Month 1
"You sure you need to scrub that again?" Sweeney asked as Sam worked out some grime on the kitchen counter.
"If I stay on top of the cleaning, it's easier than doing it all at once." Sam replied, not looking up from the spot.
"Alright." Sweeney shrugged. He popped his headphones back in his ears and continued listening to his favorite true crime podcast while taking bites of a brownie.
"These are good," He remarked to Gilbert.
Gilbert, who was busy looking over a cookbook, glanced up and smiled.
"Thanks, Mr. Todd."
"I agree, they're really good," Mort added. He had an entire plate of the brownies in front of him and was steadily working his way through it.
"Those were for everyone, Mort." Ichabod sighed. He had his tablet in front of him and was looking up symptoms of the coronavirus. "You'll make yourself sick, and now's a bad time to be sick."
"Eh. I ate half of that cake Gilbert made yesterday and was fine," Mort said, shrugging. "The baby needs food, after all."
No one said anything for a few minutes, until Sam abruptly looked up.
"Has anyone seen Jack or Edward?"
"Jack's upstairs using the punching bag. He says it helps with his anxiety, and I think Edward's outside trimming the bushes." Gilbert told him.
"He's been doing that a lot lately, it seems." Ichabod said.
"If it helps him with stress, it can't be a bad thing." Gilbert replied with a shrug.
Month 3
Anthony, who had come to the shelter a month prior, was very tired. He'd had an emotional day, thinking of Johanna and how much he missed her. That, combined with the stress of being isolated and pregnant had led to him crying for a good hour. Now he was just exhausted. He laid on his bed, curled around a pillow and staring at the wall.
A gentle scratching at his door caught his attention. He knew the sound well by now.
"Edward? You can come in." He croaked.
Edward slowly shuffled inside, a worried expression on his face.
"Is this a bad time?" Edward asked, noticing how red Anthony's eyes were.
Anthony sat up and forced a smile. Though he was a few years younger than Edward, he tended to act more like an older brother towards him, since Edward seemed very childlike, and was even more naive than he was. If Edward needed him, he'd put on a brave face and do his best to comfort him.
"It's fine. Come in and take a seat," Anthony said.
Edward made his way to Anthony's bed and sat next to him.
"So what's going on?" Anthony asked.
Edward sighed.
"It's just… Ichabod was looking up symptoms of things… You know how obsessed he is lately. And he found this illness where people have pale skin, and they throw up and have insomnia, and I have all of those problems! He said it's some rare obscure disease but I'm kind of rare and weird and maybe I have it too?" Edward's eyes were wide and he looked like he was about to cry.
Anthony frowned.
"Edward, you're just naturally pale, and you're throwing up because you're pregnant. We're all going through that. The insomnia thing… Haven't you always been like that? Some people are just night people, and that's all there is to it. Ichabod should know better than to talk about stuff like that, especially now."
Edward's lower lip trembled.
"But it's still possible, right? W-what if I'm really sick, and I don't get better, and I lose the baby?"
As tears began to form in Edward's eyes, Anthony pulled him into a hug.
"You're not sick, Edward. I promise. If it makes you feel better, we can go talk to Ashley or the doctor to confirm it, but I'm sure you're not."
Edward relaxed slightly as he felt Anthony's arms around him. Anthony was always
good at calming him.
"Maybe Ashley." Edward answered softly.
Anthony nodded and stood up.
"Let's go, then."
00
Ashley was in the middle of talking to Mort when Edward and Anthony arrived.
"I don't think I should have to argue this with you!" She said as she looked over Mort's chart. "You're an adult. Stop with the stress eating. You're gaining too much weight."
Mort sighed loudly.
"It's not like I mean to do it, it just keeps me sane! Would you rather I go back to smoking? Because that's my other option!"
Ashley rolled her eyes.
"You know better than to smoke while pregnant!"
"Well, you're not giving me much of a choice!"
"At least try to eat healthier stuff, then. Binge on vegetables or something." It was then that Ashley noticed Edward and Anthony standing outside the door.
