Post-IMDB Flu

[tu_vas_triompher]

Once everyone has been warned about the hallucinatory flu situation, there's really not much a person can do but wait it out. At least, that's what Feuilly has been telling himself. So he's been bringing work down into the main room--books, sketchpad--and trying very hard to Make Sensible Use of the time...while mostly straining to keep half an eye at all times on Harry-who-thinks-he's-Ashley. And while ignoring a headache and a twinge in the back of his throat. And while managing the dogs.

Somewhere amongst all this Feuilly finds himself sitting on one of the couches by the fireplace. He's absolutely not going to lie down, because that way lies the danger of napping. But he might put his feet up. And he might rest his head on the cushion for a little while.

And his eyes might close in spite of all his best intentions; and he might begin to snore, just a little, the open book lying on his chest.

Comments

[harryhotspur]

At some point or another, Harry drops down on the couch by Feuilly's feet. And if that movement doesn't wake him, Harry's declaration of, "Thou look'st pale" might.

[tu_vas_triompher]

Feuilly jerks awake. Uh, that is, he wasn't asleep at all, so obviously he doesn't jerk awake, he's just a little startled. And happens to kick his feet and snort and nearly drop his book.

"--Harry?"

[harryhotspur]

"Ay, who else?" he says with a snort. He's definitely feeling better-- not feverish, not achey, still just about as sniffly as before.

[tu_vas_triompher]

He swings his feet down from the couch. Because that's the treacherous first step towards an unplanned nap: he should have known better than to put his feet up.

"You've been ill," he begins cautiously. Does Harry remember?

[harryhotspur]

Really, Feuilly. Rookie mistake.

"I know it. And I know I-- I was-- not all-in-all... myself?" He trails off, sounding uncertain. But then rallies: "But I am much recovered now."

And to prove it, he-- suddenly sneezes about half a dozen times, then slumps back against the couch with a frustrated sniff.

[tu_vas_triompher]

Feuilly laughs, a little helplessly, and passes a handkerchief. "You weren't. I've heard that that happens here, but--" But knowing that, and knowing it would pass, hadn't really helped any. He leans into Harry's shoulder, a comfortable bump. "I'm glad you're yourself again."

[harryhotspur]

He bumps back. "Ay, and I." He frowns. "I cannot all recall where I have kept myself these past days-- I think it has been some days? I cannot tell how many."

[tu_vas_triompher]

"A few days." It's still hard to keep track of time in Milliways, even when you try. "You, um--well--" He pushes a hand through his hair. "You were so certain that you were someone else that I--didn't want to make you feel like I was keeping you under some kind of watch. The dogs and I have been in my room."

[harryhotspur]

Harry grins. "Why, I can but imagine all thou didst accomplish freed of my pestering. What reading! What writing!"

[tu_vas_triompher]

"Ehhhh..." Yes. So much reading and writing. Right. "Something like that. I admit I was sort of trying to keep an eye on, on things."

He studies Harry's face, then nods a little. "You really are yourself again."

[harryhotspur]

Harry looks a touch affronted. "Did I not say so? Shall I make some proof of it?"

Also: "Wherefore did my other self demand such supervision? Was he strange, violent?"

[tu_vas_triompher]

It gets a laugh, and Feuilly bumps his shoulder again. There's no real point in explaining just how sure Harry had been that he was Ashley. He would have sworn it up and down, just as much as he's defending his Harry-ness now.

"No--no, he wasn't violent or anything, he just--" Feuilly rubs his face and suppresses a sniffle. "He just wasn't anything like you. He didn't know me, he was from the future--Yorkshire, he ran some sort of holiday place? He was very polite," he assures Harry hastily, although it might be one of the least reassuring things about it.

[harryhotspur]

"Polite," Harry echoes disdainfully. "Ay, that I was told-- that he was of Yorkshire. I hope thou didst take pleasure in the marvel of my holidays and my politeness."

He coughs, and mostly remembers to try to cover it with the handkerchief.

[tu_vas_triompher]

"Oh, yes. Yes, I couldn't get enough of your politeness."

Watching Harry cough makes him need to cough; he smothers it in his sleeve as best he can. "I don't think I've caught that fever," he says quickly.

[harryhotspur]

Harry lifts his brows. "No, indeed? Dost not feel-- polite?"

[tu_vas_triompher]

Feuilly wheezes from coughing into laughing, which turns back into coughing. "--never call me polite. You called me polite when you were sick and it was just strange. No, this is just, uh--" Uh. Some other kind of being sick that doesn't at all seem to be starting just the same way as the hallucinatory kind! "I'm fine."

