A/N: Italics are thoughts or flashbacks. Hopefully the context makes it clear which is which.

"Reunion"

"Coming ashore!" shouted the sailor in the small ship's eagle's nest.

The hero, known throughout her life by many names, shifted her weight nervously as the ship slid up to the small pier, preparing to dock. The day that she never thought would come was here. Sure, she had made the uncharacteristically selfish choice to bring back her loved ones, but she had expected to get her dog back. She hadn't truly expected, in her heart of hearts, to ever see her sister again.

But return she had. Shortly after she had received her sister's letter, Theresa had contacted her, assuring her that her sister was indeed alive and in good hands, but that she would need some time to adapt to her new existence. She wouldn't elaborate on what that meant, simply saying that she would find out in time. 6 months passed. And then she got word. Theresa told her to travel to a small town on the northwest coast, Copperlite Flats it was called. She was to meet her sister there.

Her eyes scanned the coastline, searching for the familiar face of Theresa. A thin mist danced along the top of the choppy water, extending a short distance onto shore, muddling any view she had of land. As the ship-hand tightened a rope onto a dock post the old woman's voice that had become so familiar echoed in the hero's head. You have arrived. We are waiting at the local tavern. It is a small town, you should be able to find us shortly. The hero nodded in response out of habit, despite the fact that Theresa could not see her. Or maybe she could... she had never been quite sure of the details of the gypsy woman's abilities.

The hero flipped a gold coin to the ship's captain, ensuring that he would wait for her for the journey back home, before hopping nimbly on to the dock. Her old companion Muttly landed on his four paws behind her moments later.' A tavern?' she mused. 'Maybe my sister has grown into adulthood after all. Maybe Lucien had simply hidden her away this whole time, like Theresa had taken me to the gypsy camp.' She couldn't imagine that Theresa would take a 12 year old to what was likely such a seedy environment. It wasn't that the hero didn't enjoy the places herself. They had become like a second home on her travels, as she found the jovial camaraderie of the patrons comfortingly the same in every town during her otherwise lonely travels. But she had never seen a child in one.

As she stepped to shore the mist parted. Theresa was right. Small was nearly an understatement. She counted maybe 5 houses and a couple trading stands, which were closed for the day. The tavern was the largest building in the village, standing at two stories tall, but somehow it was doing brisk business. She watched sailors, traveling salesmen, and miners drigt in and out of the building as she slowly approached the entryway. She supposed she should have been sprinting in to meet her sister, as she had a thousand times in her dreams growing up, but she found her nervousness only growing. What would she find in there? It had been 25 years since she had seen her sister. She had no pictures or even drawings of her. Will I recognize her? Will she recognize me? She herself had changed so much from the starving little street rat she had been the last time she had seen her sister.

She had grown into a woman. A hero. A wife and mother. She just hoped that whoever she found sitting in that bar with Theresa, whatever form she took, she could build a new life and relationship with her. Because one way or another, it was her sister. Her Rose.

She adjusted her coat and stepped inside.

She saw them almost immediately. It was hard to miss the blind hooded woman in a place like this. But it would be easy to miss the unassuming little girl that sat on a stool beside her, her legs dangling restlessly. The hero's breath caught in her chest as her eyes landed on her sister. She was just as she remembered... but so different. Oh, she was clean now, dressed in new clothes that actually fit her. But that wasn't what seemed so different. It was reality, her adult perspective clashing with her memories that struck her.

Rose was so small. So delicate. Her brown hair tied back in a clumsy, childish, manner. The Rose in her mind towered over her as her protector. Her shield in a harsh, dangerous world.

Instead, a small skinny girl sat on that stool, looking feisty and impatient as she fidgeted, but not the tough hero from her memories. She felt her eyes begin to get watery, and she blinked the tears away as a smile spread across her face. Her sister had not grown, nor changed at all, most likely. They had another chance... of sorts. Rose would have the childhood that they had dreamed of; a dream that had never come true for Albion's hero, after her sister's death. But Rose would get that dream of a warm home, plenty of food, and to be a child without worrying about being a parent figure as well. 'I'll make sure of it,' she thought. 'I'm a hero after all. If I can't do that, what use am I?'

Rose twirled a ribbon which dangled from her sleeve around her finger for the umpteenth time that day. It had taken a while to get used to being clean and well fed, but even after 6 months she hadn't come to take it for granted. For half of her young life she had scraped and struggled for everything that she and her little sister had. That instinct was a hard one to let go of.

