Again, sorry for how long these updates take, but i have a lot of crap going on. Anyway, I'll try to do them faster than once every 3 weeks, but don't count on it. I hope my taking so long isn't detracting too much from the story. I want to give a shoutout to A Drunk Canadian who has helped a lot in the development of this story, being my faithful betareader... though I haven't heard from him in a while, now. You still alive, dude? Also, a thanks and my eternal gratitude to AKissAndAGunshot for being the first drawfag (again, endearing term) to take me up on my request. GO TO MY PROFILE TO VIEW IT. Thanks again so much, dude. I'd like for his to be the first, not the first and last, so if any others want to do one as well, I could even start a gallery on my Deviantart profile (I don't do art, really, I just have one :P) or someting. Anyway, here's chapter 13. At 11,306 words it is my longest (In MSWORD it is, but on here 11 still has it beat, I dunno...) Still not much fighting in sight anytime soon, but don't worry, between now and the end, someone's gonna eat a lasbolt... or twelve.

Andron's eyes slid open. It was still dark, the dim light of the night still illuminating their surroundings slightly. On the very edge of his hearing, the last echoes of a cry faded into the endless expanse that surrounded them. He carefully maneuvered himself out of her arms.

"Aureleth." Her eyes snapped open so suddenly that he almost recoiled slightly. She stayed laying down for a moment before turning to look at him, smiling before a look of slight concern crossed her face.

"Is something wrong?" She immediately looked to Eruwen who, to her relief, was deep in slumber.

"We… have a situation." A faint mixture of a grunt and a cry reached their ears, Aureleth reaching for her weapons in response.

He quietly lay down on the lip of their shelter, only his head protruding out of cover, and scanned their surroundings. The gently rolling hills were shrouded in shadows, areas of complete darkness bordering dimly lit ones. He saw movement. Just barely out of one of the shadowed areas, nearly a hundred meters away, a prone figure moved. His lasrifle snapped onto the source of activity, and he held deathly still. A soft grunt reached his ears, followed by rustling. The figure stopped crawling, and he heard a heavy grunt followed by a sharp exhale as whatever effort was being expended became too much. What he heard next sent a mixture of feelings, both good and bad, through his heart.

"Andron, it is a human," her voice barely traveled, it was so quiet.

"I know…" the implications were numerous and significant.

He had been crawling for hours. He didn't even know if he was going the right way. They had been hit so suddenly. All he remembered was the pilot shouting to brace themselves for evasive maneuvers, followed by the roaring bark of heavy bolters right next to his head as the Valkyrie lurched to the side to avoid incoming fire. After less than a minute of that, the side of the aircraft was torn open and the last thing he remembered before blacking out was the ground rushing up to meet them. When he had regained consciousness night had fallen.

His legs were all but unusable, he was sure he had several broken ribs, and he was bleeding. He most likely wouldn't make it, but a part of him was glad that he at least wouldn't have to explain to a commissar where he had been. If he survived long enough to make it to Imperial lines he would likely only have a cocked bolt pistol waiting for him. After trying to look ahead earlier, he had realized that his eyes had been damaged, and he couldn't see anything clearly even if it were closer than an arm's length. Everything was a blur. Exerting more effort, the gravely wounded guardsman continued his seemingly aimless crawl through the plains of Ildanesh. He grunted and panted as he exerted all of his remaining strength in getting… somewhere. He was tired, and when his foot caught on a rock protruding from the lush green grass, twisting his ankle enough to apply pressure to his leg, he cursed loudly. He was so exhausted, but he had to keep going even if it killed him. He continued trying to crawl, though he realized that he had most likely just reached his limit. He wouldn't dare admit it, or even utter anything resembling his true feelings, but he hated it. He was sure that any of his squadmates would have given anything to return home in the backs of their minds. When they lost that part of themselves, what were they then? As a servant of the God-Emperor, however, he had a duty to fulfill. For the sake of humanity, he had to endure what most could not.

"Gak," The word barely trickled from his mouth in the form of a whisper. It was a human. He was unsure how injured the person was, but there was little chance that the man would be cooperative. As soon as he saw that he was with two Eldar, he would try to kill them, and then he would have to kill the man, most likely right in front of Eruwen. In the several seconds that struggle would last, anything could happen. He was not willing to take that risk.

"There's nothing we can do." He began sliding quietly back down to his spot in the pit. He had only descended less than half a meter before he felt a hand on his vest.

"What do you mean by that?" She seemed almost hurt, or at least surprised at his sudden cold stance on an issue of life and death.

"He'll kill you. He'll try to at least. The instant he realizes who you and Eruwen are, the only hesitation between then and him trying to kill you will be the time it takes him to reach for his weapon. I am not going to risk you, or Eruwen," he pointed to the sleeping child, "for the sake of him."

"You would forsake your own?" He could feel an aura of sadness radiating from her. It bordered on disappointment. Why would she care about a dying guardsman who would see her burnt alive? How ironic if she felt more sympathy for humanity than he did, he thought. There was simply no benefit to risking all he had left for the sake of a random guardsman.

"In terms of what I would do for you two, that sacrifice is petty. Aureleth, I don't know how I became who I am, but I fear that I'm the only one, and that the only thing we can trust him to do is what they did to her," he again indicated Eruwen.

Aureleth cast her eyes to the ground. "You spared me. How were you so sure that I would not have killed you? Surely you had heard only the most horrific of stories about my people. I even… made to kill you as you lay injured, yet you still spared my life knowing that an Eldar had chosen not to do so for you. You are not like this, Andron. Y—"

"With you, I… I just knew. I was still afraid, yes, but…" He was unsure how to continue. The feeling had been so absolute, that there was no way for him to even put it into words. He felt not an inkling of that as he lay with her, looking at the dying guardsman in the distance.

"But what?" She pressed gently.

"I don't know. I can't risk you. I promised I wouldn't let anything happen to you or her. I'm going to keep that promise… even if it means this. I'd give my life for you. This is… It doesn't matter if he's human or not. I can't. I won't, not at your expense. I'm sorry." As he said it, he thought. What made him human other than his physiology? She had feelings, desires, loved ones, a life, hopes, dreams, fears, and everything that made him "human", and possibly even more. That man down there was only a different form of himself. They were all sentient, the only difference being that the guardsman would kill the woman he loved and the child he would protect without hesitation and do so while ensuring that they suffered simply because they were not like him. He would not let something like that near them.

