Author's Note: Sorry this chapter took so long to write. I needed to progress the story but I wanted to be sure I was setting up for everything that will happen next. Thanks for being patient. Mature content at the end but you'll see it coming long before you need to stop reading if you prefer to skip. Rating was adjusted. Don't like don't read.

"This way, Duncan."

He opened his eyes to the sound of her voice and the feeling of her hands working their way under his arms, wrapping around his waist in her feeble attempt to help him to his feet. Duncan couldn't be sure if the way he felt, dizzy with a strong side of nausea, was the effect of transmat or somehow related to the bullet still lodged in his shoulder. Letting the Warlock hoist him to his feet, Duncan did his best to steady himself against the wall beside him instead of against her shoulder.

When he realized she was leading him to the back of Amri's jumpship and a cot strategically placed there for situations just like his current one, Duncan closed his eyes. He let Bailey help him lay back against the rough canvas cover but he didn't ask her to explain.

"Oh Duncan," she worried to herself; and when he opened his eyes, the Hunter offered her a weak smile. She was pulling the thick gloves she wore into the field off of her hands, letting them fall off of the the edge of the cot to land on the floor. She made a place to sit down on the edge beside him, but was still muttering worriedly to herself. Placing a hand over his forehead to straighten his bangs away from his eyes, Bailey's breath caught in the back of her throat, "You're burning with fever."

Her hands had been ice cold.

Duncan pulled away, looking up at her before he closed his eyes again. He listened to her voice, "Hold still. This might hurt," but keeping his eyes closed hadn't helped keep the grimace from crossing over his sharp features in the slightest.

She'd tried to be gentle, he knew, when she made to pull the bullet out of his shoulder. She'd tried to give him adequate warning, an opportunity to try to convince her to leave it until he could visit the infirmary. When he felt the familiar comfort of Amri's jumpship leveling out after it had broken orbit, Duncan opened his eyes again and offered his Warlock a weak smile. With his left hand, he reached out and squeezed her forearm with a gentle hand, trying to comfort her, "Tha' wasn' so bad. Had me all worked up for noth-"

She wrenched a thorn out of his shoulder, careful of the way she drew it out to prevent the barb from catching, tearing, or dealing worse damage yet to her poor Hunter's shoulder.

"Ow," the blonde muttered after he'd calmed himself down; feeling all the dull embers of pain starting to dissipate as his gaze began to refocus. When he was able to make out, once again, the familiar form of Bailey sitting beside him on the edge of the cot, he caught himself wondering how in the world he'd gotten so lucky to have a girl like her.

He could see she was worried. Her brow was furrowed but her grey eyes looked down on him with such a soft wash of tenderness he couldn't help but try to smile. She summoned her Ghost and Duncan watched his flutter forward to join them.

His shoulder burned like nothing he'd felt before in all his lives and he thought to wonder why it was he hurt worse now, after she'd pulled the bullet from his shoulder and his shields had re-stabilized, than it had when he'd first been shot. But he felt too sick to ask; instead, Duncan closed his eyes again and took a few deep breaths. His leaned back against the wall and Bailey was quick to navigate the pillow underneath his head.

"I'm sorry, Duncan," she said, letting the palm of her hand rest against the base of his neck as she leaned forward to kiss his forehead.

He could read the meaning behind her words. She wasn't apologizing for the pain or that her hand might not have been steady enough for the motion of the jumpship. She was apologizing for shooting him, and that knowledge made the Hunter wonder if maybe it hadn't been an accident, after all. His shoulder still hurt, though by this time the limb was already halfway towards going numb.

Duncan was almost overcome with a terrible sense of nausea and a pressure building in the back of his head.

Looking back on it, there'd been something different about her, whether she'd made the choice to shoot him for herself or was under some effect of the Hive Wizard she'd brought down before he'd found her. Reaching out to the Warlock with closed eyes, he managed to find her hand. When he realized his hand had gone numb and he was too weak to lace his fingers with hers, he thought to panic. Something wasn't right and he was starting to realize it hadn't been the transmat.

Duncan frowned, trying to sit up, "I can' move my arm. My fingers won' move."

"Try to relax, Guardian," Bailey's Ghost, Rindel, soothed.

When he tried to sit up, Bailey pressed his back down against the cot with a gentle hand.

"Shh! Please, rest now, Duncan," she whispered, wrapping her left arm around his neck and drawing herself against him where he reclined on the cot against a wall. Her right hand trailed down his chest to come to rest over his heart before she turned her attention to a clasp which would release his chest plate. "I'm so sorry. The poison, oh, this is all my fault."

"Poison?"

But his vision was already beginning to blur around the edges. She seemed so far away, though he could feel her heart beating from where he'd wrapped his good arm around her waist, letting his palm rest open against her back.

"Please stay still," she whispered. And as she pulled away, she took the Hunter's chest plate and the cape still attached to it with her and left both pieces to rest on the ground beside the cot. He was left with a grey and black jumpsuit, torn at the shoulder where Bailey's bullet had struck him. With a faraway look in her eyes, the Warlock trailed gentle fingertips over the tattered edges of the fabric and made a soft noise in the back of her throat. Pressing her lips against the corner of his mouth, she murmured more as reassurance for herself, "The bullet wasn't there for long. I should still be able to draw the poison out."

"Of course you can," Albert reassured.

And what it was she was doing to his shoulder, Duncan didn't have a clue. Her touch was gentle but everything north of his waist on the right side of his body was numb. She might have been burning him with her solar magic for all he knew.

"How's everything back here?"

It was Amri. Duncan recognized his Exo's voice but his vision was starting to cloud to such an extent he couldn't make out much except for the blur he still thought was Bailey.

"Amri?" Duncan heard panic mixing with relief in Bailey's voice. She'd picked up his left hand, holding it in between both of hers. "Amri, I d-don't know how to help him."

"Duncan's hurt?"

By then she was crying but Duncan could feel the heavy shade crawling quick through his bloodstream, working towards his heart. He felt sure this poison would kill him; if Bailey had given up, there was no hope left.

