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Gladys and the case of Fairy Fever; It's getting hot in here, so take off all your c--
Topic Started: Aug 31 2013, 11:10 PM (1,022 Views)
Gene Hunt
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*Gene parks the Cortina up outside Sam's flat, pulling on the handbrake with a huff of irritation. He knows Sam's in there. The window's open, and Sam'd never even dream of leaving it open if he'd gone out. Must've had one too many fingers of scotch last night. But then, he'd said he was tired... Hmmmmm.

Well whatever's going on, Gene's not happy. And he makes sure that's perfectly clear as he stomps up the stairs and barges in through Sam's front door.

The first thing that hits Gene is how dark it is in the small space. The flat's dingy and the best of times, but this is taking the biscuit. With no hesistation, Gene flicks on the light switch and blinks at the huddled shape on the bed*

WAKEY WAKEY RISE AND SHINE! Someone's late for work, and it wasn't me for once!
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Sam Tyler
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*However, the huddled shape on the bed proves to be little more than a very huddled up blanket. No Sam.

Sam himself, is on the floor next to the bed. Sleeping. Well, not quite anymore.

Soon as Gene switches on the light, a low, raspy moan escapes his lips, and he scrunches up his eyes as much as he can, sluggishly lifting a head over his head to cover them up even more.

The thing is, Sam hasn't had too many fingers of scotch that night. He hasn't had any scotch at all. Instead, he's had what felt like litres of tea, eyes that would fall shut all the time, and the realization that he's caught the worst cold since he can remember. He thought he'd´be fine after a good night's sleep.... But that sleep has just been disturbed by Gene.*
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Gene Hunt
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................

*No retort? Gene frowns, stepping forward and grabbing at the blanket. With a flourish, he whips it back and finds.....

No Sam.

Ah.

Hearing the slight moan, Gene leans over the bed and spots his DI lying on the floor. Okayyyy.....*

Your bed really that shitty that you prefer floorboards!?
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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....

*His face obscured by his arm, Sam gives no reply. He's still trying to figure out what the hell is actually going on. So he tries to formulate a question.*

... Wha'... *he trails off into a cough. His throat, already sensitive from the cold, is even drier now from disuse, and speaking barely works at all.*
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Gene Hunt
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*leans over a little further, frowning at the figure on the floor*

Yes, 'what'. That's what I want to know an' all.

*drops the blanket back onto the bed and walks over to the counter, pouring a glass of water and bringing it round to Sam's side. Gene crouches down next to Sam and taps the arm obscuring his face*

Oi, come on. Get this down you. Lubricate them vocal chords.
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Sam Tyler
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*Sam swallows - and wishes he hadn't. His throat is constricting painfully, and his face contorts as he waits for his throat to relax again. As Gene pours the water, Sam's wits slowly catch up, and he starts rubbing at his eyes, noticing with faint interest that his forehead is unusually warm.

He's about to lift his arm off his face when Gene taps it with the glass. Sam tries to open his eyes, but ends up blinking against the light rather blearily, not seeing a thing.*

I.... *Sam breaks off again, shaking his head. His throat is too rough to talk, but he knows that if he drinks cold water now, it'll get worse. Way worse. What he needs is.... Is.......*

... *croaks* Tea...... *God, talking REALLY hurts. Getting somewhat annoyed, Sam attempts to sit up, one arm grabbing his bed for support, using the other to shield his sensitive eyes from the light.*
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Gene Hunt
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*Gene blinks, taken aback.*

Demanding little sod, aren't you.

*He stares down at Sam's sweaty brow and leans down a little further, pressing his free hand to the hot skin there*

You sure that's a good idea, Gladys? I give you any more heat and you might go off bang...
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Sam Tyler
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*Sam frowns slightly when he feels Gene's hand on his forehead - up until now, he's felt like he's been dreaming.... But the hand, firm against his skin, confirms that Gene is very real indeed.

As Sam pulls himself up further, ignoring the faint ache growing in his head, he gestures weakly and vaguely to hiz throat. He doesn't want to talk any more than he has to.... But....*

.... Throat... Can't....... *his voice is barely audible and very wheezy at best, so Sam de ides to shut up and instead concentrate on pulling himself back up onto the bed.*
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Gene Hunt
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*Sam wants something hot and soothing, then... Despite Gene's best judgement, he has to cave in. Plus look at Sam's face. How could he refuse that!*

Alright alright... *tries to help pull Sam up off the floor* I'll make you a brew. Just promise not to spontaneously combust on me. This coat's freshly dry cleaned.
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Sam Tyler
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*Sam nods weakly as he somehow manages to pick himself off the floor enough to collapse back into bed - Gene's help in that is much appreciated. Pressing his face into the pillow, Sam exhales somewhat shakily. He feels... Shivery, even though he knows he must have a fever...... Great, just great. Sam takes another breath, exhaling with a muffled groan. He's awake enough now to decide that now is a good time to feel thoroughly sorry for himself.*
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Gene Hunt
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*Watches Sam for a moment, feeling a stab of sympathy. Sam really does look sick...

