I Dream a Nation of You (4/5)

[foxxcub]

Jon woke up slowly the next morning to an empty bed. Sunlight was shining brightly through the faded linen curtains, and Jon felt as if he'd truly had a real night's sleep. His head didn't feel groggy and sluggish, and when he stretched and yawned, he didn't feel as if his muscles were still aching. He splayed his hand out over the empty mattress, wondering where everyone had gone.

"Spencer's getting another check-up."

Jon sat up and rubbed sleepily at his eyes before he saw Ryan sitting in a chair beside a small desk on the other side of the room, his knees drawn up to his chest. Another book was open at his elbow.

This time, Jon didn't second guess whether or not Ryan knew his thoughts. "And Brendon?" he asked.

"Pete wanted him to look over some of the dragons since Spencer's unavailable." Ryan smiled crookedly. "And you were out cold, so we figured you could use the sleep."

Jon nodded, thinking over the night before, of the nightmare he'd had that seemed so very real, and of waking up to Spencer's hushed voice soothing him, and the kiss...

Ryan shifted in the chair and looked away, as if he were suddenly uncomfortable.

Carefully, Jon asked, "Ryan?"

"It's nothing, I..." His cheeks flushed as he fidgeted with the corner of his book. "I know Spencer kissed you last night."

Jon sighed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"No, it wasn't-I mean, you couldn't help it, and Spencer was only trying to, to help, so." He shrugged one shoulder and added under his breath, "Not that he's never thought about kissing you."

Jon leaned forward, his heart beating a little faster. "What else has he thought about?"

Without looking up, Ryan mumbled, "He thinks he scares you sometimes, that you'll never get past him being a void to you, that it reminds you too much of-" He stopped abruptly and bit his lip. Instantly, Jon felt a rush of anxiety and shame.

"Ryan." Jon crawled to the end of the bed, focusing as hard as he possibly could. "Look at me."

He raised his head slowly, as if meeting Jon's eyes would somehow make everything Jon already knew to be true a reality. His eyes were wide and a little fearful; Jon felt his tension, felt the way he held his breath in anticipation.

How long have you been able to read minds? Jon asked.

Ryan's throat bobbed as he swallowed tightly. But then Jon heard, Since I was five. The words flickered a bit, like a radio signal not quite registering; Jon knew it was the first time Ryan had truly communicated telepathically.

Does Spencer know?

Ryan shook his head, shoulders sagging. No. I've always kept it from him.

Why?

"Because I've never known what the hell it was, all right?" Ryan shoved the chair back as he got to his feet, arms hugged to his chest. "I would just...hear things, in my head, that Spencer was thinking, and I'd think he was talking to me, only he wasn't, and-you can't explain things like that when you're eight years old, you know?"

"So you hid it for all these years?" Jon couldn't imagine voluntarily hiding something that was so deeply a part of who he was. His empathy and telepathy were ingrained into him, as vital as breathing.

"I didn't want Spencer or his parents thinking I was some kind of, of circus freak. They were the closest thing to family I ever had, so it was worth it." He rolled his shoulders. "Besides, Spence never noticed; he just thinks I have a knack for reading thoughts sometimes. It's like that with most people who aren't Riders."

Jon watched Ryan pace back and forth until his nervous tension died off. A part of him wondered what would have happened to Spencer's family had Ryan told them about his abilities; would he have been able to save them? Would it have mattered?

Eventually Ryan came to stop by the bed and sat down beside Jon. He didn't touch Ryan, but Jon leaned closer and said, You know what this means, don't you?

Ryan frowned down at his folded hands in his lap. It doesn't mean anything.

It means everything, Ryan. Telepathy isn't an accident, it's something you're meant to have. He laid a tentative hand on Ryan's shoulder. You were never a freak.

"No." Ryan shrugged Jon's hand away. "I'm not like you, I've never-how could I be? I don't know the first thing about dragons, except for whatever Spencer's taught me over the years. I-I can't read people's emotions like you can." The tone of his voice grew higher and higher, and Jon felt Ryan's tension come back stronger than before.

"Not all Riders are empathic like me," Jon whispered.

"I'm not a Rider!" Ryan's voice cracked slightly, and his hands were beginning to shake. Jon heard, It's impossible, I'm nothing special, I could never be...

There was a soft tap at the bedroom door, and a second later Brendon peeked his head inside.

"Um, Pete's calling everyone to the dining hall for a meeting," he said, smiling weakly. "Not sure what it's about, but it sounds important." He glanced quickly at Ryan, and Jon knew instantly that Brendon had been listening to everything; he felt a heavy wave of envy and sadness, more intense than anything Jon had felt from him before.

"Thanks, Bren. Is Helia down there?" Jon wanted to tell him, It is what it is, don't hate Ryan for it, but even if Brendon could hear his thoughts, Jon knew it probably wouldn't have made a difference.

"Yeah, she's fine. I think Tom's letting her have the rest of his bacon." Brendon laughed, but there wasn't much feeling behind it.

"We'll be right there," Ryan said, suddenly watching Brendon more intently. He didn't say anything else until Brendon nodded and shut the door.

"He hates me now," he said quietly.

Jon bit his lip. "He's always wanted to talk to dragons. It's not you so much as just...the luck of draw, I guess."

Ryan stood up slowly, looking utterly lost. "I don't even know if my parents were..." He waved his hand absently.

"It doesn't always have to be genetic. At least, that's what Frank used to tell me. Sometimes, it just happens at random."

"But I-I can't possibly have a dragon, can I?"

Jon wished Frank were there to help explain things. "I don't know," he said.

"Then how can I ever be a goddamned Rider without a dragon?" Ryan's voice was rising again, his jaw clenched.

Jon looked him straight in the eye and replied simply, Because that's who you are. The calm and assurance he felt surprised both himself and Ryan. He tipped his head toward the door. "C'mon, they're probably waiting for you."

Ryan's hands did not stop shaking until they got to the bottom of the stairs.



The dining hall was a wide open room with tables and wooden chairs of various sizes scattered about. There was plenty of space for both humans and dragons to eat together, even if a couple of the larger dragons had to stand on their hind legs in order to make room for everyone.

