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Ash is not someone that Brock ever would have associated with the word “clingy.” He was the most independent kid Brock had ever met, besides himself of course. You didn’t raise 10 siblings by relying on other people after all. He’s had to be in the position of main caretaker since a young age, which was part of the reason he liked hanging around Ash so much. Sure, he gave him guidance and advice, and if it wasn’t for him Ash would have survived off of take-out and berries he found in the forest, but for the most part Ash was pretty self-sufficient. He didn’t have to take on a parental role with him.
It did get difficult sometimes though. The parental instincts he developed over the years didn’t just disappear when his father finally came home. Sometimes, when Ash got hurt or was upset, Brock wanted to coddle him. He wanted to hug him and tell him everything was going to be okay. But Ash didn’t need that. He would just get right back up and keep moving forward.
With all the time that they had spent together, throughout three regions now, Brock had surprisingly never seen Ash sick. He himself had been sick a couple times, passing out from fever only to wake up a day later, Ash and Misty watching over him. Ash was always quiet afterwards, watching Brock with an uncomfortable look in his eyes, as if he was afraid the older boy would disappear.
It wasn’t until Ash got sick for the first time on their journey, just a couple weeks after the Temple of the Sea fiasco, that Brock discovered another side to his young friend. Instead of shrugging everything off in order to push himself forward, he was clinging to Brock’s side, refusing to let go.
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He first noticed something was off that morning because Ash seemed glued to his side. He didn’t say anything, in fact the ten year old didn’t even seem to notice he was doing it. He woke up when Brock did, despite the fact that the breeder always woke up early and usually it took a lot of cajoling to get Ash out of bed. He walked closer to Brock than normal after they packed up their camp, letting Max and May take the lead. Then, when they stopped for lunch, he opted to go with Brock to pick some vegetables for the stew rather than train with his Pokémon. He had never once seen Ash willingly give up time for training, certainly not to do chores.
The biggest red flag came after lunch was ready: Ash wasn’t eating. This especially concerned Brock because the younger boy was usually a bottomless pit. He often had to remind him to slow down before he choked; now he was sitting there, head down, picking at his bowl.
“Not hungry, Ash?” He asked quietly, not wanting to draw May and Max’s attention, knowing Ash would pretend to be fine in front of the other two. He didn’t even expect Ash to be honest with him, so he was surprised by the answer he got.
“I don’t feel well,” he mumbled. Noticing the concern on the older boy’s face at the admission, he quickly added “I just didn’t get much sleep! I’ll be fine!” He took a small bite of his stew to prove his point.
Looking closer at him, Brock could see dark circles under his eyes, proving his lack of sleep excuse. Knowing nothing would come of pushing the matter, he opted to let it go for now, planning to keep a closer eye on him.
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The stew was sitting heavy in his stomach. He had choked it down earlier under Brock’s watchful eye, not wanting to worry his friend anymore. It had worked out for him in the moment, Brock had gone back to his own meal and hadn’t said anything else. Now Ash was starting to feel the consequences of it.
He felt like shit.
He was light-headed, shivering and sweating at the same time, and now he was nauseous as well.
“Pika?” Pickachu chirped from his shoulder, nuzzling the side of his face. The mouse sounded concerned. He gave Pickachu a scratch behind the ear to attempt to reassure it.
He would be fine. The next town was less than a day’s walk, and there wasn’t a gym there anyways. He could sit back and relax and watch May win her contest.
Despite his internal pep talk, the thought of a day’s walk made him want to cry. He just wanted to lie down. Even the ground looked comfy. Although it seemed to be spinning…
“Ash? Ash!” He blinked, and suddenly found himself much lower to the ground, Brock’s worried gaze hovering over him. He was propped up against the older boy’s chest, and realized with a twinge of embarrassment that he must have fallen, and Brock caught him. So much for convincing him he was fine.
Ash was nothing if not stubborn though. He gripped a handful of the front of Brock’s shirt to use as leverage to pull himself up into a sitting position. “M’okay,” he said. He tried to stand up, but Brock put a hand on his chest and gently pushed him down.
“Just relax for a second, Ash,” he said. In an uncharacteristic show of obedience, Ash nodded, letting his head fall to the side to rest against Brock’s chest; it had suddenly felt very heavy. He felt Brock’s hand on his forehead, and leaned into the gentle touch. As stubborn as he was, Brock’s hand just felt so cool and comforting against his clammy skin. He let his eyes slip closed. “No wonder you don’t feel well!” Brock said, a hint of panic in his voice. “You’re burning up!”
