Sorry if these updates are slow. I'm still in the process of writing, and I don't want to get too far ahead of the updates so that I'm rushing to write anything.

This chapter is a bit of a filler. I apologize. XP

Zen

Book Three, Part Two

It wasn't so. Dawn arrived, but Zen's aura was still missing.

I dressed quickly, fully intent on leaving the city to keep my mind occupied. I donned a simple dress, fluffing my brown hair in an effort to look more feminine.

It was a good time to visit my mother. I hadn't seen her or Matthew in weeks. I got there easily, so accustomed to the trek now. I knocked on the front door of the small cottage, the action odd. Hadn't I lived here before?

The door flew open, and Matthew's charming face was alit with happiness. "Sis!" he exclaimed, barreling into me with a fierce a hug. I grinned, returning the embrace with a giggle. Mother appeared at the doorway, a smile lighting her features as well. When Matthew had released me, I went to hug Mother. "My darling daughter!" she cooed, hugging me tightly.

"I've got a bit of a break the next couple of days, so I decided to visit," I explained as we sat at the table.

"Well, we're delighted!" my mother exclaimed. She must have been in the process of baking cookies—how she was capable of such at the crack of dawn was beyond me.

We chatted a bit about my progress, which was mostly top secret, when mother asked about Lucas and Dennis.

"I'm not quite sure what they're up to," I answered honestly. "They've been full members of the Alliance army for awhile. Their experiences are far different from mine. Gone constantly." Fear crawled into my mother's features, and I quickly understood her thoughts. "They're fine," I stressed. "The pair of them have a will stronger than a herd of ox. You know that."

I stayed for lunch, but left shortly after. A part of me feared getting too close to my family. If I died in the near future, the parting would be less impacting if I kept my distance now. Of course, I didn't plan on dying any time soon, but when taking in consideration the class I had grown dedicated to, anything was possible.

To pass time, I wandered around Stormwind, near the trading center. I nearly ran over a gnome that was making his way to the apple stand. One man bartering jewelry gave me a very devious smirk, but I paid no attention. He didn't know I could incapacitate him with a twitch of my hand.

So what, a rogue wears a dress, and all of a sudden she's to be fawned over?

It was irritating, the way some of them stared. Not just at me: at any girl wandering the center. I grew too angry simply observing the town life around me, and had to retire to Zen's house.

The silence in the house reflected my mind. Blank, lifeless. My senses were thrown off balance ever since Zen left. His aura had become natural to me, almost part of my own self it was so common. Now I felt distorted, out of touch with myself.

I didn't make an attempt to pass the time quicker within the house. Almost mournfully, I put on a black silk nightdress, despite the rays of sun creeping through the curtains' opening. The bright, happy bustle of the streets was starting to make my head pound.

Everything felt foreign to the touch now, without Zen's aura looming over it. So distant, unknown. At times I wondered if I was still conscious atop the bed, my assumption wavering when I zoned out…

I couldn't concentrate on any single object, or it seemed to melt underneath my gaze. The disappearance of Zen's aura, I was afraid, was detrimental to my mental state. His presence had acted as my connection to reality, and without it, where was I?

I laid there, the slit of sunlight that had been peeking through the curtain's openings burning my eyes, until nightfall.

Naturally, I was always more comfortable in the darkness of night. It had always been my therapy. Slowly I rose off the bed, my small hands pulling the curtains away from the window in a rush of exhilaration. Midnight blue skies greeted me, spiced by the glitter of stars. The moon perched above an angular rooftop up ahead.

It wasn't enough to completely occupy me. With more vigor I scooped a cloak from my dresser, threw it on, and was outside in no time. There were still a few people roaming the streets, but they were busy pacing through the city. Besides, they would have a hard time spotting me anyway.

Something had to be done about my sprained senses. I tried to concentrate on any aura I could pick up from the street. Once I got bored with following a few strangers' auras around, I attempted to find Aradar's within the city wall. My eyes were clenched shut in concentration.

At first I couldn't sense him at all, which worried me beyond belief. I automatically assumed that it meant he had gone on this mission to Menethil as well. Panic almost settled in, but then I felt his aura, present in a fog of dozens of unknown auras.

