Log Date:
	6/10/97

Log Cast:
	Paul Nighman, Shenneret Veery, Mrs. Tsuma (NPC), Li Hua (NPC)

Log Intro:
	Shenner and Paul have been holed up at the Kind Hearts and
Coronets inn for the last several days in Coronet City on Corellia. Paul
has immersed himself in the study of the artifacts he obtained from his
father's University -- almost too deeply for Shenner's peace of mind, for
her friend has seemed obsessed with his work, to the point of forgetting
when to eat or sleep. She has in fact caught him passed out at his desk,
and if that hadn't been enough to disturb her, the exhausted Paul further
alarmed the girl by seeming to dream that he was making love with her...
and confessing once she'd managed to wake him up that he'd written her
a song. Ever since then, Shenner has found herself tormented, her heart
insisting that Paul's fallen in love with her even as her mind refuses
to believe it. Convincing herself that she must stay out of Paul's way
while he works -- and hoping to use her absence at his side as a way
to settle down the turmoil in her head regarding him -- Shenner begins
to leave him to his work, but fails to notice as she does that he is
getting ill, even as she sends out a discreet query about his behavior...

----------
[HoloNet Transmission
 From: Shenneret Veery
 To: Dr. Molari Canto
 Subject: About Paul]

	The HoloNet image comes to life in the form of Shenner's
	thin young face, her features set in an earnest and somewhat
	nervous expression. Her gaze squarely in the direction of what
	must have been the recorder that took her message, the girl
	begins:

	"Hiya, Dr. Canto... I, uh, guess I'm probably the last
	person you'd expect to get a message from, but I couldn't think of
	anybody else to ask this.

	"First off, uhm, I'm with Paul and we're on Corellia, we
	came here to see Paul's dad, you see." Shenner blows out a breath.
	"This didn't go over too well, I think, but Paul didn't say
	nothin' much to me about it, and I ain't buggin' him, but it's been
	on my mind 'cause ever since we last talked to his dad, he's been
	all hung up in our hotel room studyin' the artifacts we got outta
	the University basement." The girl's tone turns slowly, palpably
	more worried. "It's been four days now, sir, and Paul's kinda
	forgotten about when he's supposed to sleep and eat, and I kinda
	think he forgets I'm stayin' with him unless I actually come right
	up to him and make him look at me.

	"I'm just wonderin', since you've known Paul longer 'n'
	I have... is this... _normal_?"

	Shenner smiles anxiously and finishes, "This is where
	we're at so if you need to get in touch with me, I'm at the Kind
	Hearts and Coronets inn in Coronet City. Thanks."

	And the holo winks out.

[HoloNet Transmission
 From: Dr. Molari Canto
 To: Shenneret Veery
 Subject: Re: About Paul]

	The HoloNet image snaps on, clearly Dr. Molari Canto, sitting in his
	living room.  The giant eyes blink twice before he begins speaking.

	"Greetings Shenner.  Hope all is going well with you.  Yes, I was very
	surprised to receive your message.  Surprised, but pleased," he adds
	pleasantly, his voice still the rich rough timbre from the last time 
	they spoke.  "As for you question, yes, Paul does frequently go into 
	massive bouts of study, frequently at physical cost to himself.  
	Sometimes it is harmless except for the fact that he can make himself 
	physically ill if he is particularly bullheaded about it.  In this 
	case, however, I must admit," he adds with a hint of worry creeping 
	into his voice, "that he may have other forces driving him.  You see, 
	I received a call from Paul's father the other day.  I have been 
	wondering about it for some time now, as it did not really make a 
	great deal of sense to me at the time."  The Mon Calamari tips his 
	head to one side and then the other.  "He made xenoarchaeology chit 
	chat at first, but then began to ask subtle questions that ended up 
	leading to Paul and what I knew of his business and doings.  I 
	answered honestly enough, and he signed off after awhile, with no
	apparent reason for his call.  He did not, however, mention that he 
	saw you and Paul at all.  So, there is a possibility that something 
	very serious passed between them, which would certainly add fuel to 
	Paul's oft time obsessive fire.  Is this normal?  Well, not in my 
	opinion?  Is it unusual behavior for Paul?  Unfortunately, it is not.  
	I will warn you though my dear, that Paul does use his work to drown 
	out his worries." 

