What Happens Now? (3 of 3)

Writers: Heather, Miriah
Date Posted: 15th November 2013

Characters: Jeyme, D'hol
Description: Jeyme unwisely assumes that she should move out of D'hol's weyr.
Location: Dolphin Cove Weyr
Date: month 4, day 15 of Turn 7
Notes: Mentioned: Cyradis

Jeyme

D'hol

Later in the evening, after the visit from Cyradis, the healers had
cleared Jeyme to leave. She was suppose to take it easy for the next
few days, and her abdomen still felt sore from the intense cramping
from the evening before. D'hol was busy with his duties as Wingleader

so she returned to his weyr alone. For a long moment she stood in the
midst of the weyr and allowed herself to relive the daydreams she'd
had of her and D'hol raising a child that had his eyes and her
smile.... And then she shook her head and locked that daydream away.

She thought of just D'hol instead. He had only asked her to move in
with him because she was carrying his child. He had made it quite
clear that they were not weyrmates, no, just a mother living with a
father so he could help her during her pregnancy.

"Well, I am not pregnant anymore." She murmured to the silence as she
ran a hand over her stomach.

There would be no reason to stay; she was sure D'hol would be asking
her to leave soon. Trudging over to the wardrobe, Jeyme began slowly
folding and putting things back into the bags she had just unpacked
only a couple of sevendays before.

For D'hol, the day had been difficult; he'd gotten very little sleep
and the stress of the night before had had to be buried in order for
him to do his job. There was no doubt, however, that he'd been shorter
and harsher with his wing than he normally would have. But, burying
himself in his duties helped him to not think about what had
transpired the night before.

Yumath had learned from Quinneth that Jeyme was no longer in the
infirmary, so D'hol didn't bother going there after his day was
complete. Looking forward to a hot bath and getting off of his feet,
D'hol ran his hand through his hair as he entered into his weyr. What
he saw drew him to a stop.

Brows snapped down immediately as he saw the bags on the floor and
Jeyme folding clothes. The dark shadows under his eyes were only
accentuated as his gaze narrowed. "What in the blazes are you doing?"

Jeyme did not stop at the sound of D'hol's voice. Had she been in a
regular mood the tone he used would have caused her to snap to
attention, but the numbness that pervaded her body left her incapable
of feeling nervous around him. Instead she put another shirt in her
bag, "Packing." She answered in monotone.

"I can see that." His voice was grim as he stepped forward, picked up
the bag and calmly upended it onto the bed, shaking it to empty the
clothes onto the bed. He flung it down onto the floor and turned to
face her, hands on lean hips. "Why exactly do you think you're
packing?"

She turned wounded green eyes onto D'hol before they flicked to the
clothes he had dumped onto the bed. Automatically her hands went back
to folding the the garments again, "I am not pregnant anymore." This
was said with the same tone as before as she folded.

"I happen to be extremely aware of that fact." He growled and as went
back to the clothes, he snatched the cloth out of her hands, tossed it
away and turned her to face him. "Shaffit, stop!" His temper had never
been directed at her before, but it was growing perilously close to
the surface, accerbated by the night and day they had both had.

Tears slid smoothly down Jeyme's cheeks as she looked up at D'hol,
"You only invited me here because I was having your child," her breath
hitched on the word, "and now that I am not I don't know why you would
want me to stay. I thought that you would be...happy... that things
would be going back to the way they were."

"You thought..." His jaw worked from side to side. "you thought that
this would make me happy?" He stared at her. "You actually thought
that I would immediately toss you out of the weyr after you lost our
child?" There was a moment when he just stared at her and a slow flush
rose from his neck to the tips of his ears. "You thought I was that
cruel?" He turned, took a step away, took a deep breath, scrubbed a
hand over his face, took another breath and then spun to face her.
"ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR DAMNED MIND?!"

Jeyme flinched, but to her credit, did not take a step back from the
man, instead her fists clenched by her side, and then relaxed, as she
let out a slow exhale. Hot tears were pressed to the backs of her
eyes, "I never said that it would happen immediately. But a sevenday
from now? A month? You would have to ask me to leave at some point,
right? You didn't invite me to live here before the baby so I didn't
think you would want me to stay after. I was just trying to...." her
hands raised as she struggled for the words, but she gave up and they
fell back by her side, "it is just like ripping off a bandage. I
wanted to get it over with."

"And did it not cross through that mind of yours, to shaffing ask me?
Did it not cross your mind that maybe, just maybe, it might bother me
to come back to the weyr and you've left without a bloody word? Sweet
Faranth, woman! Did you even bother thinking at all?" He threw up his
hands, strode to his cabinet, yanked out a bottle of spirits and
poured a hefty shot. He downed it, slammed down the glass and speaking
through clenched teeth, spoke with his back to her. "If I hadn't
wanted you here, I wouldn't have asked you at all. If I didn't like
having you in my bed every night and when I woke up, I wouldn't have
asked. If I didn't like your company, I would not have asked." He
turned, his jaw clenched. "You fecking assumed that you knew my mind,
Jeyme. I wasn't thinking any such thing and I wasn't going to ask you
to leave." His eyes narrowed as he turned back to the bottle and
poured another shot. "But I'll be damned if I'll try to keep you here
if you don't want to stay."

"I always have to assume, D'hol, you never tell me much of anything
when it regards your feelings." Jeyme released a sigh weariness
washing over her. She wondered if this qualified as 'taking it easy,'
as the healer had suggested. "I don't want to leave, I never did." She
looked down at one of the folded shirts on the bed and began putting
them into the wardrobe.

He stiffened. "Ask. It's that bloody simple." He straightened, sighed
and let his shoulders slump. "Sweet, Faranth..." He shook his head and
turned to look at her. "Would you just leave the clothes alone,
Jeyme?" He walked over and pulled her away from the clothes. Sitting
on the couch, he pulled her down onto his lap. "Just stop. We can
worry about the shaffing clothes later."

Jeyme didn't know how to tell D'hol that she felt as if her hands must
be doing something, she had to keep her mind occupied, even if it was
a menial task such as folding clothes. Still, the moment she was
pulled into his lap, Jeyme felt the weight of the past twenty-four
hours crash down on her, and she buried her face in his neck,
dangerously close to crying again.

He exhaled and rested his cheek on her brow as a hand rubbed lightly
at her back. He'd never been good at comforting upset women, usually
he avoided them as much as possible; at the moment, however, that
wasn't an option. "We can have another Jeyme. At a better time, after
you graduate. There'll be another chance for it."

Shocked coursed through Jeyme. He wanted to try again... With _her_!
After his earlier comments Jeyme knew better than to blurt out the
first thing that came to her mind, which was, "Do you mean it?"
Because D'hol always said what he meant. Instead she inhaled his
masculine scent, and with hope beginning to blossom in her chest, she
replied, "I would like that."

"So no more talk of packing." He spoke firmly, but there was a touch
of weariness in his voice.

"No packing." Jeyme agreed, her voice a murmur, her eyelids heavy.

Both of them were exhausted from both the long day and the emotional
outpour, and with the warm weight of Jeyme on his lap, D'hol felt his
own eyes close. A bath could wait; he was too tired and unwilling to
move. His head rested against Jeyme's and and exhaled, his voice a
mumble of sleepiness. "Well, shaffit...guess you're my weyrmate
now..." He tucked her close and within moments, he was asleep.

Last updated on the January 17th 2014

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What Happens Now? (3 of 3)