A.N. Hey guys! I'm struggling a bit with 'Do Not Forsake Me, Oh My Darling', so the next chapter might take a few weeks. It's strange—I used to hate reading one-shots, but I find them so easy to write! Go figure. Anyways, this is a story I promised in my profile. It takes place straight after Dustfinger's death, and contains some very mild slash. PLEASE REVIEW! Also, I'm trying new formatting. However, I only just realized that no one is going to read this fic, so my efforts probably just went to waste.

Barn Owl knew of Dustfinger's death before he was called upon to tend to the body. He didn't know how he knew. It just felt like something deep inside him had been sliced away with the sharpest of knives; something that could never be replaced. When Roxanne carried the still form of the fire breather into his hospital and asked him to tend to the body, it felt like the piece of him had grown spikes and was bouncing around his body, tearing holes in his heart. But Barn Owl didn't trust anyone else to take care of his old friend. He couldn't leave Dustfinger's body alone, no matter how much the tending to it hurt him. So as Roxanne mourned, Barn Owl cleaned Dustfinger's body. Part of him wondered how he died—after all, there were no wounds. But the rest of him wondered what he died for.

It was almost an hour after Roxanne had left to take Dustfinger's body to its final resting place that Barn Owl found the answer to his question. Strangely enough, it came from the man known as the Bluejay. He had stumbled into the hospital, pale and shaking, his face streaked with tears. Barn Owl had run to find a chair, and had quickly made a draught from impatiens, Star of Bethlehem, cherry plum, rock rose and clematis*. He had administered the potion and listened to the Bluejay's tale. At first, the robber kept on topic. He told Barn Owl of the bargain, of the slaying of Firefox, and of the Adderhead's choice to free the prisoners. He told of Basta's betrayal, and of the blade that had pierced Farid's back, and of Dustfinger's bargain with Death.

But as the shock set in, the Bluejay began to ramble. He told fantastical tales of a world far separate from the one where Barn Owl had grown up. He talked of cities of metal and glass, where the roofs touched the sky. He talked of wagons that moved without horses that could carry enough food to feed a small village for a month. He talked of countries that chose their own rulers, and ones where the people rose up to fight the ruling powers. He talked of the books he had read, and what he had—Barn Owl was confused about this—read out of them. But even thorough all of his ramblings, the Bluejay returned more and more often to talk about Dustfinger. The Bluejay talked about Dustfinger's fear, and hope, and longing for the world where he had grown up. And Barn Owl could hear the longing in the Bluejay's voice; longing for a man who had never loved him back. Finally, the stress and exhaustion combined with the tonic sent the Bluejay to sleep. Barn Owl tucked him in, and then turned to document his findings.

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The Bluejay stirred after a few hours of rest. Barn Owl watched the stages of his waking, noting each emotion. First confusion at where he was, then realization, then… was that fear? The fear was mixed in with the grief of Dustfinger's death, and both seemed to be genuine emotions. So the Bluejay wasn't lying about where he and Dustfinger had been for 10 years. That only left crazy… or maybe there was something else going on. The Bluejay's gaze focused on Barn Owl, and he felt compelled to speak.

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone about where you're from… or what you can do."

The stark relief on the Bluejay's face was heartening to Barn Owl, but also slightly worrying. After all, there would be a price on the Bluejay's head before long. A simple promise shouldn't be enough to satisfy him. But he would learn that for himself later. For the meantime, Barn Owl was simply relieved that the Bluejay was satisfied. He had heard enough stories about him to be very, very wary around him while he was suffering from shock and holding a sword.

"So," Barn Owl began, "could you tell me the full story?"

The Bluejay was quiet, then began to talk. The relief of being able to tell the story was obvious. "I'm from a whole different world," he began, "as I'm sure you guessed from my story. In my world, there are people who can read aloud, and the characters from the book will be brought into their world. It was never a problem for me, until 11 years ago, when my wife brought home a new book by the title of 'Inkheart'. She loved to hear me read aloud, but neither of us knew what the consequences might be. When I read the book aloud, I summoned out Capricorn, Basta and Dustfinger… and my wife was sent into the book in their place."

Barn Owl was shocked. "So that is the story behind Dustfinger's disappearance!"

The Bluejay nodded. "I read that book for hours aloud, trying to send back Capricorn, Basta and Dustfinger—trying to call back my wife. But it was hopeless. She was gone for about four years, until another reader called her back into our world. But I still didn't know, so I spent those years alone. My love was in the Inkworld…"

"… And your other love hated you for calling him here?" Mo glanced at Barn Owl in shock. Barn Owl smiled sadly. "It's written all over your face, my friend. And now Dustfinger has traded his life for another's, and you find yourself wishing that he had let the dead stay dead."

The Bluejay nodded, ashamed of his thoughts and feelings. His head hung low, and tears dripped slowly from his face. Barn Owl gently grasped him under the chin and lifted his head.

"None of that now," he said, and brushed the tears away. Then he leant forward and kissed the Bluejay gently on the lips. The robber moaned, and parted his lips gently—an invitation that Barn Owl found impossible to refuse. They mapped out each other's mouths, tongues stroking and pressing together. Finally, Barn Owl broke the kiss, and led the Bluejay to the bed. "Come," he murmured, "forget your troubles for now. Forget the pain of losing your wife, and never having your love. Forget the Adderhead. Rest, Bluejay, even if it's only for tonight."

The Bluejay shook his head. Barn Owl prepared himself for the pain of being refused, but all the Bluejay said was, "My name is Mo." And with that, the Bluejay joined him in bed.

Page Break

Barn Owl wasn't surprised when the Blue—no, Mo—was gone by morning. He had not been looking for, nor expecting, a relationship. All he had hoped to do was to heal Mo's heart, if only for a little while. He still listens for news about the man in the blue jay mask. His heart climbs into his throat as he hears that he has made his way into the realm of the Dead, and quietly celebrates when he hears that he has come out alive… and with Dustfinger no less! He quietly fumed when the Piper ransomed the children for Mo, and he openly wept when Mo took the offer. The long silence after Mo was taken was torture for Barn Owl. He was fond of the robber—wherever he was from—and the thought of his death almost broke his heart. But when the Adderhead died and Mo reappeared with Dustfinger… it was the happiest Barn Owl had been for years. It was only passed when the news came that Mo and Dustfinger were a bonded couple (a scandal for most, considering both had wives, but Barn Owl wondered how anyone could have missed it).

He never finds Mo or Dustfinger in his bed again. They had found each other, and that was all that mattered. But Barn Owl was surprised one day with a satchel containing two books. One was of the finest calligraphy, all of the Inkweaver's Songs of the Bluejay (which people now sang non-stop across the country). The other was a book containing information about animals that were nowhere to be found in Ombra or Argentia, but belonged to a faraway world. Written in Mo's familiar handwriting was the inscription, 'For the Healer of my Heart.'

End

* For anyone who cares, impatiens, Star of Bethlehem, cherry plum, rock rose and clematis are the ingredients in Bach's Rescue Remedy. It's used to relax people and counteract shock. I know that the herbs probably would have other names in the Inkworld, but I prefer putting information about a genuine medicine than making it up. The plants are not supposed to cause people to talk excessively, but some people react strangely to medicinal herbs, so who knows?