As a token of my deepest appologies, I'm posting another chapter (and it's longer, too!).

Hope you don't all hate me anymore

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Tristan sat sprawled in a chair next to the bed, utterly exhausted. After three days, the fever had finally broken and Codi slept peacefully. He felt sick, thinking about what had happened to her. The midwives had tended the wounds only women could tend before he had been allowed to work with the healers on her neck and hand and arm. Infection had set in and he had feared the fever would take her in the end. Tristan stared into the dying embers, remembering Codi shrieking and wailing in her delirium. Gods, but he had thought she would die. Her red rimmed, glassy eyes haunted him even now, leaving him drained and empty.

"Tristan? Tristan--"

"What? Oh, aye--" Tristan blinked and looked up at the healer—what was her name?--bending over him.

"Tristan, you need rest," she said firmly. "You have done more than enough. She will be well enough, now."

Tristan smothered a yawn and levered himself to his feet, wincing. "Gawain should know--"

"He will, my lord," the healer—Shona, that was it—told him. "It will be attended to. You, however, will go straight to bed."

"Perhaps I will," Tristan agreed. Gods, he was tired... "Tend her well. She is dear to many people."

"I will," Shona promised.

Tristan nodded and left the room. In his quarters, he dropped into bed and was asleep instantly. But his was no restful slumber. His dreams were filled with wide, frightened, blue gray eyes staring senselessly into his own and pale, blue tinged lips open in a silent scream.

Tristan exited his room the next morning feeling like a herd of horses had trampled him. He couldn't count how many times Codi had died in his dreams—how many times he had gotten up in the middle of the night to check on her and found her dead. Tristan cursed wearily and nearly ran into Gawain, who came barreling down the hallway.

"Gods, Tristan," Gawain said, peering at his friend anxiously. "You look half dead."

"Not surprising," Tristan yawned. "Her fever broke last night."

"So she'll be alright?"

"Aye," Tristan said tiredly. "You can go in and see her, if you like."

Gawain grasped Tristan's shoulder gratefully. "How can I ever thank you, Tristan?"

"Saving a life requires no thanks," Tristan said brusquely. "Go on—you've waited long enough. See to your lass."

Tristan leaned against the wall and closed his eyes as Gawain slipped into the sick girl's room. She would live, Tristan reassured himself. She had to. His productive thoughts were interrupted, however, by a piercing scream. Tristan darted into Codi's room to see her pressed up against the wall, wild eyed and open mouthed, staring in terror at Gawain, who stood stock still, one hand still outstretched.

"Codi," he said desperately. "Codi—it's me--"

"Come away, Gawain," Tristan said in a low voice. "I'm sorry—I should have thought of this..."

"I don't understand—doesn't she recognize me?"

"Gawain, come," Tristan said urgently as Codi closed her eyes and began to moan in fear. He took Gawain's arm and gently guided him out of the room. "I'm sorry Gawain, I should have realized—she probably won't want to see you for a while. You or any man."

"Does she think I would--" Gawain began incredulously.

"Gawain, it has nothing to do with you," Tristan said patiently. "Men hurt her, humiliated her, and nearly killed her. And you are a man. It doesn't matter that you are Gawain—only that you are a man. Give Codi some time."

So, they gave her time. But Codi could not bear the presence of any man, nor would she speak to anyone, not even Vonora. For a little more than a month, Tristan fought with himself over whether to send for Morgaine, who would hardly be welcomed here. Soon, however, he made his decision.

"She's what?"

"With child," Shona repeated calmly. "Twins, I believe. Poor lass."

"Why have you not given her herbs?" Tristan demanded.

"Herbs?" Shona looked at him blankly.

"Herbs," Tristan said impatiently. "I know there are herbs to rid a woman of an unwanted child. I don't know what they are, being a man, but--"

"I will give her no such thing," Shona snapped. "I will not kill two innocent, unborn babes."

"By the gods, woman--" Tristan grabbed her arm and dragged her into Codi's room and pointed at the sleeping girl furiously. "Look at her—does she look like she would survive childbirth?"

"That is for the gods to decide," Shona said firmly.

"Codi," Tristan said slowly, fighting to stay calm, "is so thin that I could clasp her waist in my hands and my fingers would touch—and that was before the fever. One baby would split her in half, much less two! You sentence her to death."

"I will not murder children," Shona hissed, eyes narrowing.