Huh. He supposed that made sense. It would explain why he felt like he was on fire and freezing at the same time, at least.
Brock sighed, jostling Ash a tiny bit as his chest moved. He removed his hand from Ash’s forehead, brushing it back through his hair once before letting it fall. Ash cracked his eyes open at the loss of contact.
“We should get him to the Pokémon Centre!” May said, from over Brock’s shoulder.
“But the Pokémon Centre is still six hours away!” Max argued. “We should stay here so he can rest!”
“He needs Nurse Joy!”
“She’s not even a nurse for people!”
“So what? She still knows more about medicine than we do!”
Ash squeezed his eyes closed again. The loud bickering from the two siblings was making his head start to hurt. Or maybe that was the fever. Either way, their yelling was not helping.
Ash could feel the rumble from Brock’s chest as he spoke, “alright guys, that’s enough.” His voice was calm but still effective, and the kids stopped their arguing. “Max is right, the Pokémon Centre is still pretty far away. Ash needs rest more than anything, so we should set up camp now. But we’ll keep whatever we don’t need packed so if we need to we can leave. Sound good?”
Both siblings nodded, and began to unpack the sleeping bags, while Brock helped Ash to his feet, bringing him over to sit against a nearby tree. While they set up camp, he dug through his own bag, pulling out an old, soft hoodie. Ash gave him a confused look as he put the hoodie in his hands. “You’re shivering,” Brock pointed out gently, before turning around to help Max and May.
Ash looked down at the hoodie in his hands. He didn’t need it. He was fine. Brock worried too much. It was just a fever, he would be fine by tomorrow. He began to put it down, but stopped when he caught Pikachu’s eye, noticing how worried the mouse looked. “Chu,” it cooed, pawing at the sweater.
Ash sighed. “Alright buddy, you win.” He slipped the hoodie over his head. He was just doing it to make Pikachu and Brock happy. He didn’t need it.
He was fine.
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The rest of the day passed fairly uneventfully. Brock had made him take some sort of medicine that was supposed to help with his fever, so he was feeling a little bit better. The group was enjoying some rare downtime, taking the time to practice, relax, and play with their Pokémon. Ash had let out all of his Pokémon, and after fussing over their trainor for a minute, they were now running around with Max. Except for Pikachu, who hadn’t left his side. May had all of hers out as well, and they were taking the opportunity to get some extra practice time for their upcoming contest.
Brock was sitting against a tree reading a Pokémon health manual, while occasionally giving May some pointers and praise when she nailed a combination. Ash walked over to him, plopping down right beside him. He leaned over to see what he was reading, letting his head rest against his shoulder. “What’s that?” He asked, pointing at a picture of a large Pokémon with trees on its back.
“It’s called a Torterra,” Brock answered. “It’s the final evolution of Turtwig, one of the starter Pokemon in Sinnoh.”
“It looks cool,” Ash remarked. He unconsciously began to lean more of his weight on Brock as his eyes grew heavy.
“It does!” Brock agreed, beginning to read the facts about it out loud. Ash let his eyes close, soothed by the older boy’s voice as he read from the book. The combination of his comforting voice and warm body heat, along with the warm weight of Pikachu in his lap, was making the young trainor sleepy. Before he knew it, Brock’s voice faded out as he drifted off to sleep.
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When he woke up, the sun was starting to set. Brock was gone, and Ash was now leaning against the tree, wrapped in a blanket he recognized as May’s, Pikachu still in his arms. His head was pounding, and it felt like his bones were aching. The medicine must have worn off. A familiar scent reached his nose, one that he usually loved but right now made him nauseous. He looked over and saw his friends setting up for dinner.
As much as the idea of food turned his stomach, he went over to join them. He wasn’t going to prove he was fine if he was skipping meals. He dropped into his seat, feeling the heaviness of his body. He felt dread fill his body as he watched May fill plates with the sandwiches Brock made and begin to pass them out. He was trying to figure out how he could get out of eating them without worrying his friends when Brock placed a bowl in front of him.
“I figured you wouldn’t be hungry, but you need something in your stomach before you can take more medicine,” he said, nodding towards what Ash now saw was a bowl of broth. He had to admit, it was less daunting than the sandwiches.
He sipped slowly at the broth, so much so that by the time everyone else was finished eating, he still had half a bowl left. Regardless, he could see the look of relief on Brock’s face at the fact that he was eating, and pushed himself to finish the rest of the bowl.
