The Fateful Heart 2

Evaline headed towards the river, taking some time to find a spot where no one was around. It took a bit of time to wind around where people were not chatting or within her vision, but she kept walking around the riverbend until she settled on a quiet spot without people in her vicinity. It seemed to be around other tents and huts with other people sleeping.

Giving one last glance around, she bent down next to the river and set the saddlebag next to her. James's shirt was the highest priority item to wash since questions would be raised if there were blood stains on it, so she took that out first and dunked it into the river. Dark red trails pooled around the water, but it was carried downstream to be forgotten.

It helped that the water was cold, so the blood seemed to come out easier. However, it still left behind a tint of a stain that still undeniably looked of blood origins, so she took out the bar of soap and aggressively began to clean it. It took quite some time, but eventually all of it was removed, and she hung it up on the nearby clothesline.

She repeated this process with all the bloodied clothes and rags, and it was getting harder and harder to clean up as more time passed. It was hard to tell for sure, but to get every sign of stains out, it seemed to take about an hour.

Evaline hung up the last rag and sighed in relief, turning to gather the saddlebag and head back to James. Hopefully the tourniquet had worked and his wound had stopped bleeding, but maybe he needed some more time.

As she bent down to gather her things, she heard a voice behind her.

"Doing laundry at night?"

Evaline whirled around and saw Liana standing next to the clothesline, arms crossed. If she hadn't have had previous conversations with her in the past, she'd have thought she was suspicious. But Liana seemed to be permanently suspicious and edgy with everyone.

"Yeah, Yoen is sick," she replied casually, deciding to stick with the story everyone knew. She figured she caught wind of the story of James retching by the tree. "He vomitted on his clothes and on rags, and I cleaned it out before it could dry."

"That sounds... gross," Liana said a grimace. "But understandable." Her gaze then shifted to James's borrowed shirt that was hanged and lightly swaying in the breeze.

"Glad you cleaned it up since these are our clothes," she mumbled, but Evaline wasn't exactly sure how to respond to that.

"Yeah. That should be everything." She then stood up, ready to head back to the tent. "Well, I'm off now. Have a good night."

"Let me know if you both need anything, though," Liana quickly blurted out before Evaline got away. "I mean, you know. Since he's sick. He probably needs a new shirt."

Evaline turned around, offering a strained smile. "That would be nice. Maybe tomorrow morning. I can let you know."

Liana nodded, stiffly standing. "Alright. Well, I hope you don't catch what he has. Sleep well."

Evaline started back down the path, glancing over her shoulder every once in a while to make sure Liana or anyone else wasn't following. That was close. Liana could have seen her washing blood. She was glad to have finished when she did.

With one final sigh, she stood in front of the tent, mentally bracing herself. She did notice that the note she left was not on the flap, but she didn't think anything of it. She opened the flap and walked in, and was about to open her mouth to say she was back and everything went fine, but then froze when she realized there was someone else in the tent.

It was Edna.

Edna was sitting at James's side, holding a damp cloth over his forehead, and James didn't look like he was fully conscious, if at all. Edna's head slowly turned around, and she looked up at Evaline. Her expression was a mix of concern and suspicion - but it was a little hard to read.

"He knows how to hide it well, doesn't he?" she asked.

It took Evaline a few moments to respond with anything except as expression of shock and panic. She didn't want this. He didn't want this. How was she supposed to explain this? His chest was open and exposed, and this was the last thing he -- they -- needed. Having to explain.

"I, um... I..." she began, but the words were lost, and she was desperate to think of something that was believable. Nothing came to mind. Being sick couldn't explain this.

"He's lost a lot of blood," Edna said. "It was smart of you to make the touriquet with the belt. How long has it been on there?"

Evaline stared at her for a second, then slowly put the saddlebag down. She felt her heart rate increasing, pounding against her ears in the silence. She decided to ignore it.

"...About an hour," she answered quietly, kneeling on the other side of James across from her, not able to meet her eyes.

Edna nodded slowly, seemingly in thought. Her gaze drifted down to the belt around James's chest. "He's breathing pretty shallow, but he's still there. Do you know how long he was bleeding for?"

Evaline still didn't have a believable answer that would explain all of this without outright telling the truth. She had told James that she didn't like it when he slipped into being someone he was not, but for a moment, she wished she could do that. It was hard to think on the spot for someone else.

"At least for two hours," she said meekly, her mind scrambling to think of a story in case she asked how he got this wound and the others.

Edna hummed. "Alright. Well, the bleeding should have stopped now. I'm assuming he needs stitches?"

Evaline nodded. "That's what I'm thinking. I wouldn't want it to reopen."

"Well, I'm a doctor, and I'd like to stitch it. You can help me keep him calm. He's been in an out for a while. Keeps saying 'Eve.'"

Evaline bit her lip and looked up at James's face, noting his distressed expression and his closed eyes. She wanted to comfort him, especially if he really was calling out for her. But at the same time, she wished he was awake so that he could consent and answer to this. She didn't want to upset him again after she took control of his health.

There were mixed feelings about this. On one hand, Evaline wasn't very good at stitching up wounds, and she couldn't guarantee that she could do a good job of it. If Edna truly was a doctor, it would be in James's best interest for her to do it. On the other hand, she knew James wouldn't want someone he didn't know well to have their hands on his body.

But it was too late to do damage control. Edna had seen everything. She wasn't nosy now, but whether she helped stitch him or not, she'd still have the same questions. Saying no to her offer would not do anything except harm James's health.

"Okay," she finally said quietly after too long of a silence. "I can do that."

She would have ordinarily asked if Edna had the supplies and if she needed help to get things ready, but guilt set in. Before he found out that it wasn't her who was doing the stitches, she wanted to let James know that she was here and it will be okay.

"Hey," she said softly, leaning in towards his face. She pulled his hair back out of his face so it wouldn't be drenched with the sweat of wet towel over his forehead.

"I'm here. It'll be okay. It might hurt a little, but it'll be okay."

She looked down and reached for his free hand, not trying to forcefully grab it, just setting her fingers on top of his hand in case he wanted to hold it.

James's fingers twitched, like he was trying to move, but not fully awake to. Evaline decided to give him a small gentle squeeze.

"You're sick, and you're bleeding, and I know it's hard, but I'm here, and it'll be okay. You'll be okay."

She honestly wasn't sure if she was convincing herself or James. She brushed his sweaty hairs back again and then gave a nervous glance back at Edna, who was readying her tools.

"If he looks like he's going to move, I may need help keeping him still. I doubt that he'll have much fight in him in this state, but if he's anything like my late husband, he just might," she said as she started threading a needle.

Evaline nodded, deciding to not respond and let Edna fill the silence if she desired. She looked back at James, inching closer so that she was near his head, but not letting the touch of her hand go.

She knew he felt sorry for himself a lot. She wondered if he would be okay knowing she felt sorry for him right now, but not out of pity. It was deeper than that. It felt like she shared his burden.

She turned his hand around and decided to hold it, lifting his hand up so that it was perched on her knees.

Edna uncinched the belt, loosing the tourniquet. James let out what sounded like a pained wheeze, and his head turned to the side. Edna kept working, pulling the belt out from under him and clearing away the cloths Evaline had stacked up over the wound. The wound looked like it had fully reopened, but the bleeding had finally stopped. The skin around it looked pale and colorless, and Edna quickly turned around to the small table, washing her hands in the basin with a small amount of soap. She dried them on a clean towel and rushed back to James's side, picking up the needle and thread again.

"When did he get this?" she asked, setting a hand carefully on James's chest just beside the wound. She poked the needle in at the bottom, tying a knot. "It looks like he needed stitches days ago."

