I Need a Doctor, Call Me a Doctor

"I think that's a good idea," Khaat smiled. "He seems to prefer people he knows anyway. And it looks like I'm going to be here awhile and a bit limited."

"You need to expect, Jack," Robert said, "that by the tiime soeone gets into this shape, we're finding the rash to be so pervasive that theotherwise healthy looking skin itself is starting to change color as well. You may well find that a great deal of the skin he has kept covered is green. I don't care if he has some of the vodka. That's fine. But, we do need to get him to get started on the potions that he apparently either spilled or spit up. We're also going to need to get him something of some nutritional value."

"I was planning on sending to the chef for a glass of Jazz," Khaat said.

"Good idea," Robert said, approving of Khaat's thoughts. The chef had managed to create a way to take juice into a completely nutritionaly balanced beverage without it tasting chalky or disgusting. It was becoming popular for witches and wizards looking for a way to lose weight, for overworked healers, for very sick patients, as well as for the athletes who were addicts to the hospital gym. "I'll send for it. Either of you have any idea what flavor of juice he likes best? And would either of you like something to drink while I'm sending for the Jazz?"

"French roast, please?" Khaat asked.

"Fine. And you, Jack?" Robert asked.

Jack smiled at Khaat, glad to find she was welcome and had not yet become a burden to the staff there at St. Mungo's. She turned her attention back to Robert and shrugged, saying "I have a pretty strong stomach. There's a few places I think I'd rather wait for him to wake up and treat himself-" she said wincing "as we are not that well acquainted. But I'm game."

Robert asked about the juice flavor he would most prefer and Jack joked "Any rum flavor would work." She shrugged. "Try cherry. People like cherry. Grape never did taste like anything but medicine," she added thoughtfully, remembering the cold medicine from her childhood. "Oh, I'm fine. Unless you have any spare soda lying around. I'm not picky."

Robert smiled. "We can handle anything that intimate. Just do what you feel comfortable with," he said.

"Jack's right about the rum," Khaat said, trying to repress a laugh.

"I'll see what I can do," Robert said, understanding. "But I would agree with you. Most grape extracts arent worth the cost of the glass bottles they come in."

"Did you ever bring in any of Angus's sodas for the healers to try?" Khaat asked. "I like his new orange vanilla."

"That one is rather tasty," Robert agreed. "And yes, I did bring a few bottles. I'll send for it. Keep me informed about Omara." She nodded. He left to go send for the order for them. Khaat motioned a medical stool over and flicked her fingers with it so that it would adjust the height so that it was taller for her and made it easier for her to sit at his bedside to keep her hand in place.

"I think you know Angus, don't you?" Khaat asked Jack. "He's been experimenting in our kitchen and making homemade soda in just about any flavor he can think of. I like his newest flavor--the orange vanilla. Its especially good over ice." Khaat figured she might be in store to stay here for awhile. Omara's systems werent very strong. It might take a bit for the spells to take over and to stabilize him without her constant contact to provide him life support.

Jack listened quietly, looking between the father and daughter duo that was Khaat and Robert Lupin. No wonder people liked them in charge. They seemed so on top of everything. Like everything was perfectly in their control. It was effortless, their nature. She figured that must be one of the reasons Michael was so attached to the family. They really had their heads on straight.

She looked back at Poe and rubbed his arm, wondering when he would be stirring. Jack was awkward in most social situations, but she was very relaxed with her rinking buddy. Khaat drew her attention back and said, "Yes, I know Angus." Khaat continued, talking casually about new soda flavors. Jack nodded. "That's pretty cool. If he wants to sell some, I've been looking to sell drinks at Weasleys."

Ah, casual conversation. How strange it was.

The world weighed heavily upon Nemo, crashing against him in the manner of a bucket of water being thrown over his limp body. He started, heart thrumming within the tunnels of his ears as though he'd awakened from a nightmare. Woosh-woosh. Woosh-woosh. Sweat pooled within the pores scattered about his brow, though his temperature had dropped significantly. Delirious, he was, as his fever broke.

A groan bubbled within his chest, and his fingers flexed around Jack's hand once more, unbeknownst to him. And in that fashion, his limbs stirred, one after another with the spasms of muscle and the twitching of skin.

He turned his head drowsily against his pillow, and opened his eyes to tuffs of coiling red hair and freckles against pale skin. "McDonald?" Nemo croaked, lids drooping lethargically. "We're..." he exhaled, and his lungs quivered. "- almost out of fries." He lifted a hand to slide halfheartedly across his cracking lips, "I'm thirsty."

Jack felt a stirring and her hand was occupied again by pressure from the unconscious Seer's hand and she looked over at him. She met his eyes and smiled, his face lopsided, as usual, but this time totally out of his control. For whatever reason, this greatly amused Jack and the grin that unfurled on her face was a rare genuine one. She squeezed his hand back briefly.

