Chapter 43 My Waking Conscience

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Something presses on my bladder. My brows tense. There's gentle crackles of fire and snoring. Warmth cocoons me. The cold only touches my cheek and my forehead. My front is flush against his hard body. His arm is wrapped around me, slackened with sleep, but still heavy, holding me secure. His chest rises and falls with slow, steady, filling breaths. Each breath he draws in and lets go lulls me like a boat on gentle waters.

My head is still swimming. My world is still off kilter. I don't want to get up now. I just want to be closer to him. I pull my heavy arm out from under our covers and reach across his chest. A gruff hum disrupts his breathing. He exhales forcefully through his nose and tightens his arm about me, pulling me closer to him. I curl more into him.

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The pressure on my bladder intensifies. I should relieve myself. I sit up from my bedroll and toss my blankets and furs aside, barely catching sight of Torrance, Wessel and Locke sleeping soundly—I stop. There's Eric's bedroll beside me, disturbed and abandoned. His best deer pelt that he covers himself with is missing. Wait. I look back at my mess of blankets and furs. Mixed in with my wool blankets and pelts is his best pelt—the elder buck's skin. My heart warms despite the winter chill. He covered me with his best pelt. Is he taking his watch? How can he take watch with all the ale he drank? The five of us drank so much that we nearly passed out, but fortunately we had the mental faculties left to bid each other night before we passed out.

The pressure spikes between my legs! "Damn it, I gotta go!" I clamber to my feet. My world doesn't spin nor tilt, but stays steady. Shouldn't it be spinning and tilting?

I race into the treeline and search for a well covered spot.

I find a secluded place, hidden from others' eyes with trees on all sides. I slip between the trees, unfasten my belt and trousers, and crouch low. I take a slow breath in and force it out, trying to relax my taut muscles. I breathe in slowly, filling my lungs with chilled air. I try to relax my chest and let the air flow out on its own, but I find myself forcing it out again. Will I ever feel comfortable relieving myself? The thought of someone watching me…cruel memories come back.

Finn and his men have caught me relieving myself so many times. I learned to stop emptying my bladder instantly and crawl to the farthest corner of my cell as soon as I heard their distinct footfalls. They would stop at my prison bars and laugh at me and mock me.

Two men in particular were so vile. I think they were brothers. Every time either of them came by, each man would say—sickening, horrible, frightening things. It was worse when they were together at my bars. They plotted and schemed of so many gruesome ways to kill me. All of those ways involved…violating me. These vile desires, these—fantasies the two men invented excited them. They were the ones who would pull down their trousers, expose themselves, and—Sara…her skin was missing when the black glass knights brought her back—No. No. Focus on emptying your bladder, Snow. Focus on that.

I breathe in slowly and breathe out slowly. In slowly. Out slowly through pursed lips. My exhale billows into the air as white mist. The night chill touches my exposed thighs and bottom. My body shivers. The cold sinks past my skin and burns its way through what little fat I have, through my muscle, and scorches my bones.

"It's freezing!" I whisper, my voice shaking, my teeth chattering. "At least you're moving," I say past chattering teeth. "At least you're moving." When Wendigo came for me, he froze me to my bones. I was so frozen I was barely breathing.

Finally, my muscles relax just enough to let the hot flow start. It strikes the snow beneath me loudly. I grimace, fighting the urge to squirm. I don't want anyone to see the yellow snow I'm leaving behind. Especially Eric. How embarrassing that would be. I'll cover it with snow once I'm done.

I keep going. The pressure on my bladder is not easing. Why? I am going! Why is it not working!?

The pressure on my bladder still grows! My bladder swells more. It presses more on my muscles. More and more it presses, threatening to tear them apart!

"Oh God!" I groan and squirm. The trees about me vanish. The snow turns into an empty void beneath me. The faint crackles and pops of a fire reach me. Each crackle grows louder…as if drawing closer…I am lying down. My eyes are closed. I force them apart. Eric—is not here. A hollow pit forms in my gut. My heart beats harder.

"Eric?" I call softly, though his name comes out hoarsely. Where is he? I sit up—the crackling fire and the three snoring men tilt left and bounce repeatedly. A massive, crushing pain comes down on my mind from the very inside of my skull. I groan and yank my warmed hands out from under the blankets and furs. I press my chilled forehead against my warm hands. Perhaps the heat will ease this crushing pain? I press my head harder and deeper into my hands…nothing.

