There was distance, now, where there once had been warmth; while that could've made for a more comfortable condition to her, Joie couldn't help but feel that it should be different.

The rage had subsided after she'd refused all sorts of help and retired to change into another set of armor. The compassion had faded once she'd finally snapped at him, telling him to stop feeling sorry for her, that she wasn't hurt at all. The confusion… that was still there, furrowing his brows and dancing on his lips every time he opened his mouth to speak and then closed it.

Brynjolf and Karliah hadn't appreciated her little escapade, and, for once, she grudgingly agreed, at least a little. That was a bit too much even for her. You don't discuss the weather with your enemy, you don't have dinner with your enemy, and you most certainly don't fuck your enemy, no matter how harmless it seems at first. After the battle, though, the dunmer's eyes had started feeling less prickly on her shoulders, and she had relaxed, even smiling at her in the same sisterly manner she had before. It was clear, after that, that she had feared some sort of betrayal on her side, and that the coldness she felt between them had been due to her carefully measuring her movements, ready for the moment she would have to stick another arrow in her chest.

Things with Brynjolf, however, had only grown more awkward.

The two of them had agreed to walk back to Riften together, and now they were resting in a makeshift camp, the snow still falling from an eerily white sky. They still hadn't spoken after what had happened, and the tension was growing uncomfortable. Even worse, the longing she felt whenever their eyes met hadn't dwindled in the slightest. It was an alarming feeling, powerful and terrifying. It was the sort of emotion that made her feel like she could give up anything just to make him smile at her. To be the cause of his pained expression sounded… wrong, and humiliating.

"You're angry at me," she tried to speak, her voice sounding remarkably weak as she curled underneath her fur cloak. He briefly glanced at her, surprise in his eyes, and hesitated before responding, moving to sit by her side and letting out a tired sigh.

"I'm… not angry at you, lass." His voice sounded oddly hesitant, and he seemed to be avoiding looking at her in the eye; Joie would've been grateful, if it wasn't for a desperate little voice in the back of her mind that begged for him to turn back to her and smile. Instead, he just shifted in front of the campfire, cold fingers slipping upon hers. It wasn't the first time he did that. It happened exactly twice before; once was while they sat on a bench near the marketplace, the day a common beggar had given her life to protect her from a bunch of well-armed hired thugs and Joie just couldn't understand why. The other time was right before the ceremony that bound them together, as they offered their eternal servitude to Nocturnal. Both of those times, she couldn't stop trembling.

Why was he offering her comfort now was beyond her. Did she really look that vulnerable? Was she being too honest with him, dropping the mask that kept her alive for years?

Couldn't she conceal her feelings any better than that?

"What I've done, though. It's bothering you, even if it meant nothing to me." She paused, moving her hand only slightly to let her fingers fully rest under his palm, and felt a pang of sorrow when he lifted his arm, briskly. Then he placed it back down, holding hers, and the sorrow turned to relief, though no less acute. "I could explain why I did it all night, and it would still bother you. Wouldn't it?"

He chuckled, a pleasant sound, even in the cold that threatened to reach deep in her chest. "That it would bother me is quite the understatement", he replied, fingers stroking slowly her own, a pensive look on his face. "I always knew that you had a taste for danger… and for flesh, just not like this. He betrayed us. He almost killed you."

"I was tied up. Might as well take my fun from him."

"Aye, that's true."

What she said had to be the wrong thing, because his grip on her hand, while still gentle, tightened slightly, and he fell silent, eyes still lost in the heart of the fire. She bit down on her bottom lip, and shuddered at the pain, the taste of blood filling her mouth once again, reminding her of certain instants of what had transpired sooner that day. This situation irritated her. It made her feel awkward, awkward and weak, a whispering voice always repeating to her that she should remember those moments with guilt, and not lust. But where was the harm in what she'd done? What exactly was it that she should feel guilty for?

