When Gwen woke up that morning, she knew it was going to be a terrible day. She didn’t know the how or the why yet, but deep down something was telling her to roll over, close her eyes, and block out the world until the sun rose again tomorrow. 

Unfortunately for Gwen, that wasn’t how being responsible for a group of kids worked, no matter whether the kids in question were absolute shits or not. So, instead, she took a deep breath, forced her eyes back open and sat up looking over to David’s side of the shared councillors cabin. Normally Gwen would wake to the sight of David preparing supplies for the day’s craft activities, or planning the hiking route, or even doing some kind of strengthening yoga routine, which took entirely too much energy and willpower for five thirty in the morning, in Gwen’s opinion. 

Instead, what greeted her today was a vaguely David-shaped lump under the covers. Gwen blinked once, then twice, but the view didn’t change. In all the time Gwen has worked alongside David, she cannot recall a single instance in which she has woken up before him, and it does nothing to calm her nerves. 

Shrugging it off, she hauls herself out of bed and into the shower, and by the time she emerges David is up and ready to go, smiling and chattering away as usual, and part of her relaxes. Maybe today won't be so bad.

Typically, the day gets worse. 

That, in and of itself, isn’t strictly unusual for Camp Campbell, but it’s a different brand of WrongTM today, one that Gwen does not care for. That morning in the mess hall, a food fight had broken out, getting so bloodthirsty that multiple windows ended up smashed, shattering completely. Honestly? Gwen couldn’t care less; that was a problem for the Quartermaster. Their first activity of the day had been archery, which had ended in a flaming arrow planting itself firmly into their trash bin and starting a foul-smelling, impossible-to-put-out, literal dumpster fire. That’s whatever, if Gwen is honest. Lunch had passed in a blur, in which David and Gwen had had to ban knives, leaving the kids to poke aimlessly at their food with plastic sporks, but she thought maybe the little shits deserved it. 

Collapsing back onto her spot on the councillors table with David, she watched them wolf down their ice cream, clearly none of them willing to risk the rare treat by acting out, then looked sideways at David, pleasantly surprised to see him looking almost as exhausted as she felt. Don’t get her wrong; it’s not that she wanted her friend to be miserable, it’s just that he had this incredibly frustrating ability to remain the happiest, most chipper person on the planet in the face of the most infuriating circumstances. Sometimes it made Gwen feel insane, like she was the only one aware of what was going on in the camp.

Some of that relief faded, however, when David rested his forehead in his hands and mumbled, “How is it only lunchtime?”, with a weariness she’d never heard from him in her life. 

Frowning, she tilted her head down, trying to catch his attention. “What’s up with you?” She asks, and she doesn’t think it sounds angry until David is whipping his head up, plastering a - somewhat unnerving - smile across his face.

“Sorry, Gwen! Nothing’s wrong, today just seems to be a bit of a slower day today, is all. At least that means more time for fun activities, though!”.

She realises it’s meant to be reassuring, but honestly it’s downright freaky watching David put a personality on like a coat. 

“Are you okay, David?” She presses, voice slightly softer than before. 

“Of course I am, Gwen! Why wouldn’t I be? The sun is out, the birds are singing and I’m here at Camp-”

“Don’t bullshit me, David.” She says, her gut feeling from the morning coming back full force. “What is it? Was it Campbell? Are we getting more budget cuts? Or was there a complaint? Are we getting a surprise inspection, or - oh god, is our pay going down?” She asks, thoughts going a mile a minute about what could possibly have made David look so defeated a few moments ago.

“What? Gwen - no, it’s nothing like that.” David replies, a little startled. He sighs, and then he looks tired again. He’s still smiling, but it's smaller and a little awkward, and it’s so not David but somehow more David than Gwen thinks she’s ever seen him. “I’m just a little under the weather, that’s all.” He finishes, quietly, like he’s scared the campers might hear. Which - fair, Gwen can only imagine what those little assholes would do if they sensed weakness.

“Under the weather how?” She asks, sceptical.

He frowns, but seems to weigh his options and decide being honest is a better choice than keeping quiet, because he answers all the same. “A headache. And maybe a minor fever, some dizziness. I’m mostly just tired, so it’s nothing a little rest won’t fix. I’ll be right as rain tomorrow, don’t worry.”

Looking at him now, like, really looking, Gwen realises he’s pale and a little shaky; there’s bags under his eyes and a slight flush on the heights of his cheeks like he’s been rushing around, which he has, but she suspects it has more to do with fever than it does managing the kids. Part of her wants to reach out and press her hand to her forehead, but she gets the feeling David wouldn’t appreciate that, especially not in front of all of the children because god forbid he shows them that sometimes he isn’t having the time of his life, enjoying camp every step of the way. God forbid they see him as human, and not a punching bag only there for entertainment. 

