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Probably heatstroke.
Viktor came in with some wet towels and a new bucket of cooling water. And another cup for drinking water. There were so many stoneware cups set around the dry, dirt floor and bedside table that he was sure Flik and the innkeeper both would start complaining sooner or later.
Ten hours earlier, after Viktor asked, “You okay? Can you make it?”, Flik had thrown up, and then collapsed in the sweltering afternoon desert heat, while they traveled to South Window. Nine hours earlier, they arrived to this dirt town and found this inn. One hour earlier, the town doctor came in to diagnose, “Probably heatstroke.”
And now, Flik lay quiet, sweating, and breathing shallow. He was hot and cold and shaking all over.
Viktor made room on the bedside table for another cup. “I’ll be staying in here tonight to keep an eye on you. Hope you don’t mind.” He added as if asking for understanding.
There were no statements against Viktor staying in his partner’s room, so he replaced the wet towel at Flik’s forehead, found himself a nice corner to occupy, and minded his own business. No arguments. No blame games. If Flik had the strength, Viktor was sure he would be blaming him for this predicament.
It had been seven months since the two have them… Well, got lost. Flik’s accusatory words, naturally, that took Viktor one month to admit. It was seven months earlier that Flik and Viktor had the Gregminster castle fall apart around them, as they aided Bocchan in his final effort to overthrow the Scarlet Moon Empire. Since then, the two unceremoniously decided to travel together to Viktor’s hometown.
Viktor knew it had been hard for Flik. Maybe one of the hardest situations he’d put himself in. But maybe, given the choice between returning to the Warrior’s Village and traveling with Viktor… somehow he’d chosen him. He wondered if he regretted it. He wondered if he just felt lost post-war and didn’t know what else to do.
Why Flik didn’t return to his hometown, though, was a quick and easy guess for the perceptive Viktor. Though Flik wouldn’t talk about it with him, he felt the reason was because of his guilt for Odessa’s death. How could he return after the Gate Rune Wars? After the death of his beloved Odessa, whose name he swore on his blade that he’d protect? With her gone, what more to a broken Warrior’s oath is there?
Surely, that was it. And I just happened to have a plan that he’d follow, because he had nowhere else to turn. Yeah, that’s it. Viktor thought, pityingly.
He looked at him now, lying like a dead man on a bed in a dirty inn, stone cups all around, a bucket for puking at his head, and a bucket of well-water at his feet. Wet towels were draped around his body. One look, and guilt and pity became easy emotions to tap into.
Viktor wondered how long they were going to stay here. Maybe I should get comfortable for a while? Not really like me to cozy up to a particular-
“…t’s fine.”
Viktor hitched his breath to listen to his partner roll over in his bed. “Hmm?”
“I’m fine,” came the clearer message from the bedridden.
“…I’m sorry.”
“I’m. Fine.” Weakly, Flik rose, swung his legs off the side of the bed, and staggered his way out the door.
Viktor started to get up from his spot on the floor. “Whoa, hey! Wh-”
“Bathroom.” Not that he needed permission.
“Ah. Okay.” Viktor shook his head and smiled at Flik’s expense. He knew Flik didn’t like it when he did that. The disapproval usually came hand-in-hand with an angered, “Don’t patronize me!” Anyway, taking a leak was a good sign that, hopefully, his body was doing some hardcore cleansing, so Viktor took his brief absence as a sign of recovery rather than something to get worked up over.
Within a few minutes, Flik returned. By then, Viktor would have a fresh towel waiting for him.
Viktor gave his partner a look up and down while he rolled back over in his bed. “What color was it?” He asked, half-wondering if it was too early to razz him.
“What the- Why should I-!?”
“Because the doc said if it was yellow, you’re not drinking enough.”
“I know that, but seriously, it’s none of your business.” Flik sat up for a moment, then took a sip of water before lying back down again.