	He tilts his head toward the screen, his eyes blinking earnestly.  
	"I hope that things have improved, and I apologize for the lateness 
	of my response - I've been at a conference.  If you have any questions 
	or concerns, please don't hesitate to call me either at the academy, 
	or here at my home ... the address is in the linkup."  He nods then 
	and settles back into his chair a little tiredly.  "Fare well Shenner, 
	and may the tides flow your way," he offers in closing, and the image 
	goes dark.

----------
It had been days, he knew that much was correct. If he had been paying 
  attention, he would have known that it had been about four days since his 
  somewhat embarrassing scene with Shenner. Since then, he had been taking 
  greater efforts to get more sleep than he had been, eating more regularly 
  too. That had been successful in no small measure to Shenner, who acted like 
  a time piece for him, showing up at mealtimes and at bedtime, but leaving 
  him alone to work the rest of the time. He could depend on her to keep 
  himself honest. However, despite his best intentions and her quiet support, 
  he had to admit that he felt like shit. Leaning against the window frame, 
  Paul took little comfort in the breeze that blew inward, sweating despite 
  it. His eyes ached, though spots no longer formed before them in bright 
  light situations. In fact, his whole body ached. He had taken a cold shower 
  moments before, and was astonished to find sweat mixing in with the cold 
  water still on his skin and in his hair. _Must have caught a bug or 
  something_ he rationalized, slipping on his glasses for the upteenth time 
  and reading through another document on jewelry design and metalworking. He 
  pinched his nose, trying to stave off the headache that he could feel coming 
  on. Perhaps he had been reading too much today? Determined to finish this 
  paper, he concentrated on the words despite his body's warnings.

The door whishes open, and Shen's quiet tenorish voice announces her arrival. 
  Quiet, indeed; the girl's been strangely subdued for the past few days, 
  though no sign she's given indicates that's she's upset about anything. 
  "Paul? I'm back..."
Shenner comes into the room, her carisak slung over her shoulder. Today she's 
  forsaken the guitar in favor of the flutes, but her bag is stuffed with her 
  datapad and holodiscs as well. The girl is windblown and beginning to tan a 
  little from the days she's been spending outside.

Finishing the last paragraph allows Paul to drop the paper with a hint of 
  satisfaction, regardless of the cost. His head pounding and his eyes aching, 
  he manages to smile at Shen. _That's it_ he decides. _Enough ... I'm going 
  to just quit early for a change and give my body a chance to work through 
  this bug_ He is still quite tan, but there is a somewhat sickly pallor 
  shining from beneath the normally healthy color. He thinks about moving, but 
  the idea of stepping away from the cooling breeze into the stifling hot room 
  makes him stay put. "How did your day go?" he asks conversationally, his 
  smile growing a little wider at his expectation of Shenner's relief when he 
  tells her that he's going to take the rest of the night off. She may have 
  been quiet, he may have been preoccupied, but he wasn't -completely- blind. 
  He knows that she is worried about him, but to try to explain to her why he 
  was compelled to push himself the way he was, well he just didn't have the 
  time or energy to spare to do so.

Shen grins crookedly as she steps her way through the sorted arrangements of 
  items still strewn about the floor, and then she plops down on the bed, 
  facing the Corellian. "I think I gotta grip on quadratic equations," she 
  offers. "Somethin' went 'click' today... and it suddenly made sense. So I 
  finished that lesson disc up."

