204 A.B.

(5 years before the Runner's Rebellion)

"Do you remember when I first brought you here?"

I smile, extending my hand and letting him pull me up onto the roof.

"Of course." It's windy up here and the cool night air causes goosebumps to rise on my skin. I release Frye's hand and pull my shawl more securely around my shoulders. "How could I forget?"

That was the night he was arrested. The night we shared our first kiss. That fateful night was when I finally realized that there was more to this scrappy, arrogant boy than I first believed.

But that night was over as soon as it began. Frye leapt from the roof to intervene on a tussle in the market, saving his sister, Kay, from the Palace guards and getting himself arrested in the process. He was shipped off to fight in the Wastelands soon after but that didn't stop us seeing one another. We would relish any stolen moment we were granted when he was back in the City on military leave, each time reaffirming our promises to one another.

I watch him now, his bright hair mussed by the breeze as he reclines on the raised ledge of the roof, perfectly comfortable. He sees me shivering and moves closer, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and drawing me to him. I allow myself to lean against him, breathing in his scent and feeling my heart take flight.

He's home for good. After a year spent in paralyzing fear over his safety, I can scarcely believe that he's mine to hold indefinitely. His year of service is up and he's been honourably discharged. That isn't to say that my dear Frye has made it through unscathed; a year spent fighting those savage Wastelanders has caused permanent lines to scar his young face, marring his brow and shadowing his mischievous green eyes. There is something else, as well. Some of that old, familiar spark has dimmed. That laughing, teasing boy who pursued me relentlessly, dragged me to the rooftops and enfolded me in the warmth of family... that boy has changed. The things he has done and the things he has seen have altered him, doused some of the fire that I loved so well.

It doesn't matter. I will bring him back. Together, we will get through this. There is no longer a war to keep us apart.

I feel his arm tighten around me and nestle into the crook of his shoulder, smiling up at him and feeling a delicious warmth spread through me as he brings his lips to mine.

What's past is past. There is nothing ahead of us but time.

* * * * *

Two nights later

There is a terrific pounding against my front door.

I groan, sitting back in my chair and rubbing my eyes. The light has dimmed and I struggle to make out the piece of parchment laid out on the table before me. I was so engrossed in my painting that I failed to notice how late the hour had grown.

The knock sounds again, more urgently this time.

I frown, rising to my feet and making my way across the floor of my ramshackle, one-room flat. Who could be calling at this hour?

I flatten my palm against the solid wood door. "Who is it?"

"It's me. It's Kay. Please, let me in."

"Kay?" I struggle with the lock, pulling the pin aside and opening the door a crack. Frye's little sister all but falls against me, her thin frame trembling violently.

My heart gives a warning lurch of dread. I pull her to me, using my one, free hand to push the door closed and lock it. Kay's green eyes, so like her brother's are wide, wild. Seeing and unseeing, frantic and terrified.

The sound of many heavy, booted feet reverberates from the street outside. I hold Kay more securely, whispering nonsense to her as the guards tear past my door. They were chasing her, but why?

That's when I notice the blood.

An ominous scarlet stain glints up at me from the point of the dagger clutched in Kay's hand. My eyes trail the line from the knife to her shoulders. Something has happened.

Something terrible.

Frye.

I grip her ice-cold cheeks, forcing the younger girl to look at me. "What happened?"

A strangled sound escapes her lips and the dagger clatters to the floor, the sound echoing off the walls of my cramped flat.

I swallow bodily and try again, steeling myself for the answer.

"Kay?" My voice is barely a whisper. "Kay, where's Frye?"

"Dead."

The word, like a blade through my heart.

"He can't....no, he can't be." Impossible. It is impossible. I saw Frye two nights past...this cannot be. It can't. "Where are your parents?"

One look at her crumpled expression and I feel myself come apart. Her frail form and the crushing weight of her words tear at me, pulling at my seams and laying bare my pain. I can't breathe, I can't think, I can't process what's happened. I gather this girl to me, wrapping my arms around her and squeezing her tightly.

My hurt is a pinprick relative to hers.

I don't know what has happened this night, but I am suddenly incredibly certain of my place in it. I am going to protect Kay from anything and everything in this world. Whatever it is that I feel I shall push aside; Frye would want me to be strong.

I need to be strong.

