Title: Influenza

Summary: Olivia catches the flu and is ordered by the Captain to take her accumulated sick days, but when it becomes worse than normal who's going to be there to help her through it?

Paring: Oh, like this is a hard guess, I've you've read any of my previous stories you'll know it's gotta be EO.

Disclaimer: The show isn't mine, the flu isn't mine, and the basic concept of getting sick isn't mine, either. Basically, I only have the idea, I don't even think that there is going to be any original characters (but, If you do see one somewhere along the way, it's mine). Adding on to that, I make no profit off of this story, at least not in money (I'm hoping that I will profit with reviews, however). Anywho, on with the story.

A/N: Got the idea for this story by (queue drum roll) ... ... ... getting my flu shot! I'm really not at risk of catching it myself, but my mom is at high risk of getting it, since she's an MA and works at a hospital. So she will come in contact with people with the influenza virus on a regular basis, then she could bring it home where my sisters or I could catch it. Which is why tonight she brought home the shot and gave it to us. Gotta say, it didn't hurt to get the shot, and I (like always) watched the needle go in and all, felt a bit of a prick but nothing more. However, afterwards was a different story, who knew that stuff made your arm feel like lead? I surely didn't...anyway, I'm feeling better now and up to typing (after half an hour, so the effects don't even last long). Too bad she thought to give it to me in my left arm (I'm right handed), so I won't have an excuse to get out of work tomorrow. Darn. Anyway, on with the story.

A/N 2: Ok... so I realize that this story is way behind normal time. That's because I started writing it in November and I'm just now finished with it and posting it...

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November 3, 2004

Every muscle in her body ached as she sat down in front of her desk to work. Her head was pounding with such an intensity it was a chore to even keep her eyes open and she couldn't breath out of her nose, but nonetheless she was going to work. A feeling of lightheadedness washed over her as she focused on the paperwork sitting on her desk, she was beginning to wish she had taken more than just two Dayquil, even if that was the recommended dosage. She could already tell today was going to be long and rough, she wasn't looking forward to the coming hours.

"Olivia?" Somebody called out to her. After thinking it over she decided that the voice belonged to Captain Cragen. Wondering what he was doing in the bullpen she turned and looked in the direction his voice had come from.

"Captain?" She questioned, her voice sounding nasal. "What's up?"

"You..." He said, "That's the problem."

The statement confused her, "Huh?"

"You're sick," he told her. When she tried to protest he cut her off, "Don't even try and argue with me, you look terrible. Go home, sleep ... you won't get any better sitting here straining over paperwork."

"Captain," she argued, "I'm fine."

"Olivia, I'm ordering you to take a sick day, no make that two sick days. If you're not better by then you will continue to take sick days until you are. I am not going to send a sick detective out on the streets, especially with it so close to winter. So ... go home and sleep."

Not having the strength to argue further she gave in, picked up some files and started to leave the room.

He followed her and took the files from her arms, "No, no work."

"Just a few," she said, reaching to take them back. He shook his head and she once again gave up, "Alright, I'm going." Grabbing her jacket and bag she took out her keys to drive home.

"Elliot is going to take you," Cragen told her. "You don't look well enough to drive." He turned around to address Elliot, "Go take her home, make sure she goes to bed, you've got an hour and a half."

He nodded and stood up from his desk, grabbing his coat in the process. He nodded at Olivia and they left the precinct.

When they got into his car she laid the seat back and leaned with it, closing her eyes to keep the headache at bay. She cursed the uneven roads as they passed over bump after pothole after bump, each making her nausea rise. After a few minutes they reached a red light and he used the opportunity to start a conversation.

"How long have you been feeling sick?"

She opened one eye to look at him, but quickly shut it when the sunlight sent a wave of pain through her head; the pounding was getting more intense by the second. "Uhh..." she thought back, "Tuesday."

"It's Thursday." He said as if she hadn't already known so.

"Yeah," she snapped, "and what exactly is your point!"

"My point," he replied as the light turned green. "Is that if you have been sick since Tuesday what were you doing at work yesterday?"

"Working." She said nonchalantly. "What do you think I was doing?"

He opened his mouth to say something, but thinking better of it closed his mouth again and just kept driving. When he pulled into a spot in front of her apartment complex he glanced over at her, she was staring out the window at the building. "We're here." He said, causing her to turn and look at him, her eyes were puffy and her face looked pale. "Are you ok, Olivia? You look ... like hell."

"Well," she sighed. "That's a big step up from the shit that I feel like."

He smiled at her vain attempt at humor; "You don't get sick often, do you?"

