Ilithyia woke to silence. There was no screaming, there was no clamor of broken and burned people anxiously waiting for her help. In fact. she was in her own bed, in her own sheets, still dressed in her ruined uniform. It was odd; her last memory seemed so distant, helping the pained masses, casting spells... when... Oh goddess I brailed. She stared at her hands, wondering if somehow she could undo what had happened. One look at the window told her that any who needed her help were far beyond anyone's help; the sky was going dark.

Sucking in a wheezing sigh, she fought back the tears as she reprimanded herself. You did all you could, protected as many as you could. Alstair might well be rotting in a jail if you'd not listened to that human. And even if he was bluffing, you were too tired to think straight. They took advantage of your attempt at kindness, and because of that something went wrong. Yet it still hurt to know how awfully she had failed; but, I was trying so, so hard... I wanted to stop, oh Alioe I wanted to... I could have helped bandage people up, held people down... her thoughts spun in what ifs and maybes, none of it actually helping her through the emotional pain.

Slowly easing her way off the bed, she quickly changed clothes into baggy pants and a shirt she'd stolen from her brother. After making sure her still raw feet were protected by socks she dashed out of the bunk room where other injured Seventen women rested and into the hall, looking for and finding a vacated common area.

Sitting gently down on one chair, she brought her knees up and wrapped her arms around them, chin perched on top. She sighed, praying that Alstair wouldn't find her her and yet hoping he would.

Alstair sat in the commons area. His entire body was tired from the day. HE had nearly slipped back to being the man he had once been. A braggart and a fool that tested the very limits of any man's heart and soul. With a sigh he stood from the chair he had reclined in. His back popped and cracked as stiff joints began to move with protest.

"I'm no young man." He groaned with a loud crack of the neck. "I must resist the urge to act like one."

She heard Alstair's voice down the way, what with the silence of the entire building. His voice was tired, and weary; older than it had ever before sounded to her ears. Ilyia was tempted to just sit, curled up in her chair, silently waiting from him to leave. Really, she could; there was no way he could know she was in here unless he went looking for her. Something inside her wanted him to track her, to find her here. He still thinks you're asleep, you silly thing. The least you can do is talk to him. Besides, she wanted to know who had taken her away from the chaos of the doctors.

Tip toeing down the hall, Ilithyia quietly peeked into the lounge, her long hair loose about her shoulders. Her blue eyes were wide and doe-like, so innocent and scared all at once. "Mr. Murdoh? Am I going to be bothering you if I join you?"

Alstair paused as mid-crack. Holding his arm across his chest he shook his head with a small smile.

"No it's quite alright. Your company is always welcome in my eyes." He said merrily with a loud pop. "Please come out where I can see you. It seems as if you are small child hiding from a monster."

That last word held a subtle bitterness to it. He was a monster in all eyes. He had no right to call himself a gentleman and a galdor. She had every right to be terrified of him. He had killed far more than that little riot in his lifetime.

She smiled a little, and folded herself into one of the chairs, much happier than she had any right to be. Tucking some loose hair behind her ear, she rubbed her knuckles, as if trying to remember something.

"If my guess is right, you're more the hero than the monster. You were the one who... well, rescued me from the doctor's." She paused and sighed, her mind returning to that afternoon. "There were so many wounded, Mr. Murdoh. So many burns... I tried tending them all in the square and burned the soles of my feet off in return." Her smile turned bitter.

"I ran all the way from the riot to the doctor's with burnt, blistering feet, if you can believe it. I didn't even feel it, I was so focused on helping the people worse off from me. But Goddess it looked terrible!" She laughed quietly, eyes soft on Alstair, trying not to sound as shell-shocked as she was. "Damn Magma did more damage than the wicks did. Alioe, some of the things I saw before I collapsed..." She shuddered, looking at her socked feet. "It was an experience for a recruit, let me tell you. Whoever cast Magma... I cannot begin to tell you the utter rage I have for them." She glared into the middle distance, as if looking for the wretch who had hurt so many innocents.

Alstair paused for a second his heart stopping in an icy chill. swallowing down the rotten taste that filled his mouth he turned away from her his face pale and strained.

"Ilithyia...the spells were my doing." He said bluntly. "I lost control. Old habits die hard it would seem."

Ilithyia's eyes turned blankly to Alstair, and she sat still, deathly still.

"You. You cast Magma." There was nothing seen, nothing heard, but her field floundered. It skyrocketed with rage, sank into a depressing trickle and finally pulsed with some emotion that really couldn't be named. Her eyes, however, told the story. Somewhere inside Ilithyia, her big heart that had carried through years of abuse, through the hard life of a Seventen recruit, survived being manhandled by rude doctors and victims she just couldn't help, broke. Her eyes began to water, and she buried her head in her hands, unwillingly comprehending.

