August 1st, 1895 - Whitby Residence

A rare day off, a rare night to sleep fully and she hadn't even been able to. Both she and Maggie were suffering from a nasty little head cold and it had kept both of them up for most of the night between the congestion and coughing. She'd treated her daughter's symptoms the best she could, some hot steam, a little lavender, some eucalyptus oil and the little one seemed to have finally slept. Sage on the other hand, using the same treatments, seemed to have missed the window and felt worse than she had last night.

It was her own fault of course. Running herself ragged, sleeping barely four or five hours a night, working any overtime she could when Mia or Amber were available to spend time with Maggie. It wasn't ideal, but it was all she could do. Once exposed to whatever it was Maggie had caught and subsequently needed snuggles for, Sage was a goner. It was miserable.

Amber was off with Maggie at the park, the fresh air good for her and Sage was curled up in an armchair in the living room, buried under a blanket despite the summer warmth, shaking her way through a fever that just wouldn't quit. She needed to kick it and fast, but was having little to no luck. Tea, maybe tea would help. So she wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and shuffled her way to the kitchen, only to find it was already occupied. "Are you making tea?" Sneeze. "Can I have some?" Cough. Sage lowered herself into the nearest kitchen chair unsteadily, feeling a little woozy from the walk, head swimming. She was well aware that she'd been childish in avoiding Declan for these past few months, since she'd blubbered all over him and they'd had a tête-à-tête.

Today she was too tired and too ill to care and if he was already making tea, it saved her the effort.

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Declan Buchanan

  

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Sage had been avoiding him for ages now, which had Declan avoiding going upstairs except for when he absolutely had to. Unfortunately, he couldn't make tea downstairs — which meant he was still in the Whitby flat at least once a day. As long as he wasn't too disruptive, maybe she wouldn't mind.

He startled at the sound of shuffling in the kitchen, and looked over his shoulder to see Sage, clearly sick with the head cold Tess had mentioned and wrapped in a thick blanket. "I'll make a pot," Deck said with a single nod.

If he asked her any more questions, would that be intrusive? She'd started the conversation, which meant that maybe the rules of engagement were suspended, and maybe she was willing to talk to him again. However, she was also sick. Maybe that meant he should keep the conversation as light as possible. Declan poured more water into the kettle from the pitcher, and then lit the stove.

A simple question was probably fine.

"Do you need something to eat?" he asked.

  

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set by Bee

She hadn't expect him to refuse, but she hadn't expected the follow up question either. Sage didn't know quite where they stood, other than they saw her current situation very differently, but it was as miserable as this cold.

"Ah," she hesitated, lifting her head from where she'd rested it on her forearms on the table to eye him carefully. Was she even hungry? Some soup would go a long way right now, but they probably didn't have any and it wasn't like she was going to ask Declan to make her any. Would he think her just being obstinate if she refused? Maybe a little something would be alright. She was a little lightheaded and couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten. It had to be yesterday at this point. "Truthfully, I don't know." Making decisions was too hard.

"I'm really dizzy and I can't think straight." She finally admitted, putting her head back down hoping it would help ease the uncomfortable sensations.

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Declan frowned, concern etching its way across his face. "If you're dizzy, you should eat something," he said, confident in his prescriptive sentence. Eating wouldn't make her feel worse, and she looked weak from where he was standing — the sickness was taking all of her energy away from her, and if she didn't eat it would just get worse.

In his head, he was connecting this to the fight they'd had. She probably wouldn't be this ill if she'd agreed to rest months ago.

"I can heat up some broth," Declan said, definitively. "If you're worried about eating anything too — complicated."

  

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set by Bee

With her head down, she still felt the world spinning, but it helped. He was right, she ought to eat something even if the thought of attempting it made her even more queasy. Maybe she was that hungry?  "With some toast?" She conceded, muffled from her position on the table. Surely there was already something made up for him to just heat up, it wouldn't be some grand involvement.

After some of the dizziness dissipated, Sage turned her head, still resting it on her arms, to look at him. "Thanks, Deck." Her voice was a little rough, her throat a little sore, but she meant it. He didn't have to, but he would, because that's just who he was and though she wasn't often going to take advantage of his good nature, today she was just too tired to try and fight it.

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"With some toast," Declan agreed, a slight smile appearing on his lips. "And — of course." He was happy to do things like this for Sage whenever she needed; that was, probably, part of why they had gone so long without talking. He was worried that they would go back to that as soon as Sage's illness was over, but — he couldn't think about that now.

He pulled broth from the ice box and put a small portion in the box. While that was heating on the stove, Deck cut a piece of toast from bread that one of the girls had made, and heated it up on the stove's other flame. After a few minutes, both were ready, and he transferred the broth to a small bowl.

He brought both over to Sage, an offering.

  

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set by Bee

Sage had closed her eyes again after his agreement. She could hear him puttering around while he got everything ready and it was oddly soothing. The exhaustion was bone-deep, threatening to take over completely and she must have dozed off for a few minutes before Declan finished the soup.

She barely noticed his approach, just barely cognizant, but she could smell the food and her stomach lurched, almost uncomfortably. She sat up a little straighter, passing him a tired smile of thanks. She sighed softly, blinking away the fatigue. "Thank you," she managed, voice still hoarse. She hoped the soup helped.

Bunding up in her blanket a little more, she awkwardly maneuvered the spoon into the soup, blowing on the first spoonful to try a taste. It was good, Tess must have made it, and it did indeed help her raw throat. After eating a little more, she realized that there was an awkward sort of silence hanging over them like a fog and she didn't know what to do about it. Sage didn't want to wish him away, because he was always welcome here, but she didn't know what to say to him either and it was killing her.

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Declan didn't know what to do other than loom and tinker with the tea. Once the kettle started whistling, he wandered back to the kitchen and poured them both two mugs — but once he came back with that, he really didn't have much to do other than sit on the opposite side of the table quietly and occasionally sip his tea. It would be rude to go back downstairs, right?

"Is the soup good?" he asked, after several awkward beats of silence. It did not seem like she was up for puncturing it, so he ought to try.

  

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set by Bee

Sitting up for this long was exhausting. She was going to be out of work for another few days and that thought alone sent her spiraling a little bit. She'd have to pick up extra shifts when she was better to make up for the difference. It was going to be a huge juggle. She sighed heavily, pausing in eating to gather some energy to keep going.

"Oh, it's good, thanks." She had gotten lost in her internal struggle for a moment, forgetting the awkward cloud hanging over them. Before this there had only been comfortable silences between then, now she'd gone and strained everything and she didn't know quite how to fix it. Maybe it was easier this way. Declan wasn't in any way responsible for anything going on in the Whitby household and she didn't want someone else worrying about her. 

Rubbing her hands along her forehead and down her cheeks she inhaled as best she could, but the congestion was pretty wretched. She was going to have to break into her store of potions to see if she couldn't start moving everything along. The tea sitting in front of her now would be helpful, when she could conjure the energy to drink it. "Thanks for the tea, too." She added after resting her head in her hands for a moment purely to hold herself up for the time being.

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