IV: The Girl Who Ran: Red Eve

VI: Fever

Tatiana opened her eyes halfway, to make sure this wasn't another dream. Korvidar was the first thing she saw. She sighed, "Go away, Korvidar."

"Nope," he said, popping the 'p'.

"Why are you always in my dreams?" She asked in Russian, trying to roll over. A little stab of fright found her heart when she found she couldn't flip onto her back. Or move at all, really.

"Stop struggling, Titania," Korvidar said quietly. "You have a fever, if you move too much, you could damage yourself more."

Tatiana growled, "Stop pretending to care, Korvidar. We both know you just want me to die already."

"If I wanted you dead," he sniffed, clasping his hands behind his back, "I would have already found a way to make it so."

"Oh, you enjoy my company, is that it?" Tatiana scoffed and strained to move her arms. No response. Not even a twitch.

"There's no point in trying, Titania. You're paralyzed," Korvidar said with an air of finality.

Tatiana scowled, "Where am I, monster?"

Korvidar smirked, "Careful with the name calling, little child. We're at the Virtue's."

"We made it? I'm not dead?" Tatiana frowned, "I should've died."

Korvidar shrugged, "Well, it seems like a lot of people want you alive, Titania."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" Tatiana asked.

"Depends if you want to die or not."

"A bad thing, then. Has anything happened that I should know about?"

The gleam in Korvidar's eyes said something other than what came out of his mouth, "No."

"Is this a dream?"

"Yes."

"Are you telling the truth about all of this?"

"Of course."

"When am I going to wake up?"

"Whenever I want you to."

Tatiana blew air through her teeth, "Leave me alone, Korvidar!"

"Fine," a wicked grin curved Korvidar's mouth, and he disappeared.

The pain was blazing hot. It hit Tatiana in the back of her head when she was least expecting it. Her body still didn't cringe or move when she commanded it. An embarrassingly high-pitched noise escaped the back of her throat. The heat started at the small of her back and travelled outward, making beads of sweat roll down her skin.

Someone laid their hand on the back of her neck, it was gloriously cold. A moan flew past her lips before she could stop it. Tatiana tried to open her eyes, but nothing happened. A familiar feeling shot through her legs. Desperation.

She breathed and paused, trying to get herself together. She couldn't move, she couldn't see. She listened and hear her own ragged breathing, half smothered by what she guessed was a pillow. And another person's breathing. The Dora's. Of course the Dora would be here to see her at her most vulnerable.

All she could taste though, was blood. Everytime she swallowed, more of it came up. Tatiana could vaguely remember screaming, and the sting in her throat corresponded with that memory. She could hear, she could taste. She inhaled deeply, trying not to choke on blood. All she could smell was blood. And another distinct, but faint, smell. She couldn't tell what it was.

Tatiana could hear, she could smell, and she could taste. Now, what was she going to do with the information she'd gathered. She tried to think rationally. If the Dora was here, and not Bucky or Steven, that probably meant they were taking shifts, or that the rest of them were off somewhere. Hopefully they were not off somewhere. She'd kept a close eye on the news since she'd left, and Gotham was in too bad of a shape for a bunch of New Yorkers to go out.

Judging by what Korvidar said, she probably had an infected wound. Maybe one of those ones that Karpov stitched up. She had a fever, but if she was thinking in a straight line, that meant she must be either recovering or getting worse. Her throat was still bleeding at the slightest ittitation, so she must not have been out for very long. A week at most. Which would make today the thirtieth.

She inhaled again, tried to identify the mysterious scent. The answer slapped her across the face. Jasmine. Lucia's favorite perfume. The one Tatiana had bought for her twenty-first birthday. Tatiana felt her throat close up at the thought. That day was so long ago. So long ago.

Tatiana threw away the thought. She was in Lucia's room. Probably on her bed, with the Dora sitting in the worn red velvet-upholstered armchair Lucia had always insisted was 'fancy'.

"My turn," a voice came from what she presumed to be the door. Natalia.

She heard the Dora stand, the floorboards creaking underneath her, "She hasn't done anything."

Tatiana wanted to say something so badly, but her tongue was still.

"Wasn't she supposed to wake up by now? I am getting quite bored, just sitting around like this," the Dora said.

"She was supposed to wake up six days ago. Go play with the kids if you want. Just don't juggle knives or anything. We don't need another incident," Natalia countered. Tatiana's heart leaped, who was juggling knives?

The Dora snorted, "No, thank you." Tatiana heard her walk away.

The armchair whined as Natalia sat down. "You need to wake up, girl. Rogers is going crazy."

Tatiana didn't even attempt to answer.