Birds chirped prettily outside somewhere. Mariella smiled before she even opened her eyes.
Cracking a lid open, she found that sunlight flooded the room. It was an unfamiliar room. It appeared to be private quarters in the sick bay.
Turning to face the window, she let out a small gasp of surprise. Sergeant Dean was sitting in a chair beneath it, his face in his hands. She watched him quietly for a moment, not wanting to destroy his fragile momentary peace. When at last, she felt she could not pretend to be asleep any longer, she spoke.
"Sergeant..." she whispered. Her voice was weak and dry. His head snapped up at the sound of her voice. He looked so worn and distressed that, if she could have, Mariella would have held him in her arms.
When he realized he wasn't imagining things, his face broke into an enormously relieved smile. Immediately, he came to her bedside.
"Mariella, how do you fare?" he asked, smoothing back the hairs that clung to her face. She thought for a moment. She realized she actually did not feel much at all. She felt strangely disengaged from her body.
"I feel... nothing," she said finally. "What happened to me?"
Williem nodded, though he was still smiling.
"Nurse Constance said you might feel funny for awhile. They used many different potions and remedies on you to mend your broken ribs and the knife wound."
Mariella nodded slowly, but something else had bubbled to the surface of her mind.
"Where's Kennon?"
The smile faded from Williem's face.
"He... didn't make it."
Silence ensued for several moments as the tragic news sunk in. The guardswoman admitted to herself that she wasn't shocked. Even out on the field, remembering the sight of him as he fell, she had known all along. However, this did little to lessen the blow.
Mariella turned away to hide the tears gathering in her lower lids. Though she fought hard to keep them in, they spilled over anyway.
"It's my fault. I should have... I should have been more alert..." she murmured, a fresh wave of tears blazing watery trails down her cheeks.
"Don't blame yourself, Mariella."
"I should've- there had to have been something- anything- that I could have done to-to-" she stammered, her voice cracking as she took in great gulps of breath to steady her emotions.
A strong, rough hand gripped her own trembling one, squeezing it tightly.
"Do not blame yourself for this, Mariella. Trust me, it will not do to burden yourself with misplaced guilt. Take it from one who has fought many battles alongside many great men who also fell. I spent almost two years living inside of a bottle, trying to drown my sorrows in the strongest spirits I could find. But there comes a point when you must learn to accept what is lost and instead, honor their memory with strength," Williem said, his low, smooth voice soothing to the battered soldier.
She was quiet for a long while, contemplating his words and the strange chain of events that had unfolded.
Warmth radiated from their interlocked hands and spread up her arms and throughout her body, restoring a little bit of the life within her.
Reaching out, the sergeant gently turned her face to look at him. Wiping away the last few tears that streaked her face, he said quietly,
"If you wish, I can take you to his burial site, so you may pay your last respects to him."
Mariella shook her head.
"I don't think I'm ready for that, yet."
Williem nodded slowly, gripping her small hand a little tighter. A thought occurred to her, then. If Kennon had already been buried, it would have required more than a day or so for the ceremony and the burial process to have taken place.
"How long have I been asleep, sir?" she asked slowly, wiping the remaining dampness from her cheeks with the sleeve of her sleeping gown.
"You've been drifting in and out for five days, now," he replied.
Mariella lay there in shock. Five days??
Wait a moment...
"But, sir... you were supposed to have left already!" she exclaimed. Williem smiled wanly.
"Believe me, I know," he said, his expression growing suddenly dark. But, a moment later, his face softened again as he gazed upon her. "I couldn't leave without knowing you were well on your way to recovery."
Mariella smiled gently at him.
They watched each other in silence. Mariella searched his pale blue eyes intently. There was so much to see within their depths. His eyes were so enthralling and expressive... she felt herself drifting away into his encompassing gaze with each passing second. An odd sensation of pure joy and fulfillment seemed to be pouring into her the longer she stared. Mariella felt lighter than she had in ages. And suddenly a spark rent the air, a wonderful web of ethereal communication being spun between their interlocked eyes. Mariella could almost see and hear the electricity crackling in the air around them. Some force of magnetism seemed to be drawing the pair closer and closer.
Their clasped hands shifted to interlace their fingers and suddenly, that simple connection of bare flesh burned fiery hot to Mariella and she felt her breath hitch as Williem's nose brushed hers and his free hand rose to caress her cheek. Their faces were mere centimeters apart; her heart was beating so fast she thought maybe it would explode. Sensations flowed throughout every inch of her. Her body was alive.
Then, voices outside the door broke the spell. His hands were gone and the sergeant was on his feet in a flash. The door flew open and two guards walked in.
It was McGuire and another guard, named Bissell. They looked surprised to see the sergeant.
"Oi, Sarge!" McGuire said, saluting him crisply. Bissell did the same.
"At ease, gentleman," he said calmly.
Mariella stared at him in wonder. She was anything but calm at the moment.
She struggled to regain control of her reeling mind, trying to grasp the startling situation that had just ensued.
She had been imagining things. She and Sergeant Dean had not been about to... No, no. She was hallucinating from all those alchemic remedies the nurses had used. The idea was preposterous and highly-embarrassing to Mariella. In fact, she could feel her cheeks growing warm already as she thought of the silly idea of her and the sergeant kissing.
Mariella was barely aware of the light conversation taking place between the men in the room.
"...just stoppin' in to check on Wendy here," McGuire replied, motioning to Mariella. "Glad t' see yer awake, Mari," he said with a genuine grin.
Mariella managed to smile back amidst her internal chaos.
"Yes, she came to only twenty or so minutes prior to your arrival," Williem said, giving Mariella a gentle smile. "I think it would be best if we let her alone for a little bit... Let her sort things out in her head before we bombard her with celebratory hugs from the entire unit."
Sergeant Dean threw her a playful wink before shuffling the other two guards out of the room with him.
Mariella lay still for awhile. The numbness had returned to her body, but it had nothing to do with medicinal substances this time.
She kept reliving the moment over and over in her head, and each time, the scenario became less and less real, and soon, she had convinced herself it was nothing but her imagination running rampant.
It was silly, after all. Why would Sergeant Dean kiss her? He was in love with the gorgeous Lady Lorraine! Also, Mariella probably looked a frightful mess right now, thrashing around feverishly in bed for nearly a week. No one would even think to court her in such a state.
Yet... Sergeant Dean did. She remembered the way his strong, rough hand had held hers so reassuringly and tightly and how tenderly he had brushed the hair from her eyes...
No! It was ridiculous.
Stop pretending, Mari. There is nothing.
One of the nurses, Connie, bustled in. She was carrying a tray of food. The scent of breakfast cakes and fruit wafted over to Mariella and she nearly heaved.
"The Sergeant told me you were awake, Miss Mari!" she said cheerily. "Breakfast time!"