Another joint venture of Kaana Moonshadow and myself. We still don't own Bishop, but we still wish we did.

I wanted to give a Thank You to all reviewers with the PM option switched off - I would have liked to thank you personally for your comments, but couldn't. But your reviews still made Kaana and me happy. :)

They made their way over the lake in silence, Bishop rowing the boat while Liliana was huddled in the stern, her arms folded tightly around her knees against the cool, damp pre-dawn air. The boat made almost no sound as it glided over the dark waters, the small waves of the bow disturbing its mirror-like surface reflecting a lead-coloured sky that told her that the sunrise was probably no more than an hour away.

The houses on either side of the lake were equally dark, black, stony masses against the slowly brightening sky. Mist was rising from the lake in the early hours of dawn, muffling every sound, and Liliana shivered not only from the damp air.

In this grey twilight, the world around her seemed surreal, like a dreamscape… which was an odd match with the strange feeling that was swirling inside her chest, making it hard to believe that any of this was actually real. She cast another glance at Bishop, sitting at the other side of the boat, the powerful moves of his arms carrying them quickly across the water.

His presence felt surreal as well, as if he had finally stepped out of one of her nightmares to haunt her, and she quickly averted her gaze before he could catch her staring.

I cannot believe I kissed him.

The thought stirred something inside her, feelings of confusion and guilt that mingled with the frenzied apathy and fear that shone through the dull haze that seemed to cloud her emotions since the events at the boathouse. But beneath that haze, it felt like a maelstrom was swirling inside her, all these different emotions and maybe a dozen more that she could not name all bottled up deep within her, and the gods help her should that dam ever break.

First her unpleasant confrontation with Jeanne, then her argument with Cedric… and then he had appeared, in the very moment when she had finally felt like getting a hold back on her life, that she would somehow make things right again. She could still remember the icy fear that had gripped her when she had recognised his voice, hissing into her ear in the dark of her room, and all the carefully prepared speeches for him that she had practised in her mind over the past days had deserted her due to the sheer panic that had welled up when she had seen the murderous wrath on his face, leaving no room for anything else but gut-wrenching fear, least of all an apology.

And it would have been so much better to stay afraid of him, Liliana, don't you think, whispered the soft voice in her mind. Look at the trouble you are in now. He does not deserve your pity. He does not deserve your understanding. He does not even care what you think of him. Remember what he did to you, back in the hut? And what he wanted to do to you today?

True. So very, very true. But who could have thought that things would turn out the way they had?

In the beginning, that mindless terror had held her in an iron grip while he had made her talk to Nerdanel and later when he had dragged her forcefully through the park down to the boat, and had only lessened its hold on her as they had made their way over the lake. Maybe you could only be terrified for so long?

She did not know, but what she did know was that she had still been frightened when he had pushed her forcefully into the old boathouse that belonged to the abandoned Millsfall mansion, and that her fear miraculously had given way to anger when he had loomed over her, talking to her about payback.

She really could not say what had made her do it, but all of a sudden she had not cared anymore. One of her friends had called her all but a whore in public, her love was displeased with her because she could even imagine a life of her own that did not center around him and his career, and then Bishop had the guts to glare at her as if he had any right to be angry with her. As if she owed him anything!

As if she did not feel bad enough already for all her schemes without him to remind her, despite the complete stupidity of that notion. So why should she cower in fear when it had been his own fault all along that she had been forced to play him? What could he actually do to make her life any more miserable?

What, indeed?

A bitter smile crept over her face at that thought, her stomach clenching painfully. She still could not believe it. Greyburgh dead, killed by Bishop's own hands, tortured even.

And Damian…

She did not want to believe him. Could not believe him. Damian was her brother, after all. Greyburgh had probably been in terrible pain, and would have said anything to make it stop… or it could all have been an insidious, twisted lie right from the start, simply to shake her confidence.

It would have been so easy to dismiss Bishop's claim… if she could not so very clearly remember the look on Damian's face when she had come to him in his study, the cold indifference in his eyes and the challenge in his voice.

I always win my games, Liliana. You and your friend have just raised the stakes, and I hope that you are prepared for that.

Your friend.

She wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Not only that Damian seemed to be the mastermind behind the conspiracy that wished to see her dead, he now also seemed to think that she was somehow working with Bishop to plot his own timely demise in revenge… while not a few hours ago, Bishop on the other hand had still been more than eager to kill her all on his own, but had now somehow ended up as her hired guard… if she trusted him enough to stay true to his word, that was.

Who could live in a world like this and not end up mad?

