It Could Be Worse (4th Season)

Episode 5: Best Friend, Part II

By Sulia Serafine

[A Protector of the Small fanfic set in an alternate universe; all credit goes to Tamora Pierce. I'm broke, so you can't sue me. Any other copyrighted things that don't belong to me in here in fact belong to other very businesslike people. Could you believe that? I guess that's why I'm broke.

E-mail me at silverwlngaol.com okay? And you know the drill: titles or subjects of emails are fanfiction.net, s.serafine, or icbw.

Rating of this episode: R for the hard trials of life. Some cursing.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: because fanfiction.net and Microsoft Word refuse to cooperate, the formatting of this document is going to be a little crappy. This is the first time in 4 years that this has happened to me and my routine for typing and uploading has not changed ONE BIT, so I'm a little peeved and if anyone asks me again about the format at the end of the chapter, then I'm going to go INSANE.

From now on, things in italics (like thoughts) are going in single quotes '' and emphasized words will be surrounded by underscores. Grr.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ulliver watched the room around him with very little interest. He was having lunch by himself that day. He'd had lunch nearly every other day with Keladry for some many weeks now. They both figured that it was high time they start visiting their friends, who by then might have filed missing person reports just out of spite.

To his dismay, Wolset and his other buddies from the station were still on duty, so the major found himself sitting at the pool hall alone. Ulliver ordered a club sandwich and settled in for a peaceful lunch hour. However, a familiar face in the room caused him to put his meal down and stand up.

'It's Neal. Wonder if he wants some company?'  Because as much as he was enjoying his rare solitude, Ulliver always tried to socialize with his girlfriend's loved ones. Some may have considered it sucking up, but he tended to see it as a long term investment. He never knew when their trust and loyalty would come in handy—just like it had when the Riders had pulled together and performed that fake marriage ceremony.

That had been quite a while ago. Yuki and Lerant were back to their old ways, though Neal expressed resentment now and then for being "put under the influence" during the ceremony to keep him from protesting. Everyone knew he had a soft spot for Yuki still, but no one dared to mention it out loud (the exception being Dom, who since that time has had many beer cans thrown at his head).

He was about to call out to the officer when the front door opened and Keladry walked in.

'Hey! What's she doing here? Well, the three of us can have lunch together, I suppose.'

He went forward in order to greet them. But Ulliver froze mid step when he suddenly noticed Keladry's red-rimmed eyes. She'd been crying. Quickly, he slid into an empty booth and peered over the top of the seat. He did not know what impulse made him hide, but he obeyed his instincts and watched cautiously.

"Neal…" she began shakily.

Her best friend bolted up from his chair and put his hands on her shoulders. He was the paradigm of concern. "What is it? What happened?"

"Neal, h-he… he came home last night."

'No! Not now!'

Ulliver felt as if someone had just sucker-punched him right in the face. He fell back on the seat, dazed. He stared at the table in front of him while his girlfriend and Neal continued to speak in distraught tones.

"He? Who's this 'he'?" Neal frantically cried.

Keladry choked back a sob. Ulliver had never seen her cry before and he had no wish to see her do so then. It broke his heart in half. No, it shattered it. Why did the gods deem it right for someone as kind and courageous as Keladry to cry? "You know who! He just… just rang my doorbell and I opened the door and, and… there he was."

"There he was?" the male officer echoed.

"Yes. He looked so lost and I couldn't help it, I just stood there staring. And Neal! He was there but he wasn't okay. He wasn't okay!"

Ulliver closed his eyes. That was it then.

'Joren Stone has finally come home.'

"What did you do then?"

"I put him to sleep. And I watched him sleep all night and I cried and thanked the gods that he'd come home."

"And where is he now?"

"He's still there. I left him there in my bed."

"You left him there?"

"I can't stay while he's there. Not without someone with me. I can't face him alone right now. After everything that's happened, I feel myself… paralyzed when he looks at me. He's been through so much and we don't have the right to look him in the eye—"

"Well, we're going to have to sometime. Here, come with me to the station. We'll figure this out." There was a pause. "Did he… did he say anything?"

