#sickie

-Perhaps they’re simply too tired to fight it…or…

-It could be a sign of trust, an extending of an olive branch of sorts, or a white flag.

-It could be that their touch brings them far more comfort than the prodding, gloved hands of all the doctors.

-the classic, their cool hand soothes the raging fire perched above their brow.

Prompt: Medic turned Whumper

TW: blood & needles

~~~

Whumpee’s been asleep for days, only surfacing close to consciousness every few hours when roused by Caretaker to be fed spoonfuls of soup, and then back into deep sleep they fall. Whumper had held them captive for months, draining Whumpee’s blood for their power and using it for God knows what. They were safe now… but why weren’t they doing any better?

Finally, after day three, Caretaker can’t stand the worrying anymore. They make the wound had been severe, but even Medic agreed they should have bounced back a little more by now. Caretaker knows Medic wouldn’t approve and would tell them to just let Whumpee get their rest while they could, and they agreed to an extent. It had probably been months since Whumpee had slept this peacefully, but something wasn’t right. They could just tell.

They approach the sickbed, Whumpee lay still as death, and not looking much better. Dark circles under their eyes, gaunt features, frail limbs wrapped in bandages. They looked to the door, listening to make sure no one was coming, then turned to face Whumpee again and laid a hand on their wrist.

“Whumpee?” They brushed their thumb over the bandaged. Could they even feel it?

No response.

They moved their hand higher, going to gently shake their shoulders when they felt their fingers brush something on the back of Whumpee’s neck. Whumpee whimpered, their brow furrowing. Their head lolled weakly to the side, and Caretaker glimpsed what it was they had felt.

Towards the back of their neck a port had been installed. A tube led from it behind Whumpee’s back and continued discreetly under the bed, as if whoever had placed it there didn’t want it to be found. Caretaker knelt beside the bed and looked beneath it.

“What…” Caretaker breathed. A blood bag was hooked to the underside of the bed, nearly full. They reached for it, unhooking it from its place. The label read “Sample 3”.

The hiss of the door opening filled the room among the beeping of monitors and screens. Caretaker jumped up, blood bag in hand to find Medic standing in the doorway, holding a syringe of clear liquid.

They locked eyes. Caretakers heart was beating out of their chest. They felt like they could barely breathe.

They had been betrayed.

“It would seem we’ve caught each other red handed.” Medic stepped into the room, locking the door behind them as it drifted shut.

“What are you doing? What have you been doing to Whumpee?” They braced a hand against the bed rail, ready to defend Whumpee with all they had.

Medic’s eyes drifted to the bag in Caretakers hand. “You got a cheat sheet on the test, and you still don’t know the answer?” Their cold gaze snapped back to meet Caretaker’s. “Come on, Caretaker, where’s your pattern recognition skills?”

“You—but…” Caretaker fumbled, at a loss for words. How could they do this to Whumpee? After all they had been through… Caretaker had known Medic for years. They’d trusted them.

“If you knew what kind of shit I’m stuck in, you’d be doing the same.” Medic’s voice was emotionless. It felt foreign—wrong to hear them talk that way.

Caretaker felt something against the wrist. They looked down to find Whumpee’s fingers weakly wrapping around their arm. Their eyes were open, the first time Caretaker had seen them. They were watery and bloodshot. “Pl…please…” their voice was barely more than a rasp. “H…help.”

Then there was a hand around their neck and a stabbing pain, and they felt their limbs go dead with the weight of trying to hold themself up. The last thing they saw before their vision blackened was Whumpee’s terrified expression as they lay helpless in the bed.

~~~

Medic stood over Caretaker’s body, face down on the linoleum floor. They picked up the blood bag and carefully removed the syringe from Caretaker’s neck, now fully empty.

“Great. Now I’ll need another dose.”

They turned to Whumpee who was staring at them horrified. It made their heart twinge with guilt. But it had to be done. They needed this. They needed their blood. It would all be over soon. And then everything would be alright again, so long as they got what they needed.

They reached in a drawer, setting the filled bag and syringe aside, and pulled out a fresh bag and a sharpie. They scribbled on the label “Sample 4” and hooked it up to Whumpee’s tube beneath the bed.

“Please,” Whumpee begged, hands trembling and fisting into the sheets. “Please stop.” Medic could tell they were exhausted. Even now, their eyes were heavy lidded, still feeling the lingering traces of their last dose.

“I’m sorry, Whumpee,” Medic said, forcing their voice to be cool and neutral. “It’ll be over soon.” They stepped over Caretaker’s body and pressed the call button attached to the collar of their white coat. “Medic 2? Could you come lend me a hand? Caretaker’s not feeling so well. Help me move them to a room and have them put on bedrest for the next couple days.”

They let go of the button, finishing the call, and turned back to Whumpee. A tear was trailing its way down their cheek, and Medic stepped to their bedside, brushing it away with their thumb. Whumpee could barely flinch at the movement, their eyes falling closed.

✨Sickie fainting in the shower or bath✨🥰

Shower has been my lifetime favorite. Sickie with a ragingly high fever (that no one else knows about) wants to take a shower to warm up because they are freezing. They can barely make it from their room into the shower, stumbling and swaying the whole way, but they’re too delirious to be logical. Then unsurprisingly the heat of the shower combined with their body heat and lightheadedness results in them collapsing. (Likely hitting their head on the way down as a major bonus, or injuring something). But the best part is they’re unconscious and under the spray of the shower for so long it eventually turns ICE COLD. And that’s where Caretaker finds them…already terribly sick, now laying fully exposed under ice cold water for an undetermined amount of time.

And now lately I have this totally unrealistic dream scenario of Caretaker getting Sickie in the bath and while laying in the bath, Sickie faints…and in this unrealistic scenario Caretaker is distracted for a moment or goes to get something, and that’s all the time it takes for Sickie to slip below the water. They’re fully unconscious and they inhale water before Caretaker sees what’s happened and frantically has to get a completely limp and soaking wet Sickie out of the bath. Maybe the shock of being pulled out of the water starts to pull Sickie from unconsciousness, but their eyes are fluttering and rolling back and they are terrified and disoriented and suffocating and barely hanging on.

-“Stop rubbing your nose, you’re just gonna make it redder.”

-“Stop stifling them, you’re just gonna make your headache worse/lengthen the fit/give yourself a headache.”

-“Stop talking, you’re just gonna hurt your throat further/lose your voice.”

-“Stop hiding these things from me, it only makes them worse for you.”

-“Stop sniffling so much and blow your nose, you’re gonna give yourself a sinus infection at this rate.”

-“Stop fighting it, you’re sleepy, you need to rest to fight this off.”

-“Stop coughing so much, you’re gonna hurt your chest at this rate.”