Too Late: The Feeling of Failure

Writers: Bree, Nici
Date Posted: 13th September 2005

Characters: Targe, Dikero
Description: Targe and Dikero console each other after they fail to save the mortally injured Calanna
Location: Amber Hills Hold
Date: month 8, day 3 of Turn 3

Targe left the curtained off area in which their patient had tenuously clung to life before a combination of hemorrage and other things had made even their combined skills useless. He looked at Dikero tiredly and shook his head.

"I can't stand this..."

Dikero sighed, lifting a hand to rub at the side of his face. He stopped when he realized he hadn't had a chance to wash his hands yet, and hurried over to rinse them off. "There was just too much trauma."

"I know..." Targe stared at the blood on his hands before heading in Dikero's direction and washing his own hands. "It's the second time I've had to tell Lord Jeralir I couldn't save his...wife."

Drying off his hands, Dikero hesitated for only a moment before setting one hand on Targe's shoulder. "Do you need me to talk to anyone else for you?
You've done enough for today."

"The Lord Holder will want to know exactly what's happened." He sighed.
"Jeralir as well. And we need to alert Lord Alajeran as well--his father has been including him in many things. I also understand that the Guard Captain showed interest in knowing what might have happened as well." He turned to Dikero, a weak smile playing across his almost boyish features. "Have I told you how much I hate this yet?" He felt the odd need for a hug and for one from _Dikero_ of all people! He had to be over-tired and stressed.

"Vivvi has gone to talk to Lord Alalir," Dikero replied, squeezing Targe's shoulder lightly. "She left as soon as I realized there was nothing more to be done... Maybe you should let me answer the family's questions. Speak to the Guard Captain and then find something to eat before you fall over."

"Yes, sir!" Targe managed yet another weak smile as he stared at his hands.
"I just can't tell them that I've managed not to save yet another life of one of theirs, Dikero..."

Targe looked so sad that Dikero did slide an arm around him and hug his shoulders, careful not to invade the man's space _too_ much. "You don't have to do it alone. I'm here to help you, and help you I will. Maybe we can have dinner together when we're done? It's not a night to sit alone and brood."

Targe nodded, surprised and gratified by Dikero's hug. He returned it, and fought the urge to pull him closer. "Thank you, I'd like that. It's nice to know I've back up now. I've done things alone for so long."

"You won't have to any longer." It had been a long time--far _too_
long--since Dikero had had any physical contact with someone who wasn't a patient. The fact that Targe felt good tucked against his side was the beginning of trouble... the kind of trouble he'd loved getting into at the Weyr but would probably need to be a little more cautious about in a Hold.

Targe reluctantly pulled away and nodded. "And that means a lot to me, trust me." He sighed. "I don't think we should keep Jeralir waiting." One more second, and he'd 'slip' and probably embarrass himself. Dikero might only be someone naturally affectionate. He didn't dare think more of his actions.

Dikero studied Targe for a moment before nodding, turning before the other healer could see the small smile that curved his lips. It had been subtle--and gone almost before it had appeared--but Dikero had recognized the look in Targe's eyes.

But first things first. "I'll speak to Jeralir and the family. I'll come to your quarters when it's done and we can get something to eat." And maybe Dikero could inspire that look again... the look of yearning.

Targe nodded, his sense of responsibility and efficiency taking over.
"Thanks again, Dikero. I want to clean her up in case he wants to see her."
Nodding at his co-worker and friend, he lost himself in duty and tried to not think about the feeling of failure.

Last updated on the September 13th 2005

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Too Late: The Feeling of Failure