I sigh and drop my hands. "Oh!" That pressure between my legs nearly breaks! I clench my thighs together. "I gotta go. I gotta go," I say aloud…to myself. I roll onto my hands and knees and clamber in the snow to my feet. "Wooh!" I nearly topple backwards, but I manage to right myself despite the constantly bouncing world. "I can walk. I can walk." I try to speak clearly, but my words are slurred. I stagger and stumble into the trees, searching for that private place to finally relieve my bladder! "I was dreaming…dreaming about relieving myself…what an odd, odd dream."

I finally find a secluded spot. "Just like in the dream! Undo the belt!" I undo my belt and toss it aside in the snow. "Untie the trousers! Pull them down. Crouch low." I giggle at myself as I crouch low. "Thank God Eric isn't around. I'm drunk and I'm narrating…to myself!" That nagging smile pushes into my cheeks. My muscles relax much quicker than they did in my dream and that hot flow starts, striking the snow loudly. "Ugh!" I want to squirm knowing that I am yellowing the snow beneath me, but the pressure in my bladder eases. I groan with relief as the pressure eases to the gentlest touch. Finally, that gentlest touch vanishes, leaving me feeling empty and good. "Thank God!"

I stand up and pull up my trousers quicker than I ever have. I peek at all the trees as I tie my trousers. Just empty, silent trees surrounding me and the distant glow of our fire between them. No Eric, at least. The last thing I need is for him to see me in such a…vulnerable state.

"I need my belt!" I turn and stoop forward—"Woah!" I pitch forward, my hands breaking my fall in the snow! The cold nips at my healed fingers. "Ow, that's cold!" I giggle and laugh at myself. "Oops! Oops, oops." I pull my tingling hand out of the snow and grab my belt—A hand lands on my back! I scream and try to scramble away—Another hand clamps over my mouth, muffling me, as an arm wraps around my waist! My heart pounds in my ears. I try to kick and punch the bastard, but he's too strong! Finn's found me! God no!

He pulls me upright against his solid, colossal body! Wait. "Shh! It's alright, lass! It's me!" he whispers next to my ear. I stop struggling. My heart slows. I sink into him, my body unraveling. He chuckles and lets go of my mouth, his fingertips lingering on my chilled bottom lip.

"Eric!" I whisper his name with such relief. I tilt my chin back, stealing my lip from his touch. I want his fingers back on my mouth, but seeing his eyes looking down at me even in this dark…it's too much. He chuckles quietly and traces my jaw with his warm fingers. My heart beats harder. That hot, swelling ache nags between my legs. I want him. I need him. Now couldn't be a better time. I reach up for him—"Now that yer up, I want to show ye somethin'," he says, halting my hand midair. He steps back from me, letting go of my waist, but he grabs my hand. "C'mon."

Disappointment sags my shoulders. First the dwarven stars, then the frozen falls. "What do you want to show me now?" I ask, frowning.

His smile lessens. I should be smiling. For his sake I should be, but I can't. "I want to show ye the falls again." He turns and starts for the frozen lake and the falls, crunching the snow beneath his steps. I didn't hear him come up behind me. I sigh and stagger after him. He is a hunter, after all. He would have no success if his prey could hear him coming.

"You already showed me the falls and the lake," I say. My foot sinks too deep into the snow! My stomach drops and I go keening forward—Eric catches me in his arms.

He chuckles as he helps me find my feet. "Yer really drunk."

"Really?" I cling to him, practically draping myself over him. "And who gave me the drink that made me drunk?"

Laughter escapes us both.

"You're a little drunk too, you know." I poke his chest with my finger and keep it there. My eyes drop to his chest. I want to kiss his chest. I want his mouth on my naked breasts.

He chuckles above me, pulling my unwilling eyes up to that mouth of his. "Aye, a wee bit. C'mon."

"'A wee bit,' he says," I say as he turns and helps me along, taking small, patient steps with my drunken ones. He chuckles a few times and falls quiet. I cling to his strong arm…just like I did in that damn forest when I was the bombastic fool.

"The falls were nice, but I want to show ye them…from a different view."

