Break My Fall [C]

Bloodstrike had allowed roughly a week to pass since the raid on Skyclan camp. He had allowed himself to express no emotions in public. He was dedicated to keeping his clan organized, motivated and fed. But he was not without his heavy, aching heart. He had been strong for Briarthorn, as they had lost a daughter. He had been strong for Wolfstar, as he had lost a mate and Bloodstrike had lost his mother. He had been strong for Ravenclaw, as Wrenspring's health was declining. He stayed strong for the entire clan as Foxfire fell into a wakeless sleep. He followed Beechface's instructions with little complaint or resistance, being obedient and cooperative so as not to put anymore stress on her. All the while keeping his face and his tone calm and collected.

And it was going to annihilate him. He could feel the suffocating weight of loss and grief threaten to grind his ribcage to a fine powder. His legs shook with the weight of guilt when no one was looking. His face contorted into one of sheer agony in the few quiet moments that he could find throughout the day. And he buried it. He buried it all anytime even one single soul came around. Finally... the deputy could take no more. He couldn't bring himself to tell one more lie or to fake one more smile. Bloodstrike found his heavy feet being pulled towards the elder's den... now hauntingly empty, save for one nest.

"Smokefeather..." And the flood came. He didn't mean to. His paws didn't stop. He carried himself to her nest side that night and collapsed under the weight he had been carrying. He couldn't go to Briarthorn. He still had to be an anchor for her... a pillar of unwavering stability. The problem was that he just... wasn't. The tall, powerful, proud deputy hit the ground as if struck by a bullet. He swiftly grabbed moss from a nearby nest and buried his face into it as he unleashed a pained cry that was ripped from the bottom of his soul. It wasn't just pain of recent events... but pain that he had buried for moons since he had come back from the Asylum prison... and it had come with a vengeance. For too long he had hid behind anger, as his daughter Beechface now did as well.

Bloodstrike couldn't even find the strength to say anything for several moments. He could only gasp for breath and mewl like a wounded kit. He would toss soiled moss away only to bring more in to muffle his cries with the last of his remaining strength. If she said anything to him... if she scolded him for coming to her... he wasn't able to respond. It wasn't like a dam that had finally given way to a lake. It was icebergs that had finally melted and washed away miles and miles of land, permanently changing the surface of the earth.

"I'm so sorry Smokefeather..." He finally managed to say, his voice strained and shaky. He sucked in another breath... and he couldn't speak again for several more moments. "I was so wrong and I am so sorry for everything!" His body shook and his eyes and nose continued to flood. Puddles of drool and mucus pooled around his head as he pulled more moss in to try to hide it. "I was wrong! I'm sorry!" He couldn't stop saying it. It provided little relief each time he repeated it, but there was too much pain that needed to be released. It was a tiny needle stick in a thick balloon full of hot wax. No words were enough. Nothing felt like it was enough.

"I shouldn't have done anything that I've done... Not leave you... not defend Dawnhawk... Nothing! I have done nothing right since I got back!" His claws sank into the moss and he pulled it closer, hanging onto it for dear life as if it was the only thing in the world preventing him from being swept away into the void. "I don't know what to do... I'm lost!" And the flood gates only seemed to open more. Incredibly his sorrow only ran deeper, as if strings holding it all together had suddenly been cut loose. If anyone else walked in now... there was nothing he could do to reverse this.

The chasm had opened, and the earth was never going to go back to the way it was.

The sound of heavy pawsteps filled the air, and Smokefeather tucked her nose into her tail. From the steps it was Beechface, or maybe Ashstorm, come to check on her, and she wasn't in the mood for it today.

Smokefeather flinched at the voice pulling her from attempting to sleep, a voice that definitely didn't belong to her daughters. Ears flicking back, she lifted her head and regarded Bloodstrike with uncertainty. He never approached the elder's den, much less approached her anymore.