When Jon and Ryan arrived, Jon immediately spotted Helia sitting beside a table with Tom and Kyryn. Brendon and Spencer sat at the table directly behind Helia, and Jon couldn't help catching the wistful glances Brendon kept giving her. He didn't look up when Spencer called them over.

"Does Pete normally call meetings after breakfast?" Jon asked as he sat down beside Tom.

"He does when two of our people get back from a reconnaissance mission," Tom replied ruefully, handing Jon a tin cup of coffee. Kyryn was lying patiently behind Tom's chair, her head resting on Tom's shoulder. "You take it black?"

Instead of answering, Jon groaned happily. He took two large sips that burned his tongue, then looked over at Spencer. "But I thought you and Ryan already met with Pete yesterday?"

"We only told him how I got shot. He wanted us to hold off on the details of the compound until everyone could hear them." He shrugged with his good shoulder. "Pete likes to have everyone involved."

Jon wondered how much embarrassed uncertainty he'd feel from Spencer, if he could actually read him; the only indication he had was the faint blush along the tops of Spencer's cheeks when he finally glanced up and met Jon's eyes.

Did you actually mean it? Jon thought, sighing as he looked away and ran his thumb over the edge of his coffee cup. There was an uncomfortable tightness in his chest he didn't like, and more than that, he hated being confused over something as simple as kiss.

He kissed you last night? Helia nudged Jon's knee with her nose, her blue eyes wide with curiosity.

I was having a nightmare again. He was trying to wake me up.

Helia smiled. That was very kind of him.

Jon would have rolled his eyes and told her to not be so smug, but he heard Ryan, who was seated beside him, think, Look at me, damn it. It was accompanied by a rush of frustration, and when Jon glanced over, he saw Ryan trying to get Brendon's attention. But Brendon kept staring straight ahead, his expression completely neutral, and if it weren't for his knee bouncing in a constant rhythm, he'd seem perfectly calm. Jon felt his irrational anger, though, and caught snippets of it's not fair over and over.

Spencer watched all three of them with narrowed eyes, eventually leaning over to whisper something in Brendon's ear. Jon heard, "It's nothing," and Spencer snorted, looking back at Ryan.

I can't tell him, Ryan thought.

Jon shook his head. You can, you have to. Ryan startled a little when Jon answered him, like he'd already forgotten that Jon was conscious of his thoughts.

Helia butted her head against Jon's knee again. Tell who what?

Jon took a deep breath and felt the moment Ryan registered Helia's question. He's a Rider, Jon said, and he didn't need to say anymore than that.

Helia's eyes widened, and she tipped her head toward Ryan, who quickly looked away. We should have figured it out sooner, she said, wrapping the tip of her tail gently around Ryan's ankle. He jumped again, and the look he gave Helia was contrite.

Sorry, sorry, I'm not- He fidgeted in his seat, the back of his neck turning pink.

It's all right, Ryan.

Jon felt a nudge of curiosity from Tom, and then, Jonny, what's going on? Is Ross really...?

Yeah, he really is, Jon said, right as Spencer leaned over his shoulder and whispered against Jon's ear, "Mind explaining what the hell is wrong with Ryan and Brendon all of a sudden?" He sounded more worried than agitated, but the second Jon opened his mouth to try and explain, Pete climbed onto a table toward the front of the room and held his hands up.

"Morning," he called. "I assume everyone's here?"

The dining hall was full, nearly wall to wall with humans and dragons alike. Jon spotted Gerard and Frank tucked into a far corner; Frank sat on the table with an unlit cigarette between his fingers, his feet in Gerard's lap. He smiled crookedly when he caught Jon's eye and saluted him with the cigarette.

You didn't tell me Frank was alive!, Helia exclaimed, sitting up a little taller so she could survey the room. Then Jon felt her stiffen. But...where's Xira?

Don't worry about it, Pete's talking. Jon knew Xira's absence was answer enough for her.

"As you all know by now, Ryan and Spencer were sent on a recon mission to the Tellathium Mountains in hopes of finding out if this notorious dragon training compound rumor was actually true. Turns out, it is."

Hushed murmurs filtered through the room. A man toward the back called out, "How many dragons are in custody?"

"I'll let Ryan and Spence fill you in on the details."

Ryan shook his head, slumping down further in his chair.

"Ryan," Spencer whispered. "What the fuck's wrong with you-"

"I can't do this right now, just get up and tell them what we saw." He cupped a hand over his eyes. "Please."

Spencer's face went red; whether it was from the sudden knowledge that he would be speaking without Ryan to help him along or from anger at Ryan's actions, Jon didn't know. But he eventually stood up slowly and addressed the room with, "Well, for starters, the patrolmen weren't too happy with us." He smirked as he gestured awkwardly with his sling, and there was a low rumble of laughter.

While it was obvious Spencer wasn't used to speaking in front of a large audience alone, he managed to tell everything about what he and Ryan saw at the mountain compound, right up to their escape and being shot outside of Audrey. The room was so quiet as he spoke, Jon was fairly certain he could hear a pin drop.

"I think the most important thing to keep in mind is that they've increased their artillery," Spencer said. "It's all about the guns and the new ways they keep coming up with to fire them."

"Such as?" Pete asked.

"Mortar rounds attached to wind-powered dirigibles." Spencer grimaced. "Only I think the dirigibles are just a stand-in until the dragons are trained."

"Jesus fuck," Tom murmured under his breath. Helia shuddered.

The room erupted into a low-grade chaos of questions and more questions, until Pete held his arms up once more and yelled, "All right, settle down, we knew it wouldn't be good news! But it's more than we knew before, and that's what matters right now."

"They're developing flying weapons," a woman to Jon's right called back. "They know we're planning something, and that we don't have the flight power to fight them!"

"Then we figure out a way around it, use a sneak attack!" a man near the front said.

"But we don't have protection-it's one thing to take out a few patrolmen, it's quite another to take on flying guns!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Jon saw Brendon raise his hand.

Pete saw it, too, and smiled. "Yes, Brendon?"

