So I'm going to try to start updating more often, since I finished writing and all. lol.

Book Ten, Part Two

Blood

Abruptly I opened my eyes, my senses spiking and actually stirring me awake. I found myself wishing the pain had subsided with rest, but as I rolled onto my good side I realized how mistaken that wish was.

The pain had me hissing, but what caught the bulk of my attention was Zen's presence. He wasn't sitting this time, and his aura was as rigid as his shoulders as he looked me over. "Zen," I breathed, "what's wrong?"

He looked over his shoulders, but his focus didn't seem to tear away from me. In a blink his eyes were locked back onto mine. "I wanted to say goodbye quickly before I left-"

"You're leaving?" I asked, my voice straining for a number of reasons.

"Grace." Even in minimal light, I found a trace of an amusing smile on his face. His body drew in a little closer. "It's only temporary. Fordring had requested anyone able to assist in the next battle."

"Another battle? We just fought and I'm sure most of us aren't ready to-"

"We're not alone. This time, Darion had pulled through. We meet the death knights at the Pinnacle."

At the mention of the death knights, I clenched the bed and forced myself upright through the pain. "I'm coming with you. I have to-" I toppled off the cot, vision blotched as vertigo took hold.

A pair of strong arms kept me staggering onto my feet. When my vision cleared, Zen's angelic face was a breath away. "You can't go, Grace. It's a battle and you can't even stand."

"But-"

"Taellor," Zen called. The elf arrived promptly, causing me to wonder how I hadn't sensed him so close and put it together when Zen had glanced outside. "Taellor's going to make sure you stay out of trouble. And make sure you don't kill yourself playing dress up overnight…"

I didn't even acknowledge the attempt at humor. "You can't leave me here!" I begged. "Lucas will be there-"

"It's dangerous."

"Taellor, please…"

"Zen's right." It must have taken all of his strength for Taellor to admit. "You'd be killed."

Tears were pricking at my eyes as I panicked. "Zen, you can't leave."

"Lucas would not allow you to-"

"What if you don't come back?" I asked in a whisper.

Zen's mouth opened, but when words didn't form, he exhaled and pulled me into a gentle hug. The tinge of pain in my back didn't seem so bad then. "I will come back." Pulling away, Zen's hand went to clasp my cheek, and I released a shaky breath at the contact. It was the most intimate Zen had probably ever acted, and I could see sincerity in his eyes as he touched me. "I'll take you to see him when it's over. I'll come back, okay?"

I nodded numbly, in a daze until Zen's lips touched my own. The warmth of his lips was like fire and ice, and for a moment my breathing and thoughts completely halted. I was taken by surprise, my body melting into his as the kiss deepened. Shocked, I allowed the kiss to evolve, my hand moving to Zen's waist as my eagerness surfaced.

It was more than I had ever expected from Zen, but now that he was in my arms, I never wanted it to stop. Part of me feared I was letting him go with a final goodbye.

My heart fluttered as all of the pain and uncertainty that engrossed Zen and I momentarily resolved. For at least this moment, Zen's feelings were clear. There was a smolder of passion underlying Zen' actions as his lips grazed my own. I found myself hoping it wasn't a dream.

The moment passed so quickly, though it felt forever in Zen's arms. He pulled away carefully, eyes never lifting off mine. His fingers brushed away a trailing tear as he forced a smile. "Goodbye, Grace."
I shuddered as Zen pulled away, the absence of his warmth leaving goose bumps on my bare skin. My mouth couldn't form a goodbye as Zen stepped away.

The Human rogue turned, walking by the Night Elf. Taellor's body tensed as he watched Zen leave the tent. The two rogues exchanged glances that could have been animosity, but in my dreaming state, I couldn't focus well. My arms folded as Zen's aura slipped from my senses, and the reality of what happened had my heart thudding through my rib cage.

"Grace, maybe you should sit down."

Nodding, I turned to sit as Taellor came over to help me up. His grip was gentle as he lifted me onto the cot. "Here." A glass of water was in my hands, and I brought it to my lips gratefully.

After I felt a tad better, I lay on my good shoulder and exhaled. Everything associated with happiness seemed just out of reach.

And those last few moments with Zen. It had happened, I finally decided. My lips still tingled, yearning for Zen's again, and my heart wouldn't stop pounding. But was it real? A true kiss from the one man I yearned for?

It had seemed real—I felt the urgency in Zen's lips as we kissed. But then it was over, and the look Zen shot Taellor was one of ownership. We'd shared something special, and then he had given a smug look saying he had won, after all.

Then there was always how his aura could snap back to vacant with a blink of an eye. But he was a rogue, I reminded myself. And very good at controlling his emotions.

And very good at deceit.

Was it an act?

All I knew was how it had made me feel. And that Zen had to come back. Not only because I had to see Lucas, but because Zen had to explain that kiss and his intentions. Okay, so I had left him initially in an attempt to protect him; but it didn't make it any easier to deal with my troubles. Every passing moment away from Zen hurt a little more.

And there was always that possibility—a very high one—that Zen would never return. Maybe it wouldn't happen today, or tomorrow, but Risk didn't care what day it was or when death was more convenient.

I had accepted that when I accepted my new life as a rogue of the Alliance.

But nothing was black and white. I wanted to growl and cry at the same time. Not with Dennis, not with Lucas, not with Taellor or Zen or Gregor or the Alliance or Horde…

It would be my fortune. Count on my story to end in tragedy—my true love comes around and we share a departing kiss…and then he falls in battle, and I'm left heart-broken and emotionless as ever, left to my heartless rogue lifestyle once more, and this time alone for good.

"Grace?"

"He has to come back," I announced.

Taellor said nothing but patted my arm gently. I contemplated falling back asleep to pass the time and dull the pain, but someone at the curtain distracted my senses.

"Gregor." Taellor's tone was actually neutral, though I knew he still owned some animosity toward him. The priest nodded his greeting; in his hands were rolls of gauze and scissors, as well as vials of liquids.

"Always the one to bring such good news," I growled in anticipation.

"I have to check the sutures and change your dressings," Gregor reaffirmed lightly.

I hissed preemptively. "How about a strong antidote for pain, doctor Gregor?"

"He who suffers no pain does not live," he recited in a calm, collected voice as he delicately slipped the equipment onto my table.

"Antidote, not anecdote," I growled. Gregor chuckled, his eyes turning over my covered wounds.

"I didn't know priests had a sense of humor," Taellor commented, still positioned in the corner as he folded his arms.

"We wear dresses in battle," Gregor said, "we have to own some sort of sense of humor."

I wanted to chuckle in amusement, but Gregor's ice-cold hands were already peeling at the heavy bandages below my left collarbone. "Hmm," the priest hummed. "I think we'll have to take this shirt off. I'll have to rewrap the bandages."

Sighing, I consented with a nod and attempted to sit up. Gregor assisted, and Taellor appeared at my side with a blanket, his hands quickly moving to give me some sort of decency as the shirt was peeled off my sticky skin.

A small wince jerked at my face as a piece of adhesive took some skin off with it. Once the stitches felt exposed, I took a glance at the handiwork. Five small stitches were sewn closely together. There was still a little dried blood surrounding the string, which Gregor took note of. He nodded as he grabbed a gray vial and cloth, saturated it, and dabbed gently at the site.

It stung a bit, and I hissed—Gregor's hush was just loud enough to drown my noise. "It's healing well. No redness or swelling…" The priest picked up another bottle and applied a light coat of something sweet smelling on it. "That should do well." As he patted the wound dry (another uncomfortable action), I looked him over with glossy eyes. "Why aren't you off fighting?"

"Some are fighting. Others sustained injuries that kept them here. I volunteered to stay behind and help out."

Gregor grabbed more bandages and pads, but before he covered my sutures he hovered his hand over the wound, and I felt the familiar warmth as the Light spread across my chest.

It felt soothing, but my good arm reached over and grabbed Gregor's hand. "Don't," I muttered, a tad breathless.

"Grace-?"

"You're exhausted," I stated. "You have to work harder to use the Light. Use it on someone else who really needs the Light's aid."

"You're hurt," Gregor explained.

"I'm not dying. Others are."

The priest tightened his lips, as if it was against his better judgment, but his hand pulled anyway and he continued to wrap it in gauze. The material was a bit excessive—it wrapped over my affected shoulder, under, and then across and over my opposite shoulder. It was layered multiple times in that sequence.

