt off or I can drench it and the rest of you with this wash clothe." She held up the dripping item in question. "'Course, I'm likely to drench the bed too, in which case you'll be sleeping in *my* bed tonight..." She offered him a wicked grin. "Your choice!"
Somehow, the mere *thought* of having to sleep in her bed was embarrassing, especially when she smiled at him that way! Fraser decided to try bargaining. "Can't -- Can't we just wait a few minutes to see if the Advil kicks in?" he suggested. "I really am quite uncomfortable with this whole idea, Francesca."
Such an honest and forthright admission of 'discomfort' was hitting below the belt. Men weren't supposed to admit to such weaknesses! The fact that part of his disquiet stemmed from a need to protect her honor, even from herself, only made Frannie feel worse about ever having teased him. Unfortunately, none of it changed the fact that he was running a high fever.
"I'm sorry, Frase," she sighed, "I know you don't like it, but I really do think you need a sponge bath. No flirting, teasing or joking going on here: Just several years of helping Maria with the kids. You're too hot and we have to get your fever down. Please..."
Unknown to her, she'd pulled out the big guns with that 'please'. Fraser sighed, torn between the fact that she was obviously worried about him and a moral imperative to maintain his modesty.
"Please, Frase?" she repeated.
Damn... With a sigh he gave up and nodded. He could not refuse the very real concern in her eyes. He lifted his head and fought not to groan again as he forced himself upright. Suddenly, Francesca's cool hands were behind his shoulders and on his arm, helping him to sit up. Her touch was his best gage of exactly how hot he was.
"Sore, huh?" Frannie sympathized with him as she helped him upward. "Fever does that to you after a while. I had the chicken pox at sixteen, and I know I was miserable. Don't worry though, the Advil will help with that too. There we go..." She released him as he came upright, then reached for the bottom of his shirt.
He froze. "I'll do it," he said sharply, then added a, "thank you," to soften it. He suited action to words, ignoring his muscles many complaints as he crossed his arms and took hold of the shirt to lift it over his head. He silently chastised himself for his weakness. It was only the chicken pox, for heaven's sake! He hated the fact that he was causing such a fuss.
Frannie kept silent as she watched him struggle to remove the shirt. She stopped him before he had it half lifted and reached toward his throat.
He shied away from the unexpected move and then realized he'd forgotten to undo the buttons at his neck. Given the amount of pain that just lifting the shirt was causing him, it would be foolish to insist upon undoing them himself, especially as she was already doing it. Her touch was light and impersonal as she carefully plucked at the fabric, threading buttons through button holes. She glanced up and caught him looking at her. The dark brown eyes gazed into his blue... He knew she was remembering the last time they'd been so close and shared such a look, when she'd come to his apartment after Zuko's men had beaten
him... She'd been wearing Chanel no 5 then. This time it was an herbal scent he caught...
"Chamomile." Ben was more than startled to hear his father identify the scent for him. He jerked and glanced to the side, shattering the moment. "A nice earthy scent!" Bob declared happily.
Frannie jerked as well, though not because she'd heard his father's voice. She gave herself a little shake, realizing that she'd been staring and likely embarrassed him again! She dropped her eyes and frowned at her frozen hands, ordering them back to the task at hand even as she felt a blush touch her cheeks. Blush? Her?! Here she was supposed to be proving she was capable of helping him and instead she was practically drooling on the man.
"Nice girl," Bob continued, eyeing Francesca thoughtfully. "I've seen her around before, haven't I? It's more than obvious she likes you, Son. Why don't you go ahead and kiss her?"
Ben stared in disbelief at his father, thanking heaven that Francesca could neither see nor hear the ghostly apparition. He wished he were as equally blessed - at least at this particular moment. His father certainly had the most atrocious timing! "Do you mind?" he hissed.
Frannie jerked her hands away, realizing that she'd finished the buttons and thinking he was telling her to back off. She felt like a fool, freezing like that again! Did she have no self-control at all? The man was just too damn handsome. "Sorry," she offered contritely and stood, giving him back his personal space.
Ben glanced at Francesca in surprise, realizing she'd thought he was addressing her, and-- Well, he couldn't explain! She'd think he was delirious.
"W'up! Bad move there, Son," Bob advised him. "'Shoulda seized the moment while you could. You're not getting any younger you know."
"I'm sick!"
"I know!" Francesca surprised him again. Distracted by his father's outrageous comments, he'd forgotten her again and now kicked himself soundly. "I wasn't trying anything, really." She blushed harder, fighting to ignore the fact that she'd certainly been tempted!
"Sick? With chicken pox?!" Bob practically laughed at him. "That's kid's stuff! A few spots and a good case of the sniffles. A little roll in the proverbial hay would probably do you a world of good! And she's already had it, so no worry there. Go for it, Son!"
Ben stared at him again in utter disbelief. Perhaps he was delirious after all!
"Go on..." Bob urged unrepentantly.
Ben shook his head, wishing his father would simply go away, and glanced back at Francesca. She was biting her lip and had her arms wrapped around her. She looked like he'd practically slapped her! How in the world was he going to get out of this mess?
He frowned, trying to remember exactly what he'd said and how she'd answered... "I know," he responded belatedly. "I didn't mean... I was talking to myself," he finally offered, which wasn't exactly a lie. "Could you...?" He lifted his arms slightly, indicating that he needed help. In reality, he didn't. Well, he might, but he suspected he could still manage to do the job despite the pain such movement was sure to bring. He was a Mountie after all and had suffered far worse than a simple fever before! Still, if it helped Francesca realize he hadn't been chastising her, it was certainly worth a small portion of his foolish pride.
The simple procedure hurt quite a bit more than he wanted to admit. When the shirt finally slipped free, he closed his eyes and bit his tongue as he allowed himself to fall back upon the bed, unable to believe how exhausted simply removing it had left him! He also fought not to groan as every muscle in his body offered a protest when he hit the soft mattress. Francesca was right. His fever must be much worse than he thought!
"Look at you!" Bob chided him. "Weak as a kitten! You're acting like a child." Ben blinked his eyes open to glare at his father. The older man squinted and leaned closer as he added, "And frankly you look like one. Look at all those spots!"
Ben glanced down at his chest, discovering that it was covered in hundreds of tiny red blotches, only a few of which as yet were beginning to rise into the recognizable chicken pox blister. Any doubt as to his diagnosis was instantly allayed.
"You look like Freddie Coobrick did that time he got drunk and decided he just had to go skinny dipping in the middle of July. The mosquitoes were so thick you could practically walk on the water but you couldn't tell Freddie that! Just about sucked him dry, they did. Now that was one sick young man."
Ben ignored his father and laid his hand on his chest in an unconscious attempt to verify he wasn't imagining things. He hadn't noticed any such spots this morning when he was dressing. Of course, he hadn't been looking either. His hand and arm were also showing signs of the viral infection that was attacking his system.
"Don't scratch!" Bob ordered sharply.
"Don't scratch!" Frannie unknowingly echoed him, taking Ben's hand by the wrist and moving it to his side. "I know it itches, but you can't scratch. Not only do they scar if you do, but you don't want to get them infected. Besides, scratching only makes it worse." She laid her hand upon his brow again and then reached for the bucket. "Let's get this fever down and then I can smear some calamine lotion over all of them. That'll take care of the itch."
Ben closed his eyes and drew in a sharp breath as Frannie laid the wet wash clothe upon his chest. It felt like ice, though he knew it wasn't. He kept his eyes closed and turned his head, offering no protest as she continued with her ministrations.
"Nice girl," he heard his father comment again. "She'd make a good mother."
Ben blinked his eyes open again, wishing he dared retort aloud, but was not really surprised to discover that his father had disappeared. With a sigh, he closed his eyes again. Perhaps if he tried hard enough, he could actually go to sleep and thus prevent any further embarrassment to either himself or Francesca. He hoped she could break the fever quickly...