I look up at him, my brows furrowed, my aching head muddled beyond hope. "A different view?"

He peeks down at me and smiles. "Ye'll see."

We reach the bank of the lake and walk along it. Somehow, my drunken steps and his small, patient strides turn into a leisurely stroll along the frozen bank. The snow is not nearly as deep here. I drop my heavy head on his arm. That fire between my legs dulls, turning into something sweeter…and more demanding. My heart softens so much for him.

"Eric?"

"Hmm?" he hums, as if I just woke him up from a wonderful dream. I don't want to end that dream. I want to make it real.

"I know you want to do right by me," I cling to his hand tighter. We draw closer to one of the frozen falls, and closer to a space between the thick ice sheet and the cliff face that's large enough for us to pass through…to go behind the frozen falls.

"Watch yer step," he says. He steps up onto a path of raised rock, the falls having protected the ground from snowfall. He turns to me, grabs my arm, and helps me step up onto the solid ground. "C'mon." He lets go of my arm and turns to continue deeper behind the falls.

"Eric, wait." I tug on his hand, stopping him. "Please."

He sighs. He doesn't let go of my hand, but he keeps his face from me. That damn stinging tortures my heart. The sting of his rejection. Again. Soon the tears will fall. Perhaps that is why he doesn't want to bed me. I cry too much. Depression gets me too easily.

"This was a bad idea," he mutters. A bad idea? That rips through my heart. That damn stinging touches the corners of my eyes. No! I will not cry! Not in front of him, at least!

Finally, he turns to me, his face taut. There's no desire darkening his eyes. "Lass, I—yer the best thin' that's happened to me since I lost everyone I love, and I—" He points at the frozen ice sheet "—who I was in that dark forest shames me!" He grabs my arm once more. "I cannae become him again. For yer sake and mine, I cannae."

I sniffle back the water trying to drain from my nose. I try so hard to keep my tears back. "How could you become that man again?" My world is bouncing too much. I close my eyes for some relief. Little good that does! I press my forehead against his chest. His heat passes through his shirt and touches my forehead, both enhancing the crushing pain on my mind, but also dulling it with the pressure. At least he hasn't pushed me away yet.

So much wells up in me. Those haunting memories of hell. Fourteen long years of hell. "There were horrible men, Eric. Horrible, evil men that would come stand at my bars and pleasure themselves. They would yell such sickening, vile things. They got off on fantasies of cutting me up, flaying my skin from my body, sawing my head off with a little knife, impaling me on—"

"Stop!" he demands, sounding sick and angry. He wraps his arms about me. "Ye'll never see nor hear those delvirs again. Never." He presses a kiss to the top of my head, to my coif. "Ye have my word."

I reach around his neck and hold fast to him. "I believe you on that," I whisper. Never have I felt so safe. Despite all my lies, despite the knowledge that he will abandon me when he learns my true name, here and now, I am safe. I turn my head and press my cheek against his chest. "I want to know what goodness—no…" I shake my head. "I'm desperate to know what love feels like." My voice is a whisper. His arms loosen about me. I swallow hard. I never would have uttered that word sober. Never. "I'm desperate to know that…and I have to remember it. In this world of darkness and death, I'm…" I gulp down excess spit "...I'm afraid that I will never get to know such a thing."

The fire crackles in the distance. Its orange glow is a pinpoint of light in my periphery. The wind blows, rustling the leafless branches of the trees above us. I stand on my new toes and press my ear to his heart. It thumps sure and strong against me, but a little faster than it usually beats. His chest swells and falls steadily, though perhaps too steadily, as if he is pacing his breaths. "Lass, I…" He tenses against me. His heart beats harder and faster against my ear.

A pain burrows into my chest. Shame scorches through my body. I'm such a fool. To hope that maybe deep in his heart he may love me—he means what he says. If he really does love me, he would have said so by now.

He tightens his arms about me so much that he constricts my breathing. "I dinnae want to become that bastard again. I want to do right by ye…" His embrace loosens. Rejection comes over me, slowly crushing me. I let weakness overtake my arms and sink my hands down to his chest. "But will ye believe me if I show ye?"

