whump and stuff

"I know," Jack said, "But I've had a stomach ache since dinner last night. I don't know if the food was off or if I just ate too much, but I'm not really hungry this morning." He pushed the plate away.

Leo sighed, he really didn't like sending Jack to school without breakfast. "Yeah, I kinda feel the same way this morning," Leo said, collecting the plates again. "Maybe I'll just freeze these and we can warm them up another day."

"Yeah, that sounds good, thanks Leo." Jack grinned at him. "I'm glad Ari's going to come to my art show tomorrow night."

"Me too," Leo smiled, trying not to look too excited. Ari had broken up with the guy he'd been dating for the past couple of years and he and Leo had been seeing a little more of each other lately. Leo tried not to get his hopes up, and tried not to spend too much time with his ex since he didn't want Jack to feel like he wasn't around, but yeah...it had been nice to have him around more often.

Jack had gotten a painting into a young talent show at a local gallery, and he was excited about it. This was the first time Leo had really seen him proud of himself and seemingly really looking forward to something, especially without trying to hide those feelings from his dad.

Throughout the day at work Leo’s stomach continued to feel…off. Not especially painful or nauseated or anything, just kind of bloated and generally uncomfortable. He headed home afterwards and found Jack in his room finishing his homework.

“Hey, Leo,” he turned around in his desk chair. “What do you want to do for dinner?”

“Uh, I had a big lunch,” he lied, the words coming out of his mouth before he could stop them. “You okay with leftovers? We still have some of the spinach Alfredo I made the other night, I can make you a plate.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jack waved him off. “I can get it myself. You shouldn’t have to fix me dinner if you’re not even eating.”

“Alright,” Leo agreed. “How was your day?” He leaned against the door jamb while Jack told him about art class and his conversation with Raina at lunch and his meeting with his college counselor. So different than he was a year ago, Leo thought to himself, smiling.

“I gotta get back to my homework,” Jack said. “Wanna watch some tv later?”

“Sure,” Leo nodded, aware that he’s been dismissed. He went to the kitchen and fixed Jack a plate and then made himself some toast as an afterthought. He should probably eat something, right? After not eating all day he was starting to feel a little shaky. He dropped the plate at Jack’s desk and ate his own dinner on the sofa in front of the tv, washing his toast down with another cup of peppermint tea.

Leo felt a little better after dinner, reassured that he had just been feeling the effects of beer and spicy wings on his mid-thirties digestive system. Jack joined him after a while and they watched the new episode of Breaking Bad and then the news and Conan. Leo was asleep before the news ended and woke up on the couch under a blanket at two am and got up and shuffled off to sleep in his own bed for the rest of the night.

When he woke on Friday morning he felt…surprisingly tired for someone who’d slept for something like nine hours. Jack was already up and dressed and eating cereal by the time Leo showered and dressed and made his way to the kitchen.

“Sorry, I overslept, I was going to make you breakfast,” Leo said, pouring himself some water.

“‘S’okay,” Jack said around a mouthful of cereal. “I like cereal.”

Leo nodded, still too sleepy to say much.

“So I’ll see you tonight?” Jack asked as he rinsed his bowl in the sink.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Leo smiles at his son. “Want me to make dinner first?”

“I’m going to have dinner with Fonzo and Raina, but I’ll meet you there at seven?”

“Can’t wait,” Leo says as Jack puts on his coat and shoulders his backpack. He pulls Jack in for a hug, even though it provokes the expected eyeroll and sigh. “Proud of you, bud,” he says.

“I gotta go,” Jack says, pulling away, make Leo momentarily sad that he missed the cuddly little kid stage of Jack’s life. “See ya.”

Jack hustled off down the hall and Leo finished getting ready for work, still dragging and made his way to the train station and then his office. He was feeling better once he had some coffee, but after his usual turkey sandwich for lunch the dull ache in his stomach started again, this time accompanied by some low level queasiness. He took some Tums and cut out a little early, heading home for a short nap and to change clothes before Jack's show opened.

