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Jinx gets sick for the first time at twelve years old.
Silco is surprised, in all honesty, that it has not happened sooner. Fissure children don’t last long. Fissure children don’t live well. They live rife in filth and sickness, in violence and blood and dirt and disease. You fight for food or do not get fed, most of the time. You fight, or do not live, most of the time.
You get sick often, in the undercity.
Their limited clean water is not meant for regular and in-depth cleaning. Expensive and sought-after medical supplies cannot be wasted on every cut and scrape when they will be back in a week. You eat what you can find, not what could build your immune system stronger. Even if you have the money, you do not get doctors or medicine who aren’t at risk of killing you for fun or are aligned with another group. You do not get treatment for infection unless you risk amputation or death.
So, it is a surprise that Jinx- a fissure child through and through, an amalgamation of every good thing that their world has ever created and filled in any gaps with things stolen from above without shame- takes years after their meeting to get sick.
Jinx, who is so brilliantly clever, so wickedly sharp in every way, a brutal edge to hone and fight both, who thrives despite every thing in her life trying to suffocate it out of her for as long as she had been breathing. She had known how to read, Silco remembers. Jinx had known how to read well, when they had met. She had been seven. There are Piltover children who do not know how to read at seven. Later, he had learned it had been out from under her sister’s influence, Vander’s influence, all the times she had been left alone. It had been stolen books that no one would miss, had been stubbornness and pattern recognition and her horribly, tremendously intelligent mind.
She is so smart, and so, so stupid, sometimes.
“Jinx!” Silco calls the moment he steps foot into her workshop. It echoes loudly around him, bouncing off of cold rock and metal. “You missed breakfast and lunch.”
There are no new gadgets. Not on her tables, not on the floor, not strung up like lanterns, not fluttering around on the wind like impossibly alive creatures. It strikes Silco as a surprise. He hadn’t seen her since just past dinner last night, when she had been raptly discussing some kind of new circuit alternator she had designed. He hadn’t been entirely able to follow, but he knows she was planning on incorporating it into a few new designs, and he had fairly assumed that those were what she has been working on in her absence. But, no. It appears not.
“Jinx?” he calls again, because it is rare she does not hear him without her music playing, and even rarer (something that has happened only a few times, most often very early into their relationship) that she ignores him. “Are you here?”
Because she should be- she wasn’t in her room, wasn’t in Silco’s, wasn’t in any of the rafters or hidden corners he had checked. She knows better than to leave on missions without informing him first. Sevika hadn’t mentioned anything. By all rights, this is one of the only places she could be, and the most likely by far.
It is as he is circling the room again that he finally spots her in the corner of his vision. He turns around, furrows his brows in immediate concern. He is already walking forward before he even really processes what he is seeing.
Jinx is curled up into a ball, tense and pale looking under the low light, underneath a large sheet of scrap metal propped against a wall. In the back of his mind, he notes that if it fell, she could be crushed.
“Jinx?” Silco asks once more, quieter. He does not wish to disturb her if she is asleep, but this is strange enough to require further investigation. Once he crouches next to her, he can see that her bangs are damp with sweat, plastered against her forehead, that her cheeks are flushed a ruddy red.
Ah, he thinks.
...Ah, he thinks with a little more dismay once it processes.
“Child,” he calls softly, a hand reaching out. “Come now. This is no place to rest.”
Her head tilts ever so slightly into his hand once it presses against her. A beat. She flinches, eyes shooting open, wild. She pulls back harshly, colliding with the hard wall. It sounds like it knocks all of the breath out of her lungs.
“Jinx,” a hand retrieved, displayed and opened. No harm. “It’s just me. Just me, child. Calm down.”
Those panicked eyes flash to him, and look him up and down several times. They move to the side, to stare into nothing. The other way. Back to Silco, finally, who now feels abruptly more concerned.
Jinx’s nightmares and fits of… disreality, are not new to him. They have decreased with time, with stability and safety and support. They have lessened with an enforced sleep schedule and regular eating, with grounding exercises that Silco may or may not have pulled out of some privileged Piltover brat who attended therapy (one thing that they cannot steal or recreate in the undercity, in the few attempts that people have made). Nowadays, her fits are relatively easy to get through with minimal stress. Soothing her out of nightmares and panic attacks is getting rarer and rarer.
Silco has never had to wonder about fever dreams, before.
“It’s just me,” he quiets. “I came to find you after you missed lunch. Do you know where you are?”
“...Silco?”
“Yes. Do you know where you are, Jinx?”
“Workshop. Workshop?”
“Indeed. Can I touch you?”
She doesn’t bother with words, just… collapses forwards. Her arms unwrap from around herself, fall to the floor. She shifts her weight forward, until her forehead plants itself against Silco’s chest, until her knees press against his. He huffs, gently. Silly girl.
