Flu Event: In Sickness and In Health II (Sean)

[Joshua Bernstein]

The snow had melted and the flowers were in bloom, filling the air with a sweet fragrance that rarely blessed the streets of New York. The sky was a clear blue, unhindered by city smog. Song birds chirped greetings to one another from homes safely nested in awnings. It was the sort of day that caused people to skip school or work so they could simply enjoy life.

Joshua Bernstein, however, was in no shape to appreciate how gorgeous it was.

He'd woken up with a sore throat and aching joints, shivering. He'd taken his temperature and confirmed that he had a fever. It occurred to him that the flu was going around (again). After all, the receptionist at work had left work early on Friday; the flu had finally gotten her. But he'd already had the flu at the end of February. He couldn't get it twice in one season, that was ridiculous. This was probably just a particularly bad cold. So he'd taken some dayquil, got a glass of orange juice at Dunkin Donuts instead of a coffee, and headed into work.

By lunch time he really didn't feel any better and was beginning to wish he'd stayed home. He took a Tylenol (he didn't feel well enough to concern himself with such trivialities as whether or not taking both in a 24-hour period was a good idea) and told himself that he would feel better soon. Definitely he would feel better by the time work ended, if not sooner. Anyway, he had a lunch date with Sean (Cobalt and Ben were spending more and more lunches together and Riley was having lunch with some new employee) so he couldn't be sick. He really, really couldn't be sick.

There weren't many people at the little sub shop he and Sean had picked as a meeting place, which was just as well because as Sean wasn't yet there Josh decided that he would just lay his head down on the table for a little bit while he waited...

[Dr. Sean Neville]

While it wasn’t uncommon for Sean to take his lunches at Hammel, recently he’d needed time away, even if it was only for an hour and a few blocks away. That need combined with his ever-present desire to spend time with his best friend caused him to plan his entire day’s schedule to sync with the other man’s more traditional lunch hour. His morning had consisted of three appointments and a meeting, which made it busier than usual, but it was worthwhile, given that the minute his watch struck the hour, he was out in the parking lot, getting ready to leave.

The drive to the sandwich place was completely uneventful – truly Pilot Ridge had once again resumed its completely peaceful, small town atmosphere – and soon enough he had arrived. The place was cozy, relatively isolated, and he’d eaten there so many times over the years that they recognized him from the top of his head. He smiled when he entered and then gestured vaguely at the tables, to show that he was expected.

He found the other man easily enough, but he frowned upon finding that his head was resting on his arms atop the table. Upon closer examination, his friend was paler than usual, and the telepath frowned slightly. He reached out to lightly touch the other man’s back, trying to gauge his temperature as well as alert his presence. “You need a new mattress if the table is helping you sleep.”

[Joshua Bernstein]

The touch was unexpected, and Josh jumped before realizing that it was only Sean. "Very funny." He croaked, straightening in his seat and squinting up at his friend blearily. "There's nothing wrong with my mattress. I just have a bit of a cold. I took some Tylenol, it just hasn't kicked in yet." He would repeat this until it either became true or he was too sick to continue denying. He hoped that it became true because last time he'd been too sick to keep denying he'd thrown up in a restaurant. He wasn't keen on repeating that experience; then again, since he clearly couldn't have the flu again that wouldn't be a problem this time...right?

He stretched his legs under the table and gestured to the seat across from him, inviting the other man to sit. "How is your week shaping up so far?" He glanced over Sean's shoulder, at the mirror stretching across one wall, then ran his fingers through his hair. This didn't help; it was still apparent he'd just been asleep on the table. He sighed and shifted, only to realize that from the other side this impression was even more pronounced, as he was sporting a very good impression of the texture of his jacket.

He felt a sneeze coming on with barely enough time to rip napkins from the napkin dispenser. "Sorry." He apologized into the napkins. "I hope you don't catch this."

[Dr. Sean Neville]

The telepath hadn’t intended to surprise the other man so physically, and he withdrew his hand with an apologetic expression. However, he’d been able to gauge the other man’s temperature, and he was warmer than usual, which didn’t bode well. “How long have you had it?”

