By the time they reached the cabin, night had fully descended. The team had already returned from their activities, and the warm glow of the lights inside contrasted sharply with the cold, dark forest they'd just emerged from. But Tim barely registered any of it. His entire world had shrunk to the tight knot of pain and nausea in his stomach.

Lucy helped him through the door, her voice calm as she quickly explained the situation to the others. He couldn't focus on the words, too preoccupied with the now-familiar sensation of his stomach rebelling again. He leaned heavily on Lucy as they made their way to the bathroom, barely able to stay on his feet.

"Almost there," she whispered, guiding him through the narrow hallway.

The moment they reached the bathroom, Tim collapsed in front of the toilet, his body giving in to the relentless waves of nausea. He vomited violently, his stomach convulsing with each retch, leaving him gasping for breath. The bitter taste of bile burned his throat, and he squeezed his eyes shut, willing it to stop.

Lucy knelt beside him, her hand gently holding his head, keeping his hair out of his face. "I'm here, Tim. Just let it out."

He could barely nod in response, his body trembling from the effort. Each time he thought he was done, another wave would hit, forcing him to retch again. His muscles ached, his throat raw from the constant vomiting, and he felt like he had nothing left to give. Yet his body kept forcing him to try.

"I know it's rough," Lucy continued, her voice a soothing constant in the chaos. "But you're doing great. Just keep breathing."

He clung to her words, focusing on the sound of her voice, the cool touch of her hand on his forehead. Time seemed to blur, each moment bleeding into the next as he struggled against the unrelenting sickness. He could feel himself weakening, his strength ebbing away with each violent heave.

At some point, the vomiting slowed, and Tim slumped against the wall, utterly spent. His entire body felt heavy, like he was made of lead, and he struggled to keep his eyes open.

Lucy didn't leave his side. She wiped his face with a damp cloth, her movements gentle and efficient. "Let's get you cleaned up, okay? You'll feel a little better."

He didn't have the energy to respond, but he nodded slightly, trusting her to take care of him. She helped him to his feet, supporting most of his weight as she guided him to the sink. The cool water on his face was a small relief, but it did little to alleviate the lingering nausea or the exhaustion weighing him down.

After what felt like an eternity, they managed to get him back to the small bedroom where he'd been staying. Lucy helped him into bed, pulling the blankets up to his chest. He shivered uncontrollably, his body still wracked with chills despite the warmth of the room.

"Try to rest," Lucy said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed. "I'm going to stay with you, okay? Just in case."

Tim's eyes fluttered open, meeting hers. He wanted to tell her that she didn't have to do this, that she should be with the rest of the team, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, he simply nodded, too exhausted to argue.

Lucy settled in beside him, her hand resting lightly on his arm. "You're going to be okay, Tim. We'll get through this."

Her words were a balm to his frayed nerves, a reminder that he wasn't alone in this. Even in his weakest moment, she was there, steady and unwavering. It was a comfort he hadn't realized he needed until now.

But just as he began to drift off, the nausea surged again, dragging him back into the harsh reality of his illness. His stomach twisted painfully, and he bolted upright, barely making it to the wastebasket beside the bed before he started vomiting again.

Lucy was there in an instant, holding the basket steady as Tim retched helplessly. His body convulsed with each heave, leaving him breathless and weak. It felt like a never-ending cycle, his stomach rebelling against him over and over until there was nothing left.

"I know, I know," Lucy murmured, her voice full of sympathy. "I'm here, Tim. Just breathe."

Tim leaned back against the headboard, his energy completely drained. He couldn't remember the last time he felt this helpless, this utterly defeated. But Lucy's presence, her steady support, kept him grounded, kept him from completely giving in to the exhaustion and despair.

When the vomiting finally subsided, Tim slumped against the pillows, too weak to move. His breathing was ragged, his body trembling from the effort, but at least the nausea had dulled, reduced to a low, persistent ache.

Lucy stayed with him, her hand resting on his arm as she whispered soothing words. "You're OK, Tim. Just try to rest now."

He nodded weakly, his eyelids growing heavy. As he finally started to drift off.