He hid himself away, far from where his pain could find him. He would be able to shield himself in the dark. All alone. Safe. No one could ever reach him there. No one could ever hurt him...

Sometimes he would dream, though it was too agonizing to face sometimes. He saw things. Sasha's throat being slit. Him falling to his death. And a dark man hiding away in the shadows. Everything seemed in black and white to him. Everything except for the blood he would see fly from Sasha's opened wounds, glistening in the light.

Never had he felt his body grow this warm. It was unnatural. It was... frightening. Though he never experienced true fear, he never even felt the true pain he suffered from now. He wanted to run away from it, follow long buried instincts to choose between fight or flight. Save his own life was all that mattered anymore to him. The fear that he would find himself grow cold and be bathed in white kept his heart beating, his mind functioning to an extent, and himself breathing. It kept him fighting a battle he worried that he might not win.

Sometimes he would grow conscious enough to see a figure loom over him, feel a small pressure to his hand that he would return. He needed to know it was real. That he still was remotely sane, even though it was clear most of reasoning had fled from him.

But usually he found himself sinking into darkness, numb and unfeeling towards the world. His senses dulled and mind a bog of blistful confusion...

Sasha sighed as she inspected the stab wound. Deep, but thankfully had missed anything too important. She hadn't closed it right away at first because she had suspitions that it was infected, and had been using salt to disinfect it since it was the only thing on hand. After a day or so, she had closed it, but she was sure that moving too much would surely reopen it.

After cleaning it with some salt water, she rewrapped his chest and made sure it was just tight enough so he would still be able to breath without bothering his ribcage too much. The sight of the black thread holding together reddened skin didn't make her flinch as much as it used to at the start of her career. Where she once actually fainted at the sight of an infected shotgun wound to a patient's thigh. This wasn't as bad in terms of appearence, but the internal injuries were what put Demitri in a worse condition than the other victim.

She laid her hand across his forehead, and shook her head when she found a fever had settled in, causing his internal temperature to sky rocket and small beads of sweat to slowly drip down from his widows peak hairline. Whipping the droplets of sweat from her hand, she took a damp cloth and put it over his forehead, hoping to cool him down a little.

When Malik came in with a wooden bowl, she wasn't very surprised. In fact, she didn't even look up to him, knowing he'd understand the fact that she was both busy and stressed. If Demitri wasn't able to be moved by tomorrow morning, then Altair had made his point that he should be killed. Not only did Sasha not want to kill her boyfriend, she also didn't want that bastard to be right.

"I thought you might be starved in here." Malik said, breaking the silence. When she didn't answer, he stepped closer. "Are you okay, Sasha?"

"I'm not hungry..." She mumbled. It was a lie. Her stomach was in pain from her skipping meals to take care of Demitri. Despite that and her faintness, she felt like she could last. That she'd be fine.

Malik came closer and put a hand on her shoulder. "I know you're worried for him, but there's nothing else you can do for him. It's probably best you stop neglecting your own needs."

"But I-"

Malik didn't let her finish. "Please, what use will you be if you kill yourself?" His voice softened a little. "It's late, Sasha. I think it might be best for you if you just leave Demitri to rest for now. Maybe, just maybe, he might be well enough to move."

Casting, Demitri another sad look, she remained quiet. Unsure how to respond to Malik. He had a very good point.

"I didn't come here to lecture you." Malik sighed, placing the bowl on the table and turning towards the door. "But if you're not going to go to sleep for yourself, then do it for Demitri." And he left.

Staring at the bowl again, her stomach growled lowly, to which she grasped it. Fine... Malik wants me to eat and rest... it couldn't hurt, right? She thought. So Sasha stood up from the bedside and picked up the bowl, staring down at the chunky, stew like contents. With no utensils, she shrugged to herself and poured the meal into her mouth like a drink, stopping frequently to chew bits of meat and some form of vegetables. Not that it was awful. Just not the sugary sort of stuff she was used to. What Malik gave her had a sort of salty taste, and some forms of spices put in to add to the blander of the ingrediants. She'd have to ask sometime.

Satified with finishing around half of the bowl, knowing that it was probably best to get used to the feeling of being feed before taking all the food there, she tried to feed Demitri the rest after noticing how he was starting to become thinner. That process took maybe a half an hour. Lucky her, he was just alert enough to respond to what she told him to do and swallow. No need to worry about him choking today. So she just propped him up and held the bowl for him.