Once he had emptied it, the bowl was swiftly taken from his hands and replaced with the same medicine he had taken earlier. He grimaced at it. “Do I have to?” He said, internally cringing at how childish he sounded. “It tastes awful!”
“It’s not supposed to taste good,” Brock chuckled, handing him some water. “But you need to take it to get your fever down.”
Rolling his eyes (it made him a little dizzy but he would never admit that), he took the medicine and chugged the water quickly to get the taste out of his mouth. He must have drunk it a little too fast because suddenly harsh coughs were ripping from his throat, and he was bent over trying to take in a breath. He could feel May’s hand gently running his back as he hacked, and he focused on the soothing motion as he slowly regained control of his breathing.
He let out a couple more small coughs before slouching back in his chair. Despite just waking up, he was exhausted. May was still gently stroking his back, and he leaned into the touch, closing his eyes.
“We should get some sleep,” Brock said. Ash nodded. Sleep sounded really good at the moment.
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“Pikapi!” The panic in Pikachu’s voice struck Ash down to his core. He looked around frantically for his buddy, but all he could see was white. He shivered as the snow began to cover him.
“Pikachu! Where are you!” If he was cold, he couldn’t imagine how Pikachu’s tiny body was handling the weather. He needed to find him!
Suddenly there was a flash of yellow lightning, and he heard the mouse’s voice again: “PIKAPI!!” He rushed over to where the voice came from.
Still, there was nothing but white. His heart began to beat faster and his palms began to sweat, despite the chill around him. His breath was coming quick, too quick. But then- bright yellow! The bright colour shone clearly against the pale snow.
He looked closer. The yellow was disappearing! Pikachu was being swallowed up by the snow! It was almost as if the white powder was alive, moving all on its own. “PIKACHU!” he screamed, diving toward where the Pokémon was quickly sinking beneath the snow. He grabbed Pikachu’s front paws and tried to pull him out, but suddenly the snow he was sitting on started to move. It began to surround him, crawling up his body much like it was doing to the yellow mouse. His body began to ache as the chill from the white powder creeped higher and higher. He watched in terror as despite his best efforts, the snow swallowed up his buddy.
Sobs started to shake Ash’s body, even as the snow reached the bottom of his neck. “Pikachu no!” he wailed, so overwhelmed by his grief that the cold was barely registering anymore.
“Open your eyes,” a voice said.
What? His eyes were open. In fact, he wasn’t even blinking, unable to tear his eyes away from where Pikachu disappeared.
He heard the voice again, this time more urgent. “Ash! Open your eyes!”
He gasped as the snow went away, but the chill stayed behind. He was no longer looking at the empty space where his best friend had sunk beneath the snow, but up at Brock’s concerned gaze. He shivered harshly, even as he felt Brock’s warm grip on him. The older boy was holding him tightly against his chest, and was rocking him gently.
“You’re okay,” the older boy said soothingly. “It was just a dream.” He lifted a hand to gently wipe the tears off Ash’s face, tears that were still flowing. His chest hitched, the sobbing not stopping even though he was now awake. He was struggling to gain his bearings, not able to make the connection between what was real and what he had left behind in his dream. The snow was gone, but why was he still so cold? And where was Pikachu?
Before he had a chance to voice that last question, the little mouse in question jumped onto his chest and licked his nose in worry. “Pika?”
Sobbing harder, he wrapped his arms around Pikachu, holding him close to his chest, mirroring the way Brock was holding him. He buried his face in the yellow fur. Brock’s arms tightened around him, and a gentle hand came up to stroke through his hair. Ash burrowed himself deeper in the older boy’s embrace, whether he was seeking out his warmth or comfort he didn’t know. Probably both.
He should be embarrassed. He had never broken down like this in front of anyone, not even Brock. But his heart was still pounding and his palms were still sweating and he still couldn’t stop shivering and Pikachu was warm and alive in his arms but all he could see was his little buddy slipping further and further beneath the snow-
“Shh, it’s okay. You’re okay.” Ash struggled to follow Brock’s voice back to the present. He focused on the soothing rocking motion, and the steady sound of his heartbeat. He slowly released one of his hands from Pikachu’s fur, moving it to grip onto the front of Brock’s shirt. “Just breathe, buddy. It’s okay.”
Breathe. He could do that. He used Brock’s breathing as an example, feeling the way the older boy’s chest rose and fell against his cheek in a slow, even rhythm. It took some time, but he was able to slow his own breathing down until it matched Brock’s. The heartbroken sobs ceased, now just a few hiccups here and there. Brock was still rocking him.