Then, a sinking feeling filled her heart, and she tried not to think in detail about how, after making sure everyone had left the ruins unscathed, she had looked back to the water, and then under, panicking as she realized that she couldn't see Mercer's body anymore. That, she had kept a secret. And it gave her a visible shiver.

He noticed, and pulled her closer to him, leaving her hand only to wrap his arm around her showers, allowing her to rest her head upon his chest. She did so happily, ignoring the oppressive feeling of need this new experience gave her. New. She'd lain with all sorts of men and mer, and even some women, why would half an embrace feel new to her was beyond her. "What bothers me is, I don't think he deserved to leave this world with those memories still fresh in his mind."

She blinked, puzzled. Sensing the tension in his body, she looked up to him, to see that the pained look had grown firmer, and he was now looking at her, his lips stiffly pressing against each other. That was new, too. She laced her arms around his back, her hands now resting on his hip, and nuzzled his chest, and felt him shift uncomfortably. Was he wondering about her intentions? Or was it just because she was suddenly so close? "All men deserve at least the memory of some cheap tryst to ease them down their way to Oblivion. I figured either of us could be that for the other."

"A cheap tryst?" His voice darkened, as his hand slowly moved up and down her shoulder. "Don't sell yourself short, lass. You're worth so much more than that." Once again, she was surprised and speechless; but why? He certainly wasn't stingy when it came to complimenting her on her skills and achievements, and yet this particular time she felt as though her heart was slamming its fists upon her chest in terror. Something was knocking at the door, threatening to invade her mind, and she was adamant not to let it in. It sounded huge, and terrible, and unbeatable.

She swallowed hard, tensing because of a sudden shift in the wind. "You think I'm worth more", she repeated, half a question, half a statement. The song of need echoed through her thoughts, guiding her towards what was certainly a precipice: she couldn't follow, couldn't allow herself to, and so she remained still, even as his other hand started gently massaging her wrist.

"I do. Trouble is, you don't seem to think you are." He turned to look at her again, the hand that was on her shoulder shifting up to brush against her cheek, cold fingers pressing gently against skin that was just now starting to warm up, provoking a shiver and a sigh. Joie frowned, closing her eyes.

"Brynjolf, I don't do what I do because I think I'm worthless." Goddess, she hadn't meant to sound so poisonous. Another leap away from him, another strike that made the tension in his limbs increase. But he kept grasping at her, kept following, kept trying to drag her over to that scary place; no pause was granted to her, he immediately spoke.

"You know I didn't mean it like that, lass…! Oh, by the Eight!" He actually sounded angry now, and her heart jerked once more in her chest, causing a feeling of cold nausea to pool in her stomach. "Stop… hiding behind what you do! That's not what we're speaking of right now. We're speaking of what you don't do. What you deny yourself." He pressed his forehead against hers, and suddenly, despite not having cried since when she was just a little girl, Joie felt like she would break. Was it fear? Or was it relief, that he would keep pursuing her, even if it hurt them both? "So many months, and I haven't seen you do anything for yourself. All that working and killing, the training, the hiding. You've never spent any of those coins you made for anything but adventuring gear and ammunitions. There's nothing in your house that you bought for yourself. You steal jewelry you say you like, and then sell it. You train animals, then free them, let them return to the wilds after all that loving care. Stop making it seem all about the sex, lass, I'm not that blind. I'm perfectly capable of seeing that there's much more to you than just that."

That was it. She felt herself slipping through the fingers of her own self-control, and started crying, ugly sobs escaping her throat as she struggled to keep her eyes closed, not to let the tears escape. She felt his nose brushing hers, and his fingers soothingly caressing her cheeks, her neck, slowly. That was it. She was out in the open, where that ominous feeling could break her as it wanted to, and the only comfort she could get was the faint heat from his body. "How would you know", she sobbed, how would he know she could be more than that? It was all she showed, all she allowed anyone to see, even herself, and it usually was enough. The killing, the thievery, the physical pleasure. She enjoyed all of that, of course. But it only kept her mind clear. Only kept the scary thing away from her mind.

