Hullo, everybody. This chapter is not very eventful, so I'm sorry. But, please review anyway and, I hope you enjoy ! -LR

It's late when Adjin finally returns to the Winking Skeever. He gives me the barest of glances when he breezes through the door of our rented room, but does a double-take when he realizes how I actually look, which is fucking terrible.

In addition to the unruly hair and the beard that I just can't be bothered with, my eyes are bloodshot from a day of not drinking. In spite of that, I still stink of Honningbrew mead, as if the smell is seeping from my sallow skin. The rings beneath my eyes have lightened a little, and I've had a bath or two since joining back up with Adjin, but my hands give me away with shivers, reminding me of what makes a drunk: dependence.

He can only stay warm for so long, without having liquor in his veins.

But, I don't go into that. I ignore how he's studying me, how defensive it's making me, and I take the offensive.

"Where were you?"

Adjin pauses in the middle of shrugging out of his fine sunset-colored cape, his head turning slightly in my direction. I'm sitting across from where he is, by the door to the rented room, in a chair. Been waiting all day for him to show up.

"Do you truly wish to know?"

See, that's his whole fucking problem: he doesn't give straight answers, he just manipulates people into answering themselves.

No, I don't "truly wish" to fucking know, because, I already know where it is he's been.

He's been to see Rontu.

I know this because today is the seventeenth of Sun's Dawn, which is my one sober days, five years running. It also just so happens to be her birthday.

That was sarcasm.

Watching him leave out of the Winking Skeever, with those Redguards is one of the hardest things I've ever had to do, on top of everythin' else. I'm hungry as all hell- haven't eaten shit all day, save for my own spit. No ale, either; I'm on a fast. Most people fast for their gods, and they leave off sex or drink or food or drugs or speech. Not me.

No, I fast for her.

This single day, every year, is the only one that I allow myself to feel every bit of loss and shame and desperation and above all else, nostalgia. This is the one day I don't try to distract myself from that woman, and every feeling that thinking of her comes with.

Each year, it gets harder and harder to put off drink, even if it is only for a day. I can't seem to function without it. Even now, my legs are shivering, my fingers twitch, and my mind's slow. Just now, it's reaching the conclusion I wasn't quick enough to consider when I asked him where he'd been.

"No," I sigh, leaning back in my chair, "I suppose I don't."

Adjin doesn't reply, instead gives this tight, knowing nod as he unwraps a large, sage green scarf from around his neck, unwinding the Alik'r hood to reveal his elegant afro.

"You are angry with me," he says, reading me. "You are angry, because I left you behind."

"Leave me alone."

"You think I'm being cruel, and maybe I am." He takes the other chair. "But, letting her see you like this would be far crueler, no?"

"Shut the fuck up," I seethe.

"You aren't ready to see her, Marrick. But, that doesn't mean you aren't trying to be," he says. "The fact that you know where I'm going; the fact that you've refused to eat anything; the fact that you converse with her in your sleep," he shakes his head, shrugging, "they prove this."

He stares at me a long time, while I stare at the floor, willing him to stop.

But, he wants a response from me, this much I can tell.

"If I'm not ready to see her now, then when will I be? I've wasted enough time chasing bullshit, and I know for certain nothing will be the same without her."

"In truth, nothing will be the same, ever, Marrick, even if you are reunited with her. You made sure of that five years ago."

He's not trying to be harsh, he's only telling the truth.

And what's more is, he's right. I did.

"I need to be with her."

"No," he dissents, "you need to come into your own."

My brow furrows, and I blink hard, trying to force my brain to form a coherent thought.

"She's a woman with lands now, Marrick. Property. Wealth. You go to her now, in your sorry, drunk state, and even if she does accept you, you would never forgive yourself."

I blink again. Shit. He's right again.

It's easier to do this whole thinking thing, with Adjin pointing out all the right thoughts.

What sort of man would I be, if I just lived off of what she gave me? I laugh once, bitterly. Exactly the same man I used to be. She'd become another organization for me to grab hold of and slowly sap dry.

That isn't what I want.

