Author's note: I took some artistic license with this scene because I wanted to show the reader the raw emotion Bishop feels as he confronts his past.

And the endearment Bishop says to Cari is Welsh for "my love," and Cari's to Bishop is the same in Gaelic.

As per the other chapters, this story is based on an idea that corglacier and I were tossing around. It is the idea that both Bishop and my CE assassin Carianna could actually earn redemption and become better people.

I owe stickchick a ton for helping me with this; I couldn't have done it without her. It's totally alternate universe, and outside the OC, but it's just meant to be a good, emotional read. So, don't take it too seriously, alright?

Two days later, Bishop and I climbed to the peak of a small hill and looked around. Just below us rested the charred remains of his home village. I looked over at him; tears brimmed in his eyes as they swept over the damage. I slipped my hand in his and squeezed; he turned to me and nodded, plunging onward, me walking beside him.

"Gods, Cari, look at this," he said softly, pointing to the ruins of a large building. "That used to be the tavern. I used to spend hours there, just listening to the travelers with stories from the Mere. I got my first kiss there, I was thirteen. We sneaked around behind it…her dad was mad at me for a week!" Laughter sparkled in his eyes as the nostalgia took hold. "Gods, what was her name…?" He shrugged, "Ah, doesn't matter, she's probably long gone by now anyway," he said ruefully.

He pointed to another building. "And this…this was the old smithy. I remember Aldus well; he helped me make my first longbow. I was, eight, I believe. I loved that bow…I remember how excited and strong I felt the first time I pulled it back and hit my first deer." He smiled sadly. "I had that bow until I was sixteen. It broke when a dire boar stepped on it."

I couldn't hold back a laugh. "You'll have to tell me that story sometime, you know."

As we continued onward, we walked into what had to have been the town of Redfallow's Watch. I could see where pigpens and stables had been. I looked over at Bishop; his shoulders seemed to sag under the weight of his actions. His jaw was set as if he were facing something new and terrifying.

We looked around the skeletal remains of the homes that once stood, and Bishop was quiet as he took in what he had done. Few bodies still remained, as most had been destroyed by the elements or by animals. He paused before one of the larger homes. A look of comprehension crossed his face as he gazed in the soot-covered window. "This was Edward's home, Cari."

I raised an eyebrow in question. "Who's Edward?"

He smiled painfully. "Edward was my best friend growing up. We'd get into so much mischief and trouble…it's a wonder we didn't get thrown in the stocks more often than we did." He walked to the front door. "I had forgotten about him."

We stepped inside and looked around. It looked as if whoever had lived there had grabbed some belongings and left in a hurry. Bishop sighed. "Apparently he actually listened to me when I told him to run." We rummaged through the decrepit house, finding burned books and old clothes strewn about. I walked into one of the bedrooms and felt the air rush out of my lungs. "Bishop?"

He hurried to me and stopped suddenly. He knelt down and picked up a small teddy bear that lay on the ground. It was burned and charred, but still undeniably a teddy bear. He stared at it for a long time. "I…had forgotten that Edward had a son. I'd received word of it when I was in Luskan."

Bishop looked around at once was the cradle that once held the baby boy. "It seems they all made it out okay," he said, his voice heavy with sorrow.

Still holding the teddy bear, we left and continued on. He was silent for a long time before he stopped me in front of the remnants of a small house. "Wait Cari, this was my home," he whispered.

Bishop pushed on the remains of the charred front door; it fell from its hinges as we stepped over the threshold. It appeared to be a small, simple home; any furniture was destroyed in the blaze. We turned the corner into the kitchen and he gasped, dropping the bear. We saw two charred bodies lying on the floor, the smaller one clutching an even smaller form.

"No…no, this can't be…" he murmured. "No…" I gently touched his arm; he fell to his knees as he stared at the corpses. I knelt beside him as he started to shake. "Cari…I…no…"

"Bishop, what is it?" I asked quietly. "She wasn't supposed to be here, no, she wasn't," he stuttered.

"Who wasn't supposed to be here?"

He pointed a shaking hand to the tiny form clutched in the arms of one of the scorched bodies. "Eleanor wasn't supposed to be here…" I realized with horror that the tiny body was that of his young sister. Bishop had always talked about finding her one day; about teaching her the ways of nature.

"Cari, she was supposed to be in the care of my grandmother…she shouldn't have been here," he said softly; his shoulders heaving as the tears slid down his cheeks. I wrapped my arms around him and held him to my chest; he let out a wail of pain I'd never heard him cry before. It was sorrow, utter and complete grief reaching from the deepest reaches of his heart.

"I killed her Cari; my baby sister…I killed her," he sobbed. "I can't face this anymore, Cari, I just, I can't do this…"

I squeezed him tightly. "Bishop, you've come too far to turn back now. This is painful, and difficult, and trying for you, but you must go on! You have to! I can't lose you!"

He sobbed even harder. "Cari, you don't deserve someone like me. Look at what I've done!"

