a special thanks to those whom gave me some constructive critisism -I really truly apreciate it, and I hope you'll not be offended that I don't edit my story after wards, because this story is just to get some of my thoughts out... I will however, keep it in mind when developing hte plot and charrecters in my origional work.

Thanks, and enjoy these next two chapters.


Henri Ducard took his first steps in three months.

Chael stood protectively at his side, having helped him to stand, now within arm's length, should the warrior require a helping hand, but both Ducard and Chael knew that he would not accept aid, not unless it was unavoidable by any means.

Ducard's skill in coordination had left him in his weakness, but returned to guide his bare feet as he continued down the hall. His steps were slow, and he didn't move unless he knew he would be able to follow completely, and firmly through.

The hall was narrow, and as white as a dove's downy breast, and, as he extended a hand to seeks it's guidance, he noted it was solid wood beneath the textured paint.

His vision was still blured, badly, but there was source of light, scarcely five yards ahead of him. The presence of a cool breeze, brushing soothingly at his cheeks, suggested that the light came from an open door, or a window, and he eagerly advanced, aware of Chael's silent footsteps just behind him. The healer seamed pleased, if not amused, by his patient's enthusiasm.

Ducard slipped through the door way, for that is what was, and out onto what he assumed was a balcony. His fingers, trembling, searched for the railing that would restrain his plummeting from the little protruding deck. Be aware of your surroundings…

There was suddenly a hand on his, Chael's, and it guided him to the smooth wooden railing. Ducard stiffened under the offered aid, but did not strike the hand as he might have when his strength was abundant. Instead, he turned his head out to sweep in the haze of green that made up the outside world.

It was a good deal like a water color picture, all the shades faded in together, and the blue of the sky bleeding into the emerald of the lush world bellow. There was the heartening scent of budding flowers, and perhaps fruit, but he was uncertain as to what type.

He breathed deeply, taking in the scent of freedom… As much as his lungs would handle, before exhaling once again.

o.o.o

Chael stood behind the warrior, his arms locked, soldier like, behind his back. The man, despite how me might let on, was definitely human, not at all the myth that story tellers liked to make him out to be. Only a man…

They stood there for what could have hours, until the sun began it's decent into the horizon. Chael stepped forward to rouse the man, and found he had startled him out of a particularly in depth meditation session.

"Forgive me for disturbing you, Mr. Ducard, but it is time to retire."

o.o.o

Ducard slept soundly, for the first time in ages that night.

o.o.o

"Mr. Ducard, I will have to bar the entrance to your room soon, if you continue to leave it with out first informing me. You'll strain something, most likely, if you continue on like you do."

Chael's voice was good natured, and though Henri Ducared could not see it, he knew there was most likely a twinkle in the healer's eyes, but there was some truth to his words, nonetheless. Ducard allowed his own good tempered chuckle, his eyes still closed. His body was set loosely in a meditating stance, arms clasped behind his back and legs braced apart.

He had been walking on his own for a month now, much to the dismay of his healer, who often scolded him for being too hasty in his recovery.

"No man is immortal," he often said, raising his brows appraisingly at Ducard as he did. He was overly protective of his charge, often working to persuade him to use a cane for his bad leg, which had suffered the worst of the heat exposure. Ducard equally as often scoffed at the idea of a warrior resorting to a cane when his two legs worked well enough.

"Come, I've prepared an evening meal." Ducard turned, treading softly down the bleached hall, his feet now accustomed to the mahogany shaded wood floor. They ate their food in Chael's sleeping quarters, sitting silently at the little table that was positioned in the center of his room.

The healing dwelling had only three rooms, as far as Ducard was aware of, the tiny hallway not accounted for; There was the little front room, where visitors (they had received none) left coats or shoes, furnished with a small couch, enough to seat perhaps two. Then there was Ducard's quarters, large enough only to house a bed and a small closet for personal belongings. It offered just enough floor space for meditation or perhaps pacing, if that particular patient was a restless one. Right after his room was Chael's close enough so that the healer could count the breathing of his charge, if he wished to. Chael's quarters were a small bit larger than Ducard's, to accommodate a small chair, and the table. Any cooking was done in a small cooking pot and over a portable stove which slid under his sleeping cot. The whole dwelling followed the same color scheme - White walls and dark wood.

One had to travel out doors to use the facilities, which was a but impractical but still livable. When Ducard had been unable to walk, he had not been forced to make the journeys, as his body had miraculously absorbed every property of the tea. As soon as he had gotten the strength to make the trip, he had been allowed to eat full meals.

The meal consisted only of vegetables and rice, which was what Ducard had lived on for a great deal of his life, and he found them delicious. Chael always ate without conversation, yielding to the multitude of thoughts that seemed to thrash madly about in his head every day. Ducard wouldn't have had it any other way.

o.o.o

That night, Ducard lay awake on his cot that night, contemplating the man he had shared space with for nearly six months now. In his weakened state, they had not often conversed, and even when he had begun to regain his composure, they had remained rather silent between themselves… And yet there was a companionship forming all the same. The man had healed him, after all, but really, Ducard found it necessary to chide himself for letting his rigid opinion of friendship slip.

He would eventually have to put up his shield again, disconnect himself from the healer. Compassion would cost him dearly in the future, he knew, especially if it became necessary to terminate the man's life. Ducard repressed a shudder, looking furtively at his callused hands in the darkness. Time will reveal, though.

He still had yet to learn of this Heavenly Council, though, and he found his mounting curiosity harder and harder to control. It had especially become a nuisance in the hours of his meditation.

o.o.o

The nightmares visited him again that night, grotesquely twisting before him in the shadows. The hand emerged again, as pale and as spidery as before, but this time just stretching to caress his face…. Just in reach… Ducard's breath caught in his throat.

Chael was there in seconds, brandishing a candle against the darkness and the illusions dancing before Ducard's eyes. "I cast you out in the name of the father of Israel." The shadows receded away, leaving a shuddering man, trembling so that his cot shook beneath him. Chael set a hand on the shaken man's head, breathing calmly, whispering prayers in a foreign tongue. Ducard soon lay, nearly slumbering once more.

Just before the healer once again left the room, the warrior stopped him, extending a hand into his path. " Twice now, you have cast the nightmares from my room with the authority of a God-fearing man. Surely you do not believe in such fairy tales as the divine spirit?"

Chael contemplated his words, and then spoke carefully. "I believe we were created by the hand of a greater being, and not by the theories of the men of science, yes. As a member of The Council's healing facilities, I am required to study the words of the holy book, if that is what you're implying. It is how we protect out charges from the fears they live within."

Ducard snorted, turning on his side.

"Goodnight, Mr. Ducard."