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Patrick slumped into one of the kitchen chairs and put his head in his hands, elbows on the table, and sighed deeply. Claire turned from where she was pouring two cups of coffee, Patrick's tea already on the table.
'You okay, Bee?'
A low hum was all she got in response, his head still buried in his hands. She set the two cups down and crossed to him, softly resting her hand on top of his head, her finger gently scratching his scalp.
'What's wrong?' she asked, crouching by his side.
'Headache,' Patrick mumbled.
Claire's hand moved to the back of his neck, massaging the base of his skull.
Hector entered the kitchen. 'What's wrong?' Patrick flinched at the volume.
Claire signalled for him to keep it down. 'Bee's got a headache,' she said quietly.
Hector's expression changed. Without another word, he crossed the kitchen and pulled the curtains closed. The sharp morning light softened, and the tension in Patrick's shoulders seemed to ease, just slightly.
Hector sat beside him and rested a hand between his shoulder blades, rubbing slow circles through his shirt.
'Want a painkiller?'
Patrick nodded, then immediately winced at his own movement, burying his head deeper into his hands.
Claire got up and returned with the bottle and a glass of water. Patrick held out a trembling hand for the pill.
Claire's eyes met Hector's over his bent head.
Neither said anything.
Patrick swallowed the tablet and carefully straightened. He rolled his neck once, slowly, as though testing whether his head might tolerate the movement.
‘You look pale,’ Claire said, taking the chair opposite him. ‘Didn't sleep well?’ she asked, pitching her voice low.
Hector studied his face. He did look wrong today. Not ill, exactly. Just drained somehow, all the usual warmth gone from his face.
'Dunno. Woke up a few times.'
Hector slid the cup of tea closer. 'Have some tea, you'll feel better.'
Patrick wrapped both hands around the cup. He seemed to need both of them to keep it steady. He managed two small sips before lowering it again.
'Toast?' Claire asked, nudging the bread basket toward him.
He started to nod again, thought better of it, and settled on, 'Not hungry.'
That made Hector look at Claire again. Patrick was always hungry in the morning.
The headache didn't ease. If anything, it seemed to sharpen. Patrick's replies grew shorter, his eyes staying half-closed against the light even with the curtains drawn, his jaw tight with the effort of holding himself together at the table.
'I think I need to lie down a bit longer,' he said eventually.
'Of course,' came the soft reply.
He pushed himself to his feet. The room seemed to move before he did. Patrick swayed sharply, one hand reaching blindly for the table, but Hector was already there. An arm went around his waist and held him upright.
Patrick took a moment for the room to stop tilting, breathing carefully, waiting for the floor to settle beneath him.
‘Easy,’ Hector murmured.
Patrick leaned into him more than he probably realised.
'Come on, I've got you.' For once, Patrick didn't argue. He only hummed and let Hector take him back to bed.
Hector parked the truck beside the kitchen door. He grabbed the two bags of groceries and braced for the dash through the rain that had just started. Boots off on the porch, door open and shut quickly behind him. Claire glanced up from her laptop at the kitchen table and watched him cross to the counter to drop the bags, then lean down to kiss her temple. She smiled softly at that.
'Lunch is ready,' she said, which earned her another kiss.
'How's Bee?'
'I checked on him about an hour ago. He was fast asleep.'
'Should we wake him?'
Claire glanced towards the hallway.
‘He should eat something.’
'Okay, I'll see if he's up to coming to the table.'
Hector disappeared down the hallway. Claire closed her laptop and began setting the table.
'Claire!'
Something in Hector's voice had her abandoning the cutlery and hurrying towards the bedroom.
Hector was hunched over Patrick, speaking softly, rubbing his arm over the duvet. Claire climbed onto the bed beside them. Patrick was shivering hard, teeth chattering, curling in on himself beneath the covers. Claire ran her fingers through his curls. 'Bee?'
'Cold,' was all he managed.
Hector was already reaching for another blanket. He spread it over the duvet and tucked it closely around Patrick until only the top of his head remained visible. The shivering didn't ease.
