Chapter 8

No more secrets, then.

Well, not this one, anyway.

Thyathyrec crumpled up Yrakc's note in his hand. He had expected Lyiyn to have told Piaròmine, not Ųòmel. It would've hurt worse coming from a mere acquaintance than from a close friend, or from himself. At least he could trust Ųòmel to have kept it only to Piaròmine, though he still had problems with Ųòmel having figured out the true source of the sample.

Sure enough, Piaròmine returned after supper break and found him having just learned the news from Yrakc. Fists clenched, she strolled up to Thyathyrec and glared at him, Yrakc be damned.

"He told me," she blurted, not caring who heard.

Thyathyrec nevertheless would not turn to look at her. "Did he."

"All this time, I thought Dhyr-ku had done that to you! What ever possessed you to try to kill yourself?"

He supposed she had gone to Lyiyn after speaking with Ųòmel, to get the whole story. "...I know what you're trying to do, Piaròmine."

She gave him a look of confusion mixed with disgust. "What are you talking about?"

"You shagged Lyiyn to get back at me for brushing you off, but now that you think you know what's wrong, you want to try to make it all better, ignoring that my feelings haven't changed."

"I – did no such thing!"

Finally, he glanced up, his face stern. "Then why did he tell you what I did?"

"He's concerned. I'm concerned! None of us knew you had been infected. We thought you'd stabilised after recovering from your injuries—"

"Well, I didn't. I had a latent infection from Dhyròc's blood, and I'm going to die. I didn't want anyone throwing away the colony's depleting resources trying to fix me when it can't be done."

He looked up and caught Yrakc's eye, taking in the fear in her face as she listened. Now Yrakc also knew, fully, the implications of what she had overheard.

Frowning, he turned away and walked to take a seat at the nearer recording station. At least he would only have to have this conversation once for both of them.

Piaròmine remained where she stood, clutching her chest as the words slipped out. "Did you..."

The countless things she could have been hinting at. "...did I what?"

Her cold expression seemed to betray what she asked. "Did you ever love me?"

"No," he snapped without hesitation.

"Liar."

Thyathyrec raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"What did you do with the bracelet I made for you, just before our aptitude testing?"

He hesitated before answering. "A—lòc-cy must have put it away somewhere. I haven't seen it in—"

She walked over and grabbed his left arm, yanking off his glove to reveal the familiar braid of twine circling his wrist.

"Liar," she repeated.

Thyathyrec flushed, but with mixed feelings. He had tried to hide his feelings before, more so after the attack, but he couldn't help appreciating her perception.

"I thought I could finally break down this barrier between us, but you've been putting it back up with each of my efforts! Why?"

He looked away in discomfort, quickly pulling his glove back on. "I thought you knew why, Piarò—"

"Why don't you ever call me Pia-sy, like everyone else?"

He gave her a mildly patronizing look. "I didn't want to treat you the same way that everyone else does. Pia-sy sounds so stuffy. Piaròmine is much prettier."

This made her pause. A slight grin appeared on her face but quickly disappeared as her face became pensive. "Yet you don't want to even kiss me, or hold my hand."

"I didn't want to lead you on, either."

Piaròmine seemed to accept this with some difficulty at first, until her immediate change in expression made it clear that she would deny it for as long as she could.

Now with all the cards on the table, he didn't see any point in lying or holding back anymore. "Yes, I do care deeply about you, but I don't feel comfortable with the way things turned out. There's no way I'm going to pass the virus on to anyone else, especially you."

"...but they can find a cure—" she started, but he touched a finger to her lips.

"Don't start," he whispered. "Believe me, I've studied every shred of medical technology we have. We don't have the resources to create a vaccine or even remission treatment, and the chances of transmitting the virus to someone else through tainted blood is virtually 100% otherwise. Without our link to the mainland, there won't be a cure until after I'm gone."

Her lip trembled as tears formed in her eyes. "It's not fair..."

"I know."

"But – you're dying."

