Author's Note: Apologies are in order. This took me too long and I did not get done in this what I wanted and it ended up way more angsty than I intended, but the ending kind of jumped me

Rain woke him as it hammered against the roof alongside the rumble of thunder that could be felt as much as heard. Raistlin was too exhausted from grief to move so he lay in his bed and watched the storm pass. It left in its wake a quiet only disrupted by the incessant dripping of the leaves.

He felt empty. He couldn't feel the bedclothes under him nor the blanket over him, as if he had no substance, and the idea recalled his fevered nightmares of the grave. His pain broke upon him then. His pain for the loss of his mother and his father and for everyone who was born into the light only to return to the empty darkness. And his fear. His fear for himself.

His tears stung and burned but he wept silently so as not to wake Caramon. So as not for his brother to see his weakness.

The tears subsided after a while and he became more aware of his physical, living form. He had a bitter taste in his mouth, his nose was clogged, and his throat tight from his muffled weeping. The bedclothes were damp, too, from his fever breaking in the night.

He could only vaguely recall being sick. He mostly remembered the nightmares. He was his mother, a shrunken corpse, surrounded by people staring down at him. Antimodes, Master Theobald, the Widow Judith, Caramon, the dwarf and the kender, Kitiara, no one would help him as he pleaded for food, water, anything. They denied him all, saying he had no need of it, he was dead.

The terror of when they dumped him in a coffin in the ground had been overwhelming; simply recalling it brought on a tightening of his chest and a quickening of his heart. Only to remember the light that broke through as someone pulled him back out: Klea. Even in his fevered dreams she was his comfort.

The horror of the dreams seemed less powerful in the lightening dawn, as well as in the remembrance of Klea banishing them. He dwelled briefly on the end of that dream; the cool gentleness of her touch, the kindness of her voice, the softness of her lips. If he was to remember any part of his dreams, he wanted it to be that; something he could hold onto when loneliness crept in.

The wool blanket was rough and chafing so he cast it aside. He was still weak but stood up, shivering against the chill air on his bare flesh. He hastily grabbed his shirt and dragged it on before standing in the middle of the room at a loss for his next move.

Caramon was in the bed built into the opposite wall and Raistlin walked over to look down on him. Usually he was a heavy sleeper, sprawled out and at ease, but this day his sleep was restless. Though disturbed by terrifying dreams, so exhausted was he that he could not wake from them. He tossed and turned, the bedclothes wound around him, his blanket and pillow long since tumbled to the floor. Raistlin touched his hand to his brother's forehead, but it was not warm—whatever Caramon's ailment it was not of the body.

"Caramon," Raistlin began, gripping his brother's shoulder. "Wake up, brother."

"Raist!" Carmen cried out, but still asleep, still wracked by the nightmare. "Don't leave me!" he pleaded.

"Caramon! Caramon, I'm here!" Raistlin called to him, getting desperate, but his brother could not hear him.

"Don't make me go in there, Raist," Caramon whimpered, a truly frightening sound.

"Caramon!" Raistlin cried, but it was no use.

It was desperation that drove him to seek out the rose petals. The spell had never worked before but it was his only option. Raistlin dropped the petals onto Caramon's restless form and whispered the words.

Caramon's restlessness ceased and Raistlin froze. No. He wasn't… No. Caramon couldn't be dead.

"Caramon!" No response. "Caramon! Don't leave me!" Raistlin cried, and clutched at his brother.

He was met with a low snore.

Raistlin was at once relieved and exhausted. Trying to steady his racing heart, Raistlin left his brother to sleep and went out into the sitting room.

Gillon's presence had long since left the house— he had never really been there enough to leave a hole— but Rosamun's still lingered. Her rocking chair sat empty… lost… forbidding. Raistlin didn't care, he was exhausted and would fall to the floor just as soon as not. He sank into it, feeling at once as if he was banishing the curse and taking up her place.

He shook the thought away. It was just a chair. He began to rock slightly, easing his anxiety over his brother's distress.

Then it was that he realized he had just successfully performed real magic.

A grin split across his face, unable to contain it, no need to. He had just performed magic! All of his hard work, all of his struggles, working towards this goal that had seemed a dream but now that he had reached the slightest edges of the reality he simply wanted more.

