"Help!" The voice echoed through the Ragged Flagon, but no one seemed to hear. As his eyes focused in the dim light, Brynjolf came to the harsh realization that no one was in sight. He stumbled and struggled to carry the bleeding body in his arms to the entrance of the cistern, losing and forcing himself to regain his balance every few steps.

"Help me, please!" Brynjolf shouted again. As he reached the small wooden crossing to the bar, Dirge emerged from the Ratway Vaults, and stopped dead at what he saw. He immediately opened the door leading to the cistern, and helped Brynjolf ease the girl in his arms to the cold stone floor.

"Gods, what happened, Bryn?" Dirge asked as he helped put the girl down.

"Bandit raid on our way back from Ivarstead," Brynjolf replied, his eyes fixed on the girl. "They surrounded us. We managed to get rid of most of them, but one caught her off guard. Stabbed her when she turned around. I slit the bastard's throat. Please, Dirge... go get help."

It was the first time in a long time that Brynjolf felt the sting of panic in his chest. Looking down at his hands, he saw nothing but red, and he watched helplessly as it seeped into the cuffs of his shirt. The footsteps of another guild member slowed the shaking of his hands. They had never seen him scared, and he'd be damned if he let it show now. But it was harder to hide than he let on. His voice shook tremendously as he shouted for salves and bandages, and his hands trembled like the string of a bow as he reached down to apply pressure to the massive wound before him.

"Blast," he said, his brow furrowing so tight it could have formed wrinkles in a stone. "I can't even find the source."

A blur of a figure moved into his way, the voice coming from it like a distant echo. The only thing he really noticed against the gore he was looking at, was the glint of steel that flashed before him. It pulled him slightly out of his panicked state, and he watched as Vex poured something over the wound, washing away much of the blood.

"There's your source," she said, placing the bottle of Colovian Brandy on the floor next to her. "Apply some pressure, and I'll be back with help."

Brynjolf did as she requested, though the blood oozed through his fingers. He removed the pressure just long enough to pull off his guild jacket, and the shirt he had worn underneath, before flushing the wound again, and bunching the shirt into a ball to use as a compress. His hands shook violently as he tried to keep steady pressure and slow the bleeding.

"I asked you to come back in one piece," he whispered. "Was that too much to ask for?"

A quiet scuffling was heard from behind him, and he peered over his shoulder to see Vex pushing Tonilia toward him, with a spool of thread in her hand.

"I'm not a seamstress," Tonilia argued. Her protests seemed to go unheard and Vex gave her a good shove in Brynjolf's direction. She looked down at the mess lying before them and felt her stomach turn as she knelt, trying to avoid the pool of blood the flowed through the cracks in the floor. "I don't even know if this'll work, Bryn."

"You have to at least try," he pleaded. "I'm not losing another one."

"Awfully attached to this one, aren't you?" She asked, her eyes glued to his hands. She gingerly pried his bloodied fingers and blood soaked shirt away to get a look at the injury. "You've slowed the bleeding. And with the brandy, the wound should be clean enough to close. I'm no physician though."

"Just... do what you can, lass," Brynjolf said as he fell onto his backside. "We can't lose her."

A firm, but gentle arm reached down, and helped him to his feet, though he wouldn't move from where he struggled to remain standing. Vex looked at him with what sympathy she could manage to find within herself, and used whatever strength she had to keep him on his feet. The two watched with the utmost intent as Tonilia flushed the wound one final time before beginning to sew it closed. When she had finished, she used Brynjolf's shirt to wipe her hands dry, and stood looking to him worriedly.

"I've patched her up the best I can," she said nervously. "It's all I can do. Without medicine however..."

"Then we have to find some, and fast," Brynjolf answered. "For now, she needs a bed. Delvin, I want you and Arnskar to move her. Gently. Vex, keep her comfortable. I'll go and see Herluin about a tonic of some sort to keep her going until she's awake."

Brynjolf didn't have to speak more than once. As everyone went about helping their guild master, he turned and left the cistern in search of Herluin. It didn't take long to find the apothecary, but he was proved to be useless, and Brynjolf was on the verge of losing his patience.

"I-I may know of someone who can help, however," he stuttered eagerly. "The young Black-Briar girl... what's her name? Inga... Ingun! Ingun Black-Briar. She's always coming up with new elixirs and -"

"Where do I find her?" Brynjolf demanded.

"Well, if she's not out gathering reagents, she'll probably be at Elgrim's."

By the time Brynjolf had returned to the cistern, Vex was sitting at the foot of a bed near the southern entrance. He had returned alone, but there was a glimmer of hope in his eyes as he approached the bed. Vex looked up at him and forced a smile.

"Any change?" Brynjolf asked, looking past her to the injured girl.

"None. Did you find anything?"