He nodded just as if she had given him a compliment. "I don't mind, really. It's you I was worried about more than myself. You love children so much, but I didn't want to give you a child who has to grow up without a father, much less a child born with the same thing that kills h—"

She shoved him out of reflex. "Stop it." He quieted but otherwise didn't alter his expression. "I don't want to think about you dying of some horrible disease."

"That's not going to change anything. By the time you and Lyiyn have a big family, I'll be gone one way or another."

"But you weren't even going to let me say goodbye."

He frowned, a pang of guilt eating at him. "I guess not..."

"Even if you won't have me, Thya-ku, I do still want to be friends. Don't you?"

Pausing, he looked away in discomfort. "I don't know what I want anymore," he admitted. "All I knew was it would be less painful giving you up if I didn't have you to begin with."

"Was it?"

"What?"

"Less painful."

Thyathyrec nearly stopped breathing, as deep in thought as he was. "I don't know."

After a moment, he glanced up, noticing Yrakc listening quietly, holding her face in her hands as though watching a drama. Well, he couldn't deny that they definitely had made a scene.

Scene. Thyathyrec slapped a hand to his face when he remembered the recording. Well, at least he wouldn't have to explain to LITERALLY ANYONE ELSE again.

"Can we at least go out in the hall," he asked, subtly pointing at the camera above them.

Piaròmine raised an eyebrow, glancing up and noticing the flashing light indicating the recording activity. She then flushed in embarrassment, walking quickly out of the room. Thyathyrec stood to follow her, glancing at Yrakc and looking down, not saying another word as he joined Piaròmine in the hallway.

"Can you delete all that," she squealed, cheeks red with shame.

"Wish I could. Wish I could delete a lot of things, but unfortunately a certain SOMEONE would skin me alive if I did, regardless of my title."

"I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking—"

"While we're coming clean," he noted, to change the subject, "just to confirm—why Lyi?"

If he expected her to break down in guilt, Thyathyrec was mistaken. "Are you kidding?" she scoffed. "Have you seen the rest of the colony?"

"Not as much as others, but yes?"

"I'm not saying I ranked anyone, but the two of you were really the only options. Hell if I'm choosing your favourite boy IЪe-ku."

"Zòlthen isn't too bad."

"Psssh!" Piaròmine snorted. "Zòl-ku is a mess. I don't need to be a mother before I've even given birth!"

Thythyrec rubbed his chin. "Yacdhlyaec?"

"Ugh. Dull."

"Mylikò?" he joked, winking.

She shook her head in amused disappointment, pointing to her belly with both hands. "Uh, sure, she's cute, but trying to have kids here?"

"Saic?"

Here, she raised her eyebrows at him. "If I'm choosing, why would I pick a soldier who ISN'T the highest ranked one? WHICH—I remind you—is based on overall merit. Anyway, who would YOU choose, if you were in my position?"

She had a point. "...Lyi," he admitted.

Piaròmine had a smile so mischievous that it made Thyathyrec a bit nervous. "See, now I want to ship you two."

"Stranger things have happened," he said with a nonchalant shrug that surprised her. "But what did you even see in me, anyway? Even before, I was just a beanpole with funky hair."

"Hey, I like your funky hair."

"Really."

"It's hot."

He chuckled weakly at the idea. "So, you tried to be there for me all these years because I was hot."

"Are."

"With ugly scars on my lip and neck, not to mention the ones I won't show you."

"Hot, hot."

Thyathyrec sighed in mock defeat. "I'd hoped I had better desirable qualities in a lifetime companion than 'is hot.' Looks don't last forever."

She laughed. "Of course that's not all, doof. You're sweet, too. All the other guys talked back to their parents, but not you—you treated your mother, especially, with so much adoration it made me a little jealous. Then even when I was pressuring you, you acted like a gentleman, always trying to be the do-gooder. That's the kind of guy I want in my life."

"And you thought I'd still be that guy after all that's happened to me since the attack?"

