The Standard for Greatness by Oridian

The Standard for Greatness

Oridian, Aroused, Bedroom, Blood, Character Development, City of Wings, Compassion, Consensual, Creampie, Cuddling, Cum, Cunnilingus, Doctor, Dragon, Dragoness, Drake, Ejaculation, Emotional, Erection, Explicit, Fear, Friendship, Hatchling, Healer, Heterosexual, Hospital, Kissing, Knot, M/F, Magic, Male/Female, Medical Centre, Medical Procedures, Misery, Oral, Orgasm, Paws, Penetration, Penis, Personal Redemption, Plot Development, Quadruped, Relationships, Romance, Scales, Sex, Straight, Trauma, Vagina, Vaginal, Violence (Not In Yiff), Wings, medic, stress, terror

A young doctor is forced to confront his fears and his insecurities. When he does so, he finds he is not as alone as he thought.

Note: This story was initially uploaded on March 17th. This website proceeded to crash immediately and stay dead for two and a half weeks, so this is a reupload now that the site is back.

Preface: A drake is a male dragon, a drakka is a female dragon, and drakken is the collective term for the species. The human equivalents would be man, woman, and humans. Drak is a gender neutral honorific, the combined equivalent to sir or ma'am.

_This story is self-contained and can be read alone. (20,808 words) _

"Show me."

The simulation chamber was a medium sized room with a circular pit taking up most of the free space. This pit was filled with sand, and for this reason the chamber was nicknamed the_sandroom_. Suddenly all the sand leapt up into the air in an explosion of motion, but there was no sound or wind to accompany this change, and not even a single particle strayed from the cylindrical boundaries of the pit. As the two dragons watched, the enchanted sand whirled into motion, forming surfaces and shapes which rapidly shifted through all the colours of the rainbow before settling into a recognizable form. Each grain of sand formed a tiny voxel, and when controlled by stone magic, together they allowed a three-dimensional image to be projected--a light field projection.

One moment the room had been filled with nothing but sand, and the next moment there was a miniature model of a residential tower block standing tall in the circular projection space.

Out of the pair of dragons who were observing the scene, one was the detective who had just inserted a data crystal into the projector's slot. The other dragon was an Enforcement captain who sat back on his haunches and said nothing as the detective briefed him.

"As you can see, drak, this is block ninety-two," said the detective. "This recording was recovered from a security scanner on the neighbouring block, ninety-four. I've already isolated the specific segment. See here..."

The detective pressed a button on the control pedestal and the projection began to playback. Nothing happened for a few seconds, then suddenly a small object seemed to tumble out of a window before disappearing past the lower limits of the recording.

"I'll magnify it." The detective manipulated the light-field projector's controls, and the building suddenly grew much larger. He pushed the data to the limit of usability as the scene magnified--the projection appeared choppy and indistinct, but there was enough detail to make out what was happening. The focus of the projection showed a single apartment with a balcony entrance, as came standard on most homes in the City of Wings.

The detective began the playback again, and the projection advanced until the object became visible once more. It fell out of the residential tower and plummeted towards the ground, and then the recording looped from the start. From up close, it was clear that the object was not a_what_ but a _who--_it was a young hatchling, barely a few years old and far too young to know how to fly. Her scales were a light grey, and she was very small. The detective could just barely discern the flail of her untrained wings as the young dragon began to fall, dropping many, many stories down towards the ground.

"Colour me surprised, but it seems that our suspect was telling the truth," said the detective. He turned to watch the recording again, although he had already spent an hour scrutinizing the data. Working as a detective for the city's Enforcement Division, he had interviewed many suspects and heard all sorts of excuses and alibis. Against all the odds, it appears that their latest suspect was telling the truth--the hatchling had not been thrown out a window.

She jumped.

The captain said nothing. His expression was unreadable as the recording played out fully before looping back and playing again, and again.

Unlike his superior officer, the detective found it impossible to stay impassive. He could see the cause of this near-suicidal leap--the young hatchling was first_flung_through the room to collide with the wall next to the open window balcony. The recoding showed her crashing into the wall with an impact that made the detective wince. The young dragon smashed against the wall and collapsed to the ground with a sickening limpness.

From the background inside the apartment, an adult dragon approached the child and bit her roughly by the tail to begin dragging her across the room. Blood dripped from the hatchling's nose or mouth--the projection was in full colour, not monochrome, and the liquid was clearly red. The detective growled softly, baring his teeth in anger and disgust--a parent ought to protect their child from harm, not ever cause it. "This is...despicable," he muttered.

Suddenly the hatchling jerked back to life, pulling her tail free and breaking out of the adult's grip. She scrambled away in a panic, but she was trapped. Her enraged aggressor was standing between her and the room door. There was one other way out, but a hatchling could not use that exit--only fledglings and adults could leave by the balcony exit, and she was far too young to fly. Regardless, the hatchling scrambled up the short metal railing and teetered on the edge of the balcony. She glanced back once, or perhaps this was just a distortion artefact in the recording, and then she jumped. She feared staying in the room more than she feared a fall of great height. Her wings opened up as she fell through the air, but her flight muscles were underdeveloped and she dropped far too quickly. Even as she disappeared out of the frame, she could be seen tumbling through the air; not even a glide, let alone anything approaching controlled flight.

The detective watched as the projection looped. Again the hatchling was flung through the air to crash into the wall. Again the adult (who did not_deserve_ to be called a mother) grabbed the hatchling by her tail and tried to drag her across the room, and once again the hatchling scrambled free and ran to the balcony. One moment's hesitation, then she jumped. The detective could only watch, unable to affect the scene as the young dragon fell through the air without control. Then she passed past the limit of the projection's data, and the enchanted sand grains that made up her body melted back into the pool of loose material that made up the light field projector.

Of course, in real life she had kept falling all the way down. Fifty stories--more than enough height for a hatchling to reach terminal velocity, and enough time for a few panicked seconds right before impact. No camera was aimed at the base of the residential tower, but a panicked eyewitness had immediately contacted emergency services. The only thing that worked in the hatchling's favour was the fact that she was so small and light (from being young, and also underfed) that her maximum fall speed was only a fraction of that reachable by a full-sized dragon. Terminal velocity had not been terminal.

The captain was quiet for a while, but the recording spoke for itself. "At such a young age, most hatchlings display nothing but undying loyalty to their parents. It takes extraordinary brutality to overcome that instinct...or extraordinary bravery." The captain stood up and strolled into the sandbox; a bubble formed around him where his presence interfered with the enchanted workings of the light-field projector. His four paws left marks in the sand which quickly smoothened out. He raised his wing and casually swung it at the building, scattering the sand into a cloud of miscoloured particles.

The projection recovered in a second and instantly reformed into the proper shape, but the captain was already storming out of the room. "Who throws a hatchling across a room? Stopping these things is the reason I joined Enforcement. Copy the recording and send it to Legal. Get the case in front of the high council," he ordered, his voice quiet but deadly calm.

"Yes, drak." The detective tugged his crystal out of the control pedestal, and the light field projection collapsed back down, going still and dark. He slipped the crystal into a pouch on his flight harness and followed after his captain.

The captain slowed and took a deep breath, as if he was afraid to ask the next question for fear of the answer. "And the hatchling? Did she make it?" he asked, turning to stare at his subordinate.

The detective paused as well, then he delivered what little information he had. "Last I heard from Corporal Raijin, she's still in surgery. Her fate is in the paws of the healers, and with the stars."

In the medical centre's emergency ward, a surgical theatre was busy with activity. The centre of attention was a young hatchling resting on the operating table--she had scales of light grey, but now many of those scales were cracked, shattered, or even completely dislodged, revealing pale, bare skin.

The hatchling lay on her back, eye closed and limbs spread apart as doctors scrambled to repair the damage she had suffered from her fall. There were two healers working to save her life--one of them was a second-class healer who had sixty years of experience, and the other was a fifth-class who had less than one year. The less experienced healer's name was Cytara. His full title was Doctor Cytara, but he never introduced himself as such.

Cytara was working on the hatchling's side, sitting back on his haunches as he tried to repair a fracture to her right wing. The wing bone had shattered just past her shoulder--a severe injury for a dragon of any age. Cytara carefully grasped a scalpel with one forepaw; some healers preferred to use their claws for more control compared to a surgical blade, but he could never stand the feeling of blood under his claws. The junior healer's claws were now carefully retracted as he held the scalpel and slid it through his patient's skin, cutting between two lines of grey scales. Blood dripped from the neat wound, but a quick touch of his healing magic halted the bleeding.

The hatchling did not react to the fresh incision. A gas mask covered her tiny muzzle, feeding anaesthetic directly to her airways and keeping her mind suspended as the doctors worked to undo her grievous injuries. She felt no pain. In this moment she felt nothing at all, and if they didn't fix her, she would never feel anything ever again.

Cytara switched from the scalpel to a pair of forceps. A medic took the scalpel from him, taking care to avoid touching the blade, but Cytara's attention was focused on the hatchling. His deep incision had revealed what he had already sensed using his healing magic--the bone that ran along the leading edge of the hatchling's wing had been cracked by the force of her impact. This bone supported the leading-edge flight surface and would eventually be the strongest bone in an adult dragon's body, but a child's bones were still growing and this particular hatchling was far from well nourished. The hatchling seemed so small; her whole body length would hardly even come to a sixth of Cytara's size.

"Bone is partially shattered. I'm seeing at least three small fragments displaced, but the growth plate looks intact. I can clear the fragments and knit the bone back together," said Cytara. He glanced to the other side of the surgical table, where the far more senior healer was working on healing the hatchling's rib cage. "Dr Mirshan?"

The second-class healer glanced up and nodded quickly. "Do it. Clear the fragments and mend the bone. You can do it."

Cytara swallowed nervously and got to work. He carefully held the forceps and began pulling out the bone fragments, one by one. Once they were completely removed he would channel his magic to regrow the whole bone and mend the two ends together. With painstaking care, Cytara plucked out all of the loose fragments of bone--dragons had lightweight hollow bones, and within the hatchling's wing bone were criss-crossing support struts which had been damaged by the force of impact.

Cytara was so focused on his surgical work that he lost track of time. He could have asked the medics for the current time, but he kept his attention dedicated on correctly performing the operation. Yet despite all his focus, he missed something. Just as he was almost done, he made a critical mistake.

The last bone fragment was embedded in the soft tissue surrounding the wing bone. The force of impact had crushed the bone against the patient's side, and this last fragment had apparently punctured into a crucial blood vessel which supplied fresh blood to the hatchling's flight muscles. So when Cytara tried to remove the fragment, it was as if he'd removed a cork from a bottle. Without the bone fragment stemming the blood flow, everything instantly went wrong.

Red--so much red! Blood began to pour out of the damaged artery, rapidly spurting out with each pulse of the hatchling's heart. Cytara wasn't wearing gloves, as was standard for all healers--they needed their paws exposed to use their natural affinity. The red washed across his paws, staining the surgical garb he was wearing over the rest of his body.

Cytara hurriedly tried to use his magic to undo the damage, but there was just so much blood that he couldn't see the exact location where the blood vessel was ruptured. He focused his power in a probing wave, but still he could not locate the damaged spot to specifically target his healing magic.

"Dr Mirshan? There's a problem. I... I can't..." Cytara glanced upwards and began to panic when he realized that the senior second-class healer had left the room for some reason or other. He was still surrounded by medics and other support staff, but there was little they could do to help him. They had no healing magic, so all they could do was offer information which made him panic even further.

"Secondary heart just started up. Synced to primary at 120 and 120, but blood pressure's dropping to 60, 53, 40," said the technician who was watching the equipment which monitored the hatchling's vital signs. The dire warnings are accompanied by a series of loud beeps from the monitoring equipment, indicating the same thing.

"Cytara, you need to slow the bleeding. We can't clamp an aortic," said a medic who had been sitting beside him and helping him with the surgical tools. "Patient going into shock. Stop the bleeding now or..." The medic didn't finish her sentence, but Cytara knew what she'd been about to say.Stop the bleeding now, or this hatchling dies.

"Heart rate still picking up. 140 140."

