This is based a little bit after The Throne of Fire and I don't think the fluff is too far off... I mean, Zia did call Carter "endearingly charming" (and if that isn't calling him cute, I don't know what is) and I think she's just kind of confused.

I apologize if she's out of character, but I needed some fluff in my life.(:

The rebuilding process was going nicely, Zia thought as she padded down the hallway, bare feet hardly making a sound except for the occasional squeaky floorboard. All the blown holes in the walls were slowly getting repaired, broken statues and dented ceilings disappearing. She pulled the blanket she had dragged with her tighter around her body, drawing it up from the floor, to shield her legs from the cold also. Sadie kept trying to get her to wear these "sweatshirt" things to keep her warmer, but Zia didn't really like them. They were restrictive, and made her feel like she was getting suffocated.

She didn't know why she couldn't sleep, maybe it was the fact that her entire life had been uprooted and thrown everywhere, redesigning everything she thought she had known. Now she was here, lost in a sea of bright smiles covering terrifying fears, and young teenagers who really had know idea what they were going to do.

Zia was one of them, and it was really starting to sink in.

Carter was an entirely different issue.

He had all these memories, all these feelings, of being with her and fighting with her, and her saving his life, but Zia didn't. Carter was desperately trying to get her to remember, to talk, to do something for him, but she didn't know what was going on. It's not like she could start liking someone who she had assumed was the enemy for fourteen long years.

It was hard. It was confusing.

Maybe that was why she couldn't sleep.

Wiping her sleep-crusted eyes, she sighed heavily and continued walking, struggling to control her raging emotions. It was very late, no one else was up; so all the doors to the separate bedrooms were closed.

Except one.

It was wide open, as if the wind had thrown it backwards, and a soft yellow light was flooding the square in front of it. Curious, Zia tiptoed forward and peered around the corner.

The light was coming from a tall lamp in the corner. The room itself was basic in design; there was an antique looking oak desk in the corner, a big bed nestled by the wall opposite of it, and books. They were scattered all over the place: on the large windowsill, on the floor, in lopsided stacks against the walls, and on the nightstand.

Soft, rhythmic breathing was coming from the bed.

For some unknown reason, Zia's feet pulled her into the bedroom.

Of course, it was Carter.

The sheer amount of literature should've told her off in the beginning.

He was sprawled on the bed on his stomach; Zia could see what she could now confidently identify as an iPod clutched in his left hand, the cover of some unknown artist still playing. Both earphones must've fallen out, because they were now tumbling off the bed, hanging loosely.

Carter was also shirtless. Not that Zia was looking. At all; she didn't take interest in that sort of stuff. Oh, who was she kidding, she'd spent two months trapped in water without physical contact with anyone, especially of the young, male variety. But this was Carter, she wouldn't, couldn't, start doing this.

Sighing, Zia crumpled onto the desk chair next to his bed. She pulled her fingers through her hair and rested her chin in her hand, staring at Carter in silent agony. He took a deep breath; one that made his shoulder blades rise up and as he exhaled, deflate down, sending Zia's heart racing in the fear of him waking up.

But he didn't, instead Carter shifted uneasily, turning his head on the pillow and mumbling something incoherent. His hand suddenly clenched his iPod in a death grip, knuckles turning white. His breath hitched in his throat and Zia watched intently as Carter suddenly tensed, entire body going tight for a reason she desperately wanted to know.

She watched silently, eyes roaming over the smooth skin that covered his shoulder blades, taking care to notice the two puncture marks (now just scars) had faded into white circles on his skin. Sadie had said that he'd been critically injured before he'd come to rescue her, and she'd been forced to use his secret name to heal him. That story seemed to throw into light that Carter was not a child and he was just as much a seasoned magician in this as she was. It completely made her toss away the assumption that he was some ignorant kid who was hopelessly entangled in her; when in reality he was confused, powerful, and a leader. Someone that everyone looked up to for reassurance when they couldn't find any of their own.

Zia cringed at the amount of pressure that must come with that role.

He restlessly turned on his side, facing Zia. Carter's face was twisted up in pain and her heart twisted in her chest. He constantly did that; every once in a while he'd adopt this look; when his features got all crumpled together, and the golden child smile was cracking right along with liquid brown eyes.

It showed her how Carter was truly just as terrified out his mind as the rest of them were.

Why did it almost physically hurt her?

She watched as Carter rolled to his back, the light enriching his tan skin and showcasing how well his abs were developing. His arms tensed, lean muscles twisting and clenching, and Zia really wanted to tear her eyes away from his incredibly soft-looking skin.

Not that Zia looked.

His left arm was now flung out towards her, still clutching his iPod, and she watched as his ribs started to heave, breaths getting deeper and heavier. Carter's head tossed side to side, and he whimpered. He whimpered. His lips parted, and he whimpered. Zia flinched and sat helplessly, forced to watch Carter fight his unknown enemies, caught in the throes of what looked like a horrifying nightmare.

The blankets were tangled around his waist, and he kicked them, struggling with something Zia couldn't see.

She grabbed his wrist.

She didn't know what she was doing, but her hand jerked forward and she caught his slender wrist and held it, fingers sliding over smooth skin. Carter instinctively pulled his arm back, but for some reason stopped, letting it hit the bedcover again. Zia uneasily glanced at his tense features and unwittingly started stroking his wrist with her thumb.

Slowly, she watched his breaths even out, chest now rising and falling with calm, relaxed motions, and his face smoothed out, peace enveloping his features. With a soft sigh, the tension left his fingers and they loosened their death grip on his iPod, letting it tumble in the air. Zia deftly caught it with an amused sigh and set it on his nightstand, putting it on sleep.

Zia looked down, her hand was still lightly over his wrist, and a blush was rising through her ears. For some reason, it was imperative that his arm didn't stay hanging off the bed like that, so Zia gently wrapped her hand around his curled up fingers and set it on the covers.

She stood up, throwing her forgotten blanket over one arm – she wasn't cold anymore, and started out the doorway.

Right before she left, she turned her head and threw Carter an uneasy smile.

"I don't know about you, Carter Kane."

I hope I managed to catch some sort of idea of what Zia is thinking. Because in my opinion, she's almost kind of condescending, when she definitely shouldn't be, because Carter's been through a whole lot of crap and I don't like the image of her looking down on him, that's why I tried to get into her head a little here, and see what's going on.

Review! Constructive criticism (meaning well, of course) is always encouraged. Tell me what I can improve! That's why I'm here.(:

Any thoughts on Zia's character? What do you think is going through her head? R&R!(: