A knock on the door pulled me out of my depressing thoughts, and when I mumbled at it first, the knock came once more. Stupid knock. I groaned again and the knock came again. Admitting defeat, I rolled off of the top of the bed, but I had forgotten I was on the top bunk and landed with a thump and a yelp.

When Hank came in, after politely announcing that he was doing so through the door I had yet to open for him, he found me crying into the scratchy old carpet. He behaved admirably, though he had no way to know why I was crying. Sure, I had just fallen off of the second bunk of a bed but my reaction was worse than it should have been. The fall had broken the damn that held me together while I worried about the fate of myself, Michael, and our future child. I cried boiling tears, my body red and lit with droopy flames. Hank couldn't even touch me, so he sat as close as he could and offered sweet words with his soft and kind accent. He didn't know that I was crying because I was worried that I wasn't really a dragon. He didn't know that he was comforting me because my fall to the ground had broken the dam holding in the shame that I would have to face Michael and tell him that I had failed him and our future child. Hank didn't know, and I got the sense that he didn't care. He just comforted me because he cared for me, and when my clothes burned off, he turned and faced the other way. After the flames subsided, the tears ran no more, and my dignity was far gone, I pulled the blanket off of Christine's bed to cover myself.

"I'm- sorry- I-" I sniffled, unable to justify my tears. I moved to push myself up and yelped, in my explosion of shame I'd forgotten about what started my tears to begin with. I'd fallen off of my bed on the carpet that was essentially cement. "I think I need to see the nurse."

"Darlin', I think you need a doctor," Hank said. "Do you want my help getting up?"

"I-" I struggled up, not using my hand as the only working one was holding a blanket around my shoulders. I couldn't get up alone, that much I could grasp from the throbbing pain in my ankle. "Can you-" I didn't have a good solution. "Can you grab me a sweater and a pair of pajama pants? I can- ughhh-" I let out a half moan, half groan, half shriek. "I can get dressed and then- ughhh," another half moan, half groan, half shriek. "Can you help me get to the doctor?"

"Of course," he said, grabbing the clothes I asked about and closing his eyes as he inched closer to me. It was adorable, and I let out a watery giggle. "Is everythin' okay?"

"Yes- well, no, I hurt, but I was just laughing at you," I struggled through the words, gritting my teeth as I worked to try and get my very very hurt arm through the first sleeve. Once it was in I let out a sigh of relief, and then yelped when the sweater pulled on my hurt arm as I attempted to casually run it over my head. By the time I had it on, which had taken far too long, Hank had asked if I was ok at least 5 times. After all of that, I still had to pull on my pajama pants.

Getting dressed had been a task, but getting to the doctor was another thing altogether. I couldn't stand on my right leg or move my right arm to loop it around Hank, but we managed. After all was said and done, and I convinced the doctor to let me go back to my dorm, Hank helped me settle into the couch. I'd broken my arm and ankle and shoulder, and sprained about half of my body. Thankfully, with the help of magic and pain medication, Hank left me in the capable hands of Christine and Margie.

"We can't ever leave you alone," Christine commented as she adjusted the blanket on me. "And again, if you want, you can sleep in my bed and I'll climb to yours."

"It's fine," I said, settling into the pillows. "The ceiling is really comforting."

"Yeah," Margie drew out the word, sharing a glance with Christine. "How is the medication they gave you?"

"I don't think they gave me medication," I said, unsure. "But I feel kind of fuzzy."

"Is this an emotional breakdown?" Margie asked, "I mean, learning about your wings being broken, breaking half of your body falling out of bed, crying in the arms of your boyfriend because you're afraid of disappointing the father of your future child...."

"Whaaat, no, silly, emoti- crazy," I said, laughing a little. "I'm fine, well, not fine, but- fine."

"You haven't been dealing with this," Christine observed. "Still, I think it is the medication, not an emotional breakdown."

"Well that is good," Margie said. "You let us know if you need anything, okay? That medication- yes, they put you on strong medication- will wear off, let us know and we'll help. Are you hungry? Thirsty? I can pop down and get you a sports drink, or, you know what, a couple of them. It is important you stay hydrated."

"I'm fiiiinnneee," I said, waving my hand at her and dropping it halfway through. "Don-Don't worry about getting me juice, anyway, I can get some when I go see Michael."

