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Duncan was breathing hard. His head ached, spun, and every gasp sent a sharp pain through his chest, while everything around him was cold. For some reason, every bone in his body ached too, and a terrible weakness prevented Duncan from even raising his eyelids. His wavy hair, usually pulled back into a ponytail, was now strewn across the pillow, damp with sweat.
He'd never felt so bad. Duncan prided himself on never getting sick, and nothing had ever stopped him from doing his job. But now, struggling in a feverish half-sleep, things were really bad. Duncan lay on the bed, not really sure where he was, and wanted only one thing: for the aching to stop. A tear of exhaustion slid from the corner of his eye.
Then - something soft touched his face, wiping away the sweat. After that, a small palm pressed against his forehead before pulling away. A hand gently lifted his head while the other pressed a glass to his lips.
"Drink. It will reduce the fever."
Duncan had no strength left to resist the order and drank the bitter liquid, which tasted like lemon water. He managed to open his eyes, but the spinning head wouldn't let him look around properly. Still, he managed to figure out a few things.
He finally realized he was at home. Duncan was lying on his bed, and Rusty was sitting on a chair beside him. On the nightstand lay a towel, a glass, a jar of water, and some pills. Duncan looked at these. Then he shifted his blurry gaze to Rusty.
"What the...? What are you doing here?"
"Preventing you from burning up, of course," Rusty replied. "You don't remember what happened, do you?"
"Seems... no. Can you...?"
"Of course I'll remind you, no wonder you forgot. You came to work very sick this morning. I tried to persuade you to go home and call a doctor, but you strongly refused. Then you lost consciousness. Skarloey and Rheneas carried you home, and I stayed with you while we waited for the doctor. Then Victor came. He said you were taking a big risk - you've got a mild case of pneumonia. He left these pills and told me to give them to you three times a day, plus you need to drink plenty of water to keep the temperature from getting too high."
"I... I probably yelled at you? Told you to go to hell?"
"Not more than usual." Rusty chuckled.
Duncan turned away with a sigh. For some reason, he felt even worse, the feeling was enhanced by fatigue and pain.
"What a swine I am," he said to the wall. Then he felt Rusty's hand on his forehead again.
"Oh, oh. Maybe I should give you more pills? Just look at him - Duncan is so overheated he's started admitting his mistakes." Rusty giggled. Duncan couldn't help but curl his lips into a weak smile too.
"Anyway, I did bad. You... care about me. Sorry. I... I don't really know how to express emotions like this, but... thank you."
The long sentence was difficult for Duncan to get through, his chest began to burn again, and a fit of coughing stopped him from speaking. The terrible dizziness returned, and he sank back onto the pillows.
"You're always welcome."
Duncan turned his head and looked at Rusty again. Those thin brows, neat face, the slender line of those shoulders, those strangely delicate hands that looked like they belonged more to a woman than a man. But Rusty was neither. Duncan narrowed his eyes, trying to get a better look.
"Rusty... What are you?"
"Just Rusty," the one smiled. "Everything else doesn't matter."
Yes. Everything else didn't really matter. Rusty is here, Rusty will not leave, and it was enough.
Duncan closed his eyes and drifted into a long, healing sleep.