Holes in the Pattern

Writers: Clancey, Heather
Date Posted: 3rd July 2014

Characters: J'darin, Devyn
Description: J'darin seeks Devyn's comfort and understanding after the death of a Weyrling, but doesn't quite get what he bargained for.
Location: Dragonsfall Weyr
Date: month 7, day 14 of Turn 7
Notes: Mentioned: G'nir, D'ale, D'ret
Notes: Takes place after "Can't We Stay?"
Notes2: Part of the "pattern" series... coposts and brownie points to anyone who can guess what we mean by "pattern" !!! Watch for more :)

J'darin

Devyn

He didn't remember getting down off Hasaarth. He didn't remember
falling sideways against the couch as he tried to make his way inside
to sit down, to do something. The pain had overcome him and Hasaarth
had wisely, showing intelligence beyond his color, carried him
directly to their weyr ledge with no direction.

His rider's mind was incoherent regardless.

J'darin groaned as pain briefly brought him back to his senses.

Did he still have wine in the weyr?

He walked slowly, staggeringly, to the cabinet, looking.

}:No. I will call Ellyth's. I will call her! Do not drink that!:{
Hasaarth pleaded with him while mentally calling Ellyth.

}:Can your rider come? Mine is... he needs help. He needs yours.:{

**No! I don't want her to see me like this... she'll think I'm weak... **

}:I have already called her. Do not drink that stuff. It makes you
odd. and your head hurt. :{

He slumped down against the cabinet, pale beneath his tan.

Dead. Another one. Such a sweet, sassy young rider. Dead. Why
couldn't he keep them alive?!

Devyn jumped from Ellyth's neckridge before the green had really even
gotten completely settled. Landing on the balls of her feet sent a
jarring sensation through her calves, but Devyn continued on her way
at a fast clip. It wasn't a secret, everyone knew about D'ret, and
even without Hasaarth's warning Devyn had known how J'darin would
react. The bronzerider took every injury, cut, or scrape to heart when
it came to the Weyrlings. And now a death? She could only imagine what
it must be doing to the man.... Until she walked into their weyr, and
then her imagination was no longer needed.

Leaning against the cabinet, Devyn stared at J'darin for a moment. It
was clearly obvious what he had intended to do, and were he not a
former alcoholic, she would have thought little of it... But he was,
and she didn't trust him to be able to have a drink when he was
feeling so low.

"I came as soon as I heard."

There were tear tracks down his tan face, though he was so pale
beneath the tan that it made him look as if he was getting sick again.

He felt her enter their weyr long before she spoke and her presence
boosted him a little bit. He hadn't grabbed the wine. He hadn't. He
had wanted it. Shards, he still wanted it so badly. He stared up
at her in agonizing, very clear pain but with empty hands.

Her voice jarred him even further and he wobbled slowly to his feet,
his height dwarfing her, as usual.

"I didn't drink. I didn't." He said softly, the sound pulled through
a saw blade. His blue eyes hooded, he reached out his arms. "Hold
me instead. Please...."

He didn't know another way. If it wasn't his fault, who's was it?
He was supposed to keep them alive. It tore a piece of his soul
every time one died. Every single time. He wasn't sure why his
emotions were so strong and ran so deep, but he hoped Devyn could
understand. He needed her to understand. He needed someone to
understand. Someone who was human.

"He's dead. He was only 17 turns! And he's dead." He said it
quietly, jaggedly. If he said it out loud, maybe some of the pain
would lead out with it.

Devyn wrapped her arms around him, as requested, her fingers combing
through the back of his hair and down across his neck, "It is not your
fault, J'darin. Not every one is cut out for dragonriding. That is not
something you can change." There were always a couple of Weyrling
casualties with every class, that was just the nature of the beast.
"You have given everything to these Weyrlings."

He let her hold him, feeling some of his anger and frustration bleed
out with her gentle touch. He didn't move much, though. Her words
sank in, but they didn't reach the heart of the problem. Like
before, she didn't quite understand his pain. The unique weight of
responsibility that was his, and his alone, to bear.

"It is... they dragons choose. They are never wrong. It is my
fault. Who else trains them, teaches them, loves them a little bit?
I train them, teach them, I spend most of my time with them for months
on end. I _know_ them Devyn. I know their fears, their worries,
their strengths, their joys. I _know_ them the way I know the glint
in your eye and the sweet curve of your face. I _know_ them. And
they're mine. You can't give at that level and not burn when they
die. Its impossible."

He let her go and moved a few steps away, his face drawn, but thoughtful.

"You don't understand what its like to know that you are the one
sending them. You're the one putting them in harm's way. Yes, they
have to fly. Dragons must fly when Thread is in the sky. But its my
command that sends them up. Just like when I was Weyrleader. My
command sends them to die." He shivered, unable to stop it.