"Yeah, I've seen you around Lyi-ku. I had no reason to think you'd changed, deep down. If anything, all of us being thrust into our parents' jobs has made it harder on us, but in the end we're all the same, right? We just have a few more responsibilities now, and maybe we don't have as many mentors to guide us than before."

He nodded, knowing that all too well."

"Besides, I've seen you naked—you're really hot."

Thyathyrec lost his grip on his staff and fell over. "WHAT?!"

Piaròmine grinned with mischief and waggled her eyebrows as she held out a hand to help him back up. "You think that guys are the only ones trying to get into the other locker rooms?"

He grimaced, unconsciously trying to cover up as he struggled back to his feet. "Why is everyone so interested in seeing me naked?"

"I mean..." She blushed, biting her tongue to keep from laughing. "I shouldn't say anything, but – it's difficult not to fantasise about it, you know? Even if you look a little bit different now than when I last saw – ALL of you."

Thyathyrec leaned against the wall and buried his face in his hands, shaking his head in frustration. "...I'm going to curl up and die now."

Her giggle was music to his ears, and he found he couldn't stay even a little mad at her as she beamed at him. "See, I knew you were still the same Thya-ku I knew. I just didn't know why you..."

The impact of her abrupt silence startled him. "What?"

Her face became distant, unreadable. "I was thinking of the first night I saw you in sick bay."

That could mean anything. "And?"

She shook her head. "...it was so much to take in. I still don't know what to believe."

"Believe what?" He gave her a skeptical look. "Did somebody tell you something bad about me?"

"Yes, er—" Piaròmine bit her lip in thought. "I mean, I don't know if it's bad, but it seems bad."

"Worse than that I have a deadly, incurable blood-borne virus?"

The pitiable look in her eyes reached such depths that he couldn't help losing himself in it. "They said you might have a – dissociative identity disorder, I think."

Thyathyrec cocked his head, squinting. "Who said this?" Having browsed all of the literature on practices and procedures for physical and mental health, he had become well-acquainted with the phenomenon, but it had never occurred to him that he might have it. Of course, no one could ever view oneself objectively...

"Yackrahfiec-cen. Also, Lyi-ku, in a way. He had told me before that you had specifically told him, 'Don't let him die yet.' Now I know it was after your attempt, but at the time I thought you had meant Dhyr-ku, even though Dhyr-ku had died before they could rescue you."

Thyathyrec frowned in disbelief. "I don't remember anything after I..." He crunched his face as he thought back to that moment. "All I know is when I came to, I was in a lot of pain, freshly bandaged, and feeling nothing but disappointment. I certainly didn't say anything like that, even to Lyiyn."

"Well, it's not like I was there to say otherwise. Every time I got to see you, you were out like a light. Lyi-ku saw, though, and he said he was extremely distressed then, but you were quite clear about it as he tried to stem the bleeding from your wrists, talking to him in a strangely calm voice. 'Don't let him die yet.'"

He stared into nothing. If true, that was the only time he had ever forgotten something. "Delirium, maybe? And 'he', who?"

"You, clearly. You followed it up later, once you had stabilised, with a sleepy sort of, 'Please take care of him. He will need your support when she arrives.'"

Bizarre. "And do you believe it? That there's another me – inside of me?"

"I don't know," she whined, unsure of what to make of any of it. "Sometimes it feels that way with the change in your attitude after the attack, but if you had multiples, you'd switch between personalities, right?"

"Not necessarily."

Pouting, Piaròmine looked into his eyes. Then she looked more deeply, as though peering into his soul. "Who's talking to me now?" she whispered. "Where's my Thya-ku?"

"Stop that," he chided, though now that she had planted the seed in his mind, he couldn't help wondering if a different Thyathyrec had taken over. He admitted his self prior to the incident bore almost no resemblance to his current self, but even normal people could change after a traumatic episode—and what more traumatic episode than what he'd endured?

