Chapter Text
For the average person, being sick is the one time that makes them feel like a shell of a person, a rotting stiff husk of who they are day to day… unless, of course, you are Aventurine of Stratagems, for being Aventurine of Stratagems means you are always a shell of a person; an empty body playing at being human.
On good days the numb feeling of his limbs would lessen enough for him to feel distant sensations. It was often pain, but it was something. On the worst of days, he honestly couldn't remember feeling anything at all. He existed on autopilot in an alarmingly frequent manner. Unfortunately, in many cases it was for the best.
Smile. Say something flirty, perhaps a particularly clever innuendo. Leave a lingering touch or two. Smile some more. One didn't need much else to perfect the role of ‘Aventurine of Stratagems’.
‘Aventurine of Stratagems' was just a warm body and a placating smile.
For someone who experienced life primarily in out-of-body experiences, sickness always hit Aventurine with a terrifying realness. The average person would take refuge in rest, in letting their body do all the work to recover, but the only thing keeping a workaholic like him from ignoring it entirely was the way his boney frame heaved and shook with the effort of throwing up. And, awkwardly enough, Jade of Credit on the other end of the phone line hearing it all and demanding he ‘not dare step into the office like that’.
There were probably many projects waiting on his input today, none he could care to name, but sometimes it felt like the other side of Aventurine's luck would rear its ugly head in these very situations. He had a talent for staying alive in all manner of unlikely situations, yes, but he had a similar talent in disappointing those around him. He could not forget that he was a cog in the meticulous machine that was the IPC. Cogs couldn’t afford extended sick leave, no matter how important they had unfortunately become.
Perhaps he should have let himself die all those years ago. Or, more accurately, perhaps the cruel forces pulling him along by the strings that held him up as fate’s favorite marionette should have left him in the hot sands of Sigonia-IV to rot with his family.
But maybe it was not deserved. Maybe he hadn't earned it yet. The strings only pulled tighter. Maybe one day he could fashion them into a noose. He had to do everything himself, huh?
Aventurine couldn’t remember when he left his comfortable bed and ended up on the plush bath mat on the stark white tiles of his bathroom floor, nor did he remember even calling Jade in the first place, but his surroundings were suggesting just that: Sitting hunched over the side of the bath tub with his phone on the tiles in front of him, the screen showed a recent outgoing call to Jade. That could have easily been a hallucination, Jade insisting he not go to work, but Aventurine wasn't going to argue with her. Real or not.
What did she even say?
Probably something important. Definitely something he should have remembered. But Aventurine’s head was hot and swimming.
At least he couldn't argue if he couldn't even recall the interaction.
The cool press of the bathtub did wonders for him when he lowered his forehead to it. Perhaps the toilet to his right made more sense for the actual throwing up part, but the wide lip of the tub was more comfortable to drape across. It felt a little dramatic, the way he sprawled out on the floor in his silk pajamas. Like a housewife with a nasty hangover… That sort of role was suited for him, Aventurine thought, being expensive arm candy.
Aventurine momentarily wondered if it would be better for him to lean back and stretch across the bath mats on the floor, but quickly abandoned the idea when his stomach protested. The cramp in his gut tightened, but no combination of staying still or stretching could relieve Aventurine of the pain. He flailed his limbs for a moment before giving up.
He knew this feeling well—the horrible limbo of knowing you have to puke, knowing your stomach could only grow comfortable once more after expelling the last traces of your insides, but having to wait and wait and—
Aventurine stuck two fingers down his throat, just far enough to force a hard gag from his lips.
He threw up a few more times before his stomach settled, no longer screaming with every movement.
He eventually made it back to the solace of his cold white sheets and open bedroom window, but he wouldn't remember how he got there either. Every moment of consciousness felt fake.
When he shivered, three sets of wide eyes and soft paws would press close and nuzzle against the blankets. When his temperature would wane, the same loyal creatures would make an effort to pull back his covers and pull back the curtain—not enough for the light outside to be offensive, but enough to encourage a breeze through the open window into the stale room.
There was a vague awareness through the haze of sporadic sleep. Awareness that Aventurine was being watched over by the snacks, the three catcakes that Ratio had left him to take care of. The fact that it was the other way around at present felt laughable. Such a poor choice, especially by someone so smart.
But intelligence does not equal wisdom.
To love Aventurine is to suffer him. To be within his orbit is to concede to one’s own destruction. It would even come for the catcakes in time— what if through their dutiful care Aventurine rolls over and squashes them?
Aventurine's eyebrows knit together at the thought, just barely remaining in the blurred edges of consciousness to feel the heaviness of his body, but not enough to do anything if he tried. The feeling was not unlike the times he’d been stuck in a medically induced coma… at least he was in the comfort of his own apartment this time. No doctors or nurses poking and prodding at him—
What would Doctor Ratio say? Would he scold Aventurine? Would his harsh words and stern reprimands taper off? Would he sigh? Quietly declare “You need to take better care of yourself…” in a painfully soft tone?
