Page 82 of Private Exhibit
Devon squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath. He didn't want to die, but a huge part of him wanted it to be over withalready. No more anticipation. No more anxiously waiting. Not a long, slow progression of suffering, but just a quick, painless end.
Considering how long this attack was stretching out, though, Devon feared it was going to be the former.
He took a deep, shaky breath, fought back the urge to cry, and kept working.
Junior's file seemed to take forever to scan in. Once he was done, Devon thrust it aside with a shaky hand and had to pause for a moment before he could even think about taking the next one.
The rest of the afternoon drifted away in silence, Andy continually jumping about the room in a frenzied search while Devon carefully went through file after file, scanning and recompiling all the pages so everything would stay exactly where Andy needed it to be.
Devon's stomach audibly growled.
Andy paused and looked up, blinking like he was coming out of a trance. He immediately dropped the file he was holding and rushed over to the desk. “Hey. You hungry, sweet boy?”
Devon grimaced and gave a nod. He'd barely been able to eat at lunch, too depressed to have an appetite, and he was feeling it now. “Yeah,” he admitted.
Andy gave him a smile that looked genuine, wiping away the tension that had defined his face all day. He glanced at the clock and shook his head. “I'm so sorry. We ran late. How about I get you home, yeah? If you want, we can stop and grab a takeaway for you and Oliver.”
Devon paused. “Not you?”
Andy stopped mid-step, visibly hesitating. He quickly scanned the room, his expression tight like he was torn with indecision. Finally, he shook his head. “I should really come back and do some more work.”
“Oh.” Devon's heart sank all over again. Deep down, he knew he needed a break. Needed his normal routine of getting home, taking a shower, having dinner, sitting at his computer, and going to bed so he could have a good night's sleep before coming back to work the next day.
But he was going to miss Andy terribly.
He automatically tried to stand up, but his legs wouldn't budge.Damn it. Devon sank back into the chair and gave Andy a nod.
Andy stepped around behind the chair, bent down to press a kiss to Devon's cheek, then wheeled him out to the elevators.
Devon ducked his head as they went, hating that anyone could see him like that. He felt so utterly helpless. So useless. And it was only going to get worse. Oliver was going to have to help him bathe. Help him get dressed. Help him into bed.
What was the point of him if he couldn't even take care of his own basic needs?
Andy got him home, then pulled Oliver aside to have a quick, whispered conversation before he came back, gave Devon a kiss, and left in a rush.
“What did he say?” Devon couldn't help asking.
Oliver shook his head and gave him a forced smile. “He gave me his number just in case, but we won't need it.” Oliver grabbed the chair and steered it towards the washroom. “Come on. We'll make this quick, I promise. And then we'll get you fed.”
Devon silently went along with whatever Oliver suggested. It wasn't until he was tucked into bed, almost asleep, that he remembered Dannika. Devon made a mental note to talk about it tomorrow, not wanting to keep Oliver waiting any longer.
But the next morning, it all fled his mind again when he started to throw back the covers to get out of bed, only for his legs to still not budge. Devon flopped back on the pillow and covered his face. His eyes stung with the urge to cry. Not onlycould he not move, but his left leg was completely numb again. He couldn't feel a thing.
Oliver helped him through his morning routine, and Andy showed up again to give him a ride to work. Devon spent another day with Andy in his office, slowly but surely processing files while Andy frantically read and re-read everything around him, his tension steadily growing by the hour. The only break in the pattern was when Andy would stop and dig out an old blood sample to run some more tests, only to curse with frustration and go back to reading again.
The next day was more of the same.
By the end of the week, it was all Devon could do to focus at work, too caught up in what his body was doing to him. There had been no relief from the attack. If anything, it kept getting worse. He lost motor control in his left arm. Then he couldn't keep food down as his digestive system began to quit.
Then he lost function of his right arm as well.
Devon sat at the desk, bitterly shaking his head. That desk was more useful than he was, even considering its only function at the moment was to act as a raised surface for all those stacks of files. Andy wouldn't use the desk computer, and Devon couldn't do so now, his arms resting uselessly at his sides.
Gods. He couldn't even do his job anymore. Neither that one at the hospital nor the latest hacking job thatGrimhad posted just last night. How the hells was he going to pay rent? How was he going to keep a roof over his own head, let alone provide for Oliver? He had a deal with his friend. How could he hold up his end if he had no way to make money?
Andy drove him home again, eyeing him the whole way.
Devon felt it. He had to look away, trying to ignore that sense of being under a spotlight. It didn't matter. He still knew Andy was watching him.