My brows furrow. "What?" His words muddle my mind and spark hope in my heart. I shouldn't look up at him…but I tilt my heavy head back to look at him. His eyes are dark and storming with…so much. He draws in a slow, controlled breath and brings his hand to my cheek, though he barely touches me. His arm about my waist nearly falls. A twinge shoots through my gut. He is holding me as if I will break from the slightest pressure…or he is trying to hide his disgust of me.

He swallows hard. "If I show ye, then will ye be—" He bites his tongue and gulps again. "Ye said it. Ye want to know what love feels like, then I—" He tightens his arm about me and presses his hand against my cheek. "Could I become that bastard again if I give in? Only to show ye what love feels like. Is that reason justifiable? In any way?" he asks, finally as desperate as me to give in!

"Yes! Our reason is more than justifiable. Eric," I reach up and cradle his stubbled cheek with my hand, "you could never become that man again because you're choosing not to be him. You told me that you believe you're no longer bound to your past. You've come too far from that broken man who found me in the dark forest…" I shake my head. "There's no way you could become him again unless you choose to be him. There's no way. No way."

He frowns down at me. "Are ye sure?" he asks, his words pained. He moves his trembling hand to the nape of my neck. We both want him to crush my mouth to his, but he is still fighting it! "Once I'm—" he sighs, his eyes searching mine "—If we do this, I will be inside ye. I'll be givin' myself to ye." My eyes widen and my stomach clenches. Desperation scorches between my legs. He—he means what he says.

He swallows again. "There's no goin' back when that happens…" He shakes his head. "...There's no goin' back," he says, barely louder than a whisper.

There's no going back? Back to what? No goodness, no love, loneliness!? Back to hell!? I remember him saying that doing this will leave its marks on me. They are still marks I want. Now so much more than before. "I'm sure," I whisper those two final words. His face starts softening, his eyes opening more. I bring his face down to me and kiss him. He presses his hand into the back of my neck, tilting my head back and deepening our kiss. He teases me with his warm tongue, tracing my teeth and exploring my mouth more than he has ever done. It's the ale flowing hot in our blood, drowning our minds…but would he be doing any of this if I had not uttered that word?

He surges against me, nearly crushing me to him. Our kiss grows fierce. His hand and his arm fall down my back to my hips, squeezing and kneading my flesh to my bones. His hand abandons my left hip and runs down the back of my thigh. He grabs the back of my leg and lifts me up, pressing my pelvis against his, my loins against his! Fire bursts and spreads into my lower belly. A gasp is wrung from me, tearing our mouths apart.

He grabs my other leg, urging my arms to wind around his neck. We both wrap my legs around his waist. He brings us to the rockwall and presses my back against it, crushing me between him and the rock. Another bursting fire tears through me. I shudder and cling to him tighter. Our mouths meet for another heated kiss. There's the taste of ale and salt in his mouth. Blood flows into my chilled lips, making them buzz so intensely that it hurts.

He rocks into me, another wave of fire torturing me between my legs. I want him! Need him! All this because I—said that word. Guilt runs my heart through. He's doing this…to show me what love feels like. No, he cannot possibly mean that. He cannot love me! But he means what he says…If I have one good splinter of bone in my body—not a whole bone, but just a splinter, then I would stop him…but I want him to love me.

He rocks into me again, wringing sounds from us both that part our mouths. He drags in heavy breaths, his exhales harsh and hot on my buzzing lips. "Lass," he says, strained and pleading. I force my heavy eyes open. He looks down at me, his eyes barely open. "I—" he presses his mouth shut.

"What? What is it?" I cradle his face in my hands. Why did he stop? Did he sense my guilt in my kisses!? Or just by the feel of my scrawny body against his!?

"I…if ye want me to stop—"

"Don't stop!" Why is he saying this!?

"I dinnae want to stop, but it ye want me to, jus' tell me to and I will." His eyes search my face, searching for…I wish to God I knew. "I want ye to…I want this to be good for ye."

"It will be! For us both! Just don't—" love me. It was uttering that word that got us this far, that got him to finally agree to this. "Do not worry. It'll be good for us both."

"Aye." He nods once and kisses me hard.

He…he loves me. I hoped for it but never thought it…God, he loves me…and I am willfully using that to get what I want. It hits me like a punch to my chest. You depraved, manipulative bitch. How he will hate you when this is all over. He will learn my true name. It's inevitable once we reach Hammond's. I…I must enjoy this, enjoy him while I can. I am so close to feeling goodness and love surround me and enrapture me. This is the closest I will ever be. This is my only chance. I just need to accept that he…that he will hate me. Perhaps he will hate me more than anyone else he ever has and ever will hate.

