Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, previous situations, etc...all that belongs to Vivian Vande Velde...this is just random babble for my own pleasure. I make no money from this...blah...blah...blah

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"Your witch is a whore. But I wouldn't mind getting a piece of that…" The ugly, burly man in the corner of the tavern laughed as Weiland's gaze narrowed.

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Lylene walked in the room, her eyes glued to the pile of job possibilities in front of her. They had never had so many before. She absently dropped her things on the floor in the corner and turned towards the bed to sit. It was only then that she noticed she was no alone in the room. She looked up and started at the sight of Weiland sitting on the bed in front of her.

"I thought you were going into town." She said, gazing at him curiously. It was odd to see Weiland back this early in the afternoon...doing nothing….sitting on the bed….

With an arrow through his hand.

Lylene did a double take.

"Sweet Saint Marcelle," she breathed, rushing over to him. "Weiland, what happened?"

"It was an accident" Was all he said. Lylene pressed him further for more details…ANY details of what had happened. Were they in danger now? Did they have to leave?

"No…I went into town and opened a gate that a boy happened to be using for target practice. Turns out he doesn't have very good aim."

Lylene stared at his hand, bleeding only slightly now from where the arrow entered and exited the hand, most of it dried.

"When did this happen? How long have you been here?"

"A while." He seemed to be tiring of her questions.

"That needs to be properly dressed!" She exclaimed.

"I know." He growled angrily.

"Then why haven't you taken the arrow out?" She fired back.

"I…" He stopped and looked away. "I can't." He admitted.

"What…." Then she saw the dilemma. An arrow in the shoulder could be easily snapped off, as there was more muscle in that area to resist the pull. An arrow anywhere else, and both hands would be readily available to break it off and pull it out. But an arrow through the hand….Weiland obviously didn't have both hands available to break it, and he couldn't break it off with one hand without causing more damage, not to mention pain, to the affected hand.

Well, he hadn't actually asked for her help, but Weiland never asked for her help. She figured the implication was as much as she'd get.

"I'll be right back." With that she rushed out of the room to their cart outside to rummage around for some sort of cloth that could be used as a bandage, as well as some water to clean the wound.

She hurried back in the room and back over to the bed, laying the bowl of water and the clothes beside her on the floor. She gently picked up Weilands hand, examining the wound. She took the shaft of the arrow in her hands and looked up to her partner.

"This will hurt." He glared.

She snapped the shaft in two, managing to only move his hand a little in the process, but noticing the grimace of pain that crosses his features. Guiltily, she looked at the rest of the arrow, which she still had yet to remove. This was going to hurt a LOT more than the first part.

"Do it." He said, before she got the chance to say anything else.

Slowly, carefully, she began to pull the rest of the arrow out of his hand. A sharp intake of breath was the only sign her friend gave of discomfort. She focused on her task.

When finally she had the arrow out, she tossed it aside, grabbed a cloth and set to work cleaning the wound as best she could. When she was finished, she used another cloth and wrapped it tightly around his hand, securing it on top with a small knot.

She brushed off her hands and finally looked up at her mercenary companion, noticing his face was quite a bit paler than normal, though he said nothing.

"Are you all right?" She asked anyway. His glare seemed more forced this time.

She sighed and moved towards the door to put the rest of the cloths back. He hear him stand behind her, and heard a muffled groan accompany him. She turned back around to see him sitting back down, an arm around his middle. She instantly became concerned again.

"Weiland…" She walked back over, and took his arm away from his midsection. She was surprised when he made no objection as she began carefully lifting his shirt to see what was wrong. She gasped as she saw the dark, menacing bruises covering his ribs and the surrounding area.

"Weiland! You said it was an accident! That it was only a boy!" She stared in horror at what she now assumed was definitely NOT an accident, and definitely NOT just a boy.

"The arrow was. I was on my way back here when I encountered the boy."

"You mean someone else did this?" He didn't answer. He did not offer to tell her any more about what happened, either.

Lylene wasn't sure how to go about handling this. This wasn't quite so straightforward as bandaging a wound. She wasn't sure if he had any broken ribs and had no way of finding out. She rummaged through her things and found a salve that she had purchased from an old medicine woman who had said it helped the healing process. Weiland eyed it suspiciously.

