It takes some trial and error, but Karkat and I finally come up with a reasonably wearable wardrobe for Gamzee. By combining his shirt, a swatch from Karkat's, and some black fabric (uh, heh, silk) laying about in my sylladex, but we came up with a polka-dotted suit, two shirt and pant sets very similar to the original, two tank-tops, two pair of shorts, and several pairs of shoes. I look at Karkat quizzically, not really wanting to ask the next question. "Aren't we, missing something from this wardrobe?" He frowns in consternation, looking over his inventory, "No? Everything's here." I pinch the bridge of my nose, mostly from embarrassment, "Well, I was thinking of, socks...and things that go...under...clothes." Didn't I just get myself out of hot water with him?! I brace for his acerbic outburst with a wince, but am instead treated to a braying laugh. "HAHAHAHA! Are you kidding me?! I could never get that clownshoes dumbass to wear clothing protectors! It's a chore just to convince him to dress in the morning! I swear to Gog it's like he was raised by feral woofbeasts." Crisis averted. Lovely.
The trip back to my room is much more companionable than the trip from. Karkat even cracks a joke that isn't laced with epithets, "Why did the peep beast cross the road?" With a wan smile I reply, "Why?" He shakes with laughter, "To avoid the culling forks!" He breaks out into a gale of mirth, and I titter weakly beside him. I have no idea why the joke is so funny. But it isn't the only reason that my laugh is weak. The fever Kanyana mentioned earlier re-asserts itself with a vengeance. An inferno boils under my skin, making my knees shake. The cut on my head actually feels cool and cold, but the rest of my body is aching with pain from my earlier contusions. Panting, I wrap my arms around my simultaneously icy and flaming body, trying to still the shakes. Karkat notices my slower pace, "Oh My Gog! My past self has been dragging you all over the meteor after what happened this morning! What an inconsiderate douche canoe! Are you all right?" His denial of the connection between his past and present self is funnier than his peep beast joke. I want to tell him I'm fine, but my vision begins to blur and spot and my legs wobble dangerously. I want to make my way out of the humid corridor and before it's gross clingy fingers drag me into the dark abyss behind my eyes. Time slows, Karkat's voice falls away to an unintelligible murmur, I pitch forward.
Pure, indeterminable, blackness. I hear laughing off in the distance, and see a rainbow of colors as they whiz by at a dizzying speed. Then nothing. It makes my heart ache with an unknown loss. Rising to the surface, I whimper when my mind snaps into reality. My eyes refuse to open. An oppressive heat swamps my face and front, but strangely I feel a firm coolness behind me. A band of cool drapes my middle. Sinking into it with a boneless sigh, I luxuriate in its glorious chill. I turn my cheek so it touches the life-giving ice-pack behind my body. A thrumming purr of a cat motors away above my head. But, it's not quite above, more like, underneath? I can feel the vibration of it in my cheek. I must be sick. The only time Mother ever lets me sleep in with Jaspers is when I'm sick.
I reach out above me, seeking the source of the purring. Fur pushes and nudges into my hand, the thrum beneath (around?) me growing louder. Jaspers. I sigh his name as I stroke the fur, noting that it's gotten too long again. I'll have to give him a trim when I get better. Flashbacks of Sburb filter through my mind. John's house disappearing into the medium, Bec Noir, my mother, oh gog! My mother! I never said, we never...! I'm so sorry! Guilt and pain flash through me, more painful than the fever and aches. I stir fitfully, trying to sit up. My eyelids feel like they are glued shut, then weighed down with anvils. I'm too tired. The cooling bandage around my waist tightens while Jaspers makes a noise of discontent. I settle back with an irritated sigh. Was all of it a dream? A fevered delirium? It's just a dream. It never happened. I can apologize about our last argument when the fever breaks, set things right, finally. I begin fiddling with Jasper's fur again as I wonder how long I've been asleep, searching for his ear so I can scratch behind it.
I turn my face to the right to cool it. I successfully locate his ear and rub behind it in swirls, his purr takes on a deep and unfamiliar keen. Even his ear...feels..strange, longer than it should be, and much fleshier. I contemplate more of my delirious dreams of Sburb, the suicide mission to create the green sun, the arrival of our traveling companions, the trolls. OH GOG IN HEAVEN THE TROLLS! My eyes snap awake as the awkward realization sets in. I painfully push myself up and away from my place of rest. I roll and stand, waveringly, on my feet, needles of Oglgoth at hand. "WHAT THE FRESH HELL IS THIS?!" I scream, glaring down at a startled, shirtless Gamzee sprawled out on my bed, and an abashed Karkat sitting next to him in my lounge-chair. I realize I'm wearing only a tank-top and sleeping shorts. Who the hell dressed me?! I demand an answer to my question, but my body will withstand no more. The fever spikes painfully deep in my veins once the last ounce of coolness leeches away from my core. I crumple like a rag doll, falling back on my haunches.
I don't know if what I'm seeing is even real. I must be hallucinating. There are no monsters in my room. I READ about monsters, I do not SEE them. Both rise from their sitting positions, rushing to assist me from the floor, or eat me, I don't know. This is one hell of a lucid nightmare. I scramble backwards, threatening them with my knitting needles. Are they magic? Yes. Yes, they are. My back slams against the bathroom door. Mother must have finished the renovations to the house! I scrabble upwards, brandishing my needles and screeching that I am a "FURIOUS WIZARD" and to not "FUCK WITH ME." The door opens with a welcoming woosh. I tumble backwards, landing painfully on my butt. I quickly kick the door shut and lock it. I hear banging, but I know it's just the fever. It is an absolute fact that everything I saw in that room isn't real. I crawl on my hands and knees to the shower, turning it on to the coolest setting I can stand. Not even bothering to undress, I climb into the stall and lay prostrate in it's welcoming frostiness. Darkness overtakes me again as I think I hear the wood doorjamb splintering and shouts of concern. Active imagination today.