Disclaimer: I don't own Escaflowne. I do, however, own this twisted little plot, and any characters I have created. Basically, if you don't recognize them, they're probably mine. In this chapter, I own many people, who I am not going to name specifically here.

Re-Visions

Chapter 14

Hitomi woke to a rumbling hunger in her stomach. When her eyes focused, she saw a steaming bowl of stew on the floor in front of her, with bread and fruit arranged on a napkin nearby. She pushed herself upright and looked around, a bit dismayed. Allen was sitting across from her, but Van was gone. The shadows were long and thick in the otherwise empty room.

"Van wouldn't say from what," Allen spoke quietly, but it still startled her. "But he did say you were recovering from something. You should eat, to keep up your strength."

"Thank you." Hesitantly, she picked up the bowl and a hunk of bread. "I'm sorry about sleeping the day away on you. I guess I still don't have my full strength back yet." She blew across a spoonful of stew to cool it.

"Don't worry. I wasn't offended," he smiled, taking a bite of bread.

She stared into her bowl. She wished she knew some way to check the level of her power. She wanted . . . she needed to make sure Van was safe. She was sure, though, that the vision, or out of body experience, with her mother must have taken a lot of power. She was a bit frightened to test how much she had left.

Are you more scared for him or for yourself? she asked herself severely. Do you love him or not?

"Hitomi, are you all right?" The concern in Allen's voice was unmistakable.

She realized that she'd been dipping her spoon into the stew, stirring it, playing with it, and had not yet taken a bite. She started shoveling it in, to avoid conversation, the stew having cooled enough to eat, though she felt the first bite scald her tongue a little. "I'm fine," she managed around a mouthful.

She was nearly done when she finally recognized how uncomfortable she felt around Allen, and it was partly because of how uneasy he felt around her. She stared blankly into her empty bowl again, for a long time, searching for the answers. I never thought beyond Van, she thought. I never honestly thought about what I would do if I came back and saw Allen again. I only thought about Van. I never meant to hurt Allen- I really thought I loved him. She set the bowl aside and ran her hands through her hair. I couldn't distinguish between a crush and love until I had experienced both. I hurt him. I hurt both of them, one because I couldn't figure myself out, and one because I did.

"I'm sorry, Allen," she whispered, when she couldn't stand the silence anymore.

"You said that already." Allen frowned at her, puzzled. "And I said . . ."

"I don't mean about that. I mean about before, in Palas."

"Oh." He looked away, into the deepening shadows. He felt his fingers moving of themselves, and glanced down to see they were crumbling the last bit of his bread. He brushed the crumbs into his bowl and put it on the floor. He couldn't stop himself from asking, "Why?"

"I . . . I never meant to hurt you." She forced herself to look at him, his blond hair gleaming dimly in the twilight. "It's not that I meant to lead you on . . . I was so confused. I truly thought I loved you . . ." She closed her eyes, fighting the tears. "I hope you don't hate me. I wouldn't blame you if you did, but I hope you don't."

She opened her eyes with a start when she felt his hand on her shoulder. He was kneeling in front of her, blue eyes peering earnestly into her face in the fading light. "Hitomi, please stop," he said, his voice gentle. "I don't hate you. You are my friend. I care about you. I love you like I love my sister. I know you didn't want to hurt my feelings, but you couldn't help how you felt. Love is not always with who you chose, or who you think you want, but it's always right." His hand touched her face for an instant. "It's all right, Hitomi. Please don't feel bad about it, any of it." He essayed a smile, which she returned, albeit tremulously. Hesitantly, he put his arms around her, unsure how she would respond, but she embraced him as well, leaning her head against his shoulder. It lasted only for a moment, and they pulled away from each other.

"Thank you," she said softly, brushing his cheek with a kiss.