When he woke up on the sofa a short time later he was sweaty and disoriented and not feeling much better, but after a quick shower and a change of clothes he felt well enough, apart from the low level nausea. He thought he must be fighting off a bug. After all, Jack's stomach had been hurting the day before too, maybe he'd brought something home from school.

Leo grabbed a ginger ale at the bodega and decided to walk downtown instead of taking the train, the cool night air felt nice and refreshing and he made it to the gallery in reasonably good spirits, even if the pain in his gut had increased ever so slightly.

He ran into Ari outside the gallery, and gave his friend a hug.

"Hey man, good to see you," Ari said, kissing Leo on the cheek as he pulled away, sending a swarm of butterflies aflutter in Leo's stomach.

"You too. Ready to see some young talent?" Leo asked.

"I guess so, can't say I know much about art, but it's pretty cool that he got into this thing."

"I know," Leo said proudly, "Most of the artists in it are already in college and Jack just started his Junior year of high school. It's impressive."

Ari clapped him on the back, "You're such a dad, it's so cute."

"Well," Leo said, "I am his dad, after all."

They made their way inside the gallery. There were quite a few young people milling about and waiters passing trays of canapes and red and white wine in little plastic cups. Ari passed Leo a cup of red. He took a sip, but it immediate felt sour and corrosive in his stomach. He just held the cup to blend in, looking around at the artwork.

He found Jack's first piece almost immediately, a large canvas, four feet by five feet. Leo and Jack had stretched it together as a Saturday project. It was a painting of Fonzo in the middle of a skateboard trick, based on a photo Jack had taken and manipulated with a fish eye filter in photoshop and then sketched onto the canvas before rendering it in oils in a complementary red and green color scheme.

"Wow, it's huge," Ari said. "And I'm amazed he did this whole thing in red and green without making it look like a Christmas tree."

"Yeah, it's really something, huh?" Leo said. He'd seen the thing a thousand times but it looked bigger and more imposing on this white wall with all these hip people around than it did propped against the wall in Jack's bedroom.

"Oh hey, there he is!" Ari said as Jack and Fonzo walked up to them. Jack was obviously trying to suppress an excited grin.

"Hey, you guys made it," Jack said, allowing a side hug from Leo and a full hug from Ari. Leo's not sure why but Jack never wants to hug him in public. Maybe he should feel good about that, though, most sixteen year old boys would be embarrassed to hug their dads in public, right?

By the time he was done worrying about it, the boys had moved on and he was back with just Ari again. They milled around looking at the paintings and drawings. Leo thought Jack's two entries are certainly the best one's there but Ari laughed at him when he said it. The pain in Leo's stomach turned to a constant burning over the course of the next hour and he was starting to feel a little sweaty and a little more nauseated, regretting drinking that entire ginger ale on his way over.

"Leo!" He jerked to attention when he heard Jacks' voice. "I want you to meet someone." Jack and a young man who looked to be in his late twenties were approaching. "This is Elliot Grant, he organized and curated this show. Elliot, this is my-" there was a tiny pause"-my dad, Leo Montelione."

It was all Leo could do to shake Elliot's hand. "Nice to meet you." His entire body was vibrating with joy at being referred to by Jack as "my dad." He cleared his throat, this wasn't the time, he could crow about it to Ari later. "It's so great that you included Jack's pieces in your show"

"It's my pleasure," Elliot says, smiling. "It's an honor to be able to showcase the work of such talented young people. You must be very proud."

"You have no idea," Leo said faintly, unable to convey the depth of what he might be feeling right now in words. They talked for a few more minutes, Jack beaming excitedly beside them, until Elliot excused himself to say hello to another artist.

"I already sold a piece," Jack said, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "That's great, bud," Leo pulled him in for another half hug and Jack put his arms around him this time. "You're really doing it, Jack," Leo murmurs into his ear.

