NOTES:

Chapter two. With more info on the war effort. And stuff. Yeah.

DEDICATION:

To my SOBettes! Who rule!

DISCLAIMER:

            If you want him, come and claim him!

~*~ War Wounds ~*~

            He did not wake for the whole rest of the day, though he tossed and turned restlessly from the fever.

            And Fallon would have to sit next to him; he had that wound, and too much movement was not at all good. But he would be in too much discomfort if she put him permanently under a Stasis spell.

            So, she had to sit next to him. Make sure that nothing got on the wound as he moved. She soaked another linen handkerchief in the healing potion, and held it over the sore, keeping her hand there over the festering lesion as he shifted.

            Every two hours, she would immobilize him with a spell, and for the five minutes that he was still, she would anoint his bruises and clean his wound, before wiping down his feverish, muscular torso with cooling potions.

            Her store of potions was running low, and her arm, from being held constantly over his body, was sore. She would need to make a new batch of potion soon, and hopefully get some rest.

            Finally, at about one o'clock in the morning, he stilled the restless movements, and lay on his side, fast asleep. In the dim light of the candle she lit, Fallon carefully covered his side, and the oozing sore, with a poultice made of the last of the healing potion, and immobilized him.

            Sitting back, glancing at him every now and then, she brewed another batch of healing potions.

            The exhausted Healer cut up the tiny witch hazel buds and the thick, pulpy, liquid-filled aloe leaves, methodically mixing it in her cauldron, adding in unicorn hair and phoenix tears, carefully measuring out volatile bloodroot extract and adding the scarlet fluid into the potion.

            As she bottled up her newly brewed potion in glass vials, Fallon yawned. It was now two in the morning, and she had been at his side since noon.

            She was worn-out and hungry.

            Stepping into the next room of the charmed tent for a few moments, she returned with a plateful of cold ham and bread, and ate a small meal. Now... all she wanted to do was to sleep. But there was a patient to take care of. And he was still in danger.

            Fallon returned to her chair by the cot, tiredly firing a cushioning charm on the stiff chair back. All right… she would hit the bed with a charm that would prevent him from leaving it, and keep the poultice on the wound with another charm. And she would just doze for a little while here in her chair.

            After all, if he were to wake up and need something, he could certainly wake her.

            These thoughts in mind, she put another cool cloth on his forehead, brushing the dark hair out of the way, and sat down on her chair. She fell asleep within seconds.

*          *          *

            Pain… Death Eater… Spell… Spy… Guilt Blood Innocence Light Dark… "Obedience is not an expectation; it is the law…"

            Dead Scream Pain Crack Spells

            Fire Burn Pain Pain Rot Pain Punch Bruise Batter Pain Pain… Cool… Cool?

            Dark… Dark…

            It was dark, and there was a sterile sort of fragrance hanging in the air… a fragrance devoid of sensuality… pure but too bittersweet to be innocent… and it was cool and hot and pain and soothing at the same time

            Darkness

            Light…

            There was pain, but there was something odd and the pain wasn't complete and the burning was there but it was being cooled and…

            Heaven… Hell… and somewhere in between was where he was… or was he?

            Where was he?

            It was dark and there was pain, so he must be in hell… and for what he was and what he did, hell was right…

            But there was…

            Who?

            His eyelids felt like they were being weighed down with red-hot weights, and when finally he opened them, his vision was dulled, like viewing the unfamiliar surreal world through a layer of smoky chiffon…

            And in the obscurity of the world there was a spot of light, a tiny, luminous glow of fuzzy pale gold… candle… and the shimmer settled on something dark yet not… and it was…

            A shape hazy and shadowy in the weak light… willow-slim and steel-strong and crouched and… cool and…

            His eyes were not cooperating and his brain was swimming in a blurry ocean of confusion and he… did… not… know…

            There was something cool on his head but there was pain on his side like something was being eaten away by poisonous rot… and he was hot and bothered…

            And there was a shape crouched…

            Indistinct… like the crescent moon on a foggy night…

            Beautiful…

            But how could he know?

