A/N – Wow, I got some reviews saying that I made people CRY… Well, this chapter should be a bit happier, if that's any consolation. Oh, and I'd like to thank EVERYONE for reviewing. You have no idea how great it feels to read them.

On a side not, this chapter title is subject to change, since I'm not quite sure how many chapters this last brainstorm is going to take. But I promise it won't be too many. Three, four at the most.

I claim no ownership over the Shamanic Princess characters.

Chapter 9 - The Sun

I wake suddenly in the early, darkened morning.

I remember everything from before. The memories do not bombard me upon my waking; rather, they are already there to begin with, and simply become clearer and more imposing as the last visages of passive rest leave me. I continue to lie on my back, staring at the ceiling as I roll the thoughts over in my mind.

I am under no illusions as to who caught me when I fell. Only Graham would have returned me to my own room, instead of taking me to a hospital. Stretching my muscles beneath the sheets, I can feel my major burns and scrapes covered with well-wrapped bandages. They barely sting at all, indicating that he used his own healing powers to speed up my recovery. Inhaling deeply, I regret that he had not hung around long enough for me to thank him. In his current state of mental and emotional turmoil, he would not want to stay and speak to the one who caused his unease in the first place.

For this reason, I jump in shock at the shuddery breath that echoes suddenly not ten feet from my bed.

I turn my head abruptly to the side. Sitting with his back to the wall, one leg pulled up to his chest with both arms circling it, is my long lost partner. Soft white hair forming a curtain around his downwards tilted face, shoulders rising and falling in the peaceful rhythm of his breathing.

He is deep and sound asleep.

Although his nearness after so many uncomfortable encounters is a little awkward, I still cannot help but smile. He put so much energy into helping me that he forgot about himself. As punishment, he is now utterly exhausted.

His body suddenly trembles slightly, followed by the shuddery breath that alerted me of his presence in the first place. My eyes turning to the window, I pull back a little of the bed sheets and feel the chilly breeze that now flutters the curtains. Carefully, I slip off the mattress and walk softly to the window. After closing it, I remove one of my blankets from the bed and tiptoe over to where he sits, still sleeping. His resting place is shrouded in shadow, bringing the temperature around him down even further. I quickly spread the blanket over him, making sure he is completely covered.

I am walking back to my own bed when his voice sounds behind me.

"You will… be cold."

I freeze, and answer without facing him.

"I have plenty of blankets. I'll be alright."

He tries to protest. "But-"

"Really, I'm fine!"

The words come out more harshly than I intend. He falls silent, and I am flinch at the sudden wave of guilt. I can't leave him thinking I hate him.

"Graham," I whisper, shoulders slumping and head bowing in defeat. "I… I didn't mean to scare you, or chase you away… I guess I was just a little surprised… I'm not mad at you. I…" I turn to face him, clutching my arms with cold hands that tremble and, suddenly, crying without restraint. I feel responsible for everything that has happened to him, even the things I could not control. I disgust myself that, after wishing he were around so I could treat him better than everyone else had, I had blown the chance Fate had given me and hurt him even more.

He still doesn't face me; I don't think he even believes me. I don't doubt that he has heard these same words before, perhaps even from my own mother, and he remembers with aching clarity the result of his devotion and caring for her.

"I could never be mad at you… I could never hate you for anything…"

This is so pointless. There is nothing I can say that is any different than he has already heard… I can't blame him for not believing me… that's my own fault. He suffers so much and I only give him more pain…How could I have done this to him! My selfish wish brought him back from a death that must have been a peaceful oblivion after his life… Graham, I'm so sorry… Graham…

My knees, just like the day I first met him, give way, and I hit the cold hardwood with a thump. His head jerks up, and he looks at me with wide, apprehensive eyes at his master falling to pieces at his feet. Again.

"Please… don't hate me…" My head drops and I stare at the floor. "I just don't want you to hate me…" My pleading cuts off abruptly when Graham reaches out suddenly and grips my chin and the underside of my jaw with his right human hand. Forcing my eyes to meet his, I am almost afraid of the intensity burning in deep within the eye on the mask. When he speaks, he seems almost angry, offended by my words.

"I could not… hate you. You are kind…" My breath catches as his thumb absentmindedly moves across my cheek, wiping away a tear. "So kind, Riya."

Closing my eyes, I inhale deeply, feeling my throat become constricted with emotion. The weight he has lifted with his words is immense, and my tears flow onto the hand, his hand, still holding my chin with fingers that radiate warmth and forgiveness. Turning my head, I press my face into his hand, whispering my thanks into his palm.

I freeze momentarily when his other hand pulls against my shoulder towards him.

Then I relax, and let myself lay gently in his embrace. Sighing, he pulls me close and runs stiff metal fingers through my hair comfortingly.

After a while my tears subside, and I am halfway asleep again when he speaks. His voice is quiet, but possesses a more prominent confidence that I find uplifting.

"I am sorry… about what I did."

I tilt my head up to look at him in confusion. "What did you do?"

He hesitates, then looks into my eyes as his warm fingers brush my lips.

"This… I am sorry."

"I'm not."

I smile briefly at his shocked expression. Then his fingers come back up to smooth their pads over my lips.

"Then… may I?"

I nod.

Hesitantly, he leans down, seeming afraid that I will suddenly scream and pull away. Closing my eyes, I tilt my face more in his direction, and am rewarded with my mouth touching the same soft lips that gave me my first kiss. Both of us are shy, unused to such intimacy, and the action lasts but a few moments. When we part, our eyes meet, and my face inflames with a scarlet blush.

Unable to match his piercing gaze, I let my eyes drop to watch my fingers play with his silver hair. I'd never really felt it before, and it slides through my hands like fine silk, with a feathered, fluffy tone that reflects his gentle nature. Despite his violent tendencies, he really is sweet, soft and timid. He feels things strongly, and acts on his emotions more often than his reasoning. There is no doubt in my mind that his feelings for me are genuine… he could not act this way if he felt anything else.

As I continue to ponder, my eyes drift closed, and I slowly rest more and more of my weight on him. I fight to stay awake, until his voice says to me, "Sleep, Riya. I do not mind." Smiling, I tuck my forehead into the curve of his neck. "Thank you Graham."

"You are welcome," he whispers, pulling up the sheet to cover my shoulders as, once again, I fall asleep resting in his warm embrace.