Chapter 3 A Nightmare of A Different Kind

Davy, Micky and Peter walked in silence, each weighed down by their own worries and fears. What could have happened to Mike? They knew he wouldn't have skipped out on his visit with Lucy unless it was something serious. Arriving at their home, they saw the car was still there, meaning Mike had never left the pad. That's when Micky ran in, not bothering to wait for the others as his fears got the best of him.

"MIKE," he called out as soon as he entered the pad. "Hey, Mike…"

Peter and Davy entered only a few steps behind him, depositing the pot on the table and proceeding to call out and to look downstairs as well for their friend.

Not seeing him in the living room, Micky ran upstairs, only to stop dead in his tracks. Mike lay pale and still in the hallway just outside their room.

"PETE, DAVY, GET UP HERE QUICK!" He called out as he knelt beside his unconscious friend. Putting a hand to his forehead, Micky swore softly. "Aw man, Mike, you're burning up." he whispered. He tried shaking the Texan's shoulders gently and patting his cheeks in an effort to rouse him, but it was no use. "Mike. Come on, Mike, please wake up." He pleaded. Realizing he wasn't getting anywhere that way, He turned toward the stairs, hearing the other two running up to where he was.

"Pete, go call Doctor Parsons. Tell him it's an emergency. Davy, go soak some towels to help me cool him down with. " Micky directed as the other two arrived at the top of the stairs, drawing the taller boy to him and lifting him far too easily. "Damn, Pete's right. He really has lost weight," he told Davy as the diminutive Brit searched the closet beside them for towels.

Pete ran back in as Micky put Mike to bed, pulling off his shoes and shirt as Davy returned with the damp towels and began gently wiping the Texan's face.

"The doctor's on his way," Peter told them, staring wide eyed at their friend. "Is he going to be okay?"

"He'll be fine," Micky answered absently, taking another of the wet towels and wiping down the unconscious man's chest, stomach and arms, trying not to cringe as he saw how thin his friend had truly become. Noting the tears threatening in the sensitive blonde's eyes, Micky sighed. "Look, Pete, why don't you go down and wait for Doc Parsons, okay? Bring him straight up when he gets here." Peter hesitated for a moment, then nodded and hurried back down the stairs.

Gray haired and slightly stooped Doctor Parsons arrived quickly, though it seemed to take forever to the three worried boys. He talked to them briefly, getting a little background on his patient, then all three boys were sent down into livingroom to wait nervously, all eyes on the stairway, while the he examined Mike.

"We should call Maria," Davy suggested quietly, his eyes bright with tears. "We told her we'd call her after we checked on him."

Micky shook his head, staring dejectedly at the floor. "No point in calling her until Doc Parsons is done."

"We shouldn't have left him alone," Peter sobbed, feelings of guilt getting the better of him. "We knew he was sick. Why didn't we stay with him?"

"He didn't want us to, remember? He told us to go." Micky reminded Pete as gently as he could, though even he was having a hard time convincing himself he was right.

"We went to play around and left him to clean up after us, like we always do." Peter argued, pulling away with uncharacteristic anger, tear streaming down his face. "He was working the extra hours for Antonelli to clean up my mistake and he stayed up when he got home to clean up everything else because we couldn't be bothered. Didn't you hear him this morning? He all but asked us to help him here. He only told us to go because we couldn't be bothered to hear him."

"We left because we thought he might rest if pad was quiet enough. And all but asked isn't asking," Micky argued, desperate to put his own feelings of guilt in check. "He told us what he needed to do, not what he needed us to do."

"He shouldn't have had to tell us to do anything," Davy chimed in at last, agreeing with Peter as much as he wished he didn't. "We could have done the dishes…cleaned the bathrooms…done our own laundry." He noticed Micky flinch as if he'd been slapped, but continued anyway. "We could have made some of the calls. That was the agreement we made from the start, right? We'd each take care of ourselves? But we haven't been. We were here the whole time he was working for Antonelli. There's no reason we couldn't have done at least some of it ourselves. We could have helped at Antonelli's instead of leaving it to him to do it on his own, for that matter. He's run himself ragged because we didn't leave him a choice."

Micky lowered his head, unable to find his voice past the lump in his throat. He was spared the need to by the sound of Doctor Parsons emerging from the upstairs bedroom.

"Well, boys," the elderly gentleman said as he came down the stairs. "I'm not going to kid you. Your friend up there is in pretty sad shape. He's really going to need you to look after him for awhile. I'm going to leave some antibiotics, a strong cough syrup and a couple of inhalers to see if we can't help him breathe a little easier, and something to help strengthen his lungs back up. You'll need to see to it he takes them. I want him on bed rest for the time being. Keep him still and quiet and make sure he takes in plenty of fluids. Give him aspirin and as much water as you can get him to take in to help get that fever down, but not on an empty stomach. You need to make sure he eats. I'm going to leave some supplements for him, but they won't do much if he's not eating, and it's pretty clear he hasn't been doing enough of that. I'll be back on Friday evening to check in on him."

Peter let out a strangled sob and turned to Micky, who did his best to comfort him.

"Is he awake?" Davy asked, looking up at the closed door. "Can we see him?"

"You can go on in, but try not to disturb him." The doctor replied. "He's not awake yet, but given what you all told me about the schedule he's been keeping I don't think anyone should be surprised by that. Exhaustion is another complication we're going to have to deal with. A body just can't heal the way it needs to in that state, so we want to let him sleep as long as we can. You'll need to make sure to wake him long enough to get something in him and give him his medicine when it's due, but then let him go back to sleep if he will."

"Mike's going to be okay, though, right?" Peter asked, his voice thick with emotion. "If we do like you said and make sure he rests and everything, I mean. He'll be alright, then. Right?"

"He should be," the doctor agreed. "Just make sure he is made to rest. Make sure he knows that I'm expecting to find him reclining in that bed when I return, and that he's to have remained there the entire time without argument. I'll be back at the end of the week." He smiled at the three in front of him. "Now you boys go ahead and look in on him if you want to. I'll show myself out."

Micky watched the doctor leave, turning over all the things he'd said as Davy called Maria to fill her in. Considering how driven his friend had been lately, he was pretty sure that getting Mike to follow the doctor's orders and just check out for a week would be easier said than done. "So all we've got to do is keep Mike tied to the bed and force feed him for a week. Sure. Simple." He sighed at last. He raised his head to look at his friends. "I guess maybe if we sit on him. Literally. That might work."

"I'll do it if I have to," Peter vowed, wiping his eyes on his shirt sleeve.

"We just have to make sure he doesn't have a reason to argue. If we keep up on everything he's been doing on our own then he won't feel like he has to get up and do it himself." Davy reminded them as he hung up the phone. "And if that doesn't work, we'll call in our secret weapon."

"What weapon?" Micky and Peter asked in unison.

Davy answered simply, "Lucy."