Dana: Thank you! I'm glad I'm writing more too. It was funny, after so long of not going near this story, it was very easy to get back into it. As though Raistlin and Dalamar had just been there, waiting for me to get back to it :) Thank you for your review.

Thank for to ShadowValkyrie for the beta!

Archeron

When it's over you're the start

You're my head, you're my heart

No Light No Light, Florence + the Machine

They were getting close. Raistlin sighed and sat back on his heels, looking over his circle. It was almost done, at least. The spells would take a few more days to finish. They needed to be so narrow in scope, so specific, that it felt like threading a needle through thick gloves and from five miles away.

Four days for the spells. That would leave them with less than a week before the Gods made their complaints heard in the form of a giant flaming mountain. Four days. He straightened and stretched, back cracking. The days spread out like treacle, slow and begrudging every minute lost.

The room was an island of calm in the sea of Yule chaos outside, but still, Raistlin didn't like it. Fistandantilus had not spent much time here, certainly not in comparison to his laboratory, but the walls had still picked up a faint patina of hatred from the lich. The cold, draining hunger for life and the living. Raistlin glanced towards the door. His spellbooks were stashed away, all casting today was done. He was stuck with nothing to do.

He could walk around Istar, this lost wonder, view the architecture of this city before it was obliterated.

He could travel to Tarsis, and see those fabled white-winged ships. The gathered riches of hundreds of far-flung lands.

He could go to Palanthas and visit the great library, examine the history he would soon be rewriting.

And all of that sounded so utterly miserable, Raistlin felt exhausted just thinking about it.

Maybe he should just go back to bed–

Someone banged on his door.

Raistlin started, hissed in frustration. He glanced over his circle of power quickly, but there were no other mages within the city, no one who could understand what he was doing.

Was some idiot really coming to wish Fistandantilus blessings of the season? He was half tempted to just ignore the knocking, but then the door opened.

Raistlin swallowed, drew his shoulders up instinctively. "Revered Daughter."

Crysania stepped in, warily brushing her skirts away from the circle. Probably fearful that some demon would spring from the Abyss and devour her. What a great idea. Raistlin pulled his robes uncomfortably around himself, wishing they were thicker. Inches of tempered steel might be best.

She stepped closer. Raistlin started to take a step back – and stopped. The only thing behind him was Fistandantilus' bed, and he wanted to keep Crysania and himself as far from that as possible. He forced himself to stand his ground as she walked up to him. "I have been thinking about what you said. About this place."

She glanced back at the door; Raistlin was rather tempted to disappear again. But he would not leave his circle to her; she might knock something over, or break a line. "Have you come to repeat your appeals to my soul?" Raistlin snapped. "To leave off my sorcery and join you in praising the holiness of the gods – or perhaps the holiness of the Kingpriest?"

For a change, she didn't immediately rebut his words, was quiet for a moment. "Denubis is gone. There are no true clerics in the temple."

"And yet you remain." Not for long, hopefully. Oh, what if he killed her and made it look like she had been called up by Paladine? Damn it, the Gods would not like that, and seemed to love meddling with kender. That would probably not work. Blast.

"I remain," she nodded. "I could not leave you to your darkness. I came to find you… I– I thought you would come with me to eveningsong. Things are so beautiful, this Yule, the corridors are full of flowers-"

"And are you going to convince me now, Revered Daughter?"

"I-" she looked around. The calm stillness of the room was a relief after the overwhelming smells and heat of the temple, but this was more than that. She seemed to settle in the room, soak in the cold, hungry aura of the undead. "It is peaceful here." She continued. "I can see why you choose to stay here. This corridor seemed so bleak and desolate and cold. But now the hallways of the Temple are filled with an oppressive, stifling warmth. Even the Yule decorations depress me. I see so much waste, money squandered that could be helping those in need."

She wasn't moving towards him, at least. If she wanted to stay here and bask in the aura of her undead would-be lover, well, Raistlin would rather not be present, but it was better than having her attention on him.

"I don't know why I come here." There's a small smile on her lips, half amused.

Then go. Preferably to the Abyss.

"Perhaps I am searching for the man I met," she continues. "I had so much to ask you, so many questions… And it seems like now, I come away with more questions than answers. Where are the answers you promised me? You test my faith at every turn, and I come away no wiser."

"If you have questions," Raistlin drew in a breath, resigned himself to being dragged into this conversation, "then they are your own. If my words have awakened doubts in you, then they were within you to begin with. You will have to find the answers within you as well."

"'As Goldmoon's questioning led to the return of the Gods.'" Crysania smiled, sounding as though she were quoting from somewhere. Raistlin struggled not to sneer. Goldmoon's questioning, Dalamar getting attacked in Darken Wood and Raistlin being nearly impaled by a black dragon, but obviously only one made it into the catechism. "I dreamed of that once, to stand as she had once stood, as Elistan had stood. At the head of the church, leading people to the light-"

Then her eyes locked on Raistlin; she stepped closer. "But now, I do not see myself leading crowds. There is only one I seek to lead. You told me my words are having an effect on you, as yours did on me. Can it be that my words have enlightened your path, as yours did mine?"