"I know the enemy we face. And I should train them well enough, teach
them what they need to know, to survive. I should. The trust me to
do it. The trust me to protect them. Its in their eyes before they
go up." He trailed off, knowing she didn't understand. No one really
did. Most would say he should blame Thread. And maybe that was
so... but it didn't stop the anguish, the guilt, or the pain.

She made it less, but it still ached, and it still made him shake.

}:It is well. We will train more and they will fly. It is well.:{
Hasaarth sent constant reassurances to his rider, long used to this
from his chosen lifemate.

Although she tried to be understanding for J'darin, he always managed
to twist it around someway as she _didn't_ understand. How was she
ever suppose to console him then? Did he just want her presence to
bear witness to his pity parties? Which seemed quite frequent as of
late, if she were honest enough to admit it.

"Well then I don't know what you want me to say, J'darin. That, yes,
it is all your fault? everything revolves around you? I don't see
G'nir or D'ale acting this way when they lose wingriders." Shards, the
words "man up" nearly left her mouth before she snapped her lips shut.
She didn't know where this build up of frustration had come from,
maybe it was still residual from the whole N'call ordeal.

"I don't know what I want you to say either. I'm usually drunk by
now... there's never been anyone around to see how badly it tears me
apart when one of them gets hurt, never mind dies! Realistically, I
know there is a chance. There is ALWAYS a chance that they will die.
But it doesn't change that I feel responsible for their death. " He
ran out of words, but still looked thoughtful. Maybe she was right.
No one had ever seen him like this, so no one had ever told him to
stop acting like a baby.

"I don't know how G'nir or D'ale react when they lose wingriders.
Maybe they cry themselves to sleep too. I am not G'nir, and I am not
D'ale, and just because they don't show their grief to everyone
doesn't mean they don't have it. You are my weyrmate... I want to
show you my grief. I want to share it so I can get over it. If
you don't want to see it, I'll take myself away and grieve by myself.
But all I know right now is ...he's dead, and she's dead, and I wish
they weren't dead. They were so young, so full of life! It _hurts_
Devyn. It just hurts."

He didn't move toward her because he could tell he had made her angry
or frustrated with him.

Tears stood unshed in his eyes, but now he was, manfully maybe, or
maybe not, holding them back.

"I don't know what to do except grieve... and move on.... But I need to grieve."

"It is nature, J'darin, some day the babies have to leave the nest,
that is just how it works. I am not trying to be cruel or callous, but
realistic. Hopefully you and I will live to be old and wrinkled, and
in that time we are going to see a lot of good dragonriders perish,
but we can't fall apart every time one of them does or we'll spend our
lives crying in grief, rather than living it the way we are suppose
to." Devyn, reached a hand out to gently touch her weyrmate's face,
"There is a difference between grieving, and wallowing, J'darin.
Grieving is being sorry that someone is gone, wallowing is taking all
of the blame onto yourself, as if you could have somehow changed their
fate."

He listened to her, really listened. As she talked he grabbed a hold
of his grief and locked it up tighter than usual. The tears, while
still visible in tracks on his face, were no longer standing out in
his eyes.

He wasn't sure that wallowing as she described it was what he was
doing. He was responsible in many ways for the training they
received, which was in turn responsible for how they reacted to
Thread.

He was responsible. He had to admit, though, that in some respects
what she said was true - they had to go on living. Dragonriders had
short lifespans during a Pass, and in fact, he taught his students
that very principle. Life was uncertain and short if you were a
dragonrider and that made a big difference in how you lived what life
you did have.

But that didn't erase his responsibility or the need to grieve.

He just wanted to cry and move on, but to keep the peace, he would
keep his cool.

He said aloud what he was thinking, "Its true what you say about
dragonriders. In fact I teach the children that very thing." He
opened his arms if she wanted to come closer again, and said softly,
"Maybe we can just go back to the holding part.... that is very much
like living to me."

Devyn saw the truce for what it was and stepped into the man's open
arms, resting her cheek against his chest as she did so, "I love you,
J'darin." She really did, she only wished that more of their
interactions together were happy ones.

He pulled her tight against his chest, the knot in his stomach
disappearing in the warmth of her love, and her simple statement.
That had been all he really wanted... someone to love him and hold
him. For a little while. He would get over it, as he always did.
But she made it easier. She did. . "Oh Devyn... My sweet, lovely
weyrmate... I love you so very much." His voice was soft and all the
anger, frustration and self loathing disappeared as if washed away by
a flood. Even the bronzerider was taken aback by the sudden ..
release... he felt.

Hasaarth's love was always enough, and had been enough in the past.
But this... this was different.

Such a simple statement..yet it could change the entire situation in a
heartbeat.

It had never happened before, not like this, and he too, wished for
more moments like this in their future.

Last updated on the July 3rd 2014

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Holes in the Pattern