Fix

So here's my latest project and, surprise surprise, it's not slash this time. This is one of my personal favorite crack pairings, DustCinder. I like Dustpelt and Cinderpelt together because, hey, they both got rejected, unknowingly to the other, by the cat they always wanted. This story is a series of stand-alone oneshots, but it can also be read together as one whole story with a lot of time-skips. There, obviously, will be some FireSand references in here, but nothing big. This particular oneshot is kind of dark, though I'm not sure yet if the others will be the same. By the time it's over, this series will have eleven oneshots. Kudos to you if you can figure out what album this fic is inspired by. If you like it, please review. If not, still review and tell me why you didn't like it, okay? Thanks!

By the way, at this point there's FireSand and one-sided FireCinder with a bit of one-sided DustSand, but no DustCinder yet.

Warning: This chapter contains blood and self-harm. If you don't like reading about either of these, please click the back button now and wait for a less dark chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not and have never owned the series Warriors by Erin Hunter.

I tried to be perfect for you...

Cinderpaw sighed as she watched Fireheart pad out of the camp with Sandstorm, tails twined. She wasn't perfect enough for him, and she never would be thanks to the broken leg that she cursed with every fiber of her being. The smoky gray she-cat stood, stretching her three good legs, and padded off to a spot just beyond the camp that only she knew of. She had never tried to hide her scent when coming or going to her spot; no cat had ever tried to follow her.

I won't cry, the blue-eyed apprentice thought. I can't cry. It's only a sign of weakness... it pushes me farther and farther away from being perfect enough for him. However, a tear rolled down her face before she could stop it. The young she-cat sank her claws into her crippled leg in frustration, leaving a painful scratch.

This pain... it hurts, it hurts so much that I barely remember Fireheart and what he did to me...

Cinderpaw repeated the action, clawing her hind leg until it bled. She bent down and sank her teeth into her injured leg and not letting go until she tasted the bitter, metallic tang of blood. The medicine apprentice continued to scratch and bite at her injured leg, forcing her mind to focus on the physical pain of her wounds rather than the pain of being abandoned by Fireheart.

As the sun began to set, the gray she-cat realized that the Clan would be missing her if she wasn't back soon. She stood up quickly, gasping at the blood trickling down her leg. I can't go back to camp like this, she thought. Someone will notice the blood. Thinking quickly, she raced through the forest until she reached the stream. She bent down into an awkward crouch, dipping her bloodied leg into the water. It ran over the cuts and scrapes, making them sting and burn, until she could no longer stand it. She jerked her leg out of the water and looked at her now damp, but clean, leg with approval. After brushing some of the water out of her fur on a patch of tall grass, she began her trek back to the ThunderClan camp.

A moon later, Cinderpaw again watched from the entrance to the medicine den as Fireheart and Sandstorm padded into camp from the forest, tails entwined. She felt the familiar twinge of heartbreak, as she retreated to her spot past the medicine den. She sat and began her familiar ritual of biting, scratching, and clawing at her injured leg as she cursed to herself. She cursed the monster that had struck her, cursed herself for not being quick enough to avoid it, cursed Tigerclaw for sending her to her fate.

The smoky gray she-cat leaned down once more to clamp her jaws around her injured leg, when a rustle in the bushes nearby startled her. Involuntarily, she bit down on her leg with more force than any of her previous wounds. She let out a small yelp of pain, just as a dark brown tabby tom emerged from the bushes.

"Cinderpaw? What are you doing?" the amber-eyed warrior asked worriedly.

Her head snapped up in the direction of the voice, mouth gaping as a trickle of blood dripped down her jaws. "W-what am I doing? Oh, n-nothing.. just medicine cat things..." she meowed shakily, licking the drop of blood off her chin. She knew he wouldn't be convinced, though; he had to have seen her bloodied leg.

Dustpelt rolled his eyes. "You don't honestly expect me to believe that, do you?"

Cinderpaw lowered her head to the ground. "No," she meowed dejectedly.

"Glad you don't think that I'm that stupid," the tom meowed sarcastically. "Now, what's wrong? And don't try to tell me there's nothing wrong, there obviously must be for you to do this to yourself."

The smoky gray she-cat sighed. "It's Fireheart," she mewed softly. The dark tabby bristled at the deputy's name, and she wondered why for a heartbeat. "He's with Sandstorm now... he doesn't have time for me any more." Her voice broke as she finished her statement, and she sniffled back tears.

Dustpelt opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, then thought better of it and closed his mouth. Instead, he rested his tail gently across Cinderpaw's shoulders as the she-cat began to sob. "It's okay, Cinderpaw. It'll be okay. Just breathe..." he meowed soothingly.

The blue-eyed she-cat was shocked for a moment. She didn't know the prickly, sarcastic warrior was capable of being so... nice, and so comforting. She decided not to question it, though, instead opting to lean into his flank for comfort.

The broad-shouldered tabby was shocked at first by the affectionate gesture, but decided that it was only because she wanted some cat to comfort her. He carefully removed his tail from her shoulders, dropping it to twine lightly with her own.

Neither cat knew when, but eventually both drifted off to sleep in the small clearing beyond the ThunderClan camp. When Yellowfang came looking for her apprentice that night, she found the two young cats curled together in the clearing. She smiled slightly at first, before realizing that she couldn't let them be caught. Cinderpaw was, after all, still a medicine cat apprentice; she had to remain without a mate. The old she-cat gently picked up her apprentice by the scruff and dragged her back to the den they shared, where she placed the young she-cat in her own nest. Then the broad-faced, scarred medicine cat returned to the clearing and picked up the young warrior, dragging him as well back to the warriors' den.

In the morning, neither remembered falling asleep in the clearing, nor how they got back to the camp, but they remembered the words they had exchanged. And when Cinderpaw watched Fireheart and Sandstorm leave the camp to go hunting together, her heart didn't feel nearly as heavy as it had before.

And if you're ever feeling you're
Bruised and battered, always sore,
I won't tell no one, just
Breathe, breathe...