I don't own F/SN or its characters. I'm simply a writer creating a story. This is a second set, based off a scene with Lancer in my other story, "A Second Chance". I feel like telling other stories of heroes attempting to atone for what they didn't have time for. Everything will be explained eventually, but I just couldn't leave Lancer out of this!

Reviews and comments are appreciated! I always look at them, and I love them. They help me so much! Thank you, and I hope you enjoy.

A dark night as a storm begins to set in:

The wind blew against him, colliding with the large house behind him. Perched on the ledge of the home, gazing out into the wilderness, the man watched everything outside. The world was dark, darker than it had been a moment ago. There had been a light to guide him, however, it was something that he had faintly wished to be for him. The trees now bent beneath the pressure of the wind, as if they were offering apologies. Instead, he had found that the light was for someone else, beckoning them when he believed himself to have deserved.

The chill of the wind struck him to his core, taking every bit of warmth and want he had. It had simply fallen away, desperately fleeing to someone else. He had believed that the feelings had belonged to him, yet it turns out that they were simply loaned, borrowed from some other's heart and bed.

The man looked away from what he saw before him. The whole scene had unnerved him. She had been something so delicate and pristine to him-something left clean in life. It was unlike anything that he had ever experienced before. It was a completely new feeling when he had been around her during their time on the battlefield.

Lancer had felt many instances of pain throughout his life, especially during the Fourth Holy Grail War. He had lost a friend and master quite early on-unable to defend her from the fate that the wicked preacher had brought to her. As she had died, he had often regretted everything. They were knights under the same order, sworn to protect those around them, but she had died at the hands of priest with a smile and dagger. Nothing had been sacred at that point, and he watched every belief of honesty and trust be pulled away from everyone.

He had envied the red knight-the archer he so vehemently opposed-more than anything. His rivalry was not born out of a desire for treasure. It had it's hand dipped in both the pleasure of battle, and the determination of proving himself better than him. As unlikely as it was, he must have hoped, somewhere in his mind, that she would see him as better and end her contract with the incapable Archer.

However, Lancer had never received that moment of victory. Instead, their battle had been left unfinished for a long time. He had always believed that the Archer was inattentive to his master-incapable of truly understanding her talent and abilities. All of that delicate brunette's powers and mana had been wasted on a servant that didn't care to fight for her. Lancer had felt all along that he had another battle in his mind; something that he had felt was more important than appreciating the wishes of his master.

The Red Archer had consistently worn his pride on the outside of him, showing his feathers as a fine display. Yet, Lancer had always viewed him as an incessant issue among the Servants. There were different rules in the game for him than everyone else-some other goal that had left his master unattended and incapable of truly doing what she wanted.

Which was a shame...

Lancer had seen and felt her talent, even from a distance. She had much more than the others that he knew of in the war, and he doubted any truly compared to her caliber as a magus. Everything had been made sinfully worse by seeing her in person. Her body had a delicate curve to it that begged to have someone trace it with their hands, and he had longed to. Lancer had begged for the ability to travel his hands up and down her body, marking every texture and scene in his memory as his hands felt the silk of her skin unfold underneath him.

He had dreams of how her hair must have looked free, contrasting with the olive of her skin and the deep blue of her eyes. It had made a sight that was burned into his memory. Long after his duty to that war had expired, Lancer continued to see those eyes; to imagine the feeling of their bodies connecting to each other, intermixing to become one being.

As he had found himself suddenly returned to the town that had plagued him only in the dreams of want and regret, he found that he immediately had one concern-he needed to find her and relieve himself of this pain. There was nothing that he desired more than to simply see that she had survived the war; that she had finally become what he imagined she had the potential for.

Earlier that day:

For the first time in his life, Lancer was painfully aware of the world around him. As long as he had existed in life and during battle, he felt only the adrenaline and excitement of combat. There had been only the thought of battle and the winnings. However, he could feel the wind touching his face-a feeling he had wished from her. His body felt painfully empty; a feeling he had never noticed before.

He had seen her from across the street. Lancer had never been one for waiting to do something, but he felt like something was different about this quest. Instead of feeling comfort, he felt nervous, afraid that something had changed in the time since he had left her-in the time since she had been so...young.

A different that was painfully obvious to him when he saw her for the first time. She had been across from where he sat, outside of a local café and bakery. There, he happened to see the young woman walking from one shop to another. The moment seemed slow as she had queued in a line for a little eatery. The world was a very comfortable temperature, and he had been surprised to see her. Although, this was her home-not his.

He noticed that much had changed about her, however, some had stayed the same in a beautiful way. Her legs had developed into a form that delicately displayed all the muscle she must have developed and trained over the years, yet they looked as if they were elegant and graceful; long enough to make any man desire the ability to drape their hands down them. Painfully, they were still covered in thigh high black stockings, which made Lancer feel the pain of her development. Before, they had been wonderful accessories to admire. Now, they appeared to be a very important part of her attire, and it drove him mad, hiding away from him more of her body. Lancer followed up until he was able to see that she was wearing a pair of khaki shorts and a tighter black t-shirt, accentuating the well developed curves of her body. If ever he had seen a figure that proved divine power had to exist, this was it.

Her hair was no longer tied up into two tails on the side of her head. Instead, it fell freely around her, bringing out the comparison of her silken, olive skin against the black of her hair. She had developed into a very sexually attractive woman, and she had no idea that there was no prize higher than the ability to hold that body close to him-the ability to show that it was hiss, and it was the dominance that he had wanted. Lancer had always loved the stubborn nature of the girl. Her confidence had always been so extreme and deserved, and a portion of him desperately wanted to pin her down and show her that he was stronger than her; he was capable of making her do things that she had never imagined herself capable of.

He was able to unlock things that she wasn't aware of, locked away for a distant future.

Seeing her from a distance had been unbearable. Lancer had retreated to a park until the night had finally set. He sat on the stretch of dock, overlooking the ocean next to the city. It hadn't taken long before he had decided to see her. There would be no discussion. He would simply take what he had wanted. Hesitation had always stood in his way, preventing his charge. Instead, he wouldn't allow it this time. It would be defeated. He wouldn't even let the piece be played on the board. Yet, as he had arrived, something had felt off. He felt a presence-a presence that was all too familiar to him. Panicked, he had simply taken to what had always been his least favorite method of finding something out-sneaking up to a window.

It was the most regretted decision of his life. Lancer had found his girl, and the presence that had been so troubling to him for so many times before. There was a pain that went throughout his body, sucking out the air from him completely. Rin had laid there in bed, pressed under a figure that had brought Lancer's despise so many times before. Her arms were wrapped around his back, digging in to show her need for him, while he held her hand outstretched above her head. Lancer had seen her back bend under him, and he couldn't handle the pain.

All feeling left him, and he turned to face the world, engaging the darkness of the night with the pain that he had begun to feel. There had been one warm feeling left in the world, and Lancer had found it belonged to the camp of another man. He should have expected this. He had seen the sign long ago.

The necklace.

It's always like him to appreciate what couldn't be his. Some hero's never get the princess.