The mysterious woman that had brought her here, to this dark little town and it's bustling tavern, was much like that man. Again, she didn't know why, but the woman felt trustworthy. This, too, was a strange feeling to get used to. Adults were dangerous in the world she remembered, but as strange as they were, both strangers had both proven kind. No, they were not the reason that she found herself as agitated as she was. Nor was it the well-hewn clothes, her full belly, or strange surroundings. It was why she was here.

They had told her what had happened. She remembered being shot in the belly by that nobleman, Lucien, who had seemed their salvation at first. Before killing her. She absently rubbed the spot where the bullet had hit, unconsciously nursing the wound that now left not even a scar.

She had woken up in a glade, which had faded into view after her last she had seen - that of her little sister blasted back, through the tower window. Her last thoughts at that moment had been a blast of fury and confusion at the betrayal of a man they had met only moments before.

The strange hooded man had been stingy with details for the first few days, before she had finally blown up at him, striking aside the steaming bowl of soup he had placed before her.

'Just tell me where she is!' she shouted.

He reacted in the same infuriatingly calm manner that characterized his every move. 'She will find you, when the time is right. But you may write her a letter if you wish.'

She slumped back into her chair, regretting the outburst that had destroyed her dinner. Food was a rare gift and she still didn't trust how long this would last. She furrowed her brow, staring at the tabletop. 'I don't know how to write. Or read. Neither does my sister. They don't teach you that in Old Town.'

'She does now. She's learned many things.'

Rose raised her eyes, meeting his, as an accusatory look crossed her face. How could that be? How long have I been away? It didn't seem like much time had passed, but she had to have arrived on this isle somehow. She'd always known her sister was clever. So, maybe her sister had landed in a better situation than she had and had learned a few things.

He sighed, before spooning out a new bowl of soup for his charge and placing it before her. 'I will write for you. And you will be reunited when you are ready. The world has changed much since you were last in it. Please. Be patient.'

'Fine,' she grumbled. She slurped the beefy soup from her spoon, relishing the oniony broth despite herself. Long years of hunger made every meal a decadent affair. But her mind still wandered to her little sister. She hoped she was safe... all they had were each other. Rose had no way of knowing where she was, or how to get home. She hoped what the man had said was true.... that she was experiencing the same sort of comfort Rose was, because she had no way of getting back to her for now.

He was good to his word, as far as she could tell, and had written the letter, presumably sending it to wherever her sister was. Over the next few weeks the skinny hooded man had slowly revealed what had happened in the world since the snowy night she had been shot. She hadn't believed it at first. It was all so ridiculous. How could she have been dead 25 years? She had never believed in an afterlife - the world she knew was too cruel to somehow have that fairytale ending. But if she had been dead for 25 years, wouldn't it be like... being asleep or something for a long time? One moment she was watching the blood flow from her stomach, the next, she was staring up at a deep blue sky through a canopy of blossoming trees.

She had never believed in magic, either, despite laying her hope in that music box. But he had shown her otherwise. He was gifted with some sort of power, which allowed him to conjure all kinds of things. She got the impression he expected her to be afraid of what he showed her at first, but it had merely been fascinating... thrilling. Magic was real! So, maybe what else he told her was true too. Still, even as the months passed, and finally, the blind woman who she remembered from market that fateful day, had come to take her to her sister, she never believed it in her heart. Not until she walked through the door of that tavern.

Rose stopped twirling the ribbon in her fingers as the woman who stood in the doorway caught her attention. Along with the attention of everyone in the room. The woman was dressed in stylish, but functional attire, fit for an adventurer of some means; a gleaming cutlass and intricate handgun hanging at her side. Her whole being radiated an intensity of power that was staggering, but underneath it all there was something familiar about the way she held herself. Although all eyes were on her, the woman was staring at Rose. When Rose's eyes met her's, the woman's face split into a warm smile and she quickly crossed the room to meet them. As she got closer, Rose could see the woman's eyes were sparkling with unshed tears, and she found herself confused by how someone with so powerful a presence could seem so vulnerable and so interested in a poor street girl like herself.

The woman knelt down to Rose's eye level, and seemed to be drinking in every detail of the girl. There was something about the warmly familiar look about the woman kneeling before her... Rose realized that she looked like her own mother - what little she could recall of her mother's looks, anyway. The attention made her a bit nervous and she glanced at the blind woman, Theresa, before asking, "Do I know her?" A note of nervousness tinged her voice.

Theresa merely nodded serenely. "I think you know exactly whom this is."

