"Yes, I do. She's a lot like you."
She smiled thinly; it wasn't the laugh I had been hoping to produce with the statement. I grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze. "Are you ok?"
Nodding, she looked down the street and into the alleyways of her mind. We were silent for a few minutes before she turned her back on the street and looked at me, arms crossed as if hugging herself. "Well then, I wish you the best."
The corner of my mouth lifted, "do you then? No regrets?"
She snorted a laugh and turned her back away from me, "my life has been full of regrets, Lane."
I sobered and stared at her profile as she looked into the distance. I wondered which parts she regretted, and said as much.
She smiled over her shoulder at me, although it didn't reach her eyes. "None of the parts with you, no worries."
"And the parts that don't involve me?" I asked, only halfway playful.
Her eyes darkened for a moment with some memory of a regret. "Aye," she whispered heavily, "aye, many of those I regret."
"Do you regret becoming a Balesi?" I really did want to know. Everything she had done, to my knowledge, was for the purpose of one day becoming a Balesi. Once she had the title and the guns, everything she did became a test in pushing the limits while staying a Balesi. There were very few moments that I had ever seen Rebecca let her guard down.
She smiled again, and this time it did reach her eyes. "No; I regret many of the things I did to become a Balesi, but I don't regret the guns. I would regret being a court-girl and a wife far more than the things I've done."
I returned her smile and wrapped my arms around her, pulling her back to my chest. While she didn't relax (Rebecca could never bring herself to fully relax), she didn't try to pull away either, despite the traffic on the street and the possibility of Kelly turning the corner on her way back. She was content enough, then.
We stood that way for a long time, each of us content in our own world of thoughts. Finally she stirred, standing up straight so she was no longer leaning against me.
"I wish Jon hadn't left," she confided in a whisper and I gave her a squeeze before letting go.
"Would you have been happy with him?"
She shrugged noncommittally. "I think maybe so." A cruel laugh escaped her and I let go, "I think I'm destined to be unhappy. It's fate."
I turned her around to face me and held her chin, "it's not fate." She barked a laugh and I frowned, "it's really not. You made a choice, and unfortunately this is what came of your choice."
"I didn't choose for Jon to walk into that trap," she spat.
I gripped her chin tighter so she wouldn't turn away. "It could have been you that walked into it instead of him. The trap could have been set for your room." I stopped, not wanting to think of that possibility myself. Had it been Rebecca who was killed and Jon who remained to tell me about it I doubted I would myself be alive right now. I probably would have shot the man, and he would have in turned ripped my head off, being less prone to mortality than I from his sheer size. "I'm sorry I was jealous of the two of you. All I really ever wanted was for you to be happy," I said softly.
She smiled again as I let her go; it was an ugly, twisted smile that made my blood run cold. "You go be happy, Lane. You deserve it. I'm used to lonely."
"I do still love you, Becka," I whispered.
"Don't waste your love on me," she replied and made her way back into the dark Inn.