***
"Hi, there," Huey greeted the toddler who opened the door. "Is your daddy--"
"--Timmy? What are--" The man in question appeared in the kitchen doorway behind the four year old, took one look at Jack and Ray, and bolted.
"He's going out the window!" Jack shouted. Ray sprang past him and the kid even as the suspect took a running leap through the third story window, out onto the fire escape.
"Damn it," Ray muttered as he stuck his head out. Up? No, down. Well, that was something at least. Hadn't he just been through this scenario yesterday with Fraser? No gun at least. That was another plus. He quickly climbed out onto the fire escape and started down. Fraser made this stuff look so damn easy...
"Freeze!" A pair of uniformed officers drew their weapons on the fleeing suspect before he could leave the alley. In less than a minute, he was cuffed and being read his rights.
"Good exercise?" Jack teased him a few minutes later as they met up again on the street before the apartment building. Ray was nursing a skinned knuckle he'd gotten on the way down and was just happy he hadn't broken his fool leg. "I thought the perps only did this sorta stunt when Fraser was around?"
Ray ignored the teasing, pulling Jack aside so the social worker who was trying to comfort 'Timmy' could exit the building. The sight of the kid only fueled Ray's anger. "Jerk never even thought about his son," he muttered with a glare for the man who was now being put in a squad car.
"He'd have probably been next on the father's hit list after the guy went through his wife's insurance money," Huey offered with a shake of his head. It was cases like this that got to him the most. He held up a clear plastic evidence bag with a disassembled gun and full clip in it. "Look at what I found on the kitchen table. Wanta bet ballistic matches it to the bullets taken from his wife's body?"
Vecchio wasn't about to take that bet. His cell phone rang just then in any case, interrupting any further discussion. Huey shook his head again and moved off toward the patrol car as Ray flipped the device open. "Vecchio," he answered succinctly.
"Detective," Thatcher's cool tones acknowledged his answer. "Inspector Thatcher. Apparently Turnbull thinks you can tell me why my Deputy Liaison Officer isn't in today of all days when I need him the most! Something about ... a head cold?" she added in a rather frosty tone.
"Chicken pox," Vecchio corrected her.
"...Chicken pox?" she echoed in surprised disbelief.
"Chicken pox," he confirmed. "'Thought it was a head cold when I kidnaped him this morning but he was starting to break out in little red spots by the time we got to my house. He was also running a fever of a hundred and three point five when I left him with my sister, so I'm afraid you're going to have to find someone else to cover for him for a few days."
"Your sister?" Thatcher repeated, clearly aghast. "You left Fraser in the care of your sister, Detective? When he's ill and defenseless!"
"Relax, Inspector. Even Frannie wouldn't attack a man when he's down." *I think,* he added silently. "Besides, Ma was due home any minute. He's in good hands."
"I'm sure your mother is a fine woman, Detective. It's your sister I'm concerned about," she snapped. "If he was running that kind of a fever, you should've taken him directly to the hospital!"
"I offered but he refused. You know how stubborn he is. You're lucky I picked him up this morning. Otherwise, he'd have walked to work and you'd have been forced to call an ambulance when he collapsed, if he made it there at all."
"Which only leads me to believe you should have taken him to the hospital regardless. If you had called me, I would have ordered him to go!"
"We thought it was a bad head cold!" Ray protested. "We didn't see the spots until we got to my place, and Frannie was the one who realized what it was. Not me. We didn't know how bad the fever was until we got him in bed." Ray glanced over to where Jack was leaning on the roof of the patrol car talking to their collar. He needed to get over there. "Don't worry. Frannie helped Ma and Maria nurse the kids through the chicken pox last year. I'm sure he's fine."
"I'm glad you are, Detective, but I'm not," Thatcher stated bluntly. "You could've at least stayed with him until your mother got home. I've seen your sister around him before. I wouldn't trust her as far as I could throw her!"
"Hey!" Ray snapped. "She's still my sister! Watch what you say." He was the only one who could get away with making such comments.
"My apologies, Detective," she allowed coolly, "but you know what I mean."
"I know what you mean and I already warned her off. Like I said, my Ma was due any minute. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm in the middle of a murder investigation here. Got any more questions, call my house. Bye." Without further ado, he slapped the cell closed and headed over to do his job.
***
Ma Vecchio paused outside the guest room and listened. She heard definite snoring coming from within. The poor boy must be exhausted, she thought, and so badly congested! She certainly hoped he didn't normally snore like that! It had been a long day for the poor man. Much to his horror, his stomach had rather emphatically rejected the idea of lunch. Fortunately, Francesca had been wise enough to position a small trash can within easy reach but the simple effort of throwing up had left him shaking badly. It had also sent his fever sky rocketing
again.
It was about then, that his boss, Inspector Thatcher, had come by to check on him. She'd insisted on seeing her subordinate herself. Francesca had brought her up just as Ma was finishing another sponge bath.
Simple surprise at Fraser's appearance had frozen her to the spot for a very long moment. Francesca's voice introducing her to her mother had broken the spell. Clearing her throat and remembering belatedly to breathe, she'd torn her eyes from the scantily clad Constable covered in spots and managed to nod a greeting to the very motherly figure who was caring for him.
"Do not come in here unless you've had the chicken pox!" Ma had warned, even as she stood and retrieved Benton's sheet for him. The poor boy had been mortified by the visit. Francesca really should have knocked first!
The older woman had not much cared for his boss, at least at first. She'd been rather stiff and officious, almost as uncomfortable checking on her officer as he obviously was to have her there. Yet, Ma had soon seen behind her rather proud facade. It was real concern that drew her forward, had her gently questioning his condition and care, and then asking if there were anything she could do to help.
Ma had assured her that though Benton was suffering a rather virulent outbreak of the disease, as Meg could see quite clearly, he was being cared for by those who loved him and who had cared for others with the chicken pox before. They wouldn't let anything happen to one of their own. And as it happened, there was something she could do to help. Ma knew how important it was for someone to feel they were being of use when another they cared about needed them.
"Someone needs to go to his apartment and pick up the dog food for his wolf," she'd explained. "Can she have your keys, Benton? Someone should also get rid of any perishable food in your refrigerator. You don't want to come home to the smell of rotten milk." She made a mental note to call Ray later about picking up a change of clothes for him as she doubted Benton wanted this woman going through his personal items.
"Mr. Mustafi--" Fraser had been interrupted by a coughing spell. He'd winced in pain as it passed and fought to catch his breath. "Mr. Mustafi has the spare key. Apartment 3K."
Meg had noted the wince and frowned in concern. "Does it hurt to breathe, Ben?"
He'd shook his head, not wanting to cause unnecessary concern.
"It is the fever," Ma had diagnosed. "It makes him sore all over." She'd offered him a little ice water to help him clear his throat and then laid her hand upon his brow to check his fever again, but the Tylenol seemed to be working. A glance at the bedside clock had told her it wasn't time for more cough syrup yet.
Then, with all the indomitable authority of a mother and grandmother, she'd called an end to the visit, declaring that Benton needed his rest. His superior hadn't argued. Instead, she'd wished Ben well and gone to fetch the dog food. When she'd returned, less than an hour later, Ben had been slathered in pink and sleeping once more. She'd left again without disturbing him and promised to visit again tomorrow.
That had all happened some hours ago, however, and it was time to check on him again. Hoping that she wouldn't wake him, Ma gently pushed open the door and was surprised to see the dark head turn toward her, the eyes blinking open, but ... then to hear another loud snore? She frowned in confusion and pushed the door open further.
A furry white and gray head suddenly lifted and turned toward her. The sound instantly stopped.