He was at the inn. I smirked. Perhaps his little rogue had experienced Aradar's silly training method, like I had many nights ago. After I sensed my old teacher, however, I couldn't entertain my mind much longer.

A day passed, and another. Still, I couldn't properly function. What was with me, that I couldn't even concentrate without Zen's stupid aura?

It had me worried, and the worry was reflected in my body. I didn't have the motivation to eat or get out. I simply stayed inside, trying not to mull over myself but usually failing miserably. Two days, and nothing had improved. I missed Zen's aura so much that on the third night, I slept in his bed.

Not something he was going to approve of when he returned, but I didn't really care.

At least it smelled like him. It wasn't the same as feeling his aura, but at least it kept my senses engaged. Laying there, on top of Zen's sheets (because I didn't dare alter his bed in fear of having him question me later), I wondered what my issue was.

Maybe I hadn't been missing his presence at all. Maybe I had been missing him, and my senses were merely telling me so. They were my strength, after all. My mind was terribly good at syncing with my heart's feelings.

Of course, whenever I had reached these points (and believe me, I reached them numerous times in those few days), I dropped the subject. I had grown comfortable around Zen, so much so that my senses were playing tricks with my mind, and that was the end of it.

And besides, I was still angry at him for forbidding me from my red missions. He turned me into a crumpled mess, whose mind was simply running amuck or not running at all.

Day four went by, though a barely noticed from the small comfort of Zen's bed. The black curtains nicely hindered any discern of night or day from behind them.

By day five, I was wrongfully thinking of his death. If Zen were to die, and he left me in this state, what would become of me? The question clicked within me, and as if to defy the thought, I pulled my creaking bones off his bed.

I had to steady myself, fingers gripping a bedpost, as my vision momentarily blacked out. My body had suffered as much as my mind, it seemed.

It didn't matter. I had to occupy my mind, get it working again. I couldn't let myself rot here. If Zen were to die…

I shook my head as I shuffled semi-hurriedly up the stairs. Zen wasn't dead. He couldn't be, it wasn't even possible…

But even so, I slipped on something more suitable for the public—a small white dress with purple lace—and stalked out of the house. The sun nearly blinded me; I had to pause a moment to let my eyes adjust.

It was a quicker journey to SI:7 then I had thought. Somebody had to know something about the mission. In the center of the building was a couple of officers I recognized, but I didn't know their names. I huffed silently, then deciding to go to the first person I would normally go to.

Officer Jared was sitting at his desk, scribbling something. When I arrived he looked up, and an expression of confusion etched across his face. Then he blinked. "Grace?" he asked. "Goodness, girl, I hardly recognized you!"

I grimaced. Perhaps it was the dress. It had to be the dress. I was hoping my physical self didn't look as worn down as my mind did.

"You have to know something about their situation," I whispered. It was hard to talk at a normal volume, and I realized it was because I hadn't used my voice the past few days.

He sighed, immediately understanding who I meant by 'their.' "Grace, I don't know any more than you probably know. No messages have come…"

"How many rogues did we send?" I asked, lips tight in an effort not to frown.

"Thirteen."

I swallowed. "Do you have any idea when they will return?" I asked. It came out more desperate than I had intended, but it may have been an effect of the strain on my voice.

"Hopefully, shortly. It's a day's travel. Don't get too worked up yet, Grace."

How could he say that when my teacher was out there?

"Grace," he repeated, and my eyes snapped to his face. I hadn't realized I was staring at the floor previously. "Go get some rest. Lay down for a bit. You look terrible."

My jaw clenched. All I had been doing the past five days was lay down! I couldn't just fall into my bed again, let my consciousness wander off!

"Let me know if you get any updates," I pleaded, then turned and walked down the spiral staircase to the main level. I had been defeated. I didn't really know what I was expecting walking in, but it definitely hadn't been that.

I was three steps down the stairs of SI:7 when I man that had whipped around the corner nearly knocked me over in his rush up. I gasped, gripping the shoulder he had made contact with, and watched his figure up the stairs.

