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Recovery
She still couldn't fight off the shaking. Not at all.
She heard voices, however. She had heard footsteps earlier. Someone had shouted for Xylon or Oberon or someone, anyone. She had closed her eyes. She felt empty, cold, alone.
Somehow, she knew she needed a friend now more than ever. A solid companion, one that would be there for her, no matter what. Something, anything, to keep this emptiness away.
She heard voices out in the hall.
"It's not fine," was Tor's voice, cracking probably with trying not to cry. "Something could have happened. Something anything ... If anything happened to him, I don't know what I would have done! I ... I ... I just I can't."
"No one's pressuring you to do anything," was Tren's level voice.
Sharona peeked her nose out of the study, curious, wanting to see what was going on. What if Tor did something bad to Tren? He didn't look like he would. His face was buried in his knees, his wrists crossed over his ankles so each hand was holding tightly to the opposite leg. The bleeding had stopped, probably Tren's work.
"I should. I should leave," Tor mumbled to himself. He sounded panicked.
"Tor," Tren began.
"It's not the first time, Tren!" he said looking up. "It's not the first time, and I don't want to talk about it! I want a freaking empty boat I can get lost at sea in! Is that so hard to arrange?"
"I'm not going to be party to this," Tren told him.
Tor scoffed, leaned his forehead against his knees again. "You don't understand," he said quietly. "I don't trust myself. Which means you shouldn't trust me, either."
"You're a good man, a good friend. You've proven this time and time and time again. I don't understand what that was, but that was not you."
"It's as much me as anything else is."
"No. No it's not." Tren crouched down in front of him, lay a hand on his cheek.
Tor froze, jerked back. "Don't," he said, looking up with red-rimmed eyes. "Don't don't don't touch me." A shudder shook his shoulders, twitched down his legs. "Please. Not right now. Not while it's so close."
"Tor, you need to talk about it," Tren said patiently, taking his hand away. "I won't judge you. I promise. You can't keep it inside forever."
Tor raised his head, gave Tren the most defiant look Sharona had ever seen. She understood a little more clearly, the words practically shouting from his face. I have for eighteen years, and absolutely no one needs to deal with this but me.
Tren sighed, leaned against the railing of the promenade. "Fine," he said. "I'm just trying to help. You know my door's always open if you need something."
Tor's defiance melted to sympathy. "Thank you," he said quietly, calmly.
Tren gave him a sad smile, reached out to give him a reassurng hand on the shoulder, and then obviously thought better of it by Tor's reaction to his first touch. "I'll see you around," he said warmly, and headed down the stairs in a quiet fashion.
Sharona stared. This was not the same Tor that had been upstairs. This was the gentle, quiet, calm, considerate Tor. This wasn't the cruel, dark, hating Tor.
She didn't understand.
She stepped out of the library, her talons clacking on the floor.
"Kip, I..." Tor began, looked up, and saw Sharona.
She froze. Right. Not as quiet as before.
She walked over to him, flopped down next to him, and lay her head on his arm, not caring what he felt about being touched. *I don't understand,* she said, keeping as much of her emotion out as possible.
"I can't explain it."
*Try. They're my fathers, and ... And I want to know. Why would you hurt them?*
Tor looked down at her, looked positively stricken. Then, he took a deep breath. "I did, didn't I?" he asked. He raised a hand, trying to consider stroking her reassuringly. His hand hung in the air, completely unfulfilled. "There's something inside me, Sharona," he said, closing his eyes. "And it's something that needs to die, very very badly."
*I still don't understand.*
"It's like Tren said, I guess. It's not who I am, but it's there inside of me."
*Like when I feel scared?*
Tor smiled a little. "Not quite. More like there's another person inside my head, and it's a very very bad person."
*Like how Daddy lives inside your head?*
"Ira lives outside my head, too, Sharona. This thing... It's like a little Voice in the back of my head, usually whispering things, teasing, saying bad things. But sometimes it takes over."
Sharona considered this. She wanted so badly to yell at him, to tell him to stop lying and just take responsibility for his actions. But he didn't seem to be lying at all. She nodded.
"And when it takes over, people get hurt, and bad things happen. I didn't want to hurt your daddy, Sharona. I love him, more dearly than anything else."
Sharona looked up at him. He was crying again. She nuzzled him gently. *I know, Tor,* she said as warmly as she could. *It was scary.* Very careful not to hurt him at all, she pushed her legs over Tor's, and she leaned against him. She closed her eyes.
*I'm not a little girl anymore, am I?* she asked.
Tor was stroking her neck idly, thinking his own thoughts. "No," he agreed quietly.
*I shouldn't call them Daddy and Daddy anymore.*
"Why not?"
*It sounds childish. I'm almost grown up. Things aren't as perfect as they seemed when I was younger. You're not happy all the time, Daddy and -- Kip and Ira aren't always fighting. The world does not revolve around me.*
"That's a very profound statement for someone still very young."
*Bishel mature quickly,* she intoned regally.
Tor laughed a little. "Take your time, Sharona. Life is too short, even for bishel, to have a wasted youth."
One day, she decided. One day I'll find your story, Tor. And then you won't have to keep it from everyone. You'll have someone to commiserate with.
***
Two days later, Ira was back in his study. Sharona crept in as quietly as she could. It wasn't very quietly, and he sighed and looked up, not entirely certain who it could be. The footsteps sounded like Kip's, but the rhythm didn't match his usual slinking gait.
Sharona smiled at him. *I'm glad you're feeling better,* she said.
Ira smiled at her warmly. *I'm sorry to have interrupted your joyous day.*
*You don't need to be so formal with me... Ira.*
He looked like he was about to choke. *Sharona!* he said, sounding scandalized.
*Yes, before you go on that whole 'I'm your father, have some respect,' tirade that I know is just welling up to flood level in your brain, I understand. But ... I think that I should be using your proper names. After all, you're both dragons who deserve the proper respect, and what more proper respect than your names?*
Ira still looked like he was going to choke.
*I've come to tell you good-bye, also.*
*WHAT!?*
Sharona grinned. *Don't look so stunned, Ira. I'll be back. This is the island all the boats leave from. I'll have to come back. But in the meantime, I owe enough work for one whole bag of flour, and after that, I need to do something productive. Especially if I plan on making passage by next Thanksgiving.*
Ira stared at her. None of the bishel in the islands did any regular work. Clarinet scried and Gunnhild yelled at the militia, and Kip skulked around and ominoused people into doing things, and he worked on his studies, but those were all unsalaried hobbies more than anything. *You're not a workhorse, Sharona!* he told her, staring agog at her.
She smiled sweetly. *Yes. I'm not. But I want to doooo something. So. I'm moving over to the agricultural sections where I'm sure I'll find work, if not as a hand, then as something else.*
Ira continued to stare.
*It's what I want to do, Ira.*
*If I say 'okay then' do I get to go back to being 'Daddy'?* he asked smally.
Sharona chirped and pressed her muzzle to her father's cheek. *I thought you'd see it my way,* she purred, and then left.
Ira felt like he was going to have a headache for the rest of the month. Ow.
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