"It's all right. You're all right." I hear myself say, blinking free a single tear. I brush a kiss across her clammy forehead and dab her cheeks gently.

After a time, she draws a great shuddering breath. When she speaks, her small voice breaks my heart anew. "What can I do? Where can I go?"

"You will stay here." I tell her, firmly. "This is your home now."

"I cut one of them. They'll be looking for me." Her eyes dart to the discarded dagger and I suppress a shudder.

"You don't have to worry about that." I push a lock of tangled red hair behind her ear, marveling at the colour, so like Frye's. "I'm going to protect you. They won't be able to touch us."

"They took my family." Her voice is choked. "I don't have anyone left."

I pull her to me again, tucking her head under my chin. "We will be each other's family." I murmur, wiping a hand across my blurred vision.

We rock back and forth, the old wooden floor creaking under our knees, as if to participate in the mourning up above.

The how's and the why's of tonight's events do not concern me; there will be time to learn about that. For now, all I need to know is that Frye is gone and that Kay needs me. I cannot bring him back but I can be here for her, I can shelter her from this world and keep any more harm from coming to her. There is one small thing that I can do for my love's memory, and with every fiber of my being I intend to see it done.

* * * * *

"Here." Frye shrugs off his jacket and drapes it around my shoulders. "Better?"

"Much." I smile. "Thank you."

"Perhaps if you dressed more sensibly, then you wouldn't be cold." He teases, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, do you wish me to hide myself in furs?" I lean back against the ledge, displaying my figure to its best advantage.

He trails a finger up my leg and I shiver, not only from the cool breeze. "I will get you furs, someday."

I roll my eyes and silence his silly words with another kiss. He has always talked this way, about how a revolution would bring about equality and I would be given all the beautiful things I desired. He knows of my weakness for pretty baubles and fine clothes but I don't think he realizes how those things pale in comparison to simply being with him. As far as I am concerned, Frye Knight is worth a king's ransom.

He draws back and flashes me that rakish grin. "Gods, I missed you."

My heart skips a beat, as it always does when he looks at me that way. "I missed you, too. Perhaps, if you can keep your nose out of trouble, you can stay for a while."

Something flickers across his features and the line between his brows deepens.

Sighing, I sit up and run my fingers across his forehead. "I know. How could I ever hope to come in between you and your rebellion?"

I mean the words to be teasing but he catches my hand and grips it tightly. "Don't say that."

"It's all right." Since returning from the fight, Frye's moods tend to shift quickly. It can be a trial to keep up with him but I believe that with patience and understanding, I can bring about the return of that light-hearted boy. "I know how important it is to you."

"To us." He says, firmly. "You deserve better than all this, Lara."

I brush a familiar, rogue lock of hair back from his temple. "But what if this is all I want?"

* * * * *

When I awake the next morning, I am greeted first by a stabbing pain wrenching itself through my breast, and then by a distinctive knocking against my front door.

The guards. The thought seizes me so suddenly that I freeze, eyes wide in the sun-brightened room as I struggle to make sense of my surroundings. Kay is next to me in the bed, mercifully fast asleep with her pinched face buried in the pillows. Her back rises and falls as she draws shaky breaths and she twitches ever-so-slightly in her dreamstate. I slide out of bed and throw the blanket hurriedly over her sleeping form, shielding her from view before I draw my tattered robe around my shoulders and pad towards the door.

The knocking sounds again and I twitch violently. I take a moment to smooth my hair with shaking fingers before drawing the lock across the door and easing it open, preparing myself for the worst.

It isn't the Palace guards, but my uninvited guest is no less welcome.

"Good morning, Jasper." I allow a flirtatious lilt to slip into my tone and lean against the doorframe.

My landlord's gaze rakes appreciatively over my figure and I force myself to remain perfectly still. If I can hold his gaze then perhaps he won't notice the unsightly lump in my bed.

"Lara. You are looking well." Jasper leers at me, his meaning clear by the way he curls his lip. I suppress a shudder and adjust my position.

"Listen, Jasper. I know what you're going to say..."

"That you are three months late on your rent?"

"Right." I bite my lip as I struggle to come up with an excuse. "I'm sorry to be taking advantage of your good will, but you see, they've cut back my hours at the dye factory and things have been a bit..." I feel myself colour. "...tight, lately."

Jasper's beady eyes narrow into small slits. "I have been more than patient, Lara."

