fic: The Long Night
I stayed up too late writing fic again.
Title: The Long Night
Rating: PG
Pairings: Weir/Sheppard
Summary: Keeping vigil over a dangerously ill Elizabeth, John confronts some truths.
Warnings: discussion of character death
Beta: none
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: The boys and girls of "Stargate: Atlantis" belong to a lot of people who are not me. No harm intended, just some not-for-profit fun.
Author's Notes: Angst bunny bit me. Sorry.
Chronology: Takes place between "Dance Partners" and "After the Rain."
Feedback: Is like peanut butter and chocolate together
***
John was distracted on the approach to Atlantis, thinking about a number of things, some more pleasant than others. What the Wraith were doing and why there had been so few signs of them recently both fell into the less pleasant category.
The fact that this evening, he hopefully would be able to take a bath, sleep in a bed and share his supper with Elizabeth were on the other side of the equation.
So it was a slightly rude shock when Ronon reined his horse in and stopped short. "What?"
Ronon frowned. "Something's wrong."
John followed his partner's gaze towards the small town. Ronon was right. It was early evening, the sun just starting to disappear behind the foothills to the west. Though it was fall, the day had been warm and pleasant. At this time, Atlantis should have been bustling with activity as the shops closed for the day and people settled in to eat supper.
No movement was visible anywhere in the main street of the town.
John felt panic begin to rise, but he tamped it down and made himself approach Atlantis slowly, walking his horse alongside Ronon's. Both of them were looking intently around for any signs of life, but John couldn't see anything. Terrible possibilities ran through John's mind.
The noise of a door opening made them both jump. Two men stepped out of the sheriff's office. Marcus Lorne, short and broad-shouldered, was carrying a rifle with both hands, though the weapon was currently aimed down. He nodded, "Sheppard, Dex."
Behind Lorne was Jack O'Neill. He was leaning in the doorway, and his normally thin features looked positively gaunt. John's alarm went up another notch.
"Sorry if we startled you," Lorne said quietly.
"What's going on here?" Ronon asked.
O'Neill shook his head. ""You two should keep riding. Go to the Athosian settlement, or better yet, get away from here for a few more weeks."
John darted a glance at Lorne, who looked fatigued but not nearly as close to collapsing as O'Neill. The blacksmith's expression was grim. "There's a fever going around, bad one. A couple travelers on the stage stopped here about three weeks ago and brought it in. It wasn't so bad at first, but it kept spreading. We've got three dead already, and Doc Beckett's nearly dead himself trying to care for all the ones who're still sick with it." He paused, his eyes flickering towards O'Neill. "Jacob Carter is in a bad way. Beckett isn't sure he'll live out the night."
John knew O'Neill was close with the former sheriff and his daughter. Despite his sympathy, he wanted to shout at Lorne for a moment for the names of the dead. It must have shown in his face because Lorne suddenly looked away.
"Some of us didn't get sick," Lorne said, glancing up the street. "Me, Doc Beckett, the minister, Teal'c, and Miss Weir. We thought the worst of it was over, but a couple days ago..."
John's hands tightened on the pommel but before he could speak O'Neill looked at him darkly. "She was tending on Miss Cadman, up in the rooms over the store. She fainted with no warning, just went down like she'd been shot. She'd worn herself out caring for others. Beckett's doing everything he can, and Miss Fraiser was looking in on her, but she got called out to the Athosian settlement today."
"Are they sick?" Ronon asked, seeing that John couldn't manage to speak.
Lorne nodded. "No one out there has died, though. They're taking it more lightly for some reason."
John and Ronon looked at each other. Ronon gave a brief nod. "I'll head out there." They both knew John wouldn't be leaving Atlantis now.
"Try to get back before it's full dark, if you're coming back," Lorne said to Ronon. "We need every able body we can get."
***
John climbed the back stairs to the living quarters over the mercantile two at a time. He had to knock twice before he saw Laura Cadman shuffling into the kitchen. She opened the door and stared at him in shock. "Mr. Sheppard?"
"Miss Cadman. I just got back-"
Before he could ask any questions, he was witness to a surprising sight. Laura stepped uncertainly over to the kitchen table, sat down and began to cry. She had never impressed John as the kind of woman who gave in to tears easily, which meant something was dreadfully wrong.
Complete terror seized John and he couldn't help himself. "Is she-?"
