A/N: I know, I know, I'm late. Again. I've been super busy, and so has my mom, so she hasn't been able to proof it for me because we've been going every day for the last week or so. Anyway, this chapter is a tad shorter than the last one, but it's the middle part of the threeshot, and that seems to be how it is for both this and The Call, but the last one will be longer than this and the last chapter. This one has a lot of melodramatic Rosto in it, just like the last one did – hope y'all enjoy! Don't forget to review!

A week later found Rosto standing on one of the bridges over the Olorun River. His dark brown eyes were closed and he was just standing there, leaning against the guardrails. When he opened his eyes, he watched the rushing water below him. It seemed like he hurt everywhere. And not just outside, but inside, too.

Beka had left the City three days after their last argument. She hadn't told him why. At that matter, she had not spoken to him between that particular row and the time she had ridden off. It had been Ersken who had told him, and that had been just that morning.

Rosto was not proud of the way that he had acted since then. He knew that it wasn't helping anything, and it was only making his friends worried about him. The fact that they had not even seen him sober enough to walk in a straight line in the last three days (they had only seen him in the evenings, because he spent most of his days in his room, either moping or nursing a hangover) worried them. Aniki had told him blatantly just that morning that she never wanted to see him drunk again, too.

He still had a headache from the night before, and it was throbbing painfully, but he didn't really care. He had sunk into the depths of depression once again, and had been more than morose all day. All the same, watching the river rush by made him feel a tiny bit better. It was certainly more helpful than sitting around the Dove all day. The Dove just reminded him that he was probably never going to see Beka again, no matter what happened on this assignment of hers.

Even so, the realization had been forced upon him – he couldn't drink the pain away. The real irony of that statement is that he had told his father that years and years before when his mother had died. Now, he could identify with it. That pain was not the pretty kind, and it reared its ugly head at every turn. Rosto was hard pressed to push it away, and half the time, he found that he couldn't even try.

In the end, he really just didn't understand what had happened between him and Beka. He had no idea why she had started acting like that. Maybe it was just that it hadn't been a good idea for them to get involved, much less continue to be together. Maybe it was just better that way. Maybe it was better that they had never gotten past the kissing stage in their relationship, even if they had spent nearly every moment they could spare with each other.

Rosto sighed, closing his eyes again. His fingers ran over the pewter and crystal crow disk that hung from the chain at his neck. He didn't even know if she still wore the necklace he had given her all those months ago when he had left on the near fatal journey. Probably not, he decided. She wasn't even likely to need it, or try to use it even if she did have it, for all he had had the charm on the pendants renewed after he had been well enough.

He sighed again, letting go of the chain and pendant. Here at the river, he was almost tempted to drop it and the rest of what had happened in. Still, he found that he couldn't. Beka had always seemed so different from all of the others he had tried to win at one point or another. She really was, now that he thought about it. She was the first one who had really – really – returned his feelings. All of the others paled in comparison to her, even Aniki and Kora, though they were his closest friends now.

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Rosto turned to walk away from the river. His thoughts were going in a million directions at once, and not for the first time – at the moment, he both loved and hated his life. It was so different from what it had been before Beka, and he was different, too. Once, he would have relished a challenge like this – it would have been a game of cat and mouse, and he would have been the cat! He would have chased after her, reckless and intent on his prey – or prize, in this case.

Suddenly, Rosto did not feel like the man who had come home from the battle with the Tusaine Rogue barely alive. He really wasn't that man, now that he considered it. He never really had been, except at those moments. He wasn't as kind or sweet as Beka seemed to have thought he was. Maybe it was just the self-pity talking, but he couldn't remember a day when he hadn't gotten what he wanted. (Though, in reality, he wasn't nearly as spoiled as he thought he was, he was only thinking of himself that way out of that self-pity. In reality he had not gotten what he wanted all that often. He just thought he had, and he was being rather overdramatic about everything.)

Why did it have to be like that? He couldn't help but wonder that as he made his way back to the inn. Maybe he could…no. No. That was the end of it. No more trying to drink the pain away. No more self-pity. He had to let Beka go; that was what she wanted, and he needed to let her have what she wanted this time. If he was lucky, she would come back and things would go back to normal, if not, then…well, he would face that if it came. For now, though, he had to get out of Corus. He needed to get away for a while, away from the hurt that he was constantly feeling.

A half-smile appeared on his face as he walked back to the Dancing Dove. He knew he could leave Aniki in charge for a while – she had been in charge while he had been recovering, and it had worked well. He had to get out of Corus for a while. He had been meaning to visit the Rogue at Trebond for a while; he had put that off because he had wanted more time with Beka. But now, it was the perfect opportunity to take care of that. He could get away for a while and take a break. Maybe that would give him time to think about what had happened, and a way to fix it.

Rosto sighed as he walked up the stairs to his room. He was thinking about her again. That was the whole reason that he had been trying to drown out his thoughts until he was standing at the bridge, when he couldn't keep them away. But, he would have plenty of time for that later, he told himself.

He packed swiftly, taking only the clothing that would be durable enough for traveling – mainly canvas and leather would be best, he had decided. They would be warm enough in the mountains, as well, so it was perfect. All of his spare daggers went into the bags, too, just for an added measure. Two extra blankets went into the bedroll as well, along with the one that was already there, and whatever else he thought he'd need. He changed and took the pack and saddlebags downstairs, ducking into the kitchen to get some provisions.

"What are you doing, Rosto?" a voice from the doorway asked. He turned to look at Aniki, who was standing there and staring at him, or mainly at the clothing he was wearing. He went back to pulling things out and putting them into one of his bags.

"I'm going to Trebond, like I've been meaning to," he told her, tugging at the edge of the short-sleeved leather jerkin he wore as he closed his pack.

"Really? I thought…" she started.

"I know. You thought I was a complete wreck. I was. But I can't live like that," Rosto told her. "It's been a week, and I think I need to get out of here for a while," he continued.

"Were you going to leave without telling us?" Aniki asked. Rosto looked at her and shook his head.

"No. I wasn't. But you know now, so it doesn't make a difference. You're in charge of the Rogue while I'm away," he said. Aniki nodded solemnly.

"Be careful, Rosto," she said.

"I will," he replied. He picked up his pack and saddlebags and walked over to where she stood, stopping momentarily to embrace her. "Thank you, Aniki," he said softly. She nodded, watching him sadly as he pulled back and walked away.

Rosto walked over to the stables and began to ready his horse, abruptly thinking that this horse was the same one he had ridden when… He pushed it out of his mind as he picked up the saddle. That was the last thing he needed to think about right now; it was the last thing he wanted to think about.

A few moments later, with a sigh, Rosto led his horse from the stable and mounted up, turning to make sure that he had indeed attached the saddlebags to the saddle properly. Once he was sure of that, he urged the horse forward, though his mind had once again turned to Beka. If you don't ask her about it when you get back, he thought to himself as he rode off, you'll never know why this happened…

Posted 5/19/09