He then gave an exaggerated sigh at the question of his week. It was fair territory, of course, and he didn’t resent the other man for asking. However, it wouldn’t earn a wholly enthusiastic response. “It’s shaping up to be one of those weeks where everyone and their parents need to see me in person or speak to me on the phone about policy, treatment, or underlying issues.” Considering the appointments yesterday and this morning, and the ever-depleting available timeslots on his calendar, he knew that it would be one of those weeks.

“I don’t get sick, remember?” Sean reminded his friend, gently, before he took the seat across from him. That was a half-truth, since he was certainly capable of getting sick; he had not healing capabilities. However, he’d been fortunate in that he had a strong immune system. Considering the migraines, the insomnia, and the pain in his knees, the universe owed him that much. More seriously, he added, “I’m sure you won’t get me sick, so don’t worry about it.”

[Joshua Bernstein]

"Since this morning." Josh answered, pulling his jacket closer about his shoulders. The clear skies and blossoming flowers implied that the weather should be warm, but that was a lie, or else the air conditioning in the restaurant was colder than necessary.

"That bad?" He sympathized. He loved people and he loved talking to people, but he wasn't entirely sure he would be comfortable helping people solve personal problems. It was one thing to fight against discrimination, but interpersonal relationships were quite another. He could barely discuss his own issues with those, let alone discuss other people's problems with them. "I don't envy you."

He glared at the top of the table before grumbling. "I don't get sick, either! I never got sick when I lived in New York." That was only a slight exaggeration; both his parents were (aside from the macular degeneration and the Alzheimer's) in rather good health and he had taken after them. Up until this year. Perhaps it was a sign that his lifestyle choices were catching up to him. Perhaps it was a sign that he was getting old after all. Or perhaps it was the atmosphere. "People say fresh air is good for you!" He scoffed hoarsely. "Obviously not if you aren't used to it. I think the smog must kill germs."

[Dr. Sean Neville]

The telepath’s frown deepened upon hearing that Josh had been this ill since this morning and that he’d still decided to go out. Additionally that the illness was affecting him this quickly. The other man needed to be in bed, but the telepath knew the folly in saying that outright. Instead he’d have to work on him subtly for a bit first.

Sean glanced down at the list of available sandwiches, contemplating what he might have. Perhaps if he ordered soup, Josh would be inclined to do so as well; the hot liquid would be good for him. At the question, he spread his hands. “This week is more hectic than usual. It’ll all balance out next week or the week after.” Everything always balanced out in that way, since everyone needn’t speak with him all of the time. Older issues would be addressed; newer issues would arise. Such was his job. “It isn’t as bad as I make it sound. Otherwise I would have packed it in a long time ago.” Truly, he liked his job; he liked helping other people solve their problems, he enjoyed working directly with other people, and he was good at it.

The telepath was aware of that, of course, but he’d only made his initial comment to keep Josh from worrying about passing the illness on. “Fresh air is good for you. You just need to get used to it; I’m sure your lungs are filled with exhaust, and clean living is a shock to your system.” Sean decided that he needed a cup of tea; actually, both of them needed a cup of tea. “Do you have court this afternoon?”

[Joshua Bernstein]

"Is that so?" Josh mused, scratching at his chin -- which turned into blowing his nose in his napkin again. "I don't know if I'll survive my lungs being purged. I think I'll take this knowledge as an excuse to smoke an extra pack a day." He patted his trouser pockets, which had lighter and cigarettes in addition to the standard wallet and house key.

When Sean began perusing the menu Josh took the opportunity to do the same, reminded that the entire point of meeting at a restaurant on his lunch break was to eat lunch. He really didn't feel much like eating; he told himself that he would change his mind once he had the food in front of him. Maybe a decent meal was all he needed to help feel better.

He shook his head at his friend's question. "Not today. Supposed to be in Schwall's courtroom tomorrow, but not until three, and he's always at least an hour late for everything so there's a distinct possibility that won't materialize until Thursday." He paused to clear his throat before continuing, "That's assuming he doesn't skip to celebrate Cinco de Mayo with a margarita and his stenographer. Which really doesn't sound a bad plan....the margarita, not the stenographer." He clarified. "So Thursday at the earliest."

Which then lead to the very important question of, "So what are you doing for Cinco de Mayo?" Followed by another round of sneezes.

