A/N: I haven't written a Rosto/Beka one-shot in what feels like years. I haven't neglected PATW, I'm just...taking a break for a moment. This was fun. Feedback would be great, but if you don't like it, that's alright. I just wrote it for enjoyment. I wrote this fic listening to the song Something You Forgot by Lil' Wayne, in case you're confused by the title. Err. Enjoy?

Disclaimer: Don't. Own. Anything. Capishe? ;)

One shot: Something You Forgot.

"…this is not good."

Rosto was looking at her with those sharp but still calm dark eyes, those ones of his that she seemed to always foolishly lose herself in. They were soft, yet serious at the same time. He was staring at Beka like he could see right through her, right into her soul.

Gods know, mayhap he could, she mused. Now there's a frightful thought.

"No," he said patiently, unremittingly cheerful. "All the roads are blocked. The storm's still full-blown out there. Nobody was in the Dove when it hit, thank the Gods." His eyes were smiling. No wonder he had mots after him with eyes like that, that perfect ivory skin, gentle lips…

She swore mentally.

"And Kora 'n' them are busy in Port Caynn today…" he continued. "So, I guess it's just you and me."

He said it more cheerful than was healthy. She rolled her eyes.

"Do you have somewhere I can stay for the time being, then?" Beka asked slowly. "I mean, seeings how I don't fancy getting frozen to death in a fearless attempt to get back to my lodgings."

He tilted his head to the side. "Of course, love," he said, getting up from his chair in the Dancing Dove and leading me upstairs to a set of guest rooms.

She followed him, muttering, "I'm not your love…"

So, she had only come here to speak to Aniki about something. Now, suddenly, they were snowed in, without her even getting to speak to Aniki!

Aniki was on a job in Port Caynn.

Typical.

"Here." Rosto had led her to the guest room. It was extravagant, a lustrous white, with a warm fire blistering in the corner. There were soft linen sheets thrown over a large bed worthy of a Queen, wonderfully luring pillows, and a warm pearl wool blanket. "I know this isn't much, but we've not finished renovating yet, so…"

"Thank you," she interrupted. She wasn't really listening, too entranced with this display. Lifting a hand, she brushed it over the soft bed and fell forwards onto it with a smile. She felt so cosy, in with the fire and the wind whistling outside, and the beautiful room. She barely acknowledged Rosto's comment that he was going to let her settle in, and that it looked as if they'd be snowed in for a while. She didn't hear him close the door, so spellbound she was with the beauty.

Suddenly, she felt so feminine and like a girl-child gossiping with her friends. Smiling slyly, she stood up and danced and jumped on the spectacular mattress, intertwining herself with the throw over the frame of the bed.

Finally, it could have been more than an hour later, she fell back with a happy sigh, her eyes bright with contentment and joy.

I've gone soft, she thought, but only amusedly. There was no bitterness in the passing thought. She was just enjoying the thought of no Watch tomorrow.

She didn't hear Rosto close the door quietly, having watched the whole thing, a smile gentle on his face.

He was there, but he wasn't. Two steps away from her, his hand just missing her outstretched one. She was trying so hard to stretch far enough to reach him, but he was out of arm's length.

"Rosto," she whispered. "Rosto, what are you doing?"

He just tilted his head to the side. He was fading slowly, those signature dark eyes full of an unknown sadness. "Beka…"

She reached out and grabbed his hand, finally! Relieved, she looked down at their intertwined hands, only to see his hand slip through hers ghost-like, and then he disappeared completely.

"Rosto!"

She woke up, gasping. Thunder crackled overhead, and lightning flashed outside. Oh, so that's why I'm having nightmares, she thought angrily. Gods cursed storms!

But she wasn't all that relaxed now. She was alert, the thought of losing Rosto still burdening her, nagging at her. She felt the strange urge to just have to know that he was alright.

Stubbornly, she pulled the covers over her and rested her head back down on the pillow. Tears were streaming out of her eyes.

Bang.

She sat bolt upright. The thunder shook the Dancing Dove, the sound of the wind tearing at the building raking through. Beka knew she was safe, but…she was scared.

Fool.

