[This story's creational documentation is tagged at December 2009]

COMPOSITION FF-SxD 06

Shale looked wearily down at the worn and wrinkled slip of paper in his paw, his eyes grazing over the words, even though he'd memorized every curve of every letter and every word it contained. This didn't stop him, though, as he read over the entire letter as if somehow, someway, he'd missed something after reading it the first two hundred times already. And in his usual fashion of folding it neatly back up only to take it out again some minutes or hours later to repeat the process, he sighed as he took in the meaning behind every word and sentence.

It was written in scratches - pencil, with deep, dark lines, whose tip seemed as though it was being pressed too hard down on the paper. The lead smudged from Shale's handling, the once defined letters were getting fainter and fainter with every re-read; just like the memory of its author.

For the umpteenth time, Shale folded the piece of paper and stuffed it in his pocket as he felt the moisture begin to collect in his eyes. He waited a few minutes, not moving, not thinking. Just taking the time to regulate his breathing and muster up the necessary courage to reach back into his pocket, unfold the note, and reread...

Shale:

It was never my intention to get so involved, but after that night at the bar, well, I couldn't help but let things pretty much run by itself from there. I knew what I'd be getting myself into then, but I guess I never thought that the first time could be the real time.

And it was real. Every bit of it. That night, the moment I stole a glance at you and you at me, I knew. You didn't have to say anything. I fell for you that moment and every moment since. I wasn't drunk when I took you out back to that alleyway and I knew you weren't either - you know I wouldn't take advantage of people like that. I may be... that way... but that doesn't make me a skank who'd offer myself to just anyone. I hope you can understand that.

Unfortunately, not everyone does - my former family and friends included. I thought I could get away with not giving a damn about what they all thought about me... about us... but the more I tried to push everything besides that aside, the harder it became to live, and I know it must've been equally hard for you too.

That's why I decided to end it.

Not for me and definitely not for them, but for you. With me around, it would only complicate things more, so please don't make this any more difficult than it already is. If you meant all the things you said and did since that night behind the bar, you'd trust me when I say it's better this way. I'm leaving now, and for all you thought it was worth, don't try to find me. Go about your life and forget that our paths had ever crossed.

I had a great time, but the truth was, it wasn't meant to last. I knew this too, that night we met, and I tried - oh, how I tried - to hold onto it, but I couldn't. I just couldn't. I'm sorry.

I gotta go now. Good-bye, Shale.

_ _

_ DAGS

_ _

Shale couldn't count the nights of sleep he'd lost over so small a note that took such a big chunk of his heart away. How long had it been, he couldn't even remember. It could've been a year, two years, maybe even just two days. But by now, the aching pain in his chest was an unbearable weight he simply didn't have the strength to lug around with him wherever he went.

But not anymore. Against Shale's will, a droplet fell from his eye and splattered on the paper, fading the last traces of the underscored name at the bottom to a blank space of nothingness. He folded the paper again and held it between his two paws. He closed his eyes. Then pulled his paws apart. He did it again. And again. And again, until all he held in them were the fine shreds of a hope - a dream - a memory - that now fluttered away to an invisible breeze, blowing away with it the traces of a life he once had.

_ _

***

In truth, it had been six months since the letter. Three more, when Shale heaved with a grunt the last cardboard box into the trunk of his car. This was the last of it. He slammed the trunk closed and clapped the dust off his paws. Sighing to himself, he took the next couple of seconds to turn around and stare blankly at the empty apartment that held such a great many of the memories he knew would be only things he'd be leaving behind. The only item he had to remind him of his former happiness was the small dog tag clinking from a thin chain around his neck that he'd made for himself shortly after Dags' sudden disappearance; it was a trifled thing, made of cheap tin he only chose so that it'd be easier to engrave on it - no names, no dates, and no pictures - just a single line of words that read plainly, "To things different from the usual."

It was just vague enough for him to decide to continue wearing it, and the phrase held a special meaning to him and only him in a smug sense that no one else would know its true significance.