He had better be over this cold by Thursday; he didn't want to miss the opportunity to go out drinking with Sean. They'd missed St. Patty's Day, and while Ben was good company and he'd enjoyed meeting Josef, they just weren't the same as his best friend.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Due to familiarity with Josh’s habits and affection for his closest friend, the telepath didn’t argue with him about smoking. Reaching a tobacco and nicotine induced early grave was within his rights as a competent adult. Josh was courteous in that he didn’t smoke around the telepath, and that worked for them. At the same time, Sean didn’t want to recommend that the other man should smoke more. “I suppose that’s one solution, although personally I think you should give the purge a chance. Just think of the strapping, middle-aged lumberjack you might become.”

After a last perusal of the menu, the telepath made his selection for both sandwich and soup. He then watched as Josh read the menu, waiting to see if he made a selection at all and hoped that whatever the other man ordered would stay down.

Despite the fact that Sean had heard stories from his friend for decades about the goings on of the court system, he continued to be astounded by the arrogance of the judiciary when it came to their calendars and the treatment of the lawyers, clients, and defendants who appeared in front of them. The very notion of being an hour late to a scheduled appointment was foreign; he detested being five minutes late, let alone a dozen times that, resulting in the matter being kicked over to another day at great time expense to those involved. “I suppose that gives you another day to get everything in order at least.” There was a pause before he asked, “Is he openly schtupping his stenographer or is that a vibe you get?” It wasn’t Sean’s business, but he liked to judge appointed and elected positions by their hypocrisy on “family values” issues.

The ever important question of Cinco de Mayo plans. Sean didn’t go all out for that holiday the way he did for Saint Patrick’s Day, primarily because the latter was an important holiday from his childhood and a chance to exploit his heritage, while the former was a chance to exploit someone else’s heritage, and there was a thin line between festive and patronizing. But he enjoyed marking the occasion. “Right now, my plan is to do tequila shots in my den.” Perhaps those were not the most elegant of plans, but they were all he could accommodate, particularly given that both the holiday and the day after were school days. “If you’re feeling better by then, you’re more than welcome to join me.”

[Joshua Bernstein]

"Wouldn't becoming a lumberjack require me to quit my job and take up cutting down trees?" Josh asked dubiously. He was fairly certain it was too late to ever become strapping anything; he hadn't even been strapping in his youth. "Maybe when I move to Canada." Because clearly Canada meant lumberjacks. And syrup and mounties and free health care. "assuming that their requirements for becoming a lumberjack are easier than their requirements for becoming a lawyer."

Nothing on the menu was the least bit appealing. Maybe he would simply order a sprite; he ordinarily disliked soda, but sprite did have a tendency to help settle unhappy stomachs. Or he could just order a sandwich and if it turned out that he couldn't bring himself to eat it after all he would simply take it home with him; that was always an option. It wasn't like a sandwich wouldn't still be perfectly edible tomorrow, particularly if he ordered something relatively simple. Maybe turkey.

"Mmm. You can file that one under things everyone knows." Including Schwall's wife, though if she'd done anything about this knowledge Josh wasn't aware of it. "If it was just a vibe..." He paused to sneeze into his napkin for what felt like the millionth time. "wouldn't be worth mentioning. Could be wrong about vibes. Now if you want baseless rumor, then it's going around that Schwall never wanted to be in law, he was interested in teaching elementary school, but he was expected to follow in his father's footsteps. Maybe if he were a teacher he'd take his responsibilities more seriously." But then again, maybe not. Maybe he would try and seduce his charges' mothers.

"I should be feeling better. Cold's don't last that long." Josh predicted confidently. "I'll buy chips and salsa, can't have Cinco de Mayo without chips and salsa."

Although chips and salsa only sounded good in the abstract; food was so sounding less and less appealing. Mostly he just wanted to sleep.

"I think I'll just have my sandwich to go." He decided. "I'm not that hungry after all."

[Dr. Sean Neville]

“Theoretically yes.” The telepath couldn’t deny that the most common image associated with lumberjacks – and the work inherent in the name –involved cutting down trees. However, there was also a masculine stereotype associated with lumberjacks: rugged, strong, muscle-bound, extremely healthy. “However, I’m sure you could be allowed as a junior member without having to actually cut down trees. And perhaps Canada has an introductory program: lumberjacking 101 for all immigrants. You wouldn’t need to take a qualifying exam, I assume.” Sean did not envy the law is practice requirements; medicine was medicine was medicine in any nation that subscribed to even partial Western philosophies, and so he never had to worry, should he ever ex-pat.