James's eyes opened halfway, and he took in a sharp breath.

"Don't wriggle around," Edna scolded, but James started shifting his shoulders anyway, like he was trying to (slowly) get up.

Evaline let go of his hand and leaned in, almost like a hug while he laid down and she hovered over him. She placed her hands on his shoulders and hovered her head next to his all the while trying not to apply pressure on his chest.

"Hey, it's okay," she whispered in his ear. "I know it's a little uncomfortable, but I need you to stay still just for a few minutes. Can you do that?"

"Oliv--..." he whispered out. "Back... again..."

"No," she whispered. Then in quieter whisper so that Edna wouldn't hear him and nearly brushing her lips against his ear, said, "Evaline. It's Evaline."

James was quiet for a moment, but then she could feel his shoulders relax a little, and he took in another shaky breath.

Edna was still stitching.

"When did he get this?" she asked again.

"It'll be okay," Evaline whispered again in his ear, giving his shoulder a small squeeze. "I wouldn't let anything bad happen to you. It's okay."

She then pulled away so she wasn't close to his ear, giving a side glance to Edna.

"About a week ago," she answered. "The wound reopened today." She sighed, bracing for the next question.

"You're lucky it's not infected," Edna muttered. "It's not pretty."

Some of this felt like Evaline's fault. She helped patch him up when he first got the cut, but she hadn't asked him how it was going. If it was still bleeding, if it looked like it was healing, and so on. She had just assumed. She assumed many things about James, and neither of them were communicating. She should have communicated better.

If she had done that, she could have attempted stitches days ago, and he wouldn't be in this much pain, and Edna wouldn't have gotten involved.

She still wasn't sure if she could completely dig herself out of this hole. She was just glad Edna didn't ask many questions right away, but like any other curious person, she knew she would eventually.

"I know," was all Evaline solemnly said as she looked down and watched James, still looking strained like he was fighting an internal battle.

Edna was stitching at a steady pace, occasionally glancing up at both of their faces, but for the most part, keeping her eyes on what she was doing.

"I don't want to assume how he got it..." she finally said slowly, about halfway through sewing him up. "But it looks like a dagger wound. Probably a curved blade. And I think it's safe to say it's not from you."

Evaline didn't want to tell her more information than necessary, but Edna was smart and insightful. It was better to add on to her own assumptions. She remembered that James told Kurt about the thieves, so it didn't hurt if she let Edna know too.

"You're right. We ran into some thieves a week ago," she said.

Edna paused, just for a moment, and let her eyes travel up and down James's bandaged body before she looked up at Evaline.

"Thieves," she repeated. "With a lot of time."

Then she looked back down and kept stitching.

Evaline felt her hands clamming up trying to think of a reasonable story. Something told her that whatever she came up with, Edna would see through her lies. She hadn't prepared for this. She wasn't good at coming up with elaborate stories on the spot, especially if it involved someone else in some world she wasn't as familiar with.

"It's a dangerous place out here," she said quietly.

"I know that very well," Edna said. Suspicion seemed to fade to what sounded like empathy and understanding. "It's a hard life, out here in the outlands. There's a lot of desperate people, and a lot of people who just forgot what it's like to be human. But there is some good in it all... it looks like you two found that. In each other."

Evaline eyes softened as she was still looking down watching James, trying to see if she could gauge a reaction out of him. He didn't seem to be responsive or aware.

"We did," she said softly. "We are there for each other, through the good and the bad."

It wasn't a lie.

Edna nodded slowly, still focused on stitching.

"You know, I met my husband out here in the outlands, many years ago. His name was John, and we were both in a bit of a rough spot when we found each other. Goblins had overrun my home village, and I only had myself and the few things I could grab before I ran. And John... well, he was wanted. For petty crimes, really. Things he regretted, and wished he could take back. Sometimes we have to learn those kinds of lessons the hard way."

She was reaching the end of the wound, and sewing the last stitch.

"He was a good man. Always acting stronger than he needed to be, always looking out for me. Kind. Gentle, with me, anyways. Soft-spoken. Your Yoen kind of reminds me of him..."

Her sentence trailed off as she diverted her focus to tying off the last stitch.

James seemed to stir as Edna tied the last knot.

Evaline hesitated, glancing back at Edna and wondering what she was trying to allude to. Was this her way of asking if James was a wanted man too? Or did she just want to share? If she were to think of something else, would it even be believable?

How else could either of them explain the sheet number of wounds he had? How else could either of them explain away how intentional and torturous it looked?

She wondered if Edna would be whistleblower if she said James was wanted too.

"Can't--" James started interjecting, but his eyes were closed again. "Get away with this."

Evaline leaned back just a little, still watching James with a grim expression.

"They seem to have a lot in common," she finally said.

She hoped Edna would pick up the implications of that statement and not press for details.

"I assume..." Edna said as she started putting the needle and thread away. "Yoen's not his real name."

Evaline really disliked that she had to be one to say this. But unless James was referencing his own thoughts in his head, he seemed to give her the okay. She just had to be smart about it.

"It's not," she finally admitted, turning to look down at the stitches. They were well-done and better than what she could have put together. "But I am afraid to tell you his real name. I don't want the assumptions you may have heard about him to wash away real image of him."

Edna sighed and sat up straight, looking Evaline in the eyes.

"Evelyn, my only concern is if you two are a threat to me, my family, and everyone in the oasis. I don't plan on turning anyone in if you don't plan on being any trouble to us. I just want to know what I'm dealing with here, but unlike some people in this oasis, you can trust me to keep a secret. My husband was a wanted criminal. I know how to keep my mouth shut."

Evaline watched and listened to her intently, trying not to interrupt and blurt out that causing trouble was the last thing either of them wanted.

"We would never hurt anyone here," she said slowly, carefully. "I promise you, we are not a threat. We owe you for saving us, and we would rather repay you in some way than even think about taking advantage of anyone here."

The words came out fast but serious, and Evaline stopped herself before getting too ahead of herself. She sighed.

"I know this has raised many questions about us. And I am grateful you understand. I'd -- the both of us would be grateful if you didn't tell anyone. We can leave first thing tomorrow, and we won't cause any trouble. We're just passing through and traveling north, that's all."

Edna's eyes widened, and she leaned forward over James towards Evaline in earnest.

"Tomorrow?!" she said in a hushed whisper. "By gods, Evelyn, no. Your husband's got a fever and I don't even know what else is under the rest of those bandages. I don't even want to move him in this state. He needs rest, not another week of starvation or whatever you two went through before we found you."

Evaline slowly blinked, not expecting such an emotional response.

"I..." she began with a frazzled mind, then pushed aside all her personal worries. This was about them, not her or James.

"We can't stay too long," she said more gently. "With wanted criminals, as you know... There are bounties. We wouldn't want to stay in a place too long because of that. They move fast."

"Well you at least need to stay long enough for him to be functional," Edna said sternly. "And I don't mean whatever he was doing yesterday, trying to walk that off." She waved her hands in gesture to James's recently stitched wound. "I know sometimes you have to, but sometimes your body just needs rest."

Edna was being logical, and it confused the two sides of her divided mind. But there was no time ot point to argue about it.

"Well... we can play it day-by-day," she said, turning to gaze at James again. His eyes were fluttering open again, but they looked unfocused.

If James really was coming down with a fever, they would have to stop and rest somewhere until it passed. It was better to do it here, safe and hidden from view with resources rather than somewhere they could be attacked any time of the day or night.

"...Thank you," she added to Edna.

"Of course, dear," Edna said. "If I'd known he was suffering so, I would've done something sooner." She looked down at James with her face painted with concern, and then she looked up at Evaline.