I don't have to explain this to Adjin, so I bring up something else that's been fucking with me.

"Well, what about the Redguard we plucked up, out of the Swindler's Den?" I ask heatedly. "Did he come with you to her place?"

"They did." His face is stone; he's been waiting for this tantrum, and I do so hate to disappoint. "So did many others. Her Stormcloak Brothers. Her Thieves Guild Brothers." Adjin shrugs lightly, "Ulfric Stormcloak."

My brow furrows, my fists clench tight.

"What!"

He cocks his head in wonder.

"She isn't dead, Marrick. She's alive. And the difference between the dead and the living, my friend, is that the living move on." I must look helpless as shit, because he says, "If you don't want that, then you have to live as well. You have to become a man again."

"How do I do that?"

"Fulfill your destiny. Just as she has fulfilled her own." His serious brown eyes pin me to the spot. "Deserve her, Marrick."

I press my fingertips to my eyes, harder and harder, until I see stars.

Once again, my father, my brother, my friend, he's right.

But, that still leaves one question absolutely unanswered.

"And, if that's what we both want," I begin carefully, "if you and me are really both on the same page. . ." he crosses his arms, watching me, ". . . then why in Oblivion would you start bringing warriors like that Redguard to her?"

"You mean Kematu?" he laughs, as my jaw clenches. "Kematu is married, you have nothing to fear from him."

"Then, why did you bring-"

"Really, Marrick? You would question why I would bring the old friends of our homeland, men neither I nor Rontu never expected to see again, to her home?" At my silent stare, he gives a small, reassuring smile. "I wouldn't do that to you Marrick. But, those men are free-thinking, and will do as they please; I have no power over them."

"Adjin, you fucking traitor."

He shrugs, "Consider it motivation."

"What the fuck!" I snap, incredulous, "You're doing exactly what you just said you wouldn't do!"

His laughing face turns serious and inquisitive, like he's studying me.

"If that's what you are afraid of, Marrick, then why didn't you follow me earlier? When Kematu, his Company and myself went to her home?"

I pin him with a hard look, my jaw clenching.

"Did you not just say that even if I tried to follow me, you wouldn't have let me?"

He winces mockingly, as though I've stepped on a tripwire.

"No, that's not it." The wince turns into a smirk. "It's not because of me, Marrick, it's because of you." I wet my lips as he gives me this calculating look. "There's only one reason, that you didn't follow me." I sigh, He's found me out. "Only one." He leans in closer, that grin still on his face. "You see, it shouldn't have mattered, whether I wanted you to follow or not. If you were still as great and disciplined a thief as you once were, getting past me wouldn't have been a problem."

I hit the table with my open palm, "Stop talking."

He ignores me.

"You didn't because you couldn't; I would have noticed you. That's how bad you've gotten." I don't have the heart to defend myself. "You're slow, Marrick, slow and sloppy. The years haven't been kind to you, I'm sorry to say."

"Are you, really?" I seethe, "'Cause, you sure as hell en't acting like it."

Adjin shakes his head, chuckling to himself.

"Do you think I wish to see you so pathetic?" I shrug, but I know that he doesn't, of course he doesn't. But he keeps saying shit that makes me think otherwise. For example: "I wonder, did you watch yourself slowly deteriorate into dogshit, or do you feel you simply woke up changed into it?"

My fists clench, but I keep my words cold.

"Take your pick," I snort. "Makes no difference to little old me."

"Doesn't it?" He cocks his head slightly, stroking his beard. "You were the pinnacle of thief, of assassin. You commanded the darkness, made it your slave."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," I say, with a faint smile, "I'm taken."

Once again, he ignores me.

"Don't you take this lightly, don't you dare!" he rages, and that about shocks all the sass out of me. It is very, very difficult to make Adjin show emotion. "You had a penchant for silence and stealth the like of which I have never seen, Marrick. And now, what? You're this?" I look to the floor in shame. "Don't look away from me."

It takes all the effort in the world, but I force myself to meet his gaze.

"Just haven't been myself," I whisper hoarsely. I'm trying my best to avoid this conversation. "We both know I can never be what I was; I'm too far out of practice."