Then I had to roll over clumsily and let Gregor get a look at wound number two. I knew not to expect a field of roses when it came to comfort level—unless of course, we were talking about the thorns.

Even removing the bandages was painful—they overlapped my newer gauze, so Gregor snipped the material off. But when the bandage pad was removed, I felt my wound go with it.

I cursed in a low growl, my limbs already shaking as I guarded from Gregor's touch. This time, I wasn't hushed. "Sorry," Gregor consoled. Every tug was a prick of burning pain as Gregor manipulated the multiple tears in the skin. "They aren't large cuts," the priest explained. "But the lacerations were moderately deep. I didn't want to stitch them just yet, I wanted them to start healing from the inside out."

My lip pulled into a snarl. That was a pretty picture. "Aren't they going to bleed easily?" I groaned. Blotches of hot and cold sweat were forming down my spine and spotting my forehead.

"They would be, but a little packing and holy Light, and they're coming along fine."

"No more Light," I warned.

"I forgot you had a deathbed wish to bleed out on the sheets," Gregor commented sarcastically.

"I won't-"

"Grace, you're far too active. You'll rip them open. If you want to be up and running again any time in the near future, I'll have to use the Light."

Stupid priest. "Fine."

Gregor had to remove the packing in some of the more brutal slashes, which caused tears to slip down my face. The fire was returning, almost as remarkable as the initial injury—minus the shock and blood loss.

Eventually, the sensation dulled. My body had finally acclimated to the pain. Once everything was redone, Gregor's hands grazed my shoulder blade and a healing touch left my discomfort much more tolerable.

"Better?" he asked.

"When will they be stitched?" I asked.

"Very soon. Tomorrow, if I decide the tissue is healthy enough."

Carefully, I was wrapped in more gauze. The layers were thick, hot, and itchy, but the Light always had a calming effect.

"How's your arm?"

I held up the affected right limp, choking back the urge to say enough was enough. Gregor unwrapped it quickly, revealing the six stitches. "Good. This one was minor." With that he rewrapped it and set my arm down. "I'd hate to wake a sleeping Vrykul," the priest began, "but how are the headaches?"

I shrugged. "No headaches. Maybe you cured me."

Gregor grimaced. "We'll keep monitoring it. You're very vulnerable right now."

"I know, I know."

"Okay, okay. Any changes or uneasiness about anything, and you'll seek me out." It was fact rather than a question, but I nodded anyway. "I'll try to make my rounds shortly."

After patting me on the hand, Gregor dismissed himself, and Taellor finally peeled himself off the wall and sat in the chair at my bedside. "I need to stop this near-death thing," I grumbled. "It's completely uncomfortable."

"I can safely say I've been there as well."

Taellor left only to grab me lunch after he made me promise I wouldn't try running off. Rogue's honor, I chided.

I was too tired to try anything stupid, but the pain control had me intent on getting myself upright, at least. My back ached and bones complained, but I finally was able to sit up. A throb was forming behind my eyes, but it was tolerable.

Just don't let it be him, I thought.

Carefully I stood on two feet, the stretch a relief for my sore body. If I was going to see Lucas, I had to get some mobility. Right at the moment I felt like a cross between and old retired grandfather and a mobile, Undead carcass.

What if I lost Lucas?

Lucas and Zen. Why couldn't it just be me? I would trade my life for either of theirs. I would do anything that would promise their safety. Now I waited. And suffered. Physically and mentally.

Finally Taellor returned, and after seeing me up and standing, his eyes grew suspicious. "I just wanted to stretch," I explained innocently.

"Mhm." Taellor placed the bowl of soup on the table as I gracefully pulled myself back on the bed and continued to collapse into the headboard. "Here." Taellor's strong hands pulled me back up so I could eat.

I sighed. "You shouldn't have to babysit me. I'm not going anywhere."

"Well, maybe I prefer your company," Taellor suggested, the soup now in my hands. I didn't feel too hungry, but my stomach growled in disagreement. "Besides, everyone else worth talking to is gone."

"Did Vii and Kae go?"

"Yes. But Blizz has to rest. One of those things landed an arrow into her hind leg."

"At least they're alive." I shook my head. "Where were the death knights? They're supposed to help. We need help. Our numbers are dwindling…"

"They're helping in their own way, on their own front," Taellor answered. "We're lucky for their assistance at the pinnacle."

