?I?m home!? She announced her presence with a loud shout and a banging of the bags she carried, and her body, against the front door as she struggled to both hold it open and step inside the house. ?Mamma?? She called out even louder, dropping the bags in an unseemly pile besides the door and kicking off her shoes instead of bringing them up to her room like she was supposed to.

?In here!? Jewell called from one of the rooms nearest the foyer that served as a makeshift study and map room.

Amanda left everything by the door, except for the flower she still clutched in her hand, and poked her head into the other room, ?Busy??

?Nope, come right in.? Her mother was sitting on the edge of the desk, flipping through a book she had just pulled off the shelf. Not immediately finding what she was looking for, she closed the book and set it aside, looking up at her eldest daughter. ?Everything go all right? Did you get my books??

?Yep, left them out in the foyer. I can go get them if you want??

?No no, that?s fine. I don?t need them right now. You buy anything else worth seeing??

She grinned but shook her head, ?Not really.?

?Then you have money left over to give back to me?? Jewell?s smile matched Amanda?s.

?Nope.?

?Right, didn?t think so,? she laughed. ?Did you have a nice day at least??

?Yep,? Amanda came forward and plopped herself onto one of the chairs in the room, slouching down in it, ?a little weird but still good.?

?Weird, as if that isn?t normal in RhyDin.?

?Nah, this was even weirder than normal.?

?How so?? She narrowed her eyes a little, looking her daughter over for any signs of a scuffle.

?A man gave me this flower,? she held up the slightly wilted present, ignoring the scowl her mother easily adopted at the mention of a man in relation to her daughter, ?he was pretty nice but a little creepy.?

?Tell me about it,? by the tone of her voice and the sudden way her mother was sitting up straight, eyes narrowed, Amanda knew this was no request for a story but a command for an evaluation of the situation. Jewell was always looking for potential threats to her family, convincing Amanda that she was completely paranoid. Still, there was no use denying her. Amanda launched into an account of her encounter with the man, indulging her mother?s paranoid fantasies.

??then he just left. It was totally weird. Didn?t ask me my name, nothing. At least he didn?t ask me for a date or anything.? She had related the whole story and a description of the man, oblivious to the way her mother?s hold on the edge of the desk had tightened until her knuckles were white, or the way she was now biting at the inside of her cheek and staring off into space, still listening but thinking furiously. Realizing, once she was done speaking and Jewell failed to comment, that she didn?t have her full attention, she frowned; ?Mamma??

That brought Jewell back to the here and now and Amanda was a little alarmed with how quickly she stood, almost glaring at her daughter, ?Give me that flower. Give it here, now! I don?t know what has gotten into you, taking things from strangers like a child.?

When Amanda didn?t hand over the flower fast enough, Jewell moved towards her and snatched it from her hand. ?But mamma, it?s just a??

?I don?t care what it is! Do I have to treat you like you?re Devyn?s age, holding your hand and instructing you not to talk to people you don?t know again, let alone take something from them??

?Mamma?? she sunk down into her chair even more, unusually cowed by the way her mother was practically screaming at her.

Then Jewell started to tear apart the flower before her eyes, as if it was some malicious weapon intended to harm her family. ?Just have no idea what you were thinking,? she was raving on to herself, ?thought you were ready to go out alone when you want but obviously not!?

??ey, wha? be all the yellin? ?bout in ?ere,? Stephen poked his head into the study, frowning at what he saw. Amanda was in tears by this point and pieces of a flower were falling from Jewell?s hand that went suddenly still at her husband?s entrance.

As usual, Stephen?s presence recalled her to herself and Jewell suddenly blushed, realizing that she had gone far past overreacting. ?Nothing?I just,? she looked down to the bits of flower she still had clenched between her fingers and then up to her daughter, clearing her throat, ?I?m sorry, Amanda. I just got carried away is all. You did fine, I?m sure. I just would appreciate it if you exercised a little more caution, all right?? She waited until her daughter nodded. Stephen was frowning at her by this point but she wouldn?t look at him, ?I?m sorry.?

Letting the rest of the petals fall to the floor, she pushed past Stephen to leave the room. He let her go, turning his attention to Amanda who was wiping the tears furiously from her eyes. ?Wha? the ?ell was tha? about??

Journal Entry Excerpt
June 3, 2008

Everywhere I go today I keep seeing him out of the corner of my eye. I have not heard the voice yet. Please do not let it come back, I have been so good for a year now. I thought maybe this time it was all gone for good and I could finally move on.

That would be too simple, wouldn?t it?

I swear someone was following me when I walked down to the Fury earlier. I doubled backed, changed my route, used every trick I know. I did not spot anyone but it was just one of those feelings again.

I have not mentioned any of this to Stephen yet.

I thought I had enough to worry about, the whole pregnancy issue springing up since the other night at the Inn and all. I cannot get that off my mind; it just weighs me down. Maybe that is what started all this, me thinking about that again. It would not surprise me if that is what it was, that I am doing this all to myself again, making myself ill worrying and wondering.

One of these days I will grow out of being such a mess.

He watches her glance over her shoulder for the third time in under five minutes and knows that he has acted too quickly, too rashly, in talking to her daughter. It has startled her, made her paranoid, made her see ghosts she thought long gone. His little pet was always quite skittish, though. Had it been worth it, setting her on edge, to have that little chat with her daughter? He thought so. Amanda. The name did not do her justice; he saw her as another jewel, even considered the possibility that if he could not win back the mother, perhaps the daughter would do. He reflected that she may prove to be more desirable than the mother at this point: more malleable, submissive, spineless, perfect just as Jewell was so long ago. He had not lied when he said they were so much alike, but the likeness did not end just in the looks that they shared. That touch to Amanda?s skin had confirmed what he thought upon seeing her: she held the same magic within her as Jewell did. He felt it, humming under the surface--pure energy and life, waiting to be tapped and controlled by someone who knew how, someone who could make good use of it. Someone like him.

He had waited too long for her--to run his hand through her silk blue curls, to taste her skin--to ruin his chances with his rashness. He took a step back. Yes, he was eager, but he also knew patience. She was his, rightfully his, and he had waited patiently for years for the chance to get her back. There were complications now, though, besides her own paranoia: a husband, children, friends. It would take more time, more patience, but he would overcome them. He would not walk away empty-handed, not this time.

Exercising more caution to ease her paranoia, he kept his distance from her: out of sight, out of mind. He smiled victoriously when she stopped looking over her shoulder only days later. It helped that she was sorely troubled over other events happening around her, mainly those involving her supposed husband and his recently returned wife. Oh yes, those events could not have been better timed, more perfectly structured for his advantage. He was following her, of course, learning her routines and rituals, relearning everything about her through the practices of a voyeur. He could see the worry lines start to form around her eyes, the self-doubt, the sudden lack of confidence in her posture. The situation had suddenly become ideal for one such as he: one who planned to regain her through her weaknesses, insecurities, and reservations.

Still, he bided his time. He trailed after her, a hungry animal after his prey, as she moved like a ship having lost its anchor throughout the city. He traced her steps down to the Pride and Fury and over to the Powder Keg, where she would linger outside but refuse to enter. He accompanied her unseen on those increasingly rare trips to the Inn she loved so much, where she pretended all was right in her world when amongst friends--The Empress of the fa?ade. He followed her home where she repeated the same grievous mistake of her past: hiding herself away in seclusion with her own dark thoughts to bring her down.