"There is no magic in this," Lylene verified. She knew that's what he was thinking.

That seemed to be an appropriate response for now. Again she was surprised when he made no argument against her helping him. She gently rubbed the salve over the bruises, guiltily feeling responsible every time he winced. After she finished, she put away the salve and tightly bound his ribs with the extra cloth, just in case any were broken. She didn't want to take any chances.

He pulled his shirt back over the bandages when she was finished while she went outside for a moment to put her things away. When she came back inside, Weiland was gingerly standing up, avoiding her gaze. She didn't expect any thanks and wasn't disappointed. Instead, he walked right past her, picking up his sword that Lylene had noticed he'd left behind this morning, and opened the door.

"Wait, where are you going?" Lylene protested.

"Out."

Her blood boiled. But she stood aside and let him leave. She wasn't going to be able to say anything to make him stay, so why bother. Let him get himself killed.

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Later that night, Weiland still hadn't returned, and Lylene began to get worried. Not that he always came back, but after earlier that afternoon…..she wasn't sure. She thought she'd go out a little ways and look for him. She grabbed her cloak and moved out into the darkness.

She had gone halfway down the road in the town when she saw someone resting against the side of one of the local inns. She peered closer to see that it was, in fact, Weiland.

He was leaning on his sword, which was bloody.

He looked up and saw her, staring at her for a moment before picking up his sword and wiping it clean on the leg of his breeches. He began limping towards her. She ran forward and moved beside him so he could lean on her. She didn't ask what had happened, she knew by the fact that Weiland was still alive that he had taken care of it, whatever it was. She also knew he wouldn't tell her if she did ask.

"Do we need to leave?" Was all she asked.

"No." He offered no more than that. She believed him.

They slowly made their way back to their room, Weiland limping slightly at her side, Lylene wondering, despite herself, what had happened today and how Weiland had managed to injure himself so badly.

There would be no question tonight, none of their usual bickering over who got the bed. She helped Weiland sit and then moved over to her own bedroll on the floor, knowing that he would probably get angry if she tried to help him too much.

"I could wrap up your ankle, if you want…there's still a bit of that bandage left." She offered anyway, expecting a glare, or some sort of rude comment.

"No…." He hesitated. "Thank you." She looked at him in surprise. Somehow she knew he wasn't just talking about her offer. Her gaze softened.

"You're welcome."

He looked away, uncharacteristically self-conscious.

She smiled to herself and closed her eyes.

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What must have been a couple of hours later in the night, Lylene was still awake. She sat up quietly and wrapped the blanket around her shoulders, staring out the window into the clear night sky.

She thought of Shile….of her family….of everyone she had lost up until this point. She didn't want to lose Weiland too. He was all she had. And she wasn't even sure if he liked her. It usually seemed like he didn't. That she was just an annoyance to him. But it had been him, after all, who had originally proposed that they work together.

She missed Shile, and his caring eyes…his attitude towards everything…his kindness. She brought her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, leaning her head on her arms and allowing a few tears to slip down her cheeks.

She heard a rustle of sheets from behind her and turned her head to see Weiland sitting up as well in the bed.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up." She sniffed softly.

"You didn't."

"I couldn't sleep." She offered in explanation, though he hadn't asked for one.

She turned away from him once more, resting her chin on her arms. She heard him move once more, figuring he'd lay back down and gone back to sleep, but she soon heard his uneven, limping footsteps and he slowly eased himself down beside her. She looked over at him, noticing his grimace at the movement.

They sat in silence for a while, Lylene oddly comfortable in this new situation. Still, she missed Shile. She glanced at Weiland again. She couldn't get any feel for his thoughts, his face expressionless. She knew that he must miss Shile as well…he had been partners…friends…with Shile for so much longer.

"Do you ever miss Shile?" She asked the question quietly, instantly regretting it. Weiland didn't answer. I regret nothing. He had said that to her just before Shile died. She wondered if that still held true. Maybe he regretted ever having met her. It was her fault, after all. Maybe he…

"Yes." The unexpected reply brought her out of her thoughts. She hadn't expected Weiland to admit to it.

