Archive of Our Own ^beta

An object on Earth could and very well may say that One was the most powerful being in existence.

A prodigy in the art of magical craft and the most cunning and clever dealmaker on their side of Goiky, One was everything the average lowly creature aspired to be. Even in her position, a patient yearner for the prize that she sought to claim atop the pedestal, her spot likely looked like first place for the beings that were so far beneath her. Was she perfect? Invincible? Was she the embodiment of complete power and control?

Perhaps they were that and more. Perhaps, upon their freedom from the barren cage that had made itself their home, they were a sort of destructive blessing upon the world. But... there was an adversary far greater and far more disturbing than anything One had encountered before. There was a beast that lurked within the darkest cavities of the body in wait for the perfect opportunity to strike, to bite and leech off of its victim's health like an angry parasite. Something that even a being as formidable and flawless as One couldn't seem to fend off:

Sickness.

It had started as a feeble sniffle, on occasion. She wasn't exactly sure where the sudden, awful, growing sensation of muffled breath and despairing gasps through her mouth seemed to be coming from, but she knew she didn't like it. Then, her temperature decided it didn't like her all that much; as if working against her, it would run irritated chills all along her skin to give the teasing feeling of the cold coming to nip at her. Then it shifted to become hot and searing, and One felt weak as she tried to settle down in her seat and recline it to give her the comfort of a space to sleep. Her body seemed to be betraying her.

At first, One wasn't sure what to call it. They'd dizzily rummage through their bookshelves for some semblance of understanding of the torturous cell that had become of their person, before having to sit down again. They'd summon up a fancy cup of water with the intent to drink it all down only to be met with the horrible, horrible, horrible revelation that the water had seemingly grown teeth. They'd fearfully and violently set the drink onto the table at the feeling of pain lining their throat.

Then her breath decided it wanted to fail her too. In place of her stuffy and unpleasant gasps, there were agitated coughs tenfold. The dizziness started to hurt, manifesting itself as a splitting headache, the likes of which she was sure she hadn't felt since she was small. She would try to conjure up a spell to cure herself — and seconds later, her poor books would catch flame and disintegrate into glittery ashes.

The chain of events that followed was a blur of fuzzy memories. Dazed and gross she was, hobbling out of the saddened ruin that had become of her dimension with a piercing and sickly warmth sucking at her senses and clouding her mind. Maybe she'd thought fresh air would do her some good as she almost instantly felt her weight give in and had to again settle beside a shade-offering bush. She'd sat down to catch her breath. She'd laid down to put some ease on her frail legs. She'd shut her eyes just to rest them. Her head swam, and she remembered the faintest little flicker of orange in the corner of her vision as her consciousness gave out.

The world came back to them in a burning haze.

The first thing to tug her into the waking realm after a particularly bizarre dream was the feeling of air blowing against her, and the whirring of a motor powering it. Instead of grass, her slant was kindly propped up against what felt like an old pillow. Underneath her wasn't quite fabric, rather something vaguely soft and firmly structured, like a particularly sturdy balloon. Atop her was fabric, a thin blanket draped over her form.

The next sounds she noted were the electrical lights buzzing distantly and the echo of a keyboard clicking. One quickly sensed the presence of somebody in the room with them, pacing around, muttering and humming under their breath. Squirming uncomfortably as they came to, One let their eyes flutter open, to which they were immediately met by the dim, shadowed green of the walls around them.

Said eyes stung as they were met with any sort of light, and along with that One was soon made familiar with the awful body heat radiating throughout her. Her mouth opened to breathe in and immediately echoed a terrible, wheezing cough. Instinctively, she leaned in towards the air gracing her from the fan.

…This wasn't her room. That wasn't her fan.

One's senses returned to her. She lurched forward a bit too fast, and was instantly and violently met with a sharp, throbbing pain in her head. She coughed again. Where was she? Her gaze darted around a bit aimlessly, catching the unpleasant sight of electric light from computers in her vision, as well as posters and blueprints stuck to the walls as well as scattered across the floor. Both cork and drawing boards were propped up to the sides of the room, along with a similarly flat, checkered panel set onto the ground. One's bed was stuck in the corner, and the lovely fan she'd come to be thankful for loomed over her atop a small display shelf.

Standing before them was somebody they knew.

Her body was round and much too large for such gangly little legs, and her tiny eyes were animal and dumb. One saw the stunned look of a deer in headlights in the way she'd frozen in place, somewhat silhouetted by the buzzing light of the primitive technology behind her. Her mouth was half-ajar and poised to speak, but she closed it and shook herself off somewhat, like a dog. This was Basketball; One would recognize that pitifully indignant stance anywhere.