The repetition of such a mistake spelled his eventual triumph.

She woke up, hoping it was all a dream or else she had imagined it. Reality could not be that bad, fate would not be so cruel to her again. But if it was a dream, then what was she doing curled up in the corner of a room at the Forsaken Blades? Clubhouse--a safe haven, a place where it was okay to cry and feel like a lost little girl. A dream could explain the tear stains away from her face, Jewell often cried when dreaming, but not the remembrance of a very real touch--a hand around her wrist, lips to her ear, a finger on her cheek, a touch to her chin. What could explain that, or the purple and blue that had blossomed around her right wrist. She stared at that mark, fascinated and horrified. Was this proof or could someone else have done it? She had pieces of wood and glass clinging to her hair, unexplainable. She was missing whole parts of the night, perhaps; anything could have happened to provide those marks, and the touch could have been another?s, remembered falsely?

It was a dream. It must have been, she reasserted in her mind. As reality it was improbable, impossible. He did not exist outside her own memory anymore. It was just her insanity, her past, rearing its ugly head once. It was worse this time, though. He was corporal, she had not only heard but seen him. Felt him. She shuddered. She would chalk it up to the stress of the last few weeks and the situation with Stephen.

Stephen.

She remembered his words, his accusation for all the Inn to hear: ?Fer gods sakes Jewell! Another man nibbles yer damn ear an' all ye can do is sit there??

He had seen him then, had he? He had seen it happen? But how? It was a dream, a figment of her own, twisted imagination! Yet, Stephen had never answered her questions, asked in desperation: ?You saw him?? It was asked quietly, fear of something present in the question. She pulled her hands slowly down from her face. Her cheeks were wet with tears and she was staring up at Stephen, disbelieving. ?He was.. he was actually here? You saw him?? She asks again, dying for him to say, ?No,? practically begging him with her eyes to do so. A ?no? she can handle. ?No, he wasn't here, there was no one here, and you're just crazier than we thought.? Insanity. She's lived through it before. That?s all that a ?no? would mean and that she can handle. It was a ?yes? that she was deathly of.

No, he hadn?t answered her questions at all. He had turned his back on her, hadn?t he? A little whimper formed in the back of her throat, the saddest and most pathetic of sounds. He had left her. She had needed him and he just turned a blind eye and walked away. A betrayal.

She had thought, that after what had been said earlier--?Yer me murinin. I dun like strange men lookin? a' ye.? ?Am I?? ?Aye Jewell, ye are. There should nae e'er be any question o' tha'.?--that things were going to be all right again, that he and her were all right, that they would work out everything together like he always promised her they would, like good couples were supposed to.

What had she done wrong that he couldn?t even bare to look at her, was perhaps disgusted with her or angry enough so that he had not even provided her with the answer she needed to hear: ?Yer imagin? things ?gain, luv. There were no one there wit? ye.? It must have been disgust. His dear Annie would not have broken down in a crowd of people, seeing men that were not there and running from them. No, she would have stayed at his side, aiding him with his own problems, wouldn?t she? Not turned to flee from her own.

She disgusted herself.

He needed her and she abandoned him all because of what? An apparition that only she could see, that could do her no harm save what she let it. And she had let it, hadn?t she? She gave that ghost from her past validation, power, by acknowledging he was there the moment she saw him. How could she not, though? Everything had felt so real, down to the terror that stirred inside her when she spotted him impossibly standing by the door.

Robin entered through the back alley door, his white, buttoned up shirt all done up, save for the very top button, despite the heat. A careless, charming smile was present, flashed to any lady in his line of sight as green eyes expertly sought out one in particular. Blue hair was always easy to spot.

Teryani winked to Stephen then turned his attention back to the red head and the elf at the table.

?Stephen..? Jewell settled her hand on his arm, ?pay him no mind.? She spoke softly, pleading. ?You know I have eyes only for?? And she stopped right there, in mid-sentence, eyes widening at something (someone) seen over Stephen's shoulder.

So very easy to spot. His eyes locked with hers and his smile widened.

Stephen takes a drink of port and spits it in Teryani's direction, not yet noticing the look on Jewell?s face. Tara smiles, pats Teryani?s wrist and then stands. ?If you'll excuse me a moment, Terian.? And off she goes toward Stephen, sidestepping his spit.

As the port lands near his boot, his face contorts into a frown and he looks to Tara. ?Poor man?perhaps he can't handle the drink?? Another light roll of the shoulders, leading into a shrug.

Having just convinced herself the other day that this was not happening, seeing him standing there?grinning at her? Slight shock to the system. He saw her. She needed to go. ?I have to?go.? Jewell barely managed to stutter that out, her mouth suddenly dry. Robin started moving towards the bar casually, hands tucked in his pockets. He hoped she would try and run. He loved the chase.

Stephen looked back to Jewell with a look of confusion. ?Jus' cause I spit a' 'im? I 'ave done far worse an' ye 'ave nae left afore.? She was shaking her head ?no?: denial. She couldn't even form the words again, just mouthing her need to go as she stood and was pushing past Tara, as she approached her husband, to move along the bar. Stay close to the wall, don't get trapped in a crowd of people; he?ll catch you then.

?Stephen?? Tara said softly to him with a sweet smile.

He turned from Jewell to face Tara. ?Aye wha' is it ye be wantin' Tara luv?...I did nae say a word about yer fifty husbands.? Watching Jewell then wondering what the hell has her all spooked.

?Hello, love,? the sweet smile remaining and she crosses her arms. ?Spitting is rude, aye? Don't be doin that 'gain.? A smirk the BFF as she is pushing past her.

That's what he wanted to see. While her pace was hurried, Robin?s movements were more leisurely as he pushed through the crowd, making for the front door--her obvious means of escape.

?Tara luv?? talking down to her now, ?If'n yer ?friend? winks a' Jewellsie again, spittin' will be the least o' yer worries as I will split 'im from throat tae crotch an' dance the reels in his inards as they become outards.? If Teryani had heard Stephen's words, he didn't show a change in expression. His eyes were still fixated on the elf called Tasha.

Jewell was almost there. All she had to do was reach the door, throw it open, and run. She could outrun him, right? He was just a figment of her imagination. It had never worked before but, here's to hoping.

Tasha gave a slow blink as Stephen's words register and she looked up baffled. ?Is that even possible? Wouldn't you slip and perhaps fall dancing a reel upon sticky, bloody innards??

?Fair enough but understand if you make a move on him, you'll tangle with me as well. You are drinkin too much. Slow down an' appease yer wife, eh?? Tara nodded to Jewel. ?Jewelsie!?

Robin cut her off right before she got to the door, his one arm blocking her way while his other hand encircled her wrist, preventing her from grasping the door handle, as she had been about to do. ?Where are you off to in such a rush, pet??

Tasha?s dark eyes moved towards Jewel and she tilted her head, for the lady looked like she seen a ghost and just blinked. ?Um, whose that guy messing with Jewell, Tara? She don't look to happy about it.?

Watching as her best friend slinks away. ?I told you once you broke her heart I'd break you! Go comfort yer current wife!? Pointing to her.

?Dun start wit' me Tara it's been a bad week!? His eyes then caught the action at the front door and he growled deep and low the guttural sounds of the kindred awakening.

Hearing his voice plaguing her inside her own head was one thing. Now he was before her, not just a disembodied voice. She could feel the touch of his skin, his fingers around her wrist. She backed away from him, against the wall, unable to look up and meet his eyes, lips forming new words, mumbles, a mantra that could barely be heard but she thought would somehow protect her, make this all go away--?You're dead, you're dead, you're supposed to be dead.?

Tara wasn't in the mood to get into a fight with the vampire tonight. As he growls she stands down, hoping he'll come to his senses so she can get back to Terian.

Shoving past Tara roughly, not caring if he laid hands on her or not, Stephen moved with long strides towards the front door. ?Jewelsie.?

Gets shoved out of the way, Tara rolls her eyes and returns to her table.

?What's that? Dead?? He laughed. ?No no, love. I am very much alive and I have missed you so.? He trailed a finger along her jaw line before bringing it up under her chin to tilt her face up, forcing her to look at him.

His laughter was far from pleasant to her, she shuddered to hear it. He filled her vision, his voice the only thing penetrating her ears. Not even Stephen could reach her in this place. ?Don't touch me!? She shouted when forced to meet his eyes, his touch sending goose bumps racing up her bare arms, but there was no confidence behind those words, no action to back them up. She didn?t even move.

Tasha winced at the shout, her ears far to sensitive for such things these days and she looked over towards Jewell, distracted again, but she heard the comment from Teryani.

?Jewell?? He was speaking to his wife, but eyeing up Robin.

Robin pushed his one hand off the wall, raising it as if to backhand her for daring to raise her voice to him, stopping just short of her cheek. She had only turned her cheek, as if to accept the blow willingly, dutifully. He spared a glance aside, smirking as he saw Stephen. Stephen reached to his belt to grab his pistol as he saw Robin move to strike Jewell.

?Your knight in shining armor is here.? And he sneered at the pirate now before leaning in closer to Jewell, to whisper in her ear. ?I will leave you to him?for now.? In a rather daring move, to either flaunt it before her husband or just because he wanted to, he took her earlobe between his teeth to give it a quick bite before pulling away. She inhaled sharply but did not pull away, didn't make a move at all but to close her eyes.

?Wha' the #$%^&* !? Stephen cursed now seeing what was going on.

Robin gave a nod of his head to Stephen, obnoxious and gloating in every way, as he turned away from the couple to pull open the door Jewell had been reaching for to step outside. Jewell?s breathing was quick, matching her racing pulse. Once freed of his touch, her back still against the wall, she let herself start to slide down towards the floor.

?How long was I gone?? Tasha asked very quietly. She doesn't know the faces around her much aside from a few and is now just watching another stranger harass Jewel but she wasn't about to sail into that battle. Not with Stephen pulling guns.

Robin having left, presented Stephen with the problem of a pistol in his hand and no one to shoot. Stephen solved the problem by turning towards the bar and picking a bottle of whiskey behind the bar to shoot.

Her hands had come up to cover her face. She knew Stephen was there, Robin had said so...she had heard his voice, distantly, out of a dream. She could feel him. But she couldn't look, couldn't think. Then his pistol went off and she was skittering even further back, along the wall, blindly, for the door.

What had happened after that? It was all a mess, she hadn?t been able to think straight. That was when Stephen had accused her, she had begged him for an answer, and then what? He left her and what had she done, what had been said? A girl, a woman she did not know, had reminded her that she had been drinking earlier, hadn?t she? She had said something about drinking and Jewell had latched on to the idea. Yes, she had been drinking, fey wine in fact. That could cause delusions, couldn?t it, and dreams of a very real sense? She had grabbed on so tightly to that excuse that she had scorned Tasha?s later words to her: ?Jewell? Who was that strange guy being all grabby with you??

She could not ignore them now, though, in face of what she remembered, of the evidence laid out before her. Denial would not save her from any pain or tribulation, it would not save her from him. He had been seen, and not only by her. He had been seen. To be seen he must have been there. He had been there. He had touched her, talked to her. He was alive. She had seen him dead and now he was alive. He was alive and Stephen had turned his back on her.

This was her worst nightmare.

Jewell ran for some time, afraid to stop. If she stopped she would have to think. She didn?t want to think. She didn?t want to have to hear his words, ringing in her head, knowing that they were true and then be forced to accept them. When she finally did stop, allowing herself to fall against the wall of a derelict building somewhere in the heart of the WestEnd, it wasn?t because she was breathless; she could still run for miles perhaps without feeling so. It was the pounding in her head that brought her to a stop, and it was only when she reached up to touch the side of her face and had her hand come away wet with blood that she realized the throbbing was from more than the meeting of the back of her skull with the brick wall earlier. She stared at the blood on her fingertips, darkening already as it was exposed to the air. She had thought the sticky wetness on her cheeks to be the tears she had occasionally shed during her run before she would put on another burst of speed--run faster, think less.

She should have known she was bleeding. Now that she had touched the wound, she realized that the whole left side of her face felt tender, having been scraped along the rough brick of the alleyway wall. She wiped the blood off her hand and onto the inside of the grey dress she was still wearing, part of an outfit that had made her look glamorous last night whereas she looked rumpled and used this morning. The blood was inconsequential, perhaps even welcomed. Who cared if she was bleeding? She didn?t.

Now that she had stopped running, she was unsure what to do with herself. Accept that Robin was right and go crawling back to him, the only person that supposedly cared for her, would accept her? Veto! As beaten down and alone as she may have felt, she would never purposely subject herself to a relationship with him again. It was preposterous. It was not what she wanted. She could hide herself away from the world, let herself wither away to nothing. No. And leaving RhyDin had already been crossed out, if not for Stephen, for the kids.

The kids. She could accept defeat and devote the rest of her life to raising them, alone. Alone. As she should be.

But could she even manage that? Once again, the point that she was hopeless had been driven home into her brain. She seemed to have forgotten it over the last year. She had been given hope.

She had been given Stephen.

She didn?t deserve that anymore though, did she? Or had she ever? That was probably the real question. The answer was staring her back in the face: no! That didn?t mean that she had to give up all hope though, did it? She was sure, reflecting back on the conversation of an hour ago, in the alley, that giving up hope was exactly what Robin wanted her to do. A part of her, that terrified, scared part of her, wanted to do it, too. It was easy--just give in. The evidence is stacked against you. If Stephen wanted you, he would have stayed with you last night. You can?t give him what he wants, though, so he?s gone back to Annie. He left you last night and went to her. You were just a filler, someone to take up space since she was gone and now she?s back, so goodbye!

She wouldn?t accept that, though. She wouldn?t just assume. She couldn?t. She had to know for sure. Kristia and Tara told her to fight for her own happiness, not to lie down on some street in the WestEnd and accept what Fate--that bitch that had always had it in for her--served her. What she needed to do was find Stephen and apologize for whatever she did to upset him, to anger him, to disappoint him. Whatever she had possibly done! She had to ask him for the truth. Then she had to show him why he married her in the first place. Tell him she still loved him. Convince him that she is the one, not Annie, not anyone else. That, despite all her faults, she can be good for him still, better than anyone. That she?ll do anything he wants. Damn the risk and her fears, she?ll have a million babies if that?s what he wants. They can have a whole pirate ship of babies!

