He was alone.

He woke up alone.

There was no one else.

He was all alone again.

Steam slowly began to rise from his fingers, he looked down at them with wide eyes, the blanket singed when he grabbed it to throw off his legs. He stumbled out of bed, the tranquilizing tonic starting to wear off. There was a chair next to his bed, the one he'd been placed in after taking the strong tonic, a book sitting on the edge of the table next to it.

The chair was empty.

He stumbled across the room drunkenly, leaning against the doorframe to peer down the hall, leaving charred hand prints around the wooden frame.

There was no one in the hall.

Pushing himself away from the door frame, he dragged his hand against the stone wall as he made his way down the hall to the lounge, he was warm, there was that, it wasn't cold. Not yet. He stumbled to stand in front of the large windows that overlooked the training field, eyes roaming over the moving bodies for those who could help, he was getting warmer and warmer and he couldn't stop it. He needed someone to stop it. His eyes met those of who could help, he stared at the back of their head, and then his focus changed, and he stared into the glowing orange circles that were his eyes.

Stepping away from the window, he trudges his way to the steps that leads down to the training field, his head is swimming, but all he can focus on is that he's alone and he doesn't like being alone. He stumbles out onto the training field, nearly falling to his knees, startling the recruits nearest him. He stares at his target, his safe haven, the one that always makes sure he knows he's not alone.

Someone tugs on their arm, gesturing to the one stumbling forward behind them, and they turn to peer over their shoulder. Familiar blue eyes widen, and he turns quickly, rushing forward to catch him.

"Hey, hey, you're okay, I've got you."

He grips at the sleeves of his tunic tightly, steam rising from his fingers, a hand curls around the left side of his face.

"Let's calm down, take a deep breath," he chokes. "You can do it, take a deep breath for me 'Mal."

He stutters a deep breath, holding it like he's instructed, and lets it go.

"There's a good angel, that's it, lets relax, take another breath."

The steam slowly comes to a stop, fading off, and his shoulders fall as the tensions slowly rolls away. He's pulled inward, arms wrap around him securely, around his lower back, and he leans against them. Fingers curling into their tunic, breathing in deeply, he presses his ear to their chest to find their heart beat.

"What happened, 'Mal, tell big brother what happened?"

"I..I was alone….there was no one…I was….Nis?"

"I'm here, baby brother, you found me." The arms around his lower back tighten and a bearded chin rubs against the side of his forehead. "I've got you."

Hasmal feels him nod over his head, fingers rubbing at his lower back gently, and his older brother keeps him tucked against his side as he slowly turns them back in the direction of the Pavilion, hushing any whispers with a sharp look. Hasmal keeps his head tucked away, not wanting to see them staring, his steps becoming lighter. "Is it a bad day, today?" He nods against his older brothers neck and a hand rubs up his arm tenderly. "Lets get you back in bed."

Puriel was meant to be watching him, but with a sick boy in his own room, there was no blame to be shared with him leaving their volatile brother for a brief moment to check up on his own charge. And seeing as to how the tonic they'd give him on his bad days was wearing off, he'd say, he had also gone to fetch a refill.

They find their medic standing frantically in the empty room, a vial in one hand, and the other pressed to his head in worry.

"Puri, I've got him."

He spins around. "Oh, thank Father, I was so worried." He crosses to their side quickly, helping guide their unstable brother back to the bed, he's getting better every day, but he still has more bad days then good. "I'm sorry I left him, I went to get more of his tonic, and to check on Avon, and I—"

"It's alright, Puri," his Captain squeezes his arm lightly as they guide their baby brother into laying in the bed again, pulling the blankets up over him. "How is your boy doing?"

Puriel pulls the stopper off the vial and holds his baby brothers head up gently as he presses it to his lips, watching as he downs the tonic slowly, his eyes fluttering softly as the effect takes hold quickly. Stroking his forehead, his hair back, he watches as his breathing evens out. "He's getting better. He caught quite a nasty bug."

Nisroc nods, Paul had caught the same bug going around just weeks previous, he knew what it was like. Sasha hadn't caught it just yet, but he'd been sniffling for the better part of the week, so he was preparing for it.

"You can bring him here if you'd like, you don't have to keep going between both rooms."

The medic looks up at him. "Really?"

"Sure, I have two beds. The boy can have the other one for today."

"You're a good brother, Nis." He touches his arm lightly. "Thank you." Nodding towards their sleeping baby brother. "Stay with him for a moment?"

"Of course."

The younger Power jogs from the room again, he hears him enter his own room down the hall, words are exchanged, and he appears again with his boy cradled in his arms. Donavon smiles up at him sleepily, a gesture he returns in kind, as they pass by him. He watches the young boy curl up as he's laid in the other bed, tucked in tenderly, his brother smiles down at the young one, leaning in to press his lips to his temple. He made the right decision bringing those two together. Puriel was so good for Donavon.

Nisroc nods as his brother takes up his seat again, kicking his feet up to cross lightly on the edge of the bed, and he reaches for his book, and knowing that they're going to be taken care of, he turns to head back to the field below.

He knows both are in good hands.