He was bloodied. What looked like a bandage had been wrapped around his forehead. As he slipped up the small stairs I noticed that he had a limp.

Was he one of the rogues sent to Menethil?

His aura was thick with hasty urgency. Following my intuition, I again stepped up the stairs, attempting to follow the man through the hallway he took.

I heard the panicked conversation before I even turned the corner. "They sent me to give a sort of message. They're trying to head back now, but many of us suffered great injury."

"I see." I recognized the voice belonging to Major General Rillhelm. "And how many casualties has SI:7 suffered?"

There was a pause. I held my breath as well, not completely sure if I wanted to hear the answer.

"Eight deaths."

My eyes widened, heart nearly stopping at the number. Eight? Out of thirteen rogues, eight had died? Tears willed themselves to form at my eyes, but I couldn't muster the energy to allow them to fall. My entire attention was stuck on that number.

Eight.

Five survived. Five. And there were fatal injuries. And the odds of Zen being in one of those two categories?

The hum of conversation continued as I remained powerless around the corner. My fists shook at my sides. When the frail messenger and Rillhelm appeared around the wall I was currently stuck to, they didn't seem the least surprised by my presence. Of course, they were rogues. They had felt my aura.

The battered rogue continued past me, but Rillhelm's eyes remained on my figure. Softly, his hand touched my shoulder. "Grace, was it?" he asked, his voice quiet. I nodded, unable to squeak any noise that may introduce a sobbing fit. "Come, child." For once, I didn't mind the name-calling. He shuffled me through the hallway, to the main room once again. Other rogues were beginning to convene here, as if already knowing the return of the others was near.

I was embarrassed, of course. I was on the verge of breaking down, and that was the last thing rogues wanted to see out of another rogue. Female or not, I was still a rogue trainee in the eyes of SI:7. "You will realize in time, Grace, that this is part of the routine around here," Rillhelm explained.

I knew that, I wanted to argue. But did it make it any more fair in anyone's eyes?

A few more rogues had arrived at the news of a rumored return. Aradar arrived, his little buddy in tow. He seemed to understand the inner turmoil I was feeling. The older rogue wrapped his arms around me, fingers stroking my hair, before he pulled away and smiled grimly.

Then, over the course of a few moments, I began to feel warm. My spine straightened at the strange feeling. It was comforting, natural…

Zen. There couldn't be any other explanation for the aura I was feeling. I felt whole again, and a smile arrived on my face, probably scaring anyone that was looking at me.

He was alive. That's all I needed to know in order to feel okay again. Without a look around me I stalked outside to the steps. Moments after I moved, others followed, exclaiming, "They're here!"

Suddenly I felt sick, my throat constricted and dry. Zen was alive, but was he well? Four figures were making a slow journey toward us. One was being carried by two others. To my utter relief, one of carriers was Zen.

He was injured. Blood stains were especially concentrated around his torso. A trail of dried blood was painting the side of his face.

Medics rushed to the aid of the one being carried first. He was set on the ground, and the other two hurriedly explained to the doctors that he had fallen in battle. "The Undead…they tried to turn him, I think," Zen offered. His voice…I had almost forgotten what it sounded like. "He's got at least two bites…we weren't sure if…"

I was closer to the maimed rogue than the others currently behind me. He was still conscious, which scared me the most. His body shook, teeth chattering. Panicky sounds that might have been an effort at communication escaped his throat.

He had a bite wound at his throat—unlike mine, his wound was missing a good piece of tissue. Already the skin around it was black, ashy. Another bite was on his arms, also beginning to gray. What had me make a step back was the man's eyes—around the brown orbs a lining of blood red was forming. Suddenly, my joy at seeing Zen was replaced with utter terror for this man.

The medic must have been well prepared. He took out his familiar liquid, applied it generously to a piece of cloth, and placed it firmly on the man's neck.

A scream erupted, so full of pain and agony that I took another step back in fear. The man's body convulsed, and I understood that this rogue was probably suffering a thousand times over what I had when I was bitten.

