A/N- Thanks to those of you who reviewed! I really appreciate it.

Chapter Two

The man moaned and tossed in the bed. The white sheets he lay on were soaked with sweat. It was late, hours since Deirdre had found him lying on the rocks at the beach, and he had not yet awaken. He moaned and cried out a few times, but other than that he was silent. It was only she and he in the room. The others had left after they had done all in their knowledge to ensure that he would see the morn. The nearest doctor had been sent for. Hopefully, he would arrive soon.

Deirdre looked down at the paper in her hands. It was creased and worn. Obviously it had been folded and unfolded many times. Read and reread. It had come from his shirt pocket. They had searched his clothing, looking for something that might identify him. The only thing that they found was the letter. She read it again.

Dear James,

It is with a heavy heart that I write you this letter. I worry over how you will receive it and what you now think of me. I know that now you know of my choice and probably do not wish to hear from me, but I feel that I owe it to you to give you an explanation for my cruel treatment of you recently.

I apologize sincerely for accepting your offer of marriage and then going back on my word. As I look back on my actions now I feel guilt and shame, for I know you never deserved such callous, harsh treatment from me. So worried was I for Will at the time, that I did not think of your feelings, and that I truly regret.

I have been in love with Will since I was a young girl. If not for him, then things could have worked out between us, but it would not have been fair to you if I had married you while in love with another man. You are a fine man, James, one that any young woman would wish to marry, but we would not have been good for each other. I am sure that one day soon you will find the woman who is meant for you.

I beg you to accept my sincere apology, and I hope that one day we might be able to put all of this behind us and act as friends.

Your friend,

Miss Elizabeth Swann

Poor man. Deirdre refolded the note, feeling sadness for him- James. The woman must have been important to him. Deirdre felt a bit guilty for reading the note. After all, she didn't know this man at all, and he didn't know her, and here she was looking into his personal life without his permission. Well, she supposed she had had to do it. How else were they supposed to have any idea of who they were taking care of.

After she put away the letter, Deirdre stood and walked over to his bedside. He was murmuring something faintly in his sleep, but she couldn't make out the words. She brought her hand down to touch his forehead. She knew before her fingers even made contact that he was still burning up. She turned to the small bedside table, and reached for the basin of cold water that some of the other nuns had placed there. She took the rag out and rung out the excess water.

A small yelp was torn from her throat when she turned back around, prepared to cool off the poor man with the chill water, for his eyes were open, and he was looking right at her. Well, glaring was probably a better word. His hands clutched the sheets in fists, and she could see his chest panting beneath the covers. Sweat still poured from his forehead.

"Where am I?" he demanded.

"Calm down, sir," she said, regaining her composure, "You are at Kylemore Abbey on the Iveragh Peninsula in Ireland. We are going to take care of you. Now, just relax." She held the dripping cloth out to him. "Here, this will cool you down."

He looked past her, ignoring her outstretched hand. The anger and distrust in his eyes was replaced by fear. His breathing quickened. Deirdre didn't know what to think. Could he be hallucinating something? He did have quite a fever. "Sir, please," she said soothingly, "Lie back. There's nothing to worry about."

He started, as if once again remembering she was present. "I… don't know… who I am," he said slowly, "I can't remember." His deep voice became faster, more urgent. "I should remember. I know I should, but I just… can't."

Deirdre gaped at him. This was certainly a problem. How was she supposed to help a man who couldn't remember his own name? She fished for something comforting to say. "A doctor has been sent for. I'm sure everything will be fine. Just take it easy for now. Stress won't be good for you with such a high fever."

He appeared to want to put up a fight, but something in her eyes must have conveyed that she wasn't going to take no for an answer. Finally, he leaned back down on the pillows. His eyes were still frightened and wild, like that of a cornered animal, but it seemed as if he was going to cooperate with her. Gently, Deirdre placed the cool, wet rag on his forehead. He started, but then relaxed. "There. Now, just keep that there on your forehead, and you should cool down soon. Are you thirsty?"

