Author's note: I do sincerely apologize for the lateness of this chapter and all of you have been so kind and patient with me that I can't thank you enough. Hopefully I won't be so far behind with the next installment, but I can make no promises since I now have a full time job and a full time boyfriend *grin* A great big thank you to the first dozen reviewers of my story on ff.net. All of you made my year with your wonderful comments and words of support. This chapter is for you guys!

Chapter 11:

Panic. I must not panic.

The litany that was repeating over and over in Marissa's mind did little to abate the fear that was quickly welling up inside her, nearly to the point of spilling out in a torrent of frustrated tears. The smallest crate's contents were spilled out over the table top, a jumbled mess of small packets, satchels, twigs, and utensils, blurring into an incomprehensible jumble that swam before her eyes. Her hands flitted nervously over the haphazard piles, touching nothing, straying close then backing away, unsure of what she could use or should use or absolutely not use in the situation.

With a near scream of frustration she backed away from the table, shutting her eyes and placing the heels of her palms against her damp forehead, her hair still dripping from the torrent of rain that was pouring outside. Grinding her hands against her head she willed away the pain that was lancing through her frontal lobe, deep shuddering breaths being forced in and out through her lungs. Her teeth were chattering from the chill that was sweeping through her body, fed on by the intense pounding of her heart. Fear and adrenaline were coursing through her veins, building up to an aching point in the center of her forehead, the throbbing flow of blood beating strongly beneath her finger tips.

Angrily she bit down hard on her lower lip, using the new source of pain as a distraction as she slowly lowered her hands from her face, blinking while she looked around the room and tried to take in everything anew. The room was cast in a dim red orange glow, the fire nearly burned out, along with a wooden crate thrown carelessly into a corner, its innards laying across the table like a patient waiting to go under the knife. Except this surgeon hadn't even been to med school.

Clenching her fists she strode over to the fireplace and thrust 3 more logs into the coals, stirring them into a healthy blaze that soon cast a warm bright light over the room. With nearly steady hands she bent down and picked up the iron kettle, bringing it to the front door where she set it outside, letting it fill with water from the falling rain. A good fire and hot water was all she could muster up being able to do right now.

Apprehensively she glanced back at the table, then to the doorway which led into the room where Chichiri lay. Neither offered her a good alternative. To either face her very sick patient or try to make sense of the supplies which were spread out before her. After a moment she shook her head and headed into the next room. If she stared at that pile any longer her head would split open from the pain.

She stepped over the threshold quietly, feeling the noticeable drop in temperature between the main room and the bedroom. She'd have to find a way to do something about that. That's right, she encouraged as she approached the bedside. Start thinking objectively, panicking isn't going to help anyone, especially Chichiri.

His outer clothing lay piled on the floor at the foot of the chair, the kesa laying on the seat and staff wedged between the chair and the wall. His mask had been nowhere to be found when she'd set him down on the bed. In his weakened state the spell holding on the mask had probably worn off, meaning that the article of disguise was somewhere on the rain washed road.

Standing at the bedside Marissa placed a slightly trembling hand on Chichiri's forehead, flinching at the intense warmth that burned there. He was still wearing his shirt and leggings, which were quickly soaking the mattress as the wet garments plastered themselves to his body. They would have to come off.

Moving her fingers to the clasps at his shoulder she paused and bit her lip. Now isn't the time to suddenly get modest Mari. He did this for you once. You need to suck it up and do the same for him. She worked quickly and opened the top of the shirt, then spent a minute awkwardly raising Chichiri's arms over his head as she tugged the shirt off his torso. When it finally came off he immediately began shivering, flesh now exposed to the cool air. His one eye was open, their ocher depths pained and withdrawn as he shifted slightly and moaned.

Worriedly Marissa placed her hand on his face, hoping to calm him as she reached for the blanket at the end of the bed. With a quick tug she draped the folds of it over his bare well-toned chest, tucking his arms beneath the dry fabric. His hands were clenching in spasms, muscles tensing before being allowed to relax momentarily again. Attempting to soothe away the pain as much as she could she gently rubbed his shoulders, smoothing the blanket over his skin, creating a gentle friction that would help to warm him while she continued on to her next task.

With a soft clatter his pair of black flat-footed shoes were dropped to the floor, the lacing around his leggings soon following, with thankfully no complicated knots to hamper her progress. The leggings themselves soon joined the pile and with a bright flush she quickly undid the ties on the front of his pants. Before she could continue though the need for modesty overcame her and she pulled the blanket down over his thighs before grasping the fabric at his knees and pulling them down completely. Well damn, he sure had nice legs too.

Oh god, stop it, she berated herself, unfurling the blanket so it reached from his chin to over his toes. She had a feeling that it would hardly be enough though and got down on her hands and knees, searching under the bed for the extra blankets Chichiri kept to sleep on at night. Finding one she withdrew it shook it out before draping it gently over him, noticing with relief as she tucked it in that he was no longer shivering as badly.

