alternativewriting | (no subject)

Entry tags:

alec,
andrew ryan

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Luckily for Andrew, despite all the stickiness and interesting eating habits (slugs) Alec had been a fairly healthy child. He got the chicken pox and then the flu a couple of times, but they'd always been pretty mild. He never got colds or sniffles or anything like that.

Today, unfortunately, would be different.

Today, still in his pajamas, Alec sat at the kitchen table, a bowl of cereal in front of him. He should have been ready for school, as he only had a few more weeks before graduating and he'd been working insanely hard to at least get a passing grade in his classes. But instead he just shoved the contents of the bowl, which may at one time have been Corn Flakes but now resembled mush and stared out into space. The coffee maker hadn't been turned on either. Which, of course, considering his coffee habit, was highly unusual.

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Andrew wasn't used to seeing Alec just sitting around and poking at his food. Nor was he used to seeing him not drinking coffee. When he walked into the kitchen, he was immediately aware that something was wrong, but naturally assumed that perhaps Alec was just being lazy.

"You need to get to school," he said, pointedly looking at the clock on the wall behind Alec.

"I dun wanna, pa-pap" Alec muttered sullenly... and in Russian. "Wolf 'n Lar dun have to. Why should I?"

Andrew paused. This was certainly outside of the realm of normal, and it was alarming him slightly. He responded in English, frowning. "Alec, do you know where you are right now? Do you know what year it is?"

Now Alec gives him a funny look. "I'm home. And it's 1943, why?" He's still speaking in Russian.

"Because you're behaving awfully strangely, and acting as though your family is... still here."

"Of course they are," he says and then shakes his head. "I dun feel good, pa-pa."

"They've... been dead for awhile. In what way do you feel bad? Are you feverish?"

Fevers could make people say strange things, after all...

"They're not dead!" That is punctuated with a slam on the table and the cereal bowl rattling. "And I don't know."

"Look at me, Alec. They've been dead for years. You live with me now."

He doesn't usually touch people if he can help it, but he crosses to the table and puts a hand on Alec's forehead, feeling for fever. Hoping he doesn't get pushed away.

"Course I live with you, you're m'father."

Burning up would be a nice description. Alec turns his head away, but doesn't push him.

Alec doesn't always call him his father, and given the circumstances, Andrew wonders if he's not more than slightly confused.

"You have a bad fever. Do you know my name, Alec?"

Alec tries to focus on him and sways a bit in his chair. "I ... "

"Alec, answer me."

Andrew isn't trying to sound mean, but he is concerned, and his voice is often harsh when he's trying to hide worry.

"Sasha...?"

Alec was named after his father.

"Alec, I'm Andrew. Your father died a long time ago. I think you need to get into bed."

"You're not dead." He pokes Andrew. "Right there."

"Alec, I'm not your father. Not that father, at least."

"Right there," he repeats and pokes again.

This is officially freaking him out. "Alec, you need to get into bed. I'm calling the doctor right away."

"M'kay." He can handle that. That's a heck of a lot less confusing than this whole who am I shit.

Standing up, he wobbles a bit and takes a few tentative steps.

Andrew sighs, putting one arm around Alec's shoulder to assist him. "Here, lean on me," he says, not wanting Alec to fall on his face on the kitchen floor.

That would be unfortunate. He leans heavily against Andrew as he walks, stumbling a few times. "Doctor expensive... I'll be fine. Just need to sleep a little."

"The doctor is far less expensive than the hospital bills we might incur if you get worse. I'm calling him immediately."

He walks towards Alec's bedroom slowly, making sure Alec doesn't fall.

"Just need to sleep. That's all," he continues to insist. Which is a better thing for him to insist than he's 'fine.'

He'll collapse onto his bed quite willing, like a puppet cut from its strings.

Andrew stares at him for a moment before crossing to the telephone and picking it up, calling the doctor. He doesn't think listening to anything Alec has to say in this state is productive, so he'll call someone in anyway. A few moments later, he comes back over to Alec, staring at him again.

"The doctor is on his way. Is there... anything you need?"

This taking care of people thing is... difficult, to say the least.