Who: Nathaniel Whitby and Rosalie Diserafino
What: Rosalie's sick, and Nathaniel takes her to hospital.
Where: Rosalie's place and then St Mungo's
When: Four this morning.
Rosalie didn't exactly wake up at four that morning - it was more that she gradually regained consciousness of being in more pain than she could ever remember in her life.
Everything hurt, from her throbbing head all the way down to the tingly tips of her toes. Every time the cough racked her lungs, it was as though her whole body was spasming. And the fever! Oh, Merlin, the fever...one minute she was kicking the blankets off, feeling as if she were burning alive, and the next she was huddling under them because she'd never been so cold.
It was one of the coughing fits that dragged her out of unconsciousness, and then pain then succeeded in keeping her awake. Rosalie didn't mean to groan out loud, and indeed didn't even realize she had, but she made a noise that sounded more or less like she was dying. In fact, Rosalie was beginning to think that she might in fact be.
Thank Merlin for Nathaniel. Rosalie didn't know what she'd have done if he hadn't come over last night. Or was it the night before? Was it even morning? It was very unsettling to realize she actually had no idea what time it was. A quick look at the room proved that it was dark, but that hardly meant anything! She felt like she'd been asleep forever, but what if it had only been a few minutes. Beginning to panic, Rosalie sat up sharply, or at least meant to - instead, she dragged herself slowly into a sitting position and whimpered as her head throbbed even harder.
Nathaniel poked his head into Rosalie's bedroom for what felt like the millionth time that night. He wasn't annoyed, though. He was actually pretty concerned about her. To him, it seemed like she was getting worse, and it reminded him of Bertha Jorkins from the night before. He wasn't sure if the symptoms were the same, but she, too, wasn't having a good time of it at all. He chewed his lip and thought on everything every time he'd come back to her room, and when she whimpered, he nodded his head once to himself and stepped in.
"I know you get worse before you get better, but I'm taking you to hospital," he said gently, touching her shoulder. He then turned and got her robe, draping it over one arm. "You don't have slippers, do you?" He shook his head a little and set the robe on her bed. "It's ok." He thought he'd just find a pair of easy to put on shoes for her and went to find some and get her purse.
Maybe he should have brought those pills they gave him at the Muggle hospital, he thought as he gathered up her things and returned. They couldn't have hurt, could they? He didn't think they hurt him, but then, he didn't really understand medicines very well. He made a note to start looking into these things and put the flats and purse with the robe on the bed.
"You're going to have to stand up, ok?" he said, pulling the blankets back to help her get to her feet.
Rosalie frowned and rubbed her head, barely mumbling her answer. "All right..."
Getting up seemed to require a great deal of analysis before attempting. Rosalie found herself considering each movement, first carefully making sure that she was in fact sitting up. Once she was confident of that, the next step seemed to be swinging her legs over the side of the bed. That was accomplished less through a "swinging" motion and more through an awkward shuffle, but eventually it was achieved. She furrowed her brow and frowned at the floor for a moment, then got it into her head that actually putting her feet
on the floor would have to come next.
"Right," she muttered to herself, and then got about the task of actually standing. When she was finally upright, Rosalie realized that her ears were roaring and the world was a bit shakey. "This is awful..." she said plaintively.
Nathaniel reached over and slipped the flats on the floor for her to step into before grabbing her robe and helping her put it on. "It's ok," he said. "I've got you, and I'll make sure you're ok." He gave her a reassuring smiling, thinking he ought to bundle her up with one of her blankets just in case. Plus, if she ended up staying, he thought she might like something comforting from home, and what better a thing to have than a blanket? He made sure she was all right and grabbed a blanket, wrapping it around her.
"Do you think you're all right to Apparate," he asked, grabbing her purse. He moved her arm over his shoulder, holding her around the waist. He wasn't sure what he would do if she didn't think she could Apparate with him, though he supposed he could take her to a Muggle hospital by taxi if he had to.
She thought about it, and then nodded slowly. "As long as I don't have to do it myself," she said, not really connecting to the thought that there was no way Nathaniel would let her even attempt it under the circumstances. "I'll try very hard not to throw up on your shoes, I promise."
