3. Fever Dreams
"Cato?"
There was a little inhalation of breath and motion in the shadows as Avocato roused from a troubled sleep, lifting his head from where it was pillowed on some bunched-up insulation. He turned weary yellow eyes on Gary as the human crouched beside him, a wide metal bowl held in both hands.
"Sorry. You were having a nightmare."
Avocato looked around, and finally nodded, relieved to see shadows and not the absolute darkness both inside and out he had been subjected to at times as Invictus' host.
"Brought you some water. Drink it all, okay?"
"But –"
Gary shook his head, smiling with pride and delight at finally having some good news to deliver, while at the same time trying his best to hide his anxiety for Avocato's condition. "Fox and Little Cato got the water reclaimator to work. It tastes a bit . . . okay, a lot funky, kinda like we boiled gym socks in it, but it's miles better than worm goo. So long as we keep giving the reclaimator worms and any waste we produce, we've got plenty of water. Go on. It'll help you feel better."
He steadied the Ventrexian and the bowl as he helped his husband take a few long sips. Avocato blinked, surprised and impressed at the amount of water. Prior to this, they had been strictly rationing what water they had. So much at once was suddenly a luxury.
"I know, right?" asked Gary, reading his mind. "Don't worry, we're still being careful. But you need it. A little more for now."
He didn't mention that everyone had given some of their daily ration to help Avocato recover. It was all they could do, and no one wanted to imagine what would happen if Avocato's condition worsened. The same day as the infamous Forever Ball Incident, Avocato had been helping Sheryl and Fox fix the gaping holes in the upper hull when he'd suddenly gotten very quiet. As Sheryl watched, Avocato had stopped talking mid-sentence and slowly sat down, then lay down, then passed out cold. He had been feverish and weak ever since, barely moving or waking for two full days.
Gary set the bowl aside with care and sat down. Reaching out, he gently closed the fingers of his right hand around Avocato's ear, keeping very still as he focused. After a moment he relaxed a bit and sighed as he said, "Fever's almost gone, at least."
Avocato nodded, looking ready to go right back to the oblivion from whence he came. "Yeah. How's Little Cato? Where is he?"
"He and Fox and Ash went to catch some worms for dinner. He was sitting with you earlier, but he was getting kind of antsy, so I took over. He's okay. He was scared at first, but I was surprised, he calmed down pretty quickly."
"He's seen this before a few times."
"What happened? You just passed out cold the other day then your temperature went bananas. Scared the stuffing out of us." He omitted his own near-panic and how he'd been practically glued to this spot for days.
Avocato gave him a very small, very wry smile. "I've had a bad week, Gary."
"Truth," he agreed with a little smile of his own. "Broke all your personal records."
Avocato blinked, and it wasn't until afterwards that Gary realized the Ventrexian had decided to take him literally.
"In-" He swallowed, unwilling to say the name of the monster who had possessed him. He would not meet Gary's eyes, and while he spoke willingly enough, it took great effort. After a pause, he tried again, fast forwarding through months of being possessed. "Last week, when Bolo was freed, I might have been made invulnerable, but that was still me fighting."
"Oh. Yeah. Ow."
He nodded again. "Yeeeah. Fox emptied at least two clips into me."
Gary felt his jaw drop as he realized only now the extent of the beating Avocato must have woken up to in Inner Space. Throw on Invictus' abuses and recovering from a blaster wound, and you had a recipe for a really bad week. All of them had fought - and lost to - Avocato. A professional soldier all his life, Avocato had done a damned amazing job of working through what must have been agony, but until they'd crashed on this stupid purple planet, there hadn't been any time to deal with anything. At least now, all they had was time.
"Ohhhhh." Gary grimaced in sympathy, remembering bits and pieces of the fight. It had been pretty brutal. They had gone all out, and Invictus certainly hadn't allowed Avocato to hold anything back. "Sorry."
"Ventrexians can take a lot, but we do have limits. Push it too far for too long without a break and we tend to drop like I did." He yawned, displaying his sharp teeth for a moment. "Fever spikes are a pretty common reaction."
Gary reached out, running his hand down that soft cheek to cup Avocato's face, studying him closely in the faint light. "I'm sorry. I knew you weren't feeling well, but . . . I should have remembered after the same thing happened on Zee Secundus after you flattened those slavers. You were in the recovery pod, so I don't know if you had a fever then, but it probably happened."
Avocato smiled faintly, reaching up to place his hand atop Gary's. "Like I said, it's happened to me a few times before. Mostly after too much fighting and no rest. I'll be okay. I just need time." Sensing Gary's worry, he tried to lighten the mood and he let out a little chuckle. "Remind me to tell you about my wedding night one of these days."
He couldn't stop the grin of anticipation. "Bad?"
"I'm lucky Purrsis didn't divorce me the day she married me."