Cytara immediately put down the forceps and used both his paws to channel his healing affinity. He still couldn't precisely aim his magic, but he poured energy into the entire area and hoped that a general dose of healing magic would be enough to coax the blood vessel to reseal. Flashes of light jumped from his paws into the hatchling's side, like a river of glowing sparks that leapt into the incision. He used all the magic he could, more than he had ever used before, but it was still not enough. Cytara reached into his deepest reserves and used as much healing magic as he could possibly muster, but still he could not focus his healing power right on the exact location where the blood vessel was damaged.

"Heart rates desync. 150 and 130, primary still climbing, secondary dropping fast. 160 and 80. 160 and 40."

The healing magic briefly stabilized the hatchling's system by regenerating all the lost blood, but then the bleeding continued. All of Cytara's efforts were not enough to hold the hatchling alive no matter how much of his magic he used. The blood poured out in a terrible river of red from the cut in her side--the hatchling was dying in his paws.

"Secondary arrested. Heart rates 180 and 0," read the technician. Cytara didn't have time to think; he didn't even have the time to panic.

"Seal the artery!" repeated the medic, and her voice seemed to echo in his head.

"I can't...there's too much blood, I can't find the..." Cytara shook his head. He used even more of his healing magic, more of his strength, more of himself, but it wasn't working. "Where's Drak Mirshan? I need him to... I can't do it!"

"He went to theatre two. They're having complications--"

"We're having complications here! He just_left_ me...?!" Cytara exclaimed. This couldn't be happening. He couldn't_let_ it happen, but try as he might, blood continued to pour from the artery. The hatchling was losing so much blood, and her tiny body hardly had any blood volume to spare. The beeping of the monitoring was now a continuous drone, as if anyone needed further indication that there was a catastrophic problem unfolding. "No. No, no, no, no..."

Then when all seemed lost, the second-class healer returned. Cytara suddenly found Mirshan standing by his side, his own paw raised and a torrent of magical sparks leaping into the hatchling's wound. Cytara could hear him muttering softly, repeating a chant as the senior healer used his own magic to stem the bleeding. With his experience and more focused control, he was able to locate the punctured artery and repair the blood vessel. The vital signs monitors finally halted their alarms and silenced the continuous beeping.

"Secondary has restarted! 150 150," declared the technician, in a voice that was audibly relieved.

Once the hatchling was stabilized, another medic moved in and used a water jet to wash away the accumulated blood. Mirshan's magic continued to flow into the hatchling's tiny body, but now it was directed at regrowing the fractured bone. When the bone was fully restored, Mirshan halted his magic and stepped back. "Take over and finish what you started," ordered the second-class healer.

Cytara nodded meekly and raised his paw once more, channelling his own magic to close up the surgical incision. The medics and nurses around him moved with efficient and practiced professionalism, but he felt like a puppet being controlled by someone else. His mind was just dully observing everything from a distance while his body moved automatically.

The grey-scaled hatchling had her injuries healed up as best they could be, and then she was ferried away on a wheeled bed--sent to recovery, where she would be allowed to gradually rouse from her anaesthetic state. She would spend at least a few weeks resting in intensive care as her body accepted and adapted to the magically repaired tissue. But Cytara could hardly think of the future, or the past, or anything at all. His paws were still stained with blood, as was the surgical garb he was wearing over his body. Once the patient had been wheeled out of the operating theatre and the doors had swung shut, he collapsed back on his haunches and seemed to deflate, his wings drooping flat against his sides.

The second-class healer, Doctor Mirshan, reacted in the exact opposite manner. The drake turned to Cytara and seemed to explode with anger. "What the hell were you doing?! Out of all the foolish, careless,stupid mistakes to make--rupturing the flight aortic? Were you even thinking at all?!" he roared.

Some of the nurses and medics turned to stare at the commotion, while others resolutely kept working and totally ignored what was happening. Cytara just shook his head. "I...I..."

"Do you think this is a joke?! Do you have any idea of the consequences you almost faced? That hatchling almost_died_ because of you! What do you have to say for yourself?" yelled the senior healer.

"..." Cytara didn't know what to say. He had no excuses, but his silence only seemed to enrage Mirshan even further.

"Completely inexcusable! You're not in medical school anymore! Act like it! It's time to wake up and stop dreaming--lives are on the line!"

Cytara felt light headed from having used so much of his healing magic at once. His paws and tail felt numb and cold, yet there also seemed to be a chill in his hearts from how close his patient had gotten to death. As a healer, he had literally sensed her life fading away as blood left her body and her cells starved for oxygen. "I know...my fault..." he murmured.

"You're damn right it's your fault! You took a sacred oath to heal the sick and mend the wounded! Do you want to be the one signing that death certificate? Do you want to be the doctor who's going to go to that hatchling's parents and family to tell them that she's dead? Because she bled out on the operating table because you were_careless_?" thundered the second-class healer.

Staring down at his paws, Cytara just shook his head again. His forepaws were covered in blood--so much blood, so much red. He couldn't seem to remember what the usual colour of his scales was. He was a green dragon, wasn't he? Or was he brown? Try as he might to search his memory, all he could see was that horrible bright crimson which stained deep into his scales. His vision began to tunnel and zoom out, as if he was viewing everything from a great distance. All the medics, nurses, and assistants were standing by the side, silently judging him, but he couldn't see them anymore. Doctor Mirshan was still screaming at him, but somehow Cytara couldn't seem to hear what was being said. All he could hear was a dull ringing in his ears, which sounded almost like the constant beeping of the heart monitor declaring a critical drop in vital signs.

Suddenly there was another voice which cut through the deafening nothingness. "Mirshan, enough," said a drakka who had just come through the door. Cytara turned his head to stare at the new arrival, and it took far longer than it should have for him to remember who she was.

The drakka had scales of azure colour, and she was wearing a flight harness dyed fully red. Not the red and black striped harness of a medic, or the red and white striped harness of a trainee healer, but a fully red harness just like Cytara and Mirshan. No medic, no matter how experienced, would interrupt a second-class healer, but she was not a medic. Her name was Doctor Zilarin, and she was a first-class healer. The supervisor of the entire ward had come.

Zilarin turned to stare at him, and Cytara could feel her gaze boring into his soul and weighing his conscience. "Go wash up," she ordered in a firm voice that few in the medical centre would dare to argue against.

Silently, automatically, Cytara stood up and moved to obey. He went to the wash basin to clean himself, but the blood stained the scales on his body, not just the surgical garb he was wearing. There was a full shower in a neighbouring room to the surgical theatre. Cytara stumbled into the shower, his forepaws leaving bloody prints on the tiled floor. There was so much blood. His healer's harness was red not just from its usual dyed colour, but also from all the spilt blood. Once he had closed the door and locked it behind him, Cytara pulled off his flight harness and his surgical scrubs, and he flung the dirtied fabric into a linen bin, leaving him wearing nothing at all. He reached for the shower valve and turned the knob. Warm water sprayed down on him from above, slowly washing off all the red. The junior healer sat back on his hindlegs and used his forepaws to rub liquid soap all across his body.

Then he lost it.

He extended his claws and tried to wash the blood from under them, but when he tried to rub more soap onto his sides he ended up scratching himself. It started off as a minor scratch, barely a tiny cut, but then Cytara let his claws keep digging into his sides. He slashed again and again--instead of rubbing soap into his scales, his claws dug long gashes in his flesh.

The pain was nothing; it barely registered at all. He could hardly feel any discomfort even as fresh blood began to leak from his wounds and stain his sides red once again. Sparks of magic flashed across the area as his healing affinity automatically repaired the damage as fast as he could cause it. Cytara cut himself again, and again, and again, until finally his magic stopped and the wounds remained. Yet even then, the bleeding was but a tiny trickle compared to how much blood that grey-scaled hatchling had lost. Her life was almost lost, because of his mistake.

His fault. His failure.

There was this terrible feeling of cold, empty blankness--the worst sensation he had ever felt. The hatchling on the surgical table had been injured, yet still full of life, but then slowly she'd come ever so close to dying because of his error.

Thoughts seemed to swirl in his head, repeating endlessly in illogical loops--snippets of information memorized from medical encyclopaedias or lectures given by retired healers. These thoughts flooded his mind and make it impossible to think.

The radial bone runs directly parallel to the ulna... Fracture of the wing bone is a several injury which must be immediately treated... Supplies the considerable blood flow required by the flight muscles, supplemented by the inferior... Which do not densify until fledgling age, at which point the associated muscular structure also strengthens to allow flight... Linked also to the carotid arteries, which crucially supply the head and neck with oxygenated... Allowing the wing to twist in flight during the upstroke, reducing drag and increasing efficiency... Care must be taken to avoid... primary heart located in the chest cavity, while the secondary heart is located behind... not a direct... contravened by...

"Arrghh!" Cytara raised his head and let out a scream--not a proud triumphant roar, but a wordless, incoherent wail of frustration and terror. He sank down to the floor with eyes closed, his whole body going completely limp. His head dropped against the ground, as did all his limbs. The water pounded down on him from above, but that all seemed to blur into continuous noise.

The incoherent thoughts suddenly faded away, replaced by crystal clear memory. Cytara had a flashback to one of his classes in the second year of medical school--the very first time he had attended the dissection classes.

The room had stunk with the pungent smell of preservative, and there had been rows of tables, each with a cadaver in a body bag. Beside each cadaver was a photograph of the dragon taken whilst they were still alive, alongside information such as who they had been, whether they had any family, and the age and cause of death.

The students had to open the bags and place a paw on the cadaver before taking a pledge to respect the dead and treat them with dignity, and to use this opportunity to learn and eventually go on to help others. Healers and medics alike both attended that class, but it was worse for the healers because of their magic; or at least, it was worse for Cytara. When he had first placed his paw on the cadaver, he had been so very uncomfortable that he'd wanted to leave the class immediately.

The body was cold.

Up until that point, whenever he'd touched someone else, his magic had always detected that pulsing undercurrent of life and energy which came with a living drakken. But the cadaver had none of that. It was a stark contrast to compare warm life against cold nothingness, as if this cadaver was nothing more than a pile of meat and bones. And truly it_was_ nothing more than a pile of meat and bones.

It was a testament to the fact that all health and energy would eventually run out, and a person would turn into this cold dead thing which lay on the table in front of him--that was the most humbling, sobering experience of his life. Worse still was the knowledge that if he made a mistake during surgery, or in diagnosing a disease, or even in prescribing medicine, he might be responsible for causing someone's death. He could turn a living, breathing person into this immobile, inert,_dead_thing if his work in the medical centre was anything but perfect.

Cytara had taken the pledge of responsibility, and he had paid full attention as the bodies were dissected over the rest of the academic year. This was the only class he'd never skipped--slacking off seemed unimaginably disrespectful since someone had died and donated their body for students to learn anatomy.

That was the point where everything changed. Cytara still acted carefree and relaxed as he had before, but now he was hiding a deep secret--he did not want this responsibility. He had never been very keen on become a doctor, knowing how long the work hours were, but now he felt terrified at the idea that someone's life would be resting in his paws and on his competence. That was the point where the stress crystalized and begun to weigh down on him. Medical school had always been demanding, but now graduation became a terrifying prospect. He had never genuinely wanted to be a healer.

Somehow he had managed to ignore that worry by reminding himself that healing magic was so rare that squandering his talent would be a waste; this was what_everyone_ else told him, and Cytara had even convinced himself that he believed it too. Yet his fear had never truly gone away. Even after he had graduated, even after he had finished up the residential internship at the medical centre, and even after he had become a full healer, that fear had never gone away.

And now he remembered all that because he had almost caused a death. All his suppressed terror came crashing back onto him. The hatchling--that poor innocent little hatchling who had done nothing to deserve the violence that had been done to her--she had almost died in his paws because of his mistake. Now all he could see was that young hatchling, but now she was cold, lifeless, and in a body bag with a slip of paper beside it that said, "Cause of Death: Medical Malpractice".

"Cytara?"

Cytara filled roused his stupor when his ears picked up someone calling his name. He opened his eyes; he was still lying on the floor, and water was still pouring down on his scales from the shower. Someone knocked on the door and called his name again. "Cytara? Are...are you okay in there?" asked the muffled voice.

