Author's Note: Once again, sorry for the long time between updates! This chapter gave me a lot of hassle, and I'm not all that happy with it, but I hope it was worth it. I'll try to update faster! I hope you enjoy this one, there's a lot of technical aspects in this chapter, and some humor, so... enjoy! Thank you all so much for the reviews, I really do appreciate them. I wanted to thank you all even more this time, since I now have passed the 100 review mark, XD. So, thank you all, so much, for reading and reviewing my story, your opinions and your feedback have been a godsend, and I just wanted to make sure you all knew how much I appreciate it!

So... happy reading!

Edit: I'm sorry, all, apparently my formatting doesn't work anymore, and I didn't even realize it... I hate it when updates and I don't know what it breaks, :P

"Well," Duncan said irritably, holding his head in his hands, "I guess we're out of options."

Casavir groaned and leaned back in his chair. He and Cari's other companions had spent the previous tenday scouring Neverwinter for a competent tracker who could locate her. The few that they found had arrived at the same conclusion: whoever had taken her had teleported from outside her window.

And not knowing Cari's past, Casavir had thought sadly, I have no idea where to begin.

Which is why we need Bishop, perhaps he knows something.

He ran his fingers through his graying hair. He and Duncan now sat at a table in the back of the Flagon, the dying candle between them indicative of their respective moods.

"I know, Duncan," he said softly, "But we need to find Bishop. His ability to track her aside; there's a good chance he'll know something that we just don't."

"And if he can track her?" Duncan growled, "How do we know that he won't hurt her again? I have to think about her safety, Casavir, her safety and the baby's-"

"If he can find her," Casavir said calmly, "He will not go alone. Besides, perhaps this could be a chance for him to atone, to show that he regrets hurting her. I would be willing to forgive him if he's able to get her back safely."

"You may, Casavir," Duncan snarled, "But I surely won't forgive the bastard-"

"I said forgive, Duncan, not forget what he's done. Everyone deserves the chance to atone, even Bishop."

Duncan sighed, recognizing defeat.

"The longer we wait, the colder the trail gets. So, how do we reach the smelly bastard?"

Casavir failed to suppress a chuckle.

"Sand has an idea. He knows a spell that'll allow us to contact Bishop and give him a message."

Duncan snorted.

"As much as I hate trusting Sand… what spell is this?"

"Perhaps," Casavir smiled, pointing at Sand and waving him over, "I'll let Sand explain."

ooooo

Later that night, deep in the Mere, Bishop lay in fitful sleep next to a dying campfire, tossing and turning beneath his thin blanket. The icy chill of night in the Mere ate at his skin, despite Karnwyr curled up beside him, trying to keep him warm. Sleep had eluded him for many nights as thoughts of Cari tormented him. He hated those thoughts. Thoughts of her eyes, chillingly blank, staring up at him. Thoughts of the warm softness of her body pressed up close to him. Thoughts of the red welts circling her neck. Thoughts of her kisses, her touch, her comforts and pleasures.

He hated them, but what he hated most was that he kept thinking about their baby.

He didn't want to think about it, but more often than he would have liked to he caught himself dreaming about the baby. His mind occasionally slipped to thoughts of raising a child, about teaching his child what he knew about the forest: how to track, how to hunt, how to survive.

He hated and despised that small part of him, hidden deep within the caverns of his heart that actually liked those dreams.

Now, though, his mind was taunting him with yet another passionate, sensual dream, a dream that always left him lonely and frustrated upon awakening.

Cari stands alone in the Flagon's bath. The dim torchlight paints her skin a deep orange. I can't help but stare at her.

She's so alluring, so tempting, so beautiful. Her hair clings to her body, hugging her shoulders, her breasts, her waist. She gives me that wicked smile that I adore and beckons me closer.

So I join her. Her eyes shine brightly in the darkness as I wrap my arms around her. Her skin is soft and warm. I let my chin rest on the top of her head as I savor the sensation of her skin touching mine.

She can't know, but the scent of her hair entices me. The taste of her lips arouses me.

