(no subject)

[trigger_man]

Jack's been keeping an eye on Beckett, and he's starting to have to admit to himself that it's not just out of ordinary human concern.  He's worried about her, particularly considering the hallucinations she'd had.  Which means that he's started to see her as more than an acquaintance.  Maybe not quite a friend, yet, but more than just someone whose name he knows.

He's not sure how he feels about this.  He doesn't want to get close to anyone; getting close means getting hurt eventually.  And it's not himself getting hurt that he's really worried about.

But even with those misgivings he can't not head up to Beckett's room, carrying a tray from Bar with the kinds of things she needs, or should have.  Chicken soup, orange juice, ginger ale, kleenex; it might have been Bar's idea, but Jack had been intending to get a few things anyway.

He shifts the tray to one hand so he can knock on the door.  He has her key, of course, but he can't be sure she isn't taking a bath to try and cool off or that she wants the company.

Comments

[fanofthegenre]

Thanks to the medicine, she's managed to sleep through the night. By the time she wakes up first thing, Jack is gone - probably back to his own room, she figures - and there's some Tamiflu resting on the nightstand. She doesn't get up from the bed right away, though, but lays there still.

Her fever's broken by now, but she still feels a little weak, dealing with the aftereffects of the virus, and she can tell it's not completely out of her system yet, but at least she's here, in Milliways, where she can take some more time to recover before she heads back to work.

She swings her legs over the side of the bed right around the same time that someone knocks on the door. Even though she's no longer feverish, she doesn't want too many layers on, and slips on a pair of slippers before she pads to the front door in her pajamas.

One thing she's forgotten to do is look in the mirror. She's a little pale, but the most drastic thing is her hair. It could use some brushing.

[trigger_man]

He can hear movement behind the door, and he listens carefully for any sign of trouble. He's not sure she should really be out of bed at the moment.

"Beckett? It's Jack. All right for me to come in?"

[fanofthegenre]

There's few people she'd allow to see her like this; granted, he's already seen her through the worst of it, and her shoulders release their tension at the sound of his voice while she reaches for the doorknob.

"Sure."

Her voice is quiet as the door opens, but there's a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

[trigger_man]

Jack gives her a once-over. Despite the bedhead, she looks better than she did the day before.

He holds up the tray. "Delivery from Bar."

[fanofthegenre]

"Oh. Wow."

She glances over each item on the tray as she steps back to let him in.

"She really went all out."

[trigger_man]

"Someone told me when I came in here that Bar likes to mother people. They weren't kidding," he says, walking into the room. "You should get in bed, get off your feet."

[fanofthegenre]

"I've been in bed all morning," she points out, closing the door behind him.

Walking past a mirror, she catches a glimpse of her own reflection and frantically tries to run fingers through her hair.

[trigger_man]

Jack shakes his head as he spots her trying to fix her hair. She's looked like death warmed over for the last say or so, and she's worrying about her hair. Women. Audrey had done the same--

He closes his eyes for a moment, trying to push the memory away. That isn't Audrey anymore, and thinking about the way things used to be isn't going to help. He's not sure whether to be glad that those aren't the memories that keep forcing their way to the front of his mind or not.

"Well sit down, at least. Have you been sleeping all this time?" he says, trying to shake off his reverie.

[fanofthegenre]

She's hoping to be discreet about it, at least, so by the time he turns back to her, she quickly crosses her arms over her chest, acting as though she hadn't just done what she'd done.

"Fine," she agrees, and since they're nearer to the living room anyway, she takes a seat on the couch, drawing her legs up underneath her.

"Pretty deeply. I mean, I still feel crappy, but the fever's gone."

[trigger_man]

"That's good, though you should probably get some fluids in you. What do you want? There's chicken soup in the thermos," he says, placing the tray on a table.

[fanofthegenre]

She reaches for it once the tray's set down, screwing open the thermos. The appetizing scent wafts into the air, and her stomach growls in response.

"It all looks fantastic," she admits, and then glances up at him.

"Thank you."

[trigger_man]

He shakes his head, and takes a seat in a nearby armchair. "Thank the bar. I didn't have a chance to ask for anything before this appeared with a note telling me to bring it up here."

[fanofthegenre]

"Still."

She relaxes back against the couch cushions, taking a slow sip from the thermos. It soothes the rawness in her throat and warms her insides, and she sighs quietly.

"You would've asked?"

[trigger_man]

Jack nods, once. "Yeah. It's not like you should really be heading down to the bar at the moment."

[fanofthegenre]

Beckett nods understandingly.

"The flu still going around? Maybe you shouldn't be heading down either."

[trigger_man]

He gives her a wry look. "It's the flu, Beckett. Trust me, I've dealt with worse."

[fanofthegenre]

"Oh, I know. Pretty sure some of these memories aren't going anywhere."

She takes another sip of soup.

[trigger_man]

Jack's eyes flicker away from her momentarily. "So you still remember all that stuff, even now that the fiver's gone?"

[fanofthegenre]

"Not all of it."

She's not sure whether or not to be grateful for that.

"Is that a problem?"

[trigger_man]

He's stuck between wanting to explain what she remembers and not really wanting to talk about it at all. "I'm not sure I'm the one here who should really have a problem. I'm not the one with the memories from some totally different person in my head."

[fanofthegenre]

"I think I'm surprising myself on that front."

She sets down the thermos, reaching for the orange juice, but cradles it in her hand for a minute.

"But my head's tired, and right now, I can't force myself to be bothered."

[trigger_man]

He nods. After a brief pause he asks, "Do you have any questions about stuff that I can answer?"

[fanofthegenre]

"Are you saying that because you really want to answer them?"

She takes a small sip of OJ.

"Jack, I don't want to pry."

[trigger_man]

"I wouldn't have offered if I wasn't intending to answer your questions," he says. "You already know some of it. And it's not prying if I'm offering."

[fanofthegenre]

"Okay," she sighs.

"You worked for CTU, right? Why did you leave?"