I didn't MEAN to blow it up! (Open to Anyone)

Gareth's blue eyes widened as he saw the blood trickling down her front. He knew what that could possibly mean, and it terrified him. He breathed hard for a few moments, staring at the sight, and struggled to control himself from screaming for help. He also knew that it could just be that she'd hurt her esophagus lining from being sick so much that day. She still needed help, but the threat was not as bad as the other. The other could be the one that cost her her life.

He took her hand again and squeezed it gently, then offered the bin to her to spit out the blood that was still in her mouth. That was the first part. Then he would see if he could find a potion to help her with repairing the inside of her esophagus.

"Do you have a potion to fix this, Sam? The damage to your throat and esophagus?" He let out a shuddering breath before asking his next question, hoping that he had been right in his assessment.

"Or is it worse than I think?"

Samara opened her mouth and was pleased to find that there was bile mixed with the blood. Of course it wasn't a pretty sight, but it wasn't as drastic as it could be. Samara knew that there could be a time where it was all blood...and that was when Gareth would really need to worry. She really did not even want to think about it.

She couldn't speak at first, because the pain in her throat was so severe. So she pointed to her bag. Her last episode had landed her a trip to St. Mungo's and she was given this serum by Randall Marks himself.

"B-B-Ag..." she choked.

Gareth grabbed the bag and handed it to her, hoping that she would have what she needed in there. He noticed now that his hands were shaking horribly. and it frightened him. He didn't want Samara to know how much that blood had worried him. He knew that one day it might be the worse of the two, and then she might be taken from him. He didn't even want to think about that.

He shoved them in his pockets and sat on the bed, still feeling them trembling against his body. He needed to get that under control before she noticed. He made his arms as stiff as he could at his sides. It hurt a little, but the twinge of pain meant nothing to him. He just wanted to keep it from being seen.

"Sam, I hope your potion works. I don't like seeing you in such pain. It makes me want to throttle any healer that can't do something to help you."

As soon as he'd said this, his shaking stopped.

Samara pulled the vial out with a shaky hand and removed the cork from the crystal vial. Prying her lips apart she downed the contents in a gulp and sighed in relief as the cool elixir began coating her throat in a lovely, cold, protective layer. Healer Marks said it would give it an almost numb feeling, but she would still be able to talk and articulate just fine.

"It's okay," she whispered, her voice still hoarse. "I...it helps."

Putting the empty vial back into her hand bag she laid back down on the bed and took his hand into her own. Gently as she could she moved her thumb over his warm palm. She loved him so much, and she knew that she had no right to ask him to stay with her while her body was going through such Hell. There were nights that Samara would cry herself to sleep, just wishing that she could give this curse to someone far more deserving than her.

"Gar..." she whispered. "I'm sorry."

Gareth wrapped his fingers around hers and squeezed gently. He knew that she was upset about the fact that she was in this situation, but also that there was nothing she could do about it.

"Sam, you have nothing to be sorry for. I love you and want to be with you for the rest of my life. I don't want you to be sorry for anything. Ever. You have done nothing wrong, and I don't want to hear you apologize for something you have no control over."

He didn't want her to be mad at him, but he also didn't want to hear her apologies anymore. It had not been her decision to get this condition, and she would never have chosen to spend her life getting sick on a semi-regular basis.

"I want you to promise me that you will not apologize anymore. Not for something you didn't have control over. This is not your fault, Sam. It never was, and never will be." He squeezed her hand again and let it go, ready to feel a sting of some sort if she hit him, or yelled at him for his words.