Rodents and Reality

Brynjolf's arms were wrapped around Natasja when she awoke the following morning. She almost pinched herself, wondering if the previous night was a fantastic hallucination. Carefully rolling over, she reached out a hand to touch his face and felt the stubble beneath her palm, further confirming she and Brynjolf had been together intimately. They had made – no, no, they'd had sex. She didn't dare think that other, overused, and idealistic word. Mara forbid I fall in love with this man. The inevitability of her disappearing one day, leaving his side to follow the Dragonborn calling, was more than enough reason to maintain some distance, for both their sakes. Best to keep things casual.

She poked his shoulder. "Wake up, thief. We have to get moving."

"What… what's going on?" he said, still not quite awake.

"The sun has been up a while." She slipped out of his arms and bent down, reaching for her underclothes. "We better head to the meadery soon."

"You're a slave driver, lass," he complained, rubbing his eyes. "Why don't you come under here with me for a few minutes more?" Gazing at her like a ravenous wolf, he fluffed the heavy sabre cat skin, flashing an eyeful of his bareness. He watched a small wrinkle appear on her forehead as she mulled over his question.

As Natasja put on her underclothes, she shook her head. "I didn't take you for a man who would lounge around in bed. Are you always this lazy?"

"Are you always this cranky?" With sudden strength, Brynjolf lunged forward and pulled her on top of him, her arms sprawling on his chest and her legs straddling his thighs. She felt his hardness against her belly as his hands raked up through her hair, the strands threading through his fingers. "Didn't you sleep well, Natasja?"

Without thinking, she buried her face in between his neck and shoulders as his hands caressed her hips, tugging at her underclothes. "Actually, I slept very well."

"Aye." His voice thickened as his hand slipped under the waistband, curving across her bare bottom. "Me too."

"All the more reason to-"

He brought her lips crashing down on his, not allowing her any further response. Using an unrepentant thrust of his tongue to part her lips, he kissed her in a way he hoped would tell her the feelings he wasn't ready to proclaim out loud.

"Please… no more." Nearly breathless, Natasja seized with apprehension. "We should focus on the task at hand," she said, her body tensing. He felt it then, the distance in her words, in her aloof stare, as if she had disassociated herself from him in that moment.

I won't let you forget…. "Perhaps we'll have something to celebrate tonight. Then you can buy me dinner." With a sweet smile, he reached up to touch her face. "I'll supply the dessert."

She pulled away from his touch, her face flushed, but emotionless. "Don't get your hopes up. Last night was nice, but I think we both know doing that again would be a mistake." She tried for an obstinate posture, but her voice was far too shaky to be convincing.

"Don't play coy with me, lass. I know you enjoyed yourself."

Her eyes widened and her shoulders straightened, her chin held high. "Honestly, I don't know what got into me last night. I'm not the type of woman who..." She coughed, trying to clear a sudden catch in her throat. "I don't fall into bed with men I hardly know."

"We are far from strangers, Natasja."

She wished he wouldn't say her name. She's always thought it so dull and common, but on his lips it sounded exotic and forbidden, as if it belonged to someone she didn't know. "Maybe not strangers, but I know very little about you."

He rested his head atop his crossed arms, but he was far from relaxed. "Nonetheless, last night was not a casual experience for you."

"But it was for you, wasn't it? I suppose you've slept with more women than you can count."

Her words bit deep into a place he rarely acknowledged to himself and certainly never would to anyone else. The space between them became a frosty rift, swallowing up every bit of warmth he tried to express. Of course, he wasn't a coward. If anything, he was the exact opposite, a man who continually took risks for the highs they gave him. Therefore, he ignored her snappish tone, and following his own impulse, he caught her wrists and held them.

"Good sex is one of life's greatest pleasures, lass. More often than not, sex has been like a snack for me, inadequate, quick and with little planning. But last night was a gourmet meal, inspired and deliberate… and enchanting."

She yanked her hands away, heat rushing into her face. "I suggest you get used to being disappointed with your meals then." Her tone was icy, but at odds with the heated passion in her eyes.

The variable frost and fire in her gaze was what had drawn him to her in the first place, it was what made him realize that, somehow, he had been given a second chance, a reprieve from the guilt of Anabel's death. This was his chance to wipe the slate clean and begin again, to fulfill a dream he'd only had in the darkest hours of the night.

He stood up, his head spinning with resentment, frustration, desire, and a continuing fascination with this woman who, despite her cool demeanor, affected his every thought and action. "I've never been a man to back down from a challenge, lass, or to make noble gestures. But make no mistake. I do want you, and for more than one night."

She made a soft, disapproving noise from the back of her throat, but when she lifted her eyes, she saw the tenderness in his gaze, and she raised her face to his, hungry for his kiss. Before she could think it through, she was leaning toward him. The smell of him, the taste, the feel of his skin was all she could comprehend. She melted against him and felt herself sinking.

"How do you do this to me?" she whispered. "How do you make me want the things I thought I had put aside years ago?"

"Because I've offered them to you freely, without fear or favor. I know we've not spoken this way to each other, but I know you feel what I feel. And that's enough for now, isn't it?"

She looked up at him and frowned. "No matter how… surprising the circumstances are, I will acknowledge that some greater force, perhaps the gods, brought us together. But that same force might pull me away in time. And there are specific reasons for my hesitation, things I'm reluctant to tell you. If I did tell you, you wouldn't be so willing to accept me."

"You underestimate me, lass. I recognize your qualities, both good and bad, and I accept you as you are."

"The odds are against us, Bryn. How can you be so confident?"

"Sure, there are no guarantees in life. But everything has a way of working out for the best. If you told me what it is that has you so concerned…."

"I don't want anything to happen to you, Brynjolf. You've been a good friend to me and, well… just don't ask me…." she trailed off, pursing her lips together tightly.

What was she keeping from him, and why? Certainly, it was more than her feelings for him. Maybe it was her way of telling him he should mind his own business. Was he pushing her too fast? Blast. To oblivion with my unfounded thoughts. "I have done terrible things in my lifetime too, Natasja, and there's nothing you can tell me that will make me run off. Whatever you've done, whatever has happened to you, and whatever your future plans are, I've no intention of holding anything against you. When you are ready to share with me, I'll be here. It's that simple."

"But it's not simple. This," she gestured between them, "is all fine and good for one night, but… oh, just leave me alone for a while. Please."

She couldn't bear to look at the hurt on his face, so she turned away, afraid to speak, fearing that if she did, she would take back her words, the Dragonborn mantle be damned. One day he would hear her shout the Thu'um. It was inevitable. And then what? She strode toward her armor on the floor, picked it up, and headed for the stairs in silence, sickened by her blood and her soul, her gift. Being the Dragonborn was no gift; it was a curse.

All he could do now was watch and wait for what was coming next. "I'd like to eat something before we leave." She stopped and looked at him, having already retreated into her usual cold observational posture. "That is if it's all right with you," he said, somewhat curtly. He appeared thoughtful and deliberate, but there was a hard look in his eyes and an edge in his tone suggesting he was more than disappointed with her reaction.

"Of course. I'm rather hungry too," was all she said, and then she descended the stairs.

Natasja was pleasant yet remote as they walked the short distance to the Honningbrew Meadery. She pointed out various edible plants and made small talk, and they went over the plans for poisoning the main vat. When they finally stepped inside the sales building, they were greeted by the smell of skeever turds as evidenced at various locations on the floor, along with one dead skeever right in front of them. Behind the counter and flipping through a ledger, was a balding Nord. Natasja and Brynjolf exchanged revolted glances, and she silently indicated she would address the man.

"What are you two gawking at?" Sabjorn squinted, his eyes assessing them. "Are you here to buy some mead or are you just going to stand there?"

"The rumors are true then?" Natasja asked.

His head snapped up to face her, his eyes flashing annoyance. "Of course! Just look at this place. I'm supposed to hold a tasting of the new Honningbrew Reserve for the Captain of the Guard this afternoon, and if he sees the meadery in this state, I'll be ruined."

"Can't you poison the vermin?"

"Do I look like the kind of man who could run around the tunnels and successfully make it out alive?"

"Perhaps we can help you out," she said, "for a small fee of course."

"Right. A small fee. You rid the meadery of those beasts and I'll have a reasonable payment waiting for you right here."

