Chapter Text
When I woke up, it was still the middle of the night. There were crickets chirping outside, and as I wiped some sleep out of my eyes, the blurry dots of light outside the window slowly took shape as buildings on the neighbouring hills. It was silent, a definite advantage to having retreated this far into the country. I stretched slowly, shivering, and wondering what had woken me at such an hour.
One of my hands reached out beside me, mostly out of habit. Vic always slept close by and curled under an enormous mound of blankets, even in the full heat of the summer. She was an unmistakeable change in the topography of the bed, even when I was half asleep and confused. Immediately, I started the rest of the way to wakefulness. The bed next to me was flat and empty, though an initial examination revealed it was still warm.
“Vic?” I called out, feeling silly. She had probably just gone to get a glass of water. “You alright?”
I got up and padded into the hallway, wrapping a silk robe around myself before turning on the lights in our room. One never knew when the neighbours were up, and I was in a terrible habit of sleeping in only my bra and underwear now that the nights were so hot. Stealthily, I crept into the hallway. A small sliver of light showed under the bathroom door in the hallway, and I winced the second I heard something between a sob and a gag coming from behind it. Gently, I rapped against the wooden door.
“Vic, it’s just me. Can I come in?” I couldn’t imagine who else it might be; Vic and I had taken a week to ourselves in the countryside after the band came back from their post-Eurovision tour. However, it never hurt to be cautious. By the sounds of it, she probably wasn’t up to remembering that we were alone in the house.
There was a pregnant pause wherein I leaned my ear worriedly against the door, runaway mind entertaining thoughts of her passed out on the floor or vomiting blood. I shook myself to keep my imagination in check. Chances were she was just collecting herself.
“You can come in.” Her voice was frail and raspier than usual, and she sounded exhausted. I pushed the door open as gently as I could, wincing when it squeaked on the linoleum, and appraised the situation.
Vic was leaning up against the wall, knees drawn to her chest. She was wearing a dark blue sweatshirt that covered her down to her thighs, and shivering even though the whole house was overcome with summer heat. There were spots of bright colour blooming high on her delicate cheeks, and her hair was damp with sweat. Even her eyes looked red-rimmed and exhausted, and her hands shook as she reached up and tucked a stray whisp of hair behind her ear.
“Hey.” Whatever remaining energy she had seemed to be expelled along with the word, and she slumped back against the wall. I went and sat next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, and essentially pulling her into my lap. She nestled her hot cheek against my chest, sighing with satisfaction.
“Hey yourself. What’s happened, tesoro? You look miserable.”
“Mhmm.”
She curled closer in, drawing her legs up as though she was trying to conserve all the warmth she possibly could. There was an unmistakeable pallor underneath the fever brightness of her cheeks, and I reached up and touched her forehead softly, grimacing at how hot I found it.
“How long have you been like this?”
“Few hours…didn’t want to wake you. I only threw up a few times.”
“Only a few times, she says,” I laughed tiredly, though there was no real humour in it, “You could have woken me, Vic. Especially if you weren’t feeling well. It’s horrible to be ill by yourself, especially in the middle of the night.”
“I thought it’d get better.”
Vic was well and truly curled against me now, and I almost wanted to cry with frustration when she swallowed nauseously, face draining of its little remaining colour.
“Come on,” I sat her up gently, rubbing her back as she leaned over and coughed miserably, “You’ll feel better when it’s done. We’ll get you back to bed and I’ll bring you something cold to put on your forehead.”
She shook her head, interrupted briefly as she leaned over and threw up what little she had eaten the night before. I’d noticed she didn’t seem hungry, but hadn’t thought it was worth it to say anything. We had had an enormous lunch after we’d been to a vineyard and a beautiful little castle a few miles away. It hadn’t been anything to worry about at the time.
“I’m cold…”
“I know, tesoro, but you’re running a fever. Come on, if you’re all done here, we can get you back into bed. No use spending your night trying to sleep on the bathroom floor.”
She nodded and stood on wobbly legs, bracing herself against the counter. Even sweaty and pale, she was very beautiful, all wide blue eyes and pretty red lips. I gave her a damp cloth to wipe her face with and kissed her softly when she was done. She was shaking, legs weak underneath her, and I gave her a small, teasing smile.
“I told you that someday the fact that I’m strong enough to carry you would come in handy,” I teased, trying to lighten the mood, “All that time I spent going to the gym while you were having a party at Eurovision, hmmm?”
She flicked water at me weakly, and I slid an arm under her knees and another around her shoulders. The robe I had been wearing had all but come undone, and Vic rested her head on top of my chest tiredly, her skin burning against mine. She crossed her feet at the ankles and drooped in my grip, no surer sign that she wasn’t feeling well. Under normal circumstances she would have complained endlessly, not liking that her girlfriend could pick her up and carry her so easily. She hated conforming to gender norms in homosexual relationships, and while I agreed with her, nothing made me laugh like the way she shouted at me when I tossed her over my shoulder and carried her off.
