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Evermore: The Gathering	By : RosaTenebrum Category: A through F > Dragonlance Views: 9663 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own the Dragonlance series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Part II: Solace

See the stone set in your eyes
See the thorn twist in your side
I wait for you

Sleight of hand and twist of fate
On a bed of nails he makes me wait
And I wait without you

Through the storm, we reach the shore
You gave it all but I want more
My hands are tied, my body bruised
He got me with nothing to win
And nothing left to lose

With or without you
With or without you
I can't live
With or without you

(adapted from With or Without You)

CHAPTER 45

Tika's heart was pounding wild and fast, and she was trying hard not to sneeze. In a rising panic, she pinched her nose with two fingers until the tickling sensation passed, only to return even stronger. She could practically taste the musty dust on the winter coats among which she had stood crammed for the past few minutes, but she managed to fight off the urge to gag and cough by covering her mouth with her hand.

The steps were coming up the stairs now, slow and careful, and Tika knew it was only a matter of time before they reached the landing and entered the bedroom. She pressed herself deeper into the back wall and focused on staying still.

The doors of the adjacent room were opening and closing.

"Are you in here? Or maybe... here?"

The sounds of the search went on for some moments, and then quiet fell. Trying to lure me out, Tika thought cunningly and risked a peek out of the crack between the wardrobe doors. She saw something move and quickly withdrew again, but it was too late: the doors slammed open, she shrieked, and the next moment she and Caramon were clutching at each other and laughing hysterically. The game of hide-and-seek was their own little tradition. Silly, some people might have said. But Tika no longer cared what others thought. The main thing was that they were having fun together. She loved the sound of her husband's laugh. There had been a time when she'd thought she would never hear it again.

"I knew you'd be in there," Caramon said, playfully tweaking Tika's nose.

"Oh yeah?" Tika returned with a smile. "Then why not check the wardrobe right away?"

"Decoy. I was lulling you into a sense of false security."

"I knew that," Tika shrugged with a haughty sniff.

"So? I knew that you knew."

"And I knew that you knew that I knew."

"Woman, you're impossible," Caramon said, pulling Tika closer and kissing her hair. "Come on. I'm starving."

"But we just ate," Tika protested, laughing.

"That was two hours ago," Caramon replied and began tugging her by the hand towards the stairs.

Joking and laughing they descended into their little kitchen, where Caramon sat down at the table and grabbed a loaf of bread from the wicker basket. Leaning her hips against the stove, Tika bit into an apple and studied her husband's face as he spread butter on his bread with a lavish hand. It was obvious that something was brewing. Caramon had been acting strange for two days now. He was either over-the-top cheerful, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her up in the air with a big grin on his face, or exceptionally pensive, staring into spaces with a mixture of excitement and puzzlement in his eyes. It bothered Tika to know there was something Caramon wasn't telling her. She couldn't help it. She was still raw from the misery their life had been after the war and constantly looking for signs that Caramon had gone back to the bottle, that he was slipping back into the darkness where he'd been for the first two years of their marriage. Then he'd gone away, and Tika had spent the third year on her own, working around the clock at the inn, each night having to endure obnoxious whistles and lewd suggestions from the customers, not knowing whether Caramon would ever return. He did, and the last two years had been good. No matter what, Tika had never stopped loving him and counted herself lucky to be his wife. Basically everyone agreed that Caramon Majere was the most handsome man in the village and could have got any woman he wanted - to think that he had chosen her, an ordinary girl six years younger and not all that skinny, with red untameable hair and an army of freckles she had always hated. But it was not just Caramon's looks that Tika loved. He was the most kind and caring man she had ever known, and the way he had pulled himself together after the rough patch only increased the admiration Tika had for him. Finishing her apple, she continued to look at Caramon and thought to herself how everything was finally right with the world. The arrival of the baby would seal their happiness. Now that Tika was almost four months into it, she allowed herself to be cautiously hopeful that this time the little one would make it to term. Caramon had sobbed tears of joy, openly and shamelessly, when she'd told him, and vowed to her that he would never leave their side.