Hesistantly, he reaches out his hand, letting it hover over Sam's head for a second. Then slowly, he lets it drop to gently ruffle the top of Sam's hair* I'll just be a minute.

*leaves the glass of water on the top of the headboard and moves off to the kitchen and begins clattering around*

*calls through, trying not to be too loud* You know you look like a drowned rat - y'don't want a shower while this boils?

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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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Mmh... *again, Sam isn't quite sure whether he isn't just having a feverish dream. Gene's hand, ruffling through his hair... And then it's gone, and Gene moves to the kitchen.

Sam squirms a bit on the bed, half turning onto his side before de iding that the light is still too harsh and flopping back onto his belly. He really can feel the fever now, raging through his head and making his eyes burn. Still, he craves that brew for his raw throat... Especially as another swallows feels as though he was trying to get daggers down his throat.

Upon Gene's question, Sam raises a hand and waves it about limply, trying to indicate that, should the bathroom decide to stay where it is and not to come to him, that shower is most definitely not going to happen.*
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Gene Hunt
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*At the lack of verbal response, Gene turns back to making tea with a grunt of 'suit yourself!'.

A few moments later, Gene's back at Sam's bedside holding the hot mug full of fresh tea.

He hesitates, looking down at Sam splayed on the bed like that, then perches on the edge, causing the springs to creak*

Your cuppa's here. Bit toasty though. Might want to give it a sec....
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*turns his head slowly, blinking up at Gene. Then, just as slowly, Sam shifts, with the intention to turn around and sit up, so that he can take the cup. However...*

... can you... *gestures* ... light... *still barely able to open his eyes due to how light sensitive they are at the moment. Sam swallows after having choked out these few words, and grimaces with the pain it causes. But god, he really is looking forward to that cuppa...*
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Gene Hunt
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*realises what Sam means and gets back up to switch the light off, knees clicking as he goes. And because he's doing what Sam asks, he has to give it an eye roll just for effect. With the room now darkened again, Gene sits back on the bed and holds the tea out again*

Should've known you'd become nocturnal by now, all them extra hours you put in.

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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*While Gene goes to switch off the light, Sam pulls himself up further, twisting in the process so that his back comes to rest against the wall behind him, and by the time Gene sits back down he's sitting there comfortably enough. He extends his hands, and after slight aiming difficulties he gingerly takes the cup from Gene.*

..... thanks.......

*remembering Gene's comment from before, he simply holds the cup in his hands for now, waiting for the tea to cool down a little. Silence settles between them... and suddenly, Sam feels quite ridiculous and childish.*
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Gene Hunt
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*Sam's silence concerns Gene a little, and he leans over slightly, trying to get a better look at Sam's face in the gloom. He looks pale and sweaty.... And despite the darkness, Gene can see bags under his eyes....*

'Ey. That throat of yours really feeling that rough? S'not normal for you to be so quiet. S'creepy.
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Sam Tyler
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*Sam raises his head slightly, and if the light were better Gene would see the wry look on Sam's face. He merely looks at his DCI for several moments, before settling his gaze on the mug again. That should be answer enough for Gene, he thinks.*
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Gene Hunt
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... Right.

*looks down at his hands for a moment, joining Sam in the moment of silence. He hopes Sam didn't catch this because he was overworked... They've been busy lately, and after a spate of late nights it's easy to feel a little run down....*

*clears his throat awkwardly*

You been getting enough sleep?
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*In response, Sam coughs, trying not to grimace too much. No, he hasn't been getting enough sleep, but then, he never does. The one thing that seems to have failed to adjust to his new life, is his sleep clock. But he's not about to tell Gene that, obviously.*

Think -- think so. *he coughs again, swallows, grimaces. God, he hates colds. Suddenly impatient, Sam raises the mug to his mouth, and blows for a bit before taking a tentative sip. It burns his lips and tongue, but he swallows it down anyway - and maybe it's just his wishful thinking, but it seems like the heat immediately soothes his vocal chords and throat.*
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Gene Hunt
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*narrows his eyes at Sam's answer, but keeps his voice quiet and soft as he responds* Liar liar pants on fire.

*Sam doesn't seem to be wincing too much from drinking the tea.... So hot liquids are okay. Gene casts an eye over at the rest of Sam's flat, looking for evidence of food preparation. Though thinking about it, Sam wouldn't leave peeling around, would he.*

When's the last time you had some grub? You get anything last night?
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*Sam blinks and glances up from his cup, a frown on his face. Is he really being that obvious? But then again, he should have learned by now that it won't do to underestimate DCI Gene Hunt's skills of observation...

At Gene's question, Sam shakes his head. His throat had been feeling odd last night already, and he hasn't been hungry ever since the past afternoon. Sam takes another sip of tea, and then another, before setting the cup back down.*

'm not... hungry.

*God, but he hates how his voice sounds. Faint, scratchy. And it hurts.*
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Gene Hunt
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Hmm, thought so.