This is exhilirating! I have to tell Klea.

Raistlin got to his feet and charged back into the room, not bothering to be quiet— Caramon would sleep through any noise he made, he had made sure of that. Throwing open the trunk, Raistlin began digging through, pulling out all manner of objects without care, simply trying to reach the bottom where lay…

Nothing.

Panic gripped him.

Where is it? Raistlin searched the bottom of the trunk but the bronze disk was not there. Turning to all the things he had so carelessly tossed out, Raistlin frantically searched through them in case the disk had gotten mixed up in all of the junk, but it was nowhere to be found. Jumping to his feet, Raistlin glanced around desperately.

There it was. Sitting on the nightstand. How did it get there?

No matter. Raistlin picked up the bronze disk, eager to relate to Klea the news.

But stopped.

He hadn't spoken to her in weeks. Admittedly, this time he had good reason, but he had ignored her before. Perhaps she believed he had simply done so again. If that were the case he would need to apologize, explain the situation, she would understand… hopefully. He needed her to understand, she was the only one he had to speak to about all of this… well, besides Caramon. But why should she? Why should she forgive him a second time?

Raistlin now felt guilty about the dream. As if he had betrayed her. Wanting to keep a memory, a piece of her that she had not freely given. It shamed him. He could not speak to her now, not about something as petty as casting a spell.

But it wasn't petty. It was magic! She would understand the implications, the power needed, she would love to hear about it!

Conflicted between how he knew she would react and how he believed she should, Raistlin finally decided she deserved an explanation at the very least. He would apologize for ignoring her and whether she would accept it or not would be up to her. He needed to tell her everything… well, not the dream, it was probably best he just pretended that hadn't happened.

Raistlin's strength returned rapidly so that the next day he was able to sit at the kitchen table with his brother. His fever had broken during the night, Kitiara had left, and Raistlin had successfully cast his first spell. The latter of which he had told to Klea in a series of long messages on his disk… now if only she would respond.

He supposed it was fair that she didn't respond immediately after he had been ignoring her for weeks. Well, ignoring wasn't the right word. Perhaps he shouldn't have tried to explain all that had happened over the disk. He should apologize for that too. He'd do that after breakfast.

For now, he and his brother had to decide what they were going to do.

Caramon informed him that Anna Brightblade had offered to take them in, but Raistlin was not keen on having Sturm Brightblade for a brother.

"Master My-Honor-Is-My-Life. He's so smug and arrogant, parading his virtue up and down the streets, making a show of righteousness. It's enough to make one puke." Raistlin remarked bitterly.

"Ah, Sturm's not so bad," Caramon began in defense of his friend before adding under his breath: "Klea likes him well enough."

Raistlin's blood boiled but he pretended he hadn't heard. Caramon graciously pretended he hadn't mentioned it.

"He's had a rough time of it. At least we know how our father died. Sturm doesn't even know if his father's dead or alive," Caramon continued somberly.

Perhaps Raistlin would have otherwise been more sympathetic with the young man's history had he not been thinking about how enamored Klea had been with Sturm. So his responses to Caramon relating the young man's story were quite caustic. But then, they probably would have been regardless; Raistlin and Sturm had always been at odds.

Ultimately Raistlin and Caramon decided to stay in their home. The house was theirs, they had no debts, and Caramon could provide for them working for Farmer Sedge. Raistlin was not comfortable with relying on Caramon to support him, but Caramon provided him with a solution by setting down an empty vial on the table. It belonged to Weird Meggin and Raistlin decided to return it to her himself, where he would also offer to work with the woman in providing cures for their neighbors' ills and discomforts. It had seemed a brilliant idea at the time…but then so had telling Klea about his parents' deaths, the Widow Judith's banishment, his sickness, and his successful spellcasting through the bronze disk… he was questioning all of his decisions as of late.

So lost in his own gloomy and regretful thoughts, and probably still in a bit of a fog from his illness, Raistlin completely forgot about the wolf at the door. It warned him with a growl before he could step on its paw as it was sprawled out in front of the doorstep. Raistlin jumped back.

Someone chuckled.

Raistlin turned to find Meggin kneeling in her herb garden on the side of the house.

