Sicktember Day 18: Fever Dream/Hysteria
Word Count: 1476
Author: aquietwritingcorner/realitybreakgirl
Rating: T
Characters: Oliver Mira Armstrong, Captain Buccaneer, Major Miles, Doc
Warning:
Summary: Olivier has a fever that is inducing some pretty intense dreams. Buccaneer is there to contain her, if necessary.
Notes:

Fever Dream/Hysteria

Olivier panted, her breath coming in hard gasps. Buccaneer wasn't sure that he'd ever heard her breathe this hard before, not even in training or in a battle. It was like each breath was a fight of its own. At least, though, they were, at the moment, coming in even pants. They were steady, which was a good thing on its own.

He reached down and brought up a washcloth, carefully wiping the sweat from her face. He took another one, dipped it in the cold water, and laid it across her forehead. He wasn't sure that it would do any good in bringing down her fever, but it wasn't going to hurt.

What would really help would be the medicine, but they hadn't gotten it yet. A storm had blown up, delaying their supplies. It was poor timing, as a fever was spreading throughout the fort. They had been told that the trucks were on their way, but so far, they hadn't turned up. If they didn't turn up in two hours, Buccaneer knew that Miles was going to send out teams looking for them.

In the meantime, there were dozens of Briggsmen who had been laid out by this fever, including the general herself.

It seemed to have hit her particularly hard, which was unusual. Typically, she was able to push through any sickness, or it never too great a hold on her. It was only when it was her own body rebelling against her, or she didn't take care of the illness, that it became a problem. But this one? It had slammed her and left her down for the count.

The pattern of her breathing changed, and Buccaneer's attention snapped back to the general. She was shifting again, and Buccaneer went on alert. This was why he was here. With her fantastical strength, Olivier was difficult to contain. Next to her, he was the strongest person on the base, and he had an automail arm to help him out. If the fever dipped her back into whatever those fever dreams held again, he could help keep her contained and mitigate any damage to Sickbay. She was too sick for Doc to feel comfortable sending her back to her quarters.

"N..no…" the word was moaned out as she started to shift.

Buccaneer ran a hand through her hair. It had seemed to calm her before. "Shh," he said. "It's alright."

"No…" she said again and twisted her body a bit away from him. He withdrew his hands, but didn't pull them back too far, in case she started trying to twist off of her bed again.

It didn't do any good. She twisted again, her eyes opening.

"General?" he asked.

She didn't seem to hear him. He looked closer at her eyes. They were glassy from the fever, open, but not seeing anything. He wasn't sure what she was staring at, but he was certain that it was nothing that he could see.

Her breathing seemed to catch, seemed to still for a moment.

"General?" he asked again.

She sucked in a breath, and then another, and another, the frequency of them picking up. She moved, trying to sit up, trying to push up. She was weak, though, the fever having zapped her strength. Buccaneer reached for her.

"Please, sir, just rest—"

He didn't get far. The minute his hand touched her arm, it was like he had entered her world—only not as himself. He entered it as someone else, although he wasn't sure who, and doubted he would ever know.

She jerked back from him, scrambling back, trying to get away. She teetered close to the edge of the bed, although she didn't seem to realize it. He stood up, alarmed, and reached towards her again. All he wanted to do was steady her, but she must have seen it as some kind of an attack, because she tried to move further away, only to encounter the edge of the bed. She would have fallen off, if it wasn't for Buccaneer grabbing her.

The moment he did, though, it was like something flipped. "NO!" She was immediately fighting him, pushing on him trying to get out of his hold. "NO! No, let go of me!"

"General, I—General, stop!" Buccaneer tried to say.

She was having none of it. Even in her weakened state, her fear had given her strength, and she squirmed and wriggled in his grasp. "No! I won't go back! I won't!"

She fought like she was fighting for her life, and Buccaneer found that he couldn't keep a hold on her. She twisted, turned, pushed, punched, and kicked. One blow finally loosened his grip, and she scrambled back, falling off of the bed and knocking a tray of tools down with her. It made a horrible, awful sound as it did.

Buccaneer gathered himself and went towards her again. She tensed up, trying to find a way out. Her eyes were still fevered and glassy, and she looked ready to attack or bolt at any second. Slowly he crept closer.

"General… Olivier. Olivier, listen. It's Buccaneer. You're in Fort Briggs. You're safe."

"Liar!" She called out. Buccaneer could hear Doc coming up behind him, although she kept her distance when she saw what was happening. "I won't go back there! I won't! I won't go back to a Drachman prison! I won't be tortured again!" Her hand curled around something, and mentally, Buccaneer cursed.

"It's a pair of hemostats," he heard Doc mutter. "Not sharp, but she could do some damage with them."

Of course, she could. "Alright. Alright, we'll make sure you don't go back there. But you have to give me what's in your hand."

She was panting, sweaty, clearly not feeling good. Her limbs shook ever so slightly. But Buccaneer knew that she was still dangerously strong—and, at the moment, simply dangerous.

She growled at him, and then—

-She moved, ducking around the curtain that was beside them. Doc let out a sound of surprise, and Buccaneer cursed. He had to go after her. He had to stop her!

But Olivier was fast, quick, even when sick, and especially when desperate. Within moment, the sickbay had turned into chaos as he, Doc, and Neil tried to pin down and contain Olivier, but she kept slipping past them. There were shouts, things being thrown, and then, finally, the door opened, revealing Miles. Olivier saw that as her chance and jumped at it.

"Stop her!" Buccaneer cried and, startled, Miles immediately moved to intercept.

Fortunately, with the fever weakening her, Olivier didn't have a lot to give when it came to stamina, and she was fairly worn out by this time. Miles and a couple of other men managed to get a hold of her just long enough for the others to come and pin her down.

"Let me go! Let me go!" she was howling out. "I won't go back! I won't! I won't!"

There was an edge of panic to her voice, and it cut at Buccaneer.

"We're going to have to restrain her," Doc said, her brow creased. "She's getting violent when the fevers take over."

"…Yeah." Buccaneer didn't want to, but it was all that was left to do.

Together, they hauled her up, nearly all of her strength spent at the moment. Still, she fought them, terror in her eyes.

"No!" she said. "No, no, nononono! I won't! I won't go back I won't go back!"

Her cries were getting softer, and the fight was going out of her, but they still hauled her back to bed and retrained her. She fought them on it, but they managed.

"…The trucks were spotted. They should be here within two hours," Miles said as they looked at her. She was still muttering.

"Good," Buccaneer said. "Maybe then this can end."

Miles nodded and then, after a moment, walked away.

Buccaneer picked up the stool he had been sitting on, and sat it up right, reaching for the basin of water and the washcloth that somehow, miraculously, hadn't gotten overturned.

She was looked at him, her eyes still glassy with fever, still not entirely with it as she laid there restrained.

"No… no, not again… not again…"

She descended into her babble, fevered hysteria seeming to overtake her, and he wasn't sure that he could make head or tails of what she said. What he did know was that he couldn't wait for the medicine to get here, for some fever reducers to be in it, and that he was going to look up her record the moment he could, to find out what, exactly, would put the fearsome Olivier Mira Armstrong in this state.

He put the washcloth back on her head. In the meantime, he would look after her.