A/N: Yay, the last part of the threeshot! I'm very happy with this for the most part, and (as with The Call) it's in Beka's point of view. It's nice and long, and should hopefully answer some of the questions that all of you have. Hopefully. If it doesn't, feel free to ask, and I'll answer it if I can. Now, I must get back to trying to undo my writer's block for Bright Eyes....Don't forget to review! It will make me VERY happy, and a happy Lioness means more fics. Enjoy!
Rain was pouring down. To Beka Cooper, they felt like icy spikes the instant they touched any bare skin. It had been over two weeks since she had left Corus on the tail of a cove who had struck and killed an off-duty Dog during her Watch, and it had become a far bigger chase than it should have. This cove had to be caught, and it was for more than just cold-blooded murder. Her skin was numb and her clothing was completely soaked through. What was worse was that she hadn't been able to find any sort of shelter whatsoever from the storm that had been going on for hours.
Her horse had thrown a shoe miles back, and she had been forced to leave the mare at an inn not too long down the way (though it had been quite sunny then) from where it had happened. It had only been mid-morning then, and she had known if she kept walking, she could get somewhere safer (namely Trebond) before sundown. What she hadn't been planning on was a storm and getting lost in the mountains. She was cursing herself for her ill-luck the whole time. She always seemed to be the one who had bad luck like this…most recently, it had been with the relationship she had had with Rosto. By now, he had probably gone off with some other mot and would probably flaunt it in her face when she got back. That was how he was…it always had been. He had treated her like a possession in the last few weeks when they were arguing practically nonstop. That did not stop the image of months before from entering her mind again.
She still remembered the way she had seen him when he had been so gravely before. It was like it was burned into her mind and it was resurfacing because of guilt. He had shown no pain when she walked away, no sorrow. Rosto had just let her go, and he hadn't even tried to seek her out before she left. She shouldn't feel guilty about that! He was the one who had wronged her, treated her as if she had no importance! No…he had let her have her way. He had let her go, and there had been hurt in his eyes. He probably hadn't come to find her because he thought she hated him.
Beka reached up to finger the necklace she still wore. She had tried to throw it away, but she had found that she couldn't. She hadn't been able to bring herself to throw the pendant that Rosto had given her away. It had simply been too hard to do that because of what it reminded her of. That image appeared stubbornly as she paused on the ledge she had been walking on and closed her eyes. He had been so helpless then, so close to death, and she had stopped it. She knew that he still bore the long scar from shoulder to hip from that wound, because the healers hadn't gotten to it in time. It had been a long recovery that was for sure, even more so because Rosto insisted on pushing himself past his limits. He had had dizzy spells for weeks because he was up and about when he should have been in bed resting.
Lightning flashed above her head, causing her to wince. There had to be something close by – a cave or an overhang – anything. She didn't care where it was, she was cold and tired. It had been raining for hours on end. A great crack of thunder made her jump in fright. She pressed her hand to her chest, trying to calm her breathing before moving on.
It was sudden when she fell – the ledge beneath her, which had been solid a moment before, abruptly crumbled. Beka let out a shriek of surprise when she was sent sliding downward. She scrabbled to find something to hold onto, to stop her rapid and frightening descent, but to no avail. Everything was wet and she barely had time to try to dig her fingers into the tiny crags in the rocky face of the mountain. She was dashed against stones that jutted out, one of which sent a bolt of pain up her leg and caused her to let out another screech as she continued to tumble toward her death.
Suddenly, there was a strong hand grasping hers. The momentum of her fall all but disappeared and she was just hanging. Someone was holding her up. She saw the shadows of a hood over the person's face when lightning flashed again. Rain dripped down, falling onto her face as she looked up at her rescuer. It had to be a man from the way his hand gripped hers. And the steady strength in which he lifted her from hanging over the edge of a shallow ledge.
It was only once she was safely on the spit of rock that she even tried to get a look at the man who had rescued her. Before she could protest, he scooped her up. She cried out when he jolted her leg, tears forming in her eyes even as the pain receded. From there, the last thing she remembered was blacking out in his arms as he carried her away from the mountainside that was nearly her death.
Beka woke once more hours later. The first thing she was aware of was that she was no longer cold or wet. As she blinked her eyes groggily, she also noticed that there was a fire burning not too far away from her, too. She was wrapped in blankets and tucked inside a bedroll. She didn't remember that.
