Disclaimer: Beka, Rosto, Terrier, and all things associated with Tortall and the books belongs to Tamora Pierce, not me. Unfortunately.
This was written for the monthly challenge at the Men of Tortall Forums (affectionately known as the JoGeNuDoNaRo Challenge) in response to the prompt 'Dream.' This challenge is open to anyone and everyone interested in participating. So, anyway, enjoy and don't forget to review and let me know what you think!
Blood. There was blood everywhere. No matter which way she twisted or turned, crimson painted the walls and ceiling of the room she was trapped in. There was no door, no escape. Yet, somehow, things kept coming at her. Feral creatures, growling and roaring, rushed at her. A never ending screaming filled her ears, taking her panic to a whole new level. Every voice blended into one while they thundered in her eardrums.
She could pick out bits and pieces of what they were saying. Kora was begging for death, begging for Ersken. Aniki was screaming wordlessly. Rosto's voice was nowhere to be found.
Then she knew why. She was sent sprawling by something in her way as she felt through the swirling mist in the room. She hit the ground hard and rolled over, pushing herself up to look at what had tripped her. Her breath caught in her throat. It was him. That was why she couldn't hear him. He was already dead.
Beka's heart caught in her throat when she saw the blond Rogue lying limp on the floor, his body covered in his own blood. A bloodcurdling scream escaped her lips as her mind worked frantically.
It couldn't be. It just couldn't. Rosto couldn't die – he was Rosto! He was the Rogue. He was invincible. He got hurt, but never so badly that he came close to death. This was not possible!
The screaming continued. And she couldn't even tell if it was her own anymore.
Beka woke when a hand pressed against her mouth. A muffled scream reached her ears as she struggled, disoriented by the darkness and being woken like that. Then she realized that it was her own screaming. It stopped almost instantaneously. Her whole body was tense as she clutched the sheets of her bed with one hand and reached under her pillow for a dagger with the other.
"There's no need to do that," a deep voice told her. Beka froze. "I'm not going to hurt you." She responded by biting his hand. "Ouch!"
"Fair lot of good that'll do you. Putting your hand over my mouth is the best way to get bitten, Rosto the Piper," she informed the man, shaking her head. "Now what are you doing in my room?" she asked him calmly. Rosto gave her a very annoyed look.
"I could hear your screaming all the way in my room at the Dove," he informed her, running a hand through his sleep-ruffled pale blond hair. Beka's heart skipped a beat as he did that, her breath catching in her throat. Rosto smirked at her when he heard her muffled reaction. "And I'm sorry if trying to shake you awake didn't work, but I need my sleep," he added. Beka rolled her eyes at him, though she doubted he could see.
"Says the cove who sleeps like a cat," she replied. "How did you get in here?"
"Picked the lock," Rosto told her. "You really should get that fixed. If I can pick it, anyone can," he said nonchalantly. There was just a hint of pride in his voice, and that made Beka want to kick him out.
"How thoughtful. Now will you please leave?" she demanded. Rosto shrugged, which drew her attention to the fact that he was clad in a pair of breeches that had hastily stuffed into his boots, and a shirt that was mostly if not all the way unbuttoned. She could feel her face heating slightly.
"I could sooth the bad dreams for you, Beka," he said. "But, as I'm not wanted, I'm going back to bed," he added, moving toward her door, which was slightly open. Beka watched him go, not seeing the slightly forlorn look he shot over his shoulder when he pulled the door closed behind him. She sat there, staring after him, until Pounce jumped on her lap.
You should not have done that, the cat meowed at her. Beka frowned as she stroked his fur.
"What do you mean, Pounce?" she asked. "You're being silly."
I am never silly, Pounce informed her. Rosto will not be coming back. Beka's frown deepened.
"He's not coming back?"
That's what I said, the feline informed her. Beka considered this for a moment, looking back at the cat. Pounce stretched and jumped off of her lap, landing on the floor with a soft thud. He disappeared into the darkness under her bed. No second chances, kit.
"Pounce?" Beka called. She got up and knelt by the bed, looking underneath it for her cat. He was nowhere to be found under it. Why was it that he was always so cryptic? The sound of a loud clatter outside caught her attention. It was followed by a yelp. For a moment, Beka froze, her mind racing as she wondered what was going on. Then she rose, pulling on a pair of breeches and pulled a tunic on over the thin material of her nightgown as she stuffed her feet into her boots.
She raced down the stairs, all thoughts of Pounce gone. The instant she had the door to the boarding house open, she saw what the commotion had been about. A dying man lay on the cobblestones, Rosto's knife in his throat.
The Rogue himself was leaned against the Dove, his face twisted in pain as he clutched his shoulder where a dagger hilt was plainly visible. It was obvious that he had staggered there by the way he was keeping himself standing. Rosto let out a hiss as he jerked the dagger out of his shoulder and dropped it on the ground. The blade clattered on the cobblestones and he moved his hand back toward his body. He pulled another dagger out of his flesh, this one from his leg.
Beka bit her lip as she sprinted across the street. Rosto groaned, sinking to the ground. It seemed that the wounds were worse than he had thought they were. Of course, anyone would have told him that pulling the knives out was a bad idea.
"Rosto!" she hissed softly. "Look at me," she ordered. He turned hazy dark brown eyes on her as he pressed his hand to the wound in his shoulder.
"'M okay," he slurred.
"No, you're not, you looby," Beka replied. "Come on. Let's get you inside before someone decides to finish what this cove started." Rosto nodded weakly, pushing himself back up.
She helped him back up to his room, waking Aniki as she went. How the other mot had slept through that she didn't know, but the Queen of the Rogue needed to know what was going on. Aniki disappeared to retrieve a healer while Beka and Rosto made their way to his room and she made him sit down on his bed.
It alarmed Beka that Rosto failed to even make a suggestive quip at the action, as he usually would have. She spent the next several moments tearing fabric and binding it tightly around the wound on his leg before she started putting pressure on the wound in his shoulder. It was not something she would admit, but she was very worried about him. Rosto had been injured in a similar manner many times before and he had never reacted like this before.
When the healer arrived several moments later, Beka was even more worried. There was silence as the healer checked the Rogue, closing her eyes as dark red magic sparkled at her fingertips. Everything was moving in a strange sort of motion for Beka – it seemed to be going by so fast, and yet it seemed to be taking forever.
"He's been poisoned," the healer said aloud. A realization dawned on Beka at that moment. He had known. That was why he had pulled the knives out of his body even with the chance that he would bleed to death. That was when she noticed that he was looking at her. His hazy eyes were locked on her even as they slid shut and he slipped into unconsciousness.
Beka's heart gave a jolt. She did not know what she would do it he didn't wake up. There was a part of her that was scared to lose him. Even as distant as he had been at times, he was still her friend…and she felt safe around him, for all he was the Rogue. She loved him. She had never even admitted it to herself before. She had not wanted to.
Now she had, but the chances of Rosto living, much less the two of them acting on that affection, were slim. Images from the nightmare he had woken her from flashed through her mind. They were followed by Pounce's words from earlier – 'no second chances, kit.' Maybe Pounce was right. Maybe she would not get another chance to say all that she had left unsaid. The formerly calm statement echoed through her mind, repeating over and over again.
No second chances…