August 27th, 2016

After two days of vomit, diarrhea, extreme fever, and seizures, I finally thought that Bass was starting to stabilize. Miles hadn't returned yet from Maryland with the treatment for the cholera outbreak, and it had continued to burn through the city.

I had so far avoided coming down with the disease, but after two days of working to keep Bass alive with little rest for myself, I was starting to stumble. This morning I had fallen asleep briefly while folding sheets, the half hour of rest the most sleep I had gotten in nearly eight hours.

I scrubbed at the sheets from Bass's bed that he had soiled in the night, my arms aching and my head pounding. Nausea swelled as my head swam and I paused in my laundry attempts, lifting my arm to wipe my brow, my breath shaky.

Footsteps approached from behind me and a moment later Natasha squatted down beside me, a bandana covering her nose and mouth, her brows furrowed in concern. "When was the last time you ate?" she demanded.

I smiled tiredly through my own bandana at my friend and near constant companion for the last two days and shook my head, "I don't remember," I murmured, leaning back against the wall, my hands dropping the sheet back into the searing hot water.

She nodded, sighing tiredly, "I thought so," she murmured. "Let's go find you some food okay?" she urged, motioning for me to follow her as she stood.

I stared down at the bucket full of sheets I was in the middle of washing and sighed, I so desperately wanted to go with her, but I needed to finish this task first. "I can't, I need to do this first," I insisted.

Natasha stared down at me for a minute before shaking her head and sighing in exasperation. Sinking down onto the floor beside me she grabbed a handful of sheets and began scrubbing them viciously, lifting a brow at me, "Come on, let's get this done," she urged softly.

I smiled gratefully at her and resumed scrubbing, wringing out the sheets as we worked, standing and hanging them in the large dining room that had been turned into a work room—cleaning sheets, folding bandages, boiling water, whatever needed to be done, it was done here for Bass and the other militia members who had fallen ill within the walls of our headquarters.

As we hung the last of the sheets I sighed and stretched, wincing as my aching back twinged and pulled, begging for a soft surface to relax against. Wiping my damp hands off on my jeans I smiled faintly at Natasha, "Ready?" I murmured.

She nodded and led the way to the small common area that had been set up further down the hall, the smell of fresh baked bread and soup hitting me in the stomach like a wrecking ball. Tears sprang to my eyes and I stumbled, the need for food so strong it made my knees weak.

Natasha grabbed my arm and led me to a nearby table, helping me sit down, refusing to let me go on my own to get food, instead urging me to stay and rest. Resting my face in my hands I closed my eyes and sighed deeply, exhaustion running so deeply through me it felt like my bones themselves were aching.

A moment later the scent of food grew stronger and I heard Natasha slide into a chair beside me. Lifting my head slowly I sighed happily at the sight of a full bowl of chicken soup and a hunk of bread resting before me. Without hesitating I began shoveling spoonfuls into my mouth, tearing off chunks of bread to dip into the broth, moans of delight escaping me as the food hit my stomach.

Natasha laughed watching me eat, shaking her head, "Slow down, you're going to choke," she murmured, taking a bite of her own bowl of soup.

I shook my head, swallowing a bite, "Not possible, I'm not even chewing at this point," I gasped before taking another large bite. As my stomach began to fill however, I slowed, savoring the bites I took.

When the bowl was empty and my bread was gone I sighed deeply and smiled at Natasha, "Thank you for making me eat, I needed it." I glanced over at the soup supply station and frowned thoughtfully, "I should take some broth to Bass. He needs something with nutrients in it."

Natasha nodded, "I can do it. You need rest. Go sleep, and I'll take care of him for a few hours," she insisted.

A few hours?! I can't leave him alone that long! What if something happens? If I wasn't there… I shook my head, "No Nat, I can't. If something happened…" I swallowed hard and shook my head, "No."

Natasha frowned at me and shook her head, "Becca, I'm the head of your security but I'm also your friend. You won't be any good to Bass if you collapse from exhaustion. You need to rest, and if I have to knock you out to make sure you get it, I will," she warned, lifting a brow at me, her jaw tightening.