He swung around to sit beside her. They sat in silence for a long while. Hitomi tried to keep herself from worrying about Van again, but she could not take her mind off him. She wondered at the danger he was in. Stop it, she ordered herself firmly. He is an excellent swordsman, well able to defend himself. He is strong and brave and . . .

"He is probably surrounded by guards, Hitomi. He'll be safe." Allen spoke as if he could read her mind. Not that it would be difficult right now, she reasoned wryly.

She sighed. "I know. I can't help it." She drew up her knees, and wrapped her arms around them. "Talk to me, please. Help me take my mind off everything. Tell me about your sister, your fort, anything . . ."

Allen glanced out the nearest window. Evening was creeping up. The sun had set, and darkness filled the room. He stood and she looked up at him, surprised. "All right. But we're going to have to find a few torches or something. I'm not going to sit here in the dark. This will take a while. You need to tell me what has happened to you, too."

She put out her hand, and he helped her to her feet. "Merle might be able to help us," she said, dusting the seat of her jeans. "She knows where just about everything is. When we tell her where Van is, she'll probably want to stay up with us, too."

"Stay up?" They headed for the council chamber doorway, a dim outline.

Hitomi nodded. "Yes," she affirmed. "Until Van is safely home."

***

The light touch on his shoulder roused Van. He had been dozing lightly, resting, so as to be sharp tonight. The sunlight was nearly gone, but he could still make out Lieutenant Taris crouching next to him. It was he who had woken him up. Slowly, he knew the resting half of the squadron would be waking as well.

Much to Taris' relief, Van had taken command, once the samurai had reached the street where Hitomi had told him of her vision. He had split up the group so that there were a few members in each of the nearby businesses and houses, though that caused no small amount of consternation among the inhabitants. He even ordered some to hide in the alleys and pretend to be indigents or drunkards.

He'd told Taris to wake him at once if anything suspicious happened. Otherwise, he would take the night watch. Even though he already knew the answer, Van asked, "Did anything happen?"

"No, Sire. I saw nothing. All of our own men are out of sight, and now, there aren't many people out and about." They had a good vantage point, the empty top floor of a business, which would eventually hold stock for the store below. There were windows that offered views on most of what Van wished to see.

"Sire, are you sure you want to start your watch now? I'm good for a few hours yet."

Van nodded, and stood. "Yes. Try to rest, Lieutenant. If I start to fall asleep, I'll wake you then, or if we get lucky."

Taris nodded and sat, his back to the wall. "Very good, my lord." He was asleep within moments, his head sunk onto his chest. Van stared at him in the dim light, mouth slightly open in surprise. Then he shook his head and took an unobtrusive post in one of the windows.

It was hard not to think of Hitomi, but he forced himself to concentrate on the task at hand. He didn't dare open the link to her, to see how she was; he needed to keep his wits about him, and she had proven that she could easily distract him. He didn't want to feel her fear for him, though he knew she couldn't help it.

The hours dragged by. More than once, Van had to stop himself from pacing, as it might wake up Taris. Then he reflected wryly that the lieutenant could probably sleep through just about anything. To keep himself alert, he walked softly from window to window, not that much was visible in the darkness. He spent a few minutes at each, inspecting the view, and moved on. The bright moonlight was his friend once more, illuminating the street below, yet causing strange shadows.

It was close on midnight when Van noticed it. He was about to move to the next window when he thought he saw a furtive movement in the street, by the house opposite. He froze, and looked more closely, wanting to make sure it wasn't one of his own men. It would all be for naught if he moved too early. They might never catch him- the firebug or Tesk- if that happened. There was a flash, bright and strong, then another, close to the ground. Before they faded away, Van had shaken Taris, hissing, "He's there! Follow me!" and was hurrying down the stairs as quietly as possible.

