Casavir re-entered the inn, his mind in a turmoil. Gods, how he would have loved to slit the bastard's throat!

He had left the room silently very early in the morning, taking care not to wake Chantal. He had to make sure the ranger was gone when she came down. He could not let her see him. Not after what she had been through. So he went down the stairs and waited for Bishop to get up, to get face to face with him, to... yes, to what? He did not honestly know.

He really wanted to kill him. But Casavir could not do that. It would have been murder, and murder was out of the question. He would have relished to have Bishop thrown into goal, to see him hang for his treachery, but that was impossible too, with Chantal around. She mustn't meet Bishop, ever. Most of all, Bishop must not see Chantal. As long as he thought her dead, he was not going to hurt her again. In any way. So the only option left was to get rid of the traitor, before Chantal came down for breakfast. He sincerely hoped he would be gone, otherwise Casavir was going to throw his scruples into the wind and truly bash his brains.

The ranger's equipment was still standing in the corner, so he took it and unceremoniously threw it out of the front door. Then, he went up the stairs, determined to detain Chantal as long as humanly possible.

His thoughts wandered back to that day, the day he held her in his arms, dead, killed by that triple-damned son of a bitch. He had tried to heal her, but it was too late, the spark gone, only the shell left. He had held her, weeping, his heart broken, cursing Bishop. Then he had prayed, prayed harder than ever in his life, pleading with the gods to bring her back to his side. And then – a golden light, surrounding them both, the gaping wound in her belly closed, and her chest started rising and falling again. He remembered his tears turning into tears of joy, his heart singing, because she had been returned to him.

She gasped, and opened her eyes, stared at him for a second... and then she remembered. He saw desperation on her face, for one short moment. Her hands went to her belly, searching for the wound that was no longer there. Tears appeared in her eyes, but she wiped them away with an angry gesture and finally stood up, her expression turning stony. She said in a toneless voice: "Let's get on. We have a job to do." With that, she just turned, leading them further into the dark tunnels. And they had followed her, like they always did.

She never spoke of Bishop again. Casavir tried to talk to her about it, this was not healthy, but she silenced him with a cold stare each time and turned away without a word.

Then, one night during his watch, he sat staring into the fire, sorrow weighing heavily on his mind, wanting to help her, because what happened had to eat her up inside, but he did not know how to get through this wall she was creating around herself. She had been cutting herself off, not only from him, but from the others as well. He could not begin to imagine how she must feel, but...

He heard movement, and turned around in alarm, but it was only Neeshka. The tiefling sat down wordlessly, beside Casavir, and stared into the fire, too. Casavir was startled, because she normally kept her distance from him, stating his aura made her skin itch. Frankly, that was fine by him, he did not want her near either. She was half-demon, and he felt uncomfortable with her, could not bring himself to trust her, not really. She did not seem truly evil, not like Bishop had been plain as day for everyone who wanted to see, but she surely had a very generous way of dealing with laws, and that demon blood had to make her a liability.

So he was surprised, and not necessarily pleasantly surprised, that she seemed to seek his company. What could she possibly want?

She sat for some time, silently, and he did not speak either. Then she asked in a small voice: "Why? Why did he do it? I just don't understand." She sounded lost, like a small girl, and he looked up, studying her face, taking in the horns, and the red eyes that glimmered in the firelight. He just shrugged and kept looking at her.

She swallowed and continued: "He had been travelling with us for so long. He was not really a nice person to be around, but we have been through a lot together. How could he betray us like that? I mean, I am no saint, and my conscience might be more... elastic than most, but still... I could never turn on my friends like he did." Her eyes fell on Chantal's sleeping form, and a soft expression showed on her face. "I could never turn on her. She was the first to treat me like a human, you know? The first to look behind the horns and see that there was a person there." She fell silent again, her gaze reverting to the fire.

