A.N. Last chapter was difficult, and I have to admit that I had some trouble with this one as well. Grief can be such a difficult thing to convey in writing. Thank you all for continuing with this story!
Disclaimer: I own nothing by my original characters and plot points.

Snow fell outside the window, deceptively normal and peaceful. Danica's breath fogged up the glass for a brief moment before fading away, then appearing again. The window seat she perched on was cold, but she hardly noticed. Her arms were wrapped around her knees, keeping them close to her chest. Estellia was perched at her feet. It had been two days since John and Rachel's deaths, and Danica was numb. John's body had disappeared just after he died, as had the blade that killed him. Rachel, on the other hand, had remained. Estellia explained that it was part of Rachel's punishment for her body to be left in a time not her own. John's had returned home. There was some comfort in the idea of him being buried in his own time, but that did little to ease the unbearable grief.

There was no place to bury Rachel, so ideas had been tossed around as to how they would dispose of her body. Some suggested tying chains around her and letting her sink to the bottom of the lake, but Danica couldn't bear the thought of the horrific decomposition watery graves brought. Instead, they laid her in a boat, set her adrift, and then set the vessel on fire with a flaming arrow. Many in the Company and town thought she didn't deserve such a tradition, but were also superstitious enough to not want her soul haunting them.

"They have their sights set on the future," Rachel had warned Danica with her last breath. "You need to go home and stop the darkness,"

There had been no apologies, or tying of loose ends, but it hadn't been necessary. Some atonement had been reached in the warning, before Rachel had paid for her crimes. In many ways, she'd been paying since she'd arrived in Middle Earth. But John…he hadn't deserved what happened to him. Danica could see that he thought he did, but she knew better. He was a great man; one of the best she'd ever known. She hadn't gotten the chance to tell him that, but hoped he somehow knew. As the days had dragged on in a blur, she began to feel something akin to peace move within her. A knowledge that John was alright, and she could be as well. This didn't stop the constant tears that flooded her eyes. Every time she thought of him, it was like there was a great, open wound in her chest. Reaching a hand out, she stroked the soft feathers of Estellia's side.

Getting used to her guardian's new form had been an easy enough process, considering how much easier it was for her to move around now. However, there were still times she missed the large cat. As someone who had mostly owned larger animals as pets, it had always been a comfort to hug them. No matter the form, though, Estellia was still a source of stability.

"Dani?" a soft voice pulled her gaze to the door. Fili gave her a gentle smile before walking into the room. "Everyone is double-checking their packs to make sure we have everything for tomorrow's departure,"

Silently, she pointed to her pack, which was rested on the floor behind her. The Master had been generous enough with his gifts of supplies, clothing, and weapons, but it was clear that he wanted them out of his town. He even refused to listen to Danica's warnings about evacuating, stating that he would no longer listen to "girls from another time." That statement had gotten him some push back from the dwarves, but it was a losing battle.

"Should have known you'd already have it together," Fili leaned against the wall in front of her, making sure to give Estellia space. "How are you holding up?"

People had made sure to give her space over the past couple of days, but these kinds of questions were inevitable. "Ok," she sighed. "It comes in waves. Sometimes I want to scream and rage, other times I just want to cry until there's nothing left,"

"And in between?"

She managed a small smile. "I am numb and logical. But I also know that John is at peace now, and would want me to keep living. It's a kind of comfort, and motivation,"

Fili nodded in understanding. "He certainly wouldn't have wanted the grief to drown you. Nor would he want his death to cause a rift between you and Thorin,"

Guilt had Danica looking back out the window. Men were wandering down the streets, lighting the oil lamps, which cut through the deepening black of night. In truth, she and Thorin hadn't spoken much, though he had done everything he could to comfort her. There were no words for her grief, and she could see plenty of it in him as well. What she also couldn't bring to words was the conflict she felt. John had been in complete support of hers and Thorin's relationship, but he'd had feelings for her, and turning to Thorin for comfort almost felt wrong.

