It wasn't until hours after Klaus had risen that he realized something was wrong. He'd finished a pot of coffee and read the final chapter in his book. He'd straightened the living room, made breakfast and when he still hadn't seen hide nor hair from Violet, he decided to check on her. Knocking softly on her bedroom door, he pushed it open without waiting for an answer. The blinds were all closed and the room remained very dark. "Violet?" he called very quietly. The lump of covers didn't move. He sidled over to the bed and sat carefully on the edge. He was afraid, so afraid.

He pulled the covers down just a little, enough to see if she were breathing. Running his hand over her hair, she finally stirred, turning her head toward him and opened her eyes, just to close them again.

"Hey," he said. "Breakfast is ready. Do you want me to bring you a plate?"

Her lips formed the word, "No," but she made no sound. If he was worried before, it was nothing to the way he felt now. Bodhi's words about loss of appetite came back to him, but Klaus didn't understand how her health could've declined so fast when the last few days had been so good. How could it all go south so quickly? He slid his hands across her cheeks, feeling for fever, he guessed, but that was ridiculous. She was too cool, if anything.

"I'm going to turn on the light, okay?" The bedside lamp only showed him how pale she was, how white her lips looked without any of the pink from yesterday. "Violet," he repeated several times, trying to wake her.

Finally she squinted her eyes open. "What?" she managed to croak out.

"What's wrong? Are you in pain? Should I call Bodhi?"

In answer she said, "It hurts," but that didn't tell Klaus where it hurt.

"Okay. It's okay," he tried to soothe her as well as himself. "I'll get you something." He stood and turned circles, looking for bottles of medication. There were several on her chest of drawers and he read the labels, recognizing some of the names. Both the bottles for pain and for nausea were empty. He brought them back to the bed and had to shake Violet's shoulder again, because she'd already fallen back into unconsciousness. "These are empty," he informed her. "Do you have more somewhere else?"

"No," came the hoarse answer.

"Why in the world did you let them get empty?" He didn't know why he was fussing at her, except that's what people do when they're worried. "Why didn't you tell me you were so low?"

"I tried," she answered, opening her blue eyes to focus on him.

"You never mentioned being low on your meds to me."

"I tried," she said again, "yesterday morning. You…" -her face crinkled up as a wave of pain shot through her abdomen- "didn't want to hear."

It came back to him then, how he'd shut her up with a kiss, a distraction, when she was trying to tell him what was important to her. He hadn't let her finish what she'd needed to say. God, he was a selfish creature. "Shit," he said quietly, but forcefully. "Okay," he rallied. He was good at rallying. "Okay, I'll go right now and get it refilled. You'll be okay?" It didn't matter what she answered. He had to go.

He slipped his shoes on, grabbed his keys, wallet, and the empty medication bottles and hopped into the car, leaving poor Violet to fend for herself. Klaus reprimanded himself all the way to the pharmacy, because he didn't used to be like this. There was a time in the very recent past when he'd been helpful to Violet in her times of need. Why was he making these last weeks about him? He knew the answer, but felt it was too selfish to even think on. Because… because he was going to be the one left here on this earth all alone in a matter of weeks. Days?

But the sight of Violet lying in the bed this morning, once again broken and weak, made him think and feel things he didn't want to think and feel. The reality that Violet was not long for this earth was too harsh of a one to face. He was uncertain he could stand up to her expectations.

Sure that he'd hit every red light on the way into town, not to mention how many pedestrians he thought he might like to run over rather than give them the right of way, the drive had taken the better part of an hour. Klaus rushed to the back of the pharmacy, where of course there was a short line in front of him. A little old lady griped at the pharmacist while an ashen-faced man about Klaus's age couldn't seem to stop coughing. The slowness of the line agitated Klaus to such a degree that just when he thought he might have to say something very disrespectful to the people around him, it was his turn. He handed the empty bottles to the harassed pharmacist, saying, "Refill for Violet Baudelaire." When the middled aged lady behind the counter only typed a few things into the computer, Klaus added, "It's an emergency, so if you don't mind being quick about it." Afterward he thought maybe he should've added a 'please'.

"If you're having an emergency, sir, I recommend that you head to the emergency room or the urgent care." She said this without any emotion, as if she really didn't care a wit about his personal issues.

Rolling his eyes, he said, more agitated than ever. "Please, just hurry."

"It'll be at least twenty minutes."

Klaus thought he might say something ugly, but one look at the pharmacist's passive face and he decided not to push his luck. A surge of happy astonishment went through him when, less than ten minutes later, they called his surname out at the cash register.

"Sir," addressed the pharmacist, and Klaus knew by that tone that it wasn't the good news he'd expected. "These prescriptions have no refills. We've put a call in to the doctor's office but it can take up to 24 hours. I'm sorry. You are welcome to call the doctor yourself. That'll sometimes light a fire under them." She handed him back his prescription bottles. "We'll call you when he hear something."

"No," Klaus shook his head. "No, no, no. The nurse said he would get the prescription. It should be here."

"I'm sorry sir."

Klaus was unwilling to leave without getting what he came for. He needed to call Bodhi, but several swipes through his contacts brought him to the realization that he never copied down the number from the fridge. "Goddammit!" he said too loudly, scaring a lady and her young son so much that they turned around and went back down the aisle in the direction they had just come. This was all taking much longer than he'd thought and worry for his sister was making him inept and slow-witted. Squeezing his eyes up tight, he tried hard to remember the name of the agency Bodhi worked for.

It was something generic, that he could remember. His mind shuffled through all of the synonyms it had stored over the years. Good Hospice? No. Something like Credible Hospice? That was stupid. More like Dependable, Reputable, Reliable. Oh God. Quality? Yes. Quality Hospice. Klaus quickly looked up the number on his phone. Of course he didn't know Bodhi's last name but how many Bodhi's could there be? The agency's receptionist was kind on the the other end of the line, but Klaus was impatient at their seeming lack of haste, overly aware of Violet looking like death itself back at the house.

Ten minutes later he got the call back from Bodhi. "Hey Klaus," came the laidback surfer voice that shouldn't belong to any medical professional. "What can I do for you? Is Violet unwell?"

"Yes, Violet is fucking unwell," he bit out even though he was more than relieved to hear that voice. "She's out of her pain meds and I'm here now at the pharmacy, but they won't refill the prescription. You said you would get that done."

"If you recall," Bodhi said genially, "Violet said she still had half a bottle left and we agreed that she would call me when she was ready for more. As it stands, though, I went ahead and got the refill. It's in my car. I was going to bring it by at this next week's appointment. I have a few minutes now in between clients. I can be at your house in fifteen."

Klaus closed his eyes in relief and placed a fist to his mouth. At first he couldn't say anything, then ground out, "Yeah, okay. I'm leaving now and will be there as soon as possible. The key is under the back mat if you get there first and… thank you."

"No problem," said Bodhi cheerfully. "Glad I can help. See you soon." The phone call ended and Klaus hurried back to the car. He was so grateful, so very grateful that Bodhi would be there to help him with Violet. Surely, he would know what to do better than Klaus, because when he saw death lurking so close it was knocking on Violet's door, it shook everything loose that he'd ever researched about Violet's illness. Klaus found he couldn't function very rationally, couldn't think. Dread over these next weeks settled into his heart like a heavy, very pointy, freezing cold iceberg.

Back at the house he found Bodhi upstairs with Violet. He held a small wastebasket in one hand and steadied Violet with the other as she vomited bile with a short, painful sounding retch. "Violet?" he said fearfully, gaining the attention of them both. Tears ran down her ashen face and she tried to cover them with her hand.

"Klaus," Bodhi said, still calm. "Do you mind getting us a warm, damp towel and a glass of water?" The tasks were to get him out of the room while Bodhi gave Violet a shot of something strong in her arm. He caught them in the act when he got back. It had an almost immediate effect on Violet's countenance. Her strained features relaxed and her eyes closed with a sigh.

"She never would have been able to keep the pills down," Bodhi explained. She'll sleep for a few hours and then you might want to think about taking these" -he shook the full medicine bottles and laid them on the nightstand- "before her symptoms get this bad. You did the right thing by calling me."

