Chapter Text
The morning after his seizure, Daniel was regaled with two day shift nurses' accounts of how they had found him during the previous day. It was already embarrassing to have his vulnerable state at the time described to him, but knowing that he'd needed David of all people to help him was downright humiliating. While he did not express his distress out loud after first hearing about the incident, he did take the liberty of scheduling his check-ups much later in the afternoon when he could. He rarely crossed paths with David afterward unless he came to see him either very early or very late in the day. He was still coming to see him on a daily basis though, and he let Daniel know that with a new candy bar on his nightstand every day, left to grow until a pile of them had accrued. He would find different kinds of candy at first, and he rarely ate any of them. On the rare occasions that a craving for sugar struck him, he found that the few he did eat would often reappear, and often more frequently than other the kinds of candy did. He could not avoid David entirely, but when they did see each other, they would usually either sit and read or do crossword puzzles with little if any conversation, although it was rare when they saw each other at all anymore.
Today happened to be one of those rare times, much to Daniel's chagrin. He complained often to anyone who would listen about David coming to visit him, yet he never tried to kick him out, even despite the nurses repeatedly telling him that he easily could if he so chose. They found it amusing, although they at least tried to keep it under wraps in Daniel’s presence. That hadn’t stopped him from overhearing them, however; sometimes he would listen to them gossip with each other as they were switching out for the night. Through the thin walls of his room, he could have sworn that he even heard one nurse, Rina, refer to David as Daniel’s “boyfriend” once before as the man in question was leaving. It would not have been nearly as bad if she was the only one to make those kinds of assumptions, but he had heard other hospital staff talk about him, wondering in fleeting murmurs about the identity of the red-haired man and why he visited the room flanked by police everyday, and wasn’t it just so cute how he would always ask to leave candy for the room’s mysterious inhabitant. Those were the comments that made Daniel’s skin crawl; they were always the worst because no matter how embarrassed he was to have David hanging around, he knew that he was never actually going to forbid the man from coming. Be that as it was, however, he was not letting David keep coming out of any sort of affection or friendliness. He was simply desperate for social contact, that was what Daniel told himself, anyway. After all, going from living with a few dozen people in close quarters to none at all was more than a bit jarring, and save for the ever-changing roster of doctors and nurses he saw, he had no regular contact with anyone who could be considered a source of companionship. It was simply a longing for familiarity and structure that made him accept David’s company. That, and in his current unhealthy state, he was not so reluctant that he was willing to put in the energy to fight him.
It was while he was pondering this shift in his social life that Daniel noticed a sour taste beginning to develop in the back of his throat. He shook it off and forced himself to concentrate on the puzzle book in his lap, but the feeling remained, and it only continued to worsen the harder he tried to ignore it. He must have looked worse too, because David eventually got up and kneeled beside his bed, already anticipating the worst.
He started to ask Daniel if he wanted some water but was cut off by the man retching into his own lap. The suddenness of it made David jump back, but he regained his composure quickly. He kneeled back down and simply rubbed Daniel's back as he finished throwing up, waiting until he was certain that he was done before getting up. He took off into the hallway, and was back at Daniel's side in less than a minute with a cup of water and several paper towels in each hand.
"I called for the nurse already. She'll be here soon," he said as he handed a paper towel to Daniel.
Daniel snatched it away and rubbed it across his mouth all in one motion. "Thanks," he murmured, his reply rolling almost into a growl. His gaze fell upon his lap. " Shit. "
The front of his white hospital gown was stained a rather disgusting shade of orange. He shuddered, both at the sight of it and at the cold feeling of the fluid as it began to pressed against his stomach. "Great, just great," he muttered bitterly, unaware that David was already halfway through pulling his own green sweatshirt over his head. Shrugging it off quickly, he tapped Daniel on the shoulder as he placed it beside him on the bed.
"She'll probably need a few minutes to replace your clothes" was the only remark that accompanied it.
Daniel stared at him with a blank expression. David only shrugged. "At least it's clean. I can go without it for a bit," he added.