After laying him back down and replacing the now empty bowl on the table, she laid down on the floor, curling into the blanket. But sleep didn't fall upon her for what seemed like hours.

Now it wasn't like her to panic, but it was dark when she woke up again; the lanturn probably ran out of oil or wick and flickered out. So she laid still int he darkness, no light from the moon shown through the window, not a sound stirred her eardrums besides Demitri's quiet breathing.

Then footsteps, slowly approaching the room. The person was light on their feet, hardly even producing a sound when they stepped down. When the footfalls stopped in front of her door, she pretended to be asleep. The door opened, allowing a weak flame from a lanturn to provide a little better conditions for seeing, and in stepped Malik. The flickering orange glow danced across his features as he stepped near silently to the center of the room. He looked at her, not thinking she was awake since her eyes were only partly cracked open. He then turned towards the table and left her line of sight. A moment later, he returned to it with the empty wooden bowl in hand as he left the room, casting a last glance towards her. And a small smile that she could have sworn she imagined.

He found himself coming to with a pounding headache and stiff soreness. The room was lit with early morning light filtering through the window and causing dust in the air to shine. Sitting up in spite of the pain, he held a hand to his head, trying to ease the throb. After a while, he pushed his black bangs out of his opal blue eyes and looked around the room. At the other side of the room, Sasha was curled under a blanket, sleeping softly as her side rose in syncronization to her breathing. He felt a smile spread across his face, the most he remembered of the last few days was a lot of Sasha tending to him when he couldn't. She deserved the sleep.

Demitri then swung his legs over the side and planted his feet on the floor. Now he took a moment to look himself over. He was still in his carpender jeans, but above that he was naked. His chest was tightly wrapped in bandages, and at some spot just off center it buldged a little where a thicker bunch was folded and held in place. His left wrist was also tightly wrapped up, with two boards of wood acting as a splint on both sides of his forearm. He tried to turn his wrist around, but it hurt too much, the best he could say was that he could still move his fingers.

There also came the realization that he felt cold even though he was sweating. His face was probably flushed, as far as he could guess. To solve the problem, he looked down at the bed, grabbed the blanket and held it with the fingers of his broken arm. It did little to help him, but it was better than nothing.

After that, he then tried to stand up, finding it hard since his knees were weak and threatened to cave in. He locked them and stiffly shuffled over to Sasha, finding it hard to keep his balance. When he reached her, he let himself collapse to his knees, then sat on his heels as he leaned to touch Sasha's shoulder.

When he did, she shot up immediantly, blinked in confusion and then wrung her arms around his neck. There was some sort of relief there that he sensed, was far greater than he would know. Regardless, he wrapped his good arm around her, lightly stroking her copper streaked hair. He didn't want her to let go, and so felt disappointment when she pulled back.

"I thought you'd be dead for sure." She told him, appearing on the verge of tears.

He kissed her cheek, figuring that he didn't want to give her a fever like he had. "I thought I'd be dead too. But I'm alive. Thanks to you."

Her expression turned a little more serious. "That man who carried us back, Altair, wanted to kill you if you were unable to be moved by today."

"Then I decided to get on my feet none too soon." He chuckled. Then he sighed. "You know I was serious what I said before, that I was sorry."

"So was I." Sasha swore. After a long silence, they stood up, and she let him lean against her to take some of the weight off. "I've found things out, Demitri. Strange things. I think you'll find it hard to believe me."

"Like?" He casted her a look of curiousity.

She pressed her lips together, then sighed. "It's complicated... but... we're not in our own time or country."

"W-what?"

"We're in the Middle East somewhere." She continued. "In the Crusades."

He didn't respond right away, his mind swimming with questions he couldn't keep up with. "This is... startling... Well, no matter. There must be a way to get back home somehow."

"I don't know." She answered bluntly. "Maybe, or maybe not. Who knows."

"Are you saying we might end up living here?" Demitri asked.

Sasha shrugged. "It's possible."

They stood there in silence, staring at each other. They were trapped there? Demitri wanted to ask how they got there in the first place, but since no one knew, it would be a waste in breath. All he could do was ride out this situation.