4
Erik had to try terribly hard not to outright laugh at his son when he'd surfaced from sleep and looked immediately so woozy that he barely seemed to know what planet he was on. Throughout the short while he'd slept, Erik had been holding onto his hand feeling him getting hotter and sweatier, the flush around his cheekbones more pronounced. The laughter had soon died in him, however, when he'd tried to speak to him and got only a wavery blank stare in response. Eventually, after a few minutes of coaxing and sitting him up against the pillows, as pliable and floppy as a rag doll in Erik's hands, he'd finally whispered
"M'scared, Dad"
Erik's chest hurt at the small voice worn ragged with coughing. Grasped his hand back again and stroked it soothingly.
"It's alright, Peter. I'm here. Why are you scared?"
No response for a long time, those wide fever-glittering eyes glancing around the room, swallowing with difficulty and provoking another choking fit of coughing.
"Will I get better?"
"Of course you will!" Erik answered immediately, "Why shouldn't you? It's only a 'flu, you'll be over it in no time. Just as soon as that fever breaks you'll be on the mend"
"Was like this when I was little," Peter muttered. He wasn't looking at Erik, eyes still roving around as if the room was unfamiliar to him, that blankness unsettling, "thought I'd die, y'know? S'like that now"
His father didn't hold back any longer, moved to sit beside him and scoop him up in a firm hug, kissed the top of his head softly. His hair was greasy and tangled, damp with sweat, but Erik didn't care. He could feel him trembling slightly in his arms.
"It's alright," he repeated, "you'll be better soon"
"S'what Mom used to say" that little voice mumbled from his position clutched against his father's chest. Erik said nothing for a long while, only moved one hand to cradle the back of Peter's head gently, stroke a thumb over the crown.
"And she was right. You did. And you'll get better again. I promise" he said eventually, felt an uncertain little nod, "the pain's getting bad, isn't it?"
Another little nod, this time followed by a snuffle and more coughing that forced Erik to let go temporarily before Peter could settle down in his arms again. Truth be told, it had been bad for a while now, but after that last nap he'd woken to the ache becoming a grinding sensation that was all too familiar. Despite all the layers and blankets and his father's warm body he was freezing, would have shivered if he had spare energy to do so, instead just lay still with his woozy head spinning crazily and all his bones hurting, worse every time he coughed.
He hadn't done much talking for the next hour or so. Managed to eat a little soup with Erik's persistence and aid, tried to turn over and go to sleep again but found the pain was far too much. Shook his head firmly at his father when he'd suggested he fetch Hank and see if he could give him anything, knew there was nothing that would really help and set his lips into a thin, white line, clenching down hard on the pain.
By evening, Erik had ignored Peter's refusal and fetched Hank anyway. This time, the doctor had looked genuinely worried, eyes widening in horror as he'd taken Peter's temperature and realised that a fever so high could genuinely hurt him. The boy was moaning quietly now, laying with his eyes halfway closed and struggling for breath, seeming unable to move and barely responding to Hank or Erik.
"Well?" Erik asked, tension strangling his voice. Hank thought, gave him a despairing look.
"I'm sorry, I don't think there's anything I can do. Aspirin would help control the fever, but he's not reacted well to it before. And I can't manage the pain, only anaesthetic works on him"
The doctor had reached down to take Peter's wrist, felt delicately for his pulse, only to have the boy sob and groan something that might have been 'don't' as he tried to pull his arm away. Even that gentle touch was agony, if he'd had just a little more strength he was sure he would have been screaming. Hank bit his lip, sat down on the other side of the bed and tried to give Erik a reassuring smile.
"I'll stay with him" he said, watched the worried father take his seat and brush his son's wet hair away from his face, "Hopefully the fever will break soon"
"If it doesn't?" Erik murmured, "what then?"
"Then I'll move him to the infirmary. For now though, he's getting through it. Just let him"
The next few hours had been hard to watch for them both, Peter unable to doze as he had been and continuing to wheeze and groan and try to change his position only to find that he couldn't, and that the pressure of hands helping him drove spikes of pain deep into his body. Erik didn't know if he was imagining it, but his breathing seemed to be getting worse. His clothes were soaked through with sweat, but helping him change was out of the question at present, he simply couldn't bear anything but the lightest touch. Then, at one in the morning when both men had been drowsing, Hank had suddenly sat upright and leaned over his patient.
"Erik," he said calmly, "Get out"
"Excuse me?"
"Out. Of the room." He snapped, began pulling the covers away from Peter in a hurry, "I mean it, you don't want to be here"
One look at his son revealed why Hank was so concerned. His eyes had rolled back into his head, jaw clenching spasmodically, soon followed by uncoordinated jerks that progressed down his limbs until his whole body was twitching and shaking.
"What's going on?!" Erik demanded, Hank didn't look up, kept his eyes fixed on Peter, holding the pillow under his head so that he didn't slam it into the headboard
"He's seizing – probably from fever, possibly also low blood sugar" Hank winced as one of Peter's flailing hands knocked his glasses off, "It'll be over soon, he's had these before"
Erik had no idea what to do, could only stare in mute horror. As Hank had promised though with one final spasm Peter had fallen limp against the soaked sheets, pliable and deeply unconscious as the doctor rolled him over into the recovery position, careful practiced movements as Hank checked his airways and nodded, satisfied.
"He's fine," he told Erik, still standing frozen by the bed, "can you go fetch him something to eat – a shake or something? He's going to be fine, but he'll need it"
Erik had never felt so grateful to be out of the room, finding that when he returned Hank was gently rolling a fresh sheet underneath his son's body, pulling his wet shirt off and covering him over again with heaps of fresh blankets. The boy was stirring slightly, making a mumbled noise of objection as Hank stuck his temp monitor in his ear, nodded again at the reading.
"Fever's going down," he said, relief evident in his voice, "Peter? You need to sit up and drink this. Come on kid, we'll help"
There had seemed very slightly more volition in his movements, though no more strength, as Erik had gently held him sitting upright whilst Hank held the glass to his lips. He choked a little, only once, but had managed the glassful and slumped back exhausted by the effort. In a few minutes, Hank peeled back one eyelid experimentally and smiled
"He's sleeping. Best thing for him. Are you alright?"
"Fine… I…" Erik gaped for words, finding none. He had never seen anything so disturbing since he was a small boy – and what he had to compare it to was shocking indeed, "That was awful"
"For him too, I assure you. But he's fine now – it's over. Let him sleep" he stood, gathered up his things, "call me back if you're worried"
"You're leaving?!" he said, a little panicked, "but – what if it happens again? What if –"
"It won't," the doctor assured him, "He just needs rest now – the worst's over"
At that moment, Peter had shifted in his sleep to lay one hand over his father's arms where they rested around his waist. Erik's eyes prickled, he swallowed hard and nodded. Stayed there ignoring his leg falling asleep until Peter had raised his head just a little and mumbled
"C'n I have another one of those things? The liquid Twinkies?"
Erik smiled broadly, sniffed a little. Carefully allowed his son to lay down and went to fetch him his shake, satisfied that if he was well enough to be demanding liquidised cake again, he had to be feeling a little better.