*picks the cup back up again as soon as Sam sets it down and holds it back out to him*

Well if you're runnin' on empty, that needs sorting, doesn't it.

You got any food lurkin' around here?
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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...

*After a moment of hesitation, Sam reaches out for the cup and takes it from Gene again. His eyelids are drooping again already, the fever making him somewhat sleepy... But he still thinks, before nodding.*

Some-- porridge... really not hu... *trails off into a cough, stronger than the one from before, making Sam tense up all over and fold up into himself slightly, trying to get it under control.*
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Gene Hunt
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Ahh Jesus.... *grabs the cup from Sam quickly before he can spill it, setting it on the floor and leaning back round to grab Sam's shoulder and hold him up*

C'mon, sit up straight, yer not a pretzel....! *grips Sam tightly so he doesn't fold up*
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*but Sam can't seem to stop coughing, leaning in a bit more with every cough, shoulders twitching. After a few moments it still hasn't subsided, and Sam is becoming desperate for a proper breath... He tries to concentrate on breathing, on relaxing, on Gene's hands on his shoulders, but it doesn't seem to work, the coughing slowly turning into gagging....*
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Gene Hunt
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*oh god, is Sam going to be sick?? Gene's not the type to be too squeamish over that, but he needs to get Sam in a position where he's not going to cause a mess all over himself if it does happen...

Gene turns quickly, wrapping one arm around Sam's chest and rubbing his back with his other hand* Alright, Gladys, it's alright.... Calm down and take a nice deep breath, alright? *tries to calmly tilt Sam so that he's upright but facing the edge of the bed - better for any accidents to happen on the floor than on his bedsheets...*
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*Sam is trembling with exertion by now, held upright only by Gene's arm. Concentrate, concentrate on the voice, the voice, the hands, the voice, just the voice...

Somehow, Sam finds the strength to regain control over himself, just before he can hack up the sparse contents of his stomach. He still can't breathe properly, and the muscles in his torso are convulsing with the effort of keeping the cough under control.*
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Gene Hunt
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*Oh, good... good.... Sam doesn't look like he's going to heave up...*

Alright, good, that's good.... Just keep breathing. Been doing it over thirty years, y'can't have forgotten how now!

*continues to rub at Sam's back, urging him to relax*

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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*And still, Sam is struggling to breathe in. He just can't seem to be able to do it - instead, more subdued coughs shake his body, not permitting him to draw breath. One hand is buried in the sheets, the other has somehow found Gene's leg and is clinging onto it as if for his dear life. By now, tears are streaming down Sam's face, and he tries so hard to concentrate and relax and breathe, but his mind is starting to reel....*
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Gene Hunt
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*genuinely worried now, Gene clings back onto Sam and continues to try and stop him from folding over*

Shit... Sam what is this? Asthma attack?! What do I bloody do??

*the coughing fit should've ended by now.... Jesus, how does Gene stop it...? His gaze flicks to the window - maybe he should open it, get some air in... But Sam's attached to his leg, and he's not sure he'd let go of Sam even if he could... *
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Sam Tyler
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*Sam would love to explain to Gene that, no, it isn't an Asthma attack, it's just a bloody persistant scratch in his throat, but all he can do is shake his head minutely as he fights hard to regain control over his body.

And then, indeed, he manages to take a tiny breath. Coughs. Another breath. And he coughs again. And focuses entirely on Gene's hands holding him.

Slowly, painfully slowly, but also steadily, the pauses between coughs become longer, until Sam exhales shakily and inhales again, without being disrupted by a cough. Finally, he closes his eyes and leans back with another exhausted sigh, his back coming to rest against Gene's front.*
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Gene Hunt
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*holds Sam worriedly as the coughs become shorter and more spaced out, and finally, finally, Sam flops back against Gene's chest*

*wraps an arm around Sam's chest and rubs gently at his front, trying to encourage Sam's breaths to come steadily*

Bloody hell.....

You still alive? *Gene probably sounds more shaken than he wants to let on, but.... Jesus Christ, that wasn't pleasant... No wonder Sam didn't get up for work this morning....*
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Sam Tyler
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*Sam's throat still feels terribly scratchy, but he is now able to resist the urge to cough again. Gene's rubbing certainly helps... Sam can feel himself relax further. But god, he's so tired now... And his head feels like it's burning up, forcing his eyes to remain closed...

Sam gives a small nod, noticing how Gene sounds rather... yes, shaken. Oh dear.*

... 'm alright... I think... *Sam's voice, after this massive fit, is now barely audible, and Sam instinctively reaches out for the tea mug... only, he can't find it. He really, really needs to get something hot down his throat...*
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Gene Hunt
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Pfft! You're not alright, you soft pot. Sounds like you ate ruddy iron filings for breakfast....

