Disclaimer! I do not own any of the characters depicted in this story. All rights for the Final Fantasy series are reserved bySquare Enix.

I bow to TayMors editing and Betaing prowess. *snuggles*

Now for the chapter

Chapter IV

"…without a solid reason I saved him…"

The light from the opened curtains burned the back of my eyelids, dragging me from the fitful sleep I'd fallen into.

Stirring drowsily I blink open heavy eyelids, shifting gingerly as my body protests my awkward choice in sleeping positions. My whole body hurts, from my numb and tingling toes to the raging crick in my neck.

Rubbing icy digits over the said crick, I try to force myself awake. My mind though, feels like it's been stuffed with cotton along with my mouth. Running my tongue over dry ridges and gums I start to become more aware. Groaning into the bedspread to muffle the sound, I try not to feel too much like a failure.

He's been asleep for almost two days now, and I was helpless to do anything to fix it.

Those entire two days and nights, his fever hasn't abated, not once! Outside the storm is still going pretty strong; that too has lasted the extent of his coma like state- an ill omen that sends chills up my spine. Luckily his wounds at least are doing much better.

I'm beginning to worry that he'll never wake up.

Glaring out the now open curtains, I try to figure out how much longer the rain will last. The window box outside the sill was flooded. The geraniums inside have long since drowned; bruised beyond repair. It was just one more thing I had to obsess over; at least it looked like my ivy would survive.

The rain's still pattering on the roof but it seems the heavy buzzing of it had lessened to a more pleasant hum while I was asleep. Earlier, about around dawn actually, I'd pulled the curtains open to use for light in place of my dwindling candles, and had noticed the clouds had begun to clear so I wasn't very surprised.

The storm is abating at last.

Running one hand through my bangs to straighten them, I focus groggily on the bed to assess my patient's condition. Its takes a minute for me to focus but when I succeed I suck in a breath as hope blooms in my chest. Mr. Tall Dark and Unconscious looks a lot better today. His breathing is smoother- more even. The high cheekbones I refuse to envy have lost their unnatural red color and are now just marginally flushed. I use my wrist to check his temperature. Still there, I note, but its getting softer.

I let my hand slide away and stare blankly, not really focusing on his features so much as I'm lost to my own inner musings. I want to weep in relief.

It looks like he might make it after all.

This was hugely relieving. Since I haven't been able to get his fever down, I'd begun to think… I shake off the morbid thoughts. It doesn't matter now. He's better, or a least getting there. So what now? His wounds won't need to be checked anytime soon since I just –re-bandaged them…when?

I check the clock: Two? Three hours ago?

My shoulders slump as it hits me that I really have nothing else left to do. I rub the chilled skin of my arms, and sit back on my heels blankets bunching around my feet. After the first night spent at Mr. Muscles' side, I'd made myself a pallet to sit of with soft blankets and extra pillows. I eye the tangled heap; I wouldn't be needing it any longer, it seems. The worst of his fever abating means he doesn't require my immediate and constant attention. I set about straightening the mess.

I chew my lip as I worked, noticing vaguely that it was stating to become a rather bad habit. I should really stop doing it. It rips the skin, makes it get chapped and bleed. However, I am finding that I'm doing it more and more thanks to my guest. He isn't even awake and already I'm a nervous wreck thanks to him. I feel a smile tug at my lips and I shake my head- Foolishness.

Gathering my nest up, I reluctantly tear myself from the bedside for the first time in thirty-six hours, climbing unsteadily to my feet. I groan as the room does a lazy twirl. I steady myself with a hand on the nightstand, patiently waiting for the room to stop dancing before my eyes.

I haven't really been taking care of myself much; instead devoting all my attention on the wounded stranger. I'm slightly dizzy from sleep deprivation and my stomach is growling in angry demand of food. Instant noodles would not satisfy it any longer.

It's more than time to remedy that fact. First things first: I want a shower.

Shoving my nest into an empty space in my closet, I pause outside the bathroom door and stare hard at the worn wood, torn by indecision. Do I want it bad enough to chance bathing while this unconscious stranger was not 10 feet away on my bed? Granted he's completely out of it, and hasn't moved in a good twenty-four hours or more but…I shudder at the thought of what could be in my hair, and the blood caked under my finger nails.

Yes, I want it that badly.

Besides it doesn't appear as if he'll be stirring anytime soon…I scurry into the tiled room, locking the door behind me, sending up a prayer for good measure as I do. Something along the lines of, 'Please God, if her wakes up, knock him back under,' would suffice.

As I reach for the faucet I catch myself, realizing I've almost made a rather large error. Edging back towards the door, I peek out, reassuring myself of his slumbering state before grabbing a change of clothes, slightly mortified at what I'd almost done. Coma state or not, sneaking around for clothes in a flimsy towel was NOT my idea of a good, well, idea. I'd seen waaaay too many sitcoms to think it'd turn out simple, and in my favor.

