Birdie

"I cannot do this," I whisper frantically, pacing back and forth in front of my Uncle's workshop door. My footfalls are light but panicky nonetheless.

"Yes, you can," Pierre murmurs back reassuringly. I cast my eyes his way, his meeting mine. I had told him of my intentions yesterday, all my plans. I had told him of my training, and my intentions of getting stronger and faster and more independent. He hadn't particularly liked the idea but admired my dedication. I had also told him of my plan to meet with the king so that he might endorse the mechimals, so that Uncle would be busy and happy. Finally, I had confessed to him of my newest plan, sparked by our discovery of the meadow with the false sunlight.

"What if he snaps like he did the other day? What if it doesn't help him?"

"All plans put into motion are just theories; they may help or they may not. But you will be better for trying in the first place. If it doesn't help Edwin, I will be there for your protection. I will subdue him if I need to," the silver haired faery replies. "Skye, I think this will benefit your Uncle. And if it does not, you cannot be blamed for trying to fix the rift in his heart."

I nod and exhale a long, winded breath, my body shivering in anxiousness. I place my hand firmly on the door handle and twist it. I push the door open, letting the rays of sunlight crawl from the room like wiggling fingers. Uncle Edwin sits at one of his workbenches with his tools in hand and a mass of metal before him. He's whistling the haunted melody from which I had heard him play in my dream.

He doesn't look up nor does he give any sign that he knows I have even opened the door. His fingers move patiently and meticulously over the metal as he drops a gear into place and fastens it to its new home with a screwdrivers. With caring eyes, he gazes over his product once more, tightening anything else that may not be quite perfect. Yet again I can't help but to compare him to the long forgotten god of flame and metalcraft, Hephaestus.

"Uncle?" My voice is but a timid whisper. I am not surprised when he still doesn't hear me. "Uncle?" I am louder this time, but timid still.

Uncle Edwin raises his head slowly, locks of his curly hair falling out of place and into his eyes. He brushes them away and looks me over with a conflicted look within his eyes. All in that moment, he seems thoughtful and remorseful, but also excited and angry. I have no idea what to say. I stay close to the door, just waiting for something to happen.

My Uncle seems to have his inner demons battling one another within him. His past and his mistakes battling his happiness and sanity, teams of ghoulish creatures tearing at each other with sharp talons and razor teeth. One lifetime seems to pass in just one moment as his sanity and happiness and sanity win their epic battle. A slow grin spreads across his lips before he finally addresses my existence. "Skye," he starts, "I want to apologize-"

"Please, don't," I reassure him with a shake of my head. "I know it wasn't you, you would never mean to hurt me. It was my fault."

"It was not your fault," he says sternly, setting his eyes level with mine. His face is still, full of repent and belief that what he did was wrong. He seems to strong and influential, as if he were my father. In fact, I could see a bit of my mother in him- the same dark hair and tan skin, a look of both encouragement and pride in his face. That's what the Silversmythe did, that's what they stood for. They were the type of people to find everything good in a person and bring it to the surface.

"It was. I should not have brought something like that out into your view. You have avoided telling me about her, and I should have either asked you about or waited for you to tell me. I shouldn't have worn her hairpiece, and I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to imitate or replace her."

"I know of her? Elena?"

"Yes," I say under my breath. The word is carried to my Uncle as if it had been swept up with the wind. "Listen, I want to take you somewhere. But you must promise not to get mad. If it makes you uncomfortable, I will bring you right back here. Promise me that you will try to stay open-minded and happy?"

"I promise, Skye. I would never hurt you. I love you."

A bittersweet smile forms on my lips and I step farther into the workshop. He stands as I near and I extend my hand for him to take. He takes mine in his, wrapping callused fingers around smooth skin. "I love you too."

I then lead him from the workshop and into the foyer, which is now completely absent of Pierre. He must have gone ahead to the forest, lying in wait for us. We had both agreed that Uncle Edwin and I should be alone, but he still wanted to be there so that if I needed him, he would be there to rescue me. I had agreed.

