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A Bug-Specialist's Dilemma
Aaron had only been a member of Sinnoh's Elite Four for two weeks.
He had sent a good amount of trainers packing since he started. People expected an easy challenge against a bug-type specialist. Cynthia told him that he was doing very well, and to maybe relax a bit, he's doing fine, and to not take it so seriously. Aaron's initial thought was that he must've had a really terrible pokerface. He read like an open book. Lucian told him that because of course he would say that. But he supposed that they were right; the Butterfree in his stomach due to nerves had yet to vanish. Oh sure, one would think that Aaron wouldn't want the swarm of Butterfree to go away because Bug Pokemon were beautiful and perfect and wonderful but it really, really was starting to hurt.
Also, it's an expression. Not the worst one involving bugs. Aaron had heard worse. A rival of his called bug-catchers the kids with peanut allergies. Aaron didn't have any allergies that he knew of, so he didn't understand why someone would say such a thing. Maybe he did, which was why his stomach was reacting the way it was. Come to think of it, he couldn't recall a time where his stomach hurt like this, it was strange.
"Aaron."
Oh, Cynthia's talking to him. He should probably pay attention. Flint told Aaron a week ago he spent too much time in his head, like he was now. The other elites were gathered at the table eating on the wing of the league castle that occupied the living quarters of the five league members.
"Sorry," said Aaron. "What were you saying?"
Cynthia raised an eyebrow. "We have no challengers today, it looks like it's another day off."
"...Oh," was Aaron's reply.
"Ah, fuck. I'm gonna have to stop by Sunyshore today," groaned Flint.
Aaron realized a few days ago that Flint liked to say 'fuck' very often. Aaron wouldn't be surprised if that was the most prominent word in Flint's vocabulary. Fuck this, fuck that, or in this case, simply saying fuck. And no matter how many times Bertha would tell him to watch the language in front of Aaron, he couldn't help but blab it at least once a day. Aaron didn't know why Bertha had the need to tell Flint to watch his mouth in front of him, because he went to public school. Really, it's nothing he hadn't heard before.
"Are you okay, sweetheart?" Bertha asked Aaron. "You should eat something."
Bertha's always trying to get him to eat more. That's normal for Bertha, Aaron learned. Flint had snickered and explained to Aaron that she was cheekily called "Mother Bertha" for a reason, with the woman's matriarchal nature amongst league members that extended to even the champion, telling her to stop reading Pokemon mythology so late at night and catch some proper sleep. When his colleagues found out that Aaron was joining their ranks, Lucian had replied that Bertha's matriarchal nature would be in full force.
It only occurred to Aaron presently that he hadn't touched his breakfast at all. Aaron thought that with Cynthia telling him that there were no challengers today that his stomach would feel better like it did that one other time, but it didn't. Maybe if he went to Eterna Forest for a bit he would feel better?
"Kid," Flint's voice cut through his thoughts, frowning in concern. "You're doing the thing again. What's going on up there?"
Oh, right. Spending too much time in his head. He should probably answer Bertha.
"Yes, I'm fine. I'm just not hungry," Aaron told her. The others looked at him. Aaron blinked; he was not used to having too many eyes on him. "No, really, I'm fine. Didn't sleep well last night, that's all."
Flint snorted in amusement. "Cynthia could tell you all about that."
"Oh don't you start-"
Aaron sort of tuned out the bickering after that. He kind of learned how things operated in the living quarters, and it was almost like having a bunch of roommates that argued like siblings. Usually it would start with Flint, because the fire-elite had a knack for "stirring up shit," as Cynthia explained to Aaron a few days ago. Somehow Lucian would get dragged into the mix even with a novel in hand, which he seemed to have at all times for some reason. Aaron didn't know why the psychic-elite had the need to carry a book around at all times. Didn't it get exhausting? Aaron was wandering off topic, he realized. The point was, with Aaron being the latest addition, the three would ask him his thoughts, and as always he wouldn't have any and even if he did it's not like he would voice them aloud, he's still shy in that aspect. Then Bertha would tell them all to be quiet.
It always worked.
But Aaron knew everyone here liked each other. Playful ribbing, that Aaron knew. He worried that he wouldn't fit in. Did he fit in?
His stomach churned at the thought. "I'm going to go lie down and get more sleep."
All four pairs of eyes went to him again.
