#davebirb

Behind you, your son–your son!–is sitting with his dragon (his dragon!) and his father and your oldest friend.

Your Dirk, here, in the Dragon Sanctuary.  You never thought in your life you’d see this day!  And oh, your heart aches.  In all the best ways, mostly, but also in some … more painful ways, too, because when you glance over your shoulder you see your little John all grown up.  He was only a little thing, barely a few months old, when you left him.  And you’ve missed twenty years of his life.  How could he ever take you back?

He seems happy enough to do so, though.  So does… so does Dirk.  Your mind will forever be etched with the memory of his first words to you in twenty years, with the feel of his hand–rough, calloused from his sword, and yet so soft and gentle–on your cheek before he stooped–you’d always laughed about how unfair it was, that he was so much taller than you, before you left–and kissed you.

And now you’re faced with an impossible dilemma, that of having two families in two different worlds.  You love your husband, you love your son, but you–you love your Alpha, and you love your flock, too.

Your musings are interrupted by a soft whistle, a tune that’s hauntingly familiar, a tune that has haunted your dreams for two decades.  You draw in a shaky breath, your fingers tightening on the jug.

“I’ll swim and sail on savage seas,” his voice is more tired than it used to be, but oh, it’s his voice, for sure. “With ne’er a fear of drowning…”

And by the end of it, you’re whirling around the cave room without a care in the world, here, in his arms once again.  You’re laughing, he’s laughing, John is laughing, Jake is laughing.  Out of the corner of your eye you see Casey the Night Fury happily warbling along and flapping around in circles about your Seb, who looks faintly amused by the whole ordeal, and you don’t think it’s possible for anyone to be happier than you are, here, in this moment.

It didn’t last.  It never lasts.

You try your hardest to control the trembling in your voice, the tears clogging your throat and threatening to choke you and spill out on your cheeks and let the world know that you, Jane Crocker, have lost everything save this one precious boy sitting next to you, shock and disbelief and denial written in his clear blue eyes.  His hands are dancing, fretful, unsure where to rest, frantically stroking Dirk’s hair one moment and cradling his head against his chest the next.

“No,” you whimper, allowing yourself this one moment of weakness as you bow your head, letting your cheek come to rest against his chest, his chest that’s now burnt and scarred and still, his heart that was beating not even an hour ago fallen silent under your ear.  There’s not much blood; the wound was cauterized almost instantly, which you suppose is a blessing.  At least–at least he didn’t suffer.  At least he died doing what he chose.  He was a fighter to the bitter end, your Dirk.

He was.

Was.

He is–he is gone.

At least he didn’t suffer?  What were those twenty years, lost, alone, thinking you were taken by dragons and mauled to death, left to raise your child on his own–

You allow yourself this one sob, and then you pull away from Dirk–from Dirk’s body–and wrap your arms around John and pull him into you.

“Come,” you murmur, as he takes harsh breaths and gasps and nobly strives not to break down in your arms.  “Come, dear one.  We must find a way to send his spirit onward.  The Valkyries will take care of him.”

“Y–yeah, I know,” John says, dashing at his eyes.  He pushes himself to his feet, wobbling, and stumbles a few steps away, looking around.  You wish you knew what’s going through his mind right now.  If you knew him better, you would.  If you hadn’t abandoned your babe…

Now is not the time for these thoughts.  You will not abandon him again.

You look back down at Dirk, not bothering to wipe your tears away.  Leaning down, you plant a silent, soft kiss on his forehead, lingering just long enough to whisper, “Until we meet again, my dear heart.”