lavandarlizard2 | look! I am semi-conscious at...

...seven in the morning on a Sunday! Musta been the bottle rockets someone was shooting off about an hour ago... *checks bag* Hm... Just as I suspected; I am out of words. Okay then...

BFB - Part 085b - Strange Days III

I knocked on Duo’s door a little before dusk. I had no intention of bothering him, or of – surprise! – irritating Heero, but I just wanted to *know* that the Banshee was okay, or at least recovering. He had been so... out of it in the infirmary; so lost and confused. At least… that’s what I remember.

After all he’s been through; I just have to see for myself. Trowa tells me to leave it alone; that Heero is with him, and I am not needed. If there is anything I need to know, he says; someone will tell me. And if not, then it’s none of my business.

And cats are supposed to be so curious. In a pig’s eye!

Well, I’m a Dragon; my kind are hardwired to protect what is ours.

Ah, you say; but Duo is not mine! Well, he may not be in my arms or my bed, but he is certainly in my heart, and *that* makes him mine to protect.

We would not be in this mess right now, I had declared to Trowa, if Heero were a little less of one and a little more of the other. Duo should not have been roaming the town alone. He should have been accompanied, protected. Who knew what could happen?

Hmph! We know *now* what could happen.

Trowa insisted that I owe Heero an apology for even *thinking* that he was negligent in his care of the Banshee to let this happen. Trowa also pointed out that by blaming the Wyvern; I am saying that Duo is incapable of caring for himself. I don’t think that at all, but I can’t seem to get past my anger. Trowa seems to think I’m just being generically pissy. Maybe, just *maybe* he’s right. I suppose it can’t hurt to apologize. Words cost nothing, after all.

So, I was here to apologize to the Wyvern, for the thoughts I’d had, as well as to inquire after Duo’s health. And maybe to assuage my own guilt a bit.

I’m sure none of us expected danger to come in the form of a teenage female. From Zephyrus, or one of his ilk, in a heartbeat, but a Human female? And a non-Magical one at that? Never.

It galls me also, to know that I have to apologize to that bloody demon, and even to thank him for his help, but (sigh) fair is fair, and without his help we might not have found Duo as soon as we did.

I still wonder at that remark of his, that Duo is well-known to the demon realms, though Duo doesn’t realize it.

But my mind is wandering…

I’m going to be apologizing for days…

In addition to checking on Duo’s recovery and apologizing to Heero, I also have to apologize to Duo, for grabbing him in the infirmary. It was just a stupid thing to do. Q warned us to give him room, and that he was very… fragile at that moment, but seeing him trying to blindly sidle around obstacles, well… I suppose I could blame it on my hardwiring, but it was still a stupid thing to do. Especially when Trowa touched his arm and the Banshee reacted… badly.

I should have just spoken and tried to calm him with my voice, not tried to get hold of him. But by every ancestor I possess, I never dreamed that Duo, our happy, affectionate, charming Banshee, could be so… dangerous.

Only an instant after my hands landed on his arms, my nerves, my skin, every organ in my body tried… to be elsewhere.

Trowa had to pick me up off the damn floor; I was having enough trouble just remembering how to breathe.

Some time later I became aware of the events playing out nearby, but I can’t say I *knew* what was happening. It pains me to use such a trite phrase as ‘dazed and confused’ but it is the only possible description of my state of mind. I didn’t notice when Duo fainted, but I sure as hell noticed when everyone else went crazy. The memories come in strobe-like flashes, of Heero taking the limp Banshee down on the bed next to me; of Q shouting for Mistress Loquinn; of Trowa howling from… somewhere close by. Voices, shrieks, screams… and the Wyvern cursing creatively, damning that Human female to her own hell.

My time-sense gets a little… muddled in there. I think I remember hearing my own voice… At some point, Q was on the phone; at another, Duo was on his feet, looking as if he had a date with an executioner. Mistress Loquinn had a few minutes of prominence and even Trowa contributed by offering to take me home.