"I miss my brother," I sighed. "And I don't even know if he's capable of missing me."

"Don't talk like that," Taellor berated softly. I slipped a spoonful of warm broth into my mouth and savored the salty taste.

"Do you ever wish you had a normal life?" I asked quietly. The Night Elf shifted in the small seat, his arm propped on the end table.

"Sometimes. But then I think of how boring it'd be."

I scoffed with a slight smile. "You mean safe."

"Well, what would you choose?" Taellor asked. Blinking, I could only contemplate it for a moment.

My head pounded, the pressure coming all at once and forcing me to wince. Immediately I knew the cause. This time though, I didn't drift away completely. My eyes squeezed shut, and I took the opportunity to use Gregor's training and put up my barriers.

Leave no survivors!

It was the same cold, chilling voice that always haunted my mind. I felt so violated, and I'd had enough. My ability to defend my mind had grown.

Feast upon the flesh of the…

The voice faded. I stayed there, closed up, until my body was too weak to hold on. When I opened my eyes, Taellor was blurry, but his eyes held interest. "It's started," I whispered. "The battle began."

"How many were there?"

"I don't know. I-I blocked it out. He wasn't addressing me this time; I thought it'd make good practice."

"That's amazing."

My fingers rubbed at my temples. "What?"

"Your aura. It…vanished. I nearly couldn't sense it."

"Gregor taught me well, I suppose."

"You are…such a rogue. It's ridiculous."

I shrugged. "And that's thanks to Zen."

Taellor chuckled. "Someday you'll realize how good you are. And everyone else will, too."

The soup was starting to cool in my hands, but I wasn't too worried about it. There was another battle just past the cliffs. I had seen the pinnacle before, and the amount of Scourge that had habited Scourgeholme.

I could still lose the ones I loved. But that was war. And I was sitting here.

"What if they lose?" I asked. "What if they are overpowered? The Scourge could advance and take-"

"I don't think they'd advance. And I don't think we're going to lose. We have the death knights, and some of the best paladins and other soldiers that I've ever met."

"You're so confident."

Taellor wanted me to sleep, but I begged enough that he let me walk around the tent a bit (with his assistance). My good arm draped over Taellor's shoulder as I walked. I didn't stumble, but the discomfort had me stopping frequently for rest.

The movement had me growing weary quickly. We walked back to my bed, passing numerous cubicles closed off by curtains. Sleep was a bit more difficult. My body wanted to rest badly, but thoughts of the battle at the pinnacle wouldn't wane. Eventually I drifted into sleep. It was worth the wait—in sleep, there was no pain.

Taellor woke me up for dinner. I hadn't eaten much for lunch, so I welcomed the food. As I munched on a roll of bread, the pain in my shoulder began to radiate.

"Gregor stopped by while you slept. You seemed well so he said he'd come by later. I could fetch him…"

"No, I'm okay."

"How's your head?"

"Okay, for now."

"And your stitches?"

I winced. "Tolerable."

Somehow we got caught up in a debate between dual wielding swords or daggers. Looking back it probably was Taellor's attempt at keeping my mind off of things.

Nightfall settled in. I was growing nervous; a dry lump was forming in my throat. We hadn't heard yet from our front lines, but we also hadn't been attacked, either.

And it hurt so bad to move, but anxiety had me sitting up and attempting to ace. Taellor, of course, was weary, but he allowed it. Eventually I could walk down the hall and back on my own, but Taellor's eyes continued to watch cautiously.

I was cold. Carefully I wrapped my arms around myself, the bandages tugging and pulling at my stitches.

"Grace."

Exhaling, I glanced over at the Night Elf. "Taellor?"

"You're shivering."

"We're in Northrend."

Taellor's chuckle was always infectious; it made me crack a smile as he slipped off his designated chair. In a smooth gesture only a rogue was capable of he untied his cloak and approached quietly. "You're cold," he repeated, but now his chest was a lean away, his arms wrapping around me.

For a moment I had lost his intentions in the depths of my memory. For a moment we were back in his tent, and I was yearning for a kiss…

The undeniable rush of blood arrived upon my cheeks, even as Taellor's cloak was laid on my shoulders. His elongated fingers tightened around my comparably small frame, and once again we were both caught in the moment, unable to form the appropriate words.

"Grace."