With what strength he could manage, he tried to squeeze her hand. When he felt her press her thumb into his palm, he smiled. He knew he smiled. Albert came to rest on the pillow above his head, casting a reassuring blue light over his face.

"Hive poison," Amri muttered to himself. He felt Amri's hands over his skin and that most terrible, hated sensation of Void Magic. And then a pain unlike any he'd ever known in all his life, worse even than the burning from earlier. Like all the Light he had left within him was being drawn out. Like he was being drawn away from himself. Then, he heard Amri's voice, "Warlock, what's this all about?"

Bailey didn't answer and Duncan couldn't remember how to use his voice.

"Bailey?"

An even longer pause. Then Albert piped up, "He's going to be alright, you know. He'll just need to sleep this off."

Ignoring Albert, Amri asked of his fellow Warlock, "What happened?"

Still she didn't respond. Duncan could feel her hands, still holding his, begin to shake. He could hear she was still crying but he couldn't see anything when he tried opening his eyes. Hell, he couldn't even know for sure his eyes were open. All he saw was darkness.

"You'd better start talking, Warlock," Amri's voice cut through the silence, cold and harsh.

Duncan managed to move his left arm just a bit but the attempt at capturing the Exo's attention had been insufficient. In all honesty, he'd wanted to nudge Amri as a reminder he was still here and yelling at his girl, no matter what the circumstances, wasn't acceptable. But Bailey was already murmuring, "It was an accident. I never meant to-"

The Hunter knew something had fallen off of the edge of the cot when he heard metal clash against metal. Both Amri and Bailey fell silent.

"Is this yours?" Amri's voice accused. The sound had gotten closer, seeming to suggest the Exo had leaned over to pick up whatever had fallen.

Bailey dropped Duncan's hand and the Hunter felt empty, like he'd lost everything that mattered to him in the entire universe. Her voice was shaking when she replied, "Amri, I can explain-"

"Save it for the Vanguard," the Exo cut her off.

"Amri," she tried.

"Go fly the ship," he commanded.

Her hands found Duncan's again and the Hunter tried to hold onto her, but he was too weak. Bailey's voice was soft when she tried, again, to reach the Exo, "But what about Duncan?"

"Don't you think you've done enough?" the Exo snapped. This time his voice cracked in the middle. When Bailey gasped, Amri seemed to soften his behavior, "If you want to help him, get us back to Tower. I've done for him what I can. He needs to visit the infirmary."

"He's going to be just fine," Albert reassured. Duncan got the impression no one was listening to his Ghost when he felt Albert hover to rest on his shoulder, muttering, "Just get some rest, Guardian. You'll be good as new when you wake up."

If Bailey obeyed the Exo's orders, Duncan didn't know. Albert's voice and the sensation of Bailey's hands sliding out of his own were the last things he remembered before sleep claimed him.

It was later the same evening the Guardian was awoken to a loud banging on his bedroom door. He couldn't remember how he'd gotten there, his bedroom. The last thing he remembered was… well, he really wasn't sure. The pain in his shoulder had subsided and the weary Hunter was happy to know, at least, he could move his arm and hand again.

"You awake in there?" the question snapped him out of his reverie. When his brown eyes fell on the door, he was happy to realize his vision had returned, as well. What the hell had happened to him, anyway?

He was coherent enough to recognize it was Kellin on the other side of his door in the middle of the night, but he couldn't think of any reason he should leave the warmth of his bed to answer the Titan's call. Not a damn reason. Kellin could wait for morning. Yawning, Duncan rolled over onto his left shoulder and pulled the threadbare quilt back up and over his head. The sooner he could manage to block out the too-loud, unappreciated pounding, the sooner he could get back to his dreaming.

It was some good medicine he was beginning to remember Amri'd found him for his shoulder; would be a shame if he let it go to waste.

"Hey!" Kellin pounded on the door harder, which was impressive because Duncan had figured any harder and the Titan would have broken his wrist. "Wake up; you have a guest."

"Shh! Don't wake Amri," hissed a second voice, this one softer and much more feminine. The Hunter smiled to himself when he recognized Bailey's voice for her addition of, "Besides, Duncan keeps his door unlocked."

Kellin could have waited for morning, but Bailey? She was more than reason enough for Duncan to postpone his sleep.

When the Hunter heard the doorknob turn and his door creak open, he shot out of bed and had both feet on the ground before either Kellin or Bailey had time to cross the threshold. Rubbing open his tired brown eyes, he stood up and crossed the distance from his bed to the door, smiling, "Hi, Bailey."

"Hi Duncan," she smiled back, placing her gloved hand in the center of his bare chest. Despite the smile, Duncan could tell she was preoccupied and anxious.

"Really?" Kellin scratched his head, indicating how curious he found this new piece of information. "You've always slept with your door unlocked?"

Duncan ignored his friend, kicking the door shut to leave Kellin alone in the hall as he led Bailey inside by placing a gentle hand on the small of her back. Reaching backwards, the Hunter flicked the lock shut just in time. He smirked when he heard Kellin trying to turn the knob, eventually working his shoulder into the metal door, but unable to force it to budge, even a little.

"Wha' are you doin' awake so late, Lady Warlock?" Duncan stifled a yawn behind the back of his hand before reaching out to hold the Warlock's.

"I knew it couldn't be true!" Kellin's muffled voice rang through the door.

"Leave them alone and go to bed, mate," Amri's voice scolded Kellin. "The sooner she says her piece, the sooner we can be rid of her."

Raising an eyebrow, Duncan looked at the door as though Amri was standing in front of it. That was some odd behavior from the Exo; Amri was normally quite fond of Bailey. Before the Hunter could say a word to defend her, however, Bailey had drawn his attention back to her with a gentle hand on the side of his face.

"I needed to talk to you," Bailey replied, ignoring Duncan's roommates, as she pulled her hand away from his face. He could read in her eyes she seemed agitated by something so he softened his demeanor and straightened his shoulders.

"Wha's wrong?"

"N-nothing's wrong, Duncan," she stumbled over her words. Something about the way she'd said it made the Hunter wonder if it wasn't the opposite, if everything wasn't wrong.

