Thank you all so much for the feedback on the last chapter. It always makes me smile to see the review notification in my inbox. And thanks to everyone who favorited and subscribed to this story! I hope it doesn't disappoint. Sorry about the delay in updating, but school's been crazy. I'm on break now, though, and I'll try and update at least once more before I go back.

Conrart pressed himself against the wall, his hand wrapped tightly around the hilt of his sword as he peered out the window into the street. His sharp eyes spotted nothing out of the ordinary in the street below. He let the curtain fall back and allowed his hand to relax, but that was as far as he permitted his guard to fall. Yuuri's life was in danger, and he would not allow himself to forget that for even a moment.

He turned, propping himself up against the wall so that he could see out the window from the corner of his eye and crossed his arms, bringing his dominant hand all the closer to his sword. His gaze, however, was fixed unerringly on the man he had sworn to protect.

His timing was atrocious. Yuuri had already exchanged his trousers for the pair that had been purchased in town, but Conrart had turned just in time to see the stained, battered undershirt clear Yuuri's shoulders.

Conrart's mouth went dry, and a noise of some sort must have escaped his throat without his consent, because Yuuri turned around, a concerned expression on his face.

"Conrart? Is something wrong?" he asked.

Yes, he thought as he fought to keep his eyes from roaming across Yuuri's exposed skin and hating himself for needing to. Something is very wrong. His self control failed him, and his gaze wandered. Any impure thoughts were immediately overridden by what he found.

"You're hurt," he said, voice devoid of both the overwhelming anger and gripping fear that the sight of the small gash across Yuuri's shoulder evoked in him.

He found himself walking forward without conscious thought, eyes roving across Yuuri's body, this time not in a gaze of desire but in a careful search for further injuries.

He found them. The wound he'd noticed first was by far the worst, but Yuuri's upper body was littered with scrapes, scratches, and bruises.

"I'm fine," Yuuri protested just as Conrart reached him. "It's nothing." Yuuri's hands grasped his new shirt and he made as if to pull it on.

Conrart reached forward and grasped his wrist gently but firmly, preventing him from doing so. "Allow me to be the judge of that."

Yuuri's cheeks were stained red and he refused to meet Conrart's gaze, but he nodded.

Yuuri had been correct, the wounds were minor. The worst of them had been the one that had caught Conrart's attention to begin with. Still, the story the marks told was one that filled him with righteous anger. Taking a deep breath and pushing the emotion down, he reached behind him and grabbed his pack without faltering in his examination.

"Umm…Conrad," Yuuri said, his voice soft.

Conrart's eyes drifted back up Yuuri's torso until they met the young man's own.

"Can I get my hand back?" he asked with a sheepish grin, and Conrart felt him tug lightly against the grip Conrart hadn't realized he still had around Yuuri's wrist.

He could feel Yuuri's pulse fluttering against his fingers, and he abruptly released his hand, feeling as if he'd been burned. Conrart tore his gaze away from Yuuri's, focusing on the contents of his pack, taking the opportunity to ground himself. He needed to remain firmly focused on the task at hand—keeping Yuuri safe. Being distracted now could be costly, and Conrart already knew he wasn't willing to pay the price for being less than vigilant.

And if he wanted to protect his charge as effectively as possible, there were things he needed to know. Conrart pulled a few vials out of his pack to treat Yuuri's injuries as he pondered the best way to get the information he needed.

"Conrad, really, I'm fine," Yuuri said, eyeing the items Conrart had just removed. "Those supplies…you should save them for someone who really needs them."

Conrart looked up to argue, but something in the stubborn set of Yuuri's jaw told him it would be useless. Compromise, then.

"Let me disinfect the cut, at least. The rest look like they were…" he struggled to find a word that would convey his meaning without his anger, "circumstantial. But that one was more," his lips curled around the word, "purposeful." He took a moment to suppress the rage before continuing. "Unless I miss my guess?"

Yuuri didn't meet his gaze, nor did he respond. After a long pause, he nodded. It was probably meant to be an affirmation of Conrart's guess, but he took it as permission. Pouring the solution from one of the vials onto a clean cloth, he reached out and gently pressed it against Yuuri's skin.

Yuuri let out a hiss of pain, and Conrart pulled back at once, staring at him concern.

"Does it hurt?"

"No," Yuuri said, shaking his head. "The knife barely nicked me. It just stings."

Conrart pulled his eyes away from Yuuri's face and focused again on the cut, placing the cloth against his skin as carefully as he could.

"How did it happen?" he asked, dabbing carefully at the wound.

"I got separated from my friends and…" Conrart felt the chest under his hand move as Yuuri took a deep breath. "I managed to dodge, and then I ran but…" Another breath, this one more unsteady than the last.

"Your friends?" Conrart's mind flashed back to the comment he'd heard in the alley about separating Yuuri from his protectors. Were these protectors the friends Yuuri spoke of? "Are they looking for you?"

Conrart pulled back, cut well and truly disinfected, and watched with disappointment and relief warring in his chest as Yuuri tugged the fresh shirt over his head.

"I'm sure they are," he said, but his smile was sad. "And they're…very determined. A bit too determined, at times." Yuuri's expression went dark as his eyes filled with pain, his eyes distant. "But… the people you ran into before. They used something, Majitsu or Hojistu, I'm not sure which, and transported me away from everyone." His eyes fixed on Conrart's own and he let out a weak laugh. "A lot farther than I'd thought. I didn't realize quite how far until I ran into you."

Yuuri's breath hitched.

"I…I didn't know where I was and I was worried about everyone and…I thought I really would die and no matter how hard I tried there would be nothing I could do to stop it. And then I saw you and I…" Yuuri's voice broke, and his shoulders shook.

Conrart moved without thought, reaching out and pulling Yuuri to him. He felt Yuuri stiffen in his arms and immediately began berating himself. Stupid, to have assumed that Yuuri would welcome comfort from him, of all people, a human half-breed and a stranger. Foolish to think that even if he desired Conrart's comfort, he would accept it in this form. Pulling away would take a great deal of strength, but Conrart knew he would find it. Just a few moments more. A few moments more of holding Yuuri. A few moments more, and then he could make himself let go.

But in those few moments, Yuuri slowly went from stiff to limp, and his face buried itself in the crook of Conrart's shoulder as his body shook with soundless sobs. His hands fisted in the material of Conrart's shirt and he could feel his collar growing damp. Wordlessly, Conrart reached out, cradling Yuuri's head to his chest with one hand and letting his other come to rest against Yuuri's back.

The sobs eased off in a matter of minutes, and when Conrart reluctantly pulled away to check on his charge, he was shocked to find him asleep. It wasn't so astonishing that the day's events would have left Yuuri drained both mentally and physically. What Conrart marveled at was the trust inherent in such an act. That Yuuri feels safe enough around him to allow himself to be this vulnerable…it was unthinkable.

It took him far longer than it should to gently arrange Yuuri on the bed, pulling the covers over his sleeping form. Conrart lingered at the bedside for a moment, his fingers falling forward to brush Yuuri's hair from his face.

He retreated quickly across the room, placing himself once again on the wall beside the window, staring down at the sleeping figure on the bed. It had only been a few hours, and yet it already felt as if his entire world had shifted, with Yuuri now firmly at the center.

As he stood vigil, Conrart contemplated the problem of keeping Yuuri safe and of getting him home.

He resolutely ignored the voice asking what would become of him once Yuuri was gone.

Conrart Weller's happiness had never mattered. Especially to himself.