It was early in the AM hours when Lisle felt his lungs close up on him. He tried to inhale and quickly realized he couldn’t. The room was immensely warm despite the fact he was hardly wearing a thing and the light sheet over his body barely covered his lower half. He shifted off his back, his heavy curls drooped from the sweat that rolled down his face. He slapped the bed, searching for Grant in the darkness.

Grant startled awake, “Lisle?”

Lisle gasped, the sound was harsh and throttled. Grant shot up, clicked on the lamp and looked at his husband. Lisle’s cheeks were bright red, his eyes were dazed, and his chest rattled. The doctor cupped his face and tried to orient himself.

“Can you breathe?” Grant asked as he palmed the nightstand for his glasses.

Lisle shook his head, tears were forming in his eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

Lisle’s lips parted but no sound came out. Grant fell into a panic. He scrambled out of bed and tried to find his lounge pants, repeating calming words over and over that it was alright, that he was going to be just fine, and to hang on. Lisle watched with bleary eyes as Grant raced around the bedroom. The doctor quickly scooped up Lisle, ensuring he was wrapped up in the sheet, before he headed toward the door. The hotel proprietor was feverish, burning up to the point it was hard to hold onto his body.

“Hang on, hang on, please,” Grant begged.

Lisle wheezed, a small shaky breath hit his lungs, enough for Grant to at least be assured he was breathing—if only slightly. It sounded thick, sticky. He must have had build-up lingering, which meant he had been feeling ill for a long while without telling his husband. Grant didn’t have time to theorize or be angry, though.

He stepped into the elevator at the end of the short hall on the third floor and fixed his grip on Lisle’s body. He pressed the button for the first floor and tried to summon Masoud with the intercom controls. C’mon, c’mon, he thought, nearly mumbling it aloud but trying to keep his worry in check. He needed to ensure Lisle remained as calm as possible.

When his husband’s eyes rolled back into his head and his body went slack, Grant’s constitution rattled and a worried sound escaped his throat.

The elevator door opened and he raced out into the first floor hall by the staff quarters. His eyes barely caught sight of Ellis standing in his pajamas in the hall by the moon-shaped windows that overlooked the interior garden, eyes closed and body wobbling a bit.

“Dammit! Masoud!” Grant screamed as he barreled down the hall toward the infirmary.

Luisa poked their head out of their room, “Grant? What’s… oh, no…”

“Luisa, find Masoud! Ellis is sleepwalking and Lisle’s not breathing!” Grant shouted as he continued, strides unbroken.

Luisa raced out after him and sprinted down the hall, knowing full well Masoud would be either in The Pink Hare or the lounge with Roland, sharing conversations and drinks as they always did when the pilot spent the night.

Grant raced into the infirmary and laid Lisle on the hospital bed. His husband was unresponsive, eyes swollen and body clammy. He hooked a respirator over his face and pulled his cabinet open to try and find an epipen in case something had irritated Lisle’s wounded lungs. It was impossible in his panic to know what had caused the sudden lapse and he didn’t want to risk missing something.

Masoud scrambled into the infirmary, “What happened?”

“I don’t know! I don’t know!” Grant barked, tears in his eyes.

“Luisa is with Ellis, they’re getting him into his room, tell me what happened,” Masoud said calmly as he pushed up his sleeves. He approached the bed and grabbed a stethoscope to listen to Lisle’s chest. The hotel owner looked sickly, his curls were limp and dripping with sweat, his skin was pale aside from his cheeks which were beet red and his breaths were shallow.

“I don’t know, we were sleeping and he suddenly stopped breathing,” Grant replied.

“Okay, take a deep breath, find an epipen, let me assess,” Masoud urged.

“T-thank you.”

Out of the corner of his vision, Grant saw the remaining members of the staff poke their heads into the infirmary, summoned by his panicked calls in the corridor. He hoped he hadn’t woken the guests. Luisa, Janine, a half-asleep Ellis, and Ove all looked on in a panic. Roland stumbled in shortly after. Grant merely shook his head and went back to trying to find a way to help his husband. Ellis caught a brief glimpse of Lisle’s limp body before his view was blocked.

Luisa set their hand on Ellis’ shoulder and urged him, and the others, out into the hall, closing the door behind them as they went. The hall felt so quiet and eerie after the panic. Ellis looked around at the nervous faces before he rubbed his eyes sleepily. Luisa set their hand on his face.

“Oh, you poor thing, you’re so cold,” Luisa mumbled.

“What’s happening?” Ellis whispered.

“I suppose,” Janine mused as she fixed her robe over her tall body, “We should make some tea and get comfortable. I doubt we’ll be able to get back to sleep after this.”

“Not until we know Lisle is alright,” Ove said with a firm nod.

“I’m going to stick around and see if they need me to fly Lisle back to the mainland. Make me a coffee?” Roland asked as he stepped into the infirmary after seeing Luisa give him a thumbs up.

“Is Mr. Hawthorne okay?” Ellis asked.

Luisa urged him toward the kitchen, “I’m sure he’ll be fine, Grant and Masoud will handle it. Let’s get you warmed up, kiddo.”

“M’kay…”

The hotel staff wandered through the lounge, talking quietly amongst themselves as to not disturb the guests sleeping just above their heads. Ellis looked up with a worried gaze.

“This is why we have the guest rooms on the second floor, it gets noisy when we’re having to handle business things or emergencies,” Luisa noted.

“Makes sense… was I sleepwalking again?” Ellis asked as he pulled his sleeves down over his hands nervously, he was starting to wake up and realize the heft in the air around the hotel. It was apparent the staff was on edge, uneasy and a bit worried, but not overly panicked. As if this had happened before.

“Seems like it, do you sleepwalk often?” Luisa asked, trying to hide a yawn behind their hand.

“I don’t… think so, but I did it last night apparently,” Ellis replied.

Janine set the back of her hand against Ellis’ face, “Oh, dear, you must have been wandering around a while, you’re freezing.”

Ellis rubbed his cheek, “What time is it?”

“About three in the morning,” Ove replied as he looked at his watch.

“I must have been, I went to bed around midnight… or, I tried to, I’m not sleeping well and I was worried about Miss Prescott,” Ellis stated.

“Oh, does someone have a little crush?” Luisa teased.

Ellis felt his cheeks grow warm, “N-no! She was in the foyer by the front door when I went to get a tea! She looked sad…” he explained, utterly embarrassed as he buried his face in his hands.

Luisa laughed, “I’m just messin’ with you, kiddo. What kind of tea do you want?”

“And are you hungry?” Janine pressed further, knowing full well the orders Grant gave her that Ellis was to eat whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted.

“No, I would like a tea, though… I’m a bit frazzled,” he replied.

“Then I’ll get the kettle warmed. Ove, you may want to start the fire in the lounge, I fear it may be a long night,” Janine said, a stern look in her eyes.

Ellis looked up at her with curiosity. He wondered what happened, but he was too frightened to ask. He hoped it was nothing too serious, all he knew for certain was that Lisle looked… dead, and he was worried about the hotel owner’s nonchalant admission that he was a permanent patient and often fell ill. It seemed like awful timing at the start of what would be a very long season.