Ulliver stood up from the booth right then. He couldn't listen to it anymore. He ducked behind a group of people leaving the pool hall, hiding himself from Keladry and Neal as he departed. The sandwich forgotten, Ulliver got onto his motorcycle. He had to see it himself. He had to see the blond himself and see for sure that it was over.

Love makes men do many things, Ulliver learned that night. That included walking into the lion's den to offer himself up like a sacrifice.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

'Why am I here?' He asked himself later when he stepped into his girlfriend's apartment. She'd given him the key code a while ago as a sign of trust. He'd done the same thing in return and then they had celebrated with an all-night movie fest on his couch featuring his favorite action movies.

He forced the memory away. Now was not the time. Memories were all that he was going to have very soon. He had to do this final thing. He had to see for himself the person who was going to take away all that he had worked so hard to achieve.

'You saw it coming a mile away. You just didn't want it to be so soon,' he told himself bitterly.

The living room was dim. He felt like a burglar, come to steal Keladry's valuables. Hell, maybe he had. What other business did he have for being there? Certainly it wasn't to have a civil conversation with her new house guest.

He came there to die.

Ulliver rejected the strange idea at first, but he accepted it after a few moments. He had come to Keladry's home to die—emotionally speaking. After this, Ulliver wouldn't be able to romance another woman. He'd risked so much with Keladry, just as she'd risked so much with him. Women! They were too much for him to handle. What with understanding and not understanding… and backing off and saying to her "of course I understand" when he really, really didn't. And probably never would.

The place was silent. He tiptoed across the carpet, making his way toward her bedroom. His heart had been pounding outside her apartment door, but he couldn't even hear his heartbeat anymore. Perhaps his heart had already stopped, his blood stopped pumping, his body ceased living. He already felt a little dead inside.

It explained his zombie-like death march to her bedroom. He'd never trespassed into her bedroom. She'd never told him that he could not enter that place, but he had just for some reason or another avoided going in. Perhaps he'd been waiting for the right time to enter. That entrance would have been marked with sentimentality and a level up in their relationship.

And now they were going levels down. They were going where there weren't any levels.

'Stop thinking in frustrating metaphors. You're not like Neal,' he scolded himself yet again.

He tentatively touched her door and pushed it open.

…

…

…

The man in her bed was lying on his stomach, his face turned away. The shades were drawn over the windows, only a few weak sunbeams shining through despite it being bright noon outside. All the pillows were thrown on the floor. They appeared to have been gracelessly kicked off during the night. But the sheets were still on the bed. The sheets were tangled around the sleeper's legs in the same way that a swimmer's legs could get caught in seaweed while swimming in the ocean.

The sleeper, ironically enough, even looked like he had drowned. His hair was matted wet with sweat against his head. It must have been a rough, feverish night for him. A night filled with tormenting nightmares and silent screams.

Ulliver leaned against the dresser and watched him slumber.

An hour passed. Ulliver did not tear his gaze away.

At last, the sleeper decided to awake. He sat up, rubbing his eyes and sighing. He ran his fingers through his sticky hair, which had grown even longer and more unruly that Ulliver had seen it last. Then, he opened his eyes, saw Ulliver, and brushed his red bangs from his face.

"Hello," Cleon whispered.

Ulliver nodded his head. "Hello."

'I am the architect of my own destruction,' the major thought darkly. The sad part was, he didn't even feel any relief. Just a sense of delay.

"You're Ulliver, right?" the redhead croaked. He coughed. "I'm sorry. It's been a while. I think I met you at Mithran United when the banks were robbed."

The major nodded again, vigorously. He attempted to smile. "Right! Right, right, right… You're Cleon Kennan?"

"Yes."

With unfocused and dim eyes, he stared at Ulliver. Then, Cleon stood up. He wobbled on his feet a bit before walking to the window and peeking outside. Ulliver straightened and moved toward the door. "Can I get you a drink of water?"

"There's a bottle of rum in my knapsack," the newly awakened officer uttered gloomily.

Ulliver glanced at the foot of the bed. He knelt down and retrieved the bottle from the knapsack. He stood up and went to the door again. "I'll… I'll get a glass."