She cast Bishop another glance out of the corner of her eye and could still see the blood on his sleeve where the knife of this… woman had cut him, and felt as if her heart got squeezed by razor-sharp claws, the dull haze around her emotions lifting for the fraction of a second, leaving behind the bitter taste of helpless despair.

I killed her. Another human being. I took that knife and rammed it between her ribs. I killed her. With my own hands!

…icy waves of terror rippling through her while she lies flat on the floor, too afraid to move and paralyzed with fear while Bishop and the woman are arguing and fighting in the dark gloom that is left of the light of the moon.

Sensing that something is off even before the woman mentions the poison. She has seen Bishop fight, after all, the memories of that day in the hut burned into her mind like a brand, and so she notices something off about his movements even before he collapses onto the floor.

And then he starts to scream, and Liliana closes her eyes involuntarily as the memories make another icy shiver run down her spine.

Merciful gods, his screams…

How would she ever be able to forget his tortured howls, born out of his pain and fear, cutting her to the quick, her panic increasing a thousandfold when she sees him writhing on the floor in agony while that woman stands over him, weapon in hand, the sight making her feel as if her heart has been ripped from her chest.

She will kill him. She is really going to kill him!

And then not being able to stand it any longer – his screams, the woman's cruel taunts, her own mindflaying fear, her ever-growing panic that he would get hurt, that she would get hurt…

Looking around wildly in the half-dark, trying to come up with an idea to do at least something to make it all stop, her eyes falling on one of the woman's daggers, lying discarded on the floor.

She does not expect her attack to be of much use. When has she ever used a knife to do anything besides peeling an apple, really? But the woman has said that she has poisoned all her daggers, and so Liliana hopes that if she is able to cut her, the poison will do to her what it has done to Bishop, and if she can distract the woman long enough afterwards for the poison to take root… she might be able to tie her up. Knock her out. Anything.

The weapon coming up in a clumsy arc as she aims for the woman's broad back, afraid that she would otherwise miss her target.

He was hurting. I needed to make sure that I could cut through her leathers. They looked thick. I had to use all the force I could muster! I had to!

But it seems that poison is not the only little something the woman has put onto her weapons, because the dagger goes through all her garments and her flesh like a hot knife through butter, making her feel not the slightest bit of resistance when its blade buries itself deep into the woman's chest. Something hot and wet suddenly trickles over her fingers, and Liliana steps back with a gasp, staring with wide eyes on the blood that now mars both her fingers and the knife…

I hurt her. I killed her!

The thought was still unthinkable. She probably would have freaked out right there and then if Bishop had not addressed her, the pain in his voice bringing her back to reality in an instant. His eyes had rolled back beneath his lids when another wave of spasms had hit him, his body convulsing painfully, and then he had lain still all of a sudden, and a very different kind of fear had gripped her heart.

"Bishop? Bishop!"

The memory of that shout alone, stumbling past her lips when he had stopped moving was enough to make her cringe.

And do you remember how he repaid you for your worry after you fell for his little trap, when he kissed you? His scorn, his taunts, that self-satisfied smirk? Does you right for acting like a sheep!

But her voice of reason had been drowned in the panicked screech that had seemed to echo in her mind when she had kneeled by his side and had grabbed his shoulders, smearing his shirt with blood, his skin feeling clammy when she had shook him forcefully to get a reaction.

Backpack… green… bottle…

He had tried to tell her what to do with his last croak, but she had been forced to slap herself hard on both her cheeks to get such a hold on her fear that she had eventually been able to hurry over to his backpack and start to search for said bottle. The muscles in his jaw had been cramped so tightly that she almost had not managed to open his mouth wide enough to instill the mud-coloured liquid, and afterwards, she had just sat there in the dark, her panic falling and rising like the tides whenever the shadows of the lantern had made it appear as if he had stopped breathing.

How long had she sat there in the gloom of the boathouse, staring at his pale face without daring to look away, as if her frightened gaze was the only thing that kept him alive?

And the huge wave of relief that had welled through her when he had started to move again, blinking even against the dim light of the lantern, her relief a notion so foolish, so embarrassing… But she had not been able to help herself, feeling so relieved that he had not died and that he would be all right again that she had only realised what he was doing when it had already been too late. His hand had closed around her neck, drawing her even closer towards him, and then his lips had searched for her mouth, so soft, so gentle…

And she had been so confused and so hurt and so frightened, and then his scent had mingled with the taste of herbs in his mouth, that musky odour of sun and leaves that she remembered so very well, and after everything that she had been through, it had just felt so good to feel the touch of his hand, and his soft hair under her fingers. His moan had been like a spark, igniting that treacherous fire in her blood, and she had leaned even further into his kiss, melting against him and only coming to her senses when he had taken her into his arms to roll her onto her back, half-burying her beneath his lithe form…

Suddenly realising what she was doing. Who she was kissing.