"What if it's all a trap?" he asked quietly, and the whole room went silent. "What if this compound was specifically designed to lure you out there to be ambushed? What if they have no intention of 'rehabilitating' dragons at all?" His voice shook slightly toward the end. Jon reached back and laid his hand on Brendon's knee, trying to calm his fear.

"But what if it's not?" The voice came from the far corner of the room, and Jon knew instantly that it was Frank.

No one said a word. There was an undercurrent of surprised confusion, as if Frank speaking in public were a rare thing.

Pete's expression went very serious. "What's on your mind, Iero?" he asked carefully.

Frank stuck the unlit cigarette behind his ear as he stood up on the table. He crossed his arms over his chest and surveyed the room. "We all know it's real," he finally said, and his tone was low and urgent. "This was all part of the plan from the beginning. If there's any sort of trap involved, it's that they know eventually we'll come back for what was taken from us."

Helia laid her head in Jon's lap. Beside him, Ryan rubbed his hands over and over, thinking, It could've been my dragon...

"We can't fight them, not with the amount of flight power we have currently," Frank continued. "The issue here isn't overtaking the compound-it's breaking in and getting what we need so we can fight them."

There was a flare of understanding in Pete's eyes. "So you're suggesting we only break out enough dragons to regroup?" he asked.

Frank shoved a hand through his hair, and that's when Jon felt a surge of desperate hope from him. "I'm saying we take back what's ours. An army that isn't whole can't fight." He threw his arm up into the air. "All Riders present who lost their dragon in the first raids, raise your hand."

Slowly, a half dozen hands went up.

"Seven dragons. That's all we need."

Pete nodded, lips pursed in thought. "Then I guess the next order of business is deciding just who's going to go get those seven dragons."

"I will." Before Jon realized what he was doing, his raised his hand.

Frank smiled at him from across the room, as did Gerard. "Sign me up with the kid as well."

"Jon, you don't have to do this," Spencer whispered over Jon's shoulder. "This isn't going to be a recon mission like the one Ryan and I went on-this is more, and you only just got here-"

"I have to do it for Frank." He turned and gave Brendon a tentative smile. "You understand, right?"

Brendon winced, and Jon felt an overwhelming rush of conflicted emotions. Instead of answering, Brendon's hand shot into the air. "I'm going, too," he called out, his mouth set in a tight line.

Pete shook his head. "We need you here, Urie. You're our only vet, especially since Smith's out of commission for a while."

Spencer tipped his chin up. "What if I also want to come?" he said indignantly.

"Sorry, Spence, I'm not giving up my only breeder to possibly get shot again."

Spencer's cheeks flushed angrily. "I'm not letting Jon go by himself."

"He won't be by himself," Ryan said, still staring down at his hands. "I'll go with him."

Spencer frowned. "Wait, what? Pete just said we couldn't go."

Brendon bit his lip and said nothing. But Jon was very aware of how he avoided their eyes; the rush of jumbled, anxious feelings had yet to die down.

Ryan finally looked straight at Spencer. "He said you and Brendon couldn't go. He didn't say anything about me." Oh god, what am I even doing? he thought, and Jon wanted so badly for him to tell Spencer right then and there.

"You're-you're going without me?" Spencer said, his voice sudden softer, younger-sounding.

Just tell him, Jon said, glaring at Ryan.

As the noise level in the room grew louder, and other Riders called out to volunteer to go on the recovery mission (including Tom), the four of them sat in silence, waiting for Ryan to be the first to speak. Helia watched them carefully, then nudged Ryan's shoulder.

Jon's right, she said. Spencer deserves the truth.

Brendon made a tiny growl of frustration, getting up abruptly from his chair and leaving the hall. Jon didn't know what to say to him to make him stay, so he let him go. His head was starting to pound.

"Brendon, what-where is he-?" Spencer frowned at Jon now. "What the hell is it, Jon?"

"Everything you ever thought about me is true," Ryan blurted out.

Spencer went very still. "What do you mean?"

"I am a Rider, Spence. I-I could read your mind when we were kids, but I never wanted you to think-I just didn't know what it was until Jon-"

"Jon told you this?"

Ryan's mouth twisted to one side, and he looked completely miserable. "He figured it out," he whispered.

Spencer sat back in his chair for a long moment and slowly rubbed his good hand over his face. Jon couldn't read him, but he knew Ryan could, if the wince he gave was any indication.

Ryan tentatively touched Spencer's shoulder. "Spence, I'm sorry, I just-"

"You can't just tell someone they've spent their whole lives being someone they're not," Spencer said darkly, shrugging off Ryan's hand as he glared at Jon. "You can't just come here and, and throw everything into chaos because you feel like it's the right thing to do." His voice was tight.

Jon shook his head. "I didn't mean to, it just happened, and Ryan would've eventually-"

"He was perfectly fine, Jon, until you came along. We were all fucking fine. Now you're going to drag him off to rescue dragons that may or may not even want to be rescued, and I'm just supposed to stay behind and...and..." Spencer shoved his hair out of his eyes and got to his feet so fast, he knocked his chair over. "Fuck it, do whatever you like. I don't care anymore." His voice shook slightly on the last word before he stormed out of the hall.

"At least he hates us both," Ryan said, his shoulders slumping as he sighed dejectedly.

He doesn't hate anyone, Helia replied, and Jon thought it was easy enough for her to say, she hadn't had Spencer glaring at her as if his heart had broken a little.

Jon rested his forehead on Helia's muzzle, very aware that Tom was still sitting beside him, taking everything in.

I can't believe you told him, Tom said in mild astonishment. He's too old to bond, Jon. Why not just let him go on being a normal person?

Because he's not a normal person, he's a fucking Rider. Only Jon didn't feel the same assurance he'd felt earlier that morning.



When the hall had emptied of everyone but those going on the mission, Pete said, "Before we begin on a serious plan of action, I think there's something you all should see first..."

He waved his hand at Gerard, who immediately got his feet, rubbed his hands together, and said in a somewhat giddy voice, "Those Government bastards can have all the guns they want. Because we'll have this." He opened the lid of the trunk underneath the table and held up the armor he'd shown Jon the night before.

