Disclaimer: I'm too busy looking for the reset button on Bloodhound, 'cause believe me, there would be Beka/Rosto in it if I'd had my way, so obviously, I'm not Tammy, who owns it all. I only play with her characters.
A/N: Oh, yes, Lioness has indeed written yet another of those oh-so-annoying (to the people who want updates, that is) oneshots while I'm supposed to be working on my other fics, like Bright Eyes. I'll be getting back to those soon, only this was too good not to write. I wasn't satisfied with the end of Bloodhound, and this sort of popped into my head while I was eating breakfast a week or two after I'd finished the book, when I was thinking about a few random things...but yeah, I'm very happy with it, it's really long, and it's actually rather realistic....anyway, I'll end this rather long author's note now. And don't forget to review. I like reviews. A lot.
Beka Cooper squeezed her eyes shut as the plaintive wails reached her ears. She wished she could go back to sleep and forget any of this had ever happened. She shrugged her light blanket closer to her, a tear leaking out between closed eyelids.
With a sigh, she opened her eyes again and hauled herself out of her bed. Her eyes scanned the room, as happened every day when she rose. The small apartment that she lived in was not in good condition, even with a very brief cursory scan of the room. It was all she could afford, though.
A cynical smile touched her lips for half-second. Oh, how far she had fallen. Ten years ago, she lived across the district on Nipcopper Close. She had been following her dreams and had been a Dog. She had had good friends and people who cared about her. But she had made a few mistakes. Too many mistakes later to count, here she was.
Beka shook her head as she padded over to the crib not too far away from her bed and leaned over it, dangling her fingers in front of the child who was squalling within. When that did not work, she picked her little lad up, bouncing him on her hip.
This was the life she lived every day. She hadn't had a solid night's sleep in months between nightmares and her son. Not that it really mattered most of the time. She wasn't a Dog anymore, and she worked a shift during the day as a guard for whoever had the money to hire her on a good day. It didn't pay much, but for her current lifestyle, it was nearly always enough. She had food and lodgings for herself and enough to pay for what had become a few sparse extravagances, like ink and new quills were to her now.
It had been just over two years since she had been kicked out of the Dogs. Goodwin had tried to prevent it, but there was no one to contradict the charges leveled against her – which had been very much like the ones that had gotten Marks and Tillyard years before. Only it hadn't been her fault. She had gotten knocked out when she had gone after a Rat not five minutes before a riot had started. She had been kicked out the following day by a very sullen Goodwin who had been horrified to order Jewel to cut the bronze insignia off of Beka's uniform. Everyone had seemed sad to watch her go.
After that, everything had gone downhill. She hadn't seen Rosto, Aniki, Kora, or even Ersken in months – no, years. She honestly could not remember how long it had been. Too long, that was for sure. She sighed again as she shifted her weight and gazed down at the little boy in her arms.
Alex blinked at her with bright blue eyes, a slightly chubby finger in his mouth as he watched her. Beka made a face at him and he let out a delighted giggle. She smiled, and continued to play for several moments before she had to get dressed. She paused before she pulled a light green tunic from her clothespress.
Beka closed her eyes and sighed, hanging her head as she remembered what day it was. It had been a bad week for her – she had had one job during the whole week, and it hadn't paid well. She was short on coin for the rent, and it was due that day. There was no way that she could pull the money together, and her landlord did not take kindly to those who repeatedly paid their rent late. He had said if she did it one more time, he would turn her out. If she didn't do something today, she and Alex would be on the streets, and that was the last thing she wanted.
She bit her lip, glancing at the crib where Alex was sitting with a toy dog that Goodwin had given him for his first birthday. She had to do something, for Alex's sake, but what? It wasn't like she could waltz up to the Lord Provost's house and ask for help. Lady Teodorie had made sure of that when Beka had gotten pregnant with Alex. She had forbidden Beka from coming to the house at all, and had made sure that it was enforced.
That meant…the last place she could turn to…was the Rogue…Rosto…
Beka's expression slowly shifted to a frown as she thought about that. It was ironic that the Rogue was the only place she could turn to now. She had been a Dog for years and had arrested more members of the Court of the Rogue than she could count. It seemed like the only option she had at the moment, though. Or the only acceptable one, at least.
For a moment, she chewed on her lip, trying to think of another option. There wasn't one that came to mind. Resigned to the fact that she couldn't avoid it, Beka slipped her tunic on and began to search for the sling she would carry Alex in while she ran a brush through her hair and braided it as swiftly and neatly as she could. When she found it moments later, she proceeded to dress the little one and make sure he was secured in the sling. Then she looked in the mirror and smoothed her ruffled tunic before she let herself out, praying that she would have enough time before she was kicked out.
