Author's note: Sorry for the (lack of) updates! I've been incredibly busy as of late, (see moving), and I haven't had much time to write. Hopefully once I manage to wrangle my schedule back into submission, there will be more updates. For now, however, you're stuck with this nasty angsty little story arc. You're welcome.

I'm a beta reader now, so if you need someone to proof read, contact me, or check in my beta profile/preferences to see if I'd suit you! Also, tips on how to work out beta reading are much appreciated, since I have no idea how you're supposed to share documents.

More updates will come soon!

Disclaimer: Not mine

Going home is the hardest thing that Káno's ever done. It's been weeks, maybe months since he's bothered to alert anybody that he's even alive. In that time, he's somehow managed to traverse the entire continent.

All he had wanted at the time was solace from the ever present conflict. Now he realizes that it may be time to go home.

Heading back to Whiterun doesn't take as long as it should, so he stops at a farmhouse to get a real shave and bath before entering the city. The poor people at the farm are quite surprised by his appearance once he cleans up, though he supposes anything would be a shock compared to the scruffy mess he's been for who knows how long.

Whiterun looms into view as soon as he's a little further down the road, and before he knows it, he's almost at the gates. The guards recognize him, so he can't look that different, and they open the gates, letting him into the city. And all of a sudden, everything he sees is bright. Whiterun is full of color, and sun, and people. Someone pats his back. A friendly conversation is being held to his right. There's someone getting kicked out of the inn just ahead. People are smiling , laughing, shouting. And he realizes something. Sound is beautiful. And interaction with people, real people, is beautiful as well.

And out of the corner of his eye, he spots a familiar face. Faendal is leaning against a wall, with the dog, looking none the worse for wear. So he smiles, and laughs, and shouts, and when Faendal turns, the look on his face is worth every one of those weeks he's spent away.

Hours later, he sits at the table, home at last. Lydia had scolded him thoroughly when he showed up, and then shocked him by giving him a hug. Faendal had laughed, the dog had… grinned. Sort of. And they had made dinner. Now eating, the conversation ranges from the most recent dragon attacks, to the dog pushing Faendal off a cliff. It never once, however, strays to the topic of his absence, only broaching it occasionally when necessary. He doesn't mind, though he hopes that they'll be able to discuss what happened.

Finally, late that night, Faendal knocks on his door. Káno lets him in, knowing exactly what he's here for, and they both sit down at his small table.

Faendal starts. "Why did you leave?" There's so much worry in his voice that it almost makes Káno anxious. "We looked for you. You were too fast. There were almost no tracks. And everything is snow, so the dog was no help when it came to tracking. We had to come back here after a month, and you still didn't show up. Why now? Why did you leave in the first place?! Just… if not for me, then for that little orphan girl. Lucia. You give her a coin everyday, right? Well, that's how she gets food. If Lydia or I hadn't been here, she could have starved. And you know what? She missed you, Káno. We all missed you. And now you just show up out of the blue, acting like nothing happened-"

"Faendal." The elf pauses in his rant, and looks back at Káno. "I'm sorry."

And that's all he needs to say. They're up until all hours of the night discussing the forsworn, and the coastline, and the bandit camps, but after that simple phrase, everything becomes much better. Somehow.

And though the discussion about the mace helps, and talking it out is something that relieves emotional stress tenfold, those two words are finally what makes everything all right.

And that's all there is to it.