The Seventh Wing - 6. Chapter 6

When J'day first opened his eyes, he didn't know where he was. The curtain hung on the wrong side of the sleeping alcove. He stirred a little more, rubbing his eyes, and looked around. Oh. Right. Long, velvety hair curled across the pillows. Wow, he had some vivid memories of this one. Carefully, he disentangled himself from the furs and searched for his clothes. He was still one boot short when a soft voice gave him pause.

"Going so soon, Wingleader?"

The woman's smirk brought color to J'day's cheeks. "Yes, Nalia, I have work to do."

She pouted, but tossed him the missing boot. "You're welcome any time."

"Right. Well, I'll keep that in mind. A pleasure, Greenrider."

"No, sir," she interrupted, coquettishly formal. "The pleasure was all mine."

"Er, good day, Nalia."

"Hmm, yes, I'd say good, Day, any day."

Shards! thought J'day. He pulled on his jacket and exited the rider's weyr as quickly as he could without appearing to be running. Outside, the lowering sun told him that he'd missed the better part of the day.

The things I do for you, he said to the unbelievably smug bronze dragon sunning himself lazily.

Gibbrenth snorted in draconic laughter, dropping his shoulder for J'day to mount. Home?

Yes, he said and sighed. I have work still to do.

Very funny.

Finished drifting down on the air currents, Gibbrenth landed on their ledge and J'day jumped down. He straightened again a little stiffly.

No more greens for a while, please?

When it's time, it's time. The bronze gave him a dragony smirk and curled up in what remained of the sun. With another deep sigh, J'day hung up his coat and dropped into the bathing pool, discarding clothing as he went.

"J'day?"

"In here."

The greenrider eased in the bathing pool with a sigh.

"Phew!" J'day wafted the air in front of his face, wrinkling his nose. "Flaming drill today?"

"Yes." F'rian wet his sweaty hair and reached for the soapsand.

"How'd it go?"

Even though the greenrider has his back to him, J'day could still feel the aggravation behind his frown.

"I got put on report."

"Again? F'rian!"

The greenrider rinsed out his hair and scoured his face and hands silently. "You were busy today," he muttered.

J'day sighed. "What happened?"

"Nothing."

"Rian."

"As if you care!" Finished with his quick scrub, F'rian climbed out of the pool.

J'day rubbed his head, closing his eyes for a precious second or two before following. The greenrider had flopped length-wise across the sleeping couch, arms dangling off one side, feet the other. J'day took a moment to enjoy the view and then crawled across to join him, leaning on his elbows.

"Rian."

"What?"

"Are you going to tell me what happened? Or do I have to get it from D'cor?"

"I don't care."

J'day rolled his eyes. "Fine." He rolled over and sat up. F'rian grabbed his wrist.

"J'day?"

He stared down into eyes darkened with reproach.

"I don't see you anymore."

He blinked. "What?"

"You're always gone. In your office, or --"

"I know I've been busy, but I'm trying, this is still so new --"

"You weren't too busy for Nalia. Or S'mi. Or D'veen. Or --"

He frowned. "We talked about this, F'rian. Those were mating flights. It's not like I can control when Gib wants to fly."

"But --"

"It's an interruption in my day, F'rian, nothing more. As it is, I'm going to be up late again finish --"

"No."

"What?"

F'rian scowled, as angry as J'day had seen him in a long time. "I said no. Come to bed with me. Sleep. With me."

"That work's not just going to do itself, you know."

"But I don't get you even at night? I don't see you at all! And you sleep out there!" He threw a hand angrily towards the wall, through which was J'day's office and the desk, piled high with all manner of documents.

"I don't want to disturb you." He looked away, unaccountably guilty. He hadn't thought F'rian had noticed.

"I do! Can't your wingseconds take on some of that stuff?"

"D'cor doesn't --"

"You're not D'cor!"

