(no subject)

[lastgunslinger]

Roland has been awake for some time.

His coughing has yet to stop.

His eyes are bright and glassy.

He's really tired of looking at the ceiling.

Welcome to hell, he thinks. You deserve it.

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[boy-not-lost.livejournal.com]

Jake rolls his eyes and picks up the bowl.

"Sit up. You need to eat."

[lastgunslinger]

Carefully, he pulls himself upright in bed. His head is pounding, and he can't hide a wince.

He doesn't look at Jake.

[boy-not-lost.livejournal.com]

"You can look at me, you know. I won't turn you to stone," he says cheerfully, taking a spoonful of the soup and directing it purposefully to Roland's mouth.

[lastgunslinger]

Roland does look at Jake now, and he doesn't look happy.

He grabs the spoon. Soup drips onto the bedclothes. He doesn't care.

[boy-not-lost.livejournal.com]

Jake raises an eyebrow. "Still stubborn even though you're about to fall over. Have it your way."

He puts the bowl in Roland's lap and settles down on the floor to watch.

[lastgunslinger]

Roland has an experimental spoonful of soup. It tastes good, and it feels good on his throat.

After a moment (and a few more spoonfuls) he mutters, "Say thankya."

[boy-not-lost.livejournal.com]

Jake watches him for awhile.

"I'm sorry," he says finally.

[lastgunslinger]

More soup.

Roland stares at the bedcover.

"For what?"

[boy-not-lost.livejournal.com]

"For-" not telling you. For being here.

"That you had to learn it from Joe."

[lastgunslinger]

"It's not your fault he's a son of a bitch."

Roland's voice, though soft, though hoarse, is calm.

[boy-not-lost.livejournal.com]

"I didn't want you to know. Especially not that way."

[lastgunslinger]

"I didn't want you to tell me."

The pattern on the bedcover is simple. Roland traces part of it with the thumb of his right hand.

[boy-not-lost.livejournal.com]

Jake hands him the orange juice and the pills once he's halfway finished with the soup.

"Here. For the fever."

[lastgunslinger]

Roland looks down at the pills.

"Astin?"

[boy-not-lost.livejournal.com]

He nods. "Yeah. A waitrat gave them to me. They seem to know what everyone needs."

[lastgunslinger]

He spends a bit more time staring at them. Then he pops them in his mouth, follows them up with the juice -- and freezes.

His throat hurts like hell.

It's a fight to get them down. He does. He's trembling again.

Roland hates being sick.

[boy-not-lost.livejournal.com]

Jake is well aware of this; getting Roland to do anything that he doesn't want to do - accepting aid foremost on the list - is like trying to persuade a feral, deaf, blind and dumb cat into a very large bathtub.

So he sighs.

[lastgunslinger]

Roland closes his eyes. He will stop trembling. He will.

Carefully, he sets first the glass of orange juice and then the bowl of soup on the nightstand.

Then he eases back down into the bedclothes and draws the blankets around his shoulders.

For perhaps five seconds, all is well. Roland allows himself to get his hopes up. Then: coughing.

"Fuck."

[boy-not-lost.livejournal.com]

Jake puts a hand on his head before Roland can stop him and frowns.

"Okay. Here is what is going to happen."

"You are going to stay in bed," he says firmly, glaring down at his dinh. "I am going to go get Peter. He is going to do what he can - without using magic. And you are not going to complain or say no."

[lastgunslinger]

Already glassy eyes glitter at Jake. "What happens if I do?"

[boy-not-lost.livejournal.com]

"It is going to happen anyway."

[lastgunslinger]

"I'll be fine in a few days." And Roland rolls over in bed, turning his back to Jake.

[boy-not-lost.livejournal.com]

"If you die here what happens to us? What happens to the Tower? You may be stuck here for now but there's a chance that you could get back, at least into my reality," he snaps suddenly.

"Stop being so fucking stubborn."

[lastgunslinger]

Silence.

Then, even quieter: "Go get him."

Roland sounds utterly defeated.

[boy-not-lost.livejournal.com]

"I'll be back in a few minutes," he says curtly.