Obelix hadn't left Asterix's side since the incident.

Sure, Asterix was alive, and sure he was healing up just fine; but, in truth, Obelix was afraid to leave him. It wasn't that he was afraid his friend's health would plummet expectantly, or even that anything unfortunate would happen in the confines of Getafix's hut at all. No, that wasn't what he was worried about. What Obelix was worried about was Asterix's own stubbornness.

...

A day ago...

Asterix hated being stuck in bed. Hated it. He didn't like feeling helpless and weak. He disliked all the attention, though he did appreciate what the others had done to save him. But his mind was still uneasy. After all, just because Picanmix was back safely in the village didn't mean that everything was all right. Panacea was still out there; trapped in the grasp of a lunatic. He couldn't rest; not even now. Asterix might have been injured, but he wasn't going to let that stop him. He had a job to do. People were counting on him.

It was late morning, he could tell by the soft, warm light trickling in through the windows of Getafix's hut. It was the kind of morning that calls to you; making you want to go outside and breath in the richness of the coming day.

Asterix suddenly threw the covers off himself, sliding his legs over the side of the cot with a wince. Obelix, who had just started to drift off, sitting on a nearby bench, became alert at once. He stood up anxiously when he saw his friend struggling to get to his shaky feet, the look on Asterix's face clearly trying to hide just how much it hurt to move.

"Asterix, I really think you should stay in bed," Obelix warned, fiddling distractedly with his large fingers. He always seemed to forget that it would take close to nothing to snatch his friend up in his strong grasp and force him back to bed. But for some reason, the thought never entered his mind. Asterix shrugged him off gently. He wasn't going to let Commander Spacious think he was out of commission, just because of a little arrow.

"Obelix, I can't stay in bed; not with what's been happening. I need to get back out there, before things get worse. I've got to do something." The blond Gaul took a few tentative steps. It was his first attempt at any motion since he'd been shot. Though he had been regained consciousness the night before, much to everyone's relief. Getafix had told him then about his new discovery regarding the magic potion."Besides," Asterix muttered distractedly, "Getafix said that the potion is causing my wound to heal at a very fast rate. I'm fine."

"No, Asterix, you are not." The voice came from the back doorway, where a fairly unhappy Getafix stood, arms crossed and scowling. His glare almost made Asterix want to crawl under a rock somewhere. It was such a hard look;like the ones the druid used to give them when they were little, and had done something foolish. Asterix seriously began to wonder whether he had made an error in even trying to get up.

The little Gaul began pleading his case at once. "But Getafix, you yourself said that we have the magic potion in our blood. It strengthens us. I'm feeling much better already. There's no reas-"

"There's a perfectly good reason, actually," the druid interrupted, crossing over and taking his arm to escort his patient back to bed. "You were hit by an arrow. In the back. You lost a lot of blood. Therefore, you are suffering from blood loss." He took Asterix by his uninjured shoulder, gently, but forcefully, making him sit on the mattress. He looked into his friend's eyes with annoyance, but Asterix thought he caught a small glimmer of amusement in the druid's face. "And I did not say that the potion gives you strength, Asterix. I simply said that it appears to speed up the healing process. That doesn't automatically make you well."

"But Getafix-" His voice trailed off miserably.

The druid helped the small man back under the covers, taking note when Asterix tried to hide the pain the movement caused. He shook his head at his friend's downcast expression. "Asterix, what are we going to do with you? You think that every responsibility to protect us is yours."

"...Isn't it?"

Getafix smiled sadly. "In most cases it might be. You're our village warrior; it's your job." His smile faded. "But I don't think that job entails you hurting yourself further by pushing your limits."

"But-"

"Let us take care of the responsibility, Asterix. Just this once."

Asterix still didn't feel any better. He couldn't help thinking that he had no right to rest when Panacea's life, and the fate of the whole village was in danger. But Getafix was right. It wasn't like he was the only one who could find a solution to the problem. He wasn't that remarkable. The others were perfectly capable of coming up with something. And he was so very tired... Must be all the blood he lost, like Getafix had said. But Asterix, as much as he trusted his friends and believed in them, couldn't shake the uneasiness he felt about sitting back and letting them handle it alone. He didn't like not being in control. Which was why he hated this whole disaster. No matter how hard he tried; no matter how far he pushed himself, he just couldn't seem to get control of the situation. Everything was slowly spinning out of his control...or maybe it was just the room? Why was he suddenly so dizzy...?

