We pushed the horses harder than we should have getting Fisk to a healer. By the time we'd reached the first town he'd developed a fever. Kathy didn't have to try too hard to convince me to forsake caution and stay there instead of continuing to the next town. My concern for Fisk 'twas just as strong as her's was. 'Twas not the safest option as we were uncertain if the local baron was in league with the bandits who had done this, but 'twas worth the risk. Fisk would certainly have argued that point if he had been in any condition to do so. Kathy stayed to speak to the healer, and though I wanted nothing more than to remain with them, I had to take care of the horses and take steps against any retaliation that might be directed at Kathy and the still vulerable Fisk. I went to the baron to enlist his aid, despite my misgivings.

The man 'twas either honest or wished to hide his involvement from me (which meant he probably wasn't trying to kill me or my companions). He ordered a fresh horse for me and several members of his guard to assist me in their apprehension. However, while I was speaking to the stable-hand about treatment for Chant's leg a message arrived summoning me to the healer. I left so quickly that I scarcely heard the guard captain's assurance that they could handle the bandits.

I could not be certain that the wind that howled at my back, propelling me forward, 'twas magica fueled by my terror or not, but it pushed me faster. I reached the building so quickly the healer blinked and asked me if I had already been on my way here. I was too busy frantically asking after Fisk between jagged breaths to answer her. "He's fine." She snapped in exasperation. "Or at least he's not in any immediate danger." I almost collapsed in relief. Then, after I had collected myself, I looked questioningly at her.

"Not to be ungrateful," I said, respectfully, "But why did you call me here if he's not in danger?"

"I'm sorry, did you have something more important to do?" The healer's question was laden with sarcasm. I felt a surge of emotions. Fear: for one of the people I loved the most, an almost overwhelming desire to see the man, and, oddly, anger: fury for this healer who questioned my love for Fisk.

I drew myself up. "There is nothing more important than Fisk." 'Twas the truest thing I had ever said. The healer looked at me. I don't know what she saw in my face, but whatever it was caused her to bow her head in respect.

"I am glad you think so." She said, all trace of sarcasm gone from her voice. "I called because your friend is ill at ease. He settled a bit when his wife sat with him, but he's started tossing and turning again." I frowned, still perplexed. The healer's lips curved into a wry smile. "He keeps saying your name. Though some of his nicknames sound more insulting than endearing 'Noble Sir'." Fisk had been asking for me? I followed the healer through the doors.

My heart tightened when I saw Fisk moving fitfully in the bed. His brown curls plastered to his forehead with sweat. Kathy sat in the chair opposite the door, cooling his fevered face with a wet cloth.

"Michael, you idiot..." He muttered. I have no memory of pushing past the healer into the room. I was simply there, Fisk's clammy hand in one of mine while the other rested on the top of his head. His shaky breathing seemed to even out. He stopped tossing and turning. The tension drained from his face.

I'm not sure how long we sat there. The healer was gone by the time Kathy spoke. "She said that he lashed out at her a few times before she let me in." I glanced at her. She wasn't looking at me. "He 'twas calling out for both of us." Of course he was, he loved her. Why was she telling me this. My brow furrowed as I tried to analyze her words.

Fisk had only been mumbling my name when I arrived, but that 'twas probably because he was somewhat aware of her presence. Why was she saying it aloud? My thoughts circled in confusion. Most of our conversation since Kathy's strange suggestion, a suggestion that offered so much hope and so much fear, had been about Fisk's condition. We'd been more interested in keeping him alive than anything else. But now I recalled what I'd overheard when Fisk had been lucid. I arrived in the middle, when Kathy had been pressing him to answer her question, which of us did he love more.

It had warmed my heart to actually hear Fisk say that he loved me aloud. The memory distracted me for a happy moment. But then, Kathy's question and her words now came back to me. I took in her posture, and felt a heavy seed of dread in my stomach as I realized what was troubling her.

"You're- you're worried he'll love me more?" I stared at her in disbelief. Kathy refused to look at me.

"'Tis a reasonable fear." She admit. "You have so much history. I often wonder if he only fell in love with me because he 'twas too afraid of losing you to even try." I saw her hand tighten on his sheets and a glimmer of tears in her eyes. "I... I often have to consider the possibility that I am a substitute."

"You're wrong." I argued with absolute certainty. Kathy glanced up at me with watery eyes. "When I first learned about the two of you, 'twas a surprise, but it seemed so very clear in hindsight." I began to list the ways without pausing for breath. "He once insisted that we remained in a town where I was nearly hanged because he hadn't gotten your letter yet. Another time he wouldn't talk to me for a week because I spilled ink all over his letter to you. And if I had a copper roundel for every time he told me how much better off we'd be if I had half your good sense I'd be as wealthy as Father!" I finally had to slow to breathe. Kathy was staring at me wide-eyed. "Not to mention the fact that he actually kept most of the letters. He never even complained about their weight. And he looked at me like I was crazier than usual if I suggested he leave them behind since they were so balky." I swallowed. Kathy had turned her gaze away from me to look at Fisk softly. "Kathy, when you met in Slowbend, he was half in love with you already." Kathy leaned forward and kissed him on his warm forehead. The familiar feeling of happiness tinged with jealousy blossomed in my chest.

"Thank you." She murmered. Then she looked up and her smile fell slightly. "Get that wistful grin off your face." She scolded me, sitting back up, her hand still on her husband's face. "He'll be your's as much as mine soon enough." I didn't express my doubt but it must have shown on my face. She sighed noisely. "I know you heard the two of us talking in the woods." She said. "You might not have heard everything, but I know you heard what he said." She stroked his jawline absently. "Think of everything you just said to me." She smiled, still lost in my words. "Think of how much he loves me, and remember," She stared at me intensely, her glasses flashing brightly. "He said he loves you just as much."

If Kathy had any other doubts about Fisk, they were surely banished when she left to wash her face. As soon as she removed her hand Fisk began shifting. She 'twas gone less than two minutes before Fisk started mumbling her name. Later when I left, he did the same. We sat with him through the worst of his fever.

One of his fever dreams gave me quite a scare. He 'twas talking in his sleep. Begging Kathy to stop me. I had been stroking his hair at the time and snatched my hand back, staring at Fisk in something close to terror. "Don't let Michael make Trouble magica, Kathy." Fisk mumbled. Startling us both into a laugh. "Don't... Trouble doesn't deserve it."

When Fisk finally woke up, lucid, he had plenty of soft words for Kathy and just as many teasing quips for me. It was hard not to silence him with a kiss every time Kathy tossed me a meaningful look. No, it would have been harder to muster the courage to go through with it, but I did think about kissing him, which was more than I had ever allowed myself before.

Things really began to happen when it was time for us to set out. When Fisk climbed on Tipple to take his seat he was swaying as badly as the horse did when she'd gotten into a keg. Kathy took one look at him and put her foot down. "No." She stated resolutely. "You're not riding like this." She helped him down very forcefully.

"Then what do you suggest I do, Kathy?" Fisk asked amused. "Walk?"

"Nonsense." She scoffed. "You'll ride with Michael. Chant can handle you both." Fisk blinked at her, and I turned away to hide my blush. Fisk tried to argue, but quickly realized that it was a lost cause.

"She's as stubborn as you are." He muttered as he mounted in front of me. He frowned as he settled into his seat. "Are you alright? You didn't get a fever too, did you?" He tried to turn, and almost succeeded in falling off the horse. I caught him. He scowled at me, then looked away. "Kathy, did this idiot get sick and not tell the healer?"

"He's fine, Fisk." She assured him with a smirk at me. I only reddened more.

So we left. Fisk sitting in front of me, leaning against me from time to time because he was still tired. My arms around him to hold Chant's reins.

...'Twas going to be a long, and possibly wonderful, trip...

Kathy and Michael needed a chapter to work things out. Neither of them is totally confident with the other as a competitor. So... Kathy decided they needed to be colaborators! I think it kinda worked, right?

In case anyone was wondering, Kathy would not have been okay if Fisk said he loved Michael more. The correct answer was either that he loved her more or he loved them equally. Otherwise she wouldn't be able to share him because she would never be able to catch up to Michael.