Notes: Thank you all for being patient, and special thanks to those who reviewed. Here's the second and final chapter, Part II. As always, enjoy!

Warning: There's one incidence of strong language in this chapter. If such things offend you, you may not want to read it.

"The moment I heard my daughter's vision had failed her, and that she'd forever be blind, I was sitting in that chair. I was so ashamed."

Edward Walker

The bed all but swallowed her up.

Lucius looked at Ivy's petite frame in her parents' large bed, billowing sheets and pillows surrounding her. Her pale skin blended with the stark white covers, and it was only her strawberry-blonde curls that provided any contrast—but even they were partially covered by a white gauze strip wrapped around and around her head.

When Lucius had found her, she was lying limply on her side and his heart had stopped for believing she was dead. Her thin dress was tangled around her body, knobby knees sticking out and streaked with mud. One shoe was off and a stone's throw from where she lay. A delicate, now dirty, white sock covered her small foot. Tears rushed to his eyes, unbidden, as he let out a hoarse cry and dropped to his knees. He carefully lifted her, cradling her in his arms. Her head lolled into the crook of his shoulder and he settled her more fully against him, wishing he could somehow have protected her from all that happened. She was so little, just a baby still…

Blood darkened her curls and the rock to their left and now his shirt sleeve as well. Just as he heard Mr. Walker rushing towards them, Lucius noticed a slight stirring of breath leave her lips. He stumbled as he rose, knees weak with relief, and presented Ivy to her father.

Now she lay there, still unconscious. She had been for the past three days. Not a stirring of movement. Victor the physician had visited, had been in and out regularly, but there was not much he could do, not much anyone could do.

Except pray.

Noah had even come, blubbering all the while. No one suspected the boy of any foul play, but Lucius could not forget the way Noah had looked at him prior to the incident, as much as he tried to. He knew it was wrong of him, but Ivy lay there, maybe even dying for Christ's sake! What was he supposed to think?

More than anything, he knew the real reason for his suspicion of Noah and his own hostile nature. He was being eaten, torn apart, ravaged by guilt. If only he had been kinder to her, if only he had not been such a useless fool with words, if only he had allowed her to tag along with him as she so often longed to. She was just a child, like a little sister to him really, and he had treated her poorly. Treatment which led to the circumstances she was in now. He could not help but feel that it was entirely his fault. Why not? It could have easily been prevented. If only—

"Lucius," a quiet voice interrupted his self-mutilating thoughts. Lucius turned in his bedside seat, to see his mother standing before him, Mr. Walker entering behind her.

"Come home, darling," his mother implored, placing her soft hand on his shoulder. "You have not slept in days. Come, if at least to wash and eat a proper meal."

Lucius was already shaking his head before she finished speaking. "I cannot, mother. What if she were to awaken? What if—" He just clenched his jaw and shook his head, unwilling to speak anymore dreadful words aloud.

"We are here for Ivy, Lucius." It was Mr. Walker that spoke this time. "Her mother and I, your mother, Kitty, the doctor. You need not remain at her bedside constantly. Go home, son. Recuperate. And then you may come back."

Lucius regarded the two of them wearily. Despite their gentle words, he knew they were teaming up against him and he was powerless to stop them.

"Fine. But I shall be back."

Ivy was still twirling.

And the colours were still blurring together, a haze of every shade imaginable in a whirlwind of spirit and emotion. This time, however, she was unable to stop. No matter how dizzy she got, she continued to twirl even when she was exhausted and wanted to give up.

It was a form of torture.

She could feel the nausea creeping up, and it was made worse by the disjointed sounds she was hearing as well. The creaking of floorboards, slamming of doors, cacophony of voices. She felt someone, very far away, touching her head. She knew the touch must have been soft, but it still felt as though she were being bludgeoned by a blacksmith's hammer. Blacksmith.

Lucius.

She could hear him, too. His voice softer than the rest. His voice the only one that did not cause her head to feel as though it was splitting in two. She could never quite hear what he was saying, but it was only the cadence of his voice that could soothe her spirit and allow her to rest, if only for a moment.

It was very odd, to be a prisoner of one's own mind. She was at a point beyond awareness. She felt as though her senses had been stripped from her and all that was left was whatever was within. Such profound thoughts for such a little girl. Even she knew she was too young to be experiencing such things.