"You're not hurt, dear, are you?" she asked.

Evaline quickly shook her head. "No. No, I'm fine. Thank you for asking though."

Edna nodded slowly and sighed, scanning James again.

"I know it looks like you've had a lot of injures to worry about. Do you know if any others are in need of care?" she asked.

Evaline gazed down at his bicep on the same side of the wound Edna stitched up. There was a deep c-shaped cut that was bandaged heavily. Maybe Edna picked up on that and this was her way of asking for permission.

Evaline was not a doctor, and neither was James. He could really use the care, even if he didn't want others to take care of him.

Deciding to not overthink it, she placed her hand on his elbow under the bandages of the c-shaped wound.

"This one might its stitches redone," she said, moving to his side and picked up the edge of the bandage to begin to unwrap it. She looked up at James to see if he had a reaction. He was looking up at her, but his eyes were still glazed over, and it was hard to tell if he knew what was going on.

There was so much pain and suffering all because they didn't have the supplies, resources, experience, and communication to fix up the wound before it reopened. Although he was in no state to consent to having Edna look at a more serious wound, she would rather suffer through the emotional distance than have him potentially repeat this again.

She gently began to unwrap the bandages, removing the gauze and setting everything on a pile away from the bed. The wound didn't look as bad, but it still looked sickly and tender to the touch.

Evaline wordlessly peered up at Edna, not wanting to explain anything, and hoping she would also wordlessly understand.

Edna's expression looked grim, but full of compassion. Her eyebrows were knit tightly together, and she gingerly lifted James's arm with both hands, leaning in a little to get a better look at the wound in the dim light.

"Some of the stitching has pulled apart," she said solemnly. It looked like she wanted to say something more, as she briefly looked up at Evaline and met her eyes, but she turned around to pick up the stitching supplies again.

Evaline moved out of her way, giving Edna a nod. "Thank you for doing this," she said, deciding to shut down the topic before it could evolve into anything else.

She sat down on the other side of him, leaning in close again with the same almost-hug position to help steady him. He was panicked enough with the wound from the thief, but this one would cause more pain. More memories. She knew he was going to relive the trauma, and she wanted to not only be there for him, but also stop him from doing anything rash while Edna fixed up the stitches.

Edna nodded as she came around to James's arm, and pulled out a pair of scissors and tweezers. She started snipping, pulling out the old stitches.

"I'm sorry," Evaline whispered in his ear. "I'll make it up to you."

Only a few stitches were undone when James's eyes snapped open again, looking frantic. Edna seemed to yank her hands and the sharp instruments away on reflex, and James pushed up against Evaline, but he didn't seem strong enough to break free from her hug. He flopped back down onto the bed, starting to breathe hard and fast.

Evaline kept her grip steady, but she leaned back a little to give Edna a glance. She seemed like she had braced for this, but she gave her a little nod and then turned back towards James.

"Hey, it's okay," she said gently in his ear.

She remembered the memory he had accidentally shared with her. She remembered how traumatic and painful it was. No amount of assuring words would make that okay if every small touch brought him back to that time.

"We met three years ago," she continued on, settling on a story instead to distract him. "Married only a year ago. You asked me to marry you during the sunset because you know that's my favorite time of day. We were alone, just the two of us, because we both don't like public scenes. And I wouldn't have it any other way."

James's breathing started to slow down, just a little. He stared up at the ceiling of the tent, like his eyes were fixed on the light of the lamp, and his hand reached up, gently finding her arm.

She kept going. "We lived in a small cottage in Lettera. It's near a lake, and we had a small farm. It's just for us, the farm. We grew all sorts of vegetables, and even though I've learned not to mind it, you decided to also be a vegetarian. You were almost borderline obsessed with drying our produce so that we could be self-sufficient in winters and not go to towns for food. You've always been that way. Independent, not wanting outside help."

James's fingers wrapped around the back of her arm, and he closed his eyes.

"You wanted to leave all that behind because you didn't like how I left things with my parents. I've gotten along with your mom and your sister, and you wanted to share the same experience, but with my family. As the selfless and patient man that you are, you decided to leave your dream home behind to go to Ruddlan. To find a new life. Because my happiness is your happiness."

Tears started to prick at the corner of James's eyes, but Evaline tried not to pay attention to it, trying to not leave any silences and continue on with the story while Edna kept stitching.

"And it's been three months now since we've left from Lettera to travel to Ruddlan. We've come across our fair share of troubles. We've played silly games to pass the time, like confessing two truths and a lie. We've come across bounty hunters, but we managed to escape. We've come across various camps and monsters, and this past week, we starved and saw a side of each other we have never seen before. Despite being together for three years, we still learn new things about each other everyday. And it's like what you said: you never fully get to know a person. Even after three years. Even after three months."

Edna pulled away after snipping off the last of the new stitches, and Evaline could hear her sniff.

Evaline hesitated after finishing her sentence, deciding to end the story here since Edna was finished. She slowly pulled away, but James's hand lingered on her arm. She paused and decided to not pull away too far, but just enough to lift her head and finally meet his face. She hadn't disassociated like James had a habit of doing, but she didn't want to reveal the face under the mask, and she looked up at him with concerned eyes.

James's eyes were teary, and big, fat tears rolled down the sides of his face as he stared up at her. He met her eyes for just a moment, and then it looked like his eyes traveled around her face, before eventually landing on her lips.

For a second, Evaline's mask began to slip, and then she touched his hand on her arm and gently slid it off her as she pulled away, shifting her attention back to Edna.

She felt her chest become heavy, like it was full of water. It felt like she was drowning.

"Is he..." she said, but she had to take another deep breath as she turned away from James and looked at the fresh stitches. "Is it done?"

Edna nodded. It looked like she was wiping her hands on a cloth.

"Is that all?" Edna asked. "That needs stitching?"

"That's it," she whispered. She kept staring at the fresh stitches, unable to face either of them.

"He still has a fever," Edna said. "I don't know how long it will take for it to break, but I can keep checking in on him - I can come back in the morning. I did leave the tea for him on the table, which might help a little at least to soothe any symptoms, if he can stomach it. I'll keep the others away from your tent, too. At least, until you get him covered up."

Evaline nodded. "Thank you," she said as she moved to help her clean up. She balled up all the used bandages and the bloodied items. "For everything."

"Of course, dear," Edna said, getting to her feet. "Make sure he gets rest. If he tries getting up tell him he's not allowed. Doctor's orders."

"Will do," Evaline still said with a solemn face, the humor in Edna's words going right over her head. She extended her arm for her to take the items to wash or throw out, because frankly, she didn't know what to do with it, and she felt too lightheaded to figure an alternative.

Edna took them and nodded her head.

"I'll take care of this. Don't worry your head about it. Just get you both some rest, now. You've had a long day, dear," Edna said. She offered a smile before turning to leave the tent.

She paused, just before pulling the tent's flap away.

"And if you need anything, my hut's the one with the red door. Okay?"

Evaline nodded, finally looking up at Edna. She seemed sincere, like she really wanted the best for both of them.

"Okay," she repeated. "Thank you again."

Edna smiled. "It's my pleasure."

And with that, she left, leaving just the two of them in the tent.

Evaline took a big, deep breath in, and then let it out, not bothering to hide the anxiety behind the breaths. She bit her lip again and then turned a round, kneeling down on the spot besides James with his arm that Edna recently stitched up.

"I'm going to bandage this up," she announced, setting the supplies beside her.

"Doctor?" James said, squinting up at her.

She hesitated, unrolling the fresh roll of bandages that Edna left behind. They were thicker and better quality than the ones they had been using.

"It's Evaline," she said softly.