"I know that! Don't you think I know that? Somebody says that to me at least twice a day. I'm trying! It's only been a few sevendays! Little more than a month! I'm still trying to figure this out! Everyone thinks I know everything and I don't, it's so different, actually being in charge. I can't -- can't take this pressure from you right now."

"Then when?"

"I don't know. Later!"

"How much later?"

"Just later!"

J'day stomped to his feet and threw on some clothes. He stamped into his office and sat down, staring at the clutter. He had a report to write, he had harness he needed to mend, and his goggles were cracked. He also had a new flight plan to review. He wished there were a suitable replacement for F'rian in that aspect. The greenrider really had a head for determining what positions in a formation were best for each dragon. He was hungry and irritable from lack of sleep and to between with F'rian's nagging, anyway!

Rothangalth is reminding us that the Weyrleader wants all his wingleaders at dinner tonight.

I know. The bronze's tone then scolded, You've upset F'rian.

What? Looking up from his dull stare, J'day glanced through the open door over at the sleeping alcove, it's curtain now closed. He stood and went out onto the ledge. The normally spotlessly clean and pampered green curled in an awkward huddle on the far side, liberally splashed with paint from the 'thread' dropped in drill. There were spatters of red paint and one huge smear on the near wing and flank. Bronze Gibbrenth sat on the other side of the ledge, head inclined towards her, but the green ignored him.

"Lioleth?" asked J'day, putting a hand on her side. "What's wrong? What happened?"

Howarath yelled at me, the green dragon replied mournfully. I was in the wrong place.

"Oh, Lioleth," sighed J'day. Precise maneuvers in formation was one of F'rian's passions. He would not have been happy, and to get a dressing-down from D'cor, too? Was that how he got on report?

It wasn't my fault. Wrong place, wrong place. She rustled her wings angrily and stalked into the dragon chamber to curl up on a stony couch, evidently deciding to sulk.

Gib? J'day prompted his dragon.

The bronze gave his mental version of a shrug and stretched out in the last bit of sun. J'day sighed. He leaned against Gibbrenth for a few minutes, arm between the neck ridges. How did life get so complicated?

He turned to pull on his boots and throw on a jerkin for the evening meal. It would not do to be late for the Weyrleader's summons. He expected to still see F'rian in bed, but the greenrider was gone. Shrugging, J'day made his way to the dining hall. A familiar, grizzled form leaned against the wall by the entrance. By the way he straightened up when J'day came closer could only mean that D'cor had been waiting for him. J'day repressed a sigh and gave his mentor a smile.

"D'cor."

"J'day, do you have a minute?"

"Er ...."

"T'rar's running late." He smirked.

J'day rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure. Is something wrong?"

The older bronzerider steered J'day out of the heavy traffic and into a mostly deserted corridor. He frowned, brows furrowing, evidently uneasy about something.

"J'day," he asked at last, "is something going on? Between you and F'rian?"

The younger man's eyebrows shot up his forehead in surprise. "Er, no, not that I'm aware of."

"Hmm." D'cor tapped his foot in thought. "Are you sure?"

"Are you trying to insinuate something?"

"Only that something is impacting F'rian's performance in drill."

That gave J'day pause. "Really?"

"J'day, F'rian's been in my wing since he graduated from weyrling training. I know his quirks, and this," he shook his head, "this is different."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why is he in your wing?"

D'cor shrugged. "I like the kid. But, more than that, he impressed me. Came to me with the exhibition routine that so surprised everyone two turns ago. Said he had more ideas like that one in his head, and he thought my wing was the best suited to carrying them out." He grunted, but a smile lingered on his face, softening his eyes with memory. "Anyway, I told him that he had guts, but needed more experience and to show me the plans again in a couple turns. It was a blow to his pride, I'm sure, but he took the disappointment well, I thought, and I spoke to N'tom about him. The weyrlingmaster was surprised, but he granted my request. So, there you have it. Which is again why this bothers me."

"Something happened during flaming drill today," said J'day, rubbing his jaw.