*grabs the mug and hands it back to Sam quickly, placing it right into his hands*

I mean... Christ.... Think y'might've hacked up a lung! *peers over the side of the bed as though looking for one* Maybe I should call the doc....
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*Sam gives a slight moan of protest when Gene moves around , but when he places the mug in Sam's hands, he calms down immediately. By now, the tea has cooled down to a tolerable level, so after the first sip Sam takes long gulps, the hot liquid soothing his abused throat.

Sam sets down the mug for a small break just as Gene peers over the edge of the bed, and he can't help but to chuckle - though it comes out as something between wheezing and coughing again, so he stops it. A small, exhausted smile lingers on his face though.*

... maybe... dunno... *Sam glances at the television set for a second - but the screen is black. Nothing out of the ordinary.*
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Gene Hunt
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*Gene's watching Sam's face too hard to notice exactly what Sam's looking at, but he senses Sam's unease. And the fact that Sam's not denying the fact that he might need a doctor... That's even more worrying.*

You, uh.... Want some water...? More tea...?
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Sam Tyler
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*Sam doesn't answer immediately, momentarily lost in the sensation of Gene's voice rumbling against his back, and his head feeling rather light.*

... ... ... *blinks, and seems to snap out of it* ... tea...
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Gene Hunt
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........ Right you are.

*regretfully, Gene has to disentangle himself from Sam in order to move over and set the kettle to boil again. He feels Sam's radiating heat leave him as soon as he's away from the bed, and it occurs to him once again just how fevered Sam must be.

Okay. One more thing he'd better do. Once the kettle's on the boil, Gene moves over to Sam's phone and dials.*

Phillis, it's the Guv. Got a bit of a situation over and Casa Del Tyler, so I'll be late gettin' back. Think you can manage the rabble for a bit, or do I need to send over the British Legion?

......... Sick as a ruddy dog. With mange. Yeah well, that's why I'm here and not you ........ Don't laugh! I'm plenty good with the Great Diseased.

I'll tell 'im you said that! Right, well. I'll be back in a bit.

*Gene snorts as he hangs up and moves back over to sort the tea out. He gives Sam a steady glance and says wryly* Phyllis said if you're really sick as a dog with mange it's kinder to put you down. Charmin', eh!
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Sam Tyler
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*Oh, no, not again. Sam doesn't want Gene to leave. He doesn't want to move. Again he groans, which triggers another small coughing fit. He drops back into the covers, eyes burning behind closed lids. His head is pounding now... God...

He hears Gene talk to someone on the phone, but for the first few seconds, he's too dazed to make out the meaning of the words. However, he does go through the trouble of focusing once Gene addresses him again.

It takes a few sconds for Sam to really understand what he's saying, but once he does, he gets the image of a dog with a droopy nose wearing his leather jacket and cuban heels, and he starts to laugh. Well, tries to. It just ends up as a subdued cough again, and Sam turns onto his side to curl up a little as he fights to control it.*
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Gene Hunt
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*Gene waits for a response, but Sam just curls up and coughs instead. Damn, he's really under the weather.

Without a response, Gene turns back and fixes up another cup of tea, bringing it over to Sam carefully*

*in a quiet voice* Here, get this down you.

........ If your fever's not calmed its tits in the next few hours I'm gonna call the doc.

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Sam Tyler
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*by the time Gene comes back with the cuppa, Sam has managed to get himself back under control, and sits up again slowly to take it. His eye lids feel so heavy... Still, he does his best to look at Gene, because for some reason that seems to make him feel calmer.

He nods as he gingerly takes the cup.* ... 'kay... *coughs once more, then starts to blow at the tea*
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Gene Hunt
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*Lets go of the mug as Sam takes it, standing back a pace to watch him worriedly. There's none of that usual spark there - like half of Sam's missing.

Awkwardly, Gene sticks his hands in his pockets and steps up so that his shins are almost touching the bed*

You, um... I reckon you should eat somethin'. You know, for strength and all that.

.... How's soup sound?
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Sam Tyler
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*Sam remains silent for a moment, just blowing at his tea and then taking a very careful sip. And another.

Finally, he nods.*

.... sounds lovely. *His voice is no more than a whisper, hardly audible.*
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Gene Hunt
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Right. Good.

*Still giving Sam a wary eye, Gene slowly turns and begins opening cupboards, rummaging about*

..... 'Fraid I'm not exactly Fanny Craddock... Might have to pop down to the shop for a can. And don't roll your eyes - S'better y'get it packaged than me poisonin' you!

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Sam Tyler
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*Addled as he is, Sam merely gives a tired smile.*

Sure.... *takes another couple of sips* ... even you should-- be able to make soup though.... *coughs after this relatively long sentence and takes another sip of tea to soothe his throat. He finds though that whispering is actually possible! He'll need to make use of that. But right now, Sam's fevered mind is distracting him with the image of Gene in one of Fanny Craddock's outfits, and a grin forms on his face.*
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Gene Hunt
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*Finishes rummaging, coming up empty handed. Looks like canned soup it'll have to be.