"I know, I realize that and I..."

"I am giving you until the end of the week to pay what you owe. In full." He stresses the last word and takes a step forward, easing himself through the doorframe. I move to stand in front of him again, blocking his view of my bed.

I swallow bodily, nearly choking on the feeling of disgust rising in my throat. "The...the end of the week? Jasper, I need more time than that. I can't..."

"You can and you will." He is so close, now that I can feel his sour breath on my neck. "Or else you will be finding yourself a new place to live. Do I make myself clear?"

My stomach churns with bile. "As crystal."

"Good." He finally moves back towards the door. "Oh, and one more thing."

I steel myself. "Yes?"

"I had some visitors last night. Royal guards, asking questions." Jasper levels his gaze with mine and I feel myself sway on my feet, gripping onto the frame of the door for balance. "Apparently, they chased a fugitive through here last night. You didn't see anyone, did you?"

"No." I say, with all the certainty I can muster. "I didn't see anyone."

He watches me for a second longer before his eyes flick over to the huddled figure on my bed. The silence drags on, endless and suffocating before he brings his focus back to me.

"One week."

I nod wordlessly and he finally leaves, disappearing into the street as I close and lock the door behind him. I lean my forehead against the rough wood frame and release the breath I didn't realize I was holding.

One week. Shit.

I glance back towards Kay's small form. I'll figure something out. I have to. It is no longer just myself that I need to worry about.

The great, aching pit of grief threatens me, a shadowy mass tempting me from the edges of my vision. With a superhuman effort I push the feeling aside and begin to make myself ready for the day. I can't think about Frye, now. I need to go to work and find a way to make back the three months of rent needed to keep Kay and myself off the streets.

There will be time to mourn later. Right now, I need to work.

* * * * *

We draw apart and he rests his forehead against mine, warming me with the heat from his hands and breath.

"I know that this rebellion is important to you." I say, pausing a moment and waiting until I have his full attention. "And I understand. I'm willing to wait, but I need you to promise me something."

"Anything."

"That you'll be careful."

He raises his brows in mock surprise. "But I'm always careful."

"You know what I mean." I scold. "If the King gets word of this rebellion and it is traced back to you and your family..."

"You worry too much." He nudges me with his elbow and I catch the barest glimpse of that brash, teasing boy.

"You tend to have that effect on people."

He laughs. "I made it through the Wastelands, didn't I? If that place couldn't manage to kill me, than the King certainly doesn't stand a chance."

* * * * *

"Please, you don't understand. I need this job!"

Huey runs a hand over his face, rubbing his tired eyes. "I'm sorry, Lara, I really am, but I just can't afford to keep you on."

"I'll work longer hours for less money. I'll work nights, I'll take your washing home with me." I can hear the desperation in my voice but am incapable of stopping myself. "Whatever little you can offer me, I'll take it. Please, Huey."

He slumps down into his chair and finally deigns to look me in the eyes. I've seen Huey nearly every day since he first hired me to work in his dye factory, but right now he appears a stranger; aged a decade apparently overnight. For five years I worked on this floor, keeping my head down and remaining patient, all the while fostering a secret dream of creating my own beautiful clothes. Now, in the span of a few seconds, that dream has all but shattered.

"I take it you heard what happened last night?" Huey looks up at me. His eyes are sunken and ringed with purple bruises. "There was a raid on the Knight's house."

I swallow the sob constricting my throat. "Yes, I heard." The lone survivor is presently stowed away in my flat.

He nods. "Slaughtered, all of them."

No, not all. I run a hand across my eyes and remain silent, waiting.

"I know that you and Frye were close." Huey isn't a man blessed with the gift of soft words, but I can appreciate him trying. "I can't say that I ever cared much for him. That boy was trouble."

He was, but I never minded. The great, aching hurt tugs at me again but I force myself to ignore it, clenching my hands into fists and concentrating on the feeling of my nails digging into my palms. Not yet, Lara. Not yet.

"This was meant to be a warning to the rest of us." Huey continues, his tone grim. "The King heard word of rebellion and his response was to murder the conspirators and increase the taxes across our sector. I know that it's unfair, Lara, but what can I do? I have a business to run, I have children to feed." He makes to reach out across the desk to take my hand but seems to think better of it. "I'm sorry, I really am. I wish that it didn't have to be this way."

