a/n: Thanks to witheredlovr for your kind comments, and to everyone else for your encouraging reviews! Special thanks to Josje for her guidance as I near the ending—your thoughts helped a great deal! Sorry, everyone, about the delay in posting this chapter. I'll make up for it by posting again in the next 48 hours. :o)

The Return

The air felt slightly warmer than it should have this time of year. A dull mist swirled on the light wind, and a few miles ahead was Hadrian's Wall. The journey was almost over.

"Are you eager to get back?" Jaelynn asked, riding along side of him. Tristan glanced at her. She looked tired, but the light was back in her eyes. She was quiet for a good while, but since speaking about Melinda's death, it seemed to have soothed Jaelynn. Tristan half-envied that she could come to terms with her guilt so quickly.

"Doesn't matter to me, either way," he answered. It probably wasn't the answer she was looking for. Tristan didn't mean to put a damper on the last part of their journey. But he thought, in some ways, it was nicer being out, traveling, and with Jaelynn.

Not that he would actually say that.

"What about you?" he asked.

Jaelynn shrugged with a smile. "I'm looking forward to my room, my bed, and not moving for awhile. Part of me wishes, though, that I could travel more." She gazed over the land. "I can see why you like it."

Tristan raised one eyebrow while a smirk tugged at his lips. "And why's that?"

Again she shrugged. "You like the solitude, I know. Being out here, surrounded by the land . . . it's peaceful. Plenty of time to think."

Think. Yes, he did that a lot.

"Sometimes it's a curse," he said. She looked to him sharply. Maybe he shouldn't have admitted that—

"What do you mean?"

He chose not to answer, but he knew exactly what he meant. Being alone allowed all the thoughts and doubts to emerge. Memories, mostly bad in his case, and guilt over his many kills; speculation about what the knights and Arthur thought of him, or would think of him if they really knew all he'd done. It was one thing to know that Tristan had killed many people. It was another to really understand that he murdered, concealed his actions, and framed others. For all his offenses, his time in Rome haunted him the most.

He'd come to terms about Decia Quintas, and how his subtle plot of revenge on her had backfired and taken with it the lives of an innocent village. He'd come to terms about Morlo's father, and frankly wasn't going to let it haunt him when he'd done his duty alongside Arthur, Gawain, Galahad, Bors, Lancelot, Dagonet and several other knights he held in high regard.

But Rome bothered him too much. He knew he'd agreed not to blame himself, but there was no one else left but him.

"I think I will miss how simple life is, traveling," Jaelynn said. Thankfully, she'd ignored his silence. "Your whole goal is to get to the next destination, or to wander the roads. Everything else is just enjoyment. Well, maybe not setting up camp or building a fire every night, or hunting when game is scarce, but like . . ." She frowned. Tristan smiled; her frown was actually pretty. "Like when we were at the waterfall. Finding something so beautiful, and just basking in it." She shrugged again.

Tristan cleared his throat before he could think about the waterfall too much.

"What was your favorite part of the trip?" he asked her. Almost immediately she opened her mouth, but something held her back. She shut her mouth, and after another moment said:

"The waterfall," she said. Tristan studied her face. Her eyes were dim, and she tried too hard to seem nonchalant.

He nodded anyway and ignored the lie. He wondered what she really thought was the best part of the trip. But he wasn't about to push her on it.

-0-0-

Gawain tried to ignore Lucinda's singing. She was a beautiful woman, and he loved her dearly, but the woman couldn't sing to make a grown Saxon stop crying. She sang loudly within their modest home, and the only comfort it gave Gawain was that the walls contained some of the sound.

To compensate for it, he smelt fresh bread. Sure, Lucinda couldn't sing, but the woman could cook! Gawain patted his stomach, which was a little more fatty than it used to be. I'm getting soft.

Maybe it wasn't a bad thing.

The long-haired knight turned back to his task; he'd been fixing some holes in his armor, which was ill-used lately, but there was always another battle, and he wanted his armor to be in the best condition.

His eyes felt dry as he stared intently at the hole he strived to fix.

Suddenly, he heard horses approaching, and a familiar, light laughter.

Glancing up, he saw Jaelynn, grinning at Tristan. The scout was smiling too. Gawain dropped his armor and stood. The pair galloped by without seeing him. Not many people could make the scout smile. Gawain grinned to himself. Maybe his and Galahad's scheming—vouching that Tristan go with Jaelynn on her trip—had paid off.

