I'm sick.

I'm sick and it's awful.

I can't even go see Viktor and be treated because Nessa won't stop fussing!! Even though Viktor is also a doctor, Nessa insists I only see the local family doctor.

Probably because he can visit me while I'm bedridden, while I'd have to go out and ride into the city to see Viktor.

But that's not the point.

I'm dying here in bed. My sheets feel like sandpaper! I'm cold and hot and my eyes hurt and my mouth hurts and I am DYING.

The only solace I have is that Nessa brings me soup. I don't even remember eating it. And I'm fairly certain it tastes like vomit and dirt because my entire sense of taste has fled me. But Viktor's chicken noodle soup was nice. It's the last thing I can remember being able to taste. And Nessa's isn't his.

I want it back.

In my addled state, I have the urge to throw a tantrum until I can get it. Fortunately for all involved, I'm too exhausted for that.

...But I really, really want to see him.

It's so late that it's early morning, but I can't sleep anyway. So I can sneak out before Nessa wakes.

I can go see him and...ah, yes. The tickets. I'll bring him a ticket. That's my excuse.

It makes perfect sense to me.

I can't exactly have a servant dress me, since they'll just tattle. So I have to dress myself. This attempt...is a failure. It hurts to lift my arms. I can feel my stamina being wasted. Trying to fight with a dress is a lost cause.

But.

But, okay! I don't need to be properly dressed to see a doctor, I can just wrap up in a cloak, in my shift, and go see him. He'll even tut and get me some warm soup!!

I stealthily slip through the halls.

Right now Viktor won't be at the clinic, but by the time I get there he will be.

It's....still pouring rain out, but what's that gonna do? Make me double sick?

...I'd be nice to hire a carriage...but...again. Snitches. I have to hoof it. Luckily, Viktor's clinic isn't far. I never even get winded walking there.

Usually.

This is not the case in this moment, because I am coughing and sick and everything feels heavy and weird.

I need a bath.

Oh...I should have bathed before seeing him. Maybe it's good it's raining, then. I'll be washed off when I see him, so I won't look miserable and snotty and ugly and dirty and like death. Just like a wet red rat. A snot-nosed rat.

I want to see Viktor even if I'm a wet red snot-nosed rat, though.

I want to see him.

I want to see Viktor.

I'm not sure why I start crying, other than the sick and the rain and the misery, but I'm sure I can't stop unless I see him.

So I run.

The world's all blurry, but I run, I run until I have to stop and be sick and dry heave a few times. I'm sorry, plants. You didn't deserve to be my victim. I swear I'll replant you, someday, somewhere, if I remember.

Running bad. Walking better.

My lungs burn. My vision's spotty. I'm going to be in so much trouble. But. I finally see Viktor.

I can feel my lips turning up into a smile all on their own, and - heedless of the distance - I reach out toward him. "Viktor...! Viktor! I found...I found...!"

"Ophelia!?"

I crash into him.

The moment his arms are around me I collapse. He can pick up where I left off, I think, as I bask in his warmth and breathe in the scent of him, the reassuring feeling of his arms. In my head, that phrase makes perfect sense. "Found you...I found you...!"

Viktor hugs me tightly to his chest, his voice brimming with alarm. "What are you doing out in the middle of the night in the rain? Have you a death wish? No, I suppose that was a silly question to ask someone who falls so frequently - Ophelia!"

He's fuzzy, but I feel warm. Not hot, but warm. He probably needs - no, no, he definitely needs an answer to why I'm here. He asked. I'm sure I try to say 'I needed to see you to give you your ticket' but..I'm not too sure what I actually say. Maybe something like 'give ticket Viktor'

He's holding me tight against him and my brain is so mushy I can barely think, much less form sentences.

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Viktor heaves a soft sigh. "Let's get you inside and into some dry clothes. Can you walk?"

"Yes!" I say triumphantly.

I instantaneously fail.

"No," he corrects, but there's amusement in his tone. "Here."

He tucks an arm underneath my knees, lifting me with surprising ease, as if I weigh nothing at all. Viktor is warm. His heart is pounding in his chest and I can hear it so loudly, and it feels nice. It's very, very hard to keep my eyes open and stay awake. Everything feels so...dreamy...floating...

I realize my head's nestled in his neck and he smells really nice. It's calming. I find myself taking slow, deep breaths of him as he carries me over to the bed, pulling the blanket up around my shoulders. "Viktor..."

"Yes?" His voice sounds worried, but his fingers gently brush back my hair, brushing against my skin.

"I have to tell you something..." I manage. "...Important...Viktor...I -"

I feel something soft on my cheek.

The smell of Viktor. The soft feel of his hair, tickling my face.

And the warmth of his lips.

I drift off, blissful, the faint warmth lingering on my cheek.

I feel much better than I have in a while when the warmth of consciousness drifts back under my control, and when the scent of Viktor's soup fills the air. I'm in Viktor's clinic, lying in one of the beds, surrounded by his scents, and I can see the light from his lantern as he works away in his office.

My last memory before sleep rushes back:

Viktor kissed my cheek.

That-

That definitely wasn't a hallucination, right?!

I turn on my side, burying my face in my hands and squealing silently, wiggling in giddy delight. I felt it. It was real. A real, romantic moment between me and Viktor!!! I peek through my fingers, my cheeks warm as I take in the sight of him in his element, looking so...so wonderful, and focused on his work, a half-smile on his lips as he reads.