With a slight frown, Shale thought to himself that it wasn't like he needed something to serve as a constant reminder, but despite what Dags had asked of him, it just wouldn't be right to simply forget it all and pretend that any of it never happened. It just wasn't possible. So instead of hauling the heavy and painful memories with him, he figured the dog tag would merely serve as the only evidence that any of it was real; it was certainly much lighter, tangible, and surprisingly enough, it helped somewhat to put his mind at ease.

Somewhere off on the road, a tire screeched and a red-faced wolverine stuck his head out of the window of his car to yell curses at the opposing driver. An irate tiger shouted back, and the things they said snapped Shale back to reality. He knew he should be getting on the road himself. With a final sigh, he breathed away the slight tightening in his chest and got into the car, accidentally slamming the door much harder than he intended to. Shale needed to get away as quickly as possible, and this, he made apparent by the way his tires screamed out the driveway to join the medley of other sonorous noises on the nearby highway.

For some hours, Shale drove in silence, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. Concentrating on nothing else but getting to where he needed to get to. And where he needed to get to, he had but only a vague idea. Somewhere far away, perhaps. Someplace smaller. Quieter. Friendlier. There was no set destination, but eventually, he'd come by something suitable. Of anything, all he really wanted was to get away for a while. Forever - even better.

There was a droning hum in his ears from the smoothness of the tires now gliding soundly over the road. He could almost fall asleep to it. He quickly dismissed the thought with an irate shake of his head and then decided to flip on the radio. The speakers sang a jittery tune he didn't recognize; not slow enough to instantly become bored with, but only just fast enough to familiarize himself with its rhythmic beat.

Bouncy.

Shale decided the only word to accurately describe the song was bouncy. There weren't any words either; just the hopping music playing in the foreground... simply there to fill in the hollow silence that permeated the car. It was the kind of music one could listen to for hours but never pay the closest bit of attention to. It was perfect. He could feel his shoulders relax and slump against his seat, only not realizing why or how he'd become so tense.

A billboard waved at him from the corner of his eye. Its flashy bright colors were too much to avoid looking at, so he grudgingly pried his eyes off the road to steal a glance at it. It was an ad for the local FurNiversity, featuring a young and very happy-looking female husky grinning ear to ear in a blue graduation gown. She was wrapped in a tight, loving embrace by what would appear to be her mother. On the side were printed words in big, gold, and all-capital letters: "WHAT DIRECTION DO YOU WANT TO TAKE WITH YOUR FUTURE?"

Shale grumbled. "Left," he answered. And he spun the steering wheel around to exit out the long freeway.

By now, he'd driven only long enough for him to loose track of how far he'd actually gone. The bustling streets thinned out into monodirectioned roads and the surrounding city corners became arid deserts that soon fleshed out again into thin settlements. This next stop was a rather threadbare excuse for a community, with seemingly just enough accommodations to be self-reliant; he drove first through the traffic-deprived streets, trailing his way along a neighborhood of cookie-cutter houses, then making his way back again to spot an apartment complex beside a square of buildings. There was a convenience store with the peculiar name, "Impression Clotch" and the neon letters M, I, and L burnt out.

Shale almost broke a smile at it. Nearby, there was a shabby Chinese restaurant with a hunched-over, old Siamese cat sweeping its front with a twig broom. The scraping sound it made over the sidewalk made Shale twitch, and as though catching the slight movement, the cat looked up from her sweeping, eyes the palest shade of blue, regarded him with an unwavering expression before looking back down to continue her work.

Shale drove on, slowing his pace to a leisurely cruise as he scanned over the block with a weary countenance. The sun was already tucked halfway behind the distant mountains, staining the sky an inky indigo that was quickly swallowing up the last rays of orange. Though it strained him to look directly at its brightness, he followed it all the way down until it had completely gone from view. He sighed, not knowing exactly why he was allowing himself to feel this way. It certainly felt like a big chunk of something that made up such a big part of his life was missing. He felt hollow. Empty. Like a discarded shell thrown carelessly out because its previous host thought it unsatisfactory to live in. That, despite all the comfort and hospitality he had offered, it had all gone for naught to a cold inhibiter that could so easily toss him out and replace him with something more fitting.

