Autoher's Note: I have just written this right now just so something was poted. Please excure mistakes.
Elizabeth curled under her covers and groaned, well, at least she tried to, her sniffling and sore throat made it sound more like a whimper. She felt cold, even though she was burning up, sticky and weak. It just wasn't fair; the first time she goes off world in months, and she's the one that catches the virus - typical!
A sudden decrease in darkness made her close her eyes in pain - the light sent shards of pain to her head - and rolled onto her side away from the door. She faintly heard light footsteps on her floor before a gentle and caring hand brushed through her damp hair. A sudden weight on her mattress made her body involuntarily sink into the newly made groove, she turned and cuddled up to the warm thigh she found there as the hand returned and continuously stoked over her brow.
"Lizabeth," John whispered, "You ok?"
"Errrrrrrgh," was her very dignified response. John laughed and placed something cool and wet to her forehead, instantly making her feel slightly better.
"I'll take that as a no then." he stated, his voice concerned. Elizabeth decided to try and open her eyes, the lead weights on her eyelids made it difficult, but after a moments struggle she succeeded. John smiled down at her gently - all she could see was a blur.
"That bad uh?" John asked, pulling a glass from her bedside table. It had a pink straw in it and he placed it to her lips, she latched on greedily and finally felt the fire in her throat go out, at least temporarily.
"Thanks," she croaked, finding his hand and squeezing his fingers. John squeezed hers back, his thumb absentmindedly stroking the back of her hand.
"Anytime," he told her honestly. It was the last thing she remembered before sleep claimed her.
A few days later…
Elizabeth used her override to open the day and narrowed her eyes to try and see through the darkness in the room. She spotted her target and quietly made her way over to the bed, setting the glass of ice water down on the cabinet before lowering herself onto the mattress.
She pulled the covers off of John's head and gazed at him in sympathy, silently wishing that she didn't look this pitiful when she was ill. His hair was flat and lifeless and his skin was pale, nearly matching the sheet he was sprawled on. Two bloodshot eyes, which she knew from experience would be blurry, stared up at her blankly before John wriggled over to her and placed his head in her lap.
Her hand automatically stroked through his hair.