Chapter 9
He felt sick.
The nausea left him curled in a ball, hot tears squeezing from under his eyelids, sucking in harsh breaths. He knew his forehead was warm- burning even, but shivers wracked his body. He was so cold.
Cold, hot, cold, hot, cold.
It seemed to be a cycle.
The fifteen year old just sat there, though. He was sick, sure. He was ill, but it didn't really matter.
He just need to get things done, that was all. To get what he could done- not that he could do an awful lot, but he assumed it was the sentiment that counted.
He might as well be useful.
Chuck stifled a cough into his hand. He was ill, but he'd just have to get through it. It'd be over in a little bit, the sickness, the coughing, the fever. In a few days at least, he'd be fine. Just a few days.
He couldn't expect to bother anyone, they wouldn't want it- didn't need it, not really. He'd be fine- not that he could ever remember being sick before. He could get them sick, and they didn't deserve that, none of them.
That was when the tiny voice whispered, but you do.
He shivered again. It was getting colder, wasn't it? But then, the glade never really got cold or hot. Mildly warm, usually. Or cold, but never terrible.
Why was that?
'This means,' the fifteen year old thought glumly. 'I'm getting worse.'
It was freezing, and the chill crept through his bones like someone was injecting him with liquid ice. He sniffed back a few more tears, it wouldn't do to cry, they'd just laugh at him.
Everyone seemed to laugh at him. He wasn't surprised- but it hurt, and though he expected it, it was still painful.
"Hey?"
Chuck flinched, trembling, terrified. he didn't need this, not now. Not again.
"Whoa, hey kid." Someone had shoved the branches back, exposing the curled up form under the bush. Chuck squinted, but his vision was tilting and blurring, and he could barely make out anything.
Then there was cool hand on his forehead, and a sharp intake of breath. "Oh my God." Someone breathed, and there was a softness to their tone that one would normally associate with Newt-
Except Chuck could've sworn the voice was Gally's.
He pushed them away weakly. "No, I wan'..." But the words were slurred, and they fell on deaf ears. "Go 'ay.."
Then he was hauled to his feet, and he nearly fell, but whoever it was wrapped an arm under his own. "Come on." They muttered. "Come on kid, we just gotta get you there."
The fifteen year old was stumbling, falling, and blackness started to dot his vision.
"No, no, no." The person yelped. "No, kid, don't pass out, please-"
But their efforts were in vain, and Chuck found himself face-planting the floor. Always graceful.
Why did it always happen to him?
He woke up in a daze, feeling a cool liquid trickling into his ear. Someone had placed a cool cloth on his forehead- it felt nice, soothing against the dark heat.
"Chuck!"
Thomas was sitting by him, his blue eyes wide. "Chuck, you collapsed. Are you okay? Are you ill?" The twelve year old shifted, as if he wanted jump around. "What happened?"
Chuck pushed himself up, wincing at the headache, but shaking himself quickly. He was fine, he just needed to get up.
He swung his legs over the side, and a small hand caught hold of his shoulder.
"You're supposed to stay in bed." Thomas, whispered imploringly. "Jeff said you were really sick. He said you have to rest, or it could get worse."
"Jeff's not a doctor." Really, Chuck was just saying what had to be said. "And I'm okay. It was probably just last night."
"But he said that today. Chuck you were asleep a day and a half." The kid was really getting on his nerves. "That means you're still sick."
"When did he say that?"
"Maybe about an hour ago? I don't know." The child shrugged helplessly. "But you are ill." His eyes had a glint of fiery determination in them, that made Chuck wonder. "Why don't you want to stay here?"
Chuck shrugged helplessly. "I just don't?" He asked. "I dunno, I mean, I guess I've just got to get back to work, you know- they can't function without me." He said the last part jokingly, pushing away the irritation. Thomas was just trying to help, and they were supposed to be friends. "I reckon I'm good enough to get up, kiddo."
Thomas just watched him, a glimmer of concern flashing across his face. "You're ill." He said quietly. "You don't need to work when you're ill."
