Nicholas took off at a light jog, his long legs carrying him swiftly through the predawn New York City streets. As his sneakers slapped against the pavement, Nicholas thought of the few times he had run with Rose, many months ago when she had still been alive. They had taken the very route that he was on now; she had always been several feet ahead of him. No matter how fast he was, the Huntsmistress was always able to make herself go faster.

He smiled at the memory. He missed her. It had been almost two weeks since they had said their Clan goodbyes; their rest in peace. He wished that they hadn't had to but it had been creeping up on eight months since her disappearance – there had been no other alternative for the Clan to come to. But he wished that they hadn't spent eight months without her – he wished that they never had to spend any more time without her.

Nicholas jogged around his second right turn of the block. He was nearly home. He remembered the first time that Rose had asked him out on a run with her. It was around this time, about halfway through, when he'd had to stop, bending at the waist and panting because he hadn't expected it to be this harsh of a workout and he'd been seriously unfit. Nicholas paused at that same spot, remembering how Rose had teased him, but had patiently waited for him to catch his breath.

Missing her hurt, more than he ever thought it could. His heart ached and broke with every breath – he could only imagine how Jake was feeling. They had all loved her, but Jake had loved her the most powerfully.

But Nicholas missed her so much that he saw traces of her everywhere. When he was heading upstairs to the main office in the morning, he thought they he could hear her there, talking into the phone and calling out to him to bring her a coffee before he came in. Whenever he walked through her old room, her scent overwhelmed him – as though she had just sprayed her perfume and stepped out ahead of him. Even now, standing here on a dirty street with the dawn just breaking, he thought that he saw her long blonde hair perfectly echoed on the homeless woman sleeping just a few steps away from him.

It was such a good replication of the Huntsmistress' locks that Nicholas found himself taking a step closer, drawn by a misguided hope that maybe it was her. Without a body – without that concrete bit of proof – Nicholas knew that he would always be hoping that she would return someday. He knew that it was foolish, childish hope but he would hold onto it nonetheless.

He was close enough to the homeless woman now to see the bit of skin that was exposed to the cold winter – the back of her neck. Nicholas stared at the patch of skin, at the odd jagged scar that ran along it, and thought of how Rose had the exact same scar in the exact same place. There was a suspended moment when Nicholas innocently pondered that and when reality broke through. He jumped forward, not thinking about how dangerous it was to randomly attack someone on the streets, and rolled the homeless woman over. She didn't so much as stir as Nicholas exposed her face.

His heart plummeted. It was her. He ripped off one glove with his teeth, discarding it to the side as he pushed his fingers under her neck, begging for there to be a pulse. And there it was – a weak heartbeat. Nicholas gathered up the frozen girl in his arms – so weak, so bedraggled, that she didn't even open her eyes as he picked her up. He tucked Rose against him and took off as fast as he could.

He knew something had to be wrong if Rose wasn't stirring. But after eight months of agony, the universe wouldn't just give her back to take her away again. In the long run, she had to be okay, didn't she? There was no other alternative for him.

He arrived at the Huntsquarters, hiding the Huntsmistress' face from the doorman. He didn't want rumours and such to go flying – Rose was on a need to know basis now. Still, he fired orders at the Clan member who was staring at him.

"Wake up Kyle. Send him down to the Sick Bay immediately."

Leaving the Clan member scrambling to do as he had asked, Nicholas jumped in the elevator, heading down to the Sick Bay. He hammered on Huntsdoctor Melinda's door as soon as he jumped off the elevator. The elderly woman peeked around the edge of the door.

"Huntsboy Nicholas," she greeted. "How may I help you?"

"We need you, immediately." Nicholas panted.

Her eyes flared at the panic in his voice. She stepped out her room immediately. "Lead the way," she instructed.

Nicholas curved into the private rooms of the Sick Bay – not the general quarters where there were several beds to a room. He lay Rose down on her own bed, her face showing to Melinda, and the doctor gasped.

"No," she breathed.

"Yes," Nicholas responded. "She needs help."

The Huntsdoctor nodded and immediately set to work.

Now that the Huntsmistress was laid out under bright lights like this, Nicholas could see how bad she truly looked. She had been out on the streets, in the height of winter, in such thin clothes for god knows how long. Her wrists were rubbed raw – probably from restraints. There were several wounds visible upon her face that Nicholas couldn't identify. As Melinda begin to remove the Huntsmistress' clothing, Nicholas' stomach churned more and more. She looked terrible. Whoever had hurt the Huntsmistress had been well versed in the art of torture.

He wondered how she had gotten away. He wondered if whoever had taken her would come after her.

He prayed she would be okay.

"Nicholas!"

Nicholas excused himself from Melinda's presence as he heard Kyle roar his name from out in the hallway. He slipped from the room and was met with his best friend, hands on his hip, irritated look on his dark features.