The gentle scrape of the hair on my chest brushing against her breasts drives me wild.

Her back presses against the edge of the bath as I lean into her, the need to have her overwhelming everything else. She cups my face in her hands, pulls me in, and gently nibbles on my earlobe. I hear her laugh as I shiver in her arms. I feel her warm breath on my flesh as she whispers something in my ear.

"My," she says, "Quite an active imagination you have."

I pull away, startled and unsettled. Cari sounds like Sand. Strangely, the walls of the Flagon melt away into darkness. Cari fades from my arms and I grasp for her, wanting her more than I would like to admit. Soon, I am standing in the middle of a dark, empty, never-ending space.

And I'm completely naked.

I quickly cover myself, protecting myself as Sand's ethereal form materializes in front of me. It's not like I'm ashamed or anything. I just want to keep the parts of me I value safe. He arches an eyebrow at me and chuckles.

"It's a shame your subconscious cannot conjure up a pair of trousers," he drawls, enjoying my discomfort more than he should. I glower at him, and he sighs, looking weary.

"While I'd love to stand here all night and make jokes at your expense," he says softly, "I am afraid I have other, more pressing matters I must relate, and this being the only way to reach you… you need to pay attention and listen closely."

The room grows colder as Sand explains Cari's disappearance. Despite everything, I feel a gnawing bit of terror at the thought of her having left so abruptly. She knows better than to leave without her gear. She's smarter than that.

I open my mouth to speak, but no sound comes out. Sand holds up a long finger.

"You can't talk. So either nod your head for yes or shake your head for no, understood?"

I sneer at his directions, but I nod anyway.

"Now," he continues, "We have reason to believe that she was taken. Judging by her current… state, as it were, it is imperative that she be back within Neverwinter's walls as soon as possible, so that both she and your child will be safe."

The mention of my child makes me shiver, but I nod. I'm just thankful that he can't see those damned thoughts of mine.

"So," he says seriously, "Is there anything you might know about her? Anything that can help us find her? If you don't know anything, perhaps you can help us track her. You are proficient at it, provided we hide any ale or mead."

I purse my lips. Sand's eyes narrow.

"With this, we also offer you a chance to atone for hurting her. While I am aware of what you did to her, I also believe that if you help us find her, we are willing to… forgive and forget, as it were. Because I am sure that you are not enjoying sleeping alone in the woods, are you?"

I do my best to scowl at him. He chuckles.

"I thought not. If you are willing to aid us in our search, return to Neverwinter. I promise not to let Duncan skin you. If not, well, I hope that Cari's all right where she is. Because we're out of ideas over here, and seeing as how she seems entwined with the fates of us all? We need her back. So, are you wiling to help us? I know you miss her, it's been dreadful trying to find you when you're asleep."

As much as I hate to admit it, he's right. But I hate it. I hate that I miss sleeping beside her. I hate that I miss her warmth and the comfort she brings me. I hate that I miss her passion and her fire.

She's one of the few women who can keep up with me, who can challenge me, who can handle everything I can give her. She's one of the few who can leave me breathless and wanting more.

I miss her.

I hate that he's right. I hate that I miss her.

But I miss her. I really do.

What's wrong with me? What has she done to me? She's ensnared me, and a very, very strange part of me enjoys it.

What in the Hells is wrong with me?

Sand shakes his head.

"While I'm not sure I want to know what is running through your alcohol-drenched little mind, I need an answer. I hope I haven't wasted valuable gold and time. Are you willing to come back and help us?"

I hesitate for a brief moment, but then I nod.

I'll get her back.

I want her back.

"Good." Sand turns on his heel and walks away from me, fading into nothingness as he does so. "Oh, and you can wake up now."

With a startled yelp, Bishop shot upright, bleary-eyed and slightly blinded by the early morning light. Karnwyr jumped up, alarmed.

What wrong with Bish? Bish have another sleep-scare?

No, just… a dream.

What dream?

