Gally Imagines

=TWENTY-EIGHT= Burning Fever (Part 3)

At first it was so slow that you didn't even realize it, but as time passed, it got louder and more frequent until it was a constant tapping rhythm of a heavy rainstorm. Drops ran down and dripped through the spaces between the branches of the hut roof here and there, but it wasn't enough to worry about. As you bathed Gally's face and arms, you could hear the faint shouting of Gladers above the noise of the heavy rain and frequent claps of thunder, lightning sporadically illuminating the room.

Suddenly the door opened revealing Clint and a couple of other wet boys. They began to move about the room, quickly lighting torches and hanging them on the wall. You hadn't noticed how dark it had gotten until the firelight lit up the room. The boys shouted to each other over the rain, giving directions and moving hastily.

"That's the last one, hurry, let's go!" You looked up at Newt's voice to see him gesturing towards the door as the wet boys filed through it back into the rain as he himself came up to you and Gally.

"Any change?" he asked, setting a wooden cup filled with water beside you.

You paused, turning your gaze to Gally's constantly shuddering, restless body, and said nothing. Newt didn't press the subject further.

"The Bloodhouse has a major leak and rain is pouring through, soaking everything," he said. "We have to get it patched up, or the meat will be spoiled, so we need all of the boys that we can spare. Will you be alright here on your own?"

You nodded numbly, knowing that that meant no more help from Clint or Jeff or anyone, as he backed towards the door, placing a hand on it. Then he glanced around the room, his eyes falling on Gally and then you one last time before shutting the door firmly behind him.

You sat in silence, trying to calm your furiously beating heart and the fear and worry that threatened to take hold of you and never let go. It had been slowly rising up from inside of you ever since the moment Gally had collapsed on the ground in your hut, and you had subconsciously been forcing it back, trying to keep yourself busy and mentally telling yourself that this was fine, that Gally was fine, that this was all going to be fine. But now, as you stared at Gally's wet, sweat-drenched face, and felt the blazing heat of his skin, the resistance that you had built started to crack and shatter as you realized that everything was not fine.

The other boys, including Newt, Ably, Clint, and Jeff had gone off to work on the Bloodhouse leak to tend to the meat. Would they have done that if Gally had a chance? You swallowed again, suddenly realizing that no matter how badly you wanted to be in denial, or how much you wished it otherwise, Gally was more than likely going to...

"I love you, Gally," you said aloud to him in the stillness of the room and to the roar of rain coming from outside. The sound of your voice startled you, but you forced yourself to keep talking, not wanting to allow your mind to drift. "I do! I love you so, so much! You have to fight this, Gally. You have to! For Alby, for Newt, for Thomas, for Chuck...you can't let this beat you, Gally, you can't! We need you! The Glade needs you! No one is good enough to take over being Keeper of the Builders except you."

You looked at his wet face, eyelids fluttering, eyebrows furrowed, and lips slowly ceasing to move. His head no longer jerked from side to side in a restless, sporadic motion, exhaustion overtaking him. His breathing turned raspy and shallow, dark circles rimming his eyes. You knew that he most likely couldn't hear you, but you didn't care. You had to at try; you were not giving up hope. Not while he was still breathing.

"You have to fight this! For...for me, Gally. I...I need you. I can't even begin to imagine living in the center of this Maze without you. You make this Glade, the Grievers, the memory-wipe, this whole thing, bearable! And I can't do it without you! I can't! I just can't! I need you, Gally! I need you like I never thought that I would need anyone in my whole life! Without you, my life would be meaningless. Please, Gally. Please! I love you."

A loud clap of thunder boomed overhead and you buried your face, crying into his damp arm, holding his hand tightly.

You hated your mind for going where it did next, but you couldn't hold it back any longer, no matter how hard you tried. You saw Gally in your mind, no longer jerking restlessly, but deathly still, unmoving. His hands and arms no longer red and hot with fever, but cool and pallid. The black circles around his eyes were darkened still by the whiteness of his unnaturally pale face. There was no warmth in him at all. He was cold, and stiff, and lifeless.

You cried frenetically from the horribly-dark twisted pain that you never knew could exist. All the things that you should have told him, but did not! All the times that you could have said 'I love you!' but didn't because you figured that he already knew! All of the wasted moments, all of the stupid words, all of the regret. And there was nothing that you could do about it.

"Gally, I'm so, so sorry," you sobbed into his sleeve. "This is all my fault."

Suddenly his arm jerked with the force of a cough, and you lifted your head, staring through tear-filled eyes at Gally's face. It was barely noticeable, but his eyes were open! You wiped at your face with the back of your hand, sliding the tears across your cheeks in order to see more clearly.

"Gally? Gally!"

He coughed again, a deep cough that shook his entire body.

You let out a sob, gasping for breath, in such happy unbelief that you could hardly speak.

"Do—do you want some water?" you managed to choke out, reaching for the wooden bowl as you did so.

He swallowed, closing his eyes and drawing in a slow, deep breath, then his lips parted and you barely made out, "yeah."

You carefully lifted his head up and put the rim of the bowl to his lips. He drank a little, then began to cough again and shut his eyes. Setting the bowl down, you rested your head on his arm, running your fingers across his forehead and through his hair, smiling at him as a tear ran down your cheek.

~Time Lapse~

It was quiet in the Medjack hut. The storm had lessened, causing the constant white-noise of the storm to be replaced by the steady tapping of light rain. Drops ran down and dripped through the spaces between the branches here and there, catching the faint, dimming torchlight as they fell.

You submersed a rag in the cool stream water, feeling it soak the cloth and run up your arm, chilling you. You were glad that it was cold. You twisted the rag above the bucket, watching the streams of running silver shatter the water's still surface as it ran into the bucket until breaking into droplets. Folding the rag, you reached up and set it on Gally's forehead before slowly dragging it across his face, pausing every once in a while to make sure that the coolness lingered on his skin. You looked at him lovingly, watching his chest rise and fall. He was completely still, lost in sleep.

Placing a hand to his forehead, you smiled. His skin was still warm, but it was nowhere near as hot as it was before. He was going to be okay. Gally was going to be okay.

You shifted, suddenly realizing that the entire right-side of your leg was asleep from sitting on it, and wondered how the meat in the Bloodhouse had faired, as well as the Gladers who were tending to it. They would be wet and tired, that was for sure. But you were positive that nothing would lift their spirits higher than seeing Gally.

Alive.