His imagination was surely getting better, the way Aventurine could all but feel the dip in his mattress where Ratio's weight would settle next to him. Where Ratio's hand would sweep his bangs from his hazy eyes and feel his forehead for his temperature. How the antsy snacks would watch all the while, giving their opinions on the matter in low sad chirps.
It was a pretty dream, to conjure up concern from Ratio. To let his muddled mind sift through all the ideas of being doted on.
They weren't ideas conjured from nothing—the best ones had a hint of memory to them. Of his mama cradling his head as she fed him medicine from a bent spoon. Of his big sister singing him lullabies in a language he couldn't remember. Soft touches he knew were a lifetime ago. Soft touches he would never experience again—all the false ones from his life in between now and then had ruined enough for him.
But the memory was sweet.
How would Ratio touch him? Would he similarly hold Aventurine close? Slowly feed him home remedies? Sing him old folk songs to sleep? Or would he—
Aventurine felt his arms first, and then the pressure on his chest, before he jerked awake. One of the catcakes was nestled on top of him, asleep. Aventurine blinked the crusties from his eyes. A limp hand wiped the drool from his face, missing the first time before trying again.
Yes, he remembered now. He somehow made it to bed from the bathroom floor.
Turning to the right, Aventurine could see the curtain billow in the breeze. Fresh air was good. To his left, two cups took up space on his bedside table that he didn't remember giving permission to—a glass cup of something clear (Water? Vodka?) and a mug of something that was probably once hot and steaming if the tea bag hanging off the edge of the rim was any indication.
Did he even own tea bags? He couldn't remember a lot of bits and pieces from the morning, but Aventurine did know for a fact he did not brew tea. It was something he could not even remember the last time did such a thing.
Vodka on his side table, however, definitely could have been him.
The blonde shifted, slowly pulling his arm from the blankets as his muscles moved weakly. The catcake on his chest stirred from the movement, protesting with a quiet chirp. The weight on his chest eased, and Aventurine managed to grab the cup despite the sharp pang of pain in his side.
Taking a sip, it was just room temperature water. How disappointing.
Suddenly all too aware of how his throat felt like sandpaper, Aventurine gulped down a few more mouthfuls. Perhaps too overzealous with it, he inhaled too quickly and choked. Coughing loudly, Aventurine startled the catcake at his side into retreating off the bed. He shakily lowered the cup back to the bedside table as he gasped for air between awkward coughs.
While he was focused on breathing again, he would find himself surprised by the sudden light touch to his right hip and another to his left cheek. The touch gently guided Aventurine’s face up in the slightest of tilts—pink-blue eyes met the ruby sunset Aventurine was alarmingly familiar with. The air was ironically punched out of his lungs once again as the soft voice of the doctor encouraged him, “just breathe”.
Aventurine really should have died tied up in his own puppet strings before he let himself dare to dream such a lovely sight: the esteemed Doctor Ratio at his bedside, his white dress shirt creased and unbuttoned one button too low, his hair halfway pinned out of his face with his rectangular reading glasses perched on the edge of his lovely prominent nose, the golden glasses chain dangling as his head was tilted forward and his eyes—his attention—was locked on a surely sweaty, ugly Aventurine.
But perhaps fate was just cruel enough that this could be real, the ever handsome doctor expending far too much energy and time on a sickly empty vessel like Aventurine, cheeks red and eyes unfocused with dry lips that probably carried the remnants of what he had expelled from his stomach only some time ago, minutes if not hours. It was laughable to think this was how Ratio would spend his morning, but not impossible.
The weight of the doctor’s large calloused hands proved to be a grounding source on Aventurine's hip and cheek as his breathing steadied. Yes, fate was this cruel it seemed.
“To what do I owe this pleasure?” Aventurine rasped, trying to plaster on a lazy smile but only causing his dry lips to split.
Ratio's thick eyebrows furrowed. His hand on Aventurine's cheek brushed his golden bangs away before touching the Stoneheart's forehead again with the veiny back of his hand.
Then his touch retracted all together as he leaned back, giving Aventurine space. It took a fair amount of willpower for Aventurine to not chase after the lost contact.
“I received a phone call from Jade of Credit.” He said, as if that explained anything to Aventurine.
When Aventurine said nothing, only blinked slowly, Ratio offered up more information.
“She indicated to me that you were sick. And kindly requested I check in on you.”
“Ah, you got ordered to play nurse.” Aventurine nodded, knowing just how Jade’s ‘kind requests’ go. “Isn't that quite beneath you?”
Aventurine was only making an offensive quip of the titles—nurse vs doctor—but Ratio looked taken aback by that. The crease between his eyebrows scrunched cutely as his mouth dropped agape, searching for the words before he protested.
“I assure you, ensuring the well-being of my partner is no such thing.”
Aventurine slow blinked again. His eyebrows raised before they fell back into fixed neutrality. He laid his head back down into the pillows.
“Okay,” He said softly, closing his eyes.
Ratio didn't move, at least Aventurine didn't feel him shift on the bed beside him. “You have nothing more to say?”
