Roy quickly pulls his coat up around his shoulders as he marches through the snow. Anger is seething inside his bones and his mind is in chaos, his soul rattled. Fear lingers inside him and as he hurries through the snow covered streets as dusk sets in. Eyes glance quickly about him as he crosses the road and steps into a building. He talks to the receptionist as he walks in – she directs him down a hallway. His stride even, he tries to slow his pulse so it doesn't race – so it doesn't give him away. He stops in the room, the walls are white, the furniture metal. In the bed lies Edward. His face is ghastly pale, almost like white marble. His body limp, still. Edward is unmoving, he doesn't stir when Roy picks up a hand that feels as cold as ice. He doesn't flinch when Roy presses a kiss to small knuckles. He makes no sound. Roy lowers his head and begs, "Edward, please wake up. Open your eyes."

But Edward does not stir.