She feared the possible outcomes of bringing in the guardsman, but in his apparent state, he posed little threat in her eyes. He could be handled if need be. She didn't want Andron to lose what made him so special. He was merciful. She remembered the pain she felt pouring out of him more fiercely than the lasbolts that ended the life of the guardsman in the abandoned home. He had done it to protect her. It was without hesitation, but in no way without sorrow. If he lost that… she would not allow it.

"Then what does that make you?" She gently yet somehow ominously asked.

The question struck him with the force of a Land Raider. "I…" He clenched his fists around his lasrifle, deep in thought as a debate raged inside of his mind. He stared intently at his rifle.

"Andron." His head snapped up and he turned to face her, the trance broken for a short time. "Remember who you are. I will leave this decision as yours." She slid back down into the pit and rested against the dirt wall next to Eruwen.

He looked back at her. He would never forgive himself if anything were to happen, let alone if it were his fault. Still… she trusted him. If she was willing to risk herself to preserve his… humanity, he would honor her wish. His lasrifle would not leave his grip so long as the man drew breath, however.

"Wait here." He slid on his stomach over the edge of the pit, lasrifle still in hand, and began advancing in a crouch towards the injured human.

Someone was coming. He heard the footsteps in the soft grass, barely audible. He tried to prop himself up to reach his lasrifle at his side and take a firing position, however he was simply to weak to even move. So, he thought. This is it? He was going to die out in some field, not even having fired a shot in his final campaign. It was a poor way to end the life of a guardsman by any standard, he thought. Hopefully he'd be able to take the merciless fiend with him. He calmly prepared for whatever was to come, becoming immobile, his hand wrapped around the grip of his lasrifle, ready to exert whatever energy he had left into rolling and firing into his target. The footsteps ceased. They were close. A quiet whistle, one meant to grab attention… a human whistle, floated the short distance through the night to his ears.

"Don't shoot. Imperial." The footsteps drew closer. "How badly are you hurt?"

He grunted, trying to roll onto his back to see who was there. "Really bad. I can't see. Who… agh… who are you?"

"Andron Jarek, 34th Kallidian. Just hold still, I'm bringing you back to camp. I got separated from my squad, though, so it's just someone else and I." Andron walked over to the injured man. His tunic was covered in blood. Chances were slim that he'd last through the night, but Andron would take the man in anyway. "Here, grab my arm."

He knelt down and the man took hold of his arm. His grip was surprisingly weak. Andron supported him on his shoulder and went to walk, only to hear the man grunt loudly.

"Can you walk?" He looked down, and the man's legs appeared to be badly damaged.

"No. I got messed up. Just drag me by my vest, it'll be easier." With Andron's help, he laid down on his back. A loop on the back of the neck of his combat vest would allow Andron to pull him back to their resting place.

Her ears detected their return long before she saw them come back over the small lip into their little sanctuary. Aureleth had taken Andron's pack and placed it next to Eruwen in a way that made her appear to be only a part of a pile of gear under a blanket. She knew what the possibilities were, and if the situation took a turn for the worse, Eruwen would at least be hidden from view.

"I need your help, A… I need your help," Andron caught himself. Even though humans spanned thousands of worlds, the name "Aureleth" would sound strange and alien to anyone. He decided he would not use it unless it was safe to do so. Andron laid the injured soldier on his back in the middle of their sanctuary before reaching into his pack, and noticing Eruwen's covered form next to it, and retrieving a lamp. He grabbed both ends of its cylindrical body and pulled, exposing a translucent red section between the two parts he had pulled apart. He twisted the lamp and it immediately cast a dull red glow across the immediate area, and illuminated their faces, obscured with stark shadows. He removed some cloth and other materials that could prove useful for medical purposes from his pack and laid them next to the wounded soldier. "His eyes are damaged. We'll wrap them with this." He tore a piece of cloth from the supplies that he had and wrapped it around the man's head, covering his eyes. "Could you see at all before?" He tied a knot at the back of the guardsman's head. As he leaned down to complete the knot, he got a good look at the soldier's face. He was repulsed, nearly horrified to find that the…boy, was barely into adulthood. He couldn't have been more than eighteen years old.

"Barely…"

"There's not much I can do about that. I'm sorry…" He turned to Aureleth, "Can you come here and help me with his tunic? It looks like he has a lot of damage here." Before she approached, he leaned toward her and whispered as quietly as he could, "He's just a kid…" She looked visibly shocked, her face becoming a mask of melancholy pity as it faded from her initial reaction. She nodded, however, and obliged kneeling down next to the boy and working off his tunic.

"Ah…" Andron sat and gawked at the young man's bloodied form, surprised he was still alive. He was still losing blood through his legs, which would have to be tended to immediately if he were to survive. "Hold him down. This is not going to be painless." She maneuvered herself toward his chest, and held him down, leaning down, putting her weight into restraining him. She looked back up to Andron and received a nod, and she braced herself. Despite her lithe and delicate appearance, however, she was exceptionally strong, and would almost certainly be able to restrain the wounded soldier with little difficulty. She had learned recently, however, that her life was full of surprises.

He couldn't see anything, save for a faint red glow from the lantern that Andron had put down. He felt a presence right next to his head. Someone was there. That feeling was confirmed when he felt hands press down on his shoulders. As the unknown person held him down, he could not help but notice the odd feeling beginning to circulate through him. The hands holding him down were not gnarled. Against his bare shoulders they were slender, and… not beaten enough for an average guardsman. Why his mind wandered to such places he did not know, but he felt strangely comforted by whoever it was, and the pain that would have otherwise been flaring in his legs was but a dull throb as he let his mind drift on more pleasant courses.

His legs were mangled, and all that Andron could do was wrap and splint them. The soldier would almost certainly not survive due to blood loss and likely internal bleeding, and though it chipped at his conscience, he was careful not to use a large amount of their medical supplies on him. He knew it would eventually be in vain.

