“That’s the fever, my little someone,” Dagan replied, sliding off the bed and coming around to the other side. “Can you drink?”
“Dying of thirst.”
“Here. Willow bark. For the fever.”
Hendrik winced as he sat up to accept the cup. “Fuck. My leg is on fire.”
Dagan nodded silently.
“I’m gonna lose it, aren’t I?”
“I don’t know,” Dagan said honestly. Escaping that tunnel had multiplied the trauma to the broken bone more times than he wanted to think about. “Healers from the Heart Wood should be on the way. If anyone can save it, they can.”
“I don’t even care.” Hendrik sipped at the tea and grimaced at the bitterness of it.
Dagan retrieved one of the softest cloths he’d ever touched in his life (Jak had spared them no luxury) and dipped it into the basin of cool water by the bed. He dabbed at Hen’s clammy forehead, his neck, his shoulders. If he kept busy, the burning in his eyes wouldn’t turn into anything more. “That could be the fever too.”
“No.” Hen shook his head, then sipped again. Then, finally, said, “I don’t care, as long as I live. Fuck the leg.”
Dagan’s eyes overflowed.
Hen’s eyes widened. “Dags? You—?”
“I’m fine.” He sniffled and waved it off, pushing Hen back down when he tried to sit up and hug him. “Don’t. Don’t, you should rest. I’m fine.”
“No, come here.” Hendrik pushed his hands aside and took him by the arms, pulling him in.
“Your leg!” Dagan protested, trying to blink away more tears. How did he even have any left in him? He was going to dry up and blow away, at this rate.
“It’s the other one. Shh, come here. Come here.” Whether it was the fever or instinctive understanding making him so demanding, it didn’t matter, because it worked. He pulled Dagan against his side, down onto his pillow, and wrapped him up in his scarred arm, settling the other hand on his hip.
His skin was clammy, hot as the hottest hells just beneath the surface. The bite mark on his shoulder was fading but still pink against the dull paleness of his skin. He smelled vaguely of the plain soap Dagan had used to wash him earlier, but also that leaf-green sweat smell that melted his insides. There was something beneath it, something sick that Dagan knew to be infection, but it was buried under the bandages and sheets. If Dagan worked really, really hard, he could pretend it was all going to be okay.
“We’re okay,” Hen said quietly, kissing the top of Dagan’s head. “We’re okay.”
“I’m so sorry,” Dagan whispered. “I’m so sorry for talking to you like that.”
“How did you talk to me?”
Dagan glanced up in surprise.
“I mean, it’s a little blurry. You did tell me to shut up, but I remember thinking that was fair.” Hen’s nose scrunched up in an almost childlike expression of concentration.
“I told you to shut the fuck up or I’d throw myself into the chasm,” Dagan reminded him, returning to the crook of his arm and the pillow of his chest. He was so hot, so sticky; Dagan would get off him. In just a moment. He just wanted, needed to hear a few more heartbeats. “More than once.”
“I was being an idiot. It was…a fucking terrible, stressful, no good, very bad situation,” Hen was rambling, voice sounding far away and almost amused, oddly enough.
“Yes! I know! But your world collapsed around you, and all I did was tell you to shut up.”
“That’s—you literally saved me from death. Again. That’s what you did. So you weren’t a ray of sunshine while doing it. Sunshine doesn’t survive, down there.”
“I was so mad at you. So mad at you. How dare you tell me to leave you?” Dagan curled his fingers against Hendrik’s chest.
“I should’ve known you wouldn’t. I just lost my whole mind, thinking you were going to be stuck there because of me.” Hendrik heaved a sigh, his chest filling and deflating slowly beneath Dagan’s cheek. Then he went on, “You were right, and I’m glad, and I’ll spend forever thanking you for it. Not to mention Innan. They’re okay, right?”
Dagan’s eyes hurt so much, he could’ve sworn they were projecting tears like arrows instead of just sending them rolling down his cheeks. The dark, soft hair of Hen’s chest was wet with them already. “Yes. They’re with Kajja and the others. Organizing.”
“‘Kay.” Another sigh, smaller. “You wouldn’t want me to die if there was no saving you, either.”
“No. But you didn’t even want to try.” Dagan pushed off his chest but reluctantly, to look down into his eyes. They were bright again but wild with fever. “How fucking dare you, Hendrik? Who do you think you belong to?”
“I’ll accept whatever punishment you want,” he replied with a crooked, sliding smile. “Gladly.”
Dagan snorted and pulled back from him, though it caused a deep, physical ache deep inside him. “Drink the tea, for starters. And I’ll order some stew. You can’t heal if you’re weak as a newborn.”
“I’m tired.” Hen tried to sit up, though, and reached for the tea.
“Rest between bites, then.” Dagan swiped away the tears, but they reappeared just as quickly. “I can’t stop crying. I hate it.”
“I had a dream you turned into a bear and carried me out of the tunnel on your back.”
Dagan laughed wetly. “That would’ve made things easier.”
Hen was asleep again before the stew arrived from downstairs. Dagan let him sleep. It wouldn’t hurt him to eat it cold, and nature would do more for him in dreamland than anyone could awake. Finally, Dagan let himself cry without interruption, for himself, for Hendrik, for every selfish thought and feeling he hadn’t been able to rise above for the last few moons.
That wouldn’t be the end of it, he knew. He’d fight that perverse thing in him forever, most likely. That needy, sad little boy who hated anything that wasn’t about himself.
But maybe if he fed that sad little boy just enough, he could keep him happy. Happier. And get a little fucking perspective on the fact that they’d just saved their whole world.
