"Who is He?"

A/N: This was my funnest chapter to write yet. I don't know why, it just was. Thanks again for the reviews!! Y'all are the greatest. Please r&r and enjoy!!!

"Bethie, stop that!!" Evelyn laughed, as her sister began to hurl apples in her direction. Her sister never could pick apples without treating them like snowballs. Luckily, it ceased to bother Evelyn after years of putting up with it.

"What are you going to do?" Bethie asked jokingly, putting her hands on her hips, "Sit on me?"

"Oh, you are going down, sister!!" Evelyn laughed, "You are so going down!!"

Evelyn scooped up five apples into her hands, andbegan to throw them at her sister. She was careful not to hurt her, however. Bethie had never been a very tough person, but was actually quite the crybaby. Evelyn got ready to throw her last apple, when she heard a sound.

This sound was unlike anything Evelyn had ever heard before. She could not quite distinguish whether it was a person or a wounded animal. It was a very deep groan, yet it was a pathetic whimper.

"Did you hear that?" Evelyn asked her sister, dropping the apple she held in her hand.

"Hear what?" Bethie questioned before stopping to listen, "I don't hear anything."

"Hmm.....it must have been my imagination," Evelyn said, picking up the apple that she had dropped.

The two girls resumed their apple picking, but Evelyn still kept her ears open for the sound. However, what she heard next was not the sound that she had heard before, but an ear-piercing scream.

"Oh my God!!" Bethie said from the other side of the path, "Evelyn, come here!!"

Evelyn did not have to be told twice. She ran as quickly as she could to the place where her sister was standing. When she got there, she let out an even more shrill scream than her sister had, as she stared down in horror at the body of a considerably attractive man.

"Is he dead?" Bethie asked.

"I don't think so," Evelyn answered, "No, his chest is moving. He's alive."

They stared down at the man for a few moments before Bethie finally broke the silence.

"We should go get Mummy and Daddy," she said, "They'll know what to do."

Nodding in agreement, Evelyn wordlessly started running towards her home. Just as quickly, her sister followed.

"Frank!! Get away from me," Bertha scolded her husband, nearly spilling the bucket of milk she was carrying from the barn. Her voice, however, was filled with laughter.

"Aw, " Frank Berwick said playfully, as he enveloped his wife in his arms, "But I LOVE you, honey."

Frank was the typical farmer. He had big muscles and a somewhat heavy build,which came from his love of work and food. His short, messy red hair was always hidden by a hat, and he never wore anything other than overalls.The only thing that reallymade him differentfrom other farmers was his Irish accent. It always made his wife and daughters laugh whenever Frank would joke around and attempt to speak in a southern dialect, for he always sounded goofy when he tried.

Despite the way he liked his privacy, which was one of the many reasons the family lived in such isolation, Bertha never could have asked for a better husband. There never was a man who loved and cherished his family more.

Yes, Frank Berwick was a typical farmer, but he was an exceptional father and husband.

"You really need to start acting your age," Bertha laughed, throwing one arm around her husband's neck, "I don't need three children in this house."

Frank pretended to be insulted, pulling away from his wife and putting his hands on his hips.

"Fine, I'll act my age," Frank said, playfully sarcastic, "If you want me to sit and sleep on my rocker all day, that's fine with me."

Bertha rolled her eyes. Even though Frank was fifty years old like her, he always complained as if he were eighty, and acted as if he were twelve.

Seeing the annoyed look on his wife's face seemed to satisfy Frank. He smiled, kissed his wife affectionately on the cheek, and took the bucket of milk from her hand before ambling towards their house. Bertha fondly watched her husband leave. She loved him more than anything, and his quirkiness was merely part of his charm.

'He seemed so mature for his age when I met him," Bertha thought with a smile, 'What happened?'

After her husband had entered the house, Bertha started to head back to the barn, although she really did not have anything to do there. The cow had been milked. The family's mule, Franny, and the chickens had already been fed. Considering that she hadn't heard barking for a few moments now, she assumed that her husband had already fed their Great Dane, Petey. It was actually kind of nice to have the morning chores done so early, which almost never happened. Maybe there would finally be some time to just kick back and relax....

