A cool breeze brushed over Sam's face in sleep. Opening his eyes, he realized it was morning. Taking a deep breath, he turned to face he sleeping form of Frodo in the bed next to him. The sight that greeted his gaze was one of terror.

Frodo lay sprawled on his back, having kicked off the covers sometime in the night. He was very pale, and shimmered with a chill sweat. His usually soft curls stuck slickly around his face. Sam could hear him fighting for breath in raspy gasps. Terror gripped Sam's heart as he remembered the date. October Sixth.

He pulled himself awkwardly to his knees and reached out to gently shake Frodo. If only he could get him to look into his eyes, things would be all right, wouldn't they? Thoughts raced through Sam's mind, clouding his thinking. If this were any other time, he would have simply picked Frodo up and run to the Healer's with his lover in his arms. That wasn't an option this time. In fact, Sam doubted he even had the strength anymore, to lift the slight frame of Frodo.

"Mr. Frodo! Please!" Sam heard the desperation in his voice as he pleaded. "Come on, love, open your eyes. I know you can do it. I know you're in there!"

There was no response. Feeling an icy chill run through him, Sam tried to think clearly. Taking care of Frodo had always come so easily to him, but now it was Sam who needed taking care of, wasn't it? He wished that they weren't alone in the smial, that someone had been staying with them.

Sam moved as quickly as he could out to the kitchen. He found all the jugs he could find, and began heating water. Searching his mind for anything that might make Frodo more comfortable. He knew that warming him was his first concern. He wished he could run to get the Healer, but knew he couldn't leave Frodo alone.

When the kettle boiled, Sam filled the jugs, and carried them one at a time into the bedroom. He lay them all around Frodo on the bed, and covered his love with all the blankets he could find. His heart broke to see Frodo so in pain, and know there wasn't much he could do for him.

As the warmth slowly penetrated his body, Frodo tried to open his eyes. Sam noticed the fluttering eyelashes and grabbed Frodo's hand, squeezing it tightly, wishing some of his strength could pass through the touch. Frodo swallowed hard, unable to open his eyes.

"S-Sam?" His voice broke quietly.

"I'm here, me dear. I'm right here." Sam said trying to reassure them both. "I ain't gonna leave your side until this passes and no mistake!"

"Water." Frodo managed to squeeze out through clenched teeth.

Sam nodded, more for himself than Frodo, and reached out for the pitcher of cold water to pour a glass. He lifted Frodo's head slightly and let a little of the refreshing liquid spill over his lips. Frodo choked a little and Sam figured that was enough. Still wracking his brain, Sam remembered that he'd left some kingsfoil growing in the garden for just this very reason.

"Frodo, me dear, I'm just gonna run to the garden to get something that might help. Hold on, love!"

Sam ran, ignoring the pain in his back, and the racing of his heart. Flinging the door open, he ran out into the garden and wrenched the weed from the ground, root and all. Back in the kitchen, Sam put another kettle of water over the fire to boil.

The minutes seemed like hours, as Sam paced the kitchen feeling helpless. He felt as though his world were crashing down around him. Last night had seemed so heavenly, just the three of them, enjoying the peaceful October night, and now Frodo lay in their bed fighting for his life once more.

Sam had to steady himself on the table, as his head began to swim. He refused to give in and lose consciousness, Frodo needed him to be strong, and strong was what he was going to be. /Come on, Samwise. Pull yourself together. Frodo needs you right now!/ he thought to himself. Ignoring everything his body was telling him, Sam pushed himself away from the table, and went about making the strong smelling tea for Frodo.

Walking carefully back to their room, Sam opened the door only to find a shocking surprise. Frodo wasn't in the bed anymore. The sheets had been thrown back, and there was no sign of him in the room now.

Fear griped Sam's insides like the claws of some wild beast, and he set the tea down as carefully as his shaking hands would allow. He could feel the stinging burn of tears in his eyes. How had Frodo left, without his noticing? Where could he have gone? He should have known that Frodo might disappear, though Sam had thought Frodo too weak to act upon his hallucinations this time. Unsure if he had the energy to do so, Sam started thinking of where he should start his search.