Laura shook her head quickly. "No, no, she's... she's so awful sick, and I'm so tired. I can't stay awake and tend to her, and Carson's got other patients and Miss Janet had to go..."
John dimly remembered his sisters crying a couple of times, but he'd never been that good at comforting weeping females. He patted Laura awkwardly on the shoulder. "It's all right. I'll take care of Miss Weir. Why don't you get some rest?"
"There's a bowl of cool water and a rag next to her bed. Carson said to try and keep her cooled down as much as possible. And when she wakes up, she needs to drink some water." She paused, her hands clenching the blanket wrapped around her shoulders. "She has dreams. I think the fever is making her see things." Laura's eyes were large and almost frightened. "She didn't recognize me this morning. Kept calling for her father."
John swallowed hard. "I'll try to keep her quiet. You should go get some sleep."
Sniffling, Laura got up and made her way down the hall towards her room. John turned in the opposite direction. He'd been up in the living area before, when he first came to Atlantis and Elizabeth sheltered him and Ronon while they hid and recovered. He'd been in Elizabeth's own room, he later realized, resting in her bed for those first few days. And with no knowledge of how much he should have been appreciating the fact at the time.
He pushed the door open and looked inside. A lamp was burning low on the bedside table. Elizabeth's eyes were closed and she was moving restlessly in her sleep. Under the fever flush her skin was deathly pale. There were enormous circles under her eyes. She'd always been a slender woman, but now her body looked wasted and hollow.
John wasn't sure how long he stood transfixed, staring down at Elizabeth. He'd never thought of her as fragile before, but she looked horribly frail right now and the fear was almost a living thing inside of him.
Finally he forced himself forward. He took the rag from the bowl on the table and laid it over Elizabeth's forehead. She was burning up so bad he flinched back from the contact momentarily.
He wiped off her face, her neck and her hands, her skin far too hot and dry under his touch, and then sat quietly, holding Elizabeth's hand in both of his, watching her sleep.
***
It was well after dark. Carson Beckett had stopped by briefly, giving John instructions on what to do for the night and telling Laura she needed to eat something. The doctor was weaving on his feet. John could barely believe the man hadn't been ill, he looked so run down. Carson accepted Laura's offer of tea but didn't linger. He headed back to the Carter house, where Jacob was still in very troubling condition. Samantha Carter was back on her feet, but Carson feared what losing her father would do to her. O'Neill was at the house with her, while Lorne, Ronon and Teal'c were watching the town's perimeter.
John was thankful he and Ronon had seen no signs of the Wraith in the vicinity. Atlantis was dangerously vulnerable at the moment. In a few more days, enough people would be up and about again to mount an adequate defense.
Laura had nibbled on some dry crackers and tea. John sent her back to sleep while he cleaned up. He was just finishing haphazardly rinsing the dishes when a shriek pierced the eerie quiet of the night.
He dropped the teapot and ran for Elizabeth's room.
She was struggling to sit up, her eyes open and staring at something only she could see. She screamed again and John grabbed her shoulders. "Elizabeth!"
She didn't recognize him, because she twisted, fighting against his hold. She was moaning now, and the sound made him shudder. He touched her face and tried to draw her back to him and away from whatever nightmare she was lost in. "Elizabeth, it's John. Look at me."
She stopped moving and he hoped it was recognition dawning in her eyes. "John?" she asked uncertainly.
"Yes, Elizabeth. It's me. I'm here."
She leaned forward, her head on his shoulder. Her hands fisted in his shirt and she started to cry. He had never seen Elizabeth really cry before, and the broken sound of her sobs tore at him like a physical pain. Ignoring the immense heat radiating from her, John pulled her closer, holding her tightly. "Shh, it's all right, sweetheart. I'm here. You're safe."
"John," Elizabeth choked out. "Don't leave me again. Please."
"I'm not. I'm right here."
"You'll stay?" Her hand crept up to his cheek and he kissed her temple, not caring that he was risking catching the fever as long as it calmed her down. "I hate it when you leave," she murmured.
"So do I," he whispered, surprising himself. He hadn't realized it but he was growing reluctant to leave Atlantis at all, though he kept doing it.
Elizabeth sighed. He shifted her a little and grabbed the glass of water from the table. "Elizabeth? Here, drink some of this."
He had to hold the glass for her but she managed a few sips of water. She rubbed her forehead like a sleepy child. "I'm so tired."
