Does anyone remember this story? No? Curses. Oh, well. I've been gone for about a YEAR so I don't blame you guys. I just felt like I couldn't leave this hanging. I have to finish it

Ch. 13

Tristan was drifting in another different place. In reality, he could feel the soft grass underneath him; the hardness of the trunk he was laid up against; and not to mention, the pain that was permeating his entire body. But in his mind, he wasn't there. In his mind, he could hear his mother singing to him. In his mind, he could watch his youngest brother roll around in the mud. In his mind, he was free from all hate, grief, and war…and he needed to feel that, because it has been so long.He felt torn between the two worlds, the world of perfection and family and the war of Romans and greed. To anyone else, it may seem like an obvious choice, but Tristan knew better. Despite the longing for his home, he knew that if he succumbed to it, he would die. Did he want that?

He fought harder to regain consciousness but everytime he felt like he was coming around, the pain was just to much to bear.

Each time he thought he was getting closer, he would find himself just falling further back.

In the back of his head, he realized he was losing the fight; the choice between the two worlds was being made for him and that angered him. After all, since when was he the one to take things lying down? He felt his left arm, the one that wasn't in excruciating pain, twitch a bit. He was still in the world of Romans and greed and he liked it.

All of a sudden a small voice inside his head whispered, why do you want to stay here? That voice seemed to be taunting him, putting images of his home and family inside his head so Tristan could almost consider them to be real.

Tristan could feel himself frowning and that would have made him laugh except for the throbbing in his head and the numbing pain in his arm. What was he fighting for any way? What was so goddamn important that he was keeping himself alive for? He couldn't even think of a single reason; he could barely think.

Tristan suddenly felt this overwhelming sense of sleepiness. If his eyes were open, they would be closing now, and he would be wandering into a deep sleep now. He didn't want to go without trying one more time. Taking a deep breath he tried to let out a yell….although it came out like a low, angry groan.

But that was it. He was letting go. He could see images of his home clearer and clearer and for the first time in awhile, he felt happy. He was going home.

"TRISTAN!"

Tristan felt his head fall forehead and he made some sort of grunt. That was not his family calling to him. Ignore it, said the voice inside his head, go home. He was about to comply when he was shaken again by the loud, ear piercing shriek.

"TRISTAN!!"

Tristan felt a real live human touching his face, his arm, his chest. He could sense his mind pulling back from the world with his family and moving towards the world with war. Why?

"Arthur! Arthur, I found him!"

A new voice was now shattering into his ears, it was deep and masculine. "Is he alive?"

"Yes, yes, I think so!"

Tristan could hear more and more. He recognized the sound of a horse's soft walk and he could hear birds chirping and singing around him. A new and different voice was now speaking inside his head, open your eyes…show them you're alright. Slow, but surely, Tristan was coming back to being alive. He was sensing more and more and realized with a burst of delight that the sun was shining on him making him warm and comfortable.

But that delight was short lived as new waves of pain began flowing through him. He suddenly understood why his arm was hurting so terribly, it was bent in a different direction. His head felt as if someone was pounding nails into it (grey's anatomy, anyone?) and because of this shock, he felt his eyes flutter open.

He caught a quick glimpse of some girl before his eyes were snapped shut again.

"He IS alive!" the more girl-like voice shouted. "Did you see? He opened his eyes?"

It was silent for a moment before the man responded. "We must get him back to the inn. We must get him aid."

If Tristan could see, he would see that the girl was Rose and she was nodding her head vigorously. "Yes, I'll ride--," she stopped short.

Arthur shot her a quizzical look as he bent down to Tristan. "What?"

Rose looked around hesitantly. "The Romans. They're going to be after us...I mean, we killed one, they're going to--"

Arthur didn't respond as he carefully scoped up Tristan who was now taking short, deep breaths and moaning. He moved slowly back to his horse and cautiously sat Tristan on top of the horse. Tristan cried out in agony and he swayed as though he had no control at all.

"How far is the next town?" Arthur asked Rose quietly as he mounted his horse taking care because of Tristan.

Rose paused. "About…eight miles. Possibly ten, at the most."

Arthur nodded and was silent once more. The only thing that was making noise now was Tristan in his own misery.

"Alright. You will ride back to town. Gather the other knights, and tell them of what has taken place. Get out of there and ride as fast as possible to the town you mentioned. I will ride ahead now." Arthur instructed calmly.

Rose nodded again. "The town is to the west. Almost a direct path." She said while mounting her own horse.

Arthur tapped his horse who began trotting in the said direction. As Rose was setting off, she heard her name called out. Turning back, she saw that Arthur had stopped and was looking at her.

"Remain unseen! Stay away from the Romans at all costs!"

Rose grimaced but gave a small wave as a response; for that was easier said than done.