I continue to subject poor Terra to all sorts of woe.
Chapter 7: Sickness
Terra had hardly left Kefka's bedside in a good two weeks now, and he showed no signs of getting any better. He had developed an intense fever that had come on quite without warning, along with a weakness in his body that had confined him to his room, and she had to help him into bed after he had collapsed to the floor, and ever since, Terra had done little else but dab at his forehead with a cold towel or spoon feed him plain broth, when he could keep it down, that is, while he stared off at nothing with glassy eyes and intermittently mumbled to himself and blamed whoever it was he thought resided in his head for his current affliction.
She would stay up with him late into the night, sitting on his bed and stroking his hair and watching his chest rise and fall as he slept just to make sure he was still alive, and she would often wake up hours later to find she had fallen asleep right in that very spot, and whenever his head was clear enough to be aware of her presence, he would promise her he'd get better soon, and she knew that when he said this, he was also telling her not to go to Dr. Cid, but this time, she thought she might have to disobey him because he only got worse the last time he promised her he'd be all right.
Nevertheless, she supposed it couldn't hurt to give him a little while longer to recover, and she continued to tend to him as best she knew how, doing the kinds of things he would do when she was sick and just generally keeping him company, which he seemed to appreciate when he was actually aware she was nearby, and whenever she thought he was listening, she'd read to him, even if it was hard to focus on the words when she didn't know how serious his illness was and when she worried that, if and when she did go to Dr. Cid for help, what if that was the very moment Kefka needed her most? What if she really was too late this time?
She had already let him down once before, and it had cost him dearly. Maybe Dr. Cid wouldn't have been able to help him anyway, or maybe he could have, but it was now far too late for her to know one way or the other. All she knew for certain was that she could have at least tried, and she didn't. She didn't even try to help him, and she wondered what kind of person that might make her.
He would understand if she disobeyed him, though, wouldn't he? He was always good about that kind of thing. He hadn't even gotten angry with her the time she dropped a teacup when she had burned herself. His main concern had been her, not the shattered china cup or the irreversible stain that had adorned their rug ever since. And the time she had been reaching for something and had knocked down one of his favorite music boxes, no punishment came, then, either, even when she had become frozen to the spot as she waited for it. Instead, all he had done was stare at it in stunned silence, the racket it had made no doubt startling him about as much as the resulting damage, before coming over to pick up the pieces with about as much solemnity as if he had been burying a beloved pet. He forgave her once he could speak again, though that was one transgression whose guilt never really went away. He had loved that music box.
Her course of action was decided for her, however, when he had a seizure and wouldn't wake up again no matter how much she shook him. She had never run so fast before in her life, and she was just grateful that Kefka had taken her to visit Dr. Cid in the past, or else she might very well not have known how to find her way to the lab, and she didn't know what she'd do if that had been the case. She probably would've collapsed right there in the hallway and cried.
She was crying enough already when she did finally reach the lab, and Dr. Cid grabbed her by the arms as he tried to get out of her what was wrong. It was hard to get the words out through her sobbing, but she managed it eventually, and he came back with her at once, though she couldn't enter Kefka's bedroom until Dr. Cid had confirmed that he was still breathing. He was awake by now, as well, but only just, as his eyes might've been open, but she couldn't be certain if he could actually really see anything.
Dr. Cid carried him back to the lab, and it was quite fortunate Kefka was a rather small man and didn't weigh much, as Dr. Cid was getting on in years, and he told her as they went down the hallway that he'd do everything in his power to help, but when he told her not to worry, she couldn't tell if he was just saying that because that's what people said or if he really thought there was no need for such a thing. He looked anxious enough himself, so she could only assume he had only given her such reassurances out of obligation.
She didn't see much of Kefka over the next week, and whenever she did see him, he was always asleep, or perhaps unconscious, with tubes in his arm that she didn't know the purpose of. While she knew Dr. Cid was not that kind of a doctor, the kind that tended to those that were sick or injured, he said nothing of her coming to him, and it was quite possible that Kefka's current illness was not just some particularly severe case of the flu, but side effects stemming from something long ago.
It was the experiments that had done this to him, she was certain it was. They had caused not just his sickness, but the talking he did to himself and the vacant looks, as well. It was because of the experiments that he had hit her that time. He hadn't meant to do that. It wasn't his fault.
And as she waited for him to wake up again, she just hoped that when he did, he wouldn't talk to himself when Dr. Cid was around. She didn't think Dr. Cid knew that he did this, but it was likely too late for him to do anything about it anyway, and if he found out, he might just wonder why Terra had never bothered to tell him. Because it might not just be Dr. Cid's tests that had made Kefka sick. It might be her fault, as well, because she had failed to bring it to Dr. Cid's attention years ago.
Kefka could die, and it would be all her fault.
Dr. Cid came into his office one day, where she had been spending much of her time, to tell her that Kefka was finally conscious again, and she followed him to the room where he was kept, a small space that was rather cold and lacking in windows, but the lab wasn't typically meant for such a thing. And though Kefka looked tired, his eyes weren't as glassy as they once were, and, thankfully, he wasn't talking to himself, either. She smiled when she saw him and went to sit beside him on the bed, and she helped him to sit up when he couldn't do it on his own. He remained largely silent as she spoke to him, however, and only gave short answers when she asked him about how he was feeling, and she couldn't help but fidget when his eyes, at last, landed on her for the first true time in weeks, even if she could think of no good reason why his gaze should elicit such a response from her.
He gave her a start when he grabbed her by the arms, not in the way that Dr. Cid had, though, but tight, tight enough that his nails dug into her skin, and she squeaked as he gave her a shake.
"Why did you have to tell him?" he said. "I specifically told you not to, and you went and did it anyway!"
She stammered and stuttered before she could think up any proper answer. He had never done this before. Not ever. And she had never seen him so angry before, either. "Y-you were sick, and…I'm sorry! I didn't know! You never said—"
It was true. He hadn't told her not to go to Dr. Cid. Not about this. Only about when he talked to himself, and she had obeyed him that time, even when it was probably not in his best interest. He really hadn't gone out and said it this time, not in so many words, and it wasn't like she had really been given a choice in the matter, but he hit her anyway, harder than last time. It was the second time he had ever struck her, and her tears came immediately as she jerked out of his grip and backed away from him. Tears welled up in his eyes, as well, but from what, she could no longer be certain.
"I was the first success, you know. How can I be considered one now?"
He bowed his head and started to sob, and she turned and left with her cheek still hot where he had slapped her, and she couldn't tell Dr. Cid why she was crying when she passed him on her way out of the lab. She didn't know how long she had walked, nor did she know where she had ended up when she finally stopped sometime later, and she leaned against the wall in some hallway she didn't recognize with her arms hugged tight around herself. Her tears had since stopped flowing, and her face felt cold where they rested, and she wished she could cry more because she had so much more sorrow left in her, but it could very well be too much for her to ever rid herself of all of it.
She slid down the wall until she was sitting on the ground, blinking away the tears her eyelashes had been holding onto, and there she remained for some time, huddled up as she tried to sort out things in her head she would never fully understand, but most unsettling of all was the realization that she was starting to doubt she knew who Kefka really was anymore.
You know, this story's starting to rather depress me. In fact, once I started getting into these kinds of chapters, it gave me a rather unpleasant feeling in the pit of my stomach to write something so very different in tone to when the story began. But, perhaps that's good. Please review and tell me what you think.