"Yes," growled D'cor. "Some kind of mix-up, I didn't really see, but a whole section of the formation fell apart, with F'rian and Lioleth somehow in the middle. Had some collisions, and Miralth got seared."

"Shards, D'cor! Anything serious?"

"No, some strained muscles, and that one burn, but a lot of humiliation." He crossed his arms in irritation. "P'ir's wing was dropping the thread for us and you know what a pretentious prig he can be."

J'day nodded. Then he shrugged and shook his head. "I don't know, D'cor, F'rian hasn't said anything to me."

"I've put him on report three times in the last month, J'day. Something's eating that boy. Maybe you should look into it."

"Don't tell me how I should handle my own weyrmate!"

D'cor lifted an eyebrow. "I am merely making a suggestion. As your friend."

"Well, it's none of your business."

"It is my business when your personal affairs impact my wing's performance."

J'day scowled, but there was a certain amount of sense in that, though he'd never approved of putting pressure on a weyrmate when a rider screwed up. And it wasn't as if F'rian would be anymore inclined to listen to him if he was avoiding D'cor. The greenrider looked up to D'cor at least as much, if not more, than J'day himself did.

"I'll talk to him," he said slowly.

D'cor let out a deep sigh. "Thank you, J'day. I wouldn't want --"

"Something wrong, gentlemen?"

They both looked up at a third voice, calling to them from the intersection. Weyrleader T'rar stood there, Weyrwoman Shalaya holding his arm and watching them with a bemused smile on her face. The Weyrleader was frowning slightly.

"No, sir," D'cor replied.

"Well, then, let's get on into the hall. Everyone's waiting."

The two wingleaders nodded in abbreviated bows and followed T'rar into the dining hall. J'day took his usual seat at the headtable, to the end on D'cor's left next to B'len, the other wingleader of their flight. As always, the Weyrleader sat in the center of the table, flanked on both sides by the weyrwomen, and then H'jes and his wingleaders on the far right.

J'day glanced over the rows of tables to where the rest of D'cor's wing sat. He picked out N'ach and T'skel easily, sitting at one end of their table, and followed the line of heads to where F'rian would be. He wasn't there. J'day sipped his drink and let his eyes move over the members of his own wing. All present and accounted for. He frowned again as his gaze fell back on F'rian's empty spot.

The meal progressed as normal, with T'rar taking the opportunity to speak to all his wingleaders. J'day let the conversation pass over his head for the most part. J'day had thought he'd been prepared to become Wingleader, had been looking forward to it for turns, but he'd had to scramble so much these first few sevendays he'd constantly felt like he was stuck in sinking sand with no way out. His new riders pushed him, judging for themselves of J'day's worth, and his working relationship with his wingseconds had stretched under the strain. Not everyone was happy about the new arrangements, either. The spots that J'day had pulled from to fill his wing were replaced by the newly-graduated weyrlings, which required adjustments from everyone.

J'day had himself as the sole bronze of his wing, three browns, seven blues, and twelve greens. They were a small group, fast and highly maneuverable. J'day had joked with D'cor that he was going to take over the other wing's spot in Exhibition at the Games the following spring.

D'cor had smirked and said, "Not without an ace in the hole."

From time to time, the Weyrleader liked to unwind with a few rounds of dragon poker in his quarters with his wingleaders. It had only taken J'day a second to recognize the allusion to F'rian and he'd scowled. The greenrider had admitted his own part in D'cor's success months ago, and trying to find similar talent elsewhere in the Weyr had proved disappointing at best. J'day hadn't liked being reminded that his rank negated any possiblility of having F'rian in his wing, but he'd seen the wisdom of that rule yet again in the last month and a half. As much as he had liked spending a great deal of time in the greenrider's company, that hadn't been in a formal capacity; their roles had even been reversed, with F'rian being the more-experienced, teaching J'day the routine for the Spring Games. J'day didn't know if he could have handled F'rian's moods and 'quirks,' as D'cor called them, on top of the stresses he was still struggling to deal with as a new wingleader.