“You know, I can handle the kids for an hour or two if you want a power nap? I’ll get the coloured paper and markers out and make up some bullshit about writing a letter to their future selves or something.” She offers, and the fact that David actually considers it for a second proves to her that he’s feeling worse than he lets on. Ultimately, though, he shakes his head. 

“No, it wouldn’t be fair to leave you to run camp by yourself. Besides, we’re supposed to be doing plant identification today, and I can’t deprive the kids of a valuable skill like that just because I’m a little poorly. I’ll be fine.” He says, decisively, like he’s trying to convince himself as much as Gwen.

Before she can argue the point further, the sound of the kids talking escalates to a volume that’s too much to tolerate as they get restless, dessert finished and their boredom rising. Standing, she shouts over the racket, “Everyone look at me! Shut up for a minute, would you?”. It takes a moment, but they do quieten and look in her direction, so she takes the win. “In a moment we’re going to head outside for our afternoon activity, okay, so everyone go and put your plates on the hatch for Quartermaster and then line up at the door.”

Predictably, there is no neat, single-file line like Gwen had asked, and instead a crowd of pushing and shoving by the mess hall doors. Shaking her head, Gwen lets them out, allowing David to start explaining what they’d be doing. In all honesty, Gwen tunes this part out, knowing vaguely that each group would have a plant identification book and a list of plants to find. Instead, she uses this time to study David, who’s energy seems to be waning quicker now that he’s on his feet. Max is giving David some kind of shit, and his plastered-on smile is faltering ever so slightly, the longer Max refuses to stop. 

Sighing, she shoots Max a look and he backs off, for now, but he doesn’t seem very deterred. David finishes up his explanation and sends the kids off in groups of four, instructing them not to go out of his and Gwen’s sight. A few moments pass in silence as they observe the kids, enjoying the peace for the first time that day. Around them, the kids seem to be genuinely enjoying themselves - the task gives them just enough freedom that they’re satisfied, goofing off as they look at plants half-heartedly and enjoy the sun, with the added bonus of letting Gwen and David take a backseat for a little while. 

The kids have quite a long time to find all of the plants on the list; they know their campers well enough to know that the work-to-messing-around ratio will not be equal, so Gwen takes a seat on one of the nearby picnic benches. She expects David to follow her lead and sit down too, and she hopes he does because he wasn’t looking too hot during his instructions earlier, but he remains standing. The feeling in her gut grows stronger, but she forces it down. She’s getting worked up over nothing, David said it himself, he’s just a little under the weather. David is a grown man; if he feels like he needs to sit down, he’ll sit down. 

Another fifteen minutes pass and the feeling only grows. She glances at her co-councillor again, but she can’t see his face from the angle of the bench. Before she can think better of it she’s standing and walking over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder with the intention of turning him towards her. However, the moment her hand touches his shoulder, her stomach drops. He’s so warm she can feel it through his shirt and, although they are standing in the warmth of the sun, that’s all they’re doing, there’s no reason he should be that warm. It’s a suffocating, dry kind of warmth too, one that makes her throat tighten and she steps round him, blocking the camper’s view if they were to look over. 

His eyes are cloudy and slightly unfocused, and he’s paler than he has been all day, swaying just slightly where he stands. His breathing is slightly wonky, like he can’t quite figure out a comfortable pattern and it takes him a while to track his gaze over to meet hers, and he shakes his head minutely, almost imperceptibly. Abruptly, she makes a decision. 

Whirling around to face the section of clearing that the campers are exploring, she raises her voice loud enough for all of them to hear. “Okay, David and I need to head inside to take care of some paperwork, so Quartermaster is going to take over for a little while. Do not give him any shit or I swear to god there will be hell to pay, understood?” She asks, waiting for nods before she’s satisfied. She turns back to face David, unsure if moving is a good idea right now given how pale he is. “Can you make it to our cabin?” She asks, quietly.

Something in David seems to click, and he tries to gather himself, swallowing hard. “Sorry, Gwen, I’m fine. There’s no need to worry, or- or bother the Quartermaster, I’m-”

“David I swear do not even try it. You look like you’re about the pass out.” She hisses, reaching her limit. “Now can you make it to our cabin or not?”

Chastised, David looks down, but nods anyway. “Yeah, I can.”

