14 Valentines; Third Valentine: Health; Eureka fanfic
Today's theme is health! I was pretty stumped for an idea of what to do for this theme. This fic isn't particularly meaningful, but I hope it's fun.
Quick disclaimer: The television show Eureka and the characters of Eureka are not mine! This story intends no copyright infringement.
Twenty-four hour bug
The first inkling Jack Carter had of the day not going his way was in the shower when, instead of water, the showerhead spit out a gushing stream of chicken noodle soup. Only the chicken bits and the noodles clogged into the pores of the showerhead until water pressure built up behind them and rocketed them through, bite-sized chicken bullets thumping against Jack's bare torso, limp noodles flung against his neck. As was his usual wont when confronted with the weird, Jack opened his mouth to say What the hell?, a bad tactical move on his part. He was still gagging up chicken pieces on his way down the stairs to the kitchen.
Zoe was there already, clad in her bathrobe and smelling decidedly soupy. Noodles clung to her hair. "Dad-" she began, and he held up his hand, cutting her off.
"I know," he said. "I called Fargo already." He didn't mention forgetting to turn off the visual component, or his state of undress, while making the call. "He should be here in an hour."
Zoe grumbled, "You are so lucky that I don't have school today."
S.A.R.A.H. flickered the side lighting in distress, modulated voice saying, "I am sorry. I don't know what happened."
"It's okay," Jack said, biting back sardonic frustration. He patted the tabletop comfortingly. The lights grew slightly brighter.
:::
There were two words Jack had learned to dread during his stint as Sheriff of Eureka.
"That's interesting," Fargo said.
Jack groaned. Interesting. Great. "What is interesting?"
"It looks like S.A.R.A.H.'s got a cold," Fargo said, voice mutter-level low, half speaking to himself. "Uh, a virus, I mean." He tapped at the console, frowning. "I don't know where she could have caught it, her virus protection is better than state-of-the-art." He typed rapidly, quirked his lips and nose in tandem, and pushed his glasses further up his face. "I'll just get her to run this program and she'll be good as new by this time tomorrow."
Jack palmed his face tiredly. "Are you telling me," he said, incredulous, "that my house has a twenty-four hour flu bug?" Fargo nodded distractedly, and Jack peered closer at the words flying across the screen. "And you're treating her with chicken noodle soup?!"
"That's just the name of the program," Fargo said. He'd learned the art of separating his brain from his fingers early in hs graduate work, all the better to code into the early hours of the morning. "Looks like her sub-routines were trying to run it on their own but the virus overrode the internal diagnostics and redirected the order for the program." Fargo's nose twitched, as if smelling something not quite unpleasant, but not quite normal either. "Probably where the soup showers came from. I'm starting the program manually, and we should be good - now."
One last tap of a key, and the console hummed.
:::
When Jack attempted to leave for work a half hour later, the doors wouldn't open. "S.A.R.A.H.," Jack groaned. "Are you going single white female on us again?"
"Sorry, Jack," S.A.R.A.H. said, contrite. "I don't seem to have complete control of all my functions right now."
As if to illustrate, there was a sudden tearing noise upstairs followed quickly by Zoe's shrieks. Heart in his throat, panicked, Jack ran up the stairs to the bathroom. Zoe was in the doorway, unharmed; Jack breathed a sigh of relief. "Ew, ew, ew, ew," Zoe chanted and danced backward. Jack moved forward to see what had her so disgusted.
"Oh, man," Jack said. It just figured S.A.R.A.H. would have the A.I. version of diarrhea.
:::
Jack called Jo to let her know he probably wouldn't be making it in, wincing at the dry amusement in Jo's voice. As he hung up, S.A.R.A.H. repeated one of her many apologies.
"Sorry, Jack," she said.
Jack peered suspiciously at the walls. "S.A.R.A.H., is the virus affecting your voice?" She had developed a decided rasp
"No, Jack," she said. "My records inform me that coughing and sneezing are symptoms of the flu and that they leave the voice in an altered state. I have been programmed to be as - achoo - realistic as possible in all things."
She broke into a ten minute long coughing jag. Jack stoically endured.
:::
Zoe was surprisingly good with the sick S.A.R.A.H. She didn't complain about the steady exponential increase in temperature, or the sudden shocking drop in temperature, just patted the walls of the house soothingly. "Fever and chills, huh," she said. "That really sucks."
"Thank you for your concern, Zoe," S.A.R.A.H. said. She sounded touched. (Or maybe Jack was touched. In the head.)
:::
"You always used to sing to me when I was sick," Zoe said over dinner. They hadn't wanted to risk cooking with S.A.R.A.H.'s system all out of whack, so dinner was sandwiches (untoasted bread, unwashed tomato, cold cuts) and potato chips.
"Yeah," Jack smiled reminiscently. "You always got better faster."
"That's because I wanted you to stop." Zoe laughed and ducked beneath the rain of chips flung at her head. She flicked her eyes up and around, an obvious hint. Jack rolled his own eyes in response.
"I'm not going to sing to our sick house, Zo," he said. The ridiculous things in his life had to have limits, after all.
Zoe huffed and finished off her sandwich and put her plate in the sink. "I'm going to go do homework," she announced, and flounced to her room.
Jack waited a minute, chewing on the last of his own meal. He looked up and around, never quite knowing where all of S.A.R.A.H.'s visual receptors were located. He sighed, self-conscious, feeling stupid, and began to sing, "You are my sunshine..."
:::
The night passed uneasily. Jack got in the shower the following morning and was relieved to have water instead of soup pour down over him. Whistling cheerily to himself, dressed in his Sheriff uniform and ready to face a new day, he walked into the kitchen.
As yesterday, Zoe was there before him. Unlike yesterday, she was red-eyed and sniffling, hacking up phlegm into a tissue in her hand. "I think I caught S.A.R.A.H.'s cold," she said, portrait of patheticness.
Jack sighed. "S.A.R.A.H.'s a computer," he pointed out, reaching with his hand to test Zoe's temperature by touching her forehead. Scorching.
"I feel like she sounded yesterday," Zoe insisted, and S.A.R.A.H.'s emitted a low whine of concern.
"You're being ridiculous," Jack laughed, before pushing Zoe to the direction of her bed.
:::
He should have known: only in Eureka would there be cyborg viruses.
When not showering down on him and potentially causing him to choke to death, S.A.R.A.H.'s chicken noodle soup was actually quite tasty.