Hey folks! This Tuesday dragon fix, Blake and Weiss play a game of fetch.

45. The Good Doctor

In the wake of their latest battle against the council, there were important matters to take care of.

"Shirt off."

Namely, injuries. Sun was dinged up a bit, to put it mildly. One of the council dragons had scratched him across the chest. It didn't feel very deep, but... ouch.

He grinned sheepishly at his best friend as he shrugged off the ruined shirt. "You know, if you're not careful I might take that the wrong—"

Neptune waved a tube of disinfectant in his face. "I can't stop you from getting yourself hurt like an idiot, but I can at least make sure you get medical treatment after."

"Nah. You stop me from getting hurt like an idiot all the time."

A flick at his forehead. "Hey!"

Neptune fumbled a roll of bandages out of one of his saddlebags, giving Sun a stern glare the whole time. "Dude, seriously. Huo's like... twenty times your size. If he thinks it's a little risky..."

"I know, I know!" He winced at Neptune started winding the gauze around his chest.

"Do you? 'Cause I'm looking at where you just got mauled, so—"

"Hey." Sun dropped both hands on Neptune's shoulders, noticing for the first time the way his hair was a bit rumpled, as if he'd been running his hands through it. "I'm okay. I knew you had my back."

Neptune snorted. "Yeah, no pressure or anything."

"If it helps, you've got Nymph on your side."

"It does, actually." Neptune gave him a threatening poke. "But you've gotta take care of yourself better."

"Alright, alr—wait a second!" Sun pointed at Neptune's forehead. "You've got a cut too!"

"I do?"

Sun lunged for the disinfectant. "C'mere!"

"Hey! I'm not done bandaging you!" Neptune wiggled an open safety pin menacingly. "Stay still!"

"Never!"

As fun as it was to tease, Sun was very careful as he stole a cotton ball and dripped a bit of the disinfectant onto it. Wasting medical supplies was definitely one of the top five Things Not to Do when you were on the run. Then he went back to teasing Neptune, before finally half-tackling him and mushing the cotton ball into his forehead.

"That's a scratch," Neptune complained. "It's completely different and not a priority!"

"Even a scratch can get infected," Sun said solemnly. It was what Neptune always used to tell him when he chased him around with alcohol swabs every time he skinned his knees.

"Yeah, and yours is like eight inches longer than—never mind!"

Sun snickered. "Man, I had this whole great comeback planned, but I don't think I can top that." He ruffled Neptune's hair, grinning through the grumbling. Then, because he was starting to come down off the adrenaline high and he did have a giant claw wound on his chest, he sat still while his friend fixed him up.

"There," he said cheerfully, though it was really starting to hurt now. "Good as new."

Neptune flicked him again.

Sun sighed. "Look, uh... serious talk for a second?"

"...Yeah?"

"Thanks. It would've been a lot worse if you weren't there." He fidgeted with the bandage. "In that fight, and also my life in general."

Pyrrha had hoped that the sedative the council had used would wear off quickly. At the very least, she'd hoped they would be able to fly back to the hidden lab during the night.

It did not wear off quickly. She suspected a different drug was used during transport—from what Ren and Nora had told her Pepper hadn't been out of it nearly this long, but she hadn't even been able to walk. They made camp the night of the rescue, and would have suffered through a cold and miserable dinner if Yang hadn't had the excellent idea of wrapping hot dogs in tinfoil and baking them on Fang's back.

That evening was spent trying to guess the other dragon's name—which turned out to be Pearl—and fighting over spots next to Huo and Fang. No one was foolish enough to ask Crucible to keep them warm. The next morning everyone was glad to see the rescued dragons had fully recovered. At least, they were glad, right up until a newly spirited Paprika bit Tumbleweed.

He took it amiably, letting her hang off his good foreleg while they all tried frantically to dislodge her. Pyrrha swatted her sharply on the nose. Paprika reared and snapped at her instead. She wasn't actually trying to bite—her teeth stopped a good foot or so short. Pyrrha jumped up and wrapped both arms around her jaws.

"There's no need for that," she said, gently but firmly. "We're trying to help."

It said something about the past few weeks that Pyrrha was slightly taken aback when Paprika drew back and fell into a harmless sulk. She was too used to pit dragons.