Casavir still looked at her, and he felt shamed. He had not been better than all the others, hadn't he, not better than those who did not look past the horns, only seeing the demon. He was a paladin, he was supposed to be just, but he had been quick to judge her for what she was, what she could not help being. She looked forlorn, an in an impulse he reached out and took her hand. She flinched, looking up at him, her eyes big and surprised. He smiled at her, squeezing her hand reassuringly. She relaxed a bit, but kept looking at him warily.

"I don't know how he could do it", he said quietly. "I guess he just cared for himself. Maybe someone promised him some big reward for it. I knew it would end badly, taking him with us. Men like him, they only cause suffering wherever they go. And they just don't mind."

Neeshka's hand, just lying in his up to now, closed around his fingers as well, holding tight, while her gaze reverted to Chantal. "I think she loved him", she whispered, sad tone in her voice. "I think she did not know it herself, but she loved him. And he tried to kill her in cold blood." Casavir could see tears shimmering in her eyes. "I wish there was something I could do to make it easier for her." One tear rolled down her cheek, and he reached out and put his arm around her shoulder, drawing her near, trying to comfort her like he would have a child.

She let it happen, crying silently for a while, then suddenly she looked up at him, grinning mischievously through the tears. "You know, you really do make my skin itch", she said. And he stared down into her face, speechless for a moment, and he just had to laugh.

After that, she came to sit with him when she could not sleep, and soon, he started to look forward to their conversations. She was quite clever, had a quick wit and a sharp tongue, and she often made him laugh. He realised he had not laughed a lot these past months, and laughing felt good. She could be innocent one moment, and sly in the next, or change between serious and mischievous in the blink of an eye. She teased him, and she made fun of him, and he really started to like that he never knew what she would say next.

And one night, when they sat by the fire, she was unusually silent, so he asked her what was wrong. She looked up at him, strange expression in her eyes, reached up, took his face between her hands, pulling him down, placing a soft kiss on his lips. He startled, drawing back, but then he saw uncertainty and hurt in her eyes. His arms went around her and he pulled her near, kissing her tenderly. She sighed and melted against him.

"I thought I made your skin itch?", he murmured into her mouth.

She giggled. "You do. It's starting to feel really nice after you get used to it. More like a prickling. I like it."

He laughed, hugging her close and feeling more lighthearted then he had for a long time. But she withdrew a bit, looking into his eyes, suddenly serious, and said: "I'm not her, you know?"

The laughter dying in his throat, he stared down at her, trying to sort out his feelings. She held his gaze defiantly, chin raised, and only the tenseness in her shoulders betrayed her anxiety.

"I know", he said eventually, as serious as she. "I am not going to tell you I don't love her anymore. I will probably always love her, in a way. But I've known for some time that she does not love me, and I have tried to come to terms with that. And you..." he let a finger trace her lips softly, "have helped me a great deal. You are sweet, and caring, and you have a good heart. And you are very beautiful. And if you give me a chance, I'll do everything I can to make you happy. Because..." he smiled at her, "you make me happy. Very much so. What do you say?"

She squealed, one of these little impulsive things he had gotten to like so much about her, and hugged him fiercely. "I say yes!" she whispered into his ear.

That had been nearly a year ago. And since that time, his love for the tiefling had steadily grown. His sense of duty had often chafed at the way she tended to ignore any laws she did not like, and she could be reckless and irritating, but at heart she was a good person. And she loved him, she truly did. She had been good for him, making fun of his gloominess, always being able to coax him out of his mood by forcing him to laugh at himself. And he had been good for her, caring for her, protecting her, looking out for her and bringing some stability into the chaos that was her life.

He still loved Chantal, deeply. They had been through hell together, literally, and he would always follow her faithfully. But he did not long for her any more. He would never give up Neeshka, never in a thousand years, not for Chantal, not for anybody.

He had reached the room he shared with Chantal, when the door opened and she regarded him, her brows drawn together. "Where ever have you been?", she asked.

He shrugged, smiling at her and stepping to the door, forcing her to retreat into the room. "Outside, doing my morning prayers. It's going to be a beautiful day. And you were sleeping so soundly, I did not want to disturb you."

She looked surprised, but accepted his words without question. One of the benefits of being a paladin, no one expected you to be lying, he thought ruefully. He was surprised himself how easily the lie had passed his lips.