Surprisingly, she made it out the door without her landlord jumping on her about the rent. That was a relief.
Beka's eyes scanned the crowd and the streets of the Lower City. Years before, she had seen things so differently. Yes, she had struggled to get by at times, but she had always had a good living, particularly with her wages as a Dog. Now, however, she identified with the folk who were in hard times like she was. It was painful, though, to see the black uniform of the Dogs who walked the streets during the day.
By the Dancing Dove finally came into view, Beka's stomach felt like it was in knots and she could not figure out why in the world that was. The butterflies there did not make sense to her – why was she nervous like this? This was Rosto, after all.
He had been her friend for years, not much longer than he had been the Rogue. He wasn't the lazy tyrant Kayfer had been. He took care of the City, and the people in it. He cared. And she hadn't spoken a word to him, though it was completely unintentional, in over three years. He had stopped coming to breakfast, though it was at his own inn, and he had let Aniki take care of the Happy Bag negotiations when the Dogs came.
Now that she thought about it…had he been avoiding her even before then? Aniki, Kora, Ersken, and Phelan had never said a word to her about it. It was like they just assumed that she would know why she was suddenly being snubbed, if that was indeed the case.
Beka stopped a few feet away, looking at the sign over the door for just a moment. At that point, her only hope was that Rosto was there and not out somewhere else on Rogue business. Then again, considering the hour, he could still be in bed for all she knew. After another moment standing there, she steeled herself and pushed the door open.
The room she entered was a common room – it was large and had tables and chairs mainly around the rim. There was also a bar and a kitchen on one side of the large room. In the vague area of the middle, though, by the fireplace, was the Rogue's throne. It was very different from the throne that had been Kayfer's. It wasn't made of crates and tossed together. This was a nice, straight-backed, wooden chair – it was large, with the semblance of the golden throne King Roger sat upon, but it was different still from that. It was not so presumptuous, one might say, she decided. It was really just like the chair that the head of a rich merchant family might use, or a noble in their townhouse.
Beka's attention drifted back to the bar, where there were two people. One of them was a somewhat stocky man who had a doleful expression on his tanned face and in his grey eyes. He was cleaning a glass mug with a clean cloth while he watched Beka. The other person, though, drew her attention even more.
Even from the back, it was clear as to who it was. Long, thick white-blond hair hung a few inches below his shoulders, held back in a horsetail by a simple black hair-tie that caused a striking contrast. His back was turned to her, but she could see that he wore a bright green sleeveless tunic over a black silk shirt and breeches. His black boots were shiny; his left was hooked on one of the legs of the bar stool he sat on. The prints of daggers were visible to her trained eye at his collar, in his boots, and at the small of his back.
Rosto did not move. He continued to scribble away at the paper he was writing on without looking up. He made no motion that even acknowledged her presence in the building. That hurt.
Beka carefully walked over toward where he was. He paused to dip his quill in the inkwell on his right before continuing. A slight frown appeared on Beka's face. He had to have heard her. It wouldn't make sense if he hadn't noticed. Rosto was the Rogue, after all, and he had an excellent sense of hearing. She was just about to open her mouth to address him when he cut her off.
"What do you want, Cooper?" he asked. He didn't move to put his quill down or anything. He kept writing, barely pausing when he spoke.
"How did you know it was me?" she asked in turn. Beka heard him snort, as if he was surprised that she had asked that.
"I lived in the room under yours for a year and a half, Cooper. I know what your footsteps sound like," Rosto replied. The scribbling continued for another moment as she considered that. It had been nearly nine years since they had lived in the same building – it was surprising that he would remember something as small as the sound of her footsteps. "Now what is it that you want?" Beka frowned.
"Do I have to want something to visit an old friend?" she asked. Rosto paused again.
"I haven't seen you in three years. I'm surprised that you've even shown up on my doorstep at all," Rosto said.
"Oh. Well, you're right. I need help, Rosto," Beka said. He put down his quill, then. She could see his left hand clenched into a fist.
"Is that what friends do, Beka?" Rosto asked in a deadly soft tone. His whole body seemed tense by that point. His jaw clenched and unclenched several times. Then he turned to look at her, drawing a gasp to catch in her throat. "And where were you when I needed help?"
Beka was unable to find her voice for several moments. Rosto stared at her with hard sable eyes. He appeared much like he had the last time the last time she had seen him. Except for one thing. Her eyes fixed on the ragged white scar that slashed across his face. It began on the left side of his forehead, nearly at his hairline, and ran through his eyebrow, across the bridge of his nose, and stopped at the edge of the right side of his jawbone.