Realizing the… mildly unfortunate predicament she was in, she raised to sit upright—

And instantly felt a sharp pain shoot through her head, accompanied by a soft ringing sort of sound. Her breath caught in a dry cough. Humiliating. Through her vision, blurry with tears that formed from the burning sensation in her eyes, she saw Basketball move, inch ever-so-slightly closer to her, and she felt a surge of offense rise in her base. This was the same object who found herself so clever and sneaky that she'd try and helplessly fail to challenge One head-on. One didn't doubt that, if she were to leave a trail of candy or perhaps metal scraps in her wake, Basketball would eagerly follow. Now, she thought she was safe enough to laugh.

Hilarious, why, One would find it quite easy to put her back into her place, once they could sit up. They ignored the pounding in their head as they outstretched a leg to stand upright. They saw Basketball flinch. Good.

"Uh, don't— stop!" Basketball cried out, anything authoritative dying in her odd, air-filled voice. "Hey, don't stand up!" Upon the sound of One's wheezing, Basketball was at her side, swatting her back onto the bed. One would've kicked her away if her legs didn't suddenly feel like jelly. It had become over a hundred degrees in her body again — where was her fan?

One's voice broke out of them with a… less than favorable scratchiness to it. "What is this?"

"This," Basketball began, "is where I'm keeping you until I can turn you in."

There was something… buzzing, inside of her. One assumed it was just the after-effects of hearing Basketball's silly little voice at first, until she realized she could feel it, something vibrating, swimming around in there. Up her back ran a shudder, and all of a sudden, she felt cold. Then hot, all over again. Groaning, the ever-so-powerful integer curled in on herself like a small, malnourished animal.

And Basketball tried to continue, "I'm not gonna hurt you, but—"

"Will you shut up?" One interjected, pressing her poor, sickly slant into the pillow. "You're giving me a headache."

"Wh—"

A giggle echoed from One's dry throat, and, to her dismay, the simple act of letting the sound escape her hurt. "What? Ya thought I'd be-" she stopped to fall into the fit of coughs, the sensation of which akin to ripping her aforementioned throat apart. "Ugh- thought… thought I'd be scared of you? 'Oh, Basketball, please don't hurt me!" One mocked, "Aha, ahaha- oh my math—" and she subsequently descended into an even worse wheezing spell upon daring to keep laughing.

"…You-…" The object's protests died and she steadied her stance as if to look more mature. "It's not me giving you a headache, it's probably your fever!"

One managed to dig words out from the painful noise, "My whuh?"

"Your fever!" Repeated Basketball, exasperated. "You know, you're… sick! I kinda thought you were dead when I found you, and I burned myself trying to touch you…" Beginning to take strides across the room, Basketball stopped for a moment to move the fan a little closer to One. "And I couldn't just leave you out there, so, uh… figured I'd bring you somewhere that wasn't outside in the hot sun. You're welcome, because I seriously considered letting you die out there."

There was going to be something clever and witty One would say in response, but she didn't because she was actively choosing not to entertain Basketball, not because it hurt to speak and swallow and do relatively anything. So she said, "Yeah, yeah," and rolled her eyes. "I'm fii- fine, but thanks."

"You're fine, huh?" Basketball queried with an edge of sarcasm. Seconds later, she reached right over and turned the fan off.

"Wh- hey—!" One's voice raised a pitch as they scrabbled to get back to their beloved fan, aimlessly kicking their foot around before collapsing back onto the bed, their head throbbing, riddled with sickness, sniffling — why was it so hard to breathe? Better yet- what were they even sniffling with?

"You're sick, and you're not gonna get better unless you work with me here! Honestly, I shouldn't even be—"

"I don't… don't listen to people like you. Go back to signing contracts n' stuff."

"Excuse you!"

One sneezed.

Basketball gave a sigh. "…And, yep, it looks like you have an infection on top of it."

One stared at her pointedly through watery eyes, screwing them shut briefly at the sour taste of the thorns in her throat as she prepared to speak. "Just… just gimme the fan back."

And Basketball clicked it back on. The papers scattered across the ground shuffled under her footsteps as she turned and strode away, and through the faint ringing in her ears, One could hear a cabinet roll open. Settling onto the pillow with some hesitance, One took shallow, sickly breath after shallow, sickly breath. The world almost seemed to swirl around her. Was this death? Her body appeared to be turning against her, its functions clawing inward and setting her ablaze from the inside out. She closed her eyes.

