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When Boil finally emerges from the long, feverish haze, it’s to the dubiously familiar sounds and smells of an overly full medtent. It’s difficult to move, but after simply blinking at the canvas ceiling for a few minutes, Boil summons enough energy to raise his head and look around.
Instead of a cot, he’s on a bedroll on the ground, and there are dozens of brothers similarly lined up around him. Head throbbing, Boil struggles to put his thoughts together, and the situation eventually comes back to him in fits and starts.
They’d only been planetside for a week when some sort of virus started ripping through their ranks. Last he heard, nearly a quarter of their ARF platoon was laid up. Clone immune systems are incredibly robust, so sickness from local viruses is very rare. There was chatter about it being some sort of biological weapon developed by the Seps, but Boil doesn’t know if there’s any truth to that.
He does remember starting to feel sick… a few days ago? His memories after he first started feeling feverish are disjointed and unclear. Although he does have a memory of getting dragged through the area’s spiny jungle undergrowth with Waxer frantically talking at him the whole way…
Boil nearly sits bolt upright, though his body aborts the motion halfway through. Head pounding in protest, Boil squints around at the bedroll-ridden brothers, and…
Waxer is right next to him.
A quick look shows that all of Waxer’s limbs are still in place, and there’s no bandages or bacta patches that Boil can see. He lets out a breath of relief.
He and Waxer have only been ARF partners for a few months, and it shouldn’t make that much of a difference because the 212th’s ARF division is full of competent partners Boil could easily be assigned with, but… he thinks he and Waxer have become something like friends. At least, enough that Boil doesn’t like the idea of no longer having Waxer as his partner.
Not sure what to do with those kinds of thoughts, Boil turns his attention back to Waxer’s condition. It’s clear that he’s also caught whatever’s going around—his face is flushed and his breathing is labored. His eyes are half-lidded, though it doesn’t seem like he’s fully awake. He’s probably in the midst of whatever fever Boil had only… maybe a day ago, Boil isn’t sure. Everything from the past couple of days is a blur of heat and noise and too-bright lights, and… possibly Waxer carrying him to the medtent for treatment. That last impression makes something go tight in Boil’s chest.
Boil nearly startles when Waxer twitches and grunts. He dismisses it as normal sleep noises until Waxer starts mumbling unintelligibly and clumsily raises a hand, as if to ward off something.
“Waxer?” Boil finally says quietly, not wanting to disturb any of the brothers around them. He looks over his shoulder to check if there’s a medic around, but he doesn’t see anyone.
If Waxer hears him, he doesn't give any indication, though he does keep reaching a hand out, groping along the ground near him as if searching for something. He squirms, and his mumbling grows louder. His face is twisted in a deep frown and there are beads of sweat gathering on his forehead.
“Shhh, Waxer, it’s… it’s ok…” Boil never considered himself to have much of a bedside manner, but Waxer is clearly distraught about something, even if it seems to only be a nightmare or other feverish delusion. He doesn’t seem to hear Boil, though.
Finally, Boil reaches out to grab Waxer’s wandering hand, clasping it tightly. Waxer holds on in return, still panting and mumbling but not seeming to search anymore.
“Shhh…” Boil shushes softly. After some hesitation, he turns onto his side so he can reach out his other hand to gently touch Waxer’s face. His forehead is blazing hot, but he lets out a little sigh at the contact.
While his back and chest plate were removed at some point, Boil still has his vambrace on. He angles his arm so that the cool plastoid is against Waxer’s cheek. Letting out another sigh, Waxer finally relaxes, head resting against Boil’s arm.
Feeling somehow exhausted just from those small movements, Boil shifts a bit to get comfortable, making sure that he can keep hold of Waxer’s hand. Once he’s satisfied that Waxer is settled, he closes his eyes again.