In his mind, he ran a sequence of words for the sensation; obsolete, expendable, forlorn, disregarded... This new word game kept him occupied for some minutes more of driving, before another neon sign flickered to life, illuminating over the veiled sky. He turned his head. "Big Bear's Roadhouse." Well, it was definitely an improvement of Impression Clotch. That, and a quick stop for a drink was sounding like more than a good idea at the moment. Forget he was behind the wheel. Now that he knew this place had a pub, it couldn't be all-bad. He finalized his decision for something light and crisp as he parked his car and got out.

The air felt chillier out here, Shale realized, yawning out a mouthful and stretching his arms up to the sky. With a grunt, he cracked his back and shook his head furiously to the sides. Floppy ears patting the edges of his face, he stifled one more yawn before strutting over to the door and heaving them open.

Almost instantly, another cool breeze greeted him, along with the solid stares of the sitting customers. Then, seeing that Shale posed no thread, returned to their business. On one side of the pub, there was a system of pool tables - four of them, which surprised Shale a little to see. Only one was being used, between a biker-dressed Doberman with ripped sleeves and jeans and an oiled grey wolf in similar attire, only wearing goggles around his neck.

Shale suddenly felt very small. Quietly, he slinked over to the counter, where a still-bigger, even bulkier bear was busy counting cash at the register. The money seemed play-sized compared to the large paws that were handling it. He was able to catch a glimpse of the name embroidered on his grease-stained shirt... Bear. How original.

He looked up, acknowledging Shale's presence with a nod. "What can I getcha tonight?"

Shale took a seat on one of the swirling chairs. "I'll have a Beck's Dark," he replied.

"Sure thing. Hey, Jess, could you get that for me-" He cut himself off as he turned around to see no one else was there. "Oh yeah, the girl took off early today," he grumbled. It didn't seem likely that Bear would leave his post at the open register anytime soon, and this idea was confirmed when he hollered over his shoulder in that booming bear-ish voice. "Hey! I need a Beck's Dark out here on the double!"

From the back room kitchen shouted back a voice from the flaccid open-hinged doors; "Yeah, yeah, I heard you! Just give me a minute!"

The voice coming from the back was distinct. Growling and deep, making Shale scrunch his eyes together in an attempt to try and differentiate an owner.

Bear shook his head. "I swear, that kid's gotta learn who runs the place around here," he muttered, not looking up. Then, to Shale, he added, "You look like someone who could make good use of it too,"

Shale only shrugged. He felt his timid side start to resurface again. Maybe he should order a burger or something as well - just so that he could have an excuse not to talk, with his mouth full.

Plates and glasses were clattering loudly in the kitchen. He heard the squeak of a drink dispenser hiss out a spume of liquid, and then squeak closed again. More plates clattered. So much so, that the biker Doberman turned his head in wonderment, a toothpick in the corner of his mouth waving in circles. He was leaning on a cue, but soon turned back around.

"What the devil," began Bear, but was cut off when the kitchen doors burst open. Out barreled a golden-tanned dragon, carrying a tray in one hand with the frothy liquid swirling inside the glass. He twirled around and hollered back at kitchen.

"This is the last favor I ever do for you," he cried. "Next time, you wait your own damn tables! And I'm keeping your tip."

"Dags!" bawled Bear angrily.

"What!" The dragon spun back around and glared at Bear. Then, he caught sight of Shale.

Instantly, the burning conflagration in his eyes were snuffed as they widened so large that even from behind the counter, Shale could see their whiteness. For a brief moment, everything seemed to stand completely still. All other noises in the room fell silent. And all other things ceased to exist between the focused stares of the greyhound and dragon.

