In the dark of night, while the the world she'd built slept around her, the redneck stirred in her own slumber. Curled on a side, a hand loosely fisted and resting beneath a pillow, she sighed and stretched, a cheek nuzzling deeper into down's cushioning. Nude lips, lax in rest, parting as a smile slowly, hesitantly began its curve.

"Still so afraid Little Thorn." His voice, so long absent from her hearing, was a soft held whisper. The warmth of his breath playing across the curve of her neck as the arms she remembered so well slid around her to hold her close. "So afraid of what you have to give." These were not questions, he knew his Thorn nearly as well as she knew herself.

In some ways he knew her better than she knew herself. Knew her well enough to tighten his arms, to press close along the line of her back to keep her from turning. And to press the half-born smile that touched sensuous lips when he felt her resist for a heart beat, then give in surrender.

"How is it you still fear this?" Feather light the stroke of a thumb beneath a breast, over her heart. "After all you've done, all you've been, this still weakens your spine." Faintly amused there was a whispered chuff of laughter across her shoulder where his lips played. "Why?"

And because here there were no evasions and no half-truths, she bared the side of her neck, digging her cheek deeper into the pillow. "Because it hurts too much when you go away." Too tender, too soft, too lost. "And I hurt too many people after."

"Tcha." Disgust corrupted his voice, tore away at the heavy cream that soaked the soft spoken words. "You gave them what you had. It wasn't your burden that it wasn't enough for them." Exasperation tightened his grip, had the arm he'd slipped beneath her head bending to cup its hand under her chin and tip it up. Bent her head back until her spine bowed and he could meet her eyes. Amber, more clear and ancient than the most prized chip on her home world met frosted amethyst while dark brows beetled. "Your sin," and here the irony broke his scowl. "Was in trying too hard to make yourself what they wanted when it wasn't what your heart needed."

The hand at her chin gentled, fingers sliding down to curve around her throat as his other arm drew her back and close again. "My Thorn, some day you'll stop fighting yourself." There was sorrow in the laughter now as he closed his eyes briefly to will away the reality that was his existence. There was less time than he'd thought. This, was harder than simply influencing her dreams, than nudging her sleeping mind in the direction it wanted to go already.

At the slightest hint of pressure, she turned to tuck up against his side. Legs tangled with his, fingers twining, clutching his. Cheek resting on his chest her nostrils flared as she drank in the so-missed scent of his skin and her eyes clouded at the too familiar triple-beat of his hearts. The bat-like wings that had given birth to those she kept with her at all times drew her tighter to him still. Cocooned, for this brief span of time, their realities shut away.

And when dawn touched the eastern sky, she could still smell him, still feel him there. And took comfort in the sorrow.