"Why are you here?"

Wiping her sweaty palms on her tattered trousers, she glanced up, allowing her dirt-stained trowel to sink in the mud beside her. Sunlight protruded through the hazy, Istanbul sky, temporarily blinding her, and she placed a hand over her eyes to shield them from the hot, unyielding sun. She blinked again as her eyes adjusted to the light and glanced at the shadowed figure casually leaning against a pile of crates to her right.

She stared at him blankly before emitting a wry smile. "Why do you think?"

The corner of his mouth lifted in a half-smile, and he shifted his weight to the other side, clutching a water bottle tightly in his hand. "I'm not sure. That's why I'm asking."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm digging for broken pottery. What does it look like?"

He gave a small laugh. "That's not what I meant. I was asking why you're here on this dig."

"Because it's my life. I was born for this." She didn't have to think twice about her answer. It came as naturally to her as breathing.

He stared out at all the sweaty forms of newly-graduated university students painfully laboring away in the hot sun from his sheltered location in the shade. "It's the same for them," he responded, "but after a week or two, most of them head home, sick of the heat. But not you." He gaze swiveled back to her. "And I'm curious as to why."

She shrugged, wiping at her wet brow and tightening her ponytail to keep loose hair from falling into her face. "I like uncovering the lost."

"Lost pieces of pottery?"

She cracked a smile. "Har, har. Very funny." She wiped her face again. "But as exciting as uncovering chipped pottery is, what I really love is discovering the secrets of people from long ago, lives that were completely forgotten. And broken pottery is a part of that."

"So, you like uncovering the lives of dead people?"

She sighed exasperatedly. "You're being a pain, you know that?"

He grinned at her before taking a long swig from his water bottle.

She shook her head. "Well, I like finding anything - or anyone- lost."

"Oh, so you're after the live ones, too, huh?"

She swiped some of the dirt off of her trouser legs, giving him a dirty look.

"Fine, I get it." His blue eyes flashed slightly as he swung one tanned arm against the side of the crates. "So, teach me. I've learned enough out here about finding the dead ones, but how about the live ones?"

"Excuse me?"

"How do you find a lost person?" he repeated.

"You show them the right way."

"And how do you do that?" he persisted.

She bit her lip, pondering the question. It was a tough one, and knowing that he was one of those lost didn't make it any easier to answer.

"I guess it's all about showing them what they're missing out on. Whether it's happiness, truth, love…" She glanced at him, wondering if he would pick up on her hidden message.

But his face was as expressionless as ever. "Okay, then, Ms. Smarty-Pants. But I'm still curious." A sober look instantly replaced his playful one, his face revealing someone sincerely searching for an honest answer. "How can you find someone who was never lost to begin with?" he demanded.

"Well," she began slowly, "I guess you can't." For a moment, she lifted her gaze, her jade eyes meeting his baby-blue ones in a solid stare. "But the thing is, most people who are lost don't even realize it."

His blue eyes searched hers. "And how do you find them then, if they don't even know they're lost?"

"Then," she stated, her gaze locked firmly with his, "the only thing you can do is make them realize their need to be found."

A/N - Well, this was obviously one about Arthur and Hope. I guess you could say Hope is trying to show Arthur that he's "lost," as he's still working with the Vespers, and Arthur is curious about who the "lost" really are.

Posted: June 5

Word Count: 708