Two hours later, after Leo had long given up all pretense of being interested in the paintings and found a nice bench to park himself on. Ari had gone home half an hour earlier, and Leo was starting to feel increasingly sick, but he really didn't want to spoil Jack's fun. He hunched forward, the only position that seemed to ease his stomach pain, and breathed through his nose slowly, trying to stave off the now overwhelming nausea.

"Hey, sorry, are you ready to go?"

He looked up to see Jack standing in front of him, his backpack slung over one shoulder, still looking as happy and excited as Leo's ever seen him. Leo couldn't help but smile at Jack as he got up slowly.

"You okay?" Jack asked.

"Yeah, feeling a little sick. Something I ate, maybe, or a stomach bug, no big deal."

"Oh, sorry," Jack said, "Want to take a cab?"

"Yeah, good idea," Leo said, the pain in his stomach increasing when he stood up straight. He bit his lip against the pain and followed Jack out to the curb where the kid had already managed to hail a cab. Leo white knuckled it all the way back to the house, rolling down the cab window and sticking his head halfway out, hoping the cold air would keep him from throwing up in the backseat of the taxi. He made it to the curb in front of their apartment, handing Jack his wallet and jumping out quickly to be sick on the sidewalk. He threw up a small amount of liquid, gagging harshly, and then another, larger wave of acid, burning his throat and nostrils. When he straightened halfway, he gasped in pain.

"Shit, Leo," Jack slipped an arm around his waist. "You okay?"

He nodded. "Just get me to bed, I'll be fine."

Jack helped him inside and into the elevator. Leo leaned his head against the cold metal wall. "Sorry kid, didn't mean to ruin your night."

"You didn't, my night was great. We could have left earlier though, or at least you could have. I wish you'd told me you weren't feeling good."

Leo snorted, "Guess we're both too stubborn for our own good."

They finally got back to the apartment and Leo stumbled into the bathroom and sank down onto his knees in front of the toilet. Jack hovered in the doorway nervously.

"I'm okay, kid, just gonna have to let it run its course I think." He waved Jack away. "You don't have to stay and watch."

"Okay," Jack said, edging out of the room. "I'll be around, if you need anything."

As soon as he was sure Jack was gone, Leo hung his head over the bowl and groaned, coughing a little and bringing up another mouthful of liquid and then another. The pain and nausea were competing for worst sensation and they were both winning. He sat there, arms wrapped around the seat, head resting on his left shoulder, trying to move as little as possible between rounds of dry heaving so as to not make the pain worse.

Jack poked his head in an hour or so later. "Hey, just uh, wanted to check and see how you were doing."

"M'okay," Leo said, not daring to raise his head and send the room spinning again. He heard Jack leave and breathed a sigh of relief, but he came back a few minutes later with a glass of water and sat down on the floor by Leo.

"Try and drink some water," he said.

"No thanks," Leo said. "You don't need to be here."

"No offense, but I think I kind of do." Jack looked at him worriedly. "You sweat through your shirt. Do you want a clean one?"

"No," Leo said, "Just let me be, I'm sure I'll be fine in the morning."

"Come on," Jack said, "You haven't been sick in half an hour, you should be in bed, I'll help you."

"It's fine Jack, really," Leo said, but he could feel himself giving up. Bed did sound good, it sounded heavenly, and so did a clean shirt.

He felt Jack's hands under his arms and he pushed himself away from the toilet seat. The room spun and shifted, but he managed to get his feet under him and to hunch over enough that he could walk and Jack helped him sit on the bed and pulled his sweaty shirt off.

"I think you have a fever," Jack said. He put a hand on Leo's bare shoulder and then yanked it back as though bitten. "You feel really hot. I think you really need to drink some water. I might have never done this before but you say it to me like thirty times a day when I'm sick."

The kid had a point. He reached for the glass on his bedside table and managed a couple of sips. "Happy?" he asked as he curls up on his side.

"Thrilled," Jack said.