…It wasn't long before the annoying object began poking and prodding at her dying figure. "Hey. Get up for a second."

"Mmmmwhat." One groaned weakly, blinking up at Basketball. She was holding something electrical and shiny in her sole, extending it to the integer.

"Put this in your mouth," she instructed. "Under your tongue."

They pulled away, shooting a skeptical up-and-down scan Basketball's way. "What? What-" a cough, "What are you feeding me?"

Basketball's face fell as if One had just told her the most unbelievable of news. "…It's a thermometer!"

Squinting at it, One gave a quiet grumble, and then rolled over. "No."

"Wh- grr!"

One was then forced back into her previous position with a twiggy leg that she quickly learned was actually quite sturdy, keeping her in place. She flailed, kicked her own burning legs, and called Basketball a few particularly rude names, before the so-called "thermometer" did, in fact, end up under her tongue. She glared at Basketball and said nothing. Stupid Basketball. She'd kill her if she survived this plague.

"There," she proudly stated, having subdued them. "That's gonna check your temperature. Just, uh, wait 'til it beeps."

And One scowled until it did so. Basketball delicately grabbed the end that was not in her mouth and gasped at whatever she was seeing. "Two hundred degrees? That should kill you! Yeesh." She tossed the thing right into a nearby garbage can. "Guess numbers are just different like that."

One's eyes slimmed and they forced their trembling body to sit upright, ignoring the sweat beads dripping from their slant and the reddening of their face and the chill that drove itself up their spine as they moved again. "Listen to me very carefully, Basketball," they began. "I am not 'sick,' I am not 'on the brink of death,' and I am not—" the next cough came out more like a wheeze. "Ugh- I am not someone who needs to be coddled by the likes of you. Wanna know what this really is?" They managed to laugh dryly, sniffling as they did so. "I- gh- I'm just- full of so much power that my body doesn't know how to handle it! All'a these deals have done so much for me! And… uhg…"

Basketball looked wholly unconvinced. Typical of such a being, such an oblivious creature, so naively bold in the face of One's brilliance. She even rolled those tiny eyes of hers. And off Basketball went, rummaging through her cabinets again, a sound that was seriously starting to bother her.

"…Aren't you listening?"

"Tell me your symptoms," commanded Basketball without turning around.

"You-" a cough, "You know I could also just… teleport on outta here, right?"

That made Basketball go still, the items in her drawer stopping their incessant clattering. For a moment, it was almost like One had the high ground again.

"I could! And I could give myself a bed and… and a fan and stuff. Watch!"

"Wait—"

One shut her eyes, the light gliding in unkindly through the lids- breathe. The burning sourness in her throat pulled at every sound she made, the air twisting and curling like snakes, or perhaps worms, wriggling about a fresh meal. One felt the material state of her body give out, yes, any moment now she'd be just as good as gone—

—She instead shattered Basketball's window.

Basketball had immediately panicked, scampering on over to check the damages, watching as glass fell to the ground several stories down and likely destroyed another freshly-baked cheesecake. One stared blankly as the object whipped around to face them. "…I actually didn't mean to do that," they muttered. "But that's not… not important! I'll try again—"

"Don't!" Cried Basketball desperately as she rushed back to their side. "You'll break my computers next!"

Wheezes ripped their way through One before she could try to leave again, and through her teary vision, she could just barely make out the sight of Basketball stepping away, and then turning and making for the door. Had One scared her away?

…Good. Good! One shut her eyes again. Breathe. She'd done it before, countless times before, it was just as easy as taking a step, just as easy as blinking, breathing. Why couldn't she leave? The crackling of something rang through her ears, the fizzling of magic and reality's fibers, she sneezed, coughed, practically almost gagged, the heat becoming almost unbearable, melting her bedridden skin.

And then— ow!

She cried out and buried her face in the pillow, twitching like a dead insect as her own powers turned against her, and then with their tails flew off without caring to give her aid. It was a scorched sort of feeling, like being seared with a beam of light, or foolishly burning herself on a stove top. The magic within her buzzed and blazed like fire through her like it wanted to escape the prison that had become of her body. And a prison was where One had found herself again.

The door came open. "One, are you- are you okay? I thought I heard something." Footsteps started towards them, and the clink of marble against the desk sounded in their pause. Basketball prodded at their body, guiding them to look her way, and they tore away from her, opening their mouth to protest before having the words stolen from them all over again. Basketball did not let them turn away. "Here- sit up."