"Well, don't just stand there, boy," Meggin rasped, jolting Raistlin from his stunned motionlessness. He cautiously stepped away from the wolf who watched him as he made his way to the garden gate and stepped inside. "What do you have there?"

Raistlin had almost forgotten he had brought over some of his own herbs and glanced down, surprised at them in his hands.

"I've come to return your vial," Raistlin handed the old woman the empty vial which she casually dropped to the side. "And I've brought some of my own herbs."

"Well, I can see that. What for? I told your brother there was no need for payment," Meggin intoned.

"They are not offered in payment, Mistress," Raistlin clarified, then paused to draw himself up a bit more dignified. "I believe it would be beneficial if we two were to combine our knowledge and resources."

Weird Meggin gave him a curious, approving look before she chuckled. Brushing her hands off before placing them on her knees, she pressed herself up from the dirt. Snatching the herbs from Raistlin before he had quite held them out to her, Meggin inspected each, mumbling about the breeds.

"This one," Meggin turned a curious eye on Raistlin, holding out a leaf. "How'd you get it to grow here? It needs dry heat."

"I forgot I had planted it and left it in the sun without water for weeks," Raistlin answered ruefully. Instead of disapproving, Meggin smiled to herself and nodded.

"You know how to use these? Which would help a wheezing child?" Meggin tested him.

"Depends if it is brought on by spasming or irritation," Raistlin picked a hairy stalk with a small bunch of flowers and big leaves. "Crushed, this would soothe spasming, while the essence of this," Raistlin took a thin stem that looked like it had joints, "would ease both."

Meggin nodded in approval.

16th Autumn

Raistlin and Meggin were quite busy in the weeks leading up to his return to school. It seemed the entire town was struck with the sniffles, though some were affected more severely. Nevertheless, by the time class was to resume, Meggin shooed Raistlin off, assuring him that the few who were still suffering from colds would survive without his nursing.

Without needing to rush from sneezing house to sneezing house, Raistlin finally settled enough to once more return to the realization that Klea had not returned his message. He supposed he should have expected it. She had finally given up on putting forth all the effort into their friendship and had dispensed with him. It had been long overdue, she deserved more loyalty than he had shown. If only he had realized his mistake long ago, before he had lost his only friend… before she could be something more.

Raistlin quickly banished that thought. It and similar ones had been creeping up on him more frequently as of late, despite how unwelcome they were. Particularly when Raistlin was in the clearing, as he was now.

It had started out as his solace, a place to go to avoid the mockery and later the indifference of the other boys. Somewhere along the way it came to be their place, so that without her presence Raistlin felt oppressively alone, almost as if he weren't allowed there without her, as if he was trespassing.

POP.

Raistlin stumbled backwards, his heart hammering out of his chest.

There she was. Dark hair, bright eyes, ever-present quirk to the lips indicating a smirk at the ready. Her black robes fluttering as they settled from the wind that always swirled around her when she used the ring.

She turned at the crackling of leaves to see Raistlin, steadying hand on a nearby tree as if to keep his balance. She beamed at him.

And then promptly sneezed.

"Sorry, it's the leaves," she said as though through a fog. Raistlin gathered himself and proceeded forward, still stunned at her sudden appearance after months of absence. He was overjoyed that she was here, but also felt a sudden surge of anger. He didn't understand where it came from or what it was about, but it was overwhelming.

"I contacted you a month ago," he snapped. Klea sniffled but drew herself up, meeting his glare with one of her own though a bit confused at the tone.

"I was sick," she retorted sharply.

"For a month?" Raistlin scoffed. Klea actually glared at him this time.

"Why the tone of disbelief? It's more likely than your being sick for six." she commented. Raistlin knew better, he should be running from that look, but he couldn't seem to quell this unexplainable anger that forced him to confront her.

"Forgive me for not calling on you while I was burying my parents," he snarled savagely, but Klea was undaunted.

"I'm talking about before that!" she exclaimed, somehow managing to get to eye-level with him. Raistlin was the first to back down from the intense glaring, scoffing and turning away from her. Klea looked after him, dumbstruck. "I thought you'd be happy to see me, but I guess I was wrong. You clearly don't want me around, about time I got the message."

