AUTHOR NOTE: I am a huge fan of this series! This is just something that I was thinking about after the last installment. They are finally together, but now she's probably going to have to watch him slowly go insane. This is a glimpse into the future.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Bloodlines. That would be Richelle Mead.

I wait at the front desk as the nurse takes down my information just as she usually does. Everything is going the way it normally does. The only thing different really is the nurse herself. Instead of grim faced Jean, there is a peppy young red head whose name tag reads "Ann".

Ann smiles at my sympathetically and I resist the urge to groan. I find myself wishing Jean were here which is certainly a first for me. At least Jean always just lets me go on in with much trouble or comment. Ann is still in that phase where she wants to bond with all of the family and friends that come in. She hasn't learned to not get attached yet.

"Ms. Sage! Right, Jean told me about you," she says with a sad note in her otherwise cheery voice. I'm vaguely surprised Jean would have bothered to fill her in about me. "I just want you to know I think it's so great what you're doing for him," she tells me.

"Thanks…" I reply politely, feeling more than a little awkward.

"Do you want me to show you back to the room," Ann asks softly with that same pitying look.

I shake my head. "No; I think I know the way," I assure her. After 8 months, by all means I should be able to find my way to the room blindfolded.

Ann gives me another smile and nods before pressing the button under the desk to let me on through. I try not to show how relieved I am about it.

I go on in, my feet following the very familiar path to an equally familiar room…the one with the sign on the door that reads "Ivashkov". I slowly open the door, mentally steeling myself for what I'll find this time. Even after 8 months, I never feel prepared.

The rooms at the Covington Mental Hospital are nothing like the dreary, sterile, padded cells you see in shows and movies. In fact, they are rather warm and comforting with walls painted a calming blue and bed spreads made to look like quilts. It would look like a normal hotel room aside from the lack of windows or mirrors or lamps…anything that could be used by the patients to hurt themselves or anyone else. It was an expensive place but his father could afford it.

I smile when I see him sitting on the bed (not wearing a strait jacket, another media exaggeration). His blue eyes are wide and alert, if slightly unfocused as they gaze at the sketchbook in his lap, a piece of charcoal in his hand. This is one of his good days.

"Hi Adrian," I say quietly. As always, I try not to think about how a year ago I would have just thrown myself into his arms and kissed him. But that was before it had all started to go downhill for him.

Recognition flickers to his gaze for a moment as he lifts his head to look at me. He only recognizes me about half the time anymore…like I said, today was one of his good days.

"Sage…" he says as if to himself, testing it out on his tongue. It was like he didn't quite understand why that word sprang to his mind when he saw me.

Hope bubbles in my chest. "Yes, that's right. That's my name," I tell him.

Slow the recognition fades from his eyes and my hope dies right along with it. Maybe this wouldn't be such a good day after all.

"That's my name, don't wear it out," Adrian begins to ramble with a slightly hysterical laugh, the too familiar note of Spirit madness in his voice. "Shouldn't wear a name out! A name is all you've really got! A name won't keep you dry though..."

I close my eyes and sigh heavily, feeling tears sting at my eyes though I blink them back for Adrian's sake. You would think that after a year I'd be used to this, but I'm not. Not even close.

I can't even begin to describe what it was like watching it happen…seeing the man I love descending into complete madness, slowly losing his grip on reality. It nearly destroyed me and I'm honestly convinced there is a good chance it still will.

We were together for almost three years. Occasionally the madness with would come through but I was usually able to call him back with a kiss or a touch. It was just the price of loving a Spirit user. I became use to it. Eventually it kept happening more and more often though. It still hadn't occurred to be worried about him until a year ago.

That was when the first of the episodes happened. It was like one his spells except it when on for over an hour. They kept getting worse, getting longer as the months went on till sometimes he'd be completely out of it for hours at a time. It was 8 months ago his father finally decided to have him committed. But even in the hospital he just got worse. Spirit had a complete hold on him now. The last time I saw even a glimpse of the sarcastic, witty, romantic Adrian I'd fallen in love with was 6 months ago.

I stare for a moment at the shell of the man I love that I'm now left with. The one that, like clockwork, I come to see at 2 o'clock every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. I read that it was best to give mental patients as much consistency as possible. I can practically hear Adrian, my Adrian, groan at that.

"Consistency? Like they say to give kids," he'd say. "For crying out loud Sage, I'm insane, not four years old!"

At times I wonder if I'm losing it too. I hear his (sane) voice in my head far more often than can probably be considered healthy. But it brings me comfort to think about how he would react to things I do or say. Which ones would make him laugh or roll his eyes or kiss me.

Just like I always do, I take a seat in the chair next to the bed and pull my reading material for the day out of my bag. I've been reading him the novel "Fahrenheit 451" lately. I read and he draws in sketch pad for the next couple of hours. This is basically the same routine we've had for 8 months now.

I read, but I'm never sure how much of it actually reaches him. All I know is that if I stop reading to him, stop coming to see him, it means I've given up. Adrian would never have given up on me and I won't do it to him.

Eventually my time is up and I move to gather my things back in my bag. I glance over at Adrian and see he still furiously sketching away.

"Time for me to go, Adrian. Goodbye…" I say.

No reply.

I sigh and turn to leave, heading towards the door. I pause when a hand suddenly reaches out and stops me.

"Wait," Adrian says softly. With his other hand, he takes and tears the paper from his sketchpad. He puts whatever he's been working on in the hand he still holds before releasing me. Slowly I look down at the drawing.

Adrian's artistic skills have not been diminished in the least. I hold a carefully drawn sketch of me. I'm holding a book in my hand, my lips parted as I read aloud, sitting there in my usual chair.

Tears fill my eyes as I smile at him. "Thank you…it's beautiful," I say before I turn and leave.

The hope begins to rise again, that someday Adrian will come back to me. I hold onto that when everything seems hopeless. In the end it's that hope that gets me through.

THE END! Hope you enjoyed! Please review and maybe I'll do another chapter! Let me know what you think.