Remaining in the window frame, Paul raises one eyebrow at her, cocking his 
  head and giving her an approving grin. "I'm impressed," he informs her. "I 
  also have an announcement," he intones gravely. "I'm taking the rest of the 
  night off."

The young redhead's grin suddenly, momentarily, flares into a bright smile 
  before she seems to force herself to restrain it down to a simple grin 
  again. "Yeah? Well, good... this mean you wanna go out for food, or what?"

_Out?_ Suddenly the idea of even moving seems too overwhelming to Paul. _I 
  need a minute to pull myself together ... take something for my head and 
  fever ..._ He puts on his best casual grin and murmurs, "Why don't we have a 
  nice quiet dinner in? We could take out from some place fancy?"
Paul says "I'll tidy up if you'll pick it up," he offers with a sly wink.

"Deal," replies Shenner readily, her smile flaring up again, and her eyes 
  brightening despite her recent quiet. She hops right back up, grinning at 
  her friend; for a moment, though, she pauses there, peering at him in the 
  dimming evening light. "Whatcha wanna eat?"

_Feed a cold, starve a fever? Or is it the other way around?_ Well, however 
  the rhyme goes, Paul knows two things. One, he isn't the least bit hungry, 
  and two, if he wants to get better he'll probably need some protein. 
  "Howsabout some Nerf?" he offers expansively. "Let's go all out."

Green eyes peer a little more intently at Paul's face, but if Shenner notices 
  anything amiss, she gives no sign of it. "Steaks? Or just sandwiches, or 
  what?" She grins again, hopefully. "I could bring back some cider or 
  somethin'. Maybe Li's mom'll let us use her holovid?"

There is a queasy feeling in Paul's stomach that seems oddly familiar somehow. 
  However, he nods in approval of Shen's suggestions. "Steaks," he confirms, 
  "and yeah, cider and a holovid sound like just the ticket to me."

Shen struggles a moment to hide the burst of relief and pleasure that lights 
  up her face, and for the most part, she succeeds in simply looking 
  pleasantly eager. "I know just where to go!" she pipes, whirling to dash out 
  the door. "I'll be back real fast, okay?"

Paul nods again and waves a little weakly. "No need to rush," he says, hoping 
  in fact that she'll take her time and give him a chance to gather himself 
  and clean the place up a bit. "I ain't going anywhere," he reassures her.

The girl flashes a grin back over her shoulder, and with that, is gone, 
  clearly elated at the task she's set herself.

Paul places a hand on the window sill and eases himself upright slowly. It's 
  hard to know if he had always been feeling this bad, or if it had just snuck 
  up on him while he was concentrating on other things. Now, however, all he 
  wants to do is curl up in bed and collapse. He begins to straighten up 
  around the room, putting papers in tidy piles, moving artifacts out of the 
  way, and clearing out the room. By the time he is finished, the room looks 
  halfway decent. Paul, on the other hand is drenched in sweat, feeling 
  alternately hot and cold. Frowning, Paul stumbles into the bathroom and 
  splashes some cold water on his face, the rubs vigorously with a towel. He 
  strips off his shirt and drops it in the refresher bin and then stumbles out 
  again, heading for his luggage to pull out another shirt. A wave of 
  dizziness catches him offguard, and he barely keeps himself from tipping 
  over by catching himself against the bed. The loud buzzing that he thought 
  was the printer becomes more insistent. Amidst all of this, a small sane 
  fraction of his mind interpolates all of the incoming data and draws a 
  conclusion. As he turns toward the bed, feeling his aching muscles give way, 
  the last thought that crosses his mind is, "Oh no ... not again ..." before 
  he slumps forward, falling heavily across the bed, his eyes rolling up and 
  his consciousness abandoning him.

