"I've been meaning to speak with you," Vax says. He's still a little wobbly on his feet, but she's seen enough battle to know that this is nothing more than exhaustion kicking in after an especially long day. The wounds on his throat—tooth-marks on his throat—seem well on their way to healing, and even the bruised look under his eyes is broken by the crinkle of a smile.

"Hey, Vax," Pike says, and tugs on his sleeve, a little experimentally. This semi-corporeal form is still something she's getting used to; she half-expects her hand to pass straight through. The contact is strange, sends sparks up her fingertips, but it's solid enough. It'll do. "I'm sorry I didn't get here in time for the worst of the fight. I'm still getting used to this whole projection thing."

"No, no," Vax says. "It's, you're amazing. Popping up like you did just as the Briarwoods were escaping in their carriage. They got away, but you put a real scare in them."

Pike takes the compliment with a crooked smile and a shrug, and his grin widens, which actually ramps her level of concern up a bit. He's getting a wild-eyed look about him. "Vax, you should probably get some sleep. Everyone else is in bed."

"In a minute," he says, waving a hand. "Look, Pike, I'm so glad you were there when we went back to the temple of Sarenrae. To Tristan. I'm sure it meant a lot for him to see you, and I..." This uncharacteristic font of enthusiasm runs dry with an abruptness that makes her blink. Vax glances away, face flushing. "Ah, this seems silly now that I'm saying it out loud, but given what I just went through, what I just saw, and given your opportune appearance... Pike, could anyone follow Sarenrae's teachings? Could someone like me learn from someone like you?"

On the list of things she expects Vax to approach her about in the middle of the night after a heated battle, 'Finding Religion' ranks near the bottom of the list, about ten steps below 'Mace-Wielding for Fun and Profit'. "Um," she says, and shakes herself, reaching instinctively for the holy symbol resting over her heart. It pulses low and warm, and she finds herself mirroring his nervous smile. "Sure, Vax. We'll... we can talk about it in the morning, but I'd love to tell you what I can. I'm still learning, too."

Vax fidgets, and she realizes she's still grasping the sleeve of his tunic. "Um," he says. "Look, Pike, I'm worried that if I put this off too long life will get in the way. We have time now, and if you don't mind missing a little sleep, I'd love to talk." He holds up his other hand to forestall her objection. "Not long. Just a few minutes. Just to find out what I should do, how I can get started."

She cocks her head to one side, but the stern look that works so well on Grog is just making the corners of his lips twitch in amusement, so she sighs mock-surrender and says, "All right. Pull up a chair, Vax. Let's talk."

There's a point in the night's drinking when, inevitably, Scanlan goes quiet.

He's not as ebullient as Grog or Keyleth after a few drinks, keeps away from the twins' volatile moods and Percy's aggressively morose introspection. Pike isn't sure anyone else notices, really, but there's always a point when Scanlan's grin goes a little fixed, when his drink goes untouched, when he gets a far-off look in his eyes, when he pulls away from the others to find a dark little corner all his own.

And, okay, she's trying really hard to be subtle but the armor's kind of loud, so she clanks and clatters more than slides into the seat next to him. "Hi, Scanlan."

He glances at her, then does a slow, elaborate double-take. "Pike! You're still awake at this ungodly hour? I mean, we all know you don't need any more beauty sleep..."

She squints at him. Apart from all the astute observations as to his character and demeanor that she's been making all night, she can't help but note that he's also a little bit on the wavy side just now. Rippling. Firewater's great stuff, and she's had a few more than a few, truth be told. "What's up?"

That gets her a genuine, startled smile. "That's the chat-up line you're going with? Really? Because I can provide you with a few expert tips and tricks..."

She nudges him with her shoulder, then winces and apologizes when he rubs at his arm. "Plate-mail, you know. But seriously, Scanlan, you're being so quiet. What is it you think about when you're staring off into space like that?"

"Butts," Scanlan says, very seriously, rapping at the side of his head with one fist. "It's just a constant parade of butts in here. All day, all night."

"Apart from the butts," Pike says, gesturing broadly; Scanlan snatches his tankard back from her sweeping arm. "Sorry. I mean it though, Scanlan. I'm worried, sometimes. I don't think the others notice."

He blinks. "I guess I'm flattered that you're worried about me, Pike, but I promise, there's nothing going on that you need to worry about."