My hand tightened into a fist and my jaw clenched as I bit back a harsh response. "Fine, but if he gets any worse, you have to come and get me, do you hear me?" I ordered. She nodded, and I knew from the look in her eye that we had an understanding.

Sighing, I ran a hand over my face and nodded, "Okay, come get me in a few hours and I'll relieve you."

"Good. Now go rest," Natasha urged, smiling softly at me. I smiled faintly back and nodded, lifting my hands in surrender before turning and walking slowly to my room, one of the only rooms in the building that had remained untouched by the need to refurbish for the plague.

Shutting the door behind me slowly, I sighed as the chaos from outside fell away, leaving me in a quiet that I hadn't been in for days. By now my room looked unfamiliar after so long away, with its quilted blanket on the bed and the wrought iron headboard, the stuffed bookshelves and the writing desk I had painted one rainy weekend with Bass and Miles' help.

Tears flooded my eyes as the room's familiar scent flooded my nose, reminding me that I was home, but that not everything was right. Kicking my boots off I lay down onto my bed, pulling the other pillow against my chest tightly as my eyes slid shut.

Oh how I wanted that pillow to be Bass. I ached to hold him in my arms again, whole and healthy. This morning when I had held him as he vomited, I could feel how weak he was becoming, his limbs growing thinner.

God I was scared.

I didn't know what else to do but keep trying to make sure he survived. Christ, I don't know what I would do if he died. I shuddered at the thought and dug my fingers into the pillow, shaking as tears began to fall.

"P-Please God, p-please, let Bass survive this. Let our city survive this," I whispered, tears streaming down my face as I prayed. I wiped the tears from my face and took deep breaths, trying to calm myself, knowing that Bass was in good hands with Natasha.

Slowly I relaxed, taking slow even breaths, my eyes growing heavier. As my back relaxed from days of hard labor and extreme exhaustion, I sank deeper into the mattress, feeling like I was floating, my body weightless.

Bass….

"Becca?"

I buried my face into the pillow, trying to ignore the voice calling my name.

"Becca, you asked me to wake you in a few hours. I'm sorry, but it's time to get up," Natasha urged softly.

I groaned softly and rolled over, cracking an eye at Nat, "What time is it?" I asked, my voice croaking sleepily.

She smiled softly, "It's 5pm. I let you sleep for four and a half hours," she lifted her hands defensively at the look on my face, "I know, but everything is fine with Bass and you needed your rest."

I rose slowly from the bed, wincing as my body protested, still aching and sore after the long rest I had just had. "How did he handle the food?" I murmured, pulling on my boots.

"He kept it down. He hasn't gotten sick the whole time you've been resting. The doctor seems optimistic he'll make it through the night without more diarrhea. The President is sleeping now, but he asked to see you when you woke."

I glanced up at her sharply, "He asked for me? He hasn't been particularly lucid over the past day and a half."

She nodded and smiled, "After he ate, he slept for about an hour and then woke up again and asked for more, so we gave him more broth and water. It was then that he started to ask how you were doing, and if you had rested at all. He remembers that you've been by his side, and he's worried about you," Nat commented softly, her own face lined with worry.

I sighed and stood, smiling at her gently, "Well, if he's doing better then maybe I can really rest soon. Maybe that means this will all be over soon." I laid a hand on her shoulder, "Why don't you rest here and I'll take a shift with him. We'll see how he does through the night," I murmured.

Natasha nodded gratefully and sank down onto my bed, "Thanks Becca," she murmured, smiling tiredly. I smiled and nodded back, pulling the door shut behind me softly, leaving her to rest. My feet carried me quickly through the building, back to Bass's bedside, the stench of illness pervading the room.

I swallowed hard and went to Bass's bedside, standing over him, watching his still muscular chest rising and falling as he slept. His eyes were sunken into his face and his already angular cheekbones stood out like the prow of a ship under his skin, the pallor of his skin waxy and grey.

"He is strong, but he is weakening. He needs more broth in his system if he is going to survive."

I turned slightly to find the doctor by my side and nodded faintly, "What would you say are the odds of him surviving?" I whispered, almost not wanting to hear the answer.

"If he experiences no more vomiting or diarrhea tonight?" He hummed thoughtfully before continuing and I wanted to punch him, "I would say somewhere around half. He's still severely dehydrated, and his fever is barely under 102 at the moment. He hasn't had any seizures since last night, which is a good sign, but I'm concerned still."

I nodded and swallowed hard, "Okay, thank you," I whispered, blinking hard to keep any tears from falling. I watched Bass, unable to look away, hearing the doctor retreat a moment later. Straightening my shoulders I turned away from Bass's bed and began gathering up dirty bowls and sheets, taking them to be washed.

Walking to the common area I grabbed a tray and filled four bowls with broth and two more with soup, tucking a loaf of bread under my arm before walking slowly back to the room where the sick militia members were being cared for.

For the next two hours I fed the men and women in our command and made sure the doctor and nurse in rotation had eaten, ordering them to sit and rest a few minutes while they did. Standing from the bed of a woman no older than me I stifled a groan and stacked her empty bowl onto another, carrying them down the hallway to the common area to be boiled and sterilized.

"Ambassador?"

I turned and found Bass's nurse in the door, hesitation on her face. Fear made my heart skip and my knees weak. I swayed and reached out to lay a hand on the wall, "Is he alive?" I demanded.

She looked startled and then nodded, "Yes! Oh, I'm so sorry; it's just that he woke up. You wanted to know," she replied, smiling nervously.

I exhaled sharply and nodded, "I did, thank you. I'll be right there," I murmured, giving her a weak smile. She nodded and disappeared around the corner, leaving me to collapse against the wall, my face falling into my hands as I tried to hold it together.

Taking a deep shaky breath I nodded faintly and moved away from the wall, heading back to Bass's room quickly. Pausing outside his door I exhaled nervously before entering, wondering what condition he would be in.

Taking a steadying breath I stepped over the threshold and lifted my eyes to find Bass propped up in bed, his eyes half open as the doctor bent over him, taking his pulse and listening to his heartbeat.

I moved closer, making sure my bandana was secure around my nose before moving to sit in the chair beside his bed, reaching out to take his hand in mine. Bass smiled tiredly at me, his dry lips cracking as they pulled over his teeth, his eyes glassy from fever.

Heart aching I squeezed his hand gently, "It's good to see you awake," I murmured, "It's like you've been sick or something," I joked weakly.

Bass coughed, trying to laugh and I shook my head, reaching a hand out to lie against his cheek gently, pursing my lips at the sensation of his hot skin beneath my cooler palm. As his coughing subsided his lips pulled into a grimacing smile, "You've been working hard from what I hear," he whispered.

I nodded, "There's been a lot to do, trying to keep you alive and make sure that the others within the building live." I ran the back of my hand across my forehead and sighed, "We lost two people this afternoon. The city is seeing the worst of it, but we're trying to make sure that they have plenty of soup and assistance with clean water, sheets and medical staff. We'll be lucky if Miles makes it back with the medicine from the NIH in the next 24 hours."

Bass squeezed my hand and I looked up at him tiredly, smiling behind my bandana at his concerned look. "It's going to be okay, I swear," I murmured, not sure if I was trying to convince him or me.

Bass stroked the back of my hand with his thumb and sighed tiredly, a sound so worn and exhausted that it almost brought tears to my eyes. He had never looked so weak before, he had always been someone I could lean on. Swallowing around the tight knot in my throat I smiled softly, "You're doing well, are you hungry? I can get more soup," I offered.

Bass shook his head and sighed, "I feel nauseas again, my head is pounding." His eyes wrinkled in pain as he sank back against the pillows, taking a deep breath. I slid my hand from his and went to get a glass of water for him, grabbing a couple of painkillers, hoping that since he had eaten some broth they wouldn't irritate his stomach.

Sinking down onto his bed I cupped a hand around his neck, pulling him forward gently to sip from the glass until he leaned back, shaking his head to indicate he didn't want anymore. I lifted the painkillers to his lips and nodded encouragingly, "Take these," I murmured.

He grimaced but nodded, opening his mouth to take them along with a swallow of water. I set the glass aside and reached for the cloth soaking in a basin nearby, wringing it out before beginning to wipe his face off.

I watched as Bass's eyes slid shut in relief, his shoulders slumping as the tension washed away under my gentle hands. Running the cloth through his sweat soaked curls I massaged his scalp lightly, smiling as a soft groan escaped him.

Setting the cloth aside I began to rub my thumbs lightly over his temples in gentle circular motions, watching as his eyes fluttered, his breathing slowing as he relaxed further. When he had fallen asleep I pulled my hands away slowly, running a finger across his sharp cheekbone unhurriedly.

I stood from his bed slowly, not wanting to disturb him, and gathered up the cloth and glass to be cleaned. Nodding to the doctor I walked tiredly from the room and dropped off the supplies before heading outside, needing a breath of fresh air.

Tugging my bandana down I sank down onto the steps of Independence Hall, running a hand over my hair and tugging it out of its ponytail, sighing as it sank down around my shoulders. Looking out at the city I grimaced, wagons were busy hauling the dead out of the streets to be buried or burned, and men and women scurried in and out of the infirmaries, caring for the ill.

The sun set slowly, painting the sky a bloody red, the August heat turning the scent of the city into a writhing, seething mess of disease and death. I grimaced and longed for a cool breeze, it hadn't rained since we had gotten back and it felt like I hadn't bathed in weeks.

Frowning I glanced down at my clothes and wrinkled my nose, they were stained with food, blood and other unmentionable stains. I had sweated through my tank top more than once but hadn't found the time to change, and I knew I had to smell.

Standing slowly I walked back into the building and went to the common area, grabbing a bucket to fill with sanitized water. There were two large cauldrons that were nearly constantly boiling water, and another holding cool water that had already been boiled, ready for use.

Filling my bucket I carried it to my room and pushed the door open slowly, wincing as the hinges creaked. Natasha lay limply on my bed, still sleeping, and I smiled faintly, glad that she was getting some rest.

Setting the bucket down outside the door I walked softly to my dresser and picked up my empty washing basin, setting my towel and soap inside before sliding my drawers open slowly, wincing at the soft creaks, and pulled out a new, clean outfit.

Carrying everything carefully I lifted the bucket once more and pulled the door shut behind me, leaving Natasha to sleep. Treading lightly down the hallway I went to my office, pushing my door open and locking it behind me.

Our offices were sacred space, untouched by the disease, yet I hadn't been in here since my return. Pulling the blinds down on the windows I set the washing basin on my desk and filled it carefully before stripping off my smelly, sweaty, dirty clothes and tossing them into a pile in the corner.

As I scrubbed my body clean I sighed in relief, finally feeling uncontaminated by the past two days. The water in the basin had turned grey before I made it to my waist and I quickly went to the window, cracking it open to pour the water out onto the dry grass.

The warm breeze the floated through the window felt delightful against my damp skin, sending a shiver over my body. I turned back to the bucket and refilled the basin, resuming washing, scrubbing until my body was fresh and smelled like the lavender soap in my hand instead of sweat and vomit.

Tossing the used water out again I filled the basin one last time and bent my head over, wetting my hair and scrubbing the soap in until the grease and dirt was gone. Slowly pouring water over my head I rinsed away the lather until my hair was clean and refreshed, wringing it out with one hand before flipping my head back, spraying water over the room without a second though.

Grabbing my towel I quickly squeezed my hair, wringing out more water before patting my skin dry and reaching for my clothes. Pulling on my underwear I rubbed on a spare amount of deodorant, something I used infrequently to try and preserve my supply.

After pulling on my jeans I slid on a dark blue camisole with yellow flowers splashed across in a bright pattern that I hoped would brighten my mood. Instead of tucking my feet into boots I remained barefoot, dumping out the remains of the dirty water before wiping out the basin and piling my dirty clothes inside.

Carrying my belongings to my room I opened the door slowly, tiptoeing inside to set the basin down before retreating, carrying my dirty laundry with me to take to the washbasins. I would let Natasha sleep for another couple of hours before waking her and making her eat.

Sitting down at the washbasin I dumped my clothes in and added detergent, reaching into the scalding water without a wince and began scrubbing. When the last of my clothes were clean I stood and hung them to dry, wiping my hands on my jeans to dry them.

Brushing back a strand of hair I stretched my back and reached up to readjust my bun, trying to think of what I could do next. It seemed like there was so much to do, and yet I felt like I was at loose ends, waiting for Bass to get better.

"You look like you're refreshed," Natasha's voice called softly from behind me.

I turned and lifted a brow, "Aren't you supposed to be resting?" I countered.

She smiled, "I'm good, thanks. What were you thinking about so intently?" she asked curiously.

I shrugged, "Just thinking that I don't know what to do. Bass is sleeping again and I've done so much already to stay busy, I don't know what else to do."

"Why don't we get something to eat and then go visit the infirmary in the city? We can see if we can lend a hand there for a little bit, it'll take your mind off of things for awhile," she suggested.

I nodded, smiling gratefully at her. "That sounds like a good idea."

We walked quietly together to the common area and got steaming bowls of soup with small chunks of bread, sitting down together and eating quickly. It was pleasant sitting in silence, just enjoying each other's company without feeling the need to fill the silence, something it felt like I hadn't done in ages.

When we had finished we made our way out of the building and down into the city infirmaries where they tents teemed with activity, even at this time of the evening. Nodding to the doctors and nurses, I stepped forward, "How can we help?" I offered.

I saw more than one person look at us skeptically, but a doctor nearby nodded and gave us a grateful smile, "We can use more hands, thank you. Are you comfortable cleaning sheets or feeding patients?" he asked, turning away to hold a basin for a woman who was vomiting.

"We'll do anything you need," I replied, stepping forward.

He nodded and pointed down the row of cots, "Take that side then, they all need broth." He looked at Nat and shrugged apologetically, "You've got cleaning sheets it looks like."

She smiled, "That's fine," and approached the large pile of soiled sheets, rolling up her sleeves as she went.

I turned to my task with a single mindedness, the hours slipping by, the sky darkening and the stars appearing one by one. As I was helping a nurse lift a body into the corpse wagon I heard a commotion in the streets, the approaching sound of hoofbeats and shouting growing closer by the second.

Tossing the body onto the wagon I went to the tent and washed my hands thoroughly before walking out into the street to see what the commotion was about, tugging my bandana down for a breath of air.

A moment later a rider came around the corner, his dark head low over hishorse'ss' lathered neck, eyes blazing as he cantered down the street. As he grew closer my heart skipped, it was Miles!

Sprinting down the street towards him I waved wildly, grinning ear to ear. He pulled on the horse's' reins, slowing until his horse was dancing in a circle around me, his lanky form hanging over the side of the horse as though he might collapse.

I stepped forward frowning, "Miles, what's wrong? You look like you've ridden straight out to get here," I murmured, reaching up to lay a hand on his flushed cheek.

He grumbled softly and pushed my hand away, "I did. I've brought the treatment for the cholera, and some other stuff. We got lucky."

My stomach turned in delight at his words, relief flooding me. "Oh thank God. Thank you Miles, thank you," I whispered, tears flooding my eyes, blinding me for a moment. I swiped at my eyes as he dismounted, and I heard a wagon rolling up.

As I sniffled and my eyes cleared I looked up and saw the wagon heading for Independence Hall, and even from here I could see it was laden with boxes of medication. "We have to make sure the people in the city get the treatment, they can't find out that we have it and they never got it," I murmured.