"Instead you will murder her," Tristan cried angrily. "I tell you, she will not--"

"Babies?" The two arguing healers looked over in shock. Codi was sitting up, blinking owlishly. "I'm going to have babies?"

"Yes," Shona said, hurrying to her side. "Oh, Codi, we've been so worried--"

"I don't want babies," Codi whispered. Her breath began to come faster. "I don't want babies."

"Codi--"

"Get rid of them."

"Codi, listen--"

Codi jerked away from Shona's touch. "Get rid of them! Get them out! Out!"

"Codi, I can't," Shona said soothingly.

Tristan moved forward. "Don't worry, Codi, I'll find--"

"You will do nothing," Shona snapped waspishly. "Codi, we can't get rid of the babies."

"Then I will," Codi snarled desperately, and lunged for the knife at Tristan's belt.

Tristan stepped back and caught Codi's wrists, struggling to hold her back. "Codi—Codi, be easy--"

"Get rid of them," Codi sobbed. "Tristan—Tristan, please..."

Shona rose from the hearth where she had feverishly mixed a brew and tipped it down Codi's throat before she could protest. Within minutes, her movements slowed and she sagged against Tristan, who carefully laid her down. Without a word, he stormed from the chamber and out to the ramparts, where he raised his arm to receive the hawk.

Gently, he thumbed her beak. "Aye, you know what to do. Quickly, my lass, quickly—go--" he launched the hawk into the air and followed her with his eyes as she winged toward the forest.

"What are you doing?" Tristan turned to see Arthur looking at him guardedly.

"I'm saving Codi's life," Tristan snapped. "They are fools, Arthur—there is no way Codi can bear twins and live."

"Twins." Arthur stared at him in shock. "Codi is with child?"

"Children," Tristan corrected bitterly. "Aye."

"Well, what is there to do?" Arthur wondered. "Unless she miscarries--"

"That is exactly what she will do," Tristan said grimly. "There are herbs to induce miscarriage. Herbs that Shona refuses to give her."

"You would kill two innocent children?" Arthur asked. He sounded disturbed.

"Aye," Tristan cried in frustration. "I don't think you understand, Arthur. It is a choice between Codi and the babies. One or the other will die. Would you let her die to save her rapist's offspring? If you won't think of her, you might think of Gawain, man. Would you let his betrothed die after all the time that he's waited for her?"

Arthur bowed his head, looking suitably chastened. "I'm sorry, Tristan. Do whatever you believe necessary."

Tristan let out a heavy breath. "I already have."

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Tristan returned to Codi's room some time later to find Shona and several other women trying to force more sleeping potion down her throat. Shaking with rage, he stalked over and bodily threw the women out of the room, including Shona, and blocked the doorway with his body, daring them to argue. Several did.

"She needs rest!" one fretted.

"Then get out and let her rest," Tristan said calmly.

"The girl's gone mad," another hissed.

"Tristan," Shona said in a would-be calm voice. "She keeps trying to cut herself or beat herself—if we don't make her sleep, she could bring serious harm to herself or the babies."

"Aye, let us not harm the babies," Tristan sneered, and shut the door in their faces. He set a chair in front of it and turned to face Codi, who crouched on the bed, trembling. "It's alright now, Codi. The babies will be gone soon. I've sent for your mother."

"My mother," Codi sighed, and all at once collapsed onto the bed. "My mother is coming for me?"

"Yes."

"Tristan," she said, looking at him intently. "You cared for me—when I was sick. I remember—you sang to me, I think. And you kept Ga—the men away. And now you've saved me yet again. You've done more for me than anyone else. I won't forget."

"Just rest, Codi," he said gently, keeping his distance. "Your mother will be here soon."

Tristan slipped out of the room and stood guard outside, glaring at the flustered women hovering about. They stayed stubbornly where they were, but none moved to go inside. Clearly they thought they could outlast him. Tristan almost laughed. Gawain soon came by—he had taken to looking in on Codi several times a day—and looked from the women to Tristan in confusion.

"Tristan, what's going on?" he asked.

"This brute is preventing us from giving your future bride the care she needs," one squawked, pointing an accusatory finger. "Call him off."

Gawain looked at Tristan, who shook his head disgustedly. "Gawain, Codi is pregnant with twins. These women would rather let her bear the children and die rather than give her herbs to induce miscarriage."

Gawain stared in shock at the women. "Is this true?"

"It is not certain that she would die," Shona said defensively.

