Pail was sick. Really sick. The combination of the cold rain and his overflowing emotions had won against his unusually robust immune system. He didn’t remember when or how it happened, but he was dressed in his spare clothes and lying in a bed he didn’t recognize. He could barely keep his eyes open, yet panic had started to set in. He had only been this sick once before, and he didn’t want to remember that time. Lying on the cold floor of a shed, surrounded by complete darkness for hours without enough strength to get out or call for help.
Pail shut his eyes tightly as he tried to will his sickness away. He didn’t want to be thrown in another shed for slowing the group down, and he didn’t want to be alone in the darkness again. His fears were somewhat soothed when he felt a warm hand on his forehead and heard the monotone voice he had grown so accustomed to.
“I wish I had a thermometer to get a more accurate temperature.” The voice was distant and muffled, and he didn’t know what a thermometer was. He did know that he wasn’t alone, though. He was in a warm bed, wearing clean clothes, and mister was right there with him. The relief flooding his system, combined with his weak body, made him fall back asleep.
Norman had watched over the boy for hours, as that was the right thing for an adult to do. He had been so worried about hypothermia that he had held Pail in his arms to warm him up until they thankfully found a roadside inn. Savant had teased him about it at first but kept his mouth shut when he sensed his hosts genuine panic. Norman didn’t know how fragile children were, nor what kind of illnesses this world had, so he felt that the optimal thing to do was to prepare for the absolute worst outcome.
Of course, the worst case scenario didn’t happen, but the boy still had a nasty fever and needed around-the-clock care. Rowboat had been tasked with taking care of Primrose while Norman stayed with Pail. They were confused about why they weren’t allowed to see him, but they would have to stay confused, as Norman didn’t feel like going into germ theory.
“Ideally, I would have you checked out by a doctor, but I doubt I can call someone up and make an appointment.” Norman had been speaking to the sleeping boy whenever he looked scared or uncomfortable. He remembered being sick as a child, the way he’d call for his parents who were at work, and the cold soup left on his nightstand. He would have felt a lot better if one of his parents had stayed with him back then, and he hoped his presence was calming the shivering boy at least a little.
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[WHY DO YOU CARE SO MUCH? AREN’T YOU DROPPING HIM OFF SOON?]
Norman couldn’t respond to that. Why did he care so much about the children? He had never been a warm and caring person, yet he dutifully did everything he could to take care of them. He had learned how to braid hair and tie ribbons, despite the fact that such skills were useless in any other context. Whenever he went out, he found himself thinking about their likes and dislikes whenever he came across something he thought they would like. He let them crawl into his bed, and he packed them lunch. The more he thought about it, the more illogical his behavior had been. Even sitting here was illogical, yet here he sat.
The thought of never seeing them again made him feel… unpleasant. An orphanage could provide them with the warmth and gentle care that he couldn’t, so why did it unsettle him to leave them there? Was it a time investment thing? He had spent so much time and resources on these children, so was he upset that it all went to waste? No, that wasn’t it. The children could provide him nothing, yet he provided for them without thinking twice.
Norman thought that the kids reminded him of himself as a child. Alone and out of place, trying to fit in in a world that didn’t cater to their kind. He didn’t want to imagine how society would treat them once they grew up and lost their childish naivety. Their differences were physical, after all. Norman was fine as long as he kept his mouth shut, but they would be looked at as lesser by just existing. He didn’t want that for them, even if it was an inconvenient and irrational want.
Pail woke up, delirious and dizzy. He instinctually reached out to grip the warm hand resting in Norman’s lap. Visions of his past had haunted his fever dreams, and he wanted all the comfort he could get. What if mister wouldn’t be here the next time he woke up? What if this warmth and comfort was just temporary? All the emotions came rushing out at once, and he was too exhausted to hold them back.
“You won’t leave me, will you?” His voice was weak and quivering from the oncoming tears, “You won’t leave me in a well or a shed or a forest, right?” His vision was too blurry to make out the man’s facial expressions, but he didn’t need to; he knew his face was the same as always. “You’ll be my papa and keep me forever, right? I’ll be good and real helpful, I promise. Please don’t leave me alone, papa.”
Ah. It went just as Savant had predicted. He couldn’t leave them alone now that he had gotten attached. He had been expecting more of an uncle or teacher role, but maybe being a father wouldn’t be so bad. He was scared that he would turn out like his own father, that he'd fail them in some way. He would have to think about those things later, though. Right now, his son needed reassurance, no matter how monotone it was. He gripped the small hand in his big one, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
“Don’t worry. I won’t leave you. I promise.”
