Once back in the room, there was plenty of time to bang my head off the wall.
"Heero, what the hell did I just do?" I asked as Heero deposited the sleeping Quatre in the bedroom. I was glad the boy had slept through the most part of the meal, but his continued fatigue worried me. I wasn't sure if it was because of stress, or his wounds, or his health, but whatever the reason I knew it couldn't be good for him.
"I think you agreed to take in the Owner's slave, Master," Heero replied, coming back out.
"Yes, I know that, but why?" I wondered allowed, unsure myself of my sudden outburst. Only, looking into the boy's eyes as the woman, his master, childishly tormented him, seeing the pride and control that lay inside that hard shell, how could I leave him in the hands of that woman? Could I stand back and watch such a proud creature be constantly henpecked and reduced to nothing?
"Because it might get you closer ties to the Owner?" Heero replied and I stopped for a moment. I hadn't even thought of that. Then, a second later, I dismissed it, because there was still no guarantee that I would get to meet the Owner.
"No, because I'm stupid, that's why! How am I ever going to handle another boy?"
"It is only for a week..."
"But from what Madam Long said he's a terror! A nightmare! How am I supposed to control him?" I replied, almost panicked. What if I were wrong? What if what I had viewed as pride was really just pigheadedness and sloth? What then?
"I doubt he's uncontrollable. He's probably just strong-willed."
"So he's stubborn. That helps."
"Master, I doubt he could be any worse than I was when you first got me," Heero said, coming up beside me and putting his hand on my arm. "But I think we have bigger problems now."
"What is it?" I asked, immediately serious and focused. "What happened?"
"Quatre's medicine is wearing off. I think he might be sick," Heero replied, his head lowered. "It's probably nothing serious..."
I cut him off as I darted around him and rushed into the bedroom. Heero didn't know it, but any kind of fever in someone suffering from large wounds could be a sign of infection, which I had been concerned about anyway. Quatre's lowest wound was already red and inflamed, it would be no stretch to see it infected.
As I darted into the room, I prayed that Quatre was merely tired, but my hopes were in vain. Quatre's face was flushed, his cheeks red with fever. I stood over him for a moment, forcing myself to calm down, before I leaned over and put a gentle hand on his forehead.
He was burning up.
Slowly, his clear blue eyes opened up, only this time they were foggy and muddled with confusion. They closed again before he could force them to remain open, then, with great effort, he moved them to my face.
"Mas'er?" he slurred sleepily, "Di' th' party end a'eady?"
"Yes, little one. You slept right through it. Tell me, do you think you can turn over so I can look at your back?"
"'M tired. C'n we do it tom'rrow?"
"No, baby, we have to do it tonight. I'll help, alright?" I asked, and slowly began to turn the boy over. He nodded, but was very little help in moving himself. I was very much alarmed by this behavior. I knew that an infection could set in very quickly, but I had never seen it happen before. I was justifiably alarmed for Quatre's safety.
Once Quatre was turned over, I quickly pulled down the blankets to find that Heero had put him into pajamas. Ignoring this, I quickly pulled up the top of his clothes and pulled the tape off of the lowest wound, ignoring the other two. As I had feared, the wound was greatly inflamed, and was oozing a yellowish, sticky substance. I sighed and replaced the tape, leaving Quatre on his stomach as he drifted in and out of consciousness.
Heero met me in the doorway, worry etched into his face.
"Master?" he questioned anxiously. I sighed in response.
"Call the doctor. We've got to take Quatre to the hospital."
"Is it that bad?"
"I don't know, but it could be. I don't have the skills or equipment to fight an infection, Heero. I won't endanger Quatre over it, either. He'll get the best care in the hospital."
"Yes, Master."
"Could you make the call for me? I think a need a drink," I said, indicating the liquor cabinet in the livingroom.
"Of course," Heero replied, and quickly went to the kitchen area to make the call. I sighed again, poured myself a glass of sherry, and flopped into an armchair. I wasn't sure what was worse, my worry about Quatre's health or my worry about his stay in the hospital. If I weren't allowed to see him, then he would be truly alone for all that time. I knew that Quatre was a timid soul, and I had seen the tentative bonds he had been forming with Heero and myself. I worried that this long period of separation would destroy them. Quatre could feel abandoned, or neglected, and there was nothing I could do to fix it.