She developed a strong fever over the next few days. She shivered, still asleep, on the couch, no matter how many warm blankets they gave her. She started mumbling things in her sleep, delirious, and incomprehensible. Emmett woke up early every day to sit by her in the peaceful silence of the dawn, without his mother or sister telling him not to worry so much. They could heal her, but he always savored that precious hour or two of silence and solitude with Amelia.
That seventh day, he sat next to her, holding her hand, gazing at her. She opened her eyes, the first time she had since she'd collapsed into Dan's arms. Those grey eyes were dull, no longer sharp and stormy. They were misty, foggy, and confused.
"Emmett?" She mumbled. He nodded.
He knew that she didn't totally know what was going on, because her next words were, "Kiss me."
Emmett leaned in and pressed his lips against hers. They were burning with fever, on the verge of being chapped. When he finally pulled away, her eyes were sad and grieving.
"I'm sorry," He said.
She had momentarily forgotten the events of the past week in her sickness, because she weakly smiled and said, "What are you sorry for?"