T’of knew that Makh was wretched. It was impossible not to know it, sharing minds as they did, and the knowledge that there were times when the blue wished that he had not survived his scoring cut the dragonrider deeply, even though he absolutely understood it. He only felt the reflected shadow of Makh’s physical pain and mental discomfort, and it was nigh unbearable. It was because of his intimate awareness of the wounded blue’s mind that he bore the dragon’s vitriol with an ease that, frankly, surprised both of them, though it was really a simple matter: Makhmilith’s life was worth any abuse T’of might have to endure, and that was all there was to it.

Early in Makh’s recovery, just after Makh had regained consciousness, the not infrequent times when Reya was able to join them in the infirmary were occasions to anticipate with pleasure for dragon and rider. It had been some time, though, since he had seen her in the infirmary, though, and equally long since he had seen Raqi. There was, he felt sure, a reason for their prolonged absence, when they had both been a constant presence while Makhmilith was unconscious and even after that, but he couldn’t imagine what it might be. He wondered if Makh had some idea.

Makhmilith did, in fact, have a very good idea of what kept Reya and Raqi from the infirmary, and as his thoughts tracked T’of’s he realized that his plan to put off confessing what he had done to T’of and making amends to Raqi until he had recovered was in need of revision. He knew that T’of would understand - he had been understanding of everything so far - but with uncharacteristic cowardice he wanted to avoid facing the completely justifiable anger which would underpin his understanding. But T’of was hurting, and Makh really didn’t have the wherewithal to bear his rider’s distress as well as his own. It would be better to have it out and over with. Probably.

It’s my fault, he told T’of, and immediately felt T’of’s mind dismiss his words as if he were some people-pleaser shouldering the blame for everything whether or not it was warranted. And so he insisted, It is. I hurt Raqi.

I don’t think you did.

T’of’s mental voice was incredulous because his first instinct was to think that Makh meant he had hurt the green dragon physically, and in his current state that simply was not possible. The blue was being fed through a tube to prevent his throat muscles from moving when he swallowed and disturbing the stitches keeping his larynx airtight. He was in no condition to hurt anyone. And then all his turns training as a mindhealer flooded back to him and he suddenly had a very good idea of all the many ways in which his clever, sharp-tongued dragon could have hurt a younger, self-conscious dragon who worshipped him, and he felt Makh’s awareness of his realization.

So. How did you do it? he asked with the sort of precise, careful tone that made it clear to Makh he was, indeed, angry.

Makh could not recall all of the details, though T’of would have bet anything that Raqi could, and through her, Reya. Both had an eye for detail and a long memory for injuries done them. Even without explicit details, T’of was able to get a good idea of what Makh had said to Raqi, and his compassion for Makh shifted toward sympathy for Raqi. As he’d anticipated, the blue had been incisive, and it was obvious that he’d cut Raqi to the quick.

That was…not well done, he said slowly, his feelings treading a fine line between love for his dragon whose misery had driven him to lash out at someone he would never have harmed otherwise and fury at him for hurting Raqi and driving both green and rider from the infirmary, with a large portion of disappointment.

No, the blue agreed. I regret it and I am ashamed.

Neither of them attempted to absolve Makh. Of course he had been partially out of his mind with pain and humiliated at being visibly helpless. Raqi had known that at the time, and even if she had forgotten, Reya would not have, and she might have chosen to remind her dragon. The fact that it had been more than a pair of sevendays indicated either that Reya had tried to appeal to Raqi and failed, or that she had elected not to try, and both T’of and Makh had a good idea which of those options it was.

It was obvious that an apology was necessary. That much went without saying. But Makh complicated the matter by admitting, Raqi refuses to hear me. I can barely sense her mind. I do not think I can make my apology to her while I am here.

T’of conceded that this was the case before going on to state the obvious, “You’ll have to go through Reya, then.”

She was not inclined to hear my apology either. There was a mental grimace behind his always raspy voice. Some of her suggestions for where I could put my apology were every bit as nasty as the things I’ve been calling the healers.

T’of winced, too. They were both thinking that Reya was more likely to be rational, but less likely to be forgiving. She loved Makh, but if she had not seen fit to spend time with him since he’d hurt Raqi, she had sided with Raqi, which was as it should be. Still, she was Makh’s best bet, as she, at least, couldn’t choose not to hear Makh.

I owe you an apology, too, I think, Makh said, thinking that through his actions he had deprived T’of of the company of the human he loved most in the world, whether he was willing to tell her so or not.

Probably. T’of acknowledged his dragon’s reasoning and was still sufficiently unhappy with him to find it sound. You can save it. If I crash and burn with Reya, then I can at least look forward to an abject apology from you.

Lucky me. I’m already about as wretched as a dragon can be, Makh replied wryly. It was true that he was a pathetic sight. But since I hate apologizing, you should bathe before you make your attempt. You do give off a bit of a pong, and I think Reya will look more kindly on you if you don’t.

It was a mark of how ineffably exhausted T’of was that his only reaction was to let his head fall back against Makh’s shoulder and gaze toward the distant ceiling of the cavern before replying in a heavy voice, “Really? You don’t think she’d feel sorry for someone so distraught that they’ve allowed personal hygiene to slip?”

T’of was so very weary from his own wounds, Makh’s echoed pain, and the task he faced with Reya. It made no difference.

This must be made right.

The thoughts of dragon and rider overlapped, blending together so that it would have been difficult for an outsider to say with whom the sentiment had originated, despite their very different mindvoices. Makh could not turn his head to look at T’of, but it wasn’t necessary. They were in complete agreement.

Word Count: 1,224 words
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