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[ Steph really hates death. More than she used to, and she was never find of it to begin with. She even hates the overwhelming relief of waking up and realizing you're still alive. Or rather, alive again. Whatever. ]

please tell me there isn't another quarantine seriously i can't do that crap again i will turn around and go back to the morgue

not that i've noticed
better ask d or a to be sure

[As useless as his body feels, he can't stand sight of that uncapitalized 'i' and vows that from this moment on, he'll take the effort to use the shift key.

Jesus Christ, it's so much work.]

i havne't been out. was probably lying about the gravewatching too.

[ It's worse than she thought. ]

can you stay on a motorcycle or do I need to tie you down? i'm coming to get you.

never said it wasn't contagious

[Chikungunya wasn't, though.]

techs gave some people new parts. wake up with any?

[ Give her a minute or two. ]

none that i can see. i don't care if it's contagious, it's dangerous to be sick and alone around here.

[Isn't it funny- despite that he's been aching all week, Tim hasn't realized he's been messed with, too. The first day there was an itch- dismissed as a bug bite. No one on the network had brought it up yet so there was the possibility it was just a him thing. There was lazy stitching, but wasn't that just old scars messed with for the sake of it?

Not having his spleen meant some inclination to vulnerability to infection, Tim admitted to that.

But what kind of Technician gets their sick kicks from renegade spleens of all things? It didn't add up. It didn't.

His whole body hurts and if Steph hadn't just died he might just say he wished he'd be dead.]

that's what phones are for.

phones can't make you soup.

[ It should probably be stranger for her to be offering to take care of him, but, well. She loves him. She won't deny that. Of course she wants to take care of him when he's sick. That's just what people do. ]

i have soup.

[Liar.]

i have a working refrigerator.

h8 [Fine. You win. He'll be normal.]

[Speaking of phones, he probably should, in case he did end up kicking the bucket-]

sorry i'm a jerk.

[ ...Well that was unexpected. ]

i'm sorry i made you worry

[ She can't tell if this is a short term or a long term apology. ]

[One bad decision leads to another and]

4th office in the rec center if you're coming over. i still have coffee.

i'll be there in a few. think about coming and staying with me for a while. we have room and i promise loki won't try to kill you in your sleep.

[Half dead as he is, squinting against the bright light of the tiny cell phone screen, Tim knows he's not far gone enough. It's consolation.]

No.

[Now he'll just curl up and keep from screaming.]

[ Well, he might reconsider. In the mean time she's getting some basic sick stuff ready and heading out on her rad purple motorcycle. Her backpack is badly overstuffed when she knocks on his door at last. ]

[If she thinks he's going to get the door, she's got another thing coming.]

everythings open but watch out for barricades
turn downt he 2nd hall past bball court

[The Rec Center is a funny little maze. Not impossible to navigate if anyone ever stepped into a Boys and Girls Club in any point of their life, with some more rooms, some more emergency exits, and hell of a lot more mess.

Some of it intentional. Enjoy.]

[ Well, it is what it is. And Steph has spent a lot of time in rec centers and a lot of time in Tim's man-cave, so it's not too hard for her to navigate. Finally she reaches his newest man-cave and sticks her head in. ]

See, this is why I worry about you being sick.

[ When was the last time he left this room? ]

[Man-cave, seriously?

He's got no blankets, possibly more to Steph's displeasure, just a nest of wide shirts piled over a mattress he'd managed to fit in a corner of the room. There's a trashcan in the opposite corner- want to guess what's sitting in it? And for his part, it couldn't be more obvious that he was feverish. At the least. Tim sits up and seems like he might pass for being hungover.]

Alfred's just a call away, so's everybody else. I'm not... dying, I think.

[A beat. Should he stand? Ha ha good try, no.] It's been about a week. No cough or anything, just a fever and a rash. There's joint pain. That's grown. That just really hurts now.

It was mosquito, Steph. I was bitten by a mosquito.

I'm a goner when the flu hits.

[Considering Steph only just rejoined the living, he should probably can the whining.] Did you pack an entire lab in your backpack or what?

[ True. "Boy-cave" is probably more accurate. She picks her way across the room, grabbing any clothes that look both clean and wearable. No way she's leaving him in this mess. ]

You weren't here when there were giant mosquitoes, all carrying awful diseases. Whatever's wrong with you, it's the techs' doing.