Pike pushes past tipsiness to reach for his hand, and before he can make a lewd comment, she says, very quietly, "It's my job to worry about all of you."

He looks at her, then does a very different sort of double-take. "Pike..." He glances up and down the table, leans in a bit closer. "It's not the sort of thing I especially want to bring up with these people, but it's family stuff, okay? Just an anniversary coming up that I wouldn't mind forgetting."

"Oh," Pike says. She feels a familiar ache in her gut, over the scar that's grown so faint she can't even see it, most days. "I guess, you know, I guess sometimes it's okay to think about these things a little. If you've gotta think about them, you might as well do it when you're drunk in a tavern with your family who loves you."

They sit in silence for a long time, Scanlan's fingers idly turning his tankard in place with a slow grinding that, Pike thinks with a drunken dread, is going to carve grooves into the table. Scanlan seems to come to the same realization a moment later, lifts up the tankard to scrub at the table with the tip of his thumb. The faint marks of condensation wipe away, leaving the wood as pristine as it ever was. "Easy as that, huh?"

Pike pats his hand, pushing herself with a clatter back to her feet. "Who said anything about easy? Anyway. I'm going back to bed. Somebody's got to get Keyleth home. Good night, Scanlan."

That's usually an opening for innuendo, but Scanlan just looks at her with his head tilted to one side as she weaves unsteadily through the crowd. When she turns back to wave a goodbye, he's already dragging a chair up alongside the twins, slapping a hand on Vax's shoulder and muttering something to Vex that makes her kick him under the table, and she thinks, yeah, this is what family's for.

She sits in the grass, leans against Grog's arm. Stares up into a sky studded with cloud. "Hey," she says. "Back at Wilhand's, you know, years and years ago, why'd you take the blame for the broken window?"

He inhales behind her. There's a smile in his voice, a dreamy tone. "Seemed fair. You covered for me all the time. Besides, could've just as easily been me a million times over."

She snorts, crossing her arms and sliding on the grass so her head presses against his shoulder. The position's familiar, reminds her of long, lazy afternoons spent watching clouds after a particularly grueling training session. He'd always pretend to be just as tired as she was. "Not likely. I'm a much better aim with a rock, you know." He's silent, so she takes a breath, gnaws on her lower lip for a moment. "Why were we throwing rocks at Wilhand's house, anyway?"

"No, see, I was spinning you around and you were trying to hit a target. On a tree. Remember, we were trying to set up that attack where I'd sort of hurl you and you'd pop up and hit the bad guy, only you kept getting dizzy, so we had to work on that part of it."

She smiles. "Yeah, I remember now. Should've worked on it a little harder." The silence stretches again, unbearable. She digs her thumbnail into the dirt. "D'you blame me?"

A pause, then, "Of course not. Could've been me a million times over. Just as easy."

"Okay." The dirt is cool and damp under her fingers. Easier to dig, probably. Keyleth will offer to help, but this is something she needs to do with her own two hands. Her holy symbol hangs heavy and chilled around her throat; she bends forward under its weight. "What do I do now?"

"I guess that's up to you."

"Yeah," she says, and swipes the palm of one hand over her eyes. "Yeah. Listen, I have to go, now. Just one more question. That's how the spell works, you know: you only get the five questions and then it wears off, and I've been counting, and there's just one more. I wanted to talk, is all. About Wilhand's house, and the rock, and what happens next."

There's a handful of damp earth in her hand; she doesn't remember clenching her fist. She turns, slowly, presses it against the chill of the skin on his chest, a smear of darkness on white. When her gaze shifts to his face for the first time, still and unmoving save the gaping mouth, she says, without thinking, "Are you afraid?"

"Nah," he says, on the exhale. "My buddy Pike's okay. She'll watch out for me."

"Yeah," Pike says, fingers still pressed against his chest. "Yeah, Grog. I will."

She sits like that for a long time under the gathering cloud, then turns away and slowly begins to dig a grave.

"Hey," Pike says. "Can we talk?"

Percy doesn't notice her at first, bent over a scroll so scratched up with numbers and figures that it looks to be more ink than parchment. His hair has little streaks of black in it, testament to all the times he's been rubbing his hands through it. "Oh," he says, glancing up at last. "Pike. I didn't hear you come in."

Pike takes that as an invitation to push further into the workshop and perches up on a counter that doesn't look quite as coated in soot as the rest. "What is it you're working on, there?"

