Room 222, Wednesday Evening

[not_a_parakeet]

Another day had come and gone, bringing its own special brand of nightmares right along with it. Somewhere during the day, Warren's healing factor had started to completely stop caring about the grey patches of skin that were creeping over Warren's body. His bruised knuckles had healed, and he'd spent the next few hours eating what was left of the

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[glacial_witch]

"Mmm?" Karla's face was pressed against the side of the bed, the rest of her sitting spraddle-legged on the floor next to it. She'd fallen asleep like that, holding onto Warren's hand just a few short hours ago and her body was telling her in no uncertain terms that it would like more sleep.

Also, a ton of food. Also, also, coffee, especially if she wasn't going to get that extra sleep.

But as much as her body wanted rest, once she was mostly awake, her brain wouldn't fall back to sleep. Warren's fever had broken but his rash was worse and they needed more to eat and to check to make sure neither she nor Raven were coming down with symptoms and and and...

"Wrrrn?"

[not_a_parakeet]

"Karla..." If that single word had come out any more quietly, he wouldn't have been speaking at all. "Karla, they're..."

He reached for a feather on the bed. One of hundreds.

"They're all..."

He was in his right mind, tonight. But he wasn't anything approaching coherent at all. And with the way his breath was coming in long, shaky pulls, he was just barely keeping himself together right now.

[glacial_witch]

Her name, barely loud enough to reach her ears. But the tone...and the psychic scents...

Karla sat bolt upright, wiping sleep from her eyes in one impatient gesture. "What--?"

Then she saw them. Like a miniature snowfall centered on Warren's bed, causing her to gasp.

She reached for one, the shuddered and left it where it was. "Oh, Warren," she moaned, pushing herself to her feet and climbing onto the bed. Her arms went immediately around him and she tried to pull him close.

[not_a_parakeet]

"They're all..."

She pulled him into her arms, and he moved almost bonelessly along with her, burying his face in her shoulder, his own shoulders rising and falling with the effort it took to keep from crying, the occasional feather drifting to the bed every time the rash overtook another half-inch of wing.

"Falling apart."

They were falling apart.

He felt like the rest of him was, too.