When he took a step closer to her, she turned around and walked across his room to look out the window. The Traveler was in plain sight, illuminated by the very final traces of gentle moonbeams over the Last City. Gauging by the color of the sky, the Hunter decided it was probably well after midnight, perhaps just an hour or so until sunrise.

Turning his attention back to her, he tried to make out what it was that had her so, well… out of sorts, he supposed. It wasn't like her to show up at his dormitory in the middle of the night without letting him know she was coming. He'd have woken up to meet her at the door so she wouldn't have to deal with explaining herself to Kellin or Amri, she knew that.

"Somethin's wrong," Duncan whispered, placing a hand on her shoulder as he settled next to the window beside her. He was looking down at her, trying to find any indication of what it was she was feeling. Wasn't she able to sleep? Had it been another nightmare?

The Warlock drew a shaky breath, running her hand through her bangs. The Hunter had known her long enough to recognize the nervous habit for what it was. So, he let his hand fall off of her shoulder and rest against her waist, hoping his touch could comfort her.

Pressing his lips to the top of her head, he murmured, "Wha's the matter? Nigh'mare? Missed me too much to sleep?"

"I've been thinking," she whispered, clasping and unclasping her hands together where her palms rested against the windowsill.

Duncan felt his throat grow dry. This was nothing new, his girl thinking about something… it was like a hobby to her. But it was the way she held her hands… he'd never seen her do that in all the time they'd been together. The confidence with which she always carried herself was absent.

She was just anxious.

"Bailey?"

"Duncan, I can't be with you anymore."

He tried to process the words but they rolled off of him like they carried no more weight than the weather report or where his Fireteam was being deployed to next. He'd never imagined she'd say something like that… so he'd never prepared himself, at all, for what those words might make him feel. At first, he felt nothing, numb, and then the confusion, the hurt followed.

"Look, if this is abou' today, all's forgiven, Bailey," he smiled down at her. "I'm alrigh', you're alrigh'; it was jus' an acciden'."

"This is about more than today, Duncan."

He thought he could remember himself laughing. He knew he could remember himself replying, "Ya don' mean tha'. Tell me wha's really botherin' ya and we can work it ou' together."

"I'm serious, Duncan," she insisted, turning around so his arm fell away from her waist. She still wasn't looking at him and without being able to see her eyes, the Hunter was left rather helpless to discern if she was being honest with him, if she'd really meant what she was saying or not.

"Look at me, Bailey," the Hunter commanded.

Sure, his mind was racing as he tried to process all of the reasons that she could possibly want to leave him. And, sure, he wasn't at a place where he was able to process all of what she'd just said to make an informed decision about how he ought to react-what, with the way that his heart was racing and his palms had grown sweaty. As the Warlock had made to step around him and make for the doorway at his back, Duncan did the one thing in the entire universe that still felt right.

He caught her before she could leave.

With his left arm around her waist, effective in holding her in place right in front of him, the Hunter brought his right hand to the side of her face. His fingers were laced in her soft hair, his thumb traced a gentle line across her high cheekbone. Her hands fell over his chest, like she'd meant to push him away, but she let him hold her. As soon as the thought crossed his mind it might be the last time she'd ever be so close to him, he banished it like it had burned him.

Though he couldn't see the tears that fell from her deep grey eyes, he could feel the moisture against his skin and it was all the indication Duncan needed to know the tiny shred of hope he'd grasped onto, the same one that had empowered him to keep her there with him, maybe wasn't so unfounded after all.

Maybe she was just as upset about what she was trying to do as he was. Maybe this, whatever it was he was hoping to do, was exactly what she needed for him to do. He'd show her, dammit; if she wouldn't listen to him, he'd show her how much they needed one another. Hell, she was made for him; absolutely perfect in every way Duncan could even think to imagine the woman who would stand beside him would be. Whatever he'd done to upset her-well, he'd fix it. He'd do whatever she needed, whatever she wanted if she'd just stay.

"Dammi', Bailey, " Duncan muttered. "Look at me. You tell me again, righ' now, tha' you mean' it when you said you wanted to walk through tha' door. And look a' me when you say it."

She looked away in a sudden, immediate display of uncertainty that told the Hunter everything he needed to know. Her voice was soft, full of hesitation when she stammered, "Duncan, I-"

"Jus' wha' I thouh'," the Hunter sighed, crashing his lips down over hers. He kissed her like he'd never kissed her before; pulling her entire body up against his, letting his right hand comb through her hair to cradle the nape of her neck. He could feel her hands upon his shoulders in an instant; he could feel her struggling to find a way to draw her frame even closer against his. Pressing his tongue against her teeth, demanding entry to her mouth, he seized her hips to bring her legs up to his waist.

She kissed him back with equal effort; meeting his tongue with hers, wrapping her legs around his waist, letting him work the thick overcoat she'd worn off of her shoulders. Her arms were around his neck, her fingers were laced through his hair, but Duncan knew she was still crying. He could feel her shoulders shaking and the moisture of her tears transferring from her cheek to his when she moved to bury her face against his neck.

A soft sob met his ears but she clung to him like she might never let him go. Duncan froze. His voice was soft when he pressed his lips against the top of her head and whispered, "Shh, Bailey. Don' cry. I didn' mean ta make you cry."

"I'm sorry, Duncan."

He laid her down in the center of his bed, careful of the way he unwrapped her legs from around his waist. Hovering over her, the Hunter dried her tears with a gentle hand and soft kisses over her cheeks. It seemed she couldn't let him be away from her now that she had almost succeeded in walking out of his life forever.

"Today was-" she cried, cutting herself off in the middle with a sob.

Duncan worked his hand into hers.

"If Amri hadn't-" and then another round of tears.

Duncan kissed her cheek, brushing her bangs out of her face.

"Oh Duncan! I thought - I don't know what I would have done if… If-"

"Shh, Bailey. It's alrigh'," he whispered. "I'm jus' fine."