Half an hour passes, in which an increasingly excited Shenner hastens off to 
  the place she'd had in mind -- a restaurant not too far away from the 
  gigantic marketplace in which she'd encountered Randal, the waiter from the 
  Black Dragon. Ordering up a couple of hot meals she can haul back in their 
  tidy little heated containers, she carries these and a quickly purchased 
  pack of bottles of flavored cider back to the inn. Just as pleased, if more 
  quietly, that Paul has agreed to spend a quiet night relaxing, Li Hua's 
  mother cheerfully agrees to let Shenner have the run of the holovid unit in 
  the inn's common room for the evening, and, with both her missions 
  accomplished, the young woman charges eagerly back up to her room. This time 
  her return is rather more ebullient, as she calls with the door's opening, 
  "Paul! I got the food, and Li's got a brand new holo-thriller we can w--"

Shirtless and sprawled across the bed sideway, Paul doesn't look like he lay 
  down to take a little nap. His left arm is reaching out forward while his 
  right one, which had been clinging to one of the bed posts, is how twisted 
  behind him in a position that does not look comfortable. He is obviously 
  sweating, and yet at the same time, seems to be almost subtly vibrating.

Shenner chokes off her cheerful greeting, alarmed. Plunking down her burdens, 
  she dashes to the bed, crying, "Paul?!"

The man doesn't react to her cry, being quite soundly unconcious. However, if 
  she should touch his face, she will find it extremely hot and feverish, 
  while the rest of his skin, though sweating, is cold and clammy to the 
  touch. His color is very pale, with the exception of bright fever spots of 
  color on his cheekbones.

Stunned into immobility by the sight before her -- when she'd left, Paul had 
  been awake! -- Shenner gapes, before scrambling to turn her friend over on 
  his back, as carefully as she can. Feeling the fire in his forehead and 
  cheeks, the girl can only think, _OhmiGODS,_ as she shakes him, trying to 
  wake him up. "Paul? Paul?! Can you hear me? Paul!"

His body is a heavy weight, which is not easily moved. As she shakes him, he 
  doesn't come to right away, and then after a moment, it's not exactly 
  consciousness, but he does react. His eyes flutter open for a moment, only 
  long enough to take in Shenner's frantic face, but when he surges forward to 
  try and rise, his head spins and he tips backward onto the bed again, his 
  eyes shutting, his form going from rigid struggling control back into a 
  supine position.

_OhmiGODS ohmiGODS he's sick when did he get sick?! he's got a fever -- a 
  FEVER...!_ Memory seizes Shenner, then, and she dives for her medikit, 
  tearing into it to fetch the thermometer Paul had shown her how to use. 
  Scrambling with it back to his side, she punches the tiny device's power 
  switch and then nestles it carefully against his ear, her gaze locking 
  anxiously on the readout.

It only takes a second to make its determination and then it beeps firmly. 
  Upon a glance, its reading indicates that his body temperature is at 101.8 
  degrees.

The girl has absolutely no idea what the standard temperature of the human body 
  is, but it doesn't take formal schooling for her to know that this is 
  clearly Too High. She realizes with a hitch in her chest that she has 
  absolutely no idea, either, what to do about this -- thus, as quickly as she 
  can, she leans over Paul and breathes worriedly, "I'll be right back," 
  returns the thermometer to the medikit, and bolts out the door. Taking the 
  steps three at a time, she bellows at the top of her bardic lungs, "LI! MRS. 
  TSUMA! HELP!"

Shenner's frantic voice and excessive volume have both women rushing to the 
  bottom of the stairs, Li's face curious and puzzled, her mother's, Mrs. 
  Tsuma, concerned, almost alarmed, but composed. After raising four children, 
  she is more than accustomed to frantic cries. Problem is, sometimes they 
  were overwrought with no reason, and other times they more than earned it. 
  An almost elderly woman, with her graying hair tied back in a complex knot 
  at the nape of her neck, Mrs. Tsuma is the picture of elegance and gracious 
  living. Raising a hand to Shen's rushing form she replies, "Child, slow 
  down, and don't scream so ... after all, there are other people staying 
  here," she chides gently, grateful that it isn't a few hours later. She 
  would be sure to have guests coming out and glaring down the stairs. 
  Gracious, but the girl has a healthy pair of lungs on her. "Now, what's 
  wrong?"