After Bertha had told him to feel better, Aaron felt as though he had to drag himself back to bed. It was as if each step made the pain in his stomach worsen, these strange cramps that he hadn't felt before. Well, it was nothing that he couldn't sleep off. Maybe he should take Bertha's advice that she gave to Cynthia, he should sleep more. If he slept it off, he would feel better. That's happened before whenever he had a stomachache. When he curled up into a ball, the pain intensified. Aaron exhaled slowly. Sleep it off.
Right?
...Wrong.
Aaron didn't think it was possible, but the pain had gotten worse. How long had he been asleep for? It couldn't have been for long. He opened his eyes and saw that not only had it been two hours since he went to bed, but someone was knocking on the door.
"Aaron?"
Cynthia?
"...You can come in," allowed Aaron. He supposed it would be the polite thing to do, even if his stomach was still cramping. It felt wrong to say no to Cynthia anyway, even if she was definitely a lot more casual of a boss than he expected her to be. Flint told him that Cynthia was more of a friend, really. "Is there a challenger today after all?"
"No, no challengers. I'm just checking in. Are you feeling okay? You don't look okay."
Sometimes Aaron thought that Cynthia was the one with psychic powers, not Lucian. She's not a mind reader, as far as Aaron could tell, but it sure seemed like it. Or that her observational skills were that sharp... or maybe it was because he looked terrible and couldn't hide it well. Aaron didn't know whether to be insulted or not.
This was all too much to voice however, so Aaron shrugged and instead remarked, "Didn't sleep well."
"You look pale," Cynthia pointed out. Alright, so maybe he did look like shit. But Aaron's only been in the league for two weeks now and he didn't want to give any of his colleagues the impression that he was not handling the pressure well. It had nothing to do with his duties as an elite. It was like Cynthia said, Aaron was fine in that aspect.
Well, other than his first day when Aaron faced a huge amount of challengers because they wanted to see the new hire. He defeated most of them, but that didn't stop Aaron from locking himself in the bathroom when it was over. They sent Flint and Lucian to coax him out. It took fifteen minutes. His colleagues were all well-aware by now that sometimes he did the thing where he started to breathe too fast and say, "Oh my Arceus," over and over due to this unusual feeling of impending doom, and his heart would race. It usually happened when he was in his head too much, more than he usually was, but his anxiety diminished day by day. His colleagues were supportive. He's thankful.
But now, Aaron's stomach just hurt, but he wasn't going to say anything about that. It's insignificant.
"I am pale," Aaron told her. Cynthia merely looked at him. Aaron faltered significantly and wouldn't meet her eyes. "I mean, um. My skin tone... pale."
"May I feel your forehead?"
Okay first of all, Aaron thought an action like that would be more of Bertha's department, not the most powerful trainer in all of Sinnoh, so it was a bit jarring. Second of all, Aaron remembered that Cynthia had a younger sibling, so really Aaron shouldn't have been too surprised by Cynthia's request and he probably reminded Cynthia of her sibling. Third of all, this request told Aaron that Cynthia didn't really believe him, and Aaron once again didn't know whether to be insulted or not. Fourth of all, how should he answer?
"You can," allowed Aaron. Cynthia frowned, likely because it took him a while to respond. Nonetheless, she put a hand on his forehead.
Her frown, if possible, deepened. "You feel warm." Oh, that's not good. She removed her hand. "Have you tried taking something?"
"...I should," said Aaron, then offered her a grin that said he was fine, completely fine. Well, he wasn't fine, but he will be. "Thanks for the reminder."
Cynthia still didn't look convinced. Aaron didn't know how to feel about that. "Let us know if you feel worse. Know that we're here for you, okay?"
Aaron was definitely not going to do that. "Okay."
Aaron tried to get through the rest of the day. He took the ibuprofen like Cynthia suggested, and barely managed to get through a meal. He hardly ate, and Bertha was especially worried because of that, even though it's well-known that Aaron didn't eat much. It took a lot of convincing his first week here to his colleagues that he didn't have an eating disorder of any kind. But right now he felt as though anything he ate would only come back up. Had his colleagues not known he was feeling a bit under the weather, then they would assume otherwise.