One glared at her for a long, long instance of time before trying to push from the mattress, managing to weakly kick Basketball's touch away. "What's that?" They eyed the cup on the table she was directing them to with scrutiny.

"What? It's water. Drink it, it'll help with your cough." She nudged the cup closer. "…Can you pick it up, or do you need help?"

"Sure I can pick it up." One snipped. Traces of weak starlight tried to swirl around the glass and lift it, the liquid inside gently splashing against the cool surface. She wondered if Basketball put anything in it as she shakily tried to bring it close. And suddenly, impolitely, the light flickered into nothing, and Basketball jumped to catch it in her sole before it also shattered on the ground.

Basketball frowned at One, carefully lifting the cup. "…How about, uh… I just hold it for you?"

How demeaning. One shook her aching head.

"Hey, you're lucky I'm not giving you medicine yet!" The accusing object paused. "…Do you want pills or the liquid kind? I have both- painkillers, at least. Actually, forget it, drink the water, please."

…One leaned forward. Looked around. Took a small sip. It was delightfully cold, but she wasn't going to admit such outloud — and her relief died quickly after when she actually swallowed the water, the gross needles lining her throat refusing to take it in without making her suffer for it.

"I'll probably have to run to the cooler a lot today, won't I?" Lamented Basketball. "But I guess it's good to get my steps in." She then straightened in thought. "…Though, you're probably gonna need a lot more than this to get your temperature down. Why don't you, I dunno, take a nice cold shower or something? There's a showerhouse. Uh-… not a lot of people use the showerhouse, considering water does… tend to ruin a good amount of us- but it's good if you have a temperature."

One spoke between careful sips: "You talk a lot."

"You talk a lot." Basketball rolled her eyes. "That's really bad for you when you're sick, you know that, right?"

They had to tilt back with the cup as it emptied — they hadn't really realized how thirsty they were until it was all gone and Basketball set it back on the table. They took a sigh and curled back up on the mattress, which earned a soft chuckle from their captor. One… still didn't feel cooled down in the slightest, and the process of drinking it wasn't nearly as rewarding as they hoped, but it took an additional few seconds for them to start coughing again, so that was surely something.

Basketball broke away from them and went off to her desk. "If you're gonna talk when you really shouldn't be, at least use it for something useful!" One could barely catch the screen on her computer as it lit up before having to squint at its awful, synthetic glow. "I asked you for your symptoms earlier. Can you tell me?"

One hesitated, mulling over the question carefully — it was of her instinct not to say too much of value, especially considering she couldn't leave right now. No longer was she a higher being or a goddess, but merely… merely a poor, dying number.

She answered slowly, "I'm coughing."

"Right, right." Basketball began to click away.

"Hot."

"Mhm."

"Can't breathe."

"Huh." Basketball angled towards them. "Shortness of breath or congestion?"

"…Uh-… I dunno, both?"

"I'll write down congestion. You're sneezing a lot, too, right?"

One sneezed. "Yeah."

"And?"

"And-" a cough, "-my throat's all bad."

"Throat's all bad…" The object gave a halt, groaning in disappointment. "Why are you talking so much, then? Seriously, it's like you're asking to get sicker. What else? Anything else?"

"My head hurts."

"Are you lightheaded, or dizzy?"

"Mm."

Basketball did not ask any more questions, nor did One have anything else substantial to give besides everything is awful. For a beat, she remained clicking, humming softly to herself, before stopping and beginning to swipe through an open drawer, the continued unpleasant jangling of items bouncing off of the walls. "Yup. A pretty bad viral infection, maybe a cold, but it sounds serious if your temperature is so high… and speaking of which, you're… surprisingly… lucid, for someone who's at two-hundred degrees…"

"Mmmh…" One rolled over. "Plenty."

"Well, you're answering all my questions, that's more than most people could do."

One grumbled painfully, recalling a certain someone saying that her talking was a problem.

Basketball breathed out, as though preparing for a fight. "Okay. You're gonna hate me for this, but…" She took a small bottle of something from the cabinet as long as a few containers that rattled, setting them all down on her desk. "I have to give you medicine."

One turned over and eyed her very, very cautiously, feebly shuffling to the corner of the mattress. The pounding of her head had only gotten worse since she'd gotten all mobile, and her legs wouldn't carry her very far. There were only two things One knew about object medicine- that it was gross, and that it could do whatever it wanted.

The mattress was kindly soft against her the more One shuffled away, until she was practically up against the wall. The wall which was cold, thankfully, but unthankfully, Basketball had already cornered her.

"…Uh, One? You good?"

"I don't wanna take that."

