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Through Pestilence

The same bug can't just be catching him now, can it?

Please, please, Copia mentally begs the Dark Lord below, don't let me be coming down with it too…

Just when Papa Emeritus IV thinks he’s gotten lucky enough to avoid the particularly nasty stomach bug that's been going around the ministry, he finds himself absolutely steamrolled by a virus that seems to have been sent by Lucifer himself… good thing his beloved ghouls are there to look after their Papa!

(Written by myself and the lovely @sleepyterzo)

(Read on AO3)

Chapter 1: Belief’s Contagious, Spreading Disease

Forms to sign, budgets to review, half-drafted lyrics to sort through…

Copia sighs as he looks at the mess of papers scattered across his desk. He glances up at the clock on the wall, dismayed to see that he's hardly been in his office for an hour. Something is strange; there’s a gnawing sense of unease that's settled deep in the pit of Copia's stomach from the moment his alarm had gone off that morning, but he can’t seem to put a finger on what the problem is.

“Ridiculous.” He mutters to himself as he flips through papers, looking for one form or another. He isn’t sure if he’s calling himself ridiculous, or the sheer volume of papers littering his desk… But then again, does it really make all that much of a difference?

It’s oddly hot in his office for early autumn, Copia realizes, tugging at the collar of his shirt. He can feel sweat beading on his upper lip and on the back of his neck. He’ll have to talk to one of the maintenance ghouls about having the radiator cranked so high before the weather actually cools down…

Copia sighs; he’ll just have to open a window for now. He pushes his chair back and goes to stand, but he isn’t at all prepared for how light-headed he feels when he rises to his feet. He sways and has to catch himself on the edge of his desk, ears ringing and gray splotches dancing in front of his eyes.

Odd... Copia thinks, shaking his head slightly as the ringing subsides and his vision clears. He hasn’t been sitting for that long! He makes a displeased little humming sound, then stretches with a deep groan. His joints feel strangely stiff, and all of his muscles seem to ache. Had he really felt this exhausted when he woke up this morning? Copia has never been an early riser by nature, but he tries to think back to his walk across the ministry grounds less than an hour ago…

Had his limbs felt quite so leaden? His papal robes quite so stuffy? Copia gives another little shake of his head as if to brush off the nagging questions. He briefly considers changing into one of his comfy tracksuits as he walks over to the window, a little wobbly at first but finding his footing quick enough.

Copia lifts the window, a pleasant breeze immediately brushing his cheeks. “Hm…” He closes his eyes and enjoys it for a moment, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

He stands there for a moment, until he remembers he has work he should be doing. Sighing, he returns to his desk, taking a seat and picking up his pen once more.

It’s then that he feels it - an uncomfortable pull in his stomach, followed by an unhappy gurgling sound. Copia moves a hand down to his middle, giving it a few taps as his brow furrows in thought.

He did miss breakfast this morning… Maybe that’s why he’s having so much difficulty focusing. Copia toys with the idea of sending down to the kitchens for something - an omelet, a pastry, some fruit - but the thought of anything beyond his standard mid-morning cappuccino is strangely unappetizing.

Copia pinches the bridge of his nose and begins leafing through the mess of papers before him. Maybe Sister Imperator was right… She’d made a few comments lately about how he's overworking himself, pushing himself too hard. Maybe that's why he feels so tired and sore all of a sudden. Stress - plain and simple - that’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for the dizziness, and this odd feeling in his stomach he can’t seem to will away.

Whether the cause is anxiety or hunger, Copia knows for certain that he’s kidding himself if he thinks he’s going to get through any of this mess right now. He’s far too distracted by how uncomfortable he feels, especially since he can't seem to put a finger on the ultimate source of his unease.

Another walk might do him good, he thinks. He could stroll down to the dining hall, get himself a coffee and bring something back with him to nibble on as he works…Yeah, that sounds nice; just what he needs to feel a little more like himself. Copia rises from his desk once more - keeping his balance this time - and heads for the door.