He obligingly wraps his arms around her, scoops her up until he has a secure enough hold to lift. She is worryingly warm in her arms, and Silco knows it will only get worse. She had been fine last night, if perhaps a little tired. He knows her too well to have been fooled by any hypothetical attempts at hiding illness or symptoms. She has only been ill since last night, perhaps this morning depending how hard it has hit. She has yet to hit the worst.
Also concerning- she says nothing during the walk back home. She twists a little, until the arm between her body and Silco’s can reach across herself to wrap little fingers around his own hand from where it carries her by her shoulders. Tilts her head against his body, closes bleary eyes. She says nothing.
It is relieving, to a degree. The delirium has not hit, may not at all. At the least, she is too tired to be panicked or frightened, too exhausted to become unrooted in reality. Silco does not believe he would have such great success trying to transport an uncooperative Jinx across cluttered streets. She does very little that she does not want to (Silco generally has very little desire to deny her anything at all, not that it would stop her) and that includes travel. If she were unwilling to accept comfort and return home, she would have fought and struggled until Silco either lost or relented. It is hard to provide care in an abandoned airship crash in the middle of a ravine, however, no matter how proud of her hidden workshop Jinx is.
Sevika is standing guard outside, when they finally return. She opens her mouth but quickly pauses once she sees Jinx’s face. A strange look passes over her. It might almost be concern , Silco thinks with a suppressed twitch of his lips.
“She good?” She asks a touch quieter than she otherwise might. She holds open the door for him to pass through without hesitation.
“Mm,” Silco says. “Fever. Make sure no one bothers me until this has been dealt with.”
“I’ll keep the chem-barons and any contacts out. The brat sick?”
“I believe so.”
“Kind of surprises me,” she mutters as she leads them upstairs, to their rooms. “Can’t remember her ever getting sick, Before.”
Capital B Before, but it is interesting knowledge that Jinx had been resistant to illness even under Vander’s less than comprehensive watch. He thinks that the only thing preventing him from some sharp comment about bringing it up unnecessarily is the child in his arms.
Sevika waits until they reach Silco’s room before nodding her leave, walking away with heavy steps.
Silco is careful as he deposits his child onto the bed, but it is in vain. She tightens her grip, fingers grasping his hand and shirt the moment he tries to pull away. Her eyes blearily open.
“I just need to go retrieve some things, Jinx. I’ll be right back.”
It takes a moment for the words to seep through the mental fog, but she eventually loosens her grip and lets Silco un-hunch from over the bed. His back aches, and he, for just a moment, feels very old. He huffs an amused sigh, absently brushes back some of the hair still sticking to Jinx’s face, and moves away.
Fresh water, at the least. A clean rag or two, for wiping sweat and cooling the fever. He can get Sevika to deliver food later, if needed. Briefly, he considers bringing the stuffed bunny she had had when they met, but decides that until she asks for it, it is best not to risk the complicated feelings she has attached with the plush. A clean blanket, since his own are a fair bit less soft than the ones she has balled up on her own bed.
He closes the door behind him quietly when he returns, not quite sure that Jinx is still awake. He tugs his shirt sleeve up until his wrist is bare, presses it as lightly as he can against her forehead. He frowns a bit, body tensing.
She is already getting warmer.
He folds her blanket over the edge of the bed, sets the water he had brought on the nightstand. He tugs a chair over to the edge of the bed that Jinx is curled up on, and reaches out to gingerly hold her wrist, fingers pressed to her fluttering pulse. Slowly, Silco leans back, eyes sliding closed.
Now, they wait.
-
His daughter’s pulse starts rising four hours and seven minutes later.
He soothes her out of the nightmare with gentle hands and quiet words, until she is half-conscious and looking confused more than anything. Silco rises slowly, rounds the bed until he can settle down next to Jinx. She twists around, movements weak, until she can press her forehead against his thigh, fingers coming to grasp his pant leg. Silco carefully scratches fingers across her scalp, reaches down until he can untie the ribbons and metal scraps keeping her braids in. Sets them on the table besides them. Gingerly unfolds her hair, drags fingers through it, soothes across her scalp to ease the weight.
“Shhh,” he murmurs, raspy. “It’s alright. Sleep. You need your rest while you can get it.”
-
She has barely settled back into sleep before she startles again.
Flinches at a sound Silco is not privy to, presses into his leg to hide away from an invisible attack.
He holds her until she calms again.
-
Presses a wide hand firm against her back, up and down in sweeping motions, to try and stave away the shivers. She curls up into her blanket, one hand still clenched tight in his pant leg.
-
The water he manages to convince her to drink makes her cough so hard that she retches barely a minute later. Silco is absently grateful he thought to bring a trash can.
-
She is thrashing and fighting with weak limbs and panicking when she is unable to move. Silco breathes through the guilt and worry festering in his chest as he holds her arms down from where they are trying to scratch at her neck and pull hair.
“It’s alright,” he murmurs as evenly as he can. She does not hear him. Has not for a while. “It’s okay, my dear. We’re alone. It’s just you and me, it’s alright.”
-
She whines and pulls away when he wipes cool water across her forehead, neck. He lets out a slow breath, and hopes to no one in particular that the illness passes quickly.