Leo closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but he couldn't get comfortable. He was still so nauseated and the pain was slowly ratcheting up and up and up. He dozed a little here and there. He was vaguely aware that Jack was nearby watching over him. That was as embarrassing as it was heartwarming. Jack had referred to him as "my dad" and the way he'd said it Leo just knew he'd been working up to it, that he had wanted to say it but didn't quite know how.

Words rested heavy on Leader’s tongue, but they clenched their jaw and swallowed them back. They set the remote down none too gently on the end table, the plastic hitting loud against the wood. Stalked out of the room a moment later, pausing just outside the hall when they heard Youngest’s voice.

“What’s their problem?” The newest teammate whispered, sound carrying just enough so Leader could hear. Something in their chest tightened, a cold emotion seeping through their gut.

“Don’t mind them,” Right Hand mumbled back, words obscured slightly by a shuffle of movement. “They’ve always had a stick up their ass. It’s not personal.”

Leader quickly walked away.

They couldn’t get close. The walls were there for a reason. The team might not necessarily like them, or even respect them, but they listen, and that’s all Leader needs them to do. They weren’t there to be friends with anyone. They were there to lead.

That’s what they did. They led mission after mission, never ending with anything other than overall success. Sure, sometimes there were hiccups, bumps in the plan but success was success, even if hard earned. If they all came back to base, intact and breathing with whatever supplies they had been sent to collect or whatever villain they had been ordered to defeat conquered, it was a success.

Success. They had destroyed the weapon Whumper was building. That’s what the plan had been. Capturing the criminal would have been a nice bonus, but it wasn’t the plan. The plan that was successful. The ride to return to base, the six of them packed in the open back of a military grade Jeep, there was an air of pride that settled across the team. Exhausted, worn, but well-earned satisfaction.

Right Hand sat with one arm around Youngest’s shoulders, holding them against them as the vehicle rocked over the uneven roads. The kid was out cold, dead tired. They had done well, Leader had been watching. They did everything right, just the way they had learned in training. Fought back three henchmen at once, helped hold the line of defense while Leader went to complete the mission. If anyone earned rest, it really was them. A bruise bloomed across their jaw, a small split tearing their eyebrow, but they seemed to have avoided any serious blows.

Teammate sat to their other side, looking dead tired but smiling softly. One hand fooled with Youngest’s hair, the other resting close to their chest wound in gauzy white bandages.

Hero and Medic sat close, against the wall that separated the body of the vehicle from the canvas tarp section the team sat in. The former was bandaging Hero’s leg, which had a nasty looking slit running down nearly the entire length of their thigh to their knee, speaking to them quietly.

Leader sat separate from them all, by the back door where the tarp would flip up and the gate would open when it was time for them to exit. A low ringing buzzed in their ears as they focused on a flickering spot of light, one that just managed to filter through a gap in the canvas. Nausea clawed at their stomach and crept up their throat, the sting of bile making their eyes burn as they forced their breathing to remain steady. They clutched their jacket tightly around them, the thick fabric doing nothing to soothe the continuous chills that raked up their spine. One arm wrapped around their abdomen, holding the coat closed over them while their other hand was stuck through the open zipper, palm pressing firm against their side.

They didn’t think it was bleeding too badly, but their dark jacket would turn bloodstains invisible so they had nothing to go off of but the warm, sticky liquid spilling past their fingers. It had definitely slowed in the past half hour, which they knew was a good sign. Pain painted darkness around the corners of their vision, but they were able to blink back the clarity. That was also a good sign.

Only a few more minutes until they were back to base. Until they could slip out of the truck and away to their chambers. Medic would take care of the rest of the teams’ injuries, they didn’t have to worry about them. Right Hand would give the orders for the night, though there wasn’t much to do other than rest and recuperate. It would all be taken care of. If Youngest were to question where they were, Hero would roll their eyes and say something like “they’re mad we didn’t catch Whumper. Just let them sulk,” and that would be the end of it. They doubted they would ask though. It was clear the newest teammate didn’t like Leader, which was fair enough. They were just the asshole who ordered the rest of them around, the obnoxious commander that no one liked but they were too scared of to not follow orders.

