I think I've dosed off for a while since my headache is gone when I open my eyes again. That medicine Nurse Hilton injected into my IV worked really fast because the first thing I see is the top of Ethan's head, which means that they haven't even left yet.

He is holding my hand, his head resting on his arms crossed on the edge of my bed. I don't think I'm going to fall asleep any time soon. I'm groggy but not really sleepy. He needs to leave, or he'll miss the start of the fun. Delia is not sitting on the bench anymore, and I don't see Simon either. They must've left already, but why did they leave Ethan behind? He'll have to take a bus now, and he is not fond of those.

My eyes survey the room, hoping to find Dell and Sy because they might've moved to a corner, and I am happy to report that nothing is being cloned anymore, and there are no blurry outlines. I can see just fine. To my surprise, my father is not at the table next to my bed either. Perhaps they'd all gone to the bathroom or are talking to the doctor again. 

My IV is gone.

That's strange. The bag was still full when I closed my eyes; why would they've taken it out when I dosed off? Not that I'm complaining. That needle digging into my flesh had not been comfortable. It's nice to be able to move my arm again without feeling those burning pricks.

From what I can see through the window opposite my bed, the lighting outside has changed. If I'm not mistaken, the sun is starting to set. It was still morning when I came here. I didn't just dose off! I must've slept for hours.

"No!" I exclaim, plucking my hand from Ethan's and slapping his arm.

"What?" I think he was taking a nap because he is lifting his head, looking confused and only half awake. He rubs the back of his hand over his eyes, blinking at me.

"Why didn't you go to the festival? You promised!" I accuse, really upset now and jack up my bed until I'm almost sitting upright.

"I did go," Ethan grumbles, pushing himself upright. "I've only been here for about 20 minutes."

"No, you didn't." He wouldn't be here now if he'd gone to the festival. He would be too caught up in the fun to be here now. I wanted him to be caught up in the fun, not spend the day cooped up here with me while I slept like the dead. He'll never get today back. What a waste. I'm really mad at him now.

"I did. See, I even brought you some juice," he says, popping a straw in a small juice box he had next to him on the bench and handing it to me. I take it and thirstily suck the cool liquid down my dry throat. It's my favourite apple-berry blend, but he could've gotten it from anywhere.

"Thanks," I say between sips. "But you didn't go."

"I really did go," Ethan chuckles, turning in his seat to drag a canvas bag from the floor onto the bench. He starts pulling a variety of plushies, bubble baths, beaded bangles, chocolates, huge lollipops and even a doll from the bag, handing them to me one by one, telling me the story of how he'd won them. That bag would put a pirate's loot chest to shame if pirates stole toys and sweets.

The boy has been busy!

"I won this one throwing darts at balloons," he says, placing a two-faced pink and green reversible octopus in my hands. One of those with a happy face and a grumpy one. I could use it to communicate with Ethan without even speaking to him!

"This one I got for knocking Lurch off the barrel," he hands me a weird-looking plushie animal, and I'm really happy to hear that he beat Lurch. The barrel battle is one of the boys' favourite events. They start out as an entire group of players, each trying to stay on top of a rolling barrel while hitting swinging balls at each other. Sometimes they even turn it into a weird kind of barrel bumper-cars. The game ends when there is only one person remaining on a barrel. Even James joins them in the craziness. It is a rather violent game with loads of potential to injure themselves and each other. Just the way they like it.

I don't see the appeal at all.

When Ethan and his band of merry-idiots have their turn, it always draws a crowd because they usually manage to keep the game going for quite a while. Most other players all fall off within a couple of minutes, which probably saves them from serious injuries.

Sometimes I think Ethan and his friends practice for the carnival games all year long. They excel at them because they're always doing stupid things like that.

"I beat up a little boy to get you this one," he says, handing me the small doll. It is a really pretty ragdoll with long yellow woollen braids for hair crowned with a lacy white bonnet. She has a painted face and the cutest floral dress with a frilly bibbed apron.

"You did what?"

"Yeah, he beat me playing that thing where you have to tilt a table to roll a ball into the right hole, so I beat him up and took it."

"No, you didn't," I snort.

"I totally did!" he exclaims, making huge, earnest eyes at me. "You told me to win you stuff, so I did. He beat me with the table thing, so I beat him up and took his prize."