Bailey sat up from where Duncan had laid her down and crawled into his lap. Her feet hung over the edge of his bed and her arms were wrapped around his waist; she had the side of her face pressed against his chest like she was listening to his heartbeat. Her voice was a soft sound he'd needed to strain to hear, "I didn't mean it - what I said."

"I know," Duncan replied, all false confidence and bravado. He'd been terrified she really was going to leave. He hadn't known until he'd made her stay she hadn't meant what she would have him believe she'd intended. Kissing the top of her head, quite certain he'd never been happier in his life to have taken such a gamble as he had in keeping her with him, Duncan sighed.

He certainly hoped whatever line of thinking had inspired all of what had gotten into her mind that evening was done with for good.

His left hand came to rest on the small of her back and he let himself relax, a little, when he realized she had stopped crying. Tonight marked one of the few times since he'd known her Bailey had been so upset. Whether she was ready to talk about her research or not, Duncan knew it was time for his Warlock to start letting him in on some of her secrets. "Are you ready to talk abou' it?"

"No," she whispered. The way her voice cracked in the middle of the syllable almost broke Duncan's heart. Her body trembled against his and the only thing he could think to do was pull her closer to him.

"Bailey," the Hunter sighed, closing his eyes while he snuggled his cheek against the top of her head. "We'll have to talk abou' it sooner or later. This time, it isn' goin' away."

She was silent.

So Duncan tried a more direct approach, asking, "Wha' are you researchin'?"

She shook her head.

"Then le's try an easier one," he whispered. "Wha' was today all abou'?"

Again, she shook her head.

"Bailey," the young man muttered, running a frustrated hand through his hair. He could feel her flinch and was reminded to relax. Pushing her away or getting angry with her wouldn't solve anything. Softening his approach, Duncan tried to explain, "Please understand. I'm tryin' to help."

"You can't help me," she whispered. "I've done this to us. To myself. Duncan, I could have killed you today. I thought about it. My finger was on the trigger."

"Then wha' stopped you?" he challenged. His gaze was hard, he knew, but she'd almost just confessed to shooting him on purpose. Or maybe she had and he was so dumb in love with her he couldn't allow himself to see it. If it hadn't been an accident like he'd thought, things were far worse than they seemed.

Since he'd snapped at her, he'd expected her temper to flare and for her to meet him with frustration and anger of her own. But she looked up at him as though deep in thought and put her hand on his chest over his heart. Her voice was quiet but she sounded so sure of herself, almost hopeful, he simply had to believe her, "You did."

He hadn't expected such a confident response, given the emotional toll their short evening together seemed to have had already. Taken aback, Duncan felt his anger melting away. He didn't understand everything that had his Warlock troubled, but the way her entire demeanor seemed to have brightened when she'd made the confession was a step in the right direction.

Duncan closed his eyes, leaning into her caress when she placed her palm against the side of his face. Her right hand moved up his chest in a slow, deliberate trail until it stopped at his collarbone. Bailey was leaning forward, capturing his lips with hers, before Duncan thought to remember they'd been having a conversation. An important conversation…

"Bailey," he scolded, capturing her face with both of his hands. He shook his head, sighing, "Don' try to change the subjec'."

"I haven't!" she protested. And the way she looked smiling up at him; Duncan couldn't remember the last time he'd seen her so full of genuine happiness; it had been months. Her arms were around his shoulders, pulling his lips over hers as she murmured between kisses, "Don't you see, Duncan? The answer has been right in front of me this whole time!"

"Righ'," he sighed, his voice low in the back of his throat as he pulled his lips away from hers to trail a series of soft, open-mouthed kisses down her neck. When he reached the collar of her high-necked shirt, the Hunter tugged at the coarse material until the buttons had come undone, revealing the smooth skin of her shoulder. Between kisses, he thought to ask, "The answer to wha', Lady Warlock?"

He felt her left hand form a fist around a few locks of his sandy-blonde hair, pulling his lips closer to her skin. The sound her breath made when it caught in her throat caused the Hunter to grasp her hips like his possessing them was a reflex. He was laying her back against the soft sheets spread over his bed before he remembered he'd asked her a question.

Pulling away to meet her with a stern look, he couldn't stop himself from admiring the mysterious sort of beauty she made for; he was all caught up in the sultry, disheveled way she was curled into the center of his bed and he kissed her again before reminding, "The answer to wha'?"

He felt her thigh brush against his waist as she squirmed underneath him to free her arm. Combing her fingers through his bangs, Bailey smiled, "The solution to my nightmares and all the worries that lay heavy on my mind. Duncan," and here she paused to take his hand in both of hers, laying them together over her heart. Her eyes shined up at him, "It's you. You're what keeps me grounded, what brings me back."

He wasn't following her and he couldn't be sure if it was because he had forgotten the question or if the things he wanted to do to her were starting to affect his concentration. Pulling away, he looked down at her with curiosity and a hint of amusement, wondering aloud, "And wha's it tha' pulls you away?"

"It's this," she whispered. As she sat up, she moved closer to him while holding her right hand out in front of her. As her Ghost, Rindel, materialized, Bailey nodded and the Ghost summoned an ebony hand cannon. Turning it over in her hands, she bit her lower lip before handing it to Duncan. He could tell she was nervous and perhaps a bit apprehensive as she added, "This and all of the things it changes inside of me when I use it."

The outer casing was well worn; scuffed and marred from all its time of use, Duncan wondered why he'd never thought to inspect Bailey's favorite hand cannon. He'd seen her use it before, countless times. But now that he was holding it, he recognized what she had. Two green orbs were set on either side of the barrel, which glowed a powerful shade of green light in the darkness of his bedroom. The metal seemed to peel away from itself, forming sharp points in an occasional, haphazard pattern.

Thorn.

Bailey had Thorn. And from the look of it, the feeling, the very power emanating from somewhere deep within; this weapon was as powerful now as any legend had ever made it out to be.

"Does the Vanguard know you have this?"

The question had been careful. He'd made sure to keep his voice low, tone unchanged so as not to give the young woman any cause for alarm.