"Eve..." was his only reply.

"That's right," she said softly with a shaky voice, and she bit her lip again.

A few moments passed as she opened the salve and swirled it to mix the contents.

"This might sting a little." With her the salve on her fingertips, she started to lightly draw small circles on top of the stitches.

James seemed to drift back out of consciousness again, closing his eyes and leaning his head to the side.

Evaline silently applied the salve on both wounds. When finished, she closed the container and then took out gauze to place on top of the wound. After that, she began to wrap the bandages around his arm with at least two layers, and then tied it off snugly. She started to unfurl the bandages again, this time eyeing his chest. He needed to sit up to patch him up.

"I'll need you to sit up so that I can..." she began to ask, but as her eyes started to drift up to his face, she noticed that he looked very sweaty, like one would look after a long run.

Edna's words finally rung in her ears. He has a fever.

Evaline lifted her hand and put it up to his forehead. He was hot to the touch.

"You have a fever," she said softly, mostly to herself. He was more than in pain. He was genuinely sick.

He probably wouldn't remember this night. He didn't seem to be in the capacity to mean the things he said or did.

"I'm sorry," she blurted out, and for whatever reason, she felt relieved, even though James being sick was the last thing that should have made her felt relieved. "Let me get you a cold wet towel."

She got up and and took one of the few remaining rags in the tent, soaking it in the basin of water and then returning to James so she could place it over his forehead. Just something to make him feel more comfortable.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, even though she wasn't expecting a normal, reasonable answer. The folded rag draped over his forehead, and she brushed his hair out of his face with her fingers.

"We... not trapped?" he asked. It sounded like putting together words was hard for him. Like he was talking while half-asleep. "Oliver... just you?"

Evaline had heard James mention Oliver before, and she figured he was someone in his personal life, but she hadn't ever pieced together who he was until today when James accidentally shared the memory. Oliver was someone involved in torturing him.

"No," she said gently. "It's Evaline. It's just me. You're not trapped. We're safe." She continued to brush his hair out of his face, although she was starting to realize she was doing that to distract herself.

James tilted his head back a little, like he was following the movement of her hand. He opened his eyes again, halfway, and looked in her general direction.

"I fell over," he said. That was over an hour ago.

"I know," Evaline said calmly. "It's okay."

She pulled away, eyeing the exposed wound still needing to be bandaged. She didn't want James to heedlessly scratch or pick at the wounds while he was asleep, or when he was conscious in this state.

"A woman was here," he stated, sounding confused, like he was trying to piece it together.

"Edna," she answered for him. "She was here and helped take care of you."

She looked up at him, hand on his shoulder. "Can you sit up for me, just for a minute? Can you do that?" she asked, patience in her voice.

James nodded ever-so-slightly and braced his arms at his sides before pushing himself up. The arm Edna had recently stitched up faltered and bent, seemingly out of his control. He tilted to the side.

Evaline tried to grab him, but was too slow. It was careless of her to assume he could do this without extra help considering he was freshly stitched-up and sick.

"It's okay, it's okay," she assured him as she set her arm around his back, but once again, she was wondering is she was trying to convince James or herself.

She wrapped her arm across his shoulders, letting him use her for support and roll to a sitting position. By the time he was able to sit, she was on her knees, letting him use her as a wall to lean back on for support.

She reached for the bandages over to the side, barely able to grab it in this position.

"I'm going to wrap you up," she gently announced, nesting her head on his shoulder as she wriggled the bandage across his back and around his chest.

"To hide it," James whispered.

"Not just that. It's to protect it and also help you heal," she said back, continually wrapping it around his body, although it took some shuffling since she was also propping him up.

"I'm sorry," James whispered again. "Not... strong enough."

Evaline didn't shift her attention away from the job at hand here, but she found herself smiling sadly. "I think you're one of the strongest people I know," she said.

James was quiet for a moment, and then spoke, barely audible.

"So are you."

She glanced at him for a moment, not sure how to respond to that. He said it so softly, she almost wanted him to repeat it to make sure she heard that right, but then decided against it.

"I'm almost done," she said, switching subjects as she moved to put on one more bandage layer across his chest. "After this, lets get you some rest. But only after you drink and eat. Okay?"

"I can't eat," he mumbled. "Just throw it all up again."

"What about a small meal?" she asked, settling for a compromise.

"Okay," James said softly.

"Good," Evaline said as she finished wrapping. She tied it off with a knot and then brought her arms back towards her. She was still holding on to James's back, but she couldn't get up without having him fall over. She searched around her, but the only thing that was reachable were blankets and pillows, which seemed like a reasonable option anyways. Still trying to balance James, she started to pile them behind her and then propped him against it.

"Comfy?" she asked James, but then pulled away and walked towards the tea Edna left behind. She also left a loaf of bread, butter, and jam.

"I haven't slept on a bed in..." James said, but didn't seem to finish his sentence.

"A month," she answered for him. "We did at mage camp, but this bed is thicker and more comfortable." She grabbed the bread and spread some of the better on it with the knife.

"I only had... blanket," James started to say. "Jared pinned me down."

She stopped spreading for a moment, glancing back at him. He seemed to be in a daze. She wondered if anything he was saying held any merit.

Although, he did say Nathan had accidentally found all the wounds, and he helped heal one of them. She just never asked how it happened.

"Why did he pin you down?" she asked, finishing up spreading the butter on the bread.

"They wanted to see," he said, his voice sounding defeated. And sad. "They thought it was something small. Not all of..."

He didn't finish.

The story seemed to check out with what she knew. If that was the case, she wondered why he didn't choose a more serious wound. She knew that Nathan had healed a wound on his arm. There was a healed scar there, but she knew it wasn't a bad wound to begin with. Why didn't he pick the c-shaped scar, or one across his chest?

"He got tired," James said. "After one." His voice cracked on the last word.

Evaline walked over to him with the bread, sitting next to him and tearing off it in half so it'd be easier to eat.

"Did he pick to heal that wound?" she asked, handing him the first piece of bread.

James took it, and held it gingerly in front of him. "I was afraid," he whispered. "I wanted it to be over. I wanted them to stop."

"It's okay," she said, sensing his anxiety. "It's okay to be afraid." Her gaze wandered in front of her, wondering if she believed her own advice.

James lifted the bread to his mouth with a sloth-like speed, and he missed his mouth at first, hitting just below his nose. On his second try, he got it in his mouth, and he took a bite, chewing with some jam now stuck in his mustache.

"Tell that... to Butch," he said, muffled through chews.

"Butch isn't here," she said matter-of-factly, finding some lint on her pants and then flicking it across the room. "He doesn't and shouldn't control how you think."

James took another bite. Somehow, his coordination continued to be poor. He got more jam around his mouth, this time under his lower lip.

"He said a lot of things..." James said through a mouthful.

"I hope you didn't believe any of it," she murmured, still staring ahead and lost in her thoughts. It was rare for James to talk so openly about Butch, but he seemed to barely be active in this conversation... if this could even be called a conversation. Naturally, her mind wandered to pressing matters, mostly on what she was going to do tomorrow and all the other days while he was sick.

"I think about it," James said without prompting. "When I get in the saddle, and my arm hurts. When I sit back, and my back burns. I keep hearing them tell me that I deserve it."

Suddenly the conversation took a serious turn, and Evaline turned to face him. She tried to show that she seriously cared and empathized with him, but it was hard to take him seriously with jam all over his face. She felt guilty for having to suppress a snort.

"Even... Carter..." he said, staring ahead blankly. "Always told me I deserved it."

The name seemed to hang in the air, and Evaline wasn't sure what to do about it. He hadn't been able to say his name before, but now he said it almost carelessly.

