Insomnia was not unfamiliar to Duke L'Orange.

It was something that came with the territory of being a thief, a con artist, and occasionally more than that. If the senses were not sharp, ready for action then, well, you didn't stay in the profession long. Insomnia was an unfortunate side effect of years of caution. He had learned to just embrace it when it came.

Wandering the dark halls of the Pond though, Duke's thoughts were racing, far more than they usually were. He was used to it on occasion; one did not live through a life full on the wrong side of the law and then an alien invasion without having an impact. Whereas normally he could dismiss it, they would not ease tonight.

His wanderings eventually led him back up and down the sleeping quarter halls. He paused, ever so often, to tilt his keen ear. He would hear the light breathing from Mallory, the deep snores from Tanya, the rustling of Wildwing, the steady and predictable grunts of Grin and Nosedive spoke almost as much in his sleep as he did when he was awake.

Maybe that was why he was bothered tonight?

Wildwing, Mallory and Tanya had taken the Migrator up North a bit. Something about investigating odd readings. With Draganus at the bottom of the sea, well, that was certainly disturbing. Duke had his doubts of the damned dragon being dead and Wildwing agreed with him. Given that Mallory knew the weapons and Tanya knew the tech and Wildwing had the mask, it made sense for them to go. Nosedive had wanted to tag along but for once, Wildwing put his foot down.

Made sense. Kid had twisted the utter puck out of his ankle the other day and he could barely limp as it was. Phil made such a big deal about it "but you're in the middle of the season!—oh, you could be a spokesperson for some ACE bandages!" and Wildwing was right that in case these readings meant something, they needed to be able to move quick and right now, Dive was benched.

Duke had not liked the look in the boy's eyes. The unspoken fear. Fear that might well have been justified. Mallory, despite normally being all stern and not about to bend or show much of her soft side, had stated that 'If anything is going to get to Wildwing, it'll be going through me first. I don't think I need to tell you how unlikely THAT is."

Nosedive had told her 'thanks' without much fanfare.

Duke knew as well as the others that the anniversary of Wildwing and Nosedive's parents' Flocth Jubilee—as well as Phil's less than sensitive reaction to it, though he had not done so purposely (and had even apologized without threats) had put unpleasant memories to the forefront of the mind. It was a rough situation but there was little to do about it but power through it.

Maybe that made the absence of the three team members felt all the more.

Duke trusted that Mallory had meant what she said. She was full of fire and if there was anything this past year on earth had taught him, it was that her petite size was not to be underestimated. She was like a single crack on a frozen lake—capable of toppling entire icebergs.

Yet, not being there to know for sure was bothering the older drake far more than he found comfortable.

Groaning aloud, he turned on his heel and wandered back down the kitchen. He was not much of an emotional eater—couldn't afford to be in the Guild—but in some cases, some coffee and sugar were good combination. Nosedive always made sure they had ample supplies of both and Tanya practically thrived on the former.

Taking a large cup of it, he started his pacing again.

"A restless body is a symptom of an unquieted mind."

Under normal circumstance, Duke might have struck out, out of reflex, but living with Nosedive who liked to pop out at the most random times had taught him to hone his reactionary responses. The first time he had popped the kid in the eye enough to swell it shut and turn it black. Much as he'd reminded the kid it was his own fault for sneaking up on him, he still felt like black ice for it.

So, Grin's sudden appearance was not enough to unravel him.

"Bit late to be spouting philosophy, ain't it, Grin?" He asked simply, taking a sip of the mug in his hand.

"There is never a perfect time or imperfect time for enlightenment. There is only the moment."

"…right." Duke shook his head. He had nothing against the big duck's philosophy (oddly enough, there had been a brother in the Guild who followed the same beliefs—how that allowed him to steal, only the Mother of Ducks knew) but man, if he didn't talk odd sometimes and he liked to talk to circles. At least, that's how it felt to Duke. "So, if I'm all unquieted, what does that mean 'bout you? You're up too."

Grin nodded simply. "Your aura is clouded. Our young friend's is also clouded. I thought I might offer what I might."

"Well, appreciate the offer but I'm fine."

"Words do not become truth just because they are spoken if they are based in falsehood."

Duke cocked his head at the large mallard. "That your way of callin' me a liar?"

"If the skate fits…"

Duke snorted, lightly. "Not havin' the whole team here makes me on edge."

"You fear for their safety."

It was a statement not a question.

"Ain't got no reason to." Duke rationalized, leaning against the wall. Grin took a seat next to him on the floor, in a lotus position. It was pretty clear the duck was not going to leave him alone. "They all know what they're doing."

That much was true. They had proven that more than once.

Grin said nothing and that silence ground into the atmosphere like glass.

The quiet made Duke's raging thoughts scream. The thoughts he knew were probably untrue but that he could not help but ponder. The fear that settled in his chest at the thought of them not coming back or coming back hurt or injured or…

He laughed. A low, rumbling sound deep in his throat. "Well, ain't that rich?"

Grin was quiet a moment then said, "An epiphany has been unveiled to you?"

"Not much of one, Grin. Just wonderin' when I suddenly turned all soft."

"Compassion does not equate weakness. It counters it."

Duke considered that. He was not really one for being all emotional, or at least, he didn't used to be. It wasn't something that you could afford in the Brotherhood of the Blade. Granted, you had some ducks you got along with better than others and you had ones that you knew could do a certain job but that was different. That wasn't trust.

