A/N I forgot to add that Whoa_There1187 on LJ beta'd this for me. The story was inspired by the song Devotion by Necessary Response. If the medical jargon confuses you, please let me know. It means I didn't do a good enough job explaining it. :)
---Chapter Two----
-6 Months Later-
Simmons stared across the table at Donut; "Please, just take the damn pill? It's not that bad, really."
Donut glared at the older man, "Easy for you to say, you don't have to take a whole pharmacy with your breakfast!"
The maroon soldier sighed, having had this argument before. "Donut, three pills is hardly a whole pharmacy. And you know why you have to take the two new ones. If you don't, the nerve damage will spread farther than just your limbs."
Donut glared at the little red pill with its mood stabilizing white cousin. "Stupid brain." He muttered, picking both up and swallowing them with his orange juice.
"Now open up," Simmons leaned forward, checking around the younger man's tongue and between his teeth and cheeks. "Good, now Sarge is waiting for you."
Donut groaned, "Do I have too? It's not fair! These stupid exercises are pointless; my feet still feel weird when we're done. Besides, didn't it say I'm supposed to wear loose footwear anyways?"
"Yes, but it also said to increase your blood flow with exercise, and you know Sarge set this up to help you, so don't be nasty to him, okay?"
"Easy for you to say, kiss ass." Donut sneered.
Simmons groaned and ran a hand through his hair, Donut's moods and hostility were starting to become the norm, but it was certainly taking its toll on those around him. Like the first time he had actually come out to sit with them in the rec room, after the devastating news.
5 ½ Months prior
Donut peeked his head around the door, hoping no one would be watching T.V so he could have it all to himself; noticing Simmons seated on the chair reading he turned, preparing to go back to his room and hide out but he hit the door frame when he turned, alerting the other man to his presence.
"Hey, long time no see." He called out carefully, with a small smile.
Donut turned, bashfully waving at the older man. "Uh, yea, hey...d'you mind if I turn on the television?"
Simmons shook his head and waved in the direction of the tattered sofa, "Help yourself."
Mumbling a soft 'thank you' he moved over and sat carefully on the sofa, turning the T.V on and flicking aimlessly through the channels, his leg bouncing up and down with nervous energy. The new medicine was always making him drowsy and listless, which he figured was why his toes always had pins and needles in them. He found bouncing his legs kept the tingling away.
He had told Doc about it, but only at Sarge's insistence and the medic said he would look into possible reasons why that might be. Donut didn't want to admit it, but Sarge had been a life saver on many occasions. Bringing him his meals when Donut didn't feel good enough to get out of bed after starting the new medication regiment; keeping him busy enough so he didn't have time to dwell on the problem at hand. He had never known Sarge was so good at playing cards, but after the first few nights, Sarge had hauled his bed into Donut's room to keep an eye on him.
At first, the young Marine had felt it was a little over the top, and tried to shoo the older man out of his room. Until the one night he woke up trembling and covered at sweat, nightmares of himself dying away as a husk in a hospital bed still swam before his eyes; that he was grateful for Sarge's strong arms and comforting bed. It was after that night, playing every card game under the sun till dawn that Donut stopped trying to kick Sarge out of his room.
Hearing someone at the doorway, Donut looked over from his position on the sofa, noticing Grif. For his part, the Hawaiian merely glanced back, then quickly away as if unsure of how to act. Moving to the sofa (the only last piece of unoccupied furniture), he sat on the farthest side over from Donut.
Agitated that Grif was acting like he was a leper, he let it slide as he settled on a movie and reclined.
"Hey Simmons, can you hand me that magazine?"
Glancing up from his book, he looked at Grif quizzically. "Donut's closer, ask him."
The orange marine looked at the magazine, glancing sideways at Donut who was making it a point to not look like he was listening, before standing up and reaching over to fetch the magazine himself. Stretching far, he finally flopped back on the sofa, curling up against the armrest, feet splayed out on the coffee table.