She sat up slowly, looking around. She was in a cavern of some sort. There was a great opening about sixty feet away, where rain was still pouring outside. The cavern itself was off a sandy brown stone, and there were a few boulders littering it. There was a grey horse dozing over in one corner, lead rope tied to a stone that jutted out from the side of the cave wall. She was surprised that the horse didn't start when there was another crack of thunder outside.
That was when she noticed that she was not only wearing clothes that did not belong to her, but she was not the only occupant of the cave. There was a man sprawled across the fire from her. He was lying in a way that she could not see any distinguishing feature by looking at him. A blanket was mostly cast off, only covering a little of his body as he slept. Beka craned her head to try to see him, but couldn't see anything.
With that in mind, she turned her attention to the clothing she wore. It was only a little loose on her, but only a little. The shirt was made of a durable material that she couldn't quite distinguish with her still sluggish mind. The breeches, though, were leather and durable, and they looked like they had been well used. She turned her attention back to the man who had rescued her, a slight frown coming to her face. Had he had the brass to change her clothing for her, for all she was sodden all the way through and unconscious?
An expression of determination appeared on her face as she pushed the blankets off and tried to get to her feet. The instant she did so, she regretted it. Pain spiked up her leg and she let out another loud cry of pain, startling the man awake.
Though her eyes were blurry from the tears of pain and from sleep, Beka instantly knew who it was. Rosto the Piper blinked sleepily at her, his usually neat horsetail awry, and dressed in sturdy traveling clothes. She paled considerably when she saw his face.
"Oh, good, you're awake," he said, a smile appearing on his face. "I was worried that you would catch a fever while I was resting," he continued. She stared at him. How in Mithros's beard was he that cheerful toward her, even when she had been the one who had broken their relationship off. At that matter, why was he even thee? Was he following her?
"What are you doing here?" she demanded before she could stop herself. Rosto raised an eyebrow as he got to his feet.
"I was riding toward Trebond to meet with the Rogue there when the rain started," he said. "I heard you scream and caught you. I also splinted your leg – it's broken, as you can tell," he told her. She huffed bad-temperedly for a moment. "I didn't follow you, Beka. It was pure chance." She looked up at those words, shock written on her face.
"You…you didn't?" she asked. She tilted her head slightly.
"No, I didn't. I actually had no idea where you went. And if Ersken told me, I was probably drunk at the time," he admitted nonchalantly. She stared at him for several moments.
"You? What? Huh?" That was all she could articulate through her surprise. She had never seen Rosto so much as take a sip of anything other than wine, and he'd only ever had one glass if he had that much.
"Yes. I did. I was a mess after that last fight, and when you left…" he trailed off, refusing to meet her gaze. "I tried to drown out the pain, and it didn't work in the least," he stated. He took a deep breath and looked down at her again, a soft smile on his otherwise expressionless face. He was so calm…it just didn't make sense to her…
"But then…why…." Rosto held up a finger to silence her.
"Because I've realized that you were right. I was treating you like you were just something I could own. I was very inconsiderate of you, Beka, and I'm sorry for it. I should have treated you like you were important, because you were, and like the mot I wanted to spend my life with. I didn't, and I've paid for it. It's your choice now. I'm still here, and I will be even if you chose not to take me back. I'll be your friend if it comes to that. But I won't stop loving you. And I can only thank you for shaking me awake," he said. He rose and walked over to her, crouching down next to where she was sitting. He carefully placed a kiss on her forehead before moving to put another log in the fire.
Beka watched, dumbfounded by the noticeable change in the way he was acting already. He got to his feet and brushed his hands off. Then he pulled the hair-tie that was keeping his long white-blond hair back in a very messy horsetail out and ran one hand through the strands in an attempt to neaten them a little. She was so intent on watching him that she didn't notice that he had pulled his hair back again and tied it.
When Rosto saw her watching he simply smiled – not smirked, but smiled – at her and went about his work. She just watched as he did this. She was honest shocked by this. She had thought…well, it didn't matter what she had thought. She had been wrong. This was very much the man she had saved, not the one who had begun to be cold and uncaring toward her and everyone. A soft smile curved her lips as she watched. He was no longer paying attention to her, but she was glad of it. She could think then. He was letting her have her time to think.
Still, she was entirely speechless. She had not expected this reaction in any way, shape, or form. Rosto had always seemed to be indifferent when a mot had broken off a relationship before he and Beka had become close. He barely reacted usually, and if he did, it was never like this. He had actually thanked her for it. And then he had said…he had said that it was up to her if she wanted to continue the relationship, and that he would still be her friend if she didn't. It was utterly, maddeningly confusing.
