Roland carried Pasha against his chest with his free hand for the last six or seven blocks, until they were safely away from the thick of traffic. He released her upon reaching the courtyard of the university, and with a soft whisper of feet dropping into the grass; she was once again a streak of blurring white against the brilliant green.

My god, she's fast. Roland grunted and gave chase as best he could. Patience and Ease laughed gaily to each other behind his back until he thumped their cases together and threatened them with quarter price tags at a garage sale. They ignored him, as he'd known they would. The sweltering heat forced sweat out on his skin in rivulets.

Instruments and cats and women and Adepts of the Light. You can't control any of them.

He thought of Evan and an unbidden smile came to his face. And usually, you wouldn't want to control them, anyway.

Ease snickered.

But usually isn't right now.

The chapel was deserted, the courtyard surrounding it empty, and no matter how diligently he called, or how sweetly, there was no answer. Ivan either could not or would not come to his summons. Roland nobly refrained from spitting an 'I told you so' at Pasha, for all the good it would do. It would have made him feel better, anyhow. But instead, he knelt in the grass, drew Patience's case into his lap, and thumbed the catches that held her captive. Slipped free of her bonds, she sang joyfully in his hands, and he soothed the grounds with strains of every Russian folk song that came to mind, in offering to the ancient ham-handed stonemason.

Ivan had yet to respond. Pasha coiled herself in the vacant guitar's case and promptly fell asleep. And so afternoon turned to evening.

Had Roland chanced a look at his surroundings as he played, the creaking of the trees on either side of the small sanctuary would have taken on a new significance. For littles from all sides of the city had been drawn by the music; phantoms lured from their places of rest to wait reverently upon all sides of the grove. The unicorns were noticeably absent, but only for the general safety of their remaining numbers did they avoid congregation. And far away, in hidden pockets of trees and mist-laden groves, their delicate heads were turned toward the chapel in unswerving attention. Night fell over every back, and the sky slowly purpled to the dark of midnight.

Roland's head shot up, music dying as the middle of the night at last approached. The subtle draw and focus of powers beyond his comprehension raised the hairs upon the back of his neck to rigid attention.

Ivan wasn't coming. He lowered Patience to her case once more, and sealed her carefully away, before struggling to his feet. Evicted from the guitar's comfortable box, Pasha awoke, and stretched thoroughly before joining him where he stood. Her ears twitched, spun, and Roland followed the jerk of her gaze as it took in the ring of watchers that had assembled while he was absorbed in his music.

They watched him with expectation, the many hues and shades of eyes following him even as he stumbled back a step toward the chapel doors. What the hell…?

The secluded clearing took on an eerie luminosity that no artificial light could ever hope to mimic. Waves of terror and soul-deep content rolled over the Bard in tandem, with a heady weight that sent him to his knees as the world rocked beneath him.

He felt the calls of a hundred thousand creatures focus through him at once…a hundred thousand creatures able to voice their need for aid, and voice a song of Invitation so sweetly innocent that Roland felt his eyes brim with tears.

They had the power…just as Rebecca and Ivan had the power to Invite…the piece of the puzzle he felt he lacked. But they needed a human voice to invoke the Invitation – a creature of the gray. The chapel behind him expelled beams of multi-colored light through its arches of stained glass, and he hauled himself about to face it upon hands and knees. "Please…" he croaked, "please…we need you…"

It wasn't enough. Wasn't nearly sweet enough to draw the attention of the creatures they desired. Had Roland a second more, he would have screamed in frustration.

But suddenly, the power the other creatures offered to the Light rose up and filled him, and he found himself singing the invocation with a tenor that surpassed even his very best. With it flowed the power, and the need, and the Invitation…and beyond them all, the Sanctuary grew brighter…brighter…until it seemed as sunny within and without as a summer's afternoon.

His lungs filled to bursting, and his throat felt as though the Dark poured molten lead across his vocal cords. And still he sang...powerless to halt the gut-wrenchingly beautiful melody, and unwilling to halt it even if he'd been able.

The chapel doors flung themselves open, and the color of the stained glass was lost in the overwhelming whiteness of the light…no…Light…that poured through the panes.

A figure sheathed in pain-bright beauty and wonder stepped forth from the haven of purity. Roland's eyes closed tight against the pain, but still, the light glowed pink and green behind his eyelids. In seconds, against his will, the grip of Light forced him to gaze upon the figure, and it dazzled him, the white-hot beams flashing, shard-sharp, through his aching head. The music…the gorgeous perfection of the song he had only heard a handful of times in his lifetime. Its melody soothed a fevered brain upon the brink of ecstatic madness. The familiar intertwine of point and counterpoint became the touchstone that saved the Bard from losing himself utterly within the draw of the Light.

