Red Horizon (The Martian Fanfiction)

Chapter 32

Olivia drifted in and out of a feverish haze, her world narrowing to the burning heat radiating from her body and the dull, throbbing pain in her leg. It felt like she was floating, her mind detached from her surroundings, the sounds of the Hab distant and muffled. Every now and then, she would hear the faint hum of the life support systems, the rhythmic whirr of air being filtered and pumped into the room, and somewhere, through the fog of her fever, she knew Mark was nearby. His presence was the one thing tethering her to reality.

She blinked, her eyelids heavy and reluctant to open. The light inside the Hab was softer than the blinding brightness of the Rover, but it still stung her eyes as she slowly focused on the ceiling above her. She could feel the warmth of the blankets Mark had tucked around her, the makeshift bed beneath her body offering a kind of comfort she hadn't felt in days. Even through the haze, she knew she was no longer in the Rover—Mark must have moved her. The space around her felt more open, less claustrophobic, though her mind struggled to keep up with what was happening.

Her breaths were shallow, labored, each inhale a faint rasp in her throat. The fever still clung to her like a second skin, her body burning with the heat of it, but there were moments—fleeting, but there—when she felt cool air brushing against her flushed skin. Mark had probably set up some way to keep her cooler, but even with his care, the fever pulsed relentlessly through her.

Olivia's leg was the worst part. It felt like a lead weight, heavy and useless, and the pain that came from it was constant—a deep, bone-aching pain that shot through her every time she shifted. She didn't dare move now, not even to adjust herself in the bed. Any movement sent a fresh wave of agony rolling through her body, making it harder to breathe, harder to think.

She swallowed against the dryness in her mouth, her lips cracked and sore. A soft groan escaped her before she could stop it, the sound slipping from her throat like a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Her entire body felt heavy, like she was sinking deeper into the bed, her muscles too weak to respond to any command.

"Mark..." she tried to call out, but her voice was barely a whisper, hoarse and strained. Her throat felt raw, like she hadn't spoken in days, and her chest ached with the effort. The sound didn't even reach her own ears, swallowed by the quiet hum of the Hab.

Her vision blurred, and for a moment, she thought she might slip back into unconsciousness, but then she felt a gentle touch on her arm—warm, steady. She blinked again, forcing her eyes to focus as she turned her head slowly, painfully, to see Mark kneeling beside her. His expression was tight with worry, his face pale and drawn. He hadn't shaved in days, and his eyes were red-rimmed, exhaustion written in every line of his body. But his hand on her arm was gentle, grounding her in the here and now.

"You're awake," he said softly, his voice a mix of relief and quiet concern.

Olivia nodded, though the movement made her head swim. The room tilted slightly, and she blinked to try and clear the dizziness that washed over her. "Yeah... for now," she rasped, her voice barely audible.

Mark let out a soft sigh, his relief palpable as he knelt beside Olivia, his hand lingering on her arm, a steadying presence in the midst of her disoriented state. She could see the strain etched into his face, the sleepless nights and the constant worry that had carved deep lines around his eyes. His exhaustion mirrored her own, but he was holding it together, for her sake.

She tried to focus on his face, her vision still blurred from the fever, but she could see him clearly enough to know that something had shifted in him—he wasn't as tense as before. Something in his expression told her that, despite everything, there was hope.

"How... bad is it?" she croaked, her throat still sore and dry. Her voice sounded foreign to her, weak and cracked, like it wasn't hers at all.

Mark hesitated for a moment, his eyes flicking to her leg before returning to her face. He offered a small, reassuring smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Better than it was," he replied, his voice low but steady. "The swelling's gone down, and the redness too. We've still got a long way to go, but you're improving, Liv. The antibiotics are working."