And he really could have. At least he still had on a t-shirt, meanwhile Daniel could feel the cold contents of his stomach pressing into his skin. He ordered David to look away and proceeded to slip out of the ruined smock while his back was turned. After quickly cleaning himself up with a dry portion of the garment, he crumpled it up onto the floor and pulled on the sweatshirt before tucking himself back into bed. The sweatshirt was a slightly darker shade of green than David's usual camp uniform t-shirt and was patterned with a series of subtle gray checks. Although it was much too warm and slightly itchy, and it smelled like someone else's sweat, Daniel did appreciate being able to wear actual clothes again as opposed to the paper gowns that the hospital provided.
"That seems to suit you much better," his nurse's voice jolted him as she rushed in. "What happened?"
"He threw up," David said before her patient could even open his mouth. "We got him cleaned up already, but he'll need some fresh clothes."
"I will as soon as I can, but it'll probably take a little while to get 'em. We usually get supply shipments for scrubs and smocks today, and the truck hasn't showed up yet.” She started checking Daniel over. "How long before you threw up did you start feeling sick?"
"A few minutes," he replied, glowering in David's direction. "It came on pretty suddenly."
"I see. It might be a side effect of the new meds." She scribbled something on a clipboard before replacing it where it hung at the foot of the bed. "Let me know if it happens again. Call me if you feel worse. Lunch comes in half an hour, but we can wait on that until a bit longer if you'd like. We'll see how you're feeling then."
The nurse gave him a quick once-over before she hurried off, but not without thanking David for taking care of him, much to Daniel's chagrin. He considered it a small act of mercy on the part of the universe when David declared that he had to go back to the camp soon after the nurse left the room. Daniel insisted as sweetly as he could muster—that was to say, still with a noticeable sting in his voice—that David did not have to go to the trouble of coming back again the next day. Or at all , he silently added.
Of course the counselor returned early the next morning, same as usual. He at least had to come back to retrieve his shirt, which had been washed, dried, and neatly folded by Daniel's nurse after she managed to pry it off of him and exchange it for a fresh hospital gown. David ignored it at first, seeing as his hands were already filled by a couple of large plastic containers. He set one of them down on the nightstand, careful not to slosh its contents around too harshly, and sat down with the other one in his lap. He gently inquired about Daniel's condition, and was both bemused and unsurprised by the histrionic griping that followed. Apparently, Daniel had started throwing up regularly due to a new medication and was put back on a liquid diet, and he was more than happy to describe the ordeal with his doctors in detail.
“-and you would think that they’d know that by now, considering that they wouldn’t even let me eat anything thicker than bouillon until I’d been on the other medication for at least three weeks. Of course I’d throw up! Idiots! ” Daniel’s head snapped forward as he heard what sounded like a snicker. “So glad you think that’s funny,” he said mirthlessly.
“I’m sorry.” David chuckled again, more sympathetically this time. "I don't think it's funny. But it is actually related to why I’m here today.” He patted the top of the container in his lap. "I know being sick feels lousy, so I thought maybe a light, hearty breakfast would help,” he added when he noticed Daniel glaring at him.
The cultist watched as David unlatched the sides of the container, releasing a faint smell of vanilla and citrus into the air that wafted from the short stack of pancakes inside. David dug through his vest pocket until he eventually found a napkin-wrapped fork, then stuck it in the container as he handed it to Daniel. Daniel took it with a hint a skepticism, which David was uncharacteristically quick to pick up on.
"I checked with the nurse already. She gave me the go ahead to bring it." he insisted. "Of course you don't have to eat all of the pancakes now, but they're there if you want them, and there's also some chicken and rice."
He took a cautious bite of it and chewed. He could at least admit that it tasted good. Granted, he had only been given permission to start eating solid food again within the last week, so he was willing to welcome any food into his diet that didn't consist primarily of broth. He did not eat much in front of David, and was frankly relieved that the counselor did not stay very long after he dropped the food off. Although he was hungry, Daniel hadn't been able to hold down much in the past couple of days, and he wasn't about to try again until he knew that it would not just come back up later. Once David had left, Daniel spent most of the remaining day sleeping between treatments. A nurse took his partially eaten meals away sometime in the early evening, and when he woke up again that night, the rolling growl from his stomach made him almost wish that she hadn't. Luckily for him, it would not be the last time David brought him food.