Klaus felt guilt over ever thinking that he didn't like the idea of this guy. Violet needed more people like Bodhi on her side. "Yeah, of course," Klaus readily agreed.

"Hopefully, she'll feel much better when she wakes up. Make sure she drinks a few sips of water. I've got your number now," he said, holding up his phone for Klaus to see, then stood from the bedside and Klaus followed him back down the stairs. "I'll call this evening to see how she's doing."

At the front door, he turned and put a hand on Klaus's shoulder. "Are you okay, man?"

"I think so. This is… she looked so…God," Klaus brushed his fingers over his forehead in another fit of anxiety, "I don't know."

"It's horrible," Bodhi said. "It isn't fair. She doesn't deserve it. But…it's happening anyway and she needs you. I'm glad you're here." With that the nurse left, shutting the door behind him.

Upstairs, Klaus cleaned up Violet's room, then wiped her sleeping face with the cloth he'd brought and she didn't even wake up a little the whole time. Exhausted from the emotional turmoil of the morning, Violet's subsequent peace that followed in the wake of that powerful shot of painkiller lured him to climb into bed beside her. The bed felt good; he was tired, but wrapping his arms around her felt better. He knew he should be stronger for her, but he couldn't help himself. He cried. He cried because he'd thought that maybe today was the last day he'd ever have with her. It didn't matter that maybe there would be several more weeks or several more years, it wasn't ever going to be long enough.

Opening his eyes hours later, he found himself alone in Violet's bed. The orange tint of the sun peeking in through the closed blinds made him believe it was late afternoon already. He was out of the bed like a shot, checking the bathroom, and then thundering down the stairs like an elephant, in search of his sister. He found her sitting perfectly calm at the dining table, mug of coffee in hand, staring out the window to the ocean far below.

"Hey," he said, glad to see her up and about. He poured himself a cup and sat beside her on the bench. "How are you feeling?"

Her lips were pulled into a tight line, but she nodded. "Much better," she said, sounding almost like herself. After a minute of quiet, she said. "I've been thinking and…I think you should leave."

He had to admit that wasn't what he had expected her to say and it hurt like hell. "What? Why?" Coffee splashed over the edge of his cup as he slammed it down harder than he'd meant to. "Because of yesterday? I'm so sorry. I should've listened to you. You should've told me about the prescriptions. We shouldn't have overdone it yesterday with the drive. Why?" he asked again, then adamantly said, "I won't go. I'm staying."

Placing a hand on his knee, she turned to face him fully. "No, sweetheart. It isn't anything you did. I just… I don't want you to see me like that again. I don't want you to remember me like that, you know?"

"Don't be stupid. I want to remember absolutely everything about you, not just the good stuff, that way, you know," he said with a tease, "I won't feel so bad when you're gone."

She hit him in the arm and laughed, a loud, shocking, belly laugh, and Klaus was ridiculously pleased to hear such a wonderful sound after such a solemn day. "I don't know whether to say I hate you or I love you right now?" she gasped between fits of giggles.

"You know you love me. What was in that shot anyway? I think it killed a few of your brain cells." It was a silly thing to say, but it pushed Violet into another fit of laughter. "Next time, I'll get Bodhi to give me one, too." When she'd settled down she leaned her head into Klaus's shoulder.

"I do love you," she said, and then the tears came. He'd expected them. Sometimes the laughing can bring them on even on a good day.

"I love you," he replied, kissing her soft scalp, pulling her into a hard embrace. They sat there long enough for the sun to meander toward the horizon and turn the sky a brilliant shade of pink. Klaus would have gladly sat there forever, but his phone rang and he let go of Violet to dig it out of his pocket. "It's Bodhi," he said, giving her a wink as he answered and told the nurse that Violet was feeling much better and that, yes, they would call if they needed him, and yes, they would see him again in a few days.

"Bodhi says you should have some dinner because I'm starving," Klaus said, standing to rummage through the fridge.

"He said no such thing."

"I'm sure he meant to say it. Are you hungry at all?" he asked, now searching the pantry.

"I could eat, I suppose."