Lucien's brain kicked into gear before his body did. He turned and ran back inside. "Dr. Gale! We need you!"
Gale appeared from the stairwell, took one look at the scene outside, and moved. "Get him inside."
Morgan carried his son through the entrance, Jenny following close behind. They moved to one of the empty rooms on the first floor. Morgan laid Duane on the examination table as gently as he could.
Gale was already pulling on gloves. "What happened?"
"He cut his arm three days ago," Morgan said. "It was a piece of broken glass while we were scavenging. We cleaned the wound and bandaged it, and we thought it was fine. Then he woke up with a fever this morning... After that, he started getting worse. He was talking nonsense and could not keep water down."
Gale was already examining the boy's arm, peeling back the bandage. The wound underneath was red, pus seeping from the edges. The skin around it was hot to the touch.
"Infection," she said. "It's spread into the tissue. Has he been bitten?"
"No," Jenny said quickly. "Just the cut. I swear."
"Alright. I need to clean this properly and get him on antibiotics. It's bad, but we caught it in time."
She looked at Lucien. "Get me the antibiotic kit from the supply room. Second shelf, blue box. And bring gauze, alcohol, and a saline IV bag."
Lucien ran.
By the time he got back, Gale had cut away the old bandage and was irrigating the wound with sterile water. Duane stirred slightly, moaning, but didn't wake.
"Hold him steady," Gale told Morgan. "This is going to hurt even through the fever."
She worked quickly, debriding the infected tissue with a scalpel. Morgan's jaw was clenched so tight Lucien thought his teeth might crack. Jenny had her hand over her mouth, tears streaming down her face.
Gale finished cleaning the wound, applied antibiotic ointment, and wrapped it in fresh gauze. Then she set up the IV, sliding the needle into Duane's arm.
"He needs fluids and antibiotics," she said, hanging the bag. "The fever should break in a few hours if the meds work. If it doesn't..."
Morgan slumped into a chair, his head in his hands. "Thank you... We didn't know where else to go."
"You did the right thing bringing him here." Gale pulled off her gloves. "I'll check on him every hour. For now, he needs rest. So do you two."
Jenny shook her head. "I'm not leaving him."
"I wasn't suggesting you should." Gale's tone softened slightly. "But you look like you're about to collapse. When's the last time either of you slept?"
Morgan and Jenny exchanged a look. The answer was obvious.
"There's a room next door," Gale said. "Go lie down. I'll wake you if anything changes."
"I can watch him," Lucien offered. The words came out before he'd fully thought them through, but once they were out there, he committed. "I'm not tired. And if something happens, I'll get you immediately."
Morgan looked at him properly for the first time. "You're just a kid."
"I've been helping Dr. Gale for a while now," Lucien said. "I know what to watch for. I'll come get you the second anything looks wrong."
Gale nodded. "He's been shadowing me for the past days. He knows what he's doing."
Morgan still looked uncertain, but Jenny put a hand on his arm. "We need rest. We're no good to Duane if we collapse."
It took another minute of convincing, but eventually they agreed. Gale showed them to the adjacent room, giving them instructions to try and sleep for at least a few hours.
When the door closed, leaving Lucien alone with the unconscious kid, he let out a breath. He pulled a chair up beside the bed and sat down, his mind racing.
Morgan. Jenny. Duane.
He knew these names. He knew this family.
In the show, Jenny had died early. She turned into a walker, and Morgan had been unable to put her down. He left her wandering, and later she killed Duane. The entire family was destroyed by that one moment of hesitation.
That future had not happened yet. Here, she stood in the next room, worried sick about her son, and still very much human.
Because Lucien had saved her. On the street that day, he had killed the walker with a levitated rock. He hadn't known who she was then. He had simply acted on instinct.
And now the entire trajectory of this family's story had changed.
The question was: what did he do about it?
Morgan was a good fighter. Lucien remembered that from the show. He was skilled, smart, and resourceful, exactly the kind of person you wanted watching your back in the apocalypse. If he could get him to join Rick's group early, before trauma and isolation broke him...
It was an opportunity.
But he had to be careful. Pushing too hard or making his intentions too obvious would backfire. People did not trust manipulative kids. They trusted helpful ones.
So he'd be helpful. He'd earn their trust the old-fashioned way.
He glanced at Duane. The kid's fever was still high, his face flushed and damp with sweat. The IV drip ran steadily, carrying antibiotics into his system. It would take time.
Time he could use.
He stood and walked to the window, looking out at the parking lot. The sun was starting to set. His backpack was still in his room upstairs. Including his wand and his textbooks.
And the antibiotics Jenny had left for him that day.
He'd almost forgotten about those. He'd been saving them, not sure when he'd need them.
An idea formed.
---
Two hours passed.
Duane's fever hadn't broken, but it hadn't gotten worse either. Gale checked on him twice, adjusting the IV flow and taking his temperature. The second time, she'd nodded approvingly at Lucien.
"Good job keeping an eye on him. Go grab some food if you need it. I'll stay for a bit."
Lucien took the opportunity to run upstairs, grab the antibiotic boxes from his pack, and head back down. When he returned, Gale was gone again, probably doing rounds on the other patients, and Duane was still unconscious.
He set the boxes on the table beside the bed and sat back down.
Another hour. Morgan appeared in the doorway, looking slightly more rested.
"How is he?"