By the time we got back to the bedroom, Vic’s eyes were drooping shut, and her hands were folded limply in the small crevice where her sweater met my skin. I set her down gently on the bed, noting with some worry that she barely roused, blinking blearily like she hadn’t the slightest idea where she was or what might be happening to her.
“Sigrid…” she murmured, words taking me off guard, “What…I’m so hot.”
“I know, Vic. Just lie still, I’ve got the window open, and I’ll go get you something cool for your forehead. Best not give you anything to drink until you’re not nauseous anymore, alright?”
She nodded, plucking idly at the sweater. I helped her sit up and take it off, leaving her in the lingerie set she had been wearing when we fell asleep last night. It was her favourite, all black lace. I traced a hand over the curve of her chest and tucked her bangs off her sweaty forehead. Vic sighed, curling in on herself and drifting away to sleep.
As soon as I was sure she wasn’t going to rouse, hands flopping lifelessly when I picked one up in my own, I slipped away and padded downstairs. The kitchen was dark and lifeless at this time of night, and I shuddered a bit as I appraised the empty hallway that led into the living room of the country house. It was so warm and inviting during the day, and yet it felt like years since yesterday morning, when I woke up to Vic cursing and humming out of tune as she tried to fix us breakfast. The thought made me smile a bit; Vic and her off tune singing was a constant source of mockery between the two of us. I wished, selfishly, that she was feeling well enough that I could tease her now, make her laugh until she fell back asleep.
I ran a washcloth under cold water from the sink, and after a moment of careful consideration I poured a glass of water as well. Even if she wouldn’t be able to keep it down at the moment, it would tide us over until I could run into town and get some sports drinks. I couldn’t bear the thought of her becoming dehydrated on top of everything else. Not to mention that dehydration would lead Vic from the territory of unfortunate illness into a genuinely dangerous situation. I shuddered, wrapping my robe tighter around myself as I hurried out of the dark hallway and back upstairs to our bedroom.
The light was still on, and Vic was splayed out across the sheets. She had tossed off the blankets, cheeks bright red and lips parted a bit as she panted. I set the glass down gently on the bedside table and wiped her face with the cloth. She blinked, though she looked more asleep than awake.
“What…” she was slurring worse than when she got drunk.
“Shhh, just me again. Just getting you cooled down a bit so you can feel better, alright?”
She nodded in acceptance, brooking no argument, which alarmed me. Vic hated being fussed over. If I had done this to her had she been even slightly more awake, I knew she would have complained endlessly. That she was fine, that she didn’t want to bother me, that she’d be better come morning. The fact that her normal litany of objections was nonexistent made my heart speed up a bit in my chest. Surely, it was nothing more than having drunk too much wine, or eaten something that disagreed with her? I had never seen her so ill before, and I found myself rather at a loss.
Vic stayed half-awake for a while, sitting up a few times to choke into the wastepaper basket next to the bed. I rubbed her back through the worst of it, noting with increasing alarm that her eyes were barely open even when she was throwing up now, and the seconds weighed heavily between us while she tried to find the few words to tell me she was still alright. I wiped away the sweat from her forehead until finally, blessedly, she went limp in my lap. She was boiling hot, and I had stripped the blankets off the bed to keep her from covering herself as she shivered. I was exhausted as well, hands trembling as I reached to turn out the bedside lamp that had bathed the room in its warm light.
I didn’t dare move even once it was dark, for fear of waking her. Leaning back against the cushioned headboard, I fell into a restless doze.
The next morning dawned, and I woke slowly, feeling sticky and sweaty and cold. Entirely not how I had imagined the morning going, I thought groggily. Why was I damp and cold? It was the middle of summer and Vic and I had barely been able to wander about the house in shorts and bras yesterday afternoon when we had returned home.
Vic…
I started the rest of the way awake with a noise that was somewhere between a gasp and a snort, drawing my legs against myself surreptitiously as I rubbed a knot from the back of my neck. There was a weight on them which was quickly displaced, and a soft noise of discomfort and irritation.
“Fuck, I’m sorry.” I scrambled forwards, finding Vic’s shoulders, and pulling her gently back onto my lap. She looked miserable; eyes still closed and the bright fever flush from yesterday evening still spreading across her cheekbones. “There, just go back to sleep. I’m sorry, I forgot what happened last night. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
She sighed and snuggled back between my legs for a moment, but the peace was short lived. Five minutes later she was sitting, rubbing her eyes blearily and searching about for the wastepaper bin again. She convulsed a few times before sagging back, looking flushed and apologetic as I slipped out from underneath her.
