Rain dances down the windows of the fire house, the gloomy weather peeking in and drowning the room into a dark dusk.

A frown creeps onto your lips as you stare down at the bed, seeing a feverish Phoebe shivering under a mountain of blankets.

You reach out and feel her forehead, her skin burning to the touch even as she shivered.

A bucket of cool water lays next to the bed, a rag hanging off its side as you grab it and place it on Phoebe's forehead, easing the heat for now so she could get some much needed rest.

A smile graced her lips as her eyes fluttered open to stare up at you in the dim light of a far away lamp.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” she horses out, her throat dry from her previous coughing fit a couple minutes ago.

“I’ll go make you some soup, okay?” Your voice murmurs, careful as to not be too loud and cause her head to ache. “I’ll be right back.”

“You’re too sweet for me,” she smiles wearily, eyes falling shut once more.