Daj'n took no pride in his work tonight. He regarded it as a rush job, and not at all elegant. He watched as the sparks from his flint fell on the small pile of kindling he'd set against the door of the house. The house itself was far enough from its neighbors that- as long as the night remained calm- none of the others would catch fire. Well, those are my orders, he thought, as the first orange flickers of flame took hold. "My lady," he crooned softly, starting to back away. "My beauty . . . " He reached the front of the opposite house, and ducked into the narrow alley between it and its neighbor, close enough to watch as the other house was consumed, and yet still able to make his escape.

That's when things started to go wrong.

A call rang out. "Fanelia! Fanelia!" That was the rallying cry for the army, Daj'n thought, amazed. As he watched, openmouthed, samurai started pouring from the surrounding houses and businesses, lights flickering in windows. He withdrew further into the alley, cursing his employer, the hooded man who paid him to do what he loved. This was a bloody trap! Some of the soldiers ran by the alley's mouth, mere inches from where he stood, and he shrank back.

In the sudden light of torches and lanterns, he saw a group of guards beginning to mill about. The voice that had given the cry directed some to put out the small blaze- killing it before it could live! Daj'n mourned. As the group began to move more decisively, he saw the source of the action. It was that boy, the king! He heard the king give orders to the larger group of men to thoroughly search the area. Daj'n lost what little nerve he possessed. I've got to get out . . .As he turned to flee, he ran into something. No, he realized, heart sinking. It was someone. Someone tall and broad, both known and unknown to him. The shaft of moonlight sneaking its way between the two buildings lit the face of a man unfamiliar to him. But when the man spoke, Daj'n knew.

It was him.

"Well, well, Daj'n, so we meet again." Quietly, amid the confused sounds out in the street, the tall man drew his sword.

"My lord," Daj'n squeaked. "My lord, I carried out your orders . . . please don't turn me over to the king!" He fell to his knees at the other's feet, whimpering.

"The king? The king is here?" Distracted for a moment, the man considered this information. An idea began to form. He'd originally intended to eliminate Daj'n as a threat to him, but now he could, perhaps, kill two birds with one stone. A movement in the darkness brought him back to reality. Daj'n was trying to inch away, trying to decide which was the worse danger to him- the man before him or the king behind. He'd obviously concluded that he might get mercy from the king, knowing all too well that there was none to be had from him.

"Tsk, tsk, Daj'n. You should have expected this. No sense running now." The blade flashed in the moonlight, then gleamed wetly. The man frowned, berating himself, as Daj'n screamed. It hadn't been a clean kill. As Daj'n had flinched at the last moment, the sword had not decapitated him, but merely bitten deep into his shoulder. The man took another step forward and swung again with considerable force, before the injured man could make another sound. There was the satisfying feel of his sword slicing deep into flesh again, right on through to the other side. He didn't even mind the spray of blood as he managed to behead his lackey this time. He knelt to search the dead man's pockets.

Van had directed most of the squad to split up and search. He had paused to make sure the remainder managed to stamp out the fledgling fire. He wanted to see no more burnt out homes, not now when they were so close . . . It was a simple task, as the fire had not really had time to take hold, a matter of seconds.

A scream pierced his hearing, from behind him, and he spun, staring for a moment at the alley from which it seemed to originate. With a curse, he shook himself and darted over. The remaining soldiers did not happen to see, though they heard. There was only one lantern remaining.

Van stopped short in the mouth of the alley. In the dappled moonlight, he could make out a man with broad shoulders kneeling over what appeared to be a body, holding up a bloodied sword. No, it was indeed a body, for there was the head, against the far wall. Drawing his sword, he shouted, "Stop! Drop your weapon!"

The man gave a start, and looked up. The moonlight lit his features again for a moment, letting Van see the shiver of stark fear that crossed them. Then the man's face relaxed into a smile as Van gasped in recognition.

"Tesk! It was you, after all." Van brought himself to the ready position, his sword poised threateningly. His order from seconds ago had brought a pair of soldiers to his back. They gaped at his words, at the sight of their blood-spattered captain crouching over a dead man.