[harryhotspur]

"Nay, be not ill!" He gives Feuilly's shoulder a little shake. "I am a-weary of illness. I will not have it." He brightens. "We will answer an excess of phlegm by setting the blood to flowing. Let us ride, let us fence, let us--" Sneeze onto Feuilly's shoulder!

Er, sorry, Feuilly.

[tu_vas_triompher]

"I think they've decided against the theory of phlegm and--" Uh, thanks, Harry. "--and humours," he continues drily. "But--yes, sure? I could use some fresh air."

Fresh air is good for humours miasmas fighting germs, right?

[harryhotspur]

Well this is news to Harry.

"How can these men of learning decide against it? Hath not the body phlegm?" Well, Harry's certainly does: he pauses to blow his nose. "Hath it not bile and blood? Come, no more of that. Let us outside."

[tu_vas_triompher]

"Yes, but--but they don't get out of balance and make you sick--"

Ehhh, Feuilly's hardly the best person to explain it. He's learned quite a bit about germs and disease from Joly, and thoroughly believes it, but he's still not entirely sure how the doctors know that there aren't also miasmas. Or humors. "Let us outside," he agrees.

...dammit Harry still has his handkerchief. He wipes his nose on his sleeve as they walk out the door.

[harryhotspur]

See what life with Harry reduces you to?

It's still too early in the spring to be quite warm or quite completely sunny-- but it's a nice, dampish spring day.

It feels-- English. Which is exactly where Harry does not want his thoughts drifting, not after his recent conversations with William and Joly.

"Let us ride," he says abruptly. "Let us-- away, elsewhere. Dost not long for it?"

[tu_vas_triompher]

Harry is a leader amongst his peers. He is the mark and glass, copy and book, that fashions others.

Stepping out into the fresh air does make Feuilly feel better, or at least gives him an excuse for his sniffling. "A ride? --Yes, all right." Sure! Why not! It's been a little while, now that he thinks of it--and the paths are muddy enough in this spring weather that he'd just as soon let the horses get their feet in it. "We could try that path in the woods we found in the fall." It had wound up into the foot of the mountain, opening on some nice views of the lake.

[harryhotspur]

He sighs a little. Yes, right. Path through the woods. That's the best they're going to get, isn't it. But at least being in the stable puts him in a better mood-- has he really not ridden in days? When's the last time that happened?

And it's nice, and almost easy, once he's on horseback and leading the way towards that path they found, to forget that it won't actually lead anywhere.

[tu_vas_triompher]

It might help with the sense of adventure that the path seems to have changed since they last saw it? At least, Feuilly is pretty sure that they should have come to a little clearing by now, the one that looks out over the lake? And he's pretty sure that he doesn't remember this bit being so steep and winding?

The horses don't seem to mind it, though. Maybe they're glad to be stretching their legs too.

[harryhotspur]

Harry doesn't pay as much attention to the landscape as he would if he had any fear of getting lost. But as the path starts to climb, even he notices that this doesn't seem quite right. He's about to say so when they round and corner and abruptly find-- the Labyrinth.

"--this-- this was not--" That wasn't at all how they got here before, was it?

[tu_vas_triompher]

"--No, it wasn't." It was not. Feuilly pats Duncan's neck absently as he looks at the stone doorway. "Do you think we should--?"

He's not sure about leaving the horses tethered here; he and Harry could possibly be gone for some time. Would the horses find their way back to the stable, left to their own devices?

[harryhotspur]

"Why, yes!" Harry swipes at his nose eagerly with his sleeve and dismounts. "Why, is it not fate? Think'st we were not brought here by whatever strange will guides this place?"

[tu_vas_triompher]

It's impossible to argue with that logic! No, really, it does seem to be how Milliways works? So Feuilly swings down from the saddle as well and takes a look back down the path they'd taken. "Well--should we tie up the horses, or--"

[harryhotspur]

"Let us tie them," Harry says. "This path is steep and strange, I would not wish them to wander and come to some harm."

[tu_vas_triompher]

All right. Well, the last time they were here the Labyrinth turned out to be just the one room, the kind of floor maze you might find in a cathedral. Maybe they'll be out again in less than an hour.

He ties Duncan, and makes his way to the rocky opening. "After you?"

[harryhotspur]

That incident is definitely on Harry's mind as well. Though in more of a "please not again" way.

Harry ties Złota and hurries to the entrance. He grins and gives Feuilly a clap on the shoulder. Then he steps in.