The junior healer slowly picked himself up. He reached for the valve and cut off the shower, then he shook himself all over to shake the water off his scales. The gesture made him wince in pain, and he glanced down at his body--just under his wings were long scratch marks where he had cut himself with his claws. The wounds weren't too deep and they weren't bleeding seriously."Why did I do that?" Cytara wondered, but no answer came to mind. He was a healer who had sworn to heal the wounded, so why had he tried to slash himself? And why had the pain been so intensely relieving? Cytara stared at his paw, feeling ashamed and horrified by what he had just done._I didn't mean to do that. I just...it just happened. I knew that I could heal myself so I just...didn't stop..._His healing magic should have healed the injuries automatically, but it appeared that he had totally expended his magic and depleted all his healing affinity for now. Perhaps if he was lucky, his healing magic would somehow just disappear and he would never again have to return to the medical centre.

"Cytara?" called the muffled voice again. "You're in there, right?"

Cytara didn't respond. He reached towards the stack of clean towels at the side of the shower and used one to wipe any remaining dampness off his scales, carefully dabbing around the scratch marks so that he wouldn't get blood on the towel. Once he was done, he tossed the towel into the linen bin alongside his flight harness, which would be washed and returned to him. He held his wings loosely so that they dangled along his side and covered the scratch marks; he'd just heal those up once his magic replenished after some time. Then he composed himself, tried to set his facial expression in a neutral look, and he opened the door.

A drakka with dark, leaf-green scales was sitting outside, her paw raised to knock the door again."Green is such a common colour..." Cytara found himself thinking, but then he glanced down at his own chest and remembered that his own scales were light green. The drakka was wearing the red-black stripped harness of a medic, and Cytara recognized her instantly.

"Oh, hi! I just...well, uh, are you alright?" asked the medic, whose name was Avelin, or_Doctor_Avelin, if you wanted to be formal. She was a junior medic who had become a doctor at about the same time as Cytara. They had known each other in medical school, and in the last year before graduation they had become friends. Cytara had sometimes been tempted to ask her out, but he'd never actually done it because Avelin was the sort of person whom he might actually be able to have a serious committed relationship with, whereas all he'd done in medical school was youthful debauchery and satisfyingly meaningless casual sex.

And she was one of the people he least wanted to see right now. In fact, he didn't want to see anyone at all right now--he wanted to find a nice deep pit in the ground to lie down and cry in. "Is...is everything alright?" Avelin repeated, looking concerned by the blank stare Cytara was giving her.

Cytara nodded his head slowly, but that didn't seem to reassure Avelin.

"It's just... you were... you were in there for quite a while," she continued, nodding towards the shower room. "And after what happened in surgery, I think we're all a bit shaken by what happened. Incidents like that are...well..."

Avelin had been part of the team of doctors and nurses who had been in the emergency ward with him, but as a medic she had no healing magic, so of course she didn't know what it was like. She could not possibly know what it felt like to have a patient under her responsibility almost die. Her magic let her do...what? Move rocks or something? Or breathe fire? As if that compared to feeling a hatchling's life force ebb away under his care. As if that even came close.

"Healer Mirshan was overly harsh on you; no one else spotted that the fragment was embedded. We bear some of the blame too.I bear some of the blame too," she said, trying to reassure him.

_But I bare the most blame,_Cytara knew. What Avelin said meant nothing to him. As a healer, he should have checked more carefully. It had been his actions which had caused the hatchling to bleed out. He nodded again, since apparently Avelin was waiting for his next reaction.

Avelin opened her mouth to say something more, but then she seemed to reconsider and stayed silent as well. She raised a paw and reached towards him, probably intending to touch his shoulder, but Cytara tensed up and leaned backwards slightly. The medic dropped her paw back to the ground. "The shift...it's over. The next ER duty team took over while you were cleaning up. Drak Zilarin asked to see you in her office before you left, though."

Cytara briefly entertained the thought of choosing to ignore this summon--what could Zilarin do if he refused to see her? Would she fire him? That would be a dream come true, yet somehow Cytara knew that he wouldn't disobey. Today of all days, he had already messed up enough. The drake used his paw to trace the curve of his left horn, feeling the slight ridges that protruded from the bony outgrowth on his head. It was nervous habit he had picked up when he was younger, but now in the medical centre he just did it for luck. Not that luck had helped him today. "Ok," he said, his voice just a quiet whisper.

"I..." Avelin rubbed her neck and shrugged her wings. "And...I'll be in the cafeteria, if you want someone to talk to." The medic glanced at him again, then she stood up and left.

Cytara slowly walked through the ward, his head lowered and his tail dragging. Mirshan passed by in a corridor, but the second-class healer strolled briskly past without as much as a glance in Cytara's direction.

When Cytara finally reached his supervisor's office, he took a moment to prepare himself for a second round of getting screamed at. He glanced to his wings, making sure that the scratch marks (which were still not healing) were covered up, and then he knocked the tip of his tail on the door.

"Come in," ordered Senior-healer Zilarin.

Cytara pushed open the door, walked into the office, and shut the door behind him. Zilarin was a first-class healer--in addition to having decades of experience using her healing magic, she oversaw an entire ward of healers, medics, and nurses in the medical centre. This wasn't the first time Cytara had earned a reprimand from her; he had been scolded for leaving work early, for pushing his duties onto other junior healers, and even for not taking his responsibilities seriously.

As usual, Zilarin didn't bother with any pleasantries or small talk. "What happened in ER?!" demanded the senior healer. Even without looking at her, just from the tone of her voice, Cytara could tell Zilarin was glaring at him.

Zilarin's office was filled with paperwork, as always, and Cytara's eyes darted to the stacks of reports, forms, and documents--he couldn't meet the gaze of the azure-scaled drakka who was everything he wasn't. "Response teams brought in a patient for emergency treatment. A hatchling--female, age maybe two years or three. Fractured right hindleg, and her right wing was...was...the bone was shattered at the...the upper..." Cytara used his forepaw to tap at his wing, indicating the damaged bone and the site of incision. "Compound fracture. Her rib cage was... I...I tried to heal it, but there was a bone fragment which was... It crumpled against her muscle and the...punctured the..."

Cytara knew he was rambling, but he couldn't focus his words. Recounting his experience brought up that awful terror that seemed to dry up his throat and make his chest go tight. "Healer Mirshan was working on the hindleg and then the rib cage, while I was working on the wing bone. Shattered, but the growth plate was intact so I tried to... Easier to entirely regrow the bone rather than try to get all the fragments aligned... Because she was so_small_..."

The junior healer felt giddy; the room was spinning around him and his limbs felt so weak. His hindlegs folded and he dropped back into a sitting position. He locked his forelegs straight, or else he might have collapsed entirely. "Must have been embedded in the carotid artery? No, the flight aortic... So when I removed the shard the bleeding just started, or...or maybe my paws were just shaking and I nicked the artery as I...I tried to...she was bleeding and so...so much_red_..."

"Cytara!"

Cytara realized that Zilarin wasn't sitting behind her desk anymore; she was standing in front of him. He had no more words to say to her or anyone else. He just wanted it all to end.

"Raise your wings," ordered Zilarin.

Cytara did as she asked--he raised his wings, exposing his sides. He was too tired to argue or even care if the senior healer chose to scold him. Zilarin must have seen something when he had pointed out where he had been operating on the hatchling, or perhaps her healing affinity was so refined that she could sense a minor injury even though it was concealed. This wouldn't even come as a surprise--as a first-class healer, Zilarin's precise mastery of healing magic was almost unrivalled in the whole medical centre. If it had been her in the operating theatre instead of him, Cytara knew that the hatchling would never have bled out.

Zilarin examined Cytara's wounds with a doctor's critical eye and a healer's magical touch. Although it was prohibited in the city, dragons came into the medical centre every day with injuries sustained from duelling and brawling--claw marks were distinct and easily recognizable wounds, so the senior healer must have known what she was seeing and recognized that these were self-inflicted scratches. Yet her voice remained neutral. "Why haven't you healed yourself?" she asked.

Cytara let his head droop. It was taking all his effort to hold himself up instead of collapsing onto the floor. His eyes felt so heavy, as did his head. "I can't. I'm out of magic."

"I'll heal you then. This bleeding needs to stop," Zilarin said. A stream of magical sparks seemed to leap from her paw and into his side, quickly closing up the scratch marks and restoring his skin and scales.

"No, don't..." Cytara mumbled, as he felt the distinctive, familiar tingle of healing magic. "Don't heal me. I don't deserve it. Save your magic for others..." His fault, his fault,_his fault!_Every bit of healing magic was precious and needed to be conserved, but he had violated that simple, sacred rule which all healers ought to follow. He had caused Zilarin to waste her magic in healing his self-inflicted wounds--this was magic that might have been used on patients in need, like that hatchling in surgery.

But by the time Cytara had voiced his complaint, Zilarin was already finished. She lowered her paw and walked back to her desk. In only a few brief seconds she had already done what he could not--her magic had healed up his scratches completely, even the wounds on his other side. "Tha--thn...thank you," he murmured.

Zilarin took a medicine bottle from her desk and shook out a single, red-coloured tablet. She tossed the tablet into her mouth, then she extended the bottle towards Cytara. "You want one?" she offered.

The drake took a tablet from the offered bottle and stared at it--the tablet was a soft tiny disk of bright red, semi-translucent material. He tossed the medicine into his mouth without even considering what it was, but then he realized that he didn't know if it was supposed to be swallowed, chewed, or even left under his tongue. "What...what was that?" he asked. The tablet tasted oddly sweet, and almost...fruity.

"One of the most effective medicines every invented--the placebo. It's candy. Chew it." Zilarin placed her bottle of candy back on her desk, then she took a sheet of paper and handed it to Cytara, along with a small inkpot. "This is an account of proceedings by one of the medics who was in ER with you. If you feel it is accurate, sign it. If you want to add further information or make changes, do that and then sign it."

Cytara took the document and stared at it--neat writing filled the page, providing a detailed report about the emergency surgery that had been performed on the injured hatchling. It included the specifics of her injuries as well as how they had been treated and by which doctors. The text was unemotional and completely objective, but Cytara had difficulty reading once he reached the portion where the hatchling's flight aortic had been damaged and she had started to bleed out. Past that point, he found that his eyes were reading the words but his mind was blanking out--this just wasn't something he could process at the moment.

He flipped the document around and stared at the signature of the medic who had authored it--Dr Avelin. Avelin seemed like an honest person, so Cytara trusted that she had told the truth. He dipped the tip of his tail in the inkpot and haphazardly scrawled his signature across the bottom of the report beside hers.

Zilarin took the report from him and added it to the pile of paperwork on her desk. Meanwhile, Cytara found himself utterly fascinated by his tail--he stared blankly at the nimble appendage as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. Most dragons used their tails as ink brushes to write; the blue ink was staining his scales, and suddenly he was reminded of how his paws had looked back in the surgical theatre--stained with innocent spilt blood that seemed to sink into his flesh and stain his very soul. "Drak, am I fired?" he murmured. Even as he asked that question, Cytara was completely sure what he wanted the answer to be.

Zilarin didn't give him the answer he yearned for. Instead she shook her head. "No. Your actions might have been a bit careless as a result of your inexperience, but they weren't negligent. No healer starts out as a master. I spoke with Mirshan--he shouldn't have left you as the only healer in the operating theatre, but the neighbouring surgery was also having difficulties. It was also unfair and unprofessional of him to yell at you in front of the others, and I've reprimanded him for that."

"But the hatchling...she...she almost died!" exclaimed Cytara, frowning in confusion. "It was my fault--all my fault. I could feel...she was dying..."

The senior healer sat down behind her desk and started writing something. "Not all your fault. Once the wing bone shattered and damaged the flight aortic, she could have started bleeding out at any time. Cytara, you're a junior healer and if it was entirely up to me, you wouldn't have been responsible for repairing such a serious injury. But we are always so short of dragons with healing magic--this city has too many injuries and not enough healers. I trust that you'll take this as a serious learning experience. Next time something like this happens, you'll have a better idea how to react, and you'll probably be able to repair the vessel yourself without relying on another healer. You should speak with the other doctors and nurses who were with you--go through what happened and reflect on how you can improve for the next time."