"Get two," Cleon ordered quietly. He glanced away from the window and met Ulliver's gaze. There was something in the dark green depths that unnerved the major. By reputation, the sharpshooter had been the biggest clown anyone had ever met. The man that stood before looked like he had spent his whole life digging graves. Cleon smiled faintly. "It just doesn't do to drink alone."

"Right…" he replied uncertainly, and did as he was told.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Cleon had been waiting for a miracle. I didn't want to. I hated waiting anyway. You'd be surprised how impatient I could get, I just never showed it on the outside. I was too busy showing off my cool, witty exterior. Yeah, that's what I did. My friends went out and arrested bad guys. I simply made fun of them with my verbal sword, my quick tongue.

I didn't mind living like that. I'd had such a good life. Now, there's bound to be argument about that. Some people will tell you that my life was very painful and that I'd suffered too much for someone of my innate goodness, but that's a crock. So I had parents who didn't care and threw our fortune away. So I spent my childhood in a boarding school. So I joined a gang of thieves and ruled a small, old-fashioned port city with fear (they were afraid, don't give me that look). So I… I watched a family die and I almost died with them—

I had resigned myself to die with them. I did not fight it when they strapped me to the chair and lined up the firing squad to aim for my heart. So really, by living this long, I've accomplished a lot. There's no reason to be sad. I should be counting my lucky stars.

Of course, Cleon didn't see it that way. There were a lot of "didn'ts" between us now that only served to widen the chasm. He was here. With me. But I was already on my way to the other side. I was setting foot on that bridge and I was burning it behind me.

He would do the same. He just didn't know it yet.

I woke up one morning, expecting Cleon in his usual spot. He liked to come in during the middle of the night and sleep on the foot of my bed with his head pillowed by one of the ones I'd push away in my slumber. I suppose he feared missing my… moment, as it were.

I couldn't remember how long ago Keladry and the others had left, but it didn't surprise me at all when I awoke that morning and discovered Cleon missing from his spot. Straddling a wrought iron chair, my new guest watched me with an unreadable expression.

"Well, Stone. Couldn't bear to be away from me, could you?"

He lifted his chin from the back of the chair and smirked. "To the point of fainting."

As big an asshole as he can be sometimes, he knew how to treat death. And I was very glad for it. I was comforted by his presence—I hate to admit—even more than by Cleon's presence. It was because Stone knew death. He knew death inside and out. He knew that giving me sympathetic, weepy looks like my friends would was what would piss me off. He knew that I'm not the type of person who seeks sentimental reminisces in photo albums.

Joren Stone knew death. And in doing so, knew me at this crossroads in life better than anyone else in the entire world. Even Cleon, the loveable goof.

I would never tell Cleon that, though. He doesn't need to know. Make sure you don't tell him.

"Moved out of the infirmary I see," Stone continued. "Get slapped by too many nurses for wandering hands?"

"I think you're mistaking me for Neal." That jerk. Ha. "I didn't want to spend anymore time in that place. Prince Yahiko was kind enough to move me to a guest room when I was strong enough to stay awake during the daylight hours. It's peaceful."

The blond snorted. "With Kennan around, I find that really doubtful."

"What about you?" I asked. "Why are you back?"

I must say, he tiptoed around the subject rather well. He actually did it in a very grandiose fashion. I was impressed. With half-lidded eyes, he turned his gaze toward the window and recited some prose from Old. "'The time is out of joint: O cursed spite,
That ever I was born to set it right.'"

My brow creased accordingly. "Shakespeare?"

"I had to read something on the plane," he shrugged indifferently.

"Macbeth?"

"Hamlet."

I chuckled. "Figures you'd read a play where practically everyone dies."

"I thought it was a pretty and pleasant romp through the land of the sinister—very pretty. I mean, Ophelia goes insane and plays with flowers. If flowers coupled with insanity aren't pretty, I don't know what is," he said sarcastically. That damn smirk of his!

"Hmm." I pulled back my blankets and slowly moved my legs over the side of the bed. "Would you mind helping me to the veranda? I want some fresh air."

