A/N: I hope that you take my posting two chapters in fairly close succession as my apology for neglecting the story for so long. I hope to have chapter nine up soon as well. Thanks to all who have continued to give me your feedback, it is appreciated.

The next few days followed without incident. Marie had forgiven me, though I still felt terrible about what I did. James was diligent in the practices I set for him and I had taken to teaching him how to dance to help his balance. Commander Bruence was steadily recovering and I was trying a new medicine we had ordered special on his eyes so they had to be bandaged which saved me momentarily from the inevitable day when he would see his reflection. It was amazing what people were willing to do for him. I hadn't realized it at first, but apparently he some sort of hero for the commune. That didn't make me feel better at all.

I still did not admit that I sang to him, though he continued to insist that he had heard me. More than one of my days were spent being angry at a comment he would make, but it would always end in James making sure that we both apologized. They had become good friends, James and Richard, though had they met in any other circumstance, I doubt it would have been so.

They were like night and day. James was always bright and optimistic, with a nice word to say to everyone and Richard I would swear stayed up late at night just to think of insults. It was very interesting to watch them interact.

Had I not been helping James with his walking, I wouldn't have been close enough to overhear a younger officer inform commander Bruence that the powers that be were having all remaining injured officers from the facility move immediately to a hospital further away. They were pulling out of the city, unable to stave off the army any longer.

I was happy to hear that it seemed that we had won the last major stronghold of the war, but I knew that this wasn't the end. Even when the war ended, it wouldn't be over for me.

I was able to warn the others and have our things collected and ready to go for when they suddenly had all the soldiers still in beds transported to a waiting ambulance. They could fit six soldiers laying down per ambulance by stacking the beds, giving little room to work, but it saved room. I knew each of us was down to caring for very few men. Patrice still had one soldier that had been touch and go for a while now. He had been the last to come in. He had somehow been too near to an unintentional explosion of some sort and they had brought him here.

I didn't give it a second thought when they waited to load him in for the last, but when they started herding us into the back of ambulances and the soldier still had not been loaded I realized that he wasn't coming with us. They were leaving him behind to die.

I shook my head, somehow, if I ever forgot just how retched the commune was, they would find a plethora of ways to remind me.

The trip took a few hours and I couldn't tell what direction we were heading in. Isabella and Patrice were in one ambulance, while Marie and I were in another. We both slept for a good portion of the way, though I woke occasionally to Marie coughing. She sounded like she was coming down with something. I felt badly, she still wasn't over whatever had given her the blisters, though she insisted that was just caused from biting her lips too much when she was deep in thought, an act that I had never witnessed her do.

The next hospital was practically a smaller version of the storehouse we had been in before. The walls were painted white, instead of being just the plain metal of the last place. It was maybe a third of the size, but instead of individual beds for everyone, there were only a small handful of the metal frames for officers to sleep on, also painted in the same dull shade of white. Everyone else seemed to have to sleep on small mats on the floor. We nurses though we upgraded in a way because we got to sleep on the mats as well. There was no room for us for privacy, but it was far better than the hard floor we had slept on before.

What had happened to the nurses before us, no one would say, but it was just us again. We had assumed that the night nurse, I think I heard her name was Rosalinda, was in the third ambulance, but when the doors opened, she was no where to be found. Again, no one answered when we asked where she had gone.

Marie and I were given the night watch together while Isabella and Patrice would work the days. It was particularly difficult for them because they did not know what had happened to Riena, Patrice's other daughter and Isabella's sister. The chances that Riena was still at the whore house when we were moved was slim, but it had still been a mild comfort to them to think that she was close. Now they had no idea if she was still there, if they had let her go or if she was even still alive.

We had never been brought any women to tend to. The commune regarded women as property. If one got sick, you threw her away and got a better one. There was no way to track Riena now.

The first days of adjusting to the new hospital were shadowed with their morbid faces. The clouds seemed to agree. After the second day, the first snow fell sadly from the sky. Marie and I did our best, but no amount of positive words would comfort them.

