Author's note: Yes, I know, I know, I need a 7th member of the party (So my system's screwed. Sue me). Sarevok… hmm, too early, but wait and see. No, we're going to get a blast from the past for our final member. It was originally just going to be a cameo, but after playing the game once more… I need someone to add a new dynamic to replace Yoshimo, and I'm sure I've made the right choice. Okay, so this is sounding mysterious, and it's probably quite obvious who number 7 is going to be, but sod it. :-P Enjoy!

Chapter 84: A Moment's Contemplation

"Where is he?" Imoen asked Jaheira quietly, her eyes not wavering from the oaken table before them. The party was assembled in the common room of the Five Flagons, recovering from the day's trials with some free drinks, courtesy of a rather generous Samuel Thunderburp.

"Still resting," was Jaheira's curt reply. The druid had been nursing a cordial for almost two hours know, and the formerly fizzy drink was now, most certainly, flat. The group had hardly spoken all the time it had been there, each of them lost in their own thoughts.

Minsc was thoroughly chagrined. When Quint had taken Imoen and Anomen up to find Harrian, he had instructed his lackeys to firmly bind him and Haer'Dalis, wanting to keep them out of the way as he used the others to twist Corias' arm. After having been told of what had come to pass, the Rashemani was utterly distraught, insistent that he shouldn't have been trapped, unable to help them.

Anomen was brooding, as usual. Although he didn't regret his decision to leave the Order, and was convinced it was the right one, the choice still weighed heavily on his mind. As did his calculation regarding Harrian and the Daystar – he knew that the alternative would have been a trio of bodies, but still regretted the pain he had caused his friend. Jaheira's curt treatment of him didn't help. Nor did the fact that Imoen had clearly turned to Haer'Dalis for support, rather than him.

He didn't know the reasons, and for this, the mage was glad. Haer'Dalis had listened as she had nervously explained her worries, and although she got the distinct feeling he didn't understand, she hadn't asked that of him. All she had asked was that he hear her out, and he had done so.

Imoen was afraid. Very afraid. The news of her heritage was overwhelming enough as it was, and to be coupled with the loss of her soul was… even more draining. To then witness Harrian, who had always been her pillar, her source of stability, turn into the Slayer… it left her cold. She had, until now, been able to look at her brother – gods, he was her brother! – and see that he could deal with his Bhaal blood… and if he could, so could she.

But now he had turned into the Slayer, and she feared she would be weaker than him, would not be able to resist the tug of murder as he had. Haer'Dalis had listened attentively, almost kindly, but there had always been the feeling that he was shelving everything she said off to one side, sticking it in the folder for ballad material, rather than seeing the situation as… personal.

Still, he could make her laugh, could make her forget her troubles, if only for a moment. She wasn't sure that his understanding would help much – who could understand, other than the unapproachable Harrian, who had his own troubles to deal with? Haer'Dalis would let her vent, and then remind her that there was still a life out there. There was nobody else to talk to.

That wasn't strictly true. There were other people to talk to. Just none of them were accessible. None of the others knew – although there was a question mark over Jaheira, for the druid had plainly known of Harrian's heritage before he had, and so Gorion had maybe told her. But then, Gorion had said nothing in The Letter… Jaheira would have been good to talk to, but she didn't know if she knew, and besides, the druid also had plenty to worry about.

Minsc? No.

Anomen? The cleric had his own worries, had abandoned the Order for Harrian and was now in a period of self-discovery, trying to find his own place in the world. And that made a good enough excuse for Imoen to be able to convince herself that she didn't need to talk to him about her worries. Because talking to him about her worries would require… telling him.

She couldn't tell him. He wouldn't look at her in the same way if she did, and the tentative friendship they had built would be destroyed as he was forced to look at her as what she truly was – a Bhaalspawn. So she wouldn't tell him. And, to save them both some grief, she wouldn't let him get too close, because to be in a close friendship whilst living a lie was something neither of them needed – just as being in a close friendship and revealing that lie could be equally painful. She would keep him at arm's length, for the good of them both.