At last, after what seemed an eternity of gazing without sight into the heart of Heaven, the fires petered out, and blackness filled in the empty corners that Light had left. Roland fell forward onto his hands, momentarily thrown into blindness by the power of the spectacle. Beneath it all, the perfect song gentled to a faint undertone. A beauty he could hear without suffering its burning awe.

Gentle hands closed over his shoulders, followed by the subtle shift of cloth as someone knelt before him. Roland lifted his face to the sound, although he could in no way be sure of who – or what – held him.

There was a soft indrawn breath, and he found himself nestled into the curve of a too-warm shoulder. Powerful arms slipped about his waist, and he nuzzled reflexively into the offered support.

It was too familiar...too safe, despite the reassurance and love that a creature of the Light inspired. Damn his eyes! He couldn't see to be sure! And his voice was lost to him to ask the creature's name…gone with his vision, for the time being. Frustration forced his mouth open and shut, but all he managed was an explosive, irritated sigh.

The figure read his thoughts, or so he surmised, and a soft chuckle filled the empty void. "It's good to see you, Roland."

That voice…it re-kindled a fire deep within that for so long had lain dormant, he wasn't sure if it would ever return. The music just wasn't enough. Not without this.

"And I never again can be free

For you are in my music

And the music's all of me."

"Evan…" He forced the name out, but the raw pain of his throat followed, and already overtaxed by the night's events, the jabbing needles that filled his chest followed him into the blessed darkness of unconsciousness.

bd

"Bards can See, but they can't ever go through."

I don't want to hear this....

"It's one of the things that makes them Bards."

Not now...

"Bards can See, but they can't ever-"

Shut UP!

Roland sat bolt upright, panting and sweating, the ringing nasal voice of a fat old woman in a ragged black dress still echoing through his head.

No...not a fat old woman. A fat old Crone. What had Daru said about her? That among the Trinity, her place was to remember? She knew something…something that she wasn't telling him.

Roland rubbed a knuckle across aching eyes in irritation and decided that she knew a lot that she had no intention of telling him. Women. In the warm light of morning, the last echoes of a familiar approving cackle melted to nothing.

All right. Maybe I can't go through, but I sure as hell can enjoy the Light when it's on my side of the barrier, right? "Right." He rasped, hoarsely.

"What was that?" As if on cue, Evan eased into the bed alcove. He bore a triumphant smile, and the scent of toasted bread from the platter between his hands confirmed that once again, the Adept had conquered the minor skills of cooking.

"Nothing," Roland shook his head and struggled to find a position that didn't look as though he'd just snapped out of a nightmare. "You made toast." Speaking reminded him of his burning throat, and he winced.

The Adept beamed, and everything else was burned away for a moment in the heat of that smile. Roland longed after his previous blindness, and ordered his heart to quit its hare's wild thumping. It's easier to resist what you can't see. He expected, however, that even had he the will to close his eyes against the glory of the Adept's expression, he would still feel it against his skin.

"Yes. I did. Are you all right?" Evan drifted further into the room without waiting for an answer, and balanced the tray on the bedside table. "I brought you tea."

Herbal tea, unfortunately, but it was hot and smooth and the touch of the liquid soothed Roland's throat. The Bard nodded his thanks and held the blessed warmth at the back of his tongue for as long as he possibly could.

Evan's gaze had yet to finish its assessment of seven years of change in the Bard, and the flickers of concern and vague hunger that chased one another across the Adept's face were fascinating to watch. Roland swallowed hard, reflexively, and nearly choked on his drink.  The action brought back a ghost of his earlier ache, and he coughed, one hand rising reflexively to his throat.

"I didn't mean to do that…" Evan began apologetically, and the flicker of grief in his eyes wrought the beginnings of fresh tears in Roland's. He blinked at them furiously.      Lord. Is this always going to be the way it is? At this rate, I'll never be able to have a proper argument with him…

He wouldn't have wanted to, anyway, but it was the principle of the thing. Or…something like that.

The warm, silken caress of gentle fingertips stroking over his throat quickly derailed the train of thought. His head reared back in surprise, jerking up as the Bard's shocked blue eyes flared a storm of terror and hunger. He'd had seven years to forget the heat of Evan's smile.

Seven years. Apparently not long enough. Even the Adept's form had changed – still far too pretty for a man, but…evened out. Grown into what had once been almost androgynous features. His chin was firmer, though just on the delicate side of square. The same frank, tender blue eyes gazed out from beneath a fringe of rich blonde hair that bleached to ice-white at the tips. Shorter tips, now – the entire length of hair reached only to the velvet nape of Evan's neck.