That had made it easier to tell herself she didn't care. Some days, Smokefeather could even almost believe it. It was better this way, really. For both of them. With Bloodstrike crying in front of her, those lies crumbled. If he'd gone to... what was her name? Briarthorn? instead, she might've been able to cling to the belief that he was Briarthorn's problem, not hers. But he hadn't, and this... Was very much Smokefeather's problem, wasn't it? Smokefeather shifted, tail flicking back and forth as Bloodstrike finally stumbled over... An apology? Her thin frame remained tensed, as if she were ready to flee. Not that she could, of course, not physically, with her leg the way it was. And mentally... She was tired. So tired, of all of this. He'd apologized. It had only taken over a season of avoiding each other, of watching bitterly from the elder's den while Bloodstrike got to live his life and be Skyclan's deputy. He'd tossed her aside like a rotten piece of crowfood that had been left to sit for too long, had brought a new mate into the clan and had a litter with her. She'd understood Beechface and Lichenblaze, understood their bitter anger. Even now it seethed below the surface, a snake hidden in the grass that she'd tried to convince herself wasn't there. She'd done so well, clearly, her paws more bloody now than they'd ever been as a warrior.

"Oh, don't sta-" She began, exhausted tone a strange mismatch for what would've been venomous words as her throat tightened painfully. The last time she'd spoken without thinking, spoken out of anger, Featherkit had wound up dead. Smokefeather's gaze dropped to her trembling paws, ears flat against her skull. Beechface had always been one to use her anger as a shield, she flaunted it. Smokefeather had done that once, and the shame and grief were enough to choke on. Her anger had never led to anything but more pain. Trying to ignore things had never helped, and here Bloodstrike was, digging his claws into wounds that hadn't healed at all.

Ignoring it had proven worthless. Acknowledging it, on the other paw... Smokefeather wasn't sure she was ready to face any of this. And Bloodstrike, how typical, wasn't giving her a choice about it, just as he hadn't when he'd woken her up that morning, hardly a week after returning to the perpetual forest fire that was Skyclan.

At least he couldn't toss her aside like nothing this time, he'd already done that in the cruelest way he could have. Today couldn't be worse, surely. Maybe if she was lucky, she wake up in her nest to find that this was just another bad dream.

Bloodstrike's words broke into her thoughts. Dawnhawk's name was mentioned, because of course it would be. There could be no real conversation in Skyclan without it, it seemed. A short, bitter laugh escaped Smokefeather as her gaze lifted from her paws. "How much of this could've been avoided if I'd just kept my mouth shut? No, Bloodstrike, you couldn’t have known at the time, he was still-" He’d been their son, at one point. The words stuck in her throat, and she blinked, trying to ignore the blurriness of her vision. Would she have defended him, were their positions reversed? Smokefeather didn’t think so, but she hadn’t been held captive without ever knowing what had gone on in the clan during that time, either. Not leaving her... Bloodstrike hadn't exactly been all that coherent that day, and Smokefeather had been too hurt to even respond. She'd hardly been sure she'd heard Bloodstrike properly when he'd said had said he'd talked to Dawnhawk too and... He'd been sly and manipulative enough to join Windclan, hadn't he? They'd raised a monster, but a manipulative monster.

"...I'm lost!" He was going to be the death of her and didn't even realize it. He'd dragged her into the river, they were both left floundering, and Smokefeather didn't know which way was up. They'd been so close, once. Things had been so wrong between them for so long and the fault for that was on all sides.

"I'm sorry, I hate this." Smokefeather muttered, she hated seeing him like this, hated the constant turmoil and tears obscuring her vision. Hated that Dawnhawk and Primroselight had somehow both been born of the same litter, one so pure and full of light while the other had torn them all apart in more ways than one. Hated how she shifted closer, pressing herself against Bloodstrike in a no-doubt feeble gesture of comfort, tail curling over his back. Smokefeather wasn't even sure who it was meant for and was half-prepared to be pushed away. That was usually what happened anyways, why would today be any different?

What he wasn't prepared for was how understanding and forgiving she seemed. Maybe on some level she had cared for him still too? He knew it wasn't right. It wasn't fair to Briarthorn, whom had left her home and joined a clan that was hostile to her. It still wasn't enough to stop Bloodstrike from pushing himself into her touch. He crawled into her nest beside her and wrapped his gargantuan body around her's, holding her, the way they used to. Her scent flooded his nostrils and brought back memories that seemed an entire lifetime ago. He supposed they were. They were as comforting as they were surreal. The memories belonged to two entirely different cats than what they were now.

