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delimeful · 11 months

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the end of being alone (5)

warnings: illness, panic, trauma responses, arguing, mentions of triage & associated terms, mentions of death & grief, misunderstandings, stressful situations, first ever non-fluff installment of this fic tbh, cliffhanger

Something was wrong with the Human.

It was telling of how strange his life had become recently, that the realization was tinged with worry rather than suspicion in Roman’s mind.

Maybe it was foolish to lower his guard simply because Virgil was just a kit, but he couldn’t help it. He hadn’t anticipated that Human younglings would still be so… well, young.

It helped that even when the Human got frustrated or upset, he’d never gotten violent with one of them. Strong emotions affected him just as intensely as any developing Crav’on pup, but there were no violent tantrums or screaming matches or whatever the Human equivalent of clashing horns was.

If anything, he seemed far more prone to flee. The mere sight of their ship had consistently had a negative effect on the kid, but he’d always been more fearful than aggressive about his rejections.

Of course, that might have simply been because they’d never forced the issue. Neither did they plan to— after all, anyone who cornered a frightened child into an unwanted decision deserved all the comeuppance they got, in his opinion.

Virgil could be driven to lash out, he was sure, but then, so could any sufficiently stressed pup.

He wasn’t sure that the Human’s current behavior could be dismissed as stress or anger or any other mood swing, though.

Roman tried not to hover too obviously from the opening of the cave, knowing that a single step further would earn him a chorus of comedically high-pitched warning whistles from the Humlilts crowded around the kid.

They’d managed to encourage a fair number of the undersized fauna into visiting the local town again, but there always seemed to be a small herd within easy hearing distance of their adopted Human.

Logan theorized that they flocked to Virgil because the Human had unintentionally presented himself as a beacon of safety by scaring off most of the natural predators whenever he saw them. Patton believed that they’d seen the kiddo in need and adopted him into their group just as promptly as the three of them had.

Whatever the case, the critters had become quite attuned to Virgil’s body language, which made it all the more alarming that they were behaving so defensively now.

“Virgil?” he tried again. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

The kid made a snuffling noise that was alarmingly close to how he’d sounded while in tears, turning his face further away from the cave opening. “All okay. Go away please,” he said, the politeness undercut by the low whine audible in the words.

The Humlilts crowded closer, a few of them making echoing high-pitched whistles. Normally, Virgil would mimic the sounds right back, but the scrunched-up ball of Human on the ground didn’t make a sound. Roman’s tail scuffed against the ground anxiously.

“It’s okay if you’re feeling bad,” he continued hesitantly, exchanging a worried look with Patton and Logan, who stood a little further from the cave entrance, just out of sight. “You just have to— to tell us, so we can take care of you.”

Virgil flinched and curled up even tighter. “No, no. All okay. All—,” his wavering voice was sharply cut off by a ragged inhale, and then he was making these awful hacking coughs that seemed to vibrate through his whole body.

Roman couldn’t have stayed put if he’d tried. He barely had the presence of mind to flick a stalling handsign to his crewmates before he began carefully wading through the ankle-high herd, ignoring the defiant whistles and the feeling of tiny dull horns being rammed into his legs.

He didn’t want to agitate the kid’s undersized protectors, but those noises sounded bad. Going by the bioscan they’d gotten, Humans didn’t have any gill-lungs or alternative breathing organs. If something was wrong with the kid’s lungs, he could die.

Virgil’s coughs spluttered off into harsh breathing as Roman finally reached him, and his concern only grew as he paused over the kid, who gave not even a twitch to indicate that he’d noticed Roman’s presence.

Normally, the kid was practically hypervigilant whenever he was awake, even the smallest twitch catching his eye.

Mentally bracing for anything from tears to snapping teeth, he crouched and set the pads of his fingers against Virgil’s shoulder.

Only to immediately recoil at the feeling of unnaturally hot skin.

Horror filled him as he registered that Virgil himself was the source of that burning heat, his body generating a terrifying internal temperature.

Oh, stars above.

“Get the medkit,” he called back to his crewmates, already leaning in to scoop the kid into his arms, thankful that he was still small enough to be lifted with only a little strain. “The kid is sick!”

“No,” Virgil wailed weakly, flailing one arm a few measly inches. “No, no, no, noo…”

“I know, I know,” Roman replied, ears pressed so flat he could barely hear the soothing nonsense coming out of his mouth. “It’s okay, it’ll be alright, ghiva’al. We’ll make it all better, just hang on, okay?”

The Humlilts scattered underfoot as he practically charged out of the cave, knowing the path back to their ship by heart at this point.