'You think it's the flu?' Hector asked.
Claire considered, watching the shaking bundle beneath the blankets. 'This looks different,' was all she could offer.
The shivering gradually subsided, Claire's fingers still moving through his hair, Hector's hand still tracing slow circles on his back. Eventually, Patrick fell into a deep sleep.
Rain kept pouring outside, the afternoon rolling slowly by. More than an hour passed with Patrick sleeping between them, occasionally mumbling something neither could understand.
Hector's phone lit up on the nightstand, once, then again. He grabbed it and stood. 'I need to make a call.' Claire nodded.
The mattress shifted as he got up. Patrick made a small sound in his sleep but didn't wake. Claire leaned closer, brushing the curls away from his forehead. She kissed his temple.
‘I'll be right back.’
She went to make coffee.
While the machine dripped, she tried to work out where he could have caught something. His last medical rotation in the village had been the week before. Too long ago, surely. And no one at the base had been sick. At least no one she could remember. The coffee machine finished dripping, and she poured herself a cup, black.
The moment she stepped back into their room, she knew something was wrong. Patrick was panting hard.
‘Bee?’ She rushed to him, found him sweat-soaked and flushed, his forehead and neck burning. She stripped back the top layer of blankets, trying to cool the overheated bed. His breathing only grew heavier, eyes half-open and glassy. She tried to sit him up, to pull off the hoodie he still had on, but his body felt like dead weight.
‘Hector!’
Footsteps came immediately.
‘What happened?’
‘He's burning up. Help me.’
Between them they got Patrick sitting. His head dropped against Hector's shoulder while Claire tugged the hoodie and his shirt over his head. Hector lowered him back onto the mattress. Patrick made a weak, distressed sound.
‘I know,’ Claire whispered. ‘I know.’
Hector returned from the bathroom with wet cloths, and together they pressed them to his forehead, his neck, his stomach, warmth radiating back through the fabric almost immediately. They kept at it, refreshing the cloths, returning to press them again, but Patrick seemed to worsen with every minute, growing restless, mumbling nonsense, breathing faster.
Claire went for the thermometer while Hector kept the cloths moving over every warm patch of skin.
40.5. Claire's face went tight with worry. 'That's too high.'
'To the shower,' Hector was already moving. Claire went to turn it on while Hector pulled Patrick upright. He could barely stand on his own; Hector guided him into the bathroom, one arm locked around him.
Claire was testing the water when they came in and nodded for Hector to bring him forward, taking Patrick's forearms to guide him in after her. Hector never let go of his waist, following them both in, bracing Patrick back against his own chest.
Claire took the shower head and let the water run over his chest first, then his shoulders and the back of his neck, gradually lowering the temperature. His body stayed slack, his eyelids low, but the panting started slowly to ease. Hector held him steady through all of it.
‘You're okay,’ Claire murmured. ‘We've got you.
Patrick's head tipped back against Hector's shoulder.
For one brief moment his eyes opened.
‘H?’
‘Right here.’
His gaze moved sluggishly until it found Claire.
She touched his cheek.
‘I'm here too.’
Something in Patrick seemed to release. His eyes closed again.
Claire shut off the water the moment Patrick began to shiver. Between them, they got him out, sat him on the closed toilet lid. Briefs came off, replaced at once with a thick towel, both of them rubbing him dry.
Patrick sat between them, barely helping, his head hanging forward. Claire crouched in front of him. ‘Stay with us, Bee.’
His eyes lifted. There he was.
‘Tired.’
‘I know.’
They dressed him in dry clothes and took him back to bed.
Hector went for water while Claire settled beside Patrick, gently working the towel through his damp hair. He opened his eyes to her, still glassy, but a little more present than before.
Patrick drifted off again, calm at first, but the shivering crept back within the hour, followed close behind by another spike in fever. They went through the same motions again, cloths, shower, towels, patience, and again he settled, only for the cycle to start once more a while later.
