The pain was excruciating. It radiated from his knee, enveloping his whole body. Cal didn't want to move; he didn't think he could. The cold cut through his clothes, his skin, and down into his bones. He clenched his jaw to stop his teeth from chattering. He couldn't even feel his body shivering anymore.

The sun was breaking through the trees, and all around them, the forest was waking up. Cal couldn't remember sleeping, though he knew he must have. Rose was curled up against him, her head on his shoulder. He was afraid to wake her up. She'd insist they move on, insist that he try walking on his own. Cal didn't want to face that yet. It was hard to imagine the pain could get any worse, but it Ccould, and he knew it. Just the thought of trying to bend his knee sent a fresh ache through his leg.

Rose was so stubborn, so determined to make it back home, to drag him along with her. Didn't she understand he was a waste of effort now? Cal didn't want to be left behind; he was terrified by the prospect, but he couldn't understand why someone would risk their own life in such an absurd way. Going back for Rose was one thing. He'd never be able to show his face again if people found out he ran, leaving her to be killed or worse. His life would be ruined.

And, he had to admit, he owed it to her. Without her, he doubted he would've survived. Once his anger subsided, and when bargaining failed, Cal knew there was the likelihood he would simply give up. He was a practical man. He assumed there was a way out of everything, but perhaps, sometimes, there wasn't. Not to mention, without Rose to curb his outbursts, they might have killed him at the start to avoid the trouble of dealing with him. Part of him suspected he was only alive because of Rose, not only her interventions, but also, because killing a defenseless woman was beyond even their captors.

...

Waking up to Cal gazing at her was startling enough, but even more startling was the look of pure tenderness on his face. Rose opened her eyes, and for a moment, she forgot their situation. Cal's eyes were warm, and she saw affection and concern, if not outright love, in them. Warmth spread across her, despite the cold. She wanted to stay like that as long as they could.

"How did you sleep?" Cal asked softly.

"Well, considering the cirumstances." She put on a brave smile. "How are you feeling?"

"Cold," he said.

"You're not alone there. How's your leg?"

"Best not talk about that," he replied.

"Let me see it," Rose urged.

"No. Rose-"

But she was already up and out of his arms, peeling back his ripped pantleg. She stifled a gasp at the sight of his knee. The swelling had gotten worse during the night, and it was now an array of colors, from black to green. There was no way he could bend it, much less put weight on it. Rose's heart contracted. What would they do? She could help Cal along, but only so far.

Her stomach growled, reminding her of another pressing need. What would they eat? Rose cast her gaze around, but no viable presented themselves. They were in a forest. Surely there were berries or plants of some kind they could eat safely, but how to recognize them? Without meaning to, she found herself wishing for someone who would know, someone with all the skills she and Cal lacked. Someone who could take her hand and help her find her way out of this.

Rose took a breath and let go of the dream. No such person existed, and even if they did, they weren't going to appear in the clearing. She and Cal were in this alone; they would have to find their way to safety somehow, using their own strength.

Cal's voice broke through her thoughts. "I know it's bad."

"It isn't that bad," she said.

He gave her a look. "Rose, I'm a lot of things, but I'm smarter than that."

She laughed wryly. "It could be worse. Your leg could be broken."

"It feels like my knee is," he replied.

Only now, did Rose notice how pale her was, how he clenched his jaw. "I'm sorry," she said. "Truly. I wish it hadn't happened."

"So we could get out of here."

"So you wouldn't be hurt," she said.

"Do you mean that?" Cal asked.

"Of course. I may not want to marry you, but..." Rose trailed off. It felt strange saying it out loud, even under these circumstances.

A shadow passed over his face. "Well," he said. "I suppose we should try walking."

...

Their pace was slow, but at least they were moving. Cal leaned on Rose, his arm draped across her shoulders, hers wrapped around him. His limp was pitiful, but he carried as much weight as he could handle. They grew warmer as the day unfolded, but the underlying chill never left. And unfortunately, the sun could do nothing to assuage their hunger.

"Do you hear that?" Rose asked, stopping suddenly. Cal stumbled, but she held him up. "Hear what?" he said.

"Listen." She cocked her head to one side. "It sounds like water."

"I don't hear anything."

"Over there!" she cried excitedly.

Rose pulled Cal along with renewed energy. Water! If only it was real. If only it wasn't a trick of her exhausted, famished mind. They crashed through the bushes. Rose could only stare. It was a small stream, but it was clear and clean. She laughed, tears in her eyes. Cal leaned his weight on a tree, freeing his arm to hold her better. He pressed his lips to her forehead. "You found water," he said, awe in his voice.

Their eyes met, and she smiled. To his surprise, she didn't push him away.

...

They followed the stream, stopping frequently to drink. Nothing was said about covering ground or losing daylight. Without realizing it, they'd settled into a state of acceptace. This is where they were; this is what they were up against. Their only options were to live or die. As long as they were together and moving, however slowly, they were choosing to live. They were going to live.