I froze, Zen's aura just now creeping into my radar. Curse my injuries for impairing my senses. And curse my knack for being caught in the most awkward situations.

Taellor and I pulled away at the same time, as if we were caught doing something naughty.

"Zen," I gasped, unable to hide my excitement. Part of me wanted to fall into his arms, but my sensible side held the urge at bay. "My brother, he's alive?"

The rogue took another step forward, and he winced as his left leg advanced. "As alive as a death knight can be." Zen, in the lantern light, had seemed perfectly fine. But as he drew closer, I noticed the crimson stains on his clothing. His left eye seemed a bit swollen and purpled, but I saw no other wounds except his wince as he stepped forward.

"Are—are you okay?" I asked. Carefully I reached out to Zen's bruised cheekbone, his skin still smooth. Zen's hand rose, and expectantly I went to withdraw my touch, but Zen's hand now held mine where it was.

"I'm fine. The battle was won. Are you okay?"

I smiled faintly. "I'm better now."
"Can you walk?"

"Yes."

"She shouldn't be," Taellor warned.

I nearly growled at him. He was perfectly fine with me walking down the hallways when his body was there for support. "I'm fine," I stated thickly, trying to hide my anger.

Zen looked me over. "I may be able to carry you if you can't walk. But he's right…"

"Maybe you should wait," suggest Taellor.

"No, I'm going now," I declared. "The death knights aren't going to hang around." My irritation was beginning to surface. I liked it better when Zen and Taellor didn't agree!

"Okay, come on."
Zen helped me put on my other layers after removing Taellor's cloak from my shoulders; his eyes shot me a vigilant look as I bit my lip to hide my discomfort.

"Taellor." Zen's hand supported my back as I stood. "You're highest in command here at the moment. The other officers will be back soon." Zen stepped and had to inhale. "But there's more to be done past the breach. You may be called on to assist."

The other rogue nodded in understanding. "I'll be waiting."

I smiled. "Bye, Taellor."
"Good luck, Grace."

I managed to hobble out into the cold darkness, the sun already beginning its descent. Immediately I wanted to walk in the direction of Whiplash, but Zen held me in place. "What?" I asked.

"You're not going to ride alone," Zen explained simply.

"But Whiplash…"

Zen sighed, his patience thin. "Okay, we'll ride Whiplash."

When we arrived, my horse stirred in her stall with excitement. And when Zen approached, putting her saddle on, Whiplash gave a scruffy ninny. "It's okay," I soothed, petting the hair on her forehead. Whiplash nuzzled me affectionately and Zen was finished in no time.

With some complications we were both on. The horse shuffled a bit at the extra weight, bringing me back to memories of Whiplash throwing me off into the dirt. But things had changed, and I trusted her now.

I sat behind Zen, my arm without the stitched shoulder blade wrapped around his firm stomach. The gait as we traveled was difficult to cope with, but the thought of what I had to gain had me holding on. "You seem uptight," Zen called, turning the slightest to glance at me.

"I'm just…anxious. Luke…he's different now, but he's still my brother."

"He seemed to be looking forward to you," Zen said, his grip still set on the reigns. "And if anyone can make him feel alive again, it's you, Grace."

Confused, I cocked an eyebrow. "What?"

"You have this fiery passion about you that's contagious," Zen explained over his shoulder. "You…showed me how to live again. You can do it for Lucas, too."

I tightened my grip on Zen's torso, my cheek resting between his shoulders. "I think I'm dreaming."

"Well, you better wake up. We're here."

Whiplash trotted around the entrance, where the wooden supports were charred and destroyed. An unsettling fog had arrived beyond the pinnacle, but it couldn't mask the stench of undeath across the lands.

"But-"

"Like I said, there's more to be done. Some of them retreated. Some of our own are unaccounted for, and Fordring wanted to gather a search and destroy party."

"You think they turned the men they kidnapped?" I asked.

"Not sure. But Fordring still holds on to hope."

Whiplash managed to travel up the steep cliff, and I noticed already there were builders—bearing ragged tabards of the Expedition, already beginning foundations for a fort. It was very congested atop here, but I was alarmed anyway—it didn't seem like a place death knights would stay.

"Lieutenant Fulstorm," Zen called. I looked in the direction he spoke, my eyes catching view of Lucas' broad figure as his glowing eyes approached.

