Cyrene and Brand had a quiet dinner at a table in the corner of the College's kitchen and then returned to her quarters. Brand had done so well the first night of his recovery, that Cyrene was somewhat unprepared for the breakdown that followed it. He'd been having horrific nightmares and came awake screaming so often that Cyréne and Shaye took turns staying up reading by his bedside until Shaye left. It was clear that the outbursts both shamed him deeply and left him furious. Both women had learned quickly that he wanted no physical contact for hours and sometimes days after an episode. Cyrene found that especially heartbreaking, given his seemingly affectionate nature most of the time. Shaye took it in stride, and often found herself with a hand on Cyrene's arm, shaking her head in silence, to keep her from embracing Brand help him. They'd even argued heatedly about it one night.

"Let me go, Shaye! He needs me!" Cyrene had almost whined.

"No, he's a grown man, leave him be!"

"He's hurting, I need to-"

"What?! Fix him?!" Shaye growled.

Cyrene stopped short and the color drained from her face. "What? No!"

At that point Shaye's already fraying temper had snapped and she'd shoved Cyrene down roughly in a nearby chair. "Yes! That's exactly what you're trying to do! Listen up! You can't fix this, and you're a self-righteous cunt if you think you can-"

"Shaye!"

Shaye snarled and leaned over Cyrene; hands on the back of the chair. "I'm not finished! You are not qualified to try to fix this! You have to stop treating him like some charity case – like something's wrong with him!"

"I know there's nothing wrong with him, Shaye! He's hurting and I want to help him – I just . . . I don't know what to do, okay?!"

Shaye sighed and shoved Cyrene back when she tried to get up. She closed her eyes and tried to calm down. When she was calmer, she spoke quietly. "This is not it. This is the wrong thing to do, and he's not going to tell you it's wrong because he feels beholden to you. I . . . have some experience with this. Are you listening?"

Cyrene's eyes welled up and she nodded.

"Oh Sweet Sithis! See!" Shaye snapped, wiping at her friend's tears. "This! This has got to stop. How dare you feel sorry for me?!"

"Because I care about you, Idiot!" Cyrene said with a half sob half laugh.

Shaye gave her a sliver of a smile and grabbed her hands. "I know you do, Cyrene, I know you do. But you're making me into a victim, and I don't want to be that anymore. I'm strong. I survived. And you want to put me back in that place of being broken and vulnerable and victimized, and I don't need that shit! Neither does Brand! Do you understand?"

"That's not my intention at all!"

"But that's how it feels, and that's all that matters. Brand is not your 'problem', he's your friend, and he's a man – a strong one, and . . . I think, a good one. He's been through some shit, but he's got to get past it. He can't do that if you define him by it."

Cyrene's head dropped into her hands and her shoulder's shook. "Divines . . . I'm a failure as a friend."

Shaye rolled her eyes and ruffled Cyrene's hair with a grin. "No you aren't, you're just . . . you. Shake it off and get over yourself. This isn't about you, anyway."

Shaye's departure had left Cyréne feeling unexpectedly disheartened. She was feeling run-down without her new friend there to cheer her up. Her absence from the college had resulted in a backlog of work and she barely got a moment to herself.

She didn't want to abandon Brand, but she was too exhausted to stay up, so he'd been sleeping in the bed with her since Shaye left. More often than not they woke up wrapped around each other; driven together by a need for comfort and safety. They were both healing, or trying to, and each of them could see it clearly in the other. That, in itself, began to build the foundation for a deep friendship.

He was like her shadow now, and she understood why. He had nothing and no one, not even his identity anymore. He was drifting and he needed an anchor. Her heart went out to him. She knew all too well what it was like to be alone while surrounded by others. It had to be hard for him, to go from being in complete and utter control of his life, to having all control taken away, and then to being tossed about on the winds. She understood that too.