"Come on. What are you, a child? It's gonna get rid of all the… most of the bad stuff!" A mysterious fluid had begun to fill a smaller cup that Basketball had set down next to their emptied one. It smelled awful, too, strong and chemical. "Work with me here, or I'm putting you back outside."

One shivered. Wheezed.

"See? I- It'll fix that! That's a problem!" Basketball threw her head up. "Okay- y'know what? Want me to stoop down to your level?" She grabbed hold of the water cup. "This is a- a deal. You take the medicine like I ask, and then you feel better! And if you say no, you, uh… get… sick forever. Sound fun? Bet it doesn't!"

"Mmh… fine," they caved as they took a scratchy breath, dreading the horrible taste, maybe even more horrible than the taste of her own invasive bile.

"Okay! Good. I'll be… right back! Please don't break another window."

One lied there in wait, their ears ringing. Despite not doing anything in particular, they were exhausted.

They had to wonder what Basketball was trying to get at here, in her absence. What playing with them accomplished other than the thrill of knowing and making sure they knew: "I'm above you now, One." A dying creature they were now, their power taking them nowhere but the comfortable confines of the bed they'd been dragged onto when she'd found them. Cruel irony, perhaps. Thoughts in their mind that their rational self knew should've been louder and protesting ebbed away into the sickness. They had nothing.

And when Basketball returned that second time, dragging the water cooler in its entirety through the doorway, One gave her a miserably defiant sort of look, like a kicked animal. A kicked animal who also had the plague.

"This'll be— huff… A lot more convenient! Okay." Basketball finally came to a halt, filling another drink and carrying it on over to her bedridden captive. "Now, this is gonna suck, but then it'll be over, okay? Let's just make this nice and quick."

One stared at it. Sniffled. "…Do I have to?"

"Yes, One, you remember our deal." Basketball paused, muttering, "Wow. Can't believe I'm saying that."

"I'm—" a sneeze, "—I'm not that… that sick, I don't…"

"Oh my court."

Basketball then abandoned the item and took the poor number by force, hoisting her upright against a pillow. One's body was actively tugging itself away from the awful chemical serum Basketball wanted to poison her with. She almost tipped over if not for the object holding her still.

Exasperated, Basketball groaned, "Just take it! I don't wanna have to make you take it!"

"I'm— ack- I'm fine!" Lied One. "Don't make me- stop!"

"Come on, One, it's only damaging you here."

"Double deals aren't even… that's not allowed!"

One then descended into a coughing fit — this was seriously getting redundant. Basketball sighed and waited for it to end, opting to give One a gentle upward tilt of the face rather than continuing to hold her. How degrading. She said, "I'm trying to help you. Why are you being so difficult? I figured you'd enjoy making me coddle you. 'Oh, Basketball, feed me grapes and fetch me an ice pack to put on my head' or whatever."

They had to sour, grumbling weakly at such a remark. "I don't- snf. I don't talk like that."

"Yeah, well you still shouldn't be talking at all! Y'know what? I'm gonna start marking down every time you talk, and that's how much gross stuff I'm gonna feed you."

"Oh, please." Their throat burned in displeasure as they scoffed at her.

Basketball smirked. "One cup of cough medicine."

"…Wait, hang on—"

"Two cups of cough medicine…" She took the container of poison from the table.

"Stop it!"

"Three!"

…One stumbled over themselves, head whirling even moreso as they tried to stretch it to think, before a begrudging "Grr." came out of them, followed by defeated, angry silence. They… supposed the soreness eased up when they went quiet, disgustingly. Dying really was no fun. They were tired of sitting up.

"You're gonna take this," Basketball extended the little cup of death out to them, "and I'll hold it for you, and then you can lay down for a while. And I'll make you some food if you get hungry. Deal? Does that sound better?"

One wished she could teleport away right now. Her starry grasp reached for the medicine—

"Upupup! Me. I hold it. And I swear, One, if you spill this all over my floor—"

"Okay, okay, just give it."

"Four cups."

"Basketball!"

Her captor laughed, One's suffering evidently being the funniest thing in the world. "Ahahaha… oh… okay— I'm done, I'm done. Here. Drink up."

With no other viable option, One did so.

Do not be mistaken. There was nothing nurturing about this fluid, despite the lies that Basketball was spewing. It did not ease her cough, nor her sniffle, nor the searing in her throat, nor the pain in the head, nor the weakness all throughout her, nor the overwhelming heat, nothing went away. The taste of it was likely the most abysmal thing One had ever allowed entry into her senses. The only reason One did not spit it up was because it had forced its entry into her already withering system. It hurt to swallow down. And no amount of water Basketball encouraged her to drink after the fact cured the flavor it left behind.