"Something on your mind?"

J'day blinked at the man sitting to his right. "Just have a lot to do tonight, that's all."

Wingleader B'len frowned. "You've been distracted for days, J'day. Don't tell me that flight today sapped all your strength."

"It's a flaming nuisance is what it is." He poured himself some more klah. "Ruddy dragon."

"Yours does enjoy the chase. That must not make your weyrmate very happy."

His eyes stubbornly strayed to that empty spot on the far side of the hall. "He understands." He shrugged off the concern.

The bronzerider frowned. "A mate," he said, "never 'understands,' J'day. You can talk until you're blue in the face, but the jealousy is still going to be there."

"It's not like that."

"Mm-hmm."

"How is your weyrmate, anyway?"

"Oh fine, just fine. Expecting another little one in a few more months."

"Really? Congratulations."

"Thank you. You should come by again. Sady would love to see you."

"How do you do it?"

"Mm? Do what?"

"Sady, the kids and all, and being a wingleader, too."

"It can be difficult, sometimes," B'len admitted. "But that's why we have quarters separate from my weyr. When I'm home, I can just be a man, and not a dragonrider or wingleader. I can act the husband I would've been had I stayed in my craft. Sady's boss." He grinned.

"Isn't your brother a rider, too?"

"Yes. He rides a blue and is back in the High Reaches. It was a chance, coming here, but if I had waited for another of Cearanth's clutches, I would have been too old." He scowled, but then grinned again. "B'pher is my younger brother. He still teases me about Impressing first."

"I see."

J'day lapsed back into silence and, after a few more attempts at conversation, B'len let him be. He turned back to D'cor, sitting on his other side, much to J'day's relief.

At the conclusion of the meal, T'rar stood, gesturing for quiet. There was a buzz of low-level noise for a minute and J'day sat up straighter. The Weyrleader had mentioned that terms for the Rider Exchange had been settled amongst all the Weyrs, so T'rar must be ready to announce who would be going. This was an unprecedented turn of events, moving dragonriders around the Weyrs, and something Weyrleader N'valen from High Reaches had been pushing for ever since he'd first won Weyrleadership a number of turns ago. He thought a temporary exchange of riders would allow for a greater opportunity to experience other leadership styles and to share experiences, what worked and didn't work. The riders on the exchange would bring those experiences back to their home Weyr and dragonriders, as a whole, would improve as a result. The overall champions of the Spring Games, N'valen had become the defacto leader of all the Weyrs and forced the issue.

J'day already knew that none of his riders would be going; he had enough to contend with, T'rar had explained. He didn't want to add more stress. That was also why he'd received only one junior rider and dragon, the brown Rilleth and S'basi. Still, any change was exciting and the Weyr had been buzzing with excitement for over a month now since T'rar had come back from the first Weyr meeting following the Games. Everyone who could had volunteered. Most of Igen's dragonriders were not natives and were looking forward to a chance to go home for a time on official business and not just a short term of leave.

"As you know," T'rar began, addressing the hall, "the Weyrs have agreed to a Rider Exchange. After much consideration, the terms of the trade have been finalized." He waited for the noise to die down before continuing. "The time-frame of the swap has been set at three months. Those selected will exchange positions with a rider of similar rank and duties, to be treated as a member of the host wing for the duration of the assignment. You will be, essentially, of that Weyr." He paused, frowning severely. "There will be no special priviledges or whinging back to me. You will do as required by your new Wingleaders and Wingseconds, up to, and including, any punishment details. Of course, I don't expect," his scowl deepened, "to hear that any of Igen's dragonriders caused their hosts grief or brought shame upon this Weyr."

Then he smiled. "Now, those that I am about to call must be packed and ready to go, and assembled in the bowl after the morning's meal. I would like to thank all our volunteers. This was not an easy decision.

