Page 31 of Marked by the Demigod

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* * *

It starts while she's wiping out some particularly nasty malware some punk decided to download on one of the Studio City computers.

First, a little twinge. Something small, something behind her rib cage, a little like heartburn and a little like that feeling you get when you run too far. But it's so small she absentmindedly pushes the heel of her hand into her breastbone, then goes back to deleting the programs.

Then, later, as she's doing some grocery shopping with Trixie, it flares back up, less like heartburn and more like drowning. She stutters to a stop and gasps.

"Aimes?" Trixie slides a hand on her elbow. "You okay?"

Aimes stares at Trixie, who's holding an avocado like she forgot about it, and catches her breath. "Yeah, just...yeah." She thumps herself on her chest. "Just..."

Just she doesn't know what's going on, and she follows Trixie with cart, feeling on the edge of catching her breath the entire time, her heart stutter beating, not quite painful but not quite something she can describe.

In line, Aimes leans against the cart a little too heavily, and Trixie gives her that sharp look.

"You getting sick?" Her voice is nonchalant in a way that makes all the hairs on the back of Aimes's arm stand on end. "You look like you're gonna pass out."

The thought had occurred to her.

"I think I need to lay down, not feeling my best," Aimes says, and her voice even sounds like it's from a distance.

Trixie wrinkles her nose at her. "Did you get your flu shot?"

Aimes nods, and hands Trixie her card so she can continue to lean against the cart instead of pay. Trixie plucks her car keys out of Aimes's purse when she puts the card back.

"I'll drop you off," she says, and her face isn't wrinkly anymore, but instead kind.

* * *

Aimes nodsoff in the car, and when Trixie nudges her awake, it's like she can barely see.

Of course she can see, but it's like everything is somewhat paled away, indistinct. If she focuses, it's normal, but...everything's just...fuzzy.

Trixie dumps her on the couch and digs around in Aimes's bathroom cabinets for what feels like forever. Long enough that Aimes's eyes unfocus and everything around her starts to feel...uneven.

It's like something else is there, heaving a weight onto her chest and pressing down, steady and sure.

Trixie appears, sudden, in front of her, and holds the thermometer out. "If you're burning up I'm taking you to urgent care I don't care what you say." Her voice is kind, soothing. "There you go."

As the thermometer is working at its glacial pace, Trixie sits next to her and cuddles into the blanket and it's...almost not bad. Like the weight of Trixie snuggled up on her shoulder balances out the pressure on her chest.

A vague part of her wants to panic, but a bigger part of her feels that the panic would be too much energy.

The thermometer beeps, and Trixie takes it. Her sudden absence from her shoulder is almost a physical pain. "Nothing." Trixie says soft, standing up. "Do you want help to bed?"

Aimes nods, and Trixie pulls her to her feet. "Text me if you need me, I'll bring back your car sometime this afternoon."

She lets herself get pulled into the bedroom and watches, bleary eyed, as Trixie plugs in her phone and everything.

"You better fucking reply to my texts today," she snaps, but it's friendly and familiar. "If you don't, I'm coming over, don't even think I won't."

Of course she will, and Aimes closes her eyes and hears Trixie shut the door behind her.

* * *

She wakes feelinglike a horse kicked her in the chest. The light filtering through her window is morning light, and she gasps and clutches at her breastbone for a few seconds, before her heart stops pounding and breathing is normal again.

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