"Things," Percy says, staring down intently at the parchment. "Things to fight the monsters under our collective beds. We'll see how it pans out."

"All right," Pike says. "Percy, can we talk about Cassandra?"

He keeps writing, finishing a sentence, she thinks, and only then does he look up. "Cassandra? What does my sister have to do with anything?"

"That's... sort of the problem, I guess. Listen, Percy, I think this is maybe something you've wanted to talk about with someone for a while, now."

Percy rubs at the palm of his writing hand, already back to glancing over the paper. "I spoke to Vax about it, actually. Having a sister. It was a good talk."

Pike rubs at her chin, watching him reach out again to scribble some figures in the margins. "Percy. Look at me."

This time, he pushes away from his desk, rubs one temple. "I'm sorry, Pike, I'm a little distracted right now."

Pike whispers a quick incantation, watches some of the pain fade from Percy's eyes. "Headache?"

"Not anymore," Percy says. He's looking at her with something she can only describe as renewed awe. "You have my full attention. I'm so sorry."

"It's all right," Pike says. "Listen, Percy, I got to know Cassandra pretty well while all of you were away for a bit and I was helping to take care of Gilmore. She's smart, but she's also really young, you know? Both of you are, really. And I'm just saying, I know a thing or two about having a brother."

Percy, bless him, actually blinks in confusion for a moment, then says, "Right, yes, Grog, of course. Yes. And I understand your concerns, but I am well aware we have our differences we'll need to work out with time, and like I said, I had words with Vax. I think I'm incredibly glad she's alive."

Pike leans forward, kicking her feet, keeping her tone deliberately gentle, careful. "That's a bit of a low standard for sibling interactions, Percy. She's young. She's frightened. She's terribly angry with you, and I know you're still terribly angry with her."

Percy sniffs, looks away, scratches at his nose. "It's fine," he says. "I mean, I understand your concerns, Pike. Things are... complicated. I abandoned her. She betrayed me. But we're both still alive, and we love each other, and we'll work it out."

"Coming from a sister," Pike says, "talk to her sooner rather than later. You missed out on five years. Don't miss out on more because you're both too proud and too frightened to make the first step toward reconciliation."

That gives Percy pause, and for a moment the tightly controlled lines of his body slump, just slightly. Then he says, "Thank you, Pike. I'll speak with her first thing tomorrow."

Pike hops down off the counter. "You promise me, Percival."

He smiles, faintly. "I'm a coward, Pike. I'll probably back down at the last minute. But I can promise I'll do my best."

"You'll get a second chance," Pike says. "And a third, if you want it. That's the nice thing about fear; it has to keep at you again and again and again to keep you in place, but you? You only need to beat it the one time. Good luck."

Percy nods, his smile broadening. The tiny gesture is somehow as expansive as a bow. "Thank you, Pike."

"We're all going to miss you," Pike says, softly, and brushes a gauntleted hand against the tears forming in her eyes. "I think maybe it's a bit easier being the one who leaves than the one who gets left behind."

Keyleth smiles; her eyes have been red and puffy since the goodbyes started at dawn, but she's holding up okay, Pike thinks, all things considered. "I think I might argue with that statement."

"You're gonna be okay, though," Pike says, not quite able to keep a press of urgency out of her voice. "I mean it, Keyleth. You can call on us at any time and we'll hurry back. We're not really gone."

"Sure," Keyleth says, her gaze drifting for a moment past Pike's shoulder before snapping back to meet her eyes. "We know it's never going to be the same, though, don't we?"

Pike fidgets with her holy symbol, turning it over in her fingers. "Things end. That's kind of how this works. But that doesn't mean you'll never get a second chance."

Wariness flickers across Keyleth's face like a shiver of lightning in a storm. "That's Sarenrae's teaching at work, right? All about forgiveness, redemption?"

"It's what I believe. It's what makes me better." Pike shrugs. "It's not for everyone. I know we've talked around this in the past, Keyleth, and that's okay. People find comfort in different things."

Keyleth looks away again, this time over her shoulder; the Fire Ashari are gathering in a more organized way, coming together into a traveling party. "Do they? Find comfort, I mean. I'm not exactly convinced everybody gets that chance."