"Paul's collapsed on the bed, he's sweating and I can't wake him up, the 
  thermometer says he's got a temperature over 101 -- please," Shenner 
  finishes, bursting through the words with the same speed with which she'd 
  charged down the stairs, "I-I don't know what to do, please, help?"

With a commanding hand, she takes over the situation easily. Turning to Li, 
  she murmurs quietly, "Li, go get the medical kit and meet me upstairs." She 
  places her hand on Shenner's shoulder. "There there, he probably just caught 
  some bug and let it run its course too far ... it's a high fever, but it 
  won't kill him," she assures the frantic girl. Pressing the same hand 
  against Shenner's back, she indicates that she should go back up, and at a 
  somewhat slower pace, Mrs. Tsuma follows.

Shenner would just as soon tear right back up the stairs, but out of 
  consideration to the older woman following after her, the girl restrains her 
  pace until they reach the room she's sharing with Paul. Once there, she has 
  to force herself to keep from shoving Mrs. Tsuma towards the bed; Shenner 
  herself scrambles to Paul's side, anxious to ascertain that he hasn't gotten 
  any worse.

Paul doesn't seem any worse or any better. Mrs. Tsuma frowns, sitting down 
  next to him and touching his forehead, and then checking his pulse. She 
  looks up to Shenner and says, "Dear, go get a washcloth and a basin from the 
  bathroom - fill the basin with cold water and soak the cloth in it, will 
  you?" She then returns her attention to Paul, tsking at him thoughtfully. 
  Although he looks much worse than she had expected, she is determined not to 
  panic the girl any further, but see if tender ministrations will help. 
  However, she determines, if his fever and pulse rate aren't improved by the 
  morrow, she will definitely call in the medical center. She opens both of 
  Paul's eyes, and is content to find the pupils normal.

Pursing her lips tightly, her eyes wide and dark but at the moment without any 
  tears, Shenner immediately moves to obey Mrs. Tsuma, and is back within 
  moments with the items she's requested. "I just... found him like this," she 
  says roughly. "I came back for dinner and... he was talkin' to me, and said 
  he w... wanted to take the night off, and I said... I'd go and get food, and 
  when I got back, he..."

Reaching forward with a motherly touch, Mrs. Tsuma fixes her gaze to Shenner's 
  own, her hand to her shoulder. "Relax dear, he isn't going to die. He's just 
  sick, and it's probably his own fault for being such a stubborn mule of a 
  child. Now, we need to bring his body temperature down, so the best thing we 
  can do is sponge him down with cold water and keep a cold compress on his 
  head. Ah Li," she murmurs contentedly as her daughter enters the room and 
  hands her the medical kit. This one is quite a bit larger than the one Paul 
  owns or the one he gave Shenner, and as Mrs. Tsuma opens it, she pulls out a 
  few bottles, peering at the labels thoughtfully. "Li, go bring me a spoon, 
  will you?" When Li doesn't move, staring down in surprise and consternation 
  at Paul's unconcious form, her mother's voice takes on a parental tone that 
  brooks no delay or arguement. "Li ... -now-."

"I shoulda noticed," mutters Shenner contritely, even as she moves to follow 
  Mrs. Tsuma's advice. Her hands are far more steady than her voice as the 
  youngster brings the cool soaked washcloth up to mop it awkwardly over 
  Paul's forehead.

Li, appropriately cowed, dashes out the door and down the stairs to fetch the 
  spoon. Mrs. Tsuma looks up, puzzled for a moment at Shenner's comment. 
  "Wring out the washcloth first," she advises. "Noticed what dear?"

