A Night in Sickness

The Shadow quickly cast the clouding suggestion and slipped into the brownstone through an open window. The last thing he wanted was to let Conway know he was there.

Inky blackness greeted him. It made him nervous.

Projecting his mind outward, he felt around for Conway's distinct presence. To his relief, he wasn't there. Yet…

Where was Marguerite? He thought as he became visible and began walking through the house.

He heard her before he felt her. A weak coughing from the bedroom. She was still alive.

Walking into the room in question, he saw the young woman curled up on the bed. Moonlight from outside reflected off of her brown hair. She was still dressed in the rose print white dress she was wearing earlier.

She just barely got to the bed before passing out. The Shadow thought as he stepped closer. The illness must be worse than he thought.

He could sense the pain radiating from her body.

The first aid kit was in the bathroom. It should have a thermometer and aspirin. The Shadow thought as he went to retrieve it.

He took off his glove and touched her forehead. Marguerite's fever seemed higher than earlier that day. She shivered and pulled closer to his hand.

A cool hand touched my forehead, breaking me out of the haze of the fever. I could feel the thick silver band and large firm fingers. It reminded me of somebody. Quick tempered. Loving. Brown hair. Blue eyes. "Dad?" I said, my voice sounded so weak.

"Shh…" A soft voice sounded above me. It wasn't Dad's firm baritone. Nor was it Mom's soft alto. But why was it so familiar?

I opened my eyes. Hovering above me was a blurry face. I couldn't see who it is.

All I could clearly make out were two blue eyes.

Two reflective and cooling pools. They reminded me of somebody I had met a couple of days previously.

Quiet. Reflective. Dark blonde hair. Deep blue eyes.

"Open your mouth." The voice said, moving something close to my mouth. What was that? It was shiny glass and a metal tip. A thermometer.

The Shadow checked her temperature. It was well over a hundred and four. Four more degrees and she would die.

Marguerite cried out, weakly reaching up a hand. It gripped his. "Don't leave me." She said.

He removed his hand, shaken by Marguerite's words and the feelings it brought up.

He saw it in her eyes.

Fear.

She's scared. Not that he blamed her.

The alien feeling was pricking at The Shadow's consciousness again…the one that had distracted him at the warehouse and nearly cost him his chance to escape.

Lamont Cranston was feeling sympathy for her. After all, the psychic exercises she did over the last couple of days probably weakened her immune system, allowing an otherwise simple illness to wreak havoc.

Maybe he should call Dr. Druke or get her to a hospital…

No! Lamont felt the Shadow scream out from within.

It would risk not only Druke's safety but everyone else's as well in case Conway decided to attack…

Defending somebody who couldn't defend herself was hard enough. But two people who had no fighting experience against Conway and whatever weapons he brought…

And at the hospital, she would be no better than a sitting duck. Conway was indeed capable of anything…he wanted to keep this fight between Conway and himself, not anybody else.

Don't think of that. The Shadow reminded himself as he went into the bathroom to draw a lukewarm bath. Right now he had to get her fever down and he had to get it down now.

Otherwise, there wouldn't be anybody to protect from Conway.

The black eyes left as quickly as they appeared. I was left alone in the dark room. Off in the distance, I could hear running water falling into a tub.

Where was I? What was going on? My body couldn't move no matter how much my mind was screaming at me to do so.

Footsteps returned to my side. I felt two arms wrap themselves around me and pick me up, holding me against a warm body.

For a moment, I snuggled next to the figure, feeling safe and secure.

I remember being carried into a new room. The same room where I heard the running water coming from.

My feet were the first to be slowly lowered. Something covered my bare feet. It felt cool and wet. Legs. Torso. Arms.

All were submerged in something cool and wet.

I felt my head beginning to slip beneath the water.

Oh my God…I'm going to drown.

Panic overtook Marguerite's mind. She gripped onto the Shadow's arms and began trying to get out of the tub. Water splashed everywhere, getting him wet.

"Marguerite! Marguerite!" Lamont shouted, trying to calm her. "You're running a dangerously high fever. I'm trying to bring it down."