Stone betrayed no surprise, but I could tell he wasn't expecting the request. "I thought you were bed-ridden."

"I was. And I'm still going to die, mind you, it's just that the treatment I've been getting has slowed it down a lot. I've been able to regain some strength so that I can still move around just a bit."

The former operative came forward and let me brace myself against his arm. It didn't appear difficult for him. When I asked Cleon to help me, I always had the impression that my very touch burned him. If you do see Cleon, tell him that I did not mean to be the cause for his pain. I see now that I have irreparably changed the course of his life and he will not laugh so well when I am gone—tell him I did not mean for it to happen.

I did not mean to leave him.

We went out to the veranda of my luxurious guest suite. There was a chair outside with a cushion I had left out the night before. Stone eased me down here and perched himself on the stone edge. I bet he probably had thoughts of jumping over. If I'd lived a life like him, I'd probably think that all the time.

We sat there for a while until Cleon came with my breakfast. He set up a small tray table and carefully laid out my silverware and a glass of orange juice. He was very meticulous in every detail. I could see Stone's skeptical expression. I shot him one of my own looks to warn him to be nice to Cleon. I knew he was just itching to poke fun at him.

"Can I get anything else for you?" Cleon asked attentively.

"Caviar," Stone inserted, smiling crookedly.

Cleon glared at him. "Oh, Stone. Forgot you were here." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the door. "What's-his-face… Kel's ex boyfriend… wants to talk to you."

"Oh, joy of joys," Stone intoned listlessly. As he made his way back into the room, he glanced back at me and winked. "If you die before I see you again, tell the gods that letting man invent reality TV was a really bad move."

Ha. That wanker. I miss him.

Cleon didn't think it was so funny. He rolled his eyes and sat across from me on the veranda floor. He was wearing a burgundy tunic with dark grey pants. There was a fine, golden threaded mantle across his shoulders. Though he'd relinquished his crown when the Black City had fallen, they'd insisted that he keep some regal marking. Everything we had now was given to us by Prince Yahiko. The silvery-headed boy was very hospitable. I think it's because he liked to listen to Cleon tell stories of Mithros.

I wonder if Enishi Yukishiro ever told his nephew about what he did in Mithros?

Yes, about that. At that moment, the king was still comatose after the last bout with the dragon and the war with the Black City. I'm sure he'll make a complete recovery. Not like me.

"How are you feeling today?" my best friend asked me.

I shrugged and lifted a piece of scrambled egg to my mouth. "As good as yesterday, I suppose. There's not really any change." I changed the subject. "I'd like to go to the garden today."

Just as I expected, he protested. "It's too far! You shouldn't go that far from your room, Fal."

"As long as I'm still alive, I'll do as I please, my good man. And I want to see the bloody gardens today!" I calmed down. "If you want, we can invite Yahiko along. He's taken a liking to you."

Cleon never fought me for long. I felt bad for exploiting that, but I really did want to go to the gardens. I wasn't going to be around for much longer, and I wasn't going to be cooped up like some contagious victim of the Bubonic Plague.

…

The days passed so quickly.

It made everything—and I mean, everything—seem more vivid than I knew it really was. The colors of the orchids in the garden. The cherry blossoms with that particular pink—much like the nose of a newborn kitten. Each shadow of each leaf on a giant tree seemed to move with such distinction that I was awed by its motion… something so complex, blending together to form one organism of beauty. To stand at my veranda, looking out over the plains as the wind blew the grass, I felt like I was staring at a green sea with waves that rippled on and on forever.

'Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.'

I would gaze at the snowy mountains sometimes, the ones that surrounded the valley. They looked like sentinels to me. Ancient guardians. Over breakfast, I would make up conversations that one mountain would have with another. How they complained of avalanches the same way we would complain about dandruff. How they all envied the great Enishijirou because so great a city had made its home within it. How they wondered when Eternity would finally end, so they could lie down flat and rest.

I never wanted Eternity. But I was glad that the mountains would have it. They seemed like nice people.