Determination renewed, she headed towards the Powder Keg.

Somehow she had ended up back in the WestEnd--she didn?t remember the route she had taken to get there or planning the derelict part of the city as her destination. She remembered stepping out of the Powder Keg, one of the old regulars calling after her, and then she was running again, running from the undeniable truth before her.

Annie was perfect. She wasn?t wild and crazy, the perfect partner in crime, but she was undoubtedly the perfect wife. Loyal, waiting at home for him at the end of the day, the end of a voyage at sea, with a hearth--made of Connemara marble--crackling with a warm fire within, home made dinner on the table, a sweet smile and tender kiss to meet him at the door, and a babe to bounce on his knee. Unconditional support. A life without inner demons.

That was not what Jewell Ravenlock had brought into his life. Yes, there was unconditional love. But there were also demons to fight--within and without. There was a warm fire and a place to call home, but not where he wanted it to be. There was adventure but little domesticity. There were children that called him papa, but none of them with his green eyes or dark hair. There were home cooked meals, but not by her own hands.

She compared the two and found herself lacking.

Jewell wandered towards a fountain in the midst of a small piazza--the mermaid at the center of the fountain missing her head and water trickling down in fat, slimy drops from the shell in her arms--and sat on a bench facing it, the uncomfotableness of the uneven seat planks not even registering. Her head still hurt. Her heart hurt. Where did she go from here?

She wasn?t sure how long she sat there, lost in melancholy reverie, before a hand settled heavily on her shoulder and startled her back into the here and now. ?You went to see him, to talk to him, didn?t you?? His voice was compassionate and she hung her head, affirming his question with a nod. ?But he wasn?t there.? It wasn?t a question, it was a statement, and therefore did not warrant answering. She just closed her eyes. ?You saw her, though, didn?t you?? Silence. He prompted her again, ?Didn?t you??

?Yes,? she whispered.

?What did you think?? Compassion was replaced with curiosity born of cruel intent.

She needed someone to tell and here was a listening ear. If she didn?t look at him, she could almost pretend it was someone else. ?She looked?perfect, the perfect wife for him. The kind of wife he should have, that would take good care of him. The kind of wife??

?That you are not,? he only echoed one of her own thoughts in finishing her sentence, but she bristled all the same. To have him point it out to her was unbearable. She shrugged his hand off.

?Yes, exactly.? Her tone had grown bitter now. She opened her eyes, glaring at the broken fountain, it?s basin filled with mold. ?But that comes as no surprise to you, does it? It?s what you?ve been telling me for years, after all.?

?So, you finally admit I was right all those times?? It was the wrong thing to say, but he couldn?t help gloating in satisfaction. He loved to win.

She stood quickly, spinning about to face him in righteous anger. ?And so what if you were? Does it matter now? Are you happy now? Here I am,? she gestured to herself, ?broken, proved wrong, proved to be a failure. Here is my life in shambles,? gesturing to the crumbled buildings around them. ?So, I ask you again,? her voice quieting to a dangerous whisper, ?are you happy now??

It was hard for him to conceal his satisfaction and appear sympathetic, sincere; he tried. ?Of course not, my pet. All I want is for you to be happy, to stop deluding yourself with your life full of lies and accept the truth, be satisfied with the truth.?

?Oh yes, that?s all you?ve ever wanted for me. No ulterior motives, no selfish ambitions. Just my happiness.? And she laughed, a brittle, empty sound that broke the quiet afternoon in the WestEnd.

His face darkened in anger and he stepped towards her threateningly. This was not how this was supposed to go. ?You doubt me??

She held her hand up, pointing at him, suddenly feeling nervous again. ?You just stay there. Do not come a step closer!?

?Why?? He moved forward, ?Are you going to strike me down with your magic, Jewellsie??

He was mocking her but she couldn?t find the effort, the energy, or the need to retaliate, to prove him wrong. What would be the point? It wouldn?t change the fact that everything else had gone wrong. ?Just keep your distance!? With that final warning, she backed up a few steps, keeping him in sight, before she was on the run again.

Jewell knew the perfect way to forget unwanted memories and the perfect place to do so: fey wine at I?Yulna. Many who passed by the dirty brick building, literally a hole-in-the-wall in Old Town, did not think much of it, writing it off as some Elvish dive bar. However, Jewell knew that I?Yulna--The Drink--was one of the best kept secrets of the Fey community in RhyDin. It was a place where only those of the blood could enter (or dared try to enter) and where the best drinks from the Lands could be found. It was, therefore, the perfect place to find her escape, for Robin could certainly not enter such a place and she ran little risk of bumping into any friends or Stephen once inside, and she would be able to obtain the very drink she desperately needed.

She had actually dredged up the energy to put on something decent for her lone night out--entering I?Yulna in the sad state she was in all week was unthinkable--a navy silk dress with threads of pure silver throughout. It was simple but elegant; she wore it well. The bruises and abrasions to her skin were concealed with glamour; the other patrons of the bar would be too polite to penetrate suck an illusion without good reason. She did not conceal the look that was in her eyes, though: emptiness and anguish, nor did she want to. What would be the point? She was not going to I?Yulna with the intention to attract company; in fact, she wanted very much to deter anyone from even trying to talk to her.

There was no one lingering outside the doors to the bar save for a lone Elf, not dressed in the finery of velvet, silks, and lace of the realm but in clothes more befitting the modern trends in RhyDin. She knew he played a dual role: bouncer and propagation of the belief that I?Yulna was nothing more than it appeared to be. He was affective at both, especially the former as she had seen him remove someone from the doorway without even appearing to move on her first visit. Right now he looked asleep, but Jewell felt his eyes pass over her, evaluating her, as she pulled open the door and stepped into wonderland.

The inside of I?Yulna did not at all match with its outward appearance. Sheer size put aside--the inside of the bar appeared to take up at least five times the size it physically could have--when people stepped through the door to enter I?Yulna, they found themselves outside. A cobblestone floor was slowly taken over by moss, grass, and ferns until it formed the soft carpet of a forest clearing. A starry night sky, graced by the moon of the Lands and not that of RhyDin, stretched overhead and the low murmur of people talking, occasionally laughing and singing, mingled in the air with sounds more befit a night in the woods. Trees grew intermittently here and there, some of species not usually found beyond the veil.

The only wall that existed was the one now behind her, a crumbling brick wall, perhaps the sole remains of a structure long gone, with a wooden door set within that served as both entrance and exit to this magical place. The trees that bordered the clearing became thicker and thicker, eventually leading off to who knows where. Jewell had never explored the woods within I?Yulna. Tables, couches, settees, and other such sitting arrangements were formed by the very elements found in the woods--trees, rocks, and even the ground beneath them--as if crafted by magic. The bar was of similar make, rock chiseled by magic not hands, and off to one side, surrounded by stone stools that were actually quite comfortable. The sound of water--a babbling brook, perhaps--emanated from further within the woods.