Aside from the pain, she was also very frightened. She knew something was wrong with her, knew that the ones she loved were just out of reach, but had no idea how to break free from the oppressive chains holding her back. She wanted her papa to hold her, her mama to soothe her, Kitty to scold her for being foolish, and Noah—

Noah. Where did he feature in all that was happening to her? Should he be blamed? Of course not, the logical part of her mind insisted. He cannot help the way he is, he was merely playing. She had also been aware of his visit, and could feel the remorse radiating from him. It would not be right to blame him. And yet, she had difficulty deciphering right from wrong in the current state she was in. In fact, she almost needed someone to be at fault. Needed there to be a finger of reproach pointed at someone.

If only to make it easier on herself.

"How can we stand idly by, Edward? How?" Mrs. Walker cried out to her husband, tears collecting in her eyes. "Our baby, my little girl, has been unconscious for almost a week! We can't get out of here, go back into town and get something for her? Bring in another doctor, with real medicine? What if there's an infection?"

"Keep your voice down, Tabitha," her husband pleaded with her, hazarding a glance around to ensure no one had heard her speak in such a manner or of such things. "I'm just as concerned about Ivy as you, of course I am. But we made a pact—"

"Oh, fuck the pact, Edward!" Tabitha interrupted, fire in her eyes and tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Tabitha!" In twenty-five years of marriage, Mr. Walker had never heard his wife utter a vulgar word.

"I don't care, I don't care who hears what. All I care about our daughter. The pact means nothing to me when my daughter is dying, and it should mean nothing to you either! You go into those towns, or else I will tell everyone who can listen about the secret of this village, and compromise everything we've built up until this point," she threatened, crossing her arms and daring him to defy her.

Edward looked down, defeated. He knew she was right. He would never be able to live with himself if Ivy… if anything happened to her. "Say nothing for now," he said quietly, at length. His manner of speaking reverted back to that which he had become accustomed to these past fifteen years. "I would think upon it in silence for a while. Then we will speak again of it."

She glared at him for a beat, then nodded shortly. "Think hard, Edward," was her final warning before she stalked away, angrily dashing at the tears that had settled on her cheeks.

Mr. Walker sighed heavily, the bone-deep sigh of a man who had known too many sorrows and was weighed down by too many burdens. Burrowing his hands deeper into his pockets, he took leave of the small room where his daughter lay comatose and made his way to his porch. He settled deeply in the rocking chair there and, placing his hand upon his mouth, thought as he said he would.

Ivy had to take leave of the place she was in. Beyond frightened now, she could feel the demons clawing at her, trying to take something away from her and pull her where she did not want to go. She could hear angry voices and did not know if they were coming from within her or without. All she knew was that escape was vital, and it had to occur then, at that very moment, or else it would not occur at all. Something would go very wrong.

Dredging all the strength she had in her, all the will in her meagre years, she attempted the supreme effort of opening her eyes. Again. Once more.

And failed.

Lucius nodded a sombre greeting to Mr. Walker, who sat on his front porch appearing deep in thought. The man barely paid him heed, and so Lucius took it upon himself to enter the cabin and see how Ivy was faring. On the way over, he had noticed the doctor taking leave of his own quaint house and knew that he would not have much time with Ivy before the man arrived. So, once in the house, he rushed over to Ivy's bedside and took her hand.

"Ivy Walker," he spoke, his face close to hers in order to ensure that she heard what he had to say. "I am very worried for you." He took a deep breath, willing down the tears that threatened to choke him. "I am sorry for the way I treated you; I never wanted… never wanted you to think that you were a bother. That I did not want you around. That day when you bumped into me, I… what I said was meant to be in jest. I want you to know that. You mean… you mean everything to me, little Ivy. I care for you as I would my own sister. I…" his voice broke. "I do not know what I would do, what this village would do, if you were lost to us. Understand that you also mean everything to everyone here, Ivy. Your mama, papa, Kitty, your other sisters—what would they do without you, sweet girl? We must take heart, and hope that you will return to us. Come back to us, Ivy." The tears could no longer be contained beneath his lashes and twin drops streaked down his cheeks. "Come back." Leaning forward, he kissed her feverish head softly.