Keeping herself busy she gathered up his wet clothing and cloak and took them back to the main room, leaving them spread out on the chair beside the hearth. Remembering the kettle she'd left outside she quickly retrieved it and hung it on the rusted metal hook hanging inside the fire place, pausing before the blaze to warm her hands and body, the clothes she was wearing still heavily damp from the rain. She crossed her arms after a moment and turned around, letting her backside warm as her gaze swept over the room.

Nothing. No clue or idea at all of how to use any of what was laid out before her, its messy state not helping in the least. She'd read of teas that helped to lower fevers, but had no way of knowing if what she was choosing was even the right herb. And the worst part was that there was no way she could have been prepared for this situation. People falling under illness in rural China just weren't situations that were taught during Health in high school. All she could hope to do even today would be to hand him a few Tylenol, some cough medicine, and let the miracle drugs do their work. What kind of sick, twisted fate had decided that she should be faced with this kind of predicament without even a prayer of saving him.

Praying... oh gods, Taiitsukun! Why didn't I think of her before?

Marissa nearly tripped and fell in her haste to get back into the bedroom. She snatched up the straw kasa and peered into it, hoping for some sign that the mode of transport she'd seen Chichiri use once would make itself available to her too. Nothing inside the hat seemed to be different though, no signs of the light nor dark swirls of matter that tended to signify that something magical was taking place.

Worriedly she bit her lip and lowered the kasa to be level with her abdomen, squeezing her eyes shut in a faint hope that perhaps just wishing might make it come true. Slowly she brought her free hand forward, inching her fingers closer to the coned depths of the hat. Slowly, slowly she pressed forward, still touching air, and then her index finger brushed damp straw.

Dammit.

Defeated she let the kasa fall to the floor, vaguely feeling its heavy straw brim smack her exposed toes. She was out of options.

Chichiri's staff was out of the question. She knew for a fact that if anyone other than him attempted to use the staff they'd be blown to smitherens, or at least get a nice, shocking awakening to their misdeed. The magic protecting it was too high for her to even attempt removing it unless she wanted some ugly burns and maybe a missing limb.

Her gaze flickered over to Chichiri's sweaty form on her bed and she felt her heart clench. Even so, it'd be worth it to save you.

Her heart was thumping nervously as her gaze floated away from the bed over to the staff which was propped up against the wall opposite her. No, Marissa, you can't be serious, a part of her warned, watching with fear and confusion as one hand lifted and reached out towards the slender pole. It was a shame, really, she thought as her fingers caressed the smooth wood. That the man who had the power to unlock this was laying near death on her bed, the knowledge tucked securely away in his head.

Marissa's fingers stopped just short of wrapping completely around the staff. Shit. You are an idiot Marissa!

But it was with a smile on her face complimentary to a problem solved as she spun around and knelt by the bedside, heart beating with assured determination. Laying her two hands atop the blankets that covered Chichiri's shivering form she gently and lovingly brushed her hands over the coverlet, letting her right hand move down his arm while the other came up to his bare shoulder and neck, feeling the hot pulse thumping strongly, if not a little erratically beneath his skin. She clasped his right wrist firmly between her fingers, feeling the little tremors that zipped through his skin like currents of electricity and his own hand clench at hers in response, which brought a firmer smile to her lips.

"Chichiri," she whispered, cupping her hand to the side of his face, fingers brushing back the wet blue strands that had fallen over his cheek bone.

He blinked wearily, his eye focusing slowly on the dark ceiling overhead, the tremors in his body stilling for a moment as he fought to focus on that whisper of a word. "Chichiri," she implored again, gently tipping his face so that his eye turned to be level with her own. His gaze was still hazy with pain, but comprehension drifted through his deep ocher eye and Marissa couldn't help but sigh in relief.

Unexpectedly a small smile formed on his lips as their gazes locked, the barest curl of the corners of his mouth, faint lines beside his eye that Marissa had never seen before crinkling to life. Real tears pricked under her eyelashes as she gave a small hiccup of relief, squeezing the hand under the blankets reassuringly.

"Chichiri, you're very sick right now and I need your help to make you better. I've got all of the medicine we have but I don't know what to do with you. You know though, right?"

A moment's digestion, then a weak nod of his head. He opened his mouth to speak but Marissa moved her fingers over in time to cover his lips. "No no, it's ok, don't talk. I'm going to read your mind Chichiri, but I need you to open it for me. Can you do that?"