"Do you need to rest?" Rose asked.

Cal shook his head. "No. I'm fine." It was a lie. The pain had only gotten worse with each step. She studied his face, and it was obvious she knew. But she didn't press the matter. Cal appreciated that. Being injured was hard enough already.

Mostly, they were silent. Talking required too much energy, and they had to conserve every bit they could. There was no predicting when they would eat again. Rose tried not to think if they would eat again. Her head pounded, and her stomach burned. All her realizations about hunger, learned so recently during their captivity, seemed trivial now. Even then, she hadn't known what real hunger was. Or fear.

She snuck at glance at Cal. He wouldn't make it much further.

...

The night enveloped them. They drank greedily from the stream, filling their protesting bellies with as much water as they could hold. At least they had water. Rose didn't know much about starvation, but she knew water was essential to survival. They'd last longer without food.

But eventually...

She pushed away the thought with a quick shake of her head. "We'll stay here," she announced.

"Shouldn't we keep going?" Cal said. "They'll be looking for us."

"You can't keep going," she replied, matter-of-factly.

He frowned but said nothing. The pain in his ego rivaled the pain in his body. While Rose busied herself setting up a camp, which mostly consisted of gathering leaves and soft, sweet smelling grass for a makeshift bed, Cal stared into the darkness.

This wasn't supposed to happen. Not to him. He'd thought it many times since their abduction, of course, but somehow, it was worse now. When they were moving, he couldn't think. Everything was instinct. One foot in front of the other. Ignore the pain. All the emotions he'd held at bay washed over him, and Cal felt like he was drowning. Death had never seemed so close. He'd never thought of it as real. It was just a vague concept. Something that happened to other people. Not to him. Never to him.

"Cal?"

He gasped as Rose's hand touched his shoulder. He looked up, but he couldn't see the concerned look on her face. "We should try to sleep," she said.

He wanted to thank her for making the bed, but the words wouldn't come. His throat was too tight. He was ashamed to admit it, but he was certain if he spoke, he'd burst into tears. He couldn't remember the last time he cried. The very idea was repugnant to him. And yet, it held a certain appeal.

They lay down in the grass, arms around each other. There was no question of sleeping otherwise; staying warm was difficult enough. Cal struggled to find a position that wouldn't make his knee feel worse. He closed his eyes and focused on Rose, the way she felt against him, the warmth of her breath on his neck. If they survived, he'd find a way to earn her trust. He just had to.

...

John went home to his wife. He didn't bother giving notice at the boarding house, figuring when he didn't show up again, the landlady would just rent out his room. He wished he'd given a fake name, but he'd wanted his wife to be able to find him. Now, he realized that meant anyone else could as well. There was a record of his being in that town.

He tried not to think about it. He made up a story about trouble at his new job, claiming he decided to come home to avoid getting involved. His wife understood, or said she did. John didn't question it.

Meanwhile, Sid and Dan continued their search. After the first day, they brought along supplies and set up camp. They took turns keeping watch, with the assumption that as long as they had guns of their own, Cal couldn't do much damage with his. They didn't say it, but they both knew two days without food must be taking their toll. And there was the cold. There was no gurarantee Cal and Rose would still be alive when they found them.

...

"Wake up," Rose said wearily. The sun was peeking through the trees already. Her back was stiff, and she felt like she hadn't slept at all. Her stomach didn't rumble anyore; it just ached.

Rubbing his eyes, Cal sat up. His hand stayed on her waist. "This was a terrible idea," he said, trying to sound cheerful. "A waste of a vacation."

Rose smiled weakly. "Isn't it?"

She helped him to his feet, and they set off again, carrying each other into the next day.

...

"If you could eat anything in the world, what would it be?" Rose asked.

Cal sighed. "Must we play this game?"

"We must," she said. "We have to distract ourselves."

"Is talking about food really going to do that?"

"What do you want to talk about?" she asked.

Cal searched his mind, but it was blank. He couldn't focus on anything. There was a dull throbbing at the base of his skull, blotting out his thoughts. Finally, he said, "If you could go anywhere, where would you go?"

Rose answered without hesitation. "Greece."

Cal made a face. "Greece? Why there?"

"Why not there?" she replied. "Think of the history, the ruins. There's thousands of years of culture to explore. And it's beautiful. Who wouldn't want to go to a lovely island?"

"You would bring up history," he said good-naturedly.

"And what is wrong with history?"

"Nothing," he said. "Especially not if you're a bluestocking." He half-smiled. "Which, I can no longer deny you are."

"Are you insulting me?"

"No, not at all," he said. "Just observing. How I ended up engaged to someone like you..." He shook his head. "I still don't quite understand it. You just..."

"I was beautiful and suitable," Rose finished.

"Well, yes, but that's not all," Cal said.

"What else is there?"

"Love?" he suggested.

"Cal, you don't love me," she said patiently.