Relief and happiness overwhelmed me, and tears were forming even as Zen helped me down. Lucas looked no different. His skin was still dusky and anemic-looking, his veins green but not pulsing with life like ours. Still, his face was familiar, and his lips pulled into a tight smile.

He reached me first, his arms hesitant as conflict flashed across his face. I saved Lucas the torment. Without a moment's hesitation I took my brother into my arms for a hug. If possible, Lucas froze, breathe stagnant. But he returned the embrace after a long pause, and he felt warm again. "Gracie." It was the name he used to call me when we were little. "You're hurt."

Don't remind me. I chose to ignore the remark, pulling away and smiling. "I'm so glad you're okay."

Lucas didn't acknowledge my change in subject. His hand gently rolled over to my wounded shoulder, as if he could visualize where the affliction was beneath the layers of clothes and bandages. "What happened?" I wished he would sound more concerned; even with my knowledge of Lucas' condition, it still hurt to see him so distant. Part of me wondered if he was feigning—pretending to care so he could pretend everything was okay. And I wondered how much effort it probably took him to feel—and a twinge of guilt had me simply enjoying his presence.

"Just a throwing star," I answered.

"Or two," Zen corrected loudly enough for my brother to hear. When Lucas and I both shot the rogue a cautionary look, he grinned. "I'm…going to put Whiplash away."

As I watched Zen continue past us, a strange, tingling sensation began to crawl across my spine and toward my shoulder blade where my stitches sat. Then it grew in intensity, feeling as if a flame was held up to the skin. Hissing, I turned, torn between looking at my burning shoulder or at my responsible brother.

The heat was so powerful chills were forming down my arms, liquid pricking at my eyes as a yelp strained at my throat. With a shaky hand I grabbed Lucas' forearm. "Lucas," I croaked, fearing my brother's wrath once again.

His other hand gently settled on my neck, like he always had before this mess of a war. And then the pain subsided, and to my relief I was still alive.

My body was shivering, and now I mustered the courage to look at Lucas. There wasn't any hatred or malice in his eyes, as they had been during our battle. A smile formed on his lips, the gesture strange on his new pale features. "Well?" he asked. "Does it feel better?"

With creased eyebrows I opened my mouth to question Lucas, but then I realized the absence of pain in my back. "Lucas," I berated, my arm trying to find the stitches in my back—and couldn't. "You…you didn't have to…"

"Of course I had to," Lucas defended. "You're my sister."

"But…I didn't want the others to heal me either," I explained. "It would waste too much energy and you just fought…"

"Grace," Lucas began. "I'm a death knight. I can handle a little more than a handful of animalistic fiends and a superficial heal. Besides, I wasn't sure how well you would take to the magic, but it was better than I expected."

"Take to it?" I repeated.

"Your body is Human. Alive and intact. The Light heals you well. My runes aren't of your realm. But you, Grace, are more related to my kind than other Humans. Your blood's composition-"

"It's different," I finished. "You can heal me because I'm more like you than you thought."

"It seems so."

A slight, meek smile peeled at my lips. "We're still related. Even through all of this death."

"You're alive, Grace. I didn't think I could feel anything, but I'm definitely jealous."

"Lucas," I began carefully. "What did they do…are you truly…raised from the dead?"

The question had coaxed my brother into a reflective silence as he clenched his jaw. "He…he did what he wished to me. To us. He broke us. And if I'm not dead, then I may as well be. Everything is just…meaningless."

"Undead or not, you're here, and I'm thankful," I told my brother. "You disappeared and I…I just left. I had to find you. I knew I would. But I was so worried."

"No need to worry, Grace," Lucas consoled thinly. "I'm already dead, so I can't die."

"What if you're not dead?" I proposed loudly, causing Lucas to turn his head and freeze like a cat ready to pounce.

"Grace, I don't need your theories of hope…"

"I know you can't escape from the memories of what happened. From the regret. You're scared. But you can be like the Undead without being of them and I'm proof!"

"Grace, it's a lost cause."

"I'm not giving up on you," I stated.

"Lieutenant Ashthorn." Zen's last name caught my attention, and without intending to I looked over for him. Fordring had found him.

"Zen seems…pleasant," Lucas stated.

My eyebrow perked. "Zen? He trained me, so he can't be that bad."