The hazy fog of comfort he had been drifting in was suddenly shattered as a white hot lance of pain shot up his leg, continuing through his entire spine before exploding in his head. He cried out in pain, his neck muscles tightening, causing his head to rise suddenly. As he jerked his head forward, he felt it pass through a soft, light curtain. It split apart on his face, forming innumerable, silken strands that lightly brushed over his un-bandaged nose and cheeks before his head came to a rest once more on the ground. Through the pain so intense as to manifest itself as sound in his ears, on the edge of his awareness he heard a grunt. It sounded female, though. The hands gently held him down as Andron continued to work.

"I'm going to finish with his legs, but can you start mending his chest wounds?" He continued to wrap his legs in cloth taken from his tunic. He looked up at her and she nodded. She carefully retrieved some cloth from the supplies they had and set about cleaning and protecting his wounds, careful not to be too forceful.

He felt the hands depart from his shoulders, the warm feeling of comfort that had been growing inside of him largely fading. He was confused, as such a reaction made little sense to him. The pain in his legs grew from a dull throb to a pain that was bordering on acute. He had been trained for such things, however, and was able to keep from yelling out. He heard movement, and felt the person by his head move toward his abdomen. He gritted his teeth, preparing for pain to explode across his chest, however only felt light touches and pressures as his benefactor healed him. Despite the pain in his legs, he wouldn't have minded laying there for the rest of eternity. He was supposed to be fighting, dying, killing, but he instead found himself lying in soft, cool grass. The fact that he was unable to see and severely injured did little to detract from how he felt.

He was curious as to the identity of whoever it was patching up his chest. Though the chances were infinitesimally slim that he would be correct regarding his benefactor's gender, he had also learned in the past several hours that the unexpected was probably the most likely situation. He decided he would try his luck, his curiosity getting the better of him. He extended his arm up towards where he thought the person may be, his hand crossing infinite darkness towards an unknown target. He knew he was reaching in the correct direction as he felt the person's hair separate around his hand as he reached upwards. The faint radiation of body heat onto the face of his hand also indicated such. He was unsure what he was doing, and had no idea how he would explain his bizarre reactions if, Emperor forbid, he was wrong. That did little to stop him, however, for the vice of intrigue had grasped him tightly.

He was stopped dead, though, when he felt a hand wrap gently yet firmly around his wrist. The fact that he only felt one hand near his abdomen indicated that it was the same person. His breath caught in his throat, and he held still, his arm suspended in the invisible healer's gently grasp. Slowly, and with care, his arm was lowered and placed next to him. He couldn't see who it was, nor had he heard him or her utter a word, however he simply knew that it was a woman. That aura, that feeling that they could instill in any man was what he felt coursing through him. He felt safe. He was tired. It was likely blood loss, he knew, and there was a chance that he might not wake up. He was unable to bring himself to care, however, and let the sweet oblivion of sleep claim him.

After a half hour of careful medical attention, they had the guardsman as bandaged as he could be without using too much of their supplies. Thankfully his medkit added to the pool, and they were able to use little of their own. Aureleth and Andron sat back, and he looked to Eruwen who still slept under the blanket he had given her. He smiled. "Looks like he passed out." He reached out, tapping the young guardsman on the shoulder.

He stirred, his cheeks twitching, an indication of him attempting to blink vision back into his eyes as he was most likely unaware that the past events were in fact not a dream. His hands reached up and patted his face, testing its texture and discovering the wrap around his eyes. "W… in His name…"

"Don't worry, you're safe." Andron comforted him. "You're severely injured, but we did the best we could for now, so all we can do is wait. We'll move out tomorrow at sunrise and see if we can't make it back to Imperial forces," he lied. "So," he leaned back against the wall of their grassy pit. "How did you end up here?"

"I could say the same for you," he lay on his back, his hands on his sides due to his chest being in too much pain for him to put any pressure on it.

"Throne of Terra, I was separated from my squad once when they were all killed, and then again from the one I was integrated into as they died. Now I'm here," he manipulated the truth slightly, though it was still essentially what had happened. Andron simply decided to withhold the details that might sour the boy's opinion of him… he was unsure how long he could maintain such a ruse, however, even with the wounded soldier's eyes covered. "What about you?"

"We were part of a detachment sent to sabotage enemy supply lines. We were in Valkyries before the bastards intercepted us, and I woke up with my legs demolished and unable to walk. I don't even know how I survived." He sighed. "I saw them, getting torn apart as they were ripped from the cargo hold and slammed against the wings. Some were even dismembered on the jagged edges of the hole that was blasted in the side. It was bad…" He wouldn't have said any such things to anybody else, however with someone who was likely in the same position as he, in the middle of an isolated location, he felt little concern in disgorging his true feelings. He didn't care what he was fighting for, war was still hell. Every last one of them knew that in the backs of their minds.

"War was never supposed to be enjoyable. All that matters is that you do what's right if not necessary," he sat thinking about the immense significance of that comment unbeknownst to the injured boy before him. "Where are you from?"

"Phyrrha. In the Segmentum Pacificus. We're usually an agricultural world, however the Guard commonly recruits from our PDF forces. We've seen quite a lot... you?" He stared blankly up at the sky, his eyes still bandaged.

"I'm from Kallida, on the outskirts of the Segmentum Solar. I never got your name, by the way."

"Grohm Harkin. That's my name, but my squadmates always called me 'Prophet', or 'Cogs'. They said I thought about things too much…" He chuckled.

Andron laughed. He certainly would have qualified for a nickname like that. "You have any family?"

"What does it matter? I knew the instant I stepped foot onto that transport that I would never see them again."

"There's always use in having something solid to hang onto. That way you don't get lost. I have," or had… how could he know, light-years away? "A sister… I can barely remember her face and it's only been four years," he sighed.

"I know what you mean. It's only been a few months since I've actually deployed. It seems foggy already. But… it's my duty. No matter my thoughts, it's still my job. I've been trained to have unbreakable will, unwavering loyalty and dedication to His name… Still. Sometimes I can't help but think about it. I know what everyone else would do. I know what most of me says I'd do… but I'm not sure. Sometimes I wonder…" He pursed his lips and shifted them to the side slightly in a pensive manner.

"About?" Andron knew, but he just wanted the guardsman to acknowledge it himself.

"If duty is ever… wrong; if it can be misinterpreted or skewed… I wonder what I would do if I was faced with something like that." What he spoke bordered on heresy. He feared it. He tried suppressing his thoughts on such things, tried to just conform, do what everyone else did and follow orders. He did, however a stubborn part of him always contemplated his actions and decisions past, present, and future with a slightly different view. It troubled him deeply.