Caramon looked up and gave Tika a grin when he saw her watching. "Sorry, love. I was miles away."

Tika thought he would add something, but he got up and took her into his arms.

"Is he kicking already?" Caramon said, placing a hand on Tika's stomach, softly caressing.

"It's too early."

"I want to tell everybody."

"Not yet," Tika said resolutely, resting her head on Caramon's shoulder. "I'm not even showing. I want to make sure everything's fine in there before we say anything to anyone."

"Sure," Caramon said cheerfully and held her tightly. "Whatever you want."

They embraced each other in silence for some moments, and all the while Tika had the feeling that there was something Caramon wanted to tell her. But eventually he let go of her and went about his business for the rest of the day like everything was normal, and by the end of the day Tika was beginning to think that maybe she had been wrong and there was nothing specific going on - maybe Caramon was just excited about the baby, and the realisation that he would become a father was only now fully sinking in. That must be it, I'll stop worrying, Tika decided, smiling to herself as she watched pleasure wash over Caramon's face at the end of their nightly lovemaking.

"Oh sweet blessed Paladine," Caramon grunted as she slid off from on top of him.

"That wasn't very religious, though, was it?" Tika giggled and threw herself onto her back next to her husband. For a while they lay still without speaking, and thinking that Caramon was drifting off to sleep Tika rolled over onto her side, nestling into the bed covers. She could hear Caramon breathing in the dark and closed her eyes with a satisfied smile on her lips, telling herself once again that she should stop worrying so much and think more on the bright side.

"Tika," Caramon suddenly said in a serious, hushed voice.

The worry returned, heavier than before. Tika kept her eyes shut and, without turning to face him, said warily, "Yes?"

Caramon didn't say anything for a long moment. Tika could sense him looking for the right words and a place to start. When she could no longer take it, she opened her eyes and said sharply, "What is it, Caramon?"

The silence dragged on for what seemed ages before Caramon finally spoke. "Raistlin's come back," he simply said.

Tika felt her stomach turn into a knot at the sound of that name. Feeling a coldness creep into her insides, she stared out into the dark room that seemed to have grown a whole lot darker all of a sudden. Not this. Anything but this. Somewhere in the distance she could hear Caramon's pleading voice begging her to say something. But she couldn't speak. She just lay there on the bed, biting her lip as if trying to keep herself from screaming as Caramon's words poured into her mind like a nightmare come alive.

"I know it's unexpected," Caramon said. "I don't even know how it's possible, but I got a note from him a couple of days ago, saying that he was in Palanthas and that he would..."

"You said he was gone."

There was a baffled silence.

"I didn't mean..."

"You said he was gone," Tika repeated through gritted teeth. Tears of anger were starting to form in her eyes, and under the covers her hands were clenching into tight fists.

She had thought Caramon was happy because of the baby.

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and drew a breath to calm herself while Caramon continued to talk.

"I know that's what I said. That's what I thought. Tika, honey, I'm just as surprised as you are."

Caramon's voice was full of emotion badly disguised as concern about her reaction, and hearing it increased Tika's anger. "Surprised? Is that what you think I am? Oh, what a wonderful surprise indeed!" She spat the words out with as much contempt as she could muster, and then, when Caramon didn't respond, said in a more neutral tone, "So what did he want?"

"He, uh, he said he wanted to see me."

Tika huffed. "I take it you want to see him, too."

"Yes. Yes I do," Caramon said and sounded so firm and unapologetic all of a sudden that Tika felt somewhat ashamed of her attitude.

Why - that was the first question in her mind, but Tika had learned long ago that when it came to Caramon and his twin, why was the wrong question. So she only asked quietly, "When?"

"In about three weeks."

