"Robert!"

One of the apprentices - one of the apprentices Rebecca had no patience for - cheered merrily as she walked into the outdoor classroom area. She had pulled her hair back into the low boy's ponytail and tied her chest flat. Robert always looked a little chubby around the torso for just that reason; had any of them ever met the real Robert Baine they would be very surprised by just how handsome and approachable he was. Unbeknownst to him, he had gotten himself a bit of a reputation as a cold, callused, and none-too-handsome wannabe gunslinger in Gilead.

"Simon," Rebecca forced a smile. She expected a 'where have you been' or 'why did they let you come back' or something to that nature. She couldn't even remember what lies had been told when Robert suddenly disappeared back in March and Rebecca showed up in court, arm in a sling. She had spent the night making up new lies for just this occasion.

"So, did you hear the news about your whore cousin?" Simon continued on cheerily.

"My cousin is not a whore!" She replied indignantly. Did everyone actually think that of her? Did everyone know!

"She was seen leaving with Morgan after dancing a whore's dance with him." Simon taunted, knowing that Robert had a fierce temper.

The first thing in Rebecca's mind was to reply with the history of that particular dance, but Robert wouldn't have known, nor cared. "That's odd Simon, "she said instead with a mean smile, "I didn't realize you were old enough to attend the Midsummer's Feast."

Simon's own smile failed and he bunched his fists up. Rebecca knew a fight was to begin (she had been in many with Simon) but ka smiled on her with the entrance of Cort.

"Well, it seems we have an old face in our midst," Cort nodded to Rebecca, who gave a short bow in return. "You've missed a lot, maggot, try to keep up."

Rebecca nodded and moved to her old place next to Lane, who hadn't yet acknowledged her. Cort would be very surprised, she thought, when he found she wasn't that far behind at all.

They ran drills in the cooler morning air - warm-ups she was very familiar with - before moving on to the most recent lessons. Today they would be practicing getting out of someone's grasp, especially if they had a weapon. Personally, Rebecca knew a great way to get away from a man (any man) but that particular move was seen as a cheap shot and not allowed in practice.

The class paired up (Lane and Robert were paired back together as they had been for the past year) and one student was to grab the other from behind, weaponless at first. Robert, who had not been to any of the other classes on this subject was made attackee first. As Lane grabbed her Rebecca panicked, scenes of Midsummer's night running through her mind.

"Let go," she said as calmly as possible, although there was an audible quiver in her voice.

Lane laughed, "that's not going to work on Farson's men, Robert, no matter how serious you sound."

"I'm serious Lane," her breath was picking up, "let go of me now."

"The point of the exercise is to learn how to get out of such a hold, Robert." Lane grabbed her tighter, waiting for a trick. "You have to shift..." but before he could finish telling her she began to struggle and yelled.

"Get off me Lane!"

He released her and stepped back and she stood breathing heavily for a moment. "Is there a problem, maggot?" Cort asked and started towards them. Rebecca turned without a word and walked away from class and Cort, and as she passed Lane could see tears in her eyes.

"Apparently so sai," Lane replied for her, "Cry pardon, can I be excused?"

"No."

Lane looked back over his shoulder at the retreating form and then back to Cort. He would have to go after her later.

xxxxx

There was a knock on the door but Rebecca didn't bother to look up from her writing. Books were rare in Gilead, as paper and literacy were both in short supply, but Gunslingers had a way of getting what they wanted.

"Robert?" Lane's voice followed the creak of the opening door. "You ok? What happened today?"

"Go away," was her croaked reply; it sounded tired, like she had been crying.

He shut the door behind him and moved to sit on the bed. "What's that?" he nodded towards the book in her grasp.

"Gandammit, don't you listen Lane? Go away!" Rebecca slammed the journal closed and turned to face him. Her eyes were bloodshot with dark circles underneath.

"What happened today?" He repeated, searching her face.