"He actually did it," Tom breathed. Ryan's eyes went wide.

"Welcome to the new generation of Rider, folks," Gerard said. He grinned at a gray-colored dragon sitting to his left. "And as soon as I get my dimensions right, we'll have a dragon version as well."

"It's really bulletproof?" Tom asked.

Instead of answering, Gerard promptly pulled the armor on over his head. "Take out your gun and shoot me," he said, his hair sticking up in all directions.

Several dragons twitched their wings, but no one made a move for their gun.

"No, we believe you," a tall, dark-haired Rider sitting on the other side of Tom replied cautiously.

"If you believed me, Suarez, you'd have shot me by now." Gerard met Jon's eyes and smiled. "Walker'll shoot me," he said happily.

Jon swallowed. "You can't possibly-"

"Just do it, kid, trust me." Frank almost looked bored with the proceedings; it dawned on Jon that Frank himself had more than likely shot Gerard several times in the name of science.

He looked sheepishly at Tom. "Do you have your gun?" he whispered. "Mine's in my room."

Tom shook his head as he reached inside his leather jacket to his holster. "Guess you do have Iero's permission," he mumbled.

Ryan had barely blinked. "You're really going to-?"

Jon aimed the pistol and fired straight at Gerard's chest. He felt Helia flinch as the bullet flew across the room, knocking Gerard back several feet. But he didn't fall, and once the shock had worn off, he straightened and held his arms out.

"Observe!" He patted the metal over his chest, his voice only slightly breathless. There was a significant dimple in the plate over his heart, but nothing more.

"I'd say you got yourself some bulletproof armor now, Wentz," Frank drawled. He winked at Jon. Good work, kid.

Ryan finally let out the breath he'd been holding, leaning a little against Jon's shoulder.



The plan was fairly simple; they would get Frank into the compound to locate Xira, then use her to find the remaining six dragons. No scouting, no reconnaissance-it would be a fast, one-shot attack, and since Gerard only had one prototype of the armor made, it was considered too dangerous to risk losing it. They would all be vulnerable to gunshots.

No one questioned whether Xira was still alive, either-Frank swore he could still feel her, and Jon believed him, as did all the other Riders.

But there was no time to waste. Now that the Government knew the Resistance was gathering information on the compound, Pete was adamant about putting things in motion as soon as possible.

His urgency translated to a midnight departure for the Tellathium Mountains. Darkness meant safer skies for flight.

"Gather what you'll need and meet back here in a few hours," Frank said. "It's a full moon tonight, so we'll have good light to fly by."

Ryan had yet to say a word since Gerard's armor demonstration, but with every mention of flight, his shoulders hunched in a little more. He was a constant pulse of self-consciousness and doubt, and Jon began to feel guilty for ever forcing Ryan to speak telepathically. Spencer was right; Ryan already had a life of his own. Jon didn't have any business changing that.

The two of them were the last to leave the hall. Jon watched as Tom yawned and stretched on his way out, Kyryn butting her head affectionately against his back. She said something about never seeing the great outdoors anymore, and Tom laughed and made a comment about her hatred of dark skies. She poked him with the tip of her tail.

He felt more than heard Ryan's wistful sigh.

"You still don't have to go, you know," Jon said softly. "No one's asking you to prove anything."

"I know. I'm not doing this for anyone but myself." He rubbed at his eyes and thought, This isn't your fault, no matter what Spence and Brendon think.

Jon's heart lurched in his chest. You should go talk to them.

Ryan smiled ruefully. So should you.

But it wasn't Jon's place to approach Spencer; he wasn't Spencer's best friend. He didn't know what he was to Spencer, if he were being honest with himself. If anything, he owed it to Brendon to explain things and put his mind at ease. He knew the camp and the mansion weren't home to Brendon, that they could never replace Audrey. It didn't help matters that everyone Brendon seemed to meet was somehow linked to what he wanted most, but could never have.

"I'm going to go find him," Jon said out loud. He didn't bother to say who; Ryan already knew.

"All right. And Spencer can never stay mad at me for long, so don't worry about him." His tone wasn't nearly as blasé as his words, but Jon nodded anyway.



Brendon had somehow learned the grounds much faster than Jon. After an hour of searching, Jon gave up and went back to the house, suddenly exhausted. It was already dark out, the moon casting bright, clear beams of light over the snow, reminding Jon of how little time he had before he would be leaving the camp again.

Helia had slipped off earlier to nap in the den; it had been months since the last time she'd truly had a decent flight, and she needed to conserve her strength. Jon climbed the stairs to his room and considered doing the same, knowing sleep would most likely be scarce in the coming days.

The oil lamp was on in his room, and there was a small folded stack of clean clothes waiting for him on the bed. They looked fairly new.

"New clothes for the dead men walking," Jon said with a tired smirk as he shrugged out of his duster and began unbuttoning his dingy, worn linen shirt. He sat down on the end of the mattress and toed his boots off.

"Why would you say something like that?"

Jon paused, his fingers on the last button hole, and looked up to find Brendon standing in his bedroom doorway, his arms hugged tightly to his chest. His eyes looked red around the edges.

Jon stood up slowly. "It was only a joke," he said, pulling the button free.

"It wasn't funny at all." Brendon shut the door behind him and leaned back against it. Jon saw his throat bob, and a barrage of emotions came at him at once like a punch to the gut-anger, despair, envy, regret, desperation, affection-

"Ryan told me when you're leaving." He shut his eyes, missing the way Jon flinched at the rush of empathy. "Is he really going to fly with you?"

"Helia can take us both. She'll manage." Jon wasn't quite sure of the truth in that, but it was their only choice.

After a moment, Brendon slid down the door to the floor, knees tucked against his arms. Jon couldn't find the words for how much he hated Brendon getting caught up in everything, or how he'd turn back time in an instant if it meant putting Brendon back where he felt safe; instead, Jon turned his back to Brendon, letting his shirt slide off his arms.

"Do you remember when you told me the story about your tattoo?" Brendon asked.


