Heart pounding, my hands damp with sweat and blood, I moved a palm to his face to turn him toward me. "Kael," I whispered.

He didn't respond. I slid my fingers down to the side of his neck. Though weak, I felt the rapid flick of his pulse. Basic life support training had gotten me this far, but after checking breathing and pulse, I was lost. There was no prompt in his condition that suggested how to proceed.

"Kael!" I shouted now. Desperate, I reached down and put pressure on his wound. His eyelids may have fluttered but part of me suspected I had imagined it.

He was dying, and I sat, trying to wake him so he could tell me what to do. I scanned the room. If only I'd had the energy to force him off the floor earlier. Slumped against the wall, his injuries were probably aching far worse than they would be lying flat in the bed. I needed help, resources or someone but there was nothing here.

The duffel bag. Keeping my hand on his bleeding side, I reached for it. My fingers could just grasp the handle to pull it toward me. I removed a wad of gauze and applied it generously with tape over the top. Every piece slowly pulled away, the moisture across his abdomen negating the best attempts of the adhesive. To keep it in place I kept my hand held fast against the wound. Still, sitting here, holding pressure in an ever growing puddle of blood was nothing more than a short term fix.

There was a torch in the bag and I turned it on. The contents were a mess. Opened packets of gauze, bottles of various drugs, and strong painkillers were strewn across the bottom of the case.

Panic was slipping into my psyche, though I tried my best to suppress it. I tore through the contents searching for anything that would stop the bleeding that persisted despite the bandage and my hand's firm pressure. More gauze was tucked under every vial of medication and roll of tape. I had just waded through a large stack of it when my eyes fell on a vial, different than the others. Advate. I thought I knew what it was, but not why Kael would need it. I frowned, raising the bottle to see it better in the light. Everything else in the bag seemed to serve a purpose relative to his injuries. I looked into the bag. Yes, now or later, he may find everything in here useful. He must need it.

Hands shaking, I mixed powder and liquid. This was something I had seen done years ago in the hospital after Maria and Arthur had been in a car accident. I prayed Kael needed it, and if he didn't, getting it wouldn't cause more harm. Small comfort to think that there was little I could do to make his condition worse.

Stifling the impulse to look away, I grasped his arm with one hand and eased the needle into his vein with the other. When the syringe was empty, I sat back and dropped the needle on the wooden desk beside his head. The gauze on his wound was already soaked, but I reapplied pressure to the area.There was nothing else I could do. Returning to Ava was out of the question. Not only was he immobile, but also I wasn't convinced that Ava didn't want to ultimately kill him.

Time seemed to pass in excruciating increments. I kept pressure on the wound and changed the gauze often. After a few hours, the bleeding did seem to slow. Morbidly, I wondered if he had simply bled to death rather than benefited from the medication. As the day progressed and sunlight faded, I rifled through the bag again to keep myself awake. Three more bottles of the same drug had fallen to the bottom of the bag. My fingers ran across the labels. I wanted so badly to consider the implications, but I couldn't. Even as my mind tried to process what had happened last night, I pushed the thoughts away. Exhaustion clouded my ability to think clearly. It was easier not to think at all.

Nearly dusk, I couldn't keep my eyes open. My head ached, and my muscles refused to stay positioned with my hand against his wound. Although I knew the risks, I had to rest, even for a moment.

After replacing the gauze, I moved to the couch. Old mildewed cushions felt like heaven to my sore muscles. For the thousandth time I wished I could get Kael off the floor. I shifted on the old sofa, the legs groaning with my movement. My breath was slightly visible in the night air. Tomorrow the fireplace would have to be cleaned and used. I propped my head on my hand and fixed my gaze on the figure slumped by the door and the shallow rise and fall of his chest.

Small bumps rose on my arms. Watching him now, I couldn't imagine him kissing me. Before, he'd hardly touched me without good reason, but something had changed. When he woke we would talk because the memory would eat me alive if we didn't. It was terrifying how it was imprinted on my mind. I knew I must stay detached from others to keep from being hurt, so it shouldn't have this effect on me. My hand found the chain of my locket and I began to twist incessantly. What am I doing here? Despite the successful rescue, I knew the truth. I shouldn't be here.

Sleep began to push into my thoughts, and with it the sensation of falling. I was shoved against a wall and Kael fell into me, trapping me. Movement was impossible and breath became painful. Pushing against him only suffocated me more. Around me was dark, his crushing form the only sensation. I was powerless, scared, and restrained. Even his face illuded me. My throat felt thick and sluggish when I tried to cry out. Again and again my arms flailed in my small prison, but their movements were weak and helpless.

