CHAPTER 9

The fact that Monica never once complained caused Andrew to feel even guiltier. They had been walking for well over two hours and even though he had all but pleaded with her to stop to rest, the little angel kept insisting she was fine. He knew it was far from the truth and that it had to be pure will alone that kept her moving instead of collapsing on the ground.

The sound of water filled the blond angel's ears and dread consumed him. His fears were realized when they emerged through the trees to come face to face with a flowing river that had to stretch at least fifty feet to the other side. There was no way he could ask her to do it.

"We need to cross it, don't we?" Monica asked quietly, her glassy eyed gaze taking in the swirling water.

"You need to rest," Andrew ordered gently in a way of avoiding her question. He led her over to a group of large stones so that she could sit down and his fear about her health resurfaced as she leaned over and planted her hands on her knees as a deep cough consumed her body. The air she was drawing in was raspy and forced and he again felt certain that his friend had much more than a simple flu or cold.

Grabbing the water bottle from the bag, he quickly unscrewed the lid and pressed it into her hand, "Drink, angel, please." Seeing as her hands were trembling, he helped her to hold the bottle as she drank thirstily, "We should have stopped sooner," Andrew added as more of a way of berating himself for not forcing the issue.

"Andrew, no. I'm fine-."

A tender hand to her cheek stopped her denial, "You are not fine, Monica."

She looked away for a moment, still trying to catch her breath, "You heard those men again this morning, didn't you?" She asked as she avoided his statement.

Andrew never even considered being surprised. Monica had always been extremely intuitive and this was no exception, "Yeah."

Her eyes wandered back to the river, taking in the water, brown after the rain two nights ago. It was a long way across and she was so tired, "Then we need to cross it."

"No, angel. We don't have to do anything but find you help," He insisted.

"But we'd be safer if we crossed it because those men would never think we did," She argued weakly, seeing the opposition in his green eyes, "Andrew, I'd rather be cold, wet and with you than with those men again. Please."

Her words tore at his heart and he ran a frustrated hand through his short, blond hair. He couldn't leave her to go find help on his own, but there was no way he was going to lead her already fragile body across that river. He couldn't do it. It was deep and slippery and if anything happened to her he'd never forgive himself.

"We're not crossing," He stated decisively after a long silence.

Monica looked up at him, confusion visible in her doe-like eyes, "We…we have to…"

Standing up, Andrew cupped her face in his hands, clearly able to feel the warmth of her fever against them, "No, baby. We don't have to."

Her illness was starting to affect her emotions and tears filled her eyes, "But Andrew, those men…" Her Irish lilt had taken on a panic stricken tone, but when Andrew spoke again, his voice was so gentle and so soothing, she immediately started to calm.

"Angel, I will never, ever let them hurt you. I promise you that. Please believe me when I say it. I know I haven't given you any reason to trust me lately, but just know that I'm going to take such good care of you." His green pools searched her teary eyes and when she left out a tiny sob, he pulled her gently into his arms.

"I know you will," Monica whispered tearfully, "You always do."

Andrew's heart pounded in his chest as he held her up against it, "No, Monica," He replied sadly as his hand moved to stroke her hair, "Not always. At least not with your feelings, but I'm going to do better. I promise you that too." He held her in silence for several moments before speaking again, "Now, tell me how you're really feeling."

Never lifting her head from where it rested pillowed beneath his chin, Monica admitted the truth, "I don't feel well at all, Andrew. I'm so tired and…it hurts to breathe."

Somehow, he managed not to panic as he took stock of their current situation, "Okay, we're going to set up camp here so you can rest and if those men find us, well, they'll have to get past me first and that is never going to happen."

Monica closed her eyes on a little sigh. Yes, she believed him completely.

By nightfall, Andrew was beginning to feel helpless and more than a little terrified.

Monica was getting worse.

The little angel was drifting in and out of consciousness, often times hallucinating from the high fever that continued to torment her. He had wrapped her up in his leather jacket, holding her tightly against his body for warmth as he stroked her sweat dampened hair back away from her face.

The night was long and stretched out for hours before him, and he couldn't take his eyes from her face for more than a moment at a time. Andrew was beginning to fear that if he looked away for any longer, she would cease to breathe altogether.

"Shh, Angel, it's all right. I'm here," He whispered, soothing her through her senseless fever induced ramblings. A tiny whimper and she fell silent once more, at least for a time and Andrew turned desperate green eyes to the heavens.

"Father," He uttered brokenly, "Please. You have to help her. I know…I know we've let you down with our feelings for each other and I know I didn't respond honestly when Monica told me how she felt. Father, I don't know what any of this means; neither of us do, but you know my heart. You know how much I love her and I'd do anything for her to be well again. She's everything to me and she always has been from the moment you placed us both together," Andrew dropped his gaze back down to the sleeping angel in his arms and ran a tender finger along her cheek, "Monica, she doesn't know why she feels this way either and I've hurt her so badly. I'm so sorry for that, Father. Hurting her, it is never something I want to do, but I was too afraid of what could happen to us if I confessed my own feelings. I'm still afraid of what the future holds for us. I know that we will continue to do your work, but I don't know if your plan includes us being together or for that matter…." He continued to look down to his angel's sleeping face, barely able to fathom what he was about to say, "Or for that matter, us ever seeing each other again."

He blinked away a tear that burned in his eye and then leaned down to brush a loving kiss on Monica's forehead, before looking back up at the starry night, "Surely these feelings come from you, Father. We just don't know what to do with them and I'm not even sure that after what I've done if Monica could ever even forgive me for causing her such pain. But none of that matters as much to me right now as her being well. She's so sick, Father, and I'm afraid for her. She needs healing that only you can bring and I'll do whatever needs to be done to see that she gets that….even if it means walking away from her."

Andrew closed his eyes against the pain that washed over him with saying those words. Resting his lips against the little angel's forehead, he kissed her tenderly, "I love you. I love you so much, my beautiful, sweet, little angel girl. Don't ever forget that."