"It's all right." My voice is barely a whisper. "I understand."

"No, it isn't right." His meaty fist comes down so suddenly on the desk that I jump. "These Intacts, the way they oppress us, keep us from making a decent living, keep us forever in their shadow." He squeezes his eyes shut tight, as if holding something at bay. When he speaks again his gravelly voice is choked. "The Knights are...were...good people. Stephan wanted something better for all of us, he was willing to put his life in danger for it, and now..."

He doesn't need to say it. The truth and unfairness of everything hangs heavy in the air between us. Slowly, I manage to drag myself to my feet, pulling my apron over my head and placing it on Huey's desk.

"Thank you, Huey." I hear myself say. "For trying."

"Lara, wait. Here," He digs into his pocket and fishes out a single coin, pressing it into my hand. "It isn't much, but..."

"It's something." I finish his thought for him and offer up a sad, grateful smile before turning and striding through the office door. I keep my head held high while my mind races and my stomach churns.

I have no job, no Frye, and I am soon to lose my home. All that, and I have just brought in an extra mouth to feed.

Once more, I push the ugly feelings aside and concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other. There is no point in dwelling on what I don't have; I just need to keep moving forward. This world does not wait for me, and so I must not waste the time I am given.

When I push open the door of my flat some time later, I find Kay in the exact position I left her in; huddled in a corner of the bed, her face turned to the wall. I place the two crusty loaves of bread I picked up at the market on a side table and walk over to her, placing my hand on her shoulder and shaking her gently.

Her reaction is instantaneous and the next thing I know, my hand is stinging from the force of her slap and my young charge is sitting upright against the wall, her green eyes stretched wide.

I clutch my offended hand and speak in a low tone. "It's only me."

She seems to gather her bearings, blinking rapidly as some of the colour returns to her cheeks. "I'm sorry, I thought..."

"It's all right." I assure her, sinking down next to her on the bed. "I brought some supper."

She shakes her head. "I'm not hungry."

"That would be a first." I make an attempt at coaxing a smile from her, nudging her playfully with my elbow. "I recall a few occasions where I've seen you eat your own weight."

She doesn't reply, biting down hard on her lip and looking away.

I fetch the loaves of bread and hand her one, purposefully averting my eyes as I pick at my meal. We eat in silence, each adrift in our own thoughts. I long to ask about Frye, to unload some of the suffocating pain and worry that has been welling up within me since Kay first turned up on my doorstep, but instead I swallow my feelings along with my supper. This girl doesn't need questions, what she needs is patience and understanding.

For her part, Kay is closed off and distant. I watch her from the corner of my eye, marvelling at her mannerisms; so like her brother's. I shift so that I am sitting closer to her, for the briefest of moments allowing myself to believe that a part of him is here, with me.

"I lost my job, today." I blurt out suddenly, breaking the silence.

Kay freezes, a piece of bread halfway to her lips. "Oh, shit."

"Mind your language." I toss my crust at her half-heartedly. "It's going to be fine. I'm going to go out tomorrow and look for a new one."

The doubtful look crossing her elfin features tells me that she has guessed my fear. Work in this City is not easy to come by, especially for a woman. Kay knows it as well as I.

She has located the crust of bread that I threw at her and is chewing it thoughtfully. "I can help. I know how to get money."

"Pickpocketing." I sigh. "I'm afraid, darling, that our troubles won't be solved by a few trinkets. But not to worry, I'll figure something out."

She nods, slowly. I notice a glazed look overcoming her features and talk quickly, afraid of losing her after finally coaxing the nut free of her shell.

"Why don't you join me, tomorrow?" I ask, conversationally. "It might be good for you to get out and breathe some fresh air."

She glances back up at me. "Really? You want me to come with you?"

I allow a small smile to escape my lips, the first since it happened. "We'll have to cover up that hair of yours, though. The trademark Knight auburn is much too distinctive." The words cause an unexpected pang in my chest.

I can tell Kay's felt it, too. She fingers her tangled locks absently but I know that I've captured her interest. Not unlike Frye, she possesses a certain misplaced pride in being considered an outlaw.

"Listen." I say. "You don't have to come right away. You should stay here, rest, take care of yourself. Let some of the heat die down and when you're ready, we'll go out." I nudge her foot with mine. "Just the two of us."