By the third round, both of them were running thin on ideas and growing more frightened by the hour. Patrick showed no sign of actually improving, only cycling between extremes, worn down a little further each time. It was then that Hector thought to ask for help.
'Hello?' Dr Alvarez answered after three rings.
'Dr Alvarez, this is Hector Soler, I'm Claire's…'
'Captain Soler,' she cut in. 'How can I help you?'
'It's Patrick. Captain James.' She hummed for him to go on. 'He's sick, but something isn't right.' 'Okay,' she said. 'He woke up with a headache, looked like the start of flu. He went to rest, but we found him shivering even under several blankets. Then he spiked a fever, forty point five, we managed to bring it down. But not long after, he was cold and shivering again, and within minutes he'd spiked another one. Something's wrong. I don't think this is just the flu, and we don't know what to do.' Hector's voice was tight with worry.
'Hm.' A pause while she considered. 'Has he been in contact with anyone else who's sick?'
'Not that we know of. We're on leave. It's mostly been the three of us.'
'Hm. Has this happened before?'
'Never.'
A longer silence followed, the faint sound of pages flicking through a book. 'Captain James is a Beta, correct?'
Hector stopped pacing. “Yes.” Another pause. “Does that matter?”
'I'm not sure yet. Let me check with a colleague. I'll call you back shortly.'
She ended the call before he could respond.
He stepped back into the bedroom. Claire turned to him. 'He's cold again,' she said, worry written across her face.
Patrick had curled onto his side, knees drawn up. Claire was pressed close behind him, one arm wrapped around his middle. Hector climbed onto the bed. Patrick reached for him without opening his eyes. The movement was small and clumsy, one hand searching across the sheets. Hector caught it.
‘I'm here.’
Patrick's fingers closed around his.
The phone buzzed in Hector's hand. 'Dr Alvarez.'
'I've consulted with a colleague. We believe Captain James may be experiencing a beta crash.’
Hector frowned. ‘A what?’
‘It's rare. The cycling between chills and fever is consistent with reported cases.’
Hector looked down at Patrick.
‘Has there been significant stress recently? Particularly stress involving either of you?’
A humourless breath left Hector. 'The whole last half year has been stressful. It's only these past few weeks we've started to feel normal again. To feel like ourselves.'
'That fits. It tends to show once things stabilise, after a crisis involving their mates.’
Hector said nothing. Beside him, Claire had gone very still.
‘It's been reported most often in betas with both alpha and omega partners,’ Alvarez continued. ‘It's uncommon enough that we don't understand the mechanism particularly well. But the pattern is remarkably consistent.’
Hector looked at Patrick's pale face against the pillow.
‘What do we do?’
‘Physical contact with both of their mates seems to help regulate the episodes. Skin-to-skin contact has been particularly effective in reported cases.’
‘How long will this last?’
‘Some crashes last hours. Others last a few days. He'll need steady closeness and care the whole way through.’
Patrick shuddered beneath the blankets. Claire moved instinctively closer, pressing her body along his back. Hector lay down on his other side. The shivering eased, just slightly.
Alvarez was still speaking.
‘Keep him hydrated whenever he's awake. Keep monitoring his temperature. If he becomes unresponsive, has difficulty breathing, or the fever doesn't come down, call me immediately. Otherwise, don't leave him alone.’
Hector swallowed. ‘We won't.’
He ended the call.
For a while, neither he nor Claire said anything. Patrick lay curled between them, eyes closed, one hand still wrapped around Hector's and Claire's arm around his waist.
Hector pulled himself under the blanket and drew Patrick to rest against his chest. Claire followed close behind, tangling their legs together, pressing herself in against his back.
Her eyes met Hector’s over Patrick's head. Maybe she was thinking the same thing. About those six months, about everything that could have gone wrong and somehow hadn't. What it had cost each of them. What it was costing Patrick now.
They stayed like that as the rain kept on outside, the three of them pressed close, waiting out whatever came next.