Again the girl obeys, twisting the cloth over the basin and letting it drip 
  before crinkling her nose at it and folding it, and then brushing it across 
  Paul's brow and cheeks. Looking as though she'd committed some unpardonable 
  sin, Shenner mumbles huskily, "I shoulda noticed if he was gettin' sick."

"Nonsense!" Mrs. Tsuma corrects her brusquely. "What are you, his mother? No 
  dear, sometimes all it takes for a virus to get a good hold on a person is 
  for them the let themselves get run down ... he's probably had a low grade 
  fever, maybe a headache and some congestion for about a day or so ... 
  nothing you could detect without him bringing it to your attention most 
  likely." Li re-enter's the room holding forth the spoon like it was a sacred 
  grail. "Ah, good, alright girls, let's get him more comfortable, shall we?" 
  She rises from the bed and sets up some pillows by the headboard, pulling 
  back the covers. "Alright, let's try to shift him over," she murmurs, taking 
  Paul by the shoulders. Li heads, uncertainly, for his legs.

_I'm not his Mom, but... I'm all he's got right now,_ Shenner thinks tinily, 
  but she says nothing. The redheaded bard gets out of the way, but not far, 
  her one hand tightening involuntarily on the still-wet cloth, her other just 
  as involuntarily stretched a bit towards Paul as the other two women begin 
  to shift him on the bed.

He is dead weight, and Li and her mother are having a hard time moving him. 
  "Come on girl, push at his waist or something?" Mrs. Tsuma orders.

Shenner bobs her head and quickly moves in to assist, crouching down slightly 
  to help lever up Paul as best he can. "C'mon, Paul," she whispers. "Up..."

It isn't the most graceful move, but he is eventually shifted into position. 
  Mrs. Tsuma wipes her hands delicately on her skirt and then taking the spoon 
  that Li brought her, she pours a fair measure of an amber liquid into it. 
  "Hold up his head," she requests to Shenner.

This, too, Shenner does, slipping her arm under Paul's slack head and propping 
  it gently up. The pulse of _ohmiGODS_ in the back of her head has subsided 
  into a dull drone of worry, and, sternly, she forces herself to concentrate 
  on the matter at hand.

Carefully spooning the liquid into Paul's mouth, Mrs. Tsuma makes sure that he 
  swallows it before feeding him another spoonful of another somewhat blue 
  liquid. She considers for a moment and decides to give him one last spoonful 
  of a reddish liquid, in case it's a biotic infection. "There," she murmurs, 
  packing everything up. "I've given him something for his fever, a general 
  cold remedy, and just in case, an anti-biotic." Nodding to Li, she rises and 
  heads for the door.

_That's it?!_ Shen's mind gibbers. With an effort, the girl forces herself to 
  stay calm, and she manages to sound more or less steady as she asks, "What 
  do I need to do, ma'am?"

Pausing at the door, Mrs. Tsuma looks back to Shen. "There isn't much else we 
  can do except to see if this helps him or not. You'll want to keep up with 
  the cold compresses and sponge off his body to keep his temperature down. 
  Normal is approximately 98.6 degrees. If his temperature rises to 103 or 
  higher, get me immediately. Otherwise, so long as he doesn't worsen he'll be 
  fine until morning." She frowns slightly, jerking her head to indicate to Li 
  that she should leave. Li, casting one more disconcerted glance at Paul's 
  form gives Shenner a sympathetic glance and a small shrug before she quietly 
  exits. "Howeve, if he is the same tomorrow morning, we will definitely want 
  to see a doctor."

Taking all this in, Shenner gravely nods, and says hoarsely, "Thank you... 
  I'll... take care of him."

With a gentle, encouraging smile, Mrs. Tsuma nods. "I know you will dear, and 
  feel free to get me if you are concerned," she replies, then adding quickly, 
  as an afterthought, "We're the first door to the right of the stair on the 
  ground level - just ring the bell." She smiles again at Shen and hopes that 
  the girl will not come barreling down screeching at the top of her lungs 
  again this evening, and with a wave of her hand, she is out the door, which 
  closes with a soft swish.