"I've found out." Andron's mind again drifted back to places he would rather leave unoccupied.

"Found out about what? What you'd do?"

"Twice." He propped his arms up on his spread legs, their knees bent upwards. "Duty? Or what you know is right? Sometimes you have to choose. Every once in a while…" he sighed heavily, "you'll find yourself wondering; conflicted between what is said you should do and what you simply know you must do. Not because of any training, anything you've been taught… it's simply something that, for the sake of a world with a little less suffering, you have an obligation to ensure happens."

"I've had that, at least," he continued. "You'll be presented with a decision, an opportunity, a test… it all depends on how you see it, I guess." He paused, his mind wandering before returning to the subject. "You'll have to make a decision. Most of the time you won't have that luxury, though. Mine was made for me. I still wonder, though… was it? I could have done… something. I did do something," his vision flashed red, the faces of those he'd slain that night burnt into his retinas, the color of lasbolts.

Had the boy's eyes been uncovered, Andron would have seen them rife with intrigue. "What did you do?"

"I failed. Someone, however, be it the God-Emperor Himself or the chains of fate, gave me a second chance. I did not fail that time," he looked over to his side where Aureleth sat, smiling warmly. At some point when he had been talking Eruwen had stirred and was watching from where she lay. Their eyes made contact and the pulled his field blanket up to cover her face and half of her eyes, peeking over it at him. He smiled. He supposed that there was no third time. There was no conflict at all in his decision to take her in. What did that mean for him, though? Had he lost his entire sense of duty, or had it simply shifted from the Imperium to simply doing what was right?

"What was it?" The injured soldier was heavily intrigued by the story.

"You may very well find out." Even if being face to face with an Eldar was too much for the boy, he posed little threat to either of them. He was still unsure about revealing her identity, but if the time came where he had to, or it was the right thing to do, he would.

The soldier grunted his acknowledgment. Then he paused for a moment. "Where's your squadmate?"

A pit formed in Andron's stomach. He knew it was inevitable. He knew that there was no way he could keep her existence a secret from him, even though he was unable to see. Aureleth looked to Andron, a mask of worry on her face. She did not know nearly enough about humans to pass for one. She would have to try, however.

"She's right here," Andron strained out, dreading what might come out of the next conversations.

"'She'? So it is. I've never met a guardswoman before." Much of the unknowns surrounding her were gone, now that he knew the reason for his odd feelings. Still, he could not completely do away with that aura of mystery that he felt surrounded her. Was there more, and he just had yet to find out what still evaded his comprehension? He wondered. Maybe he would find out. "Are you in his unit?"

She looked to Andron for guidance, and he nodded.

"Yes, I am."

Her voice was so soft, and just hearing it helped put him at peace. It was so different from any he had ever heard before, the Low Gothic given an elegant sound by the way she spoke it. He had never heard anything like it before.

"Your accent; what is it? It's very… pretty." He smiled a little at the fact that his concerns rested there at the moment.

Andron looked from the injured Guardsman to Aureleth and noticed even in the red glow of his lantern that her face was a slightly deeper red hue compared to the light itself. Andron was the only human she had interacted in any sort of a non-hostile manner and even though the Guardsman lying before her had no idea that she was not human, and treated her as such, she felt odd. It was not necessarily bad, but it was certainly strange. The fact that he complemented her did not help either, as only Andron had done so before.

"We are from different areas of Kallida," Andron stated. He decided he would interject when needed to keep the conversation from taking an irreversible path.

"Ah… that's become rare, having noticeable differences between people on the same world." Harkin shifted a little, getting more comfortable.

"Yeah, I guess it is. Is it like that by you?" Andron was genuinely curious despite the added weight of every single one of his words and their potential consequences.

"No. We're all Phyrrans, through and through. We all look just like me." He chuckled before being wracked by a short coughing fit after which he cursed. "I never got your name."

"When I first found you, you asked. My name's Andron Jar—"

"Oh, no. Sorry, I meant her."

Andron's blood froze. This could be it, he thought. If anything is going to reveal her identity, it'll be this… He looked to Aureleth, whose facial expression reflected similar thoughts, though it was overcast with one of calm as well. She did not seem too worried as to the consequences. She looked at him, and he returned her stare. After a second's hesitation, he quietly nodded.

"My name… My name is Aureleth," She bit the inside of her lower lip in anticipation of his reaction.

"Aureleth…" That name was so immensely different from any Imperial name he had ever heard before in his life as to be almost alien. Of course, such a possibility was ludicrous as they would have simply killed him had that been the case, and Andron was definitely human. The fact that there was even the slightest lack of absolute certainty that Aureleth was also human began to eat away very slowly at his resolve, however. He was still an Imperial soldier. It was a beautiful name, though, he thought. The harsh sounding Imperial Gothic punctuated by her name which flowed elegantly off the tongue, having an almost poetic quality to it was unsettling, though not necessarily in a bad way. "Aureleth… I've never heard a name like that before."

Andron gulped. Hopefully Harkin's note of it would only go that far. Looking at Aureleth, he saw that she was thinking the same. Though he was unarmed, the boy could certainly make a lot of noise if he decided to. The last thing Andron wanted to do was kill him, though he would in a heartbeat if it meant that they would be safe. A part of himself hated him for that, but most of him accepted it as who he was, and where he stood. He was in love, and one's devotion to love could easily rival their devotion to the God-Emperor.

Aureleth continued, choosing her words with care. "I suppose it is unique."

"Do you have any family, too?" the Guardsman asked.

Aureleth was at a loss of words. She was utterly unprepared to answer such a question. How could she make up an entire family, a human family no less, on the spot? Her family was likely dead in the fighting, or what was left of it was. Old wounds began to open that she would address later. She glanced at Andron, who sat with a look of worry on his face. Every part of their conversation so far had been a careful dance around the truth, but they might have finally landed in an inescapable hole. She would try her best. Suddenly, she realized something. Looking at Andron, with Eruwen silently watching them over her blanket, she realized that she did, in a sense, have a family still. While it was by no means conventional, it had taken less than a week for her to grow a bond stronger than any she had ever experienced before with a man she had never realized she'd met before then. Then had come Eruwen. A lost, helpless soul that added further meaning to their bond, she reinforced the feeling that Aureleth truly had someone there for her, and that she could be there for. She smiled.

