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"Neri?" T'rel called, perplexed. He'd been hastily scrawling out a note and giving it to a firelizard when he'd first heard the familar voice. He turned and faced her, grinning. His brown eyes were filled with a warmth that indicated Neri's visit was a pleasant surprise. "Don't be sorry," he said, shaking his head. "I should have answered before. I didn't believe it was you, at first!" Of course he remembered her. She'd been a personal favorite during her candidancy. T'rel had been a young Weyrleader; only a few turns out of Weyrlinghood at the age of twenty.

"I've missed you, Neri," he added, studying the girl--no, woman! before him. "How's Bayeth? Shards, she must've grown!" He grinned at her. "Last time I saw her, she was hardly bigger than a firelizard." It was a hatching he remembered well. The feast the following evening had taken place during Threadfall--when Ky't had been injured... They had been lucky most of the Weyr had been gathered inside. "Finally back then? From... Wasn't it Igen?" He made a show of pausing to look her up and down, smirking. "It's done you wonders, Neri. You're beautiful."

He invited her to sit, gesturing to the couch. He himself, walked over to a small table, and fetched a jug of fruit juice. "I imagine R'yn's given you the tour," he said. It was nice to be with an old friend again. He'd lost so many... "Do you want something to drink? Ista's sun can parch those unaccustom to it."

"Zelith'll probably flirt back," T'rel said, giving a shake of the head. His bronze, having been denied the chance to fly Calith each turn, had become increasingly interested in the Weyr's greens. "He fancies greens belong to him," he added in an undertone, wrinkling his nose just slightly. It seemed T'rel, though amused with his bronze's antics, was not interested in having him fly. "I'll remind Zellie that she came from his clutch. Maybe that'll convince him it's a bad idea."

"I look forward to seeing how much she's grown!" He hesitated, and then, lacking something to say, handed her a mug. "Redfruit juice," he explained as he took a sip from his own mug. "I fancy R'yn took you for breakfast, yes? I'd offer you something, but if I remember correctly, you don't consider my choices a proper meal." He grinned at her. "Oh, good! I've been good." It was a lie. He had faltered for a moment, before answering. He gave her another smile. His cheeks seemed to twitch, as if in order to reveal the lie. "Things've changed quite a bit since you've been gone. I think they've changed for the better."

And all at once, that pretense of being a cheerful wingleader had fallen apart. His smile faded, and he hesitated. "I think I am," he said at last. "Sometimes. Sometimes I'm not. I can get through a day without thinking much about what happened, now. Sometimes I have sudden reminders..." He forced a smile. "I've missed you, Neri. I'm glad you're back."

T'rel made a small noise of discontent when Neri seemed to take offense. "No, you didn't," he agreed quietly. "I believe I was the one that said Zelith flying Bayeth would be a bad idea." He hesitated, and then shook his head. "No offense meant, to you, or Bayeth!" he added quickly. "I've had to take Zelith away each time I find a flight's going to be happening soon," he explained. T'rel simply was not interested in that sort of thing--dragon lust inspired or not. He studied her for a moment, and shook his head. "I'm sorry, Neri. I'm still--very much in love with her."

He didn't feel the need to clarify which her he meant. She haunted his thoughts, his dreams so often--he generally tried to avoid using her name. "One step at a time," he repeated. "I've taken a few steps," he mused, with a small, more geniune smile. "It'll take a while before I can get to where I want to go."

He rose an eyebrow at her. "It works well for most people," he said. "Why not for you?" They'd known each other for turns, certainly. Since the current Weyrleader had been a candidate. "It's easier, to pretend to be happy, than to mope around all the time," he added. "It boosts moral."

Neri seemed to have touched on a sensitive subject. More sensitive than his losing Ky't; the way he treated his Weyr. Though he had not been Weyrleader for over five turns, having left to speak with Ky't when Calith rose that life changing dawn; the man was as protective, as self-sacrificing for the good of the Weyr as he had ever been. Perhaps too much so. When R'yn had offered him the position of weyrsecond, he had refused, stating that it wouldn't be for the good of the Weyr. He was too emotionally compromised. Even still. Too emotionally involved with the people, the events--the past.

"Do you think I would, if it wasn't the best for everyone?" he asked icily. "You have no sharding idea. You've been gone. Free of this trouble! Free of the entire sharding Weyr while I kept it afloat. Free of the fear that we would starve; that we would lose our tithes. That we would be destroyed by Thread. In our need, I called for help from other Weyrs. Do you know what they sent? Messages! Sympathy! "I wish we could help, but from what you've said, Thread will be coming here, too"s. At their most generous, they sent three sharding riders, Neri. Three. We were struggling to keep our wings in the air, our Weyrwoman was dead, and they sent three riders. In our present circumstances, yes, lying is the best solution. What rider would follow a wingleader that is not confident in the way they fly? If I am not positive, they will look to others." He wrinkled his nose. T'nus. Proud, controlling, perfectionistic T'nus. Oh yes, the entire Weyr looked up to him.