It took a few days, but we did eventually settle into a new routine that included more than double the soldiers we had before, but we were still easily able to handle it

.

Nearly two weeks after the fiasco with Marie, I told Richard the news that I would finally be able to remove the last of his bandages, including the ones over his eyes. He seemed happy, but I couldn't help the feeling that he would regret it.

Richard and James had both settled into the nocturnal life with Marie and I. They slept during the day and kept us entertained at night. Well, James mostly, Richard was still trying to adjust to having to speak kindly if he wanted anything. One advantage of being a nurse for him was that I didn't have to obey any order he gave me, as he wouldn't let anyone harm me for not listening. Not that there were many able soldiers around to try it anyway. There were only two guards for the entire hospital and they guarded the front door, the only way in or out of the facility.

Eventually, Richard had stopped trying to order me around and let me do my job. We developed a reluctant friendship that mostly considered him saying something that I would take offense to and stalk away while he pleaded that I forgive him.

"What is the first thing you wish to see once we have removed the bandages?" I asked, trying to distract both of our minds from his face. He was silent a moment before he reached a hand up to my arm and felt his way slowly up until it he had cupped my face in his large hand. I stiffened at his touch, but did not stop him.

"I wish only to see you."

His words caught me so off guard that I froze completely under his touch, my hands stilled on the bandages. I was waiting for the punch line. I was almost hoping that he would say something harsh like he wanted to be able to see how retched I looked, or he wanted to make fun of me, or anything other than just that. I would have traded that for an insult any day.

He seemed to take my stillness as an invitation to keep touching me. His thumb brushed over my lips and I quickly snapped out of my frozen state and removed his hand. He looked genuinely hurt by the act so I still held his hand in my own, but he seemed to understand my uneasiness at being touched.

"Are you married?" he asked quietly. The question had never arisen before. I had come to learn nearly everything about him, but offered no information about myself in return. I knew that he had grown up in a small town near the French boarder, that he had two younger brothers who had both died in war. I knew he had been married once before had lost his wife and only child when a lightening storm stuck the house while he was out helping an elderly neighbor secure their horse and had watched it burn to the ground, unable to do anything but watch in horror. It had said it was over in a matter of minutes. He didn't have time to run from the neighbor's house, less than a mile from his own home to rescue his family before the roof caved in. I couldn't help but feel a swell of pity for him. Who could hear that and not? It also helped me understand how he had become so hard hearted. After that he threw himself into the first cause that made sense, joining the army and quickly rising in rank.

"Elyssa?" his voice drew me back to his question. For a split second I debated telling him I was. I wasn't sure if it was because I didn't want him to touch me again, or because I did.

"No, I'm not married." He must have caught the reluctance in my voice and assumed there was something more.

"Engaged?" he asked, and if I wasn't mistaken it was with a hint of relief in his voice.

I hung my head, suddenly all too uncomfortable at this inquisition into my life. "I was."

"May I ask what happened?" he said compassionately. I suddenly had to fight back the urge to tell him everything. I had done a perfect job not letting anyone know anything about my background. No one but Patrice, Isabella and Marie knew about Erik, and that was in dept of a look as anyone had gotten. I couldn't very well ruin my nearly spotless record of avoidance of my personal life now, but I figured that if I said only as much as I had before, I wouldn't be betraying anything.

"He died. Killed . . . by . . ." I stopped as tears prevented my continuing explanation.

"By us," he finished for me. My heartache seemed to be echoed in his whispered voice.

I pulled my hand from his. "I should go. We can remove the bandages later." I said hastily before the tidal waves of tears could be released.

When I went to give James his nightly dancing lesson an hour later, I did so with red, puffy eyes from my crying that I had not been able to stop.

He noticed at once and his usual smile faded. "Elyssa, what is it? What's wrong?"

I did not see the point or use in trying to hide from him what he was bound to find out from Richard soon enough. I told him of our conversation. He remained silent a while, for I had never told him that I had been engaged and he learned of it in the same way Richard had.