A long time ago, long before Youngest joined the team, before Medic and Hero were ever officially assigned to their squad, they had tried. They had tried to form the kind of bond they saw across the team. Before they were Leader, back when they were under Mentor’s command. They had never quite fit in to the dynamic. Leader had been painfully aware. They tried not to notice the way the atmosphere would change when they entered a room, the way their team would address them politely but the tension beneath was clear. The unease, unsettlement.

Leader didn’t blame them. Back then, they hadn’t bothered to hide. They would walk into training with a tank top and shorts, scars and mangled flesh practically on display. When they bore Whumper’s marks not with shame but anger, a drive for revenge they dreamed about enacting.

The first time they had heard Mentor talking to Commander, they hadn’t really been surprised. More hurt than anything, quiet voices floating through the hall after combat training. The pitying words laced with a disgust only Leader could hear. “What happened to them?” But concern was the last thing in their tone. That was the first time, hearing how clearly they spoke behind Leader’s back, they realized just how warily the others acted around them. How they walked on eggshells whenever Leader entered a room. They didn’t think anyone really noticed—or cared—when they pulled away after that. When they retreated to their chambers, started eating meals in their room. Opting to train alone rather than with the group. Wearing thick long sleeved shirts whenever they went anywhere outside the privacy of their own room. And then even when they were alone. The ugly, uneven, raised scars only ever seemed to mock them, until they couldn’t bear to look at them.

Leader squeezed their eyes shut with a shudder, pain rippling across their side.

The mission had been a success. They destroyed the weapon.

All because Whumper had let them.

The villain had intercepted them the moment Leader had split off from the group to fulfill their part. Had wrapped their hands around their throat and shoved them against the wall with enough force to knock the breath out of them.

“Oh Leader, it’s so good to see you again.” Whumper grinned, their thumbs digging against Leader’s throat hard enough to make them gag. Only laughing as they scrambled to claw at the grip restraining them. “You really should come visit more often. I was starting to miss you.”

It still hurt to take a deep breath. The hood of their jacket pulled up and their chin tucked down, the bruises that were still settling into an angry red obscured. They couldn’t imagine swallowing.

“How badly do you want this, Leader? What would you do to make sure your team leaves here alive?” Whumper had asked.

“Anything. Please.”

Anything was a very broad category. Leader had meant it. Anything. Whatever you want. Just let them leave. Leader’s head throbbed as they leaned it back against the canvas. They had to be almost home.

“They don’t know, do they?” Whumper asked, a blade dancing between their fingers as Leader stripped off their jacket, then their shirt. Folded them with trembling hands and set them aside.

“No.” Leader answered, truth weighing heavy on their voice. Whumper only tipped their chin, a silent order that rang loud through the room. The back room, the very weapon that Leader was supposed to destroy constructed right in the center of the lab. They lowered themself to their knees besides it, letting their head dip in submission.

Their back ached. The rail dug into their spine, sending a small jolt down their back at every bump in the road. They would be back soon. Deep breaths. Slow inhale, slow exhale. Only a few more minutes until they’d be able to retreat to the only haven they had.

“You haven’t forgotten, have you, Leader?” Whumper crouched in front of them, dragging the flat of the blade down Leader’s cheek. Twisting it so the tip traced across their bottom lip, barely scratching the skin as they dragged it down their chin, their neck.

“No.” Leader responded quietly, fighting to remain still as the blade traced an old scar down their sternum. Drawing a faint line of red over the raised skin. “No sir.”

The road changed from gravel to dirt beneath the tires and Leader almost cried with relief. A couple minutes. Only a few hundred more seconds until they could disappear. They watched as Teammate lightly shook Youngest’s shoulder, rousing them. As Medic began to pack their supplies back into their first aid duffel. Something twisted in their stomach.