Raistlin didn't get out of the way in time. Her hand caught his. Raistlin started, tried to pull free – his whole body was screaming to get away. That if he didn't get her hand off him, it would happen again. That nameless, crawling want that bypassed his mind and choked him, drowned him, forced him into acts he didn't want, would have killed to avoid… Oh Lunitari he was going to be sick-

She was still talking. "We are so alike! I knew that the first time I met you. Ah, you turn away- but you cannot deny it. I know the truth. You told me the same thing, in the Tower. You said I was as ambitious as you were. I've thought about it, and you're right. Our ambitions take different forms, but perhaps they are not as dissimilar as I once believed. We both live lonely lives, dedicated to our studies. We open our hearts to no one, not even those who would be closest to us. You surround yourself with darkness, but, Raistlin, I have seen beyond that. The warmth, the light-"

She was right up against him, both his hands caught in hers. He couldn't reach for his spell components, couldn't even move. She was too close. He could feel the heat of her body, her hands snatched up against his like coiled vipers. Her face tilted up towards his, lips parted.

Gods, even Amberyl hadn't expected him to kiss her. Raistlin swallowed, struggling to keep his last meal down. "You- had better go." The words seemed to come from someone else. His chest lashed up as though about to collapse into a coughing fit.

Actually-

Raistlin was three hundred and fifty years away from his own ruined lungs, but after five years, he could fake a fit rather convincingly. Crysania sprang away from him, hovering awkwardly as he fumbled with a handkerchief to cover the complete lack of blood on his lips, tasted bile.

"Are you-" She was starting to come closer, again…

"I have not been well for days." Raistlin said bitterly. "Can you not feel it, Revered Daughter? The fury of the Gods, beating down on us, as though the sun were drawing nearer and nearer to this wretched planet. Perhaps that is why you are feeling depressed and unhappy." But not me, that was due to the proximity of something completely different. He was going to vomit, right in front of her-

"Perhaps." Crysania hesitated, drew a little towards the door. At last! Go! Raistlin sidled past her, her hand reached out, but did no more than trace over his shoulder.

A hand, on his shoulder. Dalamar liked his shoulders. Ran his fingers over them, traced out his shoulderblades, buried his face against the bones of Raistlin's spine.

No. Not that. Gods, make him remember Amberyl, that miserable rape but he would not be reminded of Dalamar by her! Raistlin jerked the door open and walked out first. The heat in the corridor was stifling, but Crysania followed him out. She hovered for a moment, probably waiting for him to say more, but Raistlin just crossed his arms, and watched her troop away.

Then Raistlin turned on his heel, marched firmly out to the gardens, checked around to make sure no one was watching, and threw up in a flowerbed.

"Are you okay?"

Raistlin wiped his mouth, shivering. His hands felt raw from her touch, his whole body wracked with spasms and absolutely awful. He looked up miserably to see what new indignity would be heaped on him.

Tasslehoff shifted from foot to foot. He actually looked worried, and Gods, Raistlin was glad, glad it was the idiotic kender. A bit easier, at least, with no need to pretend to be the monstrous lich that had nearly killed him. "Did you eat something bad? I remember Flint ate some pork one summer and he was stuck in the privy for a week… I tried to move the privy into the bedroom so he didn't have to walk so far but he didn't like that-"

Raistlin closed his eyes, letting the chatter wash over him. It gave him a few moments to gather himself, kick dirt over the mess he'd made, and straighten up.

"Anyway, um- I overheard you and Crysania. D'you want me to have a word with her? I know she likes you and Caramon's been pretty happy about it, but Dalamar probably won't like it and-" Raistlin put his hand up, draw in a deep breath. He didn't want to hear this.

"I didn't think you were okay with it." Tasslehoff trailed off quietly.

Rasitlin shrugged. "It is irrelevant." He looked at the kender. "If you came here to discuss the cleric-"

"Oh no!" Tasslehoff smiled broadly. "I came to stop the Cataclysm!"

The sheer absurdity of the statement almost made Raistlin laugh – a nice relief after the misery of the last few minutes – then he stopped. Stared down at the kender carefully. He could. Tasslehoff was, after all, a creature of Chaos, capable of changing time. Just because Raistlin wanted to use him didn't mean he couldn't act by himself... and be a danger to everyone.

For a moment, Raistlin tried to hold the sheer enormity of what the kender was proposing in his mind. This place. This toxic, wretched place that slaughtered dwarves and ogres, devoured men and elves and burnt wizards and was slowly crushing the life out of the world just as Fistandantilus had once choked the life from Raistlin. He imagined it enduring. Pushing its way through time, month after year after decade after century. To Raistlin's own time.