Basketball was standing over her as she collapsed in hot misery. "It did not taste that bad. Have you never had cold medicine before?" A sigh. "That should kick in in… half an hour. Hang tight. I'll leave you alone now."

"Mmm…" With nothing else to do and fresh toxins swimming around inside of her, One rolled over and shut her burning eyes tight.

What if this killed her?

Well, obviously, being killed was kind of the whole point of dying. But would it hurt? More, or less than it already did? Would One burn out in the heat of the fever, or would she simply ebb away into nothing? Would her power go with, rendered completely useless? Would Basketball, as promised, drag her lifeless body on over to the waiting eyes of an audience? Would any of them even care?

One had fallen asleep sometime after she'd been poisoned with that wretched cherry syrup and woken up again in the same horrible place. Her legs, sleepy, wouldn't so much as move for her anymore. The only positive was that her cough had eased up— wait, no, nevermind, some of it was still there. Basketball was nothing but a hazy orange blur upon an electrical green backdrop, and One's breaths, now only slightly more clear, were shallow and pathetic. If she died right now, she wondered how long it would take for Basketball to forget. Laugh, perhaps.

They sneezed, and it evaporated whatever Basketball was holding.

"What- seriously? Ugh!"

One gave a soft murmur, "My bad. Sneezed."

"Can you try not to destroy my things when you do that? Oh- uh, good morning, by the way." Basketball glanced back at the buzzing light that One assumed was her computer. "…Mid-afternoon. You were only out for an hour or so."

"Can't help it," they said dryly. "My power… snf- hates me."

There was a long moment in which Basketball said nothing at all, unsympathetically staring the helpless number down. "Then…" she began, clicking her tongue. "…Then I'll have to One-proof this place at some point. You're lucky that was just a pen."

"Okay." One closed her eyes back up miserably.

Something about Basketball's features shifted, softened at the edges, in her next instance of silence. She asked, "…Uhm. How are you feeling?"

"Sick."

"B- besides sick."

Grumbling, turning over, One rejected her cruel antics. "I—" a cough, "I don't wanna… don't wanna talk to you."

If she were more aware, she likely would've sensed Basketball frowning over her shoulder. In disappointment, perhaps annoyance. Not like she cared. One would die here anyway, and her last memories would be of this pesky object.

"Are you hungry?" Basketball continued to question. "I have food I can heat up."

Silence. A cough.

Then One heard a sigh. "Alright, be that way."

And more silence passed, and One couldn't breathe, or move, or see, or think, and even shifting against her pillow hurt, and she was sure her body was melting into the fabric. What would become of her when she was gone? Would they toss her husk back into the Moon again? That was basically a grave, right? They would all laugh as they did so, wouldn't they? She felt a sort of coiling around her chest as the thoughts brewed— no, she couldn't die yet, not with so much to do…

…One had begun sniffling. Sniffles turned into soft whines.

Upon hearing their unspoken declaration of despair, Basketball's voice came… gently — as gentle as such a squeaky noise could be, anyway. "…One?" And when One did not answer her, she gave them a prod. "What's wrong now? Are you-… are you in pain or something?"

With much hesitance, One gave the slightest of turns, just enough to expose a tear-filled eye. "I'm dying."

"…What."

"I'm dying!" One sobbed again. "I… snf- I'm gonna… and…"

"Woah, woah, woah— who said anything about dying? It's just a fever!"

"Don't…" a cough. "Don't lie to me, Baske'ball…"

Basketball rolled her over, and One didn't give much of a struggle, only gazing up at her through a saddened gaze. The object's own expression was unreadable. "You aren't dying, One. You're probably just, uh-… well, I mean, two hundred degrees, I know I'd be pretty confused…" She lowered herself, reaching One's pitiful stature. "You're okay. Okay? Why don't you have something to eat? You'll feel a lot better."

For a beat, One stared at her, before bursting into a new fit of tears. "You don't care!"

All her captor did was sigh in exasperation and make for her mini fridge.

"They won't even—" a cough, "They won't even bury me right... they'll- snf- toss me aside… an'… and they'll…"

Basketball took something out and shut the door with a faint slam.

"I don't wanna die—!"

"You're not gonna die! Oh my court!" Now was the distinct sound of Basketball pouring something, perhaps more poison.

One had nothing more to say. She buried her face in the pillow and wept. What a horrible position for someone like Basketball to see her in, she thought— but none of that mattered with her fate on the line, right? Not with her useless powers and rotting body.