“Okay,” Gwen takes a deep breath, nodding as well. “I need you to stay here with the kids while I go and grab Quartermaster, can you do that?”

David nods again, but doesn’t protest when she leads him to the bench and sits him down. “Do not move.” She says sternly, then turns on her heel and rushes back to the mess hall, grabbing Quartermaster and dragging him out to the clearing, explaining on the way. He agrees in the weird, creepy way of his, and she has no doubt the campers will end up part of some crazy wilderness ritual, but she trusts him with the campers safety and that's enough for now. 

As they arrive at the activity spot, it’s just in time to see Max sauntering over to David, a glint in his eye that she doesn’t like. “Max!” She calls, intercepting him only a few feet away from the bench. “What do you need?”

Max regards her curiously, and she feels vaguely like prey. “What I need is to talk to David.” He says, and Gwen knows deep down that he has realised what’s going on.

She has two options now: lie and bullshit her way out of this, or tell the truth and hope Max doesn’t abuse the knowledge. 

Placing her hands on both of Max’s shoulders, she drops down to one knee, putting her at his level. “Look, Max, you and I both know why you can’t do that.” Max’s face lights up at the confirmation, and he opens his mouth to say something, but Gwen continues on, barrelling over him. “Max, listen to me, I need to get David inside, okay, I think this could be serious. I need to get him inside, and check his fever and maybe even take him to a hospital,” She says, looking into his eyes to try and drive her point home. She really isn’t sure if it will warrant a hospital trip, or even come close, but she thinks maybe that’s what Max needs to hear to back off a bit. “If I check him over, and he’s okay, I promise you that tomorrow you can have your fun with him, but you have to let me make sure he’s good first, okay?”

Max is silent for a second, eyes darting from Gwen to where David is slumped over, face in his hands now that Quartermaster is here and someone is keeping an eye on the campers. There is a solid ten seconds where Gwen thinks she’s made the wrong choice, that Max is going to grin and jump on the opportunity to trash the camp and make today even worse for David, but then he deflates and nods. “Fine. I’ll keep these assholes in check. But as soon as he’s feeling better there will be no mercy. So watch out.” He says, but Gwen has known Max long enough to know he’s concerned. Another beat of silence passes and then Max follows up quietly, “Do you…need help getting him inside?”.

A spark of surprise hits Gwen’s chest, alongside a feeling she thinks might be pride. She ruffles Max’s hair and he scowls, swatting at her hands before shoving his own hands back into his sweater pockets. 

“Don’t worry, I’ve got him handled. You focus on finding those plants, okay?” She smiles at him, and Max pulls a face in return. 

“Ew, gross. I wasn’t worried.” He insists, and Gwen doesn’t argue it, just lets him walk back to his group.

Gwen forces herself to take some more deep breaths before she turns around, trying not to let her heart beat too fast when she finds David, arms braced on his knees and his head in his hands, eyes closed and breathing shakily. 

“David?” She asks softly, touching his shoulder. 

He lifts his head, blinking blearily at her, squinting in the sunlight. He doesn’t say anything.

“You ready to get inside?”

He nods shakily, standing up and immediately stumbling, but Gwen catches him quickly enough. Luckily, Quartermaster seems to have distracted the kids with some kind of dramatic retelling of a battle he had with some squirrels, and Gwen can’t quite tell if it’s made up or not, but it doesn’t matter because it means they don’t have an audience right now. (Except Max, and Gwen can feel his worried eyes tracking them, but she’ll have to deal with that later, because right now David needs to be inside and lying down, out of the heat of the sun and away from the stress of the children.)

She loops his arm around her shoulders, hooking her own around his waist and they begin to slowly walk - or stumble, in David’s case - back to the councillor’s cabin. What should have been a two minute journey becomes a five minute one, and the whole way Gwen can only think about how it got so bad so quickly. David is silent for the entirety of it, eyes closed and trusting Gwen to keep them on track. They’re barely ten feet from the door to the cabin when David finally speaks.

“Gwen, I think I’m going to pass out.” He chokes out, and she turns to find his face so pale he’s practically grey. 

“Shit!” She hisses, and she effectively drags him the rest of the way shoving the doors open, desperate to get him to his bed but he’s dropping like a stone the moment they’re inside, and it’s all she can do to stop his head from slamming down. His knees connect roughly with the wooden floors and she winces, knowing it’ll probably bruise, but there’s bigger things to worry about at that moment. 

Carefully, she lowers him to the ground and props his feet up on a nearby trunk, racking her brain desperately trying to recall her first aid training. She settles on checking his airways and, once satisfied, moves to the bathroom to grab their thermometer. It’s clear enough that he has a fever, but she needs to know what she’s dealing with and now is as good a time as any to check. 

