Zhalia's feet barely touched the rooftops as she ran, trying her best not to slip on the tiles as heavy rain beat down on her head. Organization goons tore after her, firing spells and ordering their creatures to cut her off.

Zhalia, on the other hand was completely out of energy. For two solid weeks after her betrayal, the Organization had ruthlessly hunted her. Her apartment was destroyed, nearly all of her belongings lost, and her sense of security in every single hiding place she had was gone. The idea of running back to the Foundation continued to plague her mind, but the memory of Dante's sadness and disappointment in her when her former allegiance was revealed kept her away.

The way every single one of them had trusted Zhalia had worn down her resolution until she couldn't bear it any longer. But for them, she was forced to betray Klaus, the first person she had ever truly trusted.

Her heart ached in her chest, remembering how King Basilisk had mercilessly turned her adoptive father to stone. Zhalia's connection to her titans ensured they also knew of her confliction, but the powerful creature showed hone of her hesitation. Even now, she could feel his satisfaction at the memory.

She could understand it to a point. Klaus had not always been the most caring parent in the world. When Zhalia was very young, he was the perfect human. Nothing he could have done would have been wrong in her eyes.

When she grew older, though, age changed him. He became less caring, often locking her out of the library, their home, and forcing her to fend for herself. Though she hated those times, she always believed they would make her grow stronger in the end, and to a point, they did. Looking back now, she knew it was cruel. A terrible form of punishment that could go on for months if he left for a trip after throwing her out.

King Basilisk knew this. All of her titans knew. And because of this, not one of them pitied Klaus' fate.

Despite their past, she still felt conflicted. Good memories fighting bad ones, and new memories fighting her current thoughts.

Zhalia hadn't given any of her teammates time to process her betrayal against the Organization. Once Dante and the others were safe, she fled. With what little money she had on hand, she had somehow made it back to her apartment in Venice, only for it to be destroyed not even an hour after arriving.

Frustrated tears threatened to spill out as another Boltflare connected with her back. She stumbled, but her body was already damaged to the point that she could hardly feel it.

After another hour of jumping and running across the roof tops, the footsteps behind her vanished. Though she didn't want to, Zhalia had to stop. Her body needed rest.

Hiding behind some smokestacks of an old factory, she pulled out what little medical supplies she had left. A few pain pills, large bandages, some antiseptic, and some gauze was all she had to patch up her wounds, so she tried to use them sparingly. The organization wouldn't give her enough time to stock up on supplies.

After crudely bandaging the scrapes on her legs and taking one of the pills dry, Zhalia scanned the area. It was the dead of night, though, and the rain had begun coming down harder than before. Creeping to the side of the roof, she attempted to spot a street sign.

None could be found, but Zhalia couldn't seem to pull herself away from the edge. During her desperate run back to her apartment from Vlad's castle, she often wondered if her life was worth the constant fear of getting caught. The thought was always violently shoved away though.

Zhalia had survived worse, she could handle this. She savagely berated herself for thinking about quitting again, and tried to stand.

It was the first mistake she had made in weeks.

Dante answered his phone slowly. He had been trying to mediate an argument between Sophie and Lok for almost an hour, and was about at his wits end when the phone rang. After literally sending the two to opposite corners of the room, he pulled the phone to his ear.

"Metz?"

"Ah, it is so good to hear your voice again, Dante." His mentor's voice was ragged and tired, but him using the phone meant it must have been important.

"Is something wrong? Are you alright?" Dante's voice wavered, but he tried to hold strong. Both teens were watching him now.

"I'm fine, Dante. I just wanted to talk to you before my nurse sent you in a tizzy." The older man gave a hoarse laugh.

"What happened?"

"Just a little health scare, nothing to be concerned about." The laughed turned into a bout of coughing. "Any news of that Zhalia Moon of yours?"

Dante wanted to ask more, but he could tell his teacher would rather not dwell on the "scare". He moved the conversation to his room, away from the prying ears of his teammates. "Nothing. Though there's been an increase of Organization activity trailing up from Vlad's castle all the way here."

"Ah, she's coming home then?" Metz teased. "You were always the looker. I'm surprised she didn't leave the organization sooner."

Dante's voice caught in his throat. Seeing the confliction in her eyes, the choice between her father and the team- no, her father and him, nearly broke his heart. The selfish relief he felt when Zhalia decided to fight alongside him only lasted until she had to face Klaus in his place.

He had failed her. The woman only asked to not face Klaus, but had to summon King Basilisk on the man because Dante wasn't strong enough to fight him off alone. Once the team had returned home, he began training harder, even missing a flight to visit Metz because he never wanted to fail her again. If she ever returned, he would be strong enough to protect her.

