(Backstory) What's Left of Our Line - Among Thieves

The petite woman wandered through the small camp as the sun disappeared to signal the day's end, a hand over her stomach. Sharp eyes observed the surrounding area keenly, as she tried so hard to stay alert, stay awake while the two of them slept. Already the bonds had a strong hold of her, the love she felt for her husband fortified, while the love she felt for her sister grasped at her with unnatural strength. Deep, dark circles affected her pretty eyes, her lovely face far too pale, and she found herself having to sit on the stump of a tree they had cleared away to make room.

Her chest rose and fell in unhealthy laborious gasps as she fell forward onto her knees, her eyes closing tightly as she tried to swallow down her illness. She knew she had to keep food down, or she'd be no good to her husband and his sister. She hadn't told Dima - not yet, even though it had been nearly 3 months since they had fled their camp. She couldn't bare - didn't know how to fix this, or if she could..

She must be able to. He said he couldn't make children - this was their only chance at having a child.. she felt like it was killing her - she could feel herself, more weak each day. This morning she'd barely been able to get out of bed.. soon she would have to make a choice.

As the sun set Dima exited the caravan where he had slept away the daylight hours. Unlike a normal night, however Dara didn't meet him as he rose. A quick panicked search found her passed out on the ground just beside the vardo. After a moment of trying to wake her, he scooped her up into his arms, and carried her inside their wagon, where he lay her down upon the bed. Dampening a rag he pressed it to her brow attempting to revive her.

"Dara?" he called out to her softly as he did the only thing he could think to do, he bit is wrist and pushed her lips open forcing blood into her mouth. Massaging her throat in effort to make her swallow, as he cradled her small body against his her head tilted back to ease the blood down her throat.

She stirred soon after he fed her, eyes opening as she weakly spoke, "Stelele mea..?" She tried to sit up, whispering, "I'm fine.. I'm okay, my love.."

"Obviously you are not alright my sunshine..." he whispered back to her caressing her forehead.

"You have been ill now for a few moons, but this is the worst that I have seen you. You aren't getting better, I don't understand, my blood should heal you." he said softly. His look of love and concern so intense so deep as he watched is little wife wither away before him.

A small, brave smile spread across her rosy lips, her dark eyes focused on his handsome face. "It's.. it's okay.. just a flu, my love." She tried to sit, succeeding more in slouching against him. "I just need some fresh air.."

"Please don't lie to me, it does't help either of us." he said softly. His fingers caressed her cheek lovingly.

His arms helped hold her up, but still mostly cradled her against him. "Now, the truth please, what exactly seems to be the trouble? Are we asking too much of you? Do you need more sleep? Should I find us others to travel with us, to assist in guarding us?"

Her eyes filled with tears as she realized there was no way around it, now - no way to avoid telling him.

"I don't.. I.."

Although her intention was to tell him, she had a problem finding the words.

"I'm carrying your child and.. and I think.."

Her fingers moved to her stomach, gently tightening,

"I think the blood.. made something go wrong.. it hasn't grown.. but it still moves.. I can feel it, as though I should be nearly to term.."

A fraction of a moments happiness crossed his features until the rest of what she said caught up with the news inside his brain.

His large hand reached out and touched her stomach, pushing her dress out of the way so that he could feel his child with in her.

"Because death can never create life... because my blood stopped you from being alive in a sense you don't age, so you couldn't bring our child to term." each word became darker and darker as he spoke. His eyes held self hatred deep and brutal.

"It is killing you isn't it?" he whispered, his hand cringing away from her stomach now that he realized what was happening. His eyes squeezed shut at the thought, and he turned his head away already knowing the answer to his question.

"N-no.." She lied, her head turning to one side. Hopelessness tore at her heart, her tears rolling down over her cheeks. She was so innocent, so pure, that she couldn't tell a lie - he knew she couldn't. He knew before she had said anything, and her attempt to mask the truth was only a confirmation of it.

"I can't loose you... Dara, I won't loose you to this.. this..." he couldn't bring himself to say it. Turning his head to face her his eyes opened, and there in their depths was a fear, and an anger, a self loathing. But worst of all there were tears that he couldn't hide, tinged a dark pink with blood.

Her eyes widened, so pure and confused, "What are you saying..? You.. you can't be suggesting doing anything besides seeing what happens.."

"Dara, other then making you ill, nothing about this has changed since the night I first fed you my blood. Is that correct?" he asked her solemnly.

"Y-yes.." Her hand moved over her slim stomach, running over the barely noticeable rise. "That's correct, I just.. I just can't.. think of anything else.."

"It isn't our child any...." he paused closing his eyes and forcing himself to finish his sentence. "It isn't our child any more. It has been twisted into something else, something that does't live." He opened her eyes looking down into her face, his hand caressing her cheek.

"No!" She cried, pulling away from him. Tears streamed down her cheeks, agony in her eyes. She had never hurt like this before, physically or mentally.

"I won't allow you to kill this child - our child! This is all we have of the life we had together - the promise of a normal life, where I could birth your children and raise them for you. Where we could grow old together, compare our gray hairs, die at an old age once we have met our grandchildren."

Her voice shook, though contained a strength he had never heard from her.

"We cannot kill her."