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Jimmy thought it was a cold at first, and maybe it had been.
At the beginning, his cough was light and his nose sniffily but he felt okay, okay enough that his fellow southanders didn't acknowledged his occasional muffling of his cough in his fist.
Then it got a little worse…
Jimmy started getting out of breath faster, as he collected firewood for the fire that seemed to be constantly burning in their base, he found himself having to take breaks he normally wouldn’t.
When he came back with half as much wood and more flushed than normal. Martyn poked fun at him, You Sl-aha-ker .
And Impulse was the only one to look at him slightly strange when he coughed, this time a little more productively but no one said anything.
…and a little worse…
It rained all day. The openness of the Southland was not appreciated as the fire burned out and all of them got soaked to the bone. Despite trying to salvage some firewood, a torch was all the heat Jimmy could scavenge. His clothes were hanging up dripping slowly as Jimmy curled up, wet and shivering under a thin blanket. He coughed into his blanket and it left his throat raw and the sound was barely muffled.
…and worse.
The next day, Jimmy woke shivering uncontrollably and his coughing had become a near constant cacophony of hacking coughs that brought up the mucus that felt like it was filling his lungs.
He had to get up. There was work to be done. And he was so thirsty. Jimmy dragged his body up, he licked his chapped lips and tasted blood on them.
He could hear his allies bustling around at the bottom of his tower. He moved with feverish slowness, his body aching.
His head was pounding as he reached the bottom of his stairway. He stepped outside.
Immediately Grian yelled at him, “‘bout time Tim! No sleep for the weary!”
Someone, he wasn't sure who, dumped a stack of something heavy, wood maybe, into his arms.
Jimmy was sleepwalking, his throat dry and itching to cough.
“Right here Jim!” Maryn called and Jimmy took another step before dropping the wood on the ground.
“Or there.” Martyn said. “Look alive Jimmy, plenty to do today.”
Someone bumped into him and Jimmy staggered. A hand quickly shot out to steady him. “Sorry- sorry mate!” Mumbo apologized. There was a moment of hesitation, and then “Are you feeling okay? You look… a bit pale.”
Jimmy nodded, trying so hard not to cough. He was fine, he wasn't sick. He was fine.
Mumbo nodded, “Well keep an eye on it okay?”
Mumbo moved off and Jimmy wordlessly moved towards the other voices in the base. That was what he normally did wasn't it? Socialize?
Jimmy felt as though he was moving slower than a zombie. His body kept trying to cough to expel whatever demon had taken root in his lungs, but Jimmy bit his lip and kept his mouth closed, forcing his coughs to only make his cheeks puff out and his throat sting. He would not cough out. He was fine.
“Good morning!” Impulse called towards him. “How are you doing on this fine day?”
Jimmy tried to swallow the growing build up only for his breathing to catch and a particularly bad cough to burst past his lips sending a waterfall of equally harsh sounding ones with it.
The whole base fell silent as Jimmy coughed, wheezing for air in-between choked off spasms. He doubled over trying to subdue the pain that cut deep into his chest with every second that passed.
Then someone was rubbing his back as something cold was pressed to his lips. “Breathe.” Someone insisted.
Was he not breathing? He couldn't tell.
Jimmy took a shuddering breath and water was pushed down his throat. He choked on it, coughing most of it back up, but some of it managed to get down his throat.
It helped. For a minute he was able to catch his breath. And he heard quiet whispers break out around him.
He glanced up through watery eyes and saw all four of his fellow Southlanders looking down at him. Impulse was still rubbing his back.
Jimmy spit the mouthful of phlegm he'd coughed out of his lungs onto the ground.
“Geez, you really commit don't you Tim?” Grian said.
Jimmy wheezed as he tried to resist the cough that was already itching to be free. “I'm fine-” Jimmy started before launching into another fit of harsh wet sounding coughs. They made him gag as he brought up more and more phlegm.
When he managed to catch his breath again, Grian and Martyn were off to one side, looking at Jimmy with worried eyes and talking in low voices.
Mumbo hovered, not quite reaching out to him. “You sound terrible Jimmy.” He said after a moment.
Impulse reached up pressing his cool hand against Jimmy's clammy forehead. “He's got a fever!” Impulse said loudly.
Jimmy didn't dare to speak, knowing the moment he opened his mouth he would just launch into another fit.
“We've got you.” Impulse muttered, “Just keep breathing.”
Jimmy's voice caught and he spiraled into another fit. He hated every second of it.
But Impulse was propping him upright and rubbing circles in his back. And he was finally sick enough that his fellow Southlanders were acknowledging it. And he knew he would be okay.
Just not today.