Perhaps the most enchanting part of I?Yulna was the people, gorgeous beyond belief even to those accustomed to the beauty that is hidden in the heart of the Faerie Lands. One could get lost in just watching them. Jewell did not lose herself in such pursuit this evening, though. After a nod from one of the men who was making the rounds of the table, bringing drinks and taking orders, she journeyed further within the bar and found herself a table near a great weeping willow whose roots sought out the water she had heard upon entering. She took a seat, finding comfort in the mournful song the tree sang quietly beneath the din of the clearing.

Once settled, she wasted little time in summoning someone to take her drink order: the most potent wine from the Lands, if you please, never mind the cost. The service at I?Yulna was superb--their clientele refused to accept anything less--and she quickly had an open bottle of wine before her and a glass in hand. She raised the glass in honor of forgetfulness: it was time to drink.

Jewell stepped inside the Inn, a bottle already in hand--Irish Whiskey, what else? She missed the taste of the real thing and this was a poor substitute. She looked worse for the wear, blood having dried along her hair line, left temple and lip, bruises spotted up and down her arms and across her cheek. Wounds that did not heal because she did not care. She kept to the edge of the common room and moved to the first available booth she could find. She slumped into the seat, not having slept at all the night before; every time she closed her eyes she saw his face, felt those unwanted caresses. It made her sick to her stomach. She had spent the night denying what had happened, what had almost happened, trying not to think about it. Trying not to think about the fact that Stephen had not come to her aid. Trying not to think about what that meant about them, that they were truly not a ?them? anymore. It was hard to decide which caused the greater heartache.

Once settled in the booth, resisting the urge to close her eyes and take a nap, she glanced towards the bar and then back to the bottle in her hand, lacking a glass. It had not stopped her before, sipping at the bottle like a common street drunk as she walked towards the Inn, but civilized behavior was hard to break when she was under the eyes of those she knew. The frown she wore strengthened; there was no way she was crossing the entire common room to go to the bar and get herself a glass. She held out her hand, forming a perfect sized glass out of ice.

As she started to put a dent in the whiskey bottle, Jewell kept closing her eyes briefly every few minutes and taking deep, steadying breaths before re-opening them. It was a calming technique, one to keep the screams, the sobs that continually built at the back of her throat, at bay. She had not yet given vent to the horror of what had happened and she did not want to; she refused to give in to it. The ice-made cup proved to be very convenient, chilling her drink as it sat there, sipping from it regular intervals until empty. When the glass was empty, she refilled it. Automatic motions guaranteed to make her numb. She wanted to be numb. Acknowledgement was too painful. As she drank, her free hand fiddled with something in her hand; when the light hit it, it flashed gold.

Stepping in through the side door leading to the alleyway came the familiar flash of the most otherwordly persian-blue hair: Natsuki. The white sleeve of her forearm was rubbing back and forth across hidden eyes, the motion kept up for far too long as she hit the first vertical support beam she came to bouncing her back and to her rear. Only then did she pull away her forearm, eyes blinking up from beneath the strands of hair that had fallen forward the look clearly communicating a 'why would you do that?' question to the oak. The palms of her hands placed on the ground behind her, knees closed and legs below them going in perpendicular directions to her main body. Natsuki blinked from this low vantage point, not worrying about getting up but exploring the sea of legs and seated patrons before her. Not a new view to experience, but something one didn't normally just watch. Sneakers, boots, claws, toes... Multi-colored toes! JewJew! Blue toes... blueie! But it wasn't bad for recognition from below. How many could name their friends by feet? Scrambling upward the table shadow she had ignored bounced her back down and the cups atop of it upward. With a low whine slipping out of her head, hands lifting from the ground to rub the top of her head and muss the hair around. ?Unyu.? Inching forward she popped up again with the same abandon and sans the consequences, Bluie would have to wait. A pitter patter of sneakers running, darting past patrons, waitresses, tables and chairs in a recklessness only found in children. ?Jewwwww!? Her attack cry sounding as her knees bent a little for the final leap.

She didn't look towards Suki but anyone watching carefully could see that her posture stiffened before she braced herself for impact, ready to wince. She was already bruised up and down her arms as is, what would one or two more be? That was when Tara returned, walking through the door angry as ever. She headed for Mish, giving a faint smile for the BFF who she hardly saw these days. Jewell caught the flash of red hair out of the corner of her eye but she didn?t turn, didn?t offer a greeting, her eyes were trained on the table, awaiting Suki?s attack.

The only contact of Suki was the soft swish of her hair streaking past her in the sudden stop of speed that resembled instantaneous. Her arms fall limply to her sides and as she stood just at the entrance of the booth. It'd be unsure how she was originally going to tackle Jewell, but it had stopped anyway and those questions were no longer important. Still, Jewell was bracing herself, almost cringing perhaps, ready for Suki to jump her. She didn't look at the girl, though, keeping her head down. One hand was tightly around her ice-glass, the other was holding that piece of gold. ?Jewell's been fighting again?? The quietest whisper from Natsuki still brought about the wisp of the few hairs that had fallen forward over her lips. She was like a doll and amazingly still for her usual self.

?I didn't want to.? Jewell?s voice was rough--too much crying? screaming? drinking?--raised loud enough for Suki's ears only. She felt the need to explain herself to this slip of a girl, to justify her injuries without actually telling her about what had happened. Suki could not know. Suki was not to know that such things as ?attempted rape? existed.

Quiet fidget and she reached out, fingers running through the fae's hair briefly. ?... Suki doesn't want to hurt Jew tonight... she thinks she had better go.? A swish and she's turned and starting to walk away.

Jewell had tensed a moment at the touch before her shoulders sagged and she let out a long, quiet sigh. ?Thank you, Suki?? ?Thank you for leaving me alone?? Or maybe it was, ?thank you for making me feel even worse than I already did by driving you away?? If Suki heard her, it wasn't acknowledged, slipping quickly back in the crowd once more. Jewell still didn?t turn her head to watch the girl, who on most any other night she would treat as an object of her maternal protection, walk away from her.

Silence reigned between the two in the booth for some time before Robert reopened the conversation, ?Wow..tha' were some powerful rum!?

?Yeah it was?? Jewell hadn't even touched a spot of rum and did not notice that the comment was strange. Her fingers curled over the earring again, pulling it towards her.

Noting Jewell?s hand. ?Whatcha gots there Jewelly??

She visibly hesitated, curling her fingers around it tighter for a moment before opening her hand to just show him, her voice tiny. ?My earring. It got.. ripped out last night. I thought, well.. I guess it works anyways since I probably shouldn't wear it.? What she was expecting was confirmation from him on the fact that she shouldn?t be wearing it, shouldn?t dare to wear it ever again. It was no longer her right.

?Tha' the one Stephen gave ye?? She gave a little nod, her thumb running over a spot of her own blood that marred the surface of the gold. ?It got ripped out? 'Ow did tha' 'appen??

?Accident.. minor scuffle.? Don?t think about it. Just don?t.

?Really? Who ya been scufflin' wit'??

Her fingers flexed, curling around the earring again; Robert was making this very hard on her. She tried to sound blas?, as if this really did not matter to her. It was hard to conceal the rising emotions in her voice, though. ?Dead ex boyfriend come back to life.?

