The streets were in a panic, but Ban's grip on her hand was steel. For a little one, he'd always been inordinately strong. He cut his way through the tide, dragging her along behind him…headed straight for….

Evelyn tried to slow his progress when she realized he was moving straight towards the crown prince standing defiantly on a hastily erected set of breastworks blocking the street. "Ban, that's the prince…" She muttered, and he only chuckled in response.

"I noticed. Been standing beside him since I got out of the warehouse. He's under the delusion that I'm a mage…but his guards are the best, they're here, and they'll keep you safe."

And Liam certainly seemed pleased to see them…his intent face lightening somewhat when his gaze fell upon them. "Banastre!" He greeted, not bothering to coat the relief in his tone. "And Miss Whittaker! Grand!" He reached down at the same time that Ban pulled her forward, and before she quite grasped it, she was over the breastwork. Ban hopped up after her, still graceful in spite of his illness, and followed her into the relative safety of Liam's guards. She took a look around, but none of them appeared to be priests, or any other sort of healer. And they all looked as they had been chewed up and coughed out… Ban didn't look as bad by comparison.

"Banastre." It was odd to hear the name that Ban had always eschewed, and odder to hear it from the crown prince's lips and by the expression on Ban's face, he agreed. He schooled his expression back into bland normalcy as he turned to face Liam.

"Your highness?"

"Watch our back; we will need to move soon."

"Yes, your highness."

They came less than half an hour later, and Evelyn's heart plummeted. Even with the panic on the streets, the chaos, and the oddly focused feel coming off of Ban, she wasn't expecting this. "Your highness!" He barked, a completely unfamiliar command and grating sound in his voice, "They come!"

"I see them, Banastre!" Liam ground out, equally as harsh.

They swept around the corner, great canine monsters towering over men, all teeth, claws and burning feral eyes. They killed with ease, climbed like bats. She'd heard of them, of course, there were a few cases of the infection on the Wall every year, but this…this was more than the most detailed of those tales. Coming right at her, with the promise of her death in their glowing yellow eyes.

Ban stood, and suddenly gestured at them with an open hand. His magely studies were a joke to Bram, who had been content to write them off as just another waste of Ban's time. No one had ever suggested, hinted, that Ban had any true talent, least of all, Ban. But there was an eye burning flash of bright, rainbow pure light and a hollow sound of power from that gesture. The first three worgen in the torrent staggered, snarled, and fell…followed immediately by the three behind them as Ban went into a second cast right out of the gesture. He was a mage. A true mage. Why had he hidden this? His expression was the unbending lock of a man standing his ground, all of the dandified gentry she was so used to wiped completely away. She'd known him all of her life, and it was as if that was the first time she'd ever truly seen him.

He stood like a champion of Gilneas, unbowed, and none of those around him seemed at all surprised. He stood until that onslaught was over, his eyes warily rising to the roofs above him. "Your highness."

"I know, Master Russell. Here is not a place to hold." Liam's eyes went upwards as well, the worgen climbed with strength and power, and once on that high ground, became death from above. "We've held as long as we can. Time to pull back."

Pull back. Evelyn wanted to sigh, cry or simply scream. Now that his attention could lapse, Ban looked all the worse… his dark hair made the graying of his skin all the more obvious. He was now blatantly sick, and Liam gave him a wary stare in response. "You, Master Russell, do not look so well."

"I'll take care of him. He was sick before…" Why she lied, she was not certain, but it fell off of her lips like it was the truth. If they suspected, they would cut him down here… There had to be a priest somewhere. And even a bad priest could be bribed, she had Bram's engagement ring on her finger and Ban's emeralds in her ears.

"Yes. Sick before." Ban was always a fine liar, and was now too ill to need much of an acting job. "I just need… a moment. To catch my breath." He was breathing hard, and it refused to calm back down. "I'll go with Evelyn back towards the evacuation point. There are healers there…?"

There had better be, that was all Evelyn knew. And thankfully, Liam nodded in assent. Yes. Healers. Ban wasn't infected, he was just…ill. Too much brandy, too much stress, the bite was very mild. And by now, as she understood it, most would have already Changed. Ban was fine. Ban was always fine. "Of course, Master Russell. Miss Whittaker. I will see you there."

"Come, Banastre." She muttered, slinging his uninjured arm over her shoulder. Thankfully he wasn't a big one, or this would never work. She moved with him down the alleyway that Liam had indicated, but the moment they turned a bend, Ban's steps staggered. As she suspected, he was sicker than he'd been letting on… he wouldn't make it to any fall back point. And there was still the threat from their own people…if they had even a hint that he'd been bitten, it would be all over.

"Can't, Evelyn. You need to keep going…"

"Hush, damned fool." She hissed, reaching out to try the nearest door knob. It turned easily, opening into the modest foyer of a darkened home. "In. These should have been evacuated already."