She looked at him, the fear driving into Lamont's side of his psyche.

"It's all right." Lamont soothed, stroking her wet hair. "You're not going to drown."

"Shadow?" Marguerite called out weakly.

"You're suffering from a terrible fever." Lamont said, brushing her forehead with some water.

"Where's Mom and Dad? I want to go home." Marguerite began crying. He felt her pain and fear eating her.

Once again, he was reminded of the men he served with during the Great War. The ones that lay dying of exposed wounds, crying out for their loved ones.

"I know. I know." Lamont soothed. "It's just the fever. I'm not leaving you. It's ok, Marguerite." He felt his pupils dilate as mental energy began pouring out of his mind into Marguerite's.

The blue eyes turned black. Instead of frightening me, a cool and soothing sensation began filling me.

"You're ok Marguerite. Just relax." The soft voice soothed.

Once again, it was so familiar. I felt my body relaxing against the cool enamel of the tub and water.

"Are you thirsty?" The voice called out. I nodded, my throat parched. "Ok. Stay there." The voice went away for a moment. I heard more running water from the sink before whoever it was came back. A hand rested on the back of my head, sitting it upright. "Swallow." An odd tasting pill rested on my tongue. I was tempted to spit it out. "It's aspirin. It'll bring down the fever." The voice said before the familiar sensation of a glass touched my lips. I tasted cold water and began gulping it down greedily.

The glass got pulled away. No…I wanted more. "Marguerite, if you don't slow down, you're going to breathe in water and that's going to hurt a lot more." The voice warned.

I caught my breath before the glass was returned. Every once in a while, the glass was removed long enough for me to breathe. I don't know how long it took but it seemed like forever until I had finished the glass.

Maybe he should check her temperature. Lamont decided after giving the medicine a few minutes to kick in.

Marguerite was still in a daze as he took her temperature. To his relief, she had dropped a couple of degrees. But now she was beginning to shiver. Maybe he should get her out of the tub before it got worse.

Lamont pulled the stopper out and let the water drain. Once the water was out, he was about to pick her up. He realized there was a slight problem. While the water was drained from the tub, her dress was surely waterlogged. It would keep her cold, not to mention making a huge mess.

So what to do?

The answer came to him. Take the dress off.

The idea made him blush. It wasn't that Lamont Cranston was unfamiliar with women with less clothing. Indeed, before his transformation, he enjoyed flings and nights of pleasure.

What made him uncomfortable was the fact that she was more or less unconscious.

He heard the Shadow chuckle in his head. Do you have any better ideas, Cranston?

Lamont had to admit that he didn't and sat Marguerite up to undress her. The buttons on the back were easy to find. Unlatching them while wearing gloves on the other hand…

Cursing, he took the gloves off and returned to unlatching the buttons. Fortunately, Marguerite was still wearing a full length chemise. It was a little wet but he wasn't going to take that off of her.

Leave her some dignity. He thought as he took off his cloak and wrapped her in it. She's been through enough for a day.

Lamont yawned as sunlight crept into her bedroom.

It had been a long night. He thought as he watched Marguerite's chest slowly rise and fall. Her fever had broken about an hour ago and he felt her spirit peacefully sleeping.

God…he was so tired…he thought as he felt his head slipping down. He should lie down and get some rest himself…

What are you doing, Cranston? The Shadow's voice barked in his head, snapping him awake. He looked down and saw his hand touching Marguerite's now cool cheek.

It was soft to the touch. Her hand unconsciously reached up and caught his.

He jerked his hand back, feeling all thoughts of sleep vanish.

Don't develop attachments. It could be deadly. The Shadow warned Lamont Cranston. You remember what happened to Conway when he made that attachment…the one that got her killed.

Lamont's mind burned as he got up and sent out a mental projection to Moe to pick him up.

He remembered what happened to poor Helene…and how her tragic end tore Conway apart.

And how it made Lamont vow to never get close to another person again.

A/N: Yeah…this isn't my best but I can't come up with anything good for this one. And in the next couple of chapters, you're going to learn about this attachment Conway made…and why the Shadow is so desperate for Lamont to not be attached to anyone.