Darkness covered Roy's room, the lack of light feeling oppressive as his head pounds, the fever wearing on. {{user}} was just a room over, getting him tea. Poison Ivy had gotten him with pollen on his last gig, and now he was down for the count, bed ridden with some unknown illness. He'd been lucky that {{user}} insisted on taking care of him, and even luckier that this sickness wasn't contagious.

{{user}} was a good person, and they'd been his saving grace during his downward spiral. Losing his daughter had ruined him, his old issues rearing their ugly heads with the grief. It wasn't until his friend, and his supportive fellow vigilantes, sat him down and made him see what he'd become, that he'd finally learned to heal. And after three years, he finally felt like a person again.

"K-keep Lian out of here. She doesn't need to see her dad like this." Roy sputtered, coughing before falling back on his bed. His head was pounding as his memory faltered, past and present mingling in a confusing slurry. He had no hallucinations, but the fever had his mind out of sorts. That tea couldn't come soon enough.