Hold My Hand -The 100-

"Flyin' ain't my thing," Downbeat said, frowning.  Silvere gave him a sharp look, the expression shifting to genuinely curious when he saw that the Dancer wasn't kidding.

"After all this time," the Daykin officer murmured, the wind whipping his words away from his lips almost before he spoke them, "have I just found something which you are afraid of?"

"I never said I was afraid," Downbeat objected, looking over to see that Silvere wasn't the only one giving him a curious look.  Cally, the little human Unknown whom Silvere had met the day before was on the Daykin's other side, leaning slightly forward to clasp puzzled gray eyes onto his silver face.  The Dancer's mood instantly soured but he made sure it didn't show on his face.

"It's okay," Cally said, her tone somehow sympathetic without being patronizing or condescending.  "Talkback had to throw me off a ledge before I'd fly."

"You've got wings," Downbeat pointed out.  "I ain't so equipped.  You two have fun, I'll take the stairs."

Just as he turned to head back inside, Silvere did the second thing in so many weeks which caught the Dancer entirely off guard.  He dipped and swept his friend off his feet, wrapping his lanky arms firmly around Downbeat's chest and lept from the rooftop, spreading his tawny wings wide to catch the warm updraft.

Downbeat did the only thing which seemed like a good idea at the moment: he threw up all over both of them, his systems violently objecting the abrupt change in how far away the ground was.

This action prompted a disgusted squawk from Silvere and for one terrifying breath, Downbeat honestly believed the Daykin was about to drop him.  Instead, with a quick flick of his wings, they were back on the rooftop, Cally stumbling to a landing nearby.  Downbeat dropped to his hands and knees, very glad to be on firm ground once again and gasped in desperate breaths, willing his tanks to behave.

Well, Maestro said in his audio, that was amusing, albeit unexpected.  I never knew you could be airsick.  To be honest, I never knew one of your kind could be sick, period.

"Are you okay?" Cally demanded.  Downbeat shot her an unappreciative look.  Her expression flicked to sheepish.  "Uh.  I mean, well, obviously you're not but are you okay?"

"I told'ya," Downbeat rasped through a sore throat, "I don't do flyin'.  As for you," he added under his breath, "shush, or I sign off."

I am concerned, Maestro told him.  Truly.  I'd like to echo the girl's question: are you all right?

"I don't know," he told both Cally and Maestro at the same time.  "Gimme a meas--"

The stricken look on Silvere's face thumped Downbeat back into reality from the misery he had been indulging in.  The Daykin looked properly contrite, silently gazing down at his friend and making no effort to clean himself of the multi-colored oily substance which had come from his companion so suddenly.  Downbeat took a deep breath and straightened, settling into a tailor's sit, back straight, hands on his knees.  Though he still felt a bit nauseated, his head had stopped spinning and all of his regulators had returned to normal.  He met Silvere's blue eyes and nodded, a move which prompted the Daykin to relax.

"I didn't realize," Silvere said quietly.  "I thought you were-- well, it doesn't matter.  I'm sorry."

"Eh," Downbeat said, lifting a hand to rub at the back of his helm.  "Ain't entirely your fault.  I shoulda been more elaborate."  He tried on a grin, finding it wasn't entirely out of place.  "My own mockin' nature backfires on me-- ain't the first time."

"In all seriousness," Silvere stated, going down on one knee beside his friend, "I'd like to reiterate Cally's concern.  I've never seen you do anything similar to that before."

"I haven't done it in a long, long time."  Downbeat leaned back on his hands, ignoring, like Silvere was, the mess on his clothes.  "I'm pretty sure I'm okay.  If not, I've got someone who can help."

If you're talking about me, Maestro said, what do you expect me to do?

"That's good," Silvere said, obviously relieved.  "For now, I believe we both need to change."

Downbeat glanced at Cally, shifting his head ever so slightly so Silvere could see what he was doing.  The Daykin followed the motion, then nodded, realizing what the unspoken question had been.  "She has no ties to anyone whom would care," the Daykin said.  "Nor would she, I believe."

"Care about what?"  The girl asked, startled and looking slightly irritated by the exchange.

Wordlessly, Downbeat drew his shirt over his head, revealing his proper body to be obviously that of a Dancer.  Cally's expression shifted to confused for a moment before her gray eyes went wide.  Downbeat grinned at her, tilting his head in a kind of wink.  "Mum's the word, yah?"

"Y-yeah," Cally stated, sitting back on her knees.  "I ... I've never seen a ... " she looked around quickly, as if expecting someone to pop out of a nearby doorway.  Seeing her gaze lingering on the windows of the buildings taller than the one they were currently on, Downbeat realized she was right for her caution.

"We should get inside," he said, climbing carefully to his feet.  Still a touch light-headed, he held out a hand for balance and was surprised when Silvere took it in his own.  The two friends gazed at each other quietly before heading inside, Cally watching the exchange without comment.

Safely indoors, Downbeat gazed at the ruined clothing and sighed.  "Cally, would you be a dear and find us some new duds?"

"Sure," the Unknown said, her voice on the side of uncertain.  "Where?"

She'll find what you need two floors down, room 507, Maestro whispered.  You're welcome.  You're also coming here, as soon as you can walk on your own.  Don't think I missed what just happened.

"Two floors down," Downbeat told her, "room 507.  Should be open.  Don't worry 'bout payin' or nothin', it's been handled."