A/N: Sorry if there aren't any Graire last time. XD Updated. I placed a divider just like one of you suggested. XD Sorry.

DISCLAIMER: DO NOT OWN IT.

She jogged to the inn, blonde hair bouncing up and down as she did so. The soft gasps that escaped her breath with each hurried step taken were a sign that this time, she herself were in a state of panic. Claire gave a sigh of relief when she pushed the inn doors open and discovered that not many people were inside.

"Good. The less work, the better." She slumped to the chair behind the counter and leaned back, eyelids drooping slowly.

"What are you doing behind the counter?" Gray asked, opening the wooden doors cautiously, wearing a frown. "Doug sell this place to you or something?"

"Don't tell me you haven't heard from Ann." Claire told him. She sat straight up, ignoring the dizziness she felt due to the sudden movement. "Doug fainted."

She saw his eyes bulge in shock, but he quickly regained his composure. "I just got here from work. And what do you mean he fainted? The old man was just fine yesterday. He was even having a drinking contest with Duke last night."

Claire could only give him a shrug, and he sighed. "I don't know. Ann came running to my place asking me to take care of the inn. Big mistake, though. I'm not that much of a cook."

"But… you're a girl."

She gave him the Eyes of Death. "Sexist."

He backed off. Slowly. Pulling his cap down to hide his uneasiness. "Fine. Whatever. You know how to cook his stuff?" He asked her, pointing to the menu resting on the bar counter. "Because, well, you know… things will be hell in here at night."

Her face went pale suddenly. "You're serious? You're not messing with me? Because if you are, then you're dead meat," she threatened, but Gray just shrugged her off.

"What would I gain from lying about this?"

"You'd enjoy a front row seat to my incredible performance of stumbling all over my two left feet. Maybe even witness an explosion in the kitchen, but meh," She shrugged, looking away from him and holding back a grin. "Who cares?"

He rubbed his chin. "Good point. I'd like to see that."

"Get a life," was her reply.

Gray chuckled, adjusted his baseball cap and smiled. "You know," he began, "my room kind of needs a bit of cleaning up…"

A step backwards. It was more of a preparation of what's to come. Claire gave him the best scowl she could manage. "There's no way I'm going to clean your room, Gray," she refused.

He shrugged as he turned away from her, taking slow steps towards the stairs. "Okay then. I'll just ask Ann later when she gets home. After all, she does all the cleaning in this place. I'm sure it'll only take her a second to finish up so it really doesn't matter if she has Doug to take care of." His tone was a pitch higher than usual, and it was suspicious.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Dirty."

"I could care less." He admitted. The guy was quite the handful, and annoying to boot. Under clenched teeth and nerves popped, she carefully treaded up the stairs towards his room. She reached the door, but hesitated upon entering.

What was up with the situation, anyway? What was she doing in here, at the second floor of the inn, in front of Gray's room, attempting to clean it up?

Her hands tingled from the cold surface of the knob, and took steps into the room, with Gray closely following from behind.

She couldn't believe her eyes—and nose. Clothes were everywhere, specifically his underwear. The weird thing was, the only area that was dirty was the one near the blacksmith's bed. Several magazines lay scattered on his ruffled bed sheets and blanket, and she closed her eyes. Maybe if she wished hard enough, everything would go away.

Gray leaned by the doorframe, arms folded. "If you can't handle it, you don't have to do it, you know." There was taunting in his voice. She was sure of it.

She didn't have to look at him to know, Claire knew that as soon as she rolled her sleeves up, a sly smile betrayed his face. She began by picking up clothes from the floor. Judging from the smell, they hadn't been washed for days. Now, she wasn't really that obsessive compulsive to freak out over every little dirty thing, she was a farmer, for crying out loud. But leaving dirty laundry on the floor for days? She felt like she was about to pass out.

The next target was his bed. She frowned, flipping the covers to somehow clear little gravels that Claire had no idea how they got there. She gave him a conspicuous glance, but he just shrugged it off. His bed was now straightened out, so the next thing to do was—

Plop!

Gray had free-fallen onto his bed, ruining all of Claire's hard work.

"Gray! I just finished with that!" She screamed, clearly frustrated over the fact that he was there to make her life a living hell.

"Ann lets me do it." He stated.

Claire let out a snort. "I'm not Ann, now get off. I'm seriously wiped out." Honestly, she was. Claire had been working since morning, and just as she was about to tuck in for the day, Ann makes a distress call, telling her to help out at the Inn. She was tired, and the soft covers of the bed were practically calling her name.

"Fine then," she huffed, falling beside him. He bounced. "I give up."

Claire would have noticed how red his cheeks had become if he hadn't looked away immediately, but she was too exhausted to notice anything at this point. "Get off my bed, farmer." She heard him say.

"No." Her simple reply.

They were facing each other, but they weren't close enough to actually touch. Her eyelids were somehow drooping to close, and she willed herself to stay awake. She knew that Gray was watching her.