"Was this your dog I heard snoring like that?" she asked in surprise. The wolf had stayed with them before and never had she heard such a noise. But then, he had always been relegated to Ray's room during the night, and she wasn't likely too.
"I'm afraid so," Benton croaked and frowned sharply as he cleared his throat yet again. This brought another wince to his face.
"Is your throat getting sore, mi caro?" Ma asked as she came forward to lay a cool hand upon his pink coated forehead once again.
"A little," he admitted, though the pain that had caused him to wince had actually been in his chest.
Ma ordered him to open his mouth and turned his head toward the light. "Yes," she clucked her tongue in sympathy. "You have the blisters inside your mouth as well. You must make sure to rinse your mouth well if you throw up again. I am afraid you are going to be truly miserable for the next few days, mi caro."
"I'm sorry to be such a bother," he apologized wearily.
"Mi figlio, do you not know you are with family?" she asked. "You care for us and we care for you. This is the way of a family and always will be. You are no bother!" She suddenly turned to frown at Diefenbaker. "But you must go," she ordered firmly. "Your master cannot possibly sleep with you snoring like that!"
"Actually, I'm quite used to it," Ben protested, not wanting to have the animal disturb the rest of the house.
"Perhaps when you're well, but now? No." She would not hear of it. "He can sleep with Raymundo tonight. He has taken care of him before and will be home soon. Besides, I'm sure he needs to go out."
Dief needed no further encouragement beyond the reminder that he had a bladder. Besides, unless he was mistaken, dinner was soon to be served downstairs. He was certain he could convince one of Maria's kids that he needed something more than dry dog food. He rose and gave a little stretch. Then, after glancing at his rather odd looking pack mate and deciding that whatever strange mange he was suffering from wasn't about to kill him, he headed out the door.
"He will be fine," Ma assured her patient with a gentle pat upon his arm. "Rest, mi caro. I will be back to check on you soon."
Ben sighed and reached for the Kleenex box as she pulled the door to behind her, leaving it cracked in case he needed to call out - not that he would ever do so. Despite her kind words and the gentle concern that everyone was showing him, he did feel like a bother. He wasn't at all sure how, but somehow he would have to find a way to repay their kindness. In the mean time, all he could do was blow his nose and try to go back to sleep.
***
(((Whine!)))
*What in the-- *
(((Whine! Scratch! Scratch!)))
Ray frowned as he was dragged from sleep by Dief scratching at the bedroom door. "Ah, man!" he groused irritably. He'd known the last two nights of uninterrupted sleep despite furball's presence was too good to last. He'd let the dog out right before going to bed! He glared at his clock, squinting to focus... "Two thirty-eight," he read. "No way. No way! I watched you go earlier. And I am not letting you out to terrorize the Battaglia's cat! Go back to sleep." He threw a pillow at the dog for good measure, not thinking until after the fact that a
pillow was probably what the stupid wolf was angling for...
(((Bark! Bark!)))
Ray was sitting up in bed like a shot! "Shhhh!" he commanded sharply. "You trying to wake the whole house! What is with you?"
(((Bark!)))
"Okay! Okay already!" Ray rubbed the sleep from his eyes and tossed the blankets back. "But that's the last time you get any of Ma's pasta fazoo."
Dief ignored him, jumping up to claw at the doorknob.
"Stop it already!" Ray hissed as he shuffled his feet into slippers and slipped a robe on. "You ruin the woodwork and I'll have Fraser take it out of your savings." Feeling very much put upon and completely uncharitable toward the wolf, Ray rose and went to the door. Dief was out it in a flash but much to Ray's confusion he headed right, not left toward the steps. "What the--" Ray stuck his head out into the hall and just caught sight of the white tail disappearing into Ben's room. He grimaced and rolled his eyes toward heaven. Ma was going to have his head if the wolf woke Fraser!
After two days in bed, the poor guy was starting to look like a pink popsicle that had been attacked by a million ants. Ray had to fight not to wince whenever he went in there for a visit, or to help him walk to the bathroom. The constant up and down of the fever had left him sore all over and rather unsteady on his feet. Well, the fever, plus not being able to eat decently. The blisters in his mouth even made it hard for him to speak. Ma and Frannie were taking turns nursing him, which really wasn't that hard. All he wanted to do was sleep. Maria was in charge of keeping the kids quiet so he could. Ray was in charge of... well, Dief for one thing!
Quickly, he followed in the wolf's wake, hoping somehow to talk the animal into coming back to his room and leaving Benny alone.
(((Bark! Bark! Bark!!!)))
Ray's alarms suddenly went off. The wolf 'was' trying to wake the house, which meant something was wrong with Benny! He rushed into Fraser's room to find him sitting on the edge of his bed glaring at Dief. A huge sense of relief flooded through Ray. He wasn't sure what he'd expected to find but he wouldn't have been surprised to see Benny lying in the middle of the floor.
"Sheesh! That dog of yours gave me a scare!" Ray told his friend with a smile, then noted that Dief was still very agitated and frowned. The wolf was standing in front of Fraser, just out of petting range, and barked again.
"Quiethh!" Fraser croaked and was rewarded with a sudden and violent coughing fit.
Ray was frowning even harder as he hurried to Benny's side. Ben ignored him, reaching for the Kleenex. Ray shoved the box into his hand even as he reached for the switch on the table lamp and flooded the room with light.
"What's going on?" Frannie's voice intruded over the sound of Fraser's continued cough. Cinching her thick terry cloth robe tighter about her tiny waist, she hurried forward as well.
"Back off, Frannie," Ray stopped her with a hand to her shoulder before she could reach Benny's side. Benny had finally stopped coughing and was now just trying to catch his breath. He wrapped an arm about his ribs as if he were in pain. "Let the guy breathe for a second, will ya?" he demanded. Damn, but Benny didn't look good.
"I don't like the sound of that cough," Frannie decided, easily shaking off her brother's hold and moving forward to kneel beside Dief in front of the bed.
"I'm -- I'm fine," Benny managed to mumble as he fought to catch his breath. He had to stop and clear his throat again and this time he spit into the Kleenex he held to his mouth.
"Let me see that," Frannie demanded, reaching for the used tissue. Ben frowned and pulled it aside.
"Ewww!" Ray exclaimed. "Gross!"
Frannie ignored them both, taking the tissue despite Ben's obvious embarrassment and reluctance to hand it over. "Stop being a baby, both of you!" she ordered, examining the tissue. She frowned sharply. "You're coughing up blood!"
Both men glanced at the pink tinged tissue she held open to the light.
"Ithh's justhh -- my mouthh," Ben decided. His mouth and throat were both raw because of the blisters. He wasn't surprised they were starting to bleed. "I'm fine!" he repeated. Some of the forcefulness was lost within the hoarse sound. All he wanted was for these two to go away so he could curl up in a nice miserable ball and go back to sleep! First, he had to catch his breath and that was proving hard to do.
"Take a deep breath and hold it," Frannie ordered.
Ben frowned, knowing it would hurt to breathe too deeply but that she wouldn't leave him alone until he complied. He did as she requested, or he tried to. He was immediately hit with another tight, wracking cough that had him doubling over in pain.
Frannie nodded and glanced back at her brother. "Call an ambulance," she ordered, and reached out to steady Ben as he suddenly swayed on the edge of the bed.
***
The hospital was the last place that Ben wanted to go. Yes, he was sick. He would even dare to describe himself as being very sick; but it was still only the chicken pox! He was a healthy man in good physical condition, despite the virus that now gripped him. He should be able to endure what it had to throw at him. He was quite chagrined to realize he'd roused the whole house when Mrs. Vecchio appeared in a quilted satin robe, looking quite concerned.