"He really cares about you."

I found myself sighing. "Maybe. I don't know."
"You don't know?"

"He-" I pursed my lips. "It's just complicated."

The rogue in question was talking to Fordring still, but even s I watched him his eyes drifted to meet mine. I looked away. "I know I'm Undead and all," Lucas surmised, "but I think life is short. Live your life while you're still alive."

Lucas' bright blue eyes wouldn't tear off me. The blue wasn't what he had been born with. He had brown eyes like my father and I, but things change and now his eyes were blue.

And mine purple.

I didn't love my brother any less and I couldn't cherish him any more.

"Lieutenant Fulstorm."

Lucas and I both turned at the sound of our name. Darion Mograine approached in full garb, and I would admit he looked terrifying.

"It's time to depart."

"Of course, Highlord." Lucas bowed his head in farewell. "Keep safe, Grace."

"Will I see you again?" I asked.

"I'm sure we'll be running into each other in due time," he answered. "Make sure Zen keeps you within eyesight. He's my insurance of your safety."

"Okay. Bye, Lucas."

A hug probably would have made Mograine gag, so I let Lucas go quietly with the other death knights. Zen finally approached. "Feel better?" he asked.

I looked over Zen's green eyes, his chiseled cheek bones and intense stature, and a smile painted my lips. "Better."

"I think it's time to take you back."

"Take me back?" I repeated.

"I'm sure Taellor's pacing back and forth waiting for you-"

"Since when does Taellor decide what I do?" I snapped.

"Grace, we managed to push the Lich King's numbers back, but I can't have you here when there's more work to be done with rescues. There's still some very dangerous monsters down there and you-"

"I'm not hurt," I stated. "Lucas healed me."

A look of casual surprise took over Zen's face. "He did, did he?"

I nodded. "My blood. It's different. Kind of like his."

Zen shook his head. "Let's go."

My face fell. "But Zen…"

"I need to return and give some messages. Taellor's going to have to command there for…a short while. And a little rest wouldn't kill you."

I left begrudgingly as Zen convinced me that he actually needed my help gathering some supplies. We had to load up tonight, and set camp before it grew too late at the pinnacle. Our men wanted to be prepared in case the Undead decided to launch a surprise attack.

The wind was picking up as we arrived. Dusk was settling, making Zen's bruised left cheek seem more sickly looking.

Taellor was our first stop and when Zen handed the letter and he read it, his eyebrows rose. "For how long?"

"Not long. We wanted our best to stay and aid the rescue first thing tomorrow morning. Then some higher officers will return to relieve you."

"I'm a rogue. I should be helping the rescue."

"Fordring is simply looking out for you. You know he has complete faith in your skills."

Taellor said nothing. He nodded curtly and tucked the envelope into his cloak.

"We have to gather supplies," Zen announced. "If you have any questions…"

"Grace, you're leaving?"

"Lucas helped and healed my back. I want to help-"

"Well, I'm not sure I'll be letting you go yet," Zen thought out loud.

"Grace," Taellor said my name carefully. "You're sure you're healthy enough to…"

"I feel better," I answered. "Don't worry about me."

Taellor cracked a thin smile. "I'll try not to."

Zen nodded farewell, but I couldn't seem to say my goodbye. There was just something about the Night Elf's heavy demeanor and how sullen he acted as Zen turned away. So I left silently, my mind begging my senses to ignore Taellor's haggard aura.

We gathered Zen's belongings into a bag and tossed it into the wagon, followed by extra tents that had settled near the stables. With the dozen tents we grabbed double the cots, some rations, and firewood. The stuff cramped the little wagon, but Whiplash and Zen's horse were fully capable of towing the load.

I hitched a ride on the back, and the travel didn't take long. We got help unloading, and everyone was responsible for pitching their own tent.

I went to pick up the bag of Zen's things, but Zen took it away. "You rest, Grace."

My lips puckered in agitation. "When I was training you were harder on me. I'd be working like a mule right now if I was still your trainee!"

"Less talking," the rogue announced as he tossed his things aside. "More thankfulness."

Despite my thankfulness, I helped Zen set up the tent. When it was complete, Zen stretched out his arms. "Home sweet home."

