Disclaimer: Tamora Pierce made the characters. I bent them to my own warped will.

A/N: I stuck a little fluff in this chapter, although it mostly belongs to Alanna and George.

Chapter 2 – Healers

Alanna snuggled closer to the sleeping form of her husband. Despite the chill air and the fact that they were sharing a bedroll rather than their bed, she was extremely comfortable. The sun was just peeking over the horizon, and she knew she probably should get up and attend to the myriad of things she had to do before continuing her journey, but she was just too warm and tranquil.

Were it not for George, the last month might have been too much for her. In December, a spell had taken her over and forced her into becoming an enemy to those who had once considered her a friend. She killed eight members of the King's Own without even knowing she had done it. Though the spell was stopped and the culprit killed, she might have buckled to her own guilt. Her friends tried to tell her they didn't blame her, but she didn't really feel capable of forgiving herself until George showed up. They had left the kids with their parents and traveled to the desert to spend mid-winter in each others arms. And then the barrier fell.

The trip back to Pirates Swoop had taken four times what it should have. Between the numerous immortals preying on innocent Tortallans and the bite of bad weather, George and Alanna had yet to make it home. They had actually passed up the Swoop while coming to the aid of villages inundated with immortals. If today didn't bring any new surprises, she would sleep in her own bed that night and hopefully get to stay there for a while. She nuzzled George and he opened one hazel eye and grinned at her. His brown hair was askew and there was an imprint on his cheek where he had slept with his hand under his head. It was truly adorable.

He scratched the whiskers on his chin and whispered, "You can wake me up, Lass, but we ain't gettin' out of this bed for a while."

She smiled at him sleepily and pulled herself a little closer. She had planned to reply with something tart and flirtatious when she felt has hand slide over her hip and pinch her rear lightly. "Oh, it's going to be like that, is it?" she mocked.

"Umm-hmm," he whispered in her ear, the heat in his voice sending shudders down her spine.

"Always a rogue, aren't ya'," she teased, pinching him in return.

"Aye," he said, dropping to his best pirate imitation, "but I'm your rogue." He kissed her deeply and moved above her.

The caresses became longer and the breathing heavier and then Alanna saw a sparkle at the corner of her eye – a speaking spell. Her sigh of frustration drew George's attention from where it had been. "Alanna, if you're close we need help," the desperation in Numair's shaking voice was startling. "Daine has the unicorn fever – and it's bad."

She gave George an apologetic look and he shrugged understandingly. She sent her own spell to tell Numair where she was. A return spell sparkled, "Alanna, I know it's early and I probably woke you, but get dressed if you're not. I'll open a Tharsen Window in five minutes and we'll come through. She has sp – spots."

Alanna gasped at that last word and the clear anxiety in the way he had said it. If the fever had advance to spots there might not be anything she could do. She threw clothes on, explaining to George what had happened.

Then George voiced the question she had been distracted from. "Since when can he come through a Tharsen Winda'?"

"I didn't know you could, but when it comes to spell work, very little involving Numair surprises me."

When five minutes had passed the air hissed and a sparkling blotch emerged the size of a floor length mirror. It grew larger until it seemed more like a barn door. When the image cleared, Numair was there, cradling Daine. He was dressed only in breeches, his bare feet in snow. A powerful crackling split the otherwise quiet morning and the pressure in the air became heavy. Alanna felt like her existence was being squeezed. Numair sent the two horses through and followed, still carrying Daine, who appeared to be unconscious. Numair's black fire swirled and coursed back into him and he swayed, but never fell, still clinging to Daine.

Alanna knew her mouth was hanging open, but she couldn't stop staring, despite her own knowledge of magic. Behind her George gathered his wits first and called to Numair, "Bring her here," indicating the large tent they shared. Numair only nodded and carried her to the tent.

