You're Here; That's Enough

Tom pulled himself hurriedly out of bed and ran across the room, heading for the bathroom down the hall. Sybil rolled over at the feel of the duvet shifting on top of her. Tom had thrown up three times in the day and now, at almost 2 a.m., he'd unintentionally woken his wife to do so again. Sybil assumed that this was the reason for his sudden departure from the room, and felt it unfair to leave him on his own now. During her second pregnancy, Sybil had been a wreck. She'd managed to get a terrible dose of morning sickness (which she swore was making up for the practically perfect pregnancy she had endured with her first child), which had kept her almost bound to the small bathroom of their small cottage at hours at a time each morning. And Tom, of course, had been with her the whole way, bringing her water, holding her hair back, rubbing her back, holding her hand, sitting with her, reading to her and taking care of their first child when he screamed and demanded attention. He proved to Sybil that he really had meant those wedding vows, in sickness and in health.

Now, with Tom being in a less than healthy state, roles had been reversed. Sybil threw the covers off her body and swung her legs off the bed, subsequently finding her way through her dark house until she spotted the yellowish light resonating out from the doorframe of the bathroom where the door was half open. She approached the source of the light, her sleepy eyes not welcoming it in the slightest and found Tom sat on the floor, leaning against the wall next to the toilet, with one leg bent up at the knee and the other flat against the floor. His hand was pressed against his forehead as his elbow rested on his bent knee. Sybil felt awfully sorry for him. He really was a sorry sight. What must he have felt, having to deal with this when she was in this situation for weeks on end? She walked over to him slowly, her joints still stiff with sleep, her feet cold against the tiled floor and her oversized checked pyjama bottoms bunching at her heels. She sat softly next to him and placed a hand on his leg, comfortingly. He startled and jerked his eyes up to meet hers, but immediately relaxed as he saw her kind face. This showed Sybil just how out-of-it Tom was. He usually knew when she was in the room with him, even if she entered silently behind him. On this occasion, however, she could tell that he wasn't paying any attention to the world around him whatsoever. Sybil knelt up to kiss his temple and lay an arm around his shoulders in an attempt to comfort him. She could feel Tom's weakening body lean into hers for a moment, but he promptly moved away from her, grabbing the top of the toilet bowl with both hands, and hunched over it to regurgitate the remaining contents of his stomach. Sybil shifted to sit next to him as he remained over the toilet, and rubbed his lower back with a firm, but tender heel of her hand. She didn't know what to do. She was a nurse, for God's sake! This should come naturally to her! But it didn't. Not when it was Tom. She'd never really had to look after him. More often than not, he was the one looking after her and not the other way around. Sybil was used to caring for screaming babies – having two of her own had given her more than enough practise and experience that she now claimed herself as an expert; and her time as a nurse had taught her everything she thought she would ever need to know about caring for sick or injured adults. But there's one thing that being a nurse could never teach her – how to handle the feeling you get when you see someone you love being ill. Only experience could teach Sybil that. And she hadn't had that experience before. There had been times over the many years that they'd been together when he had been feeling less than a hundred percent, but usually it was something small or self-inflicted – a cold, hay fever, the remains of a hangover and even injuries from a fist fight once (the other guy had been drunk and Tom was trying to defend a group of women on a night out); Sybil had never seen Tom with a 'real' illness before – not one that made him look like this, at least. He wasn't one to curl up on the sofa in a huge jumper and spend the day feeling sorry for himself; he just got on with life. Why shouldn't he? He had more important things to do than mope around and feel bad about nothing. He never acted like this, and Sybil didn't know how to deal with it. She waited for him to finish this round of throwing up before she said anything. He sat back on his heels and hung his head, his eyes closed. "I'm getting you a glass of water," Sybil said decisively. She stood up and made her way out of the room. She found the light switch on the hall wall, pressing it to light up the stairs. She wandered downstairs and into the kitchen, flicking lights on as she went so that she could see where she was going. She reached for a glass and filled it with water from the sink, turned on her heel and retraced her steps up the stairs, subconsciously turning the lights off as she walked past the switches. She returned to her spot next to her husband of six years when she entered the bathroom, handed him the glass and said, "Drink. You'll feel better." He didn't say anything back, but took the glass and began to take tiny sips from the rim. Sybil couldn't help but feel sorry for him. He was a sight for sore eyes, if ever she saw one. "Do you know what it is?"

"I think it could be food poisoning. William said he wasn't feeling great and we were both at the same restaurant for Thomas' birthday last weekend. It shouldn't last long. I'm sure I'll manage," he said, taking another sip of his water. Sybil ran her hand down his thigh until it was just above his knee and squeezed gently.

"Do you need anything else?" Sybil asked.

"I don't think so," Tom replied. "You're here; that's enough." Sybil smiled. Sitting on the floor in pyjamas with someone who could throw up at any second in the middle of the night was hardly the most romantic situation. When Sybil was a teenager, this isn't what she'd imagined marriage to be like. But it didn't matter. She was with Tom. And when she was with Tom, nothing else in the world mattered. Along with her two children, he was the most important person in the world to her. The past few days hadn't been the most thrilling time of her life, but that didn't matter. They were together and they were in love. That was the important bit.

I know this is only a short fic, but basically, I just haven't written in ages and I wanted to get back into it slowly. I have a few things planned (continuing stories, and starting stories and writing one-shots etc.), but it will take me a while to get everything going I think. I had the beginning of this story written in a notebook for ages, but haven't got around to typing and finishing it until now. I hope you liked it. Please review if you can. If nothing else, you'll also be getting a fic at the beginning of July. I've already written it, but it's my July Rock the AU!, so even if I can't get anything else written soon, you'll at least have that.