I sighed, gently stroking his hair as I rocked him back and forth. "Bishop, I don't want anybody else. I want you with me. The fact that you are finally able to grieve for your actions is a remarkable step. Do you think it was easy for me to confront those families? For me to face my horrible deeds? Think about how many sons and daughters I murdered in cold blood. We can do this, but we need to do this together."

"Cari, why are we doing this? Why are we putting ourselves through this?"

I sighed again. "Because, Bishop, we both want to start anew. We both want second chances. I'm willing to make the effort to make that change, are you?"

Bishop gulped and sniffled; the tears were slowly ceasing. "I am, but this is so hard. I can't believe Eleanor was here too…I…I really messed up this time."

I nodded. "Yes, we all have, but you can make up for it. Nothing can bring them back, but you can give them respect in death."

The ranger sighed. "You're right, Cari. Let's set up a funeral pyre for them. They deserve their rites."

I smiled sadly. "I know this is hard, Bishop, but you can do this. Your family deserves that much." He nodded, slowly pulling away and standing up. He offered me his hand and pulled me to my feet. We gathered some fresh wood from the nearby trees and built a large pyre. I helped Bishop move the bodies outside, and we stood in silence as the pyre was engulfed in flames.

I closed my eyes; the heat from the fire was burning them. I heard Bishop shift next to me and was startled to hear him sing. I'd only heard him sing once before: he had been drunk off his ass in the Flagon, and he was singing this wonderfully lewd song about an Elven barmaid.

Not this time. He was singing an elvish funeral hymn, something I'd heard Daeghun sing occasionally on the anniversary of the battle of West Harbor. He had a surprisingly beautiful singing voice, given how gravelly his speaking voice tended to be. I felt the tears roll down my cheeks as he chanted, his low tenor echoing in my head. The song was haunting when Daeghun sang it, and the pain in Bishop's voice made it even more so.

His voice was wavering at the end; tears streaked the soot and ash covering his face. He dropped to his knees and clasped his hands together. "Lathander, Morninglord, please forgive me in the face of my sins. I wish nothing more than to begin anew, to be given a second chance. Please, Lathander, hear my plea. I want to be alive again. I want to feel."

I knelt beside him. I'd never heard him pray before, I'm not sure he ever had. I bowed my head and entwined my fingers; I looked sideways at Bishop as I began to pray as well. "Lathander, o Morninglord…please forgive us in the face of our sins. We ask for your patience and your blessing as we continue this path to cleanse our souls."

I felt a warm rush flow over my skin, and I looked down at my hands and saw a faint glow emanating from them. I glanced over at Bishop; his skin had the same faint glow about it. I smiled. "It appears someone has heard our prayers, Bishop."

He looked over his own hands, touching them as if he could not believe they were his. "You're right, Cari. I think I can do this." He turned and smiled at me. "I thank you for believing in me, fy cariad."

I stared at him. "What did you call me?"

He blushed suddenly and looked down. "Nothing; it's nothing Cari."

"Bishop, what did you say?" I said quietly, lightly caressing his cheek.

"Fy cariad, Cari. It means…"

I put a finger to his lips. "I know what it means, mo leannán."

His eyes grew wide; I wrapped my fingers in his. "Mo leannán, Cari…"

"Fy cariad, Bishop," I said softly, smiling at the ranger. He slowly pulled a hand away and cradled my chin; I shivered as the calluses scraped against my skin. "Fy cariad…" he whispered, closing his eyes and kissing me gently.

My heart swelled as our lips touched. His kiss, once harsh and selfish, was now soft and loving. His other hand slipped from mine to rest on my knee; I reached up and cupped his face in my hands. We sat like that for a long while, our lips touching, our hands holding each other, exploring these new feelings in ourselves, and each other.

We finally pulled apart, the light in Bishop's eyes was brighter than ever. The kohl that rimmed his eyes was smudged from the tears; I reached up and wiped some of it off his cheeks. He looked at the pyre; the flames reached high, leaping and dancing in the air. "We should rest, Cari, we need to leave for my next stop. I'm, I'm afraid to be alone right now…please, will you sleep with me tonight?"

I smiled. "Of course. Karnwyr can keep watch again. I have some of those beef strips he loves." We set up our bedrolls once more; he wrapped his arm around my side and pulled me close. The warmth of his body was comforting despite the heat emanating from the pyre. Bishop sighed; he pressed his body close to mine as he nuzzled his nose in my hair. "Thank you, Cari, for everything."

I chuckled softly, sliding my other hand up his arm. "You're very welcome, Bishop. Thank you for all you've done, as well."

"Not yet, I take it?" he said, giggling. I turned my head back to look at him; he had a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "Not yet, Bishop, sorry. We are sort of sleeping next to a funeral pyre. And," I said, pulling my arm free and gesturing into the air, "did you just giggle?"

"Sure did, Cari. It's quite fun, actually," he said softly. I laughed to myself as we drifted off, not as two traveling companions, or two hormonally-charged sex addicts, but as two people in love