I tug at his shirt, freeing it from his trousers. He backs up enough to let me slip my hands under his shirt and press them against his taut stomach. His hot skin burns my hands like fire. He lets go of a shuddery breath and presses his forehead against mine. Things have slowed down. We're not as feverish and frenzied. The ale in our blood has cooled, making us more human than animal. It also has awoken my conscience.

He kisses me again far more gently. He slowly pushes his hips against mine, building the pressing fire in my loins and belly. There's hardness between his legs—that's him. I drag in a shaking breath. I want to feel his strong chest, all his scars, the bumps of his healed ribs beneath my fingers—but the thought of his love for me turning to the greatest hate he will ever hold for anyone—it makes my stomach juices roil. How can I do this to him!? How depraved am I!? How much more deceitful and manipulative can I possibly become!? He's going to hate me more than anyone and anything. And rightly so.

My throat tightens as my eyes sting. My mouth waters too much. My belly turns painful and contracts. I'm going to throw up! I tear my mouth from Eric's and push him away.

"Lass!?" He stumbles back, letting my feet down on the ground. "What is it!?"

"I'm gonna be sick!" I barely stumble out of his arms before my body lurches forward and forces that sour, burning mixture up my throat and out of my mouth. I hear the splattering of my half digested dinner on the rocky earth, but I make no sound retching.

"Easy," he says. He grabs my shoulder and rubs my back. How I wish his touches were soothing. They almost are, but knowing that he loves me and knowing how manipulative I choose to be—it's too much for even his selfless effort.

Everything flows up my throat and spills out of my mouth, emptying my stomach. My body barely contorts. He continues rubbing my back through it all, likely getting my vomit on his boots, yet here he stays beside me trying in vain to comfort me through this. I don't deserve this. None of this.

My retching ends. My body relents. I wrap my arms around my painfully empty belly. Hot, wet tears trickle down my cheeks and fall onto the ground. I keep myself doubled over, keeping my face hidden from him.

He keeps stroking my back with his large, heavy hand and squeezes my shoulder with his other hand. How good his hands would feel on me now, but my guilt…it's too much. "Feelin' better?" he asks, his voice soft and full of care.

I grit my teeth. "Yes," I force out, my throat still partly tight.

He stops stroking my back and rubs my arm. "I've retched after drinkin' too much. Yer gonna have one hell of a headache."

I groan. "I already do."

"Ah." He sighs. "C'mon," he grabs my other arm and forces me to straighten, "let's get ye back to bed."

He comes up beside me! My stomach flips! He cannot see me crying! I bury my face in my hands and stagger with him. He'll think this is for my aching head and not to scrub away the tears dripping down my cheeks. Yet another lie. A silent lie, but a lie nonetheless.

"Watch yer step," he says. I part my hands and peek through them, seeing the downstep of the rock. I step down with him into the snow, crunching the white beneath my boots. He helps me along the frozen bank. I press my hands against the sides of my face and rub my temples, both hiding my face from him and also giving me something else to feel other than the crushing ache atop my mind.

It's torture walking beside him and keeping this facade up. My arms grow heavy, but I keep my hands up and massage my temples. My stomach roils more, causing my throat to tighten. I gulp down the little spit I have in my mouth, fighting back the nausea trying to overtake me again.

We make our way back to the campfire where Torrance, Wessel, and Locke are still snoring away. Hell, these three are in such deep sleep that if Eric and I—if we fucked right here, they would sleep through it and be none the wiser when they awoke. I cringe. I hate that word. I truly hate it—but that's what we were intending to do behind the frozen fall before my guilt made me sick.

"Sit down." Eric brings me to my bedroll and helps me to sit down with grace. Otherwise, I would have dropped down like a bloated old man. He steps over my bedroll behind me and goes to his rucksack. I dare a glance at him as he crouches and roots through his open sack. He pulls out a skin.

He pops open the cork and sniffs it. My brows furrow. Strange. He digs through his sack again and pulls out wrapped bread. He turns to me suddenly, startling me. "Here." He offers me the skin and the wrapped bread. "Eat, drink. This'll put somethin' in yer belly."