"Wow. You really are tired, aren't you?" He laughed.

"You have…" She yawned. "…no idea."

Claire bid him goodnight and soon her vision filled with black.

xXx

"What do you want?" She yelled, even though it was the middle of the night. Of course, it didn't matter if they were noisy considering the city never slept, but after grueling hours of work, all Claire wanted to do was just that. So he couldn't blame her for feeling irritated.

Just… he was too drunk to care.

"Don't be a stranger, Claire." She winced at the sound of her name. He didn't have the right to utter her name! He shouldn't even be here! "Your sister," he took clumsy steps towards her bed, pushing her along. "…she—she broke up with me."

"Good," she smirked. "It shows she's finally come to her senses." He grabbed her shoulder and squeezed, earning a cry of pain from the blonde. Claire attempted to pull away from him, but he was unexpectedly strong. "Let go." She warned.

"Don't say that. Haven't we done this before?" He told her, voice pleading.

She fell on her back, landing straight on the soft mattress with his body pressed on to hers. With all of her strength, she—unsuccessfully—tried to push him away. The bastard reeked of alcohol, his wardrobe stained with vomit, and his eyes filled with lust. She wanted to scream as he pressed his undeserving lips on her neck-

-When her sister pushed open the door, fuming with rage. "Claire!" She called, eyes trained on the two bodies clumped together. "How could you do this to me? We're sisters!"

She wanted to explain. She wanted to tell her that he barged in on her in the middle of the night, trying to push her into doing something with him that she would rather not, but her face was too hot with tears to do so. It was like a huge lump in her throat prevented her to speak.

"You… you… you third wheel!" Her sister screamed, ripping him away from her, and holding on to him protectively. Didn't he just tell her they were broken up? What gives? "Don't ever come near me… ever!"

Just like that, they left. The image of two shadows was left engraved in her mind, left darkened by the street lights over the open door, framing silhouettes of a woman dragging a man outside.

Claire released a sigh of relief and allowed herself to cry once more.

xXx

Claire woke up sweating, only to meet the stoic face of the local doctor, who seemed to be too busy examining her to even care how uneasy his patient had appeared to be. His eyes were dark and piercing, not to mention annoying, but she felt too weak to complain about it. Besides waking to a nightmare, she wasn't in the mood for an argument.

"Good, you're awake." He told her, leaning against the chair.

Her gaze wandered, scanning every detail in every inch of the unfamiliar room. She noticed Elli waving to her with a worried smile, and reassured her with a weak one of her own. She returned to staring at the observing physician, with a keen expression planted on his face.

"What—?"

"You fainted. Basically, you're stressed—physically and mentally." He blurted.

Claire raised a brow, tucking a bit of blonde hair behind her ear. "Wait, back up. I… fainted?" She coughed. "As in conked? Passed out? As in, lacked in strength and vigor that I fell into a deep sleep against my will?" She was beginning to sound like Mary.

Trent simply gave her a nod, eyes trained on a piece of paper he was scribbling on.

She shook her head like she skeptical of the whole situation. "How did I get here?"

Elli emerged from the other room. She was, thankfully, holding a glass of water and handed it to Claire. "Gray carried you here." Gray did? Wow. "Honestly, Claire. First Doug and now you?" She scolded.

Doug! "What happened to him?" Claire asked.

"Nothing serious," the doctor said. He nodded to Elli just before she left the room. Claire watched her resume her post behind the counter. "He had a case of heat stroke, with it being summer and all. He woke up the day after he was brought here."

Claire allowed her shoulders to relax, and then rested her head on a pillow. She still found it hard to believe she was at the clinic. "Good. That's good to hear." She smiled. "How long was I asleep?"

He snorted. "Three days."

Claire suddenly sat up, ignoring another feeling of dizziness that overwhelmed her. "Three days?" She yelled. "I've been asleep for three days?"

She must have worked harder than she thought.

Another nod. "Yes. I was told you were cleaning a room in the inn, where you fell asleep, unaware that you had already passed out."

So she already fainted that time… who expected that? Wait… "What about the inn? Who helped out while Ann was away? And—" She gasped. "My farm!"

"I believe it is my turn to ask the questions." Trent said, ignoring the little girl about to burst into a tantrum. Claire swallowed. The doctor looked like he was serious business this time. The first time they met she thought he was a complete quack. He fed her unknown medicine, for crying out loud! But looking at him now, it was like he was a completely different person, and she couldn't help but look at him in a different way. "Have you been skipping meals?"

The farmer rubbed her chin in deep thought, but she wasn't pondering on his question. She was too busy worrying about her farm. "Um, not really. Although there was that one time I forgot to eat lunch because of those demon chickens. Wait, I think it happened twice, or maybe three times…?"

He scribbled something on his paper. "…Tell me about your working habits."