Tristan snorted. "I doubt she would even survive to bear them."

"She's so thin," Gawain said dazedly. "Can two babies even fit inside of her?"

"No," Tristan said succinctly, and crossed his arms.

"She needs to rest!" one woman shrieked. "She'll hurt herself."

Tristan raised an eyebrow. "Does it sound like she's hurting herself?"

Indeed, there was nothing from the room to indicate Codi was moving around at all. The women looked suspiciously at him.

"What did you do?"

"I reassured her that she won't have to bear the children," he said with a shrug, and looked at them levelly. "And she won't. I've sent for Morgaine."

"The witch?" Shona spat, and got right in his face. "Who are you to do such a thing? Under whose authority do you invite a sorceress into our midst?"

"Arthur's," Tristan said coldly. "And Morgaine has infinitely more right to be here than any of you."

"What right is that?" Shona scoffed.

"A mother's right," came a silky voice from the shadows. Morgaine stepped into view. Her voice was deceptively calm. "What right do you claim?"

Shona narrowed her eyes. "Mother--"

"Yes, mother," Morgaine agreed, and motioned for Tristan to open the door. "Tristan, if you would be so kind?"

Tristan bowed with a small smirk and opened the door for her. His former teacher swept by him into the room. Tristan followed, leaving the door open. None made any move to enter. Codi sat up, smiling for the first time in a month.

"Mother," Codi breathed in her native tongue as Morgaine embraced her. "Mother, they want--"

"I know, sweetheart," Morgaine crooned, rocking her daughter back and forth. "I won't let them. I'm here now."

"You'll get rid of the babies?"

"I promise." Morgaine laid a cool hand on her forehead. "Sleep now, Codi. Sleep." Codi slept. Morgaine looked up at Tristan. "Have her horse prepared—and yours as well. I doubt she can stay on board."

"And you, my lady?" Tristan asked.

Morgaine smiled. "I have...other means."

"Aye," Tristan laughed. "I had forgotten..." he bowed again and left, taking Gawain with him.

"Tristan," Gawain said. "Where is she going?"

"To recover with her mother," Tristan told him. "Don't worry, Gawain. She'll come back. It may be weeks or months, but she will return."

"Morgaine is really her mother?" Gawain asked dubiously.

"Aye."

"Why did she never tell me?" Gawain wondered unhappily. Then he narrowed his eyes at Tristan. "You knew. How?" When Tristan didn't answer, Gawain cursed. "She told you didn't she? She told you, but never told the man she meant to marry. And she spoke to you, let you near her when she looked at me like I was a monster."

"Gawain--"

"I should have known," Gawain muttered. "All those walks along the ramparts—long rides—I trusted you."

"Gawain, there is nothing like that between us," Tristan said firmly. "Have you thought that it is because you are her betrothed that she reacted the way she did? Have you forgotten what comes after a wedding? What makes you think she would want any of it, now?"

"Swear," Gawain said tightly, grasping Tristan's arm. "Swear by all the gods that you didn't—you've never--"

"I swear, Gawain," Tristan said quietly. "Now, come help me ready the horses. The sooner she leaves, the sooner she can come back."

They readied the horses and then returned to Codi's chamber, where Morgaine sat stroking her daughter's hair and singing softly in a tongue unknown to him. Morgaine looked up and smiled softly.

"You are Gawain," she stated.

"I am," Gawain replied guardedly.

"You wished to marry my daughter?"

Gawain swallowed. "I still do, lady...if she'll have me."

"You would take to wife a despoiled woman?" Morgaine asked coolly.

"Aye, lady...she's lost not a whit of value in my eyes," he said firmly. "And I'll break the head of any man who says otherwise."

"It does you credit," Morgaine said with a sigh. "Come, bring her to the stables, but Tristan will bear her into the wood. Where we go, you cannot follow."

Gawain gathered Codi into his arms. As he turned to leave, Morgaine put a gentle hand on his arm and searched his eyes.

"You are a good man, Gawain," she told him. "But you are not meant for my daughter. My advice to you is to forget your love for her. When Codi returns, she will not be the girl you knew."

"That is for Codi to decide," Gawain said stiffly, and turned away.

But as he watched Tristan ride away with his beloved, he knew in his heart that Morgaine was right. And it hurt. Gods, but the knowledge hurt. He didn't know which hurt more: knowing that she would not have him or knowing that he had to stop loving her. Gawain turned away and walked slowly back to his chambers.