Chapter Two-Hundred and Fifty-Two

Claire lifted her head as John's body became impossibly hot, pressing her hand to his head only for it to come away slick with sweat. She climbed out of the bed, rushing to the nurse's desk in the hallway. "John's fever's getting worse." She gasped, terrified that his temperature would reach the deadly point, of which there was no return.

The young woman nodded, picking up a walky-talky and sprinting to John's room with her. She looked at the monitors, biting her lip when she saw that his temperature was 105 degrees Fahrenheit. "Damnit…" She pulled the sheets away from John's body, lifting him with the strength of a moose before she carried him to the bathroom.

Claire watched as she shut the door, panic rising with the reaction from the nurse.

The nurse lowered John into an ice bath, taking the time to strip him of his cotton gown so that he could soak up the chill better. She lifted the radio to her mouth, calling for DR. Reynolds. "DR. Reynolds, patent Johnathan Bender in room 345 has a fever of 105, I need your help with getting him stable." She brushed his hair into the water, gently washing small handfuls over his chest and stomach.

He didn't wake, not even when she added more ice to the bath an dropped the temperature even more.

Ryan burst through the door to the bathroom, cursing when he saw that John was still unconscious. He turned John onto his good side, peeling the cotton bandage off only to gag with the scent. "Septic…" He whispered, looking at the small black pieces of rotting tissue and the others that were slowly dying. "Get me an infusion bag of Amoxicillin. We need to get this gone ASAP." He checked John's other wounds, relieved that they weren't as life-threatening as the bullet graze. "Fight it John. Don't let this win." He brushed his fingers through John's hair, praying that he wouldn't lose him in the middle of the night.

Claire bit her lip as Ryan spoke with her parents about treatments, the word surgery making her heart race. She knew that he needed to have it done, but in his condition… She couldn't think about it. She touched John's cheek, combing out a few small ratted hairs in his beard. "I love you…" She whispered, kissing his lips before his eyes cracked open. "John!" She grinned, rapping her arms around his neck and hugging him close.

"No…" He croaked, his eyes completely unfocused as if he weren't even there. "Let her go…"

Claire's brow furrowed, waving her hand in front of his face just to see if he was really there. "John? Can you hear me?" She leaned forward, jumping back as his eyes shifted like something was happening that she couldn't see. "John-"

He shot forward, wrapping his hands around her arms with a snarl on his lips. "Let her go!"

Claire yelped as his nails dug into her skin, struggling to push him off of her. "John! Stop!"

He blinked his vision clearing as he slammed back into the raised portion of his bed. "Claire… I, I hurt you." He looked at his hands, the long nails tinted red at the ends.

She shook her head, digging some nail-trimmers out of her bag and taking his hands in hers. "It's okay. Just a scratch." She clipped his nails, taking a file out of her purse and filing down the sharper edges. "What happened?" She asked, able to see a crack in his spirit through those eyes of his. "What is a flashback?"

He shook his head, jumping when she accidentally trimmed his left thumb nail too short. "No. This was different… it was like, like something impossible."

She kissed his fingers, the heat of his fever still in the danger zone. "Was it a hallucination?" She asked, remembering when she'd had a bad fever and started seeing things.

He shrugged, his eyelids growing heavy with the never-ending exhaustion. "Maybe…"

She smiled as he closed his eyes, gently kissing his head before she started trimming up his toenails before they got too long. "Rest up… you need it." She grinned, pulling out a bottle of bright pink nail polish and painting his toes. "You'll kill me when you see this, but it's so worth it."