Before he knew what was happening, Rina was dragging Martin back into the Temple to his sleeping quarters, the only place where they could speak with some degree of privacy. Even his patience was growing thin. What possible excuse could she have for not seeing the Countess?

She let go of him and he spun around to face her. She didn't recognize the look on his face, one of restrained- not quite anger, but bewilderment mixed with… she didn't know what. Whatever it was, she didn't like it. Unceremoniously, she sat down on the floor, not even bothering to sit in a chair. Not knowing where else to situate himself, he seated himself on the floor across from her.

"What's going on? And what did you mean, you hadn't spoken with the countess yet? I thought that was what you had left to do," he asked, confused.

"I- I did. I had- business of my own to attend to first."

He stared at her, somewhat unbelieving.

"You of all people should be the most aware of how serious the situation is. This only would have taken a few minutes. Was your business so urgent that you couldn't have met with her first?"

She said nothing. She simply stared at the pair of shoes on the floor. Why had she come back? She certainly couldn't look him in the eye, not now. She couldn't lie, not to him.

What was she supposed to say, though? She was meeting with the other members of the Black Hand, the highest ranking assassins in the Dark Brotherhood, a vile and morally bankrupt group of killers with no regard for human life whatsoever?

"If you have anything else to say, say it. Otherwise, leave me be," she intoned, her voice cold. She wasn't even really aware of what she was saying. He was less than two feet away from her, and her heart was pounding as it hardly ever had before.

"Rina-"

She turned away from him. She couldn't let him see the tears forming in her eyes.

There were so many things she couldn't let him see or know. Surely he would shun her, exile her even, if he knew all the crimes she had committed. How many lives she had taken, especially. She was personally responsible for some number of murders that she herself couldn't even believe- she had lost track now. As Listener, she would be responsible for even more. By Sithis, she would be the one who would put them into action! It was not as if she were a mere child anymore, thirsting for acceptance. She was fully aware of what she was doing. Though the Brotherhood disgusted the human, compassionate side of her, something kept bringing her back.

This life, however, his life, was one that she would not see taken away, by anything.

"Are you sure that this is the only possible course of action?" she croaked at length.

"I don't know of any other. We need that Great Sigil stone for the port ritual. Unless Mankar Camoran comes back into Tamriel, there is no way to avoid going into his Paradise," he replied, the anger receding from his voice. He still did not understand what was going on with her, and the conversation certainly wasn't over, but something told him that the strategy he was using was not working. "I'm sure you'll be able to handle it. And yes, I know you are fully aware of it, but you are the Divine Crusader-"

Rina started and went pale.

"Did I say somethi-" Martin began to say.

"I have a confession to make, Martin. I'm- I'm-" she interrupted him, but before she could finish, she broke down into undignified tears.

If he had been confused before, he had absolutely no clue what was happening now. She always seemed so volatile, full of energy one moment, sullen and silent the next, but never exhausted. She was like a storm, and he couldn't help feeling that she could be dangerous if she lost control. In the past, before he had gotten to know her, she had scared him. But now- something was different.

Here she was, seated on the floor before him, huddled and weeping like a child, a side of her that he had never seen. Generally she acted like she knew what to do, or if she didn't, she was willing to find out, even if it put her in danger- the Oblivion gate at Kvatch was an example of that. He thought it was probably less bravado and complete lack of fear than just being too stubborn to let other people do what she thought was her job.

He and the rest of the Empire knew she was the one who had found the Crusader's relics, there was no denial of that. Several months, however, passed between when the news had reached him and when she had finally returned to the Temple. Something had happened in that time, he was sure of it- but what? Would she even tell him? Did she trust him?

As much as it pained him to admit, part of his impatience to get the battle over with was for selfish reasons. Staying at the Temple all the time was… getting to him. He hadn't taken a real walk in months. In Kvatch, when he wasn't at the chapel, he was walking all over the city, getting to know its people, making a new name for himself that was not connected at all to Daedra. Here, especially in light of recent events that had hit far too close to home, there was too much time for solitude and thought. There was too much time for his own past to haunt him.