"Surrender now. You cannot win, Tesk." Van eyed the older man warily. He heard the soldiers behind him move to grip their swords as the man rose to his feet, still clutching his own blade. "Drop your sword," he ordered.

"Surrender?" Tesk laughed. "To you?" His laughter took on a maniacal edge. Van gritted his teeth at the sound of it, but didn't move. "You are nothing but a whelp. Your tainted blood hardly makes you a king in which to take pride. You should have died in the Rite," he finished contemptuously.

"But I did not," Van growled. "I am your king. Drop your sword!" He hardly expected Tesk to obey the command, and was not surprised when the older man laughed again.

"Watch me burn the city down, Draconian!" he sneered, brandishing Daj'n's flint and tinder. "Watch Fanelia be cleansed by the flames! Watch as a king fit to rule takes your place!" He took a step back, and when Van advanced, he whirled and ran down the alley.

"You bastard!" Van yelled, leaping over the dead body to follow him.

***

The torch had almost guttered out, stuck in the wall sconce in Hitomi's room. Merle had finally fallen asleep, her tousled pink head pillowed in Hitomi's lap. Hitomi absently played with the cat girl's hair, staring out the open shutters to the balcony.

Allen, too, was asleep, or nearly so, leaning against the far wall, across from her. He was well out of the range of the fading torchlight, a golden topped shadow. He'd received word from his crew on the Crusade, asking if he was well, and might they disembark? Hitomi had sensed a much subtler humor at work than that of Gaddes or any of the others she'd met before, and said so. Allen had confirmed the presence of his sister Celena, but requested in his reply that they stay aboard. Hitomi found herself looking forward to meeting Celena, but, remembering her past as Dilandau, she wondered if Van would be as welcoming.

Van . . . She risked a glance at Allen, then closed her eyes. She didn't want to seem rude, but they had stopped talking when Merle fell asleep, not wanting to wake her. Allen had told his story, and she'd told most of her own. Hitomi could no longer stand not knowing, and opened the link she shared with Van. Power be damned, she thought, desperately. If I'm careful, he won't know I'm there . . .

The rage she felt from him frightened her; it was so strong, like a fire in his soul. It caught her up, carried her along, left her breathless.

She realized Van was breathless, too, running hard after a faint figure, barely visible in the night. He was twisting and turning through the streets and lanes, almost at random, Van just close enough to see the swirl of his cloak.

Suddenly, the buildings opened up around them, a great empty space at the edge of the city. Van stopped, glancing around, trying to quiet his harsh breathing. He thought he heard the clatter of footsteps, fading away ahead of him. He saw that there were a few buildings across the way, and to his left, on the very edge of this clearing. The warehouses, he thought, recalling the plan of his city, knowing that the space he was crossing was designated for yet another such structure.

Warehouses, warehouses . . . The word pounded in Hitomi's head, disrupting her concentration, forcing her to pull out of contact, before he became aware of her presence. As she blinked at the starry sky outside the shutters, back in herself again, it continued to beat. Warehouses! Oh, no! She groaned, and tried to shift Merle off her legs without waking her. The empty building in her vision, on fire, it was a warehouse! She had to get to Van, had to save him . . .

"Hitomi?" Allen had not been quite asleep after all. He was staring at her, as she climbed to her feet. Merle's head now rested on her sweatshirt. Hitomi did not answer him, but slipped quickly from the room.

Muttering a choice curse, he stood and followed. He caught up with her just as she reached the landing. "Hitomi!" he hissed, grabbing her wrist. "What are you doing?"

She struggled with him, and he was shocked to see the fear in her face. He released her immediately. She backed away, looking at him uneasily. "What's the matter?" he asked, feeling as though he'd destroyed the fragile understanding they'd reached earlier.

