Mitchie opened her eyes. The beeping was about to drive her crazy. Sitting up, she quickly got dizzy and laid down again. Sighing, she opened her eyes again, and blinked at the white walls and flashing television.

"Mitchie?" Mitchie jumped, and she turned her head to see Denise Gray sitting beside the bed with a book in her hand. Her eyes widened.

"I..." Mitchie's voice rasped and cracked, "Where am I?" She swallowed hard, one hand on her aching throat.

"Dear, you're in the hospital. Nate called me last night, and said that you were...well, sick. We brought you in late last night after we couldn't get you to regain consciousness. You gave us a big scare." Denise smiled at her reassuringly, and Mitchie laid her aching head down on the pillow.

Nate walked into the room quietly and motioned to his mom. She left, and he took her place silently. Mitchie turned her head, surprised to suddenly see Nate in his mom's spot.

"Hi." Her voice rasped, and she half-smiled.

"You don't remember last night at all do you?" Nate cut straight to the point. Mitchie blinked owlishly.

"Not after falling asleep on the couch at the studio." Mitchie's voice cracked painfully, "Tell me what's wrong with me."

"I think you need to go back to sleep." Nate adjusted the blanket around Mitchie and noticed she was trembling violently.

"You will tell me what's wrong with me, or you will not leave this room alive. Now tell me." Mitchie's eyes narrowed at Nate and he backed away from the bed slowly, hands raised in defeat. Mitchie began to sit up in bed wincing with pain and trembling with weakness.

"Fine. When we brought you in, you were unconscious. You had run a very high fever for probably a very long time. Your immune system is completely decimated. Your lymph nodes are swollen beyond belief. They're testing you for internal infections, mono, and a ton of other things that I can't remember. They're giving you an anti-depressant, three antibiotics, and all your liquids through your IV."

Nate finished, bringing his gaze from the floor to Mitchie's face. He sat beside her on the bed, gently running his hand through her hair, and wiping the lone tear from her face.

"Hey, hey. You're gonna be okay." Nate soothed, scooting closer to Mitchie, and pulled her into his arms. Mitchie sniffled, and sighed. "What's the matter, princess?"

"Why do you always call me princess?" Mitchie asked. Nate's surprise showed on his face. She disentangled herself from his arms, and lay back down on the pillows again, still holding his hand tightly.

"Not happening. The subject remains the same. You're skinnier than I've ever seen you, the circles beneath your eyes are purple and black, and you can't sit up you're so weak. Mitchie, your eyes...they just don't sparkle anymore." Nate sighed and stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. "Just tell me what's wrong. Let me fix it."

"Nate, you can't fix it. I...can't tell you." Mitchie turned her face away, but the sobs tore through her body anyway. He ran a hand through her hair once more, and then kissed her forehead. Standing, he quietly left the room.

Nate walked out of the hospital and kicked the stone wall in the garden. He shoved his hands in his pockets and sobs jerked through his body.