“What else could I say?” Aventurine cracked an eye open to study the blur that was the way Ratio's glasses slipped further down his nose. “I believe you, doc.”
A small noise died in Ratio's throat. The doctor reached out to brush Aventurine's locks from his face once again. Surely that was unnecessary given how Ratio had felt his temperature only moments prior—but Aventurine would forget that little action so quickly that he couldn't pick it apart in his mind like he usually did.
“Rest, damned gambler.” Ratio murmured, a certain fondness in his tone that Aventurine would also quickly forget. “I’ll just be in the other room. Call to me, should you need anything.”
Aventurine was too far in sleep’s grasp when Ratio's words were spoken to truly understand them. He slipped into the comfortable embrace of darkness.
When he woke some time later, stumbling out of bed, hitting the side of his dresser hard and scrambling for grip, Aventurine was surprised when the doctor came running in from the other room.
Large hands steadied Aventurine, shifting all of his weight in a way that made Aventurine feel light and boneless. It was a lot of sensations at once, the way his stomach flipped a few times too.
“Heyyy doc.” He hummed.
“What in the world do you think you're doing?” Ratio nearly hissed, adjusting his grip.
“I have work to do.” Aventurine insisted with an attempt to step towards the door.
Keyword: Attempt. Ratio wasn't letting Aventurine go anywhere.
“I think not. Jade has forwarded the most pressing matters to Topaz or myself.” Ratio said, guiding Aventurine back to bed. “The only thing you’ll be doing is resting.”
“It's a Wednesday. You have two afternoon classes.” Aventurine insisted, a half argument left hanging in the air.
“It's Thursday.”
“You still have a class. And… guild stuff.” Aventurine waved his hand vaguely as Ratio pushed the stubborn man into bed.
Aventurine just barely complied. His eyebrows raised in a playful placid manner, his weak body in no position to protest against Ratio's manhandling.
“I cancelled my class. And the ‘guild stuff’.”
“Nooo!” Aventurine insisted with a long drawn out ‘o’, sounding scandalized. “There's no way the doctor Veritas Ratio could clear his schedule so easily! So last minute!”
“But I did.” Ratio insisted, his tone so matter-of-fact against Aventurine's spirited slurred speech.
“No.” Aventurine repeated, quieter this time.
“I did. I am still working remotely, mind you, but I—”
“You couldn't.” Aventurine interrupted quietly. He wasn’t joking anymore. His eyebrows had lowered in confusion and his eyes burned with something neither party understood nor acknowledged.
“I did.” Ratio insisted one last time, a whisper mimicking Aventurine’s own.
The Stoneheart finally let himself slowly fall back into one of many pillows on the bed. He looked at Ratio for a moment, studying him with those sad furrowed brows, before he turned away. His cheek felt the refreshing cold of the pillow as he pulled the blanket up over him to his chin. Ratio carefully tucked the bedsheets around him.
He said nothing else, nor did he look at Ratio again. The doctor remained for a few minutes longer before Aventurine felt the weight against him on the mattress disappear.
Here was another person subjected to suffer through knowing Aventurine, to be inconvenienced by the man laying stiff and near lifeless in his too-big king sized bed.
He wouldn't be so cocky to assume anyone would care for him. To expect sacrifice. So, to somehow be given it all the same, seemingly freely and without expectation of a favor in return (for the Doctor didn't believe in transactional relationships like that. He made his dislike for how Aventurine operated quite known on many occasions) was entirely confounding. Aventurine could so easily make a case on how even in a hundred years of doing nothing but kind, selfless acts, he would never be worthy. Worthy of this level of care. Of thought. Of sacrifice.
Aventurine believed that he could only bring misery upon those who loved him, so Aventurine couldn't allow himself to be loved—he didn't want to watch the ones he cared for the most suffer anymore. His parents, His sister, a few friends made when he was too young and naive to know better... To watch them slip through his fingers like the golden sands of his homeland? He had done so enough times already to believe he had to nip any affection in the bud before it could bloom into a terrible all-consuming thing.
To even be forced to admit his own care for the Doctor right now was frustrating enough.
Aventurine only got out of bed again when he was sure he had enough strength to not immediately crash into his furniture like before. Instead, he slipped on a robe and tied it tight around his waist and found his slippers, plastering on a damn good facade of health and wellness onto his face before shuffling out of his bedroom like an old man.
Ratio had set up a temporary workspace at Aventurine's too large and too fancy dining table. At Aventurine's entrance into the room from the hall, Ratio looked up at him over the edge of his slate grey laptop. Aventurine could hear the moment Ratio stopped typing.
“Aventurine.”
“Doctor.”
Aventurine shuffled closer. Ratio sat back in his chair, raising a brow and fixing him with a glare.
“I'm already feeling so much better.” Aventurine insisted, stepping close enough to lean his hand against the table, the other waving Ratio off. “You're free to go about your regular schedule now.”
“If you mean to suggest my previous engagements, they have since been rescheduled.” Ratio said. The loud clack of typing resumed before he even finished the sentence.
Aventurine raised a brow before his tone went flat. “I do insist.”