"No," she looked away like she was ashamed of herself. "But Amri does, after today. He wants to turn me over to Ikora. Kellin, um, Kellin convinced him to wait until I could talk to you, first."

Duncan would have to remember to thank his Titan for that. If the Vanguard knew Bailey had this gun… Traveler only knew what her punishment might be.

He wanted to ask if she knew what she had but Duncan decided it wouldn't serve to patronize her, not now that she'd finally started to open up to him. And of course she knew… With a heavy sigh, the Hunter laid the gun on his bedside table, frowning for the way one of the spires near the handle cut his finger as he did so. Bringing the cut to his mouth, he tried to stop the bleeding before asking, "How long have you had it?"

"I found it in the Hellmouth more than a year ago," she confessed, working her hand into his. Her fingers seemed to tremble where he held them and when Duncan looked into Bailey's pretty grey eyes, he could read her anxiousness, her worry to know what it was he thought. When he lowered his chin in an indication that she ought to continue, the Warlock added, "A short time before I met you. I didn't realize what it was when I first found it. I thought it was just a ruined hand cannon. Looking back on it now, I can't explain what made me keep it. The gun, it wouldn't even fire a bullet."

A thousand things he wanted to say raced through his mind like Solar magic through his limbs when he'd activate his Golden Gun. But Duncan couldn't hold onto any thought in particular. He was still just trying to wrap his mind around the realization Bailey had Thorn. Or, as a more terrifying thought threatened, Thorn had her...

There was a reason the Vanguard didn't allow Guardians to carry the gun: Thorn. It possessed a mysterious power, famous for darkening the heart of its host until there was little left of the Light that kept a Guardian alive. That gun could turn even the most pure Guardian away from the Light before they realized what was happening. Some rumors were passed back and forth in the darkest corners of the Tower's bars to say Thorn had turned her original owner into a creature of the Darkness.

Duncan shuddered.

Thinking about her, his girl, with that gun brought so much of the last several months into perspective; her nightmares and the persistent, unending nature of her research. Duncan understood why she'd been so upset today. She hadn't just shot him. She'd shot him with Thorn. And she really had been under a spell, a curse imposed by the will of a hand cannon that might eventually come to possess her if she wasn't careful.

"Bailey," he shook his head, afraid and angry, shocked and desperate all at the same time. Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he pressed his lips to her temple and asked, "Why didn' you tell me?"

"I was afraid," she replied. "I knew I had to get rid of it; find some way to destroy it."

Duncan sighed, kissing her temple again and pulling her into his lap.

With a dark sort of humor inherent in her tone, Bailey thought to add, "Before it destroys me."

"Don' talk like tha', Bailey," the Hunter frowned, closing his eyes as he wrapped up tight within his arms the small frame of the woman he loved even more than those most selfish, secret parts of his own self. On a whim he summoned Albert, demanding, "My gun."

"Guardian, what do you need-"

"Al, please," Duncan frowned, taking a deep breath as he punched the bridge of his nose. His left arm remained around Bailey's waist until he seemed satisfied that his Ghost would do as he asked.

"Very well," the Ghost materialized Duncan's spare hand cannon, the only one he had left now that his Palindrome had been lost somewhere deep within the Hellmouth. This gun from Albert was Eyasluna, Duncan's first love.

"For you," Duncan nodded, handing the gun over to his girl. "Ya can' keep usin' Thorn, and this one has served me well."

Bailey took the gun from him with reluctance. She turned it over a few times before trying to hand it back to her Hunter.

"If we're gonna ge' ridda tha' thing," and Duncan motioned to the nightstand where Thorn was glowing with a menacing light, "You need yourself a reliable gun. And this one's no' so hard to ge' a feel for."

"Duncan," she whispered, pressing her lips against his. He shook his head, letting his lips find her cheeks, her temple, and her neck. She took the gun, placing it on the table beside Thorn.

His kissed her slowly, deeply. He ran his hands down her back, feeling the familiar curves of her body like the very knowledge of her physical presence might make her even more real, more permanent. Like his utter devotion might keep her safe. And if he couldn't be with her when the time would eventually come she'd need to be looked after, he trusted Eyasluna to do the job.

His voice was low but resolute, "Nothin' is gonna hur' you. No' while I'm still here to say somethin' abou' it; I promise you tha'."

She kissed him back, pressing her bare hands against his chest. The Warlock kicked off her boots before she laid the Hunter on his back and Duncan let her have control of the situation. In all honesty, he was studying her with intent; searching for the sign, any indication she was still the same woman he loved. She took his injured hand in hers and kissed the back of it, confessing, "I know, Duncan."

Her hands trailed over the lines of muscles that formed his abs; her lips weren't far behind. She'd employed the help of her Solar magic to scare his chills away. And to say the Hunter wasn't convinced this woman was the same one he held in the darkest hours of the night when her nightmares would keep her up would have been a lie.

Hers was a touch that was unmistakable; the way she could wrap his every care in the entire world up and in line with her own. She could make time stand still until it was only the two of them, together, that mattered. The way her eyes burned for his touch, his hands on her body - Duncan could read her desires like she'd spoken them. But this woman, his girl, had a way of making her desires known without words.

"Bailey," he muttered, working his hand under the hem of her collared shirt. Guiding her lips back to his with his other hand, he smirked, "Wha' am I gonna do with you?"

She gasped, finding her body pinned beneath Duncan's. He'd distracted her attention with a few light kisses placed behind her ear and when he knew she'd lost her focus, the Hunter had turned her over onto her back. She laughed and met him with a smile so radiant the young man hadn't expected it. Her hands worked through his shaggy blonde hair as she started her bargaining, "I think I should be cuddled."

"Do ya, now?" Duncan wondered, hiding a smile and trying to appear serious. He was slow and careful about the time he took to work the remaining buttons of her shirt apart. He left soft kisses across the skin his actions left exposed and felt his heart hammering in his chest for the way his girl tried to press her body closer to his.

She sighed, "Yes."

Working her shirt down her back, Duncan let her keep the garment hooked on her arms but pulled it aside to reveal her shoulders. Trailing his teeth across the small scars and marks all the perils of her adventures hair painted her with through the years, the Hunter ran his left hand up the side of her neck and cradled her head. When he knew she was looking at him, he closed his eyes to confess, "I'll think abou' it. The cuddling. I've got somethin' else in mind firs'."

Bailey made a low noise of agreement in the back of her throat, nodding as Duncan kissed her neck, as his hands trailed over the muscles of her abdomen, her arms, and her thighs. She wrapped her legs around his waist, which caused the Hunter to pull away, abrupt and sudden.

He smirked for the look she gave him. Confusion and a mix of impatience; but he was apologetic as he made to unfasten the closings on her trousers. She helped him work her pants over the curve of her hips and down the toned expanse of her legs, leaving her in just her underwear and collared shirt. Before he could pull her close again, Duncan laughed at the intensity with which she'd turned her attention to his waistband.

"Wha's the hurry for, Lady Warlock?" he teased, catching her hands and bringing them to his chest. "We've go' plenty of time before sunrise."

She'd ignored the question, letting her fingers trail across his chest and down his abs, heading straight for his waistband. Pressing his lips to her temple, wrapping his arms around her shoulders until he was able to pull her against his chest, the Hunter laughed again. But he let her pull his sweatpants down his waist.

"Layers?" she sighed, revealing she was more than exasperated he would have had boxers on under his pants. And the look in her eyes when she climbed out of his lap, dropping one leg on either side of his hips… Duncan wrapped his arms around her waist, letting his fingers toy with the waistband of her panties, teasing her.

He pressed his cheek against her chest and caught the satin material of her bra between her teeth. When she growled in the back of her throat, stifling a moan, Duncan muttered, "I was cold."

"It's the middle of summer," she whined, throwing her head backward, pulling his lips closer to her chest and tugging on the locks of his hair she had clasped in her fist. "What are you sleeping in sweats for?"

"Migh' need to ask Kellin," he muttered in between kisses. "I think he's the one who pu' me to bed."

"I don't want to talk about Kellin," she groaned, biting his ear.

With his left hand, Duncan found the clasp of her bra and made to release it. The garment was caught on her arms for the way she was still half in and half out of her shirt but he reached underneath the red satin, nonetheless. Finding her nipple, he gave it a teasing squeeze, which pulled another growl from her throat, before whispering against her ear, "If we're on the topic of layers, speak for yourself."

He wanted to believe she knew she'd lost the argument and had conceded his point when she crushed her lips over his. The way it felt to have her winding her fingers up in his hair caused the Hunter to close his eyes. He bent his knee, letting it press against her taut rear, to compromise her balance. And when he caught her against his chest, his left hand had found a way underneath the waistband of her panties. Duncan squeezed her butt, laughing at her reaction.

She'd wrinkled her nose like she was afraid he wouldn't catch her. When she realized he had, her cheeks burned red; whether she was angry or newly modest, Duncan didn't know, and he leaned forward like he meant to kiss her before, at the last possible moment, stopping to ask, "Do ya still wanna cuddle?"

"You!" her eyes narrowed and she pressed his shoulders into the bed with what he supposed was most of her strength. Pointing an accusing finger down at him, she shifted her hips over the top of his and Duncan saw sparks out of his peripherals for the feeling. He gripped her waist and she gripped his bangs harder, forcing him to tilt his head back. With her teeth against his neck, she scolded, "Don't be such a tease! I want you inside me. Right now."

The way she looked leaning over him with what little of her clothing remained disheveled and barely covering her full breasts; Duncan blinked, running his hands up her back before tugging at the shirt she had hooked around her arms. He smirked as he agreed, "Yeah. Le' me up."

He watched the way her eyes softened as she seemed to take sympathy on the poor Hunter pinned beneath her. Thinking he'd have his way, or at least her shirt, Duncan slid his right hand around her waist, up her side, and cupped her breast. The softness in her eyes was gone in an instant, replaced with what he knew was defiance. She wanted to be in control.

The Hunter laughed. Duncan loved catching her in between emotions; the split second of transition from one to the other, he knew he'd never get tired of being able to draw such varied emotions from her.

He smacked her ass with a sharp flick of his wrist and, gasping, Bailey fell forward, catching herself before she landed on top of him. One hand was on either side of his head but Duncan wasted no time before capturing one of her nipples between his teeth. He'd pushed her bra away and wrapped his right arm around her waist. As her body fell against his, she moaned and he turned her over so she was underneath him.

He listened to her breathing as she hurried out of her shirt, he felt whole as she wrapped each of her arms around his back and shoulders. The soft, low sounds she was making in response to his careful attention intensified when Duncan pulled her bra away. He replaced his lips with his thumb, letting his mouth work further south as he licked and nipped his way down her smooth abdomen.

Her body squirmed underneath his until he allowed her to free her arms but she just tangled her fingers in his hair and sighed like she had accepted her fate. Bailey's foot brushed down Duncan's calf. She'd arched her back up off his bed and struggled to be closer to him.

Smirking, Duncan reasoned she'd forgotten her desire from a moment ago to be in control, to rush him. But he was more than content to have his way with her. Pressing his lips against her navel, working his way over the top of her waistband, the Hunter couldn't pull his eyes away from her when she turned her head to the side and cooed his name into the soft folds of the quilt she was lying on top of.

"I'll tell you wha', Lady Warlock," the Hunter whispered, stroking between her smooth folds, which were already beginning to moisten under his careful touch. He felt her tense, heard a soft sigh escape her lips. Pulling the red panties away from her hips, Duncan kissed the smooth skin between her thighs as he made to pull the garment off of her entirely. His voice was low in the back of his throat, "If you promise to be patien', I can promise we'll cuddle when I'm done with you."

Reaching out for him, her hands settled over his biceps, and she asked, "What did you have in mind that I ought to be patient for?"

Guiding one of his fingers inside her, working it backward and forward in a slow but deliberate rhythm, he relished the sound of her surprise and swore to himself he would do anything to keep her near him always. The way it felt to have this goddess of a woman, his whole heart, arch her back to meet his touch; the way she sighed, bending her knees as she raked her nails over the smooth skin of his shoulders.

