He held her hand firmly, giving her what warmth and strength he could find, willing her to find a way out of her sickness, to find a way back to the world. When the young woman spoke, he looked to her with a profound sadness in his eyes, but smiled nonetheless.
"To her?" he asked softly. "To her I am no one. If she comes from when I think she does, she does not even know my name. But to me - to me, she is my love, my life. My lady."