"You sneezed on the evidence?" Danny yelled across the crime scene. Danny wasn't mad, per say, but his voice was filled with disbelief and annoyance.
"I didn't sneeze on any of your evidence, man." Flack said. His voice was raspy and his head was obviously congested, judging by the way his words slurred together and didn't sound quite like they should. "I may have coughed and dripped a little something on it, but I definitely didn't sneeze so back off man."
Flack stepped up to get in Danny's face, but as soon as his did, he grabbed his forehead and moaned.
"Okay, that's it. Get outta here." Danny walked away from collecting evidence and pushed Flack towards the tape line. "You're sneezing or dripping on my stuff, you look like you're about to keel over and die and if you get me sick, I'll make sure you regret it. Get outta here and go home."
Flack started to protest, but began coughing instead. He wasn't really that sick. But lying in bed and getting over this crap appealed to him right now. Flack turned back to Danny to protest one last time and insist he keep working, when Danny cut him off, waving his hands in front of him and pushing him out of the crime scene altogether.
"Go die somewhere else, man. We've already got one body here. Go home. Here, Flack, take Montana with you." Danny grabbed Lindsay by the arm and thrust her into the conversation. Before she had time to react, Danny was giving her orders. "Hey, Montana, take Flack home before he gets us all sick. I'll see you back at the lab."
"So, it's okay if I get sick from being in a confined space with germ boy here, but it's not okay for you?" Lindsay asked sarcastically.
"What can I say, Montana? Life just ain't fair." Danny said. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and squeezed quickly letting her know that he appreciated what she was doing and that the conversation was over.
Lindsay looked at Flack. He looked miserable, pathetic and a little irritated.
"Germ boy?" Flack asked flatly.
"Let's go." Lindsay said with a laugh and a smile.
The ride to Flack's apartment was silent except for the country music Lindsay had playing on the radio. Flack leaned his head on the cool window and watched the streets go by. Eventually he spoke a little, but only to tell Lindsay where to turn. He was too tired and irritated to keep up any type of conversation. Finally, Lindsay slowed the car to a stop and looked expectantly at Flack.
"You okay? You need anything before I go back to the lab?" Lindsay asked. Flack listened to her voice and heard something there that told him that her question wasn't an empty one. He had the feeling that at this moment Lindsay was actually a little concerned about him and would go get him something to make him feel better. Or, Flack concluded, it could be a fever talking.
"Nah, I'm fine." Flack's sentence was interrupted by a cough and a sniffle. "Well, I'll be fine. Thanks for the ride Monroe."
Flack flashed Lindsay as much of a smile as he could muster and walked into his building. By the time Flack reached his apartment, he used all his remaining strength to rip off his tie, kick his shoes off to remote corners of the room, and sink onto the couch, grabbing a blanket on his way down. The cushions felt so soft and comfortable and the room was already spinning a little, so Flack closed his eyes to rest for just a few minutes.