He lurched in the medic's grasp, his strength so great it took two others, including Zen, to hold him down. The rogue howled, and a sizzling sound greeted my ears. I put a hand to my mouth, trying to stifle the gasp I knew had caught in my throat.

As if the pain wasn't enough, the doctor took one more piece of the doused material and placed them on his arm bite. Apparently the pain had heightened so badly that the man was beyond hollers of pain—a growl escaped his lips, and then all he could do was breathe, gulps of air audible over the thuds of his hands pounding stone beneath him.

"His body is weakened," the doctor mumbled, so quietly that I wasn't sure how many people could hear him. "The bites have spread too far, I'm afraid he may not make it through this…"

The sizzling stopped. I looked over the man, whose writhing had slowed to a rock. Zen and another man let go of him, standing up and helplessly watching.

"That's all the good the serum will do," the medic announced. "He's still breathing…I won't be surprised if he dies overnight. But I'll keep an eye on him."

The man was carried up the stairs by a few officers who hadn't been away. With the body gone, nothing was between Zen and I. We locked eyes at the same time, and he mustered a small smile.

I took the invitation too willingly, stepping over an invisible barrier between he and I and wrapping my arms around his waist. With less awkwardness than I had imagined, his arms were around me as well.

I didn't say anything as I simply stood there in Zen's arms. The contact didn't bother me as it would have in the past—my body relaxed now that it knew Zen had returned, after all.

Instead I listened to his breathing as it grazed my neck. Evidence that he was alive and well—it exhilarated me.

I sniffed, shoulders bouncing at the action, and I realized that at some point I had started crying. Quickly I pulled away, determined not to let anyone still surrounding us notice my weakened state. My fingers ruthlessly forced away any hot liquid convening at my eyes, and I managed a small smile at Zen. He seemed more composed than I, but his aura, I now noticed, had shifted at our contact. It was sweeter, more calming, if possible. His hands were still on my shoulders, as if the contact eased him as well.

"You look horrible," he finally stated, the sentence breaking with a small chuckle.

"So do you," I retorted. Some of the crimson stains of Zen's clothing had partially transferred to my white dress, which immediately alarmed me. "Are you hurt? Are you bitten?" My hand pressed against his chest, inspecting the thick armor, and a wince from Zen let me know that his affliction was along his stomach.

Zen rolled his eyes as if he expected the interrogation. "Hurt, yes. Bitten, no." When I shot him an expecting look, he sighed, then hesitantly shrugged off his shoulder and chest armor, handing it to me begrudgingly. Underneath was his cloth shirt, thick with red now that I could see it completely. Once his fingers pulled that bloody piece away as well, I gasped. A single slash decorated his normally perfect skin, still bleeding and obviously deep enough to be considered serious.

I cursed. "Could've mentioned that, Zen!" I growled.

"I've had worse," he commented simply. With a grumble I yanked Zen's shirt off his shoulders, only mildly amused by the fact that Zen didn't protest. That's right, let the raging woman make her peace.

"I hope you weren't very attached to this shirt," I muttered, rolling the blotched fabric into a ball and placing it over Zen's cut. "Stupid rogue," I seethed, dragging Zen and his abandoned gear through SI:7 to the medic's quarters. I tried to ignore the motionless body now set on a cot against the far corner.

The doctor looked the pair of us over with worried eyes. "You weren't bitten, were you?" he asked Zen carefully.

"No," Zen replied. "The soldiers that were bitten during the fight were ravaged beyond recognition. Many of our own turned against us," he explained. "We had to kill some of our own ranks."

My eyes focused on the floor in an effort to keep the images of such a battle out of my mind. Our own rogues with red eyes, bloodthirsty growls and claws ready to rip apart at contact.

"Let's see what I have to work with, then," the man encouraged. I pulled the shirt, even more bloody than before, away from the gash.

The medic sighed, his fingers gracefully inspecting the skin. Blood seeped from the corner. "Normally, I'd shuffle wounds like these to the hospital. But since they're probably swimming in battle wounds," he turned to one of his cupboards, setting on the counter various supplies, "I suppose I'll make do."