"To Benden Weyr, you'll be leaving first, will go L'kat, M'tor, R'lej, C'nedry, and F'beth. To Ista Weyr, going second, will go L'cal, Z'ril, Coraline, Inessa, and W'galt. Leaving third, going to Telgar Weyr are Riell, V'tai, J'ler, M'kimar, and H'nev. Next, going to Fort Weyr will be Y'syg, A'dran, F'rian, K'tag, and T'san. The last group will be going to High Reaches Weyr and they are R'yak, S'mis, Haleigh, X'tan, and N'than.

"You've had a few sevendays to think about this. Should anyone wish to change their minds now, speak to your Wingleader at once. There are certainly other riders ready and willing to take your place. You will be briefed further in the morning. That is all."

T'rar turned and left the hall, now filled to overflowing with excited cheers and the sounds of benches being shoved back. J'day just sat there stunned for a moment. F'rian ... was leaving.

"D'cor," he growled, turning. "D'cor!"

The bronzerider paused by the exit, his puzzled look at J'day's tone turning to concern. "You didn't know?"

"No!" snapped J'day. "He didn't tell me he --" J'day shut his mouth, frowning. He vaguely recalled the topic coming up, but he could only remember saying something to the effect of, "Whatever you decide is fine." He certainly hadn't expected F'rian to actually volunteer!

"J'day," said D'cor quietly, setting a hand on his shoulder and staring into his eyes intently. "I'm not going to get in the middle of this. F'rian volunteered and was accepted. He has until dawn to tell me otherwise."

Clenching his jaw at the mild rebuke, J'day nodded slightly. "I wouldn't dream of asking you to remove him on my say-so, sir."

"Good. And I meant what I said, earlier. You know Fort. If he pulls any of his shenanigans there ...."

"Yeah. Yes, sir." He was unhappy, but he still felt driven to stand up for his mate. "But I'm sure he wouldn't have volunteered if he didn't think he could handle it."

D'cor patted his shoulder and J'day was left alone. He returned to his weyr quietly, but fuming inside. The weyr was empty so J'day wandered out to the ledge. The bowl was bustling with activity in the twilight, the dragons all alert and watching all about them with great interest, except Lioleth, curled up inside on her stony couch, and Gibbrenth, who watched her morosely. The green dragon was at least clean and tidy, which said something about where F'rian had been, but where was he now?

He spent a few minutes with Gibbrenth, talking to the bronze quietly, though Lioleth was not likely to be disturbed. J'day pushed aside his own aggravation, not wishing to upset his dragon, and explained as well as he could what would be happening. Their conversation did little to help with J'day's nerves. He eventually went back inside to his office but couldn't concentrate and set his papers aside in irritation. He pulled down Gibbrenth's harness next, but even that couldn't hold his attention. Mostly, he paced. Both dragons were fast asleep and the fire had died from neglect by the time F'rian re-entered the weyr.

J'day pounced. "Where have you been?"

It was too dark to get much detail, but F'rian jumped, eyes flashing with irritation. "I don't have to report my every move to you."

The bronzerider moved to stand directly in front of his weyrmate. "You should have told someone!"

"I did. My wingsecond." F'rian side-stepped him.

J'day blocked him. "Why didn't you tell me about Fort?"

"I did." He tried to step around J'day and again was blocked.

"Then why don't I remember you telling me?"

"Good question."

"Why did you volunteer?"

"I've already told you."

"No, you haven't."

"Yes, I -- I'm too tired to argue with you, J'day. I leave tomorrow and I haven't even packed yet."

"You can't just ... leave like this! Would you have gone without saying goodbye?"

"Who would I have said goodbye to? You're never here. And you have patrol in the morning."

"Yes, but ... but where were you? It's been hours! And you look terrible!" It was true, J'day realized suddenly. In the soft light of the glows, F'rian's face looked drawn and weary and his clothes were absolutely filthy, coated in firestone dust. He held himself stiffly, the hand he used to wipe his brow shaking.

"What difference does it make?"

J'day took a hesitant step forward. "I care about you."

The fury that erupted on F'rian's face made J'day step back. "I don't see what flaming difference it makes!"