"If only there was a way to go back..." He whispered to her, his eyes still pouring. Was it highly inappropriate to say? Absolutely, but he didn't have the strength to be fake anymore. He cared for Briarthorn, but not as much as he had for Smokefeather. He certainly loved their kits as much as he loved any of them. There was a small fear in the back of his mind that she would walk into the elder's den and find the two of them together... then what would he do? He supposed he'd just tell her the truth. He wasn't prepared for it, but he owed that much to both of these she-cats.

For several moments he lie there wrapped around Smokefeather in silence, except for his sharp breaths and sobs. It destroyed him inside with the knowledge that if she hadn't been out for her walk... if she had been trapped in the elder's den when Dawnhawk had come... He would have been short a daughter, a mother and a supportive ex-mate that had no real reason to do what she was doing right now. Bloodstrike might have died shortly after as well, throwing Skyclan into irreparable chaos. The exiled Skyclan cat had sought to destroy Skyclan and he was succeeding.

"I miss my mom so much. Maplepaw didn't even have a real chance at life before it was taken from her..." He curled around her tighter and rested his chin on the back of her neck. It was the first time he even brought Blossomstep up since her death. If she had still been alive, he would be crying to her right now, not Smokefeather. He felt even what he was doing now was wrong. It was selfish. But Bloodstrike needed to be selfish for a little while.

"I'm sorry to put all of this on you... I have nowhere to go."

Bloodstrike pressed against her, curling around her, and Smokefeather didn't pull away. She'd been half-expecting him to do so, and maybe it was selfish but... His words echoed her own thoughts , it seemed.

"I'd give anything for that." Maybe it wasn't really a surprise but her muffled words were genuine. Despite everything she'd told herself, Smokefeather had missed him. Neither of them were the same cats they had been before that awful, miserable leafbare, but with Bloodstrike curled around her like this Smokefeather found it strangely hard not to relax. Or maybe it wasn't strange at all. Even after the fire, after Mistrain, after Sagelight and Dustpaw, they had always been able to find comfort in each other. Maybe they could indulge in the comfort of nostalgia for a little while, it wasn't anyone else's concern.

"I miss her, too. Blossomstep of all cats never deserved this, and Maplepaw was innocent." Smokefeather had thought she'd had no more tears left. They'd all lost so much and to lose Blossomstep on top of everything else... It hurt. "All of this destruction because he couldn't find me?" Her voice shook, guilt clawing at her throat as she blinked away more tears. It wasn't fair! Blossomstep and Cloudmane, Maplepaw... Wrenspring and Foxfire unable to leave Beechface's den, and all because Dawnhawk had wanted her. She hadn't known Cloudmane all that well, she hadn't known Maplepaw at all really, but she'd been a daughter, a sister. Bloodstrike's daughter, Beechface had lost a sister, regardless of her wanting to acknowledge the apprentice as such.

Another apology, and Smokefeather shifted, tipping her head to look up at him. "I don't- That's not true." ...Right? He could've gone to Briarthorn she was sure... Or maybe that relationship had already fallen apart. Bloodstrike had flaws, but he had always been honest. Smokefeather would've liked to believe that that hadn't changed. And if he was being honest... He'd gone to Smokefeather, either way. She leaned forward, tongue rasping across the top of his head, between his ears. Anyone could've walked in but at this point Smokefeather didn't care. This- whatever this was, was between her and Bloodstrike.

"You were always the first to push others away, Bloodstrike, and I-" Her voice caught and Smokefeather inhaled, exhaling slowly. "Foxdung, to push me away. And it hurts." She hadn't meant to say it out loud, and certainly not with as shaky of a tone as she had. Smokefeather pressed against Bloodstrike's shoulder, though it did little to muffle the sniffling. Maybe this time it would get through that stubborn head of his. "I still care about you, you can always talk to me. We're mousebrains, Bloodstrike."

Bloodstrike was very quiet as he held her. She talked. He listened. He felt at least some of his pain alleviate the longer they stayed together. His breathing became more even and his sobbing began to slow. He had nearly calmed down until she said, "All of this destruction because he couldn't find me?" A jolt of fear shot through him.