Claire paused. She tried to recall her mornings, about how she would start off with the day. "I… wake up at six, wander the mountains for shipments. Then to the mines to, well, mine. By noon I'd be at home, taking care of the animals and watering the crops. I go out for a bite to eat and return after an hour." She told him. Claire frowned. Her memory was getting fuzzy by that time. "Ah, when I return I collect firewood, pull out the weeds and get rid of the rocks until sundown."

Claire smiled; incredibly pleased with herself with how she remembered everything. Her memory wasn't that great. But her smile quickly faded upon seeing the strange look on Trent's face. He was just staring at her without uttering a single word. Then, abruptly he stood up, walked closer to her, and with all of his might…

Smack! Rough, medical hands hit the back of a farmer's self-proclaimed delicate head.

"Ow!" Claire cried in pain. "What the hell was that for, you quack?"

"Young lady, you are working yourself to death!" He yelled in high c. "I forbid you to do anything related to menial labor! People are prone to fainting during the summer, if you are unaware!"

It was the first time she saw the doctor lose his cool since she arrived in this town. Claire made a mental note to mark it on her calendar. "Young lady…" She repeated. "Well, you're not that much older than I am!"

"I have a degree." He said. "Two, even."

She clamped her mouth shut. Fine, she thought. Claire had to admit that he was a bit mature contrasting to his young age, except when he attempts to make a human his guinea pig, but take that away and he was pretty smart. Maybe even a genius—and geniuses were often misunderstood as much as they were insane.

"I'm going to have to make a few changes to your schedule. Do you have any complaints?" He asked, why did he even bother?

"You wouldn't care even if I had some." She muttered, arms folded.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

He resumed writing on the piece of paper while Claire looked around the clinic impatiently. How long was she going to be kept here? She tried hard not to think about how hideous her farm must appear at the moment and focused on her own situation. But how could she with the deafening silence of the room, the only sounds were the light scratches of the pen on paper, with the occasional sniffing of the nurse at the other room.

She jumped at the sound of ripping paper. "I've written your new schedule, fill in the blanks yourself. Make sure you follow it." He sighed. "Your workaholic ways are going to be the death of me. I'd appreciate it if you remained healthy." He handed her the piece of paper, and she messily tucked it in her side pocket.

"You sound like an old man. No offense." She laughed. When she saw that he didn't find her amusing, she nervously cleared her throat. "Anyway, thanks. Uh, how much?"

"Ask my nurse."

She gave him a nod and made her way outside of his office and into the lobby. Elli smiled at her and handed her the bill. Claire sighed, gave her thanks and paid her. There goes a day's hard work. Releasing a groan, she left the building.

Outside, Claire pulled out the note the doctor wrote from her pocket. His writing wasn't pretty, as expected, but she was able to make out the important stuff, anyway.

Work for two hours, rest for one. Rinse and repeat. Sleep eight hours, eat three meals a day.

And yadda, yadda, yadda.

"Party pooper."

Deciding to follow his advice anyway, she headed for her farm to sleep. But only after checking the animals.

xXx

Claire arrived a few minutes later, preparing herself for the mess she was about to see. She opened the barn doors. The bins were filled with fodder. Confused, she ran to the chicken coop. Same. They were filled with chicken feed, as well. Gasping for breath, she analyzed her farm. It was cleaner—less weeds and rocks—and the shipping bin was stuffed with herbs and ores from the mine.

Who—?

She entered her house, only to find that even her dog was fed. What the hell? Claire frowned, not because she was unhappy, but because she was going to think about her little helper for awhile, thinking of a debt that was impossible to pay. Her eyes wandered all over the room, and something caught her eye.

There was a huge lump on her couch.

She took cautious steps near it, and laughed.

"Gray?" She touched his face, which was moist from sweating. An irritated groan escaped his mouth.

"Five more minutes." She heard him say. Claire couldn't help but giggle.

Her fingers fiddled around his orange hair. It was the first time she had seen him without his cap, so his face could be seen clearly. His features revealed the long eyelashes he had as he slept, perfectly shaped nose and lips, usually tight because of his frequent attempt to be obstinate, were relaxed.

Gray looked like a kid.

She stared at him warmly. This was proof of what Claire already knew. This blacksmith really had a soft heart underneath, and she was somehow glad that she was the only person who had the privilege to actually witness it. She liked the way he'd blush at the slightest compliment, and shy away at every nice thing she does, acting like he didn't deserve it. But he did. Gray deserved a lot of things.

She leaned in closer, attempting to get a closer look at his sleeping face, and the usual frown she had when he was near was nowhere in sight. Instead, there was a soft feeling of longing forming within her heart.

Wait. Longing?

Pulling back, she shook her head, trying to rid herself of unwanted thoughts. She stared at him some more, and that was all it took.

Before she could stop herself, her lips were already pressed against his.

EVIL CLIFFIE!

xLazyXChibix: Sorry about that. hahahaha

Massu Chan: Doug's fine. Here's Gray. XD

tufted titmouse: Well, you're right about one thing: Gray's at the Inn. XD

xXx Tinkies xXx: Thank You. XD