She had kicked and squirmed to get away from him, to wriggle herself out of his grasp, but the damage had already been done. He had kissed her and she had kissed him back, and they both knew it.

She stole another hooded glance at Bishop, watching the sharp lines of his profile in the first light of dawn as he rowed the boat across the lake, keeping a watchful eye on their surroundings, and squirmed once more, a new found wave of guilt and shame choking her. Maybe Jeanne had been right to call her a liability? What kind of woman would allow a man like Bishop to touch her, to kiss her, and would even feel pleasure at such an act? Especially when she was in fact in love with another? Betrothed to another?

And it is not even the first time that this happened, isn't it, Liliana?

That thought and the memories it stirred, memories of a small hut in the woods and a kiss shared in front of a fireplace made the guilt almost unbearable, and her eyes searched for the dolphin ring on her hand almost pleadingly, only to widen in shock when she realised that it was still smeared with blood. Hastily, she held her hand out of the boat and into the lake, the water feeling icy under her fingers, and then gathered some folds of her skirt to scrub her hand frantically, not giving a damn when the sharp edges of the ring cut into the fine cloth.

The boat slowed all of a sudden and she looked up, surprised, another shiver running down her spine when she saw that Bishop was actually watching her with an inscrutable expression on his face and a dark look in his eyes. For a long moment they simply stared at each other across the small length of the boat, she holding his gaze defiantly while his eyes bored into hers, before he sneered and looked away without saying a word, resuming his rowing.

I just wanted to thank you for the rescue, but if you don't want me to, all the better. I don't have to pretend, then.

But if I were you, I would think some things over.

The way you react to my kisses, I would say there's something dear Cedric is not giving you. Or maybe he simply is not interested enough to bother?

His words had cut deep, deeper than he could ever imagine. They still left her bleeding inside, loath as she was to admit it. But he had been right about one thing, though – how could she enjoy the feel of him when he kissed her, the sensation of his lips on her mouth when no man but Cedric should make her feel this way? And why did she even care if he had no feelings for her at all, that she was nothing more than a replacement for the woman that he had never been able to get?

Just thinking about it made his words cut even deeper, but embarrassing as it was, it also brought her back to something that had been nagging at the back of her mind ever since the day she had left Javroun Lithkind and the Font of Knowledge behind.

So she mentally steeled herself before she looked up at him again, holding his gaze defiantly when his eyes finally met hers, trying to keep her voice down so that it would not carry too far across the water.

"Why did you not tell her?"

She could see him frown even in the dim light of dawn.

"I'm in no mood for riddles, princess. What the hells are you babbling about?"

"You know what I am talking about." Judging by the dark expression on his face, he seemed to know indeed but obviously had decided to ignore her, which made Liliana fight hard to keep herself from rolling her eyes. "Riana?" she offered, a hint of her impatience at his oh-so obvious denial creeping into her voice as well. "The woman you loved?"

"Love!" Bishop snorted and spat into the water. "Hardly. Love's for stupid little girls, as you'll learn some day. Think of my words when you grow bored with your Cedric, princess."

For a moment, she almost spat at him that this was a lie, that he had told her all about his feelings right to her face, but then her survival instinct kicked in, telling her in an urgent whisper that it probably wasn't such a good idea to remind him of that, and so she just huffed, her fingers itching from the sudden urge to throttle him for being so… him.

„I will not grow bored with Cedric," she hissed instead, but it seemed that his words had stroked a cord, considering the sharp pain in her heart.

Are you sure, Liliana? Spending your days here for the rest of your life, with only your house and your children and your husband to distract you? Living a calm and quiet life with a calm and quiet marriage, always wondering why Cedric cannot make you feel like he does when he ki…

Stop it, she thought vehemently, her hands suddenly clawing into the fine cloth of her skirt. Don't you dare to imply that I enjoy his touch more than Cedric's, that he is special. He is not. He is not!

Bishop snorted again, and at the sight of the wry smile that suddenly played in the corners of his mouth Liliana felt the almost irresistible desire to cross the small distance between them and slap it off his face - hard.

"Yeah, sure you won't."

"Even if it wasn't love," she picked up on their previous topic, still seething inside but deciding to change the subject nonetheless before she could do something that she would truly regret later. „There must have been something - since you are still acting all crazy about her. So why did you not tell her?"