Hitomi had inexplicably been drawn into the past at the feel of Allen's strong fingers closing about her wrist. For an instant, he'd been Kenji, intending to kiss her . . . Ever since she'd seen Kenet Tesk that morning, she had been thinking of Kenji. They looked so much alike, though the captain was so much older than her schoolmate. They even had the same cold . . . aura, she guessed was the right word. She shook herself out of her thoughts, and focused on Allen's question.

"I'm going to help Van. He's in trouble. If I don't . . . He'll die if I don't go!" She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. "Don't stop me, Allen." She turned to climb down the ladder.

"I won't, but I'm coming with you." His tone brooked no argument.

She glanced up, from about five rungs down. "Merle!" she remembered. "Go get Merle, she'll panic if she wakes up alone!" Allen stared at her in distrust for a moment. "I'll wait," she said. Reluctantly, he nodded, and hurried back to her room. Without hesitation, or a twinge of guilt, she slid down the rest of the ladder, ignoring the splinters this earned her. Reaching the bottom, she ran to the main entryway, through the courtyard and out the castle gate. Ignoring the stitch that soon began in her side, ignoring the spots that started floating in front of her eyes, she pushed herself, stretching her limbs to their utmost, fairly flying into the city. She thought she knew where the warehouses were, but no matter what, she had to find Van!

***

Van heard a door creak open, and ran toward the noise, just ahead of him. The door of the warehouse stood open. From within, amplified by the emptiness, he could hear the rustle of Tesk's cloak as he moved within the darkness. As quietly as possible, still trying to get air to his starving lungs, he entered, wondering why the captain had chosen to flee here. It would be an easy matter to trap him. With any luck, some of the squadron would be arriving soon to help arrest him. He knew he'd left them far behind.

He left the frame of the doorway quickly, knowing that his silhouette might be able to be seen. The smell of freshly cut wood surrounded him. He took a step to his left, then another, listening intently. The movement had stopped, but he could still hear something, a faint clicking sound. Then he heard what he took to be the flare of a torch, and raised one hand to shield his eyes, expecting to see the light close by.

It was a good thing he had shaded his eyes, for the light was bright. If it was a single torch, it was ten. Peering out from between his fingers, Van saw a line of torches, slowly popping into life against the wall. Then, as his eyes became accustomed to the light, he saw they were far too low for torches; it was a line of fire at the base of the wall, the flames quickly licking up the boards.

He paused, unable to see Tesk, even in the glare of the fire. Slowly, he took his hand away from his eyes, replaced it on the hilt of his blade, his gaze darting here and there. This was the situation of which Hitomi had warned him. If he stayed, he would be caught in a sword fight in the midst of the blaze. The first small wisps of smoke started to drift through the building.

"Let a man fit to be king take your place, boy!" Tesk's voice echoed through the emptiness, as the crackling of the flames grew louder. Van spun in the direction of the voice. "Die in the flames, or die by my blade, but you will not be king on the morrow- I will!" Van stepped aside as the other man came charging from the shadows, where the light of the flames as yet hadn't reached. Recovering with amazing speed, Tesk whirled, to swing at Van again, somewhat wildly. Van parried it easily, but did not press his own attack. There followed a flurry of blows, under which Van chose to back away, studying his opponent's style, what there was of it. He was attacking almost blindly, with little finesse. Sooner than he expected, he felt the heat of the blaze against his back, and quickly ducked to the side, essaying a quick thrust of his own. Tesk met it, turned it aside, but it seemed to take him out of the frenzy he'd been in, and he stepped back a pace.

"Why do you hate me?" Van asked, recovering his breath. "What have I done that you would punish me by destroying my kingdom again?"

The older man was panting, but managed to gasp out, "You were . . . born . . . you cursed . . . half-breed . . ." He made no move to attack, perhaps glad for the respite. He was eyeing the ease with which Van held his sword, the way he carried himself.

Van twitched his shoulders, eyes never leaving Tesk. "So? You were born- I don't hate you for that reason alone." He feinted to his right, then attacked. The clang of their steel was lost in the increasing roar of the fire. As it climbed to the roof beams, the smoke grew thicker.

