In the last chapter:
Reaching his quarters, Sinbad closed the door and collapsed on the bed, breathing heavily. He was feeling worse already, maybe he should tell som…NO…he would be fine, it was just bending over for too long, it aggravated his headache, that was all. He sighed, he did this every time. Unbeknown to the rest of the crew, even the eagle eyed Maeve, he was sick quite often, but hid it, too ashamed to admit to his weakness. He would put on his mask, and suffer in silence. Though he didn't deny that it would be nice occasionally to be looked after, he just didn't know how to ask. Sometimes, he longed for someone to just be there when he spent his nights burning with fever, his body wracked with chills. But he couldn't ask, he was the Captain, he had to be the strong, invincible one. He had to. Sighing, he straightened up, splashed some cold water on his face, donned his 'I'm fine' mask, and left the room for the second time that morning, his determination to keep his pain hidden from his crew doubled.
Maeve was annoyed. She was sure Sinbad was sick, but what could she do about it? How did you help someone who didn't want to be assisted in any way? She stroked Dermot's feathers, thinking. She knew Sinbad would most likely brush her off again if she wasn't careful. Dermot shifted slightly under her gentle hands, clicking his beak softly. Maeve looked at him in surprise. "You think so?" she questioned. Dermot cocked his head, staring at her. "Maybe you're right…yes, this has gone far enough…I think it's time to call in back-up…"
Sinbad paused outside his cabin, thinking. Maeve seemed to know something was wrong, but then, she seemed to know a lot about how he was feeling…maybe it was a woman thing. He was still surprised she had noticed this time though, she never normally recognised when he was ill. As shivers racked his body though, he knew this was not like the previous times that sickness had ravaged his body, however hard he might try to convince himself otherwise. He cursed himself for being so weak; what would the others say if they knew that the famous Sinbad, slayer of all manner of dangerous creatures and mystical beasts, could not even fight a mere illness? It did not occur to him that maybe the stress of the past few months had finally caught up with him, leaving him open for the sickness that was responsible for his pounding head and shaky limbs, though that was what had happened. Nor did it enter his thoughts that his crew would never think of him as weak; they had seen him at his best and worst, and knew he would never fail them. All he could think about was hiding his weakness from the rest of the crew, and avoiding Maeve when he could, only letting her see him when his patented "I'm fine" mask was firmly in place. With this in mind, Sinbad turned away from the entrance to the main deck, and strode determinedly towards the crews quarters. He would not let his weakness show. He would survive the day, and suffer in silence through the night.
Hiya people! Is anyone actually reading this? I'd really appreciate a review from anyone who is, I didn't get ANY for the last chapter sob. Anyway, sorry about the short chapters, I will try to get the next one up soon though, within the week if I can (Damn GCSE's)! Oh, and I know this chapter isn't very good, but it really is just a linking chapter, Sinbad will be discovered soon, rest assured!