"Lie back down," he shook the pillows out and coaxed her back into the bed. He smoothed the blanket over her shivering body, then ran his hand over her hair gently. Something like a contented smile flickered across her face, but she fell asleep almost with her next breath.
He sat down in the chair, keeping a wary eye on her and trying to calm his racing heart.
***
Elizabeth woke up twice more in the night. Both times her fevered dreams seemed to have frightened her awake. She called out for her father and mother, and she whispered names that John didn't recognize. He wondered if she was asking for her brothers or someone else.
The second time, he couldn't get her to settle back down. She fixedly clung to him and wouldn't let go no matter what he said. John knew he had to get her back to sleep. Beckett had told him it was essential that she rest. She had worn her body down so badly before the fever took hold that she had little left to fight the illness. The doctor's words had only added to his own fear that she might not be able to withstand the illness in her weakened state.
For the first time since they had met, John faced the very real possibility of losing Elizabeth. Not to the Wraith, or even to another man, but to something he was helpless to fight against. He couldn't tolerate the thought of her dying and leaving him behind, alone. He would do anything to be spared that.
"Elizabeth? Sweetheart, let go for just a second." He managed to untangle her hands from his collar. "I won't go anywhere, I promise." He reached down and managed to unlace his boots with one hand. What he was about to do was completely improper, but it was the only way he could think of to get her to sleep.
Ignoring the dust and dirt on his own clothes, John climbed onto the bed. He made sure to keep the blanket underneath him and over Elizabeth, and stretched out on his back. "Come here." He pulled Elizabeth to him, settling her head against his chest. She snuggled up against his side and he cursed silently as his body twitched in reaction to feeling the heat of her even through the blankets. Ignoring it, he wrapped his arms around her, one hand gently rubbing circles against her back. "I've got you, sweetheart," he whispered. "Go to sleep now, please?"
Elizabeth sighed and her arm tightened around his chest. Her words were muffled but he still heard her. "Don't leave me. Promise?"
John opened his mouth but he couldn't make the words come out, even now.
Elizabeth turned her face more fully against his shirt and fell asleep.
John lay there, staring up at the ceiling, listening to the rasp of Elizabeth's breathing. He knew that she likely would have no memory of any of this if - when, he corrected himself firmly - she was recovered.
He couldn't make that promise. When she was awake and lucid, Elizabeth knew it. She had never asked him not to go, only to try and stay safe and come back.
He hated leaving her. Ensconced in her bed, Elizabeth sleeping fitfully in his arms through the long night, John stared the truth in the face. He loved Elizabeth more than anything or anyone else in the world. He wanted to stay with her. He wanted to marry her and build a home with her. If she would have him.
But the Wraith gang was still out there.
Why does it have to be you, a voice in his head argued. Why should you abandon the one woman who's ever been able to hold your interest, the one chance you'll probably ever have at a home and family? Surely protecting Atlantis itself from the Wraith would be enough?
Even if the Wraith were eliminated, then what? There would be another threat. There was always another danger waiting in the wings. He couldn't fix the entire world.
He thought of his family. He thought of the men he'd watched die in the war, tortured and beaten to slow death. He thought of the burned out homesteads, the bodies of the victims of the Wraith, women and children broken and left as carrion. He remembered the sick enjoyment on Steve's face as he whipped John to bloody unconsciousness.
He saw Elizabeth captured by the Wraith, her hands bound and her body vulnerable, struggling helplessly against the inevitable.
He couldn't walk away from this life yet. No, he couldn't right every ill in the world, but this was his fight. When the Wraith threat was gone, if he was lucky enough to survive, then he would come back here, plant his feet at Elizabeth's door and not leave. And maybe finishing this, ending the danger, would make him worthy enough to have her.
Elizabeth shifted and he ran his fingers through her hair. She subsided almost immediately and he kept up the motion, hoping it would keep her from slipping into the dreams again.
His resolutions would be for nothing if she didn't see the morning.
For the first time in many, many years, John Sheppard prayed.
***
John woke confused. It took a minute to remember where he was.
Light was coming in around the curtains. The lamp next to the bed had gone out.
He shifted carefully, craning his neck.
Elizabeth was still sleeping on top of him. Her breathing was regular and sounded quieter than it had in the night.
He touched her forehead and felt an immense joy rise up within him. Her skin was damp and cool. The fever had broken.