And with his newborn gifts, Roland could even just make out the hazy outline of wings, stretching from the startling white back of the other man's pullover. The transparent feathers stirred in the air like heat-shimmers on hot pavement. Evan seemed…older…steadier. Though he was certainly far and away older than Roland could imagine, the battle with the Dark had changed him. And Rebecca's presence remained beyond the Barrier, offering her clarity to sharpen and focus the Light within him. At the touch of Evan's hand, he could feel the remarkable signature of Rebecca there as well, and with her, the Mother-aspect. Even his abused throat didn't hurt that much anymore beneath the smoothing caress.

"I'm sorry you were hurt," Evan repeated, though the Bard felt the sudden change in the Adept's demeanor as the other became aware of Roland's own perusal. The music…always a background within the presence of the Light…took on an undeniably sensual tone. Twin pairs of storming blue eyes met. Approval for the obvious growth and change mirrored one another. And invitation – the sweet shock thrummed both as each found his offer twinned and answered.

"I'm fine," Roland replied, firmly, surprised at the unexpected cooperation of his voice. He found himself smiling, and set his empty cup aside on the tray with a hand that only barely trembled. Time to find out if I can handle the having…? I don't know. Hell, it was a long time, Evan. Too long. You picked a hell of a time to come back! Why does it take an emergency to bring you back? Are you so busy up there…or out there…or wherever the hell you live…?

            Unknowingly, his expression hardened. Evan caught it, and frowned as well. He looked away, and Roland nearly cried out in pain as the sunny warmth of his regard left his skin untouched. "I couldn't come, Roland."

            "It doesn't matter." Roland replied flatly, and turned to face the window, drawing a deep breath. "I think I can get up now." He pushed himself onto his hands.

            "You don't understand…"

            "I understand. You're an angel. Or something. You've got souls to save, and people to watch over. You don't have time to sleep with some fucked-up Bard. Some idiot who took seven years to figure out that he still can't decide whether he prefers pants or skirts or both." It was a blatant lie, and he could feel the Light within his own body shift and murmur sleepily in protest. He winced. No wonder Bards are so forever cheery. It's damned painful to be anything else when you can bloody well feel your soul blackening with every lie.

            Beside him, Evan bore a tortured look, and Roland pressed his eyes closed quickly, before the expression of wretchedness snatched sobs from him once again. "I'm sorry," he apologized, "I didn't mean that. I'm just…"

            "I know." The tone expressed that he did, without a doubt. "You…wanted me…all this time?"

            Blessed relief, as the Light slowly returned to the places that Roland had driven it from with his cruelty. He blinked at the sudden change of topics, but wasn't about to bait the honesty again. "Yes. All this time."

            "Then why didn't you…?"

            "Look, it's not a big deal!" Roland cut Evan off bitterly, shocked at the faintly desperate tone in his own voice. "I'm all right. I can see, I can talk. There's a herd of horned horses out there for us to save. You've got more important things to do than this, I'm sure."

            The last was almost a sneer. Perhaps not quite, but Evan certainly felt the cold shove of rejection. He sighed, with a depth of pain and understanding that did bring a lump to Roland's throat. This has got to stop. I can't be crying every time he's upset.

            Why not? Asked the same little voice that had taunted him earlier.

            Because. He snarled. And ignored it, even as the litany began again. Until he had a proper answer for it, he suspected that it was lodged to stay. His eyes opened again.

            Evan was gone.

            "Evan?"

            No answer. He tried again. The apartment was utterly silent. Great. You throw a tantrum and screw everyone over. Next time, why don't you try pounding your fists on the floor? It wouldn't help those unicorns any more than what you're doing now…

            "Evan, come on. I'm sorry…" He struggled to his feet and fought the twist of cover away from his legs as they sought to trip him. "Please, Evan. I'm just confused right now…" That sounded sincere.

There was still no answer. Anger replaced where desperation had been. "Why didn't you come back, if you wanted to be here?" If you wanted to be with me…? "What did I do that was so wrong that it kept you away?"

            The apartment simply echoed his own words back to him, and he sighed in defeat and tossed himself on the couch. There was Ease; come to his hands almost as though he'd conjured her there. Mindlessly, effortlessly, he stroked music from her taut strings to match the depressed downturn of his mood. This is my fault. I'm forever complicating something that should be easy. He could nearly hear Rebecca's solid voice, laying out the obvious for him to behold.

"You care about him, and you missed him, and it hurt." He imagined she'd say, "Why do you want to make him hurt, too?"

            I don't know kiddo. Roland pressed his hands to the strings, silencing them, and laid Ease away once more beside Patience. I just don't know.

            His body protested that he wasn't so fine after all – the ordeal had asked much of him in exchange for the delivery of the Adept. Evan won't leave. He has too much damned honor to leave. With a yawn, Roland made for the alcove that contained his bed once more, and ignoring the stone-cold toast and the brown-ringed teacup beside it, he slept.