Thank you for being patient. This was actually a tough chapter to write - I was trying to give both Amy's and Pendergast's perspective. I do hope you like it.

The moment that Amy took Pendergast's hand in hers, she knew that she would not be leaving; she would stay with him through his ordeal; until he got better or until - Amy's mind shied away from the thought. Pendergast could not die. She would not let him die. She felt Pendergast's hand tighten on hers and she responded to by quietly speaking to him. "Its alright, Aloysius. I'm here. You're not alone." As was the case each time, her words helped calm the suffering man, but not alleviate any of the pain.

The nurses did their shifts. They would knock and enter the room at regular intervals and ask Amy to leave. She used those times to shower and change; Maurice would bring food, but it mostly remained untouched. She was focused on Pendergast.

The minutes, hours and days flowed together. The man's suffering was not abated. In his more lucid moments, Amy tried to administer the charcoal. Sometimes he would swallow some and start to choke and gag, other times he would clench his teeth against the noxious substance. One such time, Amy had miscalculated – she had thought Pendergast to be awake since his eyes were open. As she had done many times before, Amy offered Pendergast the black goo. Unfortunately, in one of his paroxysms of pain, Pendergast stuck out at her. His blow knocked the container out of her hands and knocked her across the small room and into a wall where she lay stunned

Amy lay there stunned for several minutes. The nurse and Maurice heard the commotion and ran into the room. The next thing that Amy knew was a nurse helping her to sit up and asking her if she was alright. Amy was confused for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure. She tasted salt. When she ran her finger across her lip, she found it wet with blood. Her left cheek throbbed where Pendergast's hand made contact. The nurse helped her to the bathroom where she surveyed the damage. Split, swollen lip, and a dark bruise on her cheek and along her jawline she was going to have a hell of a black eye too. Amy washed her face. She'd had worse when she was younger; there was no permanent damage.

The forty eight hour mark passed and instead of improving, Pendergast seemed to be getting worse. He had descended into delirium. Although Amy could not understand all of his fevered rantings, she was able to gather that he was relieving prior events from his life and that they involved Helen, his dead wife, and her betrayal of him. Although Amy was unable to get the details, the betrayal appeared to be deep.

Amy watched Pendergast and her worry continued to grow. His breathing was becoming labored and he looked like he was weakening. The doctor had come and said that there was nothing to be done; the poison was having its effect and Pendergast did not appear to be strong enough to fight it. But Amy thought differently; – Pendergast was fighting – he was just losing.

Sitting there, holding his hand, Amy was close to tears. It seemed to her that Pendergast had already suffered enough. Suddenly, as if a light went on, Amy understood. It was not the poison that was killing Pendergast. She knew what she had to do.

Still holding his hand, Amy leaned over the man. Bringing her face close to his, she spoke in a quiet, gentle whisper. "Aloysius. You have to fight the demons. You cannot let them win. You are stronger than they are. I know you are. I know that it hurts, but you have to win this. You can't let it end this way." Amy did not know if Pendergast heard her, but his breathing became a little bit easier.

At seventy five hours, Pendergast's breathing became very shallow. Amy was in tears – Pendergast was dying and nothing she did was helping. "Please Aloysius," she whispered. "Not like this". Sitting at the bedside in the forlorn silence, Amy did not notice herself dozing off. When she jerked awake, something was different. "Oh no, "she whispered as she reached for Pendergast's hand. To her relief, it was still warm. She dared to look at his face and found it relaxed – the lines of pain and exhaustion almost gone. She checked his pulse and found his heart rate to be strong and regular and his breathing deep and slow – he was asleep. It was only then that Amy realized how unbearably tired she was. She was going to rest for just a few minutes – just close her eyes briefly she told herself as she laid her head on the bed by Pendergast's hand and closed her eyes. She was asleep in moments.

Pendergast was used to pain. He understood pain and was usually able to manage and master it. That is until this time. The searing agony that had seemed to go on forever was more than even he could bear – he used all the techniques he knew, but they were not enough. His rational mind retreated and he just tried to endure. Then the dreams started. A retelling in painful clarity of what he had done and what he had failed to do – and through it all, there was Helen. It was as if she, or her memory, was taunting him. Reminding him of his failures of character. He tossed and turned as if trying to shake loose from the monsters that haunted his past.

Then he heard her. The accent unmistakable, the tone insistent, the words gentle. She was telling him - asking him to fight. Telling him that he was not alone. For some reason, the words rallied him. He could not see her through his nightmares and through his pain, but he felt her near him and that was enough.

He forced his way through the morass of his memories like a man cutting his way through a deep jungle. He could not see where he was going, but went on some deep instinct he could not explain. On and on, through horrible memory after horrible memory through the pain of the poison; it seemed he went on forever.

Suddenly, Pendergast realized that he was lying down. He no longer felt pain. He concentrated, trying to determine what exactly he was feeling. He felt the lift of the pillow under his head, the cool cotton sheets under and around him. What he also noticed that there was something soft and very silky in left hand. Something his fingers were toying with quite independent of the rest of him. With a great effort, he raised his hand and realized that it was hair - blue black in color and with the slightest wave to it. He realized that the silky mass was pooled on his bed around the head that even now rested by his left arm.

The motion woke Amy. She realized that Pendergast was playing with a few strands of her hair. She lifted her head and the hair slipped out of his grasp. She looked up and realized that he was awake, although his eyes were only partially open.

Sitting up and pulling her hair back, she asked, "How are you feeling?"

Pendergast tried several times to speak, until Amy brought a glass of water to his lips and held it and his head while he drank.

"Weak as the proverbial kitten," came the somewhat glib reply, "and more tired than I thought I could ever be."

"No wonder," said Amy, "You've been through hell."

She drew closer to examine him, but he also managed to look at her. With everything that had been going on, she had not thought to conceal the still-swollen lip, or her bruised cheek. Pendergast reached out a hand and gently touched the side of her face. The touch was electric and Amy involuntarily jerked away.

"I have hurt you. Forgive...," Pendergast started to say, but Amy interrupted.

"You didn't. You just startled me."

"What happened?" He asked. Then realization dawned. "I did that. I did that to you. I am..."

"Stop." Amy commanded, unconsciously pressing her face into the hand. "You were delirious. You had no idea what you were doing. This was not your fault. "

Pendergast adjusted his hand and turned Amy's face so that her eyes were looking directly into his.

He pulled her closer and closer still. For a moment they were only a breath apart...

So a bit of a cliff hanger - Sorry about that. I hope you like this and that it made sense. Remember that Pendergast and Amy still have an actual crime to solve. Please let me know what you thought of this chapter. I love and deeply appreciate your reviews and am very grateful for the time that you take in reading and responding.