Next time? Cytara took a deep breath and shook his head. "No."

Zilarin stopped her writing and looked up. "What?"

"No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no. No, no, no, no, no..." Cytara muttered, letting his mouth run on automatic as his mind seemed to blank out. "Not again. I can't do this again. I'm not a good healer. I'm not like you. I can't...the red...there was so much blood... I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I just can't."

"That patient--the hatchling, her name is Pernea--she's in recovery. Her condition is stable, I've checked her myself. You healed her well enough given what a severe injury it was. With some luck her wing will set straight," Zilarin insisted in a firm but quiet voice, but Cytara was hardly even listening.

"I...quit!" he exclaimed. Once the words were out of his mouth, it was like a great weight had lifted off his back. "I quit. That's it. I can't keep doing this. I'll break contract. You can sue me for all the medical school fees, I don't care. I'd rather live in debt than have someone die because of me."

Zilarin let out a long, weary sigh. "Cytara..."

"I'm done. I can't live this life anymore. I can't live this_lie_ anymore. I thought I could, but I was wrong. I'm not cut out to be a healer like you, or Mirshan, or Fadris, or any of the others. I'd rather recharge healing crystals and never touch another dragon for the rest of my life. I'm a terrible healer. If I stay in the medical centre someone is going to die because of a mistake I make, and then the day after that happens, someone else will die and that person will be me."

Silently, Zilarin picked up her bottle of candy and offered it again. Cytara took an entire paw's worth of the candies and stuffed his mouth until he could no longer speak. The sweet, slightly sour taste helped distract him and prevent him from breaking down entirely.

"Alright," Zilarin said after a moment, "yes, I know it's hard to be a healer, especially in the first few years. I'm not that old--I remember what it was like learning to cope with the stress and responsibility. You aren't a terrible healer--far from it, in fact. If you weren't ready to be here in the medical centre, we would never have promoted you from trainee."

"I quit, I quit, I quit," repeated Cytara, in case Zilarin wasn't hearing him. Why was it so hard for people to just_listen_? No one ever seemed to listen to him when he said he didn't want to be a healer! They all said that he would 'get used to it', or that he would 'learn to find meaning in his work', or some other motivational garbage that entirely failed to help him from feeling crushed and trapped. "I quit. I'm...done. I quit."

"If that's what you want, fine! If you think your calling is elsewhere, who am I to stop you?!" exclaimed Zilarin, some of the steel returning to her voice. She reached under her table and tugged out a familiar chart--the duty roster which held assignments, stating when doctors and nurses had to be on duty in the medical centre for each day. "Your next shift is in two days. I fully expect you to meet your appointments and your duties for the next week, and you should take the time to reflect on what it is you want to do with your life! Don't make a rash decision while you are tired and emotional. At the end of the week, if you decide that you really don't want to be a healer, then you can come back to this office, return your red harness, and take as long a hiatus as you want--two weeks, two hundred years, or anywhere in between. I won't force you to be a doctor. No one can motivate you except yourself."

Cytara nodded. One more week--he could survive for one more week as a healer. And when this week was over, he was leaving the medical centre and never coming back. "Thank you very much, drak," he said. Then he stood up and left the office.

Zilarin watched him go. She reached for her sweet jar and tossed a few candies into her mouth. Then she took out a healing crystal from her flight harness and held it in her paw; the crystal glowed faintly as she charged it with magic. With the flick of a forepaw, she tossed a healing crystal up into the air and caught it as gravity pulled it back down.

"Who heals the healers?" she murmured to herself.

Cytara had to fight a growing sense of depersonalization as he walked through the medical centre's corridors. Everything seemed so detached and disconnected. He passed by other healers and colleagues, as well as visitors and patients, but he was just a spectre wandering aimlessly around without purpose or destination. It felt like he was walking through a dream--no matter how far he walked, he never seemed to go anywhere.

Finally he came to a stop and the world suddenly seemed to become real again; Cytara found himself standing in front of the paediatric unit, where eggs and young hatchlings were admitted for care. The nurse-on-duty frowned and walked forward, but then he recognized Cytara as a healer and let him through without question.

Rows of incubators carefully maintained the proper environmental conditions for the eggs contained within each incubator box, but Cytara wasn't here to linger at the hatchery. Instead the healer drifted over to juvenile intensive care--the incubators here held cracked eggs, soft-shelled eggs, and eggs with various other defects which would need special attention to reach hatching. Besides eggs, the section also held hatchlings--most of the juveniles here were from eggs which had been abnormally small. Small eggs led to underdeveloped hatchlings, who had to be carefully monitored as their tiny bodies grew to the point where they were self-sufficient (meaning at least able to breathe on their own and eat with the help of a parent), but there was also a section for infections and trauma care.

Cytara spotted the grey-scaled hatchling with ease. She was larger than most of the other hatchlings, and he would never forget how she had looked on the operating table. Her name--Pernea--was labelled on the outside of the transparent incubator box which held her and kept her warm. Cytara sat down and watched for a few quiet minutes as the hatchling's chest rose up and down. Her bruises and broken scales had been healed, and she seemed to be sleeping peacefully.

Gingerly, Cytara raised his paw and placed it on the side of the incubator; he didn't open up the access window to actually touch her, but he let his paw rest against the warm glass. From this short distance he could sense the bright spark of energy that was her life, and that was all he wanted--to be reassured that she would live, and to know that his mistake had not cost her life.

"I'm sorry. I tried my best. I hope you'll fly. One day when you're much older, you'll fly..." Cytara murmured quietly. He silently hoped that this hatchling would recover from her injury without a lasting disability. Having a crippled wing was one of the worst possible injuries, worse than losing a fore or hind leg--a dragon who could not fly was hardly a dragon at all. Pernea's wing was still bound with a splint, because even though the fracture had been repaired with healing magic, it would still take at least a few weeks for the bone to return to its full strength. And the true test would come about ten years later, when she would fledge and try to take flight for the first time.

Cytara watched the tiny hatchling until his eyes were so tired that he felt like he could fall asleep. When he actually started nodding off, he stood up and decided to leave. Some of the other healers, medics, and nurses nodded to him as he left the ward. Cytara forced himself to nod back.Goodbye, I don't think you'll be seeing me around here anymore...

Fatigue seemed to weigh more heavily on him then it ever had before. Cytara felt so unbelievable tired, and his mind seemed slow and clouded. He had been trying to head to the staff lounge, where medical centre personnel were allowed to rest in between shifts or when they needed a break, but instead he found himself in the cafeteria.

Cytara didn't know how he had ended up here, but he didn't care. It was just after the evening shift change, about half an hour after sundown, so the cafeteria was filled with dragons who were eating dinner. All the noisy chatter gaze him a headache, but he was spotted before he could leave. A green-scaled medic walked up to him, and Cytara took a few moments to recall her name. She was the one who'd been with him in ER--the same one who had written that report. What was her name again? He wasn't usually this forgetful.

"Cytara, hi! Have you eaten dinner?" asked Avelin, giving him a warm smile.

Cytara didn't bother to return his co-worker's greeting or her friendly expression. "No," was all he said.

"Me neither. Want to get something to eat?" Avelin offered, by Cytara shot her down immediately.

"No," said the drake again. He turned to leave, but Avelin followed after him as he exited the cafeteria.

"Oh, do you already have plans for dinner?" she asked.

"No."

"So then...don't you need to eat?"

"I'm not hungry."

"Well...alright. So then where are you going now?"

"I don't know," Cytara told her, and this answer was completely true. He didn't know where he was headed; he was just walking because if he stopped moving and sat down, he was probably going to collapse on the floor.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes."

Avelin didn't seem quite convinced. "We're friends, right? You can say something if you're upset."

"I'm not upset."

"Ok... Why did Zilarin want to see you? I wrote her a quick report explaining what happened in ER, and she was talking with Mirshan when she told me to go find you and tell you to head to her office. Did she yell at you?"

"She didn't yell at me," Cytara said. He didn't even spare a glance to the drakka pacing beside him; he only stared forward with a blank expression. It felt like he was wandering in a trance again, and he was hardly even listening to what Avelin was saying to him.

"I hope she didn't blame you. Everyone makes mistakes, and we've barely worked here for a few months."

"Yes."

"A shattered wing bone isn't basic stuff, either. I don't think Mirshan should have left the operating room. The neighbouring operation wasn't as serious, so even if they had problems they should have just waited."

"Ok."

"Cytara, am I bothering you?" Avelin asked, her voice abruptly sounding exasperated.

"No."

"Are you sure? Because this might be the most one-sided conversation I've ever had. You're not usually this...blank."

"That's nice."

"It's not nice. It's a bit concerning, honestly."

"Oh."

Suddenly Cytara had to stop when Avelin ran in front of him and blocked his way. "Seriously, are you alright? You're usually so much more...alive...than this!"

"Huh?" Cytara blinked at the medic, wondering what she was talking about. Clearly he had made some sort of social faux pas to offend her, but he didn't know what he had done wrong. It was just so_difficult_ to think right now! He was so tired from using all his magic and from the immense stress of having that young hatchling almost die during surgery. Cytara sank back onto his hindlegs and leaned against the corridor wall. "I'm...just...fine," he said slowly. It seemed so difficult to even remember the words he needed to say; all he wanted to do was close his eyes and rest.

Time seemed to suddenly skip forwards. Cytara thought that he had only blinked briefly, but then suddenly Avelin had a small pocket flashlight in her paw which she was shining in his eyes. "Cytara? Are you alright? Do you know where you are?"

Cytara pushed the flashlight away. "Stop that. I know exactly where I am. I'm not concussed, I'm just really, really tired..." For a brief moment he could think clearly, then the haze of tiredness seemed to sink into his mind once more.

He blinked again, and then suddenly he was staring at two different drakka. Both of them were watching him with a concerned look. The first was young like him, and she had scales of forest green--Avelin. The second was older and closer to middle age, and she was azure coloured--Senior-healer Zilarin, their boss.

"...not everyone handles stress as well as you do, Avelin. And his magic makes it worse, too. Push yourself too hard, use too much of your magic at once, and you end up completely exhausted," Zilarin was saying to Avelin. "It's like what happened to Fadris last month. Except that Fadris had more of a...chronic tendency to overwork himself, whereas this is an acute overstress from that close call in ER. All he needs is some food and a good night's sleep, and he'll be fine; physically, at least."

"Wait, are you two talking about me?" Cytara asked.

"We are." Avelin took Cytara's left wing and unfurled it, then she let his aerofoil rest against her back. "Alright then, let's get you home."

"Take this--just in case." Zilarin passed over a small object that resembled a dull, semi-translucent rock or gemstone, wrapped up in metal foil. Avelin took the healing crystal and slipped it into one of the pouches of her flight harness, then she turned to the drake sitting beside her and pulled him up by his wing.

Cytara frowned as Avelin helped him to his feet and they began walking together. "Hey, Avelin? Where are we going?" he murmured to her.

"Home. You need to get some rest," said the green-scaled medic.

"Oh, ok." Cytara nodded. Home sounded like a good idea. He let her lead him off.

Silently, Zilarin watched them go. Two young dragons walking side by side--the healer who was broken and the medic who chose to help him. "Who heals the healer, indeed?" she murmured.

Once they had gone down the elevator and were near the medical centre's exit, Avelin allowed Cytara to take his wing off her back and walk on his own, but she kept watching him closely like a hawk, as if she was paranoid that he was about to drop limp on the ground.

Out in the open-air front atrium, Cytara tried to say goodbye to his co-worker. "Thanks, Avelin. I'll just fly home now."

"Are you...are you quite sure about that?" asked the medic. She sounded extremely sceptical. "Maybe you should hire a displacer. You look too tired to fly."

"No I'm fine." Cytara unfurled his wings and tried to jump into the air, but instead he just stumbled forwards and collapsed onto the ground. "Oof. That was...embarrassing."

Avelin walked over and crouched next to him. "You should have listened to me."

"Yeah, yeah. You're very clever," muttered Cytara.

"Don't I know it..." Avelin helped him up, and then together they walked over to one of the numerous transit pads placed in the medical centre's front atrium. Avelin tapped the tetrahedral beacon placed in the centre of one of these pads, and ten seconds later a whirling sphere of magic appeared on the pad.

The sphere collapsed to reveal a drake wearing the cloth uniform of the Displacer Transit Network--the city's public transportation system. The displacer bowed his head in a quick greeting. "Good evening, where do you two fine folk need to go?"

Cytara felt Avelin nudge his side with her paw. "Huh? What?" he asked.

"Where do you live?"

"Oh. I live in uh...block one-four-seven. In sector six," Cytara said, giving his address to the displacer. "That way," he added, pointing his paw to the left.

The displacer unfolded a large map and stared at it for a few seconds, then he nodded his head and returned the chart to his flight harness. "I've got the destination. Fare is ten hexes for a direct jump, inclusive of peak hour surcharge."

Avelin paid the fare before Cytara could; not that he could actually have paid anyway, because his coin pouch had been left behind in his locker, back in the staff lounge, along with his plain flight harness and all his other belongings.

The displacer took the fare, but he seemed hesitant when he saw Cytara. "Are you feeling well, friend? No offense, but you look like you might want to be heading_into_ the medical centre, not leaving it. I had a cousin who caught bloodrot --he looked real sickly, sort of like you."

Avelin growled--she actually growled softly. "Rrr..." She pointed at her own flight harness, with its distinctive red-black stripe pattern. "I'm a doctor, not you, and what my friend here needs is rest. I don't tell you how to go around teleporting people, so how about you don't diagnose diseases, alright?"

"Whoa, easy there, doc! I'm sure you know more than me. No offense meant," replied the displacer, bowing his head in apology.

"Doc? I'm a doctor too... A doc too... Doctoo... hehehaha..." muttered Cytara to himself, "But not for long though. Not, for, long!"

"Just teleport us to block one-four-seven," Avelin insisted, glaring at the displacer.

The displacer nodded his head. "Consider it done." He raised his wings and a whirling sphere of magic engulfed the three dragons and the transit pad. When the sphere collapsed, they were no longer at the medical centre. They were on the roof of a residential apartment tower. Home.

Cytara slapped his paw on the biometric lock which secured his apartment flat, and tried to open the door. At first he simply couldn't get his affinity to respond, but then after a few seconds a single spark of his healing magic jumped onto the sensor. Recognizing him as one of the rightful occupants, the door unlocked and allowed him access into his home. The green-scaled drake stumbled into the apartment's common living area and he flailed around in the darkness for a few seconds until Avelin followed after him and jabbed the light switch with her tail.

"Ah, yes. Thanks. Welcome to my homeble home. I mean humble. Humble home. Looks like all my flatmates are...out," said Cytara, walking down the corridor and turning into his bedroom. He lived in a simple, one-room apartment; there was a common area with a kitchen and living room which was shared between several of these one-room apartments, but he had his bedroom all to himself. Or at least, he usually had his bedroom to himself, but now Avelin was here too.

The bedroom was tidier than usually since he'd just held his once-in-a-whenever-he-could-be-bothered cleaning session. It was reasonably spacious and two dragons might have been able to share the bedroom, but Cytara expected that Avelin would leave him now that she'd seen him home. Oddly enough, she didn't leave.

Avelin slowly walked around the bedroom, taking in all the random items and belongings strewn around the room--a miniature light-field projector with several data crystal recordings of the latest aerial races; a series of miniature building toys; and even a baking cookbook filled with recipe improvements scribbled on the page borders. "Your room really says a lot about you," said the drakka, turning to stare at him.

Cytara snorted, finding this faintly amusing. "It's messy and chaotic..."

"Well..." Avelin said.

"...just like me," Cytara continued. "Whereas I bet your home is perfectly neat and tidy. With stacks of medical textbooks and research papers. Everything in order and just as you want it."

"Is that how you see me?" Avelin asked.

"Yes. You're a person who's smart enough to do whatever you wanted, and you chose to be a doctor because you crave suffering. Or challenge; or purpose; same thing." Cytara could tell he was rambling, but the words flowed out of his mouth uncontrolled. "I bet you play some sort of musical instrument too, just because that's what people with too much talent do. And not a simple instrument that would be fun at parties, but a complex one which would...would be in an orchestra, or something like that. A wing harp, maybe."

Avelin didn't deny this. "Do you...want me to go?"

Cytara flopped onto his bed and closed his eyes, but he didn't chase Avelin off. In that moment he was equally split between the desire to be left alone, and the desire not to be alone. "Why would I want that?"

"I don't know," Avelin admitted. "Here. If you aren't going to eat, you at least need to replenish your energy somehow."

Cytara heard the crumpling of metal foil, and then he felt a jolt of energy running through his side, as Avelin used the healing crystal which Zilarin had given her. Even with his eyes closed Cytara could sense the sparks of healing magic jumping from the crystal lattices and weaving into his body, replenishing a limited amount of his strength. "Thanks, Avelin," he said, after a moment, opening his eyes to stare at his friend and colleague.

"You're welcome," Avelin replied, seemingly automatically. "I'm just...helping a friend in need." She left the room for a moment and returned walking three-legged--carrying a water jug with one forepaw, and with a pair of empty cups balanced over her snout. She closed the door behind her and grabbed the cups of her snout, filled them both with water, before passing one to Cytara. "Can I ask--what did you mean earlier when you told that displacer you wouldn't be a doctor for long?"

The healing crystal had depleted its stores of magic and gone dark, so Cytara placed the crystal on his bedside table. He took a long drink of water. After a few long seconds, he placed the empty cup down and shook his head. "I quit."

"You what?"

"I quit," Cyatara repeated. Unsurprisingly, this concept seemed as alien to Avelin as it had to Zilarin. "I told Zilarin that I was quitting. I'm a bad healer, and that hatchling almost died because of me. I can't keep working in the medical centre."

"What? But that...that wasn't your fault!" Avelin told him. "It was bad luck that the flight aortic ruptured, but the patient was fine in the end! You can't just_quit_ because of that!"

Cytara pushed himself up into a sitting position. "Oh, I _can't_quit? Are you going to stop me, Avelin? Because there is nothing you can say or do that is going to convince me to continue working in the medical centre! You are just like Drak Zilarin, you know that? All grit and steel, perfectly in control of yourself and your emotions."

Avelin shook her head confusedly. "Is... is that a bad thing?"

"No, it's an essential_thing which I have come to realize that _I lack. I don't have that perfect control of myself and my magic. I make mistakes and I mess up. I can't... I can't stop seeing her--that hatchling, bleeding out on the operating table, bleeding onto my paws because I couldn't fix her."

"Listen, that wasn't your fault," Avelin insisted, but Cytara just shook his head.

"No, you don't get it. Avelin, you're in such perfect control of your emotions that you don't feel worry or fear, do you? Or maybe you do, but you just push past it and keeping going because you're brave. But for me, that fear eats up my insides."

Cytara extended his claws and clenched his paw shut--his claws dug into his paw pad, leaving tiny puncture marks when he opened his paw again and turned his paw to show Avelin.. But there wasn't even time for him to bleed--with a tiny flash of healing magic, the minor injury disappeared in an instant.

"You see this? This is my curse--this damned, cursed magic," he continued. "When I was a fledgling, I just wanted to have firebreath so I could roast food to just the way I liked it. Then later I changed my mind and decided I wanted air magic, because I was impressed by all the stunts and tricks windriders could do. Then I actually grew up, and it turns out I got healing magic--so_of course_ I had to become a doctor and_of course_ I had to fix people, because this type of magic is nothing but... but seriousness and responsibilities! I'm so tired of all this. Why me? It should have been you! I've never wanted any of this! Everyone thinks I'm a bad healer! You think I can't hear what they say about me? All you medics think that I slack off and avoid my duties! And they're all right!You're right! I am a_terrible_ healer!"

Avelin stayed quiet, but Cytara continued yelling. "Why did I have to be cursed with this magic? Why couldn't it be you? You're smart! You're dedicated! You've got ambition and passion! You_chose_ to be doctor, but I never did! Now if I make the slightest mistake someone could die, and how could I ever live with myself if that happens? I almost felt that poor hatchling dying in my paws because I messed up! You might have heard some beeping on a machine, but I_felt_ her life start to fade away! You just... name me one thing that's worse than that--you can't. No one can. So now you can guilt me about wasting my magic and my potential, and you can hate me all you like, but I don't care. None of that compares to what I saw today. I'm not cut out to be a doctor. That is...that is the difference between us--the world could use more people like you, and less people like me."

His rant finished, Cytara dropped his head onto the bed and wrapped his wings around himself. His paws were trembling , but he told himself that he wasn't sobbing even as his eyes started to water. The hatchling with her broken wing--he couldn't do it again. He couldn't stand the blood on his paws. Not the gore of it, but having a life-or-death situation entirely in his control.

He hated the random, impersonal circumstances of genetics and chance which had given him healing magic, but even more he hated how he wasn't able to cope with the immense stress and pressures, and most of all he hated his self-pity and weakness.

Cytara felt more vulnerable and exposed than he'd ever felt before. Avelin was a medic--she had no natural healing magic, yet she still had chosen to become a doctor and help people. He admired her, but now she would hate him because in contrast, he was a healer whose magic could literally knit broken bones back together, but he was just too cowardly and weak to stand up to his responsibilities.

And the worst part was that even knowing that Avelin would judge him, he still couldn't continue to live the lie. He wasn't strong enough to keep up the façade of knowing what he was doing and living with the possibility that one of his patients might die. The others in the medical centre would also judge and shun him, as would his family and clan. No one would stand up for him. Now Cytara's choice was between revealing himself as a coward and running from his responsibilities, or pretending to act like a healer until the stress ate away at his insides and destroyed him. And he was choosing the selfish route.

Avelin was quiet what seemed like a long, long time, until Cytara wasn't sure if she had just left his room without him hearing her go. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet and solemn. "You keep calling me smart, but I don't think that's true."

"You...!" Cytara snapped his wings back onto his back as his smouldering misery ignited into a flashover of anger. "You don't think you're smart?! As if the aptitude and intelligence tests for becoming a medic aren't the toughest in the whole city? Don't pretend to be humble!"

Avelin met Cytara's glare without flinching. "Let me rephrase. Cytara, would you believe that I have always admired you for a multitude of reasons?"

Her calm seemed to infect Cytara and dissipate away all his anger. "Why...?" he replied slowly.

"The first is that you have healing magic--you can just fix people with the touch of your paw." Avelin gestured towards the water jug, and suddenly the water leapt upwards and formed into a sphere. The liquid began to spin and move, forming thin jets like a fountain, before collating back into a sphere as she forced it around with her magic. "Look at what I can do--is that useful? Not really. My magic can't heal a bruise or probe a patient for a tumour like yours can. But you're also right--I guess I never thought about the fact that if you have a gift to heal, everyone_expects_ you to heal."

Cytara watched as the jets of water danced around in geometric patterns, spinning and bubbling as Avelin played with her magic.

"For all those years we spent in medical school, I was always envious of you healers when we had classes together," she continued. "Your magic was special and something we could never have. All us medics were...as you said, smart. Sure we did well at tests, but reading books and passing tests is something that you can work at and get better at. A dumb healer can learn and become smart, but a smart medic can never use healing magic. Who's the better doctor, in the end? And you're not a dumb healer."

Avelin's gaze met Cytara's again, and his eyes felt like they were locked on hers. Because of her position sitting on the floor, he had to look down to her. "There were dumb healers in medical school, and dumb healers in the medical centre too, but you were--are not one of them. That was another thing I admired about you. You were so...carefree and playful that you made it look easy. I...admit...I did better than you on some (or maybe most) of the examinations, but that was with me working my tail off. I attended every class and took notes until my tail was always stained with ink, but you just... you would skip half the classes, then borrow my notes on the very day before the exams, and somehow still earn a passing grade."

Cytara smiled faintly and shook his head. "I only did that once or twice. Usually I'd try to borrow your notes at least two or three days before the exam, and only after asking Fadris for his notes first."