Natasja moved forward and pinned Sabjorn with a menacing glare. "You'll give me half the money now or I'll shout "skeever" from the lookout towers."

"Fine. Here's your damn coin," he spat, slapping a pouch down on the counter. "Just don't come back until every last one of them is dead." He handed her a vial of dark liquid. "Take this and poison their nests."

"This meadery will be the toast of the town when we're through." She shook the vial and grinned.

"Get on with it then. Commander Caius will be here soon and I want you to tell him the meadery is free of those filthy beasts."

Natasja nodded, turning on her heel and headed for the basement.

"Keep your eyes open and your mouth shut when we get in there, lass," Brynjolf spoke up from behind her.

"So, you are tired of me already." She smiled but there was a chill in her eyes he couldn't miss.

"Not yet, but we can't risk one of us falling due to distraction."

"Then perhaps you'd like to take the lead? This way, you don't have to watch my back." It was not meant to be a flirtation, but her response sounded more provocative than she intended.

A wicked smile crossed Brynjolf's lips. "For a woman, you have some pretty good ideas."

She scoffed at his tease, but in her own defiant manner. "Have you ever heard this one? A man is like a fine wine. He starts out like a grape, and it's a woman's job to stomp on him and keep him in the dark until he matures into something you'd like to have dinner with."

"Then I've matured already, given our dinner last night."

She gasped with laughter as she put her hands on her hips. "You are insufferable!"

He thrust his face in front of hers. "And you are insufferably amusing."

Her hair brushed across the side of his face as she turned with a sharp exhale of breath. "Just… get in front of me."

He did as commanded, leading the way through the twisting tunnels with an ease born of long practice, the future profits calling to him. Killing every skeever and destroying their nests was easy enough. As they pressed on, the skeevers thinned out, until they approached an open space.

Coming around the corner, Natasja could hear the mumblings of… someone. "Bryn, someone's down here," she whispered. She sensed danger but allowed him to lead on in the damp, foul-smelling earth of the cavernous labyrinth.

A crackle of magical energy in the air surged from the left, making Brynjolf's hair stand on end. Natasja and Brynjolf danced to the right. An old man in tattered mage robes stood before them, and at his sides, his hands were wreathed in a fiery light.

"Watch out!" Brynjolf shouted as a fireball aimed at Natasja came dangerously close to incinerating her. She continued to advance on the mage despite Brynjolf's shouts. "Don't be a hero, Natasja! Get behind that wall!"

"Are you afraid? Come on, Bryn! Show me what you've got!"

Her dark, provoking laugh was not amusing him. "Get behind him!" Brynjolf sprinted to the mage's right and stunned him with a blow to the head.

Natasja somersaulted and jumped to her feet behind the mage, slicing her blade down his spine. The old man crumpled to the ground with a low moan.

Brynjolf crossed his arms to keep them from flailing about. "What in bloody blazes is wrong with you, woman? Do you have a death wish?"

He was looking at her uncertainly and she forced a smile. "Oh, come on. It was fun, wasn't it?"

"Fun?" he said, mystified. "My idea of fun is more in line with last night's activities. What you just did was foolish and dangerous."

She winced at the sharpness in his voice and her eyes met his piercing glare. "Well, I'm sorry you feel that way. Next time I'm running errands for your guild, I'll go alone. Or better yet, I'll take someone more pleasant to be around!"

"Now, lass, don't be insulted, and don't scowl at me like that. You could have been killed and you know it."

"But I wasn't, so just drop it."

He stood there smiling at her like some kind of idiot. He thought they were both fools, spinning like tops out of control, risking life and limb every day, and for what? More coin than most have these days. Retirement may not be such a bad thing, though…. "Do me a favor and save the death defying routine for a time when I'm not around, lass."

"Fine." She should have been flattered, but his concern rubbed her the wrong way. Why is that? she thought. Stupid men and their stupid observations. "Let's finish this damn job already."

Ten minutes later, they were finally rewarded by the sight of a doorway, which led to the boilery. Brynjolf looked at her with a wide smile. "And here we are, lass."

There was a slight movement behind him, and then she saw the vile beast raise its head and eye Brynjolf with its teeth bared. "Bryn! Behind you!"