Some kind of nebulous feeling had been forming in his mind, though, and he began to realize now why the past months had seemed so long, looking at the troubled warrior woman in front of him. Standing, he took her hand and pulled her up, helping her into a chair. In that brief moment, holding her calloused, weathered hand in his, something was unlocked.

"Rina- please look at me. Do you feel like you could talk yet?" he inquired. She swallowed her sobs and looked him squarely in the eye, nodding.

"Rina… what happened?"

"I- I suppose you'd find out the truth sooner or later. I'm no longer this "Divine Crusader" everybody was talking about. The gods took that away from me." She said every word as if it pained her. Before she even let him answer, she continued. "I thought that I could hide behind a face that was not my own, that nobody would be able to see into my heart. I thought I could be anonymous. I thought it wouldn't affect me. I was wrong," she cried, flinging some sort of gray mask at him. It bore an inscription in runes he could easily read- "Shadow Hide Ou." The stolen cowl of Nocturnal! She was the Grey Fox?

"What are you talking about?" he said, obviously perplexed.

"I'm not who you think I am, Martin." He had never heard someone sound so… so dejected before. "The gods did not want a… a sinner"- she spat the word out as if it were poison- "holding their precious toys. And Martin- this was… this was no petty thievery. It was much more than that!"

"Rina…" He didn't want to hear this. He didn't need to hear this!

"No. I'm not going to shelter you from the truth any longer. I'm a murderer, Martin!" she almost shouted as she stood up. "Go ahead. Cast me out. Send me away. It's only what I deserve. Find yourself an honest person to do everything I would. One with a clean record, who isn't a hypocrite. One who doesn't bear the Gray Cowl. One who isn't the Madgod. One who isn't the Listener of the Dark Brotherhood!" She was rapidly losing control, and tears were streaming down her face again.

Martin struggled to think of something to say. Even with the evidence right in front of him, something kept him from judging her, from having the will to tell her to go. Perhaps it was because he himself had done things he was not proud of, and that had resulted in loss of lives. Perhaps it was the friendship between them that had been so strong before now. He had also never realized-known- how powerful she was, and obviously, to be the leader of so many people, she must have performed some heroic deeds- and some despicable ones, he had to concede. He became aware of what she was saying, having been lost in thought.

"-might even prefer it to staying here, not being able to look you or anyone else in the eye, feeling ashamed every moment of my filthy existence. It's not even that far in the past! My business took me to Bravil where I met the other members of the Black Hand. I had to see Lucien Lachance's death avenged, out of loyalty if nothing else. I could go pray at every shrine, every temple, every chapel from here to Morrowind, but it would not clear my conscience. I can't bear you looking at me like I'm some sort of hero-"

"Stop it."

"I-" She stared at him in wonder.

"No. Be quiet a moment and listen to me. I'm not happy that you kept all this from me. I wish you had felt you could trust me enough. No matter what, I still trust you, my friend, because I know what you have done for me and the Empire. You forget how much good you have done. It will take some time for this wound to heal, but I am confident that it will.

Were you a part of the Brotherhood before you acquired the Relics?" he tried to ask her in the most level voice possible, in an effort to get her to be more rational. He was surprised that he was making any sense, as a million thoughts were flashing through his mind.

"Yes."

"Did you possess the Cowl as well?"

"…Yes." She didn't know what he was getting at. She sniffed, trying to calm down.

"Did the gods deem you worthy anyways?"

"… I suppose so."

"So, that doesn't change the past. But even the gods overlooked your past transgressions. I could hardly do differently," he told her. "Especially considering I don't have the best track record, either, what with the Sanguine Rose and all, as you well know," he added, venturing a smile.

"You- you forgive me?" she said, astonished, wiping the tears off on her sleeve.

" For keeping it from me, yes. I am somewhat hurt, but as I said, that will not be permanent. As far as your transgressions go, you need not ask me for forgiveness. It's not my place."

There were a few moments of contemplative, relieved silence.

"Did you know I didn't even believe in the gods at first? With the Knights of the Nine, though… It's not like I had any sort of miraculous conversion, it's just that it's kind of hard to deny they exist when they're talking to you and giving you things," she laughed, shaky and hesitant.

"Like Daedra," observed Martin, joining in her laughter.