The tray teetered and fell from his hand, and time was moving so slowly, Shale felt as though he could've easily walked up and caught the spilling glass in midair before it shattered on the ground.

"Dags," whispered Shale in an inaudible voice, but he knew the dragon could still hear him.

Bear was yelling something and though Shale was right next to him, he still couldn't hear. All he did - all he could do - was stare. The tray and shards of glass and a stream of beer were scattered about the floor. Dags staggered back a few steps, eyes still locked on Shale's, and he slowly shook his head. "It's not you," he said simply, then jumped back and fled into the kitchen.

Sound returned. Bear looked menacingly over at Shale. "You two..."

Immediately, Shale hopped off his seat, almost stumbling back to the floor as well. The Doberman and grey wolf were laughing hysterically. "Excuse me," he said half-heartedly, and then bounded up after the dragon.

He busted through the swinging doors just in time to see the tip of Dags' tail disappear out the rear exit. He quickly followed and was at the other side of the kitchen in no time. For a flash, Shale was glad to have been born a greyhound. Not even a dragon could outrun him.

This didn't seem to stop the pursuit though, as he threw himself at the door and looked about. He was behind the bar, standing in the middle of a long passageway set up by the building's back wall and another wall that defined the square's edge. A couple dumpsters were lined against them and proved useful when he heard a clang of metal not too far off in the darkness. He could see the silhouette of wings and the thick tail making off down the way.

Shale didn't want to keep running. So he did the only thing he thought he could do - shout. And he shouted the only thing he thought he could shout. "DAAAAAAGS!!!"

He could almost see his echo smack against the shadow's back. It suddenly stopped. Didn't speak or anything. Just stopped.

Shale was panting. He didn't know why. For such a short run, he could've brushed off, it felt as though he'd ran for miles. Even his breathing's echo, he could hear.

"Dags," Shale said again.

Slowly, the figure turned around.

The features were all unmistakable now. The dulled pointed horns projecting from the top of his head, a defined chest traced by the tight-fitting tank shirt, the black stripes on the tail, ripped navy blue cargo pants. Those eyes. That mouth. And clawed hands.

Shale took a slow step closer. Then another. "What... where've you..."

The dragon's eyes seemed to reflect more so in the dark than in the light. They were narrowed.

Shale fought for the right words, but all he could muster up to say was, "Where've you been?" All this, though he didn't stop approaching the dragon with slow, wary steps.

The shadow named Dags remained motionless, hesitant to speak. "Away from you," he finally answered.

Every word Dags said was like Shale was saying it, only with ten times more breath. He was left gasping. "But... but why?"

"You know why."

"I... I still don't understand." Shale was now close enough to see each of the golden scales covering the dragon's body.

"What, did I not spell it out clear enough for you," Dags suddenly snapped at him.

Shale stopped, as if the next step he took would send him tumbling over the edge of a bottomless pit. "W-what do you mean?"

Dags growled. "Don't pull that clueless-fuck bullshit on me, Shale. You know damn well what I mean!"

He blinked. And Shale felt tremendously hot underneath his fur. "No, I don't," he affirmed. "All you left me was a note."

"Wasn't that enough?"

"No, Dags, it wasn't."

Another growl. Dags was now bearing his teeth at him. Shimmering and white. "Well it should've been. Because that's all you're ever going to get."

"What did I do, Dags," said Shale, unaware of how his voice quivered so. "Just tell me what I did."

The dragon lightened his growl and coiled back his neck. "You came back."

"It wasn't my intention to find you."

"Really? I seem pretty found to me."

"Stop it Dags," Shale abruptly cried out. "I want to know and I want to know from you out loud. Why'd you do it, Dags? Why?"

"Why the hell does it matter," Dags shouted back at him, taking a threatening step towards him. The ground seemed to ripple out from under him. "It's not going to change anything!"

"Why do you say that?"

Dags let out an irate roar of frustration and began to pace around. "Dammit, Shale, didn't you read a word of that letter?"