Alone again, Shenner swallows hard, and returns to Paul's side, sitting down 
  on the edge of the bed and studying him, her gaze growing liquid now that 
  there is no one to see her. Stubbornly, she blinks her vision clear, and 
  settles down to think hard. Keep him cool, Mrs. Tsuma had advised. _Well, 
  okay, so I better not cover him up..._
With that, Shen sets herself to methodically wiping down the Corellian's 
  unmoving frame with the cloth and the cool water, and after a few moments of 
  doing this, she has to fight off a heated blush. Sleeping next to Paul is 
  one thing, but this is prolonged contact with her wide awake, more than 
  enough time for her to memorize every single detail of Paul's bare chest and 
  belly. She works her way up his body till at last she reaches his face gain, 
  struggling not to cry all the while. _Why the kark didn't I notice you were 
  sick?!_
As minutes begin to slide into hours, the worried girl takes what comfort she 
  can in falling into a rhythm in her vigil: take her ailing friend's 
  temperature, empty the water bowl when its contents grow too tepid, fill it 
  with fresh cold water, begin the task of bathing Paul with the washcloth all 
  over again. As she'd done while guarding him on Tatooine when Dane Noth had 
  shot him, Shenner sings to him, lowly, roughly, both in the hope of giving 
  him something onto which to latch should he wake up, and in the hope of 
  keeping herself steady enough to tend him.

His chest rises and falls evenly over the hours, his only motion the entire 
  time. As she methodically, almost religiously tends to him, his body 
  temperature eases and drops. Still feverish, but dropping down to only 100 
  degrees, Paul finally begins to stir into something similar, but not quite 
  conciousness. He begins to shiver, with imagined cold brought on by fever 
  chills. And finally he shifts slightly, curling up toward Shenner, the only 
  heat source he can hone in on. His lips move slightly and he mumbles 
  something, responding to her voice as well as her warmth.

Her throat has begun to ache ever so slightly, after all the time she's been 
  quietly singing. Now, startled out of the cycle into which she'd placed 
  herself, Shenner pauses with the cold cloth on Paul's chest, and says 
  softly, "Paul?"

His arms slide along the bed to find her, pulling her closer, or perhaps 
  himself closer. He continues to shiver and in a soft helpless voice he 
  murmurs "I'm sorry, so-oo sorry ..." brokenly, and in slurred tones.

Shen feels a lump rising in her throat as Paul fumbles for her. Scooting 
  nearer so that his arms can touch her, she leans down closer to him, 
  stroking the cold cloth up to his face. "It's okay," she whispers. "Shh... 
  it's okay, Paul."

His arms wrap about her for warmth, for comfort. His torso continues to shake 
  with chills that cannot possibly be warmed. He whimpers, a vulnerable and 
  almost frightening noise coming out of him. "Scold," he mumbles, gripping 
  her tightly. "Sorry, sorry, sorry ...."

With Paul practically crawling into her lap, and with the vehement way he's 
  trembling, Shenner finds it harder now to bathe his face. Biting her lip, 
  she wraps her left arm around him while stroking the back of his neck with 
  the cloth, and she tells him huskily, "Nothin' to be sorry about, pal... 
  shhh... it's okay... I ain't mad... I promise! Shhh..."

"If I'm good will you stay?" he asks in a plaintive voice, his face buried 
  against her side, his voice unfocused and wavery. "It's not my fault she 
  died," he mumbles blurrily, his fever making his mind a gateway for all 
  sorts of guilt associated memories.

That lump in Shenner's throat swells, out and down. She swallows hard, and 
  pauses in her ministrations to cradle Paul in both her arms now. "'Course 
  I'm gonna stay," she breathes into his nearer ear. "Not your fault. It's 
  okay. It's okay."