"Beka?" His soft voice brought her back to reality. He was once again crouched next to where she sat with her injured leg outstretched. There was a wooden plate in his hand and a small slab of cooked meat and greens on it. "I'm sorry it's not much, but I was only carrying enough for myself and there's not much left," he said.
"Thank you," she replied. He offered another smile, then got up to go back to whatever he had been doing before he had taken the nap she had woken him up from. There was a long silence before she spoke up again. "Rosto?" He looked up at her and waited for a moment.
"Yes?" he asked softly when she hesitated.
"I think…I'm sorry that I hurt you…I know it was for the best…but can you ever forgive me?" she asked finally. Rosto's dark brown eyes were trained on her face as she said this. Another moment passed, and she was scared that he wouldn't.
"You're right again, Beka. It was for the best, and I can forgive you for it. I regret the way I acted toward you before. It should be me asking for your forgiveness, not the other way around," he said. "Will you forgive me?"
"Of course," she replied without hesitation. "But you have to promise me something," she continued. Rosto nodded, but his expression did not change at all.
"What is it?" he prompted.
"Promise me that you won't do that again. That, if I take you back, then you won't change like that again…I don't like that person you were becoming, Rosto," Beka continued, her voice dropping to a softer tone again. "I was scared that I was going to lose you and I couldn't bear it…" Rosto rose to his feet and walked over to her, reseating himself next to her. He put his hands on her shoulders.
"I promise, Beka. I want this to work. I love you, and I don't want to lose you again," he told her. She smiled at that. Instead of saying 'thank you,' she just hugged him, because somehow, she knew that it was the right thing to do. Rosto smiled into her hair, just pleased that whatever had happened between the two of them had been forgotten. The rift was gone, now…
"I love you, too, Rosto," she whispered. He was about to say something more when she relaxed against him, falling asleep in his arms. His smile changed as he watched her. He was so tempted to trace her relaxed features with a fingertip, but he did not for fear of waking her. So, he let her sleep, carefully making sure she was warm in the bedroll once more.
The next day found Rosto leading his horse along the path through the mountains with Beka in the saddle. She had tried to argue, but the fact that she was injured and there was no healer present to heal the break won out. So, she had given in and allowed Rosto to walk so that she could ride. According to what he had said, it wasn't too much farther before the path they were taking (which had probably not been the safest nor the fastest way to go) would take them back down the mountain and to Trebond.
He glanced at her over his shoulder and flashed a smile at her when she was unable to suppress a giggle. When he looked away, her expression changed to one of confusion. Had she…just…giggled?!? She had never giggled like that before. What in the world was going on? She could feel her cheeks burning, and she was extremely thankful that Rosto had not turned around to look at her again.
She settled back in the saddle, thinking for a moment. She could only see the back of his head but she couldn't stop herself from thinking that the light brown of the leather jerkin he wore suited him. Actually, she couldn't avoid the thoughts that these rough clothes seemed…different…better, in a way…than the extremely nice ones he wore in the Lower City.
Beka wasn't paying attention at all until she heard the stone crumbling nearby. She looked around, and saw nothing. It wasn't until Rosto let out a yelp that she saw what had been about to give way. By then it had. Rosto had instantly let go of the lead rope because he was worried that he would startle the horse with the sudden weight. He had grabbed the edge of the rock that was still firmly attached to the cliff face.
Her heart skilled a beat when she saw that he was already slipping. The images of the day before, when she had fallen, flashed through her mind. No! That couldn't happen to Rosto! There was no one to catch him as he had caught her. He would only fall….and he would die…
Careful not to jar her injury, she swung her leg over and pulled her other foot out of the stirrup. She tried not to put any weight on her leg, and slowly moved toward the edge. He was slipping so fast!
It wasn't until Rosto knew that there was no way that he was going to be able to hold on that he gave up. He was once again resigned to his fate as his hold on the rock failed. Then, when the stone he had been trying to hold onto slipped from his hand, he felt another grip on one of his hands. Beka looked down at him from the ledge, doing her best to keep him from falling.
Moments later, he was safely back on the ledge and Beka was hugging him tightly as he did the same to her. It was only because of her that he was safe this time, just as it was because of her that he had come to his senses.
"Thank you, Beka," he said softly. She was crying into his shirt – she had been so scared that she was going to lose him, just like before. She pulled back a moment later and smiled at him, tears still in her eyes. That was all he needed. He decided then and there, he wasn't going to let Beka go ever again. He couldn't, nor did he want to. He just smiled at her, then kissed her lightly before she could move. Beka smiled at him when he pulled away. That smile was enough to make his heart stop.