Setting down his book, Simmons glanced at the other two soldiers. "I'm getting a drink, you guys want one?"
Donut smiled up at Simmons, "Some apple juice, please."
"Uh, nothin' for me man."
As Simmons left, an uncomfortable silence enveloped the room, each turn of the magazine page a magnified sound the grated on Donut's nerves.
A few minutes later, and Simmons was back, a tall glass of milk in his hand and a small one of apple juice for Donut.
"Hey, pass this over for me, will you?"
Grif stared at the glass for a second, before taking it by the bottom of it and handing it over carefully to the young man, wary of touching him. Donut stared at Grif holding the glass like it would break if he handled it too hard.
"What the hell? Are you afraid to touch me or something Grif?!" Donut yelled out, hands flying in the air to punctuate each word.
"I-no!" He set the glass down on the table.
"Then what is it? You walk in here, sit as far away from me as possible, don't even acknowledge me and now you won't even let the off chance that my fingers will touch yours on a glass of apple juice?!"
The two older men just stared at Donut bewildered.
"What, do you think you'll catch it from me by touching my fingers?!" He paused then sneered, "Or are you worried I'll turn you gay?" His eyes narrowed, "That's it, isn't it?! You think I got this by fucking a guy! Well I fucking didn't, okay! I didn't fuck some infected guy! Some nice doctor at a hospital gave it to me, are you fucking happy yet?!" Tears brimming up, Donut jumped to his feet, running down the hall way to his room, shutting and locking the door against his new roommate in case he came back due to the commotion.
Simmons just stared over at Grif, still speechless, while Grif stared back.
"I...I had a peanut butter sandwich...and I didn't want him to have an allergic reaction." He whispered.
-Present-
"Please, just go and do what Sarge says? Doc has to come later and check your cell count afterwards, and then you have the rest of the day to yourself." He bartered, hoping it would work. "And command listened to your request and sent out some ice cream."
Donut's face lit up, "Really? Brownie Batter Chocolate?"
Simmons had to think if that was what it indeed was, but he couldn't remember. "Uh...it looked chocolate, and I saw darker bits in it, so...possibly." He raised a hand, "You can have some after the training and after Doc takes the blood samples."
Pouting, but certainly in higher spirits, Donut nodded and hurried off to change and join Sarge. Wearing the MJOLNR armor had started to become harder to do, it felt heavier than before, but the last month it had started to get better. The training must be paying off, he thought, affixing all the pieces and instantly turning the heat up on the regulated temperature and hurrying outside.
Sarge grinned beneath his visor, happy to see his youngest soldier out on time.
"A'right there cupcake, we're gonna warm up with a few laps 'round the base."
Nodding, Donut turned and started off at a slow trot, picking up his pace as he started to warm up. His legs and feet started their usual tingling, which he had grown use to over the months. It merely meant the medication was starting to slowly work, letting his brain know that there were nerve endings that needed to be woken up.
Despite hating having to take the medication, he was told by Doc day in, day out, how well he was doing all things considering (whatever that meant). Aside from a little weight loss and only mild nausea his physical symptoms were actually almost non-existent. But the depression, hostility, and excessive nightmares were all still there, but each night, so was Sarge. Helping him, keeping his mind focused on how high his T-cell count was, and that he was a Marine, and Marines don't quit.
Thirty minutes later and Sarge told Donut he could stop jogging, running over to the red commander, Donut huffed, his stamina not what it used to be.
"We're gonna work on target practice since it's been a while since you've been on the field...how's that sound?"
Donut smiled, happy to not be moving around. "Sounds good to me, who're we targeting?"
"Well, I've been spyin' on those nasty Blues, and I seem to have found a pattern wit' one of 'em." He led Donut up to the top of the base, where he had a sniper rifle set aside, and pointed across the canyon.