He left the bedroom, and began searching the smial for his lover. Frodo couldn't have gone far in his condition. At least Sam hoped not, as he hadn't the energy to go running around half the Shire looking. He opened the door to the study slowly, trying to remember if he'd shut it last night.

Frodo was standing in the middle of the room, visibly shaking. Sam's heart broke as he looked at him. Frodo seemed as though the slightest breeze might knock him over, he swayed unsteadily upon his feet. Wearing only his nightshirt, which stuck to him in damp folds, he was shivering from the cold sweat that was still breaking upon his shiny skin. His eyes were rimmed with red, and his once crystal clear gaze seemed clouded with pain and confusion. Sam could feel his hot, salty tears running down his face as he stepped closer to Frodo.

Sam reached out to touch Frodo, to try to reassure him. To his surprise, Frodo stepped away, moving with more speed than Sam had thought possible of a hobbit. He grabbed the little knife that had been on the desk, and pointed it towards Sam with his hands shaking so badly it seemed he would drop it.

"Get back! You shan't take it from me!" Frodo bellowed, his face twisted with fear and desperation as he groped with his free hand for something that was no longer hanging around his neck.

Before Sam could react, Frodo had struck out at him. He found himself reeling from the blow and falling to the ground in shock.

"Frodo! It's me! It's your Sam!" he sobbed, holding his hand to his now bleeding cheek.

"Please, sir! Come back to me. You're safe. We're both safe." Sam pleaded again. Though in the back of his mind he wondered if he truly were safe at the moment. He knew that Frodo would never intentionally hurt him, but he also knew that Frodo was lost in some horrible dream-like world at the moment and didn't know what he was doing. Trying to hold back from sobbing, Sam crawled to his unsteady feet.

He moved closer to Frodo once more, murmuring quiet reassurances in hopes it might calm the shaking hobbit before him. Sam was terrified of the harm that might come to any of the three of them, himself, Frodo or their child. Trying to keep his eyes steady, despite the tears that stung them as they rolled out over his full cheeks, Sam reached for the knife, never taking his eyes from Frodo.

Taking the knife in his hand, he pulled it slowly from Frodo's white- knuckled grip. As the tip of the handle left his hand, Frodo began to shake violently, and fell to the floor in a small shivering heap. Sam could hear the soft crying coming from Frodo's buried face, and he felt as though his heart would shatter into a million tiny pieces. He knelt down and wrapped his arms around Frodo, pulling him into a warm embrace.

"It's gonna be alright, sir. I promise." Sam whispered, pressing as close as the swell of his belly would allow.

"I-I'm sorry, S-Sam." Frodo managed between sobs. "I don't know w-what came over m-me!"

"Now, don't you worry, Mr. Frodo. No harm done. Let's get you back to bed now, where we can try to get some tea into you."

Sam stood, feeling shaky all over, but willing himself to be still, and pulled Frodo onto his feet. He would have liked to carry Frodo, but thought better of it. So pulling Frodo's arm about his own shoulders, Sam carefully maneuvered them back to the large bed.

After drinking the full mug of tea, Frodo seemed a little more clear- headed, and his eyes didn't have the dull gaze they had had only minutes before. Sam collapsed on the bed, beside his partner, feeling suddenly very weary and tired. He looked at Frodo, and fought back the threatening of tears. He still looked very ill, but Sam knew the worst was probably over now.

Pulling himself closer to Frodo, Sam wrapped his arms around him protectively. They had been through so much, and still had much to go through together, but Sam knew that they could get through whatever it was, if they only stayed together. He drifted into a much-needed sleep finally.

Frodo stayed awake a long time, the pain that coursed through his very veins not allowing him to rest. He took comfort in Sam's arms, though, feeling protected as he lay in the embrace feeling Sam's expanding belly pressed lightly against his back. Frodo sighed raggedly. He refused to give in to his pain, for he had so much to look forward to in the future. After a long time, he drifted into a restless sleep.