Another chill was coming on, and Rosalie shivered, pulling the robe more tightly around her. She was already beginning to make a list in her mind of things that would need to be done. Joy would have to be told, and someone would have to fill in at work, and someone would need to feed her cat, and take care of the owl, and...oh Merlin, she was never going to catch up from it all when she was better, was she?
Nathaniel laughed a little and nodded. "I'll Apparate," he told her. He wrapped his other arm around her waist as well, making sure he had a good grip on her and the blanket and her purse. He held her close, took a breath, and concentrated on the waiting room of St Mungo's. With a crack, they disappeared from her house and reappeared in the hospital.
"I'll go get someone to help," he told her, easing her down into a chair. He put her purse on her lap and then crossed to the welcome desk to inform the witch behind it about Rosalie and what was wrong. He hoped the hospital wasn't as packed as some had made it seem and that someone could see his friend quickly.
Rosalie, meanwhile, sat in her appointed chair. She was a little dazed both from the illness and the apparation, and now felt disinclined to do anything but slump. She didn't even pick up one of the trashy magazines or analyze the people around her. She simply sat and wished that the horrible little gnome that had apparently taken up residence in her skull would stop pounding on it with his tiny fists. She also wished Nathaniel would come back. She felt better when he was with her, at least for a certain value of better. She was at least not praying for her own quick and merciful death quite as much.
Nathaniel returned, sitting down next to her. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. "A medi-witch is coming," he told her, trying to keep her in the loop.
Thankfully the room wasn't too crowded, and the medi-witch arrived a few minutes later. She looked tired, and Nathaniel couldn't imagine what he day (or night, even) had been like. This was one of the many reasons why he never wanted to be a healer or anything, though he greatly appreciated their work. He helped Rosalie into the wheelchair the medi-witch brought and followed along as the witch wheeled her off to a ward to be examined. On the way, Nathaniel told her of the symptoms he was aware of that she was experiencing.
For once, Rosalie was perfectly happy to have someone else take charge. She simply didn't have the energy for it herself. She allowed Nathaniel to tell the mediwitch what was going on, and was perfectly docile as the original mediwitch and one other shifted her over into a bed. They left her with Nathaniel, stating that a Healer would be along as soon as possible.
"Can you owl Joy?" Rosalie asked, her voice more than a little pitiful. "Or leave a message in the journals? She'll be furious if I don't let her know that I'm in the hospital. Don't bother with Mum, though - she's off in Buenos Aires and wouldn't even get it before it's all over."
"I'll let her know," he said, pulling up a chair. Before sitting down, however, Nathaniel set about checking that she was comfortable. Once he was sure, he sat down. "Anything you want me to say specifically to her?" he asked, thinking he'd send a message to Joy whenever the healer arrived.
"Tell her I'm all right, but I'm in St. Mungo's," Rosalie said, even though "all right" was hardly an accurate term for her condition. "You know how Joy is," she continued, a slight smile coming up. "She'll assume the worst and have a stroke if all you say is that I'm ill and in the hospital. Everything's so huge to her."
Nathaniel nodded. "I'll let your know you're fine and being treated," he promised. "And I'll stay with you until she comes or until they kick me out. Whichever happens first." He smiled and reached out to take her hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
"Oh, thank you," Rosalie said softly, squeezing back weakly. "I really don't want to be alone."
Merlin, she was exhausted. All the movement from home to the hospital had worn her out even further. Rosalie's eyes closed without any intention of hers. It was just that she couldn't muster the energy to keep them open any longer. She wasn't asleep - she just wasn't properly
awake, either.
Nathaniel stroked the back of her hand softly, humming quietly. He sat with her until a healer came, and then he stood up. He told the healer everything he told the medi-witch, glancing down at her. He brushed her hair away from her forehead and kissed her lightly there and on the cheek. "The healer's here. I'll go let your sister know you're all right while she checks you out," he whispered. He straightened up, gave her hand another squeeze, and then left to let the healer do his job.