Zen's wound was washed clean with antiseptic. He had a bruise forming along his jaw line, and a small scrape grazed the skin surrounding his right elbow.

"Grace," Zen mumbled as he watched the other man pour a numbing potion over his wound. It must have been uncomfortable—he gripped the edge of the counter he was sitting on with brute force. "You don't have to stay," he finished, bare chest finally deflating with a much needed exhale.

I fidgeted in my seat across from the other two. "Can't I stay?" I asked. The medic glanced at Zen's reaction, a smile forming on his lips, as he pulled together his needle and thread.

Zen blinked, slightly confused. His pondering gaze mulled over my frail form. Again, his observations on me must have come up short, because he sighed in defeat. "You can stay if you want."

I nodded aimlessly, watching the needle puncture Zen's skin. The rogue didn't seem to feel the thread as it pulled through the layers of skin. In no time the gash was stitched up expertly.

"No extreme movement for a week or so," the expert explained. Zen nodded, but I could tell he really wasn't listening. Slowly he dismounted from his perch, attempting not to emit any signs of discomfort. "Come back in a week," the doctor said as he cleaned up the counter. "We'll see if they'll be ready to be removed then."

With a nod, Zen moved to the door. "Thanks, Brae."

"Just my job, Zen."

We took the needed turns to exit SI:7, Zen's chest piece and tattered shirt still in my hands. I followed behind, still recuperating after such a terrible few days.

Once we were inside Zen turned to me. "You need to eat something," he stated. I bit my lip, remembering that I really hadn't eaten anything except an apple or so here and there over the last few days. I had been afraid I'd be unable to hold down the food. "Have you gotten any sleep?" Zen asked, still without a shirt as he fished through the kitchen pantries.

I sat down at the table. "I tried to," I answered.

Zen made me some bread with jam. I ate slowly, the sweet jam a near overload on my taste buds. The rogue sat across from me, watching me nibble at the food. "Soon, we're going to get some food at the inn. Looks like you need something warm in your system." I nodded, suddenly wary that with Zen back everything would return to what was now seemed normal. "Care to explain why you look so sick?" Zen asked.

I paused, not quite sure if he'd consider me completely crazy if I told the truth.

"I'm not sure," I began safely. "When you left…my body shut down."

A perplexed eyebrow rose. "Because I left?"

"Well, because you were gone," I explained weakly. The bread was momentarily forgotten on my plate.

Silence took over for a moment, and then Zen shook his head. "I'm afraid I'm not following."

Wonderful. Looked like my defense was expelled. Time to prepare for the utter embarrassment.

"I think I grew so used to your aura that when it disappeared, it was like I lost a part of myself. It was…scary." When Zen didn't comment, I sighed. "It was like you took a part of me with you. I couldn't function properly…And it was completely out of my control."

"Out of your control?" he repeated.

"Like an addiction, maybe," I offered. Just how stupid did I sound? I blushed responsively. "My entire being went through withdrawals. Mind, body, spirit. Demolished."

"All because I was gone…a few days?" Zen asked, with a tone that was borderline amusement and perplexity.

"Laugh all you want, I'm only telling you what you wanted to know!" I hissed. "I have no explanation for my behavior."

"So, it would be a bit unnecessary for me to say it's all in your head?" the man mentioned casually.

I glared. "Do you think I wanted this to happen to me? That I asked for this?"

"No," Zen muttered. "I just didn't expect to return to you looking like this," he said, arms sitting on the table.

"Maybe I was simply worried," I suggested, thinking for the both of us. "You left rather abruptly. Maybe it was just…a shock to my senses."

"Your senses?"

"I got headaches, even," I explained. "I couldn't sense your aura. My senses got all jumbled."

Unexpectedly, Zen's face lit up with an arrogant smile. "Let me get this straight. Your senses are addicted?"

"So it seems," I grumbled. "But…"

"So, the senses were begging for…my presence." He chuckled. "But it was in your head? It wasn't…a feeling, per say? Your complexity never ceases to amaze me…"

"Not a f--" I growled in irritation. "I can feel, too, Zen. I know my 'human' qualities missed you, too-"

Deciding I had perhaps said a bit too much, I clapped my mouth shut.