***
Title: The Long Night
Rating: PG
Pairings: Weir/Sheppard
Summary: Keeping vigil over a dangerously ill Elizabeth, John confronts some truths.
Warnings: discussion of character death
Beta: none
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: The boys and girls of "Stargate: Atlantis" belong to a lot of people who are not me. No harm intended, just some not-for-profit fun.
Author's Notes: Angst bunny bit me. Sorry.
Chronology: Takes place between "Dance Partners" and "After the Rain."
Feedback: Is like peanut butter and chocolate together
***
John was distracted on the approach to Atlantis, thinking about a number of things, some more pleasant than others. What the Wraith were doing and why there had been so few signs of them recently both fell into the less pleasant category.
The fact that this evening, he hopefully would be able to take a bath, sleep in a bed and share his supper with Elizabeth were on the other side of the equation.
So it was a slightly rude shock when Ronon reined his horse in and stopped short. "What?"
Ronon frowned. "Something's wrong."
John followed his partner's gaze towards the small town. Ronon was right. It was early evening, the sun just starting to disappear behind the foothills to the west. Though it was fall, the day had been warm and pleasant. At this time, Atlantis should have been bustling with activity as the shops closed for the day and people settled in to eat supper.
No movement was visible anywhere in the main street of the town.
John felt panic begin to rise, but he tamped it down and made himself approach Atlantis slowly, walking his horse alongside Ronon's. Both of them were looking intently around for any signs of life, but John couldn't see anything. Terrible possibilities ran through John's mind.
The noise of a door opening made them both jump. Two men stepped out of the sheriff's office. Marcus Lorne, short and broad-shouldered, was carrying a rifle with both hands, though the weapon was currently aimed down. He nodded, "Sheppard, Dex."
Behind Lorne was Jack O'Neill. He was leaning in the doorway, and his normally thin features looked positively gaunt. John's alarm went up another notch.
"Sorry if we startled you," Lorne said quietly.
"What's going on here?" Ronon asked.
O'Neill shook his head. ""You two should keep riding. Go to the Athosian settlement, or better yet, get away from here for a few more weeks."
John darted a glance at Lorne, who looked fatigued but not nearly as close to collapsing as O'Neill. The blacksmith's expression was grim. "There's a fever going around, bad one. A couple travelers on the stage stopped here about three weeks ago and brought it in. It wasn't so bad at first, but it kept spreading. We've got three dead already, and Doc Beckett's nearly dead himself trying to care for all the ones who're still sick with it." He paused, his eyes flickering towards O'Neill. "Jacob Carter is in a bad way. Beckett isn't sure he'll live out the night."
John knew O'Neill was close with the former sheriff and his daughter. Despite his sympathy, he wanted to shout at Lorne for a moment for the names of the dead. It must have shown in his face because Lorne suddenly looked away.
"Some of us didn't get sick," Lorne said, glancing up the street. "Me, Doc Beckett, the minister, Teal'c, and Miss Weir. We thought the worst of it was over, but a couple days ago..."
John's hands tightened on the pommel but before he could speak O'Neill looked at him darkly. "She was tending on Miss Cadman, up in the rooms over the store. She fainted with no warning, just went down like she'd been shot. She'd worn herself out caring for others. Beckett's doing everything he can, and Miss Fraiser was looking in on her, but she got called out to the Athosian settlement today."
"Are they sick?" Ronon asked, seeing that John couldn't manage to speak.
Lorne nodded. "No one out there has died, though. They're taking it more lightly for some reason."
John and Ronon looked at each other. Ronon gave a brief nod. "I'll head out there." They both knew John wouldn't be leaving Atlantis now.
"Try to get back before it's full dark, if you're coming back," Lorne said to Ronon. "We need every able body we can get."
***
John climbed the back stairs to the living quarters over the mercantile two at a time. He had to knock twice before he saw Laura Cadman shuffling into the kitchen. She opened the door and stared at him in shock. "Mr. Sheppard?"
"Miss Cadman. I just got back-"
Before he could ask any questions, he was witness to a surprising sight. Laura stepped uncertainly over to the kitchen table, sat down and began to cry. She had never impressed John as the kind of woman who gave in to tears easily, which meant something was dreadfully wrong.
Complete terror seized John and he couldn't help himself. "Is she-?"