“And I insist that my calendar is arranged exactly as it needs to be.”
Despite Aventurine's still sickness-addled brain, Ratio's wording was enough to make him suspicious. He stuck by that stupid calendar religiously! Hands slipped into his robe pocket to, surprisingly, find his phone. He didn't remember that… it must have been Ratio who put it there.
Aventurine pulled it out and unlocked it as Ratio kept typing. Loading up the doctor's oh-so-meticulous calendar (shared with him for work purposes, of course), Aventurine was surprised to see on today's date that it was all blocked off in teal, black letters stating ‘MEETING WITH DIRECTOR AVENTURINE’ written every hour.
“Ha, How unlike you.” Aventurine said flatly. “This is no meeting, I mean, it’s not like we're actually discussing business.”
Ratio continued to type. “I’d argue when you are conscious we have been discussing the business of getting you well again. It's a shame you're not as invested in it as I am.”
“Ratio.”
“Aventurine.” Ratio stopped typing again, leaning back in his chair once more to look at Aventurine. He was disappointed, that much was clear.
“This is hardly fair, don't you think?” Aventurine hummed, trying not to sound as annoyed as he was.
“I believe it was you who taught me that it's not good practice to expect your opponent to always play fair.” Ratio countered far too easily.
Aventurine sighed. His shoulders slumped as he physically deflated. He was too tired for this. Curse him for giving Ratio that little nugget of advice. Curse Ratio for listening. “So you're just going to sit at my dining table all day?”
“I can sit with you in the room if you'd like.” Ratio offered instead, sitting up.
“No, that's… worse.” Aventurine shook his head. He wasn't going to think about all that right now, about the distant hazy dream-or-maybe-not-a-dream from earlier of Ratio’s diligent caretaking.
Ratio's eyebrows moved, only slightly, but he conceded. “Then yes, I will remain here. But you should go back to bed.”
The scholar stood from Aventurine's fancy dining room chair, using his hands pressed against the table for leverage. In two quick strides the taller man was in Aventurine's space, leaning down to press the back of his hand to Aventurine's forehead again. Forcing himself to swallow and not wince, Aventurine's throat felt bone dry once more.
Ratio clicked his tongue “Your fever hasn't broken.”
Aventurine's body went stiff in the crushing presence of the doctor leaning down into his personal space. His breath suddenly felt far away, his lungs empty and abruptly unable to be filled by air. The stoneheart only had a moment to feel alarmed before his eyelids felt too heavy and his limbs felt like they were tied down by weights. Oh, how he knew exactly what that feeling was. Aventurine's knees buckled, his frame falling forward into warmth.
In the last dregs of consciousness Aventurine felt weightless again, warmth burning under his knees, a spot on his back, and his side where he pressed against the heat.
Aventurine didn't remember anything after that.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
He was getting his briefcase in order to go to the University of Veritas Prime to start his office hours early when Dr. Veritas Ratio got a call that would derail his day completely.
His phone screen lit up with the words LADY BONAJADE (IPC), and Ratio let it buzz once, then twice, before picking up with a heavy sigh. He did not have a chance to give a proper greeting before Jade immediately began explaining the situation followed by a request of a personal favor. Even though Ratio was not technically an IPC employee, it was still as good as an order coming from her.
Aventurine was sick, apparently. He needed to be monitored. He would refuse care from anyone else. That was the gist of it, at least.
After all this time in their partnership raving on about his good health—“Why, I don't get hangovers, Ratio.”, “Food pyramid? Isn't that just IPC propaganda, Ratio?”, “Honestly, a few pain pills will do the trick, Ratio.”—well, the doctor couldn't help but feel a bit vindicated over his neglected advice. He was not one to say 'I told you so', he was raised better than that, but in this moment it was a near thing.
When that feeling settled, however, when Jade abruptly hung up on him, a more pressing thought came to mind: When was the last time Aventurine of Stratagems was sick? Perhaps it was warranted for Jade to call a doctor of all people to his side—did he know how to take care of himself? What if he was just laying sprawled out on the bathroom floor like Jade had insinuated? Ratio had caught Aventurine bleeding out mid-mission enough times before (twice) that an image came easily to mind.
It's why Ratio had cancelled his lecture. And why Ratio had ran into Aventurine's bedroom when he heard him clamour against the furniture. And why now Ratio carried Aventurine like precious cargo in his arms back to bed.
Well, not quite.
Ratio held Aventurine to his chest with his hand tucked under the Stoneheart's knees and the other cradling his back. A ‘princess carry’ he was sure it was called. He was sure to tuck Aventurine’s face into his chest to keep his limp neck from rolling around. Ratio took him into the spare room instead of the master.
Once Aventurine was offloaded onto the guest bed, placed with care and tucked into the sheets with two of the catcakes hopping up to snuggle at his side, Ratio headed back to the main bedroom. He sighed at the tangle of sheets, the crumpled blankets, and the half open bedside table with evidence of a few undetermined pills taken since the last time Ratio had checked on him. He quickly got to work.