"Seriously, is that really how you wanted to end it," yelled Shale, not even noticing how his vision was blurring from the moisture in his eyes. "Just write a note and disappear like that? Maybe you didn't have a problem with just taking off as you did, but have you ever thought about how you'd be leaving me?"

Dags pointed a claw at him. "Don't try to dump this on me, like it was all my fault! I didn't have a choice, remember?"

"You had me."

He scowled and continued to pace around.

"Didn't it mean anything to you? All those times, I thought we were... I thought you..."

A soft grunt. "That was a long time ago."

"It's been almost a year! How could you have gotten over it so quickly? Was I just ass to you, or did you really mean what you said when you wrote that letter?"

To this, the dragon suddenly fell silent.

"Let me in again, Dags. I need you."

Dags stomped over until he was standing mere inches away, and he easily stared him down. "Don't you get it at all? It doesn't matter where we are, with you around, it's going to start all over again. We'll have people on our cases again like before and if anything happens, I won't be there to cover your sorry ass... in fact, I'll probably stand by and watch, just to tell you I told you so!"

Shale blinked once and the tears were released. "You don't mean that, Dags. Please, please, say you don't mean that!"

Dags stood glowering at him, shoulders heaving up and down.

He sobbed. "Was there anything I could've done, Dags? Because I'll do it. I'll do whatever you want. Just stop tearing me apart like this!"

"If I hadn't made it obvious enough to you yet, I want you to get out of here. And don't let me see your face again!"

Shale sniffed and padded his eyes on his sleeves. The tears were still coming, but something about Dags' manner just snapped a nerve inside. Sorrow solidified into a deep anger he never knew himself capable of feeling. From his eyes trailed a stream of tears that magnified the gleaming conflagration in them. "Now I see... you weren't thinking about how you were leaving me at all. You were just thinking about yourself, and how you could get away from it all. You ran, like a goddamn coward!"

"Call it what you will. Just get away from me."

"You selfish bitch of a wyrm."

The dragon huffed... or sniffed. It was hard to tell. "I don't need any of this." He turned around and started off.

Just then, Shale acted. On pure impulse, he reached out and grabbed the dragon back by the shoulder. "Hey, Thundagger!"

A quick jolt of movement. Dags whirled around and the blur of a tail came plowing into Shale's stomach. He took a step back, doubling over. Then, before another thought could register in his mind, he clenched his paws together and immediately swung out in retaliation. Shale didn't feel his fist connect with the side of Dags' snout, but he saw it, and instantly stood appalled. The dragon held his head off to the side for a few seconds before slowly... very slowly... swerving his neck back around to face Shale, teeth bared in a ferocious snarl.

Shale saw his eyes - they weren't Dags'.

Then, with a roar, the large dragon flung himself at Shale. The greyhound was knocked clean off his feet and fell flat of his back with the heavy weight pounding him on top. Rolling around, the two became a mess of scales, tails, and fur as they brawled on the floor, aimlessly throwing around dust and punches. Dags had the front of Shale's shirt clutched in his hand, using the other to frisk back and forth a hard fist across the face.

With every blow, Shale grew dazed with the pain, yet there was on odd sense of relief every time a lightning bolt of hurt surged through his body and gave him the strength to fight back. Of course, in all the commotion of his mind, Shale knew he'd be no worthy match to Dags, but this didn't stop him. Relief came in small burst of energy that vented through his swings and wounds, for he knew the physical pain was nothing compared to the open injuries he'd sustained for the past couple of months inside.

Lifting a leg to knee Dags in the gut, he heard a howl [Can dragons howl?] and the hand released him to free his movement. While Dags was crouched over, Shale didn't give him enough time to recover as he gave a loud shout out and head-butted him. With strength he was only now discovering, he grabbed him around the legs and was able to lift him clean off the ground to slam back onto the floor. The dragon let out a gurgle and brought both hands clenched together down on Shale's back. A whimper escaped him as he collapsed in a heap and Dags picked him up by the collar of his shirt to slam him forcefully against the side of a dumpster.