A raspy sigh escaped his lips as he shut his eye, his head rolling back onto the pillow weakly, a single wincing of his brow the only indication of the pain he was in. A full minute passed as Marissa sat by his side holding her breath, wondering if he had understood, if she should rouse him again or attempt to push into his mind forcefully. In his weak state such a feat would undoubtedly be easy, but there was a matter of privacy involved here, and Marissa knew that there were secrets Chichiri would like to keep until his dying day.

It's alright! she wanted to shout, I know it all already. You're still the same person to me... but she kept her silence, knowing that it was his decision alone to offer permission.

As the silence stretched on she felt worry creeping in, her teeth attacking her lower lip as she waited for his answer. Her hand had fallen to the pillow when he'd moved his head and gently she placed it back on the side of his face. He seemed to start at that and blinked open his eye, staring for a moment at the ceiling before it slowly slid over to regard her.

"Hai," came the ragged whisper, a voice so soft and deep and filled with the pain not just of physical injury, but with the knowledge that he had just consented to lay open his soul.

Moved beyond words by his decision Marissa felt her heart swell, unsure of whether she wanted to cry or kiss the man laying beside her. Safely she opted for smiling and squeezing his hand in thanks, rising up to perch herself on the bed beside him. Feet firmly planted on the floor she placed both hands behind his cheek bones, the exceptionally warm skin a reminder to the task at hand she was working to solve. Unconsciously she brushed her thumbs across his skin before closing her eyes, concentrating on establishing the link they had once shared what seemed a lifetime ago.

Through her fingers she felt her consciousness moving, seeping into his mind cautiously, gently, announcing herself not as an intruder but as a friend seeking aid. She felt his mind respond in kind, a bit sluggishly, but it yielded to her gentle demands and let her pass through...

* * * * * *

It was like floating into another world, identifiable as another mind but completely alien. Like each snowflake that fell from the sky, perfectly symmetrical and pristine in their making, yet not one completely like another. Composed from the same mould, forged in the same world, shaped by life's events and its lessons, but as different and unique as two strangers meeting by chance.

Soft but wary, admitting but cautious. His mind did not envelop her presence but slowly backed away from it, leaving behind a fever laden trail undermined by badly concealed anxiety. She could feel her mind flinching as it brushed against those tender spots, pushing back the urge to reach out and cradle his wounded soul and blank out those memories that continued to haunt him so much. But she could do no such thing. She was a guest and a little more than a stranger to his mind, to his true inner mind. This was the place he had never let her venture into before, the part that had been kept secret so tightly. She knew there were long corridors in his mind that led to places even she didn't know about.

I am sorry... she sent out the whisper of an apology towards the consciousness that was slowly retreating to make way for her probe. Perhaps he felt her grief and remorse for the needed intrusion because it paused and shuddered, an inaudible sigh shivering through it.

She paused as well and remained still, waiting for something, not sure what exactly but aware that a moment was approaching that she did not wish to deter. Soon it pulsed softly and the emotions that were leaking from it shifted to less apprehension and more resignation.

I should show you where you need to go. His inner voice reverberated around her, pained but strong, with a sense of purpose that was probably deterring him from noticing the nakedness he felt at her presence.

Marissa resisted the urge to mentally clench her teeth at his self-pitying attitude. It was times like this that she wondered why she had let herself fall for such a guy. It was always the depressed ones that tore at your heart the most but made you end up coming back for more because you were sure that you could help them this time. As she drifted up alongside him she watched him draw in further upon himself, preventing any contact between their consciousness, and she heard her own inner voice come out tight and irritated. Let's get this over with.

Twists and turns appeared before them as they drifted deeper, Chichiri leading the way silently, Marissa following dutifully, neither speaking. Though time is a relative thing in a place like the mind it felt to take awhile before Chichiri finally stopped, settling before a fuzzy globe that swirled with colors of pink, yellow, and green.

My memories of useful things, he explained offhandedly, a taste of sarcasm dripping from his tone that flushed his color dark red for a moment.

The words were out before she could stop them. You couldn't save Mitsukake, or anyone else. They chose their fates.

He shuddered and Marissa felt annoyance and surprise emanate from him. Hai, he agreed after a moment, the admission sounding more like a bitter chuckle than acceptance. You say things like that so easily. As though you understand what it's like to lose your friends, your comrades in arms, your leader. You claim you know so much about my life, our world, but all you did was read it in a book and you think that gives you the right to tell me that everything is OK?

Each dagger sharpened word hit their mark and Marissa flinched away from him surprised, wounded by his sudden change in tone. I didn't know... she began apologetically, but was cut off by his exhausted inner voice.

Please take what you need and go, the real anguish of this invasion of privacy finally reaching his words. He backed away from her, inward suffering and a hint of remorse coloring his wake. You should be able to find your own way out... ugh!

Chichiri! she cried in alarm, watching his consciousness suddenly writhe and color in pain. Before she could think of what she was doing she had sprung upon him, wrapping her mind around his in an effort to blanket the pain and share it with her own mind.

