AN: Thank you potato127 and Kake_Tak for the golden tickets. I appreciate it so much. Happy reading.
When I pull it out, the column is alarmingly high, confirming my fear. It's a dangerous fever. The trauma and the exposure have spiked his system. I need to cool him down, and fast.
I rush to the bathroom, soak two clean washcloths in the coldest water I can manage from the rusty tap, and grab the bottle of fever reducer pills. "Vega, I need you to stay completely still," I instruct him, my voice firm despite the frantic hammering in my chest.
He doesn't reply, but his eyes flutter closed again, a sign of how utterly drained he is. I carefully begin to remove the remaining shreds of his waterlogged clothes, avoiding the heavily bandaged wound on his abdomen. His skin beneath the cloth is slick with sweat, yet intensely hot.