"Don't." He said firmly through a strained voice. "Don't you dare start thinking like that." He knew where that would logically lead and it made him sick to think she'd feel guilty enough about all of this to give herself to him. Bloodstrike didn't talk to Starclan much, but it was at that exact moment he sent a mental prayer to them. Don't let him have her. Ever. Protect her always like you did that night. That night being the attack on their camp by their own son.

He'd hurt her by pushing her away and this was something that he'd known, with much guilt, for a long time. Unfortunately what was done was done. Where would Briarthorn go, now that she was no longer part of Shadowclan, if they didn't work out? He would do his best not to fail her, even if the circumstances of them being together at all were hardly for romantic reasons. It had been one reckless decision on both of their behalves. Now they were here.

"I fully expected you to hate me. I wasn't expecting this... I just couldn't bare my burden any longer. I try to be as solid as an oak tree for my clan all of the time, but... you know better than anyone I'm just one tom." Even just admitting that brought a wave of fresh pain over him. His reaction to the admission was one of him being attacked, and he curled tighter to try to protect himself from it. "I'm weak sometimes. I never wanted to believe that about myself, but if I learned anything during my time in Asylum's prison... that was it."

They had beat him daily and daily he would try to fight back. Stars knew how many he actually killed during his imprisonment, but he vaguely remembered it eventually becoming a game to some of those cats. Who could wound the over-sized freak the most without getting injured themselves? They starved him, dehydrated him, humiliated him by making him sleep for weeks in his own waste. They made him so crazy he didn't even recognize Flowerthorn when they threw her in with him. He'd killed her in his frenzied panic.

"I don't have much of a plan right now. I don't know what to do about all of this. It seems like every time I try to retaliate against him, he makes us all suffer worse." How did one cat manage to break an entire clan?

Smokefeather flicked an ear back at Bloodstrike's vehemence. He of all cats would've had a right to blame her. She'd failed as a mother, failed to protect the clan and had actively put them in danger just from her presence alone. If Dawnhawk kept this up, she was certain he'd change his mind, even Bloodstrike couldn't remain blind to the truth forever. She wasn't sure why the thought made her cry harder.

"I wanted to, not that it would have done either of us any good." Smokefeather muttered. "I'm not Beechface, I can't hide behind anger like that." Beechface had been doing enough of that for seasons, and had never been shy about it. "You're a mousebrain, but you weren't doing it out of spite or to be intentionally cruel." She huffed as he continued, turning her head slightly so she could roll her eyes in his general direction. It was hard to believe a cat could be this dense, but Skyclan was full of such cats.

"You, Wolfstar, Beechface... You all think the weight of the forest is on your shoulders, and you're all the last ones to ever admit to anything, even to those closest to you. You might as well be loners in your own clan." Smokefeather felt like they'd had a variation of this conversation before, at some point. Maybe multiple points. "I'm not saying you need to pour your heart out to the the entire forest, but the least you could do is stop shutting out those who care for you most. It's not weakness to rely on family when foxdung happens." She hadn't planned on lecturing, but apparently this fool needed to hear it for the umpteenth time. "You fought to lead the clan when you could hardly stand straight, Bloodstrike. How much did you ignore Beechface telling you to rest because things needed to get done, just because you're our deputy? You take care of the clan with no regard for yourself at all, Bloodstrike. You focus on everything but your well-being, and that's just as dangerous to the clan as some outside threat or a leader who can't see beyond his own paws and refuses to give a rat's tail about what his clanmates are saying or what they need." Spottedstar had never cared, and Wolfstar was too wrapped up in his own grief. Beechface tried in her own way, but she was unyielding and with an overbearing refusal to compromise that didn't exactly inspire confidence. She was hurting, not that she'd acknowledge it. Bloodstrike had at least done that much today. Much as she didn't want to move, Smokefeather twisted around to face him. This was something that she needed to get off her chest, and something that Bloodstrike needed to hear. She'd done her best to avoid him since he'd... left. And he'd done the same. They'd both needed that space, but Smokefeather, while she'd been stewing in her own self-pity and grief, hadn't been completely blind to the rest of the clan, either. Smokefeather took a breath, mentally preparing herself for what she wanted to say. Going about this the wrong way wouldn't help things, and Bloodstrike was stubborn.

