"Put it down. Put it down and just leave."
The first time she spoke out of the blue, it startled Gunther badly.
He was sitting in a chair pulled up to her bedside when it happened. He'd been alternating between lying beside her on the bed, sitting beside her in the chair, and pacing the room like a caged animal. Other people came and went from her chamber, but to Gunther they may as well not have existed. Nothing and no one mattered but Jane.
When she spoke, it surprised him so much that if he had been lying on the bed he'd probably have fallen off. Her voice was clear, strong and authoritative.
"Jane?"
"You heard me," she said, as if in response to him. But she wasn't speaking to him. She wasn't speaking to anyone – not anyone in the room, at least. "Drop it, I said, and go. No one will pursue you, you have my word. Just leave."
He shifted from the chair to the edge of her bed. Brushed a few errant curls back from her forehead. Her eyes were closed. She was breathing quickly, shallowly. He didn't like it. "Jane."
"DO NOT!" She nearly shrieked the words, making him jump all over again. "This is your last warning, drop the bow right now! You will not hurt him, not while I have breath in my body! I will kill you if you try! Just LEAVE!"
"Oh, God, Jane." He understood now. She was still trying to protect him. Wherever it was that her delirium had taken her, she was still trying to protect him. It was almost more than he could stand. He didn't really have a chance to dwell on it though, as a second later she really was screaming.
"No! Gunther! Gunther, NO!" Her eyes flew open – those gorgeous, green eyes – and they were blazing. Her hand shot up and clenched in the fabric of his shirt. "Was I fast enough!?" she demanded frantically. "Say I was, say I was fast enough, PLEASE!"
"You were fast enough, Jane. Damn it to hell. I wish to God you were not. But you were."
She stared up at him for a moment longer, those remarkable eyes burning into him with desperate fierceness. And then she was gone again, just that fast, her eyes falling shut and her hand dropping back, to trail off the edge of the bed.
Gunther caught it up, twined his fingers through hers, and held it for a long, long time.
OOOOO
"You cannot tell him. Not ever. Swear it!"
"What?" Gunther spun around. He'd been standing at the room's single window, shutters thrown open, his forehead resting on the cool stone trim, staring sightlessly at the sky. Truth be told, he'd been more than a little checked out. Total physical and emotional exhaustion can do that to a person.
Her eyes were open and focused on him, but he didn't think she was actually seeing him. It was more like she was looking through him than at him.
He crossed the room and sank down beside her. "Jane, what –"
"Promise. You have to promise! Please! Swear it, swear not to tell!"
He had no idea what she was talking about, but whatever it was, she was completely distraught over it, and she shouldn't be exciting herself this way. So he murmured, "all right. Yes. I promise. Jane, I promise. Just rest n–"
"Swear it! Swear!"
"I swear, Jane. Stop worrying about it and rest. It is fine, I promise you. Rest."
She gulped in a deep, shuddery breath, released it in a long sigh, and let her eyes fall closed. "Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you. He cannot know. It would be different if he loved me back, but… I thought that maybe he… But he was just drunk. Just…"
And she was gone again, back into sleep or unconsciousness or whatever it was that had her in its grip. She didn't hear the agonized groan that was wrenched out of Gunther as understanding set in. He dropped his head into his hands and sat that way for a long time. Then he stretched out next to her on the bed, gathered her up against himself as close as he possibly could, and spent the next hour whispering "I love you" into her ear with every breath he took.