"I still can't help feeling that it was my fault he died…..it WAS my fault he died….and…" She fumbled with her words as she began to cry again. She was not very good at this. Why did she have to keep crying? Weiland shifted awkwardly and Lylene felt even worse for making him uncomfortable.

"I never should have brought it up…I'm sorry." She swiped her hand under her eyes angrily and buried her face in her arms, not looking at Weiland.

She felt herself being gently pulled in Weilands direction, and didn't look up but simply allowed herself to bury her face in his chest. She cried softly, still mindful of his wounds. He kept his arm around her shoulders, the other bandaged hand awkwardly stroking her hair. For a moment, it struck Lylene as odd that Weiland was being so….nice. But she didn't think on it long.

"I'm sorry." She muffled the apology into his chest. She wasn't sure if she was still apologizing for bring the subject up or for being the cause of Shile's death. She figured probably the latter. Weiland apparently thought the same.

"It wasn't your fault. It could've happened anywhere."

"But it happened with me."

"That doesn't mean it was your fault." Weiland was always the logical one.

Still, Lylene cried over Shile, over the chain of events that led them there. And Weiland held her, comforting her as best he could, although she knew it wasn't his style…he hadn't done a lot of this in his lifetime and he probably wasn't totally comfortable doing it now. It was with that thought that Lylene did her best to stop crying and pull herself together. She gently lifted her head away from him, careful not to bump his bruises, and ran her hand under her eyes once more.

She laughed, self-consciously and noticed with some interest that Weiland seemed almost reluctant to let her go. Lylene pondered over this for a while, glad for the distraction to get her mind off Shile. Weiland was acting curiously….un-Weiland like tonight. He usually just ignored her. Or glared at her. Or made some rude remark about her magic. Tonight he didn't even seem to remember that she was a wizard. And he didn't seem to mind sitting with her….holding her….

Lylene was attracted to Weiland. She couldn't lie to herself. He easily weakened her resolve sometimes, unbeknownst to himself. She so often found herself wishing, as she used to wish when she was a little girl, that she was pretty. The often bedded together when it was too cold for either to take the floor, but she knew that sex would complicate things between them, as if things weren't complicated enough already. She didn't want to ruin what little shreds of friendship were there.

But after tonight….she flicked her eyes over to Weiland for a brief moment, quickly averting them once more when she saw that he was watching her. Why did he do things like this to her…he didn't even like her most of the time…right? She looked up again, and found herself wanting to kiss him. But….it was Weiland. She couldn't. She didn't want to make things awkward. She didn't think he'd be comfortable with it either.

Weiland was looking at her thoughtfully. She stared back at him, lost in thought.

Suddenly, he leaned forward, wincing at the pain that shot through his sides, but leaning forward nonetheless to kiss her. Lylene's eyes widened in shock. Weiland is….he must be…..it must be his injuries…maybe the pain went to his head…maybe…..the excuses ran out and she kissed him back. She a hand behind his neck to draw him closer and the other hand on his side, forgetting about the bandages there. He drew back with a hiss of pain and Lylene put a hand to her mouth.

"I'm so sorry! I forgot…" He leaned forward to kiss her again, cutting off her apology. She returned the kiss once more, this time careful not to put any pressure on the numerous bruises covering his body.

And to think Weiland had been uncomfortable when he had been beside her teaching her to shoot a crossbow….

He broke away first, sitting back to look at her, gauging her reaction.

"We can't do this." She said. An unfamiliar expression flashed across his face and then just as quickly was gone, an unreadable mask taking it's place. Lylene smiled.

"Not right now."

Now Weiland was confused.

"You're hurt. We should wait until you're healed."

He flashed her a rare grin.

"For now you need to rest. The sooner your bruises and your hand heal, the sooner we can continue this." It felt so strange to be talking like this to Weiland. Her partner. Companion. Who distrusted her magic, scoffed at her religion, constantly bickered with her over everything.

The blonde-haired mercenary painfully got to his feet and made his way back to the bed. He climbed in and Lylene hesitated a moment before picking up her blanket and walking to the other side of the bed. She lay the blanket on top of the bed covers and lifted the corners, climbing in behind Weiland. Carefully she moved up behind him, putting her arms around him loosely, as not to disturb the bandages once again.

Tomorrow would be the start of an interesting new adventure…

Fin