She shook her head, "Almost never."

He turned off his car and took the keys from the ignition. Opening the door he stepped out onto the road, Olivia did the same. She was still leaning against the car door when he walked around, her eyes barely open. He reached out to her and she flinched, her eyes jolting open, darting around. "I'm fine," she growled.

He threw his hands up in defense, "Alright ... I believe you."

She slammed the door shut with a surprising amount of force and glared at him. But, where she had proven that she had enough strength to slam a door she had also proven that slamming doors was as far as her strength went when she tried to walk. She stumbled and would have fallen if Elliot had not seen her falter and rushed to her side to hold her up. When she regained her balance she tried to push him away, but he kept hold of her.

"Oh, no you don't." He told her, "I'm going to help you, whether you like it or not."

She sighed, giving in, but still backed out of his arms and opted for him to hold on to her arm instead. He didn't protest and they very slowly walked in the building and up the stairs to her apartment. When they reached her door she fumbled for her keys, cursing as she dropped them on the floor. She began to bend down to pick it up, clenching her jaw through the pain that went shooting through her lower back as well as her head. Elliot noticed and offered to pick up the keys for her, having much less of a hard time doing so. She snatched them back from his hands and made it a point to use the right key on the first try, opening the door to her apartment.

She shrugged off her jacket and let it fall to the floor, then after stepping out of her shoes did the same with them.

"Do you want me to make you some soup?" Elliot asked; watching her as she laid down on the couch, with much annoyance it seemed.

"Don't have any," she mumbled as she reached for the remote.

"No soup..." he said to himself. "Well, I could go get you some."

"No need," she mumbled sleepily, "not hungry."

"As convincing as your caveman talk is," he told her, "you still need to eat something." Sighing when she ignored him, he decided to just rummage trough the cabinets in her kitchen, and make whatever he could find. After searching for nearly five minutes he came across a thing of Chicken Roman Noodles, figuring that was probably good enough he proceeded in making it.

Five minutes and a bowl of soup later he made his way back into the living room, with the intention of forcing the soup down her throat should she refuse it. But what he saw made him change his mind, she was lying on the couch with one hand extending off of it, the other lying on her side, sleeping. The TV was going, but it had been turned on mute. He sighed and set the soup down on the coffee table, then pulled the afghan from it's position on the top of the couch and unfolded it, then covered her up. Pressing his hand against her forehead he sighed again, she was burning up.

Glancing at his watch he saw that he had already been gone from the station for a little over an hour, he needed to leave soon. He picked the bowl of soup back up and brought it into the kitchen, then put it into a glad container, and then put the container into the fridge. Then, after finding a piece of paper and pen he wrote her a note and laid it on the coffee table in the living room, then turned of the television.

Before he left the apartment he glanced back at her, she was still sleeping. Quietly as he could he opened the door and slipped out into the hallway, gently shutting it behind him. It was time to get back to work.

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2 hours later:

She regretted waking instantly. Somehow the headache that had been forming earlier had escalated in her sleep and was now pounding with such intensity that it took all she had to even keep her eyes open. Her body still ached and as soon as she moved to sit on the couch she had to lay back down, nausea hit her like a wave and lightheadedness consumed her. Things were not looking good.

When she was certain that she could sit up again she did so, thanking God that this time she didn't nearly pass out. Glancing around the room she saw that the TV was off, and there was a blanket lying in the floor. Elliot must have covered her with it and she kicked it off while she slept. Had he left already? A piece of paper on the table caught her eye and she picked it up. It was from Elliot.

Olivia, it said, had to go back to work. Call me if you need anything, I'll come right away. I'm sure the Captain wouldn't mind. I'm serious, even if it's something little call me. Get well soon, Elliot.

Setting the note down she sighed; she didn't need any help. She started to stand, only to have her legs give way and fall to the ground. "Great," she said to herself as she sat on the floor, "that's going to bruise."

Using the table for support she raised herself back onto her feet and slowly made her way towards the telephone, stumbling as she did so. Picking up the phone and dialing the number she sighed.

Maybe she was wrong. Maybe she did need help.

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A/N: Anyway, what do you think? It might go into EO, but I'm not so sure ... it might just be innocent fluff. I thought with all the fuss about the flu this year it would be a good story to write. But, I'm not sure if I've ever had the flu, so I'm just making stuff up as I go (i.e. symptoms). Well ... review!
Ok- so I was going to attempt to write this story all the way through before I posted it, but that was taking way too long so I decided to just make it a WIP like all my others. So, I've got one other chapter written, I'll keep working on the rest.