...but dissociative identity was mostly a theory to begin with, sometimes manufactured by less scrupulous psychologists. It had never been proven as a genuine phenomenon, as no one had ever shown that otherwise normal people had "associative identity" as contrast. For all anyone knew, everyone in the world had multiple identities—id, ego, and superego, to say the least. Should it really concern him, though?

His train of thought slipped as Piaròmine made the most subtle of movements, but he could still read her like an open book. As she leaned towards him, Thyathyrec turned away, her lips catching a lock of his hair instead. "I'm serious," he scolded, "it's not worth it."

Disappointed, Piaròmine stood upright. "Are you so adamant as to deny yourself even a little pleasure while you're still alive?"

"You said it yourself—I'm sweet, so I won't do something I know is morally wrong."

"Like try to kill y—"

His glare turned so cold it gave her a chill.

"...I'm sorry."

Thyathyrec looked away again. "Look, now that I know I'm dying anyway, I don't see any reason to try a repeat of THAT. For one thing, it hurt—a LOT—but it also hurt Lyiyn. However, had I succeeded, I wouldn't have had to know that Lyiyn was hurt by it. If I let you have your way, even if it's 'only' a kiss, not only would that hurt him another time, but I wouldn't be able to face him again. Even if he gets to have you for the rest of your lives, it will smack of you trying to take more than what he can offer you.""

Piaròmine looked down. He figured she felt bad for wanting both of them. "We're both pretty screwed up, aren't we?"

"You think you have it bad?"

"I mean, one day ruined both our lives, right?"

"Your life isn't ruined."

"My life with you is."

He didn't have an immediate response for that. Ambient noise from further down the hall suggested the other scholars returning from supper. Thyathyrec didn't feel like hanging around to get the full interrogation from anyone who decided to review the recording.

As he walked down the hall, Thyathyrec felt Kyò's questioning gaze upon him, Piaròmine's truculent stare from behind him. Out of fairness, Kyò maintained her distance, seeing them together.

"So, you'll be expecting in a few months, huh," Thyathyrec mused, struggling to wrap his brain around the idea.

"Maybe," Piaròmine muttered, clutching her midsection. "It's not like we tried hard or anything."

"Lyi seems to think otherwise."

She harumphed at him. "Rude!"

"Hey, I didn't want to know. He volunteered the information when he confronted me about hurting you."

"Still rude!" Even so, she smiled. "I do want a little Lyi-ku around, though, even if I would've preferred a little Thya-ku."

"You should have a girl. Lyi always wanted a girl to pamper, a beautiful girl just like her mother—one he could teach to beat up all the little boys that threatened to pull her hair or throw mud at her."

She had to give a pleased grin at the notion. "What about you?"

He sighed, reveling in his past daydreams of their future together, though with a twinge of guilt. "One of each. Twins, maybe. Sure, they'd be a handful, but they're more fun to name. I would think of all kinds of complimentary possibilities."

The idea piqued her curiosity. "What would you name them?"

"Ah," he chided, wagging a finger at her. "You're cheating! Name your own kids."

"But I want to know what yours would be!"

"Tell you what, I'll tell Òryųrian-can, and she can tell you after your kids are born."

Piaròmine whined in frustration. "Why her?"

"Because I trust her to keep a secret, and it's more interesting when you don't know them."

"That's not fair!"

He sneered at her. "It's totally fair! I can't stop you from naming your kids after me, but taking my kids' names away from me is *rude.*"

Despite her words, she seemed to be enjoying the pseudo-spat. "What does it matter? You're not even going to have kids!"

"Let's just say I think it puts an unfair impression on kids when they're not named by their own parents."

Piaròmine gave him a confused look. "How do you mean?"

"Well, say you two have a son and name him Thyathyrec, after me. That's fine; you and Lyi both know who I am and want to honour me as your mate, or whatever. Say instead, though, you took a name that someone else picked, like—" He paused a moment to think of some meaningless name. "—'Thyliyn.' Who is that? What happens when one day your child Thyliyn asks what the name means, and what's the significance?"

She furrowed her brow at him, curious. "You like that name?"