Uncle Edwin and I exit the house, ignoring the need for warmer clothes or wraps or jackets, even ignoring the need for shows. The grass is wet and slick under our bare feet but neither of us complain. We dodge through the trees as we break into the forest. I feel his hand tense up and then squeeze mine as he fully starts to understand and realize what is happening. Still, he stays close as I lead him toward the False Sunlight, and eventually into the meadow.

The meadow rolls out before him, a sanctuary of tainted memories, and still he stays silent. I watch as he drinks in every aspect of the paper flowers, of the crystal stream, and then as his eyes linger wistfully at the piano. There must be a thousand things in his mind at this moment but even in a place that must have meant so much, he remains calm. A tear leaks down to his cheek but nevertheless, he is still calm.

"Are you all right?"

Again, no words are spoken but he waves his hand in dismissal. He wanders through the flowers with thought weighing heavily on him. He walks right up the bluff and to the piano. I gaze upon him at a distance as he slowly presses a finger to the highest key and then runs his finger across each ivory rectangle until he hits the lowest note, a jumbled cascading sound ringing through the meadow. I feel myself slowly taking a bit of pride in bringing him here.

"Come," he says in a whisper. Somehow the sound seems to have echoed in a beautiful manner, so beautiful in fact that I don't even realize I had obeyed his command until I'm nearly to the piano. He takes a seat at the bench and I do so as well. He places one hand on the piano, fingers hovering in position before he drops them down and a beautiful note rings out in the open air. He breathes in deep and hits another note.

Unexpectedly, and yet I had expected it from Uncle Edwin, he begins to play. Fingers that once seemed so rough and callused look beautiful and nimble against the ivory skin of the instrument. His fingertips press ever so gently on the keys, and quickly too, for his melody is full of beautiful notes. It takes me a moment before I realize that it is an elaborate, more uplifting rendition of Elena's Song. I sigh in happiness and watch his fingers move from key to key, striking chords that make me shiver, chords that sound more beautiful than anything I have ever heard before.

When the last note dies out, I finally take notice of the small droplets of water on the keys in front of Uncle Edwin- he'd been crying. It is my fault. I knew I shouldn't have brought him here.

"I'm so sorry, Uncle, let's take you back. I thought this would help you, but I was wrong," I whisper soothingly, a supportive hand on his back.

"No," comes the reply, still and monotone. A moment later he draws in a deep breath in attempt to calm himself. I lean forward to look at his face. His vibrant green eyes are glass-like and seem so real, so here, since the first time that I have met him. There may have been times when he had seemed sane but until now there hasn't been a single time where he had looked as if he were living in the here and now, facing his own problems without the insanity hiding them from him. "This is what I needed."

"Uncle, you're crying. This obviously wasn't a good choice," I murmur softly, my hand rubbing his back in small circles. He shakes his head.

"No," he repeats. "I'm not crying because this is too painful. It is painful, yes, but in the best of ways, I assure you that much. I know I haven't spoke of her, but I loved Elena. More than anything on this cursed planet. More than life itself."

"It's obvious that you did," I assure him with a sad smile. He taps one of the keys, a shrill sound piercing through the veil of peace that the meadow has formed against the outside world. The peace is disrupted for only a second before it forms back into place. The sky is clear and void of anything but sunshine.

"I am not crying for any memories that were made here," he chuckles, turning on the stool so that he may face me. His eyes are still glossy and focused, but it is so sorrowful that it makes me want to cry as well. I resist, offering him a kind hand resting on his own. I squeeze it tightly. "No, there is nothing here that I wish to ever forget. Elena and I came here often, sometimes Odette would join us, if her illness wasn't making her feel as weak. One day she stopped coming, but I made sure that Elena and I never had a sad thought here."

"I know," I blush. He looks up at my curiously. "I saw it in a dream. Strange, I know, but I did. And I could see that way you loved her. The way you loved Odette as well. They both loved you immensely."