"But you know what I mean? Or maybe you don't--I'm not talking much sense here." Avelin let the water collapse into a sphere, then she dropped it back into the jug again. "How do I say this? I used to wonder why you never studied, and I assumed it was just because you didn't need to. Were you lazy? Unmotivated? But you always seemed so lively and full of energy when we talked. You could make me laugh so easily; and you still do."

Even as Avelin spoke, Cytara remembered the times she was talking about. Just a few years ago they had both been studying, and that had been a very different time--a time where he could dodge responsibility instead of coping with it, and when being serious was just a goal for the future.

"What am I even saying? I should be convincing you to stay on in the medical centre, right? I should be saying some motivating speech about how I've always believe in you, and how you can definitely make it if you keep trying, but I don't know if that's true. I... I'm... I don't...know." Avelin's speech finally faltered. "I like it when you smile."

"That's good," Cytara replied. "Enjoy it while it lasts, because either I'm quitting the medical centre and you won't be seeing me again, or I'll stay in the medical centre and never smile again."

"Hah." Avelin chuckled, but there wasn't much humour in her tone. Their conversation had gotten too serious. "That's not... not a... You shouldn't think about it that way! Today was a really bad day, but most days aren't so bad. I...was there with you in the surgical theatre, watching you work on that little hatchling. And when she started to bleed, I was...absolutely terrified. I can't even imagine what it must have felt for you as a healer. I couldn't sense her life like you could, but I was still scared. So I think that it's your choice whether you want to work as a doctor or as... whatever else, but I just want you to know that I don't judge you either way. Just think about it."

For a long moment, neither of them said anything, until finally Cytara felt lethargy begin to drag down his thoughts. His eyelids were sliding shut and he couldn't resist. "I'm so tired. I can't think about this right now." Laying his head down, Cytara closed his eyes. "I'll figure it out later. Goodnight, Avelin."

"Sleep well," he heard her say, or perhaps that was only his imagination as the world faded away.

Against all his expectations, Cytara did not have any nightmares and slept soundly through the whole night. When he finally woke up, the morning sun was shining through a crack in the window curtains. He was awake almost instantly, and his memory of yesterday evening still seemed fresh in his head--everything that had happened in the surgical theatre, and then all the things he had said to Senior-healer Zilarin in her office, and then all the things he had confessed to Avelin when she'd helped him get home. It had not been a good day.

The green-scaled drake stretched himself and looked around his bedroom--Avelin was gone, and he was alone again. She must have left after he had fallen asleep last night. Cytara felt disappointed, but not at all surprised. Why would she stay? If Avelin had ever felt any real friendship or affection for him, he had probably burnt away all her positive emotions with his confession and rant about not wanting to be a doctor. He reached over to the bedside and picked up the water jug that was still sitting there, and he drank directly from the jug until it was empty.

Now that Cytara was rested and thinking clearly, he felt embarrassed about how open and honest he had been in revealing his innermost emotions to Avelin. Yet after some consideration, he decided that he stood by all that he had said. "I am not cut out to be a healer. I can't keep up with the stress and the responsibility. I am quitting," he said to himself, reaffirming his decision.

Cytara put down the empty jug and picked up another object that sat on the bedside table. He clutched the healing crystal with his paw, and with an exertion of his effort, magic leapt from his paw pads and sank into the crystal. The magic looked like tiny sparks of light which made the gemstone glow as energy transferred into its lattices. The unfocused release of energy from someone using a healing crystal wasn't as good as having a healer directly fix their wounds, but it was a good substitute for minor injuries that didn't necessitate a full visit to the medical centre. Healing crystals could fix simple things like bruises or grazes.

Even if he didn't work as a doctor in the medical centre, Cytara could still store his magic as raw power in a healing crystal. This was the responsibility of those who had healing magic but could not pass medical school, and now it was going to be his part-time role. Full time, however, Cytara just wanted to get a job that was less stressful than being in the medical centre. A baker, jeweller, salesman, airship pilot, or_anything_ that didn't involve someone's life relying on his competence! He couldn't stand having blood on his paws.

Once the crystal was fully recharged, Cytara felt like he had made some amends for his indiscretions yesterday in the medical centre. He furled his wings tightly and looked over his sides, but there was no sign of any scarring from his brief bout of self-harm.I was just overstressed. I won't let it happen again.

The drake jumped off the bed and took a deep breath. He headed out into the common area that was shared between several one-room apartments, and he went to the washroom to clean up. Cytara brushed his teeth and took a quick shower, then he shook the water off his scales and left the washroom.

But went he went to the apartment's shared kitchen to find breakfast, he had a most pleasant surprise. A drakka with leaf-green scales was in the common area's kitchen, sitting at the stove and frying something that smelled very nice.

Avelin glanced up at him and inclined her head in greeting. "Good morning."

Cytara blinked at her a few times, just to make sure that he wasn't still dreaming and imagining that one of his roommates had suddenly turned into his colleague/friend. "Avelin! I...uh... Avelin?"

"That's my name," agreed the drakka.

Cytara realized that he probably looked silly with his jaw dropped open. "Avelin...? Yes. Uh, good morning." He walked up beside her and saw what she was cooking--an omelette filled with bacon strips, which was filling the kitchen with the tasty smell of bacon grease. "Wow, that's quite the smell..." he murmured, sniffing his nose a few times.

Avelin inched away from him and wrapped her wings around her body. "Oh, sorry! I know I haven't taken a shower yet, but I was hungry and I just wanted to eat breakfast first..." Then she paused and frowned. "Wait, were you talking about the bacon or me?"

Cytara laughed aloud at her brief misunderstanding. "Haha. I was talking about the bacon, which smells fantastic. But you don't smell so bad either." He leaned in closer and pretended to sniff at her, making Avelin grin embarrassedly and shake her head.

"Ok, never mind! Let's pretend I didn't say that," Avelin decided. "I hope you don't mind me frying some food--I didn't want to wake you up, but I was getting hungry."

Cytara was still feeling shocked that Avelin was here, in his apartment, and that she was acting like they were still friends. Didn't she disapprove of him? "That's...completely fine. It's just that I thought that you would leave," he said.

Avelin tilted the frying pan and used a spatula to push the omelette onto a plate. "Leave without having breakfast? That's not a good way to start the day. Or is this your subtle way of hinting at me to leave? You could just ask."

"No I don't want you to leave, but...don't you hate me?" Cytara asked, and now it was Avelin's turn to laugh aloud.

"Hahaha... Hate you? Why would I hate you?" she asked, walking over to drop the frying pan into the kitchen sink. She carried the plate in her jaws and placed it on the table, and then she sat back on the seating cushion placed on the floor. Noticing the hungry way Cytara was looking at the omelette, she grinned at him. "By the way, this is_my_ breakfast, not yours. I'm no maid. However, since this is your apartment and all the ingredients came from your larder, I guess we can share...if you say_please_."

Cytara sat beside her and put on his most wide-eyed, begging look. "Pleeeease?"

Avelin giggled. "Heh. Alright. I can't say no that that face." She used the spatula to divide the omelette into two, taking another plate to give Cytara half of the eggs.

Both dragons began tucking into the food, but Cytara was still unsure about how they stood. "So, ah, about last night? I may have said some things which...just... Sorry. Sorry for everything. I wasn't really thinking straight, and I don't think I was as respectful as I should have been. It was wrong to shout at you."

"Mmh. Apology accepted." Avelin snapped up a strip of bacon and licked her forepaws--she was eating with her bare paws instead of using utensils, as many dragons preferred (thought the medical centre officially frowned on this dubiously hygienic practice).

"Seriously, I don't think I'm giving you enough credit for what a good friend you were," Cytara continued. "You're a better person than I am."

Avelin shook her head. "I don't really like ranking people as better or worse. I think everyone is better in some ways and worse in different ways. We're all just dragons." She pushed away her now empty plate and changed the topic. "I shouldn't keep eating bacon and all this oily food."

Cytara was eating his food slowly and savouring the taste. "It tastes good, though."

"But it's unhealthy." Avelin wrapped her tail around herself and stared at the appendage. "My tail is getting fat. I should exercise more."

"You're not fat. You've got a nice tail," Cytara insisted. And it was true.

Avelin acknowledged the compliment with a nod. Without standing up, she used her magic to pull a carton of fruit juice from the kitchen countertop and into her outstretched paw. "Hmm. Rainbow Melon and Sourberry," she murmured, reading from the label. "Want some juice?"

Cytara nodded, and Avelin flipped over two empty glasses from the several which were sitting inverted on the table, before filling them with juice from the carton. She passed a glass over to Cytara. "Thanks," he said.

Avelin stared at her glass, watching the pulp swirl around, then her brown eyes turned to Cytara. "Did you mean it, though--everything you said last night? About being stressed and not wanting to be a healer? We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, but..."

Cytara nodded again. "I meant it. I meant every word I said. I'll finish up next week's shifts, but after that I'm leaving the medical centre. I admire all the other healers, and the medics, and you especially, but I don't think I can be a doctor."

"Quitting seems extreme. I...can't agree with that. And I can't disagree either. But I think I understand," Avelin said. "Do what you think is right. I'll still be your friend either way. But if you ask me--I think you could make it."

"Thank you for your understanding." Cytara finished up his breakfast and placed the plates in the kitchen sink. He spent the next few minutes cleaning everything up, and neither dragon said anything. It was a mutual, silently-implied agreement that they weren't going to speak further about the medical centre. Enough had been said for now.

After Cytara had finished washing the plates, he returned to the table where Avelin was still sitting. "I don't think I appreciate your friendship enough," he told her. "I... well... I owe you. For getting me home safely, for listening to me ramble and rant, and now for breakfast too. It's not something I would ask of a colleague, and it's not even something I would ask of a friend, but now I am in your debt. Thank you for being a good person."

"You're welcome." Avelin took a sip of juice, then she raised her glass and downed it all in one gulp. She nervously shifted her weight, sitting on the floor cushion, and inched closer to Cytara. "Can I... uh...?" Raising her paw, she reached out towards him, and this time he didn't pull away as she patted his shoulder.

Cytara raised his paw to touch Avelin's paw as she touched his shoulder. That simple gesture meant more to him than she probably realized--with his magic, he could sense her life force running through her body, like a coursing river of reassuring warmth and health. He leaned into the point of contact, and Avelin took this as an invitation to hug him. Cytara almost laughed, but he didn't. Instead he unfurled his wing and wrapped it around her, pulled her close and feeling her body pressed against his.

"Oo, I like hugging! It's so warm and friendly," Avelin murmured. "But I think kissing's better...if you want...?"

At that remark, Cytara did laugh. He raised a paw and rubbed the tip of his left horn, still looking right at his friend. "Hahah. Well said! Very well said, Avelin."

Avelin blinked, and she suddenly shook her head and looked embarrassed. "Did I come on too strong? I not very good at flirting. I mean...if you don't want to, that's fine. I'm just offering..."

Cytara's response was to kiss her. Avelin's lips tasted sweet and like the fruit juice she had just been drinking--it wasn't an overly romantic or suave move, but he would have been lying if he pretended that he wasn't attracted to her. So if she wanted this, then he would certainly give it to her. His wing was still placed behind her back, and he felt her shudder as he pulled her closer. At first Avelin seemed shy and unsure, but very quickly she began to eagerly reciprocate. Every time he kissed her muzzle, or licked her neck, or touched her at all, she would mirror his moves and the moment would grow more sensual between them both.

They finally stopped after a minute, both the dragons just sort of holding each other. "Thank you," Cytara murmured, his voice a soft whisper. "I don't know if you have any idea how good it feels to hold you--you are just...warm and alive and beautiful."

He felt another shudder run down Avelin's back. "Are we going to take this any further?" she asked.

"If you want." Cytara looked directly into her eyes, and now they were so close their snouts were practically touching. "Is that what you want?"

"Yes. Oh, you have no idea how long I've wanted this..." Avelin replied. Cytara could see in her eyes a certain hungry look--a lusting desire which he hadn't quite seen from her before, or perhaps which she'd always suppressed. It was not overly surprising, but certainly welcome.