“S-sorry” he whispered, breath hitching. He was still hiding his face in Pikachu’s fur, unable to meet Brock’s eyes.
Brock just hugged him close. “It’s okay,” he reassured him. “Everyone gets nightmares. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”
Ash nodded, still not lifting his head. Now, however, it was also due to the exhaustion that was quickly taking over his body. Right before he drifted off, he felt that familiar, gentle hand rest on his forehead, and a concerned sound from Brock. He wasn’t awake long enough to find out the source of Brock’s worry.
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It felt like he was freezing and burning at the same time.
There was one time, a few months ago, when Ash was training with his team. Glalie and Torkoal had gotten their commands mixed up, and ended up firing flamethrower and ice beam at the same time. The two moves had collided and gone off course, hitting Ash.
This was worse.
He was burning from the inside out, his blood boiling and his skin feeling like it would melt off any second. The air around him was so cold, the young trainor was certain he’d see steam coming off of his skin once he opened his eyes. His muscles were screaming in pain from how hard he was shivering. He flinched as a warm tongue gently licked his cheek. Pikachu. He could hear him whining in concern.
A pained whine fell out of his own mouth as he lifted his arm to pet the mouse, informing him of the blistering feeling in his throat. Tears sprang to his eyes. Everything hurt. He was too distracted by the pain to be startled when a comforting hand once again landed on his forehead. He desperately leaned into the touch, craving the slight relief from whatever was happening to him.
He heard a familiar voice above him. “Ash? How are you feeling?”
He took a deep breath, cracking his eyes open. “Brock?” he croaked out, wincing as even that one word tore at his throat.
“Yeah, buddy.” Brock was trying to give him a reassuring smile, but Ash could see the concern in his eyes. “Your fever is pretty high again. Do you think you can eat something and take some more medicine?”
Ash’s stomach rolled at the thought of food, but he didn’t get a chance to decline before Brock was helping him into a seated position.
He wasn’t prepared for the world to start spinning once he was sitting upright. He was shuffled around before he once again found himself leaning against Brock’s chest, this time keeping him propped up in a sitting position. “I gotcha buddy.” He couldn’t find it in himself to be embarrassed this time; Brock’s warmth was helping to chase away some of the chill, and Ash let himself relax in his hold. His eyes were about to slip shut again, when Brock held a berry in front of his face. “Here, eat just a few of these and then I can give you more medicine for the fever.”
He couldn’t. Just the smell of the berry made his stomach want to crawl out of his mouth. He turned his face away, hiding it in Brock’s chest.
Brock rubbed his back gently. “Hey, come on. It will make you feel better. Right Pikachu?”
“Pika!”
He shook his head, feeling tears spring into his eyes again. Brock must have felt the liquid against his chest, because he asked “what’s wrong?”
“Everything hurts,” he croaked, already hoarse voice muffled by Brock’s shirt. The older boy seemed to have heard it regardless. His hand came up to tenderly cradle Ash’s head against his chest.
Everything happened quickly after that. He heard Brock call to May and Max who were just waking up, asking them to get all their stuff together. A few minutes of scrambling later, he was hoisted onto Brock’s back, and they set off towards the Pokémon Centre.
Ash tried to ignore the pain that came with being jostled, but he couldn’t stop the moan that slipped out. He buried his face in Brock’s neck and tried to take a deep breath. Brock’s thumb stroked his shin soothingly. “I know buddy, I know.”
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A six hour walk had never felt this long before. Every step Brock took sent miniature waves of pain through Ash’s body. He tried to ignore it, but two hours into the journey he found himself with a steady stream of silent tears trickling down his face. He nearly sobbed with relief when he looked up to see the Pokémon Centre sign. He immediately buried his face again, the bright sun causing his head to hurt.
He thought it would be better inside the Pokémon Centre, but it wasn’t. Everything was too bright, too loud, and the smell of antiseptic was everywhere. He clung tighter to Brock as his senses were overwhelmed. He was too distracted to hear May talking to Nurse Joy, but she must have because he was soon set down on one of the Pokémon cots. He felt a spike of panic as Brock let go, and quickly reached out for him, not ready to lose contact. He was cold, in pain, dizzy, and overwhelmed, and Brock and Pikachu were the only things that had provided him any sort of comfort so far.
Brock, seeing that his friend needed the contact, didn’t pull away. He sat on the cot next to him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, letting Ash rest his head against his chest once again. Ash curled into the embrace, doing his best to hide from the outside world. Pikachu hopped up as well, curling up protectively on Ash’s lap.