Bishop scrambled to his feet and began to tear down his makeshift camp.

Where we go, Bish? Karnwyr asked, confused, raising his furry eyebrows as Bishop rolled up his bedroll. We go back to mate and den?

We go back to Neverwinter, my friend.

And mate? And den?

Maybe, Bishop thought, slinging his knapsack over his back and heading north, with Karnwyr trotting along beside him, I hope so.

ooooo

"Well," Duncan snapped, wrinkling his nose in disgust at Bishop, "Can you tell us anything?"

Not even a tenday later, Bishop knelt on the ground behind the Flagon, examining the disturbed earth beneath Cari's window. Duncan and Casavir stood nearby, looking anxious.

"I can tell you this," Bishop drawled, "Anyone you hired must have been a dolt. See these footprints?" He pointed to soft depressions in the dirt. "See how widely they're spaced? They belong to a tall, broad-shouldered man. And see these lines?" He pointed to some strange markings encircling the footprints. "The man was wearing robes."

"And?" Casavir asked eagerly, "Does this help us?"

"Perhaps," Bishop said sourly, "But Cari's got a lot of enemies, lots of enemies that are tall, broad-shouldered, and wear robes. He teleported, I can't tell you much else."

"What a load of help you've been," Duncan snarled, storming off, "What a waste of time."

Bishop smirked as Duncan stomped back into the Flagon.

"Well, now that I don't have Uncle Drunkie stinking up the place," he grinned, "Perhaps I can pick up a scent."

He gracefully jumped through her open window, easily landing on his feet. Casavir eyed the window warily, as if contemplating a jump himself, but then thought better of it, instead choosing to use the door.

Chuckling softly, Bishop turned his attentions back to Cari's room. He noticed her missing blanket, and her swords still leaning up against her bedside table, where she always kept them. Smiling slightly, he brushed his fingers over her sheets, hardly believing that he'd shared her bed for as long as he had.

It's been months. I usually just bed them once.

And now she's got me missing her…

Hells.

Her dressing gown lay draped over its usual chair. He picked it up, letting the silk flow between his fingers before bringing it to his lips and breathing in her warm, comforting smell, the scent he'd smell whenever he kissed her neck, or whenever he'd bury his face in her hair.

I miss her scent.

Bishop closed his eyes, holding her dressing gown tight against his chest and letting the smell of vanilla and cinnamon fill his senses. His eyes snapped open as Casavir appeared in her doorway, a sad smile playing on his lips.

"You really miss her," he said softly, "Don't you?"

Bishop quickly threw her dressing gown back onto the chair and turned away.

Damned paladin, catching me in a moment of weakness.

I won't let that happen again.

"That's none of your gods-damned business, paladin," he snapped angrily, heading back over to her window, "So leave me be."

Casavir narrowed his eyes, but said nothing. Bishop leaned forward on the windowsill, and then he suddenly frowned, breathing deeply. He noticed a small piece of fabric, caught on a jagged part of the wood. Prying it loose, he examined it closely, and he noticed a very faint, but familiar odor.

"Incense," he murmured, "It's… incense. I-I know that scent." His face suddenly darkened. "It's-it's that damned cleric! Damn it!" He swore again and aimed a well-placed kick at her wall.

"I knew it!" he raged, "I knew the bastard would try something, I knew it! It was only a matter of time! That sneaky bastard, waiting until my back was turned! The coward! He didn't have the stomach for a fight, so he stole her-"

Casavir grabbed his shoulders and pushed him up against the wall.

"Who?" he asked, shaking Bishop slightly, "Who are you talking about?"

"Martin," Bishop spat angrily, "One of Cyric's clerics."

Casavir blinked.

"Cyric? The Mad God? What would a follower of Cyric want with Cari?"

"They were lovers, idiot"

"Why-why would she be involved with a follower of Cyric? Cyric is an evil god."

Bishop raised an eyebrow and sneered.

"You really are blind, aren't you? It's not just your god. It's not my place to say anything about it. Talk to her."

Casavir glared at him.

