The moment Desmond woke up, he knew he was sick. His head pounded relentlessly, his body shivered despite the sheen of sweat covering his body. His stomach was rolling -- did he eat something? Why was he sick -- he never got sick. He could only remember a few times where he'd been a bit under the weather, but it was never this bad. At least, he thought it was never this bad.

He could hear Raymond moving around already. Odd -- he was normally up before the old man was --

No. He's your father now, remember? He showed you the papers. He stuck through your habits, your tests to make him give you back.

Desmond wobbled on his feet as he stood up. His pounding head dulled as it suddenly grew light, his vision dancing with stars. He threw out an arm, catching himself on his dresser. A few items -- small parts and screwdrivers -- wobbled, then fell to the floor. Desmond struggled to clear his vision as he heard Raymond making his way upstairs.

"Desmond?" His new guardian called. "Are you up?"

Des couldn't find it in him to respond. His heart was pounding from the simple, slight exertion from standing up. He just stood, struggling to catch his breath -- God, his lungs ached -- when there was a knock on his bedroom door. Raymond was kind that way. In fact, Raymond had been kind from the beginning, when he had first taken Des from the orphanage that he thought would be his permanent home. Honestly, the nine-year-old couldn't believe it. How was Raymond so kind, so understanding? None of the other families were -- they always ended up giving him back. They all treated him as a trophy, a 'look at me, I help children who have no one', simply to get brownie points with their friends. Raymond didn't. Desmond hadn't even heard about Raymond's family; he never wanted to bring it up. He had respected Desmond's privacy about his own family -- he could wait until Raymond brought it up on his own volition. He --

Another knock. Desmond blinked several more times, clearing his vision completely before walking to his bedroom door and pulling it open slowly. Raymond gave a soft smile to the boy.

"You slept in a bit."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Raymond tilted his head a bit at Des's voice.

"Are you sick?" The boy's eyes widened slightly. How did --? "You look sick. Do you need to go back to bed?"

"No --! I'm fine, really." Desmond couldn't admit that he was sick. He didn't need Raymond worrying about him more than he already was. "Really, I'm --"

His head grew light again, his lungs burning and aching as he leaned into the doorframe heavily, taking in a sharp breath through gritted teeth.

"I'm fine," he insisted when he saw Raymond reaching out to him. "Really --" He gasped at the cool hand against his forehead; he found himself leaning into it slightly.

"Desmond," Raymond said gently, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. "You're sick. Go back to bed, and tell me what hurts."

Desmond huffed. "I'm fine, R --" A sharp pang shot through his lungs; he gasped again. What was wrong with him? It felt like he couldn't breathe, it hurt so much just to do so. There was a constant pressure on his chest; he gripped where his lungs were, trying to will the pain away. Tears sprung in his eyes; he felt so weak, he was in so much pain --

"Desmond, what hurts?" Raymond had managed to pick up the shaking boy and placed him back in bed. "You can tell me, I promise."

"I…." Desmond tried to take a deep breath, but it simply hurt too much. "Lungs."

"Your lungs hurt?" Desmond nodded, his eyes wide as he searched Raymond's face. The older man continued. "What else?"

"Head." Raymond gave a soft hum.

"I'm going to go get an ice pack and call a doctor; is that okay?" Desmond couldn't refuse even if he wanted to. He just wanted it to go away, his body shivering as he nodded. Raymond gripped a clammy hand in his, giving it a soft squeeze before turning to leave.

As Raymond left, Desmond felt a spike of fear. What was wrong with him? How'd he --

Wait.

He recalled some old memories with his real family. Theo -- Hershel, didn't he have the same problem sometime before as well? But then, his younger brother had been in much more pain than Des seemed to be at the moment. He had to be taken to the hospital. Was his case more mild? Desmond grit his teeth, his eyes clenching shut as another aching pain shot through his lungs.

There was a cool rag against his head then. Desmond sighed, then opened his eyes.

"The doctor's on his way." Raymond gripped a hand again. "I explained your symptoms. He thinks it's pneumonia -- but he wants to make sure that you don't need to be monitored."

Desmond just hummed, focusing on the coolness of the rag against his forehead and his shallow, shaky breathing. Raymond started stroking the boy's hair -- that's new, Desmond mused. None of the others had tried to do that -- it was… comforting.

"You'll be okay, I promise."

...He would. He'd be okay. He would get through this. It wasn't some unknown illness, it could be taken care of. Desmond gave a small nod.