"He blames himself as much as you do," Fili continued. "It's eating away at him, causing him to retreat further within himself. I'm worried, Dani," his tone had Danica looking back at him. She noticed now how dark the circles were around his eyes, as well as the fear in them. It cut through her malaise, and some of the fog from the past few days cleared out of her head.

"Where is he?" she asked, standing.

Fili smiled gratefully, and led her out. The others gave soft, hesitant smiles as she encountered them. They were likely glad to see her up and about, but unsure what her mental state was. She gave them what she hoped were encouraging looks. An air of fear, grief, and fatigue lay over everyone. Certainly not the feeling of excitement they should be experiencing upon defeating the orcs, and going to the Lonely Mountain. If anything, it more closely mirrored the days leading up to the Battle of Five Armies. When Thorin was mad with Dragon Sickness. Her feet moved faster at the thought.

A loud creak from the wooden door announced their entry to one of the few bedrooms. Fire crackled in the hearth, but there was a chill due to the balcony doors being open. Thorin stood on the small deck, looking out into the snowy night. His head and shoulders bore a thin layer of white, telling of how long he'd been out there.

"Thorin?" Danica hadn't meant to keep her voice so soft, but her throat had become so dry, it stuck together, making the passage of sound difficult. Clearing her throat, she said his name again.

At first, he gave no sign that he'd heard her. Then, very slowly, he turned his head, so they saw his profile.

"The Mountain looks like a ghost. Or…like a memory. All the memories in dreams I had, when a homecoming seemed impossible. Now, it's only possible because of the sacrifice of one of our own," his voice was soft, and distant, as if in a trance. Danica's blood ran cold.

"Thorin," all of her emotions colored that one word, and had him finally turning to her fully.

"Oh Dani," it was all he could manage before he and Danica were in each other's arms. "Please forgive me," Thorin pleaded into her hair. "We got there so late, and because I wouldn't have been able to save you, he died. I failed you both,"

This was the first either of them had actually spoken about what happened. Before, he had just held her as she cried, both silenced by grief. Never had she realized the guilt that he had been drowning in. Leaning back, she framed his face with her hands.

"It wasn't your fault," she assured. "The only ones to blame are either already dead, or soon will be. Please. Please don't lose yourself like this," any assurance she'd had in her was replaced by the fear she couldn't contain. "Just now, you were so far away. It…it's like…"

He sighed, taking one of her hands in his. "Like the Dragon Sickness," he finished, voice hard. All she could respond with was a nod. "I will be more aware of that in the future. Regrettably, I am not as strong as I had hoped against the madness of my fathers,"

Comforted by the clarity in his eyes, she let her head rest on his shoulder. "Stronger than you think. You recognized my concern, and didn't brush it off, or slip deeper,"

A noncommittal sound resonated in his chest, but he rested his cheek against her hair. They stayed that way, until the snow began to drift into the room. Thorin closed the doors while Danica stoked the fire, and added another log. Wordlessly, they went to the bed, and settled next to each other, letting their limbs entangle. For a while, they spoke of John, and how he would not have wanted his death to haunt them. Easier said than done. He had underestimated how much they all cared for him.

"I have lost men before; too many to count," Thorin murmured. "Each one of them carries a silent weight, but John's feels particularly heavy,"

Danica sighed, understanding. "It wasn't supposed to happen. He died protecting me from someone who also shouldn't have been there. Strangely, I think he knew. He was acting differently that night," only once the words were out did she realize her mistake. Her neck burned at the memory of the kiss.

To her dread, but not surprise, Thorin asked, "How so?"

"He just seemed so resolute about something," she replied. Never would she allow Thorin's view of John to be tainted because of one foolish moment. Besides, if John had truly believed he would die, then his actions made more sense.