"If that's her plan, something's gone wrong. The Organization has stepped up its game in Venice, especially these last two days. If I'm right that they're after her, she should have found us by now. She knows where both Sophie and I live."

"I'm sure the dear will come around soon. Just give her time." Metz soothed.

The two men spoke for a while, then Dante's phone beeped again. It was a message from the nearby Huntik safe house.

Zhalia Moon has been found in critical condition near the safe house. She has been taken to the local Hospital for care and is being guarded by several Huntik operatives.

Dante's heart nearly stopped. "Metz, Zhalia's been found. I have to go."

"Of course you do. Go to her now, quickly! She needs her knight in shining armor." His mentor cheered him on. In any other situation, he would have rolled his eyes. Dante had never picked up the habits of his teacher. Thankfully.

He hung up after a short goodbye and raced out of the door. On his way out, he mentioned something about needing to pick up something important from the Safe House. He didn't want them to worry about her just yet. Not until he himself could see what the Organization had done to her.

He ran into the hospital and nearly smashed into the front counter. "I'm here to see Zhalia Moon? She's a dear friend of mine, and I heard she is here?"

The woman didn't seem at all startled by his fast approach. She had probably seen many frantic people searching for their loved ones in her career. "She's on floor four, room 461."

She pointed the way to the elevator, and Dante was off again. Just as he reached the long line of elevators, he saw the doors of one closing. He called out to a man inside, who kindly stopped the doors for him. The elevator was already crowded, but no one seemed to mind.

In there, two women were sniffling, dabbing their eyes with tissues and trembling from head to feet. An old man was carrying a great bouquet of flowers that was the size of a toddler. Another two men stared at their feet as the elevator continued upwards. The man who had held the door for him was the least frazzled of the group.

"Who're you here to see?" The man asked him.

Dante was caught off guard. "Oh, a friend… She's been missing for a while."

"I'm sorry, my friend." The older man pulled a flower from his bouquet and handed it to Dante. "Here. I hope it shall cheer her up, and maybe give you some happiness as well during this rough time.

Dante didn't want to be rude, so he took the white and red flower. He wasn't very knowledgeable about flowers, but he believed it was a Camellia. "Thank you. I'm sure she will love it."

The elevator was a slow one, so the people shared who they were here for. The man who held the door for him was visiting a friend who had been in an accident. The accident was a few days ago and he was recovering well, so he had little to worry about. The old man was visiting his sister. His sister had broken her hip trying to collect all the flowers from her garden to sell. Dante learned that the flower was indeed a Camellia, and was told to look up the flower's hidden meaning later on for a laugh. The other two men were visiting their mother, who was recovering from a heart attack. The two women, the most unfortunate of the group, were visiting one's husband. The poor man had been mugged the night earlier, and had just found out where he was.

The old man offered flowers to the others as well, who all politely- some very gratefully, accepted the small gift.

Dante was the first off, the others heading to higher floors. The people wished him and Zhalia well, and he thanked them before quickly disappearing around the corner.

His heart pounded in his chest as he searched for room 461. The halls were branched out strangely, but each door had a large number sign to clearly show which room was which. It would have been hard to get lost in such a place, but for some odd reason, he could not find room 461. Dante was almost in tears when he heard someone call his name.

"Mr. Vale, over here." Whipping around, he saw a familiar face standing before a short hallway.

"So they put her in a hidden room?" Dante grumbled as the man took him a little ways down the hall shorter hall.

"This hall is for staff, but rooms 460 and 461 are down here as well." The Huntik operative pointed to the odd numbered door."

Dante didn't knock, or even ask if he could go in. Before he even realized what he was doing, the door was already open and the lone bed was by his side.

Zhalia was bruised and bloodied, but still as beautiful as ever. Dante was vaguely aware of someone leaving the room, muttering something about privacy before closing the door behind them.

Her blue-black hair was tangled and damp, and her olive skin scratched and a dark purple in several places. Her hazel eyes were closed and peaceful, and an oxygen mask covered her mouth and nose.

Dante grasped her hand and held it tightly, the pain of seeing her in such a state was nearly unbearable. Especially when he knew it was his own fault.

In his misery, Dante didn't hear the door open behind him. "Are you a friend of the patient?"

"Yes." His voice was distant and foreign, sounding more like a broken man than the voice of Dante Vale.

"Your friend here has suffered many bruises and contusions, most of which are old and were already healing when we found her. She had even attempted to bandage herself up at some point, but…" The person trailed off, and Dante looked back at the- who he now assumed to be, doctor.

"But what?"

"She was found not far from here in the middle of the street. The broken bones she has and the bruising are consistent with someone falling from a high place. I hate to ask this, but is she mentally… unstable in any way? Depression, or high anxiety maybe?"

