A Friend in Need
a Wild America story
by Hermione Eveningfall
"Jonathan!" I cupped my hands around my mouth, shouting loudly. It was just about lunch time, and the youngest of my two co- stars had been missing for the past fifteen minutes. I sighed in irritation, swinging my flannel, button-down shirt over my shoulder, and walked over to Scott. "Have you seen him?" I asked, and he glanced up from the book he was engrossed in.
"No, Devon, I haven't. Last I saw him he was talking to the make-up artist, so you might want to check in the trailer."
I'd been worrying about Jonathan all day, mostly because he'd been feeling a little under the weather this week. In fact, he hadn't been feeling all that well ever since I came home from the hospital, following a nasty bout of the flu. I was still a little weak myself, but was recovering quite nicely according to the doctor I saw every Friday after our shoot ended.
"You look a little pale, Devon. Maybe you'd better sit down before you keel over again," Scott suggested, and I rolled my eyes.
"Of course I'm a little pale." I sat down next to him, resting my forehead on his shoulder. "Can I just lay here?" I asked, and Scott smirkd.
"Go ahead." He raised his head just in time to see Jonathan coming towards us. "Hey, kiddo," he announced, and I jumped. Jonathan sniffed, and wearily sat down on the bench. "You all right?" Scott frowned, and Jonathan shrugged.
"I guess," he croaked, using his arms as a pillow.
"Are you hungry?" I asked, fighting the urge to feel his forehead. He groaned at the mere mention of food, and turned away from me. Scott and I glanced at each other with concern...Jonathan was usually so mature and together on the set, but clearly, any kid snaps when he's feeling miserable.
"HuhKSHHHH!" Jonathan sneezed, coughing afterwards.
"Bless you," Scott and I told him in unsion, and he sighed.
"Thanks." He looked at me, his eyes a little too bright for my liking.
"I'll get you some soup or something," I offered, and Jonathan waved his hand at me in protest.
"No, I don't...I'm not hungry," he muttered, and I felt my heart racing.
"All right, buddy, what's wrong? Where exactly does it hurt?" I tried to remember back to when I'd first gotten sick, and remembered a headache, aching joints, a sore throat, dizziness, nausea, the works. And of course, the sneezing and coughing. Though unlike Scott and I when we were both sick, Jonathan sneezed less frequently, which we couldn't help but sizzle with jealousy over.
"Leave me alone," he suddenly growled, and moved away from our picnic table, going to sit at an emptier one a few feet away. "HumKSHHHH! EhKSHHHHH!" he snapped forward, and Scott folded his arms.
"He's sick," he sighed. "We really should go and tell Mr. Dear about this."
I shook my head. "He's old enough to decide what he wants to do," I insisted. "The last thing I want is to put him in a bad mood for the rest of the day."
Scott snorted. "And he isn't already in a bad mood?" he asked, motioning with his thumb to Jonathan, who had his head in his arms. I started to stand up again, but Scott grabbed my arm, and pulled me back down onto the bench.
"Let him be," he insisted. "He can take a nap before we start filming again"
Sure enough, Jonathan had fallen asleep by the time lunch break was over, and it took me at least a minute to officially wake him. "Devon," he muttered, and when he leaned against me for support, I was shocked at how hot he was. And I did *not* mean that to be a pun!
"Jonathan, don't do this," I begged, holding him up, trying to steady his swaying form. Amy Douglas, one of the lead actresses (and one who played my girlfriend in the film), hurried over.
"What's wrong?" she asked, noticing that Jonathan was practically falling over.
"He's really out of it," I told her, and she reached over to feel his forehead.
"He's burning up."
"Devon?" Jonathan whispered, and I gave him a little shake.
"Stay with us, kid," I insisted. "We're going to just bring you to lay down in the shade." I helpd him walk across the picnic area and towards the set, where the director stood watching over a bit of handywork with the house.
"Jesus," he muttered, when he saw how white and sweaty Jonathan looked.
I eased Jonathan onto the cool grass by the thick trunk, kneeling beside him. "He's really not doing so good," I told Mr. Dear, who knelt down beside me, and felt Jonathan's wrist. Scott soon joined us, and knelt down on Jonathan's other side.
"Hey, kiddo," he soothed, taking Jonathan's hand. "Can you hear me?"
Jonathan gazed blankly ahead. Amy stood with me. "Do you want us to call an ambulance?" she asked, and Jonathan seemed to understand her.
"No," he croaked, coughing. "Don't..."
I looked at her. "We're going to have to send you home for sure," Mr. Dear told him.
"I'll take him," Scott and I spoke in unison, and then looked at each other, managing small smiles. "I'll take him," Scott repeated, and I shook my head.
"I will. You've been driving everybody," I replied, and he finally gave a nod.
"Well, there's not much we can do without Jonathan today," Mr. Dear sighed. "We might as well post pone the shooting until we've made sure everyone's gotten sick and recovered." He stood and brushed off his jeans.
Scott lifted Jonathan into his arms, allowing him to lean his head against his shoulder. "It just all seemed to happen at once, huh?" he asked, and I sighed, folding my arms. Scott's case had been the least serious, without a doubt, despite the fact that he'd spent a couple of days in bed. I'd wound up in the hospital, and Jonathan was completely out of it. He'd been feeling a little sick since the day I got out of the hospital, but as it typically seemed with us, we pushed ourselves harder than we should have.
"I'm sorry," Jonathan croaked, once we had him comfortable in my car. Scott lowered the seat, so Jonathan could use it as a sort of bed.