It was for the best, even if there were times, when she was speaking to Haer'Dalis, the bard making the consoling noises in all the right places, she wished he could actually… comfort her. Comfort her without it seeming as if he was just going through the motions, doing what he thought would be needed rather than acting on instinct. Comfort her like Anomen…

Imoen jerked upright, under the sudden impression that she had missed an important piece of the conversation. She blinked hurriedly, then glance at the others. "I'm sorry; what was that? I wasn't quite paying attention."

They looked blankly at her, a myriad of expressions and emotions, with confusion sitting high up. "We… weren't speaking," Jaheira said at length, a slight frown on her face as she regarded the mage.

Imoen blushed slightly, looking thoroughly and excessively embarrassed. "Oh… uh… sorry… I was a little…" Her voice trailed off uncomfortably, and she didn't quite know why she was so sheepish at having been lost in her thoughts.

Jaheira raised one eyebrow slightly, her expression still mostly emotionless. "Evidently," the druid murmured, going back to staring at the staircase beyond the bar, leading to the rooms of the Five Flagons.

Harrian had recovered consciousness fairly promptly when she was done with her healing… but had said nothing other than that he needed his rest, and requested that she leave him to it. She had been happy and quick to grant this request, at first, wanting him to heal quickly. It was only later that she remembered how terrible Harrian would be at following her healing advice, and would never usually do it without being told. Jaheira smelt a rat.

Several, in fact. She had yet to see how the thief would be dealing with this second, uncontrolled change to the Slayer. Whilst the situation had been stressful, it was different to when he had done so in the face of Bodhi, which had been right after his soul had been sucked out and he'd been bitten by a vampire. But he had switched, changed, so very easily, so very quickly… that would doubtless fill him with fear.

Fear she would have to see him through. This did not present a problem for Jaheira, she simply wished that he didn't have problems for her to help him through. That he could be free of his curse of a heritage…

Though he was not, and he would have to bear it. Thus she would be there to bear it with him, and not simply because of her solemn oath to Gorion, made to the mage himself and then reinforced after his death. She was honour-bound to stand by Harrian, to see him through every trial, but she was also bound by her heart.

Although the depths of her feelings were still unknown, and she freely admitted that she didn't dare plunge to see how far they went, she couldn't deny that they were there. That she cared for him deeply on a level that went beyond friendship, but she was not foolish enough to stop watching her step.

Khalid… No, she could not allow herself to think of him. She needed to be focused, determined, certain of her actions. Khalid had been a good man, a great man, and would have wanted her to move on, to be happy. Harrian was also a good man – had been taught by Khalid himself, gods – and her husband would not have wished them anything but happiness… would have been glad that she had found a way to move on with her life, to live on happily.

Harrian didn't replace Khalid. She didn't expect him to, nor did she think that this somehow made him less in her eyes. Harrian was just… different. Different man, different situation, different feelings. The only question marks here were the depths of her feelings, and they could be much more easily muddled through now she knew where she stood with Harrian. He would need her now, need her support, and in muddling through the problems together, they would be all the more strong for it.

She was jerked quickly out of her reverie as the aforementioned Harrian descended the stairs brightly. He was dressed in clean clothing, didn't seem too groggy after the healing process and the excessive rest that had followed, and looked veritably like his old self.

The thief strode casually across to their table, confident and relaxed as he pulled up a chair, nodding briefly to them all. He clasped his hands in front of him on the table, smiled his familiar smile, then cocked his head slightly to one side. "Right. We need to get down to business. No more messing around."

Then he looked at them all individually, and Jaheira saw how dark and haunted his eyes were, empty of their usual sparkle and full of a nightmarish glint which filled her with something of a horror. Her gaze dropped quickly as she broke the eye contact, only to see his hands, clasped together almost casually, with the knuckles white at the iron, clinging grip.