A quiet knock on the door shattered the moment. With the slightest caress of her cheek, which may have been accidental, Pendergast dropped his hand; the nurse had come in to do her regular rounds. Amy had not realized that she had stepped back several feet from the bed and was pressed up against the wall. Her face still tingled from where Pendergast had touched her.

She risked a look at the agent and saw that he was lying back on the pillow with his eyes closed as if the...she searched her brain for a word...the interaction had exhausted him. The nurse was efficient and discrete. If she noticed anything, she said nothing, but proceeded to check Pendergast's vitals.

"He woke up," Amy said, her voice still shaky.

"That's good, honey," the nurse said in her warmest, professional tone. "He looks better," She spared a few moments to look the younger agent over, "but you look like you've been through the ringer. How about you go and get some rest like a good girl." She looked over at Pendergast who appeared to have fallen back asleep. "He will be fine. I'll stay with him."

Amy tried to argue, but found her tongue thick with exhaustion. "Doctor?" Was all she managed to get out.

The nurse smiled. "I will make sure you'll be woken up when the doctor comes."

Amy nodded numbly as she headed for the door.

"You did good, honey," the nurse said, surprising Amy. "Real good. He'd not have made it without you."

Hugging those words close to herself, Amy somehow managed to make it upstairs to her room and collapsed on the bed. She was asleep before her head had fully rested on the pillow.

Strange dreams haunted Amy's sleep. Women in white robes. Walking in a line, kneeling then standing up and walking out. In her dream, Amy's eyes were clouded by what she thought was smoke and the smell – she knew it..what was it? The singing – if she could call it – it was more of a discordant chant, grated on her ears. She was sure they were not speaking English, but it did not sound familiar.

Then the drumming started. Not a regular beat, but a stocatto several beats,then a rest. Another several and then silence. There was also voice, calling to her. "Miss Ameline. Miss Ameline, are you awake."

The knocking and Maurice's voice eventually woke Amy fully. While her brain was still foggy with the remnants of her dream, she was awake enough to respond to Maurice so that he would cease the knocking on her door.

"Maurice. I'm awake. I'm awake. I'm coming to the door." Amy looked around and realized that it was light – the bright clear light of morning. She padded across the floor and opend the door to see the dapperly dressed old man smiling at her. "What time is it? Oh, hell," she could not help but laugh ruefully, "what day is it?"

Maurice, imperturbable as ever, replied. "You have slept nearly twenty hours, Miss. It is morning. Master Aloysius wanted to know if you felt up to joining him for breakfast?"

"Breakfast?" Amy knew she sounded completely stupid. She stopped a moment, shook her head to clear it and started again. "Master Aloysius is having breakfast?"

"Yes, Miss." Maurice nodded. "He would very much like it if you would join him. If you are feeling up to it."

Amy took another deep breath. "Please tell Master Aloysius," she was proud that she did not stumble on the moniker, "that I would be happy to join him in about half an hour...as soon as I have freshened up."

"Yes, Miss." Maurice said. "Thank you, Miss. I shall tell him. He will be awaiting you in the dining room."

As soon as the door closed, Amy ran for the bathroom. She ran the water as hot as she could and scrubbed herself head to foot. Her hair would be sopping wet, but there was nothing she could do about that. She put on clean trousers and a light sweater and braided her hair into a thick rope that hung down her back. She looked at herself in the mirror, she reached for a lipstick, but decided that the lipstick would not help matters. With a resigned sigh, she headed down the stairs to the dining room.

As she was walking down the stairs, a terrifying throught gripped her. Would PEndergast remember their...what would one call it? Their almost kiss? She felt heat come to her cheeks. How was she supposed to act after that? Another deep breath. Maybe he would not remember. He was still groggy. Surely he had not know what he was doing and now, in the light of day, all that would seem as if a dream.

Amy paused before the entrance to the dining room, took another breath, and walked in.

Pendergast was sitting at the head of the dining table. He was wearing his impeccably tailored snowy white shirt, but to her surprise, he did not have on a tie or a jacket and the shirt was open at the throat. He may have been a shade paler than usual, but that appeared to be the only negative side effect of his ordeal.

"Good morning," Amy managed to sound casual.

Pendergast looked up from the paper he was reading and lowered his coffee cup. He immediately rose and walked toward Amy.

Amy found herself blushing again under the direct gaze of those silver blue eyes, but she forced herself to continue looking directly at the man.

Pendergast could not take his eyes of the younger woman. Even tired, with dark cirlces still under her eyes, and the bruise still livid on her cheek, she was lovely. He did his best to manage his own breathing as he approached her. He remembered the feel of her skin on his hand and the electricity of being that close to her. Had they not been interrupted, he would have kissed her. But that moment had fled – he found himself hoping desperately that it was not forever.

It took all his effort to keep a calm demeanor as he approached. "Thank you," he said simply, "for all that you did." He bent over her hand intending to lightly kiss the fingers, but at the last minute, he turned her hand over and gently caressed the inside of her wrist with his lips in a courtly, yet extremely personal gesture.

Amy gasped in surprise and at the whirlwind of emotions and sensations that gesture caused.

Pendergast shocked at his own loss of control, stood up and with his normal, bland expression on his face – an expression that hid the tumult in his mind and body – gently took Amy's arm. "May I show you to a chair?" He walked her over to the table and pulled out a chair next to his own. Immediately Maurice appeared as if out of the air. He placed a napkin in her lap and poured her a cup of coffee.

Hoping to hide her confusion and her feelings, Amy picked up the cup and brought it to her lips. She noticed that Pendergast was doing exactly the same thing. Somehow this brought her comfort; somehow she knew he was as unsettled as she.

Pendergast eyed the young woman. She, unlike any other seemed to have the ability to completely undo his self control and for some reason he did not mind. He shook his head slightly as if to clear it.

"Ameline," he said, his smooth voice all business for the first time in several days. "Given how much time we have lost due to my...," a pause, "...incapacitation, I suggest that immediately after breakfast we go to meet the local law enforcement. I do not think that we can afford to lose any more time."

Amy looked at Pendergast in utter disbelief. "Not twelve hours ago you were at death's door," she said in a tone that belied her utter surprise, "and now you plan to continue this investigation as if nothing has happened."

The barest hint of anger flashed in Pendergast's eyes and was gone, "We have only a few days to prevent another young woman from losing her life. That is what we are here for. I assure you that I am quite fit and capable of doing the job."

"But somebody tried to poison you..."

"I am aware of that," Pendergast cut her off, "and I shall deal with that personally and in my own time," the chill in his voice and in his eyes, left no doubt as to how he was planning to deal with that particular miscreant, "but for now, the lives of the young women matter more." He checked his watch even as Maurice began placing steaming platters on the table. "Now, my dear, may I get you some eggs? Given our day ahead, I am not certain when we will again have a meal."

I hope you liked this chapter. I was trying to move with the story while keeping a bit of the tension going. Pendergast's feelings are clear, but he is now going to wrestle them back under control as they have a job to do. Amy is a little off balance due to Pendergast's intimate act and I wanted to show her flustered so she is not perfect or in total control. But she too will need to get her head on straight so together the two of them can work to prevent another murder. Thank you for taking the time to read this. I very much value to comments and reviews.