Strength starting to give in, Shale slumped against the cool metal. It hurt immensely to take deep breaths at a time and his arm felt as though it had been yanked off, shaken useless by a rabid hyena, then plopped sloppily back on. He was also finding it difficult to see, and didn't know whether to attribute that to his half-closed eye or the stars dancing around his vision.

Dags didn't look anything like he did either, with a purple blotch right on the side of his face, crimson blood trickling carelessly from the corners of his mouth, and his tank shirt torn all around the middle to reveal a number of more cuts and bruises. The membranes on his wings were wrinkled and torn slightly, and there was a small gimp in his walk.

Compared to his sturdy body, Shale was soft as the large dragon rounded his hand and dug it deep into the greyhound's stomach.

Shale felt the air leave him as he sagged down, gasping and coughing at the ground. He was sure Dags would come over and kick him when he heard a loud clang of metal from behind him over the ringing in his ears. With an effort, Shale turned his head to see Dags leaning against the dumpster, mouth agape up at the night sky, gulping madly for air.

One more time.

With his final burst of energy, Shale pushed off the ground and tackled Dags over with a yell. The two were hardly able to hurt each other anymore with the force behind their exhausted blows, but Shale landed his hits against Dags' firm chest, and for a small while, Dags simply lay there to take them.

Shale beat on him, but was unmindful of the long tail, which snaked up to whack at the side of his head. Shale was thrown to the side and was left on the brink of consciousness. Sounds turned to distant echos and shapes became blurs. He felt something hard and heavy on top of him and when he'd recovered his senses enough to see, what he saw made him wish he was back in his dazed state.

Dags was straddled on top of Shale's belly, one hand gripping the front of his shirt and the other pulled back, only hands slightly open in preparation to rake his dragon talons across Shale's face. It would surely send him to the darkness.

But the relief Shale had accumulated during the fight left him worn and unable to resist. Dags' eyes were unreadable now. This was it, then. It was finally going to be over. His wedge-shaped head lolled to the sides as all he had the strength left to do was put a hand over the one that was grasping his shirt. He did this, and would have, too - even if he had the power left to force Dags off of him.

And in doing so, there came a soft clink. Like the clink of cheap metal rubbing against itself. The dog tag Shale was wearing fell into view, and the mighty dragon averted his gaze from Shale's face down to it.

To things different from the usual.

Dags stared at it long enough to read it ten times over, and ten times over again, before he slowly lifted his head again to look directly at the greyhound. And in their locked gazes, Shale became aware of why he couldn't read Dags' eyes - they were clouded with wetness.

"Why," the dragon said to him in a coarse whisper.

Shale forced himself to return the dragon's stare, his voice dented and in pieces. "Because... I love you, Dags."

The water overflowed Dags' eyes and began to roll down his snout. His face scrunched and he gave Shale a small jerk. "Don't," he said quietly.

Shale felt himself drifting in and out of the shadows. "I want to," he began. And when the dragon fell speechless to his remark, he mustered the breath and strength to continue. "Don't break what we have because of me... I knew the risks too. But I didn't care... you were more than worth it."

Dags sniffed and lowered his claw that was hanging in the air.

"When you left, I..." He blinked, seeming to stare straight through Dags. The hand he was holding over the one on his shirt fell to the side.

"Shale? Shale!" The dragon shook him back awake. The hand he thought was going to end his life was now being used to support his head up.

Shale knew his time was running short. "Whatever difficulties came with us being together... I wanted to face them. Just as long as that's how we'd stay... together." There was a pain in his chest that ached with every slow beat of his heart. "But now, it's my turn to go."