"Glad to see you back in the Land of the Living, Poe. " He said they were almost out of fries and she nodded. "I'll make it a double order next time." He said he was thirsty and she nodded, letting go of his hand and conjuring up two glasses. A quick spell and she filled one with water. She filled the other with Vodka. "Drink some water first, okay?" she said, handing him the glass of water.

"Water is..." Nemo complained, and for lack of a better word, chose that which stepped forth first, "stupid." He shifted atop the mattress, before beginning in his struggle against the bedding that surrounded him, quite like a bird's nest in the way it encircled him. He huffed, and his expression became one of the frustration of a young child who'd found himself incapable of pulling free from an irritating sweater.

"Hot. It's too hot!" His voice broke, betraying his desperation, as well as his helplessness in his present situation. It was fortunate that his fever had rendered him incapable of accurately comprehending the circumstances, for he surely would have withdrawn from the help that he had been offered. Resistance could not become an issue in his poor state.

So raw did he appear, as to present the possibility that he may crumble in a fit of sobs at any given moment. He dragged a hand across his face a second time, scrubbing unforgiving at his mouth. Only when he had been handed the glass of water and was instructed to drink from it did he halt in his attempt to dig through to his jaw. He greedily drained the cold liquid, before turning his bloodshot eyes upon Jack in an insistent stare that most certainly did not require a Seer's skill to interpret: I'm thirsty, Savior. No more water. I'm thirsty for it. The alcohol. It's been too long. Let me have it. Letmehaveit. Letmehaveit!

"Stop," Khaat said as gently as she knew how to Mort. "I know its hot. Cuss at me all you want, but I'm causing it. On purpose. If I don't break your fever, you're going to be in more trouble than you realize. "Calm," she said, casting a relaxation spell. "Peace. If you can try to hold yourself together a bit, I'll let you have a real drink." She knew Nemo didn't just want a drink. He needed one soon. She didn't need him to have any possible detox issues right now. That little complication would surely kill him. She couldn't hold him on life support through that without endangering her own life energies in the process. It was just the way her energies worked. She had to try to hold him together.

"Jack," she said, "Pour him just a shot of the vodka. I can't afford to let him have as much as he wants, but I can't afford to let him be without it either."

She was putting her efforts into the life support spell, and suddenly, her mind was taken into a hot, hazy fog. Damnit. The last thing she needed was for her seer's energies to be tied into his. Great. Taken into his fevered haze. And if she let go of him, he might well die before she could regain herself. She sighed. Wonderful. For the moment, she was caught half in her world and half in his. She could deal with one or the other, but halfway between just sucked.

Jack could not help the smile that spread across her face at Poe's assertion that water was, as he had so eloquently stated, stupid. Jack watched him struggle for a moment before reaching forward to tug on the sheets surrounding him, freeing him a little. He burst out in a frenzy and Jack looked at Khaat, not sure what she could do but trusting Khaat had some say in the matter.

Poe reached out, nevertheless, and drank the water Jack had poured. He fixed his eyes on her and seemed to beg for the drink. She leaned back, her hand reaching out to grab the vodka she had already poured, her hand groping in the air a bit. Khaat advised Jack to get the drink and Jack tore her eyes from Poe's gaze and grabbed the glass, before turning and carefully placing it in his hands.

"Fck, piss, shit," Nemo unenthusiastically accepted Khaat's invitation to curse. But his neck betrayed him as it slung forward, dangling against his lax neck with the introduction of a calming charm. "Woah-ho. That feels... orgasmic. Gimme more," He informed those present from behind the cover of his tussled and sweat-laden locks. He huffed, feeling restricted within himself despite the charm's effect as his body proceeded to overheat. "My skin is... angry. I wannn go swimming."

Through his nose Nemo audibly breathed as his panic mounted once more within his heaving chest. He issued insignificant snorts and whines as he returned to abusing his mouth with his palm, repeatedly swiping his chin with reckless abandon.

"Let's go swimming, Savior," Nemo whined softly. "I wanna... teach you how," he absently accepted the glass that Jack had presented him with as he struggled against the slurred words of his plague, "to blow water rings." He dutifully guided the rim of the glass to his lips, ignorant of its contents until it had been positioned beneath his nose. "Sslike smoking," he mumbled – when he was struck by an abrupt realization.

Without further word, Nemo gripped the glass firmly with both hands in the manner of an infant holding a bottle. Steadily, he reclined in his bed until he lay flat, having swallowed his rations of alcohol during his descent towards the pillows below. As his every bone melted against the mattress, Nemo extended his arm with an inelegant flop of the limb towards Jack in offering."More," he sighed.