Summary: Sophie has a change of heart and Howl finds himself lost without her. Can he find without her or is he doomed to mope forever?

Disclaimer: Not mine, 'kay?

A/N: So, um, I've realized recently that, while I posted this on dA, I never posted it here. I don't know how this happened, exactly, but I'm so sorry. Here it is… damnitIamsoembarrassed.

Lost and Found

Chapter Three - Shame on You

Morning found Ophelia asleep, propped against the side of Howl's bed with one hand resting near his pillow as if she had dozed off halfway through checking his temperature. Her hair had fallen loose of its band and was scattered around her shoulders like a silken blanket.

Howl stared down at this strange creature. He could vaguely remember her, but couldn't recall from where. He couldn't remember much of the night before either, but he supposed that was a good thing, judging by the putrid state he was in. He could smell vomit. A bath was definitely in order.

Careful not to disturb the sleeping woman, Howl crawled out of bed and trudged to the bathroom. He splashed his face with water a few times to wake himself up. It was then as he stared at his dripping reflection that his memories of the days before returned to him like a slap to the face.

His attempt to kill himself had failed. He had lived to see another day where Sophie was not a part of his life.

"Nooo," he moaned, falling against the side of the tub. "No, no, no, no."

Why was he alive? Why was he still breathing? Why was his heart still beating? That poison should have killed him. Judging by the soreness of his throat and the lingering taste of bile on his tongue, he must have thrown up during the night. Simply throwing up shouldn't have saved him. So, why?

In his musings, Howl didn't notice the door had open until an unfamiliar voice spoke.

"Oh, good. You're awake."

The woman?

He lifted his head a little but didn't turn. Why couldn't be he left alone to wallow in his misery?

When the stranger's presence moved beside him, he groaned and rested his forehead on the edge of the tub.

"How are you feeling?" Her hand came to rest on his back, motionless for a second before moving in slow, soothing circles.

"Leave me," he said softly, his voice barely rising above a whisper because of the throbbing in his throat.

The hand on his back stopped and the warmth at his shoulder shifted away. "What?" The gentleness in her voice seemed to have vanished.

Howl finally spun around, throwing the hand off his back as he faced her. "I said leave me!" he croaked. "I wish to die."

The woman stared at him in shock for a long moment before fury filled her eyes. "I had hoped I was dealing with a case of plain stupidity but it seems I was wrong. Suicide! Honestly." With a huff, she grabbed something from the floor, a glass of water, and shoved it in his hands, some of the warm liquid sloshing out of the cup onto his lap. "Drink that and take a bath. I'll yell at you when you don't look so much like you're ill." She stood quickly and stomped out of the room. "I'm going to send Michael in to make sure you don't drown yourself. Idiot."

Howl winced as she slammed the door shut.

A few minutes later found Howl brooding miserably in the tub now filled with water. He was begrudgingly thankful to the woman for the glass of water and whatever else she put in it, as his throat felt better. He immediately retracted the unspoken thanks when Michael entered the room and closed the door softly behind him. The boy shifted anxiously by the door before he spoke.

"How are you feeling?" he asked quietly.

Howl averted his eyes, preferring to watch the ripples his breathing caused in the water instead of Michael's concerned face. "I'm alive," he stated, his voice devoid of tone or any indication of feeling.

"Oh." Michael shifted again, obviously uncomfortably with his mentor's behavior.

After a long silence and more awkward shuffling from Michael, Howl sighed and glanced at the boy. "You can leave. I won't drown myself." He looked up at the ceiling, his head lolling back against the rim of the tub. "There are much more dignified ways to die."

"Well, um, Ophelia said to hurry up and get dressed."

"Her name's Ophelia, is it?" Howl muttered, sitting up in the water to reach the soap. He wasn't doing this because he had been told to hurry up. No, no, no. This was his own choosing. "She doesn't look like an Ophelia."

"She's very angry, Howl," Michael said carefully.

"I'm the one who's angry." Howl grumbled as he scrubbed his at his left shoulder.

"But she saved your life."

Howl turned to Michael, scowling. "I didn't ask to be saved. Leave me!"

Shocked into silence, Michaels hurried out of the bathroom, leaving Howl to absorb the words he had just spoken. Sighing heavily, he placed his face in his hands and cursed himself silently. Maybe he should apologize for that one.