You really couldn't afford to trust anyone. Even if you were working together on a job. There was always this sense of being betrayed and being prepared to make sure YOU got away with your feathers intact. Might lose your partner in the process but that was the risk of the game. That was something you did.

But…he found he could not do that with his teammates. He simply couldn't. He'd learned that the hard way when Falcone stuck his damn beak around. Duke had thought it would be a simple thing—the lure of the old way of life was strong.

But it had lost its flavor. And when he had found out that Falcone had trapped Tanya and Nosedive to suffocate because of it, he had never stopped hurting over that. Never admitted it, of course, but the pain was still there. The…what if.

When had this happened? When had he become so worried about the others? When had their well being made its way to the front of his list of priorities? When did seeing them hurt become more important than when he hurt?

"Life has many paths, we rarely finish it on the same as when we began."

Duke eyed the big duck again. He still hadn't opened his eyes.

"Guess life has taken us all on a weird side trip." He set his coffee mug down on the nearby windowsill and folded his arms. "Oh, the Brotherhood would be laughin' at me now, I'll tell ya that."

"Does that trouble you?"

Another pause of thought. It SHOULD have bothered him. After all, he'd been in the Brotherhood since before he passed through his Mol'Floca, before he had obtained his adult quack and his drake feathers. He'd endured so much, crawled his way from the very bottom to be one of if not the best jewel thief they had. That was something obtained through blood, sweat and loss.

Now though, he found the prospect of losing all of these ducks for that old life…it no longer was a lure. It now felt like a fear.

"No. And I'm bugged by the fact that it don't bug me."

"You have changed, my friend. As have we all. The only consistent is always change."

"Well, ain't that a pretty thought." Duke stretched a bit and took a step past Grin. "Maybe you're right, Grin. I have changed. But I don't think as much as you think."

"You are indulging falsehoods out of insecurity."

"Insecurity? What do I got to be insecure about?"

Grin opened one eye. "You are not used to feeling this. This connection. It is alien. That is unnerving." Again, a statement, not a question.

Duke frowned. The prospect of being afraid of something was troubling. After all, being afraid was not conductive to survival in the Guild.

But…he wasn't in the Guild anymore.

Survival here was BECAUSE of his team and yes, yes, he did care about them. He cared what happened to them. He cared that they hurt and had fears and had pains and…

"It's definitely weird, I'll give ya that." Duke paused, tapped his fingers on his saber hilt. "Sometimes I'm used to it, sometimes I ain't." Sighing, heavily, he said, "Grin, you're makin' me think about things I was tryin' to ignore, you know."

"Ignoring the thin ice will only result in cold feet."

Shaking his head, Duke stated, "Look, I know the others'll be fine and when they get back, we'll get back to our usual save-the-world tactic. Don't really see how this is gonna help us with that." He offered a smile in an attempt at peace. "But I'll think on what ya said, how is that?"

"I have merely planted the seed. It is you that must tend it."

"Well, guess we'll find out how much of a gardener I am, huh?" He set a hand on Grin's shoulder as he moved past him. "Maybe I'll surprise us."

"You may surprise yourself."

Duke left him to his meditation or whatever it was he still insisted on doing. He had to admit, the talk—as much one could have a talk when Grin was in introspective mode—had made him think. He wasn't ashamed of his feelings for the others. Not like he might have once been. It was more…not knowing what to do with it. Granted, he could give hugs and stuff but…well, emotional stuff was never his forte. He was glad he never really had to deal with it.

He was glad for about two more minutes.

It was a sharp yell. A loud, shrill one. One that was more squawk than yell really. One that you gave in surprise and shock. One that you gave when a pain too intense to be contained in the body had centered on your heart.

That was Nosedive.

Duke didn't know when he started running. He just knew that he had the boy's door open before he even realized what he was doing. He'd somehow gone from the ground level of the Pond to the living quarters. Where had the stairs even gone?

And the Kid wasn't even awake. Still asleep. But squawking and writhing and digging his hands into the sheets. It was nearly like watching a seizure save for the desperate pleading. He was clawing at the bed like he was reaching out for something…or someone. Sweaty and what was probably the remains of tears on his face. All the while, chanting over and over in his sleep:

"Mal'sa, Hen'sa, Mal'sa, Hen'sa!"

Duke just stood there, ice still. This was not his thing. They'd all heard the kid have nightmares before. They always ended the same way—his brother would come running and before long, the shouts would stop and Nosedive would be sensitive about it the next day. But he was not Wildwing and he didn't have the option to call him.

"Hen'a! Hen'a!"

Duke turned his eyes from empty doorframe back to the boy before him, pleading for his mother and his father.

It hurt. The sight, the sound. It cut like frostbite. Duke felt an odd surge for the ability to kill dreams and kill whatever was causing this kind of reaction. Nosedive had been through enough and he was just a kid. He didn't deserve to be haunted in his dreams too and after the fiasco with Phil and his parents' memory and…

"Stars, help me here."

But he took steady steps into the room, reached out and shook the boy's shoulder.

OOO
Ducainian Words:

Mol'Floca: a process through which a duck physically matures from a duckling to a mallard or hen

Mal'sa: Father

Hen'sa: Mother

Hen'a: Mama or Mommy