Miles nodded, "Of course. My men are going to distribute it now. You should take a dosage to Bass," he encouraged.

"I will, but first you should get some dinner Miles. You look positively wrung out," I murmured worriedly.

Miles shook his head, "I'll eat later, I've got to make sure this medicine gets distributed."

Sighing, I shook my head as we walked to the wagon, Miles appeared to be limping and his right arm looked like it had a bandage wrapped around it. He was in no condition to be still on his feet, but I knew that he would fight until I forced him down.

Miles tied up his horse and began ordering his men to distribute the medicine through the city infirmaries, instructing them to help the doctors and nurses with anything they needed. I took a package of the medicine and ran inside; heading to our militia and the doctors overseeing them, making sure that the medicine was being distributed before going to see Bass.

"I've got the medicine to treat him!" I declared softly to the doctor, pulling him aside and showing him the box. He nodded eagerly and took the box, pouring out the rehydration salts into a glass and setting up the IV almost joyfully.

Bass barely roused as the IV slid into his vein, but the doctor insisted we wake him and give him the rehydration salts, an action I felt terrible about when Bass protested sleepily, sounding like a little boy.

I sat on the bed and encouraged him softly, holding the glass to his lips so he could drink, making sure all the medicine was gone before I allowed him to rest again. His eyes were barely open the entire time, and when I set the glass aside he had fallen back against the pillows, his chest heaving.

I brushed back the curls from his brow and smiled tiredly, "Sleep Sebastian. Sleep and be well," I whispered. I watched as he slipped back into a deep sleep, the circles under his eyes still dark.

Slipping off the bed I sank into the chair next to him and propped my feet up on the cot, closing my eyes, just for a minute. I just needed a few moments of rest. Then I would go and help distribute the medicine in the city…

"He's crashing! Hurry!"

My eyes flew open at the anxious cries, the familiar voice of the doctor filling the room. The sight before me in the pale candlelight was a horrifying one. Bass was seizing violently, his eyes rolled back in his head, and blood streamed from his nose.

"What the hell is going on?! What's wrong with him?!" I shouted, jumping up from my chair, sending it clattering to the floor.

The doctor shook his head at me, trying to keep a steady hand on Bass, a syringe of something in his hand, "His pressure spiked, we think he has an underlying infection. It's been bubbling in his system and has been kept at bay by the minimal amounts of medicine we've been able to provide. It came roaring to the surface when they were replaced with the actual treatment for cholera was introduced."

I shook my head confused, "What's that?" I demanded, motioning towards the syringe.

"Antibiotics. We're hoping it'll work against whatever he's got." He slipped the needle into Bass's vein and depressed the plunger, sending the treatment into Bass's body. He quickly moved to add a new bag to the IV, "This is a treatment for the high blood pressure, it should stop the seizures."

I nodded and watched as the medicine began to drip into the line, biting my knuckle in worry, praying that it would help. Bass had stopped seizing violently before the extra bag had been placed, but he had remained twitching and spasming, grunts of pain issuing from his throat.

It seemed to take forever, but eventually his spasms slowed and he stilled, slumping against the mattress, his body sheened with sweat. I lifted my gaze to the doctor, "Is he going to make it?" I whispered.

He sighed and ran a hand across his neck, "I don't know. If he makes it through the next few hours, I'll be more hopeful. We'll see," he murmured.

I nodded and turned away, a sick feeling in my stomach. The sight of Miles in the doorway froze me, my heart plummeting at the look on his face. Stepping forward I collapsed against his chest, wrapping my arms around his waist.

His arms wrapped around me and I shuddered, tears slipping down my cheeks. "What if he dies Miles?" I whispered, my heart aching at voicing the thought out loud.

"He won't Becca; he's too strong for that. I promise." He squeezed me tighter and rested his chin on top of my head, "It's going to be okay," he whispered.

I nodded softly, but I wasn't sure he or I believed it.