REMNANTS | JIKOOK ✔

Chapter 13. Namjoon

When Jungkook, Yoongi and Hoseok went to meet Namjoon in the central medical lab, Jungkook was surprised to see Namjoon wearing a filtering breathing mask when he opened the door to them. The medic was holding out three spare masks and rubber protection gloves which they quickly slipped on once they entered the room. Jungkook’s voice was tinged metallic when he spoke.

“What’s going on?”

He was even more surprised when Namjoon reached up to remove his own mask, holding a hand up when Jungkook moved to do the same.

“Leave it on,” the medic said. His voice was rough and dry, like sand scraping across metal. His face was pale and sweat clearly hung on his skin like condensation. Jungkook felt a growing dread in his stomach, quickly churning the meager breakfast he’d eaten to nausea.

“What’s going on?” he repeated.

Namjoon swallowed hard and simply held out his hands. They were trembling, but more alarmingly, Jungkook could clearly see the stain of blue green veins spreading back from his cuticles to spread up his arms in twisting rivers that looked like ink through water. The untouched skin was starkly white and dark rings stained the fragile skin under the medic’s eyes. His lips were dry and cracked.

“Fuck.” Yoongi breathed.

“No, no—“ Hoseok said in a panic.

“Elevated heart rate and body temperature,” Namjoon said. “Hazy vision, sporadic cramping. Coloration of extremities,” he held out his hands and Jungkook could see the faint greenish blue that was creeping out from the medic’s nails to twist up his fingers. Involuntarily, he took a step back, feeling ill.

“All the symptoms are there,” Namjoon continued. “There’s no question.”

The sight in front of Jungkook was still not quite computing. It couldn’t be happening. Sure, the infection was spreading, but not to Namjoon.

Yoongi slammed his fist down on the portable tray Namjoon kept supplies on, sending a dish clattering to the floor. Jungkook jumped.

“This is bullshit!” Yoongi snapped.

“Stop it. Just stop talking shit, okay?” Hoseok yelled through his mask.

“It’s not shit,” Namjoon said, his voice calm. He pushed his glasses up his nose. “You know it. Quit the fucking histrionics. If you don’t want this entire base infected, we know what we have to do—” suddenly the medic grimaced, his teeth clenching. He hunkered over, one hand over his stomach, a grunt of pain escaping as his body shuddered.

Jungkook was alarmed and stepped forward but whatever pain Namjoon was experiencing, he held up a hand, straightening.

“We know what we have to do,” he repeated. “What I have to do.”

Yoongi’s jaw was locked tight, his nostrils flaring. He shook his head minutely but Namjoon remained expressionless. 

Jungkook shook his head. “What? No, okay? No. I don’t— no.” 

The method for treating the sick so far had been to inject them with a fatally high amount of painkiller before the virus managed to develop into its violent stages. Jungkook had protested that at first, feeling as if they were killing off cattle rather than living, breathing humans— his soldiers. But after seeing one infected individual dislocate his own arm getting out of a restraint, only to demolish a storage unit in his efforts to get out, had changed his mind.

There was no treatment, only mercy.

But Namjoon?

Jungkook shook his head, feeling bile crawling up his throat. He felt as if he had suddenly been injected into a B movie or that they were actors in some sort of bizarre pantomime. Yoongi’s anger was too sudden, Namjoon’s illness too extreme.