"Come on in," She said to them. "I'm just finishing up with Mort here."
Mort rolled his eyes and hopped off the exam table, mumbling something about Ashley being a food nazi under his breath as he left.
"Is he alright?" Anthony asked.
"Yes, he's just stubborn. Now, how can I help you?"
00
Dr. Schnabel found Ichabod in his room, staring at his laptop later that evening.
"Hello doctor," Ichabod greeted. "Just looking up some statistics on lung disease after recovery from COVID-19. Would you believe that -"
Schnabel held up a hand to stop him from speaking.
"Ichabod, stop. Please. I understand you're nervous about the virus, and while it is a scary situation, you're making the other residents nervous too. Poor Edward nearly had a panic attack earlier today due to thinking he was sick because of some illness you mentioned."
Ichabod instantly felt bad.
"I'm sorry," He replied. "I hadn't meant… I've just been kind of… obsessed, I guess. I keep thinking about it and seeing the data both makes me more comfortable, but it also makes me nervous, and then I talk about it, and then-"
"Alright, I understand. I think perhaps I ought to set up some remote sessions with our therapist, Lonni. You remember her?"
Ichabod nodded. "I do."
"Good. Now, it's alright, all is forgiven, I just need you to be more careful in the future."
"I will," Ichabod agreed.
Dr. Schnabel smiled at him.
"Why don't we go get something to eat? I heard Gilbert's preparing quite the feast for us tonight."
00
Sitting at the table was Jack, Sam, Sweeney, and the shelter's newest resident, Tarrant. Tarrant had a hat in front of him and was studying it, as if to figure out if it needed anything else.
"That's a nice hat," Jack remarked. "Very classy."
Tarrant grinned.
"Thank you! You can have it, if you like!" He passed it over to the pirate, who looked it over.
"Why, thank you!" He put it on his head. "I shall wear it with pride!"
Sweeney smirked and shook his head, but said nothing. The hat looked similar to a cowboy hat but was decorated with an assortment of flowers and feathers.
"I heard you're making an Etsy account." Sam said as he played with his silverware. Sitting for any extended period of time made him nervous.
"Yes, Gilbert said he'd help me."
"That's great!" Sam smiled at him.
Then a cobweb in the corner of the room caught his eye. He'd have to take care of that ASAP.
Month 5
"This is horrifying." Ichabod said, eyes fixed on the television.
Sweeney nodded. "But it's so good!"
"It is," Ichabod agreed.
Sweeney had recently introduced Ichabod to his favorite true crime podcasts and horror television shows, and while they often gave him nightmares, he was hooked.
Anthony and Edward sat nearby, Edward grimacing as a particularly bloody scene played. On the other couch sat Tarrant, who was putting the finishing touches on a mask, and Sam, who seemed somewhat bored and was looking around the room to see if anything was out of place. Mort sat on the floor, munching on a large slice of pie that Gilbert had made earlier.
"Heard your ex wife came by today." Sweeney said to him once the movie ended.
Mort glared at him and took a big bite of his pie.
"You heard right."
"Still won't sign the divorce papers, then?"
Mort sighed.
"She knew I was pregnant when she cheated on me! Why should I sign them?" He suddenly felt hungry again, despite having eaten more than he should have. Stress seemed to do that to him.
"I dunno, maybe so you both can move on with your lives?"
"Fuck her," Mort scowled. "I want to make this difficult for her. She deserves it."
No one said anything in response.
Suddenly there came a shout from another room.
"Ow! Mother fuck- AGH!" Jack yelled.
Everyone turned their attention to the door, where Jack was now standing. He was in his workout clothes and was holding his hand.
"I think I hurt my fingers." He said.
Anthony rolled his eyes and stood up.
"Guess I'll go get the doctor, then."
Month 6
Ichabod was not doing well.
Recently, Mort had been complaining of tiredness and achy muscles, and he'd even started coughing.