"I know you like getting up at the ass crack of dawn in the freezing to run but the rest of us don't enjoy your activities as much. Care to explain why Huntsboy Jason woke me up?"

Nicholas hesitated. "There's no words," he admitted.

"Then I'm going back to bed," Kyle snapped. "Seriously, you've been losing your mind lately!"

"Everyone has!" Nicholas shouted back. "You're not the same as you used to be either!"

Kyle simply stared at him, unable to deny the truth.

"But …" Nicholas said quietly, "But … I fixed it."

"Fixed what?"

Nicholas gestured for Kyle to follow him into the room. Kyle did so, but appeared a little reluctant about it.

Truthfully, Kyle had no idea what could be on the other side of the Sick Bay door. He just knew that it wouldn't be who he wanted it to be – the recently declared deceased Huntsmistress. But when Huntsdoctor Melinda shifted, that's exactly who Kyle saw lying on the bed. He reached out and gripped Nicholas' arm tightly but was unable to keep himself upright. He sunk down onto his knees, the tile floor chilling his legs.

"Where?"

"On my run," Nicholas responded. "I thought I saw a homeless woman but upon closer inspection, it was Rose."

"Is she going to be all right?" Kyle asked Melinda.

"All of her physical wounds should heal," the doctor replied. "She's been severely dehydrated and food deprived, and the torture … well, you can see the damage inflicted. But she'll live."

"H-have you called Jake yet?" Kyle asked.

"Want to do it together?" Nicholas offered.

"We'll be right back," they told Melinda in unison, wanting to give the doctor peace and quiet to work in.

They moved themselves into the next room and picked up the phone there. They set it on speaker and dialled Lao Shi's number – something they had not done since they had invited Lao Shi, Jake, and Fu to Rose's memorial.

For a long minute, Nicholas regretted pushing Kyle so hard toward that memorial. He knew that Kyle hadn't wanted to – not yet, not yet, not yet the other boy had kept saying – but Nicholas had wanted to rush for it, thinking that it might bring some closure to the open, aching wound that was their leader's absence. He should have known better; he should have loved her more.

"What?" Lao Shi demanded into the phone. He was not used to getting phone calls so early, when he was still enjoying his sleep, free from worry. And there was so much to worry about these days – how Jake was slipping away again, how the Council was further shutting down on any attempts that Nicholas and Kyle were making on behalf of the Huntsclan, and how much he himself was missing Rose – that Lao Shi treasured his sleep.

"Sorry to wake you," Nicholas apologized, "But there's been a new development in Rose's case."

Lao Shi sat up, trying to make himself completely alert. "Go on with it," he urged.

"We found her," Kyle blurted. "In bad condition but our doctor says that she'll live."

Lao Shi was rendered speechless.

"She's still unconscious," Nicholas continued, "and we don't know how long that will last, but you're welcome to come over as soon as you want to."

"I … Yes, we're coming."

"See you soon," Nicholas and Kyle said.

Lao Shi hung up on them. He ran from his bed, still dressed in his nightclothes and rushed down the hall to Jake's room. He hammered on the boy's bedroom door loud enough that Fu emerged from his own bedroom.

"What's going on?" the sleepy dog asked.

"JAKE!" Lao Shi bellowed. "I'm coming in."

When he entered the boy's room and flicked on the room, Jake was staring at him, dark eyes sleepy and unfocused.

"Jake," Lao Shi said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed and beckoning Fu to come sit next to him. He waited until the dog clambered up to speak, "They found Rose."

He saw the fear come into Jake's eyes.

"She's alive. The Huntsdoctor said that she will live."

Jake sat up, and Lao Shi answered the question that the boy wouldn't ask – wouldn't ask because he hadn't spoken in months.

"Yes, we'll leave as soon as we're all dressed."

Less than five minutes later, the two dragons departed the small building, Fu clutched in Gramps' claws. Jake pushed himself more than he ever had in training or in a fight. Rose was alive; Rose was lying on the Huntsclan. He wouldn't believe it until he saw it with his own eyes. He had spent far too long hurting over her absence, begging for her to return, to believe that she had just so casually fallen into their laps like this. Though he knew it was wrong not to trust Nicholas and Kyle (and by extension Rose herself) there was something about this situation that he didn't completely trust.

Still, when he landed at the Huntsquarters and Nicholas led them downstairs, his heart was hammering in his chest; he felt like he was going to faint. And when he walked into her room, and saw her lying there – bruised, scarred, broken – he thought that he was going to die. How dare anyone hurt her like this; how dare anyone make her bleed?

He crossed over to her bedside, gently rubbing her arm, trying to prompt her to wake up. He needed to hear her say, in her own words, in her own voice, that she was going to be all right. He needed to hear where she had been and why he had been unable to find her.

He needed to be able to tell her that he was sorry for failing her and that he still loved her.

I don't own anything recognizable.

~TLL~