However, before they could continue kissing or doing anything more, another drakka strolled into the kitchen--one of Cytara's flatmates. "Hey, where's the water jug?" asked the new arrival. She yawned and walked towards the larder, and showed no surprise at Avelin's presence. "New friend of yours?"

"Old friend, actually. And a co-worker," replied Cytara. He was still hugging Avelin close, with their wings wrapped around each other and necks partially entwined, and neither of them made a move to separate.

The roommate poured herself a glass of fruit juice, swallowed it all down in one gulp, and then she strolled back out of the kitchen. "It's a bad idea to sleep with a co-worker. You're bringing office politics into the bedroom, and bedroom politics into the office. Don't say I didn't warn you..."

"We probably won't be co-workers for long," replied Cytara, but his roommate was already gone. He turned back to Avelin and playfully nuzzled her neck. She responded by leaning downwards and nosing at his underbelly, which made him tense up.

"Shall we take this back to your room?" Avelin suggested.

"Yes, please," Cytara agreed.

When Cytara returned to his bedroom, he realized that there was evidence that Avelin had slept here as well. It was strange how he hadn't noticed that when he'd woken up, but now he did. Her red-black striped medic's harness was lying by the side, and the room smelled different than usual. He hadn't opened the windows last night, so the enclosed space was filled with her scent as well as his. "Did you stay here all night?"

"Yes, I slept on the floor. I could have gone home, but after how befuddled you were in the medical centre I just wanted to make sure you were all right." Avelin walked right over to his bed and jumped on. She sighed contently as she relaxed on the mattress. "That's better. Much more comfortable."

Cytara felt even more thankful that he had a friend like her. "Sorry about that. I'm usually more courteous with guests." He joined her on the bed and licked her affectionately on the neck. "I'll make it up to you."

"What exactly does that--oh!" Avelin exhaled sharply as Cytara licked her again, but his tongue had started drifting lower down her body. Yet he didn't head straight for genital slit; he wasn't desperate to rush, as if what they were doing was a chore he just wanted to get over with. No, what they were doing was something to be enjoyed slowly. Instead he began to rub her with his paws, massaging her wings and back slowly. His paws went up and down her back, rubbing away the stiffness and tension in her muscles. "Uh...feels good..." she murmured.

Cytara said nothing, but he kept caressing Avelin until her eyes were half-lidded and she had gone all relaxed under his touch. He gently pushed her onto her side, so that her legs were all pointing in one direction, but even then he still didn't directly touch her genital slit. He rubbed the underside of her wings, her chest, and even her tail. Avelin watched as he slowly explored her. It was like a slow game of trying to touch every single scale on her body and find out where her sensitive spots were--under her wings, the side of her neck, and, of course, the space between her hindlegs.

Avelin was still lying on her side, so Cytara used his paw to raise her left hindleg. His other paw started stroking the inside of her thigh, while he leaned in and used his tongue to lick and tease. He slowly traced his way up her hindleg, taking his time. By the time he reached her slit, without even touching her there, he could almost just_feel_ her warmth and wetness from anticipation. But then he skipped over her most sensitive spot and started licking the inside of her other hindleg that was being held in the air by his grip. "Hnngrr... You're teasing me on purpose," she muttered.

Cytara grinned but said nothing. They had been friends for years, through medical school and then when they'd both graduated into the medical centre, but never had he gotten the chance to_examine_ her in such a way. His own anatomy was beginning to prepare itself and Cytara felt his penis swell with blood and push its way out of his own genital slit, but he ignored it for now to keep focusing on Avelin.

"Heeey..." Avelin made a soft, desperate moan, and Cytara agreed they had waited long enough--he pushed the drakka onto her back and spread her legs open with his forepaws. Then he finally gave her what she wanted--his tongue began working across her slit, while his paws kept rubbing and touching. Avelin's genital slit had a salty, mineral taste that would have been mildly unpleasant if in food, but in this scenario was instead appealing.

Cytara placed a paw on Avelin's underbelly, and he could feel her muscles began to tense up. He focused his attention on her clitoris and the outer parts of her anatomy, trying to get her worked up and aroused. Even though he could see her vagina clenching, looking for something to squeeze against and tempting him to find out what she would feel like around his erection, he deliberately kept his tongue out of her.

Avelin was watching his lustfully as he eagerly pleasured her. Her breath was coming faster now, in soft pants and quiet moans. Cytara retracted his tongue and replaced it with his paw rubbing her in the same way, just for a moment. "Quick confession: I've found you very attractive from the moment I first set eyes on you all those years ago when we first met, and I would just like to say that you are_really_sexy. Especially when you moan like that." It was entirely true, and his statement helped ease away any last self-consciousness or embarrassment she'd harboured.

Cytara could feel Avelin's muscles really tensing now, and she grabbed him by the horns and held his head as he licked her again and again.Not too long now, he thought.

"Don't...don't stop...I'm...ahh..." Avelin started bucking her hips, and her eyes rolled back in her head. "Ohhkay, that's... Ooh, ohh!" Overcome with ecstasy, she tugged Cytara's horns and forced his muzzle against her slit. Her hindpaws scrabbled at the sheets and her tail thrashed from left to right. Cytara went still and let her shudder and twitch against his snout, as the overpowering blissful sensation of orgasm reduced her to incoherence. "Ngghhahh..."

When Avelin finally relaxed again and blinked her eyes open, she stared blankly for a few seconds before releasing Cytara's horns and looking embarrassed. "Sorry. Did I pull on your horns too hard?"

"Don't apologize." Cytara rubbed his jaw with a paw, and he flicked his tongue a few times. "I hope you enjoyed that."

"Yeah..." murmured Avelin. She reached down and gently pulled Cytara upwards, not so subtly indicating a desire to hold him close. Cytara moved forwards and stepped over her supine body, and then he kissed her again. Avelin eagerly leaned into the kiss, which idly made him wonder if she could taste herself on his tongue. "That was great. I_really_ want you inside me right now," she said, when their muzzles separated again.

"Good. Because we're not done yet," Cytara replied. He adjusted his position, with his forelegs right above her wings and next to her neck. As he moved his hips, his penis rubbed against Avelin's underbelly and she grasped his length to guide it into her. His phallus had been deprived of attention so far, but now it grew thicker, longer, and fully erect just from her light touch. It was such a simple contact, but the knowledge of what they were about to do got him completely aroused.

Pre-ejaculate was leaking from both his tip and his genital slit, and his fluids mixed with hers as Avelin rubbed Cytara's length against her slit. After having already orgasmed once, she was wet and definitely ready for more. Again it was that slow sense of imminence--they were about to mate, and clearly they were both eager for what came next. Then his tip finally slipped into her, and the slow spreading sensation was gold. Cytara slowly pushed himself into her until he was fully penetrated and their genital slits touched, feeling all that delightful warmth around his sensitive organ.

Avelin wrapped her wings around his back, holding him against her as he began to hump. Again and again Cytara thrust into her, and she started moving her hips in time with his. They were mating--the most intimate, exquisite, lustful thing two dragons could do. It was warm, slick, and disgustingly sexy.

"Hang on..." Avelin said, and Cytara briefly halted his thrusts so that she could pull over a pillow and place it under her lower back, tilting her hips upwards. When Cytara next continued to thrust, the improved angle let him go even deeper into her, rubbing in just the right way. The rhythmic motion felt natural and intensely pleasurable.

After another couple of minutes, Cytara was breathing heavily as he got close to orgasm, but Avelin reached her second climax before he did. "Ahhh...mergh..." was all she managed to say, an incoherent moan of pleasure as she bucked upwards, and her wings clutched Cytara and pulled him close. He kept going, thrusting deeply but steadily as she shuddered underneath him. Her vaginal muscles clenched down and squeezed his phallus, nearly stimulating him into his own sexual release.

Cytara didn't quite manage to get over the edge, but he was perilously close just as Avelin was coming down from her high. "Avelin..." he moaned.

Avelin was giggling hysterically under him. "Hehe...he... that was...hehe...oh wow...I've never had a drake...make me...twice...that was...uuhhhhrgg..." She took a few deep breaths, and managed to calm herself. "Would you believe that was the first time I ever had two orgasms from a single sexual encounter? I mean, I've done it myself with my own paws...but never with someone else..."

Cytara grinned, feeling an odd sense of pride at hearing this bit of information. It was a curious sort of achievement to know that he had given Avelin more pleasure than anyone else. "Really? Let's make you do three, then." But he was himself so close to orgasm that he couldn't keep going for long. His options were to pull out and go back to using his tongue and paws, or ask her to do something he rarely did. "Hey, listen, I don't normally like to do this, but do you--do you know how to deny a drake?" he asked.

Avelin hummed in amusement. "Hmm! I do. Are you offering?"

Cytara hesitated for a moment, then he nodded his approval. "It's not something I normally like...but now I would. For you."

"That's really sweet, in a weird but sexy way." Avelin slid her paws down his chest and to their interlocked groins. She placed one paw against Cytara's underbelly, and the other paw wrapped around the base of his phallus as he made his thrusts shallower. "Go on, then. Try and shoot," she whispered, watching his expression as he neared his orgasm.

It was a simple trick which Cytara had picked up from one of his previous sexual experiences--male dragons needed a simple but fairly specific type of stimulation to reach ejaculation, and if they didn't get that, then the fun would go on. Of course, it was rather unpleasant to be denied all pleasure right on the edge of release, but given the circumstances and just how_hot_ Avelin looked right now, with her scales flushed with blood and her jaw half open in pleasure...

Cytara lasted for a few more seconds, then his wings fluttered and his face scrunched up. "It's happening...I'm there..." he warned Avelin, and she reacted by pushing his underbelly away, just far enough that he couldn't get the full length of his phallus into her.

Like any drake, Cytara's penis was a smooth, tapered rod of flesh which narrowed to a point, but near the base there was a spherical bulge that protruded slightly. Now this bulge was swelling with blood and rapidly engorging as his knot formed--a special portion of reproductive anatomy that was supposed to ensure his seed was only released when he was deepest into a female. Cytara bucked his hips forward, unable to resist the instinctual desire to push his knot into the drakka he was coupling, but Avelin used her paws to prevent him from thrusting deep enough and getting that last bit of sensation he needed. Deprived of that final squeezing touch that would set him off, Cytara felt his pleasure stall and halt right on the edge of relief. His body couldn't ejaculate until he'd tied with a drakka, or at least there was something squeezing his knot and simulating that pressure, so now his internal testicles held on to their accumulated fluids and waited, and waited, and waited.

"I want to... I really want to... ah... Regretting this now..." Cytara groaned. He found it impossible to keep still--in that instant, conscious control over his body had been surrendered over to instinct, and instinct demanded that he straighten his legs and thrust forward. But Avelin was in control too, and she didn't let him get his knot into her, using her paws to keep his hips_just_ far away enough to deny him the release he'd been building up to. Most of his sensitive, vulnerable length was just resting inside her slit, surrounded by wonderful warmth and squeezing pleasure, but it simply wasn't enough. Her paw wrapped loosely around his knot, but her gentle touch was too soft to set him off. This lasted for about ten seconds before Cytara's knot began to soften and shrink, blood flowing away as his arousal crashed down from a near-orgasmic high, and the drake shuddered all over and groaned. "Oh...that was worse than I remember..."

Unlike him, Avelin looked like she was feeling great. She released his penis and grinned up at him. "You asked for it!" she said, playfully licking at his snout.

Cytara licked her snout in return. "I did, and now you'd better climax before I do. I'm not doing that again." He started to thrust forwards and back again, but now he was going faster--humping with a desperate, almost animalistic manner as he tried to regain his lost arousal and finally reach orgasm.

Their wings rubbed against each other, as did their chests, and their tails. So much physical contact and it was electrifying. Avelin reached down and used her paws to touch herself, while Cytara continued to thrust madly. His release had been denied once, and his body demanded the pleasure it was owed. Right as he was on the verge of orgasm again, Avelin kissed him and let her tongue brush against his. They were locked at the lips, and then the hips.