"No... oh Mr. Murdoh, how could you... did you even see them, those you hurt? Did you care about the blameless? There were children there, women who were shopping, innocents. Did you care about me? Because you burned me, Mr. Murdoh, you burned me..." She looked at him, deject, disappointed sadness welling up, before returning her face to it's cradle of her hands, crying quietly. Goddess... why...

Alstair let put a sigh.

"It is what I am." said quietly."I am the monster that Anaxas needs and fears to use. I am a soldier. Women and children are merely a few unexpected casualties to me. I am the ruthless killing creature that they needed ten years ago. That nature will never leave me. When I fight, I fight to win without ere." His voice was cold as he spoke his field tensed and balled up like a caged animal. Within him he could hear the screams and see the burnt bodies. Part of him relished the sight with a lovers passion. Another however hated him all the more for this.

She couldn't look at him. She just... couldn't. It hurt too much. There was so much uncontrolled power there, that had unleashed itself on the world during the riot. She had wanted to be the touch that turns the blade, the hand that controls the forge. She hadn't done a good job of that today, had she? No, she knew Alstair was wild; it was her fault for not sticking closer to him, for not being the reign he needed. Oh Alioe, I can never do anything right. I failed all of them... the magma was my fault... She cried harder into her sleeves, gasping in air through gritted teeth. The riot was my fault.

Slowly, her sobbing stopped, and she looked at him with bloodshot eyes, her face that of a betrayed child. "And me, Mr. Murdoh? Am I just another sacrifice? Becuase I can be, if that's what it takes to prevent this from happening again. I can be another casualty." She said it quietly, almost soothingly. "Am I just another innocent, Mr. Murdoh? If I am, just tell me, I will still stand with you because..." Because I'm afraid I love you, even now, because I'm terrified of you but want to control you, because I've never felt like I mattered in the slightest to anyone. Even as a pawn. Even as anything.

Alstair shook his head.

"No. Ilyia I would burn this city to the ground to help you. I have even lashed out against my own friend of many years when he treated you poorly." He said with a low voice. His hands balled into fists. "I may as well add in the fact I was the one who did the explosion" He said with a grim smile upon his face as he turned towards her.

She couldn't help it; she laughed out of horror, looking at Alstair with her too wide eyes. Goddess, she must be insane for loving him as much as she did. Yet she did, and she stood, unfolding long legs and stepping forward, tears still running down her face, her expression earnest and open, youth writ in her every movement.

"Please, if you care for me so much, don't hurt like that again. Kill hundreds, nigh thousands of politicians, warriors, Seventen even, but never children. Never noncombatants. Please... for me. Goddess, I don't think I could live if that happened again." She shook, and wrapped her arms around herself. "You didn't see them, Mr. Murdoh. Alioe, so many... I burnt myself out and brailed, I tried to heal them all. There were too many." She couldn't tell him about the doctor; he was still a threat that she needed to deal with.

Giving in to her weakness, Ilithyia sagged against Alstair's frame, lying her head on his shoulder, needed to be held, needing him.

"Just promise me you'll not kill innocents again, please, please Mr. Murdoh. Please..."

Alstair stared Ilithyia with gray eyes. His lips pursed in a frown as he thought of how to best state his next words.

"I will try." He said quietly. "But, you realize what I intend may mean much blood will be shed. Both innocent and corrupt. It is a fact of any war. Secret and open." He said slowly as he shifted from foot to foot.

She bit her lip to keep from sobbing again, but her shoulders shook with the effort. Ilithyia had seen the revolution with the eyes of a girl, not those of a soldier. She hadn't seen people as pawns, hadn't pondered the value of one life against the whole. She wasn't a soldier; she was a peace keeper. She dealt with the pure black-and-white form of justice that only a police officer can know. That she had helped cement the death of so many made her despair, made that yawning hole of emptiness and self-depreciation that much bigger. If I can't help people, what am I worth? Nothing... Nothing ever was clear with Alstair.

She leaned away from him, blue eyes oceans of hurt. She wanted him to make it better, promise things she knew he couldn't keep. Her emotions were slipping away from her control, felt like sand pouring through someone's fingers. Nothing in the world mattered except that she couldn't feel like this again. It bound her too close to him, made him her responsibility, made her fear him even more, and made old feeling of inferiority rise again to light. He made her feel weak, dependent on him, and it scared her as much as the attack on the square. squeezing her middle, as though trying to keep everything in, she looked down at her feet, the socks covering whole skin, wondering if he realized how badly her wounds had been, how bad they were even now on her heart.