"Yes. I do," she said.

"They mean a lot to you, too?"

Gazing directly into Andron's eyes, a soft red glow cast over her features, she replied. "They mean everything to me. Without them to hold onto… I would be lost."

She had been looking directly at him as she said that, Andron thought. He felt his heart surge with emotions that had been long neglected until the past several days. He knew that she was everything to him, but for her to feel the same way, though not necessarily a surprise, he supposed, was still immensely powerful for him to hear.

Harkin grunted his concurrence. A few moments of silence passed, the gentle wind rolling over the plains and his breathing breaking through it. "Hey," he said into the night sky.

Aureleth and Andron were taken back into reality from their world together by his voice.

"Yes?"

Andron simply grunted.

"Thank you. I'd have died if it wasn't for you guys. I'm not much use now, and likely will never be again, but thank you. Feeling expendable wears you down after a while. It's… nice to know that some would still go out of their way for a dying Guardsman." He coughed before letting out a ragged, shaking sigh. He lay there for a few short moments before his breathing slowed into a deep, steady pattern indicative of sleep. Andron and Aureleth looked at each other, agreeing without words that they should follow suit.

Eruwen watched the entire scene before her from behind a blanket pulled halfway up her face, as if it would have rendered her invisible. The human they had brought was badly hurt. He looked young as far as she knew… younger than all the others by a noticeable margin. She wondered if he was a child. If so, they were certainly bigger. She had carefully watched, trying to keep as quiet as possible even though she knew that the human could not see. She was only just beginning to not be gripped by fear around Andron, so the addition of a second human was well out of her ability to handle. All she could do was sit and watch quietly, as if the blanket would make her invisible.

Andron felt eyes on his back, and turned around to see that Eruwen was still watching. She looked from Harkin to Aureleth to him, repeating the cycle numerous times. He inwardly smiled to see that she had his field blanket. Hopefully he could build on that gesture of goodwill. She was probably no less nervous having a second human around, the newcomer being a complete stranger, and he felt poorly for putting unneeded stress on her already fragile psyche. He added yet another tally to the list of things he would make up to her somehow.

He and Aureleth scooted back against the grassy sloped wall of their hideout and lay next to each other. He glanced to Eruwen to see her finish curling up under her blanket again.

"Andron," Aureleth's voice gently parted the silence that had been enveloping them.

"Yeah?" He turned to face her. She leaned in before finishing her question, and whispered it so quietly that it could barely be heard.

"He's going to die, isn't he?" The melancholy in her voice quickly enveloped him, causing his response to be identical in its forlorn tone.

"Yeah. Probably." He sighed quietly, putting his arm around her shoulder, having sworn that he would savor and make the absolute best of every moment he was by her side. She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder, her slightly greater height making her put more weight on him. He felt her move against him as she sighed. "What is it?"

"What is his age?" Aureleth wanted to know. He seemed so young.

"Why do you w—" She looked up at him. It was important to her that she knew.

"He looks younger than you…" She thought he was young. All humans were, really, but this boy… Harkin, could not have been even Andron's age, who was young even by human standards.

Andron sighed. It was always the young that fought and died. If there were more of them, they would be fighting, too. The only reason that there was anyone over thirty in the Guard was because of experience or necessity. He wondered what stage of life Eldar warriors were usually in. "He is. Probably nineteen. I'm twenty-two. In proportion to how far we are through our lives, though, both of us are older than you and he's just barely a man. Some might not even consider him that old yet. Even for a human, he's young to be fighting."

Aureleth fixed her eyes on a point on the ground. The minds of the young were fragile. Subjecting them to torment only attainable in war was something she wish never had to happen. She wondered what Harkin would be doing had he not found himself dying on an alien planet. She couldn't even fathom what one would do with so little time. An Eldar that died at twice the age of even the oldest normal humans was considered a tragic loss of youth. "I see…" The pain in her voice was evident.

"I was younger than he was, though."

"What do you mean?" She was already beginning to put the ugly truth together though, realizing that she had overlooked it in the past.

"When we first met… When we first met."

She looked up at him, tears brimming on the edges of her eyes. Though there was no way that she could have ever known, it still brought her great pain to recollect those moments. She hugged him tightly, resting her head on his chest. She pitied Harkin for his tender age and having to fight, yet she had essentially killed Andron when he was even younger. When she was his chronological age, the most of her worries was finding friends and picking a path, which even then was not terribly urgent. It was just so horrible. Replaying the memory in her mind, she did remember thinking that he was very young compared to the other humans she had slain. A wave of comfort and warmth washed over her when she felt his hand rub up and down her back. She sighed again. "You were nearly a child." Her voice wavered slightly.

"I volunteered, though. I'd always wanted to serve. It was a dream of mine, I guess. I wanted to protect humanity, protect those who couldn't do so themselves. Before I knew it, I was just trying to survive. No matter what it's like going in, once you're there, it's all the same. The big picture, everything is forgotten. All that's on your mind when the rounds start flying is how you can keep from getting killed, so don't feel bad about it. We were only doing what we had to." He looked down into her eyes, the red glow of the lamp mingling with the deep green rings within. "You were scared too, weren't you?"

She knew what he meant. She had told him, though, that she was doing what she should not have done. Still, thinking back on it… she was afraid. There was always the fear. As she ran at him… she felt fear. She might have been in a blind rage induced by the death of her longtime friend, but there was still the fear. "Yes. Yes, I was," she said, still locking eyes with him. "And you were, too?"

— Panic. He searched for a weapon, a rock, anything. She would be on him in a split second. He almost forgot his lasrifle was slung on his back. He quickly fumbled it into his hands.—

"Those were without a doubt the most frightening moments of my life. I was panicking. It's funny, though. In the back of my mind, there was a tiny part of me admiring the elegance with which you fought. We guardsmen move mechanically. We just get the job done. There's not much technique, only whatever works. We learn some stances, some parries and attacks, and the rest is up to us. You, though… there's just no comparison. It was like watching someone dance. It was mesmerizing. Terrifying, but mesmerizing nonetheless…" He squeezed her with his arm around her shoulder. "It's ironic, though, isn't it?"

