'Okay, Meg. Breathe. Breathe. You both are so out of it right now. He probably thinks you're his fiancee. Just get him off the floor. He's okay, you're okay, get him off the floor.'

Meg realized her entire body was shaking, and forced herself to push down any ideas that didn't involve hunger or fatigue. "Joe, come on. Sit up with me. We can't stay on the floor." From Joe's side, she tried to slide an arm under his shoulders and help him lift himself forward, but her angle was again terrible. The space was just too small, even with Joe's marginal effort to help. 'Whatever cosmic being out there is conspiring against me right now, please stop,' Meg thought, 'Because I can't take much more of this, and Dave is going to fire me himself.'

"Okay, Joe. New plan. Hold still." Meg lifted her hand from his chest and slid that arm behind him, placed a knee between his legs, and braced her other leg against the doorframe. "Just try to sit up with me, okay? I'm still here. When you feel me move, move with me." She pulled as hard as she could, thrusting her leg into the doorframe, and almost dropped Joe entirely when she felt every muscle across his chest and stomach tense against her as they began to move upright. 'Meg, no. Don't. Don't let go because he's gonna fall, but don't do this. Dave was right, and you are fucking up. He's confused. Please, God, just let him be confused.' Joe wrapped his arms around her back, and his head fell forward into the crook of her neck.

His breath was hot against her skin, and the scruff of his beard rasped up and down against her collarbone. Meg felt his arms tighten down the length of her spine, and he lifted her up against his chest, murmured about roses, whispered something about caramel, why she was cold, his lips brushing her neck, then her jawline, and reality slammed into her – Joe was not only raising his lips towards hers, but at some point she had pulled her leg from the doorframe behind him up against his back, drawing him in, and hadn't taken her arms from behind him. 'Meg, get up. Right. Now. You're not his fiancee.'

Slowly, she lowered her leg and slid her arms away from him, cupping the sides of his face and easing him backwards to look at her. "Joe? Joe, I need you to look at me. Do you know my name?"

Joe, eyes open as much as he could muster, looked directly up into Meg's face, never moving his hands from her back. "I know...roses. I know," his features gentle and calm for the first time since her arrival, "Meg. You came back. Don't leave anymore, Meg."

'Oh shit. Oh shit, shit, shit,' Meg screamed at herself in her head, 'I didn't mean to...it's not just...now what the fuck do I do? Calm down. Keep him calm, and you calm down.'

Offering a small, shaky smile, Meg nodded, having every intent of reaching behind her to help him release his grip on her spine. Her fingers had other ideas, and she began to rub small circles over his temples with her thumbs. Joe closed his eyes and pulled Meg into him firmly. Shaking her head to clear it, Meg slid her hands down to his shoulders and gently pushed Joe back again. He shivered and gripped the back of her shirt in his hands.

"Don't leave, Meg. Don't."

"I'm not, Joe. I won't. But we need to stand up. We can't stay in here. Let go for just a second - I'm only going to move behind you after we talk."

Crouching between his legs and forcing him to look her in the eyes, Meg filled a plastic hotel cup with water and offered him shallow sips while explaining how he would have to get his feet underneath him for a second time that night. She couldn't afford another fall. He could be hurt, she could be pinned, any number of things could go wrong. Scooting behind him and latching her arms as far as she could around his chest, Meg asked if he was ready.

"Meg...just stay. Don't leave."

"I'm going to stay. And that didn't answer my question, so here we go. When I move, you move with me. Push straight up, just like before. Don't walk yet."

Heaving upward as hard as she could, she felt him rise shakily with her, and so quickly tipped herself toward the counter. It didn't matter if he landed on her upright against the counter, as long as they stayed upright. In her daze, Meg had forgotten it would be her right hip making impact first, and her leg almost went out from under her. She slammed her face into Joe's back, never realizing she dug her nails into his chest, trying to stifle yet another scream and regretting for the millionth time that she told him to hold on to her as hard as he needed to. She broke out into a cold sweat, and white light rolled over her eyes in waves. Panting, she shifted as much as she could to turn their collective weight from her right side and turn toward the bed.

Joe simply felt vertigo haul him upwards yet again, and then suddenly the world tilted until his hands pressed into the edge of something solid. Sudden pinpricks of pain flashed across his chest where her hands were, disappearing as quickly as they had appeared. 'She's still here, those are her arms, her hands, she didn't go. Her hands feel so...what was that?'