Pushing himself up onto his feet from where he's been crouched down by the lower cupboards, Gene turns his gaze upon Sam once again, surprised to see him grinning like a loon*

What, don't tell me you're seein' pink elephants? It'll be a different doctor I'm callin' if that's the case...!
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Sam Tyler
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*Sam's shoulders shake momentarily with a soundless giggle before he vigorously shakes his head. He then blinks somewhat dozily, gripping his cuppa a bit tighter and taking another sip. God, that fever is burning through him like the summer of '76 will in a few years... And now this is making his head hurt, so he leans it back with a sigh, closing his eyes.

God, the lucid part of his mind is fully occupied feeling thoroughly sorry for himself.*
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Gene Hunt
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*......... Well at least the tea's making him happy. Until he leans his head back, anyway.

Concerned, Gene dusts off his knees and brushes his hands on his jacket, stepping forward and gently pressing the back of his hand against Sam's forehead*

Hmmmm....

*moves his touch down to Sam's cheek, taking a moment to feel the heat coming off him*

....... You're not gonna croak if I nip down the shop, are you....

*Gene knows Sam needs food - he needs the energy. But he also doesn't want to leave if Sam's going to go downhill while he's gone...*

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Sam Tyler
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Mmmmmmmhhh.... *almost reflexively, Sam leans in to the touch, tilting his head to the side slightly and craning his neck. He doesn't reply for a few seconds, before there is a tough inner battle to be fought - let Gene go, or keep him here at all costs?

On the one hand, Sam doesn't want to seem weak in front of his Guv, as per usual. A part of his fevered mind knows that Gene will probably tease him endlessly after this.

On the other, though, Sam simply wants Gene to be close, because that means safety.

It is a tough decision indeed. And if Sam hadn't been so ill, the outcome might have been more obvious, but...*

... don't... *pauses, sluggishly attempting to find a good reason for Gene to stay* ... don't go... I.... *still trying very hard* .... the.... *so very hard* ... the....

... tea. Need..... tea. More... of it. *and failing quite miserably, in the end.*
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Gene Hunt
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You drink any more tea and you'll turn into a ruddy teabag!

*debates with himself a moment, then exhales heavily. He'll have to go out. Tea really isn't going to cut it. Sam needs nutrients - food. He'll have to be quick...*

I'm gonna go grab you something better. Alright? And whatever I bring back, you'd better eat it all, s'that clear? I'll be back in ten minutes, so you don't move a muscle.
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*gives a croaky little whine at this and slides down the wall a tiny bit further, all petulant child. However, apart from this, Sam doesn't voice any further objections, giving a little nod. He knows he's being ridiculous, but... he can't be bothered with that right now.*
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Gene Hunt
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*Usually, Gene'd take that as an agreement. But there's a little knot of worry in his stomach that won't let him leave until he's sure.

Gene pats Sam's shoulder and leans in a little closer, speaking firmly but softly*

I mean it. No gettin' up or flouncing while I'm gone. Okay?
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*opens one eye slightly, blinking up at Gene. When did it become so tiring to keep his eyes open?

Sam nods again. Why would he want to get up, anyway? He's got his tea right here... And if Gene says he'll be right back...

... although...

He glances at the telly again. It's still switched off, the screen black.

Stupid, she vanished when he came back. Stupid stupid. Sam closes his eyes again, trying to push himself a bit more upright again. Retain at least some dignity.
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Gene Hunt
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*satisfied by Sam's nod, Gene gives him one last pat on the shoulder and turns, leaving the flat and Sam behind.

He's not gone long - Ten minutes at most, having walked as fast as he can down to the local shop. Sam'd be proud of him - it'd almost count as exercise! He whips around the aisles as quick as he can, picking up several tins of differently flavoured soup, some Hoops, some orange juice, grapes and a pack of small cakes (comfort food, of course). By the time he gets back to Sam's flat, he's slighty out of breath and eager to dump the bag of heavy tins down somewhere before it erupts tinned goods all over the floor.

He lets himself in, shouldering his way through the door, dumping the bag down immediately*

Right! That's my exercise for the year.
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*The first few minutes, Sam merely sips his tea, until he's done with that. He even manages to put the cup down alright. But as he does that...

... the TV flickers on.

Sam freezes.

Blinks.

The TV is off again.*

....

*Slowly, Sam sits up, his eyes fixed on the telly. Did he just imagine that? But... but she left - the Test Card Girl... he never saw her again after his decision to stay forever. But what if... he hasn't been ill like this since then, so... but.. it can't be...?

Again, the TV set flickers to life, and Sam flinches back, eyes widening. It's the girl, with her clown, right there on the telly. But that can't be, it can't, it CAN'T.

Sam squeezes his eyes shut. It must be his fevered mind, playing tricks of him. Tricks like the voice that suddenly rings out right next to him: "Did you miss me, Sam?"

Sam yells - except his voice is gone so it's just a wheeze that is heard as he jerks away from the voice, his eyes flying open and searching the spot where the voice came from.

