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Fëdor was climbing up the stairs. It was the last mountain to conquer for today before he could go sleep for 6 hours and then get up and go to class again.
He was coming back home pretty late recently. Spending all days attending class, working jobs and doing homework inbetween, clones barley saw him at home.
Each step got heavier as he was nearing his goal. Headache pressing down on his head, his body shaking from weakness and fatigue. Grasping onto the handrails as if his life depended on it. Did he get sick? Or is it because he hasn't eaten anything the whole day? He wasn't really concerned by that at the moment because the only thing that mattered right now was reaching the apartment. Besides, he couldn't afford to be sick right now. Or ever actually. He has to go to class, he has to go to work. He has 8 mouths to feed. He has 8 people to raise. He has to help them get settled. And he's doing pretty good so far. Three of them already found jobs. They are even contributing to pay the living expenses they have.
Unfortunatley it will be long before he manages to pay off the loan he had to take when they appeared. He managed to start paying it off on regular. Sure he had to give up some things to start doing so, but as long as they had everything they need, it was fine. And he himself didn't need much, he couldn't afford anyways.
Finnally he stopped. He sluggishly approached the apartment doors. Barley walking, his head was spinning, his hands shaking as he inserted the key into the lock. All of a sudden, turning that key was the hardest thing in the world. But he pushed trough, he's at the top of the mountain, in front of the shelter. If he doesn't get in he will freeze out in the cold of the mountain peak.
Click.
The doors open. He leans onto the handle to open the doors, barley taking a step to save himself from falling as the doors opened. The hallway was dark, he knew that by this hour everyone would have been asleep.
Of course, he was too tired and weak to notice the yellow eyes across the room reflecting the light from the building hallway. He did not notice so he didn't say anything, not to wake the clones. But he just realised... He also had to get to bed. Come on. One last strain before he's done. One last huzaah and then he will rest for a couple hours untill the cycle repeats.
He took the firsth step. And fell.
His body was no longer able to carry him. The mountain cold froze him. But he didn't fall to the ground. Someone caught him. Someone closed the doors behind him not to let the cold in. Someone saw how much the journey up the mountain tired him. Someone felt how light he has gotten. Someone realised how much he sacraficed to get to the peak. Fedor did not have strength to move. But did it really matter at this point? He was safe in the shelter. The host accepted him in. He's staying for a short time anyways. He doesn't care if they don't have any beds left, he can sleep on the carpet, he doesn't need a bed.
And he can't afford one anyways.
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Fëdor?!
Spade tried to wake Fëdor up. Something is wrong. Something is terribly wrong. Fëdor was not responding, he was burning with a fever, he was too light and thin. Spade's calling woke up the others.
What happened?
Fëdor came home.
He's sick.
We need to call a doctor.
Where's the phone?
What do we do?
Spade carefully carried Fëdor to bed. It was morbidly ironic. He who had only grown stronger since his summoning, carrying his weak creator. Unconcious and completley vunerable... And at his mercy. For a second Spade remembered how much he always fought against his creator. How at the very beginning he even threatened Fëdor's life. And now... Fëdor forfeited it.
This... This isn't right. This is not what he wanted. He never wanted this to happen. Why did he let it happen?
Clones had to do something. They couldn't just stand around as usual, waiting for Fëdor to fix the problem. This time, it won't happen because the hand that feeds is immobilized. They had to help.
Hopefully they take better care of him than he took of himself.