Daniel would sometimes return to his room for therapy every so often to find a candy bar left on his nightstand. Other times, David would show up with a batch of stew or some other light treat to try and cheer him up. Daniel hated to admit it, but the counselor proved himself to be a pretty good cook. He was even careful to take notice of his preferences, such as when he noted how quickly Daniel ate the lemon rice soup he had brought once, and then would bring that dish more often afterward. He liked to bring small desserts with him too, usually in the form of a handful of cookies, a slice of pound cake, or even squares of gingerbread. The latter was especially good to eat after experiencing a bout of nausea, and it was easier to hold down than most of the other things he was served.
After several days of this, Daniel had to admit—at least to himself—that he appreciated the homemade meals, even though the gesture in and of itself always left him with a sense of unease. That unease was nothing new—in fact, he noticed it starting with the first time David had come to visit him. The discomfort was mainly fueled by Daniel's skepticism regarding the counselor's motives. To put it simply, there was no good reason for David to keep coming to see him. Visiting him only the one time would have been enough to squash down any guilt that might have afflicted him following the cultist's near-death experience. At first, Daniel assumed that David was brought there by a mixture of guilt and pity, that he was trying to to fulfill some self-righteous need to be merciful to the man who almost succeeded in killing his charges. It seemed to fit with his over the top shows of concern and all the subsequent tokens of well-wishing that followed. However, the more time wore on, the less fitting Daniel found that explanation to be. There were too many moments that were not so pronounced, when David would have no one to impress with his grace and charity, when it was just him and Daniel, occasionally talking but mostly just occupying the same space together. He looked to Daniel for cues about what to do and how to react to certain things. When a problem occurred, he took the lead in getting the issue resolved, but it was always done swiftly and without theatrics, save for only the mildest of panics, with the subsequent time spent figuring out how to best comfort Daniel in whatever his current position was.
It was the quickness of David's reactions that probably made Daniel most uncomfortable. When he threw up around David the first time, the man literally gave him the shirt off his back, and he had him cleaned up well before the nurse arrived. He paid attention to what candies Daniel did and did not eat, and brought him more of the ones he seemed to like. He brought harder crossword puzzles for Daniel to do after he finished the first few books he gave him. He was curiously tight-lipped, asking next to nothing about the cult or about Daniel's personal life, and asking for nothing in return for his time or for his gifts. He was too charitable, too eager to please, and too focused on Daniel. It was all way too suspicious—too close in resemblance to the tactics the cult had used.
Daniel could barely remember when he was first indoctrinated into the organization in any clear detail. He had only a few faint, early memories—blurred by time and high-pressured steam—but what he did retain of that early period were mostly images of charity and kindness. Charity and kindness that seemed genuine, without any need for recompense, up until the moment he realized that he was snared. His parents had fallen for it easily, eager to accept the hands that reached out when they had fallen on hard times. And they were so grateful for the aid that, much later, they would gladly return the favor by committing their burgeoning family to aiding the organization's cause. From just a few sweet gestures and honeyed words came loyal purifiers, eager to cleanse the world of its toxic existence. He would later learn the proper term for it, “love bombing” , but he was already intimately familiar with the act long before he heard about it in any clinical context. He was already well aware that no kindness was ever free.
And with that in mind, chances were good that David's many gestures of supposed goodwill belied something else, some request or role that he wanted fulfilled by Daniel. Whether that thing was an actual favor or simply a sense of smug satisfaction at his own graciousness, or something else entirely, Daniel decided that he was not about to give it to him. David could pick at him all he wanted, but no matter how many meals he brought or how many sickly sweet smiles he threw his way, Daniel vowed as he laid in bed, staring at his dull reflection in the darkened window of his room, that he would not allow himself to be fooled. Willingly or not, he thought as he fell into an uncertain sleep, he would never let himself become a tool for anyone.