[flashback] sick day

[2goodarms]

A decade isn't enough time for illnesses to evolve from their pre-freeze state. So many of them start the same way they always have: with a chill. A lot of times, people don't even know they're sick. What's feeling a little colder than usual, needing to curl up a little tighter under your allotted blanket?

So Curtis doesn't know, for a good forty-eight hours, until the shivering doesn't quit even after Gilliam loans him two more blankets. As soon as Tanya feels his forehead, he's whisked away to the very back of the Tail, stumbling a little as the train heaves along the tracks. Everything's tilted just a little too far off-kilter, and weaves just a little too sharply whenever they go over a bump. He's grateful when he finally has a chance to sit down.

...Actually, maybe he'll lie down for a bit. Yeah. Just a couple minutes.

Comments

[hate_gettin_older]

Reese chews his lip a moment longer.

"Come on," and now Edgar feels (and sounds) like he really might cry in a moment, not so much from fear or sadness as furious anger. "Kind of fuckin coward are you, scared to hold a guy up for thirty seconds cause you might catch his cold --"

(Other people are looking around at them now.)

[snowpiercer_npcs]

And then there's a third set of arms on Curtis, gently but firmly guiding him upright.

Reese just keeps staring at them, slack-jawed, as Macgregor adjusts his support and glances from Evie to Edgar in silence. When his eyes find Reese -- and the glance lingers, and hardens -- Reese looks away as if fascinated by the train wall.

[hate_gettin_older]

Edgar blinks hard, looking up at Macgregor.

"Thanks." It wasn't supposed to be a whisper, but it's all he can manage.

[snowpiercer_npcs]

"Thank you," echoes Evie, not much louder.

Macgregor only nods, turning his attention to the people in front of them. They're about two-thirds of the way through, the wave dipping closer and closer as each row kneels to the cold floor.

[hate_gettin_older]

The last rows are always a little more ragged in movement than the first, composed as they usually are of the stragglers, the weak, the tired, the infirm. Edgar's still afraid something will go wrong when their turn comes, they won't be able to move fast enough, or they'll try to and lose their grip and Curtis will fall over --

He looks up at Macgregor again, draws a breath, squares his shoulders. (He can do that now, with less of Curtis's weight on him.)

The guard clicks his counter, and the row in front of them bends and sinks to the floor.

[2goodarms]

"Okay," Evie's murmuring to Curtis. "Easy. On the count of three; one, two..."

Click, goes the counter.

"Three."

Curtis tries to keep the movement controlled, but the fever has other ideas. His knees buckle; with a small grunt, Macgregor takes a little more of his weight as the three of them ease him to the floor.

"Fuck," wheezes Curtis once they're there, and leans his head on Evie's shoulder, utterly spent.

[hate_gettin_older]

Edgar fumbles for his hand and squeezes it. "You're okay," he whispers, "you're good, you made it."

[2goodarms]

Curtis squeezes back, feebly, and lets his hand go slack in Edgar's as he shuts his eyes.

[snowpiercer_npcs]

"You gonna be able to get him up to distribution?" Macgregor's voice creaks, rumbles, like the train itself.

"We could use the help if you're still offering," answers Evie. "I'd skip it and take him back, he's still got some of yesterday's block left, but..."

"Yeah."

[hate_gettin_older]

People are getting to their feet, shuffling forward, making a line. The guards watch dispassionately, as ever.

Reese avoids their eyes as he clambers to his feet and moves to join the slow current of people.

[snowpiercer_npcs]

"Come on, Curtis," says Evie gently. "Five more minutes and then we'll get you back to bed."

He groans out another curse, but does his best to be more than dead weight as Evie and Macgregor pull him back to standing.

As soon as Curtis is upright and steady, Macgregor reaches out to clamp a hand on Reese's shoulder.

[hate_gettin_older]

With a muffled yelp, Reese stumbles back. "What?"

(Edgar's eyes are huge, watching.)

[snowpiercer_npcs]

"Back of the line."

Macgregor's eyes bore into Reese's.

"Now."

[hate_gettin_older]

Reese's mouth falls open.

"But -- I didn't do anything," he whines.

[snowpiercer_npcs]

"Exactly."

Macgregor doesn't budge.

[hate_gettin_older]

For a moment it looks like Reese is going to protest further, and then he sags in place, visibly backing down.

When Macgregor lets go of him, he trudges off toward the back of the line, rubbing his shoulder.



"Wow," Edgar breathes.

[snowpiercer_npcs]

"Was that really necessary?" says Evie, mildly, as their party shuffles forward.

"Yup," grumbles Macgregor. He looks down at Edgar; after a brief pause, he winks.

[hate_gettin_older]

Edgar can't suppress an answering grin, and doesn't really try.

(Macgregor is clearly the coolest person ever. This does not in any way contradict the indisputable fact that Curtis is, and will always be, the coolest person ever.)

[2goodarms]

One awkward step at a time, they make their way to the cart. Being among the stragglers means nobody complains -- at least not to their faces -- about moving so slowly.

Curtis keeps his head down for most of it, eyes on his feet.

As they pass by the first guard, he looks up, focuses with some effort, and promptly dissolves into a hacking cough right in the guard's face.

[snowpiercer_npcs]

"Aw, for f--" The guard recoils, flapping his hand in front of his face as though to whisk away Curtis's cough (or perhaps his breath).

"Okay, you," says the second guard to Curtis once the coughing spasm has stopped (or at least paused), "keep your hands out of the cart. You," this to Macgregor, "take one for yourself and one for him. Just one for him. I want to see you pass it to him before you move on."

[2goodarms]

"Sorry," mumbles Curtis, but just under the feverish sheen, there's a wicked gleam in his eye as he looks down at Edgar. Evie rolls her eyes and takes a little more of Curtis' weight as Macgregor fetches two protein blocks.

"Here," he says, pressing one into Curtis' palm. Curtis manages to close his fingers around it, sinking his nails in to keep better hold.

[hate_gettin_older]

Edgar snags his own block and hurries ahead a little ways to make room for the next person. The guard's already resumed his drone of take-one-keep-moving.

He doesn't know if Curtis can keep moving, or if Evie and Macgregor together can carry him back to bed.

[2goodarms]

They manage to clear the line, making it to the point where it wavers and scatters as everyone retreats to their bunks.

Then: "Hang on," Curtis wheezes, legs starting to fold on themselves again. "I gotta rest. Just a second. Gotta sit."

[hate_gettin_older]

"One sec --" Edgar dodges around the older couple in front of them, ducks under a third man's arm and vanishes further down the car.

Evie gives Macgregor a bemused glance.

[2goodarms]

Macgregor offers a slight shrug in reply.

Curtis begins a slow slide to the floor, unable to support himself any longer. Like the headcount, the best Evie and Macgregor can do is make his transition from standing up to half-collapsed as gentle as possible.