He hardly ever gave it much thought these days, but as Jon slowly wadded his shirt up in his hands, he felt Brendon's gaze tracing the lines of the golden dragon etched into the skin between his shoulder blades. From the day he'd arrived at Gerard's safehouse, Jon had envied Frank's tattoos, which were a sign of prominence in the Guild; they meant Frank had once been someone important, even if that life was now long gone. And although Frank had insisted that Riders were only inked once they reached their twenties, Jon still remembered the day Frank presented him with Gerard's sketch of the design modeled after Helia, and the special ink he'd created just for Jon.

"You thought I'd been born with it," Jon replied with a small smile, glancing over his shoulder.

Brendon's eyes were open, and he managed to smile back. "You were the first person I'd ever seen with one."

Jon threw his shirt on the bed and walked toward Brendon, stopping when he was close enough to kick gently at his foot. "So which impressed you more, the ink or my dragon?"

Brendon shrugged. "Your tattoo didn't beg pumpkin muffins off me once a week."

"I just control it better than I do Helia." He laughed softly, but Brendon's smile faded a little as he looked down at his hands. He was wearing his matching fingerless gloves and scarf, the same set Jon knew his grandmother had knitted for him several years ago.

"Bren." Jon knelt down beside him, cupping a hand over Brendon's knee. "I...I'm sorry, okay?" It wasn't enough, but it was all Jon could think to say.

Brendon chewed the corner of his lip and pushed absently at his glasses. "Do you think Ryan will ever get his own dragon?" he whispered. "I know he's past the age to bond, but..."

"I don't know. No one does, really." He rubbed his thumb over the seam of Brendon's trousers. "I couldn't not tell him, Bren."

"I know that. You did the right thing."

"But I'm not apologizing for that."

Brendon looked up at him over the rims of his glasses. "Then what-?"

"I'm sorry for making you choose between this-" He waved his hand at the room, "and your life in Audrey. You belonged there, your practice was there, your family...you don't deserve being on the run every day of your life."

Brendon laughed, but it was a hollow, desperate sound. He tipped his head back against the door and looked up at the ceiling. "I feel like after all this time, an empath would've figured it out," he murmured under his breath.

"Figured out what?" Jon asked, his heart thudding harder.

"That I'm horribly transparent sometimes." Brendon covered his face with both hands and gave another high, shaky laugh. "Don't you get it, Jon? I'm in love with you. I'm so fucking in love with you, I can't remember anymore what it was like to not love you. I don't care about leaving Audrey behind, I just want to see you happy and not have that goddamned haunted look in your eyes all the time. That's all I've ever wanted."

Jon felt the familiar rush of warmth and comfort, only now it felt like more. He finally understood the constant undercurrent of affection that had always been present; Jon had never known what it felt like to feel someone falling in love with him.

Jon gently pulled Brendon's hands away from his face. "You really did all this for me?" he whispered.

Brendon's glasses were slipping down his nose, but he wouldn't look away from where his fingers were tangled with Jon's. "I told myself, months ago, that when you told me you and Helia were leaving Audrey, I'd go with you. I knew it would happen eventually, and I-" He laughed again, and the sound was a breathless, choked sound. "I didn't know how to just let you disappear on me."

Jon thought of all the times he'd almost left in the dead of night, but hadn't been able to leave without telling Brendon goodbye. "I wish you'd told me," he said, leaning forward to rest his forehead against Brendon's. It made sense now, why Brendon's emotions were always so vulnerable to him.

"I felt like I was telling you every single day," Brendon replied softly. "I'm a horrible secret keeper."

"It's one of your charms." Jon's nose was pressed up against Brendon's glasses at an awkward angle, but he didn't care. He pulled his hand free and cupped Brendon's jaw, his thumb sliding against the corner of Brendon's mouth.

"I know it's not the greatest secret, but it's all I got." His tone was self-mocking as he smiled a little, but Jon heard, I'll never be a breeder, or a Rider. I'll never know what it's like to be you.

Jon shook his head, and his nose nuzzled Brendon's cheek. "You know all that's important. You saved my dragon."

"But Spencer and Ryan-"

"Will never make Helia pumpkin muffins, or sing songs to her in the middle of the night, or talk me out of running when I'm scared out of my mind." Jon swallowed, took a deep breath, and kissed the corner of Brendon's mouth where his thumb rested. Instantly, the constant swirl of emotions faded as Brendon went perfectly still. He turned his head just a little into the kiss, tightening his hands around Jon's fingers as his lips parted with a tiny sigh.

Jon felt a wave of relief spread over him like a warm blanket, and he thought back to the only other time he'd kissed someone before today; he'd been sixteen, still living at Gerard's safehouse, and Frank had insisted that Jon not hide himself away with Helia. He'd arranged for Jon to be alone with Daniel, the only other Rider his own age whom Jon thought he might have had feelings for. They'd kissed for a while, deep enough for Jon to feel the heat in Daniel's cheeks, but none of it made Jon feel the same emotions he'd felt the day he'd caught Frank and Gerard kissing outside when they thought no one was watching. It had been a simple kiss, but so full of want and longing that Jon spent that night curled in his bed wondering if he'd ever be loved like that in his life.

But then the safehouse was raided a few weeks later, and after that Jon's life became running and surviving; being loved by someone wasn't important anymore. He'd had Helia, and that was enough-until he'd come to Audrey.

"I don't want you to go," Brendon said against Jon's lips, and when Jon opened his eyes, he found that Brendon's were closed, his lashes fanned out over his flushed cheeks behind the lenses of his glasses. "Ryan doesn't know what he's doing, and Spencer's just so..."

Jon pulled back a little. "Angry?" He immediately thought of the kiss from early that morning, of Spencer whispering soft, soothing words to calm him, and how cool his palms had felt against Jon's cheeks. But that had been a much different kiss, one that Jon wasn't even sure counted as real, even though he kept telling himself it didn't matter.

"Among other things. He wouldn't really talk about it." Brendon swiped his tongue over his lower lip and smirked slightly. "But he's not mad at you, not really. I wouldn't let him be."

Jon shut his eyes and sighed. "I don't blame him for being upset, though," he whispered. "I've probably changed everything between him and Ryan."