A moment later he heard Nurse Joy’s gentle but perky voice talking to him. He peeked one eye open and saw her holding a small needle filled with a blue liquid. “Ash, I’m going to give you this, okay? This along with Chansey’s soft-boil should get your fever down in no time.”
Living up to her reputation, when Nurse Joy injected the needle he barely felt it. The Chansey then used her soft-boil on him. There was an odd tingling feeling spreading throughout his body, which was followed by warmth. He slowly relaxed as Chansey’s power chased away his chill, and for the first time since he woke up he finally felt warm. His muscles, which had been tensed up and shaking for hours, eased up one by one until he was almost limp, relying on Brock to support his weight. The voices around him began to blend together, no longer making sense as he began to slip away, into the restful sleep that his feverish body had denied him the night before.
He woke up slightly as he felt himself being moved, Brock placing an arm underneath his knees in order to pick him up. He must have drifted back into that half-asleep state because the next thing Ash knew he was being gently placed down onto a soft, clean bed. A thick blanket was pulled over his shoulders, and he snuggled into the comfy bedding, fully giving into the darkness.
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When he woke up next the room was dark and quiet. He wasn’t feeling the soothing warmth of Chansey’s power anymore, but neither was he feeling as bad as he had when he had woken up that morning. Looking around the room, he could see Brock in the bed across from him, and May on the bunk above Brock. If he listened closely he could hear Max’s soft snoring above his own head.
He just laid there for a moment, trying to figure out what woke him up. The aches and chills were back, but they were bearable. The bed was soft, and Pikachu was comfortably curled into his side. Still, the young boy was overcome by an uneasy feeling. He decided to get a glass of water, hoping it would help him get back to sleep.
He sat up, which turned out to be a mistake. He finally identified the source of the uneasy feeling, as his stomach flipped and his mouth filled with saliva. He stubbornly clamped his lips shut, even as he began to sweat and shake. He looked around the room frantically, hoping to find a bathroom. Luckily he spotted one, the door slightly ajar. He would have sighed with relief if he didn’t think doing so would make him lose the last of his control over his stomach.
Doing his best not to jostle Pikachu, Ash scrambled towards the bathroom, hand clamped over his mouth just in case. He dropped heavily to his knees in front of the toilet just in time for his stomach to turn itself inside out. The hot, rancid liquid burned his throat as it forced its way out of his mouth, jerking his bodily violently with the heaves. Ash clung tightly to the toilet as he struggled to pull in a breath. Every time he tried he choked on the stream of vomit that seemed endless. Tears began to stream down his face from the pain, blurring his vision. A whimper bubbled up in his chest, only to be cut off by another round of puking.
Too overwhelmed to hear the person walking up behind him, he flinched as a soft hand landed on his back, caressing it gently. He could guess who it was even before the person spoke. “It’s alright buddy, just breathe,” Brock cooed. “It’s okay.”
He shouldn’t be here. Brock was so tired, Ash knew. He wouldn’t say anything, but he had seen the bags under his eyes. Ash had already kept him up for two days. As much as he craved the older boy’s comfort, as much as the thought of Brock going back to bed and leaving Ash alone on the bathroom floor made him want to cry, he couldn’t keep him up again. It was selfish.
After a couple more heaves, and spitting out everything he had eaten in the last two days, the vomiting finally ceased. Resting his trembling head on the edge of the seat, Ash gulped in such much needed oxygen. A whimper slipped out as the burning in his raw throat made itself known. He couldn’t stop shaking, the fault of both his chills and his overworked muscles.
“It’s okay,” Brock said, still rubbing his back. “I’m right here.”
“G’way,” he mumbled.
“What was that?”
“Go. Away.” Ash repeated, loud enough to be heard this time. He lifted his head up to look at the older boy. Seeing the hurt in Brock’s eyes, he quickly added, “go back to bed, I’m okay.”
“You don’t look okay to me.”
Tears of frustration and guilt welled up in Ash’s eyes. “I’m fine,” he insisted, “please go back to bed. I’ve already kept you up for two days.”
Brock softened. “Hey, Ash, I’m okay. You’re the one that needs to be worried about. I’m not going to leave you alone on the bathroom floor, not when you’re shaking like this.”
“But you need to rest!” Ash pleaded, tears beginning to spill over. “You haven’t gotten any sleep because of me! Please! I’m fine!” The last word came out as a sob, and once they started he couldn’t stop them. Why wasn’t Brock getting it?