I'm giggling now, shaking my head, happy to see that there's no nausea or headache going on up there when I move around. There is no way that Ethan would ever beat up a kid. I am 100% sure he helped the boy win the game rather than playing against him as he was supposed to. I've seen him do it multiple times per festival. Not sure what the story with the doll is, though.

"No way!" I laugh. "Be honest. Where did you get the doll."

"Fine," he sighs, rolling his eyes dramatically. "The kid won the doll playing the table against me, and I swapped him for a cowboy hat I won in another game."

"A cowboy hat?"

"Yes, that's what he chose from my stash. The hat and one of these big-ass lollipops," he pics up one of the huge lollipops with a flat spiral head. Ethan loves those sweets. "And my only packet of speckled eggs." He loves those even more.

"Wow, thank you for the sacrifice. I love this doll," I grin, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze.

"This one is my favourite," he smiles, picking up the strange animal he won on the barrels. It is a fairly large, interesting grey, brown and white creature with a long neck, what appears to be a trunk, huge ears and short thick legs.

"What do you think it is?" I ask, examining it.

"An Elleraffe."

"Or a Girafant."

"Maybe it's one of those ant-eater things, and it's just really stretching out its neck."

We look at it for a while, completely baffled and enthralled, making up weird and wonderful theories about its species.

"Dunno, but it's cute," I finally tell Ethan, hugging the toy to my chest. It is ridiculously cuddly and is definitely going to become my new sleeping partner. "So, did you have fun?"

He smiles at me, taking my hand in his, his eyes suddenly sombre. "Yeah." That did not sound convincing at all.

"You sure won a lot of prizes today."

"Well, I was on a mission... and you weren't there to undermine me."

"I never undermine you!" I express my indignation, knowing full well that he is not lying. Actually, we usually undermine each other. "You're the one always undermining me!"

He is smiling at me now and reaching out; he runs his fingers through my hair. "I missed you."

I might not be completely over the effects of the medicine because it seems to me as though he actually means that. Well, it's possible I would've missed him too today if he wasn't there to make sure I struggled to play any of the games in the way it's meant to be played. Kind of like a fly that suddenly stops buzzing around your head, and you keep on flapping your hand around, not knowing why anymore.

Daddy and Doctor Grant enter the room, talking about some scientific article they both read about the use of AI in medicine. That is a relief because it might mean that I'm free to go. After checking my blood pressure and my eyes with his medical flashlight and a few other basic tests, Doctor Grant declares that that is indeed the case. My sentence has been revoked. I may leave.

He once again reminds me to take it easy and to come back if anything doesn't feel right, and then Daddy is hugging me tightly enough to cause more injuries, but I don't mind, I understand how horrible today must've been for him. I don't like this hospital either. I'd be horrified to have to visit him here.

"Okay, Pumpkin?" he asks, pulling away enough to look down into my upturned face.

"Yes, Daddy, I'm all good now."

"I'll get my laptop packed up, and we'll get out of your hair so that you can get dressed, and then I'm taking you home," he tells me, already busy packing up his gear.

"Daddy, there's no need to look after me anymore," I tell him, longing for everything to get back to normal and for him to go to his office and deal with his project. I would hate to be the cause of any failures or struggles for him at work. He'd put so much effort into his work; I don't want it to get ruined now when it's reached a critical point. "I feel completely fine now. I would like to go home, take a shower and go to the festival for a little while if that's okay. Please don't plan your time around me anymore."

Closing his laptop case, he hesitates, gazing into my eyes, his expression filled with uncertainty, but I hold his gaze, smiling at him, willing him to see that he has nothing left to fear now. It must work because he finally snaps his eyes to Ethan, removing his prizes from my lap and struggling to fit them back into his bag so that I can get up.

"Ethe..."

"Yes, Uncle Joe," Ethan smiles, nodding his head before Daddy can even complete his request. "I'll take her home and then to the festival for a couple of hours, and if she even looks like she's not okay, I'm bringing her back here. Mum is insisting that Kicks sleeps at our place so she can keep an eye on her if you have to work tonight. We won't leave her alone. I promise."