Kay bites down hard on her lip and tugs on the lock of hair still clenched in her fist. I can see her struggling with her feelings and my heart goes out to her. The situation would seem severe to any person, but for Kay in particular, being so young and full of nervous energy, it must seem insurmountable.

"All right." She says, eventually. "Maybe in a few days."

I don't press her further, content to simply sit and eat in silence. After a long day filled with losses, debt and disaster, this small victory is all I need to get to tomorrow.

* * * * *

"It really is a beautiful view, isn't it?" I remark as I stare out across the moon-dappled rooftops.

"It certainly is."

I glance back at Frye over my shoulder and catch him looking at me, arms folded across his chest and a meaningful grin pulling at his mouth.

I shake my head. "You really fancy yourself a Prince Charming, don't you?"

"Says the girl who fell victim to my charms."

"Long after you fell victim to mine." I raise an eyebrow at him.

He laughs, a lovely, clear sounds that rings out across the night sky. "What can I say? You intrigued me."

I feel my cheeks warm. I am not unused to compliments and consider myself to be a relatively composed person, but Frye always had a talent for drawing out my most embarrassing, involuntary reactions.

He notices me blushing and inches closer, lowering his voice so that I have to lean in towards him. "It wasn't just that you are easy on the eyes." He fingers a lock of brassy hair draped over my shoulder. "That asset is just a happy coincidence."

I breathe an inelegant laugh out my nose and his grin widens.

"Do you know why I love you so much?" He continues.

My heart thuds once, heavily. He arrests my eyes with his and I wait, perfectly still. I am incapable of moving a muscle, even if I desired to.

"It's because you're a survivor." He speaks without a trace of irony. "Whatever happens, whatever circumstance you come up against, you manage to come through. I've seen soldiers fight in battle, but even they couldn't rival you for pure, cool-headed perseverance."

I blink, completely taken-aback. A confusing surge of emotions well up within me, choking me.

Clearly pleased with my reaction, his expression changes and I am rewarded with a hint of that old mischievousness. "And that is just one, of many reasons, why I want to ask you a question."

* * * * *

Gods, my feet ache.

Nearly a week of circumventing every corner of the City, knocking on the doors of Intact homes to inquire about work, and all I have to show for it is a worn pair of shoes and a unattractive slouch to my shoulders. Tomorrow, the landlord will show up on my doorstep and demand the three months in back pay that I owe, and I will have no choice but to look him in the eye and begin packing my things.

Not a single household, shop or factory is hiring. The recent tax hike and general animosity between sectors seem to have caused a City-wide tightening of purse strings. My inquiries about work are met only with pitiable looks and a firm shake of the head. With each day that passes, the dark weight that has been threatening from my peripherals seems to sneak closer, sidling up to me and whispering cruel threats into my ear.

I shake off the demons and try to focus on some of the last words Frye spoke to me. I am a survivor. I've overcome tough times in the past, and I will overcome this. Life is full of challenges; this is just one more.

I have been looking after myself for most of my life. Dad died in the mines before I was old enough to know him properly, and Mum spent the subsequent years taking up with a slew of random men, often disappearing for weeks at a time. I lived on and off with various neighbours, earning my keep by running errands and performing odd jobs.

I squirreled away my earnings and eventually, was able to afford a small room in a boarding house. My newfound independence could not have come at a better time; soon after, Mum announced she was moving to the Outer City.

That was three years ago. I haven't seen or heard from her, since.

My job in the dye factory was enough to keep a roof over my head and if I was short on coins for supper, all I needed to do was accept a boy's invitation. I always took care in my appearance and discovered early on that my looks, combined with a little light conversation and harmless flirting could go a long way towards filling an empty belly.

As the years passed and the war in the Wastelands continued to drag on, the times grew leaner. It was impossible not to notice the strain placed on the shoulders of my friends and neighbours. People grumbled about the King's injustice when our men were drafted, they moaned over our increased taxes on food and rent, but it wasn't until I met Frye that I realized someone might actually try and do something about it.

I glance back over my shoulder. Frye's miniature doppelganger is lagging behind me, her sharp eyes darting up at the crowd surrounding us.

This is the first time she's been out since it happened. While ensconced in my soon-to-be-former flat, she was like a ghost, there but not truly existing. She drifted from bed to basin, taking food only when offered and spending the remaining hours curled up in a ball on the bed, facing the wall, her skinny shoulders shuddering every so often.