Rubbing her eyes, she got up and silently left the room. She leaned against the wall and slid to the floor, intent on getting away from that horrible sound. She was frightened.

A Dog should never let fright take over her, the reasonable part of her self commented. Take it like a proper Terrier. The proper Terrier that you are.

She growled under her breath. Sometimes there's nothing worse than having the reasonable portion of yourself speak sense, she thought, furious at herself. Her reasonable self was seriously beginning to sound disturbingly like Pounce.

Bang.

She started. That one was even louder. Tears leaked out of her eyes, a result of the mixed fury and aftermath of the dream. Suddenly overwhelmed by exhaustion, she slipped into a short slumber.

She was walking down a hallway. He was in one of the doors around her, she was sure, but she couldn't work out which one! Furiously, she glanced around and spotted a door that was funnily enough marked "This One."

Ironic, she thought acerbically.

She reached for the doorknob and turned, only to find herself faced with Rosto, sleeping soundly with a beautiful mot slumbering on his chest. Beka closed the door fast as possible without waking them up, and turned around to be met with the eyes of Goodwin.

"Cooper, what are you doing in my house?" she asked. Beka looked around, suddenly aware of her surroundings – and truthfully inside Goodwin's house.

How did I get here? She thought, but then she was falling, falling into blackness. She screamed but nobody was there to catch her.

Not this time…

She woke up again in a cold sweat. Dignity overpowered by fear and restlessness, Beka jumped up and was suddenly running through the antechamber of the Dancing Dove, and towards Rosto's room.

Suddenly, she was caught and pushed against the cold wall. So furious was she with her dreams, she swung round heatedly and kicked her attacker in the gems, grabbing him by the arm, twisting that arm behind his back, and throwing him into the wall ferociously.

Then she realised it was Rosto.

"Mother's Milk, King of Thieves!" she cried. "Do you always attack your guests?" She propped her hands on her hips and looked at him expectantly as he brushed invisible dust off of his clothing.

"You attacked me, too," he pointed out. "What were you doing, anyway, walking round this time of night?"

"I was –" she stuttered, feeling the unwelcome tears back in her eyes. "I wasn't – wasn't – I couldn't – sleep." The tears overflowed. The mot and Rosto…the hand slipping through hers…falling through the blackness. It was all too much for the lateness of the night.

Rosto cautiously pulled her to him, comfortingly rubbing a hand up and down her arm. They stayed like that for a while, Beka crying into his shirt miserably, Rosto comforting her. Suddenly, the thunder, lightning, and wind didn't matter so much anymore. Suddenly, she felt childish and ridiculous.

"I'm s-sorry," she hiccupped. "I didn't mean to b-breakdown like that. I-I just had some bad dreams, is all."

He looked down at her concernedly. "They must've been some pretty bad dreams, Fearless Cooper. Come on, Beka. Tell me."

She blushed deeply, not far gone enough to let that slip. "N-no, it's alright, Rosto."

"Tell me."

His tone made her look up at him; firm but still gentle. He led her downstairs to the kitchen and made something he called cocoa. Passing her one and keeping one for himself, he motioned for her to sit down next to him on his throne, smiling gently. She rolled her eyes playfully and sat down, nudging him to get him to move over.

Beka didn't say anything, too humiliated.

"So are you gonna tell me or do I have to trick it out of you?" He was smiling, but his eyes were serious.

"No." She was still blushing red, but thankful that her tone, at least, was even. "I'll tell you."

And so she told him, about the dreams, about waking up, about being frightened. She didn't mean to tell him all that, honestly, but it all just came pouring out.

He pulled her to him. She sobbed into his shirt, too tired and weary to protest. "Beka," he whispered into her hair. "I haven' been with a mot since yer left for Port Caynn."

Now that brought her out of her near hysteria. "Wait, you haven't?" she asked, startled. "Why ever not?" She met his eyes accusingly.

"I can't." He sighed. "It hurts too much, since it's not…" Rosto stopped himself before he could finish that sentence, thank the Gods. He had been about to say It hurts too much, since it's not you.

Beka didn't question him any further. She leaned into his embrace, resting her head on his chest, and together they fell asleep on the Rogue's throne, ignorant of the amused and watchful purple eyes of the cat that was sitting by the fire.