The walk down to the dining hall isn't quite as invigorating as Copia had been hoping, but it's still nice. He exchanges pleasant smiles with the few Siblings of Sin and ghouls he passes on his way. There's a gentle, cool breeze blowing through the courtyards, and the whole abbey is a comforting buzz of activity as siblings and ghouls and clergy all begin their day.

In the dining hall, Copia opts for mint tea instead of his usual cappuccino, absently hoping that it will get rid of the uneasy churning sensation in his gut. It's an odd feeling - reminiscent of the butterflies he always feels in his tummy just before a ritual, but without the adrenaline rush of actually taking the stage to bring him any sort of relief or distraction. He hopes he's not coming down with something, and shakes his head to clear the thought.

Copia delicately stirs honey into his tea as he peruses the breakfast options laid out before him: croissants, fresh fruit, muffins... All absolutely delicious, no doubt, so why does the thought of eating seem so off-putting ? He ignores the feeling, grabbing a chocolate chip muffin to go with his tea. Something small, but hopefully filling enough that his stomach will stop grumbling.

“Good morning, Papa!” A Sister of Sin greets him - one of the kitchen staff that he sees almost every morning. “How are you?”

“Ah, good morning Sorella!” He returns the smile. “I’m alright, grazie.”

Her eyes flick down to Copia’s plate, and her brow furrows. “Is that all you’re getting?” she asks. “We have one of your favorites this morning; bacon cheese omelet!”

On any other morning, Copia would have been thrilled, but today the thought of greasy bacon and melted cheese makes his stomach turn.

"Ehehe, not, ah, particularly hungry this morning..." Copia deflects sheepishly. "Thank you though, Sorella." He pointedly ignores the deepening frown on the Sister's face and brushes past her as politely as he can.

Tea in the safety and solitude of his office will do him good. The mint should settle his stomach, and then he'll eat a little something and be right as rain…he hopes. It's not that this odd feeling in the pit of his stomach is foreign to him - far from it. He's experienced it plenty of times, particularly during his days overworking himself as priest, then bishop, then cardinal, or towards the end of a long tour. That sickly sort of hunger which comes from days without anything truly substantial in his belly - just whatever snacks he can get his hands on to stay on his feet - only this time, Copia is entirely without the ravenous appetite that normally accompanies the feeling.

It’s odd, he thinks, but he doesn’t question it. He doesn’t have time to question it. He has so much paperwork to catch up on now that he’s home from touring, not to mention the meetings he has to lead later on during the day.

“Papa!” someone calls his name. He pauses, turning back to see Dewdrop striding over to him with a fanged grin on his face. Copia returns the smile, though his own is slightly forced.

“Hey Dew,” He greets his ghoul, “I take it you’re feeling better?”

“Much, thank you.” Dew nods, “That was a nasty bug. But I squashed it like the pest it was.” He says, theatrically clenching his clawed hand into a fist.

They both chuckle at his choice of words.

“Well I’m glad you’re feeling better.” Copia says, “Always nice to see you out and about.”

They chat for a little longer, until Copia excuses himself to get back to work. “Don’t work too hard.” Dew tells him, but Copia just waves the ghoul off. He’ll be fine.

When he gets back to his office, the window is still open, curtains dancing in the breeze. It reaches him when he closes the door, and suddenly his skin erupts in goosebumps, a shiver running down his spine.

Had he not been sweating mere moments ago?

Suddenly, Copia is glad for the heavy layers of his vestments, and he closes the window with a shudder. What is going on with him today?

Seated at his desk once again, Copia takes a cautious sip of his tea. It's not quite the instant cure that he'd been hoping it would be, but it's nice. Warmth blooms in his chest when he swallows, and he feels a fraction better having something in his stomach, even if it's just tea for now.