Bishop's eyes narrowed dangerously. "None of your business, mousie. So drop it."

"Oh, come now," she replied, her patience finally wearing thin. "I am paying you forty thousand gold. I think for such an incredible amount of wealth I am entitled to ask you some questions, especially if you are considering the fact that I am cold, and tired, and that this actually hasn't been the best day of my life. You owe me for saving your life. So humour me."

He still did not answer, and this time, she rolled her eyes in earnest. "Please?"

His eyes widened, as if she had said something that surprised him. For a moment, his gaze went past her, seemingly dwelling on some memory, and a small smile appeared on his face. Then he seemed to snap back to the present, but the strange, somehow wistful smile stayed on his face.

"Seems like life has an odd way of repeating itself, mousie. All right. Sold my thoughts once for twenty gold, so I guess forty thousand should buy you something as well. Ask away."

"Why did you not tell her?" Liliana repeated somewhat frostily, surprised by his sudden mood swing and how her anger was melted by the spark of curiosity that had been ignited by his words. What was he referring to?

There was a small pause as Bishop's face seemed to shut down again, the smile dwindling. "She was not... available."

Liliana nodded in understanding. "She chose Casavir."

That comment made Bishop's eyes narrow once more. "Someone's been busy, I see. If you know the story already, why keep pestering me?"

Her survival instinct nudged her again, reminding her that this had to be a very sensitive topic that she was discussing with one of the inhabitants of Faerun who was known neither for his patience nor his sweet temper, but she took a deep breath and simply went on, trying her best not to let her sudden nervousness show in her voice. If she did not ask him now, how would she ever get an answer to the question that had kept her awake for the past nights?

"But they cannot have been together right from the start," she insisted, holding his gaze firmly. "Such things develop, take their time, grow slowly. Why did you never make a move?"

Bishop laughed, a short, biting sound without the slightest trace of amusement.

"What kind of question is that, mousie? Look at me. Do I look like I'd want to be shackled to a woman?" He snorted. "Besides, they suited each other just fine. Both holier-then-thou, self-righteous paragons of virtue. Think she would have looked at me twice, with him around?" His voice was dripping with scorn now, and yet strangely enough Liliana got the feeling that not all of that scorn was aimed at the couple he was talking about.

His posture did not change as he spoke, the tone of his voice staying mockingly light, and still Liliana was certain that she could sense the bitterness under his words, the wounds that Riana's rejection had caused him still not healed after all this time, and felt her heart call out for him all of a sudden, even despite her anger.

"I would," she replied softly without really thinking, still driven by that unexpected burst of compassion. Bishop stopped for a moment in his rowing to look at her, his eyes blazing with fury all of a sudden, and Liliana felt her own eyes widen as her mind finally caught up with her words, mentally kicking herself.

Sheep! What are you doing?

"… would have liked to know if… if I had been her," she improvised wildly, her heart now hammering loudly in her chest, alarmed by the sudden swing in his mood and not certain what had caused it. Bishop shot her another hard glare, but the rage in his eyes died a little and he at least resumed rowing, so she hurried to distract him from that major slip-up that had left her mouth before she had been able to stop herself.

"I mean… let us just assume that you were your usual charming self most of the time – she probably was convinced that you hated her guts right until the end. How could she have made a choice if she had not even known that she was supposed to make one?"

Bishop's mouth twitched a little at her assessment of his character, the anger leaving his face completely, but he shook his head. "Look, she's dead," he said. "It's done. No use in dwelling on it, so just let it go, all right?"

"But…"

"No, mousie," Bishop interrupted, a note of finality in his voice. "That's all your gold will buy you, and it's more than anyone has ever gotten. Topic closed. End of discussion." His lips compressed to a hard line, he continued rowing, his expression clearly demonstrating that he truly had nothing more to say on the matter.

"Fine," she replied quietly after studying his face for a long moment, not knowing what to make of the contradicting emotions that were now waging inside her chest. What did she care if he wanted to spend the rest of his days in denial, if he did not want to move on and leave that part of his past behind him? "Have it your way."

The mist parted all of a sudden, and Liliana forgot all about their discussion when her stomach clenched painfully at the sight of her house, coming quickly into view now that they were nearing the shore.

Liliana stared up at the row of dark windows, and felt her heart contract even more painfully as she noticed that the lights were still on in Damian's study, as if he had stayed awake all night.

Waiting…

She swallowed, wondering briefly if denial truly was such a bad thing as she sent a quick prayer to the gods above that she would be able to stand the truth that was waiting for her on the other side of the garden – one way or the other.