The first light of dawn filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the small bedroom. Tim woke with a groan, his body aching as if he'd run a marathon. The nausea had subsided to a dull throb, but the exhaustion lingered, weighing him down as he slowly became aware of his surroundings.

Lucy was still by his side, her head resting on the edge of the bed, one hand lightly gripping his arm. She had stayed with him through the night, and seeing her there now filled Tim with a deep sense of gratitude.

But as he shifted slightly, trying to sit up, Lucy stirred. She lifted her head, blinking blearily at him. "Tim? How are you feeling?"

"Better," he croaked, though his voice was weak. "Tired… but the worst of it seems to be over."

Lucy nodded, relief evident in her expression. But as she sat up, Tim noticed something off. Her face was pale, her eyes shadowed with exhaustion. And then, she winced, a hand pressing lightly to her stomach.

"Lucy?" Tim asked, concern creeping into his voice.

"I'm fine," she said quickly, but the tightness in her voice told him otherwise.

"Lucy…" he began, but before he could finish, Lucy's face contorted in pain, and she quickly stood up, swaying slightly. "Oh no…"

Without another word, she bolted from the room, and Tim heard the unmistakable sound of her retching from the bathroom. He tried to get up, to go after her, but his body refused to cooperate. He was still too weak, still recovering from the relentless assault of the previous day.

His heart sank as he realized what was happening. She'd caught whatever he had, and now she was going through the same nightmare he had barely survived.

A knock on the doorframe drew his attention, and he looked up to see Nolan standing there, his face as pale as Lucy's had been. "Hey, Tim…how're you holding up?"

Tim frowned, noting the unsteady way Nolan leaned against the door. "I'm better, but…Nolan, you don't look so good."

Nolan managed a weak smile. "Yeah, well…seems like whatever you had is making its way through the team."

As if on cue, Nolan clutched his stomach, his face twisting in discomfort. "I've been feeling off all morning…and now I think…" He didn't finish the sentence, but the way he staggered back down the hall said enough. The sound of another person getting sick in the bathroom quickly followed.

Tim felt a pang of guilt. He'd brought this on them, hadn't he? The stomach flu—or whatever this was—had started with him, and now it was spreading. Lucy, who had been by his side the entire time, had been hit the hardest. And now Nolan too.

A few moments later, Lucy returned to the bedroom, her face ashen, but she was holding herself together with sheer determination. "Tim, you need to rest," she said, her voice hoarse. "I'll… I'll be okay. We'll be okay."

Tim shook his head, struggling to push himself up against the headboard. "Lucy, you're sick. You need to lie down."

She swayed on her feet for a moment before finally giving in and collapsing onto the bed beside him. "Okay…maybe just for a minute," she murmured, closing her eyes.

Tim reached out, placing a hand on her arm, offering what little comfort he could. "I'm sorry, Lucy. You shouldn't have had to go through this."

Lucy opened her eyes, meeting his gaze. "It's not your fault, Tim. This is just…bad luck."

Nolan's weak voice echoed from the hallway. "Yeah, man. Don't beat yourself up. We're a team—we go through this together, right?"

Tim nodded, though the guilt still gnawed at him. He hated seeing them like this, so vulnerable and sick, especially after they had taken care of him when he needed it most.

The day dragged on, with Lucy and Nolan both succumbing to the same relentless nausea and vomiting that had plagued Tim. He tried to help as much as he could, but his own strength was limited, and every time he pushed himself too far, the dizziness and exhaustion threatened to overwhelm him.

At one point, Nolan managed to crawl back into the living room, where he curled up on the couch, a blanket wrapped around him as he shivered through the waves of nausea. Lucy spent most of the day lying beside Tim, occasionally rushing to the bathroom as the sickness took its toll.

The rest of the team stayed clear of the infected trio, wary of catching whatever was going around. Someone left water, crackers, and ginger ale outside the door every few hours, a silent gesture of care that Tim was grateful for.

By the time evening rolled around, the worst seemed to be over. Lucy and Nolan were both exhausted, but the vomiting had slowed, leaving them weak and drained. Tim, now slightly stronger than before, did his best to comfort them, offering sips of water and murmuring reassurances.

As the night deepened, the three of them lay in a quiet, exhausted silence, the air heavy with the shared experience of the day. The sickness had taken its toll on them, but they had come through it together, stronger for it.

Lucy shifted beside Tim, her hand brushing his. "Thanks, Tim," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "For being here."

Tim squeezed her hand gently, offering a small, tired smile. "We look out for each other, remember?"

She nodded, her eyes closing as she finally allowed herself to rest. Tim followed suit, his body still aching but his mind at peace.