Once back in the bathroom I can't help but find the image a bit amusing. Laughing quietly I get into the shower stall and go about my usual routine a bit more quickly than usual, before dressing. I eye what I'd grabbed in my haste and decide it's not a bad choice. A grey wool one piece pulled over thick black leggings in deference to the chilled rainy weather.

I shuffle back out in snuggly wool socks, peeking cautiously around the door jab into the room before exiting completely. I blow out the breath I didn't realize I'd been holding, "Still where I left you."

Moving towards my closet I grab a pair of boots, hesitating as I do so. I chew, for the umpteenth time at my overly abused lip. Would it really be okay to leave him here?

It's Monday, and I have the mid-morning till afternoon shift. Though I'd spent the entire weekend battling for his life, sometimes in a literal sense with my grace, I felt bad leaving his side. I move to the bedside feeling his forehead for the umpteenth time. The flush has receded even farther from his face, though he was still a bit too warm for comfort. I shift the boots to dangle from my other hand.

I need to go…but the thought of leaving him alone doesn't sit well with me. Deciding I was being paranoid, but unable to help it, I move out of the room towards the table where my old fossil of a phone sits. Fingers hovering over the receiver, I waver.

Was calling in to work a bit radical? His wounds aren't yet healed, and though I've managed to wrestle the bleeding under control, that doesn't mean he's out of the danger zone yet. Leaving him unattended for more than a few minutes makes my stomach turn knots. I curse my stupid paranoia as I begin dialing. A familiar gravely voice, made so by years of chain smoking, answers. "Hello?"

I square my shoulders and try to achieve the correct amount of concern into my tone. It wasn't a hard thing to do.

"Hey, Boss, It's Rio." I pause, tucking the phone between my cheek and shoulder before tugging at snags in the fabric of my dress. I hated doing this.

"Um…Friday…something came up and a…" I pause again wondering what exactly I was going to say. I agonized mentally over my choice of words stalling. I stalled perhaps a little too long for the gravely voice spoke up again, this time deeper and laced with concern "You okay?"

I stopped fidgeting, feeling ridiculously like a disobedient child that's struck with guilt over lying to her father. Swallowing, I force myself to relax. I'm not doing anything wrong, I remind myself.

"I'm fine. Something came up and…Would you mind giving me a couple days to take care of some things?" My guilt deepened, even though I wasn't being dishonest, as my boss answered promptly.

"Take your time. Just try to get it settled by the end of the week." He hung up before I get a chance to gush my thanks. He's never been a chit-chatter. Setting the phone down, I grab my coat and place one hand on the door knob, before stopping. Should I tell him I'm leaving? Sure he's not awake but…

With a sigh I tip toe back to the bed room to peek in. He's still laid out, covers pulled up to his chin, and black hair cascading everywhere.

Moving soundlessly across the faded carpet I perch on the edge of the bed,- smoothing the covers, tucking in edges, and change the towel over his forehead. Satisfied that he was as comfortable as I could make him for now, I pull the boots over my stockinged feet.

"I'll be back. I'm just going to run to the apothecary." I say out loud though I don't expect an answer. Nor do I receive one. I sigh and leave the room closing the door softly behind me.

It's a rainy and miserable day outside. Shivering under the overhang above my door, I flip open my umbrella and set off for the clinic. I need to hurry so that I can get back as quickly as possible. Leaving him alone and unattended for more than a few seconds, let alone the minutes it'd probably take me to finish my errands- just the thought of it's enough to ruin my nerves. Luckily it doesn't look as if this will be a long trip at all, for the streets are pretty much deserted except for my-self and a few others that have braved this wet morning.

I twirl the umbrella idly in my hands, watching as the dark blue material above spins a lazy circle. I sigh and my breath mists the damp air. I hate the rain. Though I'm pretty good at categorizing, or pinpointing, the numerous causes for my many pet peeves, I'm not sure I have a concrete reason for this certain problem of mine. It's been something that's always bothered me, even during early childhood.

While others would put on their rain gear to splash in puddles gleefully, I'd sit in the sanctity of my window seat- bundled in blankets and glaring at rain drops that fell across the window pane.

My mother used to tease me, asking if I was afraid I would melt if it touched me. Feeling nostalgic I held a hand out from under my portable shelter and smiled as the rain hit my skin. I feel a bit foolish standing here in the rain grinning over my hand getting wet. I decide that two days of barely any sleep or nutrition was beginning to drive me slightly batty.

I shiver and shake my hand dry before continuing to walk- heels clicking smartly on cobblestone - trying to ignore the pattering on the umbrella that's loud in my ears.