?Well li'e they say, no one stays dead in RhyDin.?

?Not from RhyDin?? She was lucky Skyler hadn't come back as well. They all could have had a picnic together! There was a pang of guilt at that thought, as usual: she had gotten Skyler killed, after all.

He shrugged, ?Did ye tell Stephen??

Her jaw tensed, ?Stephen saw him, turned and walked away...? Anger, hurt, betrayal. They were all starting to war inside of her again. Stephen had walked away just like her brother had turned his back on her, on what was in her best interest, and went after his own selfish motives. He had trapped her in hell twice because of that; it seemed that Stephen was making sure there was a third time.

?Tha's nae the same as ye tellin' 'im luv. Ye know Stephen, sometimes 'e can react only on a feral level?? The pot calling the kettle black there.

?Why's it matter anyways?? Her tone was edging on the defensive side. Why did Robert even care? And it didn?t matter, did it? Stephen had clearly made his decision and that was all there was. Why fight it? Why make it more painful for all involved by confronting him? Why did she need to hear those awful words from his lips when she could already hear them in her head: ?It?s over, I?m with Annie now.? She sighed, looking down. Any anger dissipated easily under the crushing weight of depression. ?Besides.. I went to try and find him.. to tell him. I ran into Annie.?

?But Annie is gone now so wha' be stoppin' ye now? Besides ye be 'is wife now nae 'er.?

She couldn?t believe him. She had seen Annie. Seen how perfect she was for Stephen. Annie was his wife, not Jewell. Robert had it all mixed up. He was being cruel, playing a joke on her, giving her false hope when there was no reason to hope anymore. She gave a little shrug. ?What can I say? I'm a horrible wife who doesn't bother to work out problems with her husband when he's occupied with his former wife.? ?Who was wonderful, beautiful, a million things you are not,? her inner voice tacked on for her.

Robert stood up, shaking his head. ?Jewell ye know ye can be jus' as stubborn as yer 'usband. Maybe tha' is why 'e loves ye so much. Try talkin' tae the man, ye two deserve tha' much anyways, besides yer such a match fer each other who else would 'ave either o' ye.?

?Right?? She almost felt like laughing at how simple Robert made it all seem, but she was afraid if she tried she would end up crying instead because her eyes were burning at what Robert had said. She was stubborn but Stephen did not love her, and she knew someone else that would certainly have him, and who he would have over her, in a second. ?Stubborn. That's what it is.? She had just been being stubborn all week, that?s why she hadn?t spoken to Stephen. She wasn?t feeling scorned, abandoned, unwanted. None of that. She wasn?t being chased by a ghost from her past, one that continued to overpower her and break her down until she was an emotional mess, drinking her mind away in a booth of an Inn. Maybe she really was just being stubborn? It was too hard to tell what was truth.

Leaning down, Robert pressed a kiss to Jewell?s forehead and whispered, ?Talk tae 'im Jewell, 'e loves ye.? Once he was done being something close to nice he straightened and looked around the room settling on Alain. ??ey Alain!?

She closed her eyes at the kiss to her forehead and didn't reopen them just yet as Robert addressed Alain. Her shoulders weren't so hunched, though, as Robert's reassurances waged war with a week's worth of verbal poison. Stephen loved her. Robert would know that, right? He would not joke about such things, would he? Jewell did not think he was that cruel. Robert would certainly know better than Robin, at least, if he had been with Stephen. And he said Annie was gone. There was no competition, no one to make her the other woman. But even if all that was true, was she still just second best, his object of affection because the true one was gone? Would he still want her after seeing Annie? She didn?t know. Everything was now even more unsure, confused, in her mind. Who to believe? Who to trust? Where to go? What to do?

Alain looked over at Robert and smiled at him and Jewell. When her eyes finally opened again and she saw Alain, he got a little nod from the bruised Fae. With her hand tight around her earring, she was sliding out of the booth.

?Go tae 'ell ye mongrel 'umper o' fishmongers.? Robert grinned at the random insult, hiked his leg like a dog pissing, and let rip a loud, rather foul smelling fart. A wink tossed to Jewell as he straightened his coat with a smug grin having managed to end the night on an appropriately foul note that would keep up his reputation.

"Go **** yourself, Kidd," Alain said, glad he's over there at the booths, not at the bar.

?Whoa...the Detective does not sound happy,? Tara remarked softly. She then looked over at Jewell. ?Jewelsie??

Jewell unfolded herself from the booth carefully, as if her entire body hurt. A little roll of her eyes and half-smile in Robert's direction before she looked to Tara, tilting her head instead of verbally replying.

Tara aimed a frown at the BFF. ?I miss ya, girlie.? She did. Ever since being back she spent more time with them than she did Jewel and Amthy and it upset her which was why she said what she did at the start of her ?meeting? with Mish. Things were certainly different now.

She blew Tara a kiss with her bruised little hand. ?Let?s do lunch.? Which meant lunch in the middle of the night cause Tara slept during the day. Jewell could certainly use such an outing. She needed her friend.

Tara blew her a kiss and then turned her attentions back to Mish and his nibbling.

The detective still appeared reasonably content, for someone who had been farted at.
As he walked to the door, Robert flipped the tails of his coat behind him, fanning the foul stench of his arse to share with the room. Tara and Mish getting a couple extra fans.
?Oh...gawd.? Tara covered her nose at the smell and just glared at Robert.

Alain started looking for the Febreeze and dug out Elven Spring (TM) Mana-Augmented Air Freshener. "This'll do."

Mish screwed up his nose. He gave a soft pull of Tara's head into the crook of his shoulder. It smelled nice there, like fresh-cut tobacco leaves and talcum and a hint of black licorice. It did indeed smell nice and she buried her face there, grateful that Mish pulled her to him. ?The man is as nasty as they come. He's got absolutely no shame,? she said softly up to Mish as she turned her pale face toward his.

Laughing loudly at Tara, Robert headed out the door, starting to sing a bawdy ballad whose lyrics would blister paint from walls. In turn, Robert's advice directed Jewell?s steps. What she wanted to do was sleep the next week away but she would get no sleep at the Inn; she would not get sleep anywhere unless she got some answers. She moved for the door and out, destination the Pride and Fury.

Journal Entry Excerpt
June 27, 2008

Fear still grips my heart and I cannot shake it off; he is still out there. As long as he is out there, I will never be safe. He will always pursue me, he will never stop. How can I escape this? Is there any escape? Sometimes I think not. I was born into eternal hell.

Perhaps I am just being dramatic. I mean, the situation could be worse, right? I finally spoke with Stephen, we talked. He apologized. I apologized. There was so much to say, to explain. How fortunate I am to have a man that I may bare my soul to and who stares unflinchingly at its ugliness. I think we will be okay but? I still feel insecure. We are on shaky ground. I was deeply hurt by his actions, his inaction, and I think I need to regain my full trust in him again. It will work, though, for we love each other so so very much. And still, I just? I do not feel good enough despite all that passed between us last night. I can never measure up to her, even if she is gone. Can I give him what he really wants? I want to but? mother of nature, these negative emotions are debilitating. How is one to overcome them? I find a momentary reprieve from them in his arms and then?