“I’m sorry…” Her words were raspy with sleep, and I resisted the urge to gather her into my arms and kiss her senseless.
“It’s alright. I’ll bring you your toothbrush and some water if you want, just stay put. There’s nothing to apologize for. You’ve done this for me a time or two, I seem to recall.”
“It’s usually your own fault.”
I flicked her on the arm and headed to the bathroom, returning a moment later with Vic’s toothbrush and toothpaste, as well as a glass of water and a fresh washcloth so she could wash her face. I found her sprawled uncomfortably across the sheets, left arm and leg almost touching and her right leg dangling off the bed. She looked a wreck, and raised her head blearily when I sat down next to her.
“You look beautiful this morning.” Vic barely murmured the words, eyes half lidded, and I kissed her gently on the forehead before handing her her toothbrush.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I said the same to you, but it’s true. Brush your teeth, you’ll feel better.”
She did, albeit weakly. Her elbow was shaking by the time she was done, and she collapsed against the pillows with a huff of exhaled breath.
“I didn’t mean to wake you last night.”
“Because you so clearly would have been fine on your own. I think I would’ve panicked more to find you passed out in the bathroom when I went to take a piss this morning.”
Her lips curved upwards prettily, and I took the toothbrush and set it on the bedside table in case she needed it again later.
“I know the timing isn’t good, tesoro. But it’s better that it happened here than a few weeks ago in Rotterdam. You can say whatever you like, but I know you never would have forgiven yourself if the band couldn’t play live because of you.”
Vic took a shuddering breath and nodded, tucking some stray hair behind her ear, and tugging the blankets, which I had reinstated on the bed, up around her shoulders.
“It’s just a bit shit. We were here for a vacation, and now we’ll be stuck inside for the next day instead of enjoying the countryside before I’m gone on tour again.”
“It is shit. But not your fault. And we’ll make the best of it. I need to run down to the village to get some groceries, and then we can stay in bed all day, alright? Let me look after you a little bit, after the month you’ve had I think you more than deserve it.”
“Hopefully without the sickness. Don’t go get groceries? I don’t think I could eat anything anyways, and we have leftovers in the fridge.” She grimaced, but I knew she was joking, and I was glad to see her awake enough to try to make me irritated with her.
“You need something to keep you hydrated, and Cola and wine won’t do, unfortunately. I think there’s a pharmacy, too. I could get you something for the nausea if you think you can keep it down.”
She looked to be falling asleep again, blue eyes hooded and a bit misty. Her shoulder jerked up in a noncommittal shrug.
“If you think it’ll help.”
“I do,” I gave her a small smile, tucking my own hair behind my ears so it wouldn’t tickle her when I kissed her forehead gently, “I won’t be long. You’ll be alright here on your own for a bit?”
“Mmm. I’ll just sleep. And try not to throw up on the sheets.”
“I’m sure you’ll find a way. The bin’s by the bedside table, if you need it. Feel better, amore.”
Vic smiled, even though it was a bit watery and very tired, and I placed my hand against her forehead one more time before leaving. It was still burning hot, coinciding with her rosy cheeks, and I was loathe to leave her alone and feverish. But I hadn’t been exaggerating about Cola and wine being the only beverages in the house, and I had to get her to drink something before she got even sicker.
I turned when I was outside once; the bedroom had bay windows that looked out over the driveway. Vic was curled up on her side, one hand hanging delicately off the side of the bed, eyes closed. I smiled fondly before getting into the rental car and driving as quickly as I could down the narrow, winding roads to the village in the valley below.
The village was small, and luckily I avoided any recognition I might have received in a bigger town for being associated with the bassist of the winning Eurovision act. The corner store was well equipped with sports drinks and soup, and I found a nausea suppressant at the pharmacy down the street. Other than me, only a few local people were about, buying bread or chatting with their neighbours. Nobody so much as glanced my direction, which was probably for the best. I was still wearing a pair of shorts I usually used as pyjamas, and a shirt that had, at one time, belonged to my dad. It hung almost down to my knees.
Bundling my spoils back into the car, I revved the engine and headed back up the hillside. The roads were damnably treacherous; Vic hated driving and I had gotten us up here, but every trip still made my heart pound a bit. The guardrails were the only thing that stood between me and a wrong turn into a very steep ravine.
The house was exactly as I had left it, though I wasn’t sure what else I had expected. Vic wasn’t in any sort of condition to get up at the moment. In fact, when I jogged up the front steps and into the bedroom, I found she’d barely even moved, though her eyes were halfway open and she smiled lazily when she saw me.
“I missed you, caro.” Her voice was still raspy, and her eyes were weeping a bit onto her flushed cheeks. She looked an absolute picture of misery. I dropped the groceries on an armchair and crawled into bed next to her, wrapping my arms around her waist and wincing at how uncomfortably hot she felt.