-
Sevika opens the door five minutes and three seconds after the screaming starts.
Silco closes his eyes, tilts his head against Jinx's from where she is restrained against his chest. "Leave," he says quietly. He's never been great at physical fights. His arms are tiring, even with Jinx shaky and unstable from sickness.
Sevika hesitates.
" Leave, Sevika."
She does.
-
He gets his hopes up despite his best efforts when her temperature lowers sometime in the early morning.
She recognizes him, stops swinging between unconsciousness and pulling away from him in varying levels of violence. Her hands grasp his shirt, refuse to let go. Silco hums slowly, and Jinx presses her ear against his chest, forces the vibration of it to block out everything else.
She dozes off eventually, and it is a crushing relief when she manages to stay in at least some state of restful sleep for a few hours.
-
She starts crying.
Silently, with repressed sobs shaking her thin body.
Silco is not sure why it hurts so much more than the screaming and fighting.
He holds her close and does his best to calm her through it, to scare away the monsters.
It doesn't entirely work, but she holds him tight and refuses to separate from him, so he figures it could be going worse.
-
“...Silco?”
“Yes, child.”
“...Is this real?”
“You’re right here with me, Jinx.”
-
It passes quickly, though it does not feel it.
She sleeps- fitfully, but with no more jerking night terrors or fear she had been left alone- until mid-day. Silco successfully convinces her to eat a light meal he has Sevika bring, who graciously does not so much as snark at Jinx, who just watches Sevika like she is unsure she is really there. She goes back to sleep, afterwards.
Silco has gone too long without needing to stay up for extended periods of time. He’s had long nights many times for necessity of work, but it has been a while since he has gone so long without any sleep at all. He finds himself struggling to stay aware as he watches over Jinx.
It gets a little easier when he focuses and can hear Sevika’s boots in front of his door every once in a while, patrolling. She’s a good choice, he thinks. Loyal, at the least. She has no especially fond feelings for his daughter, he knows, but he has never doubted that she would protect her until her last breath, if only to escape his wrath. That is enough.
Silco allows his body to relax, slowly, lets his eyes close. Jinx, still curled up in her blanket, sleeps besides him. She is cooling down, at last. It will be safe to rest besides her, just for a moment.
-
She wakes, coherent, during the night. She is already restless, and Silco can only summon fondness and reluctant amusement through the lingering concern as he focuses on re-braiding her hair for her.
“-why not? It’s not like it’s any different how fast my body heals there or here!”
“Here, I can watch over you and make sure that the fever does not return, or that you do not pass out. I also do not have to worry about the cold affecting you here.”
“What if I wear a coat?”
“Will you remember to keep the coat on? And not exert yourself by moving around unnecessarily?”
“...Absolutely.”
“See, this is why I’m hesitant to teach you how to lie better. I need to be able to catch them.”
“But it’s boring, Silco!”
“You will live.”
-
Finally, they leave the bedroom. Only to his office, but Jinx is tired of being cooped up, and Silco is inclined to agree. The short walk makes her legs shake under her, though she tries to hide it. Silco says nothing, simply settles behind his desk as Jinx collapses onto the couch over-dramatically to hide how she had wanted to fall onto it.
He reads through the paperwork that has amassed in the short time he was unavailable, makes notes absently. He keeps one eye on Jinx, who almost immediately starts slipping into sleep despite her attempts to convince him to let her return to her workshop, or to at least work on some basic grenades she wanted to finish.
It is so strange, he thinks. So strange and terrifying that she chooses to listen to him. Jinx is a large believer of doing what you want, when you want to. Silco does little to discourage this. So strange and enormous, then, that she listens to him over such small matters. She could just as easily walk out the front door or a window and make her way to her workshop by herself, to work and be left. That she could curl up by herself while ill, to not let anyone see her so vulnerable and young. But she does not. She obeys his arguments though she would prefer something else, did not try and hide herself away once while actually aware. Had not hesitated to bear her weak spots in front of him, despite everything.
Silco is not entirely sure what that may mean, but he is confident that it is something.
-
She does get too restless to remain, sometime after lunch. She’s more in control of herself; as much as she ever is. He doubts that she feels as recovered as she says, but there’s little else he could do to help her, and if she is getting itchy with the constant company, he won’t force her to stay just to settle his own worries.
Silco presses a fond kiss against her forehead, and lets her leave for her workshop. He’ll retrieve her again in a few hours for food and more rest, but for now is willing to let her go blow off some steam (both literal and physical, he supposes), with the agreement that she will wear gloves and proper protection for once in her life (an argument that Silco has stuck to, but cannot seem to win).
-
She returns, still whole and healthy, before dinner.
She presses against his back as she skips past, a quick estimation of a hug from where he is still working on paperwork.
Quietly, she says, “Thanks.”
She doesn’t elaborate. Silco doesn’t need her to.
Instead, it is a soft, “Of course,” that he gives his daughter.