A heavy cloud of fog hangs overhead as her eyes struggle to separate themselves from each other. Her warm skin is adhered to the surface of her pillow with a healthy coating of drool. Her pupils react quickly to the bright rays streaming in through the curtains. Downstairs the laughter of guests, and the warm scent of cinnamon rolls rises to greet her. Since returning from her world travels with her husband she has failed to transition seamlessly back into her typical rituals. Her head throbs as her body curses her for sluggishly shifting into a sitting position.

Exhaustion wreaks havoc on her typically sunny disposition as she can barely manage to convince herself to maintain a sitting position against the headboard. Her grey satin pajamas aptly match her mood. She hastily shoves aside the duvet. Her pajamas cling to her as her sweat has practically pasted them to her body. She exhales in frustration noting that her husband has already vacated the room. The clock insists that it is after 10 AM. A gentle knock against her door jars her into reality.

"Come in if you dare," she jokes.

George appears in the doorway carrying a tray. He offers a warm smile.

"I hope I haven't woken you."

"I'm not sure it would matter. I can't seem to get enough sleep."

"I come bearing gifts. Chamomile, and a cinnamon roll. They don't live up to yours, but they are my specialty."

"I am so sorry for leaving all of this to you."

He hands her the mug of warm liquid, and offers the cinnamon roll. She shakes her head.

"I'm not hungry."

"You've been back three weeks at what point are you going to start taking your health seriously, Cassie? I have never seen you so rundown."

She shrugs, "And I'm not even doing anything."

"When Sam gets home you act as if everything is peachy. You're doing him a disservice."

"I just don't want to worry him."

"You have us all worried."

"I know."

"I won't lecture you, kid," he gently places his hand on her shoulder.

"Thanks George," she smiles weakly.

He turns to leave, as she rises from the bed. Out of the corner of his eye he notices her stumble. He is able to act quickly enough to offer a hand. She lowers herself onto the side of the bed.

"I think it's time that you start taking this seriously."

"I just got a little light headed. My blood sugar is probably just low."

"I have an opening on my calendar today. If you can manage to get dressed I'm going to take you to be seen by the doctor."

She throws her hands up in defeat, "Fine."

At the hospital Sam finds himself sitting at his desk to get caught up with paperwork. Abigail materializes in his doorway. He glances at his watch, and then her.

"Do we have a meeting?"

Abigail shakes her head, "No. I just swung by on a whim."

"Oh."

"I'm really worried about Cassie."

He motions for her to enter. She crosses the threshold, and finds a chair to occupy. He drums his thumb against the surface of his desk.

"Abigail, I'm at a loss. We had a great trip. The second we get back to Grey house it's like a plague has hit her. She went to urgent care, and they assured us she didn't have any sort of typical communicable illness. I'm worried about her, but we both know how she responds when she's pushed."

"I am concerned about her physical health, but that's not the only reason I'm here, Sam."

"What do you mean?"

"Since you guys have gotten back it's as if something is blocking our connection. Joy brought it up too. I don't even know how to explain it. It's as if we're just suddenly out of sync with her."

"She's not herself. What is your take?"

"I keep wondering if maybe it's something as simple as her feeling depressed."

"I definitely didn't anticipate you saying that."

Abigail furrows her brow, "What did you think I would say?"

"That she's losing her magic, or something of that nature."

"This is worse. It's as if she's lost her spark."

Sam furrows his brow and throws his hands up, "And I don't know how to treat that. I don't have a medication to prescribe for that."

Abigail smiles, "I should probably get back to the shop, but I think perhaps we should have a family dinner this week."

He arches an eyebrow, "And do what? Stage an intervention? Do a ritual dance to help her get her spark back?"

She rolls her eyes, "I thought it might boost her spirits."

"That seems perfectly reasonable," he agrees.

By the time he gets home from rounds that evening Cassie is sound asleep. He heads down the stairs into the kitchen. He finds George sitting at the island on a barstool.

"I made lasagna, if you want some. It's not as good as Cassie's, but it will fill a hungry belly."

Sam leans against the counter, "It's barely eight o'clock and she's already asleep."

"She had a pretty rough day to be honest. She almost fell getting out of bed this morning. She said she was lightheaded."

"Then she waved you off, and pretended everything was fine?"

"No. I made her go to the doctor."

"Oh. How did it go?"

George shrugs, "She wouldn't tell me. I couldn't read her. She seemed to be in a pretty grim mood when we got done."

"She's so withdrawn. I'm really worried about her. I talked to Abigail today, and she's worried she's depressed."

George shrugs, "I've never seen her this withdrawn. I guess we're just going to have to give her some space."