"I've been looking at you all of this time, you can't say I didn't have the time to learn a couple things about you", he whispered, lips touching her forehead, and in that moment of weakness it hit her in full force, what she'd tried to keep under control until then, leashed and chained and hidden in the shadows, making her whole mind a fortress to protect herself from its terrifying power.

"I don't want to keep anything I might lose, Brynjolf. I'm too scared."

The sentence that had echoed through the darkest corners of her thoughts for all those years was out in the open. Saying it out loud did make it lose a small part of its overbearing influence; but that wasn't enough. She felt him sucking in a deep breath, maybe at a loss for what to say, and a couple of seconds passed during which she could do nothing but sob, consumed by the fear.

"Open your eyes, Joie." She hesitated, blinked, the tears immediately flowing heavy down her cheeks. "Look at me." He quickly caught them with his thumbs, which stroked her gently, and she looked up, drowning into the green ones that stared down at her. Then, he granted her a kind smile, though a brief one, and sighed. "See? I was still there when you opened them."

She allowed those words to sink in, and then chuckled, a laughter broken by sobs and shivers. "It's not going to be this way forever, though", she added, trembling, as her hands covered his.

"Have you forgotten, lass? We're bound together in shadows. I'm never going to leave. It's not a bad place to start, isn't it?"

She shook her head, relaxing slightly, and returned to pressing her forehead upon his, her arms slipping around his neck to keep him closer. "Better than most."

"But it's just a start. You have to promise me." He placed a kiss upon her forehead, then another on her cheekbone, catching a stray tear with his lips, and staying there. "Stop running from this. We all have to deal with it. Death and loss is always there, and if you can't face it, you'll never live. I'll be here, I won't even ask you what hurt you so much that you've turned out this way, but you actually have to start building something. Promise me, Joie."

She remained there, with his lips and hands upon her, for what seemed like an eternity. She could feel him shifting slightly, impatient, worried, but first she had to let the anguish settle down. Let it release her from its cold tentacles. She took a deep breath, and nodded, as she felt them retreat from her, leaving her shaky but peaceful. "I promise, if you promise to help me stop being afraid. Is that okay with you?"

"Wouldn't have it any other way." She almost pointed out that he didn't actually promise, but the smile tugging at the corner of her mouth won the race, and she relaxed in his arms, feeling exhausted and uneasy, but oddly happy.

She woke up to the sound of his heartbeat. She didn't move, took it easy, let the sleep wash off her bones and eyes, and by his breathing she knew they were both awake. Without looking up at him, she let a hand travel up and down his chest, and smiled to herself again.

"I'm sorry."

His voice was still thick with sleep. She nuzzled his chest, closing her eyes again.

"What for?"

"Sorry I haven't… touched you tonight. I just couldn't… you know… the marks."

She stretched a little, and felt his hands lovingly running over her shoulders and arm, with languid patience. "It's okay. Those will fade." She whispered, trying to be reassuring, although she wasn't sure that alone would suffice. Uncertainty ghosted over her fingers, translating in the seamless patterns she drew on his ribcage.

"No, just… don't worry about that. I'll come to terms with this before they even do. I just wanted you to know that. I'm really sorry... You'd think the wait would've been enough." He sounded more awake, now. She smiled up at him, lips brushing lightly along his jaw before she pulled back, and he smiled back.

"I'm alright with this, for now. If you are."

His lips closed upon hers in response, and she drowned in the feeling. It wasn't the terrifying, overwhelming passion she had anticipated. It was warm and welcoming, washing over her in tides. The heartbreaking, desperate undertones only made the looming horror she had feared for so long seem more distant. His tongue played along with hers, as she curled her legs around his, the hand on the back of her neck sending gentle tingles of pleasure running down all over her skin. Then, he pulled back only slightly, lips resting against her own as they kept their eyes closed, only listening to each other's breathing.

Deep inside, she always knew it. That was how it was supposed to be.