But Aaron told them he was fine, even though he was not, and now they were probably thinking that he did have a problem with food. Okay sure, he technically did have problems, like the growling of his stomach and the pain he felt as well as the anxiousness that came with being himself, but not that. Great, another thing to think about. Maybe he really should've stopped at Eterna Forest instead of trying to sleep earlier? Arceus, they definitely did think he had a problem now. Or maybe-
"Hey, Aaron." Flint's voice cut through. Aaron looked at the redhead who appeared concerned. How rude of him to stop his thought spiral. Oh wait, all of them appeared concerned now. They definitely thought that way, Aaron was sure of it. Is it possible for a stomach to blow up out of the blue? It sure seemed like it. "You alright? Don't get lost up there, stay with us."
That would probably be for the best. He knew that staying with them was meant more in a mental sense, rather than being physically present. Aaron simply nodded. After that, Bertha told Aaron to start talking. To talk about anything. This was a tactic used to ensure Aaron was not going to go into a full-fledged breakdown like he did on his first day. On most days, Aaron appreciated this tactic. Right now with his stomach hurting, not so much.
Aaron talked, but rambled would be a more accurate word. He kind of jumped from topic to topic, because his mind was racing so much like it did as per usual when he was stressed. But talking kind of helped, he felt like he needed to in order to distract himself from whatever kind of fuckery was going on with him right now. He talked about how Leavanny were considered "Nanny" Pokemon because they're so good with kids. Bug-types could be very protective, actually. Sometimes they even saw their trainers young. Like his Vespiquen. Vespiquen were matriarchal especially with their Combee. He put honey in his tea because that's the only way he'll take tea. He liked tea over coffee. He hated coffee because it's too bitter. But he enjoyed rawst berries, which Aaron thought it was hypocritical on his own end.
Four pairs of blank stares.
Expected. It was the usual reaction when he talked about his passion for bugs. But Aaron thought they could choke on their own hypocrisy, because his colleagues were similar when it came to their own type specialty, with the exception of Cynthia who poured her heart and soul into her mythology lectures instead. Aaron didn't actually want them to choke on hypocrisy, that would be mean and not exactly possible anyway, but they didn't have to look at him like that.
Aaron dragged himself back to bed after the dinner table cleared. He considered today a win since he hadn't vomited, despite the waves of nausea that inhabited his entire being. He face planted into his pillow. With the feeling of his stomach aching and throbbing at the same time (which he had no idea was possible) Aaron assumed he wasn't going to get any sleep tonight. He closed his eyes whilst hugging the Wurmple doll he had since he was small. It usually helped. This time it did not. He tried to count Mareep in his head, which turned into Beautifly for some reason. It always came down to Beautifly.
He's out like a light.
Aaron woke up again, and glanced up at the clock to see that it was midnight. The pain in his stomach had yet to diminish. But he wasn't going to call out of work tomorrow in case they had a challenger, because Aaron had gotten lucky yesterday that no challengers came by. He's in the first slot. He couldn't afford to just leave. Not when he had so much to prove to his older colleagues, even though they said he was fine, to relax, that he was doing great. Aaron wondered if they were lying.
He's used to having paranoid thoughts like that. Usually going to the kitchens and getting a cup of tea would help and it would knock him right out. Unfortunately when Aaron walked into the kitchens he saw that Lucian was in the living room, reading under a lamp. It never failed to baffle Aaron. The bookworm clutched a book to him like it was his own security blanket. Sometimes Aaron would see the same titles on the page. How do you read the same book over and over? Didn't it get boring? How-
"Everything okay, Aaron?"
And the psychic didn't even look up from his novel, but had sensed Aaron's presence.
"Tea," Aaron said. "Can't sleep. Not feeling the best."
Tea was supposed to help with stomachaches. Why didn't he think of this before? Lucian gave the younger male his full attention now, casting his novel to the side. Uh-oh, this must've been more serious than Aaron originally thought if Lucian was no longer reading whatever he was reading. "Do you need to take off tomorrow?"
Aaron knitted his eyebrows together. He weighed out the pros and cons. The pros were that he could get better rest and hope that this stomachache of his would go away in the process and be able to eat more, because he ought to get something in his stomach even if he didn't feel hungry. Aaron couldn't tell if the nausea was from not eating or nerves or something else. The cons were that he would be disappointing his colleagues and letting everyone down and make them think he wasn't cut out for this disappointing bug catchers all over the world which would lead to his own impending doom-
"Aaron," Lucian's called out to him, snapping Aaron out of his morbid thoughts. Aaron stared at him. His expression was either frustrated or concerned, and Aaron didn't want either of those looks. Lucian was always a mystery to him. "Do you need to take off tomorrow?"