"You can tell me after you get some more sleep, Cato. Lie down again, 'kay?"
Wearily, Avocato nodded, shifting to settle back into the improvised bed.
"Want me to stay?" Gary asked, equal parts shy and hopeful. They had not had an opportunity to figure out where stood as friends and husbands and lovers.
"Yes," was the softly spoken reply.
Pleased - and relieved - Gary stripped off his leather coat before snuggling close against Avocato's back. Wrapping his arm around the Ventrexian's waist, he leaned on his elbow a moment so he could bend over and press a kiss to Avocato's cheek with a little, whispered, "Love you." Then he took a few moments to appreciate the warmth and scent and presence of one of the most important people in his life and the fact that Avocato allowed Gary to put himself closest to the entrance for once, trusting his husband to guard his back. Closing his eyes, Gary matched his breaths to Avocato's long, slow rhythm, and finally slept.
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"Shh. Shh. It's okay. I got you. Wake up. Wake up."
Gary obeyed before he realized he wasn't the one being addressed. It was night. It never seemed to get completely dark on this ball of rock - the stars were too numerous, there were no clouds to block the faint starlight, and the glowing wisps of nearby nebulae cast a pinkish glow like permanent auroras across the sky. There was just light enough in their shelter for Gary to spot what had roused him: Avocato was sitting up, his head bent low as he leaned he weight against Quinn. He was panting heavily, trying to stifle any noise, and where his thigh pressed against Gary's side, he could feel Avocato trembling. Cradling the one-time general close, Quinn rocked slowly side to side, gently stroking his head and shushing Avocato the same way she would have comforted a child.
"You had a nightmare. Just breathe, Avocato. Hold on, and breathe."
It was an unexpected sight. Avocato and Quinn hadn't always exactly played well together - the last time Avocato spoke to Quinn before this Final Space jaunt had been almost a year ago, and he had been tying her to a chair at gunpoint. Prior to that, Quinn had pissed Avocato off royally by trying to leave Gary for dead. Luckily, they were the were the most adult adults of the Team Squad and they were too glad and grateful to be alive, dispossessed, and out of the zombie zone to waste time with past grievances. Survival depended upon cooperation, and not only were they were survivors, they had both been soldiers, too, and had experienced similar traumas. Glad as he was to see them interacting, Gary couldn't help but feel a little pang of jealousy for . . . both of them, actually. He'd trample almost anyone to be held by Quinn, ditto to hold and comfort Avocato. But given their shared history in Invictus' clutches, it made sense. He just wished he knew how to help.
". . . remember how you made it so long?" she was asking, her words barely audible.
Avocato might not be crying, but there were tears in his voice as he nodded and said, "I wasn't allowed to die. I wanted to. He wouldn't let me."
Still, he would not say the name Invictus.
"Same with me. He just . . . sustained me. Like a specimen. Floating in an ocean of . . . bodies. He lapped up all the pain he caused."
A sound escaped Avocato's throat, a tiny keen of suffering. "He made me enjoy all the things I did. To Little Cato. To Gary. He made me believe in . . . all his lies."
Quinn shifted, her knee prodding Gary's ribs. Belatedly, he realized her nudging was what had woken him. Taking his cue, Gary pushed himself up and edged over, joining the tangle. As far as he could, he wrapped his arms around Avocato and Quinn, pressing his head close to theirs as they welcomed his hold. He could feel the smoothness of Quinn's skin and the lingering fever beneath Avocato's soft fur against his cheeks, and he knew in that instant how much he loved and needed them both. He needed them in the same ways and different ways and in every way possible. They were help and sanity and laughter. They were home. Avocato was the foundation, Quinn the shelter, and he needed them both to live. To thrive.
And if there was any doubt in his mind if they shared this need, it vanished the instant Avocato pressed his face against Gary's shoulder and quietly choked, "I'm sorry. So sorry. I almost killed you."
"Not you. It wasn't you, Cato. Believe me." He nestled his head against Avocato's, pressing a kiss to the closest bit of him. The Ventrexian had apologized so many times to him, to Little Cato, and each time it was heartbreaking because he could not believe he could ever be forgiven. "He took Quinn, then he took me, and then he took you."
"And look at us now." Quinn leaned into their huddle. Gary could hear a hint of a smile in her voice as she squeezed them tight. "He's strong, but we can be stronger."
"It helps that I have no concept of quitting, too," Gary added.
But Avocato, who knew firsthand the obscenities Invictus was capable of carrying out, was not convinced. Gary shifted, releasing his hold on Quinn to cradle Avocato's face in both hands, making his husband look at him. His fur was wet with tears. Despite Quinn's close proximity, Gary leaned in and kissed him on the lips, anxious to show the Ventrexian how much he was loved despite his long litany of sins. Avocato welcomed the caress, leaning his forehead against Gary's.