[ She finally reaches him and offers a half-frozen water bottle and a few Tylenol. A thermos of hot soup makes enough room for a couple of clothing items in her bag. ]

I only brought half a hospital, so you're going to have to come with me if you want the whole thing.

[Wow, rude.

And it wasn't that it wasn't embarrassing having her see him like this- Tim hasn't found anything pointing to his illness being actually contagious- but she had insisted. And Tim kind of figured she just wouldn't have taken 'no' for an answer anyway.

-about coming to visit, of course, not about being dragged to her--]

I'm sick of the Techs, too.

[He takes the water, his eyes go wide when it dawns that, yes, it's chilled. He swallows the pill. Living like starved dogs, she had said. It was accurate. Sip by sip, he downs maybe half the bottle before he feels lightheaded and has to stop.] That's fine. I don't like hospitals anyway. It's too cold for hospitals. Thanks for the- water.

[ She wouldn't have, and now she won't take no as an answer to her taking him away, either. She lets him hold on to the bottle while she takes out a few other things. ]

You need to stay hydrated.

[ Any real concern in her voice is hidden, because Steph has gone into full on triage mode. She gives him a thermometer to stick under his tongue, takes out a stopwatch and gets his pulse from his wrist, writes both numbers down on a notepad. She checks his lymph nodes, holds his chin up to point a flashlight down his throat - ]

Say "ah".

[ And when all that is done, she gets out the stethoscope and pulls his shirt up, no hesitation or consideration for shyness. You're getting doctored, Tim, whether you like it or not. ]

[Nothing in the Box is easy- Tim knew to keep his temperature down when he'd feel too woozy. It fluctuated- a flat hundred reading now, spiking whenever it felt like spiking. He would sit under the showers then and shiver until he was disgusted. He lets out an affirmative but miffed little hum at Steph's words. Of course he knew that and had drank plenty of liquids already. Not eaten, not much, but he'd drank.

Tim sits still through most of Steph's fussing. Occasionally he'd tense. Mostly he'd do that periodic shiver. He drew away from her touch, just a fraction, when she gets to his neck. The rash begins behind his left ear, spreads down his back. Small reddish specks of irritation. His eyes water-- it's a whole lot of normal for someone feeling so horrid. But Tim feels like his body's not his, though it still was on his last inspection. There was the telltale reluctance to move.

Until Steph decided to ninja that frozen circle of hell up his shirt, and Tim belatedly catches wind of it.] --Upp- nononowhat are you

[He tries to cover up before recognizing it'd do nothing. There's the light and somewhat faded surgical scar (the new one), and nothing too out of place. Thinness. No gaping hole where Jasper's spear had pierced his chest.]

Steph. [A blush that brings a headache. It's automatic.] Steph, get off. I'm fine. Get off. Out.

[ She'd like to say she's gotten worse reactions to a stethoscope, but most of her patients understand when she needs to listen to their lungs. Of course Tim wouldn't. She rolls her eyes and pulls the stethoscope down to hang around her neck. ]

You have a fever over a hundred degrees, a new scar [ she knows what those look like ], no access to medicine or proper food, and a room that's as likely to give you pneumonia as the children's ward. You're not fine, and you're coming home with me. You can either drink your soup and I'll be your crutch or I will physically pick you up and carry you the whole way and you can have the soup when we get there. Your choice.

[Are you kidding, that thing came out of nowhere.

She didn't even try to warm it first. And Tim's about to whine about what a botched job the Techs did on his new spleen before it catches up to him that, hey, Steph might not know he was ever missing one in the first place. Unless she had taken to reading medical files, and if that's the case

then he really didn't know her well, did he? At all? After all, he worse than dirt at anything having to do with her, or so she'd said. And it was true. And that's a circle of thought he visited like, what, twice a day?]

I don't have a fever.

[-is not what he meant to say, wow. He's preoccupied trying to tuck his shirt back in- yes, tucked in all neat like the rest of him isn't.] I mean, I don't need the- I'm not gonna catch pneumonia, Steph, I'll call someone when I feel bad. [Which he had.] Steph, I seriously don't want to walk. I feel as old as Ra's should be. And you can't carry me.

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