Dante could hardly believe his ears. "You think she jumped? Zhalia would never do such a thing!"

"I'm sorry but I have to ask. Her wounds and x-rays are consistent with either a perilous job or years of abuse." Dante couldn't argue with either of those observations. Seekers were known to be danger prone, but Zhalia had been literally fighting for survival as of late. And while the abuse he knew about might not have been all physical, there was no contesting that Zhalia had a very hard life.

"She would never, though…" Dante's voice was a whisper. "She's a survivor. She would never throw her life away."

The doctor nodded, then called to a nurse for a vase of water or something. Dante couldn't- or really didn't care to hear. All he could think about now was Zhalia.

For the next two days, Dante barely left her side. Of course he had to leave during visiting hours, but he thankfully was able to convince the two Foundation operatives to give him hourly updates on her condition and if anything were to happen, whether bad or good, he was to immediately be called.

Sophie and Lok were rightfully worried at this point, but Dante wanted to wait a little while longer to tell them. Zhalia's lack of improvement was already driving him up the walls, so it was most definatly have the same effect on his younger teammates.

Finally, about mid-way through her third day at the hospital, Zhalia shifted in her sleep. Dante's heart skipped a beat, but she settled again and didn't move for another hour. After that hour, though, her hazel eyes cracked open.

"Zhalia," Dante's voice broke as she slowly blinked her eyes and let out a heavy breath.

Her beautiful eyes settled on him. "Dante…"

He forgot about her injuries, and pulled her up into a tight embrace. She winced, but wrapped her arms around him as well.

Dante buried his face in the crook of her neck, nearly overwhelmed with relief and happiness. After what felt like ages, he carefully laid her back down on the bed.

"I've been so worried about you." His voice cracked as he tried to hold back his tears.

Zhalia, on the other hand, allowed hers to run freely. "I'm so sorry. About everything."

Dante hushed her as she pulled off the breathing mask. Cupping her cheek in his hands, he gently ran his fingers against the bruised skin.

Her hand covers his and she leaned against his touch. "I'm so sorry." She sobbed over and over again.

All Dante could do was let her decompress. Gently, he pulled her up into another embrace, one where she clung desperately to his coat and buried her head in his chest. He could only imagine the guilt she had been fighting these past two weeks, and how much stress she has been under with the Organization on her tail.

Once her sobs turned to ragged breaths, Dante leaned forwards. Pressing his lips to her forehead, he whispered. "You didn't do anything wrong. You were placed in an impossible position. No one blames you."
Turning her head, she pressed her lips into his hand, trying to stifle herself. "Zhalia, please, come home with me. We need you. I need you."

Her eyes turned up and locked with his. Dante could see how much she wanted to say yes, but doubt flickered across her face. To prove his point, Dante leaned down again.

His lips lightly brushed against hers, and that's all it took. Dante greedily took another kiss, one that Zhalia eagerly accepted and deepened.

Several more were shared before the doctor came in.

After some questioning, Zhalia revealed that she was hiding from some thugs when someone pushed her from behind. The confirmation that she hadn't thrown herself off a building brought even more relief to his heart than Dante thought was possible.

Though she had agreed to return with him, Zhalia needed to rest. She would be given another few days at the hospital, then would be allowed to leave and rest without constant supervision. Even after that, though, she would be benched for the foreseeable future.

After learning this, Dante decided to call in the rest of the team. It was time they also showed Zhalia that they forgave her.

Lok and Sophie smuggled Cherit in that day, juggling flowers and all kinds of get well presents in as well.

"I'm so glad you're okay!" Lok fumbled with the balloon bouquet he had brought as Sophie went to put the flowers in a vase.

"You truly had us worried." Cherit offered her a small, crudely wrapped present, which she hesitantly took.

"Oh, you already have a flower in here?" Sophie shifted the bouquet in her hands as she pulled a small vase from her bag. "Good thing I got a spare. See Lok, it was a good idea!"

"Where did that flower come from?" Zhalia asked. It looks like it's been here for a while."

"A kind man gave it to me." Dante explained. "It's a Camellia. He told me to look up the meaning of it later, but I never did."

"The meaning of a flower often depends on its color." A nurse walked in. As she checked on Zhalia's bandages, she continued. "It can also depend on the gender of its reciever. Camellias, also called flowers of the moon, can mean purity if they're white, but if offered to a man, they're supposed to bring luck. Red means love or passion. I guess yours has a double meaning because of the dual colors."

Zhalia couldn't help but snicker, to the surprise of everyone in the room. Except Dante, who's cheeks turned slightly pink.