#high fever

A few other Task Force 141 soldiers watch Gaz, Ghost, Nikolai, Price, and Soap walk into the base. They knew Jamie had gone on the mission with them. It’s hard not to think she was KIA. Soon everyone knows what happened. There’s little relief knowing Jamie’s health isn’t great. The other soldiers know Gaz, Ghost, Soap, and Price dislike that they’re far from her. They can’t visit daily like they’d like. Everyone knows Price will aim to go back to the hospital soon.

Gaz, Ghost, Nikolai, Price, and Soap knew things could get worse before they get better, but hearing Jamie’s wound is infected and she’s sick with a high fever is still hard to hear. They know the dangers of a 103 fever.. The five are glad the plan is to stay for the next five days. They are staying at a safe house an hour away. Their desire is to remain until Jamie is strong enough to be transferred to the base’s medbay. They realize this event is weeks away, making absence from the base for that length of time impossible.

A medic takes Gaz, Ghost, Nikolai, Price, and Soap to Jamie’s room. The small woman looks tiny in the bed, covered with several white blankets. Although she remains pale, her complexion has improved since Soap discovered her in the debris. Soap takes out Jamie’s red blanket and layers it on top of the white blankets. Let’s grab food from the cafeteria,” Price proposes. She could wake before our return.” The five leave the room.

“Val!” He was at her side in a heartbeat. Her skin was blazing hot under his hand, sweat beading along her hairline. When he shifted her, her breath rattled harshly, shallow and uneven.

“God,” he muttered, panic threading his voice. “You’re burning up.”

Her lashes fluttered, but her eyes didn’t focus. “I… I just need to finish—”

“No,” he said firmly, brushing her damp hair back. “No more finishing. You can’t even stand.”

She tried to push him away, a weak shove of her hand against his arm. “M’fine… just tired.”

Her words slurred, and Steve’s stomach dropped. He recognized delirium when he heard it. He pressed two fingers against her pulse — rapid, thready, too fast. Her breathing hitched again, chest heaving like her body couldn’t decide whether it wanted air or not.

“Stay with me, Val,” Steve pleaded, voice breaking ever so slightly. He gathered her carefully into his arms, shocked at how light she felt. “I’ve got you.”

Her head lolled against his shoulder, and he could feel the fever radiating through the thin cotton of his shirt. Every instinct screamed at him — she’d been ignoring this, pushing herself past the breaking point, and now her body was paying the price.

“Should’ve told me,” he whispered, already moving for the door. “You don’t have to carry this alone, sweetheart. Not with me.”

Her breath stuttered, almost a whimper, and then she sagged further, too weak to argue anymore. Steve held her tighter, fighting the surge of fear in his chest.

He’d faced down armies, monsters, gods. But nothing made him feel as helpless as carrying the woman he loved while her body struggled for every breath.

The elevator ride felt endless, her shallow breaths rattling against his collarbone. Steve kept one hand pressed to the back of her head, cradling her carefully, whispering steady reassurances she couldn’t quite hear.

By the time he got her into her room, he was already sweating with fear. He laid her down gently, tugging the blanket back with one hand, easing her limp body onto the mattress with the other.

Her chest heaved, each breath an uneven fight. Sweat slicked her skin, her shirt clinging to her trembling frame.

“Okay, okay, I’ve got you,” Steve murmured, kneeling by the bed. His hand brushed over her forehead — so hot it nearly burned. “Fever’s too high… dammit, Val.”

She stirred faintly at his voice, lips parting. “Don’t… stop the project. Need to… keep it stable.”

“Stable?” His throat caught. “Val, you’re barely breathing.”

He stripped the blanket away, grabbing the spare towel on her chair and wetting it quickly in the bathroom sink. When he came back, he pressed the cool cloth to her forehead, watching her flinch at the sudden contrast before she stilled again. Her lips moved, a whisper of words too soft to catch.

“Shh,” he soothed. “Don’t try to talk. Just focus on breathing.”

But her chest hitched again, each inhale shallow, dragging. Panic clawed at Steve’s ribs — he knew pneumonia, he’d seen it take soldiers down faster than bullets. He grabbed his phone, already fumbling for medical support.

Her hand, weak and shaking, brushed his wrist. “Don’t… don’t call them. I can handle it.”

“Handle it?” His voice broke, low and rough. “Val, you can’t even stay awake.”

Tears stung his eyes before he could stop them. He caught her hand in his, thumb tracing the trembling lines of her knuckles. “Please… let me help.”

She blinked up at him, gaze foggy and unfocused. For a moment, he wasn’t sure she even knew it was him. Then, barely audible, she breathed, “Steve?”

His chest cracked wide open at the sound. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m here.” He shifted closer, sitting on the edge of the mattress so she could lean into him if she needed to. “Not going anywhere.”

Her lashes fluttered, lips parting like she wanted to say more, but her strength failed. Her breathing rasped in the silence, each second stretching taut between them.

Steve stayed there, one hand stroking damp strands of white-blonde hair from her face, the other holding the compress against her burning skin. He whispered every reassurance he could think of, steady and sure, like promises carved into stone:

“You’re safe.” “I’ve got you.” “Just breathe, sweetheart. That’s all you need to do.”

Hours passed in fragments — replacing the towel, coaxing her to swallow sips of water when she drifted close to consciousness, holding her steady when shivers wracked her body. Each time her breath caught, he thought his heart might stop.

And when the fever finally broke in the early gray of morning, when her breathing evened just enough for her body to truly rest, Steve let out a shaking exhale he hadn’t realized he’d been holding all night.

He stayed right there, slumped at her bedside, her limp hand still clasped in his. Exhaustion tugged at him, but he didn’t care.

He would fight armies, gods, and monsters — but he wasn’t leaving her side for a second.