"You didn't mean to. You were only trying to help-I told him that, and I think he gets it now. Maybe. It's just that he and Ryan only just got back, and now you're both leaving..."

Jon's knees were starting to ache from kneeling on the cold wood floor. He shifted around until he was curled up against Brendon's side, his back to the door, and he laid his head on Brendon's shoulder.

"I have no idea what's going to happen," he whispered, lacing their fingers together. "But for once, I'm not afraid."

Brendon kissed his temple. "But I am." Suddenly he heard, Ryan's going to die, isn't he?, and Jon felt a surge of fear and worry, along with something he could only identify as the same affection Brendon normally directed at Jon.

He smiled a little into Brendon's shoulder, knowing that Brendon didn't hate Ryan at all. "We'll come back to you, and to Spencer. You have to believe that." Suddenly, Jon remembered the night in the barn, and Spencer saying, Believing's half the battle.

"I'll try," Brendon whispered back, and Jon still found himself wondering why Brendon didn't regret leaving his family so far behind. Jon wasn't worth that much sacrifice, not really; he was a half-trained orphaned Rider who could barely control his empathy and had never truly seen battle. But Brendon had had a life and a home, everything Jon had lost, and yet he'd given it all up without a second thought. If that was what love felt like, it terrified Jon.

It was probably for the best that Brendon couldn't read his mind. Jon didn't have the energy or the heart to explain the mess of confusion and doubt swirling inside his brain. So he squeezed Brendon's hand tightly and stayed pressed against Brendon's side, letting himself drift into a dreamless sleep. Brendon never moved a muscle.



Midnight came much too soon. The mansion was still dark and quiet as the handful of Riders made their way outside into the snow, followed closely by the half dozen dragons that would be accompanying them. The moon was shining brightly in the clear, blue-black sky, casting a glittering sheen of silver over the white ground.

Jon breathed the cold air deep into his lungs as he pulled on his leather riding gloves. Helia was already saddled, her reins and bridle in place. She was quiet and pensive, not saying a word about the snow or the cold.

Ryan stood beside him, so full of anxiety and fear he was utterly still. He had a rifle holster strapped over his back, and he was wearing a pair of riding gloves borrowed from Tom.

"You can tell me I'm making a mistake," he whispered, his breath coming in white puffs of air.

"You're not," Jon said. "Besides, someone has to help us get back the compound."

"I don't know how to get there by air, Jon." He tugged his wool stocking cap further doing his forehead. I've been a Rider for all of twelve hours. I don't have any business going.

Stop saying that. Jon laid a hand on Ryan's shoulder. You made it all the way there and back. No matter what you think now, you're very brave.

But Ryan shrugged off Jon's touch and shook his head just as Frank held his hand up and called their attention. He was wearing the familiar black duster Jon remembered from years back, with matching gloves and his dark red wool scarf that was the same color as Xira. Only tonight he would be riding with Tom and Kyryn instead.

"Now's your chance to back out if there's any doubt in your mind about this mission. I don't care if I end up with only one of you, I'd rather have one committed man than a dozen half-hearted bastards who don't actually believe in what we're attempting to do." He paused to light a cigarette, the glow of the match sparking bright in the darkness. "So take five minutes, get your shit together. I'm willing to wait."

No one moved at first, but as the friends and loved ones of the other Riders gathered in the doorway of the mansion to see them off, one by one the Riders turned to say their final goodbyes. There were tears and desperate hugs, yet Jon could feel the determination in the group. They weren't going to back out.

He wasn't surprised to see Brendon and Spencer standing toward the back of the small crowd. Brendon looked half-awake from waking up alone on the floor where Jon had left him, and Spencer's jaw was twitching, as if he were gritting his teeth.

"C'mon," Jon said softly, nudging Ryan toward them. He didn't add it may be your last chance, or dare think it too clearly, because Ryan didn't need more reasons to doubt himself.

Jon wasn't surprised to see Brendon and Spencer there, but he was surprised that it was Brendon whom Ryan hugged first. Brendon's eyes flared, all traces of sleepiness vanishing, before he wrapped his arms tightly around Ryan's back and fisted his hands in his coat. He melted a little against Ryan, and Jon felt a tug of longing from both of them.

I'm sorry it couldn't have been you, Ryan thought, and it overlapped slightly with Brendon's desperate, Don't you fucking die on me, too, I can't lose you both.

"Be honest with me." Spencer's words pulled Jon out of the swirl of emotion and thoughts from the other two. "Do you really think you all have a chance?"

Jon rubbed a gloved hand over his beard. "I think we have as much of a chance now as we ever will," he replied slowly, knowing it wasn't much of an answer.

Spencer knew it, too. He gave Ryan a sad, frustrated look. "Just...promise me something, okay?" he whispered, leaning in close. His eyes were so very blue in the moonlight, almost glowing, just like Helia's; Jon swallowed and nodded, heart thudding heavily.

"Promise me you'll look after Ryan, keep him safe." He huffed out a breath. "I'm-I'm sorry I said all those things to you, earlier. I didn't-I know it's not your fault. You've done so much for both of us, and I'm grateful for it, more than you'll ever know. But I know all the shit Ryan's gone through in his life, and I hate seeing him so lost again."

It was a testament to how far Jon had come in the past several days that he didn't hesitate to reach up and cup Spencer's cheek. "What about you?" he whispered. "Haven't you been through a lot as well?"

"This isn't about me-"

"You're as much a part of all this as Ryan is, and I'm sorry if you felt like I was taking him away from you. Regardless of whether or not Ryan ever has a dragon, he still needs a family, and you're all he has." Jon bit his lip, adding to himself, Plus Brendon and me.

Spencer sighed, leaning into Jon's touch. "I'm glad you can't read me," he said with a small smile. "Because then you'd be able to tell how scared shitless I am right now."

"Don't be. Think about how you're staying with your sisters, and about all the dragons you'll be helping as soon as we get back." Jon slid his hand down Spencer's cheek and linked both hands at the base of Spencer's skull, framing his jaw with his thumbs. "And I'll make that promise to you, as long as you promise me something in return."

"What?" Spencer asked, eyes flicking down to Jon's mouth for a split second.

