Chapter Text
***
It was the middle of the night when Scout slowly, groggily, came too; before he suddenly bolted straight up and violently emptied his stomach all over his blankets. He retched, gagged, and dry heaved a few more times before his stomach decided it was done for the moment and let Scout catch his breath. He groaned as he became aware of the fact, he felt miserable.
His stomach hurt, his chest felt tight and he could barely breath thanks to that and his stuffed-up nose. His head was spinning and hurting and his mind felt like it was full of fog; his muscles ached, he was cold and hot and covered in sweat and he felt more exhausted now than he did when he went to bed earlier. In short, Scout was sick - very sick; great.
Wanting nothing more then to go back to sleep, Scout knew that he would first have to; 1) take his blankets to the wash, and 2) get to Medic’s infirmary. It was a known fact that Soldier only focused on the bedrooms when getting everyone up in the mornings. He never thinks that people wouldn’t be in their own beds when in the base so never patrols anywhere else. Plus, Medic would operate on the delusional patriot if he tried something like banging pots and pans near the infirmary for any reason. So, the infirmary was the only safe(ish) territory on base.
And besides, Scout was legitimately sick, so Medic had no reason to kick him out.
With heavy reluctance (and a protesting head and stomach), Scout lethargically bundled his covers, slipped out of bed and made his way to the laundry room. The tips of his brown, tan and sooty-black, wigs dragged along the floor behind him, half drooped as they were from Scout’s exhaustion. Scout didn’t care.
Reaching the laundry room, Scout simply dumped his blanket in an empty basket before stumbling his way to the infirmary.
Without bothering to turn on any lights, Scout made his way inside and to the cabinet that held extra blankets and pillows. He gathered up an armful and went to one of the beds (that hardly ever got used). Just before he could start putting the bed together, his stomach decided to act up. Luckily there was a garbage can nearby which Scout just made it to in time. there was nothing left but bile and Scout was once more left panting by the end of the ordeal.
Stomach calm for the moment, Scout wiped his mouth (wishing for a glass of water to rid himself of the burning in his throat and after taste) and returned to the bed. Rearranging the blankets and pillows to his satisfaction, Scout pulled up the trashcan and finally crawled into the nest he made for himself; holding a pillow to his stomach as he curled up partially on his front, but still mostly on his side. His top wing came up to drape over his shoulder - acting as another blanket to help keep him warm.
***
When Medic came into the infirmary later that morning, he was surprised to find the youngest member of their weird flock curled up in one of the patient recovery beds. Even from the distance though, Medic could see just how pale and sweaty the young man was. A frown graced Medic’s face as he went over to investigate further.
Getting closer, Medic could also see the dark circles under Scout’s eyes and the moved trashcan by the bed. The rancid smell of vomit hit his nose, which he ignored. He’s seen and smelt worse many times before. He put his hand on Scout’s forehead and immediately pulled back. Scout was burning up!
“Verdammt,” he muttered; not wanting Scout to wake up.
“Doc…”
Never mind.
Before Medic could say anything, Scout leaned over the side of the bed and vomited again. Medic, unperturbed, quickly gathered his equipment and a bottle of water. He gave Scout the water then began preparing an I.V. for when after he took Scout’s temp. Scout didn’t protest the doctor’s poking and prodding, which was a little concerning and showed more than anything just how ill Scout was.
“Alright Scout; I’m going to give you some medicine that should help ease your stomach. Try to get some more rest. I’ll come check on you later,” Medic informed.
“Okay,” came to croaked reply.
After giving Scout the medicine, Medic hooked him up to the I.V. and left him to rest.
Medic made his way to the mess hall to inform the others that Scout would not be participating in that day’s (or possibly even tomorrow’s) battle. The others, when they were told were of course concerned, but understood. A few even expressed sympathy; no one likes getting/being sick after all.
Breakfast went on normal from there then it was time to get to work. Being a man down meant the others had to pick up the slack, which they did. Unfortunately, as good a fight as they put up, they still lost at the end of the day. A bit demoralized but determined, the REDs packed their stuff away in their lockers and Medic went to check on Scout, just as he did during the lunch break. Unlike at lunch however, this time, Scout was asleep, which was good.
Medic carefully and quietly got the infirmary set up to take care of the others; Scout remained out like a light the entire time. Medic opted to stay in the infirmary for the rest of the night both to get some paperwork done and to keep an eye on Scout. Scout did wake up a few times, mostly to vomit which Medic helped with by changing the trashcan and getting Scout water to rinse his mouth out with, but other than that, he stayed asleep. Medic also changed Scout’s I.V. when needed to in order to keep the younger man hydrated. Still, it wound up being three days before Scout was recovered enough to return to fighting. Which Scout was more than ready to get back to.
Standing in Resupply, scattergun strapped to his back and bat in hand, Scout waited anxiously for the doors to open, wings fluttering with his excitement and eagerness.