“You were always so good for me,” Whumper whispered, the tip of the knife resting just above Leader’s naval. Their other hand raised to cup the hero’s cheek, thumb brushing over a faint scar that split their cheekbone. Their touch was so gentle, so caring Leader couldn’t help but lean into it. Shame and longing burning in their chest as Whumper smiled sadly at them.

“Oh you poor thing. Surrounded by your team but so, so alone.” They let the commander rest their head in their palm, watching the emotions dance behind Leader’s eyes. “I’ve never hurt you as bad as they’ve been, have I?” Their voice was barely audible, but the truth rang through the room. Tears stung Leader’s eyes, a single one slipping from the corner and trailing down their cheek. Whumper tenderly brushed it away.

They could still feel the hands against their skin. Phantoms of touch lingering over their face, brushing away the tears Leader fought back with every sliver of strength they could muster. Something was eating away at them from inside, tearing them apart piece by piece. They stumbled up as the truck finally stopped, not even waiting for the engine to turn off before they opened the back gate and climbed out, movements uneven and graceless.

“You really need a win, don’t you?” The words seemed to echo in Leader’s mind, leaving their ears ringing. They let their eyes slip shut, just for a moment. They could almost forget where they were. They could almost forget the tip of the knife resting against their abdomen. They were drowning in the touch, the care from hands that had only ever hurt them. They weren’t sure if they wanted to come up for air.

They nodded against Whumper’s hand, slowly opening their eyes once more.

They were in the base before any of their team got out of the truck. They moved through the halls in a daze, following a route in their mind that they weren’t quite paying attention to. Their hand shook as they typed the code to their room into the keypad by the door, legs wobbling beneath them as they stumbled inside.

They made a straight path for the bathroom, fumbling off their jacket as they went. Blood soaked their undershirt, plastering it to their side but they tugged it over their head, ignoring as it pulled at the wounds.

They snatched a hand towel from the rack it hung on, the white fibers turning red the moment they touched it. They pressed the linen to the wound, swallowing back a hiss. The cuts weren’t bad, but something about it made the gashes sting worse than they would if the towel was soaked in alcohol. They would throw it out later. Not worth trying to wash out. Same with their undershirt.

The mission had been a success. The weapon was destroyed. Gone, Whumper’s plans wrecked. But Leader had failed their assignment. They were supposed to be the one to destroy it, and they hadn’t. Villain had torn apart their own work. Ripped it to shreds right there and burned the remains. Set the whole damn room on fire. Leader could still feel the heat flush against their cheeks.

They let the team escape, though they had the forces to subdue them all. They let them walk away unscathed and celebrating a success that was given to them.

“Hold still for me, alright?” Whumper murmured against Leader’s ear, dragging their empty hand down Leader’s bare side. Feeling the goosebumps rise beneath their fingertips as they stopped along a familiar set of scars by the bottom of their ribcage. Let their palm rest over the marred skin for a few long moments before moving to grip the hero’s arm, holding it still as they raised the knife. Leader shuddered and bit their lip, letting their weight sink to rest on their heels. Their other hand clenched against their thigh, nails digging into their palm.

They couldn’t hold back a gasp as the tip of the blade plunged deep into their skin. The pain was sharp and bright, fire licking below their flesh as Whumper slowly twisted the knife downwards, following the path of a raised scar. Their other hand held Leader’s arm, just above their elbow for stability. Their grip firm, comforting as they hummed a quiet reassurance.

“You’re doing well, Leader.” Whumper said quietly, gaze focused where the knife split the skin, precise and dangerous. “Your team doesn’t recognize how hard you work. They’re fools. All of them.”

“I’ve always seen your dedication. Your strength. You can’t show them your pain or they’ll think you’re weak.”

Whumper’s hand moved up their arm, resting on their shoulder as they began the next deep line. Leader winced and Whumper hushed them.

“I’ve hurt you. I’ve pushed you past your limits, broken you. But I have never thought you were weak.”