Laura shook her head quickly. "No, no, she's... she's so awful sick, and I'm so tired. I can't stay awake and tend to her, and Carson's got other patients and Miss Janet had to go..."
John dimly remembered his sisters crying a couple of times, but he'd never been that good at comforting weeping females. He patted Laura awkwardly on the shoulder. "It's all right. I'll take care of Miss Weir. Why don't you get some rest?"
"There's a bowl of cool water and a rag next to her bed. Carson said to try and keep her cooled down as much as possible. And when she wakes up, she needs to drink some water." She paused, her hands clenching the blanket wrapped around her shoulders. "She has dreams. I think the fever is making her see things." Laura's eyes were large and almost frightened. "She didn't recognize me this morning. Kept calling for her father."
John swallowed hard. "I'll try to keep her quiet. You should go get some sleep."
Sniffling, Laura got up and made her way down the hall towards her room. John turned in the opposite direction. He'd been up in the living area before, when he first came to Atlantis and Elizabeth sheltered him and Ronon while they hid and recovered. He'd been in Elizabeth's own room, he later realized, resting in her bed for those first few days. And with no knowledge of how much he should have been appreciating the fact at the time.
He pushed the door open and looked inside. A lamp was burning low on the bedside table. Elizabeth's eyes were closed and she was moving restlessly in her sleep. Under the fever flush her skin was deathly pale. There were enormous circles under her eyes. She'd always been a slender woman, but now her body looked wasted and hollow.
John wasn't sure how long he stood transfixed, staring down at Elizabeth. He'd never thought of her as fragile before, but she looked horribly frail right now and the fear was almost a living thing inside of him.
Finally he forced himself forward. He took the rag from the bowl on the table and laid it over Elizabeth's forehead. She was burning up so bad he flinched back from the contact momentarily.
He wiped off her face, her neck and her hands, her skin far too hot and dry under his touch, and then sat quietly, holding Elizabeth's hand in both of his, watching her sleep.
***
It was well after dark. Carson Beckett had stopped by briefly, giving John instructions on what to do for the night and telling Laura she needed to eat something. The doctor was weaving on his feet. John could barely believe the man hadn't been ill, he looked so run down. Carson accepted Laura's offer of tea but didn't linger. He headed back to the Carter house, where Jacob was still in very troubling condition. Samantha Carter was back on her feet, but Carson feared what losing her father would do to her. O'Neill was at the house with her, while Lorne, Ronon and Teal'c were watching the town's perimeter.
John was thankful he and Ronon had seen no signs of the Wraith in the vicinity. Atlantis was dangerously vulnerable at the moment. In a few more days, enough people would be up and about again to mount an adequate defense.
Laura had nibbled on some dry crackers and tea. John sent her back to sleep while he cleaned up. He was just finishing haphazardly rinsing the dishes when a shriek pierced the eerie quiet of the night.
He dropped the teapot and ran for Elizabeth's room.
She was struggling to sit up, her eyes open and staring at something only she could see. She screamed again and John grabbed her shoulders. "Elizabeth!"
She didn't recognize him, because she twisted, fighting against his hold. She was moaning now, and the sound made him shudder. He touched her face and tried to draw her back to him and away from whatever nightmare she was lost in. "Elizabeth, it's John. Look at me."
She stopped moving and he hoped it was recognition dawning in her eyes. "John?" she asked uncertainly.
"Yes, Elizabeth. It's me. I'm here."
She leaned forward, her head on his shoulder. Her hands fisted in his shirt and she started to cry. He had never seen Elizabeth really cry before, and the broken sound of her sobs tore at him like a physical pain. Ignoring the immense heat radiating from her, John pulled her closer, holding her tightly. "Shh, it's all right, sweetheart. I'm here. You're safe."
"John," Elizabeth choked out. "Don't leave me again. Please."
"I'm not. I'm right here."
"You'll stay?" Her hand crept up to his cheek and he kissed her temple, not caring that he was risking catching the fever as long as it calmed her down. "I hate it when you leave," she murmured.
"So do I," he whispered, surprising himself. He hadn't realized it but he was growing reluctant to leave Atlantis at all, though he kept doing it.
Elizabeth sighed. He shifted her a little and grabbed the glass of water from the table. "Elizabeth? Here, drink some of this."
He had to hold the glass for her but she managed a few sips of water. She rubbed her forehead like a sleepy child. "I'm so tired."
