The young man tries in vain to get up, broad shoulders shaking as he tries to get his hands under him - but he can't, he can't stop coughing, and his palms slide in the blood. His eyes are glassy and unfocused, even as he tilts his head towards where he hears someone enter.

"H-herb-ert-" He wheezes, face screwing tight with pain as he is lifted into a sitting position. His lips are off-color, a little blue from lack of oxygen...his skin is burning, flushed deep with fever.

"Is - is that you, my d-dear? I can't...I can't see...."

There was so much blood. Everything was dark. Just as Alfred had said.