The last of the three snacks had decided to ‘help’ Ratio by weaving between his feet as he puttered around the bedroom. The man drew back the curtains further and opened the window wider, stripping the sheets off the bed and preparing the linens to be laundered. Luckily doing so without tripping over his catcake helper.
Belatedly, Ratio wondered if he should help Aventurine shower as he was probably only sweating on himself more. Maybe that was a task for later, when Aventurine was at least semi-conscious. Truthfully, Ratio was confident in his ability to care for a patient in a strictly medical diagnostic way, but his bedside manner left much to be desired.
He knew he was not a ‘patient forward personality’ as his colleagues had called him. Not understanding at the time, he asked for clarification, the jape apparently meaning Ratio had ‘no natural customer service’. He scolded them for referring to patients as customers, and they stopped pestering him after that.
Ratio sighed, still ill at ease.
Could he soothe Aventurine like his colleagues could? Coax him into taking the proper medicines? Aventurine would also prove to be a uniquely stubborn patient who would refuse any care in the first place, given he already had. Given it was even well known to Jade. Perhaps that was the very thing that made Ratio uniquely suited for this role, knowing Aventurine so personally… or he was just the easiest doctor for Jade to order around.
He took the sheets out to the common area of the apartment, the lone catcake still trailing at his feet. He blinked, dropping the sheets onto the chair he had been sitting in previously when he had been fumbling around on his computer to feel busy. That's right, Aventurine didn't have in-house laundry. Ratio had somehow forgotten a whole conversation they once had: how Aventurine ‘didn’t need it’ and how ‘he always paid someone to do all his laundry and dry cleaning’. Ratio's heart squeezed in his chest. The fact of the matter was that Aventurine was probably never taught how to do it himself.
The catcake chirped at him, rousing Ratio from his thoughts. The man looked at the wide eyed creature before giving a small gesture with his hand. “Yes?”
The snack chirped again. Ratio didn't know how he was supposed to interpret that. He didn't even know which catcake this was, if Aventurine had bothered to name them at all. The catcake gave a third, sadder chirp before Ratio realized that Aventurine surely hadn't fed them yet today.
It didn't take the doctor very long to rifle through the pantry and find the big bag of food, pouring out what he expected to be an adequate amount in three spaced apart bowls. Before Ratio could prepare himself for it, there were distant thumps against the wood floors as the other two catcakes came skidding into the room diving face first into the same bowl. They slapped at each other some until Ratio wordlessly parted them, pushing one of the catcakes to the unattended bowl. The snack chirped happily before resuming its messy eating.
Taking the moment of reprieve, Ratio decided to check on Aventurine without any eager assistants running between his feet.
Aventurine had untucked himself from the covers, seemingly having writhed around in the bed. Stepping quietly forward another pace, Ratio could see how sweat had plastered Aventurine's golden locks to his forehead and how his face grimaced in his sleep. This didn't look quite like a cold or flu. Maybe food poisoning? If anything it was more like—
Ratio could feel his stomach drop. Or maybe it was his heart, with how he felt his pulse in his ears and a lump forming in his throat. He yanked the covers from Aventurine, earning a shudder from the blonde, but the movement didn't wake him. Ratio's hands fumbled with the buttons of Aventurine’s pajamas, opting to just pull the fabric apart when he was down to the last two, unceremoniously ripping the fastenings off the silk. His large calloused hands traced Aventurine’s pale, thin body. He flipped him every which way until he found what he was looking for. What he was hoping wouldn't be there.
Marring the space between Aventurine’s left hip and his ribs was the remnants of a puckered cut, half stitched up and half red, angrily puffing up visibly under the bandages. Ratio clicked his tongue, hesitating perhaps too long before rushing out of the room to quickly scrub his hands clean. Under the bathroom sink was a half decent excuse for a first-aid kit, at least.
He nearly tripped on a rogue catcake rushing back to the bedroom.
The doctor peeled the bandages away carefully, knowing better than to breathe in the smell of such an infected, oozing mess.
Ratio swore under his breath. He could already feel the cold sweat of guilt dripping down his spine. This was as much on him as it was on Aventurine. Such a wound was surely sustained on their last mission together—how long ago now? How did he not notice? And since then how had he never suspected that Aventurine was harboring such a wound, quietly trying to fix himself up instead of seeking the proper care? Why wouldn't he seek proper care—
Why wouldn't he at least trust Ratio?
No. It was just like Aventurine to not say anything. But Ratio still should have figured it out sooner.
The Doctor fumbled with the saline solution before dripping it over Aventurine's wound. The man winced in his sleep. He made careful work of cleaning it, even if he knew this was only interim care before he could get Aventurine to a proper medical facility. Ratio tore a new bandage open, covering the wound before Aventurine could squirm around too much. It was almost better that he stayed unconscious so he wouldn't swat at hands only trying to help him.
Ratio called Jade first, and then his most relevant contact in Pierpoint’s hospital, and then eventually Topaz for good measure.