Leader pulled the towel away from the wound, grimacing as they did so. They moved to the sink and fumbled with the faucet, putting a clean corner of the towel under the water. They leaned heavily against the counter, slowly bringing the cloth to dab away at some of the drying blood.

The knife dropped away from their skin as a bead of blood rolled down their torso. Whumper’s hand left their skin, pulling aside their own jacket’s hem so they could slip the blade back into its sheath. They shifted onto their knees, even with Leader’s height as they brought both of their hands to either side of their face. Cupping their cheeks with a care Leader had never felt before. Thumbs running soothingly over their cheekbones.

“Never forget who you belong to,” Whumper murmured quietly, pulling Leader’s face forwards so they could press a kiss to their forehead. Lips warm and possessive against their clammy skin, lingering for just a moment before pulling back.

Leader could still feel the heat against their forehead, sticking to their skin as they cleaned the area around the cuts. A small collection, maybe eight lines in total, neat and perfectly in line with the old scars below. Two letters, letters that had once been lost among the dozens of other marks and blemishes, now highlighted in red. Making sure they’d never forget.

Youngest looked surprised, concern taking over after realising the meaning. Leader managed a smile, trying to keep their voice gentle. "I won't be joining you this time. My leg would only slow you down. But don't think you can get rid of me that easily. I'll watch over you from the tower and be in your ear every step of the way."

Right Hand assured Youngest too, but worry was clear in their eyes. Everyone had enough on their plate to be concerned about already, but on top of that Leader was burdening everyone. They clenched their fists, swallowing hard, another wave of pain consuming them. "Right Hand, walk me to the tower."

Before they could blink, Right Hand was next to them. But Leader kept walking by themselves until they were out of everyone's sight. With each step, they felt their body falter, the infection tearing them down from inside. They could feel every life depending on them and the people that would jump on them at their slightest mistake.

"Are you alright?" Right Hand asked as soon as they were alone. Swallowing, they managed a nod, but the pain was evident in their trembling limbs. They lowered themselves with Right Hand's help, their breaths laboured.

"Old age is finally catching up," they chuckled weakly, attempting to lighten the situation.

"Don't say that, you're still as strong as ever."

"Oh, where is your spirit?" They stood again, letting Right Hand carry half of their weight. "Can't think of a time you'd miss the opportunity to tease me."

"Please, I—I just can't stand you joking about this. You're the closest thing I've ever had to a parent."

Perhaps the only luxury they had at the end of civilisation was the relationships they had. Leader also saw them as their child, and they feared that when the inevitable come, the one stayed behind wasn't going to handle it well.

They forced a smile as the shiver returned, trying to be supportive despite the pain fogging their thoughts. With sheer willpower, they forced their body to cooperate and stood once more, leaning on Right Hand to carry most of their weight.

As they ascended to the top of the tower, the steps grew slower, each movement burning their veins. Finally, they reached their breaking point, but Right Hand gently guided Leader to a seat, carefully placing their throbbing leg on another chair. They winced, expression crumbling with pain as the cameras flickered to life, casting a blue glow on their pale, sickly skin shining with sweat.

"You should rest," Right Hand cleared their throat. "Not deal with us."

"I will," Leader responded weakly. "When this is over. I want all of you back in one piece." Because I don't know how I can continue if something happens.

-•-

"You can trust me," Right Hand assured as they repeated the plan again, squeezing Leader's shoulder. "I'll set this up and go. You need anything?" They stood, starting to check the mics and earpieces.

"All is well."

The hardest thing was seeing Leader like this. They could do so little with the supplies they had, Leader stubbornly refusing anything because of a flu outbreak in their makeshift village.

"Press the button to talk, and keep the mic next to your mouth." They instructed, checking the cables.

"I'm just—just old. N-not ancient."

Right Hand's heart faltered as Leader's voice faded. They quickly turned back to Leader, only to see them passed out. They shook the feverish body, their breaths hitching with panic. They gasped a weak no, their one hand cupping Leader's burning cheeks.