"No, I'll be fine. Look, my tea's ready." This should help his stomachache. Lucian didn't look like he believed him. He sat on the sofa across from him. Aaron took a sip of tea (with honey, of course) and tried to change the topic. "Why are you up so late?"
"Sometimes I don't sleep until I finish reading a book. I'm down to the last chapter now however. I don't think it's very good. How disappointing."
Aaron placed the mug on the table in front of him and drew his knees to his chest. He dare not mention that the more he curled up on himself, the more the pain ached. But maybe the tea would kick in and settle his stomach. Part of Aaron was wondering why Lucian wasn't telling him to go away, as it was known that the psychic was very introverted and preferred to read in solitude. Aaron could understand that, so he's wondering when Lucian will tell him to leave.
But Lucian didn't seem to mind though because he just kept talking to him. Contrary to popular belief, Lucian could be very talkative when he wanted to be. Just because he was soft-spoken it didn't necessarily mean he would always be completely quiet. Aaron heard a story that Flint once got a concussion, and everyone learned that Lucian could talk for hours if he needed to. Aaron thought that you couldn't fall asleep due to a concussion was a myth, however. Were they not taking any chances? Aaron then realized that he's not really listening to what Lucian's saying, something about the no-good-terrible-book that he was reading, his eyes were shutting against his will. Sleep was calling his name.
Two hours later, Aaron realized he had dozed off and now it was three AM. He woke up with a him shivering and in a daze and Lucian was no longer here. Aaron spotted a blanket over himself and a Wurmple doll that certainly wasn't with him before. Did the psychic put that over him? And wait a minute, how did they know he still slept with a Wurmple doll? Aaron didn't have time to ponder and unpack that embarrassment because he realized that his hands were shaking. Wait, was he sweating? If he's freezing, then why was he sweating? It was then he realized that damn, he was actually sick, and should probably take some more ibuprofen. It had been a while since his last dose, but it wasn't like the last dose did any good.
Aaron tried not to let it show that it hurt to walk to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. When did walking get so much harder? He was practically wobbling with every step he took. He took two ibuprofen and washed it down with water. The person staring back at him in the mirror couldn't possibly be him. Arceus, he did look like shit. Before he knew it, bile was rising in his throat. Oh fuck. Not good, not good, not good.
Here's the thing. Sometimes when Aaron got too anxious, his body would react in violent ways. People called this a fight-or-flight response. He would feel physically ill due to the anxiety. The medication he took usually helped with that, but it seemed as though right now he couldn't keep anything down. This was not just his anxiety. This was something else entirely, but he tried not to think about it because oh fuck-
Aaron released the contents of his stomach into the toilet bowl in record time, which were only the pills he took. The pressure building in his stomach was bad enough, but when he vomited it was as if his whole body was being electrocuted. He dry heaved after that, because it wasn't possible to bring anything else up. Now he was panicking for real this time with tears streaming down his cheeks, because he was thinking about that this was something else entirely despite trying not to, but it was becoming too unbearable to ignore. Aaron thought he would feel better after throwing up, most people did, but he did not. In fact, he felt worse.
Now Aaron was lightheaded, slumped against the corner of the bathroom. Curled up in a fetal position made the pain worse, it seemed like whatever the hell he did made it worse. The pain that Aaron was able to identify was on the right side of his stomach. Arceus, he couldn't do a damn thing right...
Footsteps were charging toward him. The worried voices were blended together, Aaron couldn't tell who was who. But they were saying his name. Why were they calling him? Aaron could only make out a few words, "sick," "crying," "throwing up," and this prompted Aaron to crawl over to the toilet bowl and dry heave into it again, even though it was pointless. Nothing would come up. And now he's crying in front of whom Aaron could assume was his own colleagues of only two weeks. Fucking great, but Aaron would deal with that later. He's so dizzy that if he tried to move he would either pass out from the pain, or dry heave again. He would rather do neither.
Aaron tried to focus, and damn it, he was right. His colleagues were here looking very concerned.
"Aaron, stay with me. What's going on?" Flint asked. Oh shit. Flint sounded serious. It was very off-putting, so yes, this was in fact serious. "Talk to me."
Aaron found it hurt to talk, let alone breathe, and even shaking his head slightly took more effort than it should've. "...Stomach."