Would it be bad to prod?

"They're wrong," she said, setting her arm on his shoulder. "You don't deserve this. You don't deserve any of this."

James looked down at the bread in his hands. "I brought it on myself," he said quietly, resting the bread against his lips.

She wasn't sure what to say. She wasn't prepared for this, and she wasn't sure if there even were words to make him feel better. Of course, she was curious, but it didn't feel right to manipulate him. Not in this state, not in any state.

"You only deserve happiness, James," she settled on instead.

James took another bite of the bread. This time, he didn't talk while he chewed.

"Your happiness... is my happiness," he said. "That's what you said."

Evaline felt her cheeks burn a little. She didn't know how much of that fabricated story he remembered.

"That's... right," she said softly.

"Then all I want... is you happy," he said, tilting his head to look at her.

She was only able to meet his eyes for a brief second before she looked away in panic. She felt the anxiety return, feeling more intense than usual.

"Well," she said heavily, staring intensely across from her. "I'm pretty happy now. So I guess that means you should be happy too."

James kept his toast in one hand, and reached out with the other to find her hand. His fingers were a little sticky, but it was a strangely a welcoming kind of sticky. Not blood. Just innocent jam. She stared down at it as he slowly intertwined his fingers with hers, like the movement was deliberate and took effort.

"Your happiness, is my happiness," he repeated. "I like that."

Maybe it was his unexpected forwardness, or maybe it was because she knew James was in a delirious state, or maybe it was a combination of both. Whatever the reason, she found herself unable to restrain the thought in her head.

"What if I don't know?" she asked, feeling the heat crawl to her face. And it wasn't out of embarrassment. "What if I don't know if I'm happy or not? How could you ever be happy?"

James looked at her, and though his expression was sleepy, and his eyes still unfocused, there seemed to be the hint of a gentle and tender smile. He lifted her hand to his lips, and rested her knuckles against them.

"I would make it my life's aim to be... that one day you could be sure."

Evaline watched as he lifted his hand to his lips and said those soft words that didn't fully register at first. And then it did, all at once. And so did all the other words she had chosen to ignore these past three months. They all seemed to run in her mind, all spoken at the same time, and she wasn't able to silence it.

She loosened her grip in his hand like she wanted to let go, but she didn't. She didn't let go.

"What if..." she began in a shaky voice, choosing to stare past their hands intertwined by his lips and instead by the jam on his face. Something silly to distract the heaviness of this conversation.

"What if I don't want to be happy?"

"Then I would be happy... to be unhappy together," he whispered, still holding their hands to his mouth.

She shook her head, closing her eyes.

"No," she said firmly. "That's dysfunctional."

"I cannot force you to be happy," he said softly. "And I do not want to. But I do want you to be happy."

Evaline took a steady breath out, turning her head to face forward again. She couldn't imagine having this conversation with normal James, but somehow it was easier when he was delirious.

"What would it be like, then?" she asked. "To be truly happy."

"...I don't know if I know either," he whispered. "I wish I did, so I could tell you."

It almost felt like a cruel joke by the universe for her to tell him that his happiness was her happiness, and neither of them knew how to be happy. She almost wanted to laugh from the irony.

"It seems we're both clueless," she said in a flat voice.

"Sadly so," James whispered back.

"But I guess..." she said quickly, hesitating and then deciding to look at his jam-filled face again. "I prefer to be a dysfunctional pair than to be dysfunctional alone."

James breathed hard through his nose, and pulled their hands ever-so-slightly away from his lips.

"Do you mean that?"

Evaline met his eyes and challenged herself to keep it. She could have repeated past mistakes and take the easy route again, but she didn't want to. She didn't like what she could be, and who she could become.

She'd rather risk pain and suffering than be someone she wasn't.

"Yes," she said after biting her lips far too long.

James's whole face seemed to relax. His hand that was holding the piece of toast rested against his chest. Even his shoulders lowered, and he seemed to be releasing tension she hadn't even noticed was there.

"I never thought anyone would want me... for me..." he said, almost completely closing his eyes. They stayed cracked open just a sliver. "Not after everything."

He looked like he was about to fall asleep, but she wanted him to finish at least his piece of the bread and drink something. She didn't want his sickness to get worse for something as trivial as this.

"I like who you are," she said, biting down the rise of swirling emotions as she shuffled to face him. "I like James as James, not as anyone else, and I don't care if you tell me everything in your past. It wouldn't change my opinion of you."

And she didn't want to go back to Earth, even if it was by accident.

James opened his eyes just a little bit more, blinking sleepily, but his gaze seemed to finally focus on her face.

"I feel the same," he said. "I like... you, Eve. Eve as Eve. I want you to stay. Past or no past."

The words felt like jolts of electricity, and it should have scared her, but this time, she chose to feel the other side. She chose to let it energize her instead, even with the risks.

"... What I meant to also say is that I like the James who finishes their bread," she said after too long of a pause. She lifted his arm holding the bread so that it wouldn't smear against his chest, which it was dangerously close to doing.

"But also," she decided to add, "I like..."

She wasn't sure where she was going with this sentence.

"...Nye, and I also..."

She trailed off again, and suddenly it felt like James's loss of words became contagious.

"I want to stay too," she managed to blurt out, feeling more and more flustered with every added word. "With you. If that... if... you would... I can."

James closed his eyes and hummed. He lifted her hand once again to his lips, but this time, gently kissed her knuckles. With what seemed like great effort, he let their hands back down, until they were resting at his side, and the tension in his arm slackened, though his hand still held hers.

"You can," he whispered, closing his eyes. "I want to believe... you can."

Part of this didn't seem real. James hardly felt like James right now, and maybe that was why she didn't feel like slipping. It was almost like she was talking to a stranger where there was no connection, and it was easier. But there was a connection, because this was James. It just... in this current state, it was easier.

Maybe this was good. Not so she could deny it... but to accept it and listen. And maybe tell James her own thoughts.

It shouldn't be this way. It was supposed to be easier to talk to someone the longer you knew them, not the other way around. She realized how wrong it felt to only choose to be vulnerable when he was in this state, but she choose to do this on purpose. It was just... easier.

"I want to stay because of you," she confessed. "Not just to escape Earth."

James looked like he was struggling to keep his eyes open, but he was fighting it.

"And I want you... because of you."

Evaline wasn't sure if she fully understood that, but it didn't matter -- the sentiments were still there.

She vowed to be better at communication, and she meant that in the context of James letting her know when he was hurt, and her letting him know when she went back in time, and them overall communicating that would maximize their health and survival.

It seemed there were others things the two of them had failed to communicate. Until now.

She wondered how much he would understand and remember if she told him things now.

"I like you. And I want you. Too."

She had basically reused his words, but it wasn't a lie. She looked at him nervously.

James looked up at her, and he met her eyes, blinking slowly. With her hand still in his, he rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb.

Evaline didn't want there to be long pauses between her words. If she stopped to think too long, she'd lose the courage and back away, even if she was sure he wouldn't remember her words in this state.

"And I would usually... not," she said with a buzzing mind, thinking fast and not trying to find the most suitable words. "I don't want to, anymore. But it's different, in Nye. With you."

He didn't say anything, but his thumb continued to rhythmically stroke the back of her hand. It was oddly comforting. In all his hugs, and in all the times he held her hand, he always rubbed using his thumb.

"And it's hard to say why this time it's different..." she continued.

There were lots of different possibilities, but she didn't have the time or energy to list them all. She'd rather only say the one she wanted to believe in this moment.

"And..." She let out a short, nervous laugh. "I think I've always found you charming. But I didn't think you'd feel -- or I'd feel -- well... I think I just misread you from the beginning, but... I guess... we're both... at the same spot, now."