Running his left hand down the soft skin of her inner thigh and letting his right thumb find the delicate place above her opening that would heighten her enjoyment, Duncan assured, "You're a smar' girl. I think you can figure it ou'."

"Duncan!" she cried out his name. Quick to stifle the sound, she brought her right hand to her mouth and bit her knuckle, unable to keep her back from arching again.

"Don' do tha', Lady Warlock," Duncan soothed, reaching up to take her right hand it his left, holding it with a reassuring gleam in his eye. He kissed her hip bone, "I love it when you talk to me."

Squeezing his hand, she moved her hips against his touch with impatience, urging him to continue. Making a frustrated noise in the back of her throat, she confessed, "Kellin's finally asleep. It wouldn't serve to wake him up."

"Don' you worry yourself abou', Kellin!" Duncan laughed, pressing a second finger into her. She moaned, pulling her hand away from his to run her fingers through her own hair. The Hunter watched the way her body writhed in pleasure.

"Duncan," she muttered, finding a corner of the quilt to bring to her mouth. She bit the material and growled in the back of her throat when he thought to run his thumb over the sensitive place above her opening.

He sounded almost cocky, he knew, when he paused to ask, "I take it I did tha' righ'? No' worried anymore abou' wakin' up my Fireteam?"

Grunting in frustration, Bailey swatted a helpless hand at Duncan's face and moved her hips against his hand. Laughing as he dodged her half-hearted strike, the Hunter gave in to the Warlock and began to run his fingers back and forth inside of her. He watched the way she responded.

He knew she was close when her back straightened and her hands started to grasp in desperation at the fabric of his quilt and for the tangled locks of his hair. Her entire body stopped moving, but Duncan knew he wasn't supposed to. The Hunter kept his motion steady, following the same gentle rhythm that had gotten her this far.

"Duncan, I-" and her breath caught in the back of her throat. She had her eyes closed but she was reaching for his left hand, which was resting against her well-toned abdomen. Her body trembled such a soft, gentle motion that Duncan would have sworn she'd shocked him with Arc magic for the spark of adoration that shot through him. Her voice was a breathless sigh, "Oh, Duncan."

Two more gentle strokes brought another sigh pouring from her lips and with her cry, a rush of warmth that coated the Hunter's fingers. With reluctance, he pulled his hand away from her and watched her gather her senses.

She was calm for a long moment before grey eyes widened in surprise. As she stared up at him, Bailey started to apologize, "Your quilt! Duncan, I'm so sorry."

As she tried to sit up, Duncan shook his head and pressed her with a gentle hand back into the tangle of fabric where she was lying. No feeling he'd ever had in all his life quite compared to the immense feeling of satisfaction he derived every time they'd share this exchange. Reaching up to hold her hand, he replied with a mischievous edge, "I wasn' quite finished with you."

Bailey smiled at him, wrapping her arms around the Hunter's neck to pull him closer. He let his knees fall into the space between her legs she'd left for him. He let her kiss him, relishing the way her hands seemed to burn his skin in all the places they left. Maybe she was using her Solar magic, or maybe he wanted her that much; Duncan's hands brushed light circles against Bailey's hips before he crushed his lips over hers.

She worked the boxer shorts off of his waist, and he helped her with them the rest of the way. When her hand wrapped around his hardened member, the Hunter saw stars. Her thumb was applying precisely the right amount of pressure to tease him, and since she'd succeeded in taking his mind off of anything but her, Bailey used her leg as leverage and rolled the Hunter over onto his back.

Her voice was a low whisper when she confessed, "I want to be on top."

Duncan nodded, quite sure he couldn't have pulled his brown eyes away from her if his life depended on it. If she was going to be on top, there was nothing he wanted to say to change her mind. Not a damn word.

With one leg on either side of his waist, Duncan watched her hand, wrapped around his cock, guiding him to her opening. He tried to reach out to her, to grab her waist, but she'd moved faster than him. The Hunter could hardly breathe for the immense pleasure of this new angle.

She'd been on top so many times before but this… And maybe it felt so intense for all the time he'd waited, wanting to be inside her, or perhaps it was that he felt closer to her now that she'd begun to confess her secrets, but the way it felt to be buried in her warmth. The way her hands felt, splayed out over his chest as she steadied herself.

Duncan was gentle in how he slid his hands around her waist to rest over her ass. Watching the way her grey eyes gleamed with a determined fire down at him, Duncan bit his lower lip to keep from crying out when she tested a sharp movement of her hips against his.

The Hunter tried to hold her still. He still needed a minute… His head was spinning as the sensation of her walls closing around him pulled him in even deeper. This-she… He couldn't even think straight.

Their eyes met, and Duncan shook his head, "Bailey, give a guy a minute, yeah?"

"I don't have a minute, Duncan," she pouted, moving her hips again. And when she did, he lost it.

Absolutely. Fucking. Lost it.

Letting his left hand grip her waist as he helped guide her hips in a gentle rhythm over his, he couldn't tear his eyes away from her. Between the way her breasts bounced with each of her urgent thrusts and the way her nails felt digging into his shoulders, it was all Duncan could do to remember to breathe.

He'd never heard her make those noises before and, without thinking what it might do to her, he dropped his thumb down between her legs. Rubbing her gently in time with the pace she was setting for them, he held her with his left arm wrapped around her shoulders when she leaned forward over his chest. His lips were against her shoulder, teeth nipping at the soft skin there, before he turned his attention towards her neck. He muttered, "Bailey," against her temple but nothing he did seemed to distract or dissuade the Warlock from what she'd set out to do.

"Duncan, I know, I just-" and then her entire body trembled. "Just let me… And then you-"

But her hips were still moving over his in rhythm. The soft panting of her breath and the occasional grunt at the back of her throat almost distracted the Hunter from the truth behind her words. When her meaning finally sunk in for Duncan, he smirked with a shameless sense of pride. The knowledge she was so desperate about the way she was using his cock for her orgasm almost made up for the teasing her hips were delivering.