Other incidents cropped up during the flight back. Pearl was often listless, and would slow to a crawl until given gentle encouragement by Jaune or Ruby. Paprika kept snapping at other dragons when they got too close—right up until she made the mistake of going for Crucible's tail. He turned around, terribly slowly, and hawked a gob of blue-white fire at her feet. She stumbled backwards so quickly she crashed into a tree and almost knocked it down.

"No ffire!" she whined. "Nno!"

Then, finally, they reached the hidden valley. Pyrrha followed the rest of her team to one of the cabins, dumping their things in a heap. After that they ranged around in the woods, looking for a good spot to rest. They found it in a small hill overlooking the valley, shaded heavily with trees and crowned with two large rocks. She and Jaune took one, while Ren and Nora curled up on the other.

"You were amazing out there," Jaune said, into an easy silence.

Pyrrha smiled. "So were you and Twiggy."

Nora kicked her feet against her rock. "It seemed like you and Tumbleweed got along okay."

He's friendly. And apparently very easygoing."

More fidgeting from Nora. It seemed like she was teetering on the edge of saying something. She glanced at Ren, who gave a small nod. "Do you think, maybe... you might want to hang out with him more? Or one of the others, like Paprika?"

Pyrrha's eyes dropped to her lap. "I... doubt that Tumbleweed would want that."

Jaune bumped her shoulder gently with his own. "It doesn't have to be Tumbleweed. Just... is that something you want?"

"I don't know." She drew her legs up to her chest. "I'm not sure I'm ready."

Things had just started to feel... not better, exactly, but... like they'd finally stopped getting worse. She was getting used to the long nights, the random pangs of grief, even the twinges of jealousy she felt sometimes when she looked at her friends. The thought of having to go through all of that a second time... To heal enough to trust and love another dragon, maybe even feel okay again, and have that ripped away?

"I can't believe Tyrian is as put together as he is."

"That won't happen," Jaune said fiercely. "We won't let it."

Pyrrha leaned into his side. "Maybe after this is all over."

Ren nodded. "It's your choice."

"Totally!" Nora agreed. "But like... if Crucible let you ride him again, would you?"

"He won't."

"It's a hypothetical!"

Pyrrha smiled. "Then I would hypothetically avoid being set on fire by giving him lots and lots of space."

Blake stood on the valley floor on her own two feet, her hands held loosely at her sides. It felt good to finally be able to—she'd ditched the crutches for good once they got back to the camp. More of a formality than anything else, since she'd been walking unaided off and on for the past week or so, but... still.

She bent down to scoop up a stick and tossed it, putting her whole body into the throw. It spun end-over-end and landed on the opposite side of the valley. Glory scrambled after it with her wings slightly extended.

"Does she seem... off, to you?" Weiss asked.

"Not sure." Blake watched Glory lower her head to snatch up the stick. "I haven't talked to her much."

"She seems... jumpy." A door closed with a snap somewhere in the clump of cabins. Glory dropped to her belly, her wings flaring in alarm.

Blake frowned. "Maybe she's having trouble adjusting to the new dragons?"

"I doubt either of them would pick on her. Pearl doesn't seem interested in starting fights, and Paprika hates fire."

As they watched, Inkwell lumbered over to Glory, who had finally picked up the stick in her jaws. The water dragon squinted in their general direction. Blake raised a hand and waved. The second she did, Inkewell noticed them and bounded closer. It was hard to say exactly what made her act like that, but Blake suspected she was nearsighted. She didn't have a problem seeing things that were very close to her, but sometimes missed far-away objects completely until they moved.

Both pit dragons reached them at the same time. Glory dropped the stick at Blake's feet, then sniffed cautiously at Pit and Specter.

"That was good," Blake said encouragingly, smiling at Glory. When she bent to pick up the stick, Inkwell tensed and stepped between her and the other dragon.

"It's alright," Weiss told her. "We're playing a game."

Inkwell squinted at them for a moment, weighing the idea suspiciously, then sat down a few feet from them. For the next several minutes, she only broke her stare to glance at Glory and see how she was doing.

"What happened?" asked Weiss. "Why are you so worried?"

"Bad," Inkwell mumbled. She wouldn't elaborate any further.

After playing a few more rounds of fetch, Blake turned to Weiss. "So... that last mission. What did you think?"