"Hey," Pike says, and reaches up to grab Keyleth's hand between hers. "Keyleth, you're about to go do a, a wonderful thing. You're going to help rebuild a civilization. And you're still one of us, you're still Keyleth of Vox Machina. That doesn't change. You can go away and go away and go away, but that doesn't mean you never get to come back. Okay?"

Keyleth sighs, heavily, her shoulders bowing, and for a moment Pike thinks she sees the weight of centuries on that narrow frame. "It's just... I've always known I have a destiny. Some sort of destiny. And it's always felt like a cage. It's always been a cage. I can look out, and it's beautiful sometimes, but I'm trapped. I can't..."

Pike grips Keyleth's hands more tightly. "Keyleth. We all walk our own paths. Don't let somebody trick you into building your own prison, all right?"

Keyleth's hands are trembling. "What if I'm already building it?"

"Then you go ahead and you put a secret trapdoor in that only you know about, so you can escape when you need to. That's how it works. Or you send word for a friend to come bust you out." Pike grins, toothily. "We're pretty good at jailbreaks these days."

That sparks a laugh; Keyleth pulls her hands away to wipe at a couple new tears. "I know I have a bad habit of getting arrested."

"Even so," Pike says. "We'll be there. Because that's how it works. That's what makes us better. Okay?"

"Okay." A heavy breath, a squaring of shoulders, jaw thrust forward. "I'll see you again."

"Have fun," Pike says. "And be sure to freak 'em out a bit with all the weird stories you have about your travels. That's the best part."

And as Keyleth starts away, traveling far down a new path, Pike's pretty sure she sees her turn her head back and wink.

She finds Vex standing, still and silent, looking down over the edge of a ragged cliff. Her gaze is distant, calculating, not yet familiar in its sharp lines and deep shadows.

Pike comes up beside her, takes her hand, and waits.

"I'm leaving for a little bit," Vex says slowly, her brow furrowed like she doesn't quite recognize the words spilling from her own lips. "Just a little while."

"How long have you been able to do that, Vex?" Pike says, softly.

Vex turns to look at her, one brow quirked in question, then nods, apparently taking in the fresh scar that runs from Pike's earlobe down to her sternum. "Not long," she says. "Are you all right?"

"Better than I was an hour ago," Pike says, grinning, but the humor in her voice falls flat against the heaviness in the air. "Where are you going?"

Vex sighs. "Apparently she needs to speak with me. In person. I suppose I'm gaining a lot more attention these days, and we need to figure out what that means. Could be she has a job for me."

"That could be interesting." Pike cocks her head to one side. "Right?"

Vex pulls back. "It's just, it's just this damn trade. You weren't there, Pike. You weren't there, in the tomb. Neither of us saw him fall, and I think he was alone."

The words hit home with a palpable force; Pike takes a step back. "I know, Vex. I'm so sorry. Maybe I could've... maybe I could've changed what happened, I don't know."

Vex breathes, heavy and quick, until her hands stop trembling, then straightens, her face shifting once again to stone. "It's all right, Pike. It's not too late. You're the one who's always saying it's never too late. And if nothing else I've got one hell of a bargaining chip now. She'll listen to me."

"Vex," says Pike, feeling small and insignificant and unspeakably foolish, and then, more softly, "Vex'ahlia. I've been reading a bit of your book, you know, about the Raven Queen? And I think you're right, I think there's good to be done. I think there's always good to be done. But you don't need to give up your name to do it. You can't ever give up your name the way she wants, not really. Not while we remember it. Just... just keep that in mind. You have a home. You can always come back to us. To this."

The tremor starts in Vex's left hand, a little flick of her fingers, then travels as a visible shiver up her arm, down her spine. When she turns down to look at Pike, her eyes are finally familiar, wide and brimming with tears. "Pike, Pike, please tell Trinket I'll come back. Please take care of him for me. He won't understand, and I'll worry so..."

"It's all right," Pike says, gripping her hand. "It's all right, Vex, I'll watch after him. I'll make sure he's all right. You just hurry back as quick as you can, okay?"

"With luck," says Vex, "I won't be the only one coming home. Goodbye, Pike."

As the sun splits slowly over the horizon, bathing the valley in a soft ripple of light and dark, Pike watches as Vex takes a step and vanishes off the edge of the cliff, reappearing only after a heart-stopping moment, the black-feathered wings of her armor spreading wide and ragged against the mottled sky.