“What’s going on?” asked Patton, shifting into a run to keep up with Roman’s hurried steps. “Is he alright?”

Roman couldn’t even begin to articulate how not alright the kid was, mostly because the situation had left him unable to articulate anything. The ability to open his mouth had fled him and he couldn’t even sign, not with his arms too busy being occupied with a possibly-melting Human child.

Instead, he shook his head sharply, and registered the preparatory bunching of Patton’s legs mere moments before the Ampen was kicking off the ground to latch onto the closest handhold on Roman’s back.

Roman growled, a snappish reprimand that went entirely ignored. The impact hardly rocked him– Crav’on were built heavy, and Ampens were decidedly not– but he’d barely managed to force down his prickling scales in time, and the last thing he needed right now was two crewmates in need of treatment.

Uncaring of the near-miss he’d almost had with a living spike trap, Patton hauled himself up to Roman’s shoulder with practiced ease and peered over at Virgil’s curled up form. The sight of the kid was enough to make all of his feathers puff out violently in alarm, an involuntary reflex that Roman didn’t have but deeply empathized with regardless.

Logan was waiting at the edge of the trees, a spot that was still mostly out of sight of the ship. The last thing they needed was to agitate Virgil any further while he was already in a rough state.

“Lay him down,” Logan ordered immediately, bioscanner in hand and the med kit open at his side.

Virgil twisted and fussed as Roman knelt to carefully transfer him to the ground, but none of the sounds he made seemed to be actual words, just fragmented little noises of complaint. His eyes were partially open, but they tracked movement with a distinct delay, only the scarcest traces of awareness in his gaze.

Patton was crooning at him, the slightest wobble in his voice, and had a firm grip on two of the kid’s fingers. Distantly, Roman knew that was dangerous, that any mishap involving an injured Human’s strength could unintentionally deal horrific amounts of damage, but he couldn’t bring himself to break their contact. Not when he was barely holding together himself.

“I am going to check your vitals,” Logan informed Virgil in the same steady tone as always, as though this was just another standard interaction. “We’ve done it once before, and this experience shouldn’t be different at all. I will place the scanner along your arm, and it will play its customary processing indicator tones, and you may feel a slight tingling. It will not hurt.”

He didn’t waver in his narration, his actions urgent but not rushed. If it weren’t for the way his lower arms were tucked painfully close against his sides, Roman wouldn’t have thought him perturbed at all.

The scanner let out a low tone, the kind that played for patients who were in critical condition.

Logan broke off mid-word, going completely still for a moment as he stared down at the readout.

“Get him on the ship,” he commanded, and this time, there was a barely-audible buzz to his words. “Now.”

Roman didn’t hesitate, desperation fueling every movement, but he couldn’t outrun the dread that had settled on him, seeping through the cracks of his scales like a slowly-rising tide.

Even with Virgil still warm in his arms, he could feel the heavy shadow of a familiar grief looming over him.

He wasn’t sure if he could survive it a second time.

—

Virgil hadn’t taken well to being brought aboard.

Logan had known this was a probable outcome, but he’d hoped that the child’s current condition would alter the odds. As dazed as he seemed, Virgil might not notice the change in scenery at all. If he did notice, it was possible that the Human’s unusual lethargy would prevent any of the more severe reactions.

It was possible. But that wasn’t what had happened.

Instead, Virgil seemed to have experienced all of his usual terror, with none of his conscious restraint. He’d writhed and fought all the way, making an awful, hoarse little scream that had eventually devolved into strained wheezes for air.

Despite the short distance to the medbay, Roman had gained several new bruises and a small fracture from the process. And that was with fatigue clearly weighing down the child’s every move. Logan had known that the adrenaline compound was potent, a key component of the Human survival instinct, but to this degree?

Most of Virgil’s energy seemed to have burnt out– who could expect otherwise, with his body straining under an immolating fever– but his fear remained. Every time he woke enough to register the sight of the ship’s interior, he was instantly lost to that mindless panic.

No words could get through to him. Even Patton’s attempts at comfort were violently rebuffed, no matter how gentle the Ampen tried to be. After the third close call, Roman had physically picked Patton up to keep him from creeping within arm’s reach again, expression pained.

Logan understood. They’d known that Virgil was afraid of ships, and they’d brought him onboard anyhow. It was to help him, yes, but it was still only a lesser evil. One that Logan had ordered.

As the only way to assuage his guilt, Logan focused everything he had into figuring out a method of treatment.

It would help if he’d had even the most basic idea of how Human sickness worked. They had Virgil’s baseline logged, but the bioscanner was… Suffice to say, it wasn’t helpful.