The skeever launched and attached itself to the back of Brynjolf's calf, taking him down to the ground as he shouted a profanity. Natasja chopped it in half with one swing of her sword and fell to her knees beside Brynjolf, tossing the bloodied weapon next to her.

"Let me take a look…."

"Ah! Easy, lass." Brynjolf winced as she pushed him onto his stomach to examine the injury. "How does it look?"

"It tore right through your armor."

"I am aware of that," he groaned. "It was a venomfang skeever, lass. You have to suck out the venom."

"Pardon me? Suck out the venom?" With wild eyes and mouth agape, she stared at him. "I will do no such thing!"

"If you don't, I'll never make it back to Whiterun. The poison will damage my muscles beyond repair. You must do it, and now!"

She had to save him, and for reasons well beyond the guild's interests. "Gods, I hate you right now, Brynjolf."

"And will that ever change?"

Her glare disappeared, replaced with utter shock. "How can you joke right now?" Her heart was still pounding out of control, her pulse racing.

"I'm trying to keep you calm," he said, but the strength in his voice was fading.

She shook her head and grimaced. "Just tell me what to do."

"Putting poison in your mouth is not a good thing. Do you have any scratches in your mouth?"

"I don't know!"

"Grab that bottle of mead and rinse your mouth first, then cut open the wound."

"Won't the cut make you bleed more? Then you risk infection."

"It will become infected anyway, but at least you can get out some of the venom this way. You must hurry, Natasja. Take your dagger and cut!"

He looked so pale, so near to passing out, so near… death. She pressed her lips together to cut off a sob of panic. He's stubborn, she reminded herself. When he accepted a mission, he succeeded, whatever the cost. And she did too.

"Damn it, Bryn, I feel like throwing up right now."

"Stay calm, lass. It's simple. Cut, suck, and then spit it all out and swish the mead around in your mouth for a while."

"Oh, is that all? I bloody hate you."

"You mentioned that already."

Damn his smile and his wit and the ease with which he could find the humor in anything. She pulled out her dagger and poured some mead on it. "I don't know why I agreed to this," she muttered as she stuck the tip of her dagger into his flesh, her stomach lurching sickeningly. She took a deep breath, trying to take control of her emotions. "Damn Mercer and his stupid ideas." Brynjolf didn't wince then, but when she wrapped her lips around the wound and began to suck, she heard him moan.

"Mmm, lass… those sounds you're making…. Under any other circumstance, I'd have had my way with you already."

She spat a thick, disgusting mix of blood and venom beside him and wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. "One more comment like that and I'll leave you down here to die." She swished some mead around her mouth, making sure it reached every curve. Sorely tempted to spit in his face, she glared at him again and spat on the ground. "I've got to get to the boiler to pour the poison into the vat."

Ignoring her haste to finish the job, his only thought right then was for her health. "Forget the poison for a minute and rinse your mouth again. Then pour some mead on my wound."

She saw he was concerned for her, and she tried to make him feel at ease by assuming a seriousness and indifference that she was certainly not feeling. "I hope it stings you like a son-of-a-bitch." Her eyes flashed with something akin to anger for a moment, but soon her look turned apologetic when she saw him cringe from the pain. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. Are you all right, Bryn?"

"I'm fine," he said. "And thank you. I know that was difficult for you."

"Not so difficult," she whispered back. Brynjolf thought he caught a ghost of a smile curving her mouth, but then it straightened. "Do you want to stay here for a few minutes, or can you follow me if I help you or maybe-"

"Just do it and come right back. And don't forget to flush the system and force the poisoned mead through the lines."

"How can I forget that?" She rolled her eyes. "I'll be back as fast as I can, and then we'll get out of this hole in the ground."

"We'll need to attend the tasting. By then the poison will have clouded my mind some and I should have no trouble passing for a drunken fool."

"Don't say things like that. I'm worried about-" You! she thought angrily. "…about getting this job done and getting out in one piece."

"I'm flattered you care, lass." The corners of his mouth hitched up in a teasing grin.

She huffed. "Don't be."

"And don't you overreact. We'll be fine."

Pulling her hand from a pocket, she placed a vial in his hands. "Drink this." Worry for him pulsed through her, making her shake with the intensity of it. She stood up, her face pale and tight with anxiety. "Just… don't do anything stupid if that energy potion perks you up a little." He smiled as her eyes pleaded openly with him, and then she dropped her gaze and hurried to the boilery.