"Stable," Lucien said. "Dr. Gale checked on him twice. The fever's holding steady. She thinks it'll break soon."
Morgan moved to the bedside, pressing a hand to his son's forehead. His shoulders sagged with relief when he felt that the fever wasn't any worse.
"Thank you," he said quietly.
"It's no problem." Lucien hesitated, then gestured to the antibiotic boxes. "I had them from before. I just thought Duane might need them."
Morgan picked up one of the boxes, frowning slightly. "Where'd you get these?"
"Someone gave them to me," Lucien said. Which was true. "I've been holding onto them. But I think Duane needs them more than I do right now."
Morgan's expression shifted. He looked at the box, then at Lucien, then at the box again.
"These are the antibiotics Jenny left," he said slowly.
Oh. Shit.
Lucien hadn't thought about that. Of course Morgan would recognize them. As if one identical box somehow stood out from the rest. Then again, maybe it was because he had pulled out exactly two boxes. Damn...
"Wait," Morgan said. "You're the one who helped her? On the street, when the walker..."
"No," Lucien said quickly, shaking his head. "That wasn't me."
Morgan's frown deepened. "Then how'd you get these? Jenny said she left them for whoever saved her that day."
"A man gave them to me. It was a few days back. He was tall and kind of stocky, with red hair. His name was Ron, I think. I ran into him before I got to the hospital. He helped me out and gave me these in case I got hurt."
At first, Lucien wanted to admit it was him. But the more he thought about it, the worse the idea sounded. A kid who killed a walker while staying hidden would raise questions. Most people would probably think he was strange.
Morgan studied him for a moment. "Ron?"
"Yeah. I didn't get his last name. He wasn't much for talking." Lucien shrugged, trying to sound casual. "I figured he was the one who helped your wife. He seemed capable. Maybe military, or police."
That seemed to satisfy Morgan. "Sounds like someone who knew what he was doing." He looked at the antibiotic boxes again. "And he just handed them over?"
"He said he had his own supplies and told me to keep these," Lucien said. He nodded toward Duane. "I can get Dr. Gale's medicine here. Duane needs it more than I do."
"We appreciate it." Morgan set the box down on the table beside the others. "But are you sure you want to give them up?"
"I'm sure."
Morgan studied him for another moment, then extended his hand. "Morgan Jones. This is my wife, Jenny, and that's our son, Duane."
Lucien shook his hand. "Lucien Green."
"You're a good kid, Lucien." Morgan's grip was firm. "Not many people would give up supplies like this for a stranger."
Jenny appeared in the doorway, drawn by the sound of voices. She looked at Lucien, then at the antibiotic boxes on the table, and her eyes widened slightly.
"Are those...?"
"Lucien's donating them," Morgan said with a smile. "He got them from some guy named Ron who helped him out."
Jenny's expression shifted to something warm and grateful. "That's very kind of you. We've been so worried about Duane, and every bit helps."
"It's no problem," Lucien said. And he meant it. The antibiotics were useful, but building goodwill with Morgan and Jenny? That was worth more than a couple boxes of medicine.
Morgan glanced at his son, then back at Lucien. "If there's ever anything we can do for you, you let us know."
Lucien shook his head. "Just focus on getting Duane better. That's enough."
---
Duane's fever broke around midnight.
Lucien had dozed off in the chair, his head resting on his arms, when Jenny's soft gasp woke him.
"His forehead," she whispered. "It's cooler."
Morgan checked. "The fever's breaking."
Gale arrived a few minutes later, summoned by him. She confirmed it, Duane's temperature was dropping, his breathing was steadier, and the infection seemed to be responding to the antibiotics.
"He's not out of the woods yet," she cautioned. "But this is good."
Morgan and Jenny looked like they might collapse from relief.
Lucien stood, stretching out the kinks in his back. "I should let you have some time with him."
"Wait," Morgan said. "You've been here all night. You should rest."
Lucien hesitated, then nodded. "You're right. I'll get some rest upstairs. Come get me if anything changes."
Morgan relaxed a little. "We will."
Lucien gave them a final look and headed back to his room.
Once inside, he closed the door and leaned against it, exhaling slowly. That had gone well. But there was one more thing he could do.
He pulled his wand from his pocket and stared at it in the light.
He wasn't sure he could heal an infected wound. That kind of magic was more advanced than anything he had attempted before. Still, he might be able to help the healing along. He could speed up the recovery and make sure the infection did not return.
It was worth a try.
He waited until the early hours of the morning, when the hospital was quiet and Morgan and Jenny had finally fallen into exhausted sleep in the chairs beside Duane's bed.
Gale was in her office.
Lucien slipped into the room and closed the door quietly behind him.
Duane was still unconscious. The fever had broken completely, leaving his skin cool and clammy. The bandage on his arm was clean, no fresh blood or pus seeping through.
He approached the bed slowly.
Weeks of small cuts and bruises had given him plenty of practice. He understood the theory and knew the proper wand movement, along with the intent required.
He carefully pulled back the edge of the bandage and exposed the wound. It looked better than it had a few hours ago. The redness had faded slightly, and the swelling was down. Gale's treatment was working.
He raised his wand and aimed it at the infected tissue. He focused on what needed to happen. The torn skin knit itself back together as the infection was driven out, the damaged flesh regenerating until it was healthy and whole.
He took a breath.
"Episkey."