"Don't," I told him with a smile, and climbed into the driver's seat. Scott climbed into the back, leaning his head against the window, and soon both of my passengers had passed out cold. Jonathan wasn't actually staying at a hotel like the rest of us...he and his mother had a private residence about a block from the beach. I'd only been inside once or twice, and it was absolutely beautiful.
When we got there, I woke Scott first, who picked up the very exhausted Jonathan again. "I'd rather walk," Jonathan muttered, his speech somewhat slurred. "I'm not a baby, you know."
Scott sniggered. "You're our little brother, so we're treating you that way."
He glared a little, but decided it was better not to argue. "Fine," he muttered, and when we reached the front door, I was the obvious choice to knock.
"What are you knocking for?" He asked with a small laugh. "It's my house, and I know you. Just go in."
"All right, your grace," I teased, opening the front door, and stepping inside. The air conditioning felt so good...I just had to stand and take it in.
Scott finally let Jonathan down, just as his mother came towards us. "I didn't expect you back so soon," she told us, and, taking one look at her son, ordered him up to bed.
Mrs. Thomas invited both Scott and I into the kitchen, and poured us a glass of iced tea. "Devon, I heard about you're being in the hospital," she said, once we were sitting at the counter. "How are you doing, sweetie?"
Scott looked at me after taking a sip from his glass, and I shrugged. "Doing better. Still kind of run down, though. I really hope Jonathan doesn't get this too badly."
"What exactly happened that caused the shoot to stop?" Mrs. Thomas asked, her voice full of worry, and Scott answered.
"He was running a pretty nasty fever, and I think it was a mixture of that and the heat that kind of threw him off."
"Well, you two enjoy your iced tea, and I'm going to go and check on him. Feel free to help yourselves," she added, and we thanked her, watching as she disappeared down the hallway. She'd barely been gone for two minutes, when a sudden sneeze struck, nearly knocking me off of the stool.
"HuhESHHHH!" I had to steady myself against the counter, shaking my head to clear it.
"Bless you," Scott told me. "You all right?" he added, and I nodded.
"Yeah, fine. Don't know where that came from." I gave my nose a quick rub with the back of my wrist, and took another sip.
"Devon?" Mrs. Thomas came into the kitchen again, and I turned. "Jonathan wants to see you. And Scott, too."
I was half tempted to ask, "What have we done?" but I merely smiled and nodded.
"Okay," I told her.
The two of us made our way up the carpeted steps, and found our way to Jonathan's room. He was lying on top of his blankets, his head propped up with several pillows.
"Move over, zero," I teased, and we all piled onto the bed with him. "So what's up?" I asked, and he coughed, looking thoroughly miserable.
"I'm sorry," he told us, and Scott and I looked at each other.
"For what?" Scott asked, and Jonathan shrugged.
"I was a jerk today. I didn't mean it. I just get crabby when I'm sick, that's all."
I squeezed his shoulder. "Hey, no problem. I figured that was the reason. I'm just glad we could get you home, before you ended up passing out on us."
Jonathan shivered, and Scott found a throw blanket lying over his desk chair. He pulled that over him, and sat next to me. "So are you two just going back to the hotel?" he asked, and Scott nodded.
"Probably. Devon's looking a little wiped out himself."
I gave him a small punch on the shoulder, and he grabbed me in a headlock, trying to wrestle me down onto the mattress.
"ChSHHHUH!" Jonathan sneezed and groaned, and the two of us ceased our rough housing.
"Geshuntite," I told him.
"Thanks for bringing me back," Jonathan added, his eyelids drooping.
"You're welcome," I replied. "But we probably should get going, and let you get some sleep."
He nodded, yawning. "I'll probably sleep for a week."
"Go for it," Scott told him with a snort. "This cold really knocks you off your feet." He gave Jonathan a quick hug, and it was the quick kiss on the top of the head that proved he was the father figure of the three of us. Only he could get away with doing that, and not look like a weirdo. Jonathan gave me a hug, and, much to my surprise, kissed me too.
"When did it become custom to kiss your co-stars?" I asked, and Jonathan stuck his tongue out at me. I did the same back to him, and we laughed.
"Feel better, kid," I told him, and Jonathan nodded, sinking back down against his pillows. Scott and I snuck out of the bedroom, and joined Mrs. Thomas in the kitchen again.
"Thanks for bringing him back for me," she told us, and we nodded.
"Our pleasure," Scott told her, and, after shaking hands with her, the two of us made our way out onto the walkway.
"HuhCHESHHH! Son of a..." I growled, and Scott raised an eyebrow.
"Am I going to have to wash your mouth out with soap?" he asked, and I gave him a nasty look.
"Smart ass," I replied. "I'd like to see you try it."
"Get in the damn car," Scott laughed, pulling the passenger door open. I climbed in, tossing him the keys. When we drove off towards the hotel, I couldn't wait to get into bed, and sleep for the rest of the afternoon.
The actors do not belong to me (darn it!), and I am in no way affiliated with either of them. I am merely writing this fic for pure enjoyment, and I doubt this ever happened, but one can wish, right? ;o)
This is the third novel in the "Wild America" behind- the-scenes trilogy. "A Day off" is #1, "Savannah Nights" is #2, and this is of course, #3. Again, it's narrated by Devon, because I feel most comfortable writing these fics where he's telling it. I don't know why, probably because as I said with the last fic, I did this for years and got used to it. But anway--enjoy!