Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own OCs, should I create any for these stories.

Sergeant Benton felt horrible. He knew he probably shouldn't have come to work today, but he didn't feel like he could really ask to take a day; not when they had all been working long hours this week, and especially not after he'd spilled coffee all over the Brigadier's important papers yesterday, causing a lot of frustration.

So he gritted his teeth and said nothing; bound and determined to get through the day without any further incidents. He didn't need the Brig to be more angry at him than he was already.

Miss Grant had asked if he was doing alright, and not wanting to worry her, he had told her that he was. In truth, though, his eyes burned, he kept having to blow his nose every two minutes, and his throat felt like it was on fire. He tried to avoid talking whenever possible, keeping his responses short and succinct, but it didn't seem to help much.

In the end, it took him nearly collapsing in the Brigadier's office for him to finally admit something might be wrong. "Well, of course something's wrong, Sergeant," the Brigadier rolled his eyes. "It's very obvious that you're ill. Now, I want you to go home and rest. You're no use to me in this sort of state."

Benton had tried to protest, saying he was fine, but the Brigadier would have none of it and told him not to come back until he wasn't at risk of passing out or sneezing all over everything. What else could he do but comply? "Yes, Sir," he rasped out, before saluting and heading towards his car. Hopefully he'd feel better in a couple of days.