Jon's heart pounded in the back of his throat. "Promise to take care of Brendon for me," he breathed just before he pressed his mouth to Spencer's. The kiss was soft and careful, much like the one they'd shared earlier that morning, only this time Jon felt in the way Spencer kissed him back that it was real, that Spencer wanted to kiss him, and not just out of sympathy. He splayed his good hand over Jon's chest, fingers curling into the beaten old leather of Jon's duster. Jon couldn't feel a thing besides his own racing heartbeat, but it didn't matter; the catch in Spencer's breath when Jon parted his lips slightly was telling enough.

"All right, boys, time's up," Frank called. "It's a quarter after midnight, and our asses need to be in the sky as soon as possible."

Spencer broke away first, gasping softly, eyes slightly dazed. His lips looked very shiny, and Jon couldn't help thinking, I did that.

"Go," Spencer whispered, although he'd yet to drop his hand from Jon's coat. "And I promise."

Jon took a few steps back until Spencer finally let go. He smiled crookedly at him, ignoring the painful clench in his chest as he watched Spencer swallow tightly and finally look away. Ryan was standing just behind Jon, and there were no words spoken when he and Spencer hugged. They clung to each other with an almost white-knuckled desperation, and when Spencer whispered something in Ryan's ear, Jon thought he caught sight of tears in Spencer's eyes as he felt a sharp stab of guilt and regret from Ryan.

"They're going to leave without you," Brendon said softly. He touched the back of Jon's elbow, and Jon turned to throw his arms around Brendon and hold him close, trying to memorize the easy way Brendon fit against him, the feel of Brendon tucking his face into the hollow at Jon's throat. I can never hug you enough, Jon realized, and he felt his own eyes start to burn.

"Frank can wait for me," he said roughly, kissing the top of Brendon's head. "I made Spencer promise to look out for you, okay?"

"I don't need looking out for," Brendon mumbled, holding on tighter as his affection and desperate fear rushed through Jon.

"Then humor me. It'll give Spence something to do." He could feel around the edges of Brendon's thoughts that he'd seen Jon kiss Spencer; Jon's heart clenched a little as he waited for the hurt and jealousy to follow.

But all he felt was a strange, warm spike of emotion. Brendon slowly lifted his head and smiled. "You called him Spence."

Jon flushed. "Yeah..."

Brendon kissed the corner of Jon's mouth and whispered, "See, you're not broken, Jon Walker. You just needed to figure out that people can and still do love you."

But I need to earn it, Jon thought.

"Guys, let's go, mount up!" Frank called, louder this time. Jon saw him jerk his chin at him and Ryan. C'mon, kid, they'll be here when we get back. But Jon could see Gerard behind him, still holding on to Frank's hand.

"Be safe," Brendon whispered as he dropped his arms and hugged his chest. He kept his head bowed as Ryan gave him one last hug, shutting his eyes when Ryan kissed his cheek. Jon couldn't let himself look back again as he and Ryan turned to trudge back through the snow to the dragons waiting patiently for them, their wings still folded close to their bodies.

Helia nuzzled Jon's chin as he checked her bridle one last time. They love you, you know.

Jon swallowed hard, wondering if Ryan had heard her. How do you feel?, he asked, scrubbing the heel of his hand over his damp eyes.

Cold and sleepy, but I'll manage. You're ignoring me.

I've got other things to worry about about, all right? He exhaled loudly as he rolled his shoulders. Focus, damn it, he told himself, giving the reins a tug. Then he glanced at Ryan. "Ready?"

Ryan stared at the empty saddle with equal parts dread and fascination. Ready as I'll ever be, I guess, he said, flipping the collar of his wool coat up as he wrapped his scarf more snugly around his neck.

All around them, one by one, dragon wings expanded and beat against the air, lifting them gracefully into the night sky. Jon put his left foot into the stirrup and swung his leg over Helia's back as he eased gently down into the saddle. He'd missed the feeling of being astride her, of having the reins in his hands and Helia's wings spread and ready for flight; in many ways, it felt like coming home.

He held his hand out to Ryan. "Here we go," he said out loud, giving Ryan a hopeful smile as he helped pull him onto Helia's back. The saddle wasn't big enough for the two of them, but there was enough room for Ryan to ride pillion behind him. Once Ryan was seated snug against Jon's back, his arms wrapped tight around Jon's waist (If I fall, you'll catch me, right? Ryan asked shakily, and Helia actually laughed), Jon splayed his hand against Helia's neck.

Ready when you are, he said.

Helia threw her head back and gave a sharp cry that rung out high and clear. The other dragons answered her flight call, and the sound of dragons calling to one another in the dark was one of the most beautiful things Jon had ever heard.

Yes, I do believe I'm ready, she said, and fanned her wings out. They fluttered once, then her whole body went tense as she lifted into the air, her wings beating hard enough to ruffle Jon's hair. He dug his heels into her sides, steadying himself as they rose higher into the sky, Ryan clinging to him for dear life. Jon glanced back at the world below, and he could still make out the shapes of Brendon and Spencer standing out in the snow, watching them fly off into the night.

He saw Kyryn fly by with Tom and Frank, and Jon said, Follow Kyryn, and we'll be set.

That's easy enough, Helia replied.

Ryan pressed his face into Jon's back and never looked down.



The flight felt longer than Jon had imagined, and the cold air bit sharply at his cheeks the higher they rose into the sky. Low flying meant easier detection, so they stayed high above the clouds, where there was no sound except for the swoop of wings gliding through the air.

Jon felt Helia shivering, but she didn't say a word, only kept her legs tucked close to her body and her tail curled inward. His heart ached for her, knowing how much she hated the cold.

She's freezing, isn't she? Ryan said. His hands were still locked around Jon's chest, although his grip had lessened somewhat.

Jon didn't reply; talking about it would only make Helia shiver more.

They flew until the cold seemed to sink deep into Jon's bones, his hands almost numb inside his leather gloves. Ryan's breath came in short, warm bursts of air against the back of his neck, and Jon tried to concentrate on that one tiny bit of heat and let Helia feel it as well.