"No, it's totally meaningless. I don't know of a Thyliyn, do you? It has no significance to me or you whatsoever. Why take a name when you don't know what it means?"

"I guess, because it sounds pretty?"

"What if it turns out to mean something really awful, or if it was the same name as a thief or cold-blooded murderer?"

Piaròmine threw her hands in the air. "That could be ANY name!"

"Well, if you're really undecided, you should let Lyi take part in the process." He glared at her. "The ENTIRE process."

"Of course I will, silly! I'm not going to just drop him after I've had my way with him or anything like that! I just wanted to know what my options would've been like with you, you know?"

"Then you can ask Òryųrian-can after you've had your own kids."

"I want to know now! What if something happens to her before I ever find out? I'll die never knowing Thya-ku's baby names!"

Thyathyrec shook his head in mild astonishment that she would put up such a fuss. "Well, I'll just say I admit that they wouldn't go well with Ųakydha or Cylèythi."

"Oh? What about Òlacdhić?"

"Well, I would have taken your name."

"Mine?" She mulled over this. "Thyathyrec Zaicen Ųakydha?"

He smiled, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

"That's pretty sweet, too," she admitted, blushing as she shook her fists. "Aww, why couldn't it be you?"

"Them's the breaks."

Piaròmine stopped suddenly, raising a finger. "Okay, I've got one of them, anyway."

"Hmm?"

"Cyiki."

Thyathyrec looked neither surprised nor upset. "What makes you think that?"

Curious, Piaròmine leaned toward him and raised her eyebrows. "But didn't you name Cyiki? I figured you—"

He shrugged. "To be honest, the name just came to me. I tried to think of what her name actually was, not impose my own ideals upon her."

"Oh."

"Are you disappointed?"

"No, not really. It would've been more disappointing to be able to read your mind so easily, I think. Surprises are more interesting."

He laughed, nudging her. "See?"

"I don't mean secrets!" she complained. "I can't win with you!"

They reached the end of the hallway and started toward the park, Kyò trailing behind them at a comfortable distance. Thyathyrec casually glanced at the sky, seeing the first few stars come out to twinkle. One day soon, he wouldn't see either of these lovely sights again, the stars and the lady beside him.

At least the stars weren't mad at him. Or, not that he knew about.

Piaròmine looked up at the night sky as well, pensive. "Do you believe in Heaven, Thya-ku?"

"There are seven of them," he snarked.

"Haha, dork. I meant the REAL one, not that ridiculous swear."

He hadn't imagined having this conversation with her, what with her devout faith to his scientific view of reality as it presented itself, but he guessed she would keep asking him everything she'd ever wanted to know about him, now that she knew it might be her last chance. "Not really," he admitted without a hint of emotion.

Her lack of immediate comment surprised him. "So, what do you think happens when we die?" she continued.

He shrugged, shaking his head. "No one knows—maybe nothing. It just doesn't seem like a Heaven would exist, or not the way you probably believe it does."

"Did you believe you would just – cease to exist, back when you tried to kill yourself?"

Thyathyrec frowned at her, remembering the day with a horribly vivid clarity. "I didn't think much about it at the time. I just wanted to stop the pain."

"You would have welcomed nothing over getting to be with me?"

"Piaròmine," he scolded again, "it's not worth dwelling over what might have happened."

She looked at him with pity. "Do you still wish for nothing?"

"I don't wish for anything. What happens will happen, and no amount of wishing alone will change that. All it would change is how badly I feel now."

"So how do you feel now? If you died tomorrow and never felt anything again...?"

"It would be peaceful, I assume. As long as I don't die in a fire or something like that. Plus, I'd go with much less regret this time."

"Hmm," she mused. "What about our parents and grandparents? Do you think they aren't in Heaven?"

That was her faith speaking again, something he knew about and had tolerated before as an irrelevant quirk, but now that the matter of his impending death had become a talking point, it mattered much more than he felt comfortable dealing with. Would he rather they talked about fishing, or some other inane topic that didn't interest him, that at least wouldn't hurt her feelings when he honestly opened up to her! "If I don't believe in Heaven for myself, why would it apply to my loved ones more than to me?"