"I failed. Is that what you want to hear?" Rebecca spat the words at him. "I failed. I won't be a gunslinger. I made a deal with the devil and he cheated."

"That's ridiculous Rebecca," Lane said simply, "there's no such thing as the devil, and you just failed to get out of a hold today. It's not the end of gunslinging." He reached out to grab her good shoulder, "I'll teach you how…"

"Don't touch me!" she screamed and pushed away so forcefully that her chair toppled over backwards.

"Rebecca! What's gotten into you?" Lane got up to help her as she flinched away again.

"I don't want you, or anyone, to touch me, ever."

Lane laughed shortly. "Not possible. Now get over whatever strange phobia you've contracted, because if you do that again during class Cort is likely to kick you right out."

"I'm not going back to class, Lane. They were right; I give up."

"Nonsense." Lane crossed his arms and looked down at her, "if you quit you go back to being Rebecca and will be forced to marry Jamie DeCurry or likewise."

Rebecca's face was horrified at the thought, "I would go west first. I would kill myself before marrying the likes of him."

Lane laughed, "so much drama over such a small thing."

"I'm not being dramatic Lane. I really would kill myself. He's worse than almost anyone I have ever met."

"Almost anyone?"

"Yes, almost." Rebecca sighed and stood up, bent over to pick up the chair as well, and found herself suddenly pinned against the wall, arm twisted up behind her. "Lane get off me," she gasped and shut her eyes tight, teeth clenched.

"No. Gunslingers know how to get free; you need to learn. We have not gone through the past year for you to give up and quit, Rebecca." Lane pushed a little harder; he knew she could take the pain, she'd gone through much worse every day of class. What he couldn't understand was how and why she had so quickly become such a sniveling little girl.

"I can't! Let go!"

"You're acting like a girl, maggot!" Lane whispered loudly and pressed her hard against the wall. "You have forgotten the face of your father!"

And she had, for the only face she could see before her was that of sai Veriss, the head of the Gunslinger's Council. Trying to cringe away from both wall and Lane at the same time made him push harder, and soon Rebecca found herself so thoroughly stuck that not even one of Cort's fancy moves could have helped her.

"Stop it, sai. Please, stop…" she started to cry and Lane could feel all her muscles go limp as she gave up. The Rebecca he knew would not have given up ever, not until she was either free or passed out from sheer exhaustion. This was not the same girl he had made love to only two nights before.

He spun her around and held her out by her shoulders. She still cringed away from him, but there was no power left in her movements. "Man Jesus, Becka, what has happened to you?"

She shook her head, unwilling to tell.

"Gandammit, just tell me what it is. What makes you act so?"

"I can't," she moaned, "Lane, I've done a horrible thing."

Lane balked, "You break rules, lie, and Gan only knows what else every day without conscious. What could you have possibly done worse?" She didn't respond - wouldn't even look at him - so Lane shook her once, hard.

"Ow!" Rebecca glared up at him.

"There! Finally!" Lane let her go and stepped back, at least the old spark of defiant life was back. "I'll see you in class tomorrow."

"I'm not going."

"The fuck you aren't." Lane opened the door and turned back to face her. "I'll be here in the morning to drag you out of bed and tied your damn chest down myself if I have to." He slammed the door in her face and left her starring at it in surprise.

Lane was right, of course, if she quit now she would be married off. But she couldn't go back to class; every time someone – anyone - so much as touched her she saw flashes of the other night, of Veriss pressing his body against her, his cold, hard grip on her arms…

Another knock on the door made her jump. "Child, are you well?" her father asked from the other side of the door. Donald Baine never called her Rebecca, or Robert, but always Child. She always assumed he didn't want to accidentally say the wrong name.

She opened the door but didn't look at him as she passed. "I'm fine, I'm going for a walk."

He raised his eyebrows at her; Rebecca often took walks alone, but never did she go out looking less than ready. He couldn't have said which child she was trying to be just then. "Be careful."

"I'm always careful," she said as she walked into the dark hallway.