"Abras, hey, you've got to eat a little more than that." Lissa takes the spoon and attempts to feed him another few mouthfuls. "...All right, I know you're really sleepy, but Shavri said I had to at least get some fluids into you. Drink this water and then I'll let you sleep?" She wraps his fingers around a cup and then puts her hand over his and lifts it to his lips. 

Eating a little more soup is less effort than explaining why he shouldn't. Water is fine; he drinks as much as he can manage and with Lissa's help doesn't even spill it. Now he can go back to not doing anything until that turns into being asleep, yes?

...That seems to be the plan, yes. Lissa helps him lie down and arranges pillows and asks if he's comfortable, and then she sits quietly beside him, he can sort of feel her presence even though there's some sort of barrier on him and he can't quite sense her thoughts. 

Lissa's presence is comforting. But it's also unintentional magic and he shouldn't be doing that. He tries to squash whatever is doing it, or pull it back into himself, or something, without giving any sign that he's doing that.

It's hard to know whether or not squashing or pulling it helps, or whether Lissa's presence just goes away because he falls asleep a minute or two later. 

...After this point, things start to get repetitive. It's hard to keep track of time, or even of how many times he's been gently prodded awake; the drug makes him foggy and it's probably doing something to his memory too. Sometimes there's curtain-muffled light from the window, sometimes only the glow of candles and embers in the fireplace. Sometimes Lissa is there; sometimes it's Savil, or Mardic, or Donni, or Savil's Healer friend Andrel. They wake him and ask if he needs to use the chamberpot – which he generally does, they're making him drink a lot of fluids – and then whoever is there props him up and coaxes him to eat or, failing that, at least drink some broth. Then they'll ask how bad the pain is, and if he complains of it give him another dose of argonel, and then tuck him in, and usually it isn't long before the world goes away again. 

Abras hates not being able to think, but the drugs make it harder to feel the grief, and they do seem to be helping him not start any more fires so it's probably for the best that he keep taking it every time they offer. He tries to stay awake a little longer each time, not that he has much time-sense to tell how he's doing, and eats as little as he thinks he can get by on, and practices holding his mind very still and not doing anything.

Waking up is harder this time for some reason. Getting up to relieve himself is mysteriously a lot harder. It must be night, there’s only dim firelight and a candle by the door. Lissa is supporting him; her face swims in the foggy near-darkness as she hauls him back to bed, yawns, and halfheartedly coaxes him on the matter of soup before giving up. 

She strokes his hair. “Abras, are you hurting? I’ve got a dose of the pain medicine if you need it.”

"Yeh," he says on autopilot, then "whysss errything so . . . so . . . I cn't wake up righ." He goes "eeeenhhhh" instead of talking more because talking is too hard.

"...That does not make me feel like you need more pain medicine." Lissa grabs his shoulder as he starts to slide sideways. "Abras, hey, can you try to wake up a bit more? You didn't eat anything last time either. Come on." Pause. "Maybe some light will help?"

She jams a pillow to hold him up, then goes away. It gets brighter, in a flickery candle-y way. 

Okay. Consciousness. He needs to be conscious. Come on brain, don't be such a useless pile of mud . . .

"Abras, hey, talk to me. Are you feeling all right?" 

"Words. Gotta words. Feel like . . . shit." Whether that's a description of how he feels or an expletive at having lost his train of thought is unclear.

"...I'm getting worried." Lissa feels his forehead. "You don't seem to have a fever, at least." She's grimacing, or at least he thinks so, she's very blurry. "Damn it, everyone's asleep. I – hmm. I'm going to the House of Healing to get help. You need to stay awake. All right? Abras, hey – do you think you can stay awake for five minutes?" 

". . . Dunno. Want to." He tries digging his nails into his arm but his hand is also a useless pile of mud, so instead he bites his lip really hard. Now his lip is bleeding a little but he's that bit more awake.

"Okay I'm going to be back really soon. Hang in there. It'll be okay - just five minutes..." And the door bangs shut and she's gone. 

He needs to be awake. And not do anything. Except if he set the room on fire he would probably stay awake. But then there would be a fire. So he needs to not do anything. And stay awake. He should try to concentrate on something. Two four eight sixteen thirty-two sixty-four eyes gotta stay OPEN, one-twenty-eight two-fifty-six five-twelve NOT gonna sleep, ten-twenty-four, uh, twenty-forty-eight, forty-ninety-six, uh, eight thousand and, no nine thousand, and, shit, ninety-one eighty . . . two? Four? How long is five minutes? He bites himself again and tries to remember what comes after forty-ninety-six. And not do anything. Except if he set the room on fire he would probably stay awake. But then there would be a fire.

"...All right, all right, what's the problem we've got here." It's the older Healer, sounding tired and irritated. "Hey there. Ah, you're sort of awake at least. Abras, tell me what day it is and where you are?" 

"It's . . . night. And I'm in my bed. Awake. Said I would stay awake." He knows those are the wrong answers but he doesn't have any better ones.

"Hmm." She sounds...annoyed, probably. Or something. She sits down on the side of the bed and reaches for his arm. "Squeeze my hand." And waves her other hand in his face. "Look at my finger – all right, follow it with your eyes, please." 

He squeezes her hand in the manner of a particularly unathletic kitten, and does his best to follow her hand his his eyes. This involves turning his head somewhat. Also his pupils are the wrong size, not that he knows that.

"Good," the Healer says, in a voice that does not sound especially like she means it. She turns. "Lissa, girl, how much argonel did you give him?" 

Lissa squeaks. "Just the usual times! At bedtime and at midnight. Not just now because he was, er, like this. Um, and he was pretty out of it at midnight, but I'd be groggy too if someone woke me in the dead of night, I didn't think much of it." 

"Thank the gods you've got that much common sense. He's had way too much – it's a narrow margin between here and him stopping breathing in his sleep." She turns back to Abras. "Tell me how you're feeling. Pretty drowsy?" 

"Yah." He attempts to emphasize this with a nod, but it turns into almost nodding off and then jerking awake again.

"Well, unfortunately we're going to have to keep hassling you until morning – I know you want to sleep, but I'm not super comfortable with that right now. Are you thirsty?" She turns back to Lissa. "Get him some water, please. He's pretty dehydrated. Probably he's been too sleepy to notice."