The thermometer is an old thing, scuffed and peeling but it works and so she gently pushes it into his ear, waiting for it to beep. 103.1ºF. She sucks in a breath through her teeth. Not good.

Wasting no time, she gathers a washcloth and wets it with cold water, filling a glass at the same time. There’s a standing fan in the corner of their cabin which she manoeuvres to point at David and turns onto the lowest setting, trying not to shock his body too much, then places the washcloth on his forehead. 

Slowly, David stirs, eyes blinking open, cloudy and confused but he’s awake and a huge weight lifts off of her shoulders.

“David?”

“...Gwen? What- why am I on the floor?”

A flash of irritation hits her. “Because you’re an asshole who can’t wait two seconds to lay down in his bed and insists instead on passing out on the floor next to it.” She scowls, but the irritation is ebbing just quickly as it peaked, being replaced by concern.

“I passed out?” He asked, voice still slightly muddy from sleep.

“Yeah,” She sighs. “You did. And your fever is really high, as well. You scared me.” She admits, quietly.

David’s face crumples with guilt, and he tries to sit up but Gwen firmly pushes him back down. “Gwen, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“I know you didn’t David,” Gwen placates. “It’s not your fault, it's just a sucky situation. You should have said something sooner, though, David. You could have taken a break, or even taken the rest of the day off and we could’ve avoided all of this. I’d rather have to handle those kids by myself any day of the week than for you to get hurt.”

David nods, wincing. “I know. You’re right, I should have said something I just - I just have some things to work on.” He replies, quiet and raw. “But that shouldn’t affect you, I’m sorry.”

They look at each other for a moment longer before Gwen smiles, softly. “Hey, what are CBFLs for?” She asks, nudging his shoulder, and David smiles back, touched. “And besides,” she continues. “You deal with enough of my shit, only fair I deal with some of yours. Now, think you can handle getting up and into bed? You need proper rest and I’m not letting you do it on the floor.”

“Yeah, I’m actually feeling a bit better now.” David says.

Gwen snorts, holding out a hand to help him up. “Tell me that again when you’re upright.”

As expected, David immediately pales again the moment he’s stood, but he smiles shakily and manages to get to his bed fine, so Gwen doesn’t worry too much. Once he’s sitting with his back against his pillows, she hands him the glass of water and grabs some pills from her own bedside table. Dutifully, he downs them, and then lays down, damp cloth back on his forehead. It’s mid-afternoon and still light out, but Gwen just draws the curtains and turns off the light, leaving the bathroom light on with the door cracked to allow her to see without aggravating David’s head too much. 

Gwen pulls her armchair over to be near David’s bed, turning on Bob Ross with the volume almost muted, just loud enough for the man’s soothing voice to reach them. Beside her, David’s eyes are closed and his eyebrows pinched, but there’s a small smile on his face and he looks comfortable enough. For the first time all day, the feeling in her gut subsides, appeased, and she lets herself relax as well.

Two hours later, Gwen jolts awake, eyes flying around the room before settling on David, still fast asleep where she’d left him. Bob Ross is still playing idly, and she grabs the remote to turn it off. As quietly as she can, Gwen finds the thermometer and takes David’s temperature again, breathing out slowly when it reads 100.5ºF. Still a fever, but lower. Despite herself, she runs her hand through David’s bedhead of red hair, shaking her head and then sitting back down.

She has just settled back in her chair when there’s a quiet knock at the door. Opening it reveals Max, shuffling awkwardly. “He’s okay.” Gwen smiles softly, deciding to cut the kid some slack, knowing Max isn’t going to outright ask about David.

“Pshh, I don’t care. I just came to tell you Quartermaster is doing a shit job. He taught us how to fight a deer and now he’s making us wash the outside of our cabins.” He complains, but Gwen can see a bit of relief on his face. 

“Hm, not a bad idea. Maybe I need to get him to plan a couple of our activities next week. The cabin thing, not the deer thing.” She clarifies, seeing Max’s face. “Maybe tomorrow you can complain to David yourself.”

Max nods, satisfied with the knowledge that David isn’t too ill, and Gwen knew that was what he’d been waiting to hear. “Yeah, I will. Uh, but I should get back before Quartermaster realises I’m gone. He’s way less of a pushover than you and David.” 

Gwen rolls her eyes, but waves him off. “See you tomorrow, Max.”

“Night, Gwen.” 

She closes the door, still smiling softly.