Tesk pushed Van back. "If you hadn't been born, I would be king now!" he spat. "This green land wouldn't suffer under your curse. Fanelia would be ruled by a true king!"

Van snorted, as they circled around each other. "You, a true king? And what makes you think you would be king, anyway?"

Tesk launched another assault, which Van beat back. Over the sound of the blaze, he called, "Would it not be my right as the only living son of Goau Fanel?"

***

She had to stop. There were more spots in her vision than vision itself. Hitomi rested her hands on her knees, gasping for breath, letting her sight clear. The night was warm and calm, and she was sweating from her run, but she still felt a shiver down her spine as she panted. "What was . . ." Not quite so starving for air, she sniffed. Yes, it was smoke. She groaned. If Van was fighting, she would only distract him if she tried to contact him now, and that could kill him. She stumbled back into a run, hoping she was heading in the right direction. His name pounded in her mind in time with her heartbeat. Van, she thought, please be safe . . .

***

Merle had, in fact, panicked after Allen woke her up, but the panic was for another reason entirely.

"You left her there?" she screeched. "Are you insane? She's probably halfway through the city by now!" She flew by him on all fours.

"She said she'd wait!" Allen called after her, feeling a bit foolish. He broke into a run, following the cat girl.

"And you believed her?" Merle skidded to a stop on the landing. "See, she's gone," she reported, peeking over the edge into the torch-lit darkness below. "If it was me, with the man I love in danger, I'd probably do the same."

Allen felt like kicking himself. How could I not have seen through that tactic? he wondered bitterly. Celena pulls it on me every damn time.

"Well, come on!"

He blinked to see Merle swinging herself down the ladder. "What?" he asked, dazed.

"She's going to need our help, so we've got to follow her. If there aren't too many people around, I might be able to track her by scent. If you're not coming, I'll go alone!" This last was called up derisively, from her pose at the bottom.

"Wait, Merle! I'm coming!" As quickly as he could, he made his way down. Merle was already well ahead of him as he started running at the foot of the ladder.

***

Van narrowed his eyes. "What are you talking about? My brother and I were the only sons of my father. I am his only living son."

Tesk sneered. "The only legitimate ones, to be sure, despite the fact he married that Draconian bitch."

Almost too softly to be heard over the crackle of the fire, Van warned, "I will tell you not to speak of my mother that way, and I will say it only once." His eyes began to water from the burning smoke and heat, and he coughed.

"Before your father married . . . that woman . . . he loved my mother."

"You are not my father's son." Though it could have been a wail of frantic denial, it was a mere statement of fact. Van knew in his soul that Kenet Tesk was not, as he claimed, his half brother.

"How else could I look so like him?" In the face of Van's disbelief, Tesk attacked fiercely, trying to drive the younger man back to the flames. But he was wild again, and Van neatly evaded every blow.

"I hate to break this to you," he panted, as Tesk fell back. "There are many men in Fanelia who might be my brother based on that argument!" Which was true. As a group, Fanelian men tended to be tall and muscular, broad through the chest and shoulders, with dark hair and eyes, though there were always exceptions. Van had noticed this often while working on rebuilding down in the city. At first, it had almost hurt, thinking he was seeing his father everywhere, but as he saw it more and more, he found it rather a fitting tribute. That he and his brother were so unique could only be attributed to his mother's blood.

A particularly thick billow of smoke wafted through them, setting both to coughing. "If you really want to fight," Van managed, "let's go outside. There's no sense burning to death in here!" He risked a glance upward, and saw that the flames were eating away at the roof, as well as the support beams.

"No!" Tesk howled. "You'll die in the flames!" He leapt to attack.