One day, Yahiko ran into the room shouting that his uncle was awake. Cleon and I were playing chess at the time, but we abandoned the game and went down to see the monarch. They had made a wheel chair for me out of wicker and iron. After much reluctance on Cleon's part (he was so much like a mother hen those days), a mage levitated me down the stairs.

We entered the king's chambers, where Yahiko, Liam, and Stone already were. They were standing around the humongous bed where Enishi sat, much as I had for weeks, with his back propped up against a mound of silk pillows.

I was the only one in the room not standing up. His attention was immediately drawn to me.

"Ah, Master Faleron. "You're a king as well, are you not?"

I nodded congenially. "Yes, Your Majesty. My surname is King."

"Then from one king to another, I hope your stay thus far has been as comfortable as possible."

"It has," I assured him. "Thank you very much."

He was a scary man sometimes. I remember hearing stories about him in Tusaine. He'd had so much power back there. Deadly power. But he'd also had this kingdom back here. I had my own suspicions on why he'd traverse between the two, but who was I to raise a ruckus by asking? Besides, all of life's greatest mysteries are explained in death. I'd know the answer soon enough.

After a week, I saw the king again before he went on one of his journeys. This time, Stone went with him. Liam appeared irritated by the king's decision to have Stone accompany him instead of him, but Yahiko felt more annoyed because the prince had never even left the kingdom. Once again, the king would journey abroad. This time, Yahiko would not rule as regent while he was gone. Liam took the temporary title (and appeared even more irritated because of it).

I didn't know where they went. I didn't particularly care. But Stone did not say a formal goodbye. He was infamous for not saying goodbye. A maid told me later that the morning he left, he came in while I was still asleep. It had been in the darkness of pre-dawn that he'd watched me sleep for approximately half an hour before getting up, putting on his jacket, and leaving with Enishi.

Cleon, for all his pretense about despising Stone's presence in Enishijirou, was extremely disappointed that Stone had not come by to say goodbye to him. I chose to neglect mentioning Stone's early morning visit. No sense in making Grasshopper feel more unpopular.

"Fal."

"Yes?"

"The doctors. They say you'll have to stop walking altogether now. You don't have the energy for it."

I looked up from where I had just moved my rook two spaces forward. "Well then, I have more of an excuse to get levitated down the stairs, don't I? You should try it sometime. It's quite fun."

He began crying then out of nowhere. I was so accustomed to seeing him laugh and make horrible jokes, and now just acting like my worried mother, that this really stirred me out of my morbid resignation. I pushed the chessboard aside and rested my hand on his shoulder. His body was shaking with sobs.

"Come now, good fellow. There's no need for that."

"B-but…"

"But nothing. Take me to the gardens. We'll have a talk there, where the air smells nice from the blooms."

Yes. If you see him on the street, dear witnesses, or if you see him in a store bending over gray fedoras, tell him I'm sorry. Tell him I never meant to leave. That's just the way things turned out. Hug him. Urge him to tell a joke. Tell him all the things that will never make it okay, but will ease the pain. He is such a good person and he cannot stand to be alone.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It had been a long time since Stone had left and a longer time since our other friends had left. I hadn't cried since that day that Fal and I talked in the garden. We talked about… things. Things I didn't want to admit to. Things I didn't want to give in to. I'm a stubborn guy, I guess.

Lately, he'd been getting worse. Fal was now so weak that he couldn't leave his bed. I barely left his room. I moved into his guest room with him. To avoid leaving his side, I asked Yahiko for a few servants to deliver our meals and collect the laundry. Every time I still had to leave him, I always timed myself, counting seconds at the top of my lungs to make sure he heard and knew I was coming back.

At night, I would think about all the good times we've had. I'd laugh to myself while remembering Lalasa, yelling "You three stooges!" at us and Roald. I'd remember how the first time we had met, Keladry's underwear had been stolen and I'd almost shot Fal because he'd annoyed the hell outta me. He'd stolen my guns, after all.

Every now and then, I thought about Kalasin. And though my thoughts would linger upon her beautiful face and her invincible spirit, I would suddenly remember that it was Fal's advice that had won her over to me.

I owed everything to him.