His anger spent, he gave a long, shuddering breath. "I don't want to talk about her," he said. "I spoke with her turns ago, now. She does not wish to return. I do not wish to see her again. She is dead to me." She had died, and come back to life; she had been at Fort. It was wrong... T'rel's mind hadn't been able to comprehend Ky't's deeds. Her betrayal. It had been better, his believing she had died from injuries, than knowing she had lied, to escape him.

T'rel turned away from Neri, clearly upset. Too upset to form words, he began to pace his weyr. Finally, he said, "And I suppose you know what's best?" he snapped, still pacing. "Stop acting like you sharding know, Neri. You don't. You don't know me. You don't know how it's been!" He paused in his pacing to glare at the greenrider. "I sharding well am not!" He wasn't proud. Often, he was told he was being too proud for his own good. Too strong. If it would have benefited the Weyr, with his moping and glooming about, he would have continued doing so. "My pride is not what keeps me going," he muttered, furiously. "It's the hope the people get when they see me smiling. We can pull through. You don't know the entire story, Neri. You know what you've heard, from R'yn."

"Grateful?" T'rel stared at her, wide eyed. "Grateful? Fort stole our Weyrwoman! In return, they send me three riders? Two bronzeriders and a green. I would have taken Ky't back, rather than having to deal with their trust issues! ...I would have done anything to have Ky't back. Their weyrs are filled twice over! We tithe to them, and Fort to us--I asked for aid. Not..." He hesitated. "I didn't ask for an entire Wing! Shards, I'm not selfish! There're other Weyrs. Granted, yes, we had losses. Yes, Ista is the smallest Weyr on Pern. Yes, we did lose two of our Queens. Our Weyrwoman, as well. We've struggled, Neri. We've survived. Do you think I should be grateful to a Weyr that took my Weyrwoman, knowingly? Should I have empathy for them?" He threw his hands up into the air, seeming not to know what else to do with them. "Selfish, sharding thieves," he muttered under his breath. "It was a trade, that was all. A poor trade. I loved Ky't. They took her from me."

"Oh yes, a person!" T'rel had broken into furious tears at Neri's words. "A person! A person, whom nearly singlehandedly took down our Weyr! She betrayed me! She left me! She faked her own death, lying to the entire Weyr! She lied to me! She would've rather stayed there at Fort than come home! With her Weyrmate!" The expression on the bronzerider's was a mixture between anger and deeply set pain. Ky't had broken him. "I made a mistake." He drooped into a sitting position, across the weyr and into a chair. He put his head into his hands. "It's my fault she's gone. I don't need to be reminded." He rubbed at his eyes, and looked at Neri, reluctantly. "Do you think I haven't talked to her?" he demanded in a whisper. "Do you think I didn't try to convince her to come back? I only realized she was alive, after a turn. She said she needed time to work things out. She had a turn. A turn in which she weyrmated with another man."

"I am not," T'rel ground out. Why was she treating him like he neglected his riders? Acting as if he was insulting them? He had sacrificed himself time and time again for them; and they for him. He knew that. "I didn't say the only thing keeping them going!" Honestly, was she listening? "I meant a smile can give a person hope. Seeing someone smiling. It's like seeing the first rays of sunshine right after a storm." Was he arrogant? Was she right? Was she right about him mistaking arrogance for an attempt to boost his wing's morale? He had been asked how he was so many times--so many sharding times; he'd begun to tell them what they wanted to hear. He was fine. He was having a good day. Everything was good. The bubblypies were delicious.

"It's been five turns since you knew that T'rel," the bronzerider informed her. "The Weyr's changed since then. I've changed since then." He glanced at her. "Just leave," he muttered. "If you don't like it, go back to where you came from. We're doing fine. R'yn, the Weyr--me. I'm doing fine. I don't need some upstart greenrider telling me how to feel and what to do about it."

"Not five turns?" T'rel repeated in disbelief. Had she lost track of time, as well? Dimglowed girl! "Five turns. R'yn's twenty. I believe he was fifteen turns old, last you saw him. A weyrling that tended to fall asleep during lessons. Nosy, noisy kid he was." His distress seemingly gone, he straightened, and smirked playfully. "Your home, eh? This is my weyr." He gestured around them. He certainly had taken his liberties in giving the weyr a personal touch. Parchment filled with messily written scrawls covered his desk. A guitar sat in the corner. Pages upon pages of writings had been tacked onto the walls. "And I belong here just as much as you do," he added.

The bronzerider frowned. "I see," he said. "And it'll do you good to remember your weyrling lessons. A crazy rider keeps not his dragon, for if he is so ill, he will not be able to communicate with them, and they will between. Do you see Zelith?" He shrugged at her, pointing to the large bronze in the weyr. "I'm not crazy, Neri. I don't need a healer. Emotional yes, I will confess to that. Irrational?" He gave another shrug.

"What is rational? It's different for me--and for you--and the rest of the Weyr. Now, if you please. I rather feel the need to be alone. I have the authority to make you leave my weyr, at least."