Chuck swallowed, trying to put it into words. "I do." He told the child. "I'm not that sick anyway, though- but I have to help, yeah? I can't just be useless."
Thomas looked at him oddly, but shrugged. "Sure." He said. "But, you know- if you get sick like before, you gotta come back, right?"
"Right." Chuck nodded. "But I won't." He swung himself fully out of the bed. "I've got to get back to work." He pulled on his jumper from the floor, which someone had evidently removed. "I've gotta get back."
Thomas swallowed- he didn't quite know why he was seeking the older glader out- maybe it was the ache in the center of his forehead, but something had been bugging him all day really. He was kind of anxious and jittery, and pretty jumpy. Alex had just put his hand on his shoulder, and the twelve year old had nearly shrieked in terror. He was feeling pretty miserable, though.
"Newt?"
"Yeah?"
Thomas bit his lip softly. "Newt, is Chuck okay?" There was something off- there had been for a while, and the twelve year old had to figure it out.
The young man glanced up, then, his light eyes suddenly unreadable. "Tommy, being here isn't easy, yeah?"
"Yeah." Thomas nodded. He knew that. "But Chuck acts so different." He could see it, every time he saw the older glader, there was something in his eyes- bleakness flatness, he wasn't sure, but it was foreign, and to be honest, kind of scary. "What if he- he-" He couldn't really voice it, it was too terrifying. The idea made him ill, sick, and he wondered if maybe he'd caught what Chuck had.
Newt shrugged slightly. "Chuck's always been like that, even when he came here." His tone was reserved. "Always." He sighed suddenly. "I don't know kiddo, I worry too- but in here, the glade I mean, we can't do anything, can't help… I don't know." He pulled the child towards him, ruffling his hair. "It'll be okay, yeah? We've just gotta watch him. Just tell me if he does anything strange, right? You can do that."
He could. "None of us are normal." Thomas's tone was bitter, and he could feel Newts careful gaze on him. Maybe it sounded wrong, coming from the mouth of twelve year old.
"No." The twenty year old's voice was a strange mix of sorrow and resignation, and… anger? It was restrained though, and when he spoke again he sounded closer to normal. "Kiddo, it's gonna be okay. We'll get out of here." The 'I promise' was unspoken, but it rung clear, and Thomas' eye watered a little. "I'm not going to let them keep us here." His tone was strong, determined.
The twelve year old did cry then, for what felt like the millionth time. Alex said he was brave, but he didn't think so- not really. Not like this. He cried all the time. That couldn't be anything but weak. He cried when he was sad, happy- none of the other gladers did that. None of them.
A strong arm wrapped around him, and Thomas felt safe. His body shook with sobs. They wracked his body- deep, wrenching, heartfelt cries. He felt so young at that moment, and he didn't understand just why, but he did. He clung to the twenty year old, tears soaking the elder's shoulder.
"You're going to be okay." Newt just kept whispering, and Thomas wondered if he'd been born with the 'comforting big brother' gene, because it fit him so perfectly. "You'll be okay."
Thomas nodded, still hiding his face from the world. "I'm being a baby." His words were muffled, but still audible, because the elder gently removed the boy, so he could see him properly.
"You're not." His tone was fierce. "Tommy, you're twelve. You're a child, not even a teenager. Nobody thinks you're a baby."
"But I cry all the time." Thomas whispered. "I do, and that's babyish."
Newt seemed to think a moment, "It isn't." He finally said. "You're littler than the rest of us Tommy, and this is an incredibly scary situation- for adults, let alone kids. You're not crying more than the rest of us first did- that's amazing in itself."
Thomas just nodded. Newt was clever- anyone could tell from the moment they met him, and far more mature than he had any right to be. His words were practically gold dust, and they always made sense.
"Right." Newt grinned. "And I reckon Frypan's saved us something to eat, so we might as well go have it."
"Okay."
"And we can get you something for that fever."
I hope you liked it- I've sort of gone off on a tangent and I hope you don't mind. It's a bit of an insight into who Chuck is though, and I've always thought the books don't really have him in them enough. Review please, and tell me what you think :-)
