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Edward could, of course, not be seen in any of the places that he used to be. Fortunately, that left a great many options that were equally- and in some cases much more fascinating. Over the next month, I spent a great deal of time with Edward and Vlad; most of the time between work and dawn, actually. Sometimes we went out; sometimes we stayed in the house they'd rented. They didn't mind if I fell asleep for a few hours in the darkest part of the night; I suppose they had things that they needed to do that they'd rather I didn't see. I never asked about them, and tried to keep it out of my mind. Vlad was never consistent enough for me to decide how I felt about him- except in that he loved to pin me down and study me. Edward said I had something in me that made Vlad think of himself, and I suppose that was as good an explanation as any.

In someways it was uncomfortable; Edward loved me with a painful sincerity. I felt I was giving back less than true coin. I cared for him, yes, but I cared for Henry as well- though not in quite the same way. Though Edward was more comfortable to be around. Henry had of late become overly concerned with my health, constantly urging me to see a doctor, and do something.

What I never told him, or Edward is that I had been to a doctor.

Quite a few, in fact. Some of them; quacks that they were, could not find anything wrong with me. I was not so stupid as to think so; my cough, quite frankly, was only the tip of my symptoms, all of which I kept to myself. The cough was simply something I could not hide. The thing was I had found out what was killing me slowly, and there was nothing I could really do. There were treatments, many of them, none of which actually solved the problem, and most of which would only stave it off. I could live for years, or die tomorrow, choked as my own lungs stopped working. The magics I could work weren't suited to healing. So the company of Edward- and even Vlad, was restful, as they didn't seem as worried about my health.