Rose turned back toward the woman who knelt silently before her. There was a look of desperate hope on that face that mystified Rose. Nevertheless, she searched the features of the woman before her. She really did resemble her mother... it was strange to see a hint of that face after all these years, after what had happened. The woman's skin seemed to almost radiate a blue glow, while a warm energy of pure goodness bathed her whole being. This all made her more fearsome features, battle scars, seem to fade. The woman's face bore a faint scar down the left side of her face, right across the eye, as well as a smattering of healed cuts which peppered the milky white skin of her arms. Her upper lip was marred with a much smaller scar which caused part of it to pucker inward just slightly. Deep blue eyes, with speckles of green. The lip... the eyes.... that searching expression, so desperate to read her own....

"Lil' Sparrow?" Rose asked, her voice cracking in disbelief as realization dawned across her heart.

The older woman's face broke into a truly beaming smile before she scooped Rose up, lifting and enveloping her in her muscular arms. She spun her around, gripping her tight to her chest as she held her face against the small girl's own and whispered into her ear. "Always! Always..." Rose let out a muffled squeal of surprise, suddenly letting herself fully realize what was happening. The strange man had been telling the truth... it really had been 25 years! Her baby sister really was the hero of Albion... and grown up.

At the sound of her squeal, Sparrow set the girl gently back down to the floor, breaking the embrace. They looked at each other, finally mutually knowing who they were seeing, drinking in the presence of the other. Sparrow's eyes dashed about nervously for a moment. "Sorry. I... I've not stopped thinking of you. I didn't mean to startle you, or... scare you if I did." The pitch of her voice was weathered and lowered by time, but Rose could still hear her little sister in the timber.

The whole thing was incredibly strange. She felt as if she was talking to a stranger, yet at the same time the person closest to her heart in her whole life. "It's okay. I haven't either... stopped thinking of you that is... I've missed you, my Sparrow." she answered, not sure of what else to say. She went back to fidgeting with the ribbon hanging from her sleeve, withdrawing into herself for a moment as she tried to process the flood of confusion, joy, and strangeness that she found clashing in her head, unconscious of the fact that it reflected to her sister just how much age and time had created a canyon between them.

She was vaguely aware of Sparrow still searching her face, until the woman's hand came to rest on her still fidgeting one. "Hey... you still love root beer?" she asked with a hopeful smile.

Rose nodded. "Got plenty o' gold now, I suppose. What with the heroics and all."

"You could say that... certainly compared to back our days in Old Town," replied Sparrow, tossing a penny to the bartender, before ordering her herself an Oakvale stout. Rose studied her new found sister's face as the woman sipped at her mug. It was unreal. Her face, the same little one that had looked up to her so expectantly now towered a foot above her. It was the same, but less rounded... more elongated into a more mature adult shape. Her cheekbones popped in elegant definition, accompanied by a slim jawline perched above a long arched neck. But the eyes were her sister's. "You're really my little Sparrow..." she said quietly. "Well, big Sparrow now, I suppose," she corrected herself with a smile, after she realized she had spoken aloud.

Sparrow set her mug down regarding her sister. "I suppose I am now..." She shifted her gaze to Theresa for the first time. "Thank you."

Theresa shook her head. "Don't thank me. It was your deeds that brought her back. And her deeds that built the strength in your youth to do what you did. You have both earned it."

Rose felt her eyes tear up as she realized that she had missed half the life of the only family she had left in this world. It felt strange to feel so protective of the grown, powerful woman who sat before her, but as she came to terms with the fact that this was indeed her little Sparrow she felt a stab of sorrow and guilt dash across her heart. Her feelings spilled out before her mouth could stop them. "I'm sorry I left you, Sparrow. I should have been there to protect you. I should be the one with those scars. If only we hadn't gone to that awful Lucien's castle!"

Sparrow turned to her now-younger sister and took Rose's hands in her own. Rose could feel the callouses of a hard life against her own youthfully soft hands - another reminder of all the life she had missed. But the look in her sister's eyes was one of gentle concern. "No, it wasn't your fault. It was no one's fault. It was just... fate. One thing I've learned is that things turn out how they have to. I'm just lucky that I got a chance to give you another one." She squezzed Rose's hands a moment, as if she held tight enough she could fix all the tragedies that had transpired in their lives. "I want you to know, I'll always be there for you... like you were for me. You don't have to worry anymore - its my turn to take care of you - and I will. I promise."

Rose smiled. "What matters is we're together again, Sparrow. And nothing will separate us again..." she flung her arms around her sister and buried her face into her shoulder, feeling as relieved and whole as she ever could remember as she felt her sister's arms gently wrap around her again, one hand stroking her hair softly.

As they finally pulled apart Rose caught a musty whiff off of her Sparrow's coat. "You smell like wet dog." She wrinkled her nose. "I thought hero-types had the money to keep their clothes clean... no offense, of course!" she finished as she realized what she had said. Hardly what one wanted to hear on a reunion.