"No!" Dags shook his head and got off of Shale to kneel beside him. He held him close and bent his wings around to wrap around the both of them. "Shut up, Shale... don't you talk shit like that. Not now. I'm..." He turned and frantically swerved his head around, but no one was in sight. He turned back to Shale, his voice softening. "I'm going to get you someplace where they can help you... where you'll be safe, okay? Just... J-Just hang in there. You gotta hang in there for me, alright?"

It seemed as though Dags' face was so far away. "I am safe," he whispered. "Right here."

"Shale..."

He smiled up at him. "Don't try to follow." And then he closed his eyes.

"Shale? SHALE!!! SHAAAAAAALE!!!"

***

Minutes, hours, and days were but mere words as Dags sat slumped in his chair, head buried in his hands and wings drooped so low, they draped over the floor. It felt like decades since he'd last moved, spoken, or ate. Every so often, a slim female bunny in an immaculate nurse uniform would sashay by and offer him a glass of water. Head still pushed in his hands, Dags would shake his head no, and after a minute or two of wondering, the nurse would continue on her way.

Dags hadn't done much of anything since that night. It's been three days without any word on Shale's condition, and the anxiety was eating away at him from the inside. He was still in the same torn cargo pants, and it was only for the integrity of the hospital that the doctors insisted that he change out of his torn, bloodied tank shirt. With further persuasion and much growling, he even allowed them to stitch up his wings and slap two small bandages on his face in an X fashion.

Dags didn't feel any better than when he first ran into the hospital - in fact, he felt worse. Even Bear came by to pass on his condolences for "a good friend," but that he was still fired. The minute he disappeared from view, Dags forgot he ever came in.

For the longest time, Dags played and replayed the memory of what happened over in his head. He remembered how angry he became at the first sight of Shale, how the words he said to him just sort of spilled forth from the boiling rage obscuring his thoughts and memories of just how much better it really was with Shale around. It felt as though he was watching himself, horrified and helpless, slam him against the dumpster and grind a fist hard into him.

And in the sparse times he jerked his head up in startlement, he wished the sight that would greet him would be from the bed of a lonely and dark room, with the sleeping greyhound's brindled, furry arms stretched across his side.

But such was not the case.

"Ohhh, fuck," Dags would then groan, rubbing wearily at his sunken eyes. Peering across the hall at the clock, he made a mental note to himself the next time the bunny nurse came by to ask if it was broken... the hands didn't seem to be moving. The world was stuck in the small confines of 2:47 AM.

He sighed and returned to his normal position of hiding his face in his hands. "Tell me what a jerk I was," he said into them.

"The word 'jerk' doesn't even satisfy whoever did this to him," came a voice.

Dags snapped his head up and gazed up into the intellectual eyes of a badger in an aqua-colored doctor's suit. Immediately, Dags sprang to his feet and fired off an immeasurable string of questions. The badger closed his eyes and held up a hand.

It was as if Dags' snout was instantly clamped shut. His heart was beating up in his head.

"Three snapped ribs, a mild concussion, and a broken arm," he said. "He was beaten up pretty bad."

Dags wasn't even aware he'd stopped breathing.

"But for now, he'll be fine."

The dragon heaved a tremendous breath so large, he slumped back into the chair. He held a hand over his chest and gave himself a minute to allow the blood in his brain flow back to the rest of his body.

"Of course, the circumstances were rather peculiar," said the badger, scratching at the back of his head. "Normally, these things shouldn't be too difficult to patch up. But for reasons we couldn't understand, we were loosing him at first."

Dags looked up.

"It was almost like he was intentionally making it difficult for us."

Dags didn't know if he should be feeling angry, sad, or relieved. There came a small urge to shake the doctor and yell at him that Shale would never do such a thing. But when he asked himself if he really would the second time, his mental answer came much more hesitantly. The prick of anger quickly extinguished itself.

"He's resting now," the doctor finally said, pulling out his spectacles and putting them on. He peered down at a clipboard he was holding for a few seconds, and then looked over their rim at Dags. "We may also be needing to ask you a few questions about how this all came to happen, if you don't mind."