Waiting for her to return, a sour, queasy feeling crept over him, along with an odd combination of excitement and dread. "Damn skeevers," he mumbled to himself. Aside from his current predicament, he had to admit he'd enjoyed all the time he'd spent with her so far. But he thought about her words that morning and the frustration rose again. "Damn my expectations. She made her feelings pretty clear this morning. Then again, last night she indicated something very different."

Nothing could have prepared him for the hunger he felt for her last night, the shock of desire as she lay naked and eager next to him. In spite of having had numerous women wake up beside him since Anabel's death, he hadn't felt so connected, so peaceful and happy. Yet he knew they both had secrets keeping them apart, and that worried him. But at the same time, beneath the trepidation, exhilaration stirred. Now he knew exactly why she was vacillating; they were more alike than he'd realized. A sudden surge of hope sprang from his discontent. He'd draw her to him; coax her out of her shell with every passionate skill he'd mastered. He wouldn't forget what they shared, and he'd make damn sure she didn't forget either.

The door flew open and Natasja bounded toward him, her heart pounding and lungs burning. "Job's done. Can you get up?" she said coolly. A small smile played on his lips, and she got the impression her calm demeanor didn't fool him one bit.

"I cannot. You'll need to support me, lass." He slurred his words a bit and he was sweating and pallid. Touching his forehead, she noted he was feverish too.

She helped him to his feet, and steadied him as they walked past the vats. "We can leave through the exit there." She was almost pleased when she heard him groan. "Drink this. It will perk you up again." He downed the vial and a small amount of color returned to his cheeks.

She put her arm around him as they left the building, and she pressed close to his side. That cheered him up, and he began to think of ways to make the most of her closeness. It only took a few steps to realize he could not take advantage of her care.

"Sorry, lass. Sorry you have to bear the burden in all this."

"I had it coming. You helped me once before, remember?"

"Aye. A banner day that was, eh?" He leaned heavily on her as they walked inside the meadery and headed for Sabjorn at the counter. Commander Caius was inspecting the barrels of mead across the room, and barely spared a glance toward them.

"Job's finished," Natasja whispered to Sabjorn.

Sabjorn motioned toward Brynjolf. "What's with him?"

"Oh, he sampled some mead. Quite a lot actually."

"Sabjorn!" Commander Caius bellowed. "How about I get a taste of your mead now?"

Natasja held Brynjolf upright, resting her head between his shoulders. His labored breathing had her worried, but she said nothing while she listened to Sabjorn and the Commander.

"I think you'll find it quite pleasing to your palate. Help yourself, milord."

Caius filled a goblet and took a long drink. His nose wrinkled and his face contorted, then he spat out the liquid onto the floor. "By the Eight! What's in this? You assured me this place was clean!"

"What… what do you mean? I don't understand!" Sabjorn looked at Natajsa and Brynjolf, a frantic look on his face. "Tell him you cleared out the problem!" Natasja simply shrugged. Brynjolf's condition wasn't improving and she was as all the more impatient to leave.

"You!" Caius shouted as he pointed at Mallus Maccius, who had slipped into the room. "You're in charge here until this is sorted out. Now move Sabjorn. You'll be rotting in the dungeons for this, you idiot!" Caius pushed Sabjorn out the door as Maccius approached Natasja.

"I don't think that could have gone any better," said Maccius, narrowing his stare on Brynjolf. "What's wrong with him?"

"He was bitten by a skeever. I've got to get him back to Whiterun quickly, but I need to search Sabjorn's office first."

"Sure, here's the key. I'm sure you'll find what you need upstairs."

Natasja lowered Brynjolf onto a chair and his head lolled. "Bryn, I'll be right back. Rest your head on the table."

"Aye… Hurry… back."

Brynjolf was fading again, and Natasja had never felt so helpless before. As fast as her feet could move, she ran upstairs and found a promissory note in the dresser, but wasted no time reading it and stuffed into her pocket. With a quick sweep of the room, she snatched a Honningbrew Decanter she thought Delvin might like, then raced back to Brynjolf.

"I've got the evidence. Ready to go?"