No! he cried out but it was too late and she felt her being merging into his.

The pain was intense but not long lasting and it left both of them panting inwardly as they sought to recover themselves. Get out, he pleaded, trying to curl away from the other mind that was suddenly permeated entirely through his own. I won't, she responded and firmly embraced herself around him, cradling the mind that was struggling to slip away and hide again. By some twist of circumstances his weakened body seemed to have left his mind in a similar state, for his squirming soon ended in a feeble sigh that shook through his entire being. Why won't you leave me be?

You're asking the impossible... sweetheart, she chided gently, spurred on by the power of presence and domination over her mentor. She felt her confidence growing as she petted his consciousness with a love and tenderness she knew he hadn't felt in years. I never want to hurt you, believe that. I know you so well yet I don't know you at all. You're a beautiful mystery to me and I wish I could prove to you that you can trust me, that I know...

She stopped as images rose unbidden in her mind, memories of watching TV, feeling her heart wrench in sympathy and pain for the man she saw on screen battling the demons from his past. Their story was as well known as her own life, each moment in time carried preciously to be remembered and studied, to laugh and cry with when her own life seemed too mundane in comparison. They were of another world but just as human as herself and for that she loved each of their challenges and stories. With those memories faces and moments in time flashed by, blended together in a dance she knew all too well, her most memorable times on screen... and she knew with a sinking certainty in her heart that he could see these memories as well.

What...? He exclaimed out in confusion before regaining himself. Marissa, what are these?

My memories, she confessed sadly and clenched down tightly on the path her mind was taking. So tempted to reveal the truth to him but scared of the consequences. To risk altering time, all for the sake of proving to one man that he didn't have to be alone in his grief; a leap of faith and love that she wasn't sure would do any good in the end. But he was speaking again...

I saw faces, I saw us there. What was I seeing, Marissa? There was a long pause as he accepted her silent answer. It was the future. Why... why was I in so much pain. Tell me, please.

She felt herself shaking inside, so close to the edge, wanting to give in to that smooth deep voice that cracked with pain and need, the very emotions she had sought to remedy and drive away, but now she was the cause of them, but... I can't, she whispered, feeling the anguish of her position breaking free.

I want to! she cried as she felt him start to pull back, hurt and confused.

It's ok, he said softly, shrinking in her mind's embrace. She clung to him as she felt him try to close up. Don't do this Chichiri, not again. You've been going on long enough with your coldness and you unresponsiveness. Don't you think it's been hurting me too?

A barely audible whisper floated back. It's my lot in life...

Houjun! she snapped angrily, too upset to care of the implications she brought on by calling his real name.

He jerked in surprise but remained silent. Perhaps now he finally realized the truth of her knowledge. After everything that he had seen and felt and heard, becoming part of another's mind that had seen the future, there had to be no doubt left within him.

There was no movement from his mind for a time and cautiously she spoke again. I'm sorry, but I can't let you think that.

He gave a soft snort. You know my name. You know my past, my future, you seem to know everything. What in Suzaku's name do you want with me?

I want... her thought paused, teetering on the edge of confession. You can't give me what I want.

Try me.

It was a challenge spoken with curiosity and something else she couldn't define, even in this state of emotional intimacy. There was something lurking behind the question. Was it hope? No gods it wouldn't be that. He was waiting though, tensely and silently. That was unexpected. What could she say to that? I love you, I want you, let me be the only one you'll ever care for in your life? And watch him hide away from her again because he was too ashamed to accept anyone's love, especially that from another woman. She knew his answer, his rejection, she could feel it in the very mind around her. His self disgust and perversion to live on with his skeletons while doing his duty to world and god without a thought for himself.

She was getting angry, she could feel it snaking up through her mind and she knew he could feel it too as he drew back slightly in surprise at her response.

But suddenly it was gone, and in its place sat a lonely sadness that flooded through her like a cold slap of reality.

Don't ask me, Houjun. I'll never have it... and the sadness of that statement rolled off of her in miserable waves.

She pried her mind away from his before he could protest and quickly gathered the knowledge she needed from his memories. An infusion of yarrow, vervain, hops for sleep and mint for taste (and their respective Chinese characters) would bring down the fever and take away most of the pain. Like a fleeing prisoner she escaped from his mind and flowed back into her own, drawing in heavy breaths as she familiarized herself with her consciousness' home again.

When she opened her eyes he was looking up at her dazedly, eyes glazed but silently questioning. Fighting back tears she bent over, hands still cupped around his face, and kissed him softly on the forehead. Her lips lingered there for a moment, listening to the sound of steady rain falling on the roof and his short breaths that ran tremors under the skin she was touching.

"I love you," she whispered, but when she looked down his eyes were closed in the heavy slumber of exhausted sleep.