"There, you see," Getafix grumbled, noticing the way Asterix had closed his eyes and pressed a hand to his head. "That's what happens when you try to get your body going before it's ready." He started his way back out of the room, heading for the way he had come in. "Now, I want you to get some rest. The sooner you do as I say, the sooner you'll heal. I'm going back outside to help Cacofonix. He's trying to stretch some usefulness back into his arms and legs. He's terribly tense after all the time he spent cooped up indoors." As he passed a still very agitated Obelix he commented, "Don't let him out of that bed, Obelix. He needs his rest. We don't want him hurting himself any more." And with that, the druid left.

And Obelix did watch Asterix. Because he was afraid.

...

Now...

Obelix watched his friend sleeping peacefully on the old cot in the corner. He was glad Asterix had finally fallen asleep. The little Gaul was getting the rest he had so badly needed, even before he'd been injured. He was very pale, almost white, but Getafix had assured Obelix that it was because of the amount of blood Asterix had lost, and that he would soon regain his normal color. That made Obelix feel a little bit better, but not much.

Asterix's chest rose and fell steadily; a blessing compared to the restless events of the night before. Asterix had definitely been having nightmares, of that Obelix was certain. The small Gaul had tossed and turned all night, sleeping shallowly, muttering and gasping then and again. But that hadn't been the worst part, at least in Obelix's eyes. The worst was whenever Asterix would cry out in pain, effectively jarring the bigger Gaul from his sleep. Asterix's constant irritation often led to him turning over onto his wound, prompting a sharp inhale and a weak shout. That was the worst thing for Obelix. It only reminded him of Asterix's shriek when he had been shot. When Obelix had been too far away to protect him.

The cries had awakened Getafix as well, and the druid was forced to leave his bed to try and calm his patient...and Obelix, who was so upset that he was almost in need of more comforting then Asterix. Getafix succeeded in both cases, getting both men situated for the night once more before heading back in the direction of his own bed. He had stopped by the opposite corner to check on Cacofonix as well.

The bard was in pretty good shape, considering what he'd been through. Most of his sick, pale look had left him, though he still wasn't completely healed. The druid surmised another few days before Cacofonix could officially be called cured. For now the bard was sleeping on an extra cot donated by one of the villagers, and Getafix was glad to see that Asterix's mutterings and cries had not awakened him.

Even now, in the early morning light coming through the windows, Cacofonix and Asterix slept silently, while Obelix sat; thinking.

Yes, Obelix was glad Asterix was resting, but he also half hoped his friend would wake up. The quiet was deafening, and the large Gaul found himself wishing for Asterix to sit up and tell him everything was alright. That the last several days had all just been a bad dream. That Asterix and Cacofonix had never been hurt. That Panacea wasn't being held captive...But it wasn't alright. Those things had happened; were happening. And now tomorrow marked the end of the week. Tomorrow was when everything would come to a head. Time was almost up.

And they still had no idea of what to do.

Suddenly Obelix was glad Asterix was still asleep. If Asterix knew how bad things were now, no matter what Obelix did, the large Gual was sure Asterix would refuse to stay in bed any longer. And Obelix didn't want to have to force him.

Oh, sure Vitalstitistix and the others had tried to come up with a plan. They had tried very hard, in fact. But every idea; every possible scenario, ended in losing someone, if not everyone to a tragic disaster. Food was almost nonexistent. They were starving. Their spirits were crushed beyond repair. Soporifix had become so stricken with grief he had all but shut down completely. There was no way out of this. Nothing could save them now...

"Mr. Obelix?" The voice was so small, Obelix almost missed hearing it. Turning in his seat, the biggest Gaul spotted Picanmix peeking shyly in through the druid's front door. "May...may I come in?"

It wasn't really his place to say, but Obelix knew that Getafix wouldn't mind. He nodded and the child made his way slowly into the hut.

Picanmix looked very nervous. He was wringing his hands, eyes wide and fixed on the still figure in the bed beside Obelix. "Is he...alright?" His voice shook audibly, and it was a wonder he could speak at all. In his voice Obelix detected more then just a hopeful question. It was more like a need. A need to know that Asterix was going to be alright. It was something Obelix hadn't expected to hear in that soft, little voice, and it caught his attention at once.