Ray suddenly reappeared to hover beside his sister and mother, telling them the ambulance was on it's way. Tony and Maria both came and went, probably having to check on and reassure their children. Ben hated being the cause of so much trouble!
"An ampthulanth isn'ith -- nethethary," he tried to protest but none of them were listening and he was having to work too hard at breathing to bother arguing further. Given that the ambulance was already in route, it was a moot point anyway. They were talking at and around him but he really wasn't hearing it. Mostly reassurances. Half of it seemed to be in Italian anyway. Lord but he was so tired. He tried to lay down again but that only made breathing more difficult. He had to sit up again to catch his breath first...
Someone was suddenly lifting his head and putting something over his face. Momentary fear sent a serge of adrenaline running through his system as he tried to bat it away. He was having enough trouble breathing without-- His wrist was held down as a male voice he didn't recognize droned at him. He blinked his eyes, fighting to clear his rather muddled thoughts, and realized it was an oxygen mask he now had on his face. Had he passed out? The paramedics couldn't have arrived that quickly...
He took several conscious breaths, as deep as he dared without triggering another coughing fit, and felt his head clearing in response. Some of the overpowering tiredness he felt fell away as well. A secondary wave of fear hit him and was quickly suppressed as he realized he seemed to actually be in need of such emergency medical attention after all. But he still didn't understand why? Unless ... was he developing a secondary infection on top of the chicken pox?
"Feeling a little better there, Mr. Fraser?" the paramedic asked him even as Ben realized belatedly that the man had a stethoscope pressed to his back. "Can you give me a deep breath, maybe?"
Ben shook his head. A deep breath was the last thing he wanted to give them. It would only result in pain and a violent coughing fit that he suspected would indeed cause him to faint. He needed to finish catching his breath first. The mask didn't want to fit particularly well and riding atop the blisters and scabs upon his face made it quite uncomfortable as well, but it was helping him to think again.
Had he spiked another fever? Perhaps gotten dehydrated? He knew he should have been drinking more but... He frowned. What was wrong with him? Bronchitis, perhaps? Was it possible for the chicken pox to spread to his lungs as it had to his mouth? There was knowledge nagging at the back of his mind, awareness that tried to piece the puzzle together and knew what the problem was, but his thoughts wouldn't clear enough for him to be able to grasp whatever it was.
He felt a prick in his arm and glanced down to realize they were starting an IV. He had to consciously focus his thoughts to hear what the droning voice was telling him. There was now a minty taste to the oxygen he was breathing. He had no idea what it was but it seemed to be helping. He took a deeper breath and immediately started coughing again. The mask was pulled aside as one of the paramedics helped support him. The coughing was not as violent as what he'd been enduring and it was far more productive, and then the mask was being slipped back over his face again. There was a device of some kind with a medication cup attached to the oxygen mask. As the air passed through the cup, the medication was turned into a mist. This must be what he was tasting. He noted again that it seemed to be working. His breathing continued to improve and his thoughts became clearer even as the paramedics repositioned themselves and he suddenly found them moving him to a waiting gurney.
A large part of him wanted to protest the move but, as his thoughts cleared, he became more aware of exactly how bad off he'd been before the paramedics arrived. It was a frightening thought to realize he might have slowly asphyxiated if it weren't for them. He still didn't know what was wrong but he was beginning to suspect pneumonia. As much as he didn't want to go to the hospital, he was forced to agree that it was where he belonged, at least until his lungs were clear.
The paramedics finished positioning him on the gurney which had been adjusted to an upright position. Straps were deftly threaded to secure him for transport, the IV bag was tucked under his leg and blankets were tossed in place.
"Don't worry about a thing, Benny," he heard Ray saying. "I'll be right behind you and meet you at the emergency room. Everything will be okay."
"I'm coming too," Frannie declared, racing from the room to get dressed only to have Ray follow after her, arguing that she wasn't coming. Ben offered a weary smile for the painfully predictable pair. They were more worried about the situation than he was! He knew it would be okay. It was just the chicken pox after all. He frowned as he considered the possibility of pneumonia again but dismissed the concern, refusing to borrow trouble. It might *not* be pneumonia. In any case, he knew the doctors would do everything they could to help him, and that there was nothing he himself could do to affect the outcome except let them do their jobs. When everything was said and done, it was the Vecchios who needed reassuring, not him.
He sighed and braced himself with his arms as the gurney began it's rather cumbersome exit from the room and down the stairway. He passed Ma Vecchio as she held her rosary and crossed herself. There was no doubt she was offering a prayer for him. Again he thought of how he hated being the cause of so much worry and concern...
***
The trip to the hospital was swift and uneventful. The paramedic attending him asked a series of questions, basically reviewing and confirming what Ray had already told them. His vitals were checked repeatedly and the man tried to make him as comfortable as possible. Ben was doing much better by the time they arrived at the hospital.
Once there, he was transferred to an emergency room bed and again subjected to a battery of questions. The oxygen mask was switched to a nasal canula and the flow rate adjusted. They tried to get him to lie down, but he found that doing so still caused him difficulty in breathing so they finally adjusted the bed upwards. Notes were taken, tests were ordered and then everyone pretty much disappeared to take care of other patients in greater need than he.
Ray appeared shortly to sit with him. He was not surprised to learn that Francesca too was waiting but in the emergency room lobby. It was a bit of a wait. Ben hardly considered himself an emergency and apparently the hospital was rather busy tonight. Ma Vecchio and the others had been reassured by the paramedics and Ray had managed to convince them not to load the kids in the car. They had promised to visit him in the morning. Well, it was the morning, but rather ridiculously early in the morning. They would at least wait until the sun had risen.
It was about two hours before a pulmonologist appeared and reviewed his case, then set about giving him another breathing treatment. Shortly after he left, the mobile X-ray machine finally appeared and Ray was forced to leave. An hour later, when he was finally allowed back in, he discovered Ben dozing uncomfortably on the elevated gurney. He had been hooked to several machines including a portable EKG that wasn't turned on at the moment, and a strange white device that was clamped to one of his fingers.
He looked terrible.
They'd made him strip out of the RCMP sweats he'd been wearing and had given him a blue and white print hospital gown. He was pale and sweating and had kicked off the blanket they'd given him. Much of the crusty coating of pink calamine lotion had worn off. The blisters and crusting scabs of healing pox marks were very stark against his pale skin. If he weren't sleeping, Ray was sure he'd be completely miserable. It was this that got Ray really irritated with the typical hurry up and wait routine.
He decided it was time to start ruffling some feathers.
***
"We are doing the best we can, Mr. Vecchio," the Head Nurse of the ER answered, only half listening to his complaints.
"Your best isn't good enough!" he ranted, working hard to keep from yelling. He started yelling and someone would call security. That would end his efforts far too quickly. He had to walk a careful line here.
"I'll go check on him," one of the nurses behind the desk volunteered and, with an exchange of nods between the two, quickly moved to do so.
Ray sighed in exasperation. "I don't want a nurse to 'check on him!'" he complained irritably. "Look. He's the Deputy Liaison Officer for the Canadian Consulate!" He decided to try throwing titles around to get their attention. "I call them and you're going to have the entire Canadian government breathing down your neck! He came in by ambulance for Christ's sake. The guy is having trouble breathing. He's been sitting in that damn room for almost four hours now and no one's doing a damn thing! I want to see a doctor, not another nurse!"
"Problem, Carol?"
Ray turned to find a white coated doctor behind him. He reached around Ray to hand 'Carol' a chart.
"Next of kin for Fraser, 35 year old male, brought in by ambulance suffering from respiratory distress and an acute case of chicken pox. Dr. Leonard was handling it but he got pulled away when we got hit with that multiple MVA." Even as she spoke, she handed the chart over. The unknown doctor flipped it open and scanned through the papers far too quickly.