Up ahead, he saw Frank suddenly make a downward motion with his hand, and in a matter of seconds, the clouds parted to reveal the ominous silhouette of the Telathium Mountains.

"I can't believe we're here already," Ryan breathed, unconsciously pressing closer against Jon's back. "It's hundreds of miles from the camp--"

"Everything's different when you're in the air," Jon replied as he pulled gently at Helia's reigns. We're almost there.

If we make it back in one piece, I'm demanding that Brendon make me his famous hot chocolate, Helia said. She sounded slightly hoarse, her voice shaking and breathless from the cold.

You can have all the hot cocoa in the world, I swear. Jon had managed not to think about Brendon or Spencer for the last hour, focusing himself on the flight and what would happened the moment they arrived at the compound. But his focus cracked a little as he remembered the desperate look in Brendon's eyes, the resigned loss in Spencer's voice, and how each of them had kissed him as if it would be the last time--

I knew he'd let you, Ryan said.

Who? Let me do what? Jon shut his eyes and sighed, forcing his mind back to the present.

Spence told himself he wouldn't kiss you again, but I had a feeling he'd give in if you kissed him first. Jon felt Ryan rest his chin on his shoulder. And I can't believe you didn't know Brendon was in love with you, he added, his thoughts followed by a strange rush of amused affection and jealousy.

Jon stiffened. It's-it's not something I really thought about-

I knew it from that first night I met you both. He'd do anything for you.

His chest was beginning to ache, and not just from the unrelenting chill in the air. I'm...not used to being wanted, all right? he swallowed. Not like that.

Ryan's arms shifted around Jon's chest as they flew closer to the mountain range. Neither am I, he finally replied, and Jon caught a glimpse of a wistful, bittersweet smile, and a flash of Brendon clinging to Ryan.

You've got to concentrate more, kid. Frank's words cut sharply through Jon's thoughts. We can't be worrying about everyone we left behind-all that matters is now. And now means you follow Tom and me and land in the trees.

Jon looked up just as Kyryn took a sudden dip and flew nearly straight down into the dense forest bordering the edge of the mountain base. He tugged at Helia's reins and told her to do the same. The trees were thick, which made navigating difficult, but eventually the rest of the group landed safely on the dry, snowless forest floor.

"Everyone accounted for?" Frank called as he climbed off Kyryn and rolled the kinks out of his neck. Jon half expected him to immediately light a cigarette.

The second Jon dismounted and Ryan slid off her back, Helia curled up like a cat into a tight ball, her tail wrapped all the way around her body. She closed her eyes, and Jon heard her think over and over again of hot cocoa and warm pumpkin bread.

Tom laid a hand on Jon's shoulder, his nose bright red from the cold. Long flight, huh? He jerked his chin at Helia huddled on the ground, then at Ryan standing hunched and exhausted behind Jon.

At least we made it? Jon replied sheepishly.

Tom smiled. I'm glad you're here, Jonny.



The entrance to the compound was a simple opening at the base of the mountain, like a small mouth of a cave, and it was guarded by a single patrolmen with a rifle. But Ryan insisted that the low security was due to the heavy protection of the trees, and the fact that many more armed guards were stationed further inside.

"How do you know this?" Frank asked.

Ryan flushed. "I heard the guard thinking about when his relief would come."

"How many are there for certain?"

"A dozen, maybe more. Spence and I could never get a decent count, but we did see at least five come out with a batch of dragons for test flight."

Tom said, "We just need to take out the main guard and get inside. It's early, they'll most likely be down to a skeleton crew at this hour." He pulled his rifle out of the holster strapped to his back and cocked the hammer.

"No, wait." Jon held his hand up. "Let me do it."

Frank frowned at him curiously. "Why? Any one of us can take that guy out easily."

"But look." Jon pointed through the line of trees to where the guard paced lazily back and forth in front of the entrance. To the right on the cave wall was a wire phone, the mouthpiece built into the rock beside a rotary dial. "They've got communication-they'll know immediately when something goes wrong."

"True, but why should you be the one to take him out?"

Jon took a deep breath. "Because I'm good a blending in-I've been doing it for years. He's about my size, I'll steal his uniform. It'll buy you all some time."

Frank scrunched his mouth up in thought before looking over his shoulder at the rest of the group. "So Walker takes care of the guard and the rest of us head in. First and foremost, we find Xira. Everyone savvy?"

The men nodded, except Ryan. You'll be out here alone, he said, suddenly frantic. If something happens to you, we won't even know-

You'll know, Jon replied, ignoring the rush of fear in his gut as he a carefully took out his own rifle and checked the chamber for bullets.

Jon-

I'm doing this. Besides, you were the one who said Riders were heroes, right?

Ryan flinched like he'd been punched. That was...I didn't know what the fuck I was talking about-

Yeah, you did. And you were more right than I wanted to admit. He smiled crookedly at Ryan before saluting Frank with the muzzle of his gun.

"Watch your back, kid," Frank said, and added, Yell if you get into trouble.

Helia was still curled into a tight ball in a pile of leaves, but she lifted her head when Jon came over to kiss the tip of her nose. We'll be watching out for you, she said, her eyes flashing blue as she nodded toward the rest of the dragons, and Jon was grateful that she didn't try to talk him into staying with the group.

Stay warm, Jon said, then headed out of the forest and back into the snow.

Tom had been right about one thing-the early hour meant the patrolmen were sleepy and careless. The guard stopped mid-pace, stretched, and yawned deeply, completely oblivious to Jon creeping up silently behind him. But he turned at the very last second and met Jon's eyes, gasping.

"Stop right-!" But he never finished his thought. Jon drew his rifle and struck the man across the back of the head, waiting until he dropped to the ground unconscious before signaling to the trees.

Not bad! Frank said, giving Jon a thumbs up as they hurried through the mouth of the cave as Tom and Ryan brought up the rear.

Ryan glared fiercely at him. If you get killed, Brendon and Spencer will never forgive you for it.

Something warm and comforting and completely at odds with the urgency of the situation filled Jon's chest. He almost wanted to smile at Ryan, but it was too late-they had already disappeared around the bend of the cave.