A/N We get our first flashback in this chapter :) But now we're gonna be playing around with how to distinguish the time differences from flashbacks to our normal timeline so months and years on the flashback bits? I dunno, we'll figure out what works, I don't want it to get confusing.

But are y'all also ready for some ANGST cause we've got ANGST.

The next day brought them to Bree, the company blustering into the town in broad daylight, drawing the eyes of everyone they passed. Dwarves weren't an uncommon sight there, or hobbits. But thirteen dwarves with a woman and a hobbit and a wizard was. Bofur and Bombur set off with a bag of coins to buy a horse and the rest of them made for the inn.

The streets weren't much changed from before, though there were less houses in places and some seemed far newer.

The dwarves were all excited for one last pint of ale, expecting to find none between Bree and the Lonely Mountain, especially since the day was still young and they weren't planning to stay the night.

The sign swung in the wind, creaking on its hinges and looking freshly painted. A lump formed in her throat when she saw it, remembering how excited she'd been to see it the last time. Remembering how Aragorn had once again had to draw her away.

But there was no avoiding it, the bustle of dwarves around her pushed her up the steps and into the dark common room, quite in the daytime. The corner Aragorn had frequented while they stayed was empty and the table bare. Each glance to it as they chose a table was a desperate attempt to see him again. Every step she took felt like it took her further and further from him while the familiar path reminded her like a penance. He sat there once, stood there in that same place on those same boards. In the room upstairs he'd touched her face, clasped her shoulder, offered her comfort that got her through the journey.

Sat down at the table she was buffered on either side by the company and mugs of ale started to clunk down onto the wood, one was even set in front of her. But she barely got through one gulp of ale before the air thickened and felt sour. She pushed her way out from between the dwarves and made for the door, gulping fresh air as soon as it swung shut behind her.

She stumbled over to the fountain outside and wet her hands, running them over her face and across her neck. Once she'd thought the hardest thing she'd have to do was live through the War of the Ring. But there were things that went deeper, pains that grappled with more than simple fear. She wasn't sure she could handle this challenge the same way.

From the inn, heavy footsteps eventually followed her and Balin sat down beside her on the edge of the fountain. "Ye alright, lass?"

"No." She muttered finally, looking down at her lap with her jaw clenched in an attempt to hold it all together. "But that's just how it is right so don't worry about me."

He nodded, laying his hands on his knees. "Been here before, have ye? Carries some memories?"

She closed her eyes against the burn in them. "A few"

"Bad ones I'll wager."

"No, just…memories. I'll be here when you're all done. Go enjoy yourself."

Balin accepted her veiled request for privacy and went back inside while she stayed at the fountain. Eventually Bofur and Bombur returned, leading her new horse and she took the reins, waving them inside with a tight smile to go and get some ale.

Being that out of everyone, she and Bilbo were the two odd men out of the group, they gravitated towards each other in the evenings for dinner and conversation. If they were going to be outcasts, at least that had each other. That was the bright side, Bilbo had told her a day after leaving Bree when they were sitting by the fire with their dinners. Conversation naturally turned to Bilbo's family history but after a while, when she'd started to glaze over from all the names, he began to ask her questions again.

"Nori mentioned you hail from the south, do you have family there?" He asked her good naturedly.

Josephine stared down at her bowl and nodded with a tight smile. "Mhm."

Bilbo, clearly noticing her discomfort, softened. "I'm sorry, you must miss them terribly."

Taking a deep breath she gained some semblance of control and managed to speak again. "My husband…he's in Gondor." She sighed. "Or he will be, anyway."

"He must be very proud of you for using your gift to help the company."

Had he known, she was sure he would've been. Did he even know she was gone or was time too fickle to say. If she didn't return…she would leave instruction with Gandalf and Elrond, in case… "If I'd been able to tell him, he would be."

Bilbo looked stunned. "Were you not able to say goodbye and explain where you were going?"

"There wasn't a warning, that's how it happens. You blink or turn and suddenly…poof." Anger seeped obviously into her tone and she dug her spoon into a piece of meat in her stew.

"Then you weren't really sent here at all! You were kidnapped from your home!" Bilbo exclaimed so loudly the entire company fell silent and looked at the two of them.

She looked back uncomfortably as they stared.

Finally, Thorin stood and spoke. "Come with me."

She set her bowl aside and followed him out of earshot of the camp. He crossed his arms and, nearly matching her in height, had no trouble pinning her with a stern look.

"I wish only to ask this once. Have you come by choice? I will not have a member of this company here against their will."

"I'm here because I'm needed and because it's the only chance I have to go home again."

"That does not answer my question. Now, yes, or no."

Josephine bit her lip and looked away. "No."

