A/N—This is a quasi-request for Elycia-of-Arc, who requested something with Joan in it. I chose everything else, but the piece itself is for Elycia-of-Arc. Thanks so much for all your review and support, Elycia-of-Arc!

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Michael Scott owns everything.

This contains SPOILERS for The Warlock, by Michael Scott. Also, this is a friendship piece. That's all I write. This piece features mostly Palamedes and Joan friendship.

Please read/review!

Bittersweet

The smell of lavender caught him unaware, and it mingled sweetly with the strong lemon scent still engrained in his nostrils. The comforting odor brought tears to his eyes.

"Palamedes?" Joan's voice was soft.

He didn't say anything. He couldn't speak past his burning throat.

"You have to...have to...move on," Joan whispered, placing a hand on Palamedes' shoulder. She squeezed, letting a little of her silver aura trickle into Palamedes, giving him a sudden rush of strength.

For a moment, the sharp, painful images that had flashed in and out of his mind ceased, and he was able to focus.

He sucked in a deep breath, and the smell of lemon became a citrusy taste in his mouth. His aura shimmered around him, a palpable sign of his grief, and he gave a low moan. His eyes smarted, and his heart literally ached.

"I know it's hard," Joan persisted, still squeezing his shoulder. "But grieving like this, cutting yourself off from everybody, won't bring W—," her voice cracked, and he heard he swallow convulsively. "—won't bring Will back."

Will...

Poor, poor Will: he hadn't deserved to die. Hadn't deserved the fate he received. Hadn't deserved the intense pain of the Elder poison that had claimed him—

—the tears shimmering in his pale blue eyes as he tried so hard—so hard—to be strong—to show that he wasn't afraid—

—clutching Palamedes' hand—

—lemon yellow shimmering about him—trying to burn out the poison with a raging fever—

—glazed blue eyes, quickly losing any ability to recognize Palamedes—

Palamedes surged to his feet suddenly, shoving Joan's hand from his shoulder. He felt her cringe away, but didn't care that he had frightened her. He spun to face her, screaming words he couldn't actually hear, and he saw her small frame—Will had been nearly as small as she was—stiffen as she braced herself against his anger. Francis came running up, fury snapping in his dark eyes as he rushed to defend his wife.

Palamedes could feel tears coursing down his face as he yelled, cursing, breaking...

He fell to his knees, sobbing.

Once again he smelled lavender, and suddenly someone was embracing him, holding him as he cried, comforting him.

"I know..." Joan whispered. "I know."

In a lot of ways, Joan reminded Palamedes of Will. He wondered if that was why he had always found that, of all his friends, after Will he liked Joan best.

The smell of lavender and lemon was bittersweet.