It?s like it used to be. I look in the mirror and only see imperfections, the words he has said ringing in my ears. I want this cycle to end. I need it to. That man called me a harlot last night and I just saw red because? I heard the affirmation repeated in my ears over and over again and it was impossible to deny.

Even spending time with Tara last night could not shake me out of this funk, these negative thoughts. A wet blanket coming down over my head. Guilt. Shame. I kissed him! He touched me. I know Stephen is here for me now but can even he stop him? Can anyone?

Journal Entry Excerpt
July 1, 2008

I am trying to get out of this. I want these feelings gone. I try and pretend that everything is okay but it is transparent to some. Tara even asked me last night if I was okay. I did not lie to her, I could not. I told her how I don?t feel like leaving my house anymore. How I do not even want to move. I did not want to go to the Inn again last night, especially with what happened the night before, but I forced myself to. I keep thinking: if only I go there and surround myself with people I love, do things I know I used to enjoy, suddenly I will feel that joy again.

I don?t, though. Or I do, but it is temporary and fleeting. I will have fun and feel light hearted for a few moments, but those other feelings--the negative ones that are eating me alive from the inside out--are lurking beneath them, ready to surge back up at a moment?s notice. Shame. Guilt. Anxiety. Fear. Hopelessness. They?re all there.

They have a word for this: depression. But is this what it feels like? I keep thinking I?m just being dramatic. That?s what he would say. That I am just milking these recent incidents for all the sympathy I can get. Am I? I don?t think I am. Can I even trust my own thoughts, though? Everything feels so confused. I should be okay! I should not feel this way! I have Stephen again, what reason do I have to feel this way?

Robin is still out there and I know that he is watching. His gaze is a heavy weight upon my shoulders.

I was having fun for a little while last night. Taneth found these presents (they were really quite amusing) and I helped her hand them out to random people. But then these two men (minotaur guy and some other one) had to open their obnoxious mouths and ruin it. Then I let anger surge up and take over for a while. That felt good. There?s so much anger inside me. Too much hurt. Then, though, when I left, it was like all the fun stayed behind me in the Inn. I was empty without it inside.

There was no rain to hide in on the way home last night. I ran all the way.

I will be running from him forever.

Robin had had enough of lurking in the shadows. He approached the Inn, not at all self-conscious with the way his face looked: dark bruises across his nose and under his eyes from a serious face smashing; in fact, he still carried himself with the utmost confidence as he stepped inside.

How Jewell knew he was there was unexplainable; maybe it was just like the connection she had formed with Alex after years of being together. Or maybe it was the cold, icy chill that ran down her spine suddenly, pulling her attention away from the mundane goings-on of the Inn as the sense of normalcy for the evening plummeted. This was the new normalcy. Regardless of how she knew, her posture stiffened but there was little other reaction besides that. She just lifted her glass for a sip, savoring the taste of the whiskey on her tongue a moment before swallowing.

His eyes always found her with ease, even when all he had to go on was the back of her curly blue head. He cut through the crowd, heading for her, already a smile rising to his lips and his pulse raising. The very sight of her excited him. He came up behind her, one hand settling heavily on her shoulder as he leaned down a little to speak quietly. ?White really isn't your color, pet. Are you simply mocking what it stands for? Virginal. Clean. Untouched.? He played with a errant blue curl. ?All the things you are not.?

Jewell could feel her heart beating strongly against her ribcage, her pulse throbbing in her temples, her fingertips. She snarled, eyes fixated on the bottle of whiskey as she attempted to shrug his hand off her shoulder. ?You are wasting your time. You have no more business with me.?

His hand did not move, only tightened in a possessive grip on her shoulder. ?I think I can decide how to spend my time and whether I am wasting it or not.?

?Suit yourself.? She quipped, uncaring. She lifted her glass for another sip, draining it this time. Only then did she cast a glance over her shoulder at him, trying not to smile at seeing the lasting effects of her assault on his face while her own injuries were apparently--with the aid of glamour--gone. ?I thought I was not going to be able to best you? You who had been trained by the mighty Ethaen.? She could not help mocking him, gloating at her one victory, even when on dangerous ground.

Eless, despite being enveloped with the antics of the Misfits, sent a worried glance to Jewell as she sensed something amiss.

?Do not pretend that I do not know that you are still bruised and beaten under that silly illusion of yours.? Robin?s grip tightened painfully on her shoulder. ?Always playing a role, aren't you?? He softened his voice again.

Stephen swaggered into the inn whistling happily. However, seeing Robin manhandling his wife put an instant damper on his good mood. Eless blew kisses to the swaggering pirate before her attention strayed to Jewell and the unknown man once more, relief obvious in her eyes at Stephen?s arrival.

Jewell did not give him the satisfaction of a wince, her lips just thinned into a line as she looked back to her bottle of whiskey. ?I am not playing any role. You simply do not understand ?no? when you hear it. You are unwanted here. You have no place here.? Her tone was well measured as she spoke each sentence. ?Stephen and I are together, you cannot change that. Do you understand?? The last part was louder, colder, as she glared back at him.

As Piper was moving towards the bar with Trin, she slid some pixie sticks onto Jewell's table as she passed, and continue to head right on toward the bar.

?Oh I understand.? He laughed. ?Maybe it is you who do not understand. You signed a contract. You went through the ceremony. You are mine legally above all else and I am a part of you.? It was harshly thrown in her face, these past events, before he shifted his tone to a more casual measure. ?But perhaps if you do not want to play nicely, someone else will? Amanda does seem like a darling little girl. She has your eyes, you know? Looks just like you when you were that age.?

Stephen moved swiftly, coming up behind Robin, his dagger already drawn and ready. In one motion, Stephen wrapped an arm about Robin's shoulder, bringing the dagger up with his other. ?Evenin' murinin,? he greeted his wife.

Jewell had just sat there as he threw past mistakes, or past decisions that she was forced into, at her. She took it all without flinching until he mentioned Amanda. At hearing her name even pass his lips, she grew incensed. Silver sprang up like flames around her hands as she pushed up from her seat, practically sending Robin back into Stephen, and turned around. Both pistols she had holstered at her thighs were presently in hands that moved faster than mortal eyes. ?I do not want you even thinking about my little girl, do you understand??

??Our? ...luv,? Stephen corrected Jewell. ?Our lil' girl..? He smiled smugly for Robin.. ?She do be callin' me papa now ye know.?

Eless? delicate frame tensed as she watched Jewell. The drawing of both dagger and guns drew Aunt Mel?s gaze as well. She watched over the rim of the mug as she sipped the spiked coffee. Taliah shifted her hips as her attention is stolen by the conflict surrounding Jewell. "I don't smoke. It is candy!" Piper spoke up in conversation and she promptly bit in to the end of the small stick and chewed happily, oblivious to what was happening as of yet.

Robin?s body had went slack with Stephen's hold on him, ready to try and spring forth from it when the opportunity arose. He was pushed back as Jewell stood, looking amused as she drew her weapons on him--after all these years he had finally pushed her to that point--and he laughed, not at all heeding Stephen?s words. He did not care about Amanda; for him, the girl was just another way to get at Jewell, another button to push. A tool. ?What are you going to do, pet? Kill me? Or have your dirty pirate here do the work for you? You were never able to handle tense situations yourself.?

