King was not a nurse. He was not someone who could properly take care of someone who was sick. Yet here he was, taking care of Billy while Fraser made the trip back to the compound for help. If taking care of Billy is what this could be called anyway. King was mostly just watching Billy sleep. If he were lucky, Billy would just stay that way and
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"Fraser?" Billy murmured, trying to lift his head. "You there?" Everything felt hazy and distant, and Billy had to force his eyes to stay open.
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Still, King wondered if Billy could understand him in this condition. Probably not. "He'll be back though," King added as an afterthought. It might've alarmed Billy to know that Fraser wasn't there anymore and King didn't want that.
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King didn't know that of course, but he had to say something. For all he knew, Fraser was long dead. King doubted that though and wasn't about to count him out. Fraser was a mountie after all.
"Just lay down. Take it easy."
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"You're here ..."
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What that something was, King didn't know, but he wasn't about to take a nap while Billy lay there looking like shit. Whatever King was feeling probably wasn't half as bad as whatever Billy was going through.
"You rest."
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He tugged weakly at the collar of shirt. It was so hot.
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Ignoring any weird scrabbly noises coming from one of the cupboards, King headed back, making sure to close the dormatory door behind him. Then went over to the side of Billy's bed and handed him the glass of water. "Hey," he said, to get Billy's attention.
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