-0-0-

Jols took care of the horses, and Jaleynn was surprised that Tristan left the stables when she did. They walked through the town, side by side. Despite the smile she placed on her face, Jaelynn's mind was in despair.

Tristan had been so kind to her of late, but it continued to magnify the feelings she tried to remove for him. Nothing would ever happen between them; he verified that. And yet, she only felt more and more sure that he was the one man she truly cared for.

Everything on their trip had just reinforced that. Each moment they spent together, training, or just riding, talking, sitting side by side silently—it all was precious to her. When Tristan had asked what was her favorite part of the journey, her first instinct was to say it was him.

But she couldn't say that. It would only bring back the awkward uncomfortable silences between them. She didn't want that to happen. Even though she had told him to act as her guard and stay away from her, Tristan had been there when she needed him. They had come back together as friends, and she didn't want to lose that.

They were in the residence area when Arthur came across them.

"Tristan. Jaelynn," he said, nodding. "Welcome back. I trust your journey was safe?"

Judging by the suspicious but friendly look on the king's face, Arthur was doubtful of the safety of their journey. But he dropped it when Tristan just grunted.

"Tristan, do you have a moment?"

Dutifully, he nodded. As he turned to walk with Arthur, Tristan glanced back at her. He shot her a grin, and Jaelynn smiled.

And what does that mean? She sighed, and went to her room. She wanted to rest before reporting to Hilden.

-0-0-

"Thank you for escorting Jaelynn through the land," Arthur said. They walked steadily, their footsteps echoing on the stone floor in the halls. Arthur turned and led the way out to the town.

"No problem," the scout said. Arthur wanted to smile. He missed Tristan and his emotionless answers.

"I actually have something," Arthur said. "Another trip." He hated for Tristan to even consider this, but the scout did like to travel, and he figured he might want to go on a scouting mission by himself. "There's need on a shorter route to the southern seas."

He was going to say more, but Tristan bore an odd expression on his face. His eyes were downcast, and he pursed his lips—something Arthur didn't think he'd ever seen before.

"Is there someone else who can go?" the scout asked. Arthur stopped abruptly. Did he hear correctly? Arthur smiled.

"Of course," he said. "You need some rest, anyway."

"Thank you," Tristan said. The men stood there, and Arthur felt awkward and a bit giddy at this change in Tristan. He wondered what made the scout want to stay. He was happy though—maybe Tristan was finally over isolating himself.

"I saw the scout come back."

Arthur turned his head to the sound of this voice, which came from around the corner where they'd stopped.

"You mean the assassin," came another voice. Arthur froze. "It's safer here without him. When will the king see what that scout is, and punish him?"

His stomach hardened. Arthur almost felt ill, but for the anger seething within him. He glanced at Tristan, expecting to see the same anger. But Tristan stood still, eyeing the ground with the slightest of smiles on his face. There was sadness to how he looked.

"I wish he'd just stay away. Maybe he won't come back one day."

Arthur could stand it no more. He rounded the corner, even though he heard Tristan whisper at him to stop. He would not.

The gossiping culprits were two women, the smithy's wife and another woman Arthur had seen around Guinevere. The two women gaped at the king. Arthur freely showed his displeasure.

"Ladies," he said coldly. "I believe you owe an apology."

Quickly, they piped up.

"We're so sorry, my lord—" started the smithy's wife. Arthur stopped her with one look.

"Not me," he said. He turned back to his knight, still hidden behind the corner. "Tristan."

The women gasped as the scout came into their view. Their faces paled, but Arthur wanted them to understand something beyond the feeling of one's foot in their mouth.

"This man has served me faithfully since I've known him," Arthur said. He thought of how dedicated Tristan was, even as a new knight fresh in Rome's service. "He has put his life on the line more times than I care to remember, to save me and this entire land."

The women bowed their heads. It was guilt, not respect. Arthur kept going, ignoring the normal dictation for diplomacy with his own people.

"I suggest you consider your words carefully before speaking," he said, "especially when you know nothing, not even your own ignorance. Tristan is a great man, a dear friend and a brother in arms. That you can spread to your gossiping kind."

The smithy's wife nodded numbly, and the other woman still hadn't found the courage to look him or Tristan in the eye.

"Arthur," Tristan said. The scout moved to continue on, and Arthur nodded.

"Do not forget," Arthur said, jabbing a finger in the gossipers' direction.