I can see that though Daddy is relieved, he is still divided, but my smile and eagerness (not completely feigned) to get to the festival finally convinces him to leave after giving me another long hug and making me promise to give him regular updates on how I'm doing.

Honestly, these people act as though I've fallen from a plane or survived an attack by a freight train. My muscles are a little sore, and I have some scrapes and bruises, but that is all. It could've been so much worse. I didn't even sprain anything! I actually feel a little cheated that I have so little to show for such a big calamity.

"My dad gave me his car when I said I was coming here, just in case you needed a ride," Ethan tells me, taking my clothes from the cabinet and placing it on my bed. "Call me if you need help," he says and leaves the room so that I can get dressed. That is not a good sign; the fact that he makes no ridiculous jokes about dressing me and I don't have to chase him out makes me feel like I've really almost died. I don't like that idea.

I exchange the hospital gown for the clothes I came in with. The outfit doesn't look too bad, it's a little dusty, and there's a bloodstain on the t-shirt so that it now looks as if the grumpy cat slaughtered something... or someone... I suspect that the blood belongs to Ethan. Seeing the dark red stains against the light yellow material makes my heart lurch painfully. Suddenly the accident seems overwhelmingly real.

I hate that he got hurt.

When I finally leave the room, Ethan is waiting for me with a wheelchair.

"No," I say, trying to dodge past him, but he is too fast for me. I try again and again, and now it feels like we're playing some sort of weird wheelchair dodge game, or is it a dance? I don't care; we're getting looks. Ethan is not going to give up. He wants to treat me like a helpless patient, and he'll do it even if he ends up injuring me in the attempt. He keeps on saying stuff about hospital rules and processes as if he's ever cared about rules and processes.

He is right about one thing, though. This is a hospital. There are other patients here. We cannot see them, but I'm sure they're here, and we're becoming a bit noisy. Sister Margaret Rose is lifting her head from the paperwork... or juicy novel... she'd been reading at the nurses' station to glare at us.

I've met her before. I don't want to be glared at by her, she is scary, and she has a voice to match that glare, so I hastily sit down in the chair and allow Ethan to wheel me to the car, making engine noises all the way.

I feel like an idiot, but at least there's some normalcy in feeling like an idiot when in public with Ethan, being Ethan. I am soon giggling, trying to hide my face in my hands. I'm relieved when I'm finally loaded into the car, and he leaves me alone to take the wheelchair back.

"Today, they gave Mr Pravin a typed version of the town's story to read so that he wouldn't get confused and mix it with Moby Dick and Gulliver's Travels again," Ethan tells me when we're finally on our way and have driven a couple of minutes in silence from Silverview to Egret's Rest.

The detour to the hospital this morning spared them the boring formalities and speeches, and they arrived at the festival just in time to hear the story of how the town came into existence... at least a new version of it.

"That is such a good idea." I wonder why nobody has ever thought of doing that before.

"He forgot his reading glasses at home, though," Ethan chuckles. "Brought his wife's by mistake and couldn't see a thing. I'm really not sure which town's story it was he was telling, but it was pretty entertaining. Instead of being the ones driving those sailors into that storm and onto the rocks, causing them to discover the cove, the pirates were the founding fathers in this version."

"I'm going to miss him when they pass the task to someone else," I say, feeling sad that I've probably missed the last time the story was told (or mangled) by the old man. He has told it every year since before my time. Ethan always says he thinks Mr Pravin was probably present 300 years ago when the historical event took place.

"Yeah, me too. I used my phone to record him for you."

"Thank you!" I am rather touched that he thought of doing that.

When we arrive home, I have a hard time convincing Ethan that I do not need to be carried into the house and up the stairs. I may have lost the debate about whether or not I needed to be taken to the car in a wheelchair, but I'm sticking to my guns this time. There is no Sister Rose to intimidate me into compliance. I am, however, unable to convince him to wait downstairs; for a second, I think he's going to insist on giving me that shower, and he is not even being his lewd self; he is really worried. Just in case, I give up and leave him in my room while I head into the bathroom.

Finally feeling like a human being again, showered and dressed comfortably in my favourite jeans and a smocked bell-sleeved top covered in small pink and yellow flowers, I step from the bathroom and cross the hallway to my bedroom. I'm surprised to find Ethan still in there. I really thought that he would get bored and raid the refrigerator instead. He is, however, indulging in one of his other favourite past times.

