"Cool to the Touch"

by, Lauree (peachy23@angelfire.com)

Summary: Katie is sick, and unaccustomed to someone else taking care of her. So, it's time to melt the ice (metaphorically speaking of course)

Author Notes: Since I can't italicize, if it's not in quotes it's Katie's thoughts. :)

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Droplets of sweat bead on my forehead, as uncontrollable shivers wrack my body. I want to open my eyes but can't, or is it I won't? Gently, he runs the slightly roughened washcloth over my bare arm, the cool water soothing my fiery skin. A tiny sigh escapes my parched lips as the metallic taste of the tin cup reaches my mouth.

"Open up Katie," he says urgently. "There, there, that's a good girl." The water feels like rain falling down onto the dry, cracked land that is my throat.

A part of me wants to jump up and scream, I can take care of myself! But I know better. I am so used to taking care of the deceased and have had the privilege of nursing a young boy back to health, and here I am helpless to take care of myself. Amy is away visiting our Aunt, Lucy is having dinner with the marshal, so that leaves . . .

"Finch," I whisper weakly.

"It's alright, you'll be just fine Katie. I have no doubt you'll come around. You're a strong woman!"

I'm so glad you have faith in me, because at the moment, I feel anything but strong. I struggle to sit up, but Finch gently eases my shoulders back down. I feel as if my head is sinking into the down-filled pillow, spinning, spinning . . .

I wake up with a gasp, this time my head successfully leaving the pillow. I blink several times into the pitch black of the room. My normally neat hair is plastered to my forehead in sweat, but I feel—different. Of what, I don't know—fear, disappointment maybe. A cold shiver runs down my spine. I wrap my arms around myself as the realization hits me like a ton of bricks—Finch is gone, he left me. Maybe he thought I was getting better. Suddenly, I see a sliver of light filter into the room as the door creaks open.

"Katie, are you awake?" He holds the lantern in my direction. I place an arm over my eyes to keep from being blinded. "Sorry," he apologizes.

Sorry, sorry, what do you have to be sorry for?! An inner warmth is pervading throughout me, and doing a darn good job of warming me up on the outside. Before I can utter a word, he crosses the room and sits down on the edge of my bed, tucking the patchwork quilt that Mother made for Amy and I, tighter around my waist and legs.

"There," he says with satisfaction. "If you need me, I'll be in the parlor."

"Finch!" I manage to croak out as he begins to walk away.

He slowly turns around. "Yes?" he questions. I finger the orange and brown quilt nervously.

"Tell me about some of your adventures as a Pinkerton Agent."

I watch as his eyes light up, yet his face remains passive. He places the lantern on the nightstand beside my bed and perches himself on the edge of the bed.

"Alright, but only if your fever has broken." As he leans forward, his warm palm feels soothing against my cool forehead. "Good, you're cool to the touch."

I smile inwardly and settle back against the white overstuffed pillows, ready to hear an exciting chapter in Finch's mystery past, and find myself hoping to be a part of his future as well.