"That's unfair!" J'day protested.

"Is it now?"

"Yes!"

"I see more of Gibbrenth than I see of you!" shouted F'rian. "I talk to my Wingleader more than to you! You're just ... gone! All the time! Why can't you see? Th-that -- th-that I need you? You don't even touch me anymore!"

"I can't bear to!"

Of all the unfair, hurtful things J'day could have said, that was the worst. He regretted it instantly. F'rian reeled like he'd been punched in the gut. He turned his face away, eyes closed, jaw working, arms held tightly at his sides, and hands squeezing in and out of fists.

It wasn't as if J'day didn't want to touch his weyrmate. He did. Desperately. He wanted to chase away the ghosts of the past and show F'rian such pleasure that all thoughts and concerns other than J'day's hands on his body would be completely extinguished. He desired nothing more than to hear F'rian call his name in the midst of passion, to see what he would look like, face flushed, body writhing beneath him. Trouble was, J'day was afraid to touch him.

Following Lioleth's last flight, just two months ago, F'rian had stunned J'day by sitting him down at the table and calmly asking J'day if he would be his weyrmate. J'day had been moping following what he thought had been a disasterous morning-after and trying to figure out what he was going to do. F'rian had taken him completely by surprise, but the completely rote method he had of asking informed J'day that the greenrider had been practicing the asking. Probably all day. Outwardly calm, the only clue J'day had of how nervous F'rian had been was the way the greenrider clenched his hands together. J'day had jumped to his feet, ecstatic, only to see F'rian cringe away from him. He had instantly moderated his approach and knelt beside F'rian, to take his hands in his own, and said yes over and over again until F'rian had cracked a tentative smile.

That night they'd undressed as usual. As much as J'day wanted his weyrmate, his desires took second place to the anxiety in F'rian as the other man had stood on the opposite side of the sleeping couch, afraid to climb in. J'day had simply sat down on the bedfurs and pointed to the jars and pots adorning the nightstand.

"Grab the salve," he'd told F'rian.

"W-what?" F'rian had asked, staring at him in disbelief.

He had held out the arm with the purple, green, and yellow bruising. "Go on, rub it in."

F'rian had looked down at the jar and then at J'day. Slowly, he pulled out the cork and scooped up a few fingerfuls.

"You'll need more than that." He'd nodded as the greenrider scooped up a little more. "There, that'll do. Spread it out over the skin and rub it in, lightly, though."

Sitting down nervously beside the bronzerider, F'rian had dabbed some of the salve on J'day's upper arm.

"Here, F'rian," J'day had instructed, keeping his voice neutral, "cup my elbow in your other hand. Yeah, like that, gives you better control. You can rub a little harder."

Closing his eyes, J'day had tried to stay as relaxed as possible while those feather-soft touches flitted over his skin.

"That's good," he'd said after a few minutes and pointed to a section, "but you missed a spot. Keep rubbing it in until I no longer look oily." He'd opened his eyes a crack to check, smiling as his gaze strayed to F'rian's face. He'd been concentrating on performing the massage with all the focus he normally reserved for his artwork. The tight knot of tension also seemed to have dissipated some.

"Good," he continued when F'rian had paused uncertainly. "Now, put that away and grab the stuff I use on you. Yeah, that stuff. Put that," he'd directed, tapping his chest before leaning back and lifting his arms over his head, "right here."

"Your chest?"

"Yep. Everywhere you can reach." He'd smiled. "It's not a trick, F'rian. It's okay to touch me."

F'rian's brows had knitted together in worry for a long moment and then the greenrider had nodded. Taking a deep breath, he squeezed out some of the liniment into a palm and spread that on the skin of J'day's collarbone.

"You're being too gentle," he'd gritted, opening his eyes when he'd no longer been able hold back the shivers. "Come on, I know you don't spread oil on Lioleth like that." There was a pause. The man, oh shards, he'd been looking at ....