"Do you remember..." he started, slurring the word 'remember.' "When I told you I thought you were beautiful... and we danced... and you poked my belly?"

She flicked her eyes at him. "I do," she said softly, thinking back on that night. It was the same night she had accidentally gone back in time.

"I meant it when I said it," he said softly. "Even though... maybe I shouldn't have at the time. But you are. I know you don't seem to care how you look, but to me, you are the sun."

At this point, the compliment didn't fluster her. It seemed that she was past that point now. She softly and shyly smiled at him.

"I don't mind you calling me that now," she said, although she didn't realize this was true until she said it out loud. She thought back to the lullaby that he sang for her last week.

"And if I'm the sun, you're the ocean," she added without extra thought.

"Like the song," he whispered.

"Yes. Like the song," she said. Speaking of lullabies, she noted how much more sleepy he was getting. She took the bread from his hand and tore off a bite-sized chunk.

"At least eat this," she said as she put it in front of his mouth. "And then I'll bring the tea over. You need to stay hydrated."

James opened his mouth, and Evaline plopped it in his mouth. It felt a bit undignified to do this, but it was the last of either of their worries right now. As he chewed, she got up to walk over to set down the rest of the bread and then pour some tea into the cup. It was lukewarm now, but it was better for it to be cool than hot. It smelled like herbal tea with lemon and ginger.

"Drink as much as you can of this," she said as she walked back and sat next to him. She took a nearby rag and held it in front of his face.

"But first... you've got jam all over your face."

Evaline smiled, lightly dabbing the jam on his lips and facial hair. It again felt childish, but it was oddly endearing.

"My head's spinning," he said by way of explanation.

"It's okay, I don't mind," she said as she smeared off the rest of the jam. She gave him one last look-over. "There. I think that's the rest of it."

She cleaned off her own sticky hands with the rag and then cleaned his hands, although she'd have to wash it with water to fully get rid of the sticky feeling.

"Okay, now drink as much as you can of this." She finally handed him the cup. "You can rest afterwards."

He took the cup, but he looked unsure, like he was trying very hard to hold it steady. His movements and his explanation was all it took for her to realize that this was going to be another undignified moment.

But it was okay. She didn't mind it.

"Let me help," she offered, gently taking the cup back out of his hands. She then scooted a bit closer, and tilted the pillow so his head was laying flatter.

Wordlessly, she pressed the cup against his lips and tilted it slightly. Not so much that it would overwhelm him, but just enough for him to gulp. He drank steadily for a while with slow gulps, but when the cup was about halfway empty, he sputtered and coughed.

As soon as he showed signs of distress, Evaline set the cup straight and pulled it away from his lips. "Sorry," she said meekly, then put the cup aside.

She waited until he was done coughing before she pulled the pillows and blankets behind him, setting it around the bed for his comfort. She set a pillow under his head, and then covered his body with a blanket.

"Comfortable?" she asked, setting hand on his forehead again. It was still hot to the touch.

James already looked like he was fading.

"Thank you..." he said, his voice drifting off.

"Of course," Evaline said back softly as she brushed his hair back, not caring that her fingers were getting sweaty from it.

There were a lot more things she wanted to say, and she didn't get to say it because he was falling asleep.

So she decided to say all of it.

"But I should be thanking you for everything. From day one, of showing me kindness even though I pelted you with rocks and dirt. And then on week one, for telling me that I could stay forever with you if you wanted, and then choosing to give your life over mine. And then on week two, for listening to me and accidentally making me happy without knowing it. And on week three, listening to the note's new demands even though I, myself, already wanted to stay in Nye. And that was only the beginning. Month two, for letting me kiss you even though you were uncomfortable. And then telling me how I misread everything. And in that same month, we went to mage camp. I want to thank you for letting me have that experience, even though you didn't enjoy it. And for letting me dance with you, even though I again misread you. And I'm sorry I misread you -- but I began to understand. Began to understand when you held my hand without asking, watched the sunset with me, and threw together a surprise birthday party that I'm now certain wasn't just because of a birthday that happened a month prior. And I thought, maybe, it would all crumble apart yesterday. I was not mad at you. I was mad at myself. But I realize now -- I realize what I want."

It was right there, in front of her.

She just had to say the last sentence out loud, but suddenly she lost the courage.

She paused, pulling her hand away from his hair and searching his face for an expression, an answer, a reaction, something. If it was there.

James's eyes were half open, but they looked misty. He was still, staring at her for a moment before he seemed to stir. He brought his arms out over the blankets, and he reached out once again to take her hand. Or at least, that looked like it was his intention, but his arm stumbled through the space in front of him, missing her entirely.

He had always found her hand whenever she struggled to find his.

She time, she let her hand find his.

"I think I'd want us to have more books," she said with glistening eyes, quoting their time from mage camp when she asked him what he would do if he was a free man. She squeezed his hand. "For our small library, bought with our money from your rancher job and my freelance art work."

She looked down and saw a tear rolling down the side of his face. He gripped her hand firmly, though it was as if she could feel his strength wavering.

"Evaline," he said, working through every syllable. He met her eyes. "I think I love you."

Suddenly everything came to a screeching halt. The confidence disappeared, and the doubt and anxiety returned to take its place.

She was ready to face her emotions head-on and be more of herself. She had admitted things she refused to admit. She had been more open to not only herself, but to James. This was the step in the right direction. She wanted to stay in Nye. She wanted to stay with James. It was simple enough. They both liked each other. It was simple. It was mutual.

But this? That?

She wasn't...

She didn't...

And she couldn't...

Her smile faded, and she felt her mask slipping, slipping slipping. Back in time, undo it, pretend it didn't happen, because emotions she couldn't control took over again. Not on purpose. On accident.

It was a tingling sensation, and it was easy to succumb, especially since she didn't want to face this. Not yet. Maybe not ever. She didn't know. She wasn't ready. She didn't realize, or even thought that...

She remembered her mom's stern words to tell her to let go if she wanted to control her powers, and she remembered her dad's lax attitude, sometimes saying that she could control her emotions if she let it control her.

She never knew what he meant. She wasn't really sure she'll ever find out. Her mother's advice was the predominant method she used, because it worked.

And she wasn't going to test the theory.

Evaline quickly pulled away from James, taking a sharp breath and letting go of his hand so that she could fall back, away from the bed and onto the floor. She crawled away from him, shaking and trying to get rid of the sound of the seconds passing in her head of how close she was of slipping under, and trying to think of anything else but this.

Of James being tortured. Butch. Starvation. The thieves. All the people in the war who died. All the things she had seen. Over and over.

Just, anything except this.

"I'm sorry," she croaked as she stayed on the corner of the tent next to the stool. But she sat by the stool, her knees up to her chest, rocking herself back and forth.

This was different. This wasn't the same feeling from when she had gone back accidentally last time. This was much more different.

A hot, thin tear went down her face as she took a shaky breath.

"Time's down," she admitted, hoping he'd understand, even in this state. "Almost. Almost, time's down."

James was still for a moment, and then he sprang up, sitting up straight in his bed. His eyes were wide open, and though he swayed and caught himself with his arm, he looked over at Evaline with a bleary-eyed, panicked alertness.

"What can I do to help?" he said breathlessly.

"Sleep," she said quickly through a wet sniff, wiping away the tears. She almost wanted to leave the tent, but despite it all, she didn't want to send the wrong message. She didn't want to run away.

"Please, just sleep," she said again, quieter.

James trembled for a moment, like the sudden rush of adrenaline had taken a lot out of him. He nodded, and shakily laid back down.