Except, it's that exact moment that Gene chooses to re-enter the flat, so Sam ends up staring at him, ghostly pale, panting. To Sam, it looks like Gene just appeared and spoke in the Test Card Girl's voice, and that bag he's just dumped might well have been a clown just a moment ago.*
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Gene Hunt
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.................... *blinks*

............. Um...??.... Y'okay?

*Sam's pale and sweating, staring at him like he's just seen a ghost. Damn, maybe he shouldn't have left....*
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*Sam continues to stare at Gene with wide eyes, his eyes darting down to the bag and back up to Gene's face, then to the telly.

It's off again. No Test Card Girl. No voices.

Sam looks back at Gene, as if trying to make sure he isn't going to transform into the girl. Then, after a few more seconds of awkward silence, Sam closes his eyes with an exhausted sigh and gives a little nod.*
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Gene Hunt
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*Sensing something's still not quite right, Gene steps closer to Sam, bending over him and checking his temperature again*

Hey, hey. S'me, alright?

Not gonna be sick or nothin', are you?
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*Sam flinches away slightly when Gene touches him, as if he's been expecting a blow or freezing cold hands or something along those lines, but then he relaxes and opens his eyes a little, not quite looking at Gene.*

*his voice still a mere whisper* ... I know. 'm fine. *Well, as fine as can be expected given the circumstances. But Sam is sure that Gene knows what he means. Hopefully.*
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Gene Hunt
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*Phew.*

Right. *Gene leans back, letting his hand drop from Sam's face* Good.

*still wary, Gene moves back to the bag on the floor, keeping an eye on Sam all the while*

Okay, make your choice. Chicken, Vegetable or Cock-a-leekee? *holds up the tins with a amused twinkle in his eye*
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Sam Tyler
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*frowns slightly as he blinks up at Gene, eyeing the tins.*

.... chicken.

*No, in his addled state and still in shock from before, Sam really isn't up for innuendos. Sorry, Gene.*
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Gene Hunt
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*Sam missing innuendos is a sign of how bad Sam feels in and of itself. But all he can do is blink at the chicken soup tin and frown in Sam's direction. Moment of concern passed, Gene turns to the kitchen and starts looking for a tin opener*

Righty-ho, then. Though you'll be kicking yourself y'didn't take advantage of that joke later.

*digging through the drawers*

You want some paracetamol as a side dish?
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*Sam gives a noncommital noise as he slides down the wall, settling into a lying position on the bed. He turns to the side, and only then realizes he hasn't really given Gene an answer yet.*

... yeah... please... *he coughs, pushing himself up on one elbow again to make it easier on his lungs. As the fit subsides, Sam flops back down again, closing his eyes. If only he could just... sleep this stupid bloody cold off...*
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Gene Hunt
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*Okay. Painkillers it is. Gene pulls a saucepan out of the cupboard and puts it into the heat. After a moment, he then pulls the lid of the tin off and tips the soup in. The whole can. Sam needs his strength, after all.

As that begins to heat up, he takes a couple of tablets and brings them to Sam with some water*

Here. How 'bout we make the paracetamol the starter instead.
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*mumbles something into his pillow before painstakingly pushing himself upright again, and turning around so that he's sitting again, with his back against the wall. Suppressing another coughing fit, Sam reaches out for the glass and the tablets, swallowing the latter without even looking any closer at what Gene's given him.

It's only when he swallows the cold water that he remembers the effect it'll have on his throat, and Sam can't help but grimace at the pain that's radiating up his head and down his chest.*

...urgh.........
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Gene Hunt
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*ruffles Sam's hair lightly, careful not to hurt him*

Good lad.

You hang onto that. *nods at the glass, then moves back over to the soup, giving it a stir. In a minute or two it should begin to fill the room with a pleasing aroma. Hopefully that'll cheer Sam up a little, if his nose isn't stuffed up too much for it to get through...*
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*As Gene's hand leaves his head, Sam does indeed hold onto the glass, staring into it sullenly. Then, following a whim, he raises it up, pressing it to his forehead - and he gives a sigh as the cool material touches his skin.

A few moments later, he can indeed sense the faint whiff of soup - luckily, his nose isn't too clogged up for that! Sam inhales, closing his eyes. Slowly but steadily, this shitty day is turning into something slightly better...*
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Gene Hunt
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*Still keeping an eye on Sam as he sticks a couple of slices of bread under the grill*

*trying to keep Sam's spirits up* Oi, don't you pass out on me. M'not givin' you no bedbath or any of that crap.
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*pressing the glass to his cheek now*

... 'm not...

*slowly opens his eyes again, blinking against the fever. He really hasn't felt this weak in... forever, it seems. Sam wonders faintly whether he'll even remember anything of today's events once he's better...*

... glass... is cool.... *he tries to explain, thinking that Gene might find his behaviour odd.*
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Gene Hunt
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*After a few more moments of clattering about in the kitchen, Gene's carrying a plate with toast and a bowl of soup balanced on it across the flat and towards Sam. It's steaming invitingly, and there's a light spread of butter on the toast to make it soft enough for Sam to be able to swallow it (hopefully)*

Right.... Here you go.... Don't burn your tongue or sneeze it all over yourself....
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*Sam raises his head when Gene approaches, and his eyes widen slightly when he sees the plate.*

... oh...

