Wiro alighted on the ledge to the apartment, humming to herself the last theme to the movie she and Linelith had attended. It had been a fun show-- cute, silly, a movie to laugh to-- and she'd come home in a good mood. She hadn't alienated her friend when he didn't catch her in her flight, when she'd been afraid she had; she'd had a lovely morning and afternoon out on the station; that whole "flight" ordeal was over; and now she was home to see her bond. They'd probably settle down in front of the holovision, or the broadband radio, and either laugh at the programs or enjoy the music. Maybe he'd make popcorn, and let her have a few pieces. What better close to the day could there be?

Cannon came bounding out of Zale's side of the apartments, whining. :Hey, Cannon,: Wiro purred at him, ducking her head to nuzzle his back. She was fairly sure, after all this time, that he heard her sendings, and understood at least as much as he understood Zale's words. He wagged his tail briefly and gave her chin a few slobbery dog-kisses, then galloped off down the hall again.

:Zale?: Wiro "called", peering into the darkness that was the much smaller part of the apartment. Was he taking a nap? As far as she could remember, he didn't take naps, but it seemed so dark in his part of the apartment. :Zale, are you home?:

He was home, she could sense him, just barely. Their link was very, very quiet, as if he'd somehow blocked it-- but he would never do that! He never had before, would never want to, because of the distraction she offered-- and, she liked to think, because he didn't like to not be able to hear her thoughts for their own sake. The very idea that he would block it was worrisome, almost too strange for her to imagine. There had to be something wrong.

There was a fuzzy, vague sort of response to her mind-voice, wordless and somehow very wrong. Wiro's wings rustled uneasily. :Zale? Are you sick?:

That time she didn't even get a response.

:Zale!!:

Frantic, now, Wiro scrambled into the living room of Zale's side of the apartment, crouched down as far as she could get, and crawled to the hall, sticking her head into the narrow space and stretching it as far as she could. She still couldn't see into his bedroom; the hall was just too long. All she could see was that the door was shut, and Cannon was laying on his belly in front of it, plumed tail brushing against the carpet and forepaws scratching to get in. The doorknob was round, or he might well have gotten it turned by now.

:Look out, Cannon,: she warned, and managed to wriggle enough onto her side to force a forepaw into the hall, narrowly avoiding leaving furrows in the plaster coating on the walls with her claws. Cannon, either understanding the warning or just observant enough to realize he didn't want to be in the way of her claws, scampered out of her way.

Wiro didn't really have the kind of dexterity for something like that-- not from such an awkward position!-- but the thought of Zale in there, possibly hurt, or sick, or even dying... it didn't bear thinking about! She had to try! And try, she did. It took six attempts and very narrowly-focused concentration, which wasn't really something she was good at, but finally she managed to catch and turn the doorknob between two claws.

Cannon butted it open with his head, saving her the need to find a way to keep hold of the knob and open the door, and bounded in, whining and huffing. Wiro wished heartily that she could see, but the angle was all wrong, and her neck was too short. There was a sleepy mumble from inside, accompanied by another blurry stirring of thought, and Wiro thought she could discern, "Gerroff...." Which would, of course, meant "get off". Given the slurping sounds, most likely from Cannon's tongue, it made sense.

:Zale? Are you okay?:

The slurping sounds stopped, replaced by frantic panting, and there was a creaking of bedsprings that heralded either Cannon finally getting pushed back, or Zale sitting up on the bed, or both. "Mmm, I'm fine...." :I'm fine,: his thought repeated hazily.

:You don't sound fine. Why didn't you answer me?:

Cannon's collar rattled with the distinctive sound of Zale ruffling his ears, though it was slower than usual.

:Sorry, didn't hear you. A little distracted.:

:I can see that!: Wiro replied, somewhere between exasperated and very, very worried. He really did seem sick. She'd never seen him like this, not even when he was sleepy. Not even on a very bad day, and he hadn't had one of those in well over a year! She still remembered, though.... On those days, he'd hide in his room until she could coax him out to be with her, usually with his headphones so loud even she could hear them, so distracted that he lost track of his thoughts in the middle of thinking them. Those days had always been horrible, and those were the days he'd needed her the most....

But now... what was this? Some strange form of "bad day" which she had somehow not yet seen?

:Zale, come out.... We can listen to the radio for a few hours. They're supposed to come out with a "station premiere" at six on the rhythm and space-blues channel, remember?:

There was another pause before she heard, muzzily, :Think I'd rather just stay in here.:

:Stay in there?!: Wiro exclaimed. :Zale, you never want to stay in your room unless something's wrong-- talk to me!:

She heard a strange, sad little chuckle. :Oh yes, things are definitely wrong... but they're so right, too....:

Well, that didn't make any sense. :Zale....:

Then Cannon came padding back out into the hall, carrying something in his mouth. Wiro focused on him with a blink, and he dropped it in front of her nose. What she saw made her heart plummet into her belly: it was a little foux-leather pouch, which spilled out a wealth of little, green pills, each stamped with a tiny butterfly.

Chapter Twelve

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