Ethan is one of the most active people I know, and he is also one of the most passionate nappers on the planet. If he has to wait for something or someone, he almost always ends up taking a nap... if he's not getting up to no good. Now is no exception. He is lying sprawled on my bed as if he doesn't have a care in the world.

I dry my hair, put on a bit of eyeliner and lipstick, and when I'm done, he's still sleeping. The dryer didn't wake him at all. In fact, it probably made him sleep so much deeper. Ethan easily falls asleep when he hears the sound of hair dryers and vacuum cleaners.

I cross to the bed to wake him up, but seeing him so vulnerable suddenly makes my eyes feel itchy and my heart contract in a rather unpleasant way. Instead of waking him, I lie down next to him and watch him for a while, marvelling at how gentle and docile he appears to be when he's asleep. Awake, he is anything but docile, though I have recently started to notice how gentle he can sometimes be.

Has that always been the case? Is Delia right about me suffering from a memory deficiency when it comes to Ethan?

I'm startled when his eyes fly open, and I'm suddenly gazing into two dark pools surrounded by blue. It is fascinating to see his pupils react to the light, readjusting to the perfect size for the occasion, the ocean-blue circles growing.

"You scared the shit out of me today, Kicks," he mutters, his voice even more husky than usual. "I hate it when you get hurt."

"I hate it when you get hurt too," I whisper, and on impulse, I scoot closer and kiss him.

It was meant to be a gentle touch of my lips to his; at least, that's what I think I was aiming for; I'm not entirely sure because it definitely wasn't planned. I might actually be concussed despite Doctor Grant's conviction that I'm not because the moment our lips meet, I forget my name, and I don't resist when Ethan deepens the kiss, rolling towards me until I'm lying on my back.

His lips are soft and cool against mine, gently capturing and releasing them in a series of slow, sweet kisses robbing me of my breath. I'm melting in a sea of emotions and sensations, enjoying the new intimacy of feeling his tongue slide into my mouth.

I've never been kissed like this before. It is nothing like the chaste, rather dull fake kisses I shared with Liam when we still pretended to be interested in each other as romantic partners rather than scientific ones. It is also a far cry from the over-zealous, slobbering mess I endured with Cole.

Ethan's kisses touch me to the core of my heart, rushing through my bloodstream, causing joyful eruptions in my brain. I snake one arm around his back and weave the fingers of my other hand through his thick hair, a soft moan escaping from my throat as I relish feeling his weight on top of me.

At the sound, he pulls back, lifting himself off me and rolling over until his feet are planted on the carpet and he's sitting up.

"If we don't leave now, we'll be too late for you to play any of the games," he croaks, not looking at me. I really don't care about the silly games right now, but after a few minutes, he sucks in a deep breath and gets to his feet. I also get up, and now I'm not sure what to do with myself. I can hardly meet his eyes with mine.

I don't think what happened just now was part of our deal. Yes, we've shared a few pretty good kisses up to now, but this one was in a category of its own, and I'm not sure how to feel about it. It is strange for Ethan and me to do things like that. It's not natural, and yet it felt so natural.

Why is he being so distant now? Perhaps he also realised that it's not a natural thing for us to do and that it clashes with our goals. Is he afraid that I'm angry at him, or is he appalled that we crossed some vague line? It was just a kiss, and yet, it also wasn't.

"Ethan?"

He turns to me and smiles, but there's something strange about his eyes again. The last few days, I've seen that look too often, and I have no idea what it means. It's new and unsettling.

I want to tell him that I'm not angry about the kiss, although it broke most of our kissing rules. I even want to tell him that I really liked it, but I'm suddenly too nervous to even look at him.

"Thanks for saving me today," I say the words I've been meaning to say all day. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Just like that, Ethan's expression lightens up, and he closes the distance between us to fold me into a hug.

"I've been reliving that day you fell into the ocean, and I thought we'd lost you. I know today wasn't even half as bad, but I just..." He hugs me closer, burying his face in my hair. "I was freaking out," he finally says. "I'm okay now that I know you're really fine."

I stroke his back for a while, my cheek nestled against his chest, while I listen to his erratic heartbeat.

"Yes," I finally whisper. "It's all good now."

♂♀