The artist in Virgil wanted to make a comment about dawn creeping over the London skyline, but the rest of his brain was far too busy trying to deal with too many thoughts at once. From the outside the scene must have looked peaceful. The two of them cuddled up on the couch, Jasmine relaxed in sleep (and wasn't that something?) and Virgil, for all appearances, half-awake in the early morning light. But the reality was far different. Virgil had been keeping tabs on her rapidly shifting temperature for hours now, the med-scanner and multiple thawed ice packs sitting close to hand a testament to that. No matter what he did she continued to fluctuate. Virgil had had to move several times during the night in order to get supplies for her and each time he'd promised himself that this time he'd sit next to her and each time he hadn't. Now he was internally having kittens. She hadn't exactly been with it when she'd asked him to stay, he was basically taking advantage because holding her felt good. And yet…

The problem was that she always seemed far happier when he was there. Tension eased from her shoulders; the frown gone from her features. The times he'd had to leave to retrieve ice packs or similar she'd instantly curled in on herself, muscles tensing as though ready to spring awake at a moment's notice. He'd even scanned her to confirm it (and didn't that make him a wierdo?) but she'd settled into a deeper, more restful sleep when he'd been with her. In the dead of night that had been enough. In the cool light of morning it seemed like the fragile excuse he knew it was.

Her temperature has finally normalised just over an hour ago. He should move. Any excuse he'd had for staying there was well and truly gone. He would move. He looked down at her. He'd move in a moment.

A loud buzzing started him from his thoughts. He cast about looking for the source of the noise, needing to silence it before it woke her. It turned out to be her comm placed on the coffee table and well out of reach. A quick glance at Jasmine proved she hadn't stirred and Virgil glared at the offending device until it stopped. It was a sign of how wound up he was that, for a moment, he thought he'd silenced it with the power of thought alone.

His reprieve was short lived, however, as moments later the comm buzzed again, the unit rattling on the glass table top and seeming to magnify the sound in the otherwise still apartment. Virgil ignored it.

The fourth time it went off Virgil sighed to himself. Jasmine still hadn't moved but whoever it was clearly wasn't going to go away. In what had now become a practiced manoeuvre he got himself off the couch and made sure she was still comfortable. As she had every time before Jasmine hunched in on herself, the hand that had been resting on his chest finding the cushion instead and curling away from it. Telling himself to get a grip Virgil swept up the comm, intending to turn it off, when it buzzed again.

Warren.

A quick flick through the history proved every other call to be from Jasmine's brother. He was probably worried about her and Virgil knew that in his place, with a sibling not answering the comm, Virgil would be worried too. As he had late last night Virgil shut himself in the bedroom, this time answering voice only.

"Warren."

"Who the fuck is this?" Came the angry response.

"It's Virgil" he hesitated, "from the café?" He could hear the eye roll in the impatient sigh that followed.

"Put my sister on the line."

"I can't right now."

"Why not?" The reply came before Virgil could get a word in.

"She's sleeping."

The 'oh for fucks sake' was possibly meant to be under Warren's breath, then again, given that Virgil heard it clearly maybe not.

"Look, I'm sure you think you're great in the sack but trust me, she's got more than do you in the tank. Get her. Now."

"No" Virgil said bristling at the tone.

"Put my sister on the phone, right now." Warren's tone had changed, all Virgil could hear now was ice and the promise of something worse to come.

"I can't do that Warren, she needs the rest."

"Let me make myself very clear" came the far-too-calm voice on the line. It was a sound Virgil had heard before, from both Scott and Gordon when they felt someone was threatening their family. It didn't come out often and, thank the Lord, it had never been directed at him, but Virgil knew what it meant. It meant the person speaking had absolute conviction in what they were saying. He was suddenly very glad he'd opted for voice only. "I have absolutely no problem putting you in the ground. Now there is fuck all that means Oracle actually needs the rest which tells me one of two things. The first is that you're lying and the second is that you've done something to her."

"I'm not lying" Virgil said, "and all I did was spend the night looking after her."

"I'm sure" Warren replied, his voice saying was he thought 'looking after' implied.

"No! It's not like that!" Virgil took a breath, berating himself for letting Warren get under his skin. "Jasmine got into a fight last night-"

"Yeah, she does that. And?"

"And, she didn't come out of it well."

"Yeah, right" Warren said, disbelieving.

"Someone hit her with a bat, Warren. She's got at least three cracked ribs, massive bruising-"

"You aren't giving me a reason for not putting her on the phone" Warren interrupted.

Virgil wanted to shout in frustration. He realised his free hand had a death grip on the comforter but he couldn't bring himself to relax it. Instead, he went for blunt.

"Look, you know about her condition."

"Pardon?"

Virgil smiled, the comment having clearly thrown Warren off.

"She told you?" Warren said incredulously.

"Yes, Warren, she told me."

"Why the fuck would she tell you?"

Again, Virgil bristled at the implication, but, oddly, he was starting to get used to Warren and it made his own anger easier to let go of.

"I caught her trying to dress a knife wound a few days ago" he explained. "It became pretty clear that she couldn't feel it."

"Oh" Warren drew the word out. "And what? You offered to play doctor. Did you kiss it better?"

Jesus it is unrelenting with him! Virgil thought. He closed his eyes briefly forcing himself to reply civilly.

"I'm an EMT" he explained.

"Great another doctor. She's got a fucking type. Put. Her. On. The. Phone!"

"No!" Virgil finally lost his temper. "I did not spend the whole damn night fighting to keep her temperature under control only to wake her before she's ready because you need your hand held!"

The was a moment of silence and Virgil realised he'd risen to his feet.

"Her temperature rose?" Warren said, his voice suddenly a lot smaller. On anyone else Virgil would have classed it as worried.

"Yes" Virgil hissed. "And – as I'm sure you know – that's very dangerous for her considering her CIPS."

"Yes, it is" Warren sounded like he was considering something. "I'm going to call again in twelve hours. If you don't put her on the phone, you'll be seeing me in person" and with that he disconnected. Virgil found himself staring at the comm before shutting it off and throwing it forcefully on the bed. In hindsight it was a good job he'd hit the mattress rather than just launched the thing at a wall.

He checked the time and found it was just passed seven in the morning. His father would have had time it make to England by now. But he can wait Virgil thought with a half-smile. He wasn't waking Jasmine for anyone.