As tired as she is, Aerith doesn't sleep deeply, snapping awake when he rasps her name before bursting into motion. A glass of water is filled and brought to him before she sits on the edge of the bed, reaching out to feel his forehead for a fever.

"Drink this and go back to sleep," she murmurs gently. "I can heal you a little more now, it'll help you rest comfortably."

Her power has returned, but not as much as she would like, her weariness evident in her face, even the limp way her hair hangs around it a reflection of how tired and on edge she is.