"Yeah," he found himself answering. "Getafix said he'll be fine."

There was a long, uncomfortable silence. They both just stood, or in Obelix's case, sat, staring at Asterix's still form. It was a moment or two before Picanmix spoke again. And when he did, Obelix felt his throat tighten painfully.

"I'm sorry. Th-this is all my fault..."

Those little words held so much remorse and pain, Obelix almost cried. They felt so familiar. They held the same emotions he had been feeling; steadily growing stronger. Grief. Anger. Sadness. But most of all, guilt. And even if Obelix couldn't forgive himself for letting Asterix get hurt, he wouldn't allow the same feeling to course through someone so young.

"It's not your fault, Picanmix."

"But it is!" the boy burst into tears. He rubbed his little fists into his eyes, softly pouring out his heart. "If I hadn't gone outside the gate; if I had just stayed here, Asterix wouldn't have been hurt!" He cried harder, not meeting the large Gaul's gaze.

Dogmatix, who up to this time had been sitting quietly beside his master, gave a gentle whine. Looking up at Obelix, he tried to sense the emotions that seemed to be crowding the air lately. Obelix still held that hint of intense anger; which still frightened the pup terribly. But that anger was overlayed with worry at the moment, dulling it. In fact, the feelings Dogmatix was sensing from his master were almost identical to those emanating from the child. Sadness. Self-blame. Fear.

Obelix watched Picanmix cry for a moment, unsure of what to do. He didn't know Picanmix as well as he knew some of the other villagers, and he wasn't all that used to dealing with kids, despite his almost child-like nature. Asterix was better at that. But he had a big heart, and he knew when someone was in need of comfort. It was one of his best qualities.

Getting up, the big Gaul stepped forward and enveloped the child in a gentle hug. There was a moment's delay before Picanmix latched onto him as though he though letting go would bring the sky crashing down on his head.

It's amazing what a hug can accomplish. Sometimes, when everything seems to be falling apart, and everything seems to be against us, the simple gesture can release all the tension; all the built up emotion and bottled-up despair. Sometimes it's all we need. Just that one thing. It might not get rid of the problem; not even a little. But, sometimes; somehow, it makes it all a little bit more bearable.

...

Outside, the villagers were just beginning to leave their huts for the morning. Not that they had anything to do. Even the simple routine of eating breakfast had been robbed from them. A feeling of doom hung in the air. A sense of inevitable destruction. One day was all they had left. One day...

Fullautomatix sat on a rock by the sea. It seemed so calm; so serene. So unlike their own aching hearts. He had always loved this side of the village. Caressing the water's shore. A window to freedom; to the world outside. But they didn't even have enough boats to make an escape. Not all of them, anyway. And they would never dream of leaving anyone behind. That included Panacea. If one went down...they'd all go down.

Fullautomatix sighed, looking up at the gulls that flew overhead. He had never felt so conflicted in his life. His mind felt jumbled and almost slow; sluggish. Like he couldn't think straight. Hopelessness has a way of doing that. Making everything seem meaningless. Empty.

A sudden sound made the blacksmith turn to look to his left. What he saw made him freeze. Not in terror; not really in anger or any other emotion. He just watched, unmoving. Shocked maybe.

He watched as a Roman, coughing and soaked from the ocean's salty waters, stumbled up onto the shore. He seemed to have swallowed a large amount of the stuff, hacking and sputtering as he finally made it up onto the sand. The Roman looked exhausted. But that wasn't too surprising, seeing as he had been struggling against the tide fully attired in armor; a major error on his part. Heavy metal and water don't mix. Not at all.

Fullautomatix snapped out of his strange shock, finally coming to life as he jumped up and raced toward the possible intruder. That was all they needed. More trouble. "Hey! You!"

Anxious looked up in surprise. He hadn't seen the Gaul; probably because he had been too occupied with trying to keep himself from drowning to notice him. Now he took in the heavily built man rushing toward him and gulped.

This was a risky move, and he knew it...

...

I am officially on CHRISTMAS BREAK! 32 days of beautiful, sweet freedom lay before me! I WILL finish this story now!

Here's another chapter. Let me know if it is easily follow-able and makes sense please, because I did a little time jumping back and forth. Just a little bit. Let me know if it isn't too confusing or anything. THANKS!