"Fine," Tika said stiffly, a little relieved to know that three weeks was enough time to talk Caramon out of it. "If that's what you want, then who am I to stop you? Just don't expect me to tag along to Palanthas."

"I'm not going to Palanthas. Raistlin is coming here."

The words were a blow Tika hadn't expected. The cold sensation had started to creep up her body again, rising higher and higher until she felt she could no longer breathe. "No," she gasped. "Don't say that."

"Tika," Caramon said gently but steadily. "He is my brother. My twin. He always will be."

"I don't care if he's the emperor of the universe. I do not want him in the house. Don't you understand? I don't want you anywhere near him. Not now. Not when everything's finally working out. Not ever."

Her voice had risen to a shrill pitch. She could hear Caramon getting up on his elbow, and then she felt his hand on her side.

"Don't get yourself all worked up, honey. The baby..."

Angrily Tika shook herself free. "You started this. You could have torn up the note and forgotten about it. But no, you had to go behind my back and make secret plans, 'cause when your brother says jump, you say how high. That'll never change."

"What secret plans? He just wants to see me, is all. There's nothing more to it than that, despite what you might think."

"I don't want him here," Tika repeated stubbornly.

Caramon was silent, and when he spoke again his tone was uncharacteristically bitter and virulent. "You always wanted him gone. You all did. Do you know how that felt?"

Tika was completely taken aback. She did not know what to say.

"I didn't think so," Caramon concluded, his voice carrying a hint of disdain that hurt Tika to the core. But she was damned if she was going to apologise for her words. She did not want Raistlin around, and that was final. So she decided to give Caramon the silent treatment until he would agree to call off the meeting.

Caramon, for his part, was still talking. The disdain, thank the gods, had vanished from his voice now, but his tone continued to be very serious.

"Two years ago," he said, "I told Raistlin that if he came home with me, I'd learn to live with what he'd... what he was."

Tika listened, intrigued despite herself. She had never asked what had transpired between the brothers during that year, or where they had been, and Caramon had never explained. She had figured she did not even want to know. But it sounded pretty obvious from the way Caramon put it that there must really be something terrible involved, perhaps even more terrible, if possible, than the incident in Raistlin's Test of High Sorcery all those years ago, and although the fact did not surprise Tika, she nevertheless felt herself go rigid with discomfort and could not help bursting into tears when Caramon spoke the dreaded words,

"That offer still stands."

She knew what he meant without asking, and it was too awful to even think about it.

"This is our home," she said through tears. "You, me, and the baby."

"I know," Caramon said soothingly, deliberately misreading her words. "I'm not going anywhere."

"No. But I am." Tika got up and sat on the edge of the bed, anger and fear lending steel to her resolve. "In the meantime, you two can drink tea together and enjoy long walks in the woods. You can even sleep in the same bed for all I care, 'cause I sure as hell won't be here when he comes."

With these words, she marched over to the door and slammed it shut behind her, leaving Caramon to call out for her in vain.

The next morning Caramon left the house early. Tika pretended to be fast asleep when she heard him quietly peek into the guest bedroom. A few minutes later the door downstairs closed, and that was her cue to get out of the bed and start the day. Her head ached from crying. She hadn't slept a wink. Peevishly, she prepared herself a cup of apple juice and sat drinking it in the empty house. She figured she'd go and see if Dezra was home: a misery shared was a misery halved. But after a while Tika laid the cup on the table, stood up and headed for the door on the other side of the stairs. She had not opened it for years and she did not know why she wanted to do that now; she only knew that she had to go into that room.

