Lyndon opened his eyes to a stone room, warmth emanating from a nearby fireplace. Green banners adorned the walls; tables stacked with bandages and healing potions and tonics sat carefully arranged against the walls. He was clearly not in Kingsport anymore, not with all that stone in the walls.

A brief inspection revealed bandages wrapped around his upper right chest and shoulder, neatly dressed, secure and clean. There was dull pain beneath the wraps, but he did not feel sick or smell infection.

I'm alive.

He hadn't had much of a plan for waking up. The last thing he recalled clearly was the oil seam lighting up, and then pain in his chest. The aftermath was a blur.

He slowly propped himself up on his elbows, looking around for some sign of life.

He heard soft snoring; saw Kormac sitting in a nearby chair, head bowed, sound asleep. The templar's shield and a bright, shiny new spear sat propped against the wall.

Lyndon had a flash of memory, the templar healing him, saving his life.

He'll never let me live that one down.

He watched the templar for a moment. Kormac shifted briefly, adjusted the fold of his arms, but never woke.

Lyndon shook his head. Good old Kormac. Maybe you aren't such a helmet-head after all.

Lyndon carefully sat up, drawing the blanket up around his shoulders. He slowly swung his legs over the bed, pressed his feet against the cold stone floor. He had no idea where his boots were, and the clothes he wore fit but clearly weren't to his tastes. No matter. He felt strong enough to stand, and stubbornly fought the screaming weakness in his legs.

He limped over to Kormac, rested a hand on the sleeping man's shoulder for a moment. "Thanks," Lyndon murmured, certain he wasn't heard. Best not to give the other man a big head; he was impossible enough already.

Lyndon steadied his balance and wrapped the blanket around his upper body, easing toward the wall, tottering carefully out of the room. As he emerged, he saw a handful of soldiers and one imposing former angel. Tyrael eyed him across the room, and Lyndon gave him as polite a nod as he could manage. It hurt to move.

He wondered where his other friends might be, and started to shuffle around the perimeter of the room, roughly remembering where the women's quarters were in the old Westmarch castle. Tyrael was at his side a moment later, and Lyndon was ever-so-grateful for the wall to lean into, because the angel almost made his heart stop. "Yes?" Lyndon gritted.

"You survived your errand," the angel said.

"Wonderfully observant of you, yes." Lyndon's voice sound hoarse and awkward, even to his own ears. He swallowed. "What do you want?"

"The nephalem told me what happened in Kingsport. She says you saved her life. It seems I misjudged you and your intent. I apologize."

Lyndon took longer than the angel liked but he finally said, "Accepted."

"Lyndon! You're awake." Eirena's cheerful voice caught their attention.

The angel bowed his head in greeting and stepped away, returning to his new Horadrim charges.

Eirena smiled at Lyndon. "It's good to see you up. We were worried."

"We're back in Westmarch, obviously. How did we get here? When?"

"We took a ship, not long after you left the cathedral. We've been back for three days now." Eirena looked him up and down. "You should still be in bed. Kormac and the castle healer have been working to aid you. You'll undo all their work."

"Kormac's asleep in the infirmary. Looks like he needed it."

Eirena nodded. "We talked on the journey back from Kingsport. We talked about many things, but we talked about his anger toward you, about what you did and what you meant to do. When we heard what the guild leader said to you, what she did to your brother, Kormac decided he'd been wrong."

"What of our hunter friend? Is she all right?"

"She is asleep. One of the Horadrim made her a strong tea last night, to help her sleep. She'd been awake since we returned. She would not leave your side, not until she was sure you would recover."

Lyndon frowned. "She shouldn't have done that."

"We were all worried," Eirena said. "She said something I am not sure I understand, but she said it was why she would not leave."

"What did she say?"

"She said 'men choose to fall.' She said there was a reckoning, for you both. I don't understand what that means. She did nothing wrong, and you did what you set out to do." Eirena peered at him, as if searching his face for an answer. "Do you know what she meant?"

"No," Lyndon lied, straightening somewhat and pushing away from the wall. "Would you take me to her? I'd like to sit with her awhile."

Eirena caught the unspoken addendum 'alone' in his voice. She led him away from the main hall to a small room set aside with two beds. The enchantress's books lay on one, while on the other, a demon hunter lay fast asleep. She was stripped to corset and trousers; her boots cast into the corner, cloak hanging across the foot of the bed, crossbows and quivers neatly placed on a nearby table, gloves and pauldrons resting next to her breastplate and leg-guards.