"He's the one you see, when you look at us, isn't he?" He said quietly. It took me a second to understand what he was saying. "You said it was your father, but it's him."

I nodded my head slowly. "Yes. He was, but I don't see him anymore," I whispered, unable to look him in the eyes. It had been so long since I'd slept deep enough to have dreams and I didn't think about him in the waking moments that I was beginning to forget Erik's face. I couldn't remember just how intense his eyes were, or the exact line of his jaw. I felt the tears once again appear in my eyes and knew I had to get away. "I'm sorry James, would you mind if we skipped today and we can pick up tomorrow?"

"That's fine," he said with sadness in his voice, but I doubted it was entirely from not being able to practice his dancing. I murmured my thanks and left hurriedly.

I finished the rest of the day in a very solemn mood and tried to not notice James and Richard talking and looking in my direction. I went to bed exhausted and for the first time in over a week I woke with a stifled scream. I had seen Erik lying in his bed, but it was Richard's face I saw, not Erik's. The next morning I didn't have the stomach to eat anything.

Richard was very quiet when I went to see him. "Elyssa," he said, sitting up so that we faced each other, though his eyes were still bandaged. "I'm sorry. I never even stopped to think. It was insensitive of me . . ."

I took his hand and squeezed it gently. "You didn't know," I said, quick to try to change the subject. "Now how about we remove those bandages?" I added quickly before we could continue with the conversation. He understood and nodded.

"Close your eyes, this may hurt a little," I said as I carefully started to remove the tape that held the gauze in place.

"I'm used to pain," he said simply. I took it to mean because of his injuries, but I secretly hoped that there wasn't more to it than that.

He never even winced as I pulled the last bandage away. "Okay, open your eyes," I said at last.

He did as he was told but shut them quickly against the false light. As his eyes adjusted to what to him would be brightness, but to everyone else was barely enough light to see, he blinked a few times as images swam into his vision and went from shapes and shadows to fuzzy profiles to clearer pictures. He looked straight at me and I knew I didn't even have to ask if he could see me. Goodness! It was as though he could see right into me with those piercing hazel eyes.

"Elyssa," he whispered my name like a gentle breeze. "You're even more beautiful than I imagined you in my dreams, but it's as though I've known your face all along."

My face flushed at his words and I looked away. He put a finger beneath my chin and gently turned my face back towards his. He had leaned closer, much closer. We were only a breath apart. My heart began to race. With just a fraction of an inch lean, our lips would meet. The finger he had placed under my chin he moved to tuck a stray not quite shoulder length curl behind my ear and it made my spine tingle.
We seemed suspended in time for a moment before the thought of my dream swam into my mind's eyes and I pulled back quickly feeling guilty. "I'm sorry, Richard. I can't."

For the second day in a row I ran away from him.

Where things had gone by slowly before, they know seemed to be changing on a daily basis. Now that Richard was able to see and was healed well enough to be on his feet and moving around, he assumed command of the hospital and sent the other ranking officer out for information.

James was well enough to have his cast replaced by a walking splint. He didn't want to use the cane any more and seemed to do fine without it. Soon he would be dancing circles around me. He would always have a slight limp, but I promised him that girls would think it was endearing. He had laughed and said his heart would always belong to me. His shameless flirting was thankfully only done playfully. He seemed to know that I wouldn't respond well to any attempts at anything more than a friendship and I was grateful. I knew that he did love me, and I felt very fondly of him as well, but nothing more than as an acquaintance for him and he had the love of a sister for me.

Richard on the other hand had a hard time knowing where the line was. Or perhaps it was that he knew exactly where the line was and stepped boldly over it. Either way, since my last fairly harsh denial of him, he had taken over and nearly stopped talking to me completely. Everyday he seemed to try some new way to get me close to him, and finally when he tried to grab me and kiss me I had reared back and slapped him smartly across the unburned side of his face. I knew I should be thankful, but I still felt it as a loss. I was allowing myself to become far too invested in Richard. I stubbornly refused to be happy because of him, happiness only led to hurt.