"Okay...Joe," Meg struggled to catch her breath and compose herself, "Slide along the counter with me until you feel the doorframe. We're going to do the reverse of...whatever the fuck you did to get in here. I think. Just move with me. I'm right here."

"No."

Meg felt the brakes slam on again. 'Oh Jesus Christ NOW WHAT; my leg is going to break off if I don't get him to a bed. Please, please, please Joe, just move. Please just move.'

"What do you mean 'No,' Joe? What's wrong? Come on, move with me."

"You did something. Your hands." Joe, still not completely back to the land of the fully-composed, also wasn't as far gone as he had been a few minutes ago. He simply refused to move, knowing she couldn't force him. The constant motion of her cold hands, her voice – pleasant, but firm, that omnipresent perfume of hers, the water, all were bringing him back from whatever ether he had been in. 'Don't lie, Joe. Holding her, too. You know what you felt, holding her. You're lucky she didn't feel it.'

"My head hurts, that's all." She wasn't going to chance upsetting him over her hip. Not when he put the bruises there. Not to mention, she didn't know what he meant about her hands.

"Meg, don't lie."

"Joe, we need to lay down. Just move with me. Your head hurts, too." Meg kicked herself as soon as it slipped from her mouth. 'We, dumbass? No, HE needs to lay down. You need to take a cold shower and call your boyfriend or join a convent. And you need to figure out what you did with your hands, because it better not have been anything stupid.'

The only word that registered with Joe was 'we.' He resumed shuffling along with her behind him, feeling the texture of the wallpaper under his palms, then edge of the bed against his leg. "Okay, Joe. You're here. Just lean to your right, I'm going to lean with you." Meg didn't have a choice on this one; she had to at least guide him onto the bed to make sure he didn't hit the floor again. However, she was going to make a fast exit from behind him and hightail it to the ice machine. He leaned, but brought his hands up over hers on his chest as he moved. 'You fucker. You sneaky fucker, now what am I-' Meg's internal rant was cut off as his tilt became a fall and she had to yank her right leg up underneath her to catch herself from flipping entirely and being unable to steady him. This time, there was nothing she could do to catch her cry of pain, but she did manage to prevent him from going over deadweight onto the bed.

"You lied."

Blinking hard and trying to push herself away from Joe's massive back, Meg had to struggle to get enough space to talk. "Lied about what, Joe? I'm still here."

"You said your head hurt."

"And you think flipping onto a bed wouldn't make it hurt more?" Sarcasm likely wouldn't help the situation, but Meg was out of options.

"That's not the only thing."

Joe dragged his legs onto the bed as he rolled, scooping hers along under his. 'Well, this is great. I'm half-stuck under him, on the side that hurts, and I think he's about to roll on top of me. Hey, Cosmic Being, can I please get some fucking ice now?'

"Am I on the bed?" The fall to the bed was a bit faster than he anticipated it being, as though he had forgotten how tall he was and how far down he had to go to before he hit mattress.

"Yeah, but I'm kinda stuck. Can I move a little, please?"

"You won't leave?"

"We've been over this. I have to get ice. I'm coming back." Sarcasm gave way to annoyance, and Meg quickly shut her mouth. She knew it wasn't helping things, nor was it his fault that he was so rattled.

"No."

Meg pounded her one available fist on the mattress and flailed until she was able to drag herself out from under him. Out of sheer frustration, she slammed her hands down on the fronts of his shoulders, leaned as far over him as she could, and brought her face precipitously close to his.

"Listen. To. Me. You need ice. I need ice. There is no ice in this room. I have to go get the ice. You're right, I lied. My head does hurt; so does my hip. I am coming back. All of my shit is in your room; you are in this room, and tonight I am supposed to be watching you. Stop arguing with me and let me do my job. My job is getting the fucking ice."

Joe watched the medallion on her necklace dangle over his throat for the second time that night. Even angry, her body threw no heat, just fragrance. 'How does that happen?' Then, for the second time that night, crumpling the back of Meg's shirt in one hand and tangling her hair in the other, he pulled her towards him, this time not stopping until he pulled her into a fragile kiss, afraid if he let go she would shatter into the frozen rose petals he swore he remembered, and he would be alone again.