"So…" Zen was trying to dissect my issue as much as I was. "So it's not just your mind. It's your heart as well?"

I didn't have to answer these stupid questions. In fact, what had happened seemed almost petty now. Zen's absence affected me, yes, but was it really something to get worked up about? It would mend in no time, and with practice…

"Grace."

Another growl escaped my throat. "I'm only human. Of course I missed you. I was worried, scared, nervous…you know, experiencing feelings."

"Maybe you're looking at it the wrong way, then," Zen proposed. His eyes were unreadable. "Perhaps your heart was doing the missing, and it was your silly rogue senses that intensified it for you."

"Whatever it is, it left me incapacitated. My feelings took control. I…I'm sorry for that."

Normally, Zen's hand would rest at my shoulder. But this time his hand, still worn from battle, rested in the space of my neck. I stifled something between a gasp and a sigh. It was as if his aura intensified, if possible, with contact. His touch was far too nice. "Feelings can get in the way on the battlefield," he whispered, soothing voice forcing my gaze to his. Understanding made his eyes glow. I sighed, only relieved that I wasn't considered completely loony. "C'mon, get dressed. Dinner at the inn, my treat."

I smiled, but before I could even think about moving to change, Zen's other hand landed on my shoulder. For a moment we sat there, his sparkling eyes looking over every detail of my face, landing on my cheek, eyes, lips. "I missed you too," he whispered, so softly that I had initially thought I had imagined it.

Before I could properly register the comment, Zen disappeared into his room. In a sort of trance I went to my own room, my entire face beaming once I was alone.

At the inn, Zen placed more food in front of me and him than a starving lion could handle. Steak, potatoes, steamed vegetables. Both Zen and I ate the massive plates of food, joking and laughing. Zen even allowed me a cup of ale, which I gratefully accepted.

Only an hour or so into our time at the inn, other people Zen knew had arrived, sitting next to my teacher. Before I could register what had happened (blame the abundance of ale), tables were pushed along our own, and numerous men had joined our small party.

It was extremely noisy, but the alcohol kind of blocked out the ringing. All that mattered was that Zen was enjoying himself next to me. He chuckled and jested with men I recognized as well as some I did not.

And I felt loads better, anyway. So I had no complaints.

A few hours later, Zen and I were heading home. The male was attached to my hip and clearly had more to drink—I was the one keeping his face off the pavement.

Surprisingly, Zen can still carry his grace and eloquence, I mused.

The two of us nearly stumbled into his front door, and I winced.

For the most part, at least.

I pretty much dropped him onto his bed, careful that his stitches were okay and that his head didn't thump against the headboard. "I'm sorry," Zen mumbled, his hand rubbing his forehead.

"You had a rough couple of days," I said softly. "Don't be sorry."

"But…" He sighed, clearly unable to comprehend beyond exhaustion. "Thanks, Grace."

"Anytime, Zen."

And with that I retired to my own room.

I wasn't sure how the next day would follow. When I woke up, I opted not to change into pants fit for combat. Zen was sitting at the table, a glass of water in his hand. He still wore his clothes from the day before as well.

I didn't know if I should mention my training. Before Zen even glanced at me, though, he lifted my burden. "I won't be in any condition to fight for a week…for your missions," he announced as if I had no idea.

"I can wait another week," I offered.

"No." I pursed my lips, ready to question him, as he continued: "I think you should tag along with one of the other recruits in red training. They have ample protection as well during tasks, so you presence would only help their progress."

Sighing, I couldn't deny the logic in that. I shrugged. "It couldn't hurt."

He nodded. "I've spoken to Cole, the trainer of his red-trainee, Robert. He has agreed to the proposition as well. He's actually quite interested in your abilities…but then again, I tend to brag…"

I growled. "You already talked to him about it? What if I didn't want to cooperate?"

Zen smirked. "But you do. Now gear up so we can go meet them."

I also wanted to mention that your reviews are greatly appreciated. Every single one makes me smile...even if it's a bad review XD
You guys keep me writing! So thnx!

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