Cytara grabbed Avelin's hips and pushed deep into her, sliding as far in as he could go, and seconds later he felt his knot begin to swell and lock him into her. The pressure on her vaginal canal only served to stimulate even further, and Avelin clenched down hard, squeezing his phallus as her muscles tensed in response to ecstatic, orgasmic pleasure. The two of them moaned and quivered against each other as they both climaxed, and Cytara began to ejaculate into her. Bliss shut down his conscious mind entirely, and he began to shoot warm spurts of seminal fluid into Avelin, in sync with each and every time his penis throbbed inside her slit. If she'd been in heat all his semen would put her at a good risk of becoming gravid, but now they could enjoy this pleasure without the worry of any responsibility.

Eventually their unashamed moans became soft pants, and their shudders slowed and muscles relaxed. Cytara lay down flat, twisting slightly so his chest rested on Avelin's opened wing instead of pressing her chest. The two of them said nothing for a good long time, just enjoying the afterglow of a deeply intimate moment. Cytara's knot shrink back down, and his erection slowly receded and slipped back into his own genital slit. His wing was resting against her chest, and they clutched each other close.

"Okaay..." Cytara let out a long, satisfied sigh. Worry, fear, and anxiety seemed like a distant memory, and all he could think about was how nice it felt to hold Avelin close. After all the stress and pressure he'd been through yesterday, he'd found it intensely cathartic to mate with Avelin--and hopefully she'd felt the same way too

The drakka looked comfortable and snug as she cuddled against him. She yawned and dropped her head down on the bed, though with the bright morning sun shining between a gap in the curtains, it was unlikely they could fall asleep again.

"So..." Cytara said, after a period of time, "...I hope you were satisfied with your experience."

Avelin reached up and started playing with Cytara's horns, feeling the bony projections which curved backwards from his head. She had her own pair of horns, which were in fact slightly longer than his, although they were smooth and lacked the series of ridges that were spaced out at regular intervals up the length of his horns. Avelin grinned that beautiful, carefree smile that she sometimes did when she forgot about all her responsibilities. She leaned her head against his and let the foreheads and noses touch, and their horns bumped against each other. That suddenly she blinked as her brain finally processed that he'd said something. "I...uh...what? Could you repeat that? I wasn't listening..."

Cytara snorted in amusement. Avelin looked cute with that slightly confused expression--half smile, half frown. "Hmf. I just said--I hope I satisfied you."

"Oh yes...very much so..." Avelin murmured. "Do you have any plans for today? I asked you yesterday if you wanted to have a meal together--that offer is still open, if you want," she asked.

It sounded like just a casual question, yet Cytara suspected that their situation gave it more emotional weight. He liked Avelin as a friend, and now they'd proven they had the mutual attraction and physical compatibility to take things further. Was this just a one-off event, or was it the beginning of an actual relationship? And did Avelin even want that?

Cytara met his friend's gaze, and her expression told him that she understood that her invitation was a question that stretched beyond just one meal. One meal was a date, and one date could become a true companionship. Had this just been a plain expression of lust, or was there any deeper desire that he felt for her? All it took was a quick search of his feelings, and the answer was obvious. Of all the things which had come to define him, interpersonal relationships (friendly or romantic) were not something he had ever shied away from.

Cytara slowly smiled, then he nodded. "I'd like that. I like you, Avelin, and it would be my pleasure."

Avelin smiled back. "Great! But now...now I really need a shower," she muttered.

Several days later...

Cytara bowed his head politely as he walked into his supervisor's office. "Good evening, drak," he said to her. This was a moment he had been anticipating and dreading--the moment when he decided his future.

The junior healer sat down on the cushion in front of the desk, meant for patients or visitors. His past few days in medical centre had been simple and straightforward--no more ER shifts, no grievously wounded patients, not even any surgical procedures at all--nothing more than routine check-ups or attending to minor illnesses such as coughs or colds. The change in pace had been quite a relief. Cytara suspected that this was part of a ploy to convince him to stay on and keep working as a healer rather than quitting, and he did admit that there was a part of him that didn't want to leave. A small part, compared to the all the stress and the pressure which healers put up with, but still it was there. Deep down, he wasn't immune to that altruistic desire to help others.

Zilarin drummed her claws against her desk and frowned at Cytara, but when she spoke, the topic wasn't what he'd expected. "Are you dating Medic Avelin?"

Office gossip had spread faster than he'd realized. Cytara paused for a moment and considered the question. Why bother denying it? He liked Avelin, she liked him, and they were both adults. "We...yes."

Zilarin's expression was hard to read. "I'll sound like an old grumpy manager for saying this, but all you young people can't seem to stop falling in love with each other. First it was Fadris and Sagen, and now it's you and Avelin.Please just keep it professional while you're in the medical centre. I will transfer one of you to another ward if I have to..." Her claws stopped tapping against the desk, and the azure-scaled drakka sighed. "...unless you already have plans regarding a change in career. Have you put some thought into your future? The other day, you expressed a few...strong opinions about wanting to reconsider your place here."

Cytara nodded. "After what happened in ER; I can't live with myself if something like that happens again. This time the patient made it, but next time...I just don't know." And yet he hadn't quite brought himself to say the words again and_quit_--his decision was still up in the air, even though he'd been so sure the other day that he wanted out.

Zilarin wasn't quite smiling, but her face took a warmer, more sympathetic expression than usual. "There's a reason why doctors are cold. Our patients are not our friends, and they're suffering is_theirs_, not yours. That hatchling in ER with the fractured wing--she was injured because of the unfortunate circumstances she was in, not because you broke her wing."

Cytara tail was fidgeting; he grabbed the appendage and held it still. "But isn't empathy a good thing? How is it wrong to be compassionate?" he countered.

"Empathy is a good thing. But you must remember that no one has an infinite supply of compassion; sometimes you need to be more reserved and detached to make the right decision, and you can't let emotions drown you. I know what it feels like. Have you spoken about that incident to anyone? Reflecting and reviewing what happened can help you deal with the difficulty."

Cytara nodded again. Over the past few days, he and Avelin had spent several long hours talking over what had happened that day in ER. She had been understanding and thoughtful as he'd tried to work through his shame and worry over his mistake, and that was had made him uncertain about his rushed decision to stop being a healer.

So now he didn't know. Could he be a healer? Was he quitting, or not? Cytara didn't think he was strong enough to stand up alone and deal with all the constant stress and the worry and the pressure, but now he wasn't alone. He wouldn't have thought it possible till it happened, but Avelin had helped him through the misery.

"Everyone has different limits. There are those who would run into a burning building to pull people out, but there are also those who use their healing magic to do nothing more than charge crystals." Zilarin tapped a folder than sat on her desk. "Of all the different varieties of affinity, healing magic is the most well regarded and is statistically correlated with the highest income and social status...but also the highest rate of suicide. I don't want that happening to you, Cytara."

"Me neither," Cytara agreed.

"We have great purpose, and it is hard to take that lightly. But I consider it a failing in my leadership that you were stressed so far past your limits," Zilarin continued. "For now I've already taken you out from surgery rotation, but if you want to leave the medical centre entirely, I understand. We can find the correct place for you here, or you can find your own place elsewhere."

It was a hard decision--possibly the hardest decision he had ever had to make. Cytara wanted to leave. He could be free, living a life where no one relied on him and he would never have to cope with patients who trusted him for their health. He wouldn't have to have blood on his paws or live with the worry about his mistakes costing someone their life.

But yet he also wanted to stay. His work did have meaning, and every bit of healing magic was needed in the medical centre. He could have given up at any point during medical school, but he gone through years of studying to get to where he was now. Why give up now? Back and forth he debated what he wanted.

Ultimately his decision was swayed by the people--he admired the other healers, the medics, the nurses, the technicians, even the clerks and the cleaners and all the others who worked beside him in the medical centre. And if he admired them for their dedication and their resilience, he ought to strive to do the same.

Or perhaps this was just another mistake and he would change his mind next week and leave, running from the stress and the responsibility. But until his resolve faltered, he would try.

"I won't quit. Not now," said Cytara. The junior healer glanced out the window, looking out to the medical ward, and he nodded. "I can't say that I'll stay forever. I can't say that I'm even going to last for very long...but I'll try."

"No one motivates you but yourself. You choose your own limits," Zilarin told him. She reached for the bottle of candy on her desk and chewed on one of the sweets. Cytara took one as well, and the two healers shared a moment of mutual respect.

The people he worked with in the ward were those who he looked up to and admired. Zilarin worked longer hours than most any healer, even though she had seniority and could have relaxed and taken it easy if she had wanted to. Avelin was his friend and maybe more; she was driven to be a doctor and to help others, and Cytara wished that he could have even a tenth of her motivation. All around him he was surrounded by those who set the standard for greatness. So he would try.

"Careful, dear, careful! You shouldn't--oh, alright, but watch yourself," said an older drake, as a grey-scaled hatchling leapt off her bed, and scrambled up his back to perch on his shoulder.

The hatchling, Pernea, sat herself down and nuzzled her snout against her grandfather's much larger neck. "I like sitting up here--I can see things! Mother doesn't let me sit up high. She gets angry." Pernea bared her teeth and tried to growl, but it only sounded like she was clearing her throat. "Rrrr... She's like that. But louder. And more scarier. Rrr...."

"It's alright dear. We've finally gotten approval for you to be transferred to our clan," said her grandfather.

"Whaaaat?" replied the hatchling, dragging out the word for no other reason than she liked the sound of it. She tried to open her wings and wave them back and forth, but the splint attached to her right wing kept it closed.

"You're going to live with us now. And if your mother does visit, your grandmother and I will be there to keep her under control. We wanted to do this for years, but clan politics are...they are what they are." The older drake licked Pernea's neck affectionately, and the little hatchling purred in pleasure. "How long will she have to wear that splint?" asked the drake, turning his attention to one of the doctors overseeing the discharge process.

"About one month." First-class Healer Zilarin gestured towards Pernea's wing splint. "Her wing also needs to be stretched out. If you unlock this little knob here and twist it, the splint will open up her wing and hold it there. Make sure that she spends at least half an hour every day with her wing opened up as far as possible. It'll ache at first, but it's necessary for her muscles to strengthen. Do you understand?"

The older drake nodded. "Make sure she opens up her wing every day, half an hour, twist the knob and the splint will...will pull her wing open," he repeated dutifully.

"Yes. Make it a scheduled thing so that you don't forget--every day just after she wakes up, or just before she goes to bed, for example. Any soreness will lessen with practice..." Zilarin continued.

Sitting at the far side of the room, Cytara watched quietly. "Don't you want to say goodbye?" Avelin suggested--she was sitting beside him, also watching.

Cytara made a small shake of his head. "I'm not her friend; I'm not even her doctor. I'm just_a_doctor who happened to be part of the team which helped her. So I'm fine just watching, knowing that she'll be alright."

"I'm glad she's better now. She's so...energetic and lively," Avelin replied.

Cytara smiled as Pernea started chewing on her own tail. "Hatchlings are like...tiny people with too much energy and not enough sense. You ever think about that? It's like having a tiny version of yourself running around."

"Woah, and here I thought we agreed to take this relationship slow." Avelin subtly glanced around, making sure there was no one close enough to overhear them. She leaned in close and murmured in Cytara's ear. "I'll have to be careful next time I'm in heat... Make sure some horny drake doesn't accidentally get_too_enthusiastic and leave a warm, sticky, fertile mess inside me."

"I thought we also agreed to keep things strictly professional at work?" Cytara replied, though he couldn't keep a grin off his face.

"You were the one who brought up having children, which I am absolutely not going to do anytime soon. Have you seen how_big_ eggs are? Can you imagine squeezing that sort of thing out of yourself? Ouch." Avelin stood up and turned to go. "We should get back to work. Dinner later?"

"Sure," Cytara agreed, and Avelin's tail brushed against his paws as she strolled off. Cytara watched for another minute until Pernea left with her grandfather, still perched up on his shoulder. "Just another day in the medical centre," Cytara murmured to himself, and then stood up and returned to work.

END

Check out my profile for more stories: Oridian

Special thanks to beta readers for their feedback: Nulkurrak, cetacea, OnyxPhantom, HotHead3602, PumaConcolorSr

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