"You're bleeding and I'm going to stop it before I give up," she insisted as he touched her cheek. "Or you're not making it through the night."

If he did make it, he'd be in bad shape. "Go to sleep," she murmured as she slowly lowered his pulse as much as she dared. Just enough to put him out. Some silly part of her was sad to put him to sleep - he had gorgeous eyes. She took another deep breath and spent another few hours doing her best to patch up his insides. The broken ribs could wait. The concussion would heal itself.

When she finished, she got up and found a washcloth so that she could gently clean his face and his hands. She put a blanket over him and ended up passing out on the floor next to him.