Days later, Mark's condition had worsened. The guitarist was as pale as a sheet of paper. His body was shaking from the cold, even though he had a high fever and he had a tube in his nose again to help him breathe. John was mostly not taking care of himself anymore. His wounds would heal and he was wearing bandages. It was midnight and the bassist was sitting worriedly in his bed, holding Mark's hand. He had been given a bucket of cold water by the nurse and kept wiping Mark's forehead and arms with it. The younger man kept slipping in and out of consciousness before falling unconscious again. John sighed softly and looked out the window worriedly. The wounds on Mark's back were infected, which was causing the fever. If only the fever would finally go away, he could recover and get well. The stroke was currently second in importance and they couldn't take care of it much. The guitarist was still being given morphine and was therefore often not fully conscious. He moved restlessly in his bed, his lower lip twitching as if he wanted to say something. John hummed the melody of "Your latest trick" quietly while he carefully wiped Mark's forehead with the damp cloth.

"Sh. Don't try too hard." The bassist whispered. "You have to get better, can you hear me?" He moistened the cloth again before placing it on Mark's forehead. The singer weakly opened his eyes to slits.

"D...David?" He breathed softly. John bit his lower lip. "I'm s...sorry."

"Sh. Don't talk now." John hummed and gently took Mark's hand as it was shaking with the effort.

"Forgive me D...David." He whimpered quietly and tears formed in Mark's baby blue eyes. John stroked Mark's forearm worriedly.

"Calm down. It's me, John."

"I'm s...sorry." Mark whispered over and over, moving his head from left to right.

"Sh." John hummed, putting a hand on Mark's cheek. The singer's eyes glistened with tears as he seemed to see something that wasn't true. He was hallucinating. "It's all good, Marky." John said, remembering what Mark's mother had called him. The teary blue eyes turned to him.

"Mommy?" He whispered quietly. John bit his lip. Shit, Mark must really be hallucinating if he thought his mother was standing in front of him. But the bassist decided to play the game to calm the guitarist down.

"Yes, my love." He gently squeezed Mark's hand. "I'm here."

"M...Mom, I...I'm scared." Mark whimpered weakly, blinking a little.

"Why are you scared?" John asked gently.

"I...I'm g...going to d...die, aren't I?" John looked at him in shock.

"What do you mean? Of course you won't die. Everything will be fine, okay? The fever will go away soon and you will get well again."

"M...Mom?" Mark whispered, his eyes slowly becoming heavy again.

"Mh." John hummed gently.

"Can y...you tell J...John that...that it's n...not his f...fault?" John's eyes widened. Mark could remember? "Please?"

"Of course, darling." John whispered. "Now rest, okay?" Mark closed his eyes and whispered a little to himself before losing consciousness again. John sighed. He was really worried about Mark.

*

About two hours later, Mark woke up again. He coughed weakly. John quickly fetched a glass of water and held it to his lips. "Slowly." He whispered and let him drink from it. When the younger man was finished, John put the glass aside. "How are you feeling?" Mark looked at him with glassy blue eyes. John put a hand on his cheek. Still hot.

"J...John?" Mark breathed. John smiled.

"Yes, it's me. You have a high fever. How are you feeling?" He repeated the question, assuming Mark hadn't understood it the first time.

"Tired." The guitarist muttered and blinked lazily.

"That's the morphine you got. Are you in pain?" Mark shook his head weakly.

"Hungry." He whispered. John looked around quickly. It was the middle of the night.

"I...I don't have much here. A banana." John said and took the banana from his nightstand that he hadn't eaten for dinner. "Do you want it?" Mark didn't seem to fully understand the question. John peeled the fruit and broke off a small piece, which he held against Mark's lips. The fever was so high that Mark hardly noticed anything about his surroundings. The guitarist opened his mouth slightly and let the banana be fed to him. He coughed a little. "Calm down. Chew first, then swallow." John said worriedly. Mark swallowed the small piece of banana. John fed him small pieces until the banana was eaten and only the peel remained. "You have to get well again, can you hear me, Mark?" John asked gently and put the rag on his forehead. The singer took a shuddering breath and shivered.

"C...Cold." He whimpered quietly. John sighed. Damn, Mark had a fever of almost 41 degrees Celsius, but his brain told him he was cold. John pulled his blanket off himself and laid it over the guitarist. He tucked the ends under the younger man and looked at him worriedly.

"Better?" Mark whimpered weakly. His eyes closed again. John put his hands under the blanket and took Mark's hands. They were ice cold. He rubbed them to warm him up. After a while he let go of Mark's hands and tucked them back under the blanket. "Rest."

"C...Cold." Mark whimpered again. His pale eyes looked at him, clouded with fever. John sighed. He lifted the blanket and slid under the blanket next to him. He pulled the guitarist tightly to his chest. Mark's head was nestled in John's neck. The bassist wrapped his arms around the smaller body and began rubbing his arms and back. Mark shivered weakly. John, on the other hand, was sweating from the heat. They were covered with two blankets and the body heat of the two of them didn't help.

"Better?" He asked and tried to look at Mark's face, but the only thing he could see was the flaxen blonde hair.

"Thanks." Mark mumbled against his neck. John giggled. The guitarist soon fell asleep again. John continued to hold him close. It wasn't long before a nurse came in. She looked at the two of them in surprise.

"He's cold." John said. "I tried to cover him up and when that didn't help, I tried to warm him up with body heat." She nodded, smiling, and put a hand on Mark's forehead, which proved difficult since the guitarist had buried his face in the crook of John's neck.