They opened the windows, wind carrying a breeze due to the height of the tower. Desperately, they searched for something, anything for the fever. There was no medicine, but with a sudden spark of idea, they took Leader's armband, soaking it with precious water.

Their hands trembled as they wiped the sweat falling from Leader's forehead. With desperate hope, they soaked it again and placed it on the leader's forehead, hoping to bring some relief.

"Please, wake up," they didn't know what to do, so they begged. "We're not getting rid of you this easily, remember? You can't leave me— us alone."

Seconds turned into agonizing minutes, and just as Right Hand stood helpless, Leader groaned, eyes opening slightly, their gaze meeting the worried gaze of Right Hand's.

"I... I'm alright," Leader murmured weakly, their voice barely enough to be heard. "The team... needs you. Go."

"No," Right Hand almost pleaded. "I can't— I'm not leaving you alone like this."

"We can't afford to lose the chance for more supplies."

"I will get the doctor, some painkillers and fever reducers—"

"Right Hand," Leader cut sharply, the tune stopping Right Hand at their place. "We both know that the doctor is too busy, and we're running low on the latter two."

Right Hand sobbed. "I'm scared you won't wake up next time."

Leader pulled them to their chest, hugging as tight as they murmured. "I will be here when you come back with the supplies."

Reluctantly, Right Hand pulled back and nodded, their vision blurred by tears. They planted a gentle kiss on Leader's forehead before rising to their feet. With a final look of concern, they checked their gear, adjusted their earpiece, and left the tower, leaving Leader behind.

-•-

Right Hand listened to Leader's voice throught he mission, always steady and assuring. Things went smoothly, and the team was soon back in their territory with the resources.

"Mission was a succes," Leader breathed, their words laced with both satisfaction and fatigue. "You've done well. Now, rest and recover. I'll be waiting for you."

As the team regrouped and began their return to their small village, Right Hand looked for an opportunity. They dropped the supplies, slipping some into their pocket, prompting subtly for Medic to come with them and the others to help the doctor.

They rushed through the stairs, Medic shouting after them where were thry going. There was no time to answer. They barged into the tower, Leader's pained breaths greeting them. Leader stirred, but their eyes were closed, probably not aware of their arrival. Right Hand's heart ached at the sight, and they immediately knelt.

"Leader," they whispered, gently cradling the feverish body. "We're back."

Leader's eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, their gaze seemed unfocused and distant. Panic surged through Right Hand as Leader didn't recognize them.

Medic finally reached the top, frozen with shock.

"Help!" Right Hand cried out, snapping Medic out of the shock, and Medic rushed to their side, ripping the leggings of the pant to reach the wound.

Leader's breathing grew ragged as Medic unwrapped the dirty bandages, their movements careful and gentle. But as Leader's fever-addled mind processed the situation, panic washed over them.

Leader struggled in Righf Hand's hold, reaching for their gun or anything they could use as weapon. Grasping the situation quickly, Right Hand threw the gun away and tightened their hold. "Leader, it's okay. Not threats around," they reassured. "Medic is here to help."

Medic spoke calmly, their trembling hands betraying their posture. "I won't harm you, Leader. This is just an injection, something that might help relieve the fever and the infection. Trust me."

Leader trashed weakly, stirring reminding Right Hand of seizures.

"You're going to be alright."

Right Hand held Leader in their arms as Medic injected a powerful antibiotic, wrapping the wound with clean bandages. Leader winced, their weakened body wracked with pain. Right Hand put their chin to Leader's head, Leader clinging to their arm like a lifeline.

As the medication took effect, a wave of relief washed over Leader's features. Right Hand felt Leader relax into their arms. Though weakened, Leader's eyes gained a flicker of clarity.

"I'm here," Right Hand murmured, "you're not alone."

"I... I thought..." Leader's voice trailed off, their words still tinged with confusion.

Right Hand gently stroked Leader's hair. "It's alright, Leader, you're safe. We are safe. Just focus on resting now."