Fixing Mistakes the Slow Way

Writers: Devin, Bree
Date Posted: 7th April 2006

Characters: Kenza, N'vanik
Description: Kenza visits N'vanik to find him trying to drink his problems away.
Location: Dragonsfall Weyr
Date: month 10, day 21 of Turn 3

N'vanik

"N'vanik?" Kenza stuck her head inside the door to his weyr, frowning. "I
can't tell if you told me to come in and go away, but I've got fresh baked
goods from the Baker Hall, if that makes a difference."

He looked up from the couch. "I said _go away_. I'm busy."

Instead of going away, she pushed her way into the weyr and closed the door
behind her. "You don't _look_ busy. You look like you're trying to drink
yourself insensible."

"Like I said -- busy." N'vanik lifted his glass and took another drink.

She strode across the room and set the basket down with an audible thud.
"Well, you can drink yourself into a stupor with company as easily as
without. And if you eat something, you can even prolong the misery."

"Fine." He picked up a roll and started eating it. Somewhere under that
sloshing alcohol, he was hungry and he realized he had missed dinner.

Kenza dropped onto the opposite end of the couch, stretching her legs out
and crossing her arms over her stomach. "So what are you drowning yourself
in liquor for tonight?"

"Little bit of everything. Most of this is my private stuff." N'vanik filled
his glass again. "That wineskin on the end, that's from the Weyr. You can
drink that if you want."

"I think one of us should remain sober," she replied dryly, rescuing one of
the sweetrolls for herself. All she lacked was waking up hungover in
N'vanik's weyr to make her life even more miserable.

"Good," N'vanik said. "I'll probably need that wineskin for tomorrow."

Kenza watched him for a moment and then calmly reached over and picked up
the wineskin and a spare cup. "So this is what you're going to do while
you're grounded? See how much you can drink?"

"Yep." He swallowed another mouthful of liquor.

"Why?"

N'vanik turned toward her for a moment, then turned away. "If I drink
enough, maybe I'll go numb."

"It's not going to work," Kenza said quietly. "You know it as well as I do."

"Sometimes it works . . . for a little while," he sighed.

"Never long enough though." Shifting, Kenza reached out and dragged the
basket from the table to sit on the couch between them. "Trust me. I drank
until the healers asked me if I was trying to kill myself. Never did manage
to stop feeling for long enough to do any good."

"Why did you do it?" N'vanik asked quietly. "The drinking?"

Kenza rubbed absently at her side, remembering when the rough scar tissue
had been a terrifying mess of barely healed flesh. "I thought my life was
over. They said I might never fly again."

N'vanik snorted and took another drink. "Well, you had better reasons than
me."

"So that makes me kind of stupid and you really stupid," she replied evenly.
"Seriously, N'vanik. Have you thought of trying an alternative to drinking
yourself into a stupor?"

"What alternative would that be?"

Kenza watched him for a moment. "Doing something about what's making you
miserable," she said finally.

N'vanik shook his head. "I _can't_. There's too much. Too many things I
can't do anything about."

"Have you ever _tried_?" she pressed.

He turned toward her. "What do you think this is about? The fight? Me being
grounded? There's a lot more to it than that."

"Of course there is." She shifted on the couch to face him, her face
serious. "But we make our own choices about how we deal with the things that
have happened to us. And it is _never_ too late to change your mind."

"What good is changing my mind if I keep screwing things up?" N'vanik
finished his glass and filled it again.

Kenza gave an exhasperated sigh, staring pointedly at the glass in his
hands. "You could start by putting that down, you know. Sober people mess up
less, I've noticed."

"That's why I usually drink in here. Alone. Nothing to mess up but myself."

Reaching over, she plucked the glass from his hands and tossed back the
liquor, blinking back tears as it burned its way down. "Fine. Pick a
problem. One of the things that's bothering you. And if I can't think of
some way to go about fixing it, I'll buy you another bottle of whatever it
was that just burned a hole in my tongue."

He chuckled - just a little - at her reaction. A long list of problems
filled his head. Where to start? N'vanik sighed. "Alright. Back at Dream's
End, my wingleader, my _old_ wingleader, was killed by Thread. And it was my
fault. I didn't see the clump soon enough. I tried but . . ." he shook his
head. "How do I fix _that_? I can't bring back the dead."

"You don't _fix_ your mistakes," Kenza retorted, setting the glass aside.
"We face them, we talk about them, we learn from them, and then we move on
from them. So why do you think it was _your_ fault?"

"I didn't see the clump soon enough. I wasn't fast enough to get all of it."
He pounded a fist on his leg. "Shards! I was so close! If I'd had two more
seconds, just two more, he'd still be alive."

Kenza nodded. "When was this?"

"Seven months ago." Had it really been that long?

Nodding again, Kenza studied him thoughtfully. "And I suppose anyone who was
there gave you a pat on the shoulder and a few trite words about how it
wasn't your fault so you shouldn't be upset?"

"Most of them, yeah," he said. But the first face that came to mind was an
unfriendly one.

"Most of them?" she repeated, frowning. Shards, no wonder he was stewing in
guilt. "And what did the other people tell you?"

N'vanik filled another glass and stared at it for a moment. "Let's just say
that someone was a little less consoling."

"What did they say?" Kenza insisted, reaching out to put a hand on his to
keep him from taking another drink. "You said you were going to tell me, so
let's hear it."

He still hesitated. He could count on one hand the number of people that
knew this. If her hand hadn't been there to restrain him, he would have
taken another drink while he decided. Instead, he turned toward her. "He
said 'with you in the wing, I'm surprised he wasn't killed sooner.'"

Her eyes held his as she held her hand over his, fingers tightening on his
wrist. "Then he was a fool, N'vanik. I'm old enough to know the value of a
rider, and you're not a danger to other people in the wing. Not while we're
in the air, at least. I'm not going to lie to you and say that you make
things easier on yourself and others on the ground."

"You sure you're not a mindhealer?" N'vanik asked. There was a hint of
amusement in his tone. Her honesty - sometimes bluntness, the way she saw
through him . . . she reminded him a little of V'surin.

Kenza snorted as she released his arm. "Certainly not. I've just lived long
enough to have done some things that would make your hair stand on end. When
you've made as many mistakes as I have, you either end up wise or dead."

"So how many more mistakes do you think I need to make before I wise up?"
N'vanik played with the glass, but didn't pick it up.

"You can start wising up any time you want," Kenza replied easily. "Just
don't expect it to happen all at once. I still put my foot in it often
enough. You could start, though, by not drowning yourself in alcohol
tonight. Surely you've picked up a few hobbies over the turns that don't
involve naked young ladies in compromising positions."

"A few," he said with a shrug. "But I don't feel much like doing anything."

Plucking the glass from his hands, Kenza replaced it with a sweetroll.
"Start by eating something. Do you play chess?"

"I know how." N'vanik stared at the sweetroll for a moment before taking a
bite.

"Good. Maybe I'll actually win for once." She lifted an eyebrow. "If you
think you're up to it, that is."

He gave her a half-smile. "If there's a chance to beat _you_ at something, I
think it's worth a try."

Last updated on the April 9th 2006

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Fixing Mistakes the Slow Way