The men walked in silence, though Arthur didn't know where. His mind was still running with thoughts and reprimands. How ungrateful people could be! It ashamed him that it was his own people, people he had risked his life and the lives of his knights to save.

"Tristan," he started. But Arthur didn't know what to say. He stumbled before a coherent sentence came from his mouth. "They had no right to say those things. I'm sorry they said it."

Tristan stopped. The men were near the smithy, of all places, but for no reason than that's where they ended up.

"I'm used to it," the scout said simply. Arthur felt his heart ache with the ramifications.

"They have said things before," he deduced aloud. Tristan shrugged. "You deserve more. You deserve their respect." He shook his head morosely. "I only wish I could do something that would help you find happiness."

To this Tristan smiled. He laughed, though it came as just a rush of breath. Arthur frowned.

"You worry too much," he said. "Galahad was right."

Galahad?

"What do you mean?"

Tristan hesitated before he explained himself.

"He said you saved Gawain, at Badon Hill." Again, he shrugged. "You thought you should have saved me too."

Arthur didn't know what to say. He didn't think Galahad would ever speak of that, but he didn't fault him for it. It was the truth. He felt surprised now though and stood dumbly, wondering what Tristan was getting at.

"Way I figure it, maybe things would be different," Tristan continued. Arthur felt the weight of responsibility indent itself more on his shoulders. "But would I be better off?"

He shrugged as if that answered his own question, and then clapped Arthur on the shoulder. He walked away, and Arthur just stared after him. That responsibility lifted a bit, and not just because of Rome.

Ahead of him, Tristan glanced up at the sky, where his hawk was chasing a sparrow. Arthur smiled. He understood what Tristan was trying to say. He wasn't responsible for Tristan, even though he took that role upon himself. But that didn't change that Arthur wanted to do something for his friend.

An idea started to take shape in his mind.

-0-0-

She heard Vanora's laughter before she set foot into Lucinda's home. Jaelynn smiled to herself, and entered the dwelling.

"Jaelynn!" both women greeted. She had barely been home for two days, and Vanora was "dying" to find how the journey had been. The older women were actively stirring a thick paste. They were determined to teach Jaelynn a more important womanly art—cooking.

"You're just in time," Vanora said. "The dough's almost ready."

Jaelynn grinned crookedly and wondered what she'd gotten herself into. Lucinda set a bowl before her, and then dumped its heavy and thick contents on the table.

"Sprinkle some of this on the table first," Lucinda said, tossing some white powder on the tabletop. She began to work the dough with her hands. Jaelynn put her hands to the dough as well.

"So, how was the journey?" Vanora asked cheerily. "You look thinner, girl. Did you not eat?" Jaelynn fought the urge to frown.

"I've been training," she said. "The trip was fine. It was good to see the countryside." She missed the skeptical looks between Vanora and Lucinda.

"Really," Vanora commented dryly.

Lucinda stopped working the dough, and leaned close to Jaelynn so her round face was directly in front of Jaelynn's.

"And Tristan?"

Dread flooded Jaelynn. But the women smiled at her, not in jest, but encouragingly.

She relented with a slight smile.

"He was fine," she said. Vanora sighed loudly.

"Girl, you spent weeks with the man, and probably know him better than any of us," she said. "Do you still care for him?"

Jaelynn groaned. She leaned her head on her hands, not realizing the powder and dough that caked over her fingers.

"I don't know," she muttered. Lucinda giggled, and she looked up. The dough, you dolt! Vanora smiled but didn't laugh aloud. She grabbed a cloth and wiped at Jaelynn's face. It made Jaelynn feel like she was twelve years old again.

"I think that's a 'yes,'" Vanora said. Jaelynn nodded miserably.

"I want to be over him," she said. "I was determined that I was. But being with him . . ."

Lucinda shot Vanora a look.

"He was very kind," Jaelynn said. "And it probably means nothing, but that just makes it so . . . "

"Confusing," Lucinda filled in. Jaelynn nodded. Vanora smiled.

"You think he's unchanged then?" the red-head asked. Jaelynn wondered if everyone thought that Tristan never cared for her. I should never have asked him then. But that was past, and she couldn't change it.

Jaelynn let her head drop on her hands again, instantly noticing the dough this time. But she didn't care.

"I don't know," she mumbled. The women laughed, and patted her on the back.