Thorin shifted, and pulled Danica closer. "Resolute. He had been that way for a few days," a sudden growl in his chest had Danica lifting her head in alarm. "He took it upon himself to kill Rachel, so we would not have to,"

The air whooshed out of Danica's lungs, and she laid back down on his shoulder. "He didn't want us to feel that guilt and darkness, because we already felt so much. Damn him. Wish he'd thought about how his death would feel,"

Anger and bitterness rose up in her, stronger than it had since his death. Why did the men around her insist on dying in such honorable ways? Her husband had thrown himself in front of his friend. John had thrown himself in front of her, and made sure she wouldn't have to deal Rachel the final blow. Thorin was going to die for his people. None of them thought about who would be left behind, grieving for them. Dark, chaotic energy rose in her chest, and she had to get up. Without a word, she went back to the balcony, and stepped out into the cold. The air bit at her skin, and helped to clear her head, but she still felt the need to punch something. Behind her, she heard Thorin slowly rise from the bed, and walk closer.

"You're angry with him," he stated softly.

She gave a derisive huff that could have been a laugh. "With him, with Sam, with you. All of you noble warriors who throw yourselves into battle, only to get killed,"

Deep down, she knew she was losing control, and that her words were far sharper than she would want, but the darkness was overriding any other sense. She couldn't bear the thought of a world without Thorin, Fili, and Kili, but knew it was more than likely coming. Especially after what Rachel had said to her. If, indeed, Morgoth did have his sights set on the future, then the powers that be would probably send her back. She'd already lost John. How could she survive more loss? Her breath hitched, and she doubled over, clutching her chest. With gentle, but strong hands, Thorin managed to get her back inside before she shoved him away. With clumsy steps, she strode away from him, afraid that she'd strike if he got too close. Not sensing the danger, or not caring, he followed her.

"It's alright," he murmured, infuriatingly calm, putting his hands on her arms.

"Don't," it was between a snap and a plea, but he didn't take heed. Instead, he just kept saying the same words, even when she pounded her fists against his chest.

That dark energy within her exploded, causing a wretched scream to tear from her throat, muffled by Thorin's shoulder. Her hands clenched his shirt tightly, and once the scream had run its course, she slid to her knees, bringing Thorin down with her. This time, when he wrapped his arms around her, she didn't protest. Sobs, deep and tortured wracked her body. She didn't care if anyone heard; didn't care about much of anything. All grief, anger, and fear flooded through her, and escaped with her tears. For that moment, she wished that she hadn't come to this time. Wished she hadn't met all these people that she would come to love so dearly, only to lose. Hadn't one husband been enough? All the while, Thorin held her, and occasionally made small shushing sounds in her ear.

At some point, the crying ceased, leaving her weak and exhausted. Remaining heart-breakingly tender, Thorin picked her up, and brought her back to the bed. Once they were laying down again, he stroked her face and hair, and pressed soft kisses to her temple and cheeks. It was a side of him so rarely seen, and left her even more raw and vulnerable. Worse than that, she felt wetness on his cheek that she knew wasn't caused by her own tears. Just like the past couple of days, she had forgotten his pain.

"I'm sorry I hit you," she croaked pathetically through a stuffed nose. "And that I lost it like that when you're hurting too,"

He shook his head, laying another kiss on her skin. "You have nothing to be sorry for. Sometimes, pain can be eased by nothing more than sharing tears. Are you alright?"

"No," she breathed, closing her eyes. Then, she moved closer to him. "But I'm better than I was, thank you,"

"I am always at your service,"

The words had her smiling, and lifting her face to look at him. As she did, John's last words went through her mind. Surely, he had to know how much they would all be hurting, but he also knew that, together, they could get through it.

"I love you," the kiss she pressed to Thorin's lips was long, full of everything in her heart.

A small sigh escaped his nose just before they broke apart. "I love you," he replied, voice deep in the way it got when he was emotional.

Sleep was beckoning, promising a more peaceful sleep than she'd known in a while. Though she still ached, and felt the pain in her heart, a new lightness had flowed through the cracks created by her meltdown. Looking up at the ceiling, she imagined the sky above it, and John's smiling face. Silently, she offered the promise he'd asked of her. From now on, she would keep moving forward, never forgetting him, but always honoring his strength and courage.

'Atta girl,' she thought she heard, warm and tender. The warmth eased her into a deep, and peaceful rest.