Of course, Schnabel had put him into isolation and tested him, only to find that he was positive for the coronavirus. From what they could determine, he'd picked it up at a Mexican restaurant that was well-known for its lack of adherence to health codes.
Ichabod, of course, was panicking. He could well have been exposed to the virus. Everyone could have been, really. What would he do if he got it? Ichabod never had the best immune system, and he felt that he could very well die if he became infected. He began cataloging everything about himself, logging any symptom he felt as a means of tracking it. Since the time that Mort had been found to be positive, he had barely left his room.
00
Schnabel, meanwhile, had tested everyone at the shelter. He'd released most of them, as they'd tested negative, and was currently trying to take care of Mort, who was proving to be quite a difficult patient.
"I told you not to go to Buenos Nachos!" Schnabel said as he checked Mort's temperature. "Anywhere but there, I said. I remember that. But did you listen? No."
"But they have burritos as big as your head!" Mort protested before he began to cough.
Schnabel rolled his eyes.
"As if you need a giant burrito."
Mort glared at him. "That's not very professional of you!"
"I'm just saying, your belly is more fat than baby," Schnabel replied. "Anyway, I hope it was worth it, because it looks like Mr. Todd is also positive. He should have known better than to carpool with you, but you should've known better than to ask him to go!"
Mort instantly felt his heart sink.
"Really? Oh, man. Is he okay?"
"He's not doing so great. We have him on oxygen and on several medications, but since he's a bit older and not in great health, it's been difficult."
Mort felt sick. He hadn't wanted to hurt his friend in any way. He'd simply wanted some cheap, garbage Mexican food and Sweeney had offered him a ride.
"Shit. I really feel bad," Mort admitted.
"Well, there's nothing you can do now beyond rest and stay in your room. We don't want anyone else getting sick." Schnabel told him.
00
Three rooms over, Sweeney felt like he'd been hit by a truck. Everything hurt, just breathing hurt! He felt sick constantly. Schnabel had hooked him up to an oxygen line along with several IVs. He was too weak to do more than lie there. Had he been feeling stronger, he would've been angry, but he truly felt too weak for anything like that.
Anthony was very worried for him. In the past months, Sweeney had become almost like a father figure to both him and Edward. After Edward had given everyone haircuts, it had been decided that someone ought to return the favor and style his hair for him. Sweeney, of course, was up to the task. Over the course of several hours, he washed, conditioned, and slowly brushed out all the knots in Edward's hair. After that, he'd given Edward a haircut, which included an undercut. It was edgy, and wouldn't have looked right on anyone else, but with his bone structure, Edward was able to pull it off. He'd had more confidence ever since, and had been hanging around Sweeney almost constantly.
Currently, Anthony and Edward were sitting in Anthony's room, talking about Sweeney's predicament. Edward was extremely nervous and upset, as was Anthony, but he tried his best to hold it back. He needed to be strong for Edward. He would cry on his own time.
As they talked about what was happening, there was a knock at the door.
"Yes?" Anthony called.
Sam appeared, holding a tray.
"Gilbert's freaking out and made like eight types of cake empanadas. These are cheesecake, Nutella, and red velvet cake. He said I should bring them to you." He placed the tray on top of the dresser.
"Thanks." Anthony told him.
"Still no word on Mort and Mr. Todd?" Sam asked.
"Mr. Todd's having a hard time. Mort's doing a little better." Anthony answered.
Sam nodded. "I'll keep him in my thoughts."
00
Jack was spending his time near Tarrant. He found it fascinating watching him work on the masks he was making. He made some strange ones - very creative - with bows and feathers, and embroidered with various pictures and words. He'd been making a killing selling them on Etsy, and had made some for everyone at the shelter. Jack's was black with a little skull and crossbones stitched on it.
"That helps you, then?" Jack asked, as Tarrant worked.
"It's keeping me from losing my mind," Tarrant replied, his eyes changing colors as he spoke. "Though it seems I've lost most of it already."
"I see."
Jack sat there in silence for another minute before getting up.
"Well, keep on pushin' on, then."