"Your stomach? Your stomach hurts?" Cynthia pressed urgently. Aaron could only nod.
"Do you need to go to the emergency room?" Lucian asked.
A rough shake of the head at that. No one looked convinced.
Bertha knelt down, worry creasing her features. She put a thermometer up against his head to take his temperature. It beeped several times. "Forty point one, Aaron, you're burning up." Oh, that's bad. "What's going on? No, do not go to sleep young man, not with a fever this high."
That's nothing compared to what happened next. One moment Aaron's staring into the abyss unable to respond, the next moment the room was suddenly spinning. His limbs felt heavier, his heart was going too fast, and the pain on the right side exemplified times one hundred. He briefly heard someone gasp, then Bertha command someone to get an ambulance right now. And then everything faded to black.
Disorientation.
Nothing felt real. Was he real?
Through Aaron's drooped eyes he saw Lucian, Bertha, Flint, and Cynthia watching him. And Lucian didn't have his glasses on. That's so strange, he always did. Perhaps this was a dream? Why couldn't he move... It kind of reminded him about that one time he smoked cheap grass for the first time with one of his friends and had a bad trip. He vowed never to do that again, but this seemed so much more intense, not necessarily in a bad way just... tired. His brain felt much more foggy. He wasn't in any pain, at least. Aaron closed his eyes. It seemed better that way. Rest sounded very, very nice right now.
"Hi Aaron..." Cynthia. Perhaps he was dreaming, because her voice was much softer than usual. But still, he didn't want to open his eyes. "How're you feeling?"
How was he feeling? Why would she ask that?
"...Sleep..." Aaron said. Did that come from him? Since when did he sound so childish? Oh, what the hell. Maybe they'll get the message that he wanted to rest. "Lucian... without glasses... weird. Should wear them... 'm tired..."
Warm laughter filled the room.
"That's the anesthesia talking." Oh, that's Lucian-Without-The-Glasses. Was Aaron still dreaming? Was he dreaming at all? Aaron's so confused. Wait, anesthesia? Can anesthesia talk? Wait, no, that's not right. Maybe now would be a good time to open his eyes, it seemed as though a lot of questions would be answered - like if he was dreaming, or not.
"Oh, let the boy sleep," came Bertha's voice. Okay, maybe he wasn't dreaming. But her voice did seem far away, and felt himself... slipping, somehow. Out of consciousness. He heard a snicker from Flint, something among the lines of Bertha mothering again. Aaron forced himself to open his eyes this time, fighting the fogginess albeit weakly, and saw that the four of them were still there.
"...Hi," Aaron managed to say. His eyes dropped slightly, it was a bit of a struggle to stay awake. "What's going on?"
"You're dreaming." That was Flint's voice. Wait a second, he was dreaming?
"I am?" This was a very strange dream, if that was the case.
A hand that's not Aaron's ran through his hair. The action made Aaron's eyes close. Yeah, he had to be dreaming. "Yeah bud, you're flying."
He was? Aaron smiled softly. "I'm flying." And he let sleep overtake him.
"Is he going to wake up soon?"
"Who knows? I mean, he has."
"That doesn't count. That was the anesthesia. He was half-awake and probably doesn't remember."
"Oh Jesus, when he does wake up, Bertha is going to have fun playing mommy-"
"Flint-"
Several voices Aaron could hear. Bertha, Flint, Cynthia, Flint again, and Lucian in that order. Aaron's eyes fluttered open and for the first time, he was fully aware of his surroundings. There's an IV in his arm. A steady beeping noise that was grating on his nerves. He was in a hospital. Bertha, Flint, Lucian, and Cynthia were with him. Dark circles under their eyes. What time was it? He glanced over at the window. The sun was starting to rise, so it had to be morning. Wait a minute, why was Flint holding the Wurmple doll he slept with... oh Arceus, they did know about that now. Aaron briefly wondered if it was possible to die from embarrassment.
The four league members ceased their discussion realizing that Aaron woke up.
Cynthia spoke first, gently smiling at him. "Hi." Aaron didn't respond. "Do you remember anything?"