He blinked. Then finally decided... no, he didn't mind. He didn't mind one bit. If it came to such an answer, he'd tell them Shale was his boyfriend and that he loved him very much. He'd say they were more than 'good friends' and that he was the one that started it all. He'd say he was a dick for leaving him as he did, and if they pressed him at it further, he'd say for them to go to hell. "Not at all," replied Dags, the corners of his mouth upturned. "Where can I see him?"

"Well, he's still resting. It'd probably be best if you -"

"Where can I see him."

The badger regarded him for a moment with scrutinizing eyes before pointing over his shoulder with his pen. "Room 698."

Dags didn't stick around any longer than he had to. He jumped off his seat and was at the end of the hall before the doctor could ask him anything further.

He stood outside the door for a few seconds, embarrassed at not knowing whether he should knock or just come in. His hands were all sweaty, and he wiped then irately on his pants. Then, with a quivering hand, he turned the doorknob and pushed.

The only sound in the room came from the steady beeping of the electrocardiograph machine. The shades were pulled down, and a light over the bed was flickering an aura of white over the greyhound resting so peacefully on the bed. Shale's eyes were closed, his chest heaving slowly in and out. There was a patch over one of his eyes, his arm suspended in a cast, and through the cheap fabric of his gown (which, ironically, featured a pattern of little flying dragons), he could see the scars of the incisions the doctors made to repair his ribs.

Dags felt himself begin to water up again as he stared down at his friend. His lover. Turning his head to see that no one was standing outside the open door, he reached up and traced his finger lightly over the line on Shale's chest.

My fault, he thought.

His finger lowered and soon, his whole hand was resting gently on his chest. He looked to his side at Shale's suspended arm.

Also my fault.

"Oh, Shale," he said ever so quietly. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry."

He couldn't keep them back. The tears came and trickled down his snout, soaking up the bandage on his cheek. He closed his eyes and sobbed silently to himself before he felt something soft and warm touch his hand.

Dags instantly looked to see Shale staring up at him with one eye. He smiled crookedly. "It's okay."

And then, at sight of Shale's smile, Dags couldn't help but chuckle, which mixed with his sobs to produce a kind of bubbly sound. He sniffed and kneeled to level himself with Shale. "If I have someone here who loves me," he said, "how would he feel?"

Shale gave Dags' hand a small squeeze. More for reassurance that he was still holding it. "He'd be very proud," he replied. And in a sturdier voice, he added, "angry... but proud."

The dragon lowered his gaze. "I don't know what else to say other than... I'm sorry. Ugh, I suck so bad at these things." He wiped at his eyes.

"No kidding. And you look like crap."

Dags' broken chuckle became a small laugh. "And look who's talking."

Shale's smile widened and he groaned as he struggled to sit up on his bed. "Aww, hell... remind me never to get in a fight with you again." Dags was quickly up on his feet and he helped to hold Shale's shoulders up as he positioned himself.

And then he stopped.

Shale stopped too.

They looked at one another.

Dags let his hand slowly... very slowly... slide down the length of Shale's arm. A stray thought crossed his mind to be bitter at those who'd undressed Shale to slip the gown with flying dragons on him. And just to show he was, he bent down and planted a small play-nip on Shale's neck. The greyhound closed his eyes and let him. When he felt the dragon's tongue skim over his soft fur before withdrawing, he gave him a pitiful look much like how a pet stares up at its owner when it stands next to an empty food bowl. "Umm... you're not going to let it stop there, are you?"

Dags blinked and cocked his head to the side. "But aren't you..."

"Dags," Shale said sternly. "I'm not dead yet. And besides, even if I shouldn't..." he chuckled slightly. "what better way is there to go?"

The dragon smiled, feeling the rim of his pants become a somewhat tighter in the last couple of seconds. He leisurely strolled over to the door and surreptitiously shut it. When he turned around, the smile had widened into that same old dragonish smirk. He looked at Shale. "What're you saying? You're not going anywhere."