Month 7
Sweeney had, thankfully, recovered from COVID. It had been three weeks since he officially tested negative, and while the worst of the symptoms were gone, he still felt very weak. He'd been taking his meals in bed and lounging around, since doing anything more than walking a few feet left him breathing heavily.
As if to make up for getting him sick, Mort had started bringing Sweeney his food and drinks and sitting with him for long periods of time. He was in the process of bringing him
some soup when Sweeney spoke up.
"That's an interesting shirt you've got."
"Thank you! Tarrant made it for me. He said that the fabric gave him a headache when he saw it, and it made him think of me."
"Not sure if that's a compliment," Sweeney remarked. "But okay."
Mort sighed but said nothing. He passed Sweeney his tray of food and moved to leave, but Sweeney stopped him.
"Mort. I just want you to know that I… I forgive you," He said. "I chose to give you a ride, and I knew where we were going. The baby's fine, though it was a bit of a close call. But it's okay, really. Stop beating yourself up. Don't try to deny it, because I know you are. I may be an angry person, but I'm not completely heartless."
Mort's eyes widened. He hadn't expected this at all.
"R-really?" He asked.
"Yup. Now, do you want my cake?" He pushed the plate towards Mort, who instantly turned green.
"No, I'm good." He took a step back, thinking of how he'd eaten most of a similar cake when he'd found out about Sweeney's condition. He'd felt sick for a day after it and had been staying away from sugar ever since.
Sweeney shrugged.
"Your loss."
Mort nodded in agreement.
"See you later, then. And thanks."
00
As the holidays were coming around, Tarrant had used much of his Etsy money to buy things for the shelter residents.
Gilbert, who by this point was strongly considering going to culinary school once the pandemic ended and his baby was born, was gifted with a set of baking pans and utensils. He'd been using them to make various cakes, pies, and cookies.
When Schnabel complained about not having enough sugar and flour, Tarrant bought a bunch of that as well. The act of baking seemed to be keeping Gilbert calm, and everyone liked the items he made, so it seemed like a win/win to Tarrant.
He'd gotten Jack a set of knitting needles and some fine, hand-spun wool, as the pirate had recently gotten into knitting. He was too far along in his pregnancy to continue kickboxing and using his punching bag, and knitting seemed to calm him. In turn, Jack had done a kindness by making baby blankets for the other residents.
Ichabod had received a beautifully-bound journal and some lovely hand-crafted pens and markers. This, again, seemed like a mutually beneficial gift, as journaling occupied Ichabod and kept him from looking up diseases and scaring everyone with facts about them. Now he seemed to spend time writing and drawing, documenting his year in isolation and his pregnancy. Schnabel had listed WebMD as a banned website on their network, just to be sure, but overall, Ichabod seemed to be feeling a good deal better than he had prior.
Besides giving random gifts, Tarrant had also been making clothes, both for his child and for the others living in the shelter. He'd made Edward a set of trousers and a black shirt with colorful spots on it, as the young man had outgrown his leather suit by that point. And he'd been making Mort an assortment of shirts as well, mostly in colors that no one else would dare wear. Most recently, he'd created a neon-colored Hawaiian-type shirt for him.
Sam was still obsessively cleaning, and had created a schedule to clean certain places, but Schnabel had put his foot down when Sam began complaining about foot, leg, and back pains, which occurred because he was on his feet all day while seven months pregnant. So, he'd been trying to learn to knit alongside Jack, but was having less success, and was considering trying his hand at crochet.
Anthony and Edward were still thick as thieves, and spent most of their time with Sweeney, who was starting to teach Edward the basics of hairdressing. Sweeney was still working on regaining his strength, but he was making good progress, though he still had some problems with his breathing, and had begun to carry a rescue inhaler.
On Thanksgiving, the group sat around the table, eating a wonderful meal that Gilbert had prepared (with help from Edward, who did most of the chopping). Schnabel looked his group of residents over. It had been a hard year, but he was thankful that they'd all made it through. Hopefully, things would only get better from there.