I watched as Zen sighed and moved forward to enter the tent. He seemed…more like Zen now. Now that I was…well, acting more myself. I had been trying to convince him to live for so long, and now he was and it was so unreal that it actually had me wondering if he was faking.

The tent was finally done getting put up, when my jaw started clenching to prevent my teeth from chattering in pain. I stifled the urge to fold my arms, knowing Zen would read it in a moment. "Cold?" Zen asked matter-of-factly as he tossed his belongings into the new area, his breathe leaving in a puff of white.

"A little," I forced. "I think my body is still trying to catch up through the healing phase."

"Come on."

Zen led me into the tent, where two cots took up most of the room. When I stepped in, the cold caught me off guard, as if it was stuck within the material of the tent. I must have shivered visibly, because Zen chuckled in my ear as his hand grazed my back—an intimate gesture that took some getting used to. "Don't worry. Our body heat will warm the place up in no time."
I had never blushed because of Zen—at least, not that I could remember—but I must have blushed then, because a flush of warmth had spread painfully across my cheeks.

"You need your rest," Zen encouraged as he fussed with the thick blankets on the designated cot. "Especially if you plan on coming in the morning."

My eyes widened. "I can go?"

"Well, technically, I can't tell you to stay. I'm not your master anymore. Although, technically I could order you to remain here-"

"Let's not get too technical though," I insisted with a smile. I walked to my own cot and took my heavy cloak off.

"Grace…"
"Hmm?"

"I only grabbed two blankets, and they're not very thick. Maybe we should share."

My face flushed again as I smiled shyly. "Is that an order?"

"If that's the only way I can get your over here," Zen answered quietly. For a moment I looked the rogue over, the rogue who was usually so closed off and distant. But he sat there, silver bangs hiding his intense gaze, simply there as Zen. He blinked once, his chin tilting slightly as his aura flickered with traces of anxiousness, and then he seemed so real again, like the man I had fallen so hard for in Stormwind.

Almost too earnestly I reached for my blanket and dragged my cot over to his. Once my boots and belt were off, I climbed into Zen's open arms and let my forehead rest under his chin. For a moment we were silent, my ears picking up Zen's slow breathing, until his aura spiked. "Grace."

"Zen," I whispered. "You don't have to say anything. I'm sorry-"

"No, I'm sorry. I've nearly lost you so many times. You left Stormwind, and then Taellor shows up and that battle that nearly killed you-"

"Wait, Taellor…what about Taellor?," I asked, pulling myself away just enough so I was face-to-face with Zen. "You never lost me Zen, it was always you."

"But you k—you and Taellor kissed and did who knows what else…"

"Just a kiss," I interrupted in a near squeak. "It wasn't supposed to happen and it did and I'm sorry."
"He got there first," Zen stated firmly, on the edge of a mix of anger and jealousy. "I was supposed to be your first."

My mouth opened, and for a moment all I could do was exhale as Zen's feelings were practically laid on the table. The tent wouldn't stop spinning. "Then be my next," I whispered softly, my hand moving to grab a hold of Zen's shirt.

His aura warmed so much I nearly felt it heat my body, and then his hand was caressing my cheek and his lips locked onto mine with so much intensity I nearly stopped breathing. It was only Zen and me now, with no one present that Zen had to pretend around. He was there for me, the kiss just as magical as I had wanted it to be. This kiss was deeper than before and had more meaning; my heart skipped beats as my hands traveled up Zen's prominent jaw and down along his shoulders. I pulled him in closer, the heat of the moment urging my body to continue playing with fire.

Everything finally felt right. My smaller frame melted into Zen's, his arms that were normally so lethal holding my hips closer to his. Zen's teeth traced across my lips, causing me to stifle a gasp, and he leaned in eagerly for one more intense kiss before pulling back, one hand rising to pull my bangs out of my eyes. Zen, of course, merely smiled as I panted in an attempt to catch my breath. "Zen…"

"We need to rest," Zen whispered, though he had nestled his mouth into my neck so his breath grazed my skin. It made the simple sentence seem much more tantalizing. He made me yearn for more, so much that sleep was hardly on my mind anymore, but Zen was right. We still had a big duty to fulfill the following morning.

The thought of leaving where I was at the moment had me nearly wishing I wasn't a rogue. But I put the thoughts aside and decided to simply cherish the night together—and the warmth it brought.

[end]

Thanks everyone =]