"Always."

She smiled and lifted him, snaking an arm around his waist, and leading him to the door.

"Don't forget to put in a good word for me with Maven!" Mallus shouted. Natasja nodded and began the brief walk back to town, Brynjolf staggering alongside her.

Sweaty and limping their way up the steep cobblestone street toward her house, she was more miserable on the short hike back to Whiterun than she'd been crawling through the tunnels of the meadery. Rain fell in the distance and dark clouds hung low as the thunder rolled overhead. The town was quiet, dreadfully quiet, and waiting for the storm to break loose. Brynjolf was straining to stay awake, and she bore almost his full weight as they reached her door.

"Bryn, you have to stay awake, damn it!"

Natasja saw a local man walking by, and she shouted to him. "You there! Fetch me a healer from the temple this instant and you'll have more coin than you've ever dreamed of."

Recognizing her, the man's eyes lit up. "Right away, Thane!"

"As soon as we get inside," she said to Brynjolf, "I'll give you some mandrake root." She shuffled him through the door, leaving it wide open for easy entry as she repressed the nausea roiling her stomach. "Why we didn't take it to begin with is beyond me, but it should clear your mind and blood of any disease. Then the healer can tend to your muscles and cast a restoration spell."

"I'd like some more of your charming bedside manner first," he muttered.

"You'll get nothing of the sort. Now do as I say and stay awake." She slapped his face then, in light, short bursts at first, but when it didn't seem to do much, she gave him another slap, harder this time.

"Oi! You like it a bit rough then, eh?"

Happy as she was to hear him teasing, the urgency of the moment did not allow her time to relax. "Damn you, Brynjolf. Stop joking around."

"Who's joking?" His eyes began to close as she settled him on the couch.

She sprinted to a cabinet and grabbed the mandrake, then carefully, she put the root to his lips. "Chew some of this and then swallow it." He did as he was told, and within a few minutes, the cloudiness in his eyes began to clear. Natasja also ate a few bites of the root vegetable, for good measure. "Bryn, you have to stay focused on me."

"Ah… much better. Thank you, lass." He blinked as the mandrake took effect, a slight smile coming to his lips as he stared at Natasja. Then he braced his arms, trying to get up, but she laid a gentle hand on his thigh.

"Give it a few minutes, Brynjolf, please," she said, trying not to show her concern. "My nursing skills were already put to the test today."

"Stendarr have mercy." He winced from the pain. The additional pain, from the continual pounding in his head, didn't help. "My leg is throbbing, lass."

"A healer will be here any minute." Motion near the door caught her eye as the healer entered. "Finally! Over here," she said, waving frantically.

"I am Tanille, from the temple," the young healer said, then she dropped to her knees beside Brynjolf. The crystals in her hands glowed, and her face tightened with concentration. "Ataxis and poison." Natasja eyes flew to Tanille's face, her worry plain. "This will heal him. He'll be back to normal in an hour or so."

Brynjolf felt a jolt and then the sizzling tingle of a powerful current passing though his muscles as Tanille touched his legs. Natasja stared at Brynjolf for a moment, her hand clasped with his. Relief flooded through her when she saw the healing energy flow through him. All the suppressed anxiety seemed to burst from her at once. She shook with convulsive sobs for what seemed like several minutes, then stopped abruptly when she saw the man who had secured the healer hold out his hand for payment.

When she looked at Brynjolf, he was flexing his leg, extending it, and trying to stretch out the aching muscles. Thank the Gods. The color was returning to his cheeks, although he still felt a little clammy when she laid her palm on his forehead. He'll be fine… he will be fine.

Natasja tossed the man a small pouch laden with coin and gave Tanille a full pouch as well. "Thank you both." Her eyes darted between the healer and the man. "Please, leave us now."

"Keep him awake for a few minutes to make sure he has fully come back to his senses," Tanille said, shifting awkwardly.

"I will. Thank you again." As the healer closed the door, Natasja took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment.

"Scared you, did I?" Her eyes popped open to see Brynjolf smiling at her. He spoke soft and low, his voice gravelly. "Don't worry, lass. I'll be ready for that dinner you owe me later."

"One thing at a time. Let's sit you up." She wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him up. Surprisingly, he had regained a fair amount of strength and was able to adjust himself into a comfortable position.

