InsaneJournal

Who: Jean and Emma
What: Taking care of the sick
When: 9/4
Status: complete
warnings: standard sick and blood warnings



Orange County could kiss her ass.

Emma was so very not happy with this most recent incident that was spiraling. She’d felt like a flu was coming on, yes. That was one of the hazards of working in an office that housed so many people, but the bleeding eyes was certainly not indicative of flu in the least. She hadn’t been the only one dealing with that in the office either, and due largely to the OC and it’s hellish habit of putting them through the ringer, Emma authorised an entire clear out of everyone suffering the sudden onslaught.

With the healthy ones taking the sick ones home, Emma had texted Jean on the way home to let her know that she was taking the remainder of the day off at home, just in case the bleeding didn’t stop.

By the time she got home she was about ready to collapse and just stay down, she didn’t even have the energy to shift to diamond in a bid to halt it at all. The next twenty minutes had her in the downstairs bathroom, vomiting through shudders that wracked her frame and attempting to keep the dog from whining at her.

It was the weekend, though Jean didn’t think school would be open tomorrow. She’d been out, running errands and checking on a few friends but she hurried home when Emma messaged her. She had the sense to pick up a few things, though what could help with the symptoms people were showing she didn’t know. She didn’t know if people would start dying.

“Emma?” she followed the sound of retching, wincing from the doorway. “Are you sure you shouldn’t be in the hospital?”

The mere thought of spending however long this might last in a brightly lit hospital bed with God knew who around her, probably spewing their guts up (it looked like literally right now, the colour of the bowl) had Emma gagging just a little. “I’d sooner leave these damn blood streaks on my face.” It was horrifically scratchy; her voice low and gravel like, almost like she’d been chewing glass at some point.

“What could a hospital do anyway?” Other than declare an ebola or plague pandemic and quarantine them all.

The color in the bowl was nothing less than alarming. “Emma…” She sighed. If only Hank or Moira or someone were around. Emma would probably trust them. Maybe. Or Dr. Reyes. Sighing, she picked up a cloth and wet it in the sink. “I don’t know, but let me clean you up. Would you like me to shut down the pain centers in your brain for now?”

“Please,” honestly, if she could avoid as much of this as possible she would. If it continued, or worsened, she might consider a hospital, if it was life threatening. But without knowing what it was, or how to treat it, she’d just be somewhere uncomfortable to be poked and prodded and guessed on. She’d sooner stay at home, vomiting her stomach lining into her own toilet instead. “Later we can erase the Bloody Mary appearance from my memory too.” Because bloody streaks weren’t her thing.

“Of course.” She couldn’t suppress the reflex to throw up. That would be dangerous. But eliminating some pain and discomfort was something that Jean could help her with right now. Jean smiled and teased. “Nah, you should know what you look like at your worse so you can appreciate you at your finest.”

She stepped into Emma’s mind. Her control had gotten so much better since she’d stopped dreaming. At least until she’d started dreaming new ones. “Did I tell you I started new dreams? In these it was similar, only I became a doctor. Still with Xavier.”

“More dreams?” Emma could understand the need to let her vomit where needed, the alternative didn’t bode well, even if she would prefer not to, dulling the pain to nothing would at least mean she didn’t feel the agonising burn up her throat or the bone wracking shudders or the clench of her empty gut as she retched.

Of course Xavier would’ve been yet another starring role in Jean’s life, of course at least she’d gotten the opportunity to pursue something other that Charles’ ideal for her life. “Dr Grey, hmm? Does that mean you’re here to play nurse?” Emma was sure that would’ve had far more effect had she not started retching immediately afterwards.

“Play doctor,” Jean corrected her. “There’s a very distinct difference. Though in practice, not so much.” She held Emma’s hair back, grimacing a little. It didn’t matter how much you … loved… someone, it was never pleasant watching this kind of thing. “We need to put something in your stomach but I’m not actually what will stay down.”

“But the nurses are cuter,” she’d gotten to the point of just leaning against the toilet seat, arm supporting her head while she attempting to not see just what was coming out of her. “I think I’m done for now.” She could hope, right? Although the pain was shut down, it didn’t give her much in the way of strength, and the notion of eating anything made her gut clench a little. “I’m not sure what I could manage either.”

“I’m not cute enough?” Jean asked, raising her eyebrow as she feigned offense. Gently, she helped Emma stand and guided her out of the bathroom. Though her girlfriend was weak enough it probably didn’t take much guidance to get her to go anywhere. She felt disturbingly light and fragile. “Should I put you to bed or do you want to try to convalesce on the couch?”

“Bed.” It was an easy enough decision there, the couch wasn’t terrible, but she really wanted to just wrap herself up and hope this wet away. Luckily there was a bathroom upstairs too that she could puke rings around herself if she needed to. “And you’re ridiculously cute, cuter than doctors.”

Emma just let her head rest on Jean’s shoulder at the movements, she was far too tired to really do much of anything else if she were being honest.

“Cuteness accepted, and I’m going to lord this over your head later,” Jean quipped. She took careful, measured steps to ensure that Emma wasn’t rushed and wouldn’t fall over. There was certain dream-medical-school training that came in handy and mostly it was the kind of patience that doctors needed. Not that she’d ever really considered the profession and it seemed strange to her. But there were worse things to be.

Vertigo was an issue, but Emma was confident enough in Jean’s care that shutting her eyes against the motions wasn’t a problem. Navigating their her home until she reached the her bedroom was enough of a trek that she honestly felt like death then and there.

“Is this what plague feels like?” And even without the pain receptors firing through her body, she could feel the scratching ache of her throat and the burn from the stomach acid and blood she’d retched. Why is it alway blood? It was rather carelessly thrown out, her telepathy far less refined in her exhausted state, but the slither of connection was almost constantly present between her and Jean now, something like a cable that just needed plugging in.

“It might very well be,” Jean agreed, in the sort of tone one would use with a very difficult patient. Her mental response was light-hearted. Red goes well with white. That’s why it’s always blood. And why we make such a killer couple. Luckily your paleness keeps up your aesthetic. Soothing emotion followed her telepathy. Jean was becoming more and more open to letting Emma see her emotions, particularly her love for her.

One of the many benefits of dating a telepath and/or telekinetic, and that was without getting into the kinkier side.

Bleeding eyes, vomiting blood, it probably was a hell of a lot like the plague, and Emma was just that lucky. Regardless of how good her paleness settled nicely with the vibrant red of Jean’s hair or her fire, she’d rather it wasn’t her own bodily fluids to be sure.

Still, as with anything in Orange County, there was nothing to be done but ride it out, hope for the best. At least she had her very own Dr Dreamy. Stay with me? Emma was feeling like she could sleep for a week, although she figured it would be a few hours, maybe less. Depending on how this sickness worked it’s way through her system. We can go somewhere else. Another perk of telepathy.

If Emma’s ‘dr dreamy’ so much as got leaked out Jean might very well not let her live it down. But she’d at least make sure not to mention it in front of Kitty or Logan. I can stay with you. Where would you like to go? Some place relaxing, or some place exciting? Jean already had a few ideas.

At this point Emma wasn’t entirely sure if she so much as cared about Logan or Kitty teasing her, she was the one the redhead was spending her time with, living with and navigating this developing relationship with. Frankly, Emma couldn’t care what the half-pint and wolverine thought. Relaxing, I’m not sure I even mentally have much energy.

And if she could spent the whole time just curled around Jean trying not to lose yet more bodily fluids, she’d be happy.