Sam was aware, for the first time in quite sometime. She didn't know how long, but it felt like a long time. And the first thing she noted was that Jason wasn't at her side. Selfishly, she wanted him to be there, holding her hand through it all. Logically, she knew he wasn't good at that sort of thing.

That didn't stop her from wishing it however.

Usually, she understood the kind of man she was in love with. He was a man of action. He was a hero, waiting for his chance to run to the rescue. Something like this, though—What could he really have done? Holding her hand was doing nothing but causing him pain, and she had never wanted to do that. Jason was supposed to be happy with her. That was her entire defense of their relationship when Carly put her nose in their business. Sitting, holding her hand and waiting for her to die—That wasn't making Jason happy.

And now, he was off somewhere with Carly. In her delirium, Sam had screamed that this was all a trick. Carly had lured Jason away so she could brainwash him against her. He would come back, and he'd have decided that he wasn't in love with her, anymore. Maybe even that he'd never been in love with her. Carly would know that would be enough to make Sam give up. If Jason hated her, why keep fighting? It was all a plot by Carly to get rid of her once and for all.

But, lucid, Sam knew better. She knew that after all the work that she'd done to help Carly get her children back, the women had an understanding. Something that had begun to grow when Sam's baby died. She knew that, while the two would never be friends, Carly had at least accepted her in Jason's life. She wasn't trying to hurt her. She was just trying to help, because Carly was just like Jason. She didn't do well sitting and waiting.

Across the room, Danny groaned. Sam pushed herself from the bed, knowing that she should have stayed there. Her body was weak, and she could barely stand. But, that was her brother, and he was only sick because of her. If he hadn't come to visit, then he would have never gotten sick. So, even though she had to crawl half of the way there, she went to him.

Danny's fever was higher than Sam's, and though she hadn't been aware very often, Sam couldn't remember a time when Danny had been nearly as lucid as she currently found herself to be. He kept muttering in his sleep and whining. When he was awake, he was crying. Poor Danny. His life was bad enough before she took him away from their mother, away from that basement. But, once she'd taken him—How could she have possibly helped him?

"I'm here, Danny." She touched his hand lightly, and though her own body was probably burning up, Danny's skin felt hotter. She forced herself to stay in contact with him, though. Forced herself to squeeze his hand until his eyes opened. "I'm right here, and you're gonna be fine."

"I'm really sick, Sam." Danny pouted and sweat rolled down his face. "I don't feel good at all."

"I know, honey, but you'll get better." She took a damp cloth from the side of the bed and dabbed at his forehead. Her arms were weak and they ached with the motion, but she kept a hard, steady face. Danny was worried enough. She remembered him crying when he and Jason first found her. She remembered him begging her not to die. The least she could do for him was to make sure he didn't have to do that again. She could be strong for him. "We're gonna get better, and then we'll take a vacation."

"Will Jason come with us? Jason and the baby?"

Sam took in a sharp breath. She bit her bottom lip. Her hand stopped moving momentarily on his forehead. Tears stung her eyes, but she wouldn't let them fall. She forced them back, then forced her arm back into motion. "There is no baby, Danny, remember? Lila…"

Danny's eyes went wide. "Oh, Sam, I'm sorry! I'm so so sorry!" He tried to sit up, but wasn't strong enough to lift his body. He fell back to the bed with a heavy sigh. "I forget sometimes. I'm so hot, I forget. I'm so stupid!"

"No! Don't you ever say that!" Danny tried to hit himself and Sam held his hands down. "Don't you ever let me hear you say that again, you understand me? You're not stupid, Danny."

"I'm stupid, 'cause I'm broken, and nobody can fix it."

"Danny, baby, please, you're not broken." Tears fell from her eyes, and the only reason she was able to hold his hands down to the bed was because he was even weaker than her. "Danny, it's just the fever. I forget sometimes, too. You remember? I yelled at Jason because he wouldn't bring her to me."

"I don't remember."

"I did, Danny. And then, I thought she was there, laying with me. It's just the sickness, Danny, okay? You're not stupid, and I don't want you ever saying that again."

Danny's eyelashes fluttered. His mouth opened, and Sam thought he was going to say something else. Instead, though, he let his eyes fall shut and his head rolled to the side. "Danny?" She gripped his shoulders as tightly as she could and shook him. "Danny, wake up. Danny?"

Sam's vision was blurred, and she couldn't tell if his chest was rising and falling. She put her hand to his face, but she couldn't feel breath. They were both too hot, and all she got was the heat that radiated from their bodies. "No…" She shook her head and then she shook him. "Danny, don't you die on me! Somebody help me!" She reached to the side and pressed the alert button. She ran to the door and hoarsely shouted, "Somebody help!"

Sam ran back to Danny's side, and had her hand poised to slap him when his head came back to her. His eyes fluttered open and Sam sagged with relief. She almost fell to the floor, and had to pull herself back up using the bed. "Danny…"

"Sam, can we go to the beach?" His voice was weak and wistful. "Jason said he'd teach me how to swim."

Smiling and biting her lip, Sam nodded. "Yeah, Danny," she told him. "We can go to the beach. Jason can teach you to swim. You just gotta stay with me, though, okay?"

"I don't wanna go back there, Sam. They're nice, but I wanna stay with you. Will Jason let me stay with you?"

His voice was getting weaker, and Sam grabbed the button again. She squeezed it, holding it down until someone came up behind her. "I'll talk to Jason, Danny. I don't want you to leave me, Danny."

"I don't—wanna—" He took in heaping breaths, and before she knew it, Sam was being jerked back. She shook her head as Patrick Drake ran up to Danny and started checking him. He yelled for someone to grab a crash cart and Sam hadn't even known he was in the room.

She was fighting, but she couldn't get free. The hands that held her were dainty, but she wasn't strong enough to fight. Her head whipped and she screamed. Between the shouts, she heard Emily's voice. "Sam, let them help him. Please, get back in the bed."

"Danny!" She reached for him and tried to get to him. "Danny!" Her body sagged as the crash cart was brought in and charged. Patrick did compressions. Bobbie had the air pumping into Danny's lungs.

Someone brought in a machine, EKG? EEG? Sam couldn't remember which was which, what the letters stood for. They put the patches on his chest, then Patrick grabbed the paddles. "Clear!" He shocked him and Sam screamed again. "Danny, no! Danny, please! Don't leave me!"

They charged the paddles again. Patrick shocked. Emily pulled Sam to the bed. And Sam wished Jason were there. If she had to lose her brother, the last family she had left, she didn't want to be alone. Even with Emily there holding her, sitting in the bed with her, hugging her tightly, she was alone. Without Danny, without Jason, it didn't matter who else was there. Sam would be alone.

"Clear!" And Patrick shocked Danny again.