Here’s part 2 to this fan-fiction as promised, getting a little more into how Jon is feeling and giving him a little TLC. So yeah I hope it’s good! :)
When Jon woke up he was vaguely aware of the deep ache that’s settled into his joints.
Shifting, he sat up in his cot, blinking blearily at his surroundings, bringing a loose fist up to rub at his eyes. It takes him a minute to recognize his surroundings, the fog in his brain, making thinking a slow process.
He’s in his office in the archives, he stayed late and hadn’t seen much point in going home. Something he’d been a lot lately…
Jon stretched wincing as he felt his shoulders pop with a weak, weak groan, muffled by his clogged ears. He was starting to wish he was a little less conscious as he was now fully awake and fully aware that he felt like crap.
He’d had felt this coming on all day, and had lost all hope of kicking it when he had to duck into the bathroom earlier today. It seemed like it had chosen now as the perfect time to hit him full force.
He was surprised the others hadn’t noticed, yet it wasn’t like Jon had been doing an excellent job of hiding his ailment. Or maybe it was simply because they didn’t care…good it was better to keep people at arm’s length anyway.
Jon didn’t like the idea of having his senses dulled, especially with everything that had been it happening lately. He couldn’t afford to be off his game now.
He could already feel the gnawing, anxiety poke at him, and the distinct feeling of being watched he’d grown so accustomed to. “Really, now?” Jon asked the question to the empty.
The old tape recorder turned on with an eager click. Jon sighed, getting up with a weak shiver, pulling the loos blanket a little tighter around his shoulders, “Alright, I’m up.” He said, going over to his desk, sifting through the clutter, looking for a suitable statement.
He found one that looked promising, clearing his throat wincing as it throbbed in response, praying that reading this wouldn’t completely wreck his voice, but he wasn’t hopeful.
~
The tape recorder clicked off, seemingly satisfied with Jon’s offering, as the archivist pressed his hot forehead to the cool wood of his desk.
He should have recorded from the cot because there was no way he’ll be able to get up and make it across the room now. Jon’s limbs felt like jello, and he was sure if he got up, he’d be shaking too much to stay standing.
Jon could hear someone open the door to his office, but the beholding wasn’t alerting him to who it was, and it was too much effort to lift his head to find out.
He just hoped whoever they were, they were here to put him out of his misery.
Instead of the feeling of cold steel to his neck, he felt a blessedly cool hand pressed to his forehead. He mustered the will to lift his head, finding Martins concerned brown eyes staring back at him.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t alone, Basira, Tim and Melanie on his heels. “Is this another intervention?” Jon croaked out weakly, half-jokingly and half-accusingly.
Martin chuckled, “It’s going to be if you don’t let your body rest.” He said, combing his fingers through Jon’s hair, “you should have told us you weren’t feeling well.”
“We have bigger things to worry about right now, then whether or not I’m a bit under the weather.” Jon snapped defensively.
“I think this is a little more than under the weather, boss.” Tim answered bitterly, concern softening his words.
“Yeah, I mean, you always look disheveled, but your starting to get into I’m dying territory.” Melanie teased a bit sarcastically.
“Look, the point is we can’t afford to have this getting any worst, so if you really want to help right now, you’ll rest and try to get better.” Basira told him, trying to appeal to Jon in a more logical sense.
Jon sighed, “I guess you're not really giving me much of choice in this.” He said.
“Not unless you want to risk Melanie tying you down to the cot.” Tim said, a little too seriously for Jon’s liking. He let Martin help him up and over to the cot so he could lay back down.
He even let Martin fuss, pulling the blanket over his shivering frame, tucking it around him.
Jon cracked open an eye, “Please tell me you all aren’t going to sit there and watch me sleep?” He said.
“Right so we’ll be leaving, give you some privacy so you can get some rest,” Basira said, ushering the other out of the room. “Don’t get any funny ideas, though. We’ll be checking up on you to make sure your resting.” She called back before ducking out of the room.
Jon sighed, knowing he should be feeling irritated with them, he usually would be, but it was nice to see that he was still human enough that people cared. It comforted him as he slipped into a dreamless sleep.