*He sits up a bit more, putting the glass down on the floor next to him and then outstretching his hands to take the plate from Gene. God, but it smells really delicious, despite being canned stuff... Maybe it's because of the fact that Gene actually went through the trouble of making it for him.*

... ta...
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Gene Hunt
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*seeing Sam looking slightly less miserable is reward enough for the trip to the shop, and he hands the plate over with pursed lips. He hopes dam likes it - he knows the canned stuff's probably below Sam's usual standard of soup, but... Still.*

You're not gonna spill it, right?
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*As Sam's fingers close around the plate, he shakes his head, a frown appearing on his face*

... 'm fine... not too weak...

*still, he's really grateful.*
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Gene Hunt
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Alright. *stands back to watch Sam, making sure he's got a good grip on the plate before turning and walking back to the kitchen*

Hope y'won't mind if I help myself.... *reaches into the shopping bag he brought back and fishes out a packet of crisps*
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Sam Tyler
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*Sam gingerly places the plate in his lap, then picks up the spoon. He's not... particularly hungry, or feels the need to eat really... but Gene went through the trouble of going to the store, so he can't really not eat. Besides, the smell does do wonders to his mood, and so Sam starts spooning the soup up carefully.

And.. it actually does seem to help his throat a little.

Sam looks up to see Gene take out the packet of crisps.*

.... not exactly... healthy.
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Gene Hunt
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*rips the bag open and shoves his hand in, rummaging about eagerly*

Yeah well, you're not exactly a prime example of health right now either, Sickly Sue. Why don't you worry about yer own germy guts first an' let me enjoy my cheese n'onion.

*tucks in with a loud crunch, making his way over to perch on the chair near Sam's bedside*
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*gives a wry little smirk before continuing to eat his soup in silence. Near the end, he can feel another coughing fit, and sets the plate down next to him before the coughs start to shake his body again. He tries to subdue it, but presently with little success...*
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Gene Hunt
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*uh oh!*

*Gene quickly puts the crisp packet down and grabs the soup, moving it to the floor in case of spillage*

Oi oi oi, what, you inhale the wrong way? C'mon.... *rubs Sam's back firmly* Yer alright, come on....
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Sam Tyler
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*shakes his head, one hand covering his mouth, the other curled into a fist around his blanket. While Sam manages to keep the coughs subdued in contrast to before, it still feels like there's something constantly scratching in his throat, triggering cough after cough, and he can feel panic creeping up on him.

Supported by Gene's firm rubbing, Sam forces himself to take a proper breath, before the coughing starts anew. Shit. Shit, shit, shit shit shit...!*
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Gene Hunt
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Shit.... *does his best to keep Sam upright, turning the rubs into soft pats just in case there's something Sam needs to cough up*

Easy, just breathe, alright? In, out... in, out.... Can't have you copping it, can we...
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*For another few moments, during which his chest feels as though it's going to burn up, Sam coughs into his palm, eyes screwed shut. Then, he manages to take a full breath, and the cough that follows is easily suppressed. Another breath... and another...

Finally, Sam exhales deeply, sitting there with his eyes still closed, slowly lowering his hand. Thank God he didn't cough up the soup...*
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Gene Hunt
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*Gene slowly, slowly leans back a bit, allowing Sam to get some space. His hands hover warily over Sam's shoulders still though, just in case*

........ You're done with the soup then, I take it? Or d'you wanna try finishing it like a big boy?
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*Instead of answering, Sam slowly sits up again properly, rubbing at his eyes briefly. Then, as he realizes the plate isn't on the bed anymore, he nods.*

... I'll finish it. *Again, his throat is so sore that his voice comes out as a rough whisper, and he swears this is going to drive him mad by the end of the day...*
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Gene Hunt
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*picks up the plate and holds it out, ready to snatch it back if Sam coughs again*

You sure? You throw this up later and I'm not gonna be best pleased....
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*For a moment, Sam's face clouds over with irritation, and he nods once more, almost impatiently, as he takes back the plate and picks up the spoon.*

'm fine.

*Almost petulantly, he finishes the soup - it's not as hot anymore, but just comfortably warm enough to soothe his throat and chest after that coughing fit.*
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Gene Hunt
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*watches, unconvinved* Right you are....

*picks up his crisps and sits back down, watching Sam like a hawk*

So... this just come on overnight or what? What was it, you snog a tramp or something without tellin' me?
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*halts for a moment, shooting Gene a half-annoyed, half-disbelieving glare*

... Overnight. *finished with the soup, Sam puts down the spoon, and then picks up the now cold toast, eyeing it somewhat warily. He's not sure whether or not he can hold down something non-fluid...*
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Gene Hunt
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*notices Sam's hesitation* Listen. If you can't eat that, leave it. Buttered it though, so it should be nice and soggy...