So absorbed by this singular noise in the quiet morning, I blink, surprised when I hear a cheerful jingling noise that's conspicuously out of place. I spot an over hanging sign that declares the owners state of business. I smile and head for the building I was in search of.

As I get closer I discover the source of the odd sound. Wind chimes. All of assorted colors and shapes. They hang off strings- bottle green globes, flashing shards in shades of violet and gold glass, and coral shells align the front of the shop. There are even a few dancing crystal faeries, glowing rainbows in the wet. I shake my head and push through the buildings doors.

The clinic is a pretty small building that usually smells thickly of burnt sulfur and incense. It looks more like a knick-knack shop than a pharmacy; candles litter every available counter space not taken up by the register and countless books. A few of the candles are already lit because the sky was so overcast today; leaving very little light to go by from the windows. As such the smell is thick, and it's horribly warm inside. I cover my nose with the back of my hand; trying not to sneeze as the odor in the room makes my nose burn and eyes water.

Un-buttoning my coat I tug off my scarf while I walk the short distance to the long counter. Fidgeting with the fabric I cast a furtive glance about the room, before clearing my throat.

"Excuse me?" No answer comes from within the dark shop. I turn to glace at the sign in the window wondering if they were closed but hadn't locked their doors.

"Can I help you?" Practically jumping out of my skin, I whip back around to focus on the bent old man now at the counter. Placing a hand over my racing heart I manage a shaky smile. The old man glares over his spectacles and harrumphs moodily.

"You don't have to go jumping about and screaming. I can hear and see you just fine, young'in."

"I apologize for the noise…You startled me." I breathe out amused despite myself at the old mans cantankerous disposition. He harrumphs again dusting the long wooden counter than ran the length of the shop. "What do you need?"

Tucking my hands politely in my pockets I smother a smile and strive for seriousness, "I find my self in need of a good supply of bandages and gauze. Can you help me?"

I also list off a group of ingredients to use to make a home poultice.

The other day while reading one of my mom's old home remedies books, I discovered an herb called Gotu Kola. It's apparently used to help heal wounds and prevent infection. I figure it's worth a shot. While the wounds were healing pretty well on their own, the last thing I need is for the mystery man to contract an infection.

The old man pauses giving me an appraising look before he gives me a gap toothed smile. He seems to be impressed by my over night herbal knowledge. After that he's much more friendly throwing purchases in a bag and giving me advice on how best to use the herb. By the time I leave his shop, that old man has loaded me down with a few things he insisted I'll need, given at no extra charge.

"Are you sure I can have all this?" I ask uncertainly as he shoves the last of the purchases into a paper bag.

He harrumphs and shoves it towards me "If I wasn't sure I wouldn't do it. Now take it before I change my mind."

I nod gathering the bag into my arms, "I really appreciate this," I thank him profusely, bowing out of the shop. He waves off my thanks calling after me before the door swings shut, "You need anything else you come back here, got it?"

Since my arms are full I settle for a nod and a smile before I begin the fight of opening my umbrella one handed. After a couple fails, and almost spilling my newly bought medical supplies I set off quickly for home. I have a patient waiting for me and I've been gone long enough.

Will he be awake yet, I wonder? Part of me hopes he will be. I'm begging to worry a bit about how long he's been unconscious. What will I do if he doesn't ever regain consciousness? It's not like I can keep an invalid man in my apartment forever; especially if he's not aware enough to eat or drink. He'll either starve or die of dehydration. My brows furrow and I try to force the thought out of my head. It nags at me, despite my efforts.

Since I have no idea what happened to him the possibility that he won't wake is very much on the table. This entire time I've been assuming he'd gotten attacked by a rogue monster…Maybe I should see about getting him transferred to a hospital? Kalm only had a few walk in clinics, which were all nothing fancy…

My thoughts grind to a halt as a mouth watering smell drifts to my nose, even above the sharp scent of rain.

I stop turning my head this way and that as my stomach lets out an appreciative grumble. Finally I spot the source: a bakery that had its windows cracked open. I'm tempted beyond belief. Glancing up the road and back down the way I've come, I spot no one to judge me for a slight detour. My grumbling belly is more than enough as a very powerful persuasion.

I slip inside the shop grumbling as I have to downsize my umbrella once more. The warm air brushes my cold reddened cheeks and the smell of freshly baked bread makes my mouth water. Utter decadence. A pretty young woman with a gently rounded belly hobbles out of the back room as the bell above the door stops jingling.

"Welcome!" Her smile is big and bright as she greets me, and I do my best to return the smile, "Hello." I prop my umbrella by the door and walk up to the counter .