The telepath acknowledged that with a nod. He was a monogamous person, but he didn’t begrudge those who weren’t as long as two criteria were met: all parties in the relationship were aware and consented to it, and there was no hypocrisy about “family values.” Sean was only somewhat familiar with Schwall, primarily through stories Josh had told him and whatever minor interaction with the legal system he’d had over the past two decades. He also understood what it was to be expected to follow in one’s father’s footsteps, although the solution wasn’t to do one’s job poorly as a result. “And where did you hear that rumor?” The gossip around courtrooms was always juicy.

Colds didn’t last that long, but the telepath had his doubts that this was a cold. Given the other man’s temperature, the exhaustion, and the nausea he had his suspicions that it was more serious. Influenza was a possibility, although this was out of the typical season. That made it less likely but not impossible. “We’ll see how you’re feeling. I’ll gladly accept chips and salsa if you’re up to it. But for the record, the only requisite for Cinco de Mayo is tequila. Everything else is icing.”

Sean then frowned at the other man’s declaration that he didn’t intend to eat at all. He wasn’t upset, of course, merely worried. “Do you want to go somewhere else? Or have some soup or tea at least?” Dehydration was a potential problem, and so it would be good for him to take in some liquids.

[Joshua Bernstein]

"There you go. Lumberjacking 101. Does it ruin my tree-hugging credentials if I become a lumberjack? I'm awfully attached to those, you know." He could just retire to Canada; he didn't have to work there. And really, becoming a lumberjack was on the list of unlikely accomplishments, right up there with professional wrestler and jockey. He thought he was in decent shape for his age, but that didn't mean he was interested in athletic pursuits.

He shrugged at the question. "I was having a conversation with Schwall's staff last time he was late and his case manager brought it up. I believe the consensus was he finds law stressful and avoids it as much as possible. Seeing as Lori works for him I suppose she might have some idea." And the rest of his staff had agreed, but from what Josh could tell they had affection, but not respect, for their boss. He wasn't sure he would have appreciated having snarky comments thrown at him by his staff if he were a judge. Then again, if he were a judge he wouldn't have made everyone guess how long it would take him to appear, either.

He shook his head at Sean's question. "No, no. I just realized I'm not all that hungry, after all. We don't need to go anywhere else. Maybe tea." He considered. Tea or sprite? Tea was soothing, but sprite was a better choice for his roiling stomach. "No soup." He yawned, rubbing at his eyes. "And I am definitely taking a nap when I get home. I can't believe it's only lunch, this day is moving at a glacial pace."

[Dr. Sean Neville]

“I wouldn’t say that they ruin your credentials, no,” Sean remarked after a brief moment of faux-serious contemplation. “After all, you consider yourself a tree-hugger despite being in a profession that makes you waste paper constantly. We all need paper products until the digital revolution, and we’ll both be dead long before that.” As idealistic as Sean could be in some areas, he was fairly realistic when it came to the progress of technology and science. “So think of it as providing a necessary service.”

As Josh explained the origin of his information, Sean’s theory was confirmed; there truly was nothing quite like courthouse gossip. He also found parallels between the planning behind the judge’s back and what tended to occur in school and hospital settings, both of which he was familiar with. Although it could be borne from affection, it happened regardless. The telepath then shook his head, from a combination of amazement and disappointment. This was one of their elected officials, a man who had little to no interest in the job. “You should consider running for his job when it’s next up.” They’d had this conversation before; not about Schwall but in general, and while he understood and shared his friend’s opinions about the corrupting effect of politics...this was absurd. “You have more passion for the law in your pinkie than just about anyone else.”

The frown remained on Sean’s lips, although he wasn’t surprised. It was also consistent with symptoms of something other than a cold. “Let me drive you back to the office, or home, if you’re tired. There’s no sense in biking; we can stash it in my trunk.”