Basketball probably said something else, and probably made more noise in her room, but One didn't care anymore. The lights flickered with her sobs, probably much to the object's displeasure, or maybe that was One's consciousness giving out again. The fan roared unkindly, trying to blow her off and away to a place she'd never be seen again. And it was all too loud, ringing, ringing, the throb in her head threatening to split her open—

"Can you seriously just—" Basketball began to scold, and then stopped. Something loud and incessant was humming behind her, enough to make One practically duck under the pillow for salvation. They heard her exhale. "…I'm not gonna let you die, One. That'd only make more problems for me. Besides, I mean… surely numbers can just recover when they die anyway?"

One gave her a wide and teary stare.

"…No?"

Profuse sobbing came next.

"Oh, geez…"

Then, cutting through the number's wails, something echoing a sharp and rude beeping noise bounced from the walls to their swimming head to the glass of the shattered window. Something swung open with a mechanical clunk. And something smelled… good. Savory. One couldn't help but wonder if death really carried the scent of chicken and cream.

"One," began Basketball, slowly, as the scent became stronger with her approach. "When's the last time you ate?"

Between sniffles, One tried to gather their words. "I don' know… why do you care?"

"I have food for you. Will you stop crying?"

Was that what that smell was? One tentatively rolled back onto her side, eyeing whatever Basketball had as she pushed the table closer to her resting. She… couldn't deny that hunger clawed at her scorching insides at just the proposition of food, but- no. This had to be something else, had to hold a catch, had to be a gilded trick. One shuffled away from her captor, gaze still freshly blurred with hot tears. Sneezed. Moaned in discomfort and hid their face in their frail knees.

"You'll feel a lot better." Basketball added.

Their captor reached out for them once more, and they flinched, giving a soft squeal and trying to deliver feeble kicks, crude attempts to fight her and her poison off. The fan whirred as Basketball nudged them up closer to it. "I don't—" a cough, "Don't want it- stop—"

"It helps! It'll help!"

"You- snf- said… you said that last time!"

"It's food! It tastes good!" Basketball continued to insist, tilting her closer to the savory container. "At least take a bite. Have a bite and I won't make you have any more, deal?"

Triple deals? Now, that was just unacceptable.

"Stop making me—" a cough as One leaned painfully forward, finally inspecting it. "Making me… making me have things."

"Yeah, yeah."

The meal was pushed closer, now within their reach, a plastic fork sticking out from a sea of murky broth and noodles as gentle puffs of steam escaped it. Vegetable bits and spice floated around in the flavorful liquid, alluring, trying to lull the sickly integer in. One had to ask, "What… is this?"

Absentmindedly stirring the pasta around, Basketball told her, "The best food for a sick person is chicken noodle soup, but I don't have chicken noodle soup, so I just made you chicken-flavored cup noodles and left all the water in instead. Try it! I promise you it's good."

One looked up at her, and then down at the cup, and then up at her again. And Basketball didn't have to say anything else, really. She simply held the fork that was now wrapped up in noodles and goodness to One's face, inviting them to give in. The bite they took was swift and they yanked themselves away immediately and oh hey that was actually pretty good

The taste was nothing like the awful serum Basketball had forced into her prior, which had shattered her trust in this object completely, but she supposed she could call these 'cup noodles' an exception. It was warm and pleasant and creamy like a soft, nurturing hug, and even though her throat screamed at her when she swallowed it and warmth wasn't exactly something she wanted more of, One could practically melt into it. If she… didn't melt because of the fever first, anyway. She heard Basketball laugh again.

"See? That'll help get your strengths up."

"Mm…" One shifted her weight a bit, evading the deceptively kind look on Basketball's face. "…Thanks."

"Y'know… I feel like I should've given you that earlier, now that I think about it. I wouldn't wanna give you a—" Basketball gave a sudden, sharp halt at One's words, peering at her with bemusement. "…Oh. Youuu're… welcome."

A beat of silence. Basketball let One take another bite.

"Still feel like you're dying?" Inquired Basketball, almost teasingly.

One hesitated on their answer for a moment, and then said, "Uh-… less so, I guess."

The light beaming from the curtains was beginning to dim and flicker out.

One remembered when it would get dark, and she would slink around in the bushes, looking for a place to sleep, because she hadn't learned how to make her own dimension yet. Nowadays, she slept on the armchair, curling up nice and tight and drawing a star-patterned blanket over herself, playing old game shows on her TV to soothe herself to bed. On the very first night following her escape, she'd crawled right back into the awful moon and stayed there. Nobody would look for her in there.