My heart hurts. This kindness will disappear once he learns my true name. I can imagine his hands that I adore so wrapping around my throat, strangling me with all his hatred of me. My stomach twists about a terrible pang. To think that he is capable of that…I don't want to believe it. Tears sting my eyes again!

Worry twists his face. His hands fall some, distancing his care from me. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" I snatch the skin and the bread from him and shove the skin into the crook of my lap. I bury my face in my hand. "I'm still drunk and my head hurts." I'm not drunk. Not as before. You damn liar. I shake the bread until the linen falls back from it and put a corner in my mouth. I grimace as soon as the bread touches my tongue. I don't remember it tasting this sweet! It's disgusting! But I need to eat it…to keep up the lie that nothing is wrong.

"Lass…maybe it's a good thin' ye got sick." He scoots closer until his leg brushes mine. He wraps his arm about me, pulling me against him in a half embrace! My heart misses a beat. I keep my hand over my eyes and rub my temples with my thumb and my fingers, hiding my tears from him. He rubs my arm and squeezes it while I force myself to take a bite of the sugary bread and chew it slowly. Ugh! It's too sweet! But I must eat it. Otherwise he will see through my lies. Another pang runs through my heart and twists my guts to near nausea. I'm despicable. I deserve his hate.

"This is good," he says. "For both of us." He squeezes my arm again. I gulp down the lump of sugar and grimace. "Ye matter to me so much." He wraps his other arm about me, easing my head against his chest. My hand grows too weak to hold up the bread and falls to my lap. He will hate ever uttering such wonderful words. He swallows hard. "I'm dyin' to show ye what love feels like, but it'll be so much better when we're no' drunk. Trust me."

That damning heat stirs in my loins. He still fully intends to—fuck me. I should get used to that word. That's what it is. If I truly loved him like he loves me, then we would be making love. I swallow. Though it is not love, he will be gentle and kind with me. I can only imagine that gentleness, kindness and care is what goodness feels like. If I loved him at all, I would forego what he is offering me when we are sober, but I do not love him. I am deceiving him, manipulating him—using him. Even though that knowledge makes me sick to my stomach, it's an offer that I cannot pass up. The brief glimpses of pleasure that he creates in me just by rocking his hips into mine…that bodily pleasure is the closest thing to goodness that I will ever get to feel. I need something to remember when I am burning in hell for eternity.

That fills me with a renewed, sickening vigor. I tear another chunk out of the sugary bread, chew it and gulp it down. I set the bread on the side of my knee and take a swig of water. If this will get me that memory of what goodness feels like, then I'll do and say whatever it takes to get it.

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I try to sleep. There's barely an urge to toss about, but the crushing ache in my head keeps me awake. That, and my guilt. I would never have dreamt that the one thing to convince him to—fuck me was so he could show me he loves me. Why can he not just say it? Perhaps…perhaps he does not want to hear me say I do not love him. I've told him that he is my friend and no more than that. I've told him I want nothing more than his friendship even though he has said he wants so much more than that from me. Cruelly so. Hell, who are you fooling, Snow!? I remember his face in Vilgard when I told him he is my friend, my safety, and my one chance to live out my days happy and free. I glimpsed something in his eyes that he pushed away. It was pain. The pain of unreturned feelings. He said as much back in the dwarven tunnels.

If we do get the chance to lie together—he will say it then. After we have come apart, or perhaps the moment our bodies are satisfied, then he will tell me. When that moment comes…my eyes open against my will. I do not want to look at him now…but I find my head rolling, pressing my cheek into the furs under my head. There he lies beside me fast asleep, his face tilted my way. The wrinkles of his forehead and in the corners of his eyes are so smooth that I barely see them. He looks so much younger. He seems…at peace.

My heart wrings painfully. How I wish I loved him. I would give almost anything to be able to tell him that I love him, but that would be another lie piled onto the thousands of lies I have told him. For his sake, I must tell him the truth then. He is my friend. He is nothing more than my friend…and I do not love him. A sudden pang runs through my heart. You do not lie to someone you love. You do not deceive him, manipulate him, and use him for your gain. You do not toy with his heart, fully aware that you plan to break it. I cannot claim ignorance. I am fully aware of what I plan to do.