“I brought you back something to drink. And some medicine for your nausea, if you want to try?”
She gave a low-pitched negatory hum and snuggled into my chest, wrapping her arms around my waist. Her hands twisted up the back of my shirt and stroked at my spine; I could feel the roughness of her calluses from playing so often these last months. Sighing, I wrapped my own arms around her neck and drew a line across the upper portion of her spine with my fingers.
“You need to drink something soon, Vic. You’ll get worse if you don’t, and I’d rather we weathered this storm here instead of trying to find a doctor in these parts.”
She opened one blue eye and squinted up at me rather balefully. I smiled and leaned over to the armchair, snatching up the package of pills.
“Take something for the nausea first, alright? It wouldn’t make any sense for you to drink just to throw it all up again.”
She swallowed convulsively when I held out a pill, but took it with little complaint, closing her eyes as soon as she’d washed it down with some water.
“Still nauseous?”
“It’s worse now.”
Nodding sympathetically, I picked up the remote off the bedside table and flicked on the television. It seemed a bit ridiculous to be on holidays in the Italian countryside and not be outside enjoying the beautiful weather. However, I figured that under these circumstances it could be excused. It had only been a matter of time, I thought sadly. Vic had been running herself ragged since the band’s Eurovision win. Her immune system had been bound to suffer the consequences of little rest and constant stress eventually. Especially with her predisposition to anxiety.
“Anything you’d like to watch? Or should I pick?”
“You pick.”
Vic’s face had gone several shades paler, and she looked moments way from throwing up again. I sighed and turned the tv on to an afternoon film, something new I hadn’t seen and didn’t know the name of. It had been ages since I had seen a film in theatres; I had no idea what was new or what might be something we would both enjoy.
“My Victoria,” I murmured sympathetically, rubbing her back and holding her close, “I’m so sorry. This looks horrible. Just try to rest, it’ll all be better soon, and I’ll take care of you until it is.”
She snuggled in closer, nestling her head on my collarbone, and didn’t say anything more. I helped her up once to throw up in the washroom, but it had been over half an hour since she took the pill, and I hoped that it would at least help a little bit so I could give her something to drink later on.
We stayed that way for quite a while. The film was something action related, but it was terribly dull and I spent most of the time reading my book while Vic tried to keep her eyes open and focus on what was happening on the TV. I couldn’t understand why she didn’t just sleep. She looked beyond exhausted, dark circles painted like kohl underneath her eyes and her sweaty fringe sticking to her forehead as she continued to fight against the fever. Every now and then her head would slump and her eyes would droop shut, and then she’d pull herself awake with a strangled sort of gasp. Each time I rubbed her forehead and murmured sympathetically until she settled, but it was glaringly apparent to me that she needed to sleep.
“Vic,” I ventured eventually, after yet another bout of nearly falling asleep followed by nausea that had her lying on her back, gasping up at the ceiling with wide, tired eyes, “I think you need to let yourself sleep. You’ll not feel any better trying to keep yourself awake for no reason, tesoro.”
She was so beautiful, even curled up in pain and looking desperately ill. Her eyes, normally smudged with kohl and bright with exhilaration, were dull and tired, but I still loved them. Her hands, callused from years of plucking the rough strings of her bass, were clenching uncomfortably in the sheets. There was still a bit of burgundy polish on her nails; I had done them a few weeks ago when we had met up in Belgium and I had stayed for the gig they played that night. She had painted my toenails afterwards, and laughed at me because my nails were so small and her hands a bit too unsteady.
Slowly, she looked up at me. A shaky hand reached up and scrubbed at her face.
“I know. I don’t feel well.”
In another situation, I might have laughed. This was Vic, straightforward, logical Victoria who was always telling her band mates off for not sleeping and giving her friends Ibuprofen the morning after a party. The fact that her ability to reason had simply vanished made me ache a little inside. I had never seen her so heartbreakingly vulnerable.
“I know, caro. But you’ll feel better once you’ve slept a little, yes? Just stop fighting it, you look miserable.”
“I…I can’t sleep.”
“Just give it a try for me, love. I think it might be easier than you think.”
She shuddered. Her shoulders were shaking now, shivers wracking through her slight body, and I finally took pity on her and bundled her up in an extra sweatshirt. She let me dress her, limbs moving limply as she sat hunched over in bed, staring into the middle distance, face flushed and sweaty. When I was done, I wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and pulled her back to my chest, where she nestled with a tired sigh and a little cough.
“There you go. Feeling a bit better?”
She nodded, even though her countenance betrayed her lie. I smiled anyways, rubbed her back, gave her a small kiss on the forehead. It took no more than five minutes for her to fall asleep, breaths evening out and keeping pace with the small hands of the clock on the bedside table.