Brooklyn's Terrible Time

Chapter 4

Brooklyn had been lying down in bed while the clan was away, just not feeling super fantastic right now with his pesky fever and nonstop coughing. A small tear fell down his face while curling up in his blankets. Why did those Quarrymen always want to ruin their lives? Why can't they just leave him and his clan alone?

A small sniffle came out of him and he took a tissue to blow into it. Bronx whined in concern and Brooklyn glanced over, a weak smile on his beak.

"I'm alright, just a bit sick is all." He murmured quietly, petting the gar dog on the head. Bronx was laying down near him on the floor to protect his owner. Brooklyn felt fear growing inside. What if they couldn't find a cure? What if he...?

He shuddered greatly, not wanting to die anytime soon. Brooklyn made a small attempt of drinking his water they left for him, hissing a little from pain but did his best to keep himself hydrated.

Then the clan soon returned. Brooklyn propped himself up slowly as Goliath and the rest of his family showed up, trying to look cheerful, but Brooklyn could tell those weren't happy faces.

"Well? Did Castaway have a cure?" Brooklyn asked nervously, gripping his sheets. Hudson couldn't stop his tears from moistening, taking Brooklyn's hand. He shook his head.

"I'm sorry, lad. We interrogated the man, but he claimed he never made one," Hudson said gently. Brooklyn's face fell, tears starting to spill out. Angela herself was crying a little.

He looked down, denial rushing in his body, shaking his head.

"No, no. There has to be one, he must be lying!" sobbed Brooklyn in fear. Hudson ended up hugging Brooklyn, who was now crying even more. Goliath spoke.

"We all wanted Castaway to have a cure, too. But we won't stop trying to help you, Brooklyn. All of us want you back to health again," Goliath said to him. Brooklyn looked at him with red eyes before showing a little smile before hugging Hudson again.

"I-I just don't want to die, Hudson," Brooklyn stated fearfully with round eyes. Hudson stroked his back. "We won' let that happen, Lad. We promise ye that." Brooklyn whimpered softly after they broke apart and Hudson helped him back under the covers, the clan leaving to let him rest since sunrise was here.

....

As they promised, Goliath and the clan all tried to be as supportive of Brooklyn as they possibly could, but the young gargoyle was still suffering his sickness, looking even more terrible each day. Brooklyn one day had growled a bit after waking from stone sleep, still feeling sick and wondered what the use of was even still having it if he was going to die.

Broadway wouldn't hesitate to make his suffering brother gentle food like soup or anything else.

Brooklyn though felt confined having to be stuck in bed. Even with a window open he had a hard time not being able to go out with his brothers to the movies and patrolling.

He tossed and turned in his bed, growling sometimes from his nonstop coughing and sore throat. Brooklyn's tears fell from his eyes while holding his pillow and hiding his head in it, not wanting to accept that he might have no hope to survive when Hudson suddenly came in.

"Hey there, Lad. How are you doin'?" The elder asked in concern. Brooklyn kept his face hidden, tears burning his cheeks.

"Fine," he lied in a muffled voice. Brook heard Hudson sit down and knew that his elder could see that he was lying.

Hudson's hand rubbed his back. "I know ye are going through a rough time. But we will keep doing our best to help ye," he said gently. Brooklyn then brought his face out from the pillow, his face wet with his tears as Hudson helped adjust his covers.