Disclaimer: I don't own Divergent.
The lights are too bright. Too strong, to coexist with him in this space. It penetrates the space between the skin of his eyelids and his stinging eyes, oozing into the caverns in his brain, making sleep impossible.
The sounds are too loud. Even the faintest whisper is at the volume of a shout, thumping against his eardrums and making the inside of his head rattle. Like an unpleasant symphony he's forced to be an audience to.
And the pain - the excruciating pain that just won't leave. No amount of morphine can fend off this malevolent guest, who at the moment is bombarding his head and face and chest, with unbelievable force. And he is impotent against it. The only thing he can do is lie in bed, weak, paralyzed.
Eric wonders if the pain will, eventually, be for the greater good. Maybe next time he fights, he'll be unwilling to hit someone, yet again. Then the memory of getting beat will rear its threatening head, and remind him that he must behave like a Dauntless, no matter what.
Even if that involves being cruel.
A wave of nausea overtakes Eric, and bile fills his mouth. He thrashes in his bed, uselessly. Finally, he turns his head to one side and retches, all over the clean white linen.
Fuck. The staff are gonna be pissed.
He has no idea how long it takes, but one person notices. He feels the person's bare hands, slick with someone's bodily fluids, on his head. With some effort, the hands lift him back onto the pillow. A sudden, stabbing pain ripples through his skull.
"Sorry, kid. I'm just so worn out." The voice is distant, yet somehow close, and it belongs to a middle-aged woman. She lets out a small cough. Then she starts on the burdensome task, of replacing the vomit-stained sheets.
The pounding, screeching, jarring symphony in Eric's head gets louder. Please, Lord, make it stop.
He wills himself not to cry out, as the nurse's large knuckles bump up against his temple. He's sure it's a result of the concussion, but something about his brain feels oddly… wrong. Like the pressure's been adjusted inside his cranium. Like removing the bubble wrap encasing a valuable item, inside a package.
At last, the nurse is done. The soles of her shoes drum against the floor, as she leaves.
Thank God, now it's just a little bit quieter.
But not for long. The next person to barge into Eric's room is Dr. Knightley, the surgeon who operated on Tobias. And like Tobias said, he's totally inconsiderate. As he goes through the various treatment plans Eric can opt for, he's also making snarky little comments about how he just can't fathom that an Erudite transfer is in this situation, that the Erudite are usually the "model" transfers.
Well, gee, thanks. Telling me all about the other Noses who've done well, isn't helping me one bit.
Eric wishes he had the strength to sit up, and smack that doctor. But right now, the most important concern is getting that ear-splitting voice to quiet down. He hurries to say yes, when Dr. Knightley asks if he'd like to start the procedure right away.
"Great!" the doctor says, animatedly. "Well, it looks like we'll have to repair your nose, your jaw, some of your teeth, and your ribs." He chuckles, like this is a humorous situation. "Oh, put a smile on that face. At the very least, your mom and dad aren't here to see you like this. If they find out what happened, they'll probably beat you themselves!"
Oh, for God's sake, shut the fuck up.
Eric tries to feign gratitude. He forces his numb lips up into a smile, and thanks the doctor for his sensitive, patient-focused approach. Then he's being wheeled away, to the surgical ward. Where Tobias was taken, just last night.
When they arrive, Eric glances at the surgical team. Their gear shows a few faint brown stains, and their gloves needed changing hours ago. And the metal tools on the nearby table, are spotted with rust, and a bit of dried sludge.
Shit. Should I call it off? I can't get sick before my next fight.
It's unwise, but Eric ultimately decides against it. If he doesn't get fixed up now, he'll definitely be unable to fight, two days from now. At least, there's a miniscule chance he won't get sick, and it'll be worth it when he heads back into the arena, ready to go.
So he closes his eyes when the anesthesia starts to kick in, and lets the world slip away.
Next morning. Eric realizes he's feeling ill.
Oh God, why did I let them put their dirty tools in me?
The throbbing in his face and chest, has subsided a little. But it's been traded out for a heavy, leaden feeling in every one of his muscles, and a fever that's steadily climbing. He can't move without his shoulders spasming, it's so cold in the room. Actually, it seems to be cold and hot at the same time. And when he shakily lifts his hand, he sees that his fingers are deathly pale.
Oh, fuck! Just like I thought. At least one of the wounds is infected.
His head doesn't ache as much, as it did last night. But every bit of light still seems just a little too intense, and every whisper of sound still seems to pierce at his eardrums.
Eric doesn't know if he actually regrets his decision. Maybe, by some miracle, his health will be restored the next day, when he has to fight. But today, there's no way he's leaving the hospital. He'll have to miss the field trip Amar has planned, to take all the initiates to the fence.