She hesitated a little, then pushed the door open and was surprised by how bright and airy the space was. In her mind it was a cold and dark place filled with painful memories, and when she remembered the energy Caramon had put into the building of that room, her eyes teared up again. Caramon had waited, day after day, but Raistlin never came, and she had had to watch what it did to Caramon, witness the whole horror of her husband breaking down piece by piece until at last the final blow was dealt by the letter that came back unopened with the words I have no brother standing on the flip side of the envelope. Clutching the envelope, Caramon had collapsed onto the floor as if every bone in his body had suddenly dissolved, and he had spent the rest of the day lying on the bed, staring at the wall and not speaking a word. From there on everything went from bad to worse. Caramon started drinking every night, then early in the morning as well. They had awful rows. She didn't see him at home for days, and even went as far as to blame herself. She had wanted Raistlin gone from their lives - maybe one of the gods had heard her wish. Or maybe the thing that finally broke Caramon was not the letter at all, but her thoughtless reaction to it. The following morning, when Caramon was halfway through the bottle already, she had told him, like a fool, that they would find other use for the room in the future. Caramon had only stared at her from the end of the table, his face darkening with rage: that was the only time Tika had ever been afraid of her husband, and after Caramon had left the kitchen, kicking the chair out of his way so hard that it crashed against the wall, she had remained standing where she was crying and shaking for a long time. He hadn't understood what she was trying to tell him. A few days later she lost the baby and never breathed a word about it to Caramon.

With a sigh Tika blinked herself back to the present moment. Holding a protective hand over her belly, she crossed the floor to the window and ran her finger through the fine layer of dust on the sill. She glanced out of the window and was surprised to see the yard from an angle she'd never seen it before. She should go back. It felt wrong to be here, as if she was violating an unspoken rule. Did Caramon sometimes visit the room when she wasn't home? She suddenly felt certain that he did, and the thought made her sad and angry at the same time. Again she thought she should leave, but not before doing what she had come here to do.

Slowly Tika turned from the window and threw her gaze to the far wall. There he was. As mean and nasty as ever. Shuddering a little, Tika walked on towards the fireplace and paused to look at the huge portrait which hung above it.

With a cold smirk on his face, Raistlin stared back at her from the wall, dressed in red robes, his hair tossed about his shoulders, a luminous globe of fire floating above his upturned palm. It was by all accounts a very lifelike portrait: the artist who had painted it during their stay in the Pig and Whistle inn had paid great attention to detail. He had made one of Goldmoon as well, although Goldmoon and Riverwind, being members of the Que-Shu tribe, had had a hard time appreciating the fine art of portraiture. After the war Caramon had contacted William, who had been more than happy to donate Raistlin's portrait to the one he considered its rightful owner. So here it was now, hanging in pride of place in what was supposed to have been Raistlin's room, and the longer Tika kept looking at the painting the more she began to feel like the scared little girl she had been six years ago when the war had started. If the mere picture did that, how could she ever face the real thing? The thought made her sick to her stomach. She had no words for how much she hated that man. She'd never had anything from him other than cruelty. Somehow he'd managed to bring out her insecurities by just looking at her. He only had two mood sets: pissed off and slightly less pissed off. Talking to him was like talking to a wall: no emotion, no warmth. But nonetheless she would always lose to him. Because of him she would always have second place in her husband's book of love. Now where was the sense in that?

Sighing again, Tika closed her eyes and rubbed her aching forehead. She just couldn't believe that it was happening again. Two years had gone by without Raistlin's presence hovering between her and Caramon like a malevolent ghost. Caramon didn't like her to make a fuss of his birthday, and sometimes a certain expression of his in a certain light reminded Tika strongly of his brother, but that was it. Other than that she could have blissfully forgotten that her husband's twin had ever even existed.

Two years ago Caramon had come home and said that Raistlin was gone. Not dead, just gone.

She should have known that was not the end of it.

Caramon had never tried to convince her that Raistlin had changed. And now he said that he had promised to learn to live with what he'd done.

So what had he done? What exactly had happened after she had sent Caramon on the road to Wayreth and told him to not come back before he was at peace with himself?

Only one thing was sure.

Tika raised her head and gazed at the portrait again, this time with a fire of determination in her eyes.

"You're not going to break his heart all over again," she said calmly to the painting. "I won't allow it."
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Evermore: The Gathering