Despite his attempts to get the older boy to leave him, Ash didn’t resist when Brock pulled him into his arms. Instead, he wrapped his arms around his neck, burying his face into the space between his neck and shoulder. Brock gently stroked his back, gently rocking side to side.
“I’m okay Ash, I promise. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be, okay? You don’t have to worry about me.” But he did. He did worry about his friend, his surrogate big brother, the boy who always took care of everyone else instead of himself. Brock needed to be looked after too.
“M’sorry,” he whimpered into the older boy’s shirt.
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Brock reassured. It’s okay. We’re okay.”
Ash didn’t agree, but he was quickly running out of steam to argue. He just clung to his friend, making a note in his mind to bring this up another time. He wasn’t nauseous anymore, but the fevered chills and aches were loudly reminding him they were there, and he shivered in Brock's hold.
“Come on, let’s get you back to bed.”
“You too,” Ash mumbled, sniffling.
Brock chuckled. “Okay, we’ll both go back to bed. Sound good?”
Ash nodded. It was the best he was going to get out of the older boy for the time being. He didn’t fight Brock snaking a hand beneath his knees and scooping him up.
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Brock walked back into the bedroom, cradling Ash to his chest. The younger boy seemed to have calmed down some, and was resting his head on Brock’s shoulder, his eyes only half open. He stopped in the middle of the room and, looking between the two bunk beds, quickly came to a decision.
He turned towards his own bed and gently set Ash down on it. He looked over to the not quite empty bed across from it, and saw a sleepy Pikachu looking at him questioningly. He softly patted the edge of the bed, beckoning the yellow Pokémon over. Pikachu tilted its head slightly before hopping down and scrambling over to Brock bed. Ash instinctively opened his arms at the sight of his little buddy, and Pikachu curled up against his chest, purring happily.
Brock climbed in on the other side, pulling the blanket up to cover Ash’s shoulders. Once he was settled, Ash rolled over, Pikachu in his arms, and snuggled into Brock’s chest. Brock wrapped his arms around the younger boy, one hand stroking his hair. He listened to Ash breathe as his mind wandered.
It wasn’t easy seeing Ash like this. The young trainor wasn’t supposed to be confined to a bed, unable to control his emotions. He was supposed to be running around, having fun, and working towards his goal as a Pokémon Master. It was disheartening to see him in so much pain. However there was a smaller, more selfish part of him that enjoyed it a tiny bit. Not Ash being in pain obviously, but the way he clung to him. It was Brock that Ash had reached for constantly since he got sick. It was Brock that Ash had gone to for comfort, when he was in pain and needed someone there. It felt nice to be needed, like he had when he was raising his siblings. That empty feeling he had had since his father came home was starting to feel a little more filled.
There was also the guilt eating at him, turning his stomach like he imagined Ash had been feeling when he woke up tonight. They should have come to the Pokémon Centre sooner. Maybe his fever wouldn’t have gotten so bad if they had gotten help right away. Brock had just been so sure that he could handle it. Now, because of him, because of his pride, Ash was suffering.
“You’re thinkin’ too much,” Ash mumbled into his chest, startling him slightly. He had thought the younger boy had fallen asleep. “What’s wrong?”
Brock shook his head. “It’s nothing,” he tried to reassure him. “Go to sleep.”
“No,” Ash insisted. “It’s bothering you.”
Brock sighed. Even feverish and half asleep, Ash’s stubbornness knew no bounds. “I should have brought you here sooner. It’s my fault you got so sick. I’m so sorry, Ash.” He hugged him a little tighter.
Ash snorted against his chest. “Stupid,” he muttered, barely audible.
“Excuse me?!”
“You’re stupid,” he announced, in that matter-of-fact way only a ten year old can pull off. “You took care of me. You always do. You take care of all of us. We wouldn’t have made it this far without you.”
“But-”
“It wasn’t your fault. Now. Sleep.” And with that, his breathing evened out and soft snores began to come from the boy.
Brock layed there for a moment, thinking about what Ash had said. He wasn’t totally resolved of his guilt, but he’d be lying if he said the words hadn’t warmed his heart.
At the end of the day, Ash was alright. They were all together, safe, and mostly healthy. Brock kept repeating that to himself as his eyes slipped shut, and he slowly drifted off to sleep.
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In the morning, the fever would break. Ash’s appetite would be back to normal, concerning to the other guests in the Pokémon Centre, but comforting to his friends. Ash, May, and Max would spend the day relaxing and playing with their Pokémon, while Brock slept, catching up on his well deserved rest.