The visions come, waking nightmares. In the dim candlelight of her room she sees flashes like a heartbeat and folds herself over, forehead tight to thigh. She is an envelope, burned and curled in on itself, turned up at the edges against the flame. The pain dulls and flattens.
She locks herself in her room. Three days since she showered, two since she slept, and a week since she has looked anybody in the eye. She lies lethargically on the bed, sprawled on her back and staring through the ceiling. The visions come and go – suffocate her with heat, run icy chills up and down her spine. She drifts into mild trances, awaking to hear Robin calling her name, and finds herself wishing he would go away. He knocks on the door, offering her food, begging her to come out. She never answers. Her cloak lies in a rumpled pile on the floor, forgotten.
The candles burn low, dying flames emphasizing the darkness rather than disrupting it. Pain comes in waves, heart pounding, chest constricted like her lungs are breathing ash, and his gentle knocking on the door batters her throbbing head with every beat. She squeezes her eyes tightly shut and grinds her teeth until the upsurge passes.
Days slip away, and with them the hallucinations. Now and then she rises to pace the room with restless anxiety. More often, however, she stays on the bed, clutching the covers - this is her island, awaiting a storm.
At last one night the fever passes. She waits until the Tower is quiet to emerge, her aching belly crying out for nourishment. Cold pizza, in spite of this, does not agree with her shrunken stomach.
He finds her leaning over the bathtub, vomiting quietly into a towel – cloakless, dirty, and beautiful. He takes off his gloves and holds her hair even though it is short enough to easily avoid being soiled. When she is done, he hands her the mouthwash. Neither speaks as she gurgles and spits. He perches on the side of the tub and fiddles with his gloves to keep from staring at her.
She is having trouble deciding whether or not she wants him to stay. She sits on the toilet and avoids looking in his eyes, grasping the insane suspicion that doing so would kill her. He takes her shaking hand in his and she raises her head, almost against her own will. Wonderfully, senselessly, his lips find hers.
Bang. Straight through the heart.