To her relief, her Sparrow still had her sense of humor and let out a familiar, if more grown-up, chuckle. "Don't you remember?" At Rose's baffled expression Sparrow smiled before waving for her to follow. "Of course... it was only a day. C'mere. There's someone I want to reintroduce you to."

The next week was a series of surprises as Rose and her Sparrow got reacquainted with each other while they sailed to Bowerstone. She had been pleased to find that the stray that had followed the two girls home that fateful night had been her sister's loyal companion since then, doing the job that Rose had been robbed of - that of protector and provider of unconditional love while Sparrow had grown up. She was surprised as well that the blind woman, Theresa, had taken her sister in, giving her a warm hearth and family in a camp of gypsies not far from Bowerstone. She couldn't have asked for better. Well, she had, when she wished on that music box but still... realistically, she couldn't.

Sparrow recounted her life in the gypsy camp, of her education in dance, weaving, and stonecutting by the residents. Reading, writing, and all other manner of other intellectual pursuits by Theresa. Of exploring the nearby woods with Muttly. Of her first crush on a boy, Gry, and how she had embarrassed herself in front of him with an ill-timed belch. She felt all the time she had missed, and cursed herself for dying. They both had hero blood, didn't they? Why had she not been able to hold on while her little Sparrow had been strong enough to survive and go on without her? Sparrow had sighed, a dark look crossing her face when Rose had voiced this thought. It was a look Rose knew well from the many troubled adults of poverty-ridden Old Town. 'Things happen... things we can't stop no matter how much we wish sometimes, in life.' Rose dropped the subject at that point, as she saw guilt slump her sister's shoulders as she recounted the lesson she had learned probably more times than Rose wished to imagine. Again, it was strange to see her sister who seemed the same person, but aged and wizened to life, while she remained wide-eyed, though street-smart.

Rose, for her own part, had recounted her months with the hooded man... well, what she could recall of it. It seemed to fade a little more every day, like a vivid dream. It hadn't taken long to share. But she had proudly shown Sparrow what she had learned of letters from the man - writing out her name, and Sparrow's, as well as some short poems, with a piece of charcoal they had found on the ship. Sparrow clapped excitedly at how much Rose had learned in so short a time and Rose swelled with a bit of pride at her sister's appreciation, gladly accepting her offer to continue her education when they got home. Later through, as she reflected on things she found herself confused to be reveling in her baby sister's praise. Their bond was still there, strong as the last day she had seen her, when she really was her baby sister, but it was... changing.

Sparrow now told her stories as she drifted off to sleep, cuddled together in the ship's hold, just as she had done for her in their alley-bound shack. She told her stories of her adventures, which she would have rejected as fairy tales from anyone else but her Sparrow. It made sense now, knowing their family line, that Sparrow had been so enthralled by her own tales of the heroine and the snow monsters. Her destiny was in those stories.... maybe Rose's too, when she grew up.

She nestled closer, that final night on board, tucking her head against her Sparrow's neck, her sister wrapping a long slender arm around her in return, and was comforted by her warmth against the chilly sea breeze that wafted through the ship's lower deck. The dog cuddled on her other side, and Rose's fingers lazily scratching his scruffy neck as he snored quietly.

"... it was a foggy black evening when I heard a rustle in a nearby bush. Muttly growled, of course, and that was when I saw this squat little beast leap from the leaves. I hadn't been to a town in days, so I was low on potions, but..." Rose sighed as she let herself be lulled to sleep by her sister's soft, low, alto voice, which continued on with her story. She was getting used to the idea of being the little sister, and, to tell the truth, didn't mind it so much. Fiercely independent as she was, so far her sister had proven to not try to play parent, even if she was old enough to be her mother, now. She had even allowed her a few sips of the wine from her pack as she had taught Rose one of the pub games she had picked up in her travels. No, their relationship was changing as they both got used to the circumstances fate had brought, but as she drifted off to sleep Rose decided that it wasn't bad. Just different. And from what her Sparrow told her of her life, the home she had in Bowerstone... perhaps she could adjust to being cared for, for once.

A few minutes later, Sparrow glanced down at Rose and saw by the gently slow rise and fall of her chest, that her sister had drifted off to sleep. She smiled, before turning off the gas lamp next to their bunk, blanketing the hold in pitchy darkness. She considered the day ahead of them, once they made port. It would be another in what had become a long line of big days. But certainly the biggest since their reunion. Rose would meet her family. She pulled the woolen blanket from her pack that they shared up, tucking it under Rose's chin. She would need all the rest she could get. They both would.