Alanna dropped to her knees to examine the sleeping girl. She could see the spots on Daine's cheek. Numair sat with his legs bent, head on his knees. His normally swarthy skin was frightfully gray and his normally sleek black hair was unkempt and ruffled. Alanna placed her palms on either side of Daine's face. The girl was so hot it was almost painful. Alanna poured healing magic into her until she was nearly used up. The fever dropped dramatically and the spots faded, but it was far from over.

Alanna felt a large hand on her shoulder. "Whatever I've got left, please take it. Save her." It was more of a plea than a statement. Numair's voice was extremely light and raspy. Terrified, Alanna searched him with her own magic. His gift was mostly spent. She had just made up her mind that she would not drain him completely, when she felt the power pushed into her body, forcing its way to mingle with her own gift. When she resumed healing, her gift burned a much darker purple.

She looked up at her husband. His mouth was in a thin line, but his eyes were filled with sympathy. She knew exactly what he was thinking. Numair was being foolish and almost forceful in his desperation to save Daine. "She needs rest now. There is a point when too much healing is not safe. Let her body deal with what I've done and I'll work on her more in a while." She patted Numair's shoulder. "You need to rest too. I can see that you're terribly cold. You might have contracted this as well, you know." She started to reach with her magic to check him out and he pushed her hand away.

He lifted his head and stared at her. "I'm not sick. Any dizziness I have is because I just bent time and space. Save it for her."

"Now, now," George scolded as if Numair were one of the children, "Alanna will take care of Daine. Don't ye' be pushin' her around. She's only worryin' about ye'. Ye' look like flour-paste, ye' know." Alanna chuckled to herself. Only George could warn, worry, soothe, and joke all in the same breath.

Alanna closed the tent flap as she followed George from the tent. They walked over to the two horses and she began to unsaddle them so they could rest with Darkmoon and Midnight. She winked at George as he took Numair's tent from the supplies and began to set it up. Without a word they had decided to leave Numair alone with Daine for a few moments.

"How long do I haf' ta' keep my mouth shut?" he asked, with his eyebrows arched. Then he turned back to work on the tent.

He was referring to the fact that he and Alanna believed that Numair and Daine were in love with one another, though neither had admitted as much to anyone. "Look at it this way, darlin'," she said as she walked up behind him and rapped her arms around his middle. "If someone had done that to me before I was ready, we might not be together now. I was too independent and I would have taken it as an excuse to avoid you."

He sighed heavily. She knew that meant he was resigned, even if he didn't. "He's got to know by now," he grumbled.

"He might. He's keeping it to himself though if he does. I know it's infuriating. Do you have any idea how many times I've thought about trying to lock them in a room together? She can shapeshift. He can bend time and space – Goddess that was something wasn't it?"

"You could try lockin' 'em in a room together naked," he said seriously.

Alanna burst into laughter that she barely managed to stifle by stuffing a fist in her mouth. "Dirty old man!" she accused when she could breathe without laughing.

He turned in the circle of her arms to face her, eyes dancing, "Ahh, but I'm your dirty ol' man." He held her tightly for a few minutes before his tone turned serious. "How bad is it?"

She sighed. "She's very sick. They let it go too long and I'd like to know the story behind that. But she's young and strong and she has a lot of reason to want to live. I expect some delirium and probably the longest day and night ahead of us that we've faced in a long time, but…."

"Well then, I'd best make breakfast." George kissed Alanna's nose, forehead and mouth and then headed for the fire ring.

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Numair was grateful for a private moment with Daine. He lay down beside her, facing her. He brushed the smoky curls away from her face and smoothed her hair. Numair felt terribly drained, but he couldn't leave her like this. Although her skin was much cooler to the touch, she was just so pale. He thought again about the events of the morning. He had buried the riders and said the prayers, knowing Daine would accept no less. It took only moments thanks to his gift, but they were moments he didn't know were so vital. When he returned to Daine, the sun had started to rise and the glow highlighted the marks on her cheek. He didn't know how long they had been there. Though he had held her all the way to the Rider's Camp, it had been dark and he had not seen them.

