Matt stirred as the morning light peeked through the windows. His head was a lot clearer and he felt slightly better, although he was still breathing through the tube Doc had put in him the night before. He cast his eyes down toward his chest and could see Kitty still asleep on him. He smiled and ran a hand through her messy red curls; she didn't stir. Unable to speak, Dillon shook her slightly, but she didn't rouse in the least. His hand brushed her forehead and his stomach catapulted to his throat: Kitty's skin felt like fire. As panic began to fill him, he looked for Doc, but didn't see him. Matt tried to lift himself up, but he was far too weak to even keep his head off the pillow for any length of time.

His hand reached out to his right and felt the stool with the bowl of water on it. With all his might, Matt swung at it with his arm and sent it toppling to the floor with a crash. A moment later he heard Doc's voice from the back of the Longbranch.

"What in tarnation..." Doc saw the mess on the floor by Dillon and walked quickly over to the man. "Matt, you all right?"

The panic in Dillon's eyes caused Doc's heart to skip a beat as he followed the marshal's gaze down to Kitty. Fear began to fill him, Doc sat on the stool, and gently pulled her into his lap, holding her tightly against him. He felt her head and his brow furrowed as his hand stroked her warm cheek.

"Oh Kitty..." He looked at Matt then, his eyes a study in anger and sadness. "I begged her not to come in here...pleaded with her. I was so afraid that this..."

Doc's voice died out, overcome with emotion. And Matt Dillon shivered with the coldest fear he'd ever known. He reached out a hand and squeezed Doc's arm. The old man looked into the marshal's eyes and he nodded.

"I'll be back in a minute, Matt."

Doc lifted Kitty into his arms and carried her up the stairs and into her room. He pulled the comforter on her bed down, and gently laid her in it, removing her shoes and outer garments before covering her with several blankets. He looked down at her pale face and felt a rush of despair flood his eyes. He swallowed the fear in his throat and forced himself to be a doctor, and not a close friend who loved her more than words could ever express. He quickly turned and headed back downstairs to collect a few things he needed to make her more comfortable.

Doc sat down on the edge of Dillon's cot, avoiding the piercing blue eyes that so desperately wanted his attention. Doc carefully probed the muscles in Matt's throat, and was relieved to find that most of the swelling was gone. He finally looked into the worried eyes.

"Swelling's down, Matt, I'm gonna take out this tube. You just hold real still for me..."

As gently as he could, Doc removed the gauze, then the tube, sterilized the wound and bandaged it. He poured some cool water for the marshal, and held his head up so he could drink it. Matt swallowed hard, his throat feeling raw. He squeaked out his voice.

"How bad is it, Doc?"

Doc's mouth pulled into a straight line, and his eyes grew sad. "It's bad, Matt. She's got it real bad."

Dillon grabbed Doc's arm. "There must be something...I'm still here, aren't I?"

"You're one of the strongest people I've ever known, Matt." Doc looked around the room, at all the empty beds still standing as a reminder of how many didn't make it, then his eyes leveled on Dillon. It was time for the painful truth. "We lost a lot of good people, Matt."

"But you said--"

Doc looked away, anger coloring his tone, "--Dog gone it, I know what I said. I--" He looked Dillon in the eyes then. "I lied to ya, Matt. I'm sorry. You were so darned sick, and I didn't know if you were gonna make it, and I just couldn't tell ya how bad it was." His voice grew soft and vulnerable as he looked away. "I just couldn't."

Dillon squeezed Doc's arm. "Where do we stand as of now?"

Doc looked back at him. "Twenty-six dead." The doctor looked up at the balcony and beyond at Kitty's door, and he swallowed hard. "And I'm prayin' to any God who'll listen that there won't be a Twenty-seventh."

"If you saved me surely you can--"

Doc stood, cutting Dillon off. "--It was the luck of the draw, Matt, don't you know that? By thunder, you could easily have been one of the ones who didn't make it." Dillon had never heard such harshness in Doc's voice before and he stared at the man as he continued. "God I've got no control over this at all, none at all."

The defeat in Doc's voice sent a shiver up Matt's spine. "What are you sayin' Doc?"

Doc looked at the man, and then bent down to adjust his blanket and pillow, making Dillon more comfortable. "In most diseases, the longer it incubates in a body, the more fierce the power when it finally hits."

"Doc...please..."

Adams laid a soft hand on Matt's forehead. "I'll do everything I can, Matt, everything. You know that if I could trade places with her, I wouldn't hesitate." Dillon nodded, and Doc pat the man's shoulder. "Now I want you to try and get some sleep, and in a little while, I'll be back down and feed ya. By tomorrow, you should be well enough to finish your recuperation in your own bed, as should most everyone here. I'll have Festus and Burke come in and take care of things."

"And Kitty?"

"Matt, I won't leave her for a second. Not a one, I promise you."

"I can spell you--"

"--the hell you can. You're way too weak, Matt. You're just going to have to trust me to take care of her."

Dillon's eyes began to close, the pull of sleep proving to strong. "There's nobody I'd trust more, Doc..."

Adams pulled the blanket a little tighter around Dillon's chest, turned and checked on Sam and Ma Smalley, and then he forced his tired body to trudge back up the stairs. Doc didn't know if he could save Kitty; only that if he didn't, there would be a gaping hole in the heart of the marshal of Dodge, and a tear in his own soul that would never mend.