A Whole New World

t h i r t y - t w o

Zayn has barely left Niall's side since finding him. It's been five days so far and the boy's fever hasn't dampened by so much as a few degrees.

And it's been heartbreaking to watch, the begging for it to stop, the pained whimpers, the glazed over eyes, that terrifying seizure which had felt as if it would never end. Niall doesn't think any of this is real, Zayn knows that much.

And it makes him mad. So, so mad that those monsters took his child and drugged him up to the point of severe withdrawal after mere hours of missing a single dose. And for the sake of what? Creating an army to take over the world? Lead by a nine year old boy?

He lets out a sigh and cards his hand through Niall's sweaty hair, pausing when his fingers brush over the kid's clammy forehead. It isn't as hot as before. His cheeks a little less flushed.

Nat's brother, Clint, had hooked him up to an IV for hydration and nutrition, and he'd improved a little since. Now, it seems that his temperature is finally dipping and Zayn feels his heart skip a beat of relief.

The door bursts open then, nearly sending the man falling off of the edge of the bed at the sudden eruption of sound. He realises one arm has moved to protectively cover Niall's sleeping form on the bed before his gaze settles on Harry and he relaxes, huffing out a weak laugh.

The five year old keeps one small hand on the door handle, eyes scanning Niall before looking up at his Papa. It's barely past breakfast time, and the kid's curls are still unruly from being in bed.

"Hey Curly. Aren't you supposed to be helping Daddy with the chickens today?" he asks, trying to straighten out the permanent crease between his eyebrows with a small smile.

But Harry isn't an oblivious kid, he knows that much. The five year old is aware that things aren't good or back to normal.

Harry gives a hesitant nod, gaze flicking back to Niall. "Uh-huh. I wanted to see if Ni could come out too. He's still sleepin'?" he asks with an innocence that makes Zayn's smile soften.

He holds his arms out to his youngest, and the child wastes no time in crossing the room to clamber up onto the man's lap, little legs kicking off the edge of his thighs. Zayn wraps his arms around the boy, pressing a kiss into his wild curls.

"He's getting better, honey. But he might not be able to help you feed the chickens for a little while yet, okay?" he says softly, trying to explain it in the best way the kid can understand.

Harry gives a small nod, pouting a little and resting his head against his father's collarbone. "I miss playin' wiv 'im," he mumbles, and Zayn let's out a soft breath, tightening his arms around the child.

"I know you do, honey. When he's all better, he'll be able to play all the truck games in the world with you, yeah?"

Harry shakes his head again surprisingly, speaking up before Zayn can question him.

"No, Papa, Ni likes playin' superheroes. We can play that instead, his fav'rite is Spidey-man," he states, matter-of-factly as he pulls away slightly to look up at Zayn with an air of austerity that he's never seen in the youngest before.

Zayn manages a small laugh at that. "Yeah? Then that's an even better idea...in fact, you could always make Ni a Spider-Man get well soon card," he offers, and Harry grins, hopping off of his lap and nodding with enthusiasm.

"Yeah! Can I use the special pens? The - the felty-tips?" he mispronounces, and Zayn smiles.

"Course you can. Just go tell your Daddy and he'll get you all set up, okay?"

Harry smiles and before Zayn knows it, the five year old has leaned over the bed to wrap his arms around the sleeping boy on the bed. "I miss you Ni," he whispers, and his heart aches as he watches Harry pull away and leave the room.