"So, a cleric of Cyric took her. Any idea where to go next? Cyric has numerous temples, and they're hard to find."

Bishop rubbed the back of his neck.

"Well, to teleport, the temple has to be within a certain number of miles, right?" Casavir nodded. "There-there was this trail I followed, a long time ago. I was tracking one of Cyric's followers – I could tell by the robes – but I lost it somewhere just south of the Spine. I could try to pick up the trail again. It makes sense to start there. It's our only lead. I don't fancy running all over the place looking for temples, so I'd rather start where I knew there was one."

Casavir sighed and set his jaw. "You remember where you lost the trail?" Bishop nodded. "Then let's get Sand. See if he can't find a way to get us there."

"Us?" Bishop asked, incredulous, "I don't need you, paladin, I can do this myself."

"Part of this agreement," Casavir said quietly, "Is that I accompany you, for Cari's safety and Duncan's sake. Not only that, I think it would be prudent to bring a small force anyway, since I'm not sure what you'd be up against."

"You've got a point," he admitted, albeit grudgingly, "It's just you, me, and Sand, got it? I don't want to bring the whiney farmgirl, or the crazy gnome, or the drunken dwarf-"

"Understood," Casavir said firmly, "Then let us get going, all right?"

ooooo

"So, Salyndra," Casavir said quietly, pleading slightly with the gray-haired half-elf, "Will you help us? Please?"

Salyndra's kind eyes narrowed slightly.

"So, let me get this straight," she said softly, her voice somewhat raspy from age, "You plan on teleporting into an area he hasn't seen in years," she nodded at Bishop, who scowled, "So you can find one of Cyric's temples and rescue a pregnant woman."

Sand nodded.

"Insane," he drawled, "But necessary."

"Insane is an understatement," she snapped, rubbing her temples, "Suicidal, even."

"We specialize in suicidal," Sand smirked. Salyndra shook her head.

"Cyric is an evil god, and if she's in one of his temples… it isn't good to have a baby there. I wouldn't put it past them to just kill the baby once it's born. And since I despise Cyric and everything he stands for... I'll happily help."

"You'll make us a scroll then?" Casavir said eagerly.

"Absolutely," she said kindly, "I'll have the scroll for you by the time the day is out. All you have to do is to be in physical contact with the caster, and you'll go where he goes. I wish you luck. Just be careful around Cyric's minions. They're a deceitful, untrustworthy lot who'll probably kill you on sight. Be on your guard."

The men nodded as Salyndra ushered them out.

"Unless you want to sit here and watch me write, I suggest you go pack for your journey. Come back in a bit, and I'll have that scroll for you." She paused, smiling. "I really do wish you luck. I hope the girl's all right, and I hope the baby's all right too. I'll see you in a little while."

Later that afternoon, Bishop stood in front of the Flagon with Casavir, Sand, and Karnwyr, eyeing the scroll in his hand with some apprehension.

I hate reading scrolls. I never know if they're going to backfire.

I hope this isn't one of those times…

"Are we ready?" Casavir asked, adjusting the buckle on his knapsack, "The longer we wait-"

"We're ready," Bishop said curtly, "Get over here. I'm going to start reading."

Casavir nodded and grasped Bishop's shoulder as Sand grabbed Bishop's elbow, with Karnwyr pressing his furry body against Bishop's leg. Duncan glared at them from the doorway of the Flagon.

"Good luck," he said flatly, "And remember: if you fail, it's your head I'm hangin' on my wall next, you hear?"

"Lovely," Bishop drawled, "I won't fail. I don't fail." Duncan rolled his eyes, and Bishop shook his head, turning away.

"All right, let's do this."

He slowly mumbled the incantation on the scroll, focusing on the old trail he had lost long ago. Suddenly, his stomach lurched, and his feet were swept away from the ground, taking Casavir, Sand, and Karnwyr with him. Duncan watched as they vanished, and he stared upward into the sky, hoping that the uneasiness in the pit of his belly would subside once they were back in Neverwinter.