The scar shocked and scared her. Rosto had always been a vain man, but this scar was not something that fit. It wasn't right. The Rosto she knew never would have knowingly kept such an unsightly blemish, because that it was just that – a blemish in his striking features.
"I needed your help, Beka," Rosto said quietly. His eyes softened some, but not much. "Ersken said you would come, but you never did. Why should I help you?" he asked. Muscles in his jaw twitched as he stared at her. There was anger and bitterness beneath the hardness in his eyes.
"What's going on, Rosto?" a voice from the stairs called. Their heads turned when the sound of soft footsteps reached them a split-second later. A buxom redhead appeared seconds later. Her brown eyes flicked from Rosto to Beka and back again. She was very pretty, Beka would admit. This woman did not seem like the usual doxies that Beka had seen around the Rogue over the years, but the cut of her blue-green dress said otherwise.
"Nothing, love," Rosto replied, a slight smile touching his lips. The woman joined him at the bar and placed a kiss on his lips. He chuckled lightly as she put her arms around his neck, pulling back a moment later. They looked at each other for several moments before the woman pulled away and seated herself next to him. Beka watched them uncertainly all the while.
"Rosto, who's this?" the woman asked. Rosto snapped his attention back to Beka. His eyes hardened again as he looked at her.
"This is Rebakah Cooper, or Beka as she prefers to be called. We were friends once, when she was a Dog and I was newly made the Rogue. Cooper, this is Viviana," he said, inclining his head toward the woman. She and Beka regarded each other for a moment.
"What did she want?" Viviana asked, turning to Rosto.
"I wanted to ask Rosto for his help," Beka said quietly before he could respond.
"What for?" the woman asked, quirking an eyebrow at Beka. Beka pursed her lips and looked away for a minute before sighing.
"I can't afford my rent and my landlord is determined to turn me out if I can't pay it today. I haven't been able to pull the money together with the few guard jobs I've had recently," she admitted. She glanced up at Rosto and Viviana to see the former raising his eyebrows at her.
"So you turn to me? I would think you would have gone to one of your friends instead of the Rogue, Cooper," he said. "We're enemies, you know. Dogs and Rats always have been…"
"You haven't heard then?" Beka asked. "I haven't been a Dog in two years – I was kicked out," she told him. Rosto's expression did not change in the slightest.
"You're a Dog all the same. You're a Dog through and through. I know you, Beka. Or I thought I did, at least. Now I repeat: why should I help you when all you did was stab me in the back?" he asked. Beka bit her lip.
"I don't understand, Rosto. What happened?" she asked. Rosto snorted and crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at the door for a moment before his flashing dark eyes landed on her again.
"I'll enlighten you, then, since you don't seem to remember. I got arrested and taken to Outwalls, Cooper. For no sarden reason. One of the cage Dogs slashed me with a knife before I was thrown into the cell they kept me in. The wound festered – the one that gave me this scar," he paused to indicate the long scar that marred his features. Beka could feel her own jaw slacken as he spoken, and was shocked as he continued.
"I was extremely ill – I nearly died before they even thought to send a healer, and by then it was too late to prevent it from scarring. Ersken visited me once while I was ill. He said that you would help me, that you were going to talk to the Lord Provost for my sake and the sake of the Lower City, because of all that I had done for the city. Ersken said you would come, but you never did, Beka. I was released on the orders of the magistrate, because it became apparent that I had been arrested for no reason. There was no other reason for my release. You did nothing to help me when you said you would. What do I owe you, after that? Why should I help you when you would not help me when it was a matter of life and death?"
Beka stared at Rosto, her mouth slightly open. She didn't know what to say. She didn't remember this at all. In any way, shape, or form, and she had an excellent memory. Her eyes flicked to Viviana, who was leaning against the counter and was looking at Rosto. Her expression showed nothing of her inner thoughts, and her brown eyes were calm. Beka looked back at Rosto, who was still glaring at her with blazing ebony eyes.
"I…I didn't know, Rosto. I don't remember this at all…I didn't know you had been arrested or anything…" she said quietly. "I'm sorry I wasn't there to help you when you needed help, but I never knew…" Rosto snorted again, rolling his eyes.
"Right. And I'm an angel of the Olorun," he replied scornfully.
"It's the truth, Rosto," Beka told him. Rosto continued to regard her with hard eyes. She could tell that he didn't believe her at all.
"And if that's the case, I'm sure you aren't aware that Aniki was killed last year when there was a raid on the Court of the Rogue by the Dogs?" he inquired icily. Beka's eyes widened as she started at him. She could feel tears forming in her eyes. She hadn't known about that.
"I-I d-didn't…" she stuttered after several moments. Rosto looked somewhat surprised by that.