Again, she knew what he meant without him needing to say it. Four years before, they had fought to the death as enemy combatants. Then they sat as lovers in each other's arms. "I suppose it is." She still felt sorry for what she had done, and the fact that she was aware of how horribly young he was at the time made her unable to help but voice it. "I am truly sorry."

"I know. I know. And I'll forgive you again and again. All I can do is forgive you."

She smiled, a tear running down her cheek as she felt his other arm wrap around her. The amount of physical intimacy she had experienced in the past four days was more than almost the rest of her life combined. She couldn't begin to describe what it meant to her. To be held, loved, touched. While such things might seem insignificant to others, she treasured every instant of it with him. She closed her eyes and worked on ingraining every nanosecond of that moment into her memory. She felt the heat of his face against her ear, warming it against the cool night air.

"I love you, Aureleth."

They remained like that, Andron holding her graceful form tight in his arms. He ran his hand up and down her upper arm as she lay against him, his other arm holding her close. She was very lithe, his arm able to envelop her slender abdomen. Her hair flowed over her face and down onto is tunic, fitting to the contours of his clothing as it fell to his waist.

She closed her eyes, her entire world becoming synchronized with the slow rising and falling of his chest, and the sound of his heartbeat. His warmth gave her comfort that she had not until recently known existed. She would have given anything to remain like that forever. Her hand rested at her side while her right lay on his chest. Aureleth's mind was nearly consumed with bliss when she felt his hand begin to caress her shoulder. She buried her face into him, forgetting all of the terrible things they had been forced to witness, all of the horrors they were forced to endure, and all of the pain that war brought with it. All that was there was the two of them.

Andron gave voice to an inevitable but no less easy to address question, pulling her back into reality.

"Are you going to tell him?"

"Tell him what?"

"Who you are… Who you really are." He could see through the golden curtain of hair flowing over her face that partially hid it from him that she was lightly nibbling on her lip as she thought, a single elongated canine protruding from her mouth as she did so. They remained like that for several moments.

"I… do not know. What purpose is there in that?"

"What purpose is there in this? In that?" he asked, as he indicated the dull flashes of orange that were reaching them from the distance, followed by the low rumble of guns. "He seems kind. He seems like me, but he doesn't know who you are. What purpose would there be? I guess to find out how much we will be losing when he dies. Is he just another hate-filled drone, or is he…" Andron trailed off, looking to the stars. "Just another lost soul?" he muttered.

"When should I reveal it to him?"

Andron thought for several seconds. "Whenever you think is right. The decision is not mine to make."

Aureleth stared into the soft red glow of the lantern. Her decision would affect the both of them. Harkin was a human. He was one of Andron's people, no matter how loathe he had become to acknowledge it. The moral implications, anything that happened after she revealed the truth would affect all of them. What they took away from it would likely be with them forever. They had found themselves presented with a very rare choice; one with significant impact on whom and what they were, and what it meant to be so. Something as morally heavy as that could not be left to the discrepancy of one soul, at least not when there was someone so intertwined with her on a spiritual level sitting next to her. They would do it together. The crucible that would test values long forgotten would be held by them both.

"No. It is ours," she whispered as she lay on his shoulder. We are together, and we will remain together; through everything. This is not mine to make alone, either."

He smiled. She was even as wise as an angel. "Okay… okay. We should rest. Tomorrow will not be easy, either." He rested his head on top of hers, as she rested in the crook of his neck and shoulder. It was bordering on uncomfortably cold that night, but he and she had all of the warmth that they needed.

Several feet away, a dying guardsman just barely out of boyhood was about to be faced with a test bearing more weight than any he could have imagined trying him in his lifetime.

A ragged, choking cough woke Andron from the bliss of sleep, and his hand darted to his lasrifle as he scanned his surroundings. He had left the lantern on. Its red light dimly illuminated their immediate area. That included the convulsing man who lay on the ground and the child who watched wide-eyed with fear hiding behind a blanket, quietly crying. He cursed, removing Aureleth from his shoulder as gently as possible while still moving as quickly as he could. She awoke, returning almost immediately into full awareness and rocked forwards onto her knees before crawling with Andron to kneel by Harkin.

"Gak, where's the medkit?" Andron hissed, searching around himself.

Aureleth had been in between it and Andron and upon seeing it handed it to him.

"Thank you." He opened it and produced a vial with an injector needle on the end. While he knew that nothing he did would save Harkin's life, and would likely not even prolong it by much if at all, he could no longer bring himself to forsake the boy. He would not allow him to suffer. Harkin's convulsions were beginning to grow worse, and Andron and Aureleth had to hold him down in order to help him. His neck muscles were taught and pulling the back of his head into the ground. As he convulsed, it rubbed on his eye bandages, causing them to loosen. Andron took the lantern and placed it next to the soldier's arm to find a vein before inserting the needled tip of the vial into his arm. The cocktail of shock suppressors and other vital stabilization chemicals acted instantly, and the man's convulsions slowed over the course of one or two minutes before stopping completely. He let out a sigh of relief which grew even deeper as he felt Aureleth's hand on his shoulder. She knelt by Harkin's head, holding him gently as his breathing became more controlled.

Andron looked over his shoulder and saw Eruwen still hiding herself. He wanted to comfort her, but he had to tend to the dying man in front of him for the time being. Besides, he thought, the last thing she would likely want would be him moving towards her at a time like that. He looked back down to see that Harkin had regained control of his body. Aureleth knelt over him still, gently keeping him restrained, pressing his shoulders to the ground. He would likely die in minutes.

He had died as he slept, and now he was… he wasn't sure where he was. It was dark, but comfortable. There was a faint red glow, barely perceptible through his wrapped eyes. He wanted to see. It made no difference now, he thought. He reached up and felt around his face for bandage to pull on.

A look of worry crossed Aureleth's face as Harkin reached up to remove his bandages, though it only lasted for a moment. It would happen soon, she thought. What purpose was there in worrying, though? What would pass would pass. She knew not what would transpire in the next minutes, but faced that uncertainty, which was more intense than almost any she had faced before with confidence that no matter what happened, she would not be alone. She removed her hands from his shoulders.