"Okay," he whispered. "I'm sorry. I... stay. I know you can do it."

To be honest, Evaline didn't know what she wanted. Of course she didn't want him to sleep and ignore her, but she needed him to. Just like she needed all the other people in her life to back off before they could get close. Why she feared for this kind of intimacy, among other reasons.

A certain kind of unexplainable but familiar terror ran down her spine. Like it was supposed to be erased, forgotten. But it was there, a ghost that lingered.

She felt herself continually being at the edge of time and space and reality, feeling like she was one small touch away from losing control and hearing her mother's disappointed clicking tongue that she had failed because she couldn't let go, or hearing her father's sighs when she still had no grasp of what he was telling her. She was taught these things, and part of her wondered if they were even the right teachers, or if she was even teachable, or if this was something she was capable of learning. Capable of doing.

She felt like a lost cause. Time really did repeat itself, even if she didn't it to. Even if she tried not to.

James seemed to listen to her words and laid still, likely sleeping. Evaline found herself silently sobbing, trying to just let it out and think of other things to distract herself.

Horrible things. Things she had regretted, things she wished she had done differently. Things she wished she'd never seen.

It did help, and she felt herself become more grounded on the earth. More of herself, whatever that meant, even though she started to feel more and more of a hollow husk the more she tried to repress herself. She hated feeling this way.

She wasn't sure exactly how much time had passed. Maybe half an hour. The both of them were still under the dim light of the room, and she did her best to not make much noise. Although if James was listening intently, he may have heard her trying to quietly cry.

Eventually her tears were dry and she felt safe. As long as she didn't think back on the trigger, it would be okay.

Slowly, she stood up and then blew the flame in the lamp so that it was dark. She stumbled a bit to find the bed, but when she found it, she went over to the other side and inched a pillow and blanket away from James. She placed the pillow on the farthest edge of the bed and faced the other way when she laid down. The less she thought about him and what happened, the better.

With one final deep breath, she laid the spare blanket over her and closed her eyes, attempting to sleep. As time passed on, she could hear James starting to toss and turn, and despite trying to sleep, she could feel the shifting of the bedroll beneath them. She tried to ignore it as she tried to let the lull of sleep take over, but it was taking longer than she'd like. It was hard to sleep with a racing mind.

And then, maybe thirty minutes later, James had somehow drifted to her side of the bed. Not that there was much space to begin with. She didn't think much of it, but made a mental note to not roll over. Having that thought seemed to only fuel the mild insomnia.

It shouldn't have been hard to sleep with the comfort of the bed and the long day. Maybe it just felt odd for both of them to be next to each other, sleeping at the same time. She was used to watching him sleep or being watched as she slept.

James eventually leaned into her, as if she was a wall. She could hear his steady breathing, like he was finally asleep.

The sudden movement caused Evaline to tense, but when he didn't move anymore, she began to ease into relaxing her body. It was comforting and relaxing to hear him breathing steadily, and it oddly made her feel a little sleepy.

She opened her eyes, this time deciding to fight sleep. At least, for now.

She didn't want to think about what happened when she pulled away an hour ago, but she knew she had to eventually. She couldn't escape from James, especially if she chose to stay in Nye because of him. She couldn't ignore his words forever, even if she wasn't sure if he truly meant it, or if he meant to say it at that time. It still happened, and she couldn't ignore it.

What did she want?

She wished she knew. She told James what she wanted, and then his five words sent her spiraling down to where she was now.

Maybe he said it because he heard what she was meant behind what she repeated at mage camp.

She just wanted to be happy.

She wanted him to be happy.

Her happiness was his happiness, and his happiness was her happiness.

They just didn't know how to achieve that.

But... they did have all the time in the world. He had told her that weeks and weeks ago when she first started having a nervous breakdown about not figuring out how to open her heart and then being stuck on Nye forever. They had all the time in the world. All the time to open their hearts, whatever that meant. They didn't have to rush this. They could take things slow, whether it be by touch, words, or feelings.

James's head was leaning against her back, and she could feel part of his hand brush up against her back too. He wasn't holding her or really meaning to touch her -- it was just his knuckles brushing up against her back.

Without moving to disturb him that much, she lifted her arm out of the blankets to take one of his hands and wrap his arm around her side. She balled his hand between her own, holding it close to her chest. His arm was limp when she first took hold of it, but as soon as she pulled his arm around her and held him close, it was like he followed the same movement and copied her, pulling a little closer himself.

It wasn't much, and she wasn't sure if he fully registered what she had done, but she wanted to let him know that she wasn't running away.

And, despite almost slipping back in time, she still fully meant every word she said to him.

Clearly, they both needed to communicate better. But today was a start.

He was slow to warm up to touch.

She was slow to warm up to words.

They were both slow to comprehend the mess of emotions they felt.

But they had all the time in the world to figure it out.

James's mind felt hazy as he started to wake up. The previous day started coming back to him in fragments, but it felt like pieces were missing.

Edna was there. He was pretty sure it was Edna. It sounded like her, though he couldn't remember getting a clear view of her face. He could remember Evaline and Edna saying things, but he couldn't remember what they were. He knew it had to do with his wound and something about staying until he was better, but he felt like there was more, and it just wasn't coming to him.

He could remember the feeling of Evaline, gently brushing his hair out of his face, and saying words softly and tenderly, though he wasn't sure what all of those words were. He could remember holding her hand, and holding her arm, and a story. A made-up story, about how they got married and were on a farm, but left to go to her family, because his happiness was her happiness. That phrase seemed to ring through his head, and he heard it coming from both of their mouths, with their voices melding together.

Things after that were blurry. Hands, wrapping bandages. Pulling stitches. Touching him, over and over. Lifting him up, lying him down. Something about him not looking well - no, he wasn't doing well at all.

And then a spot of clarity.

Him, holding Evaline's hand. Holding it to his lips, and his lips felt sticky. From what, he couldn't recall. They were talking about happiness.

"What if I don't want to be happy?" Evaline had said.

"Then I would be happy... to be unhappy together," he'd whispered back, brushing his moving lips against her knuckles.

She shook her head and closed her eyes.

"No," she said firmly. "That's dysfunctional."

That had made him falter. He'd known she was right. He didn't want dysfunction. But he didn't know another way.

"I cannot force you to be happy," he said softly. "And I do not want to. But I do want you to be happy..."

He knew there was more, but it didn't come to him. He found a pillow somewhere in the bed, grabbing it, as if begging for it to help him remember, but it was no use. Whatever was there was gone. Gone, gone, until:

"I like you. And I want you. Too."

Her words, not his, but it implied he'd said the same. The remembrance caused his heart to race, and he pulled the pillow close to his chest, curling up. But the motion made his side ache with soreness. The skin was taut like it was pulled together. Stitched up.

How had he forgotten that?

He searched his mind, still trying to fill the gaps, but nothing was coming chronologically. He still didn't have the full picture. And then it hit him.

"Time's down," she'd said. "Almost. Almost, time's down."

She'd sounded on the verge of tears. He could remember sitting, and his head spinning in a million different directions. Evaline had been somewhere in the corner, curled up in a ball. He'd reached out, wanting to go to her, but he could remember the times before. She hadn't wanted to be touched when she was slipping, and he didn't want to send her back. He'd lied back down because she'd asked him to, but he could remember hearing her cry, and his heart still racing. Racing, racing, until exhaustion swept in like a wave, and everything was gone after that.

He didn't think she'd gone back, but he wasn't sure. He wasn't sure how much he'd forgotten.

Finally, he sleepily opened his eyes, looking around the tent. With daylight seeping through the tarp walls, it was almost unrecognizable. He rolled over, stopping when he saw Evaline sitting beside him, looking down at him. For some reason, his heart stopped, and he felt all of his words knot up in his throat.