Her words seem to penetrate the fevered haze, because the tension in his frame 
  starts to dissolve. His shivers begin to lessen, but his grip about Shenner 
  remains firm. He sighs deeply, nuzzling her side, comforted. "'ove you," he 
  mumbles into her stomach.

Shen stops cold for a moment, not sure she'd heard what she thought she did in 
  that slurred mumble. Her vision blurs over with tears in that same moment; 
  her heart and her mind, having eagerly seized on Paul's offered song four 
  days ago, grab hold of that brief mutter with equal vigor. _Hear that? Did 
  you hear that? Did he really say that?_ _He's _delirious_! Hells karkin' 
  bells, maybe he thinks I'm his mother!_ This round of internal argument is 
  much harder to silence than her last one, and with difficulty, Shenner 
  finally blinks her gaze clear again. She can't help but brush her hand 
  through his hair all the same, and that his hair is tangled and 
  sweat-darkened does not once cross her mind.

His shuddering stills at her touch, and he releases another soft sigh, 
  nuzzling against her side and then placing a kiss there. "Sleep with me," he 
  murmurs dreamily, echoing his words from Tatooine, but with a very different 
  intonation.

Triumphantly, Shenner's heart chortles to her mind, _He wouldn't do _THAT_ to 
  his mother!_ Shenner's mind, by way of response, reels in disorientation and 
  dismay, not knowing what to provide in counterargument. Shenner herself 
  swallows again and mutters roughly, "Maybe if you ask me that when you know 
  who you're talkin' to...", under her breath.

There is no response to her muttered request, just the gentle and steady rise 
  of his side. His face shifts as he begins to fall asleep, slipping from her 
  side to her lap. Although it looks peaceful enough now, there are traces of 
  tears still there.

_Ohmigods_, Shenner thinks, but drainedly, this time. Suddenly craving one of 
  the ciders she'd brought back to the room, she starts to get up, trying to 
  move as carefully and slowly as she can.

Paul makes a soft noise of distress, but his hands release her, as if he knows 
  or thinks that he has no right to hold on.

She pauses, then leans over and places a gentle kiss on his brow. "I'll be 
  right back," she promises him, easing him back onto his back. "I won't go 
  away... it's okay." Shen hastens then to the ciders, pops one open and chugs 
  down a good third of it, letting the small amount of alcohol in it begin to 
  soothe her frazzling nerves before she returns to Paul's side. _Gettin' 
  late,_ she thinks. Does she dare sleep? Can she sleep, with Paul still 
  incoherent, and hot to the touch? Remembering her own advice to him, knowing 
  she'll need to rest to take the best care of him, she sits down beside him 
  once more, her face creased in thought.

Although still overly warm to the touch, his color has improved, having lost 
  the sickly pallor that he had before. His breathing seems easy enough, and 
  instead of having the terrifying inertness of unconciousness, he seems more 
  naturally asleep now.

It is with a sense of reluctance that Shenner at last sets the bedside chrono 
  to wake her up in two hours. Kicking off her boots, she stretches out 
  cautiously beside Paul on the bed, murmuring to him anxiously, "I gotta 
  sleep... don't you _dare_ get any worse, Paul... please..." And she lifts a 
  hand to his forehead, even as she lies down.

Sensitive to her voice, her touch, Paul mumbles softly, nothing coherent 
  though, and rolls over toward her. Now hot, he doesn't draw close to her, 
  but one heated palm does stray until it makes contact with her flesh, and 
  then stops, contented.

Shenner's mind and heart still vigorously battle in the back of her awareness. 
  Conscious that she desperately wants him to have murmured what she thought 
  he did -- and meant it, as well as that song, in the way she'd thought he 
  did -- the girl can't quite bring herself to believe it. But mind and heart 
  are in agreement on one thing: the importance of keeping in her immediate 
  line of sight that face which has grown precious to her, until at last she 
  can allow herself to drop into sleep.

[To be continued....]