"I'm just asking your beliefs."

Thyathyrec looked frustrated, feeling from inside himself a swelling reservoir of unsolicited blather aching to spill over. "See, here's one of those points where our beliefs divide, one of those things the two of us ignored when we thought about being with one another." The clarity of their mutual delusions about each other shocked him, more so that he could speak with such open objectivity about it to her now.

"How do you mean?"

"When someone tells me about Heaven and Hell, I don't see good people being rewarded and bad people being punished. I see our mortal desire to see justice done to those for whom justice is out of reach.

"Take Dhyròc, for instance. Even though he obviously thought he was completely justified in hurting me the way he did, I certainly didn't feel that way, and now that he's dead, I can't exact justice for having found out later that he infected me on top of meting out all of the other abuse. The only consolation I have is that justice was already served, and that's not very satisfying at all."

"But if he's in Hell—"

"Same thing. I can't have him sent to Hell again. Either way, it's a slap in the face from beyond the grave. You can't add anything to infinity—it's already by definition at its maximum, and this is like that.

"Also, before the divide from the mainland, we used to hear cases in the news of crazy people killing a whole bunch of others at once, then killing themselves before anyone could stop them. There's no justice to serve there. There's no way to give the death penalty, or any penalty, to someone who's already dead."

"But if—"

"What I'm saying is, sometimes it feels as though Hell is simply a way to 'invent' justice, as it were. It's like a story someone made up in order to feel better about the bad things that happen in the world. What no one seems to consider, though, is that 'good' and 'bad' are relative. I'm sure that predatory creatures are evil monsters to their prey, but predators have to eat something, and it's not like they realise they are deliberately harming another living creature. Germs, too—when we get sick, do the germs in our bodies suffer after we form antibodies to kill them? Should we be punished for allowing our bodies to do what comes naturally?

"It's not that I don't want to believe bad people are punished, even when they think that they can't be punished for their crimes. It's that I can't believe that justice exists in this form, any more than I can believe in, like, an immortal bird that sets itself on fire every ten thousand years and rises again from the ashes."

Piaròmine pouted, clearly not having expected the discussion to have taken this turn. "Then, if there's nothing after death, why do we even exist in the first place?"

"I don't know. It's a mystery. Maybe Nothingness didn't want to be Nothing forever. We exist as we do because we want to exist."

"But then, why would you..."

"I think we come into life wanting to exist, but once in a while, something happens that changes our minds. It's like disobeying someone just for the sake of being rebellious, maybe, or like breaking the law but because the laws are corrupt. Something happens that's outside the norm, and it makes someone like me no longer want to deal with the thing that's hurting me, to the point of suicide."

She scrunched her face trying to comprehend this. "Ugh, I just can't imagine wanting to die!"

"That's good, most people can't—it's healthier that way. Not being able to imagine it doesn't mean it's not possible, though."

The air sucked up all ambient sounds in an uncomfortable silence as Piaròmine absorbed his words. He could tell she was grasping at straws for a way to believe what she wanted without contradicting him. "What about a different kind of Heaven, then? What else could exist, if not as a reward for good and punishment for evil?"

"I think the notions of the people Piaròmine and Thyathyrec exist as far as our memories last. We're all interconnected, all part of the same Life that thrives in everything that lives. It's like we have batteries that give us life, and when the power runs out, we die, but the batteries still exist. Then the batteries, our life essences, return to where they came from, and new life emerges elsewhere. The good and evil we know dies with us as well, and all are given a new chance to start over. It's like a game: You can do well, or you can mess up early on and lose miserably. In either case, the game will eventually end, and you can start over."

"But using that analogy, we don't remember our past lives, but we would remember playing the same game before."