Must be Neeshka's bad influence. My conscience seems to be getting more elastic, too.

"The morning prayers must have been fun", Chantal's voice broke into his thoughts. "You are staring into space, grinning like an idiot. I should try it sometimes, too, it seems, if it gives one such a happy."

He laughed. "I was thinking about Neeshka."

She grinned up at him. "She really has you head over heels, hasn't she?"

"Oh, yes," he said contentedly, soft smile on his lips.

xxx

Casavir played for time as best as he could, rearranging his backpack twice, insisting on polishing a few imaginary spots out of his armour, chatting idly, until Chantal started to shoot him suspicious looks and threatened to go down for breakfast without him, since she claimed to be starving.

When he could not draw it out any longer, he left the room with her, managing to go down the stairs first. He scanned the tavern room anxiously, searching for Bishop, but to his immense relief the room was empty. Hopefully the filthy dog would have the sense to stay out of Casavir's sight. And Chantal's sight.

They sat at one of the tables, ordering coffee, eggs and bread. While the barkeeper was busy in the kitchen, they sat in silence for a while. Then Chantal asked:

"So, how long until Neeshka will be meeting us here?"

He shrugged, concern showing on his face. "I don't know, two or three days. She would not say, and she would not say where she was going. She would not let me come with her. I hope she did not get into trouble." The thought of something happening to Neeshka made his heart contract. But she had been determined to go, and no one kept Neeshka back if she wanted to go. And no one followed her if she did not want to be followed. So he had to accept, and to wait, anxiety growing in him.

Chantal put her hand over his. "I'm sure she is fine", she said softly. "She is very well able to look out for herself."

He sighed. "I know, but something has me worried. She normally tells me what she's up to. That she did not proves that I would not let her go if I knew. So it must be something dangerous, or foolhardy, or very illegal." He paused. "Probably all of the above."

She squeezed his hand, releasing it as the barkeeper appeared, carrying two plates. "Let's wait for two days, and then we'll start looking for her."

He nodded, gratefully, and started on his breakfast, his thoughts slipping into the past again.

He and Neeshka, they had taken it really slow. Probably because their feelings had been so unexpected for both of them. But it suited him, he was not one for rash action anyway. So they only slipped away from the camp from time to time, clandestine meetings in the woods, mostly just hugging each other and a few sweet kisses. All very romantic. He needed time to deal with the feelings he still had for Chantal, and Neeshka had to get used to the idea of a long-term relationship. But it worked, for them both, and Casavir slowly felt the emotional baggage that had been dragging him down for so long fall away.

Chantal, on the other hand, did not seem to get any better. The wound in her belly was healed, and she was alive again, a miracle granted by the gods who still needed her to fulfil her task. But inside, the wounds still bled and festered. He could see she was just going through the motions, cutting herself off, not letting anyone near, not talking to anyone. She concentrated on their mission, duty kept her going, but she seemed more like a walking statue, dead inside. He desperately wanted to help her, but he still met with cold silence every time he tried talking to her.

Then, one day, standing in the woods with Neeshka, holding her close, softly laughing at something she had said, because she could always cheer him up, gods bless her, he heard a noise, turned, and saw Chantal standing a few yards away, staring at them. She looked like she had been struck by lightning, and then tears welled up in her eyes and started rolling down her cheeks. Casavir knew she did not cry for him, but because the sight reminded her of what she had lost, and for the first time, he felt no sting at the thought.

There was a nudge in his side, and he looked down and saw Neeshka wordlessly pointing her head in Chantal's direction. Then she smiled up at him, nodded, and quietly slipped away into the trees. Casavir crossed the distance, drew Chantal in his arms, holding her, murmuring soothing words into her ear. And she clung to him, face pressed into his shoulder, sobbing her heart out. He let her cry, stroking her hair, just holding her, relieved that the wall was crumbling at last. Now, after she started dealing with the pain, her wounds could begin to heal. And in time, the scars would fade.