"Evelyn…"

"I know. You've been bitten. Get in." They couldn't stay up here. If they were seen, more helpful Gilnean guards would come to enforce the evacuation… where was the cellar door? "You are all I have left, Ban." She growled while her eyes adjusted to the gloom. "There. The cellar door." Tucked in beneath the stairs…she grasped its pull and yanked. Unrelieved darkness met her eyes and she frowned. "Stay. I don't want you falling and breaking your neck." He growled in dissent, but remained still when she released him. She fumbled to the bottom of the stairs, cautiously touching until she found the lantern at the bottom of the steps. It lit easily, and she held it out, warily checking every nook and corner of the damp cellar. Nothing. Nothing at all out of the ordinary, and no exterior bulkhead or windows. It didn't get any better than this. She nodded, pleased, and rested the lantern on the floor while she went up to collect Ban again. He'd sat on the top of the stairs, his elbows on his knees, and his chin in his hands. He looked small, swallowed in his greatcoat like a child wearing his father's clothes. "Come on, Ban." She urged, taking his hand and giving it a small tug. He gave in easily, standing awkwardly and following her down. "No." She disagreed when he moved to sit on a pile of moldy burlap sacks…the only cushioning in sight. Once he went down, she'd never get him up again, and she didn't want him down on those. "I'll bring blankets from upstairs. They're cleaner."

"Hurry then." He muttered, pulling his arms up under the cape of his greatcoat and huddling miserably. "I feel dizzy. Not sure how much longer I can stand."

She nodded, moving up the stairs and into the house. It was much smaller than the Russell home, and she found the beds quite easily…by running into them. She gathered every blanket and pillow, dragging them along and down into the cellar. She piled them up, and turned to Ban. "Give me the coat."

"Cold." He whined, and she sighed.

"Give me the coat, Ban." She repeated, and he reluctantly squirmed out of it and handed it over. He had never bothered to put on another shirt, the only thing he wore beneath were the bandages she'd used. They were stained dark with blood, much more than such small punctures should have oozed, and she cursed silently. "Lay down."

He didn't have to be told twice, sinking down in the makeshift bed. "Cold, Evie." He repeated in the voice of a child, and she fought to keep her face calm. He was burning up, she could feel his fever radiating from where she stood, but he claimed to be chilled. She tucked blankets over him and settled down next to him, resting his head on her thigh. It seemed like the moment he let himself stop, it consumed him, going from focused and upright to delirium in a manner of minutes.

"Sorry, Evie." He muttered after an hour of pointless, lost phrases, and she smoothed his hair. "So damned sorry."

"What for, Ban?"

"Bram. I killed Bram. I'm so sorry."

What? She glanced at him, but his eyes were still closed. His breathing still labored and shallow. He was still not awake or aware of his words. "Ban, I'm sure that's not so." She whispered. What was he going on about? Everything before this, she had understood. She'd known Ban her entire life…but this?

"Did." He muttered thickly, turning his face into her hand. "He came at me. He bit me, and I….killed him. Didn't mean to."

Bram. Had bitten his younger brother. She glanced down at Ban's chest, still swathed with bandages. Bram had been gone for hours, without a word because…. He'd already run into trouble. He'd been infected, and he'd attacked Ban. She felt a sudden upwelling of rage, and none of it focused on the man with her. She was going to lose Ban, because of Bram. Lose them both. This night. Ban couldn't survive this; every moment that passed drove that further and further home. He struggled to breathe. He was drenched in sweat, but his fever refused to break.

"I forgive you, Ban. Just don't…"

He opened stunned, gray eyes and stared at her. "Don't what, Evie?"

"Leave me."

He reached up and grasped her hand. "I'd never leave you, Evie." He chuckled, but she was aware that was a promise he might not have the ability to keep.

"Get some sleep, Ban." She sighed, resting her hand across his brow. Why wouldn't it break? She'd go looking for medicines, but the chances she'd be found were too high. He'd just have to be his normal, stubborn self and pull through on his own.

"Damnation." Evelyn was startled out of a restless doze by Ban's annoyed proclamation, and she opened her eyes blearily. He stood close by, upright, healthy, back in this coat, and looking as perturbed as she seen him since this started.

"What is it, Ban?" She demanded, stiffly coming to her feet.

"I've gone and broken my watch." He extended his hand with the offending watch in it, and the crystal was most certainly shattered. Like everything else that he owned, it was only the best, a small fortune in gold and watch works.

"You damn near die of the fever and complain of breaking a watch." She hissed, and he gave her a lopsided grin when she placed a hand on his brow. He was cool to the touch. His color was back. His eyes were level and comprehending. His fever had broken, and he seemed none the worse for the wear. This was the Ban she was accustomed to.

"Sorry." He replaced the shattered watch in his pocket, "I was looking for this…" he pulled out his flask, "And found the remains of my watch." He held up his hand, a new crimson pearl of blood forming on it, "The sharp way. This is just not my night."

"The city is overrun by worgen, you sit at death's door, and it's not your night because you prick your finger on a shard of glass. You are incorrigible, Banastre Russell."

He grinned, flexed his shoulder, nodded. "I'm fine, Evelyn. Well…" he glanced up, "As fine as I'm going to be until I either get you out of this city, or the worgen out of it. I'd prefer the latter, but I'm not too terribly choosy right now. We need to go."

Evelyn grinned in relief. He was back. He was fine. It was not the end of the world.