?Let him go, Stephen. He can't run from me.? It was not a soft request and it almost sounded like it did not come from his wife. She looked almost possessed, that silver glamour wholly touching her eyes and masking the grey as she stared, both pistols trained on Robin. ?They say you are a dream, you know??

?Yes, Stephen, let me go. Or don't you trust your little wife to handle things on her own?? It was a clear dig at Jewell. He didn't trust her to ever truly hurt him; she had never been able to. Even being a creation of Jewell?s psyche, he could not fully comprehend the changes she had undergone in RhyDin.

Nodding his head to Jewell, Stephen released Robin, and then stepped aside.

When Stephen released him, Robin brushed himself off and sent an annoyed glance to the pirate. Stephen waved the dagger at Robin pointing the blade towards Jewell. ?It be 'er ye need tae be lookin' a' laddie.?

Mel?s gaze lingered on the man called a dream right then.

?So are you?? With Stephen out of the way, Jewell stepped closer to Robin, aim steady and true.

?Am I what?? His teeth gleamed in a toothy grin for her, not stepping back as she advanced.

?A dream, as they say?? Her fingers were dancing over the triggers, tensing and untensing.

?Her?? He did not look back to Stephen but snorted, addressing his earlier comment. ?I never take my eyes off her. But what do I have to fear from her, anyways? She's nothing without me, or you...without someone to lean on and cling to. Dependent. Useless. Unable to act on her own accord. Did you know she couldn't even kill herself without my approval all those years ago? Couldn't even get up the gumption to slit her wrists, could you Jewellsie?? While he had been directing most of that to Stephen, his gaze ever remained on Jewell.

Her aim faltered for a moment, pistols brought up to her ears--even as her grip on them tightened--as if she wanted to block out what he was saying and scream for him to shut up all at the same time. She couldn't believe he was airing all of that, for everyone to hear; something no one but Stephen knew about! Her breathing was unsteady for a moment but she realigned her aim quickly, furious. ?Just answer the damn question already!?

Stephen remained unconcerned. He headed towards the bar, tossing Jewell a wink before he went. ?Hurry luv, I'll be waitin' fer ye.?

?Shoot him.? Aunt Mel muttered her opinion, not that it mattered. She nibbled on the candy she had been given.

?So what if I am a Dream? That would mean you were the one to invoke me, to call me into being, to give me power, doesn't it? You wanted to see me again, needed me. Him..? He nodded to Stephen as he moved towards the bar, ?He's no good for you, Jewell. All he does is turn his back and run away. I'm the one.. I'm the one that's been there for you always. And this is how you will repay me? By threatening me?? He laughed in her face again. ?You would never. You can't. You're not strong enough, never have been. Always weak. Dependent. Unstable.?

Maybe he would have gone on, but she didn't give him the chance. She pulled both triggers as she lifted the pistols just a little higher, effectively silencing him by shooting him in the face.

The response was varied across the room. Stephen, expecting it the whole time, didn?t even blink at the sound. Mel didn?t even give a flinch as the shots rang out; perhaps a bit of a smile, but that was hidden away with a long sip. Eless flinched and hid her face in her shoulder at the sound of the guns firing and the man being shot. Piper turned in alarm, distracted from her conversation with Ithraides. Others jumped, ducked, and recoiled all according to their nature.

As for Robin, he wasn't even given the chance to be surprised that Jewell, his little obedient pet, had finally taken a stand against him. He couldn?t even blink before both bullets hit home, spraying his blood outwards, before he fell face first to the floor at the feet of the woman who had shot him.

She stared straight ahead, both pistols still raised, blood splattered across the perfect white dress she wore and her face; she didn?t even move when he hit the ground. She should have checked to make sure he was dead, that he could not come back to haunt her again, but she didn?t really need to. The sudden weight that was off her shoulders was enough to reassure her.

Eless glanced over at Jewell and Stephen, pale... but relieved that her friends were safe. The violence her cue to escape for the evening.

Jewell slowly looked down at the body, watching a small pool of blood reach out to stain the white ribbons binding her feet, and smiled. She had finally managed to do it! He had eluded her all this time but not anymore. She felt like dancing. Laughing. Singing!

Mel?s gaze had followed the fall of the man. Obsidian lifted back upward to regard the Jewell. ?One nightmare down dozens more still roam.? She wasn?t really talking to anyone, just an observation.

Piper spoke an aside to Eless, "Does it appear that Jewell be just a smidgen too happy over just having killed a man?"

Eless finished off her brandy and slides effortlessly from her stool. ?'Twas a good one to kill from what I could ascertain, Piper.? She attempted a grin.

Piper attempted to return to her conversation with Ithraides and Trin, too amused but she looked back to Eless and gave a slow nod of understanding.

Jewell finally looked up from the body and around. The silver light was receding from her eyes and she seemed to be at a bit of a loss of what she was supposed to do next, blood splattered but suddenly free. Forgetting her bottle of whiskey, and the dead body, she moved to the bar and took a seat next to Stephen silently.

As silver faded in one's eyes a flicker of it appeared in her hand. Dark eyes still upon Jewell. ?May I?? Mel asked.

She blinked slowly and looked to Aunt Melantha. ?Hmm?? Having killed a nightmare, her very expression was now happily dreamy.

?That's what I thought,? was her reply. A silver acorn had appeared in her hand. She straightened a bit in her seat and gave it a toss. The acorn flew in a nice arc to land upon the dead dream man. The silver acorn seemed to expand for a moment and then flare a bright spark. Body and acorn were gone, swallowed back into the dreamscape. Mel relaxed back in her chair and sipped her coffee.

Grey eyes followed the silver acorn--it struck a chord in her memory but all her thoughts were so wrapped up in the action she had just done, she could think of little else--and then away. She had seen his body disposed of once upon a time; that was more than enough. ?I killed him.? She remarked quietly to Stephen. It did not matter that he was a Dream. All that mattered was that she had finally got the best of him. She had won. No more strings attached. No more lingering voices in her head. Nothing! Freedom.

Another life defining moment enacted in the Red Dragon Inn.

Piper looked toward Jewell with concern; she noted the pixie sticks still on the table Jewell had been seated at before hell broke loose. Or the nightmare, as it were.

?I think I can sleep well again tonight.? Still talking quietly to Stephen, or to herself. It didn't matter at this point. ?Or every night. I think.. I am going home.? Her smile was distant, faraway, like this was almost all too good to be true. She kissed Stephen's cheek before standing; it was best to wipe the blood off her anyways, before the smell got to her husband. Piper had been watching her, she had seen her before but only now did she look to her with a brightening smile. ?Good evening, Pipes.? And she really meant that, too.

"Good Evening, Empress." Smiling warmly, she hesitated then pointed to the table she had been at earlier. "I left you a package of pixie sticks. I know how fond of them you are."

?Thank you!? Sincere thanks for the small gesture, she smiled to Piper again as she took a detour to pick up the candy before moving off towards the exit again, waving to Rena. There was something light-hearted in the way she left the Inn, not quite dancing but not just walking either. It was almost as if she was floating on air, that was how light she felt.

And it could later be said that Jewell Ravenlock Kidd slept better that night than she had in over fifteen years.