Doesn't matter. He can glean that information from Tobias.
As the morning creeps by, Eric makes himself eat a light breakfast. But sometime after noon, the food comes back up. There are more tired, overworked nurses. More exhausted grunts.
And more pain. This is a different type of pain - it feels like his internal organs are eroding, the protective skeleton being eaten away. The fever is making him feel dizzy. He holds out hope that someone will come by, not just to take a quick look at him, but to re-check his vitals and make sure he's all right. No one does.
Eric feels himself beginning to panic. If the assumed infection isn't treated soon, it will lay waste to his body, maybe even kill him.
Yeah, I absolutely regret my choice now.
He floats in and out of sleep. Loses track of time. Is startled when Tobias barrels into his room, his face flushed, an excited spring in his step.
"Hey!" he yells, and it's like a lion's roar in Eric's ears. "Just got back from the fence. How are you?"
"God, Toby. You don't have to be so loud," Eric grumbles.
A curious look appears on Tobias' face. "I wasn't shouting, but okay. Hey, you need assistance? I can call someone right now, if something's not right."
"Yeah, go ahead," Eric nearly pleads. The fever is making it difficult to focus.
Tobias exits, and comes back promptly with a nurse. It's the same round-faced woman who changed the sheets the previous night. She looks drained, but she puts on a courteous expression.
Both Tobias and Eric listen, as the portly woman pronounces her diagnosis. "It's nothing to get worked up over," she assures them. "Just a mild case of the flu. It should wear itself out soon."
Her eyes land on Tobias. "If you have an emergency, contact Max. I'm sure he'll find a way to help you. Sorry, but I'll be occupied all evening. There's another zipliner with a serious leg injury."
Tobias takes a seat next to Eric. "Wow. I knew Dauntless hospitals were short on staff, but I didn't anticipate this. That getting on your nerves?"
"For sure. Good thing you're here to cheer me up," Eric says. Still, it's impossible to abandon the thought that it's not just the flu, that something is very wrong. "What'd you see at the fence?"
Tobias eagerly divulges, the details of the field trip. They boarded the train at precisely eight-fifteen, and rode it to an area outside the fence, in the Amity orchards. There, they met several of the low-ranking guards, and their superiors. They also visited a patrol unit in the factionless sector, and were taught the best methods to restrain a factionless criminal.
"Sweet. Maybe you can show me, once I get discharged," Eric says.
He listens to the rest of Tobias' story. Yet, he can feel his mind fogging up. Tobias' voice is like an assault on his ears. Once or twice, he forgets what Tobias just said, a few seconds ago. And it's getting harder and harder to follow along, with his never-ending monologue.
It's not just the flu. It could be something deadly.
But Eric doesn't want to bother that nurse again. She's already overburdened as it is. So he continues to listen in silence, to Tobias' talk, and tries not to think about his deteriorating health.
Tobias, Year 2143
Dinner's already over. I only ate a small portion, and gave the rest of my meal to Mia. But I'm planning to return to the infirmary soon. I didn't get done telling Eric about Jason's embarrassing blunder, when he picked a fight with a factionless man, and crashed right into the guy's knee, temporarily knocking himself out.
I rush down the hall and into Eric's room. Then my heart nearly stops.
He's dead, is the first thought that comes to mind. No, wait - it can't be me who's breathing that fast. I take a step closer. "Eric. You… feeling okay?"
Eric doesn't reply. His eyes are closed, but his mouth remains partly open, like he's desperate for air. His skin is a sickly, waxy gray, and there are dark patches of discoloration on his arms.
That nurse was wrong. Maybe she missed a few signs, because she was in a hurry. This is not the flu.
I cross the room quickly. Grab hold of Eric's wrist, feel his accelerating pulse. Just as abruptly, I drop his hand. It's not normal, to have skin that cold and clammy.
"Hey… Toby," Eric wheezes. I look at him. His eyes are barely open. "What'd you… just say?"
"Huh? I didn't say anything." Okay, his condition is even more serious than I thought.
"Yeah… you did," Eric manages to say. "You just… said… Jason…" His sentence dies out.
"No, I didn't," I clarify, trying to keep my tone level. "I'm going to tell a doctor, about you. You really need help. I don't give a shit what anyone says."
Before Eric can protest, I run out of the room. Oh, man, how could they let it get to this point? Aren't we in the faction of the brave? Isn't somebody supposed to jump in and help?
None of the staff seem ready to assist. There's always another patient, who's supposed to be first priority. The difficulty of getting them to listen, is compounded by the fact that I can't name this illness - is it pneumonia? Meningitis? Salmonella? I shake my head over and over, feeling inestimably useless.
