A/N: Hello. Is anybody there? It has been a long time, I know. But here's this short fic based on the song "End of Time", by Lacuna Coil (may as well be placed after "Tears", if you like). Please note that this one is unbetaed, thus may contain misspellings (Cloud, if you happen to see this, feel free to point them). It just wouldn't go away, so I decided to write it down. Also, I apologise for the lack of updates for Survivor. The story is still alive, so to speak, but there have been complications in regard to my health as of late. As soon as they are dealt with, I should come around with the final chapter. For now, I hope you enjoy this moment between our favorite ladies.

It May Be The End

- I -

"I've come to realise something."

"Don't you dare say it," Because I can't take it, don't want to hear it, not like this, not now. "Just... don't." My voice softens, breaks, almost like a prayer.

But she still tries to say it. "Kahlan–"

"Shut up."

And she does, for a blessed moment she does as she's told. That insufferable smirk of hers makes an appearance, though, before fading away just as smoothly.

Because this is war, and she knows, just as I know, that one cannot afford to stand at the edge of the precipice and be idle about doing so. Then again, she's not just any one. She's the one who is letting herself fall into the inferno's mouth. She's the only one who can, who dares, who will. For me. For all of us.

"I promise you – this ends tonight." She says to me, as if I'm not being torn apart by the merciless blade of fear already, the fear of losing yet another piece of my broken heart, albeit I do my best to try and hide it as she finishes quietly, "But before it is over, I need to know if you can forgive me... someday."

"It wasn't your fault." I say the words, hollow and practiced, and she looks at me. She looks at me with eyes of a goddess, the one that can see right through my cool veneer.

And she knows, at this moment I can tell that she knows, that I'm saying these words to her, but I do not truly feel them in myself. Not completely. Because some tiny, tiny part of me taints it all, still has the mind to blame her for what happened a month ago. I'm so haunted and I'm sure that she can see it now, how much I loathe myself for feeling this way, because it's not fair. Not with her. However, this is something neither of us has time to change. Not now, anyway.

"I hesitated. That makes it my fault." She says at last in a barely audible voice, as I watch her descend the side of the hill mounted on her armored black stallion, blood-red leather shining in the moonlight.

The sight of death itself, she is.

"Cara." I whisper. It's the first time I call her name in so many days and, suddenly, it feels like the ground shifts beneath my own steed, because she looks back up at me.

She never looked back before.

As she stares at me, ever the silent waiter, I feel this urge to run down the hill, take her in my arms and never let her go.

But I know, just as she knows, that now is not the time, that we cannot pray to save our lives, because it's not so far away yet.

And she's coming back, I know that. She will come back because she knows where she belongs. She's now part of me, just as I am part of her. Blood and flesh, this is how it is.

"I can, but you'll have to let me hold your hand to seal it, my friend." I tell her, and I can only hope that she'll come home before fate sees to it that we are no longer.

She smiles at this, and it is so dazzling. If she can steal my breath away by merely smiling, I wonder what she can do-

"In your dreams, Mother Confessor," and then she's turning her back to me once again. She starts to speak, loud and dark and powerful, and the men, my army, they all gaze up at her in hushed awe. Just like I am now.

It may be the end of time, but I know, just as she knows, that she's not alone.