It was so dark. All Harkin wanted was to be able to see again. He almost found an end to pull on to get the bandages covering his eyes off when he felt the warmth of gentle hands on the sides of his face. He froze, drawing in a breath. He felt them as they took hold of the edges of the bandages and slid upward towards the top of his head. The red light grew more intense, but it never got to an uncomfortable level. It was soft, and soothing. He opened his eyes and saw, against a red haze, a blurry figure slowly come more into focus, but not quite enough so that he could see it perfectly. He saw a head, the face obscured in shadows by the light coming from behind. He also saw the upper third of her figure… it was definitely a woman. She had exceptionally long hair, well into back-length. He could not see her face, for it was obscured in shadows. All he could see was its outline on one side, where the light was barely able to illuminate her cheek in a dim red glow. Her eyes glinted softly in the red lamplight, shining out of the darkness veiling her face. While such an image might have normally seemed sinister, he felt no such aura from it. The hands, delicate and caring, stayed on the sides of his head. He felt more at peace than he ever had been in a long, long time.

"A… are you an angel?" Harkin whispered, partly because of how weak he was and partly because of his want to preserve the atmosphere. Aureleth looked at Andron, who only stared at the dying man.

Aureleth smiled sadly. Death was never easy to witness. Even in the midst of battle, every person she killed, every Shrine brother or sister that she lost… a tiny part of her died with them. For that reason the Eldar had war masks; alter egos dedicated to war. It took incredible training to maintain one, however, and her time after walking the Path of the Warrior left her without a war mask. Her time with Andron was spent just like him. Everything she did affected her directly. There was no war mask anymore to take the pain. Harkin thought he was dead, and so she did not want to give even the slightest hint of hostility so as to not cause him to panic. She would be kind to him for his last moments of life. A part of her wondered if she was being selfish and was doing it only for her sake. She hoped not. "No. I am not."

Harkin was unsure what to think. All of his thoughts were beginning to grow cloudy. This woman wasn't an angel, but she certainly seemed like one. What was she then? He said what was foremost in his increasingly focused and small mind at the moment.

"Am…" he panted and then returned to normal breathing "I dead?" What was going on? If she wasn't an angel…

"No. You still live."

He was alive… It must be her. "A— Aureleth?"

"Yes."

They both saw him smile. Andron was beginning to feel more and more pain at the sight of Harkin's impending death. He was also beginning to harbor ill feelings for himself about his previous sentiments. He would have left the man to die… but the true test of his worth had not yet come. Only then would they know who Grohm Harkin really was.

Eruwen remained behind her handheld cover, watching the scene unfolding before her. How Aureleth was so comfortable around them was beyond her ability to understand, but she felt slightly less nervous with each passing minute. The humans felt sorrow for each other, and even Aureleth showed signs of such emotions. She could find none of the burning hatred, spite and rage that had become her only conception of them. The human was simply lying there, dying, and talking. She also noticed that he seemed comforted by Aureleth's presence. He was certainly different in his disposition from the others. He didn't seem as threatening, but that could have been because he was near death, and she may have really felt no different about him compared to others. She was unsure, though. There was a silent whirlwind of conflicting feelings, some fading while others slowly grew. She felt less afraid of him, but she still did not feel any semblance of trust for him. The only human she had even begun to trust was… she looked over to Andron and realized that she was in fact beginning to trust him. What she was supposed to think of that she did not know. Breathing through her nose, that odd combination of odors filled her nostrils again. It was alien, and had a hint of the smells of war on it, but there was a hint of a story of someone's life embedded within the concoction of scents. There was smoke, sweat, food, water… tears. She drew the tiniest bit of comfort that she drew from the nearby presence of someone else, regardless of who it was.

Harkin smiled. She was not what he thought. She did not look like a member of the Imperial Guard. She seemed so much more… elegant. Though he saw only a fraction of her in her entirety, it was evident that she bore an appearance and complexion far different from any normal soldier. She looked close enough to an angel, he thought. He knew he was dying. He could feel the life draining away from him. If she was the last thing he saw in his current world, he would hold no regrets. In fact, he wanted it to be so. There wasn't much time left…

Harkin spoke, but his voice quickly turned into a croak. "I'm going to die, aren't I?"

Andron sighed heavily, turning to Aureleth. She returned his solemn gaze, the answer already clear between the two of them. He gave a shallow nod. She turned to Harkin who laid on his back still, his eyes fixated on her still obscured face either by darkness or the veil of ethereal golden threads that flowed around it. Most of the death he had witnessed had been brutal and fast, leaving no time for him to even think about it until much later, when the challenges that lay ahead left little to no room to mourn. Death, though it surrounded him, was in reality a foreign matter. The man in front of him was dying, not being killed. Instead of frantic screams, shouts, and gunshots all that surrounded the dying trooper were three people, two of whom were not humans. All that surrounded Harkin were lost souls and silence. Harkin's death was a slow ordeal, though Andron hoped it was not too painful. He lay peacefully, spending his last moments talking to someone who brought him peace. When the man next to him fell down, a cauterized las burn in his forehead, all that Andron would learn from his death was to keep his head down. The more time passed, the more weight was carried by their words. He would learn more each second from Harkin's death than from the hundreds he had seen right before his eyes prior to that night.

"Y…" she sighed. "I am afraid so." Her heart felt heavy as a ceramite slug, telling what was to her a child that he was going to die. During combat, one had little time to think of such things. Harkin had the remainder of his short life left to digest that fact.

"I—" he coughed again, sounding worse. "See." He let out a long sigh. It was time. He had only one desire at that moment. "Aureleth," his voice was hoarse. "You are a field medic. Would you give me the Emperor's Last Rites?"

Her breath caught in her throat. She had already committed herself to revealing her true identity, but the fact that the time was upon her was no less wracking to her resolve. She looked to Andron whose face was momentarily a mask of shock. He turned to her and in his eyes there was all that needed to be said. They had decided. She took a deep, quivering breath.

"I… cannot do that." Her voice was almost impossible to hear it was so quiet.

The dying boy's eyes darted to the silhouetted figure. Why? What had he done? Was he forsaken? Would he not even be granted a prayer at the end of his life for his service? All he had sacrificed… was it for naught? "W—what… what do you mean?"