"Remember how much you couldn't stand Spottedstar because he was a foxing rabbitheart who was beyond stubborn, who never listened to a thing anyone told him? You're every bit as stubborn as he is, Bloodstrike. And you've shut most of us out to do your own thing for moons. I don't agree with Beechface's vitriol, but I can understand why she wants to claw what's left of your ears off because you don't use them. You probably don't want to hear this, but someone needed to tell you." If it were left to Beechface, the conversation would have gone off the rails and been purely emotional. Smokefeather had had time to think, and while she wasn't sure if she would have approached Bloodstrike with it on her own, he'd opened the door for this. "You're better than that and I... don't want to see you making the same mistakes."

"Alright, I'm sorry... I'm done lecturing you, I swear." She mewed, gaze dropping back down to her paws. That had... taken a lot out of her, mentally and emotionally, and Smokefeather couldn't help the way her shoulders sagged as she leaned against Bloodstrike.

This was a lecture he'd heard before. A lot. But not recently... and maybe the thick-headed tom needed the reminder. He listened, doing his best to keep his jerky shoulders and flooding eyes to a minimum. She was right too, about him being like Spottedstar. Wolfstar was suffering for the same reasons. Would this ever stop? It was at that moment that Bloodstrike had an idea of who his next deputy would be, when the time came to choose one. This cycle needed to end. There needed to be a successor who wasn't like him, or Wolfstar or Spottedstar. He had a few cats in mind, but only time would tell which one he would choose.

"I know. I will try to be better. It's difficult for me, Smokefeather." He sighed loudly and let more of his tears roll. "I just thought it was inappropriate to come to you now, though it didn't stop me tonight. Beechface I will try to talk to more. I know I left a huge gap in our relationship and if I don't make amends it won't bode well for Skyclan's future. I hope she will at least see that and try to get her own feelings under control."

He would have to think about a plan of attack, so to speak, before he actually tried to talk to her though. He needed a few days to get himself ready to speak, possibly to have another tear-filled conversation. But it was needed. The scarred tom knew that.

"How would you handle this? My approach of strong-arming everyone only works on cats that I'm not close to."

Bloodstrike seemed to at least be listening, though there was a part of Smokefeather that still wasn't certain that her words hadn't just gone in one ear and out the other, like they had plenty of times before. When he responded, she let out a breath, wearily leaning into him. That had always been difficult for him, and she knew as much. She just hoped the words would actually stick for once.

Talking to Beechface... That was certainly easier said than done.

"Strong-arming only works on those less stubborn, you mean. And Beechface..." Smokefeather shook her head. "It runs in the family, I guess. She'll argue because she can, and she holds grudges. She clings to them because she doesn't see any other option." It was exhausting to deal with and it wasn't even Smokefeather's anger. She didn't understand how Beechface did it, and maybe she never would. Probably better for what little remained of her own sanity. Still, she had to at least try. "She never wanted the responsibility of being medicine cat, and each thing that goes wrong just fuels that resentment even more. Wolfstar made Dawnhawk deputy after what he did and I thought she'd lunge at him in the middle of that meeting. She had no warning about the rogues, and from what I gather Wolfstar never told her of his intentions before that, either. The clan didn't trust him - including her - and she was left to deal with everything on her own pretty much... You finally come back to camp and you're half-dead, and she could only make guesses and hope that nothing actually killed you. You sprung Briarthorn on her with no warning, and I don't know... Something tells me she might be upset. About a lot of things." As if it wasn't glaringly obvious to everyone. And what had Smokefeather done during all of this time? Feeling sorry for herself, curled up in the elder's den or hunting. And avoiding things.

"She's not a warrior, she doesn't get breaks or get to lose herself in hunting or running off predators. She's stuck waiting for the next thing to go wrong." And something would always go wrong. Beechface was a pessimist, but fate hadn't proved her wrong, either. And Beechface had never wanted any of the responsibility from the start.

"I don't know, Bloodstrike. I really don't. You... aren't the only one that's let things go on for this long, and I don't even know where to start with fixing it."