"Are you open?" I ask hesitantly, silently begging for it to be true. Her laugh rings out joyfully, "Do you have money to buy? If so, then I assure you my dear, we're open." I laugh along with her at the joke that was delivered with a conspiratorial wink. It seems the proprietress is as cheerful as her little shop.

"What's you fancy on this dreary evening?" she prompts with a tempting sweep of her arm to encompass the goodies in the glass display case she stood behind.

"I'm not really sure," I answer with a sheepish half smile, "I was just on the way home and smelled your baking. I couldn't resist." She chuckles merrily and leans on the counter top, a feat that surprises me since I'd think her pregnant belly would prevent such a move.

"I opened them this morning to help vent the place," she informs me cheerfully, "This place gets dreadfully hot when I have the ovens going." She pauses for effect, her smile turning slightly mischievous, "The fact that the smell lures in unsuspecting victims such as your self is a bonus." I laugh along with her as she sends me a playful wink, her cheerful behavior is contagious and I find my previously dreary mood lifting.

Leaning forward I eye the display, careful of the bag I still clutch in one arm. It all looks delicious and my pocket is still weighed down with a months worth of wages. I look up and smile "It all looks, and smells wonderful. Do you have any suggestions?"

She hums considering, tucking a loose blonde curl back under the handkerchief holding her hair back, "Well you look like a girl who enjoys her sweets, no offense. I have just the thing for you." I blink as she hustles back through a doorway her skirts swishing cheerfully. She'd said the last statement with such kindness, that I'm not sure whether I can take offense or not. Before I can think too much on the subject she breezes back in with a basket.

"Here you are and fresh out of the oven." Sitting it on the countertop, she lifts a corner of the cloth with a flourish. Steam wafts out and I nearly melt in pleasure at the sweet aroma. I sigh in pleasure and ask, "What is that?"

She giggles with delight "My specialty and most secret recipe. I too am a woman who loves her sweets. I came up with it during my last pregnancy." She covers the basket back up and rings up my total, perhaps knowing from my awed expression that I wouldn't be leaving with out the delicious food.

As she packs up the breads I casually ask, "So do you run this place alone?"

She smiles, her expression somewhat dreamy, "Oh, heavens no. My husband helps me get started before heading out for the Warf, he's a fisherman you see, and my eldest- Carrum, he helps around the shop when he's not at school." I nod, smiling and hand over the appropriate amount of gil.

"I haven't ever spotted this shop before." I mention off hand, giving way to my inner curiosity before hanging my new purchases on my free arm. "I live in the area and I was sure I knew all the local shops."

The woman laughs, "Oh, well we've only been here a little less than a year." I smile, "That would explain it."

I linger for a few more minutes making small talk, wanting to soak up a bit more warmth before I brave the cold outside. I sigh regretfully, "I should be going. I have a…friend at home waiting for me." If she noticed my odd tone or the awkward pause, she didn't say note on it, merely moved around the counter.

"Here, hon, let me help you." The cheerful shop keeper follows me to the door scooping up my umbrella and opening the door for me. We move out under the over hang and she pops the contraption with ease before handing it back to me.

"My name's Marguerite, but my husband calls me Maggie." She tells me with a shy smile. I return the gesture, "Rio, and its nice to meet you." I pause not really wanting to leave, but knowing I had to be getting back. I take a step, then turn back blurting, "Can I… Would you mind if I come back sometime? Even if I don't buy anything?"

Her smile widens, and I realize belatedly that she couldn't be much older than I am. It also seems as if she didn't wish for me to leave any more than I wanted to. With a warm feeling I realize I've just made a friend.

"Come back any time."

I leave her there waving after me as I head down the street still with a smile on my face. I barely notice the rest of my walk going over my experience in the shop and looking forward to eating my treats with a warm cup of tea or coffee. I turn down my street and jog up the stairs, juggling my packages carefully while I dig for my key.

I struggle getting the stupid thing in the lock, before nudging the door open with my foot. Warm air brushes my chilled body and I sigh happily. My little heater might be a finicky little thing a lot of the time, but when it was working, it kicks butt. Pushing the door closed I head into my kitchen humming softly, to deposit my goods and take off my outer layers.

I make it two steps into the kitchenette before I freeze. The hair on the back of my neck stands up and a chill runs down my spine. A foreboding feeling fills my belly and I try to figure out what exactly was different that was sending my senses on haywire. Then I hear it- A faint noise coming from the other room. Was he awake? Dropping my bags on the nearest surface I rush across the room to pull the bedroom door open.

The door is warm under my palm, but I feel as if I've been doused in ice. My breath strangles in my throat locking the scream from escaping. Slowly the blood drains from my face, probably leaving me as white as a sheet.

Because rather belatedly, I find my self staring down the barrel of a gun.

TBC...

Edited 2013

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