The time spent waiting for Jade’s dispatched team to come and escort Aventurine away felt like hours. Why they couldn't take him in an ambulance he didn't know. The ride to the hospital passed like a blur all the same. Ratio left his laptop in Aventurine’s apartment. He left the catcakes as they chirped at Aventurine being hauled off on a gurney. Topaz promised she'd stop by and care for the snacks, but Ratio felt guilty all the same. All of his responsibilities were slipping through his fingers as he failed at the most important one.
There was a fuzziness to the edges of Ratio's vision, the world around him a nauseating haze of constant unfocused movement. Aventurine was ushered into a room. Doctors scrambled through the halls. Attending to the Stoneheart? To other patients? Ratio had lowered himself into a chair lining the hallway, the window into the room they placed Aventurine in was still just within view if he lifted his head.
Ratio did not lift his head, instead sinking in his seat as he lowered his face into his hands, scrubbing them over his eyes. He had insisted on staying with Aventurine, insisted on being one of the doctors in the room. He was met with scrunched eyebrows and downturned lips—pity. He was met with pity by his colleagues as they shook their heads and denied his requests.
He was too close to this, they said. Ratio had argued otherwise. How could he be too close to this? It wasn't like they were kin.
But he could see now how his hands shook and his mind swam with all the possibilities. He was in no state to be useful, that much he would relent now that he was removed enough from the situation to understand his state of mind.
Leave it to the damn gambler to get into his head.
“–ctor. Doctor?”
A tap to Ratio's shoulder made his head jerk up out of his hands. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the light, his mind catching up again to his surroundings. He must regain his composure.
An attendant, Ratio regretfully didn't recall her name, stood in front of the doctor with a clipboard in hand. She wore the tailored uniform of a miscellaneous, forgettable, IPC employee. Probably one serving under Jade.
“Doctor… Ratio?” She repeated herself as if she were unsure she had the right person.
“Y-yes?” Ratio’s voice cracked before he cleared his throat. “My apologies, what can I do for you?”
The woman observed him for a moment too long before looking back down to her clipboard. She looked between him and her papers a few times before seemingly gaining the confidence to finish what she started. “Uhm, the diagnosis for Director Aventurine they found to be–”
“Sepsis.”
“Uh, yes. They’re determining a treatment plan but have requested your input.” The girl consulted her clipboard again. “Lady Bonajade specifically has requested your input.”
Ratio's brows furrowed. He had just admitted to himself how unhelpful he would be at Aventurine’s side, why would they…?
Well, Jade outranked them, that's why.
“Most of the medications they wish to utilize have never been tested on anyone from Sigonia or any of the surrounding star clusters.” The attendant continued with stiff words, as if they were unpleasant to say.
Ratio could feel his shoulders slump, his stomach dropping for the second time today. For a moment he even wondered if there was something wrong with himself as well, the way he had horrible anxiety swirling in his gut.
“They're worried about killing the last known Avgin.” Ratio said.
He understood her mannerisms now, as the words felt horrible in his mouth. As if it was someone else speaking such a thing.
The woman paused. The answer to that was not found on her clipboard it seemed, given how she stuttered and stumbled over her words. “Uhm, well, you are the doctor present most familiar with Director Aventurine’s records.”
That was not a no. That was so far from being a denial. In some ways, Ratio was grateful that Aventurine's health was being so prioritized, that they wouldn't write him off as more effort than his worth, as a net loss. He was well aware of how the IPC worked by now. As long as Aventurine remained an asset, it was in the IPC’s better interest to actually do something.
Ratio was grateful for this, but also terribly ashamed in his gratitude. This “special treatment” did not come with any sort of freedom. Everything came with a price. He did not have to observe Aventurine long to understand such a thing.
The doctor closed his eyes, scrubbing his rough hands over them again. He could now see why, at least part of the reason, that Aventurine kept his wound hidden.
“Take me to him then,” Ratio said, hauling himself up out of the chair.
The attendant watched him rise to his full height before nodding. “Ah, yes, follow me.”
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
The flowers on his bedside had wilted by the time Aventurine woke up.
He did not remember putting them there, nor did he remember receiving them at all. Stretching wider awake, Aventurine’s arms moved across the bedsheets in search of his catcakes. At least one of the snacks would snuggle up to him, and if he slept in as much as he felt like he did (feeling ragged and sleep-fucked), they should be pawing at him and chirping in his ear for food.
Aventurine jerked up in bed when he felt nothing, now making the effort to get his bearings.
This was not his bedroom, nor was it his guest room. It was not anywhere that existed in his apartment at all, but a hospital. White sterile curtains and too bright fluorescent lights made that much abundantly clear. A fucking IPC hospital.
A sense of betrayal washed over him first, a burning annoyance—no, anger—overpowering the ache in his side. The corners of his eyes prickled with the threat of tears as he took a steadying breath. Who had put him here? He’d bleed out in his own bathtub before—
The door to his room slammed open with force. Familiar indigo hair shielded the even more familiar sunset eyes from Aventurine's view before the man took a slow few steps forward to the hospital bed. Aventurine was once more abruptly aware how dry his throat was. It felt like sandpaper, just as it had earlier. He turned away, reaching for the water on the bedside table.