"Cleon," Fal whispered. It was a couple of hours until dawn, but I was already awake. I sat up from the foot of the large bed and scooted over so I could hear him better. His breathing was shallow and his eyes were open just a slit to see me.

"Yes? What is it? What do you need?" I asked anxiously.

He shook his head. He lifted a pale hand and beckoned me to come closer. I lied down and crawled even closer. Why did he have to look so ghostlike? 'He's not gone yet! Let the dude go out with color in his cheeks and the vitality to grin!  He can barely open his eyes, you bastards…'

I didn't know who I was yelling at. Resting my chin against his shoulder, I gazed at him patiently, waiting for him to speak again. He spoke so rarely these days. I was glad to hear his voice. It didn't sound like him, but I knew it was him. So that's all that mattered.

"Cleon, tell…" he wheezed. "Tell them… I wasn't in any pain." His eyes widened as he coughed suddenly. I could feel his thin frame shake. Man, I thought he was going to shake himself right to pieces. I put my hand on his forearm and he continued talking. "Tell Merric that I had an adventure with my friends. I w… wanted to see him graduate so badly."

"I will," I assured him quietly. "You should go back to sleep now."

Again, he shook his head. I felt a deep weight settle in the bottom of my gut, created by the foreboding expression on his face. I held onto his arm a little tighter. I wasn't going to let him slip away. The gods are sorely mistaken if they think I'm going to let them take him away!

"Cleon, let go," he said, his voice a little stronger than before. I hated his bravery. Hated it.

"No, please," I pleaded desperately.

His shook his arm free of mine. Seeing my hurt expression, he turned his head and pressed his lips against the top of my head. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to cry. His hand groped for mine and squeezed it with his remaining strength. No witty, theatrical words of wisdom this time. How like him to leave in a way that was… contrary to what everyone would expect.

Faleron King, dying quietly without any memorable last words to mark his time in the world. My best friend.

"I love you, too," I muttered, already knowing it fell upon deaf ears.

Hanging on

Here until I'm gone

Right where I belong

Just hanging on

Even though

I watched you come and go

How was I to know

You'd steal the show

One day I'll have enough to gamble

I'll wait to hear your final call

Hanging on

Hanging on

Here until I'm gone

Right where I belong

Just hanging on

Even though

Passed the time alone

Soon we're so unknown

It heals the soul

You'll ask for walls, I'll build them higher

We'll light the shadows of them all

I'd stand but they're much too tall

And I fall

February stars

Floating in the dark

Temporary scars

February stars…

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Keladry came back to her apartment a couple of hours since the time she had left. Now she was accompanied by Neal, Dom, and Prosper. The three men appeared to be very reluctant to go, but they followed her single file and remained silent. They all knew what Cleon's return home meant. The problem was that no one wanted to say it.

They entered the bedroom and stood completely flabbergasted at what they saw.

Cleon, hair tousled from sleep, was pouring another glass of rum. He leaned shoulder to shoulder with Ulliver, who seemed pale. He looked up at his girlfriend in a way that told her that he didn't recognize her. Cleon, however, did not have this incoherence and made to stand up.

"Hello. Would you… like some?" he asked, holding out the glass.

Keladry opened her mouth to scold him outright, but Neal beat her to it. He walked forward, took the glass, and downed it all in one long, extended gulp. Dom rolled his eyes.

"Great. Three boozers to baby-sit. Give me that, you dumbass!" he yelled, grabbing the bottle of rum from Cleon. He muttered more curses as he went into Keladry's bathroom and began to pour out the rest of the bottle's contents into the sink. He spied an already empty bottle in the waste basket. He groaned. "You two…"

"Ulliver!" Keladry exclaimed indignantly.

The major had the decency to look ashamed. "He asked me and I couldn't just say no. Look at him, Kel."

Dom snorted. He walked back into the bedroom and put his hands on his hips, livid with rage. "Well, I don't care. That's not the way to deal with your problems. Not for day son end, Cleon. You're the last person I expected this from."

"I wouldn't say just days," Cleon mumbled. He yawned and lied down on the floor, using Ulliver's knee as a pillow. The SWAT major was still too affected to notice or care.