"And I them," he sniffles, wiping away the tears he shed with the back of his hands. "But I am crying for the broken promises. I made so many promises, and not one of them have been kept. I promised her that I wouldn't let her die. I promised that I would stay sane if she passed. I promised I'd do everything I could to keep Elena safe and to make her feel loved for as long as she lived. I failed. I broke them all."

"You can't fight death, that wasn't your fault."

"Even so, I broke the others. I couldn't do it. My first love, the only person in this world to treat me as if I weren't an utter idiot, and loved me for it was gone and my sanity went with her. I knew I was growing distant from Elena, I knew I was getting more drawn into my work, and to other things. I knew of my outbursts and dismissive attitude for her- but any rational part of myself that could stop it all had been locked up within my mind. I was going mad, Skye, mad and there was no returning. It was not safe for Elena."

"Uncle, you couldn't help it."

"I know, but she wasn't safe with me. She wouldn't be treated right. And what if I had gone off on her as I did you the other day? What would become of her? Would she resent me? I did the only thing I could possibly do to ensure that she would be safe and loved."

I squeeze his hand again, my thumb caressing his palm. "What would that have been?"

"The moment," he coughs and looks away for a moment, his struggle to fight the tears apparent and unsuccessful. He sighs and turns back to me, letting them slip down his face anyway. "The moment I felt any shred of sanity, I went to Tinsley and I begged her to write to the orphanage. She was reluctant and she fought with herself for weeks, but finally she did it for me, seeing as I could never focus on it in my condition. I would have gone back on my own word." He sobs and squeezes his eyes shut. His misery seems to affect the happy meadow. The paper flowers suddenly seem to drop and the stream looks murky. "She wrote to them and told them that I was mentally unfit to raise a child. They came two days later and took her from me."

My hand flies up to cover my gasp, my eyes already lined with tears. I hug him then, fierce and tight, having no intention of letting go."Uncle, I can't possibly imagine the pain... I'm so sorry."

"I chased after her, when they took her," he whispers as he lays his head on my shoulder. "I thought maybe if I just explained it, they'd let me keep her. I felt that I could change for her, but even now I know that I was lying to myself. I did the right thing, but it hurts."

I pull away with only a sympathetic look to offer him as comfort. He merely shrugs it away, looking me over with a mournful smile. "When they contacted me and told me that I was your only living relative, they came to evaluate me. I tried harder to pass their tests than anything I have tried for before. They kept making me nervous with all the things they wrote down on their papers, but I kept trying. I never tried so hard for anything. You have no idea how relieved I was when they said that I passed and that you would be living with me."

I laugh lightly, a playful, yet still sympathetic smile still on my face. "Why did you try so hard to get custody of me?"

"Because though your mother never let me see you, I knew that you were like her. Not the bad parts of her, I knew that would be balanced out by your father- a good man, he was. But now that you've been here, I can see that I was right. You're a little wisp of a thing, yet dedicated and powerful to your core. You're the best of the Silversmythe line, but with the proud name of 'Deerly' to set you apart."

I hug him again, harder this time, if that is at all possible. "That is so sweet of you."

We pull away for the second time, our eyes locked together- Silversmythe green against Deerly blue. His are no longer brimming with tears. They have somewhat dried and are warm with compassion and care. "You remind me a lot of Elena. You're only a few years younger, after all," he kisses the top of my forehead before continuing, "I know I haven't known you long, but I would have been proud to be your father."

I wipe away the tears that had started to form at the edge of my eyes, beaming pridefully at my Uncle. Any fear or resentment I had ever had for the man is gone; the confrontation from the other evening already forgiven and forgotten. "I would have been proud to be your daughter."

We hug a third time before standing. He then locks his arm in mine, and we head back to the manor together, two minds finally on the same frequency. We seem to have bonded even closer in one afternoon than the entire time I've been here. And it only took one afternoon to show me how similar we are. He's had to make some very difficult and life-altering dicisions in his life, decisions that tok his daughter away from him, never to be seen again. But he's strong enough to go on, to love her unconditionally. It is in that way that we are similar- we are both fighters. We will fight for what we believe will protect ourselves or the people around us. Whether I am a Deerly by name and blood, I am Silversmythe at heart.