I resented that greatly, but my head was still spinning from whatever the hell had happened, and I couldn’t gather enough wits to protest being carted off like a sack of rice. Q, Heero and Duo vanished. Trowa helped me to achieve upright status, and kept his arm firmly around my waist as we staggered out to the parking lot.

I don’t remember getting home or into bed, but that’s where I woke up hours later, with the most god-awful painful second degree burns you *never* want to see. It took every bit of chutzpah I own not to break down in sobs when I began peeling out of the t-shirt and shorts that Trowa had put me to bed in. I was *covered* in blisters; blisters that popped when touched, or peeled away, stuck to my garments, leaving behind a disgusting… goo.

Trowa must have heard something; he came running while I was still entangled in that sticky, oozy shirt. One look and he was at the brazier, yelling frantically for Mistress Loquinn.

The Witch herself appeared moments later, with an enormous jar of pink bath salts. I quickly found myself naked in the bath with the warm water running and the pink salts turning the water – and me – a delightful shade of seafoam green. The Witch stayed for a while, watching me carefully and poking occasionally at the damned blisters.

The bath salts took away a good deal of the pain; within half an hour I was able to breathe without feeling like my skin was splitting open.

I tried to ask Trowa what the hell had happened, but he gave me a frightened look and changed the subject almost violently by shoving a mug of tea at me. And Mistress Loquinn just told me “Later,” in that forceful female way that she has.

I finally gave up and just drowsed in the water, barely rousing when Trowa drained the old water and refilled the tub with fresh. I think I spent the whole night there, with Trowa bringing me cup after cup of tea and muttering about dehydration. I don’t see how I could possibly be dehydrated while becoming thoroughly waterlogged. When I finally became fully aware of my surroundings once again, I felt much better.

My whole body was one big crusty scab, but as it hardly hurt at all, I figured I could live with that. It looked disgusting, however…

Trowa, I discovered when I trudged into the living room, had suffered with the same weird blisters, albeit only on his chest. We looked at each other and did that brain-sync thing that we sometimes do.

“Banshee,” we said together.

Trowa nodded slowly. “I think maybe Duo’s more heavily-armed than anyone realised.”

“I think you’re right.” I suddenly remembered the interior of that cabin. Remembered what the Coroner’s team had sponged and squeegied off the walls and floor…

“Son of a bitch,” I breathed, finally realizing the implications.

“No shit,” muttered Trowa, already there.

“Damn,” we finished together.

That was when the subject of an apology first reared its distasteful head. We ordered pizza since we were both starving, and spent a few hours dissecting the whole situation. Then we called Q to ask how Duo was feeling. I really wanted to see for myself, but even I knew better than to barge in when Heero was still a raw, bleeding nerve. Once he’d had time to climb down a bit, we could begin asking after our friend.

Duo, Q explained, had been drugged, and even though Mistress Loquinn and the half-half doctor were confident that he would recover fully, he had had a bad night, and would probably have several more before the stuff wore off.

My first impulse was to rush to the jail where that sorry excuse for a sentient creature was being held, and beat her bloody. Cooler heads prevailed.

Well, Trowa prevailed. He hid my damn car keys and refused to drive me. I considered walking, but that would require putting clothes on. At that point, I realised that even if I had my keys, I couldn’t go, because anything outside the apartment would require me to get dressed, and my scabs protested mightily at the mere thought of that. I expressed my displeasure with the whole miserable affair by snarling and ranting, but it was nowhere near my best work, so I finally just gave it up. I hadn’t broken anything or gone for my dam dao, and my volume was just pathetic. Trowa felt of my forehead in concern and I was too tired to manage even mild indignation over that.

As I said, cooler heads.

It didn’t stop me thinking about my beautiful little Banshee, though. What the hell had Duo ever done to deserve this, anyway?

What the hell, indeed…

...tbc...