He's in pain, but he focuses on the food rather than the ache in his legs. Just because he's constantly dislocating, spraining and straining his joints, it doesn't mean that it hurts any less when it happens than if he'd never done it before. Possibly, it hurts more, because there is residual damage. The difference between him and someone healthy, someone who didn't grow up in and out of hospitals, rehab facilities and clinics, is that he's been living with the pain for so long that normally he can block it out at some basal level and function. Because he has to.

Nick's … friend notices, somehow. The blond is ridiculously perceptive, or else he's known someone with a chronic pain disorder before. Maybe both.

After a complicated series of plate switching ("to confuse the dish washing robots"), Jon, Nick and Trent take the trays up to the dishwashing window.

"Seb, Hunter, you're with me. We're going to the nurse, or we're going to A&E. Your choice." The blond has a barely muted Australian accent.

"I'm sorry, but beyond the fact that you're clearly a koala lover who mauls people's necks, I don't know who you are?" Snark is a way to calm the pain.

"Bloody bastards, koalas." The blond grins. "I'm Jeff Sterling: token Aussie, nick's boy, and current Warbler medic."

He wonders for a moment who or what the Warbler are, and then remember the headmaster's spiel about the glee club.

"Well, Jeff, don't you ever go to class?" He's honestly curious.

Sebastian shrugs. "If we're not sick. Which I am."

Jeff raises an eyebrow. "I'm pretty sure chronic illness doesn't excuse you from attendance."

"Yeah, but the fact that I've got a low grade fever and I'm spilling ketones again does." Sebastian is frank and crytic.

Jeff smacks him, and holds out a hand, snapping his fingers. "Give it, mate."

Sebastian sheepishly hands over a liter water bottle, which Jeff goes and fills.

"I'll be fucked if you don't finish that in the hour." The Aussie turns to him. "I've got study hall this hour. Well, technically college prep where I'm supposed to practice writing essays and that shit. Except that my essays are in review right now and there are only so many times I can fill out paperwork saying that I've got my green card. So, I'm on idiot-sitting duty."

Sebastian rolls his eyes, childishly, but he drinks some of the water.

"So, we're going to the clinic." Jeff makes the pronouncement matter-of-factly. "Do you want me to steal you a wheelchair, Hunter?"

His pride lets him hesistate for all of thirty seconds. His shoulder is on edge already, and if it dislocates, chances are pretty good that it will come with a bleed. He's been playing the odds already and the house is stacked against him. It would stuck to be taken to the hospital on his first day, to be wrapped and scolded and kept overnight for observation and then end up with his dominant hand in a sling for a week while his shoulder heals to some degree.

"Sure," he agrees.

Sebastian drains the water bottle while Jeff goes to borrow a wheelchair. "Sometimes, my body decides it hates me," he volunteers.

He shrugs. He knows all about bodies that hate their owners. He practically grew up in hospitals.

"Well, actually, my body once decided it hated itself. And so it destroyed that part. And every so often, things get fucked up and it eats itself. Usually when I'm sick. Or my medicine gets fucked up. Or…"

The pause hangs pregnant in the air between them.

Jeff comes back with the wheelchair. It's one of the hated collapsible hospital variety: silver frame, navy blue vinyl seat, ungainly wheels and handles on the back. He's filling the prescription for a proper wheelchair as soon as he can. It's embarrassing to have Jeff wheeling him down the hall like an invalid, and Sebastian carrying his crutches.

He's surprised at the proximity of the nurse's office. He knows that Dalton is a relatively small school, maybe 400 students between grades 7 and 12, but that doesn't prevent the school from occupying huge grounds. Still, the nurse is located in the next building over, a relatively modern structure built within the last decade (they go outside to get there), which apparently serves as a dorm for some of the younger boys.

It's actually almost a proper clinic, complete with a lab and a small onsite pharmacy. The nurse on duty, who tells him to call her Anne, is a competent, maternal sort of woman. She's a certified nurse practioner, which puts him at ease. The fact that she's more competent that many doctors he's met makes him even more comfortable.

She shoos Sebastian into a bathroom with a urine sample cup and then tells the lab tech to start an IV to the tall boy. Then, she turns her attention to him.

He has to give it to Anne, she doesn't flinch when he passes over the copy of his medical file (carefully doctored to be in Hunter Clarington's name, but with his real information in it). He used to keep a proper manila folder, like doctor's offices use, but at some point, the folder started to break down. Now, he keeps everything in a three-ring binder. This one has 2" rings and is divided into section with colored tabs. She just asks if he needs help getting up onto the bed or changing into the gown.

She does an initial examination, probing where she finds not only the cuts along his side, but the fading bruise on his back and the fresh scar on his arm. He was supposed to have arrived at Dalton on Monday, but there had been … complications in Chicago. She examines his knee, his ankle and his shoulder. Here is no bleed, yet, but she wants him to do a round of prophylaxis.

He knows the look in Anne's eyes. He knows he's going to be staying over night, and monitored.

He's certain that Dalton Academy will soon come to the conclusion that he's more trouble than he's worth, and send him away. That's what almost every other place has done. But, for now, they're treating him like a human being, asking if he wants anything from his room while he's confined to the infirmary. He asks for his backpack. It has his tooth brush, a few pairs of clean underwear, his finger braces and his iPad. He knows he's going to be here for a while; he might as well get some reading done.

Anne inserts his IV with deft precision. He watches her; it's a procedure that's he's had carried out an uncountable number of times. He can insert his own, and normally he does, but he lets the clinic staff do it here. He trusts them to be gentle.

Sebastian is already hooked up to his own IV and muttering. They've taken away his water bottle and replaced it with saline. The boy is tired; it's clear in his every movement. But, he puts up a good fight. He swears loudly in English (it does help relieve pain). He calls quietly for his mother in French. And, just as he's falling asleep, when he's too tired to fight anymore, a few tears slip out. Jeff comes back to find Sebastian crying, and rubs his back until the tall brunette falls asleep.

He tries to read. He's working his way through The Federalist Papers and Common Sense. But, his vision blurs as he gets more and more tired. Finally, he falls asleep, head lolling over his iPad.

A/N: I promise to continue writing this. But, I'm about to start (another) major coding project, this one with real computer scientists. And, for those of you who do/don't know, when I get into coding, it sometimes takes away from my writing. But, I know what's happening next here. (Although admittedly I'm a little surprised Hunter ended up in the infirmary so quickly, or that it's so awesome). This chapter is dedicated to/inspired by my absolutely awesome CNP, Deb, who took care of me at my last school and was an absolute angel. Anne is an homage to her.

Thank you guys for everyone who has reviewed/followed/favorited. I open up my inbox and feel the love. Which just makes me want to write this more.