"She can be very stubborn," Eirena said softly.

Lyndon smiled. "Sounds familiar."

He thanked Eirena, asked her to check on Kormac for him – "Make sure he doesn't panic when he wakes up and finds me gone" – and pulled a chair into the room after she left. He dragged the chair across the stone floor, but the racket didn't stir the hunter from her rest. He set it close to the head of the bed, and sat down heavily.

He watched her for a moment. Her back was to him. She almost looked vulnerable, but he took no chances. A woman like this one didn't accept a sleep aid and use it unless she had no fear of the people who surrounded her.

He tightened his grip on his blanket. "I heard you say I saved your life," he said softly, "but I think it's the other way 'round. So… thanks. Probably the only time you'll ever get that word out of me, so, enjoy it while you can. I mean it."

He studied the scars he could see, imagined the ones that lay beneath her clothes. He wondered if he'd ever be able to look at his newest scars and not think of her. She'd risked a great deal of trust to follow him to the end of his road. He did not know how to repay that kind of loyalty. He watched her turn in her sleep, now facing him, one hand tucked beneath her pillow, the other resting on the mattress. He saw the numerous healing scratches and scrapes dotting her fingers and hands, and wished, for one moment, he could take them all away.

For the first time, he saw her without burdens on her shoulders, without a world to save, without a demon or a monster to slay. His attention focused on her hair, long, black as the darkness she embraced, loose and badly in need of brushing. He smiled faintly.

"Probably best I tell you this when you're asleep, otherwise I'll never say it," he whispered, confident no one could hear him. He reached out, took her hand in his. He laced his fingers between hers. "You were right, you know. Men choose to fall. We've all got choices to make, and what we decide puts us where we belong. You had a choice, too: you could've left me anytime you wanted. You could've walked away, let me do what I wanted, and left me to deal with the consequences myself. Instead, you stuck with me, you stood by me, you killed for me. I mean, how many men have friends who will go that far for them? men like me certainly don't have friends like you."

He swallowed, squeezed her hand. "My brother was the last great friend I had. Then I met you, and I thought you were just another joyless hunter, nothing keeping you going except your hate. Then you helped me, and you came with me when anyone else would've abandoned me. I'm not sure why you did it, to be honest, and I'm not sure I'll ever know. Like I said, men like me don't have friends like you; we don't have people who will do anything for us."

He leaned back in his chair, kept his grip on her hand. "Eirena said you'd called this a reckoning for us. I'm not sure what it is. I know I trust you. is that our reckoning? Is that the outcome of this? I trust you. I know you won't let me fall, no matter what."

He adjusted his grip, thought he felt her return the gesture. She didn't wake.

"I'm not a good man," he added softly, "I know that better than anyone. I'm not a good man at all. You, on the other hand, you're something else, something special. You've been a better friend to me than I've been to you. I'm not sure if there are other adventures out there for you, but, I'd be honored as hell if you'd let me come along to find out."

He bowed his head. "I'd try to earn your friendship, just like you've earned mine. Say the word, and I'll follow you into Hell again. That's one promise I can keep."

"Could you live with those consequences?" Her voice startled him for a moment.

He regained his composure, looked at her, watching him with unfailingly alert eyes. "Gods, girl," he murmured, "don't you ever rest?"

"Not often."

"You heard everything I just said, didn't you?"

She nodded.

Lyndon groaned. "So. Do you want to tell the Horadrim his sleeping draught doesn't work or should I?"

"Do you mean what you say?" she asked.

"Mean what with who now?"

"You don't need to earn my friendship, Lyndon, but were you serious about following me?"

"I… wouldn't mind," he admitted. "I mean, assuming I wouldn't get in your way. I know you like your 'alone time.'"

"I've spent most of my life alone," she said. "I confess, I don't mind some company."

"So you wouldn't mind mine?"

She smiled. "You have that look in your eye."

"What look?"

"There's a pocket to pick, a jewel to steal, or a farmer's daughter to liberate."

He snorted. "All there's left to liberate is my dignity from these damned bandages and weak legs."

"A few more days, then," she said.

"Then we'll seek our fortunes together," he added.

He was rewarded with a smile. He'd never tell her, but it was a better prize than any jewel he could steal. He had to have at least one secret he could still call his own.

The End