“Allow me,” Ratio whispered, reaching out to grasp the cup where Aventurine failed to reach, gently tucking it into the blonde's shaky hands. Aventurine didn't know what to do with that, only holding the cup and watching the surface of the water shake. He brought it to his lips, realizing how dry they were when the water tipped into his mouth. How long had he been asleep? How long had he been here?
A slow sip turned to eager gulps. Ratio's hand moved to rub soothing circles into Aventurine's back. It wasn't unwelcome, but it felt… out of place. He finished off the water cup before slowly lowering it. Ratio took it from his hands to place back over to the side, but his soothing touch on Aventurine's back remained.
The Stoneheart said nothing. He didn't even know what he could say. He remained sitting half slumped and trying to maintain what little sense of composure or dignity he had left. But how was he supposed to do that? He didn't look artfully disheveled now, did he? Instead, Aventurine was sure he looked dehydrated, pale, and sickly with tubes sticking out of him in every which way. A shiver ran down his spine. He felt nauseous at the thought of it.
“How are you feeling?” Ratio asked softly.
Aventurine still couldn't bring himself to speak, looking at Ratio from behind his golden bangs. The less he took in of his surroundings the better. The doctor’s free hand found the Stoneheart’s among the hospital blankets, taking it into his own and gripping it tight.
This was guilt, Aventurine decided. Ratio was in his apartment. They were both in the safety of his own home (despite how rarely Aventurine considered it ‘home’), and now they were here? It wasn't a stranger that broke in to shackle Aventurine to the confines of iv tubes and beeping equipment—it was Ratio.
Someone he knew. Someone he trusted.
“Aventurine?”
“I'm tired, Ratio.” He finally responded, voice rough and quiet from disuse.
Ratio's eyebrows furrowed together, but he quietly retracted his touch. Aventurine lowered himself back down into the stiff hospital pillows, turning his body away from the visitor. He was tired, his body drained from the effort of getting better, whatever it was that happened. Maybe he got worse before he got better. He didn't know.
How long had he been here?
“I’ll be here, should you need anything.” Ratio spoke to Aventurine’s back.
Aventurine did not dignify that with a response.
In the days that followed, Aventurine would quietly bar Dr. Ratio from his visitor’s list. He did not take his calls, he did not answer his texts, and he did not entertain messages from him conveyed through Topaz.
Ratio had only tried that approach once before Topaz removed herself from the equation, quickly making herself a neutral uninvolved party.
The next time Aventurine even saw the man was once again in the now compromised safety of his own apartment. How ironic was that?
Aventurine had just returned from a short assignment; he had only been allowed on small non-strenuous projects since he began his recovery. His apartment door opened to the sight of Dr. Ratio standing in the center of his living room, two catcakes nestled into his arms as the third clawed at his pant leg in an attempt for attention.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Aventurine asked, so taken aback that he spoke without thinking—no playful facade, no minced words, only unfiltered frustration.
Ratio looked up, but he did not wince or shrink away. “The catcakes needed to be fed.”
“Which is why I asked Topaz to check in on them.” Aventurine replied stiffly.
“She was sent on her own assignment.” Ratio remained calm, nearly deadpan.
“Sent on her own—you’ve got to be joking.” Aventurine huffed under his breath.
The blonde stepped forward, picking up the catcake that was attacking Ratio's pant leg and holding it in his arms. The snack wiggled in protest, little paws scrambling to get out of Aventurine's grasp as it mrowled in distress. The two catcakes in Ratio's arms grew concerned, and like toddlers the snacks were all whining and wiggling about until both men were forced to release them.
“Aventurine—”
“Can you just stop? Please? I don't want to do this right now.” Aventurine sighed.
He had a long day. He could feel the exhaustion in his bones. His negotiations went south far too quickly, and he was not ready to admit to himself or Jade that things could have been salvaged if Ratio was there. If Aventurine hadn't refused to work with him since he was in the hospital. But how could he, after that?
“I don't know what I did,” Ratio’s voice was suddenly rough, raw with emotion not conveyed through his usual stoicism. “But we really should speak. I wish to be on good terms with you again.”
“You don't know what you did?” Aventurine echoed, the weeks of frustration tasting like bile in his throat. “You're not that stupid, Ratio.”
Ratio's expression cracked, his composure faltering as he frowned. “Are you truly upset I brought you to the hospital?”
“You betrayed my trust!” Aventurine didn't yell, he was never one to yell, but his voice was certainly raised, a bit desperate for Ratio to understand. “How can you not see that?”
“I'm trying to.” Ratio responded just as quickly. “Trying to understand you, I mean. If I had, I could have helped you sooner. Things wouldn't have gone the way they did. I could have helped you.”
“You don't get it.” Aventurine turned away, running his hands over his face and sweeping them in his hair in an attempt to ease the stress he felt in his facial muscles.
“Surely treatment wouldn't incur such a crippling debt—”
“Debt? How could I ‘incur debt’ when I'm just another thing they own? You just don't get it. Every time I'm sick or injured I subject myself to playing lab rat for them.”
Ratio's thick brows pinched together further, he shook his head but remained speechless. Perhaps in disbelief, perhaps still only processing Aventurine's meaning, or perhaps encouraging Aventurine to continue.
“They tested like six different medications on me, Ratio. While I was dying of sepsis.” He stated. “Did you know that?”
“N.. no.” Ratio shook his head. “No, no they wanted to. They said they didn't know what would work for you, but I wouldn't let them.”
“I got a hold of my records myself,”
“No. I wouldn't let them.” Ratio was firm with the slow repetition of his words, enough so that Aventurine went quiet. “Many things were considered, yes, but in the end you were only administered intravenous fluids and antibiotics. Meropenem. I oversaw it myself.”
“What about all the other stuff in my chart…?” Aventurine’s argument had begun to die in his throat, part of him holding on to Ratio's words.
“Let me read it. They were probably only included to list what was considered, but ultimately ruled out.” He coaxed Aventurine gently, taking a step forward. “I did not make myself likable, taking over your treatment the way I did. But I promise you, I did not let them use anything too experimental or anything that was not necessary for your immediate recovery.”
Aventurine had always prided himself on being a quick study, always catching on to things fast and being able to read people in an instant. But Ratio? The good Dr. Veritas Ratio? His motives were so impossible to understand, coming from a strange place of both well-studied intelligence and a well-meaning heart. Aventurine had gotten to a place of being able to predict his moves or words, but never being able to say with confidence why.
Even now, he couldn't understand why.
But maybe it was only Aventurine's own experience coloring his perception. He had never been in a position where he could afford to be so selfless. Not since he was a child in the sweltering sands of Sigonia-IV.
“You still,” Aventurine had to clear his throat, the emotion threatening to break through him like a dam about to burst. It was beyond frustrating, feeling this helplessly vulnerable. “You still betrayed my trust.”
“You were dying!”
“Then you should have let me die!”
Aventurine's words hung heavy in the air. Ratio's mouth fell slightly agape, wobbling with unsaid words like a fish suddenly dumped ashore. His eyebrows knit together as he looked at Aventurine with concern… or was it speechless horror on his face? Disbelief that such a thought could be said so casually? Aventurine bristled, his arms tucking close to hold himself. He looked away, turning his whole body.
If he didn't look, he didn't have to face it.
Ratio was in Aventurine's space before he could register it, hands on his shoulder and elbow. “I apologize, for failing you, but that option would have never crossed my mind.”
Aventurine’s expression scrunched up, continuing to look away as a look of dislike plastered itself on his face as he processed that. He opened his mouth to speak but Ratio barrelled forward anyway.
“I went to such lengths because I care about you. Not your numbers or statistics as an employee, but because I care about you.” He explained, red-orange eyes searching Aventurine's in earnest. “I thought you understood that.”
Aventurine was startled to say the least, uncomfortable even. He never knew what to do when somebody bared their soul to him… Not that it was a common occurrence, but the idea of it was still… well, uncomfortable.
What was he meant to do? What did Ratio want from him, truly? What was the precalculated ending to all this?
His eyes searched Ratio's back, looking between each red-gold iris as his face contorted against his will with raw emotion. His body had stiffened further under Ratio's touch without permission.
Once there was a time when the only person he didn't mind the touch of was none other than Ratio, but it seemed that since they had been at odds in the past weeks, that sort of permission had been rescinded by his body. Everything was foreign now, and that made everything bad. It was not what he wanted, his heart protesting against his chest, but it was what was coming to pass.
Once again, what did Ratio want from him? He was only good for giving people what they want. That was who ‘Aventurine of Stratagems’ was.
Aventurine's head tipped up. His jaw went slack, and he pressed a kiss to Ratio's slightly parted lips.
The world went still as the seconds stretched on uncomfortably long. Ratio didn't move. He made no effort to deepen the kiss, nor did he even seem to reciprocate at all. Aventurine awkwardly pulled away.
Ratio's expression was tight, his lips pursed and eyes misty with clear hurt shining in them. This was not the response Aventurine intended to elicit. This was not the kind of response a kiss from Aventurine had ever gotten—
Ratio's hold on Aventurine retracted, the taller man pulling away.
“I didn't think you would be so cruel.” Ratio voice broke quietly.
The doctor artfully stepped around Aventurine to get to the front door of the apartment. They had an audience of three concerned looking catcakes that neither acknowledged. Embarrassment flared low in Aventurine's stomach, his face heating up. What else was he supposed to do?
Aventurine threw his hands up in frustration. “I don't know what you want from me!”
Ratio paused in his retreat, glancing over his shoulder. “Contact me when you are ready for a mature conversation.”
“Doc— c’mon!” Aventurine called after him. “Don't walk away like you are the one spurned here!”
Ratio said nothing, closing the door behind him. The blonde was now alone with the quiet emptiness of his apartment, left to reconcile with his own actions.
The catcakes silently looked up at him. One shook its small head.
“Fuck.”