"Lie back down," he shook the pillows out and coaxed her back into the bed. He smoothed the blanket over her shivering body, then ran his hand over her hair gently. Something like a contented smile flickered across her face, but she fell asleep almost with her next breath.
He sat down in the chair, keeping a wary eye on her and trying to calm his racing heart.
***
Elizabeth woke up twice more in the night. Both times her fevered dreams seemed to have frightened her awake. She called out for her father and mother, and she whispered names that John didn't recognize. He wondered if she was asking for her brothers or someone else.
The second time, he couldn't get her to settle back down. She fixedly clung to him and wouldn't let go no matter what he said. John knew he had to get her back to sleep. Beckett had told him it was essential that she rest. She had worn her body down so badly before the fever took hold that she had little left to fight the illness. The doctor's words had only added to his own fear that she might not be able to withstand the illness in her weakened state.
For the first time since they had met, John faced the very real possibility of losing Elizabeth. Not to the Wraith, or even to another man, but to something he was helpless to fight against. He couldn't tolerate the thought of her dying and leaving him behind, alone. He would do anything to be spared that.
"Elizabeth? Sweetheart, let go for just a second." He managed to untangle her hands from his collar. "I won't go anywhere, I promise." He reached down and managed to unlace his boots with one hand. What he was about to do was completely improper, but it was the only way he could think of to get her to sleep.
Ignoring the dust and dirt on his own clothes, John climbed onto the bed. He made sure to keep the blanket underneath him and over Elizabeth, and stretched out on his back. "Come here." He pulled Elizabeth to him, settling her head against his chest. She snuggled up against his side and he cursed silently as his body twitched in reaction to feeling the heat of her even through the blankets. Ignoring it, he wrapped his arms around her, one hand gently rubbing circles against her back. "I've got you, sweetheart," he whispered. "Go to sleep now, please?"
Elizabeth sighed and her arm tightened around his chest. Her words were muffled but he still heard her. "Don't leave me. Promise?"
John opened his mouth but he couldn't make the words come out, even now.
Elizabeth turned her face more fully against his shirt and fell asleep.
John lay there, staring up at the ceiling, listening to the rasp of Elizabeth's breathing. He knew that she likely would have no memory of any of this if - when, he corrected himself firmly - she was recovered.
He couldn't make that promise. When she was awake and lucid, Elizabeth knew it. She had never asked him not to go, only to try and stay safe and come back.
He hated leaving her. Ensconced in her bed, Elizabeth sleeping fitfully in his arms through the long night, John stared the truth in the face. He loved Elizabeth more than anything or anyone else in the world. He wanted to stay with her. He wanted to marry her and build a home with her. If she would have him.
But the Wraith gang was still out there.
Why does it have to be you, a voice in his head argued. Why should you abandon the one woman who's ever been able to hold your interest, the one chance you'll probably ever have at a home and family? Surely protecting Atlantis itself from the Wraith would be enough?
Even if the Wraith were eliminated, then what? There would be another threat. There was always another danger waiting in the wings. He couldn't fix the entire world.
He thought of his family. He thought of the men he'd watched die in the war, tortured and beaten to slow death. He thought of the burned out homesteads, the bodies of the victims of the Wraith, women and children broken and left as carrion. He remembered the sick enjoyment on Steve's face as he whipped John to bloody unconsciousness.
He saw Elizabeth captured by the Wraith, her hands bound and her body vulnerable, struggling helplessly against the inevitable.
He couldn't walk away from this life yet. No, he couldn't right every ill in the world, but this was his fight. When the Wraith threat was gone, if he was lucky enough to survive, then he would come back here, plant his feet at Elizabeth's door and not leave. And maybe finishing this, ending the danger, would make him worthy enough to have her.
Elizabeth shifted and he ran his fingers through her hair. She subsided almost immediately and he kept up the motion, hoping it would keep her from slipping into the dreams again.
His resolutions would be for nothing if she didn't see the morning.
For the first time in many, many years, John Sheppard prayed.
***
John woke confused. It took a minute to remember where he was.
Light was coming in around the curtains. The lamp next to the bed had gone out.
He shifted carefully, craning his neck.
Elizabeth was still sleeping on top of him. Her breathing was regular and sounded quieter than it had in the night.
He touched her forehead and felt an immense joy rise up within him. Her skin was damp and cool. The fever had broken.
***