"Maven's daughter is on her way with a concoction of some sort." Brynjolf sat on the edge of the bed and sighed heavily. He smiled faintly at Vex. "Could you excuse me for a moment, please?"

Vex simply nodded and took her leave. Brynjolf watched as she left the cistern, and his eyes lit up as Ingun came into view.

"Is this the woman we spoke of?"

"Aye, lass," Brynjolf answered as he rose to his feet. "This is she. Is there anything you can do?"

Ingun took a look at the girl on the bed. She checked the stitching, and nodded. "This seems to be done well, and I see no sign of an infection."

She smiled and handed a small bottle to Brynjolf.

"What's this, lass?"

"A personal elixir," Ingun answered. "I've never attempted using it on a person before, but I've had nothing but success with it."

"What exactly have you tested this on, then? Trolls?"

"Livestock. Some of them get sick and well... But this has always worked. I see no reason why it wouldn't work on your friend here."

Brynjolf pulled the cork from the bottle and reared his head as his nose scrunched and his eyes narrowed. "By the nine, what is in this? It smells putrid."

"It's a mixture of honeycomb, pine thrush egg and salmon roe," she said. "Doesn't smell the prettiest, but I promise you, it'll work."

Brynjolf nodded doubtfully and poured a small amount of the foul smelling liquid in the injured girl's mouth, bracing her head to allow it to go down her throat. He corked the bottle again and looked at Ingun thankfully before handing her a small pouch of coins and sending her on her way.

"Divines bless you," she said, before turning away and disappearing into the Ragged Flagon.

Brynjolf turned back to the girl on the bed, and sat as gently as he could before taking her hand and looking her over.

"You realize, there are only so many times I can mend your wounds. I'm not always going to be around to do this, lass." He didn't care if she could hear him or not. "I'm not nearly religious, but I swear, if you pull through this, I will thank the divines personally. We need you here, lass. I can't run this place on my own. Gods help me, while you were away with Karliah, I sat here wishing for some kind of help. Thieving is in my nature. Sabotage is in my nature. Being a leader is not. Please, if not for your own sake, come back for mine."

As the hours slowly passed, Brynjolf found it increasingly difficult to keep his eyes open. Vex and Delvin tried numerous times to get him to rest, but he refused. He wanted to be there when she woke up again. He wanted her to know that he hadn't left her side. She was his guild master, his friend. And more importantly, she was the only person he could trust with his life.

"Brynjolf, you need to get some sleep." The familiar voice barely held his attention, but he looked up and smiled at Sapphire while shaking his head. "You know, they say with age comes wisdom, but you're starting to make me wonder."

Brynjolf chuckled quietly. "I'm not leaving her alone. I can't."

"Well then, shall I pull up an extra bed so you don't have to leave your girlfriend?" Sapphire joked. "You're wearing yourself thin, everyone can see it. And right now, everyone needs you. They can't turn to her. You need to be there for the guild, and you can't do that in the condition you're in. Go get some food in your stomach, and at least a few hours of rest, and I'll stay here with her."

"You'd do that?" Brynjolf asked, his brow raised at her curiously. "I didn't think you really cared for her much."

"Well, as little as it has to do with our getting along," Sapphire answered, "She's done a lot for the guild. If nothing else, I owe her for that."

"Aye, well... Thank you. Be sure to wake me if there's any change."

He tossed and turned on the small bed, the straw rustling with his movements. He couldn't help but feel responsible for what had happened; like he could have done something more to save her. As much as he knew that it really wasn't his fault, he felt that he should have done more to protect her.

As his eyes closed and he began drifting into a restless sleep, he began to dream of what had happened. All he could see behind his closed eyes was her body going limp as she crashed to the ground, her horse whinnying in panic, and the blood pouring from her wound.

Her eyes had turned to watch him cut the bandit who had taken her down, his dagger slicing clean from one ear to the other, so deep that the man's head had nearly been taken off. Brynjolf had rushed to her as the bandit's body fell away from him, and his heart leaped into his throat as he watched her expression change from one of shock to fear.

He had managed to ride the rest of the way back to Riften, balancing her lifeless body on his lap, and cringing at each bump and turn in the road. The guards made no fuss when he entered the city, and he was thankful for that. Being stopped and questioned was the last thing he needed, but the city guard tended to keep their distance from members of the Thieves Guild.

He looked down at her as he made his way through the Ratway, her eyes rolling back in her head as she drifted in and out of consciousness, her body trembling in pain no doubt, and her grip on his jacket loosening as she blacked out.

"Brynjolf..."

"Brynjolf!" The voice stirred him from his slumber, and he awoke in a cold sweat. He rolled over on the bed and as his eyes focused on the figure standing next to him, he sat up. Delvin practically yanked him from the bed. "Bryn! She's awake!"