***

Hitomi could see the glow of fire now, bright against the night. It was close, so close . . . She pushed herself onward, and suddenly, she was there. The warehouse was in flames before her. She could hear shouts, but they must have been from the other side, for she could see no one. She saw the open door, and made a beeline for it. Van was in there, and she needed to get him out . . .

Timbers began falling from the roof as she stood in the doorway. The heat was intense against her face, and the smoke made her eyes water. She could hear the clash of the sword fight, but only barely over the roar of the fire. Lifting up the collar of her shirt, trying to filter some air to breathability, she entered.

It was worse than her vision. She started to gag almost immediately. Where were they? She turned to her right at the next clang of steel, one hand outstretched in front of her. The heat caused the air to move, the smoke to billow. Through a clear spot, she saw him, Van! He was coughing, but his eyes were fixed on his opponent. Tesk had backed off again, after his last frenzied assault had failed. Van stood balanced and ready, but was then wracked with a fit of coughing. Tesk, too, was gasping for air, but he stepped forward.

A sudden groaning, creaking noise from above made Hitomi look up in fear. The timbers just above them were consumed by the flames, sagging dangerously under the weight of the roof. She drew breath to scream, but choked. She knelt, to get below the smoke, but it didn't help. They were snapping, almost ready to fall . . . and she couldn't breathe . . .

Tesk gathered himself and charged . . .

Van! she screamed through the link. Van! The ceiling! Get out of there!

Trusting her, though the force of her cry hurt him, Van jumped back, nearly falling over her. She had been almost close enough to touch him. He spared a glance at the roof, just as it tumbled down . . .

Tesk saw him leap back, saw him look up, and looked up himself, just as the fiery beams landed on him. His shout was short lived, as the beams were still heavy enough to crush him. Van staggered forward, but Hitomi rose up to catch his arm. He couldn't resist as she dragged him to the door. Luckily, despite the roof falling in, the way to the door was still clear. They were both wracked by coughing. She managed to shove him out the door, into the relative cool of the night outside. She fell after him, trying to breathe again. Deprived of the roof, the walls began to fall. She hoped they'd fall inward, but she took Van's arm again to pull him further away, just in case.

They collapsed together, against the wall of the neighboring warehouse. Through her tearing eyes, Hitomi could see that a bucket brigade had formed, but the flames were not responding.

"Let it burn," Van rasped beside her. Tears were streaming down his soot-blackened cheeks. He could feel the burning in his lungs, and he could hardly stop hacking out smoke. "Let it burn."

Hitomi took her chance to inspect him quickly for injuries, without his knowledge. Other than too long in the smoke, he appeared to be unhurt. She sighed. Thank you, God, she offered up silently. Thank you . . .

"What're . . . you . . . doing here . . . Hitomi?" he gasped raggedly. "Told . . . Allen . . . keep you safe . . ."

"I knew you were in danger," she said simply. "I had to help you. I love you." She smiled at him, as he tried unsuccessfully to glare at her.

Finally, he gave up and shook his head. He had stopped coughing for the moment.

"Can you walk back to the castle?" she asked. "Sari needs to check you over, and make sure you're all right."

In response, he lurched to his feet, and stood swaying beside her, choking again. "Maybe . . ." he managed, slumping against the wall.

"Hitomi!" "Lord Van!" At the familiar voices, she whipped around, and was actually glad to see Allen striding toward them, with Merle running beside him. She scrambled to her feet.

Allen reached them first. He laid his hands on her shoulders and looked into her smoke-stained face, then at Van. "Are you all right?" he asked softly. Merle was fluttering about Van, trying very hard not to sneeze from the smoke.

Hitomi nodded. "But I think Van might need some help."

Allen rolled his eyes, but slung one of Van's arms over his shoulder. Hitomi took the other, though she was not as tall, and they ended up a bit lopsided. Merle ran ahead to alert Sari. "Just like my sister," Allen muttered under his breath, but he was smiling, pleased they were all right. Tottering under Van's weight, they made their way back up to the castle.