"It was good." This time when Glory returned with the stick held proudly in her jaws, she dropped it in front of Weiss instead. It took her a moment to realize what the dragon wanted and give it a toss. They both watched Glory trot after it, standing shoulder-to shoulder. Then Weiss sighed and said, "I think I'm still waiting for the other shoe to drop."

"It was good, though. We saved eight dragons. There were only a few injuries, even including the council's side, and most of those were Crucible."

"I'm starting to think we shouldn't bring him out on missions," Weiss said, grimacing. "Didn't Pyrrha have to force him to stop attacking a first year dragon?"

"He is getting better. At this rate he might actually figure out what restraint is."

Behind her, Inkwell snorted.

"Don't mind her," Weiss drawled. "I think she must be sick or something, because that sounded suspiciously like optimism."

"I feel more optimistic." Blake grinned as Glory, still on the other side of the valley, tossed the stick up in the air and caught it again. "I was so hung up on all the bad things going on that I forgot... sometimes we can just do what's right, without having to worry about trade-offs and least-worst choices."

Glory rolled in the grass, her tail thumping the dirt as it wagged.

"It's just starting to hit me that things are actually better," Weiss said softly. "A week ago, eight dragons were as good as dead. Now they're safe. Or, well, relatively safe. There is still the council to worry about."

Blake bumped her shoulder. "We did good."

Warmed by the sun on her back and Weiss' answering smile, she had to marvel for a moment at where they were. Playing fetch with a dragon that would have been fighting for someone's sick entertainment if they hadn't been there. Standing on a leg that had taken a bullet, as the last lingering stiffness of the wound faded away. Not free of the council, or of old demons and scars... but, at least for the moment, feeling whole.

"Hey, Weiss?"

"Hm?" Weiss was watching Glory trot towards them, her ears perked up tall.

"I wanted to say... that..."

Blake trailed off—Glory had paused to look over her shoulder. Her whole body tensed, her back arching like a cat's. The stick tumbled from her mouth. She darted out of sight behind one of the buildings, so quickly that Blake would be hard-pressed to say which way she'd gone. Inkwell raised herself up on her hind legs, warbling in alarm. Then she galloped after the younger dragon. Pit called out to her, but she ignored him.

In seconds, they were alone again.

"What on earth...?" Weiss looked at Specter. "Did you see what happened?"

"Kwuhll mad," he said.

"Do you know why?"

"Nno."

"Alright." She patted his nose. "Thank you, Specter."

"I'm getting worried about them," Blake murmured. "All the pit dragons."

"Most of them seem fine. Tumbleweed even let Pyrrha ride him."

"Yeah..." Blake frowned at the place where Glory had vanished. "But Tallow's been acting weird, too."

"We could try asking them."

"Not Tallow. He can't talk, remember? Even other dragons can't always figure out what he's saying."

"I didn't mean Tallow. And I suppose Glory can't talk either..." Weiss froze. "Wait. Which dragons have been acting oddly?"

"Apart from them?" Blake thought about it for a moment. "Those two... and Sage mentioned Riptide has been shakier, but that that's probably just because she's naturally anxious and we're jumping into a war." Then, when she noticed the look on Weiss' face, "Why do you ask?"

"So the ones that seem different, they're all—"

Something caught Blake's eye. She grabbed Weiss' wrist, cutting her off in mid-sentence. Doctor Watts was standing in the space between two buildings. Out of earshot, she was sure, but he was definitely watching them. How long has he been there?

Weiss noticed where she was looking and swore under her breath. "What does he think he's doing?"

"Coming over here, apparently."

He walked slowly and casually, giving them a genial smile as he got closer. "Good afternoon."

"Hello," Weiss said, her expression guarded. "Did you need something?"

"Actually, yes." His smile widened, and he dropped into a stiff bow. "I'd like to pick your brain on ice for a moment, if I may. Perhaps talk about this gorgeous fellow here?"

Weiss glanced at Blake, then returned her attention to the doctor. "So long as Specter doesn't mind." Judging by his agreeable whistle, he didn't.

Blake wasn't sure what made her do it. Maybe it was the timing, him appearing so soon after Glory and Inkwell had run off. Maybe she was being paranoid again. But she blurted out, "We can talk some more afterwards."

Weiss flashed her a grateful look. "Of course. I'll meet you in half an hour."

A flash of annoyance passed across Watts' face. Perhaps he'd just been hoping to talk to Weiss longer than that... perhaps not. That's right, Blake thought, meeting his eyes with a glare. Someone will notice if she's gone too long.

