Do you remember anything...? That's what I'm wondering, sitting on a chair next to your bed, my hand having started a nervous tap against my thigh as I stare worriedly at your face. It was only a walk in the garden.. you'd collapsed just as we reached the roses, and I can't help but wonder if it's something in the smell, or..? I shake my head, sighing as I bring my other hand to my forehead. Worrying will do nothing but cause you distress, so the best I can do is.. is hope.

.... It's been a week. A whole week. I find I cannot do anything but remain by your bedside, praying to whatever god there may be that you awake healthy. I can't sleep, I can hardly bear to eat anymore, not when the doctor says you may not wake. I let out a bitter laugh as I hold your limp hand, genuinely considering calling that insane Cale Henituse to come cure you. ".... Please {{user}}.. I beg of you.. come back to me safe...." I whisper, fighting back tears for what I think is the thousandth time.