Despite Copia's strange unease, seeing Dewdrop had brightened his spirits considerably. The poor fire ghoul had been the last victim of a particularly nasty bug which sunk its claws into the pack just as Ghost had concluded its most recent tour.

Copia had been asleep in his bunk on the tour bus - the whole crew headed back to the ministry - when he'd woken up to the muffled sounds of commotion and crying from the other side of the flimsy door that separated his "room" from the others.

The sight that greeted him when he stumbled out of bed and towards the front of the bus where the ghouls slept had not been a pretty one: In the cramped common area, Cumulus and Mountain sat on either side of Sunshine as she retched into a plastic trash can, tears streaming down her face.

"Shhh," Cumulus soothed, rubbing Sunshine's back as the fire ghoulette coughed and spat into the bin. "Just get it up honey, I know it feels awful..."

"I want Papa..." Sunshine sobbed, and Copia's heart twisted - he hated to see his poor, sweet little firecracker so terribly upset…

"What's going on?" Copia asked, voice still gravelly with sleep.

"Sunny's not feeling so hot..." Mountain had replied, his hand in Sunshine's curly hair, gently scratching her scalp with his claws. "Must've picked something up during that last show..."

“Papa?” Sunshine hiccuped, looking up at Copia with bleary, unfocused eyes. Cumulus instinctively took the bin as Sunny reached out for her Papa, much like a child asking to be picked up. The air ghoulette stood to go take care of the mess that Sunshine had sicked up, and Copia wasted no time in taking her place next to their patient.

“No more tears, poverina,” Copia murmured, gently pulling Sunshine into his lap and wrapping his arms around her. “Papa’s here…”

He’d been up for the rest of the night looking after her beside Mountain and Cumulus; Copia had been fully expecting to get sick himself after his prolonged and direct exposure, but that had been nearly two weeks ago! The same bug can't just be catching him now, can it?

Satan, he hopes not. He doesn’t have time to waste being laid up in bed, he has too much work to do. Meetings to attend, rituals to prepare, emails and forms to sign and send away…

That night on the bus had only been the beginning of Sunshine’s - any by extension, the entire pack’s - ordeal. She couldn’t keep anything down for days, even water and plain saltine crackers would upset her stomach. The high fever left her delirious for hours on end, and she must’ve sweated through five pairs of pajamas during her seclusion down in the ghouls’ den. As soon as the band arrived home, the entire pack succumbed to the same illness one after the other.

The very thought of it makes Copia cringe, an awful feeling of dread forming in his chest. Please, please, He mentally begs the Dark Lord below, don't let me be coming down with it too…

Copia sighs heavily and takes another sip of his tea; it's flavorful on his tongue and warm in his belly. He sets the cup aside and stares at the muffin he brought back with him with a torn expression on his face.

A nibble shouldn’t hurt, at the very least... He tells himself. Copia’s fingers pick off a small piece of the muffin’s top, two giant chocolate chips baked into the pastry. He places it in his mouth and lets it sit there for a moment, his tongue pressing it to the roof of his mouth so it starts to melt.

The chocolate is sweet, and the muffin itself is light and airy, but Copia still grimaces when he swallows. His throat doesn't hurt, and his stomach seems…fine, but there's still a distinct full-body revulsion to the act. He shudders; just tea for now, in that case…

The morning continues uneventfully. Copia sips at his tea and his pile of paperwork slowly dwindles. He frequently gets up to open or close the window, seemingly unable to find a middle ground between shivering and sweating. The rest of his muffin goes untouched, and the pit in his stomach becomes more difficult to ignore.

After about an hour of staring at the same paper, waiting for it to magically fill itself out, Copia sighs heavily and decides to rest his eyes for a moment. He crosses his arms and lowers his head onto his desk, his eyes fluttering shut as he wills himself to relax and - hopefully - start feeling better…

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#the band ghost #ghost band #ghost #copia #papa emeritus iv #nameless ghouls #ghost bc #fanfic #fanfiction #sickfic

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