"F'rian," J'day had said softly, drawing his attention back and pointing to his face. "Focus here." It had been hard to tell in the dark, but J'day thought the man blushed.

"H-how -- Why am I doing this?"

"You're nervous," he'd replied. "I don't want you to be afraid of me."

"I'm not afraid," F'rian had protested, but he wouldn't meet J'day's eyes.

"It's okay."

He'd paused again. "It is?"

"Oh, F'rian," J'day had murmured sadly. "Yes. It's okay."

That was as far as they'd gone, but every night after that J'day had seen to it that F'rian massaged him before getting his own care. From there it had been a short step to actually lying together as they fell asleep. They still woke up back-to-back and separate, but J'day had thought they'd been making real progress. Such they had done for twelve days, and without a single nightmare to mar the perfection. As they would lie there together, with J'day's head in the crook of F'rian's shoulder, the bronzerider would draw upon the greenrider's chest, trying to get him used to his touch. J'day had learned that random gestures or patterns only increased F'rian's nervousness, but forcing him to concentrate on puzzling out words, one letter at a time, was soothing and pleasant. Over time, J'day had been able to 'write' on most of F'rian's torso.

Drawing dragon names lazily on F'rian's stomach one night, J'day's fingers had passed over his weyrmate's navel and there'd been no reaction. He could tell from F'rian's slow, easy breathing that he was already half-asleep and J'day had decided to push their boundaries, while the greenrider was totally relaxed and calm. He trailed his fingers over F'rian's hip to his thigh. The greenrider's breath had hitched a little but although he seemed to frown, his eyes remained closed. J'day had slid his hand across until he could brush F'rian's cock. The throaty murmur he got in response encouraged J'day further. He'd wrapped his hand around the limp member and gave it a light stroke.

F'rian had bolted upright, eyes wide open and staring, lips parted as he panted in silent horror. J'day had watched, himself half-frightened out of his wits, as F'rian had peered around him as if unsure of his surroundings. He'd hyperventilated so quickly that he'd purged himself over the side of the sleeping couch. J'day had reached for him, but the greenrider had cringed away, crying out softly. He'd tucked his knees to his chest, arms around his legs, and just lain there, shaking, his teeth chattering.

J'day had never felt so helpless in his life. There was nothing he could do. His attempts at comfort, even just speaking, had only set F'rian off again. They had spent the next hour or so in tense, apprehensive silence. J'day hadn't been sure at the time what he'd more wanted to do: scream and yell in frustration, pound the stuffing out of someone, or cradle F'rian in his arms. He'd bitten his nails down to the quick instead, frozen in place. The strain of doing nothing had been physically painful.

When F'rian had finally worn himself down into an exhausted sleep, J'day had gotten up and cleaned up the mess. He'd lain awake for a long time. Gibbrenth's concerns had filled his mind, but no sound had come from Lioleth. The green dragon had slept through the whole thing. When J'day woke the following morning, F'rian had been gone.

J'day hated the gulf that had stretched between them after that. F'rian always rose first, had ever since he'd started running again in the mornings, but he'd conscientiously started avoiding J'day. As much as it pained him, J'day had kept his mouth shut and given F'rian the space he evidently wanted. They'd gone back to sleeping as far apart as possible. The few times they'd been forced into close proximity, J'day hadn't been able to discern any emotion behind the greenrider's usual mask; it was as if he'd completely shut down. It was more than a mood or a tantrum, but all J'day got was an "It's not your fault" and F'rian had refused to discuss the matter further.

That was when J'day had started working late. His promotion had been merely bittersweet without F'rian to help him celebrate. The greenrider hadn't even attended the gathering J'day threw for his new wing. The presence of his weyrmate wouldn't have gone amiss, even if he wasn't technically part of the wing, and his absence had lain like a dull ache in J'day's chest. There always seemed to be work to do as a Wingleader. Equipment and supplies to inspect, riders to discipline, egos to soothe, maneuvers to design and practice, sweeps to be flown, the list was unending.