His face fell. "Mahal...who is responsible for this?" He demanded. "Surely Gandalf-"

"Gandalf has nothing to do with it." She defended quickly. "But unless you're going to bring it up with the Valar, it doesn't matter whether I'm here by choice or not. They don't give a shit."

"Then you are released from your oath." He said. "I will not hold you here under such circumstances.

"If I don't do this I won't be here to fix whatever's going to go wrong. You can't send me away!"

"Child, I will not keep you here like some sort of captive!"

"Your nephews will die without my help!" She countered in a hiss so nobody would catch a word of it.

Thorin froze. "When? How?!"

"Thorin, I have every intention of seeing this journey through." She said firmly, her voice cracking beneath the veneer. "But I've been taken away from the man that I love and the duties of my station with no warning and no promise I'll return so no, I'm not here by choice. But if I'm here that means I'm needed so I'll commit to that duty even if it's offered to me at knife point."

"Gandalf warned me that your safety was of great importance but would not say why, so I can only imagine what station you hold in Gondor."

He seemed to have an idea, especially if Gandalf had done some work behind the scenes, but she was grateful he didn't ask her to confirm it. "This quest will keep my past and your future from falling apart as long as it happens properly."

Thorin looked at her with sympathy and she felt the first inkling of true support from him since they'd met.

"For what little it is worth, you have my thanks for your sacrifice." He sighed, sounding somewhat stubborn. "You have a place in this company, Lady Josephine, and my respect."

When they returned it was obvious everyone had been watching their exchange and they sat quietly waiting for the answer.

"Well?" Bofur asked.

"All you need know is she has sacrificed much to come here and is duty bound to stay. I expect you to show her the respect she has earned."

September 3019

The massive hearth of their sitting room crackled and popped as an unseasonably cool evening fell over Minas Tirith. Josephine sat cross legged on the floor of their sitting room surrounded by her weapons and armor. It was clean, polished, and repaired now, cared for by Ciril's attentive eye. There wasn't a speck of orc blood left to be found and as she lifted her cloak up, she realized even the smell of troll had come out of it.

Most of the items around her would be keepsakes now, like her hauberk from Morannon, leather still darkened around where her wound had been despite Ciril's best efforts. Some though, she would still keep and use, though the more she looked the more she realized only her weapons would stay with her. Her sword from Galadriel, the small knife from Boromir, and her bow from Rivendell she loathed the idea of replacing. Even the blacksmith who would have made her a Gondorian sword scoffed at the idea when he saw what she was already carrying.

The doors at the front of the house let in a burst of cool air and she looked up as Aragorn came down the hall, shedding his cloak and throwing it over the back one one of their armchairs by the fire. He looked tired and came around behind her, sitting down with his legs on either side of her and leaning in so they could share a kiss.

"Ciril was going to throw some of this out but…" She shrugged. "Guess I'm sentimental."

"Memories of how you came to be here." He said, reaching around her to touch the fabric of her elven cloak. "You were so frightened when we left Lothlorien. It pained me to see you suffer so."

She leaned back against him and pulled his free arm around her waist. "I'll be glad to put it behind me. I'm so done with knowing the future." Looking around at the piles she began to question if she should keep it all. Some larger things maybe, but the plain linen tunics that were patched and ill fitting? "Maybe I should get rid of some of it."

"Keep what you wish, keep all of it if you desire."

"It seems like so much to keep just to pack it away." But she did want to, parting with it made her uncomfortable, like she'd lose a connection to the quest. She also knew she would look at it again, run her fingers over the fabrics and leathers and remind herself of how she'd come to be in Gondor.

"You need not justify your choice to me." He said softly. "I too carry things of sentiment."

She felt him shift behind her and looked down curiously as his hand held a strip of pale blue fabric when he was done. The edges were cut raw but she recognized the pattern of the weave. "This came from Lothlorien." She said, taking the swatch. "Wasn't this mine?"

"In Rohan, after you had left with Gandalf, a maid was collecting some of our old things. Your tunic was too worn for repair and she asked if she could use the fabric elsewhere."

Brushing her fingers over the faded fabric she nestled back into his arms. "And you kept this?"

"It brought me comfort to have a token of you with me, so I cut this before she took it. I have carried it with me since that day."

Josephine smiled, feeling warm and content, but also well aware of what that tunic had gone through. "You did like…wash it at some point, right?"

He laughed and nodded. "Yes, and since."

"Thank god, cause when I took off that tunic in Rohan it was so stiff it practically kept its shape. I'd hate for you to be carrying that around for weeks at a time." She was laughing with him when she realized he had taken that from his pocket. "Wait, why are you still carrying it now?"

"My sentiments did not end with our quest."