My first fanfic for the Terrier series. It's not my favorite, but after reading Bloodhound, this plot bunny bit me and wouldn't go away. I always go for the strangest pairings. It's not really romantic, though. But I love relationships like this. WARNING: Minor Bloodhound spoilers, though the part about Sabine is purely invented by me. Enjoy, and please read and review!

P.S. Has anyone noticed/wondered why the "Tamora Pierce" category has stupidly been changed into the "Song of the Lioness" category? She's written a LOT more than Song of the Lioness...

Words: 1021
Characters: Beka, Tunstall
Time: Anytime after Bloodhound
Genre: Friendship/Angst

Disclaimer: Everything you recognize belongs to Tamora Pierce. Not me.

The inn was packed with bodies, all sorts of people cheering, yelling, drinking, and passing out cold with their faces flat on the tables. Most of them were men. Tall, smelly, and unshaven men, too. The walls, floors, and tabletops were just as filthy as the people, as if every stinking Rat in the entire Lower City had decided to live in there. Beka could not imagine why Tunstall had said that this dump of a building would be where he'd spend most of his evening. For a moment, she stared open-mouthed, thinking she must have walked into the wrong building. It had taken her ages to locate this dungheap. But then she caught sight of him, far off in a lonely, dank corner, with his eyes fixated on the tankard clutched in his fist. Beka picked her way over to her partner. On her way there, she had to avoid many drunken slaps and passes, but finally she dropped into a chair next to Tunstall, never even needing to use her baton. Tunstall's eyes were red and his face looked stretched and tired. His brown, graying hair hung lifelessly around his worn face, usually so handsome, now with dark circles under his eyes that made him look ten years older. Beka carefully unwound his fingers from the drink, set the tankard aside, then forced him to meet her eyes. Even though Tunstuall knew the icy stare very well, Beka was well aware that it could still make him pay attention. "This place is worse than the Mutt Piddle Lane. Why are you here?" asked Beka flatly. "You don't look like the Matthias Tunstall I know. You look like a Rat in here."

He reached for the tankard again, his arm carving a visible trial through the grime layered thickly on the table. Beka slapped his hand harshly. Blinking, Tunstall let out a deep sigh and stared into his drink. "She would never look for me here," he said. "She doesn't want to find me."

The tone of his voice was like nothing Beka had ever heard before. It was the sound of a defeated, hopeless man, the exact opposite of the cheery, indomitable Tunstall she knew so well. It was as if he were past caring, past caring about what could happen in an hour, in a day, or in a year. Lady Sabine, Beka thought at once. At that moment, a large, curvaceous woman carrying two huge barrels on her wide shoulders stumbled by their table, grinning a mask of blackened teeth. "Want anything more to drink, m'dears?"

Tunstall raised his mug, but Beka said sharply, "No, thank you. We'll have nothing more here tonight. We're just leaving." Slapping some of her own Happy Bag coin down on the table, Beka hefted Tunstall out of his chair by the arm and began to drag him through the crowd. It was a good thing she was so strong, and Tunstall so temporarily pliable, for he could do nothing but stagger on unsteady feet while she had to move the vast majority of his considerably larger, more muscular weight. After a long struggle, they made it outside. Beka supported him until they found a calm, quiet, Rat-free alleyway. The frosty night air seemed to slap Tunstall into real consciousness. When his breathing began to sound slightly more normal, Beka stepped away from him and let him stand on his own. Tunstall turned, vomited in the gutter, then rested his read on the wall behind him, his eyes shut. Beka brushed a few strands of hair off his sweaty face and offered him a drink of clean water from her flask. One of Tunstall's calloused, warm hands rested gratefully on her shoulder.

"She left, didn't she?" asked Beka.

He gave a short, sad nod. He didn't speak, and Beka didn't force him to. She let him finish off the water and return her flask, then stare up at the sky in silence. Thin, fluffy clouds stretched over the sky like a dully glowing fire. The moon was scarcely visible, just a sliver of a crescent gleaming through the gloomy gray clouds. Placing her hands over Tunstall's, Beka studied his weathered face, especially his eyes. In them she saw overwhelming sadness – but there was also understanding. Lady Sabine had a reason for what she did, Beka guessed, and it made sense, but it had to be hard to accept. "You'll be alright," said Beka, firmly but kindly. "You always are. You'll find someone."

"I've learned to trust all your words, Beka, but I just don't believe you right now," Tunstall said, the words a little slurred and very strained.

"That's because you've had too much to drink. You will see sense in the morning."

"I hope you're right," mumbled Tunstall. Tiredly he rubbed his face with his hands, and when he became too exhausted to do even that, Beka lifted his arm again and placed it around her shoulders so that she could support him as they walked. In silence, she led him back to his conspicuously empty, unlocked house. She helped him lie down on his bed and take off his muddy boots. When she pulled her hands away, he took one of them and held on to it for a second, his eyes pained and cheerless.

"Go to sleep," said Beka, squeezing his hand.

He did as he was told. Within minutes, the only noises were soft scuffles from the street and Tunstall's steady snoring. Beka collapsed into a chair by his bed and closed her eyes. She'd take care of him, like she'd done in the past, until he was as just as he ever was, witty and charming and joyful. She could start now, she thought, by fixing up a nice tea to prepare for him in the morning. But her own fatigue quickly got the better of her. It had been a long night, searching for him, and somehow it had seemed even longer once she found him. Soon, she too had dozed off, her head falling sideways to rest on the bedpost.