            His feverish brain struggled to make sense of it… where he was… the contradictory feelings and surroundings and the scent of bitter-sweetness clinging to the air benevolent almost and yet…

            And there was her…

            He knew it was a 'her', and though she was blurry and enshrouded in the mist of fever, he knew that she was beautiful…but whom and what and how…

            Dark and bright and peace and soothe… and yet fire and dark…

            And who?

            Was he in heaven?

            Wasn't he in hell?

            And his head hurt and the red-hot weights on his eyes were insistently pulling them down and everything spun and wavered like disturbed reflections in water in a whirlpool and the naiad by his side wavered and she was… no… he…

            She was still… and he knew somehow that she was there but she was shrouding herself as his eyes fell closed once more and his headache went away as his mind cleared…

            Who cared if he was in heaven or hell?

            He was not alone… and there was she who would always be with him and… rest…

*          *          *

            When Fallon awoke the next morning, she opened her eyes and immediately went to take a look at her patient.

            He was still asleep, with a strange, sort-of-smile on his face.

            Odd… peaceful. But… very odd…

            What was he smiling about?

            Shaking her head slightly, Fallon undid the spells that held him in place on the bed, and removed the poultice from his wound, inspecting the sore.

            It was still festering; the flesh sodden with potions and with the infection, his body gradually expelling the poisons inside. But the skin around it was starting to turn a normal color.

            Putting one hand on his forehead, she noticed that he was still somewhat feverish. But the skin was no longer the garish, ghastly red shade that it had been the day before. The blooming rosettes were fading, and there were small beads of sweat on his brow, and the tip of his nose.

            Carefully dipping the handkerchief in cool water, she wiped his face slowly.

            He would be handsome, perhaps, if he weren't so ill.

            She had not known him well when they were in school; he and the Quidditch team, she and her group of friends... they moved in different circles.

            His eyes were closed, and his face was somewhat relaxed except for the flush of fever on his cheeks and the accompanying shallow breaths.

            At that moment, she heard the sound of footsteps outside her tent, and stood up abruptly. Quickly putting a temporary immobilizing spell back on her patient, she stepped out of the tent, wand drawn. She had not expected any visitors.

            But Fallon's face relaxed when she saw who it was. A young woman, her age, dressed in plain and unnoticeable black robes, purely for function and not decoration. And yet, with the woman's striking figure and confident gait, the effect was that the plain robes simply drew more attention to her beauty by contrast. She tossed back a mane of luxuriant hair the color of maple sugar and gave Fallon a grin.

            "Hello there, Kate."

            "Good morning, Fallon," Kate Le Fay greeted her friend, "You look rather tired..."

            "I am," Fallon said candidly, "Had to stay up with a patient 'til quite late... he's better now, though. How are things going with you and..." Fallon trailed off. Kate's work was quite aptly described by her title. Unspeakable.

            Kate gave a sober look to the other woman, "There is... news... that You-Know-Who is missing a spy. Supposedly, the spy has not proven him or herself yet, but had sworn fealty to one of the High Death Eaters... whether this spy is... loose somewhere... or has gone into hiding... we have no idea yet."

            Fallon gave Kate a startled look, "Any idea who it is?"

            Kate shook her head, "So far, no leads... I'm sure that things will be looked into, though."

            Fallon nodded slowly, "Well... I don't know. Odd... I will be sure to keep an eye out for strange things. I have made sure to keep my patients in... this way, if any of them know anything, perhaps I can find out."

            Kate gave a noise of agreement, "Good plan. I have to go to work now... I just wanted to give you a heads-up."

            "Thank you... and you take care of yourself," Fallon answered.

            "You take care of yourself... and your patients," Kate said, "Farewell."

            The Unspeakable Disapparated, and Fallon went back to her tent.

            Hmm... perhaps Cassius Warrington might know something about it. She would see about that... once he woke up.

~*~ End Chapter Two ~*~

And so ends the second installment of my wartime SOBsaga. Review, my darlings...