HAYTHAM

"How is she?"

It was Henry, stood in the hall as I descended the staircase.

I smiled. "She was awake...momentarily. I think that finding herself in such unusual circumstances was overwhelming. She went back to sleep."

"Poor mite," he sighed, biting his dry lip.

"Oh, she is no mite," I replied. "When I knew her she was strong. More courageous than most men, in fact. If only you would see her in that state."

What am I saying? I sound like an elder, reminiscing. That must've been the first time I'd ever pined for the past. Even as a child when my father died, I looked not back on the events that could've happened. I set my sights firmly on what would happen; what I'd make sure would happen. Back then I was certain. So something had changed.

It had to be Ziio.

How could her sleeping body stir up such a sadness? Now all I could think of was what could've happened if we remained. Perhaps she would never be in her critical condition. I would've protected her. I would've saved her sooner. But no; it wasn't out of love that I saved her. It was that I might never have to live with the guilt of not saving her. In other words, I had saved Ziio for my benefit. I didn't expect it to backfire.

But now, here she was: skinless like an onion and barely conscious. How was I to hide her for a whole month? She'd surely protest? When she had taken hold of her senses, how would she react to seeing me? Her last words to me were out of anger. Had that impression stayed?

I was about to find out.

By midday or thereabouts, I ascended the stairs again, bowl of essence in hand. I tiptoed across the grand hallway and knocked on the door. No answer. Not surprising, I thought. Ziio was most likely asleep.

The door creaked open at my touch. At a glance, everything was exactly as it was before. The rug was straight, the ornaments on the chest of drawers untouched, the small mirror in the corner completely spotless, the desk behind the door relatively clean. Ziio had not moved or touched anything, clearly. I edged closer, shutting the door behind me. Though her heavy breathing indicated that she was asleep, Ziio's eyes were slightly open. They blinked to their full intensity on seeing me.

I ignored her and placed the bowl on the table beside the bed. I heard her move in the bed; she sat up slowly. As I turned, her pupils widened. Her face was one of confusion and wonder. Again, it hardly surprised me. I would be terribly perplexed if I found myself in her situation.

"Hello again," I said softly.

"H-Haytham?" Her voice was lower than before. "Wha- what are you –"

"Ssh," I whispered. I pressed a finger to my lips. "I know exactly what you were to ask. What am I doing here."

She stared with her youthful brown eyes, dumbfounded.

"In answer to that, I'm here to help you."

"Wha-?" she sighed, shaking her head. Clearly this was hard for her to picture. "Where am I?"

"Somewhere safe," I replied. When I felt I could no longer bear her gaze, I busied myself dabbing some cloth into the essence.

"Somewhere safe," she repeated. I sensed a lot of doubt in her tone. I certainly didn't like it.

"How long have I been here?"

"About a day."

She tensed when I placed the damp cloth on her neck. It pained me to see her in such agony; it was the very last thing this courageous woman deserved. She showed no signs of pain. But I was a natural at reading her concealed feelings. Finally, as it appeared to stop stinging her, she relaxed.

"Why am I here?" she demanded harshly.

"No particular reason."

"So that's it," Ziio muttered, her voice darkening like her eyes. "No particular reason. So I was right. I have been kidnapped! So I am here that I might give you information. A subject! A target!"

I doubled backwards. What the hell was she on about? Was this a side effect of the concussion? The anger glinting in her eyes produced a lump in my throat. "What? Subject? Ziio, what are you saying?"

"You know what I speak of!" she snapped.

"I – I cannot say I do..."

"Don't feign ignorance, Haytham!" she snarled. "How do I get out of here?"

"I – Ziio, I'm not feigning ignorance. I know nothing. And there is no possible exit. You cannot walk."

She ignored me. "Where is Ratohnhaké:ton?"

"Who?" I spluttered.

"Where is he?" she cried. Her swift leg movement angered the blisters on her skin. "Ah!" she gasped.

"Ssh," I whispered, kneeling to dab the cloth in the bowl again. What had got into her? What – or who – was this Ratohnhaké:ton she spoke about? I shook my head and turned.

"Don't touch me. Please."

"Ziio, this ointment will ease the pain–"

"No pain is eased for me until I know that Ratohnhaké:ton is safe!"

"I don't know who this person is!" For the first time my voice sounded closer to a yell than a statement. Ziio froze; her rage disappeared. I stood still, my chest heaving. The stunned silence was enough for me to find sense again. "But if it helps you, I shall tell you what I know."

And so I told her how I'd been riding along the previous day and saw the smoke. I spoke about the boy, the valley, the village, finding her half-dead and – finally – about the doctor's words. At each sentence Ziio relaxed more and more; she sank back down in the bed. She remained silent through every part; even when I described in detail the most grizzly scenes. Despite this, I did notice her eyes flash when I mentioned the little boy being dragged away by another Mohawk.

"There," I said afterwards. "I know nothing more. Now, please explain to me why you were so vexed earlier."

She nodded, closing her eyes and rolling over to face the ceiling. "Very well. There is a lot more to the story...than you think."

"Oh?"

"But before I tell you, there is one thing you need to understand."

"What is it?" I asked.

Ziio breathed a deep sigh. She itched her head underneath her white bandage. When she pulled away, flakes of dry blood rested on her reddened fingertips. She looked at me inquiringly.

"Don't touch your head," I ordered. "That is a wound from when the building collapsed. It is what caused you to lose consciousness."

She shuddered, before turning to face me. Her tangled hair fell loosely across her face. It struck me suddenly that she was just as beautiful awake as she was asleep, even in her condition. That was the first time today I'd realised this. Yet it was only for a moment: I pinched myself away from this soft feeling immediately.

"All right," Ziio sighed, almost sleepily. "You were talking about the boy, yes?"

I nodded sheepishly.

"Well...that was Ratohnhaké:ton."

Oh. I was expecting something more dramatic than that. "I see."

"But there is more," Ziio put in. And, with one final look to the ceiling, she said the five words that I would least expect to hear. "Haytham...we have a son."

Ooh, another annoying mid-flow ending! Sorry, I like leaving you guys hanging. Mwahahahaha, what an evil person. *ahem*, yes I am perfectly fine, thank you! This would be a good opportunity to say thank you for the (already!) huge amount of support this story has received! I'm absolutely AMAZED by the feedback and responses to Everbound! Means an awful lot! So thank you. Love you guys!

:)