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Esmond had gotten himself in some sort of trouble, Larkin was sure of it.

... Okay, she was being unfair. She'd gotten into some trouble of her own too. It was just that, whenever she got into trouble, she found her way out of it, one way or another. Esmond could take a perfectly awful situation and somehow make it worse. Not necessarily for anyone else either. Just for himself. He had some sort of martyr complex or something, she didn't know. Or she did, and she didn't understand it, was all. It was hard to understand why anyone would put themselves through that kind of pain when your own instinct would have had you out of there the moment you sensed that things were going south.

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She always worried about Ezzy, but sometimes she had an inkling of something a little more concrete. She never knew what it was, exactly, but it would have to do with Esmond and she wouldn't like it, make no mistake. And today she had that inkling, like a twinge in her back or a sudden prickle across her skin. She hadn't even been walking along the riverbed of the desert for very long. She allowed herself a moment's exasperation before worry took over, then began to run. Not that running would help, of course, considering their meeting place was so far away but... she had to do something. Otherwise the anxiety would only coil in her gut like a horrible sour snake.

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She was soon forced to stop by the heat of the sun and the impracticality of running on sand. Still, she walked as fast as she could without tiring herself out excessively. She was generally of a cheerful disposition, so most didn't expect it of her, but Larkin was actually quite the pessimist. Both imagination and experience had ample scenarios to supply as to what exactly could have happened to Esmond. Some of those things had happened to him before, and she always wondered which she'd least like to see again, whenever she played this game. Some had happened to her. Some, to other people they'd met on their journeys. There were enough dangers in one world. Traversing as many as they'd done had exposed them both to a much wider selection than was usually available to he average mortal.

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Ah, but they weren't average mortals anymore, were they? They could hop through dimensions, for one. That was definitely not an average-mortal activity. They could travel back in time too, though the mechanics of it weren't what Larkin would have expected, and sometimes not what she would have wished.

But they could still be killed. Ezzy could be dead. She figured that whatever twin-telepathy travelling-soul-mates co-hitchhikers-across-the-galaxies bond they'd developed would tell her if she died--- it would feel worse than a back twinge or prickling skin, surely. But that wasn't a hypothesis she wanted to test... ever.

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It had never been this worrisome when she'd been travelling by herself.

She reminded herself of how much she liked Esmond, and how much more fun it was to go forth with a companion. It almost made it worth the trouble he caused. When night fell, she erected a small tent and curled up in her sleeping bag, but sleep wouldn't come. All she could do is fret about Ezzy, and maybe curse him a little between the fretting for not letting her sleep.

“Stupid,” she said. “You cause trouble even when you're not here. What am I going to do with you?” He didn't reply, of course. He would leave her hanging, that dummy.

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Daylight seemed as if it would never come, but it did. Larkin packed up at the crack of dawn and set off again. Fortune was with her that day, for she came upon a caravan, and managed to talk the leader into letting her hitch a ride with them out of the desert. The rest of the journey was easier to bear, with the distractions of new acquaintances and the stories and songs that they traded amongst one another. Larkin, as a traveller, was called upon at every opportunity to regale them with a tale. She passed the time happily with them, and would have been happier still if she didn't have the matter of Esmond's fate gnawing at the back of her mind.

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They reached a trade town where the desert ended and the Tuun Mountains began. There, Larkin parted ways with them, and found that she was genuinely sad to be leaving. She could never have truly stayed, but she might have lingered with them a little longer, had the circumstances been different. As it was, she hurried off to the inn where she and Esmond had last parted, and took up the room that they had arranged for back then.

No, Esmond hadn't checked in yet, the innkeeper had said. Were they to expect him later today? She knew about as much as they did. All she could do now was kill time and wait, maybe keep an eye out. It was beyond her power to do more.

[crow]

It was another two days before Esmond arrived. By that time, Larkin had almost grown bored enough to contemplate finding some trouble of her own in town. Ironically it was the very worry for him that drove her to such boredom that kept her from doing anything about it. But finally, he did arrive, and in one piece, with surprisingly little about him to startle her. Larkin looked at his figure, standing in the door, with narrowed eyes. Esmond smiled, though there was a question in the quirk of his brows and tucked into the corners of his mouth. That was familiar enough to put her at ease.