Aaron's brows furrowed as he tried to piece together information. He remembered being in the worst possible pain ever. He remembered trying to take ibuprofen and hurling it back up. He remembered curling in the fetal position in the corner of the bathroom. Then the room started to spin, and then he was in the hospital. Which was now. Strange. People went to the hospital for pain. He didn't feel pain anymore. Maybe that's what happened? He didn't know. That alone made him scared. As if realizing this, Flint held out the Wurmple doll for Aaron to take. Aaron rolled his eyes as if to say that he didn't need that. Bertha simply looked at him.
Aaron took the Wurmple doll. What the hell. The damage was already done. "Fill me in, things are hazy."
"You had a fever that spiked around three in the morning," answered Lucian, who still didn't have his glasses on. "We heard you throwing up. We took you to the emergency room and it was confirmed you had appendicitis. Your appendix was taken out because it was at risk of bursting."
Oh, that's not good. Not good at all. "Oh," was all Aaron could reply to that.
"You had been feeling off for the past two days," Bertha told him sternly, in her usual maternal fashion. "Why didn't you say anything earlier?"
Aaron shrugged.
"Shrugging this off isn't going to work, kid," piped up Flint, unusually too serious for Aaron's liking. "You almost gave Bertha a heart attack, and she's old enough to have one at her age-"
"I resent that notion," cut in Bertha.
"Hell, you scared the hell out of everyone here," finished Flint, with a nervous chuckle. Well gee wiz, sorry that Aaron was such an inconvenience to them. It's bad enough that he had to have his appendix taken out, but it's not like Aaron planned on being a burden to them, due to his age. So stupid, careless, reckless-
"Aaron," started off Cynthia, with a sigh. "I know you like to do things on your own, but if something's wrong, you can tell us. You've proven yourself as worthy as a member of the elite four, if that's what you're worried about. You're not an inconvenience nor a burden. Don't look at me like that Aaron, I know that's what you're thinking."
Oh.
"...I thought I was still nervous about not being worthwhile here," confessed Aaron. He might as well talk now instead of keeping this to himself. Considering that the four league members had seen him at his weakest, also known as potentially dying, they've gotten to know him pretty well. "I didn't think it was that serious. I thought it was just me being me. Being... nervous or whatever." What time was it again?
"Even if it was just anxiety, you could let us know," Bertha told him. "When we told you that we're here to help, then we're here to help. Just because you're apart of the strongest trainers in the region, does not mean you can't ask for help. Do you understand me, young man?"
Aaron blinked.
"Just say yes," Flint remarked, with a bemused smile. "It's just easier to say yes to whatever Bertha says, if she gets too preachy-"
"I do not-"
"You kind of do, but we're all okay with it because you're very matriarchal," quipped Lucian, smirking.
"Thank Arceus I am, because someone's got to look after you all."
"Oh we're fully aware that if Bertha retired, Sinnoh would fall," Cynthia remarked cheekily.
"You are the champion of the region," Lucian pointed out.
"In case you've all forgotten, Bertha's been here longer than I have," Cynthia fired back, but she was wholly amused. Aaron was too, because he found that he liked the bickering between his colleagues this time around. It made him smirk.
"Yes, I mean, sure. I'm not saying yes because Flint told me to, I'm just saying yes because I understand, actually. Not because..." Aaron trailed off, sighing. "I understand." For the first time since this whole mess started, Aaron's colleagues looked convinced.
"Well good," marveled Bertha. Then she went over to brush the hair out of Aaron's face. "You look tired. Go get some more rest, if you need to."
"Oh here we go," chuckled Flint, casting his eyes on Aaron. "She's going to mother you for the next three days. Like Lucian with his migraines. Cynthia when she forgets to sleep. And when I had a concussion, she wouldn't stop fussing-"
"Who's idea was it to try to put a hole in the wall with your head?" Bertha countered. Flint faltered significantly. "Oh yes, I remember now. It was you. The third strongest trainer in the Sinnoh region, and you decide to try and see if you could headbutt a wall."
"First of all it was Volkner's, it was a dare."
"If Volkner jumped off the Lighthouse-"
"Remember who you're speaking to Bertha," said Lucian.
"Says that one that whines when he gets migraines-"
"Oh I'm sorry, do you have a medical condition that causes you to put your head through a wall?"
"He triple dog dared me, you don't understand."
Aaron started to tune out the playful arguing between the league members. The pain medication he was given put a fog on him, and perhaps Bertha was right. He could get a little more sleep. For once, Aaron did not worry. Knowing that his colleagues were here to watch over him was enough.