"Nebulizer?" he asked the nurse curtly.
"About an hour ago."
The nurse who'd disappeared to check on Fraser reappeared, hurrying on about her duties even as she called her report to the head nurse. "He's sleeping peacefully."
"Peacefully?" Ray echoed. "In this mad house?!"
The doctor turned back him. "Look, Mr--?"
"--Vecchio," he supplied. "*Detective* Vecchio."
The use of titles obviously didn't impress these guys. "*Detective* Vecchio," he repeated, trying (and failing) not to sound patronizing. "I realize you're worried, but Mr. Fraser is doing fine. We're presently dealing with several victims of a multiple car pileup on Wacker that came in just after he did. Unfortunately, most of them are in far worse shape than he is, so I'm afraid he's--"
"--Excuse me." Another doctor, this one a woman, stepped up to the desk and interrupted them. "I'm Dr. Stewart. I was called in to consult on a case of adult onset chicken pox?"
"Thank god!" Ray rolled his eyes heavenward.
"Mr. Fraser," the still unknown doctor Ray had been arguing with supplied and grabbed up the chart again to hand to the new doctor. "Detective Vecchio here can show you where he is. Doctor Leonard is primary but rather busy at the moment. Multiple MVA. Excuse me." And with that he was gone, leaving Ray with the new doctor.
Dr. Stewart offered a little shrug for the controlled chaos around them as she began scanning the chart. "This is why I didn't specialize in Emergency Medicine." She turned back to the Head Nurse. "X-rays?" she demanded simply.
Without pausing in what she was saying to another doctor, the nurse turned to a desk behind her, scanned the surface and grabbed up a large manila envelope. She handed it over to Dr. Stewart without missing a beat.
Dr. Stewart turned back to Ray and waved him to lead the way.
"I hope you're going to do more than give him another of those damn breathing treatments," Vecchio shot over his shoulder as he hurried away from the desk.
"I suspect I will, Mr. Vecchio, I suspect I will."
Ray frowned. Something about the way she said that sent shivers up his back and suddenly made him reverse his wish, now hoping that another breathing treatment was all that Benny needed...
***
The sound of a beeping alarm close at hand managed to penetrate through to his tired brain and drag Ben from the depths of restless slumber. He woke from the uncomfortable seated position with a slight start, unhappy to see that nothing at all had changed in the few short minutes he'd been able to rest. Then he frowned, still painfully groggy, and wondered where the alarm that had woke him was coming from?
The curtain at the foot of his bed was quickly yanked open. His frown became one of mild confusion as a doctor and nurse quickly flew to his side, closely followed by a very concerned Ray Vecchio.
"What is it?" his friend demanded anxiously. "What's wrong?" Even as he spoke the nurse reached up to one of the machines beside Ben and turned the alarm off.
"His Pulse Ox monitor," the doctor answered calmly. "It was set to sound an alarm if his oxygen saturation level fell off too much. Nothing to get too excited about," she assured the rather excited detective and set about correcting the situation. "What's his flow rate?"
"Three," the nurse answered.
"Set it to five," she ordered and pulled out her stethoscope to listen to Ben's chest. "Hi," she smiled into his confused blue eyes.
"You want to say that again in English, Doc?" Ray demanded, coming to stand at Benny's feet as the nurse and doctor worked on opposite sides of the bed.
A simple glance from brown eyes asked him to wait a moment as she continued moving her stethoscope about Ben's chest. She then had him lean forward and listened to his back.
"A Pulse Ox monitor is that thing you see clamped onto his finger," she answered as she moved her stethoscope about his back. She nodded at the device in question. "It's purpose is to monitor the amount of dissolved oxygen present within his subcutaneous tissues." She straightened, removing the stethoscope from her ears, and patted a small white box resting beside the idle EKG monitor. The readout consisted of a red light that flashed in time to his pulse and a LCD numeric display. It changed from 89 to 92 as Ray watched. "98 to 100 is normal. The alarm was set to go off at 85, but we don't start to get really worried until if falls into the 70's. I've increased your oxygen flow and your SAT level is coming back up nicely.
"However..." She added the word pointedly and moved off to the side, switching on the lights to an X-ray reading panel that just happened to be along the back wall. She deftly slid the X-rays she'd brought with her into place and frowned up at them. Ray got the impression she was seeing exactly what she expected to see. "Mr. Fraser, I'm afraid you are one very sick man..."
"But it's just the chicken pox!" Ray protested, arguing against fate and hoping that whatever the doctor was seeing it wasn't as serious as she was making it sound.
The doctor offered an unamused laugh and a shake of her head as she echoed him. "Just chicken pox." She sighed and came back to stand beside Ben. "I'm an Infectious Disease Specialist, which is why I was called in to consult on this case, and I can assure you, Mr. Vecchio, that there are people who die every year of 'just chicken pox.' You don't hear about them because in the grand scheme of things it's a relatively rare event, but it does happen. There's a lot of people who think the same way you do, including doctors. Not without reason, I'll admit. Ninty-nine percent of the time, chicken pox is a fairly benign if uncomfortable and unsightly childhood disease that runs its course without complication. Unfortunately, not *all* cases run so smoothly.
Especially in adults."
She turned back to address her patient. "You have varicella pneumonia, Mr. Fraser. It's a fairly common complication of adult onset chicken pox occurring in approximately fifteen to twenty-five percent of all cases, depending on which study you want to believe. I've heard both higher and lower figures, but fifteen to twenty-five percent seems to be the general consensus right now. Varicella-zoster is the virus that causes the chicken pox. Unfortunately in your case, its set up shop in your lungs as well as your skin and the result is a rather nasty viral pneumonia. I need to go chase down your primary care physician and get you started on a regimen of anti-viral medication and corticosteroids. It's not the sort of treatment that can be done on an outpatient basis so I'm afraid you're going to have to be admitted. Mr. Vecchio, you're listed as his next of kin? Cousin or..?"
"He's from Canada and doesn't really have any family," Ray explained. "I'm as close as he's got down here."
"He hathz my pow-a off athornee," Ben offered with a tired nod.
"I'm sorry?" The doctor frowned, not understanding him.
"Power of attorney," Ray translated. "I have his power of attorney. Legally speaking, I can sign for him."
"Ah," she nodded. "Good. Then I'm going to need you to go back out front and fill out some paperwork at the admissions desk for him, all right? I'm also going to ask a nurse to stay with him so you don't have to worry while you're gone." Ray was surprised to find that she had subtly guided him to the point where they were both almost out of the 'room'. She paused as she spoke and cast the nurse with Benny a questioning glance. The other woman nodded in answer to the unspoken question and Ray knew she wouldn't be leaving Benny's side. That didn't reassured him, however. If anything, it alarmed him. Apparently, Benny was bad enough that the doctor didn't want him left alone. That couldn't be good. She reached out and took hold of the privacy curtain, drawing it closed again. "I'll make sure the front desk is expecting you," she offered lastly and then turned to hurry away.
"Wait!" Ray called out, finding that something about her manner was sending off alarm bells. He quickly stepped forward and stopped her, then continued in a more subdued voice that he hoped Benny wouldn't be able to hear over the other noises of the ER. "What-- I mean, how bad is he? Really? Is he going to be all right?"
"Viral pneumonia is nothing to play around with, Mr. Vecchio," she answered obliquely. "Please, just go fill out the paperwork. I, or Dr. Leonard, will be in to speak to him more in a few minutes." Once again she turned away and this time there was no denying the sense of urgency he'd thought he'd picked up from her inside the room. Ray didn't try to stop her. Fighting back a rising sense of fear, he turned in the other direction, hurrying toward the admissions desk to fill out the required paperwork so he could get back to Benny as quickly as possible.