"Where'd you… where'd you- how'd you…" One lost track of her words as she plummeted into a routine fit of coughs. "…Where'd you find me, Basketball?"

Basketball had been tinkering with a machine for the past interval One had been awake. "Outside, by the back of the hotel. I saw you collapse, and when I rushed over, you were just… lying there." She kicked a leg up to wipe the sweat from her brow. "I carried you in on a wagon and told everyone you were a science project."

Puzzled, One gave a small tilt to the side. "…Why?"

"Why?"

"You could've… could've turned me in right then. Why- snf- why keep me here?"

That dragged her caretaker's attention away from her project, eyes narrowed in thought. "I could've. Should've, really." She turned back again. "Guess you're right about that."

One squinted at her. Basketball was an annoyingly stubborn one, a determined one, not anybody who would protect a person like them— perhaps this was all just revenge? Revenge, a way to torment the poor integer before sending her off, off, back to the moon where she'd stay and stay, choking on the dust and sleeping in the flattest, least rocky corner she could find all over again.

They glanced away for a moment, sniffling. "…Is this… just your way of getting at me, then?"

"What? Getting at you?" Basketball scoffed at her. "Ugh. Y'know, I'm not like you, One. I'm not doing this because I want to make you suffer or whatever, I'm trying to help. You being tortured the whole time is just a fun bonus."

"But you're gonna do it anyway, right? Gonna… gonna turn me in?" One challenged. "You just… snf- like kicking me when I'm low! Go on and say it!" A cough. "Why draw it out so long, huh?"

Basketball did not answer at first, only sighed and stood up. "Because you can't defend yourself right now." She then gave a gesture towards the broken window, hidden behind the curtain. "You couldn't even leave if you tried."

One began to sink downward, shuddering with another chill, her breaths shallow. Confusion surely riddled her features as it did her swimming thoughts. "That doesn'… doesn't make any sense… you-… you should hate me! I hate you."

The storm was a clear memory in the back of their mind, a fun game they'd played over the holiday season. Basketball was there, nowhere near as collected, squirming around in her cute little chair and kicking her feet and demanding of One to let her go. She would jump at every crack of thunder and shriek in that squeaky voice, and One would hold back a laugh. If it were One held in the chair and Basketball holding the contract, they'd probably have fun getting the power over her that time around. Why wasn't Basketball?

"…Look," began Basketball, tenatively. "I don't like you. I don't think there's a way to get me to like you." Picking up the machine, she let it settle on her desk with a small rattling. "And at the end of the day, yes, I am gonna go right up to Two and tell them what you've been up to! But I'm not gonna do that when you can't even stand up." She began an approach. Her steps were careful. "Because unlike you, I don't like the idea of taking advantage of someone who's sick and dying, even if that someone is someone like you. So… you just have to put up with me taking care of you. Deal with it."

One shrank away as Basketball got closer. "When they… find me, they'll…" A shudder, not brought by her fever, ran down the sickly ends of her body. "…Your plan's not gonna work, Basketball—" a cough, "It's not. I- I won't let them…"

…Basketball softened, curious, and that was confusing too. "…Who's they? Two?"

"Two," they echoed. "And Four, and X, and everyone, and— stupid! Oh, you'll tell them first, won't you?" They pulled their knees close. "They'll put… put me back. And you'll- oh, you'll laugh!"

"One—"

"Don't pretend you're all… all high n' mighty and- snf- and… and nice now that I'm here. Nobody's that nice."

Before One knew it, tears were stinging the corners of her eyes and her gasps were hitching in her sour throat. She covered her face.

They could feel Basketball's stare boring into them without having to look. "I… don't know what you're talking about," she said. "Do you think- what, do you think they're gonna hurt you?"

One did not reply.

"…I can't have a lot of sympathy for you, One. You hurt me and people that I care about." Basketball's voice was firm and hardened as she lowered to One's level. "I really should not be helping somebody like you, but I am. And… listen."

Her touch came gentle and caused One to shiver, hesitantly looking up into her little eyes. One tried to read in for pleasure, deceit, anger, or anything that could be of the same effect on the features of her face, but did not find anything. They did not move to evade her anymore, only lied there in defeated wait.

"No matter what comes of this, no matter if it's something you do or not," she told them, "I'm not gonna let anybody get hurt."

…One had to shake her head. "You don't… don't know what's gonna happen, Basketball."

At that, Basketball gave a simple hum and turned away. "You're right. I don't."