"Cato," Gary breathed, letting his wonder be heard in his tone, "look how far we've come already."
For a long moment they were all very still, poised and on edge. But Gary, who knew he was right, was not about to back down. Then gradually the tension drained from Avocato as he let himself accept their help and assurances. Silently, he nodded, letting their confidence influence his emotions.
"Here." Quinn reached over for the bowl of water Gary had set aside earlier. She steadied the bowl, Gary steadied Avocato, and between them, they got a few swallows into him. Then they settled in again with Avocato in the middle for warmth and comfort. The Ventrexian was asleep the instant his head touched the improvised pillow.
"Gary?"
He lifted his head to squint at Quinn. She reached over Avocato to gently touch his cheek, sending a rare thrill through his body.
"I meant that," she whispered.
"So did I," he replied in kind. "And . . . I know you can probably relate better to Avocato right now and stuff, but if you ever need to talk, I'm here."
"I know. Thank you."
OoOoOoOoOoOoO
A few feet away, wedged tightly between Fox and Mooncake, Little Cato blinked back his tears and tried his best to curl into a ball. Normally he would have hunkered down with his dads for the night, but with his sire so feverish, he had opted to sleep with Fox and Ash and Mooncake rather than risk disturbing him. He knew his dads and Quinn hadn't meant for anyone to overhear them, but Ventrexian hearing could be as much a curse as a blessing in cases like this.
That his father should be laid low by a fever after everything that had happened came as no surprise. It was a pretty normal reaction for adult Ventrexians who surpassed the limits of mental and physical exhaustion. The surprise was that Avocato had managed to last this long without faceplanting, actually, but his father was the toughest, most disciplined soldier in existence, and he'd never let himself drop until it was safe to do so. Right now they had time, it seemed, so over he went. Little Cato had something similar hit him a few times - once on Tera Con Prime after winning the Pan Galactic Thimbles Tournament, after the time shard, and then after returning from Galang 22. Being so young, Little Cato's reactions were substantially less dramatic: a sore throat, achy head, and general crankiness that was easily explained away by fatigue and being a teenager.
To hear his father's confession, his pain and apology, was devastating. In the light of day, Avocato had struggled to express what had been done to him. He had definitely been better at apologizing than explaining to his son, but Little Cato, who had know possession on a much lesser scale, could understand. Some things were too horrible to dwell upon. It took a fever dream to jolt Avocato's tongue loose, and those few words had said so, so much.
He was glad his father was talking, even if he couldn't find a way to talk to Little Cato. He like Quinn a lot. She was good for Gary the way his father was good for him - they balanced the extremes of his personality. In return, Gary drew out aspects of them that needed balance as well - his father's kindness, Quinn's ability to trust, and he made them both laugh. Now if he could them both laughing at once . . .
Listening to Quinn draw his father out about Invictus, it occurred to Little Cato for the first time that perhaps Quinn could also be good for his father the way Gary was. In the months spent together before the earth was lost, Little Cato had come to look at Quinn and Nightfall as maybe not surrogate moms, but definitely as the smart and sassy cool aunts every kid needed.
And maybe every dad, too.
He sensed the moment his father relaxed, and he felt some of his own anxiety drain away as Avocato let hope and trust back in. In the aftermath of Invictus, it wasn't his vice parents Avocato needed to believe in again, Little Cato knew, but himself. It was clear he wanted to, because he had just taken a very big step in the right direction.
With a little sniff, Little Cato drew his legs in closer. He wasn't cold, but he did feel . . . empty. Lonely. Had Gary been awake, little Cato would have headed over for a hug. He'd asked for one once, and had been told he never had to ask.
"Hugs are a priority on this ship," said Gary in his best lecture voice. He held up a finger for emphasis. "I don't care what I'm doing. You need one - you need ten - and you've got it, Spider Cat. Don't ask. Just tell. And don't go to HUE, his hugs suck. Come to the expert."
He needed one now, but not as much as Gary and his father needed sleep. He could wait until tomorrow. Drawing a deep breath, he let it out slowly, hoping sleep came for him quickly. There was a slow movement beside him, and then a large and heavy hand was gently placed on his shoulder. Fox. It was true Little Cato could go at it hammer and tongs with the Tryvuulian, but it was all for fun. When all was said and done, he liked Fox just fine. While intense, the older teen was also smart and caring and brave. Clearly he'd heard the whole exchange between the parents and, it was equally clear, he got it. Got everything Little Cato was going through. He was here, now, and a friend.
The hand squeezed his arm slightly, just enough to offer support and assurance. It wasn't quite a hug, but it would do for the moment. Little Cato reached up and put his hand atop those big fingers, his loneliness banished. Then he snuggled a little closer to Fox and closed his eyes, content.