"Come on, Jaelynn," Lucinda said, "we'll teach you how to make food that even a man like Tristan can't resist."

Jaelynn ventured a look up.

"You think I shouldn't give up?" Was she just imagining that? Since when did anyone actually take her feelings for the scout seriously? Well, somewhat seriously. Vanora smiled that sweet motherly smile that made Jaelynn want to sigh and be held like a little girl.

"We think you should be happy, no matter what," she said. She shot a glance to Lucinda. "But cooking never hurts, no matter who the man may be."

Lucinda laughed, and started on the dough again. Jaelynn straightened up and dug in as well.

Strangely, she felt happier.

-0-0-

Tristan leapt back, dodging the swipe Gawain made for his midsection. Quickly, he brought his sword up, meeting Gawain's weapon, and then swinging at the long-haired knight's neck.

Gawain ducked, grinned, and launched back at him.

They'd been going like this for twenty minutes, and Tristan had to admit his muscles felt good. Sweat dripped down his side, and he'd already shed his armor and leather jerkin. Ordinarily, that wasn't smart, but in sparring Tristan didn't care. Winter felt like it was on its way out.

Gawain growled, which made Tristan smirk, and then he spun around with his weapon pointed like a dagger. Tristan held his sword like a cross and pushed out against Gawain's blade.

"Hey, some of us would like to train some time today!"

Tristan knew it was Jaelynn, and found himself glancing her way before he could stop himself. Gawain took advantage of that. He shoved his shoulder into Tristan's chest, and both men fell to the ground. The air in his lungs left him when he hit the dirt, especially when Gawain landed on top of him.

Gawain laughed heartily.

"Ah, good fight," he said. Tristan rolled his eyes and shoved the knight off.

Tristan got to his feet, and picked up his sword. He nodded for Jaelynn to come. She looked him over skeptically. What? He swiped at his brow.

"You sure you can take more?"

He glared at her.

Galahad suddenly appeared near the training yard. "What's going on?"

Before either he or Gawain (who thankfully was out of breath) could answer, Jaelynn spoke up.

"Do you want to spar?" she asked the young knight.

Tristan grinned. Galahad smirked at her, but Tristan already had his mind on Jaelynn.

Or rather, that she would win.

The two started by circling cautiously. Tristan stood to the side, by Gawain, watching proudly. He waited for when Jaelynn would act.

"That's a nice sword she has," Gawain commented. Tristan felt heat rise to his face, but he kept himself in check.

"She has no need for a wooden sword anymore."

Gawain raised an eyebrow. "That's not what I meant."

"I had no more use for it," Tristan said with a shrug.

Gawain chuckled, and Tristan had to fight not to face him or hit him.

Galahad made the first move against Jaelynn, raising his sword, and Jaelynn stepped towards him, throwing the distance of his attack off-balance. She blocked the remnants of his attack, then thrust the long, curved sword just inches from his stomach.

Galahad's eyes were wide. It made Tristan laugh. He noticed Gawain raising an eyebrow at it all, but then Gawain didn't know how Jaelynn had improved.

"I didn't teach her that," Gawain said.

Tristan nodded. "I did."

She whirled around from an angry retaliatory assault. Galahad looked flustered, but he renewed his efforts—fully. He wasn't being nice or easy for Jaelynn. Then again, Jaelynn didn't need it. Her eyes were alight, and Tristan couldn't erase the smile on his face. He missed that Gawain noticed it.

Galahad suddenly had Jaelynn in a spot. Tristan leaned forward intently. Jaelynn was on her knees, with Galahad grinning like he'd won. Jaelynn wore a frown, but there still was that mischievious gleam in her eyes. She thrust her sword again at Galahad, and Tristan winced. Her wrists buckled weakly, and Galahad easily swatted the long sword from her hands.

She gasped, while Galahad moved his sword to her throat. Tristan stood straight. He didn't like that he had the sword to her throat, even if they were just sparring. But Galahad dropped it.

"You've improved!" the youngest knight exclaimed. Jaelynn shrugged sheepishly. Gawain went to her side.

"He's right," he declared. "You've been practicing." Jaelynn smiled, and turned around. She faced Tristan.

He didn't know what to do, but he was very aware of the knights around him. He nodded at Jaelynn.

"Good," he said sparsely.

She cast her eyes downward and then back at him.

"Thank you."

As she walked past him, Tristan sighed. He wished they were traveling again, alone.