Some elements of the illness seemed almost familiar. Logan himself was familiar with involuntary thermoregulation, but his own was a stabilizing measure, a response to external circumstances.

The Human version of involuntary thermoregulation… Logan had logged everything: the extensive sweating, the mucus-clogged airways, the searing internal temperature. For all intents and purposes, it seemed like self-immolation.

No wonder Roman’s concern had escalated so abruptly. Just recalling the temperature readout made Logan’s spines flush with venom, a telling shudder of color that he was normally much too composed to allow.

If his body temperature had risen that high, it would have been fatal. His thermoregulation was designed for too-cold environments, not internally generated heat. His nervous system would’ve overheated and completely shut down within minutes.

Virgil had been like this for hours.

He hoped that the persistence was a good sign, that Human durability meant that they were able to handle their own cells turning against them, just another insane biological defense for the infamously unkillable Deathworlders.

Deep down, he feared that being durable meant that an illness like this would simply kill a Human slower. That any and all his attempts at treatment were only prolonging Virgil’s suffering.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the distinct sound of approaching footsteps.

Roman paused at the medbay’s entryway, entirely unsubtle about his check-in to make sure the two of them were alright. He’d taken to stalking around the ship, unable to sleep but seemingly equally as unable to remain at Virgil’s side.

“Like sitting a wake,” he’d muttered, before abruptly standing and all but bolting from the room.

Patton had gone after him. Logan wasn’t sure whether or not he’d managed to actually talk with Roman, but going by the lack of return, he suspected the Ampen had fallen asleep mid-stride somewhere and been carried to his room.

It was understandable. Logan himself had skipped his last two sleep cycles, and had imbibed enough deathbrew to concern a medical professional.

“His status is unchanged,” Logan said, the same thing he’d said on the last three check-ins.

Roman didn’t reply, expression stiff as he turned away to resume his pacing. They’d had a rather charged argument earlier about sharing information and trust between crewmates, and one didn’t need to be an Ampen to tell that Roman was still upset.

Logan couldn’t blame him. The uncertainty of the situation was terrifying, and he hadn’t been forthcoming with Virgil’s scan.

“The bioscanner doesn’t have a reference database for Humans. All of its readouts are based off of the data analysis of non-Deathworlder biological standards, and so the advice it offers is unlikely to be accurate.”

The words were all Logan had to offer when his crewmates had asked about the specifics of the scanner’s results.

It wasn’t reassuring, he knew. Neither was the fact that he wouldn’t release the grip he had on the scanner, an entire hand dedicated to keeping it close. It would have been foolish to completely discount the raw data provided, so he hadn’t deleted the readout.

That didn’t mean that either of his best friends needed to see it.

Sometimes, knowledge hurt. Logan had long since learned that particular lesson, but apparently he’d needed to weave it in a bit more firmly, because he’d been taught anew by the words that had blinked up at him from the Treatment section of the readout.

CONDITION: IMMINENT

SEVERITY: LETHAL

RECOMMENDATION: PALLIATIVE CARE

It was the sort of response that he’d only seen in medic training modules, the one that meant there was nothing that could be done.

“The bioscanner’s dataset isn’t applicable to Humans,” he repeated, despite the fact that there was no one else awake to hear it. “The results aren’t accurate.”

The words were all Logan had to cling to. They were what he continued to cling to, despite all recommendations otherwise.

Ulgorii were one of the longer-lived species of the galaxy, to the point that their ‘immortality’ was a common misconception. They had early life cycle stages, like most species, but they never really stopped growing. Height was associated with age and wisdom, to the point that those who chose spacefaring often spent a while being unintentionally patronizing to smaller species like Ampens.

Like many things about him, Logan’s standoffish nature was an outlier amidst his species. For most Ulgorii, close connections were easily formed and maintained regardless of culture clash– frequent mind-sharing tended to give one an appreciation for new perspectives, after all.

After joining the intergalactic community, they’d learned just how unusual their lifespan was. They’d also learned more than their fair share about loss. It was accurate to say these two things were connected.

There was a saying about it, now. ‘Amidst the stars, new friends shine brightly– and burn out quickly.’

Logan had been off-planet far before he’d become a spacefarer, but he’d gotten around to taking the required classes eventually. He remembered the mandatory training on handling grief and loss, and letting go of attachment.

It didn’t matter. They weren’t relevant to the situation, because Virgil was not a lost cause. Their kid was not a lost cause.

Logan wouldn’t let him be.

#sanders sides fic #humans are deathworlders #ts virgil #ts roman #ts patton #ts logan #wibar #teoba #the end of being alone #my writing #writing #forgot it was sat whoops #this is part 1 dw guys everything will be fine

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