Jon walked across the ruined Gate of Idramm, stopping to rest a hand lightly on the sword stuck fast in the middle, and sat down next to George on the bench. "I thought I'dfind you here," he said to the older man. "How's it going?" He tried to keep his voice light, but failed. "Mithros, George, look at me. I miss her too, you know."

George looked up. "She knew," he replied brokenly. "She said to me, the day before she died, 'I'll miss you,' and I thought she was dreaming." He sobbed softly. Jon slung an arm around his shoulders and led him out of the room. "Face it, neither of us are as young as we used to be. Everyone's got a time to go. Thank the Goddess that hers never came sooner." George nodded mutely. "I'll see you later?" asked Jon. He nodded again and took a different stairway up.

Later

Jon stood at Alanna's funeral pyre, eyes overbright, lit torch in hand. He swallowed the lump that had risen in his throat during his speech. "I think I speak for all of us as I say this last: we miss you, Lioness. Black God grant you peace." He lit the pyre. "So mote it be." The vast crowd echoed him. He sat down on a bench, watching the smoke spiral until the wood was burned up. He looked around; he was the last one there. Getting to his feet with a sigh, he walked slowly back towards the palace.

The Black God took Alanna's hand and led her gently down a long hallway. "Me this time?" she said half jokingly. "And here I thought you'd come for someone else, like all those other times." The god stopped at a door, opened it, bowed her in, and vanished. She gasped. Why, it was her home! The Swoop! Exactly as it had been the first time George had brought her here. George…for a moment she felt sad, then she cheered up. She was just glad to be home, and he would eventually follow. For the moment, she didn't care. She was the same too, she noticed, younger again. Something clicked on the stone floors behind her. She whirled, hand reaching for a sword that was not there, and instead began to run. "Faithful!" she yelled, snatching up her cat and placing him on her shoulder. "I missed you. How've you been?"

I've been better, was the reply. I've missed you too. He jumped off her shoulder. There's something I need to show you. Step back.

"Um, alright."She complied, puzzled. Faithful sat up straighter and began to glow. Alanna grabbed her ember-stone, watching as the cat blazed with white light. A column of the light began to grow around him, and she let go of the stone as she was nearly blinded. "Faithful? What the heck is going on?"

"My name is not Faithful" someone said. She looked around-there was no one there. The voice chuckled. "But you may call me that for now." The white light thinned, and a man stepped out. He had purple eyes like hers, but his hair was black, and he moved with catlike grace. "I am the cat you called Faithful."

Awed, she bowed. "You-you're a god?" she asked. "Am I really dead, or is this some strange dream?"

A hand grasped hers, pulling her up. "Trust me, this is not a dream," he told her. "I am a lesser god."

"It seems weird to call you 'Faithful,' then. Have you got a name?"

"Actually, I haven't."

"Well, then, um. It's odd to be talking to a god like we're old friends."

His laugh sent a shiver up her spine. "Aren't we? You're the same; I'm the same. Just like old times. But so different." He took her other hand. "Do you miss everybody?"

"Not really," she said, surprised at herself.

"I missed you, when I-died. Didn't you see me at night?"

"I thought that was you!" she cried. "But I wasn't really sure. It all makes sense, now. Oh, Faithful, dying's really weird. First you're a god, and now I don't care about anything-" She broke off. He was watching her intently. "Something wrong?" she asked.

He still held her hands. He pulled her slightly forwards. "Do I scare you, like this?" he asked.

"No," she said, puzzled. "Why do you ask?" She felt odd being this close to a god.

"Alanna-" he paused. She frowned-he'd never called her that before. And besides, before he was a cat, not a god. She looked at him, then away.

Oh, shush, she told herself, and looked back at him. He took a deep breath. "Alanna-I never really realized it before, but-" He cocked his head and sighed, catlike again, and smiled. "Things will have to wait. Come." She laughed again as he pulled her closer. They began to rise. "Where are we going?"

He smiled. "My sister requires an audience." He nodded to the Black God as the god waved them on, smiling. He could see how his brother felt. But he didn't have to know that.

Wow, sorry. I didn't realize that I hadn't posted this bit before. Please don't be mad at me, it's very hard to get over writer's block while being stormed by a horde of pitchfork-wielding, torch-carrying reviewers.

Review Replies:

music nerd: Doh. Me? A cliffy oneshot? You must be kidding.

The Inklings: That's all right. Thanks.

summerbluez: Yay, thank you! gulp Oh nonono…not that…please no!

shangmistress: I have no idea why I'm doing this. But she was sick and NO it isn't, that's too Alanna, you idiot. I told you! Bradley!

I am so sorry this took so long. I may put this on hold for a bit while I finish Midwinter and the other two stories that go with it, but I'll put up the next chapter as soon as I get it written and I have time to wait for my stupid slow connection.