Mostly, they were recovering. Mila remained bedridden, and Kody could not stop coughing. The other three were still fragile with exhaustion, but time was the only thing that would really help with that.
On the other hand, it wasn't just the Council who'd been so ill. There were temporary hospitals; infrastructure was struggling; people had died. The servant's quarters were still something like half sickroom. What little news they got from the kingdoms was equally concerning, but there was nothing they could do about that other than worry.
Also, the Council still had to deal with the whole ruling Determino thing. Asgore had done the few things that were absolutely critical while they were all indisposed. Shane made a brief appearance as soon as he was capable of standing for long enough, doing his earnest best to reassure the populace that the human wizards of the Council had not also died. (And then had to lie in bed for most of an afternoon afterwards. But it had to be done and he was the one who had the most stamina to do it with.)
Kody had been told in no uncertain terms to not exert himself, so as not to cause his lungs further trouble; after considerable amounts of begging he got Gaster to create a miniature carriage by bolting several wheels to a chair, so he didn't have to either be carried or totter slowly from place to place like an old man. He pushed himself along with small amounts of Integrity, and was entirely unsuccessful at hiding his fear that he might end up this way permanently.
("None of us will think any less of you for it," Roy said, kneeling to Kody's level as Kody cried into a bowl of hot water he'd been inhaling the steam from. "Your strength isn't just about what you can do in a fight. You've survived some of the worst losses and betrayals I have ever known, and you have still found ways to smile."
Kody reached over in a silent request for a hug. He didn't trust what his voice would come out like, if he even still had one at all.
Roy obliged.)
As for Mila -
"This is my fault." Mila was swaddled in a robe, propped up in an armchair, and holding another cup of tea in both hands. She took a long sip of it to ward off an oncoming cough. "I should have listened when everyone told me to rest."
"At least you're resting now," Gaster said, as he remade the bed with sheets that had not been soaked through with fever-sweat several times over.
Mila's fever had broken only the night before, after five awful torturous days of drifting in and out of consciousness, and her nose was usable again. As if in retaliation, the cough had only become worse. "You know what I mean."
"Uh... I don't, actually?"
"Oh for -" This time Mila was entirely unsuccessful at stopping the coughing fit and pitched forwards. The next thing she knew, there were shards of teacup in a pool of tea on the floor and tears were collecting in her eyes.
"It's fine, I've got another one," Gaster said, already sweeping up the shards and attempting to hand her another cup -
Instead Mila pulled her knees to her chest and sobbed.
"Did I do something wrong? I'm sorry I said something wrong -" Gaster didn't even know what he was apologizing for, but when something went wrong in a conversation, it was always his fault, and so surely this was also -
She forced out a "Not your fault" as she tried to catch her breath.
"Uh... um... you can go back to bed now? It's done."
Mila shakily stood up, took a few steps forward, and collapsed facefirst onto the bed, crawling under the covers. Her panic was being rapidly replaced by that profound exhaustion that had become her constant companion over the past several days. Well, that and the coughing.
"I'll leave you the tea here. Try to drink some?"
Mila reached over for a handkerchief, blew her nose, and propped herself up on the pillows. "...bring it to me?"
The cup of tea came to her in a floating hand, and she drained most of it.
"Thank you. I'm sorry," Mila said.
"Why are you apologizing?" Gaster asked.
"...I don't know."
