Codependency

Cherry didn't consider herself much of a romantic. The concept of romance passed her by for most of her young life, no girlhood crushes or longing glances as she grew older. She was happy in her own circles, moving from the fringes of groups easily, not letting any attachments pin her down for long. Her health was failing, each year she lived seemed to add a tonne of weight to her shoulders and she couldn't see herself improving, or choosing to burden someone with her illness. Sometimes though, some would come around and take that burden without her even asking, leaving her stunned and flailing in her wake. Quil visited her coastal home frequently, regaling her with tales of the other isles, of mutant plants and newly emerging species. Her stories were always so vivid and exciting, it made Cherry's head spin just listening to them, like reliving the adventures of her friend was enough to exhaust her. It was no wonder she couldn't hang with packs for long, she thought, she was a burden.

Quil never saw Cherry as a burden, as a weight tying her down from greater things. Her ambitions were modest, she thought, to have a full belly, raise a few sprogs, nothing that being friends with Cherry would interfere with. Even if she had grander ambitions, she wasn't sure if she would drop her friend for something like that. What was life without the connections you made along the way? It was this, her firm belief in their bond that made her pipe up one lazy afternoon.

"Do you want to have a clutch together?" Quil's question was out of the blue and made Cherry's eyes snap wide open from their resting dozing position. She couldn't see Quil's face from where she was tucked behind the larger raptor's body, spooning her in a cuddle, and couldn't read if she was joking. She lay there, perfectly still until Quil spoke again. "Are you asleep? I asked you something," she insisted, moving to roll over and press her snout to her pale friend's.

"I heard you," Cherry said, sharper than she intended, "I just, I didn't know if you were joking or not, I'd like to know before I answer." Quil nodded like this made complete sense to her and looked upwards like she was pondering her phrasing before asking again.

"Would you," she put a paw on Cherry's chest, "Like to raise a clutch of eggs with me? To co-parent our own little brood?"

"Oh, you're serious," Cherry said, wide eyed and breathless, "Me? Of all the Utahraptors on these two islands? Me?" 

"Yes, you," Quil grinned at her, "Who else would I choose?" Cherry pulled out of their tight cuddle pile and lay on her back to stare at the clouds drifting lazily across the sky above. 

"Because, I'm sick," she said quietly, so quiet she wasn't sure if Quil could hear her.

"That's never stopped you before," Quil noted.

"It's stopped me plenty of times," Cherry argued, "I've never left this island, I've never seen what Isla Pera looks like and I probably never will!"

"Instead you mapped the entirety of the above-water parts of the Sunken City before you were even an adult," Quil interjected.

"With your help."Cherry shot back.

"It's almost like we can do a lot as a team, you and I," Quil said, smiling serenely. Cherry pouted, unable to refute that assertion. She went back to staring at the sky. "What are you actually worried about?" Quil probed. Cherry was silent for a long time, like her tongue was rebelling and blocking her speech from coming out. Could she bear to say it out loud? To reveal her deepest fear about this entire scenario to Quil?

"What if I have hatchlings and they turn out like me?" Cherry asked faintly. It was out there now, for Quil to interpret as she would. Cherry felt tears prick at her eyes while she waited, thinking of a nest of sickling hatchlings, struggling children with no end to their pain and fatigue, just like her.

"Then they'll probably be as brave and powerful as you too," Quil said blithely. It caused a spark of anger in Cherry, how causally she was taking the lives of their hatchlings.

"I wouldn't be here without others propping me up," the piebald raptor snapped, making Quil flinch. "If they don't have someone at their beck and call then they'll die, or they should at least." A grim silence came over them both, not awkward like before but heavy and Cherry knew she had said too much. 

"Do you think you shouldn't be alive?" Quil sat up, looking worried. Cherry felt like she had been stabbed, like Quil had shown her a mirror and instead of a reflection she had seen the true ugly face of her own insecurities. "Cherry?" Quil wasn't letting it go, scooting closer and wrapping her friend in a tight hug. 

"Maybe I shouldn't," the pink raptor choked out.

"Never say that," Quil whispered fiercely, "I never thought I'd want to have kids. Then I remembered you, how you smile, how you carry yourself, how you stand up for me when others get aggro. How wonderful our kids would be with you as a mother. Why wouldn't I want more Cherrys in the world? I love you, and the world is lucky to have you in it." Cherry couldn't respond, just let herself cry onto Quil's spiky shoulder. Quil let her, soaking up the tears until Cherry was ready to speak again.

"I- I didn't let myself think about kids, I thought it couldn't happen," the pink raptor admitted, her voice sodden with tears still, "I wanted to be a mother so badly but, how could I do that to a poor innocent creature?"

"How did your parents do it for you?" Quil asked and the painful memory of hatching alone struck Cherry in the chest.

"They didn't," she started but the black and white raptor interrupted.

"And there's the difference! They did nothing and you would do everything! Your kids would never have the life you did because you're here, you won't let it happen," Quil said passionately. Her words were laden with such conviction, and Cherry wanted so badly to believe.

“I’d love to have kids with you.”