Gall had suspected something was up when Alex didn't come out for breakfast. Lingering in the corridor outside her room and listening to her cough and sniffle miserably merely confirmed it.
So an hour later Gall shoved open Alex's door to find her tossing and turning with fever.
"...Gall?"
"Here." Gall held out a bowl of soup in both hands. "Are we even?"
"It's not about being even, Gall." Alex coughed weakly. "You don't owe me anything."
Gall scowled. "Does that mean you don't want any?"
"No, it's fine," she said, shakily propping herself up with her elbows and taking the soup bowl in her lap. "I'm glad you cared enough to stop by. I just don't want you to feel obligated."
"...I'll keep them from sending you out on missions," Gall muttered, as she began to eat. "You're too sick to be useful right now anyway."
"Why would they - oh." Alex was making that one pitying face -
"Don't you dare."
Alex went back to her soup and her sniffles and didn't say anything. Was she actually conceding the point? She had to be really sick, then.
She finished the bowl, laid back, and sighed. "Remember that you're worth more than what you can do."
And ah, there it was, the words she kept saying despite the fact that everything in his life had proved them false again and again. He had to earn his place because resources were finite, they could only feed so many mouths and spend so much effort and so much money, and if he fell behind he would stop being worth it. They would be better off with someone else. The Phantoms had better things to do than babysit someone in hopes that they would stop being useless.
Alex was clearly too ill to know what she was talking about, which meant she needed someone to keep an eye on her to keep her from drowning in the bathtub or something. So he stayed by her bedside and let the remark pass.