"You don't know that."

Rose ignored the comment. "Where would you go?"

"Home."

"But in the game?" she said.

"I can't choose home?" he said.

"I think that's rather like talking about food," she pointed out.

"Holland."

She glanced at him. "Really? I wouldn't have expected that."

"Why not?"

"It just doesn't seem like you," she said.

"It's beautiful there, like something out of a story," he said. "I was there in the spring once, when the tulips were blooming." He tried but couldn't summon the memory. His spirits sank even further.

Rose felt him slump. She propped him up as best she could. "Why don't we rest for a while?" she said.

...

"Do you want to keep going?" Cal asked.

Rose shook her head. "No."

"You don't think we should keep moving?" he said.

She sighed. "We should." Dragging herself to her feet had never taken so much effort. She reached down and took Cal's arm.

"I can do it," he said.

"You'll hurt yourself."

He grabbed hold of the tree and hauled himself up. It was all he could do to hold back a cry of pain. "See?" he said brightly. "Fine."

"You're not," Rose said.

"Of course I am. We both are." He tried to sound encouraging, but he knew it didn't matter. It wasn't reaching her. "We'll be fine, Rose."

She didn't respond.

...

Night was falling. It seemed to Rose that night was always falling. They barely took three steps, and the sun was disappearing. She closed her eyes for a moment, and it was back again. Time didn't make sense anymore. Everything she saw seemed to shift from one spot to another, even when she was standing still. Dizziness crept up her spine, threatening to overtake her. One false step, and she'd fall, just like the night, only she'd stay down.

Cal was talking. His voice was faint but comforting. She almost laughed at the absurdity of it.

"Rose?" he said. "Rose?" He peered down at her. "What's wrong?"

She blinked, the fog in her head clearing. "Nothing," she said.

"You should have some water," he said.

There was bitterness in her voice. "I should have some food." Still, she knelt by the edge of the stream and used her hands as a cup. The cold water was better than nothing, though it chilled her even more. She tried but couldn't remember being warm.

"I know," Cal said. He put his hands on her arms. "I'm sorry. If it weren't for me, you wouldn't be here."

"I thought it was all my fault," she said sharply.

"I shouldn't have said that. I wanted to blame someone. I-"

"You always want to blame someone," Rose said. She looked at him over her shoulder. "I don't care why we're here. That doesn't matter anymore. I just want to be home again." Tears glistened in her eyes. Cal wrapped his arms around her, forgetting his knee. "I know," he said. "We'll make it back, Rose."

"Because you can do anything?" she said mockingly.

Cal pressed his forehead to hers. "Yes. Because I can do anything."

...

They were filthy. It was something they didn't think much about. Cold and hunger took precedent. They knew better than to try bathing in the stream. They curled up together on a patch of moss, neither noticing the other's dirtiness. They smelled; surely, they must, but not to each other. What did a little thing like that matter anymore?

"I've never really looked at the stars," Cal said. "They're quite beautiful."

"I love them," Rose said. "I like how they make me feel."

"How's that?"

"Like nothing matters," she said. "All the things everyone we know cares about, the parties, the clothes, the money. Everything that goes into making our world what it is. None of it matters. To the stars, we're all just the same specks of dust."

"I don't care for that."

"No, you wouldn't," she said.

"I'd rather not think of myself as a speck of dust," he replied.

"It isn't a bad thing. It's just a description of insignificance. It's not who you are."

"I am not insignificant," he said jokingly.

"Don't I know it."

"Neither are you," he added.

...

They tried to remember how long it had been since their escape, but the days blurred together. Time refused to cooperate. Rose's head spun no matter what she did. Her hands were beginning to shake. Cal moved even slower now. He couldn't put any weight on his bad leg. When Rose tried to check it, he waved her away. "Why bother?" he said. "We know it's bad."

They kept going as long as they could, limping forward, one laborious step at a time. They no longer worried about being found. Their will to survive was strong, but it was possibly the only thing still strong in them. It could only do so much.

"I have to rest," Cal said. He slid to the ground. Rose didn't argue. She followed him down. They wrapped their arms around each other. The sun beamed down on them, but all she wanted was to sleep. Cal's eyes closed. He was heavy against her. She felt him breathing, and let herself sink into oblivion.

...

She woke up. How much time had passed, she couldn't be sure, though the sun was still high. Her head swam. The urge to go back to sleep was overwhelming. Why had she woken up? Rose glanced at Cal. He hadn't moved. She touched his cheek and was startled by how cold he was. His chest wasn't rising.

A lump filled her throat. She wanted to shake him, but her arms wouldn't work. She wanted to scream. If her voice were loud enough, he would wake up. He had to. But nothing came out.

Rose lay her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes.

...

They didn't see the fence, didn't climb over and see the dirt road. They didn't hear the buggy approach, hear it stop, or the concerned voices of the men, speaking their unique Swiss-German dialect. They were too far gone to recognize help when it finally came.