Prosper, who had remained silent until then, scratched the back of his neck nervously. "Kel, I'll just go see Fia. She should probably know… you know."

He left quickly, probably embarrassed for Ulliver and Cleon. He had a larger problem to worry about anyhow. Keladry did not envy the Rider the task of telling Fia about her boyfriend. The wedding had been bad enough. Fianola had not stopped crying for hours afterward. With only Prosper free to comfort her, she had probably still felt so lonely. Lonely for the one person who she wanted to be with, anyway.

"Dom, can you do me a favor and contact Kalasin? Tell her that Cleon's home?" she asked. "I'll call up Roald and Lalasa myself."

By this time, Neal had joined Ulliver and Cleon in their little sedated pile of alcohol smelling limbs on the floor. He wasn't drunk, but he felt like he was. And just seeing Cleon—once a person guaranteed to be on a constant sugar-high—looking miserable and worse for wear was enough to make him feel the dismal effects.

He perked up a bit when he heard Roald's name. "Oh, you won't be able to reach either of them."

"What do you mean?" Keladry frowned.

"I got a page from them on the way over here, but you were too busy driving and trembling so I didn't tell you. Lalasa went into labor an hour ago. They're at the hospital."

'By Glory, the people in my life…' Keladry thought with some restrained frustration. She pinched the bridge of her nose as a sign of stress and knelt down beside the three men. She began to haul Neal up by the arm. With Dom's help, she hauled them onto her bed and tucked them in. None of them protested, but went straight to sleep.

Dom called Kalasin and bade her to come to Tusaine. Keladry could hear him speaking to her as she lied down on her couch, curled up into a ball. Since Cleon had come home, she'd been trembling. She'd been shaking and she couldn't stop it, no matter how hard she tried. Yes, she'd experienced loss before.

She'd lost Conal. She'd lost lots of people. And the gods knew she had seen death. She'd seen people killed and she'd killed as well—in the line of duty. But at once she knew that Faleron's death meant more to her than her own brother's. She felt incredibly guilty for that feeling. Faleron was a really good friend, but he wasn't her brother. Why did this hurt so much more?

'Because you were there when they hurt him. You had frozen in place and you could have done something to stop it, but didn't move fast enough. You… could have…' her thoughts trailed off there. Yes. She could have been the one to take that cross bolt to the ribs and die.

Were the gods so random?

She woke up hours later. The room was dim and it was dusk outside. Before she even opened her eyes she could hear Dom and Neal speaking in her bedroom. Cleon was probably still asleep. She sighed.

A man's hand gently brushed her bangs from her face. She opened her eyes and looked up to the hand's owner. Ulliver's face greeted her.

"I'm sorry," he said.

She started to sit, taking a deep breath. "No, that's okay. I understand."

"Good," he chuckled lightly. "Because I don't."

Keladry leaned forward and put her arms around his shoulders. She pressed her face against his sweet-smelling neck (he must have washed off the scent of alcohol with her very own bath soap, because he smelled exactly like her). Ulliver reached up and stroked her hair.

"Roald called not too long ago."

She pulled away from him to look into his eyes. "And?"

"And they have a boy. They named him Faleron."

And at once, Keladry had a craving for Lucky Charms with powdered sugar sprinkled on top.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Author's note:

I wrote this episode in the span of two days. Part of it before my graduation, and part of it after. It was strange, having the sudden urge to type this. You'd think in the midst of celebration that I would find something more upbeat to write, but then again, the episodes' scheme was planned out already.

Anyway, the song is "February Stars" by the Foo Fighters. They're my favorite band.

I don't know when the writing bug will bite me again. Now that I'm graduated though, I imagine that the next episodes are going to follow each other pretty quickly.

And I know. I'm going to miss Faleron, too. Unfortunately, these things happen and one cannot dictate stories anymore the same way that one cannot dictate life. Some things are beyond even my control. Like I've said many times before, the story has taken a life of its own. It tends to do as it wishes.

Thanks for reading, everyone. I'd like to hear what you think, so remember to review or email me.

Next time: Everyone goes to see the new baby, a bright beacon in a sea of miserable faces.