"Really…and did you know that Phelan killed himself after that?" Beka gasped, her mouth falling open as she stared at him in disbelief. "And-"
"Stop it, Rosto. She's telling the truth. She didn't know," Viviana cut in, putting her hand on his arm. He turned to look at her for several moments as tears began to slip down Beka's face. A moment later, he looked back at Beka, but his expression had changed. Now he looked more concerned, though the bitter glint in his dark eyes had not vanished.
"You really didn't know any of this?" he asked softly. Beka shook her head, trying to hold in her tears. It was not working very well.
"No," she stated, her voice catching on the single word.
"I'm sorry to hear that," Rosto replied. His gaze hit the floor. "But you have to tell me – why do you want my help, Beka?" he asked. She looked back up at him several moments later.
"It isn't for my sake that I want help. If it was just about me, I could deal with it. It's for Alex's sake that I came to ask you for help today," she said softly. She gently removed her son from the sling across her chest so that Rosto could clearly see the little boy. A slight frown appeared on the blond Rogue's face.
It was then that he seemed to see that this was not the woman he had flirted with repeatedly, who he had sulked over, who he had fancied himself in love with. While she was basically the same person, she had had a hard time in the last few years, and she was still hurting deep down. The ratty tunic she wore was one sign of that change, but the look in her eyes, which he hadn't even bothered to see before, was the most predominate change.
"What's happened to you, Beka?" he asked softly, shaking his head just a little. Beka closed her eyes for a moment.
"I made a few mistakes. I got kicked out of the Dogs because they thought I'd abandoned my duty during a riot. I was devastated, and I did some stupid things. By the time I came back to my senses, I was already pregnant with Alex and my life had been turned upside down. I think the only reason I managed to turn it around is that I had someone other than myself to think about, and I couldn't just mourn the loss of my dreams," she said. "I've been getting work as a guard when and where I can, but it's been a bad week for me this week, and I don't have enough. I'm not asking for handouts, Rosto. I just need a little help, and I'll pay you back when I have the coin," Beka finished. There was silence momentarily and she used that time to watch her son. She was surprised that he hadn't begun to cry with all of the tension that had been in the room a few moments before.
"How much do you need?" Rosto asked finally. Beka looked back at him to see him pulling out a purse that he had been keeping inside his tunic. He was waiting for her to respond when Viviana spoke up.
"She could stay here, couldn't she?" the redheaded woman asked. Rosto turned back to her again, as he had so many times already since she had come downstairs. "It's lonely around here without anyone else, Rosto," she said, pouting a little. Beka opened her mouth to object, to say that she didn't want a handout, but Rosto cut her off.
"If you want to, Beka, you can stay here. You'd pay rent just like you would anywhere else, if it makes you feel better. I'll never hear the end of it if I don't offer it to you, at least, but Viviana is right. It's lonely around here without Aniki and Phelan, and Ersken and Kora," he said. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his thighs, sighing again. Beka pursed her lips, biting the lower one a second later. This was not what she had been planning.
"I…I suppose…" she paused, glancing at Alex, who was blinking at her with his wide blue eyes. Her mind was made up. "For Alex's sake, I'll give it a try," she said, her eyes never leaving her son's face. The Dancing Dove would be a better place for him to grow up than in the Cesspool or wherever they ended up, even if the Court of the Rogue met there at night. Rosto nodded to her.
"If that's the case, then we'll need to work out what price your rent will be set at, and what services you'd be willing to offer if you could not fulfill that requirement," he said, half-turning to pull out another piece of paper from beneath the one he had been writing on.
"I'll not be your doxie, Rosto," Beka said immediately. He turned back to her, both eyebrows raised. Viviana chuckled, but said nothing.
"I never said that was part of the deal," he said. "I know how you are about that. Believe me, I know. I tried to get you to for nearly three years before I finally just gave up, remember? I mean things like mending – you were the best sewer in the boarding house, after all - and things like that. What do you say?"
"All right. But only because Alex needs it, and there isn't another choice. I don't want to rely on your charity just because you're my friend. I am sorry for what happened to you, Rosto. If I'd known-" Beka started. Rosto held up his hand, a sort of sorrowful look on his scarred face.
"Don't say it. If you'd have known, you wouldn't have done anything. I'm just the Rogue. That's how it's always been. I get it," he said, shaking his head. "I know that far too well, Beka. Far too well…"
A/N: I know, I'm mean for leaving it there. But, don't worry, there's a sequel oneshot to come, based sometime after this one, that should be a little bit happier. And thus, I remind you - review! It'll help me get the sequel written faster! All you have to do is click the pretty green button!