"Still very hot." She sighed quietly. "Try to warm him up a little more. If he doesn't get better in three hours, we'll put him in the shower."

"Cold shower?" John asked with wide eyes. The woman nodded.

"Otherwise we can't do anything else. The fever has to break now. His body is already very damaged because of the injuries and the stroke and the fever is weakening him even more." John sighed softly.

"I'm worried about him." He said softly and looked down at the man in his arms, who was shaking like a leaf in the wind. The nurse put a hand on John's shoulder.

"I promise we'll do what we can."

"Thank you." John smiled weakly.

*

Three hours later a nurse came into the room. This time it was Daisy. She stuck a thermometer between Mark's lips. The guitarist was barely conscious. His eyes were only open to slits. John was still holding him in his arms.

"So?" The older man asked worriedly as Daisy pulled the thermometer out of Mark's mouth to read the temperature.

"Get up, John. We need to put him in the shower." John's eyes widened. He carefully removed Mark from his body. The younger man had clung to him like a lifeline. As John crawled out of bed, Mark moaned quietly.

"What's the plan?" John asked worriedly, looking at Daisy.

"We're going to put him under an ice-cold shower."

"Won't he have a heart attack?" John asked with wide eyes.

"No. Normally a cold shower is good for the cardiovascular system." Daisy said, trying to calm him down. "I know you're hurt, but...can you manage to carry him into the shower? That would make things a lot easier." John nodded immediately. He pushed the blankets off Mark's body. The younger man was lying on the bed, shivering and curled up like an embryo. His eyes were closed, his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat.

"Hey, Mark. Can you hear me?" John carefully turned him over. Dull blue eyes looked at him. "I'm going to have to lift you up now, okay?" John put one arm under Mark's knees and the other under his shoulders. Mark instinctively wrapped his arms around John's neck and whimpered softly as the bassist lifted him off the bed and headed for the bathroom. Daisy was already there, holding the handheld showerhead in her hand. She adjusted the water temperature.

"J...John." Mark whimpered softly. "What...where are we?"

"Sh. Calm down." Hummed the curly-head and carefully placed Mark on the plastic chair they knew all too well. The guitarist slumped sideways against the wall.

"Find him some fresh clothes, please." Daisy said. "We'll shower him with his clothes on. It cools him down even more when it's stuck to him." John nodded understandingly and quickly ran back into the room. He rummaged in the large travel bag that Pick had brought for them both. Soon he found a pair of red pyjamas and a clean pair of boxer shorts. Triumphantly, he returned to the bathroom and put both in the dry sink. Mark looked like death itself, he realized sadly when he saw him sitting on his chair. He gently took the guitarist's hand. "It's getting a little cold now, Mr. Knopfler." Daisy said before nodding to John, turning on the water and splashing it on Mark. The older man got a few drops of water on his face and flinched himself, the water was so cold. Mark screamed at the top of his lungs as the nurse sprayed him with water. He shook and thrashed around, but was too weak to get up.

"Sh. Mate, calm down." John hummed and stroked the back of Mark's hand with his thumb. Mark's screams didn't stop for about a minute, however. Daisy turned off the water and looked at him worriedly. Knopfler looked like a wet rat. His hair was stuck to his forehead, his eyes were wide open, his body was shaking and the yellow, wet pyjamas stuck to him like a second skin. Daisy shone a flashlight in his eyes and beamed.

"His pupils are responding again!" She exclaimed happily. John smiled.

"J...John?" Mark whimpered weakly.

"Yes. Yes, I'm here. What's wrong?" The bassist gently stroked Mark's wet head.

"I'm c...cold." His teeth began to chatter.

"Let him freeze for a while." Daisy said, already holding a towel ready. "That'll break the fever." Mark began to cry. John looked at him in shock.

"What's wrong?" He asked worriedly. Mark's body shook brokenly as he sobbed.

"I'm c...cold. I'm g...going to fre...eze to death." John gently wiped the tears from his cheeks.

"Don't worry. You won't freeze to death. Everything will be fine now." Daisy put a thermometer in Mark's mouth. After a while she read the temperature and took a breath of relief. "How high?" John asked worriedly.

"37° Celsius. Almost normal. I think the fever has broken. It will rise a little more tomorrow, but from 41 to 37 is perfect. It couldn't have gone better." John took a breath of relief and smiled. "He's even more exhausted now than before, so you have to help him." Daisy handed John the towel. "I'll wait outside. I think he'll feel better with you than if I dressed him." John nodded, giggling. She went out and closed the door behind her.

"Hey, Champ. Did you hear that, you'll be fine." John smiled and put a forefinger under Mark's chin to lift his head. Mark smiled wearily at him. He had no idea what it was about. He was tired, exhausted and cold. And besides, the morphine was still making him delirious, so the guitarist wasn't really sure why John was happy, but he just smiled along. John pulled the shirt over his head and then gently dried his hair and upper body. He was dismayed to see how thin the guitarist had become since he was in the hospital. John estimated that he must have lost about 10 pounds. John dried him off and dressed him before slowly lifting him up and putting him back in bed. Daisy did a few more tests.

"Now it's important to warm him up again and keep him warm. You did a good job earlier. Maybe you should warm him up again with your body heat." John nodded sheepishly and climbed back into bed before pulling the blond man to him. Mark's teeth chattered slightly. "Don't worry. Everything should be fine now." Daisy said with a smile before leaving the room. John pulled Mark to his chest and covered them both.

"Rest. You'll feel better soon." He whispered into the flaxen blonde hair.