"No," he gasped, spinning around. The desperation of it startled both of them. Raistlin cleared his throat and tried to gain control of himself but he was shaking. The anger was quickly draining from him to be replaced by fear. "I apologize, I—" he couldn't quite seem to force the words out. Klea just looked on at him warily, though her gaze was gentler. "I do not know why I was so heated," he looked up at her as if she could give the answer.

"You're hurting," Klea shrugged. Raistlin's brows drew together quickly in disagreement.

"I have been perfectly—"

"—fine?" Klea interrupted, completing his sentence. "You've been keeping busy, probably working around town before coming to school where you're staying until the summer?" Raistlin didn't respond, they both knew she was correct though he had not told her any of this. "Raistlin, both of your parents died within days of each other. You're not over it, you're just avoiding dealing with it. And some of that may be my fault, I should've come sooner."

"Why didn't you?" Raistlin asked quietly.

"I was sick," Klea snapped. "I told you that already."

Raistlin was intensely aware of the space between them but as of yet felt incapable of bridging it. Instead he shrugged.

"It is not your duty to help me grieve."

Klea looked at him, shocked.

"Yes, it is. I'm your friend," she retorted. Raistlin was a bit taken aback with how assuredly she stated it, as if there were some unspoken guidelines for friendship outlining one's responsibilities. But then again, for all Raistlin knew on the subject, there probably were. He looked down ashamedly.

"I am afraid I have been a terrible one," Raistlin confessed.

"You have," Klea agreed, matter-of-factly. Raistlin glared over at her. She smirked. "But I'm a really good one. And I'm really stubborn, I don't give up on people easily."

Raistlin didn't respond but immediately tensed when Klea stepped forward, closing the gap between them. She put a hand on his shoulder and as was only the case with her, he welcomed the contact.

"Have you been to the graves since the funerals?" Klea asked gently. From Raistlin's look, she had her answer. Raistlin's pulse raced as she took his hand and he prayed to all the gods of magic she couldn't feel it. She brought his hand up and held her teleportation ring at the ready to slip onto his finger. "Picture it," she ordered.

When she continued to watch him expectantly, Raistlin gave her a pleading look. She just raised her eyebrows, nodding at him sternly. With a huff, Raistlin closed his eyes and pictured the vallenwood saplings. Klea slipped the ring on his finger and he immediately felt like he was tugged forward into open air before his feet found solid ground once more.

He opened his eyes to find the two tiny saplings indicating his parents' graves.

Klea was still holding his hand and she squeezed it, but he couldn't seem to pull his eyes from the saplings. They had grown a bit since their planting, but they still looked so incredibly small compared to the towering trees they would become. Something burned behind his eyes while something else lodged itself in his throat. He tried to tamp down both but despite, or maybe because of, Klea's presence he couldn't seem to stop the tears that leaked down his cheeks and to his lips. They tasted bitter.

Probably because he was angry. Angry that they left him and Caramon on their own. But also sad, that they were gone. And relieved, horribly relieved that with them so many worries had gone too. It was a terrible storm of emotions that shouldn't occur at the same time and that he knew he probably shouldn't feel at his parents graves. Especially the part of him that thrilled in Klea's clasping his hand in both of hers.

He didn't even realize he was sobbing until one of Klea's hands moved to rub his back to soothe the hiccups away. What was worse was that he wasn't even sure the tears were for his parents or if they were for himself.

"Both," Klea whispered.

Raistlin looked at her in shock, but then shook his head. He really should be used to her reading his mind by now. He didn't know how she did it, if it was legitimately magic or she just knew him that well, but he was grateful for it, for not having to admit to his confusion and anger out loud.

Maybe his grief was exhausted or he came to terms with the mix of emotions or he had simply run out of tears, but he could finally breathe easier again and his eyes were dry. He rubbed at the dried tears on his cheeks with his sleeve, one-handed as Klea was wrapped around the other arm and he was not about to give her an excuse to let go.

"Thank you," his voice was more hoarse than usual, but Klea understood and nodded.

They turned and walked away in silence.

AN: As I said, angsty and definitive end to the chapter... but if it helps, that means the next chapter will be happier(?) or more lighthearted(?) ...it won't be as angsty and sad let's just put it that way