I wrote this after seeing preview clips for "What is and what should never be"

I don't own any of the characters, just borrowing them...

Please review! :)

Joan woke up early in the morning, her head spinning and her stomach killing her. She quietly got out of bed and headed to her bathroom, trying very hard not to wake Arthur, who was asleep beside her.

It wasn't the best day for them. They had been arguing all day. Annie, her operative, was in federal custody, and all Arthur cared about was Ben Mercer! It hadn't surprised her too much when Arthur's assistant called her at 10 pm and said Arthur had to stay late and would get another ride home. By the time Joan fell asleep, Arthur was still at work.

She groaned, feeling nauseous. Once she was in the bathroom, she closed the door behind her and lunged for the toilet. 15 minutes later, she had thrown up twice and was feeling awful. Her stomach hurt like crazy, she was still dizzy, and she felt like her skin was on fire. She laid on the cold tile floor of the bathroom and slipped out of her nightgown. It barely made a difference, but she felt a little bit better. She dozed off, still feeling awful.

Arthur walked into the bathroom at 3 am to find his wife in her underwear lying on the floor, face pressed up against the tile. He had heard some moaning about 10 minutes ago and had come to investigate. He felt her forehead, which was burning hot. His touch startled her, waking her up.

"Joan, honey? What's wrong?"

"I feel…. awful, Arthur. Like hell warmed over," Joan said, groaning and putting her hand on her forehead. Arthur quickly got up, filling up a cup of water at the sink. He handed it to Joan, sitting down next to her on the hard tile.

"Thanks," Joan whispered, raising the cup to her lips. Her face was pale, and he could tell she had thrown up.

"Do you think you maybe have the flu, or a virus?," Arthur asked gently. His wife hated to be sick, and almost never was. Once in a while, she got a cold, but she just took antibiotics and slept a few extra hours, and it was gone. He was often the sick one, with Joan nursing him back to health.

"Maybe…," Joan said, making a face. Arthur had been right, she hated feeling weak, sickness included.

"Do you want more water or some ibuprofen?," He asked. He was determined to be the perfect husband, to make Joan feel better.

"Maybe water….ugh," Joan said, making another face and putting her face back against the cold tiles. "I feel like I'm on fire," she mumbled. Arthur leaned forward, pulling Joan's hair into a ponytail to the best of his ability.

"Why don't you let me take you back to bed?," he asked, rubbing her shoulders. "Maybe if you sleep you'll feel better."

"Ok," she said, trying to get up. Arthur got to his feet and picked her up, carrying her back into their bedroom and laying her down on her side of the bed. Then he put a glass of cold water on her nightstand and their bedroom garbage can next to the bed, in case she felt sick again. Joan watched in awe. Arthur had always been caring, but now he was different. She had never seen him take care of her like this before. He was making her feel better already. She started to sit up, wanting to tell him how much she loved him, but she felt a wave of nausea and lowered herself back down. She'd tell him in the morning….

Joan woke up the next morning with an awful headache and a growling stomach. Her hand flew to her stomach, and she felt a cotton t-shirt. Looking down, she saw that she was wearing one of Arthur's white undershirts and a pair of nude lace panties. She felt her head, where her hair was in a sloppy ponytail. Confused, she looked around the room for Arthur.


"Right here, honey.," Arthur said, walking in with a tray containing chicken noodle soup, water, and ibuprofen. He stared at his wife lovingly. Even in just his t-shirt and a pair of underwear with her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail she still looked beautiful. He set the tray down beside her on the bed, kissing her forehead. Joan stared at him.

"What?," he asked.

"Nothing, just…. Have I ever told you how much I love you?," she asked, smiling and helping herself to a small spoonful of soup. Arthur smiled and sat down near her feet.

"Foot massage?"

Joan's jaw dropped. "Yes, please!," she said, grinning. About 20 minutes later, she was feeling significantly better. And then her phone rang. Neither she or Arthur moved for a few seconds, and then Arthur picked it up.


Joan watched her husband as he spoke for a few seconds. Then he said, "Yes, we'll see you Monday. I'll tell her that. Bye."

Before she could ask, Arthur said," That was Jai. He noticed you weren't at work, and he and Annie were concerned. I told him you were sick and that we would both be in on Monday, and he said they hope you feel better soon."

Joan got that warm, loving feeling again. "You're going to stay home with me all today and tomorrow?"

Arthur smiled. "Of course, honey. They can survive at the CIA without me for 48 hours. Besides, you're more important than work."

Joan smiled. She leaned over and kissed him.

"Thank you."