He sounded as if he would burst into tears. It pained her so much to hear his voice. He was like a child being told he would never find happiness in his life. She had to continue. Hopefully the rest of what she had to say would help with his pain. "I, am not who you think I am." The moment where the real Grohm Harkin would show himself was fast approaching. Who would emerge from that veil was entirely unknown. They could only hope it would not be a decision that they would regret.

What did she mean? Was she not a medic? Why would she say something like that? "Then… who… are you?"

Aureleth squinted her eyes shut before opening them again. There was no turning back.

He saw her as she leaned in towards him. The warmth from her body radiated onto his exposed chest which had become uncomfortably cold. Was she to take him to death? Was that was she meant? Aureleth really was an angel? He stared up into her eyes as she drew closer. She was within arm's reach. He still couldn't see much, only her veiled face and eyes. She came within arms' reach. He was contemplating trying to reach out to her when she felt her hands take his, her slender, delicate fingers cupping his own and bringing them up slowly to her face. The rest of the world disappeared. All that constituted his existence was himself, her, and that soft red light. He felt his hands warm slightly as they drew closer and closer to her face.

She took his hands in hers, and brought them to her face. She would show him the most easily discernible trait of her people. There was worry in her heart, but it was accompanied by a sense of hope; hope that the dying man whose hands she held would be like the man she loved: free of the shackles of mindless hate and rage that brought nothing but suffering to all it touched. His hands were cool. He was fading.

His hands brushed her cheeks, and he withdrew them tentatively before she gently yet firmly held them on. They were soft, smooth, and though he could not see her face, he could feel its shape. It was marginally angular, her features feeling as if they were carved from marble by a master artist. It gave off an aura of power as well as one of femininity. She drew his hands up farther and back towards the rear end of her head. Her hair was light and flowed like water as it parted around his knuckles as they protruded through. As she moved his hands her hair parted further, allowing the light to illuminate her face almost fully. Her eyes were a brilliant green, her visual appearance reflecting what he felt earlier. Her eyes twinkled in the lamplight as the red glow reached them, and they held not a hint of malice. He almost saw worry mingling with the pity evident in her stare. She was beautiful.

At the same time her face was revealed to him, his hands came to what he realized were her ears. A small voice buried in his mind questioned the purpose for such an act, but it was revealed to him as she moved his hands upwards. They were long, and pointed, and he realized that the silhouettes protruding from her hair were not hallucinations. His hands kept moving along them until he came to their pointed tips outside of the veil of hair that had largely hidden them. His breath seized in his throat.

All of the strange things he had noticed about her from her name, to her accent, to her not knowing the Last Rites… the final piece of the puzzle that was her true being was set. Why then? Why had she been so kind? She had shown no hostility, no anger, no evil, not a shred of malice the entire time she had cared for him. He could not think of any underlying scheme she might have had involving him. She had genuinely wanted to help. He began to weep, overwhelmed at the weight of what he was coming to understand. The way she had made him feel… he had felt safe, cared for, and felt as if he was more than just another cannon fodder. What did that mean about him, though? He was supposed to hate her, to kill her, and everyone like her. A voice in the back of his head was being crushed into nothingness. It screamed at him, told him to fight, to kill, to hate. He ignored it. He was going to die, and he would live the last moment of his life the way he knew he should have. He was not evil. He would not destroy what was not meant to be destroyed. In the seconds surrounding Aureleth's revealing of who she really was, he realized two things. She was an Eldar, and she was beautiful not only in appearance, but in spirit.

"Y… you're one of them." His voice was bewildered, yet contained no trace of panic or hatred as she had almost expected but dreaded.

Aureleth was unsure what to say. "I—"

"I think you are." He saw her look into his eyes, brimming with tears.

She turned her eyes up to his, the question spoken through them.

"An angel," he whispered.

She had been right. He was a good soul. Her heart soared with joy yet sank with despair as the facts that he was like Andron and that he would soon die collided. She quietly wept, his hands still on her face. She leaned close to his ear and told him the truth about why he was there.

"We did not attack Auraxis. We protected it. The Imperium followed us thinking that we had caused the devastation they found on the planet. They were wrong. The people had been terrified of us, but we committed no crimes. I do not know about the future of our people and what will become of us all, but right now, I can say to you that I have no ill wishes towards you. I see you as I see Andron. I wish I could do more, but I am powerless to stop the inevitable. I am sorry, Grohm Harkin." She would do almost anything to save his life, but it was hopeless. All she could do is made sure he lived on through herself.

He smiled at her. There was a light impact on his face after a tickling sensation ran down his palm. She was crying. He had to disagree with her. To him, she was an angel, and he would allow her to take him away from the hell his own kind had created and then thrown him into. As his breathing stopped and his vision turned white from overloading nerves, he saw many things. His mother, his father, his entire family stood before him. They smiled. Then, they faded into another vision. Grohm Harkin died standing in a world where there was no hate, no evil, no war, where Humans and Eldar could coexist in peace, not fighting, but living. It was more glorious than any legend or tale of the Imperium that he had been told. It was something he hoped they could one day come to understand. It was true peace.

Aureleth knelt next to him and silently cried. War had claimed yet another victim. Yet another pure soul had died for no reason. His eyes were open and he stared into the star-filled sky, a sad smile on his face. She carefully placed his hands on his chest before gently closing his eyes. She remained like that before feeling arms wrap around her. She felt Andron place his chin in the crook of her neck and shoulder as he embraced her.

He knew that there was not much for him to say. He whispered into her ear all that he could think of. "It wasn't your fault."

"I know," she whispered back. "I just… he was—"

"It's okay." He slowly rocked back and forth, his arms enveloping her slender body, her hands clinging to his arm that was around her shoulders.

Aureleth's war mask was gone. When Grohm Harkin died that night, so too did a piece of her.

She sat, the blanket now supported by her knees curled up to her chest as she watched from the edge of the lamplight. The human had died. Aureleth wept for him, and the other human… Andron, she had realized his name was in listening to them speak, was comforting Aureleth. They felt sorrow for the dead man. Looking at his unwrapped face, she realized that he was much younger than Andron. He looked as young as her brother, if not even younger. She knew that humans did not live nearly as long as she would, which made him even younger due to how much faster he had aged in appearance. She had thought of her brother. Dark memories returned, and she curled up under her blanket in the dark, weeping for the dead. She wept for all of them.