"I think that would be a mistake," he said carefully.

Tasslehoff frowned, concerned. "You really think so? I thought that I would just go and talk to the Kingpriest and tell him he was making a really big mistake—one of the All Time Big Mistakes, if you take my meaning. And, I'm sure, once I explained, that he'd listen and we wouldn't have to go through with the whole burning mountain on your head thing."

Well, that was better than Raistlin had feared – although most likely the kender would just end up dead for daring to go near the Kingpriest. "And what would happen if he listened?"

"Do you think he would?" Tasslehoff's eyes brightened. "Crysania is always going on about how great he is, I'd have thought-"

"And clearly you haven't," Rasitlin frowned. "Or you wouldn't be considering this."

"You think it's a bad idea? I mean, we'd be stopping a lot of people from ending up flattened, that can't be bad-"

"Did Tanis ever tell you how he was born?" Raistlin interrupted.

That stopped the kender, he blinked. "I think so, he said his mother was… um, by a human. I mean, it wasn't very nice."

"After a bandit raid, I believe."

"Yes, he said there were many bandits after the Cata-" Tasslehoff broke off, blinking.

"And did Flint ever tell you how his family left Hillhome?"

The kender's eyes lit up, "Oh yes, lots of times! He always told that story – especially after I borrowed his axe. He always told me his father had an axe that had come from Hillhome, and if any kender had tried to borrow it, he'd have cut them in half-"

"And did his family still live in Hillhome?"

"Not after the Mountain Dwarves shut them out after-" Another pause.

"Quite," Raistlin said dryly.

"So-" Tasslehoff's voice was a lot quieter. "If we stop the Cataclysm- Flint stays in Hillhome? And Tanis- has a different dad?"

"No. If you stop the Cataclysm, I expect all of us would die immediately, having never been born," Raistlin snapped tartly. "You, me, Caramon, Tika, Flint, Tanis – probably Lady Crysania too. Everyone you ever knew or heard of would die."

For once, the kender had nothing to say. He looked down at his shoes. "I should probably get back to Caramon, then." In a very small voice. "I'll- get going. Sorry for- bothering you."

Raistlin looked at his miserable, downcast face – and considered.

"It's pretty dangerous. This time travel lark, I mean." Tasslehoff turned to disappear in the rose bushes. "You think about changing one little Cataclysm and the whole world ends – aren't you worried you'll, oh, cast the wrong spell, and everyone suddenly goes poof?"

"If you blunder into it without considering consequences, of course," Raistlin said coolly. "But if you take the time to see the larger picture, and view all the possible results, then changing time can open many-" he smiled, "possibilities."

"Are you planning to stop the Cataclysm?" Tasslehoff's eyes widened. "Is that it? Caramon and Crysania were saying something about fighting a great evil, but I thought, that doesn't sound like Raistlin. I mean, I don't think Dalamar would like it-"

"Quite." It came out too loud. Too sharp but the words sank in like a knife. 'That doesn't sound like Raistlin.' Of all the people in the world. Caramon, Crysania, the whole Conclave, Dalamar. And it was the kender that could tell the difference between him and Fistandantilus. It was utterly, crushingly depressing.

For a moment, he wondered, if Tasslehoff realised the truth, could Dalamar have? The memory of the elf's furious, maddened face floated in his mind. No. Please no. He would rewrite the entirety of time itself if it could wipe away that image.

He managed a smile. "Not the Cataclysm, but-" He considered Tasslehoff, how to do this? "Do you believe the War of the Lance ended well?"

The kender blinked, thrown for a moment. "Um-" He looked away. Yes, good. "I mean, we won, I guess. The Dark Queen didn't get in, we found the Good Dragons, and the Dragonlances, and things are… okay, I guess."

"Just okay?" Raistlin leant into the shadow of a rosebush, hiding his smile.

"Well..." The kender's mouth twisted. He looked lost for a moment. "It wasn't great. Solace got burnt down, Gilthanas had the whole thing with Silvara, Sturm-" Tasslehoff swallowed. "He died. I guess he thought it was a good death, a really heroic one, but-"

"Yes." Raistlin agreed.

"And there was Flint!" The kender's voice raised in a wail. Raistlin glanced around, but no one seemed interested in braving the beating heat of the day. "He said his arm hurt but I just thought he was just complaining and I thought it was funny. Then he lay down and didn't get up and he died. He died right there in front of me." His mouth trembled; he dug out a handkerchief and wiped his eyes.

Raistlin hesitated, something sharp pricking in his heart. "Flint is dead?" The crotchety old dwarf had been no friend of his, but better than most. He'd been in Solace all of Raistlin's life, the thought that he was gone was… uncomfortable.