***
"Knock, knock," Dr. Stewart's voice rang out even as she pushed the privacy curtain aside and re-entered Ben's section of the Emergency Room bay. "I'm back," she continued, moving toward Ben's side and waving Ray out of the way. A second nurse followed behind her and moved to hang another IV bag on the pole to Ben's right. "Dr. Leonard is still busy cleaning up a nasty gash a ten year old got in that MVA you keep hearing everyone talk about, so he agreed to let me take over here. Got all that paperwork filled out, Detective Vecchio?"
"Yeah," Ray agreed, watching the nurses as they worked beside Benny.
"Okay. Well, first we're going to get you started on some acyclovir." She nodded at the IV that was being set up beside him. "That's the anti-viral I mentioned earlier. We're also going to give you some corticosteroids. Combined with the nebulizer treatments you've already received, it should help you breathe quite a bit easier." She frowned slightly at his pulse ox reading. "We'll also be giving you something for fever and that itch I know you must be starting to feel again. However, when all's said and done, we do have a bit of a problem here." She glanced behind her and grabbed up the stool Ray had been using, settling down to sit beside Ben. "We need to discuss it before it gets much worse."
"Worse?" Ray echoed in concern, taking the place of one of the nurses as she finished setting up the second IV. He watched as she moved aside, withdrawing a syringe from her pocket. Holding onto the first IV bag with one hand, she inserted the needle into an injection site on the bag itself and added whatever was in the syringe to the bag.
"Yes," the doctor answered, keeping her attention on Ben as she spoke. "I'm afraid your pneumonia is a bit more advanced than I'd like to see it at this point. You've got bilateral involvement with diffuse nodular infiltrations and some coalescent densites. What it all means is... you're drowning. Or to simplify matters further, we're in a race: a race between the virus that's attacking your system and the anti-viral medication we're giving you to attack it."
"Meaning the virus could win?" Ray interjected in mounting concern. If the virus won, then... How the hell could someone like Benny die of the chicken pox?! Ray simply couldn't believe this was happening!
The doctor only awarded him a glance. "Yes," she answered, addressing Ben rather than Ray. "Basically, we've got to try and keep you alive long enough to let the anti-viral medication do its job. If you have any moral or religious objections to the use of extraordinary measures to save your life, such as the use of respirators or cardiac resuscitation, now's the time to mention it."
Ray couldn't believe what he was hearing. Respirators? Cardiac resuscitation? All this because of the chicken pox?! Ben glanced at him, equally shaken and confused by this turn of events, though he hid it better than Ray.
Ben swallowed with difficulty and forced himself to answer the question. "Noth..." The blisters in his mouth made talking difficult, but he knew he had to make himself understood in this and worked to speak as clearly as possible. "Not... unless... there are... qualithy... off life... ith-use," he answered carefully.
The doctor nodded. "Quality of life issues: Severe brain damage due to lack of oxygen, possibly resulting in a persistent vegetative state, that sort of thing?"
Ben nodded.
"I understand that your friend has your power of attorney. Will you trust him to make these determinations in your stead if necessary, or would you like me to send someone in to help you with a Living Will?"
Again, the two men exchanged a look. Ray simply couldn't believe what he was hearing, let alone try to imagine... Yet, imagine he must. The eyes that met his were asking a question, judging his reaction and looking for an answer. That answer included a promise to pull the plug if things went terribly wrong. Could he do that? Could he...let Benny...
Wouldn't he want Fraser to do the same thing for him, if needed?
He swallowed around a throat that seemed to have suddenly discovered the entirety of the Sahara Desert within it and nodded, silently giving his friend the promise he needed. Ben nodded in turn and looked back to the doctor. "Him," he answered simply.
The doctor nodded as well and made a note in Ben's chart. "Okay," she sighed, and then looked back up. She regarded him for a long pensive moment before she spoke again. "Now... I'd like to talk about the possibility of getting you on a respirator right away, rather than waiting till there's no choice in the matter."
"Right away?" Ray asked in disbelief, echoing the surprise and fear he could see so easily mirrored in Benny's eyes. "Why? I thought that was only done as a last ditch resort type thing!"
"Usually," she agreed calmly. "Not always. If we have reason to believe intubation is inevitable, say in a case of bee sting with a known history of allergic reaction, it's often a good idea to go ahead and intubate the victim before they actually get into serious trouble. That's kind of what I'd like to do here. Given the present progression of your pneumonia, I give you only a few hours before we have to do it anyway. We go ahead and do it now, and things will be a lot better for everyone involved. Easier for the physician, less traumatic for you, plus we open up your lungs, maybe do a tracheal lavage and get some of that gunk out of them... You'll be able to breathe a whole lot easier. And, more importantly, it'll let you rest. You're expending a lot of energy just trying to breathe right now, Mr. Fraser, more than you realize. We go ahead and intubate you now, and that energy can be used to help fight the disease that's making you so sick. We wait, and you're going to be exhausted. The stronger you are, the better. Questions?"
"Yeah!" Ray exclaimed. "How 'bout a second opinion here! You're moving too damn fast!"
"That's generally the idea when you're in a race, Detective," she answered with a lifted brow and turned back to Ben. "I can get the pulmonologist in here again, if you'd like? This sort of thing is his speciality after all. In fact, he'd be the one doing the procedure. I can do it if I have too, but, frankly, he'd get it done and over with before I could even get decently started. Would you like to talk to him?"
Ben nodded, reaching up to adjust the nasal canula slightly. "Pleathe," he sighed and leaned his head back, wishing he could get comfortable on the hard examination table. A second opinion was always a good idea. Ray glanced at the Pulse Ox readout again and frowned. No wonder Benny was looking a bit tired. It was dipping into the lower nineties again. "Can you turn up his oxygen again?" Ray asked before she could disappear.
She glanced over at the monitor. "His flow rate's already as high at it'll go, Detective," she answered sadly. "I'll be back in a minute."
The two men exchanged worried looks. Already as high as it would go? And he was still having problems?!
Ben sighed, then cleared his throat and consciously triggered a coughing fit, hoping to clear his lungs a little bit. It hurt like hell to do it, like someone was taking a knife to his insides as he gasped for a deeper breath, but he wanted to be able to think when the other doctor got in here. The pain doubled him over and his vision tunneled dangerously as he fought his way through the episode. He resisted instinct and closed his mouth as the coughing passed, breathing rapidly through his nose instead. The oxygen from the nasal canula helped fight off the near faint.
"Benny... Benny?" Ray called anxiously as he reached out to help steady his friend as he swayed.
Ben blinked his eyes open and focused on Ray. He hadn't meant to frighten him like that. Then again, he hadn't meant to nearly pass out either! Lord, but he was starting to feel like crap again, and he was developing a definite headache on top of everything else.
"Let's switch to a face mask," someone ordered. He glanced to the side only to recognize the tall black pulmonologist who'd given him his breathing treatments earlier. It looked like he was setting up another one. "You got any Lasix on board yet?" he added.
Had he passed out after all, he wondered, realizing he'd missed the doctors' return. Dr. Stewart answered but Ben lost whatever she said in the loud hissing of oxygen through tubes and mask and medicinal bubbler as the nasal canula was replaced by the oxygen face mask. Ben winced as the elastic band caught a couple of blisters on his face. The nurse, careful to hold the face mask in a straight vertical line so the bubbler would work properly, still managed to note his wince and quickly readjusted the elastic. "Better?" she asked kindly.
He nodded his thanks and turned his attention to trying to hear what the doctors were saying. Apparently, they were waiting on him as they regarded him pensively. "Back with us, Mr. Fraser?" Dr. Greyson, the pulmonologist asked, stepping forward.
Again he nodded, glancing to the end of the bed and feeling a stab of guilt as he met Ray's anxious gaze. Maybe he shouldn't have tried to clear his lungs like that after all... "Sthorry," he mumbled through the mask upon his face.