A day came and went, and although Flik felt good enough to get back on the road (Was it his ego?), Viktor decided on another day of rest, tricking his partner by telling him that he’d already paid for the next room, and the manager wouldn’t accept refunds. Rather than waste money, Flik obliged begrudgingly.
Flik spent the following day restless, spending most of his day unwillingly in bed as a safety measure before him and Viktor would resume their journey again in the morning.
Viktor, too, decided Flik was well enough, assuming the heatstroke had run its course, and he slept in his own room while Flik slept in his.
Where Viktor was left to thoughts. The two nights spent in this dirt town were unbelievably quiet at night. Maybe South Window’s nights were the same. Quiet.
Thinking back to the past two days in specific, Viktor had almost laughed at his own actions. It’s not that he lived a selfish life, but wasting two days of travel to treat a sick Flik… What was he, his wife?
Surely, that was a joke that Flik would not be laughing at. Flik didn’t laugh much. Although Viktor had seen some change in him while they traveled together. Hell, he’d even catch Flik lightening up sometimes!
But this trip… Was it worth it? To travel, at this point, haphazardly risking not only his own life, but the life of someone vastly important to him. Luckily, Flik’s health was returning now, but was it worth it?
It amazed Viktor how he’d think to put Flik before himself. Again, not a selfish man by any means. But he couldn’t deny his growing attachment to his partner…
Four and a half hours earlier, the two men refilled their water and supplies. Four hours earlier, they started their trek back out through the desert. A minute ago, Viktor started to notice something was wrong.
“I can’t believe I came out here with you.” Tolerance dissipated, Flik started to fuss, which he hadn’t done all seven months. “You’re so… annoying. I hate you, and I hate all this sand.”
Viktor just let him go. Surely, he was emotional right now and didn’t mean what he said.
“And it’s because of you that Odessa is dead.”
That struck a chord. “I didn’t kill her.” Viktor enunciated. It was a harsh – rather sudden - accusation that wouldn’t go unchallenged.
“She meant so much to me, and she was the only good thing I had for a long time. And you just… take her away from me? Throw her body in the sewer?”
Again, Viktor let him vent. He could tell he was agitated, but these words were highly unlike him. And not just that, the way his body started swaying…
“The way she made me feel, and the way you make me feel are so different.”
He’s not making any sense… Viktor stooped down to open his bag, knowing full-well that another heatstroke may be eminent. “Hey, let’s take a quick break. Get some water.”
But as soon as Flik lifted his bag from his back to open the pouch, the weight seemed to crush him. His body gave way beneath him again, and he fainted again.
“Shit.” Viktor cursed. He only had two options to mull over. Turn back, and repeat the four-hour trek back to that dirty town. Or press forward, hoping something turned up.
Same dirt town, different wooden bed. Flik suffered a second heatstroke that had him in and out of consciousness for four hours (give or take) until finally reaching the familiar comfort of shade, a bed, and clean water.
Viktor again stayed close, his guilt heightened and a newfound fear that they might never return home crept its way into the corners of Viktor’s heart. Not that he’d ever show it.
While sitting down in his little corner, he drove the heel of his boot into the dirt floor beneath him. Nothing to do but wait for sunrise and recovery. He gave a deep, tired sigh. When Flik, in his bed, did the same, Viktor knew he was awake and aware.
This trip… was it really worth it? His partner could die out here, leaving him with… what, a broken – yet unsaid – “warrior’s Oath” of his own. Mistakes brought him here. Here to this inn, and here to this life he’d chosen. Here to Flik, somehow.
And somehow, maybe, in that way alone, this trip could be considered worth it after all.
Soft words broke him free of his mindfulness. “…I’m sorry.” Flik said, quietly and tearfully.
“It’s fine.” Viktor assured him, sighing again, “We’re fine.” He said, ingraining his oath deep within himself. He would protect him.
It would be another roundtrip trek to and from the desert and another seventeen months before they had their footing again in Muse.