Doctor Watts' lab smelled strange. Specter wandered in a slow circle, careful not to disturb any of the machines or oddly-colored beakers. It wasn't that it smelled bad, he soon decided. Just... too clean. Nothing but metal and plastic and an unfamiliar chemical smell that reminded him of the stuff Weiss used to clean things with.

"Make yourselves comfortable." Doctor Watts gestured to a chair near one end of the lab. Weiss didn't sit. She kept one hand on the back of Specter's neck. He leaned into the touch, whistling softly.

Clearing his throat, Watts tried again. "I understand that your family has exclusive rights to ice dragons."

"For now."

"I don't suppose you remember the formula?"

"Not off-hand. Maybe a stabilizing element?"

He hummed thoughtfully. "I'd considered it, but there's very little data to work with, so it's hard to say which element would work best. Everything was destroyed in the purge."

"Not quite everything."

"Excepting Emerald's find, obvously. It's been quite fascinating, though unfortunately whoever wrote it was... shall we say erratic in their note-taking. I'll need time to decipher it."

"Naturally," Weiss said. There was a strange bite in her voice that made Specter shift uncomfortably from foot to foot.

"Perhaps I could do a few minor tests? Nothing invasive, of course, just checking to see if he has any particular elemental affinity—"

"Try water."

Doctor Watts blinked. "Pardon?"

"Ice dragons have quite a few similarities to water dragons. Specter and I were grouped with them during elemental lessons at Beacon."

"That is the intuitive guess," Doctor Watts agreed, sounding a little put out. He circled around to stand in front of Specter. "He is quite the specimen."

Specter tried not to squeak. Nobody had stared at him this intensely before, and he wasn't sure he liked it. Weiss gave him a soothing pat and said, "Specimen isn't the word I'd use."

"Forgive me—I've been holed up in here so long I've started to call my drinking glasses beakers." He glanced at Weiss. "Would you mind if I took a few measurements? It would be helpful to document differences between elementals, and he's the only data point I'm ever likely to have on ice dragons."

Weiss glanced at Specter. He still felt a little uncomfortable, but he nodded. Being measured didn't sound too bad.

The doctor disappeared for a moment and came back with a tape measure. He wore gloves—something about lab safety, though Specter thought it was silly—and his movements were careful and gentle. Watts measured everything from his length from nose to tail, to the distances between the spines on his back, to the width of his eyes. That last measurement he asked Weiss to take. "I doubt he'd appreciate me getting so close to his face, and I wouldn't want to poke him in the eye."

Slowly, Weiss relaxed, and that meant Specter could do the same. He sniffed some of the more interesting beakers. Once Watts snapped at him to, "Get away from there!" but afterwards he apologized and explained that its contents were very acidic and might have hurt Specter's nose.

"Of course you are free to refuse," he said, when the measuring was over, "but I'd like to take a few samples as well. No blood, I wouldn't ask that, but perhaps saliva? Dust leaves traces on the molecular level, you see. If I can learn to read them, I may eventually be able to test hybrid combinations on, say, samples of brood dragons' blood. If we can ensure that a combination is viable before it ever goes to injection..."

He trailed off. Specter hadn't fully understood what he'd said, but it must have sounded good to Weiss. "I wouldn't have a problem with that, but it's up to him." The measuring had been fine, so he nodded again.

The two humans chatted while Watts poked giant cotton swabs into Specter's mouth. Weiss leaned against one of the tables, glancing at some of the beakers and talking about the differences between him and Steele. She also mentioned another ice dragon named Glacier who Specter had never met.

There was a rustle of paper, and all of a sudden Weiss got very quiet. Doctor Watts looked up from where he was examining one of Specter's scales with a magnifying glass. "Is something wrong, Miss Schnee?"

Weiss' smile made Specter pull his ears back. He'd never seen her fake one before, but it looked like she'd had a lot of practice. He almost couldn't tell anything was wrong—but there was a hint of panic in her eyes.

"Of course not," she said smoothly. "I just realized it's probably been almost half an hour now."

"Nonsense. We still have ten minutes at least."

Weiss' free hand curled into a fist, which she held surreptitiously behind her back. Her smile started to look strained. "Right. Well..."

"Now, now," Doctor Watts said, his tone light and teasing. "I'm not nearly done with you yet—I won't have you running away."