*smirks a little* Or are you the type who only eats butter grated with garlic and rosemary? Little mint leaf on the top, caramelised onion on the side?
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*looks up, eyebrows slightly raised. That.... actually sounds nice. Still, Sam snorts, putting the toast down.*

... better not. Thanks though. *coughs lightly, then leans back with a little sigh*
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Gene Hunt
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*watches dissapointedly as Sam puts the toast down. He's usually snaffle it up for himself if Sam doesn't want it, but he's not about to intentionally up his risk of catching... whatever this is.*

Right....

*takes the plate from Sam* You want anythin' else?
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*shakes his head wordlessly, closing his eyes*

... *near inaudibly* ... thanks... *Sam feels rather filled up now, and definitely tired.... And the painkillers haven't set to work yet, so his head still feels fuzzy... God, he just wants to sleep............

Slowly, Sam slides down the wall into a lying position, adjusting the pillow underneath his head as best as he can.*
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Gene Hunt
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*watches with sympathy - Sam really does look sick...*

Jesus. You really do look like a train wreck....

You uh... Want me to stay? While you have a kip, I mean?
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*mumbles, then sighs, then tries again*

... 's alright... don' 'ave to...

*Because Sam really doesn't want to keep Gene... and witness any more of this humiliation, even though at the same time, Sam is longing to have some company... knowing that when he wakes up, someone will be there... but he can't say it. He can't. Not to Gene.*
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Gene Hunt
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Hmm. *places his hands on his hips and looks down at Sam, unmoving on the bed*

........ Okay. I'll pop out now and stop by again a bit later. How's that suit you?
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*turns to his side, actually managing to raise his voice enough to croak*

.. Yeah... Fine......

*the painkillers slowly are kicking in, but the fever combined with fatigue already lets Sam's mind roam, float away... Supported by the lingering scent of soup, and the picture of Gene standing above him... And soon, he's gone in a swirl of colours and memories and other strange things... Soundly asleep.*
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Gene Hunt
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*Gene leans over Sam, watching him breathe for a moment. He looks peaceful, at last... At least he's sleeping okay. Taking a minute before he leaves, Gene clears away the water and refills the cup, placing it on top of the headboard again. And with a concerned mutter of 'Sleep well, you daft bugger', Gene turns and leaves, shutting the door quietly behind him.

A few hours later, Gene returns. He's spent the afternoon worrying about Sam, but he couldn't call. If he woke Sam up he'd not forgive himself. Not after he'd helped send him off in the first place. Shock wake-ups have their time and place. So this time he'll just open the door veeeery slowly and veeeery quietly....*

*peers around the edge of the door, calling in a not-quite-whisper*

Gladys.... You in the land of the living?

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Sam Tyler
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*Subconsciously, Sam knows that Gene has left. Because that's when the fever nightmares start.

Sam wakes up countless times, but he doesn't even realize that - the border seperating reality from dream has shifted, faded, disappeared, and the girl from the test card is back even though she shouldn't be, but she's back, and she's saying nasty things, and inbetween that he fails to save Annie and Gene, again and again and again--

After just an hour, Sam is drenched in sweat and tears, and Gene still hasn't returned.

After another hour, Sam stumbles into the bathroom and retches up the soup from before, and Gene still hasn't returned.

And another hour later, Sam's throat is so raw from the illness and sobbing and screaming that he's starting to cough up tiny droplets of blood.

By the time Gene pokes his head through the door, Sam feels like he has been locked in a freezer for hours and hours, lying shivering on his bed with the blanket lying in a heap on the floor, the glass of water half-empty, and the pillow stained with tears, sweat and blood.*
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Gene Hunt
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*At the sight, Gene freezes. His heart's trying to plunge its way down through his stomach and oh god, he shouldn't have left...*

Tyler??


*Gene rushes forward, turns Sam over and taps him on the cheek urgently. Where the hell did the blood on the pillow come from!? He's coughed it up, hasn't he... Jesus, what kind of sickness does he have??*

Sam, Jesus, you wake up right this minute or so help me, I'll....! *shakes him a little*
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*Still caught in his nightmare, Sam's eyes flutter open, looking at Gene and not really looking at all at the same time. His voice is barely audible as he whispers*

.... Gene, I couldn't... c-came b-back for y--you a--nd Annie, you a-and h--her... c-couldn't... 'm s-so--rry.... Johns, I, he, I'm sorry, s-s-sorry.....!

*Sam's teeth are very nearly chattering, he's feeling so cold, so very cold... and so heavy and immobile, as if he'd been buried...... He dimly recalls having taken a painkiller against the fever, in another lifetime, but it didn't help, did it, it didn't... won't... will not have... oh, god his head......

Sam feebly grabs for something, anything, catching Gene's forearm, clinging to it with weak and trembling fingers. But it's not Gene, is it, because Gene is dead, Sam came back but he couldn't save them, he couldn't.......*

.. c-couldn't sa-save.... couldn't..... y-you... *he coughs, breathlessly and silently, his body shaking*
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