Finally, one woman steps forward to help. She's short and spritely, with deep dimples in her cheeks. Looks more like an Amity than a Dauntless. "You're Mr. Everdeen, right?" I nod. "Well, I can give you a hand. Could you tell me your friend's symptoms, in detail?"
I try my hardest to remember. "Uh… fast heartbeat, shallow breathing, flu-like symptoms. Skin that's cold to the touch. Also, these strange… bruises on his arms."
The small woman's eyes widen. "Didn't that same young man just have surgery?"
"Yes," I tell her.
The concern on her face grows. "Mr. Everdeen, your friend may have septicemia. He needed medical attention a long time ago. Why didn't you alert one of our nurses about this?"
My frustration builds. Am I being messed with? "I did. A while ago. They said it was just the flu."
"Oh, I see." Her expression turns to sympathy. "Some of the Dauntless... well, they can make mistakes. I'll inform my superior, the head nurse. I need her authorization to set up an IV."
I don't ask how long it'll take. I just follow the little woman, unquestioningly, as she ambles down the hall, to where her boss is. When I see the boss, something in my chest constricts. It's the same red-faced, heavyset woman who asked me not to disturb her. The dark circles beneath her eyes, look like they've been there for weeks.
Great. Luckiest coincidence ever.
The head nurse's eyebrows lift. "Sir, I asked you to contact Max. I apologize, but I don't have the time or the resources to help you right now."
I stand there, shifting my weight lamely, while the small woman clarifies the situation. She points out, that there's a high risk of death, if a patient with Eric's symptoms isn't immediately replenished, with fluids. "If my suspicions are correct, he'll also need a dose of antibiotics," she adds. The head nurse makes a disappointed sound.
"Can I pull the funds out of my backside?" she shouts. But she doesn't look enraged, just upset. "Can I override Max's order to put training first, technology second? You know as well as I do, what he and the other leaders say. 'Put the initiates last on the list of priorities. If they're strong enough to make it, they'll prove it to us, when they recover on their own.' And right now, we've got ten Dauntless members awaiting treatment."
What the actual… ?
I can't even formulate the words. This mode of operation, it's more than cruel. It reflects a total apathy toward the younger generation. And Dauntless was supposed to rekindle my passions, help me enjoy my youth.
The small woman shakes her head sadly. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Everdeen."
She'll really give up that easily? "There's really nothing you can do?" I ask, my voice shuddering on its way out. "Nothing?"
Her repentant expression is my answer. I spin around, and walk aimlessly down the hall.
My heartbeat throbs in my ears. Sweat drips down the side of my face. I feel as though I'm lost in a gigantic labyrinth, with no way out, and no matter where I turn, I find myself back where I began. In Abnegation, I couldn't expect to receive help when I asked for it. Am I just finding out, that it's the exact same in Dauntless?
I slam face-first into a blue-clothed body. I'm so deep in my thoughts, that I don't recognize her at first.
Then my sight clears. It's Jeanine Matthews, the Erudite representative, and Eric's favorite teacher. A plan crystallizes inside my mind. She's an important political figure. And she's close to Eric.
"Oh, my apologies," Jeanine says lightly. She brushes me off her. Suddenly, my hand's gripping her arm.
"Ms. Matthews?" I gasp. "I - I need help. Badly. It's a student of yours. My friend, Eric."
I swear, it's like an engine suddenly roared to life, inside her head. Her usually dull eyes seem to glow, like cave water. Like the flashing lights of an emergency vehicle. Now she's the one grabbing my arm. "What did you say? Slow down. Tell me all the specifics. Is Eric in trouble?"
I tell her everything. Even the name of Eric's suspected condition, and how it must be ravaging him at this very moment. Jeanine looks fearful. I'm worried she might break apart at the seams, and at the same time, I'm morbidly gratified by her expression of fear. She actually cares for someone. It must be Marcus' influence, but I was beginning to think of her as emotionless.
"Thank you so much for filling me in," she says. "And don't worry. I'll see to it that they do something."
Her high heels rap against the floor, as she leaves to go talk to the head nurse. I don't know what she tells her, but in a few minutes, the arrangements are all made. One of the Dauntless members on this floor, will have to deal with the pain from his broken toe, alone. Meanwhile, several of the staff members are getting ready to prepare an IV. Jeanine did it. And all without raising her voice.
Thank you, Ms. Matthews. Maybe you're not so bad after all.
AN: Reupload, since I didn't like how I handled the character of the head nurse. I decided I wanted to portray her not as a villain, but as someone trapped under the yoke of the leaders.