When the spots were discovered, he feared she'd die before he could get her to someone. The spell he used to make the Tharsen Window open was new. He would never have used it without testing it first under any other circumstances. Daine turned in her sleep toward him. She was obviously dreaming. She murmured, "No, please." Her face was creased in a frown.

"It's alright, Magelet," he soothed. "I'm here if you need me." He reached to caress her face and her features relaxed.

He lay there for long moments, wishing he could stay there with her. Soon, he heard Alanna's footsteps. He tried to force himself to sit up and it was terribly difficult. He was very weakened. He just managed when Alanna's head appeared in the tent opening. "Gods Numair, you look terrible," she said in a whisper.

"Thanks," he answered in a very soft tone, "It's good to see you too." He smiled slightly. Then he sighed heavily and continued "I'm too wiped out to even joke properly."

Alanna chuckled. "That was some spell. I didn't know you could do that. Can I ask you something?"

"Hmmm?"

"Why did you bring the horses?"

"Because if Daine," he grimaced, "When Daine is better, she'd be livid with me if I left them behind."

Alanna chuckled again. "You're right, of course."

"Alanna," his tone was pleading, "What are her chances?"

She reached for his hand which he told him more than words could. "She's strong and she's young. It's bad, I won't lie to you. I think you know that anyway. She should have seen a healer much sooner and I want to know why she didn't."

To his horror, he began to pour tears. Numair hated to cry, especially in front of others. He searched the pockets of his breeches for a handkerchief and found none, and he didn't even have a sleeve to wipe his eyes on. Alanna held a hankerchief out to him and he looked up at her humiliated as he took it. When he had stopped crying and caught his breath, he finally explained what had happened, including that it was his coolness that had kept Daine from speaking up and that the riders they had gone to for a healer were all dead.

"Why were you avoiding her exactly?" Alanna asked quietly.

"It's stupid and complicated," was his answer.

Her purple eyes settled onto his as if she were searching for something. He refused to give in and tell her though. Daine began to thrash and cry in her sleep. Numair turned and spoke softly, "It's alright, Magelet. You're safe. He stroked her cheek until she quieted again. He could feel Alanna's eyes on him. He looked back to her without moving his hand. "She feels warmer again."

Alanna answered gently, "I expected that, Numair. But if I heal again too soon it will weaken her own defenses. She needs a little time. I was going to send you to your tent to sleep, but I think you should lay down right where you are for now. You calm her and that means she's more likely to get rest." She looked at him sternly. "I'm not going to let you stay though unless you agree to let me check you for illness. If you've caught the fever, you can be healed easily now. Later it will take more of my gift which will leave less for her."

He acquiesced finally and Alanna placed a hand on his face. He felt her magic probing and then healing. He obviously had the beginning stages. "Now," she said finally, "I want you to lay down and sleep. I know it's not considered descent and I know you've decided you're going to be extremely descent where she's concerned." He opened his mouth to argue but she cut him off, "We'll just say you're too weak to move and I'm not up to moving you. It's mostly true and I do want both of you to rest. And your body heat will keep her warmer." She lifted the edge of the blankets and motioned for him to move closer to Daine. He nervously complied wondering what exactly his friend was thinking. "I'll check on you in a couple hours and you can move to your own tent then." She lifted the tent flap and left.

In her sleep, Daine moved closer until she had snuggled against his chest. He thought vaguely that if he weren't so exhausted he couldn't possibly sleep like this. Alanna didn't realize the effect that Daine had on him. If he had any energy, Daine's breath on his bare skin would have him more awake than he dared ever be around her. Luckily, that was not the case now or he would be humiliated severely by the next conscious person in the tent.

His eyelids began to feel heavy. He wrapped an arm protectively around Daine and snuggled in closer still, worrying about what was to come. "Get better, Magelet," he whispered to the sleeping girl. "I need you."

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