"Oh Mr. Murdoh there are always ways... innocents need not die needlessly..." She whispered it, her voice as broken as she was.

"You think I don't that!" He snapped. His face was a mask of impassionate anger. A cold fire that seared his mind with painful memories. "I have tried to stop that. Many years from now Ilyia try to say that you can stop needless bloodshed. I tried and I failed."

He took a step closer to Ilithyia. His field roared with the heat and anger of his past mistakes. He could hardly restrain yelling at her about her idealism. he has learned all to well that innocence was something that could not exist.

It was as if all the pieces of herself she'd been holding together with prayers and hope fell apart right then. Stumbling back a few steps, she collapsed into the chair, holding her knees tight. Ilyia was crying so hard her sides hurt, her chest burned. She was a mess, hair covering most of her face, limbs shaking.

"I c-can't give up h-h-hope! There is always a w-w-way..." She choked out through shuddering sobs "I c-can save people. I can. I have to..." She hated herself for being so weak, hated Alstair for making her cry, making her face things she didn't want to think about. Adulthood was catching up to her stunted social development. A few more sentences and hope would die in her. Looking through wet, sticky strands of hair that were attached to her face by the tears, Ilithyia tried to stop the tears that still flowed.

"I can't give up... We have to try at least..." Please don't tell me to give up. I have to do good. I have to. The remains of her heart were now on her sleeve.

Alstair shook his head a small smile upon his lips.

"Do not give up on that idealism." He said slowly. "It may prove to be wrong but, it gives you a reason to fight. Never lose a reason to fight. Because the day that happens is the day you die."

His voice was a low tone as he spoke. His face loosing the sternness it had had.

Hopeful eyes shining, she looked up at Alstair from her seat, and smiled a little, praying to Alioe that she wouldn't break down again. She couldn't handle it. Brushing the hair away from her face, she unfolded her tightly curled body, ignoring her fallen socks, and half reached for Alstair, her hand hovering in the air timidly.

"Then... might we, if at all possible, spare those blameless?" Her words rang with a clinging idealism that had survived the truth of his statements, a hope that still burned brightly for all the weather had done to it. "If there are other ways to accomplish our ends, can we instead move in peace, rather than war? Please?" She sounded pleading to her own ears, totally subservient to Alstair's will. Ilithyia who had never begged for anything in her life, was now begging a mad man for control. There are things more important than pride, she told herself, and if you have the strength to submit then you must.

Alstair nodded.

"It is something new to me. I am a soldier first Ilyia. If you can find a way I shall follow that path with you." He said with a thoughtful tone. "You must be willing to do the difficult though. Never forget that."

He looked about the room and finally turned back to Ilithyia.

"I do believe it is time for you to get some sleep. You have had a long day and your trials have just begun." He said a caring matter. His tone light and fairly merry for such a severe person.

It was as if the spell of despair was suddenly released. Although she had been passed out, Ilithyia was still tired, and feeling it. rubbing her eyes, she grinned lightly up at him, playing with her long hair.

"You sound like a parent. Well, I'm a grown woman and I can do what I want!" She stood up, suddenly playful, placing her hands on her hips and sticking her tongue out at him. It seemed like a drastic change in mood, but it was really a way of putting off her true feelings. If at first you can't deal... suppress. Smiling, she stood straight and laughed. "...But I think I ought to sleep anyway. Even if I'd rather-" She suddenly caught herself. She was not saying that out loud!

"-rather be doing something productive. Well then, good night, Mr. Murdoh." She bowed politely, hair spilling everywhere.

Alstair chuckled.

"It is how a superior nicely tells a subordinate an order." He said smiling. "And as to being more productive I think that can wait for a later date."

With these last words Alstair began to walk away wondering why he had not seized the opportunity for a longer night.

Suddenly contrite, Ilithyia smiled guiltily, and watched him walk away. If she had been more sane, she would have just turned and fled to the women’s side. But her day had been long and hard and she was suppressing everything negative so hard that, by the goddess, she was absolutely giddy with it. Easily catching up to Alstair, her socks sliding on the marble floor, she took his good arm in both her hands, leaned in and placed a light kiss on his cheek.

"Night, Mr. Murdoh!" She bounded off, slipping and sliding her way into the girls bunks, crept into her cot and immediately hated herself. Again. Alstair never could keep her happy for longer than it took for him to disappear out of sight. That’s what love is, isn’t it? Loving them even when you can't stand them...? She settled to sleep with that cheery thought, secretly wondering if she would ever really forgive him for being a monster. She doubted it. Oh well, it's not like we're married or anything.