When I woke I was shaking. Perspiration mixed with blood and soaked my shirt. Sunlight streamed through cobwebs across the small square windows of the room, bringing with it warmth and much needed light. Everything came back to me in a rush - finding Kael, Madeline, Interpol. I grasped my forehead, braving a headache as well as a wave of vertigo.

I looked back to the wall where I'd left Kael last night. He remained unconscious, and his bruises appeared more extensive than they had yesterday and darker on his pale skin. If he did regain consciousness, I doubted he'd be able to open his left eye judging by the swelling.

With shuffled steps I made my way over to him. Part of me wanted to run, to escape and forget I had ever come. But the very thing that made me want to leave was what kept me there. Blood stained the bandage when I knelt down to feel his weak pulse. I ran my hand through my tangled hair. I couldn't remember the last time I'd had a hot shower or proper meal even though it couldn't have been that long ago.

For the first time, I really looked at the cottage in daylight. A thick coating of dust covered every surface, and cobwebs connected the furniture. The kitchen to my left had webbed dishes in the sink, bugs and rodents having cleared the food years ago. On the opposite side was a modest living area where I'd slept on the sheet covered sofa. Soot filled the fireplace across from the sofa, reminding me of Julia. My caring foster parent had been killed in front of that fireplace by her abusive husband. I felt cold when I remembered. Looking away, I found the door to the main bedroom beyond the living room. That would be my goal for Kael, but even getting him to the couch would be impossible if he couldn't stand on his own.

Kneeling down, I shook his shoulder, but he didn't wake. I considered administering a second dose of the drug, a decision that took me half an hour to make, but I finally decided in favor of it. The last dose had seemed to do more good than harm. Hopefully, a second dose would prove beneficial.

Twelve hours flew by. Surprising that time passed quickly in silence, but I oscillated between changing bandages, sliding blankets and cushions I found beneath him, and trying to wake him. The house and surrounding street were quiet during the day so I jumped at any sound. I would often peer out the window to see a stray dog duck into the ally or a homeless man scuffle away in search of food. Nevertheless, the next sound startled me just as much as the one before.

By the time dusk fell, I was exhausted. I hadn't eaten and hardly slept. There were a few bottles of water in the duffel. Taking only one, I had rationed my drinking over the course of the day and could feel that it wasn't enough to keep me hydrated.

Kael was looking worse with the passage of time. I'd managed to get him flat on the floor with blankets and pillows for cushions, though I knew he would still ache from being on the hard surface. Dark shadows had formed under his sunken eyes. His lips were dry. Somehow he needed to drink, but countless efforts to rouse him were to no avail.

To keep my mind occupied, I cleaned soot out of the fireplace. It was a disgusting job, but I needed the diversion. By nightfall, I'd managed to find a few logs that weren't completely ruined by moisture and mold. I lit a fire. With no electricity in the place, it was nice to have a light without having to carry the torch everywhere. It was a risk as well, but anyone who saw it should assume it was only a squatter. Besides, I couldn't imagine Ava knew anything about this old place.

The smell of burning wood mixed with the growing warmth in the room was a comfort to my soul. My hand resting on the mantle of the fireplace, I gazed into the flames lost in thought. The work had expended more energy than I had to spare. Now my body begged for rest, but rest would allow my mind to carreen in dangerous directions. Directions that I had managed to avoid most of the day and replace with manual labor. I never imagined that Kael would be so completely incapacitated. The scenario where Kael died, leaving me in the old haunted cottage with Interpol searching the country for me had slipped into my mind more than once that day. A warm tear slid down my cheek, and I brushed it away.

The hoarse grunt came a moment before he made contact. With so little warning, I was caught completely off guard. One of his arms formed a vice around my neck, and his other hand pressed toward my skull, positioned to break my neck.

I screamed before I could think. It shattered the silent darkness and would have woken neighbors if we'd had them. "Kael!" I gasped, my hand coming to pull helplessly on his arm. "It's me! Kael!"

The choke hold slipped from my neck. I was released so quickly that I fell backward a few steps, and catching my breath, regained my balance on the wall by the fireplace. When I looked up, Kael was miraculously standing in front of me. He looked too beaten to be conscious but he was, his breathing twice the pace it had been when he'd been unconscious. The long metal object in his right hand was steady and ready for use should I make a move.

I couldn't quite make out his eyes to decide if he was himself again. Light from the flames danced across the room, casting an ominous shadow of the figure looming in front of me but there was no indication of his thoughts and intentions. The man I had known last year had yet to make an appearance if he ever would. This brought back Ava's warning of his true character. Not for the first time, I wondered if my coming here had been a terrible mistake. Fear tightened in my chest as Kael tilted his head slightly to see me out of his open right eye.  

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Is his being awake a good thing or is Harper in trouble? Thanks for reading and putting up with my slow posting. Editing, editing, editing... ;)

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