It was hard to pinpoint exactly when the tipping point came upon her, but gradually the throbbing between her legs and the burning in her pelvis drifted away, the rigors of the needing replaced with an abiding soreness in her joints and her muscles from all the straining she'd done.
When she could finally raise her head, her neck cracked loudly, and she groaned as her face hit a wall of some sort. Frowning, she tried to orient herself. . . oh, indeed, she was at the foot of the bed, pressed up against the short board at its end.
She laid her head back down for a while. With the boiling heat easing to a mere simmer, she began to feel cold, and she fumbled around for a sheet, or a blanket, or a cover of any sort. There was nothing - all was on the floor: She was naked on a bare mattress - clearly she'd ripped off even the fitted sheet.
Summoning what little energy she had, she attempted to push her torso up and lift her head. She made little progress. It was as if there was glue holding her down. . .
Eventually, she rose up.
The trip to the bathroom was as arduous and treacherous as a hike up a mountainside, but lo, the joy with which she beheld the shower and turned it on.
As temperate water fell generously from the spout anchored upon the wall, she sat down on the tile beneath it, tucking her heels up against her bottom, hugging herself around her knees. As she laid her head to the side, the gentle spray washed away the salt of her tears and her sweat.
The shivers turned violent shortly thereafter.
"Autumn?" came Doc Jane's voice from the room beyond.
Her rattling teeth prevented her from replying, but the shower said enough: The other female appeared in the doorway, and then ventured further into the bath, until she pulled back the cloth curtain and knelt down so they were eye-to-eye.
"How're you feeling?"
Abruptly, Autumn had to shield her face as she began crying.
Hard to know whether the outburst was because the needing had finally passed, or because she was so tired she had no boundaries left. . . or because the last thing she remembered before everything became a blur was the sight of Tohr driving those two needles into his thighs and falling to the floor.
"Autumn, can you hear me?"
"Yes. . . " she croaked.
"I'd like to get you back in bed if you're done washing up. There's a lot of heat in here, and I'm worried about your blood pressure. "
"I'm c-c-cold. "
"That's fever chills. I'm going to turn off the water now, okay?"
She nodded, because she didn't have the wherewithal to do anything else.
When the warm rain stopped falling, the rattling inside her skin got worse as the cold rushed in and traveled across her tender flesh. Soon enough, however, a soft blanket was draped around her shoulders.
"Can you stand?" When Autumn nodded again, she was helped up, dressed in a light sheath and escorted back over to the bed - which had magically been remade with fresh sheets and blankets.
Stretching out, she was aware only of the tears that seeped from the corners of both eyes, an endless, slow stream of them, hot against her cold face.
"Shhh, you're okay," the healer said, as she sat down on the edge of the mattress. "You're all right - it's over. . . . "
As a gentle hand stroked her wet hair back, the tone of Doc Jane's voice, more than the female's actual words, helped the most.
And then there was a straw sticking out of a soda can, brought close to her mouth.
One draw of that cold, sweet nectar and Autumn's eyes rolled back into her head. "Oh. . . blessed Virgin Scribe. . . what is that?"
"Ginger ale. And you're welcome - hey, not too fast. "
After she'd finished the whole lot of it, she lay back again as a band was shuffled onto her arm and puffed up before being deflated. Next, a cold disk was pressed to her chest in a couple of places. A light was flashed in her eyes.
"May I have some more ginger ale, please?" she asked.
"Your wish is my command. "