"Ya see that groupin' of rocks over there beside their base?" When Donut had the sights on the cluster, he continued. "There's this one Blue that goes out to them fer a bit every three hours or so, I want ya to see if you can hit 'em on his way to the rocks."
Zooming in on the scope, Donut relaxed his finger on the trigger, "You mean the teal one? Okie dokie!"
Targeting the teal soldier's legs, Donut fired and grazed the left leg. A shout erupted from across the canyon.
"Hah! I hit him!" He shouted giddily.
"Great work soldier!" Sarge clapped Donut on the back, grinning happily. "Think you can do two fer two?"
Nodding, he took aim again, this time with the teal soldier twisting and turning around frantically trying to see where the shot had come from. Just as he was about to fire, he suddenly felt dizzy and he saw two teal soldiers, shooting he heard a ping as it ricocheted off the rock. Donut lowered the gun with a sigh, "Sorry Sarge..."
"S'alright you hit 'em the first time, and that's what counts." He kept his voice optimistic, not showing his own worry at his best shot missing. "'Sides, here comes Doc anyways."
From the valley floor, the purple armoured medic waved up at the pair, while Donut frowned underneath his helmet. He always hated Doc's visits, because it meant he had to get jabbed with more needles. But he had promised Simmons his cooperation so he went inside the base willingly, waiting for Doc to come to his bedroom after shucking the armor and pulling on a sweater. He couldn't help but find the base was colder as of late.
"Hey, how're you feeling?" Doc asked, entering the room with an upbeat attitude.
"Still sick I see...." O'Malley's voice piped up, happily taunting.
Not even bothering to shush the AI, Doc quickly removed his helmet, setting it far away from the pair to silence his scathing jokes. "Sorry about that."
Donut merely shrugged, "It's okay."
As Doc readied the needle with gloved hands, he spoke up happily, "I did get your results back the other day. Your cell count is above four hundred!"
The blonde soldier looked confused, "Is that good?"
Doc motioned for Donut to roll up his sleeve so he could take a blood sample and nodded. "Yes, we've been over this before, remember? Two hundred and below is bad, and AIDS territory, a normal uninfected person has a T-cell count of seven hundred to a thousand. And a healthy infected person has a cell count of five hundred. So you're almost to a healthy level for your situation!" He tied a tourniquet around Donut's upper arm and tapped the vein, watching it rise.
"Oh...thanks." He looked away, needles every week and he still couldn't watch, but he felt as it slid in, the sharp pinch then flooding coolness around the area.
"If you reach five hundred, you won't have to take any extra medicine, you'll be able to stop the HIV pills." He hated to say that, because he didn't want to stop Donut's treatment in case he relapsed, but a lengthy conversation with a doctor back on Earth informed him that they rarely treated a person with HIV over a three hundred and fifty cell count. So Donut was still lucky to be getting the medicine to keep his count high.
This time Donut did perk up. "Really?"
"Yup, no more pills. But that means you have to keep taking them till I tell you to stop, or else your blood could become resistant to it. Okay?" He withdrew the needle and the inner tube popped out, setting it aside in the case he brought, and disposing of the needle into a bio-hazard bag he brought with him. Holding a cotton ball to Donut's arm till the bleeding stopped, he quickly taped up a band aid to it. Donut rolled down his sweater sleeve while Doc cleaned up before disposing of his gloves in the same bio-hazard baggie.
"Here, to be safe." He offered Donut a squeeze from his anti-bacterial gel bottle.
"Thanks..." he squeezed some onto his hands and wiped till they dried while Doc mimicked the action.
Standing, the medic closed up his small kit and retrieved his helmet, already hearing O'Malley from inside, yelling at the young brown haired man for denying him the pleasure of taunting the medically ill.
"I'll let you know the minute I get the results, but till then, you're good for another week." He smiled. "Got anything planned for today?"
Donut stood, happier than he'd been in a long while after hearing such good news about his cell count.
"I'm going to go pig out on chocolate ice cream." He grinned.