She cried for a long time, the sobs finally subsiding, but still she clung to him, needing the comfort he gave her. Then she drew back a bit, smiled up at him shakily, her eyes red and puffy, and started to fumble for a handkerchief in her pockets. He passed her his, and she took it with a thankful glance, blowing her nose noisily.

"Always the gentleman", she murmured thickly. And after a small pause: "Sorry for that", pointing at his very wet shirt.

He smiled at her, drawing her close again. "My shirt and my shoulder are always at your service, my lady", he murmured.

She sighed, resting her head at said shoulder again, letting him hold her just a bit longer. Then she whispered: "Thank you."

"You're welcome", he said gruffly, feeling a bit awkward. "I only wish you would have let me do this earlier."

She lifted her head, looking up at him, reached out and softly touched his face. "I am so lucky to have good friends like you. Poor Casavir, you have warned me from the beginning, but I just did not want to listen to you. And I paid a steep price for that. I really owe you an apology."

"You owe me nothing, my lady", he replied, moved by her words. "I only wish I could have prevented you from being hurt so much."

She smiled at him and said: "You and Neeshka...?"

He knew she was deliberately changing the subject, but he did not object, the dam was broken and that was a first step. Time would do the rest.

"Yes", he answered, smile on his face.

She smiled back. "I am glad. You both deserve to be happy. But..." she hesitated a bit, then continued: "Well, she is not exactly the paramount of a law-upholding citizen, you know? Do you think you will be able to live with that?"

"Yes, I think so", he answered. "I think she is prepared to meet me halfway, and I shall do the same. She has a good heart, and that is what matters, even if her methods are often not to my liking. But life is too short to waste a chance at happiness because of so trivial matters. I am hopeful we can work it out."

He winced, realising that his words must have hurt her, making her remember things that had not worked out, but she just looked at him, eyes hooded and deadly serious, and said: "It is. I wish you both will find the happiness you deserve." Then, with a small sigh, she patted him on the shoulder and said: "Let's return to the camp. Neeshka's neck must be hurting like hell by now, looks like she's been craning it round that tree over there for the last half hour."

From that moment on, Chantal's behaviour changed. She was more open than ever before, seeking out the others, talking, even smiling sometimes, and if she was not exactly happy, at least she did not seem dead inside anymore. The others noticed too, of course, and when Khelgar commented, in his own blunt way, she just smiled and told him:

"I've come to realise how short life is. And how quickly a life can end, especially the way people like us live. So I decided not to waste whatever time I have left closing myself off, but to spend as much as possible of it with the people I love. You all have been better friends then I deserve, and I thank you for it."

She bent down, kissing Khelgar on the cheek. Seeing the battle-hardened dwarf blush crimson had been a sight to behold.

"A copper for your thoughts", Chantal's voice reached his ear, pulling him back to the present.

Casavir looked up, guiltily. "I'm still worried about Neeshka", he said. This was not technically a lie, only not the answer to her question. Oh yes, his conscience definitely was getting more elastic. Neeshka would be so proud.

She patted his hand again. "It's going to be all right, you'll see. Now, how about you finish these eggs, and then we can have a little walk outside, since you praised the weather so much. Plus, there is not really a lot to do, if we have to wait for Neeshka to grace us with her presence."

Some minutes later, they stepped into the sunshine, Casavir's eyes carefully taking in the yard in front of the inn. When he could detect no trace of the ranger, he relaxed. Chantal fell in step with him, affectionately taking his arm, and smiled up at him.

"Now, why don't you tell me about that house you want to buy for Neeshka and you in Neverwinter?", she asked, twinkling.

He looked down at her, surprised, and laughed. "I could swear I never told anyone about that. How do you know?"

She grinned like a cat. "Well, if you want to keep something a secret, you should not talk to agents while Neeshka is around, even if you close the door behind you. She has been so excited the last couple of weeks, I think she has told half of Neverwinter by now."

He threw his had back, laughing, and she joined in, walking down the path with him, still holding onto his arm.

Neither of them noticed the burning amber eyes following them from a nearby thicket.