"Yes, very," he replied. His panting had slowed somewhat, and for that she was glad. Still, his cheeks were red in contrast with his otherwise pale skin, and his eyes shone brightly, feverishly. He was still far from well.

"Drink," she commanded gently, placing one hand behind his neck and holding him up. He gulped down the water she offered him urgently, so urgently that he choked a bit and had to stop to allow a fit of coughing pass. "Not so fast," she warned, a little too late as he coughed. She removed her hand from behind his neck and placed it on his chest, once again lowering him down on the pillows. As her hand lay on his chest, she was briefly surprised by the harness of his muscles beneath the thin cotton shirt they had put him in. He looked like a slight man, but now it was obvious that he was generously muscled.

"Who are you?" he asked when she had returned the empty cup to its rightful place beside the pitcher of water.

She offered him a small smile. "I am Sister Deirdre," she replied.

"I wish I could introduce myself," he said quietly, "But…."

"James," Deirdre said, remembering the letter, "James. Does that sound right?"

His brow creased in thought as he considered. Then his eyes widened, and he opened and closed his mouth a few times before he finally remembered how to talk. "Yes… yes," he said slowly, "That's me. That's my name!" His eyes immediately became suspicious. "How do you know that?"

Deirdre reached into the pocket of her dress and pulled out the letter. She held it out to him. "We found this in your jacket pocket," she told him, "Here. Read it."

He took the paper out of her hands, still eyeing her warily. Then he began to read. Different emotions crossed his face, none staying for any amount of time. When he finished reading, he slowly refolded the letter and let it fall from his hands. "Maybe it's a good thing that I cannot remember her," he said, and he smiled sadly.

Deirdre didn't know what to say. She bent and picked up the letter, about to offer it back to him, but then she realized that he was no longer paying any attention to her or the letter. His brows were drawn together in concentration. Deirdre placed the folded letter on the bedside table.

"There's something important," he began mumbling, not to her but to himself, "I have to remember…. I have to…." He cut off, breathing heavily once again. The sweating had started back.

"Calm down," she told him again, placing a soothing head on his burning forehead, "I'm sure you'll remember soon, but you have to rest. You'll never get well if you don't take it easy. Sleep is the best thing for you now. Sleep." She kept her hand on his forehead because the touch of another person seemed to comfort him somewhat. Softly, she hummed an old tune that she remembered her mother singing to her when she was a girl. Deirdre had also used it to calm young novices who had been awakened by frightening nightmares. The tune seemed to have the same affect on James, for soon he was asleep again.

Deirdre idly combed her fingers back through his dark brown locks, wondering who he had been before. Then the door opened.

Deirdre jerked her hand away, and looked to the door just as Sister Eilis entered. Deirdre forced herself to smile. "Good evening, Sister," she said.

Eilis all but glared a whole through Deirdre. Eilis had been one of Deirdre's teachers when she was a novice, and Deirdre apparently had not been an easy child to handle. Eilis hadn't forgotten, nor forgiven. "Mmmhmm," Eilis said, "I have been sent to relieve you. I believe you are due to give the novice Isobel O'Briain an extra lesson."

Deirdre winced. She had nearly forgotten about Isobel's penance. "Of course," she said and prepared to leave. As she was about to walk out the door, she turned back to Sister Eilis. "He woke long enough to speak to me only once…." She hesitated. "There is a problem. He doesn't remember who he is. He didn't even recall his own name until I showed him the letter."

Sister Eilis gaped at her.

Deirdre nodded. "Do not ask him anything about his past if he does wake," she advised, "It distresses him greatly." She shot another glance at James, now quietly murmuring something in his sleep. She felt reluctant about leaving him… but she supposed she had to. She resolved to come back and check on him when she could.

A/N- Another chapter! I hope you guys like it. Remember to review and tell me what you think.