Today, though, she seems different. An hour of sunlight and colour has already begun to return to her cheeks. Her eyes are bright and she seems alert, focused. I have covered her hair with a dark scarf but now I realize that I needn't have bothered. Her time spent flitting about the market with Frye has gifted Kay with the uncanny ability to instantly disappear into a crowd. Her steps are light and fluid and she seems to navigate the path I carve by pure instinct, rather than with her sight.

I feel myself on the verge of panic but walk determinedly, aiming for pub at the edge of the market square. The nasty little voice continues to whisper in my ear, mocking and threatening all at once, reminding me unnecessarily that this is my last chance.

I shake my head and slow my pace until Kay catches up with me. "I just have one last stop to make." I tell her. "And then maybe we'll go for a cup tea?"

"Can you afford it?" She asks bluntly.

I stop in my tracks and she steps to the side, smoothly avoiding a collision. I feel my hackles rise defensively but Kay only seems curious, her head tilted as she waits for my response.

I draw a steadying breath and grab hold of her arm, gently tugging her into a side street and away from the surging crowd.

"You needn't worry." I tell her, once we are safely out of earshot. "We aren't out on our asses, yet."

"Does this help?" She digs her hand into her pocket and withdraws no less than three purses.

I shove her hand back down, looking around wildly. No one seems to be paying us any notice. Kay is particularly unbothered, her mouth pulling into a tight line and her brow furrowing.

"Are you mad?" I hiss. "Don't you think you're already in enough trouble, as it is?"

She shrugs. "I don't see how it makes any difference. Can you use the coins, or not?"

I rub my my forehead. "Gods, you're just like him."

She freezes, suddenly and her face turns dark. When she speaks, her voice is cold. "Don't talk about him."

Her reaction causes my heart to seize in my chest. The idea of Frye being stricken from conversation is terrifying and for the first time, it occurs to me that he is really and truly gone.

"Right." I finally manage. I swallow once in an effort to compose myself.

Kay is not longer looking at me, instead she is focused on the purses clenched in her fist. She is so strained that her knuckles blaze white.

"Thank you, Kay." I gently pull the purses free of her hand and she visibly relaxes. "This is an enormous help, really."

Her brow has smoothed and her shoulders slump. "Good. I mean...you're welcome."

I tuck the purses into the pocket of my skirt. The weight tells me that the amount of coins isn't enough to pay the landlord; not by a long shot, but Kay looks so relieved that I can't bring myself to tell her.

"All right." I straighten. "I'm going to pop into the pub for a minute. I trust you'll stay out of trouble until I get back?"

She nods, her eyes already focused back on the crowd; likely she is planning her next mark. I fight the urge to roll my eyes as I turn away. It will be an uphill battle, trying to curb this one's impulses. The little voice in my head whispers, you've bitten off more than you can chew.

The conversation I share with the pub's proprietor proceeds in the exact manner I have come to expect. Almost as soon as I get my foot in the door, I am met with a closed-off expression and a subtle shake of the head. For the millionth time this week, I am dismissed and rejected before I have even begun.

I shuffle back out into the street and duck into an alley, leaning with my back against the rough stone wall. With shaking fingers I withdraw the emergency cigarette I keep stashed in my shoe.

My eyes squeeze shut tight but a couple traitor tears still manage to escape. I brush my cheeks hurriedly and bring the cigarette to my lips, inhaling deeply and revelling in the sensation of smoke filling my lungs. That's it; it's all over. I am officially broke, destitute and homeless. What will become of Kay and I, now that I have failed so catastrophically?

The combination of tobacco and despair swirl together, clawing up my throat and threatening to choke me. I find that I am suddenly unable to breathe. The little voice whispering in my ear grows louder, buzzing and humming, the words becoming louder and louder until it is the only thing I am aware of.

Alone.

Alone.

You are alone.

I am hunched over in the alley, hands on my knees as I gasp and struggle to draw breath. I can't think clearly, can't see the way forward, can't change what's about to happen. I can't survive, not this time.

"Whoa, whoa. Easy, there." Someone's hand is on my shoulder. Their soft voice slowly works its way into my subconscious, overtaking the nasty whisper and reminding me how to breathe normally.