"What- Alenia, you can't go see Michael tonight," Margie said, sounding worried. "You're so so high, really, I know you don't believe me, but you can't-"

"-She will be more honest now, that will probably do her some good," Christine said. "One of those two needs to tell the truth, and it clearly isn't going to be Mike."

"The truth is not the way to go right now," Margie said. "Some good old-fashioned white lies would do wonders right now."

"I have to tell Michael," I said, nodding my head as I did. I stood up, deciding that then was the time to do it.

"Alenia, it's after curfew," Christine said, still sounding uninterested.

"Yeah, see, you can't go," Margie was now pacing as if that would help. She sounded hopeful when she said it, looking up from beside the closets.

"That's not what I said," Christine replied, looking at me directly and stopping my shuffle out of the couch into the wheelchair. "Just don't be loud, people are trying to sleep."

"Honestly- do neither of you care about not breaking the rules?" Margie asked, "Not even a little?"

I ignored her, leaving the room and making my way down the hall in my wheelchair. It certainly wasn't the fastest, sneakiest form of transport, but I couldn't hold on to crutches, and I couldn't walk on my broken leg. I once thought I heard a teacher, so I rolled backward, and while I ran into the wall backtracking I didn't get caught and so I considered that a success. I made it to their dorm slower than usual, but I made it.

"Al-Alenia?" Michael asked, surprised to see me sitting in a wheelchair, wearing pajamas, and covered in casts.

"Hi," I said. "You know, I've never called you Mike, always Michael, do'ya know why that is? I sure don't."

"I-" Michael looked behind himself then, shuffling out and closing the door behind him. "What happened to you? You're all- did you get in a fight with Naomi?"

"What- no, I fell off my bed," I said.

"Oh, ok," He said, looking confused still. "Why are you here?"

This was the not so fun part. "I- I have to tell you something," I said, looking at my pajama pants with too much interest. Why hadn't I changed? "I- my wings- there's some sort of extra rune, they're- they're broken, and if they can't fix it then... I won't be able to- to properly-"

Realization clicked in his eyes, "O-oh, can they fix it?"

"I don't know, that's why I told you," I said, taking that moment to look up at him. "I may be too... broken."

My eyes welled up with tears, but I shoved them away. I had cried enough tonight, and I was beginning to gain clarity and pain. I'd broken down when I'd fallen, and I'd let Hank comfort me, now was time to stand up.

And maybe not stand up, actually.

"They're looking into it, and I'll do whatever it takes if they can," I said with a firm resolve. His face was unreadable when I did, but I knew that he felt upset, disappointed, shortchanged. He'd been saddled up with me by some prophecy, an out of control, domestic, broken dragon. I had failed him and our future child.

"It will work out," Michael said, his jaw set and his face tight. A new wave of guilt crashed into me, it was all my fault, and I was making him comfort me. He could never love me, not as I was. I couldn't blame him, but the reality that our future was marked against us was hard to bare.

I was pulled out of my morose thoughts when Michael's lips touched mine, causing my eyes to flutter shut. His lips were soft and comforting, gentle and loving. A hint of what he felt coursed through his lips into me, and I felt the beginnings of an emotion I did not recognize, a crash of awe, and a bold streak of possession.

Before I had a chance to examine the emotions he had passed to me, he pulled away, his face once again impossible to read. I immediately missed the closeness of the kiss, the awareness of what he felt, but I forced myself to stay in my wheelchair. He spoke before I did, saving me from having to say anything.

"I-" He started but stopped himself, "Thank you for telling me, but, I need to go to bed, we have class tomorrow."

I nodded, forcing myself not to be disappointed. I didn't want to kiss him and after all, I was dating Hank.

The thought of Hank made me uneasy, so I said goodnight and started rolling back to my dorm. I didn't feel guilty about the kiss, he'd kissed me, I hadn't initiated it, and it had been over as fast as it had begun. Not to mention that the prophecy, my relationship with Michael, was as weird as it was private.

That was the problem I faced as I did my best to quietly sneak through the halls was my relationship with Michael. We weren't dating, but he was someone significant in my life. Could I pull Hank into that, when I knew something else was going on?

Then I remembered what he'd told me, our plans to simply enjoy each other's company for the next six months or so. Even if everything worked out perfect, we had an end date. This was casual, and knowing that, I had no reason to worry about Michael, or telling Hank about the prophecy.

With that in my mind, I struggled to open the door to my dorm and shuffled onto the couch slowly, eventually (and after putting forth more effort than I would ever admit) I lay in an almost comfortable position and fell to sleep.