"I understand you wanted a second opinion about elective intubation," Dr. Greyson offered. He frowned at the bubbler attached to Ben's mask and reached out to flick a finger against the side of it, tapping it a few times to get the oxygen flowing through it a little smoother. "Frankly, after seeing your x-rays, I don't see how you're managing as well as you are. You must have excess lung capacity or something that didn't show up on the films. As for the second opinion, I agree with Dr. Stewart. We should go ahead and get it over with. Then you can get the rest you need and concentrate on getting well. When's the last time you ate?"
"About seven last night," Ray answered from the foot of his bed. Ben nodded to confirm it.
"Good," the doctor allowed. "It's always best to do it on an empty stomach. Any other questions?"
He acted like it was a foregone conclusion that Ben would agree... but Ben had to admit it didn't sound like he really had much of a choice. He shoved his mounting fear and confusion away, but found himself procrastinating by asking a question. "Will I be... conthethgs." He frowned, knowing the man couldn't have possibly understood his mangled pronunciation.
"That mouth is really bothering you, huh," the man frowned sympathetically. "You want to know if you'll be conscious?" he managed to translate despite Ben's slurred speech. "Yes," he answered. "We'll just give you a little sedation to make you more comfortable, but I prefer not to knock you out as general anesthesia also has the side effect of suppressing respiratory function, which is the last thing we want to do in your case. We'll also numb the back of your throat and teach you a few basic hand signals for communicating with us. We'll be telling you everything we're doing as we do it.
"There are dangers with intubation," he added. "Your throat or vocals cords could be damaged. The tube could wind up in the esophagus rather then the trachea. Or be miss positioned within the trachea: Too deep and it could damage the lungs or be partially blocked, too shallow and your body would be fighting to gag it up. Or it could trigger your gag reflex, causing you to aspirate your stomach contents. It also has to be connected up to the ventilator properly, which itself has to be properly calibrated, adjusted for pressure and rate of delivery, humidity, etcetera." He offered a shrug and cocked his head to the side. "For whatever it's worth, I've been doing this sort of thing for ten years and rarely had any glitches. It's not something I recommend lightly, Mr. Fraser; but, in your case, I do recommend it. The dangers exist but they're pretty minimal... and frankly we're going to have to do it sooner or later with you anyway. It's going to take a while for that anti-viral to kick in and you don't have the time to wait. I'd rather get it over with before it becomes an emergency procedure. What do you say?"
"Oh, god..." Ray sighed from the end of the bed, hanging his head and frowning at Benny's feet. He knew what Benny's answer would be. What it *had* to be... He glanced up and met blue eyes and all that was within them: ...confusion to find himself in such a position, fear about what might happen, and resolve to ignore the fear and do what had to be done... It was all there. Along with obvious regret that he was putting Ray and his family through all of this. Ray glanced back down again and shook his head. That was so like Benny, always thinking about others even when his own life was on the line.
Ben glanced back over to the doctor and nodded his answer. It was time to get this over with.
***
Frannie was frowning at the triage doorway when her brother suddenly reappeared. He frowned, glancing over the small sea of waiting patients as he tried to find her. She stood, the movement drawing his gaze to her, and then the two of them were moving quickly toward each other across the crowded area. He looked terrible, she thought as she joined him. Unshaven. Tired. Like he hadn't slept all night, which wasn't far from the truth. She probably didn't look so hot herself.
"Well?" she asked immediately. After dropping her off earlier and disappearing in back with Benton several hours ago, she'd only seen him once when he came out to fill out paperwork. He'd been in a bit of a hurry and unwilling to talk. About the only thing she'd managed to get out of him was that Benton had pneumonia, which came as no surprise. She'd been suspecting as much when she told Ray to call the ambulance. "Well?" she repeated when he failed to answer.
He bit his lip and glanced around them, then guided Frannie off to one side before he would answer. Frannie felt her heart in her throat as they moved. There was a haunted quality about his eyes... Something was wrong. Something was very wrong!
He glanced around again to make sure they weren't disturbing anyone and that those around them were respecting their obvious need for privacy. A silent glare at one overly curious man warned him off. He rose without a word to find another seat. Offering a weary sigh, Ray finally forced himself to again meet his sister's worried gaze. Damn, but he knew she was going to fall apart on him and he didn't have time or energy to deal with it right now! "They're... going to put him on a respirator," he finally told her without preamble.
Frannie paled and lifted a hand to her mouth as it dropped open in shock.
"It's just a precautionary measure at this point," he explained quickly, before she went and got too panicky and upset on him. "They're... they'd have to do it later anyway and want to do it now when it's easier and everything. It doesn't mean anything."
"But... a respirator, Ray?" A... respirator!" she hissed in disbelief.
"I know," he agreed quietly, glancing around them again and praying his sister wasn't about to come totally unglued on him. She had a crush the size of Illinois on the guy, painfully obvious to everyone except Benny, apparently; and, while Benny was like family, he wasn't her husband as much as she might fantasize otherwise. She was sure to over-react. "This is Benny we're talking about," he reassured her. "He's been through a hell of a lot worse than the chicken pox. Don't go freaking out on me, Frannie. I'm too tired to handle it right now!"
Frannie awarded him a hurt glare that said exactly what she thought of his words.
He raked a hand back over his shorn pate, ignoring the look. "I gotta go call Ma and Thatcher. You going to be okay while I do that?"
"I'm fine, Ray," she answered curtly.
Ray didn't believe her for a moment but knew there was nothing he could do to help her either. That was what was wrong with people who dared to dream, he thought, remembering a rather heated discussion they'd had about her infatuation with the Mountie last year: those dreams tangled up your heart and could hurt you, no matter how unreal or out of reach those dreams might be.
He shook his head and turned away, heading outside where he could use his cell phone.
***
"--both hands, fingers tapping your chest, means a sense of pressure and that you don't seem to be getting enough air," the nurse explained, demonstrating as she spoke.
Dr. Greyson stepped forward as she finished the quick lesson. "You still with us, Ben?" he asked as he slid his germ mask into place. "You understand what Tina here was telling you?"
Ben nodded lethargically and added a thumbs up to prove that he'd managed to follow the short discourse, despite the sedative which was most definitely doing it's job. The back of his throat had also gone quite numb from the lidocaine swabbing he'd been given during her lesson.
"Okay then," the doctor nodded and moved around behind Ben where he couldn't see him. A surgical tray was pushed into place and it's drape removed by one of the nurses as the man continued speaking. "We're going to be moving very fast. I want you to concentrate on staying relaxed and not panicking on me. It's a very uncomfortable and frightening procedure but we'll get it over with as quickly as
possible. Here we go."
Ben suddenly found himself being lowered to a reclining position and immediately felt a sense of panic as he found himself having to fight to breathe. And then the oxygen mask was stripped away as well...
"Laryngoscope..."
He heard, more than saw, the large L shaped instrument being slapped into the physician's gloved hand as his jaw was firmly grasped and his head repositioned. He was a bit surprised and confused to realize he wasn't laying flat but had something under his head. Panic wasn't far away as the cold hard metal slipped between his teeth; but he did as asked, fighting to separate himself from what was happening even as he felt himself beginning to choke.
"Let's go with a seven point five. ...Relax, relax..."
It was very hard to relax. He couldn't breathe! Ben closed his eyes and consciously opened his frightened fists, but was unable to keep his hands from trembling. An unseen nurse took one of his hands in her own and squeezed it reassuringly.
Then Ben was suddenly gagging, uncontrollably, as the doctor took the ET tube and started shoving it down his throat, or so it seemed, working quickly and carefully to properly position the apperatus. "Relax..." ***
"Detective Vecchio?"