I clutch my chest, gradually forcing the proper amount of air into my lungs. The stranger's touch is encouraging, even tender after so many days spent fighting an ever-worsening, internal battle. I concentrate on the feeling of a friendly hand on my shoulder, willing away the panic as I struggle to bring myself back to the present.

"There, now. Feeling better?"

I glance up, blinking the veil of moisture from my vision until a face swims into view.

He's only a little older than myself, and slightly taller. His eyes are dark but his expression is concerned as he searches my face. He's an Intact, to be sure, and recently come from the pub. The scent of soured ale still lingers around him, all the more evident in the cramped alley.

I nod, swallowing once. "Yes, thank you."

A small grin twitches near his cheek, giving me a glimpse of shiny, white teeth. "I'm happy to come to the aid of a damsel in distress."

Something unpleasant turns my stomach but I force myself to return his smile. My attempt is shaky but it doesn't seem to bother him. Now that the initial bout of panic has passed, I am aware of just how close his is standing, and the fact that his hand is still gripping my shoulder.

"Are you sure that you're all right?" He closes what little distance remains between us.

His nearness automatically causes my thoughts to return to Frye. The great, aching sense of loneliness at once triples in size and I nearly choke again. This Intact stranger seems so concerned and his touch is so gentle. I allow my eyes to rove over his figure. He seems clean and well-kept. His style of dress and mannerisms tell me that this is a person who will never know the worries that have always plagued me. This man is part of another world and for the first time in my life, I find myself coveting his advantages.

Why shouldn't my life be so simple?

"I'm fine, really." When I speak my voice is strong and doesn't betray the swell of conflicting emotions still churning within me.

The cruel little voice in my head whispers an idea and for once, I don't try to push it aside.

I place my palm against his chest, concentrating on the feeling of expensive fabric beneath my fingers and not the sensation of my ruined heart seizing in my chest.

"So," His voice is grating and what little space remained between us has all but disappeared. He leans in closer to my ear and I shudder. "How much?"

"Thirty marks." I say the words without thinking.

He draws back, swaying a little on his feet as he fights to look at me fully. I lean against the wall, looking up at him through my eyelashes as I trail my hand down his stomach towards his belt.

"I promise, it will be worth every penny." I murmur near his ear and sense a stiffening beneath my hand.

He groans and I shut my eyes tight, letting my mind drift. This is nothing; it is purely physical, nothing more. A temporary solution to a temporary problem.

Whatever gods may judge me for what I am about to do, I would respond by showing them a small, red-headed girl, safe with a roof over her head and food in her belly.

We have lost, but we are still here.

We are survivors.

* * * * *

"What is it?" I ask him.

That impish gleam in his eye sets my heart racing, again. "You're a smart girl, Lara. I'm sure you can guess."

"A gentleman would ask, anyway." I indicate the ground in front of me. "He would also get down on bended knee."

"We are both fully aware that I'm not much of a gentlemen." Despite his protests he crouches in front of me, clasping both my cold hands in his warm ones. "But for you, I will make an exception."

"You are too kind." I tease.

"My only regret is that I don't have a ring." His gaze moves from our joined hands up to my face. "It didn't seem right to give you something stolen, but I promise that as soon as I'm able..."

"I don't need a ring, you silly boy." A smile pulls at my mouth, pinching my cheeks. "I don't need anything, not some silly trinkets, a rebellion or a wedding. I'm a simple girl with simple tastes, and I only want one thing."

He rises, then and releases my hands to cup my chin. I keep my eyes locked with his, unable, incapable and totally unwilling to look away. This view is more beautiful than a million moonlit Palaces, more infinite than a sky filled with stars.

"I love you, Lara." He says. "I want to marry you. Gods know that I'm far from perfect, but if you'll let me, I'll spend the rest of my life trying to become someone worthy of you."

A tear trickles down my face but I make no move to brush it away. Instead, I watch him carefully, at the same time committing this moment to memory. The cool night breeze, the feeling of his warm hands against my cheeks, the rogue curl of hair against his forehead.

A kiss is my answer to his question. We wrap our arms around one another, holding each other close and sealing our vow.

Life is never fair, our fates are not always ours to choose but sometimes, despite it all, we are granted a thin slice of perfection.

And perfect moments have a way of living on in our memories, forever.