The distance between J'day and his weyrmate only grew. He needed the contact, wanted to be with his mate, wanted to fix things, but he didn't know how and F'rian wouldn't even try. Hurt pushed J'day further into his work. After a time, he'd even started sleeping in his office. He was angry and confused, and he didn't know what else to do.

Now, to find out -- and from someone else! -- that F'rian was leaving was altogether too much. He could see F'rian shutting down again, closing his anger and pain away and J'day couldn't take it another second. He stepped in front of F'rian as the greenrider went to step past him. F'rian responded by straight-arming the bronzerider in an attempt to shove him aside. J'day grabbed his wrist, twisting and pulling F'rian off balance.

"Don't you walk away from me!"

F'rian struck back, shouting, "Let go of me!"

Hands twisted in the greenrider's sooty shirtsleeves, J'day kept from getting punched but was soon hopping from kicks to the shins. The two dragonriders grappled violently for a few seconds, and then Lioleth suddenly barrelled into the weyr, snarling and gnashing her teeth. J'day let go immediately, sending F'rian into an uncontrolled fall to the stone floor. From outside, a sleepy Gibbrenth rumbled uncertainly.

J'day tried to soothe his dragon while backing away from Lioleth, now crouching protectingly over her rider. There was something inherently wrong with the way F'rian huddled on the ground, giving J'day yet another cause for alarm.

One eye on Lioleth, J'day took a small step forward. "F'rian?"

The green dragon hissed menacingly and J'day froze. For several heartbeats, the only sounds in the weyr were Lioleth's claws in the sand and F'rian's labored breathing.

"F'rian?" he tried again, dropping down to his knees, extending an arm in entreaty.

"Don't touch me! Don't you ever touch me!" screamed F'rian. Lioleth snapped at J'day, making him scurry backwards.

"Let me help you!"

"I don't need your help! I n-never asked for your help! I d-don't want your help!" F'rian pushed himself to a partially seated position and glared at J'day. He grabbed at Lioleth and she lifted him to his feet. He wavered there for a second or two, eyes closed, just leaning on his dragon.

J'day tried to move closer, but Lioleth's eyes spun with red and she lashed her tail angrily.

"F'rian," he pleaded, "don't shut me out."

The man lifted his strained, tear-streaked face from his dragon's neck. His voice, when he spoke, was hoarse and quiet and J'day wished he'd have just shouted. He preferred anger to this cold, impersonal tone, as if he didn't care. He could almost feel the distance between them widen again, as if F'rian had physically stepped across a wide chasm.

"I've been trying to get your attention for days. It's too late. I'm going and you're not stopping me."

"F'rian!"

Slowly, deliberately, the greenrider turned his back. Pain. Cold, searing, numbing anguish exploded in J'day's chest. He caught his breath on a sob and ran into his office, slamming the door behind him. He stared blindly into the glow-lit room before taking a couple shaky steps and collapsing beside one of the overstuffed chairs. He grabbed a pillow, holding it to his face to muffle the screams and to soak up the tears.

What did I do wrong? he howled. Gib ... Gib, tell me you love me?

The bronze was still hopelessly confused, but he smothered J'day with affection. You are my rider, J'day. I chose you. I love you.

It hurts, Gib! It hurts!

I love you, J'day.

He did finally get up in the early hours of morning, his reports done and his harness mended. Along the wall of the weyr were a handful of bags and sacks. He paced over to duck inside the sleeping alcove for fresh clothes. There was a twinge of guilt as he saw that F'rian had fallen into bed fully dressed, though not in the same clothes, without bothering to even remove his boots. His pose was the same as earlier, outstretched across the sleeping couch, feet and hands hanging off the edges. From the lack of wrinkles in the bedfurs, he hadn't moved much at all. How much sleep had he gotten? J'day hadn't heard a thing.

In the next moment, J'day shook off his guilt with some wounded pride and readied himself for the day. He was out with his wing in their assigned patrol when Gibbrenth murmured, sadly, They're gone.

Good.