She was lost.

She had to find a way out of the darkness – she hated darkness – but there was nothing to guide her. Running, turning, stopping to look around and guess a new direction. Where was he? He'd left her behind. Somehow that was not surprising. The feeling had always been there, that she was nothing but a burden, but she had always felt…hoped…tears were already streaming down her face by the time the first sob sounded.

"Oi, what's wrong with her?" a rough voice demanded.

Mamoru…

"Sierra, she's crying."

"Probably having a bad dream, the poor darling," Sierra said, stroking Haruka's fevered brow with a cool hand. "Now listen up, Blade. I have to go get more medicine and the others are out for the night, so keep an eye on her. Figuratively speaking, of course."

Haruka could feel him pulling a face at the blonde woman.

Fading footsteps signalled Sierra's departure and Mamoru fell into a chair with a sigh. She tried her best, but her eyes would not open and she drifted back into the nightmare, watching him grin over his shoulder before walking away. That was the picture she would always remember: broad shoulders, shaggy hair, feet planted firmly yet ready to take flight. And the cane. Always the cane clutched in one hand. Was he really going to leave her behind one day?

Suddenly a cool, damp cloth settled on her forehead, dabbing away the perspiration.

"What the hell, kid?" Mamoru's voice muttered. "Getting sick and bawling. You're like a freakin' baby…"

He was close now, close enough for his soapy scent to invade her nostrils, making it seem as though he surrounded her completely. In her dream she stretched her arms out, but he was too far away. How could he seem so close, but be so far? It made no sense…

"Oi, what? Hey."

Then he was standing in front of her. He wore his signature sunglasses and scowl and she nearly threw her arms around him, only to have him catch them before they could make contact. It took a lot of effort to speak, but she managed to utter the words.

"Please don't leave me."

"Huh? I ain't going anywhere. I'm sitting right here beside the bed." He let go of one hand to gesture, and she grabbed his collar tightly. "Haruka, dammit…"

"Don't go, please."

"I'm not going – argh, forget it, I'm too tired for this." He made a sound halfway between sigh and growl. "Sierra'll probably kick my ass, but this is a double bed and all…"

Haruka felt the world rise and fall as she was gently moved to the other side of the bed and shortly afterward the mattress dipped under his weight. He was never one to fidget; he lay down and slept, always getting it right the first time.

Her eyelids felt lighter now. She managed to open them enough to get a hazy view of the lean figure stretched out next to her. The cane was flung across his chest, gripped lightly in his left hand. His right hand rested on his stomach. It was impossible to see if his eyes were open or closed and there was no noticeable change in his breathing.

Was he asleep?

It felt nice to be so close to him – it didn't happen often – and she rolled over onto her side to press her face against his shoulder. He tensed. Her right hand crept closer to his, prompted by fever-induced courage, and rested next to it with the fingers barely brushing. He was warm and comforting, not a word often used to describe the demonic swordsman, and definitely not one he would use himself.

"Troublesome brat," he muttered.

"Sorry," she murmured.

"Che."

His fingers curled around hers and held them firmly as they drifted off into sleep together.