"Analogies aren't perfect. My point is death is simply an end, a way to start over, regardless of how we've done in the current life. I know some people want to live forever, but I don't think I could, myself. There are too many painful memories I wish I could forget, and even too many happy times I wish I could relive but can't, like getting to be my parents' little boy again. It's like going to sleep at the end of a long day, too—no matter how much I might enjoy a day, I couldn't stay awake forever, or try to make the day never end. I'd want to see what the new day holds."

Piaròmine nodded ever so slightly. "I guess I could live with that."

"Is that what you believe, or what you want to believe because you're still trying to win me over?"

"Hey, give me some credit!"

He raised an eyebrow at her.

She pouted. "...okay, I give up. We don't believe the same things after all." He wondered if she secretly felt relieved at not having to fight to drag him out to morning services like she would've had they gotten together.

"If it's easier, you can believe what you want to believe, especially since there's no way to prove what happens, anyway. Maybe the good in me will be rewarded in Heaven and the bad will be sent to Hell, and my spirit will be reborn in a new life, all three. I don't think it necessarily means we're all condemned to walk only one path ahead of us."

Piaròmine puffed out her cheeks in irritation. "Here I just wanted to get you to maybe reminisce about our families, or hope that they're still out there and just fine, just trying to find a safe way back to us."

Thyathyrec chuckled. "For what it's worth, I think other than where you've been concerned, I've always had a ridiculously scientific mind about things. I didn't even believe in Ciandhe Kryuć, despite my parents' best effort. Too much evidence against him existing."

"SO romantic," Piaròmine agreed, rolling her eyes.

"Are you disappointed finding out we weren't hive minds meant to be together after all?"

"No," she replied, thinking on it. "I like that you have your own ideas. It forces me to open my mind to new ideas I'd never thought of before. Besides, it would be creepy dating myself."

"Hmm," Thyathyrec mused. "If it was the old me, I wouldn't mind dating myself..."

"WHAT THE HELL, THYA." Piaròmine grabbed his shoulders, playfully shaking them. "Not fair if you get to date you and I don't!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Thyathyrec noticed Ųòmel hovering at a distance, a frown on his face. He straightened up and leaned on his staff, clearing his throat. "If you'll excuse me," he spoke in a level voice, devoid of emotion, "I believe I need a word with our colleague."

Piaròmine looked over to see Ųòmel and, with a pout, immediately understood. "Will I see you later?" she asked quietly.

Thyathyrec didn't answer, instead striding as fast as he could hobble toward Ųòmel, who—to his credit—didn't move a muscle. He DID give Thyathyrec a hateful glare that probably would have knocked him on his arse had it taken physical form.

"Can't say I approve of you hanging around her," Ųòmel grumbled, arms crossed. "Wouldn't have agreed to let her see Cyiki alone after hours if I knew she would dragged you along."

"I don't remember it being up to you," Thyathyrec chided the keeper as he approached. "Also, she came to ME."

"And I don't see why. Thought that telling her about you would've dissuaded her."

"You and me both. Anyway, I was handling this quietly. Why did you have to tell her that?"

Ųòmel looked away with guilt. "I didn't like that she didn't know. You didn't see her crying over you in sick bay. I did."

"Even so, it upset her more to hear it from you, you understand."

"But now she knows. That's all I cared about."

Thyathyrec shook his head. "She didn't need to know. I'd already broken things off with her—now she has it in her head that I can be fixed when I can't."

He balked. "That wasn't my intention."

"Well, my intention was to be cautious. Like how I want to take care of Yrakc. Like how I want to spend the time I have left doing the most I can, without any outside interference."

"I see."

Their eyes met. "Can I count on you not to interfere further, if you get my meaning?"

"I'm not standing in your way."

"That door sure is."

Ųòmel raised an eyebrow, then fumbled with the keys in his pocket. He withdrew one after a moment. "This is ONLY for the exterior door. The barrier door must remain locked."

Thyathyrec felt miffed that his orders still had only so much weight, but at least he had this much. "Thank you, Ųòmel. You know I will take my best care of her."