He took her hand in his and held it tightly. "Were those tears for me, lass?" He fixed his piercing eyes upon hers.

"Yes," she answered, staring at their entwined fingers, and she nodded. "For you… mostly."

"And why is that?"

"Because I… Because you were right, Bryn. I thought about what you said this morning. I don't want either of us to get hurt, but I can't deny what I feel for you." She turned serious. This was a precious moment, perhaps one she was waiting for her entire life. She was about to take charge of her life and make a decision that would affect her for the rest of it, however long that may be. "I do want you in my life, and on whatever terms you say."

"Terms? No terms are needed. It can be frustrating, but I think if we take it slow, we won't regret anything in the long run. Do you agree?"

She saw he still appeared rather dismayed even though his features had mellowed a little. He held his breath and waited for her answer with a warm smile and quick squeeze of her hand.

"I meant what I said before." Her eyes met his, calm and clear. "So yes, I agree."

"I knew you'd see reason eventually." He sounded vastly relieved his insight had proved true. Using more strength than he should have, he lifted his face to hers and gave her a tender kiss. "But I am rather tired… I'd like to rest a while…."

"Not yet. The healer said to keep you awake, and that is exactly what I'm going to do. How about…?" Her eye began to twitch, and her booted foot tapped loudly on the floor. "I know, let's… let's play a game. I'll say a word and you say the first word that comes to mind."

"Oh yes, that sounds so tempting." He gave her a saucy wink.

"Stop it, Bryn. You're in no shape for that kind of activity." She pushed his roaming hand away. "Okay, my word is candle." His eyes were closing, and he offered no response as beads of sweat dripped from his forehead. "I said candle, Bryn!" Don't panic. It takes time to heal….

"Gods, lass… you don't have to shout. Candle, hm? Flame."

"Hot."

"Fire," he said with a low rumble.

"Dragon."

"Born."

If you only knew…. She was almost comfortable enough to tell him the truth about her destiny, and to admit it to herself. If only it could always be like this. If only she could trust he would always want to be this close to her. Then she could give their relationship a proper chance. Nothing would compare to the pain she would feel if she invested her heart and found herself rejected. So she simply said, "Puppy."

"Lost"

She traced her finger along the cleft of his chin, starting at the bottom and moving up to his lips, her finger pausing there to be kissed. "Found."

"Aye." He closed his eyes and sighed. She thought he'd fallen asleep, but then his lips moved. "Your turn, lass. I said 'aye'."

"Ear?" she said with a smirk.

"I'll let that one go," he said, grinning. "Music."

"Dance."

"Slow."

The only thing Natasja wanted at that moment was Brynjolf's hands on her, but she'd have to wait, so she opted for something simpler. "Kiss."

"Later," he said with a wave of his finger.

"Now."

She reached out to cup his head in her hands and drew him in for a kiss. Her lips brushed over his in a quick, gentle caress meant to tease him. She wanted him to kiss her back, of course, and when he didn't cooperate, she brushed her lips over his once again. "It's a new beginning," she said in a whisper. "And I still owe you dinner. Do you have any plans tonight?"

He lifted an eyebrow. "For you, I'll cancel them." He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, holding her so tight she almost couldn't breathe, but she didn't care. She felt safe and protected and desired, all her senses aware of how much he wanted her.

"You sleep a little first," she said as she stroked his hair. Guiding his shoulders, she pulled his back against her chest, letting his head rest upon her. "How's that?"

"Much better." Closing his eyes, Brynjolf savored the comforting spell cast by her fingertips caressing his face. She kissed his forehead and ran her hand up under his shirt, and his breathing turned slow and heavy with the warmth of her touch. He drifted to sleep with the soothing sound of her voice in his ear, the chaos of the day a distant memory.

Natasja looked at the darkened sky through the window as the rain came down. Gods, guide me through the storms of life….

A/N: Thank you for all the alerts I've received for this story and a special thanks to my reviewers. I love reading your comments, so please drop me a line, and let me know your thoughts. Hugs and kisses to my friend, Biff McLaughlin, beta extraordinaire! Props to Zute as well. Biff and Zute, you guys keep my muse from taking naps every day.