Adjin winces again, tutting, and I know that he knows how pathetic saying that made me feel.

"Today is the last day for that excuse."

Now, he has my full attention.

I glance at him in suspicion, "What the fuck does that mean?"

"What, indeed," he smirks. "We're going back to hell."

My mind wipes.

Cold terror strikes me, from my skin to my heart, and my every hair's standing on end; I have the shakes worse than I did before. For almost a full minute, I'm statue-still, the air around me and him is charged and tense. Then, I'm up, my chair is over, and I'm hitting the door, running hard and fast.

Running for my life.

I make it to the steps, and down the steps, and to the taproom, and out of the taproom, my heart lifting. I can make it! I fling the door open, and Adjin's there, waiting for me, unamused.

"You're right, Marrick, you aren't yourself." I don't even get a word out before he snatches me by the hair, and yanks hard; I fall over behind him as he drags me back into the tavern. I'm screaming and struggling and kicking against him; my hair feels like it's being ripped out of my scalp, and the wood floor is rough on the palms of my hands. Adjin keeps dragging, all eyes in the room on us. "Weak," he booms, "Doubting. Slow." On Slow, he pitches me forward, sending me crashing into a table, the men sitting around it springing up, yelping. "I was waiting a full thirty seconds for you to open that tavern door," he fumes, crossing over to me. "What, did you stop for a drink?"

"Son a bitch!" I'm stumbling in the broken ruins of the table, covered in ale and roast rabbit, trying to find my feet. Adjin snatches me by the hair again, and raises me up to drive his knee into my ribs. "SHIT!"

"Unkempt," he hisses, and shoves me forward. "Undisciplined." I whirl around, fuming. There's only so much of this a man can take before he en't considered a man, anymore. But, that doesn't make it a good idea to take a swing at a man like Adjin, which is exactly what I fucking do. He dodges effortlessly. "Clumsy."

I throw my other fist, and he knocks it aside, useless. I'm left wide open, and raises his leg high, kicking me in the chest with the flat of his foot; I'm airborne again, and this time, slam into the bar.

This is it, I'm done. I've finally done the one thing I promised myself I'd never do, which is to disappoint him. I've lost everything already. But, without Adjin, I know for sure that there's no way out.

He crosses to me, and I watch his shadow as blood runs down from my nostrils, everything about me bruising and hurting. Adjin stands above me now, but I can't bring myself to look at him.

"Marrick," he says, like the command of a king. "Marrick, stand up." I wipe the blood from my nose and spit out more. He sighs, "I won't come down to you again, Marrick. This time, you have to stand yourself up and get on my level."

"I can't go back to hell," I say quietly. "You know that shit would kill me."

"Or, it'll bring you back," he replies. "Which will it be, Marrick? The decision is yours."

I want to tell him I don't know. But, it's like my tongue is too big for my mouth, and I can't speak. Instead, all I can do is look at the palms of my hands, red from him dragging me all over the floor, and breathe.

Hell is training.

But, that would be the understatement of a lifetime; it's not called "hell" for no reason. It's what made me into who I was, after I met Adjin. For three years since I was nineteen, he trained me in ways unimaginably intense. He made me strong.

Maybe, if I'm really fucking still, he won't notice me or he'll lose interest or some shit.

"I won't hold your hand, Marrick."

"Have you ever before?" I snarl.

He lets this slide, and I'm glad, because we both know I don't mean it.

"Stand up, Marrick."

That makes me snap again.

"Why do you even try?" I seethe, "Or care? I don't even care!" His brow furrows, and I shake my head, laughing. "I'll never be what I was, but even after five years, my worst is most men's best. That en't bad."

"It isn't most men that we're after here, Marrick; It's Alduin," he stresses. "Your best is his worst." I gather up some more blood in my mouth, and spit it out. "Stand up, Marrick," he says.

I raise my eyes to his and, unwavering, I hold his gaze.

(A/N) Once again, I'm sorry this chapter was so short ! _ There's another on the way, though, so just wait for me~! I look forward to the reviews. -LR