Her mind kept wandering back to the advance she'd made toward him at the fort, as one of her biggest failures. She'd thought throwing that big "if" out there made it safe, but looking back that was just stupid - and so unlike her. She wouldn't have continued, even if Shaye hadn't claimed him. What she'd been trying to do was . . . well she didn't know exactly what she'd been trying to do, but it didn't happen like it was supposed to.

"Hello in there," Brand said, waving a hand in front of her face.

"Sorry," she muttered. "There's a lot on my mind."

"There always is," he said dryly, "but I get that."

She looked down at her hands. "How did you do it, Brand? You had to have been under a huge amount of pressure with your work. How did you keep it together?"

"I loved it. Most of the time it didn't seem like work to me and I enjoyed the challenge. It didn't let me get very close to people though. There was always part of me that I kept closed off. Every client expected something different and I always had a part to play that was never quite me . . . kind of like you do."

Cyréne raised her eyes to his slowly. "What?"

"Watching you with the Companions, seeing you run this place, remembering how you were when we first met – all of it reminds me of myself. Everyone expects something different from you. Here, they expect you to have all the answers and to be diplomatic, but also a leader – so you are. I have a feeling the Companions expect you to be someone who gets things done, and fall in line and that's about it – so that's what you do. I don't know what the Jarl's expect of you, but I had enough high-ranking clients and contacts in Cyrodiil to know some of the things I heard about the war were about you. Tullius expected you to help win the damn thing for him, and you did. I didn't expect anything from you but grief. Somehow, you managed to help me too. Even your come-on at the fort helped. To hear you say that you wanted me made me feel like myself again, like the man I used to be instead of some worthless and abused dog to be used and pitied."

She reached for his hand. "I'm glad you told me that. You still are that man, Brand. I'm sorry I ever treated you as anything but that. And for the record, I don't think Shaye meant to come off the way she did. She always saw you for what you are."

He nodded, "I know. She's actually alright, once you get past the attitude. She's helped almost as much as she's groped me. My point is, though, it takes a certain talent to adapt the way you do, but it comes at a cost. You eventually lose sight of who you are." He squeezed her hand as his brow furrowed. "I don't want that to happen to you."

"It's already happened, Brand," she said softly. "It happened a long, long time ago. The person I was couldn't have handled the last years of my life. She would have broken. The only other choice was to bend. And the more I bent, the easier it got." Her voice drifted, "You start giving up little parts of yourself and you just think they're tiny compromises to make things simpler. Then, before you know it, some wolf whose life you just saved is asking you what your angle is while you're trying to comfort him."

He grinned. "Yeah, what an ass! Who was that guy?"

She smiled briefly. "I'm glad I met you." A tear slipped down her cheek. "No one understands. I don't even understand half the time. How did you keep from losing yourself?'

He shrugged and wiped the tear away with his thumb. "It happened a few times, but I was able to get away for a while and get my head on straight. You don't seem to have that luxury."

"You have no idea," she said. "The Dragonborn says he needs me, so that he can save the world."

Brand snorted, "Now that's a damn good line, right there. No woman in the world could refuse that."

She grinned. "He's serious, unfortunately."

"Saving the world is his job, not yours."

"I'll have you know I already saved it once – to hear some people tell it."

"Really?" he said with an eyebrow cocked.

She grinned, "Really."

Brand thought for a moment. "Do you believe he really needs your help?"

"I believe that he believes it, and the thing is," she hesitated, "he said he needs, um . . . me, not my help."

Brand scowled. "I'm sure he did say that. What exactly does he say he needs you for?"

"Well, do you want to hear what he says, or what I think he means?"

"Both."

"Are you sure you want to start down this road with me, Brand. I haven't had a real friend to talk to in a very long time, and once I open up – I may dissolve into a ridiculous mess."

Brand winked and shot her a lopsided grin. "I can handle it."

"It could also end up being a very long talk."

"Come on." He led her over to the bed, and kicked off his boots before lying back with an arm behind his head and patting the bed beside him. "I'm not going anywhere until daybreak."