Tasslehoff looked up over the handkerchief. The corner was embroidered with R.M. because of course it was. "I thought you knew." He wavered. "I thought Caramon told you – in Neraka."

"Did that look anything like me?!" The words tore free, unable to be held in another moment. Swallowed down for weeks and finally too huge and crushing to be held back.

"You didn't look that good." The kender bit his lip. "You looked really strange. And Dalamar ran out without talking to you… It wasn't you? Who was it?"

"It doesn't matter." Gods, why had he said that? If the kender went babbling to Crysania or Caramon, who knew what would happen. He changed tack – quickly. "Would you like to change that?" He leant in closer, staring penetratingly at the kender. "Would you like to go back, and make sure that none of it happened? Save Flint? Save Sturm?" If the price of rewriting the past was putting up with that lunatic knight again, Raistlin would take it happily.

Tasslehoff's mouth dropped open. "You can do that?"

"Of course." Raistlin smiled. "I have been planning for it for weeks."

"Oh wow!" Tasslehoff's eyes shone. "What do we have to do? Go to Neraka and blow up the temple? Stop them making draconians? Get all the Dragon Orbs?"

"We cannot act too openly," Raistlin said firmly. "Or else-"

"Oh yeah, we'd all go out like candles." Tasslehoff shuddered. "But it won't happen?"

"It will not." Raistlin nodded. "We will not be going back far, only a few years before the Dragonwar. There is someone I need to kill, an undead mage, who worked against us, in the war."

"The not-you in Neraka!" The kender bounced with excitement. "Was that why they managed to get Laurana? Or did he have something to do with Sturm too-"

"I'm certain that without him, the Dark Queen's plans will be very much delayed," Raistlin put in curtly.

"And Dalamar won't get hurt." Tasslehoff looked up at him, with a strange, un-kender shrewdness in his eyes. "He was really upset, when I saw him. He was in the Tower, before they sent us back. He looked awful. And he had these horrible wounds in his chest. That was the not-you, wasn't it? I thought they were talking about you doing it and I knew that couldn't be right-"

"Tasslehoff." Raistlin finally forced the words out. "Would you like me to make you relive, in detail, how Flint died? Would you like me to make you see that, again and again, as thought you were there all over again?"

Tasslehoff went pale, shook his head.

"Then shut up."

"Sorry."

Raistlin drew in a breath, glad he no longer had anything in his stomach. Tried to pull himself together.

"But what about Flint?" Tasslehoff frowned. "It wasn't like he was killed. He just died. Something with his heart. Do you think killing this guy would save him?"

"Most likely not." Raistlin shrugged. "When it is our time to go, we have to go." Tasslehoff drooped, nodded sadly. "However, we will be coming back some time before the Wars. We could make sure you get a note – Flint needs you, or some such. Then you will go and spend the time with Flint. Instead of having only half a year with him before his death, you will have five years."

Tasslehoff stared at him, eyes wide and filling with tears. His mouth opened, but nothing came out. Gods, had he managed to render a kender speechless? Was that even possible? Raistlin watched Tasslehoff carefully, in case the kender keeled over on the spot

Instead, Tasslehoff moved so fast Raistlin barely registered it. One moment he was standing helplessly on the path, the handkerchief dangling from his fingers, and the next he had both arms flung around Raistlin's waist, face smashed up in Fistandantilus' stolen robes. A small, wet sound that might be thank you issued from a rapidly spreading damp spot just below his ribs.

"Get off me-" Raistlin pushed him away in alarm. Tasslehoff stumbled back, wiping his eyes and crying. Raistlin checked his pouches but, another wonder, the kender had been too stunned to take anything.

"I don't care what Caramon says," Tasslehoff sniffed. "You're… really nice. That's about the nicest thing I ever heard."

"Yes," Raistlin tried to wipe down his robes, reached for his handkerchief – but of course it was gone. He watched Tasslehoff blowing his nose loudly into it, and gave it up as a lost cause. "I will make a few more preparations, of course. We will be better able to anticipate the Dragonarmies, and counter them."

Tasslehoff nodded, but clearly wasn't taking anything in. He sniffed again, mopped his eyes with the soaking handkerchief.

"Should we tell Caramon?" He stumbled. "Crysania? They might like to know."

"What does Tanis say when you have got a good idea?" Raistlin smiled.

Tasslehoff giggled wetly. "Not to do it." He looked up. "But this is a good idea?"

"This is a very good idea." Raistlin said firmly.

"I have some good ideas." Tasslehoff smiled. "Did I tell you about when I smashed the Dragon Orb? That was a really good idea."

"Then you will help me?" Raistlin said softly.

Tasslehoff nodded so hard his topknot almost flipped over and hit him in the face.

If you are enjoying this story, please leave a review, I haven't had much feedback and it would be good to know other people are enjoying this fic.