Ray glanced up from where he sat beside Frannie and immediately recognized Dr. Stewart. She smiled reassuringly and cocked her head to the side, silently asking him to join her. He glanced at Frannie but knew without asking that there was no way she was going to simply wait here. Ma and the others hadn't arrived yet, and Thatcher would be showing up soon too, but he knew better than to even attempt to ask her to wait for them. If Ma and the others arrived while they were gone, they'd know the two of them were with Benny's doctor. Their family had been through the hospital routine too many times before. If Thatcher arrived before they did... Well, she'd figure it out, eventually. Together, brother and sister rose and silently followed the doctor from the waiting area. She lead them across the hall to a somewhat more private consultation room and waved them to be seated.
"I'm Dr. Stewart," she introduced herself to Frannie offering her hand before taking a seat herself.
Frannie took the hand with a tight smile but glanced at Ray uncomfortably, unable to find her voice. "My sister, Frannie Vecchio," he supplied. "How's Benny?" He wasn't interested in any chit-chat.
The doctor nodded reassuringly to the obviously distressed young woman. "Benny's doing fine," she assured them both, choosing to adopt the first name approach that Mr. Vecchio had offered so as to help put them more at ease. "The procedure went quite smoothly and X-rays have confirmed proper placement of the tube. We've also done a tracheal lavage, that is suctioning of his lungs, and I'm happy to report that he is breathing much easier at the moment."
Ray sighed and looked relieved. His sister, however, was not as easily reassured. "At the moment?" she echoed in continued concern.
The doctor answered with an unhappy nod. "He's... not out of the woods yet. I'm afraid your friend is a very sick man."
"He could still die," Ray interpreted her words bluntly, not making it a question.
He was a hard one, this Chicago Police Detective. She glanced at his sister, wishing he would take a softer approach for her sake. "That's always a possibility in cases like this, yes," she answered just as bluntly, unwilling to offer false hope, yet hoping that a calm delivery would help the other woman remain calm as well. She looked rather pale and stressed, but was fighting her fear valiantly.
"What are his chances?" her brother asked bluntly.
Dr. Stewart shook her head. "I don't like to talk in terms of percentages," she answered, or more accurately refused to answer.
"Bull shit," the detective snapped quietly. "He's a cop. I'm a cop. Give it to me straight, Doc. I've been here too many times not to know how this works."
Dr. Stewart was surprised to learn that her patient was a police officer. She could have sworn she'd read that he was Canadian... but then she'd reviewed his history rather quickly, taking careful note of the fact that he'd been shot last year. X-rays had confirmed he still had a bullet in the middle of his back. She'd noted that he seemed to be very lucky at the same time she and Dr. Greyson reviewed the position of the endotracheal tube. How the bullet got there was something doctors tended to purposely ignore as unimportant and potential prejudicial to the performance of their job. The information was noted somewhere in his record, she was sure, she'd just missed it. That he was a cop, however, did help explain Det. Vecchio's obvious concern. They must be partners. She frowned at the rock hard facade the man tried to throw up to hide how worried he really was. She was better at reading people than that. This was a question she really wanted to avoid.
"As a cop, I'd think you'd know better than the average person exactly how empty percentages can be," she answered in terms she hoped he'd understand. "Each investigation is different, isn't it; and has to be approached on an individual basis? You go into something with preconceived notions, and you're going to miss something. It's no different in medicine."
"If only ten percent of the witness's to a crime say the gun man was blonde, I tend to worry more about the other ninety percent that say he had dark hair," he rejoined sarcastically.
The doctor shrugged. "Maybe the blonde witness's saw him before he put on his wig?"
"Point taken," he admitted but refused to back down. "Odds, Doctor," he demanded. "How worried do we need to be here?"
"Worrying isn't going to help your friend." She shook her head and sighed, knowing from the hard look on his face that he wasn't going to drop it. And frankly, she didn't have all day to argue with him. "Fifty-fifty," she admitted reluctantly. "Mr. Fraser has many things going in his favor," she added and glanced toward the man's sister to include her. He had enough empathy to at least slip an arm about her shoulders. "He's a previously healthy adult male in excellent physical condition for his age and has none of the normal risk markers such as smoking, drug use or HIV which would be sending up red flags for me."
"But?" Ray insisted curtly.
"But..." she sighed unhappily, "...that may not be enough. For some reason, the pneumonia attacking his system is being particularly aggressive. My analogy of being in a race is very apt. The next twenty-four hours are going to be critical."
Frannie bowed her head, and turned into Ray's hold as the frightened tears she'd been holding at bay suddenly escaped her control. She sent up a frantic prayer to heaven, regretting even as she did the need to do so yet again. God, hadn't the man been through enough? It was less than a year ago that Ray had shot him and he nearly died. There'd been a big chance in the beginning that he'd be paralyzed. He'd fought back from that, recovered fully both physically and mentally from what that ... that bitch ... had done to him. Now, something as mundane and innocuous as the chicken pox might kill him! It all seemed so unreal!
"When can we see him?" Ray asked.
"At the moment, they're letting him get adjusted to the ventilator. Next, we'll be inserting a naso-gastric tube and urinary catheter. Once we have him set up down here, we'll be sending him upstairs to ICU. They'll be putting him into isolation but don't let that worry you. It's standard procedure for infectious diseases, and more for the staff and other patients' protection than for his."
Frannie was starting to get control again and sat up to wipe at her face as she listened to the doctor's calm and matter of fact voice. The doctor silently reached over to the end table beside her and handed Frannie the Kleenex box even as she continued speaking.
"ICU is up on the third floor. I'd say give us about an hour before you head up. With his being sedated and the stress of everything, he'll likely be asleep. I'm sure I don't have to tell you that if he is asleep, you need to let him sleep." But she said it anyway and made sure she got nods from both of them. "Being in isolation means that there are a number of rules and procedures you'll have to go through before you can visit him. The nurses on three will explain it all to you. You must check in with them every time you go up to see him, and check with them again before you leave. His wrists will have clothe restraints attached to them. They're there for his own safety and must be secured to the safety rails anytime he's going to be left alone. When you're with him, and he's awake, you can release the restraints. He can't talk, naturally, but there is a special pressure sensitive pad and stylus next to his bed for communicating. Even when he is awake, he's probably not going to be fully cognizant and it's very important you keep an eye on him if you do release the restraints. He's sedated and uncomfortable, and could very well try to dislodge his endotracheal tube when no one's looking. It's important everyone who visits him, knows that. The
number of visitors may also be limited. The nurses have absolute control up there. Don't argue with them. Questions?"
The Vecchio siblings exchanged concerned looks that spoke volumes about the helplessness of the situation they found themselves in. There was nothing they could really do for their friend now, except wait and pray. "We've been through the hospital routine before, Doc," Ray offered sadly.
"Okay," the doctor sighed and stood, bringing the consultation to a close. "I'll be checking on him throughout the day so I'm sure I'll be seeing you again. Don't let yourselves worry too much. The best thing you can do for your friend is take care of yourselves. After you have a chance to see him, I want you to think about heading home and getting some sleep yourselves. And remember that you have to drive to do that. Don't push yourselves too hard. I don't think he'd appreciate it if either of you wound up in the hospital with him." She offered her hand in parting.
"Thank you, Doctor," Vecchio offered, standing as well and shaking her hand. She nodded, shook Frannie's hand as well, and then was gone. Together, brother and sister moved to go back to the waiting area and see if any of the family or Thatcher had arrived yet, dreading trying to explain everything to them. Ray guided Frannie with a silent arm about her shoulders. Neither of them spoke because there was nothing to say. Instead, they each sent up silent prayers, asking for Benny's life.
***
Nope, not the end. Please continue .
Return to the Ride Forever Archive
Return to Janice