"Mum!! Dad!!" Bertha suddenly heard her two daughters yell, running towards the house.

'Or maybe not' Bertha thought.

Frank must have also heard their daughters yell, for he left the house and ran to where his wife was standing.

"I wonder what's got them so excited," Frank said.

Bertha shrugged as Evelyn and Bethie ran up to her and Frank, out of breath.

"Mum....Dad.....somebody....needs help," Bethie said, trying to catch her breath.

"Who?" Bertha asked.

"We don't know," Bethie and Evelyn said in unison, "We just found him on the side of the road."

Bertha and Frank exchanged confused glances.

"He's not moving," Evelyn said, annoyed that her parents weren't springing into action like she expected, "And we don't know what to do."

"Okay....we'll check it out," Frank said. He wasn't really sure what his daughters were talking about, but he had some time to at least check it out.

After exchanging another confused glance with each other, Bertha and Frank began walking towards the barn.

"Franny, get up," Frank said to their very dog-like mule. Franny was old, and really couldn't do any sort of work besides pulling their relatively small cart, but the Berwick family couldn't give her up if they tried.

The mule looked at Frank blankly for a few seconds before rising to her hooves. She wasn't used to being woken up, especially this early in the morning.

"Come on, you lazy mule," Frank said, laughing, "Time to work....for once."

Frank went about the task of getting Franny hooked to the cart, while his wife emptied it of its contents. The last time they had used it was for harvesting, which had been a few weeks ago.

After Franny was hooked to the cart, Frank helped his wife into it before climbing into the driver's seat.

"Alright girls, come on," Bertha yelled towards the house, "Show us what you're talking about."

Bethie and Evelyn ran out of the house, followed by their Great Dane, who never let their father go anywhere without him.

The two girls and Petey hurriedly got into the cart, and the family started towards the apple trees.

"There!! Right there!!" Bethie yelled, spotting the person on the side of the road.

"Oh my word," Bertha gasped, stepping out of the cart and running towards the man, "You girls weren't kidding."

Bertha looked up at her husband, who had made his way over to where his wife was, Petey in tow. He usually had a lot to say about everything, but he was silent now. All he did was simply stare at the man on the ground, until he finally found his voice.

"What do you think happened to him?" Frank asked his wife, "I mean, why on Earth is he all the way out here?"

Before Bertha could answer, Petey started to bark and growl. Although the family never had visitors, Petey was stillinstinctively protective of his masters.

"Petey, shush," Bertha scolded, looking crossly at the Great Dane. Petey immediately stopped barking, but continued to snarl and growl at the intruder.

When Bertha looked away from Petey, towards the fellow on the side of the road, she nearly shrieked when she saw two large brown eyes staring back at her.

The man looked absolutely frightened, as if he were a lost child. He was wearing a very princely, albeit muddy, outfit. He did not look like a prince, however, for his face and short brown hair were awfully dirty. Bertha's first instinct was to take the poor boy home and get him cleaned up. She was an experienced mother, after all.

Once again, Bertha looked to her husband for answers. Instead of looking back at her, however, Frank finally spoke up.

"What happened to you, lad?" Frankasked in a strong Irish brogue.

The "lad" merely sat up and shook his head, frowning. Breaking eye contact with the couple, he looked down on the ground, as if doing so would help him concentrate. He spent a few moments looking up and down the length of his body, as if he were fascinated by it. He stared at his bound hands and feet for a few seconds before once again looking upat Frank and Bertha. His eyes were no longer open wide in fright, but held a look of desperate inquiry, as if he were pleading the couple to answer his unspoken questions.

Evelyn and Bethie simply continued to stare in shock at the man. He fascinated them, for he was a stranger, and the girls reacted to him not unlike one would react to an alien from some foreign planet.
"What's your name, son?" Bertha asked in a motherly tone. This man did not look young enough to be completely trusted and treated like a child. He did, however, seem to be about twenty years her junior, and given his current condition, she felt deep compassion for the poor boy.

At first, the family figured that the man could not speak, for he simply continued to stare at Frank and Bertha. However, they were all suprised when he timidly answered Bertha's question in a deep Scottish brogue.

"I was kind of hoping you could tell me," he said.

A/N:Dum! Dum!! Dum!!! :)