I should -

I should say something, right?

Before my courage flees me, I sit up, clutching the blankets around me. "Ah. Uh. I -"

He glances at me in surprise, and for a moment that smile grows a little. "You're finally awake. Good, that means it's time for the patient to get their medicine. You seem to have developed quite the fever, as well. I have some herbs for a tea that should help with that as well."

He holds up a kettle, smiling at me with a warm, mischievous glint in his eyes. "Careful, it's quite hot."

I give him a miserable pout, even if I take the cup he eventually offers me. It makes sense to me, at least, and when I speak, the answer for my sulking - I think - is clear. "Soup..."

The pouty, sulky thing only seems to amuse him, and his hand comes down to lightly ruffle my hair, as if to comfort me. I let my eyes shut as his fingers comb through my hair, tucking strands behind my ear, his touch soft and gentle.

Sick or not, I am enjoying the hell out of this.

He removes his hand after a few moments and gestures toward the broth. "After this. Your body has to adjust to the medicine before it can handle anything more substantial."

"Not a child," I grumble. I still dutifully sip on the...weird bitter, gross thing he gave me. This is not the delicious soup I fantasized about. This is disgusting. "...Medicine...not good."

"Tastes aren't an indicator of usefulness in medicine. Nor is whether or not you like the flavor of a tea or drink," he reminds me with a grin, the hint of his canine visible on the upper lip.

"You have -" I try to find a good, eloquent, dignified, grown woman way to phrase this "-bad taste in tea."

"If bad tea was what was prescribed to help people feel better, I would recommend it despite the taste. When I was growing up my Grandmother always added a pinch of mint and honey to make it easier to tolerate. Would you like to try that?"

"That would be acceptable." I'm trying very hard to be dignified with a red, drippy nose.

It doesn't quite work out that way, and the resulting laughter from Viktor is worth it, even as he stifles it behind a hand. "Ah. I see. Yes, I think I can spare the time to accommodate such a very noble demand."

He chuckles and walks over to his desk to mix in some things. I pretend I can't see his shoulders still shaking from suppressed mirth.

I still appreciate it, though, as I curl up in the blankets and sip the bitter tea. It's...sweeter but still gross. Nevertheless, I prefer Viktor's home remedy of a sweetened honey mint concoction to the original.

"...I still want soup."

"First." His voice is stern, and I'm worried he's figured out I want the soup enough to use it as a carrot on a stick. "What in the world were you doing out there in the rain, barely dressed, sick as you are?"

I raise my chin, jutting out my lip. I've done nothing wrong. "I wanted to bring you your ticket to the opera."

I wanted to see him.

I mean that, but I can't admit it to him, not so baldly, so I instead lay blame on the tickets.

He's looking at me, waiting for some other reason. And...well...it's not as if I can hide my motives completely from him, with this cold. "I...missed you," I mumble into the rim of my tea, keeping my eyes averted.

I hear him sigh, and suddenly he lifts the teacup out of my hands and places it on the bedside table. Then I feel his arms wrap around my shoulders, his forehead against my hair. His voice is soft, almost unbearably so. "Next time...send a note. Please? I would rather not worry."

"...Yes, Viktor. I apologize," I mutter into the front of his shirt. He smells good, like medicine and earth. His shirt's warm. The way he's holding me is nice. The ache in my throat and body starts to fade, replaced by a pleasant warmth. "I just..."

I'm sick, but I'm not so feverish I have no filter. I know how bad it would sound to tell him I was lonely. That if I'm not with him my heart is aching, that I love him so much more than he realizes but I just have to keep pretending I don't so that I won't scare him away.

Instead-...instead I take the chance to start digging around for...

for the...

the ticket.

I-

I left the ticket at home.

I blame the fever for why that, of all things makes me start to cry, and why I sob, "I'm s-sorry I don't have your ticket here! I really am! I really meant to bring it!!"

His fingers run through my hair as he rests his forehead on mine, shushing me gently. "Shhh, it's alright, it's alright, calm yourself, Ophelia. I believe you."

I keep shaking my head in denial. "It's true!!"

"I believe you. Calm down." He runs a hand through my hair, and I let out a quiet hiccup as I try to settle back down. I can't stop thinking about the stupid ticket and how I could be so careless to go and leave it behind and-

He pinches my cheek gently, tugging on it to try to distract me from my thoughts. "Didn't I warn you I'd pinch you if you kept hurting yourself? But. You've been a very brave patient today...so you should have something nice as a reward." He leans over, his smile warm, and he presses his lips against my brow, stroking my hair back gently. I'm still teary, but my breathing's gone soft as I look at him in awe and wonder.

Before I can even try to respond to this sudden show of affection, he speaks in that gentle, amused tone of his again. "Soup."

He feeds me the promised soup himself, taking care not to spill on my nightgown as I remain bundled in the warm sheets of the hospital bed. He stays at my bedside for hours, reading, giving me medicine and more soup, until I eventually fall back asleep.

This time when I wake he's not at my side, but in the other room.

The rest of the day passes in a haze. I don't remember him carrying me out of the bed. I don't remember being taken to the carriage, and getting home.

The next thing I do recall is being in my bedroom, and seeing Nessa frowning as she puts a cloth on my head. "I was worried sick, Ophelia! Don't you ever pull a stunt like that again!"

She pays remarkably little attention to my grumbling protests, for being a servant.