Howl rushed through the rest of his bath and ignored the quiet voices from down stairs as he crossed to his room to change. He emerged a few minutes later toweling his hair dry and dressed in simple black trousers and a white button-down shirt. He chose to forgo donning one of his usual bright jackets. He wasn't up for any outings that required primping. His heart was still so very heavy.

He trod down the stairs slowly, no exactly excited to face the strange woman again. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he sighed heavily though his nose and set the towel around the back of his neck. Michael looked up shyly from his seat at the table, his fingers winding together on the worn surface in front of him.

"What a complete and utter moron."

Startled, Howl turned to see the blonde woman (Ophelia, his memory provided) leaning against the side of the fireplace, her face etched with anger.

"I beg your pardon?"

Her fury increased. "My pardon? No, sir, that you cannot have." She stepped away from the wall and made a wide gesture at the room. "Do you realized what you've done?"

Howl took in the room. It was a disaster - books and bowls and ingredients and utensils were everywhere. It was as if a woman had never touched the room. Howl's heart tightened at the thought. Oh, Sophie…

"It's called neglect." Ophelia continued lowly. "You should be ashamed, leaving this child to fend for himself-"

Rage bubbled in Howl's chest. How dare she! He cut her words off with his own. "That's enough."

The woman's chin lifted and her eyes narrowed. "Hit a nerve, have I?"

Howl walked forward to tower over her. "I thank you for your services here. I suggest you leave now."

She didn't move. "Why did you do it? Why try to kill yourself?" Her voice was soft, pleading and coaxing. He saw the change in her face. The curve of her brow and lips held sadness instead of anger. Her eyes held concern. Concern! Not pity. Concern from a woman…

For a moment, Howl almost seemed to shrink in stature. His eyes slid shut and he sucked in a slow breath. "She left me for another man," he said softly.

"Were you married to her?"

His eyes flew open. "… no."

Exhaling sharply through her nose, Ophelia rolled her eyes and muttered to herself. "You're a grown man, Mr. Howl. Yes, heartbreak is painful. That's why you grieve. But then you move on." With deliberate slowness she walked over and placed her hands on Michael's shoulders. "You have a responsibility to this kid right here, remember?"

Howl's head bowed forward.

Oh. Good. God.

He was so stupid. How? How could he have let this happen? How could he have been so blinded by grief that he forgot everything else?

There was a long silence.

"Michael, Calcifer, I… I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me."

Michael clamored from his seat and launched himself at Howl while Calcifer let out a heavy sigh of relief from the fireplace.

Ophelia watched Howl and Michael exchange some small words before smiling and turning towards the door. Howl noticed her retreat.

"Ophelia, wait."

She stopped and turned back to face him. He took a second to see her, really see her, this time with his mind clear. He took in her long hair, her slim, straight form, her pale gray eyes. A strange woman.

"You saved my life. I don't know how to repay you."

She sighed and bowed her head politely. "That's not necessary." Her expression appeared suddenly closed off.

"You said you wanted to check back on us afterwards," Michael pipped up. "Remember, when Howl was in the bath? Why not live with us for a while?"

Howl glanced around the room once more and winced. "This place could certainly use a woman's touch again. What do you say?"

"Well, I…" Ophelia glanced around, clearly hesitant. Her feet shifted against the floor, her knees bent as if preparing to flee. Sensing this, Howl let all of the tension out of his own body and gave her his most charming smile. He felt a little trill in his chest when she relaxed a little in response.

"Pleeeease," Michael pleaded, his timing seeming perfect.

Sighing, Ophelia threw her hand up and stepped out of the doorway. "Oh, all right. I'm sure the landlady will be thrilled to have the apartment open for rent again. She's more than paid back my mother's favor to her."

"Yes!" Michael cheered, pumping a fist in the air.

"Only until Mr. Doom and Gloom gets over his heartache, okay?"

"Yep!" He grabbed her hand and started pulling her towards the stairs. "I'm going to give you a tour!"

"Michael, I've got to head to work!"

"It'll be quick, I promise!"

Howl listened to them thump up the stairs as he fell into the chair in front of the fireplace. The light flickered and he looked up to see Calcifer watching him. With a quirk of his lips, he leaned his head back to gaze at the ceiling.

"This should be interesting."

Calcifer huffed, blowing sparks onto the bricks in front of him. "Interesting, he says. Right. And I'm only a little warm."

Howl laughed.