Almost.

Pressing his lips against her ear, the Hunter teased, "Oh, I'll help ya along alrig', Lady Warlock."

He leaned forward to capture one of her nipples between his lips. He ran his tongue over the raised peak before her hands were laced in his hair. She pulled his head closer, and he took her cue, running his tongue over her skin again.

"Duncan!"

But he didn't falter. Duncan only pushed her further, pressing his thumb over her clit as he closed his teeth around her nipple. She trembled in his arms as her entire body tensed and, just as quickly, she relaxed. Bailey's nails raked through his hair, straight to his skull and Duncan shuddered.

He pressed his thumb down over her clitoris again. And this time she exploded around him.

The slick walls that were already tight around his shaft clamped down hard, torn between forcing him out and locking him in. Her nails dug into his scalp and Duncan looked up in time to see her head thrown back in a silent scream. He gave her no time to recover. As soon as the first wave passed, he turned them over so Bailey's back was pressed into the covers of his bed. He planted his knees on the sheets between her legs as he pounded into her.

She gripped his biceps hard, seeming to be unable to hold back the delicious moans that escaped her pink lips. As her back arched right up off the bed, he heard the banging on the wall from the room next to his.

"Some of us are trying to sleep!" Kellin's muffled voice scolded.

Just a little more, Duncan knew. His hips shot forward, slamming himself completely into her one more time before he came. She cried out his name like it was her mantra-Duncan, Duncan, Duncan. His entire body froze for a moment as he released into her. And as her remnant pulses pulled him closer, the Hunter closed his eyes and buried his face in her neck to whisper, "Hi, Bailey."

"I'm serious," Kellin pounded on the wall again.

And then Amri's voice, softer and further away, scolded, "Show some respect, mate. You keep him up at all hours of the night with your antics."

"Hi Duncan," she smiled up at him, biting his lower lip before pulling him closer, so his lips were over hers. Her arms were curled around his back, tracing lines that sent chills racing across his sensitive skin.

Letting his lips brush against her shoulder, the Hunter reached up for a pillow on which they could both rest their heads. He was panting soft and steady, feeling her heart beating in rapid pace with his own. Rubbing his nose against hers, the pair of Guardians laughed for the muffled bickering being shared between Kellin and Amri, most presumably in the shared living space of his Fireteam's flat.

Duncan wrapped his arms around Bailey, holding her close to his heart. He turned his body and hers, so he was on his side. She pulled the covers up and over their heads, snuggling closer to him as she teased, "I told you we would wake Kellin."

"I don' wanna talk abou' Kellin!"

"What do you want to talk about?" she asked, pressing her lips to his jawbone.

The Hunter closed his eyes, smiling for the feeling of her tender kisses trailing down his throat - the warmth from her lips contrasting with the chills it sent racing down his spine. He moved closer, squeezing her tight against his chest before whispering against her temple, "Why don' we talk abou' how much I love you?"

"Duncan," she had tried to sound irritated, but the Hunter could feel her lips move to form a smile against his neck. Then she ran her nails through his hair and whispered like it was her dearest secret, "I love you, too."

Taking her hand in his and holding it against his chest, over his heart, he pressed his forehead against hers and closed his eyes, almost holding his breath, "Then marry me."

Duncan felt her hand, which had been tracing circles along his scalp, come to an immediate stop. If either one of them was still breathing, he wouldn't have known. His eyes were still closed and he was trying to steady the rapid pace his heart was beating, waiting to hear her answer.

He'd asked her on an impulse. But now that the words had been spoken, he was sure he'd never wanted anything more in all his life than to hear her say yes.

When she remained silent, he opened his eyes to see hers were full of tears. She was silent, so quiet, but he couldn't help but smile at her despite everything else he felt that might indicate he ought to still feel nervous. And when he smiled, so did she. Her laughter was like music as she brought her hand to cover her mouth, unable, it seemed, to decide whether to laugh or cry. There were so many different emotions on her face until she curled forward into his chest.

And then she decided to cry.

"Bailey?" he shook his head, pulling her close to kiss her forehead. It had been a selfish question, he knew, in the context of everything else they'd had happened to them that day. But she'd tried to leave and-damn it-wasn't he allowed to be scared, too? Couldn't he ask for something he wanted? Drawing a deep breath, he whispered, "I'm sorry if tonigh'-I mean, you don' have to answer righ' now. I can ask again. It won' be a surprise bu'-"

"Yes," she cried harder, shaking her head against his chest as though she didn't quite believe him. "Yes, of course."

Looking down at her, Duncan worried, "A-ask again? Or-"

"Yes, I'll marry you!" smiled, laughing and crying at the same time. "No matter how many more times you ask, I'll still say yes."

Duncan laughed, so very happy that he might have been flying or falling. But Bailey was still in his arms, and as long as she was near, he didn't care which it was. He shook his head, confessing, "I'm no' much good at these things. Bu', uh- jus' a second."

He reached over her, out from underneath the quilt still covering their heads, and held his palm up towards the ceiling. Without words, his Ghost understood his intention and materialized a silver band into his open palm.

Holding the ring up to her in a silent offering, he managed a nervous laugh as he explained, "I had a differen' plan for how this was gonna go. Bu' I decided to improvise."

"I'm glad you did," she whispered. Shaking her head, Bailey laughed and pulled Duncan's lips against her own. He smiled when he felt her take the ring out of his hand.

As she pulled away and the covers fell to the side, he grabbed her hand, admiring the way the simple band fit around her finger; like it was meant to be there, like it should have been all along. His eyes met hers as she sat up in bed beside him. Giving her hand a gentle tug, he asked, "Where do ya think you're goin'?"

A mischievous glimmer flashed through her steel grey eyes as she bit back a smile. Both of her hands were splayed out against his chest, and she moved so one leg was on either side of his waist. With her lips against his ear, she confessed, "Back on top."

But Duncan couldn't say anything when she teased her hips over his… He had already dropped his hands to her waist, anxious to find out just what she had in mind now.