“You again,” she said, as if she was exasperated to see him, and not relieved. His smile became less of a question.

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“Yes, me again. How have you been, Larkin?” He strode over to drop his bag on his bed, closing the door behind him. The mattress creaked as he sat himself on the edge of it. Larkin had sat up when he came in, and now she flopped back down.

“Oh, well enough,” she said. “Went traipsing around the desert... Got stuck in a merchant town, got bored, got lucky, got in trouble with the local authorities... Same old.” She had a wicked grin on her face. She'd enjoyed herself quite well before Esmond-induced panic had set in. “Oh yeah, and I got sand in my everything--- clothes, food, hair, you name it.”

“Hopefully nothing to do with your getting lucky,” Esmond said.

“Okay, no, not that. Thankfully.” Larkin grimaced, and Esmond laughed. She rolled her eyes, but she was still grinning.

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"Now, talk to me about you. What have you been up to?" she said, rolling over so she could prop her head on her hands and look at him. She had been relieved to see him whole and hale and all that, but there was a part of her that still held suspicions. That part was... not satisfied, exactly, to see the way his face clouded over, but gratified in a grim sort of way. Something had happened, she was sure of it. She just didn't know the magnitude; and he was as likely to try and hide it from her as not.

"I found a coffee shop on top of a mountain," he said.

She couldn't help but snort at that. What sort of opening was that? "You didn't. Did you? Really?" she asked. Esmond wasn't really the kidding type. He snarked here and there, but pulling your leg? Nah. That was more her style.

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But Esmond nodded, and though the troubled look didn't quite leave his eyes, he did smile at her incredulity. “I was surprised too. I hadn't seen an actual building for a while when I found it.”

“Who opens up a coffee shop on top a mountain?” Larkin said. “I didn't think tourism was so strong in that particular range.” She'd seen a few shops of a similar type, but usually in places where people flocked in greater numbers to see the sights. Esmond had gone off specifically in search of some pristine, relatively untouched places to explore. The fact that there had been an establishment there must have meant that he'd failed spectacularly.

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“Tourism isn't. I don't think that was why it was there at all.” Esmond said cryptically.

“Then what? Industry? Foolhardiness? Boredom?” Larkin ticked the reasons off on her fingers as she spoke. Esmond looked thoughtful.

“Boredom might really be it,” he said.

“Yeesh. This guy must be rich, to go wasting money like that.” There was grudging respect in her voice as she said so, however. That was the way she wanted to retire from life, filthy stinking rich enough to be as frivolous as she wanted. Not that she wasn't making a determined effort to be as frivolous as she could now, even without the money to back it up.

[crow]

Normally Esmond would have laughed, guessing at some of her thoughts on the matter, but today he remained quiet. Whatever was troubling him was on his mind again. Tiredness settled into the smooth lines of his face, making him look briefly old despite his youth. He had always been like that, but it seemed as if he got worse and worse as time went on. Larkin stopped smiling, and sat up, creeping to the edge of the bed so she sat opposite him. Ducking down, she peered up at him so he was forced to look her in the eyes. He tried a smile, but it was weak, and the weariness left him not one bit. He looked like an old man, an ancient man. He could have been eighty, or five hundred.

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Hell, with the time traveling, he might be pretty close. She might be pretty close. She hoped she didn't look it as much as he did.

“Something happened,” she said. It wasn't a question, but he nodded an answer anyway. “Do you want to tell me what it is, or are we going to do the whole mysterious angst thing?”

Esmond closed his eyes and sighed, the way he did when he was steeling himself for something unpleasant. “I... The barrister at the coffee shop,” he began, but then stopped abruptly.

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Larkin waited. She had all day, really. She'd rushed here for this, but they had all the time in the world. They always did, the two of them. She could wait out whatever grief had overcome him. And sure enough, he found the strength to speak again, eventually. “He... Our shards,” Esmond said, pulling his out. Larkin followed suit, though he wasn't making much sense at present, and she was mostly humoring him.

“What about them?” she asked. The look on his face made her wonder if she really wanted to know. There was no getting to the bottom of anything until she did, though. And that twinge in the desert was still making her jumpy, so there was that too.