This Conspiracy

Chapter 25

Author stuff: It's been a bit of a week this week. I finished posting Noblesse Oblige, a Miraculous Ladybug fanfic that is pretty much a Robin Hood AU with some inspiration from the Scarlet Pimpernel. I'm working extra hours this week and will only have one day off (thank god we're training someone). I decided it was a good week to pick up running. And it's hot as balls out. Also, my dog got her stitches out today.

And I'm doing a back to back. Here's to me getting no sleep!

Chapter 25

In Which The Girlie Sort of Rebels

Almost everyone tried to make it into the Med-hut to check on Newt. Nick was forced to put the Baggers on guard duty until he, Clint, and Jeff had determined that Newt was fit for visitors. Only the three of them and Frypan – who would bring him food – were allowed in.

Flossy stopped by not to visit but to bring him things he might need in moments of lucidity. The Creators had been kind enough to bless them with quite the haul. More than half of the Builders were willing to take the medical supplies to the Med-hut, but she managed to convince them that she, Chris, and Archie could manage.

While she might have been an acting Med-jack during busy times, she almost always was in the Gardens. She could honestly count on one hand the number of times she'd actually joined them. And Newt's accident was... perhaps the biggest and most frightening.

As much as she wanted to, she had no intent on seeing Newt until she was told she could, just making sure that Clint and Jeff knew that they were being well stocked. She'd never seen the two of them look more relieved. Archie left shortly after he set the things down, but Chris lingered a bit before having to be shooed out by Jeff.

"Too bad they can't send an actual surgeon to take a look at him," Clint said, going through what they'd been brought and organizing it. Jeff started to put things away.

"Is he doing any better?" she said, looking at the curtain partition that seperated him from the rest of the room. She didn't stare too long, though. The thought of a friend lying miserable behind them made her heart ache.

"He stopped cursing me out, if that's what you mean."

She bit her lip, her eyes dropping to the floor. She had heard some of it. It'd been muffled, but the cries woke her up in the middle of the night and sometimes they would startle her in the late mornings.

Newt was angry with them. She couldn't comprehend why. They were doing all they could to make sure he was alive and could walk. It'd take some time, but he'd manage eventually. He'd never be a Runner again, though. That had to hurt worse than his injury.

"Flossy," Clint said, "would you mind checking to see if Frypan has some lunch for him ready?"

"Sure," she said, starting toward the Kitchens. Admittedly, she missed working there. Although she was loath to admit it, cooking had been nice.

They were all busy when she arrived – nearly shooting her out of the Kitchens with threats of impalement of various cooking utensils and being broiled alive. That was probably the only time they would ever be malicious to her. It was actually kind of funny.

"Clint sent me," she said, holding up her hands in surrender. "He wanted to know if Newt's lunch was ready."

Frypan looked at her exasperated.

"If it's not, I'll just let them know you'll bring it by a little later."

"It's not that," Frypan said, smoothing back his closely cropped hair. "I need to stay in here to keep an eye on these shanks."