"Ratonhnhake:ton…" She whispered his name in relief as she pulled back the blankets to check his injuries. He lifted his hand to stop her; he did not want her to access his wounds; to see him in his weakness. She shooed his hand away and lowered the blanket to his waist, just as Dr. White had done every time he checked on Connor. She held her palm inches above the bruising, feeling the heat radiate from his body. She watched the slow rise and fall of his necklace as his breathed from the corner of her eyes. Tasha absently reached for the cloth and wrung it out before placing against his forehead. She studied his face; the slow trickle of water dripping from the cloth and the faint fevered haze in his eyes. Tasha watched his face twitch with each breath.
"You need to sleep." She was overwhelmed with alleviation at seeing him finally open his eyes and speak to her, but she knew his wellbeing was more important than her desire to feel him respond to her touch. He held her cheek and slowly rubbed his thumb under the dark circles of her eyes and pointed out the obvious,
"I am not the only one." Tasha slowly climbed into the bed with Connor and slipped under the blankets. She was careful to avoid his side that was blemished with bruises and nuzzled her head against the side of his chest. He welcomed her next to him by gently squeezing her body closer to his with a feeble tug. Tasha hesitantly placed her hand on his bare chest, but as soon as she made contact, Connor held her hand firmly against him. She relaxed, not realizing she had been tense and fell asleep to the rhythm of his heart.
. . .
Tasha woke the next morning to sunlight piercing through her eyelids. She raised an arm to shield her from the ambush, when a voice broke through the attack.
"Tasha, I'm glad to see you finally up dear." Diana's smile was nearly as bright as the sun surging through the broken dam of the open curtains. Her arm did little to accelerate her relief from the blinding illumination. Diana proceeded to glide around the room humming softly as she picked up discarded towels and blankets strewn around the bed. Tasha could hear the chiming of glass connecting with other dinnerware as Diana collected the abandoned dishes. As Tasha's eyes adjusted to the abundant glow in the room, she turned to Connor and saw that he continued to sleep, undisturbed by the visual and verbal assault. He seemed to be breathing easier and the edges of his bruising held a yellowish hue.
"He's healing quickly." Diana stated, her voice filled with comfort in his recovery. Tasha was suddenly embarrassed; she continued to occupy the bed with Connor. Diana seemed not to care, as though she expected to find the two of them in the same bed, or that being both half Native it was expected. Tasha peeled the blankets away, exposing her bare legs and delicately touched the floor with her toes; testing it as though it were water and it might be cold. She salvaged her decency quickly; running her hands through the tangled mess of her hair and smoothing her clothes, as Dr. White penetrated the sick room. Tasha shied away from the bed as she heard the grumbling of Connor waking and saw herself out of the room. Dr. White's and Diana's voices filtered through the door she had left ajar as the floor groaned against her less than covert footfalls. Her bed saluted her and ignoring all pleasantries she belly-flopped into its surprised embrace.