The next fever came and went with less violence than the ones before. Then another, smaller still. Sometime past midnight, the cycle finally broke, and Patrick slept deeply, properly, his breathing even for the first time in hours.
Claire and Hector stayed where they were, neither willing to risk moving him, until sleep found them too, tangled together around him in the dark.
When Patrick woke, the room was dark. For several seconds, he couldn't work out why he was so warm, or why he couldn't move. His cheek was pressed against Hector's chest, one of Hector's arms heavy around his shoulders. Claire was tucked tight against his back, her arm draped over his waist, one leg tangled with his beneath the covers.
He shifted, slow and uncertain, and both of them blinked awake at once, already half-reaching for him before they were fully conscious.
'Hey.' Hector's voice was rough with sleep. His hand came up to Patrick's face. 'How are you feeling?'
Patrick considered that.
'Tired.'
Claire's palm was already at his forehead.
'But also…' He frowned, chasing the thought. 'Like I've slept for days?'
Neither of them answered. Patrick looked from Hector to Claire. They were both watching him far too closely.
Claire moved her hand from his forehead to his cheek, apparently satisfied by whatever she'd found there, though the worry didn't quite leave her face.
Patrick's brow furrowed. 'What happened?'
Her expression softened. 'You were sick, Bee,' she said, brushing his curls back. 'You scared us.'
He looked at Hector for more. That didn't help. Hector wore the particular expression he got when something had frightened him badly and he was trying very hard not to make it anyone else's problem.
Patrick tried, and failed, to piece together the gaps.
'Am I still sick?'
'We don't know.' Claire's fingers slipped into his hair. 'How do you feel now?'
He took inventory. His head still ached, faintly. Every muscle felt heavy. His mouth was dry enough that his tongue felt too big for it. But he wasn't cold. He wasn't burning, either.
'Like I've been hit by a truck.'
Hector's hand settled flat against his chest.
'That's an improvement.'
Patrick gave him a tired, unimpressed look. Hector didn't quite smile, but something in his face eased all the same.
Then Patrick's stomach growled, loud enough that all three of them went still. Claire looked down at him. Patrick looked back.
'What?'
Her whole face softened. 'You're hungry.'
'Apparently.'
The relief that passed between Claire and Hector was so plain that Patrick almost asked what exactly had happened to him. Instead, Claire kissed his forehead.
'I'll get you something.'
She started to move. Patrick's hand closed around her wrist before he'd really decided to do it.
Claire stopped.
Patrick stared at his own hand, a little surprised by it. Something uncomfortable had flickered through him at the thought of her leaving the bed, nothing he could put a sensible name to, just an immediate, wordless no.
Claire seemed to understand it before he did.
He loosened his grip. 'I didn't mean…'
'I know.'
'I can go,' Hector offered.
Patrick turned toward him, and whatever his face did stopped Hector before he'd gotten further than one elbow off the mattress.
'I'll be back very soon,' Hector said, and pressed a kiss to Patrick's forehead before easing out from under the covers.
Patrick made himself let go. Claire settled against his side, one arm wrapped snug around his waist, as if to remind him that she wasn't going anywhere.
Twenty minutes later, the three of them were propped against the pillows, each with a steaming bowl in hand. Claire stole pieces of bread off his plate without asking.
'You have your own,' Patrick muttered.
'Yours is better.'
'It's the same bread.'
She took another piece anyway. Patrick was too tired to defend it further.
By the time he'd worked through half his bowl, keeping his eyes open had become more effort than it was worth.
Hector took it gently from his hands.
'I wasn't finished.'
'You were falling asleep into it.'
'I was resting my eyes.'
'Of course you were.'
Patrick might have argued the point, if Claire hadn't chosen that exact moment to settle against his side again, her head easily finding his shoulder.
Hector set the bowls aside and drew the blankets back over all three of them.
Patrick let himself sink down between them.
He still didn’t understand what had happened. There would be explanations in the morning, no doubt, and more fussing than he had any patience for. Judging by how often Hector’s hand kept finding its way back to his forehead, he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.