Sniffling, he rested his forehead lightly beside hers, still loosely holding her hand. When her fingers first twitched he hardly noticed, assuming his own hand had grown tired of remaining in the same position for too long. The second twitch was accompanied by what sounded like a little groan, coming from somewhere deep within her. His head shot up at this and his eyes scanned her face and body for any further signs of movement. Sure enough, her eyelids began to waver. Once, twice. Her lips shifted and her head turned, ever-so-slightly. In shock, Lucius could do nothing but watch as she seemed to slowly regain life. Tears welled up once more in his eyes unchecked, as her own eyes flickered open, remaining at half mast, focussing on nothing. They began to flow in earnest when he saw her perfect mouth forming his name.

"Lucius."

Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. Ivy knew her eyes were open, could feel the lids pulled upwards, and yet she remained in the same inky blackness as she was before. She could feel Lucius' hand holding her own, firmly, but could see nothing beyond darkness. Her head throbbed, beat after agonising beat, and she felt as though she had once again taken control of her body; only now, faced with the pain of her injuries, she was not so sure she wanted such control any longer.

Lucius saw Ivy's eyes frantically darting to and fro, not staying in one place for even a moment, but before he could speak to her further, before he could grasp her attention once more, the doctor entered.

"And how is little Ivy Walker today?" he questioned in his usual manner, not expecting a response. He stopped short seeing Lucius there. And gaped at seeing Ivy awake and moving. "My goodness!" Quickly rushing over to her bedside, he astutely headed to the opposite side of Lucius, not daring to remove the boy from Ivy's side as she appeared to be gripping his hand as tightly as he held hers.

"Lucius," she breathed his name, barely a harsh whisper in the still room, eyes still uncontrollably flitting around as though she were frantically searching for something. "Lucius?"

"Ivy," he spoke abruptly, grasping her other hand as well. "Ivy, I am here. I am right here, to your left, by your side. Just look to your left."

Her head lolled to the left and her eyes immediately focussed right on him. "Lucius?"

"Yes," he practically gasped out in relief. "I am here. Ivy."

Tears welled in her eyes. "I do not see you. I do not see you."

"Ivy." The doctor demanded her attention this time. "Ivy, look to your right." He waited until she weakly obeyed. "What do you see?"

"Nothing," she sobbed. "I see blackness when I look at you."

Victor and Lucius exchanged a glance. "What did you see when you looked at Lucius?"

"I saw colour, but I did not see him. I do not understand why he is a colour and not a person. What is happening?" Her voice grew progressively frailer as she spoke.

"What colour did you see, Ivy?" the doctor questioned. She did not answer him, instead focussing on Lucius. The only sense of light she had in the unimaginable darkness. "Ivy?"

"I do not see you," she murmured, her eyelids drooping. "Lucius. I do not…" She was unable to finish her thought as her lids shut and she appeared to fall asleep.

"She is overtired; her breathing indicates that she is but sleeping. We have not lost her again," he informed Lucius, seeing the anguished expression on her face.

"What of her sight?" Lucius demanded, unconsciously rubbing her limp hand. "What did she speak of?"

The doctor let out a heavy sigh. "As sometimes happens with such trauma to the head," he said after a beat, "the victims can…lose their sight. The Walkers were informed of such an outcome."

"Why was I not informed?" Lucius burst out before he could contain himself. Realising he had overstepped his bounds, he bit his lip and coloured slightly.

The older man chose to ignore this oversight. "I suppose I must be the bearer of bad news to Edward."

"Wait." Lucius was able to stop him, not so much with his words, but with the torment in his eyes. "Her sight. Will it… will it never return?"

Victor slowly shook his head. "It is not very likely," he said, finally. "Everyone in the village will just need to learn to cope with this new development. Ivy will need all the help she can get." Both men turned to look at the sleeping girl, both with heavy hearts. Lucius felt the doctor's hand on his shoulder as the man passed by him to head out the door, but all he could do was stare at Ivy and meditate on the injustice that had befallen her. Then he lay his head down and wept.

Edward Walker had seen the physician enter the house, and so now he barely turned when he heard the man open the door and exit, his heavy boots thudding against the wooden porch.

"Any news, doc?" Edward asked wearily, already knowing the answer and knowing what he was going to do about it.

"Er, yes, actually. She has awoken."

At this news, Mr. Walker shot to his feet out of the rocking chair and turned to face the doctor. "Truly? She is truly awake? I must go to her!" His movements were stayed by the other man's hand slowly pushing him back down into the chair.

"You may want to sit down for this, Edward."

The End.