[Joshua Bernstein]

"Thank you for redeeming me. Are the dryads in agreement with you, lumberjacks are providing a necessary service?" The digital revolution would come with its own environment-hostile price if the innovators and consumers continued to ignore the impact their technologies had on the earth. That was where lobbyists came in, to pressure the government into imposing stringent regulations. The financial ruin his opponents predicted was far preferable to living in a post-apocalyptic desert world all because they killed a minnow. Or something like that; he was a lawyer, not a scientist. He wasn't very clear on how things would fall out. Regardless, he rather liked trees and greenery, provided they were nice and tame. Deserts and the nuclear apocalpyse foretold in his youth seemed rather more terrifying.

Josh shrugged uncomfortably at Sean's insistance he run for judgeship. While it was true that there was a lot of power on the bench, and thus he could accomplish a lot of good, he wasn't sure he really wanted to go that route. "You know what they say, if you can't cut it as a lawyer you become a judge." He narrowed his eyes at his friend. "Are you saying I'm not a good lawyer?"

The offer of a ride back (to his office, there was no way he was going home yet; it was only lunch time!) was an appealing one. "I might take you up on that." He agreed hoarsely. Maybe he shouldn't have done so much talking, but being quiet was such a difficult task when one had so much to say. "Thank you." He figured it went without saying that he would wait for Sean to finish eating, but he was grateful for the offer. He really didn't feel like bicycling back. "I knew there was a reason I kept you around, Jeeves."

[Dr. Sean Neville]

The telepath also had his fears about nuclear war, since he’d lived through duck and cover drills, and he knew that a large portion of the nation lacked the requisite understanding of what a nuclear-drenched landscape meant. He also knew that few in the energy department listened to the environmental lobby, because they were too busy subsidizing oil ventures. That was another matter entirely, and thus he focused on his friend’s question. “The dryads would have to get in line with the other religious and mythological figures who want to lecture me. The Vatican’s version of Baby Jesus has some strong remarks about my stance on birth control first.”

Sean was in no position, and had no desire to, force his friend to run for a position in the judiciary, even if he had confidence that his friend would excel at the position. All he could do was float the idea and let Josh decide; the other man was making his opinion quite clear. When his friend narrowed his eyes, the telepath mimicked the expression and asked, “Do you think teachers are incapable in their chosen fields?” They all knew that adage. After a beat passed, he resumed his usual easygoing expression and continued, “At the end of the day, it’s your life. I’m just on the sidelines.” He also wasn’t involved with the legal system beyond anecdote; he preferred it that way.

The telepath thought that the other man would regret going back to the office this afternoon, considering that he’d tried to use a fork and a tea saucer as a pillow. However, he wouldn’t argue with Josh about that because it would accomplish nothing. In fact, knowing Josh, it would make him all the more adamant about going to work despite his health. “If you call me after work, I can drive you home too,” Sean offered, because that was a compromise; it would prevent Josh from biking home which would conserve his energy. “And I’m sure you keep me around because you assumed I was paying for lunch,” he remarked with a smile. On that topic... “If you don’t want to eat anything, I can get my sandwich to go. There’s no sense in making you sit through that.”

[Joshua Bernstein]

"I suppose I can see why a baby would have an opinion on birth control." Josh decided, envisioning a winding line of centaurs and gryphons and prophets tapping their feet and glancing at their watches as they waited for their turn to lecture Sean about how he was Very, Very Wrong. On everything ever. "I've never seen the need to use birth control, it's a miracle there aren't a million baby Josh and Joshettes running around by now."

He rolled his eyes dramatically before giving a sigh of defeat. "No. No, I don't believe teachers are incapable. I'm sure there are even judges out there who know the law, I just haven't met them yet." This was entirely untrue, but he was in no mood to be fair about it. He didn't have any interest in being a judge. "You make it sound like I'm a quarterback rather than an attorney." He remarked. "I'm sorry you had to get stuck being on the sidelines of my life. I'm sure we can find you a more interesting life to watch."

He nodded at the offer. "That...I might do that." That sounded far better than going home himself. Perhaps he could nap the five minutes it would take Sean to drive him home. "Oh, you're onto me, I'm only friends with you for your money." He gave the telepath the best grin he could muster under the circumstances. "No, no. Eat. I can wait. Besides, regardless of what you seem to think, I actually like your company. If I fall asleep it's not because you're boring."

He didn't wish to deprive his friend of his meal, after all. And he really did enjoy Sean's company, even when he felt sure he was going to pass out; otherwise he would not have been talking nearly so much when he felt this poorly.