Sara returns after a two month long mission to find Nyssa crippled by a cold. Between season 2 and 3.

Nyssa felt her throat tighten as sweat oozed from her pores. She wrapped her blanket tighter around her. How could pulling the blanket tighter make her so drained? She contained her cough. No, not now. Sara's return neared with each attempted cough. The Heir to Demon felt her ego bruise further. After two weeks long mission in Russia, two months after the last of hurt and doubt fainted, Ta-er Al-Safher would return to find the Heir to the Demon crippled by the common flu. At least if she had been wounded in combat, she did some action to cripple her… momently. Her stomach attempted to force her last meal up.

Pulling off the blanket, she marched toward the bathroom. Showering would restore a fraction of her pride.

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Nyssa placed her hand the plastic coated glacier on Sara's knee and paused, studying her knee for any missed wound. "Stop that."

"You could have lost your leg." The Heir to Demon replied.

Her girlfriend remained silent. Images of Sara taking flight joined the movie of Sara limping while knocking out one of the last of Argus guards. Once she eliminated her part of squad, she become Sara's crutch.

"I didn't. We are safe." Her lover paused, taking a breath. "You can relax."

"I know."

"You're not showing it." Sara's face contained the pain leaking on her face. This would never happen again. She would die before that. The words lay down hanging on her tongue. "I will heal. I have been worse." She placed her hand on top of Nyssa's.

"I know." Nyssa repeated.

Sara laid down and attempted to pull down Nyssa as well. "Get on. You look more tire than me."

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The creaking of the opening bedroom broke Nyssa from her dream. Sara's muted steps echoed on the bedroom floor. The Heir to the Demon shut her eyes as the bed shift, bracing for the bruises. "You weren't at the archery range."

She didn't train at the archer range usually… father… "My father spoke to you, didn't he?"

Sara laughed. "He is many thing, completely uncaring is not one of them."

Part of her wanted to counter her assessment but fatigue drained her mind. "I didn't want to worry you." Nyssa answered as she turned to face her lover.

Ice rested on her forehead. "I would be worried if you were shot. After how many times you have been hurt, the flu doesn't worry me." She whispered in her ear as the pained blotches increase on her ego. "Is that anything you need?" Nyssa almost opened her eyes but the shutters remained too weighted. A punch collided with her pride. "Nyssa. How long?" She felt Sara's lips on her forehead. The bruises fainted somewhat.

"It'll be gone in a few days."

Sara curled up beside her. "Maybe I could shorten that?"

The assassin didn't want to make her sick as well but her body refused removed to push her away. Her clouded sense catch a hunt of jasmine. Her new perfume. She turned her head to cough. Nyssa could felt Sara's eye on her; concern leaking from her voice.

"Sleep." Sara commanded.

"If you insist, beloved." The Heir to the Demon took a wisp of jasmine before fatigue won and she slipped in a calmer dreamscape.