He wanted to ask her what happened, but his head was throbbing. He couldn't find words.

When he tested his voice, what came out was: "Water," as a dry rasp.

As soon as James started to stir, Evaline closed her journal and tucked her pencil away, setting it on her lap as she watched him slowly start to wake.

It had been a long, emotional night. She woke up much earlier than he did, got food and water for the both of them, and checked in with Edna as well. Edna gave them both fresh sets of clothes as well as all the supplies she needed for if he got sicker. She had only briefly touched his forehead before she left in the early morning, but it was still hot to the touch. He may not have been bleeding, but he was still very sick.

She would take care of him, though. No matter what, she would take care of him.

It was late morning now, and she hadn't left the tent since then. She simply pulled the stool close to the bed and waited for him to wake up. She wasn't sure how much James remembered last time, but she wanted to talk to him honestly and openly. They had a lot to discuss.

The journal still sat heavily on her lap, and the note—the stupid note that they had long forgotten about now—sat between the pages. When James propped himself up, she began to pull it out of the pages, but then stopped when his voiced rasped for water.

Luckily, she had prepared for this.

A glass of water sat next to her on the ground, along with a croissant on a plate. She'll get him something heartier to eat later when she knew he could handle it. But for now, this was a treat.

"Here," she said as she picked up the glass and offered it to him. "Can you hold it steady?"

James took in a deep breath and sat up, feeling his head spin, but not as much as before, that he could remember. He took the glass, holding it steady. He was lightheaded, but his thirst drew the cup to his mouth and he drank quickly, taking several long gulps until the cup was almost entirely empty.

He looked down into it for a moment before finishing it off and then setting the empty cup to the side.

Though he was able to sit up, his head still felt heavy, and he lied back down.

"Thank you," he said, with a far less raspy voice than before.

"You're welcome," Evaline said softly after she watched him drink the entire glass. She scooted the croissant closer to the edge of the bed so he could access it.

"For when you're hungry," she explained, then got up to walk over to where she set everything from the saddlebag. Earlier this morning, she cleaned up the place (and finally threw away that gross rag-bandage package, thanks to Edna's secrecy) and organized their items in the saddlebag throughout the tent. If they were going to be here for a while, they might as well fully unpack.

She put the journal away in her respective spot that she claimed, and then reached for the canteen she filled earlier this morning.

"How are you feeling?" she asked with her back towards James, deciding to ease into conversation.

"Like a sack of bricks," he answered, eyeing the croissant she'd pushed near him. His stomach felt empty, but there was lingering nausea that made the thought of food unpleasant. He still felt a bit of a chill, too, which caused him to sink back down into the blankets. He knew it was blazing hot outside - something was wrong.

"I have a fever, don't I?" he asked.

Evaline grabbed the canteen and then headed back to the stool, sitting back down and then refilling the glass cup. If he was thirsty, he'd have the option to drink again. James seemed to be able to handle drinking and talking now, for the most part. At least she didn't have to help him with that.

"You do," she said, setting the canteen on her side. On her lap just sat the note, but without the journal. She fidgeted with it for a second, and then sighed and tried to meet his eyes, biting down her personal emotions.

"I know you might not be in the best of states right now, but..." she said solemnly, then sighed. "There's something important I think we need to discuss. If you're up for it."

James almost wished he'd stayed sitting up for a serious discussion, but his head weighed him down. He'd be able to think more clearly from the ground, at the moment, it seemed. He didn't want to test that theory too much.

But the way she said that last sentence... his stomach dropped with dread.

There was a lot he couldn't remember from the night before.

"What did I do?" he asked. "Was it something I said? I -- I can't remember everything, but whatever it was, I promise, I'm sorry."

Evaline froze, her eyes widening just a little from the surprise.

"No, no," she said quickly, setting the note flat on her lap and giving James her full attention to show that she was serious. "It wasn't anything you said. I promise you -- you said nothing wrong. At all."

Her gaze fell down towards his face as she tried to search for answers or meaning in his expression. Something that resembled the same look he kept giving her last night, but with less glazed eyes.

"... Do you really not remember everything?" she asked quietly.

James stared up at her, with his mind still feeling hazy. He felt more coherent now (or so he thought) but with so many gaps in his memory, who was he to say?

With a desperate, apologetic, earnest, and tired look in his eyes he squinted up at her.

“No,” he admitted, almost sheepishly. “I can barely remember Edna. At least, I think it was Edna. How much did she see? How much do they know? Are we still safe?”

James really didn't remember. He just desperately wanted to understand.

Evaline sighed, glancing down at the note in front of her, but then set her hands on her lap to cover it. She planned to bring the note up later, now.

"We're safe," she assured. "Edna came in to drop off tea while I went to wash the clothes. She saw you laying down, without a shirt. She deduced herself that you were an outlaw. But she swore secrecy, and she only wants to help us."

Her eyes drifted down to the spot under the blanket where his stitched-up wounds would be.

"She's a doctor and helped stopped the bleeding. Her late husband was also an outlaw. We can trust her. Don't worry."

James had to tame the waves of oncoming panic, waiting for Eve’s explanation. He’d been too messy last night, and it’d gotten them both in trouble. Edna knew, and she swore secrecy, but James couldn’t help but wonder how fragile thst loyalty was. But he knew in his current state, there was no way he’d be able to convince anyone that he was ready and able to go anywhere.

“Okay,” he said softly with a nod.

He took in deep breaths, letting what she said fill in the gaps in the beginning. Edna has come in to bring tea, she’s seen him, and done the math. It sounded like she didn’t know exactly who he was by name, but he was in no rush to have that conversation.

“I know I lost a lot of blood,” he said. “And on top of that I have a fever... so if I said anything stupid, I’m sorry. You...”

He tried looking down at himself and propped himself up with one arm. But he was surprised at how tender the arm felt.

He pushed the blanket down, just to see it all for himself.

The wounds were wrapped, but he could feel the strange sensation of stitches tightly holding his skin together. For some reason, his stomach flipped. Not because of stitches - he’d had them before. Seen them a million times. But imagining Edna... seeing everything. It was like a cloud came over him.

He almost wanted to ask what her reaction was, but then remembered he hadn’t even seen Evaline’s initial reaction. Though... he could recall yesterday, in the bath, how she seemed to desperately avoid looking at him when he was uncovered. Especially after she’d accidentally experienced a piece of it herself. He still couldn’t forgive himself for that.

But he did wonder if he was really that disturbing. A horror of scars and wounds. Too disgusting to look at. He would understand...

He could feel his arm trembling. Edna had restitched the wound on his bicep. He could feel it. If she really was a doctor, then it was for the best, but it made him want to crawl out of his skin.

He fell back down into his pillow.

It already happened. He just had to get over it.

“I can... remember some of your story,” he whispered.

Evaline paused to gather a string of words that will reassure James that he didn't say anything stupid and she was actually glad they had the conversation yesterday. She also wanted to tell him something that will ease the trauma that might have caught up to him when he pieced together that Edna stitched up two wounds.

But then James laid back down, and he whispered that he remembered. He remembered some of her story. The story she softly said in his ear to ease the panic while Edna re-stitched the torture wounds. He had squirmed, but it seemed to work.

She didn't know how much he remembered, or what he remembered.

"I'm glad," she said gently, biting back the anxiety. "It seemed to help calm your nerves. I hope you can remember it if you ever need a distraction from pain."

James nodded slowly and nervously averted his gaze.

"I don't know if I remember all of it," he said. "But... it did help. I think. I remember your - your voice, calming me down..."