It had been two long hours of treatment already, and Lucian was fast asleep, his breathing deep and even. His skin glistened with sweat under the soft glow of the lab lights, a clear indication of the internal battle his body was fighting. Marlowe made it a personal duty to stay by his side, diligently wiping down his body with a cold towel every twenty minutes to regulate his temperature and offer some relief. Each time she pressed the cloth to his fevered skin, she silently hoped the solution she had prepared would be enough to pull him through.
She wasn't entirely sure how effective the medicine she had come up with would be in the long run, but the mere fact that it had managed to stabilize and normalize his vital signs for the time being was enough to give her a small measure of relief. It wasn't a full victory, but it was a promising sign—one that allowed her to breathe a little easier as she continued monitoring him closely.
