Fraul, 17

Heath woke him roughly, hand on his shoulder. “Boy,” he snapped, and Tere said, “Huh?”

“Not you,” Heath growled. “Go back to sleep.” He shook Raru again, who threw off his hand. “Jesus,” Heath said. “What happened to you?”

“Go away,” Raru rumbled.

“Where’s Fraul?”

“In Feira’s house.”

Heath whacked him on the head and ducked outside, walking to town brisk in the morning chill. He hadn’t had his coffee yet and he was angry about it. He barged in on Kenneth’s old house and felt the chill of ghosts long gone, saw the huddled figure on the couch and felt a stab of humanity through his anger.

“Fraul,” he said sharply. The blanket shifted and Fraul’s face appeared as if he had already been awake.

“Heath,” he said without emotion, as light as anything, and Heath heard the old chill in his voice. Heath felt that chill in his bones. He sat down with a sigh and said, “Do you remember…that time you broke Raru’s nose?”

“Very well. I couldn’t now.”

“I don’t know about that.” Heath rested his elbows on his knees, leaning forward. “You got that mean look in your eye. Raru went for you, and–” He slapped his knee. “You had him on the ground. I mean, he was drunk, so I’m sure it wasn’t a struggle.” Heath gazed at a corner of the room. “And you could have stopped there. You could have let him up. But no, you had that crazy Dreaux look. That calculating look. Same one you have now. And you made it look easy, just snapped his nose in two.” Heath grinned. “Remember how he screamed?”

He heard a huff of a laugh. “Like a child.”

“He was so angry. He never thought you would do that to him, not in a thousand years.” Heath hooted. “Oh, Lord, was he angry. Took weeks for his face to heal. And you didn’t give a damn. You didn’t apologize once.”

“He made a mistake.”

“He often does.”

Fraul pushed himself up with a grunt. He was still wearing the brace. Heath said, “You oughtn’t sleep with it. Circulation problems.”

“I couldn’t get it off,” Fraul admitted. Heath nodded.

“Won’t hurt to have it for a few days,” he said. He appraised the other man. “I’m glad you still have that look.”

Fraul looked up at him, and the veil over his eyes lifted. What lay beneath was helpless and searching.

“What happened to me?” he asked. Heath grimaced. This was beyond his scope as a healer.

“I dunno,” he said, buying himself time to think. “A lot of things.”

“Why am I afraid of Raru, Heath? I have never been afraid of him before.” Fraul huffed and shook his head. “Not that you know, I suppose. Why should you?”

“You have any coffee?”

Fraul waved his hand vaguely. “Kenneth kept it in the cabinet.”

Heath laughed to himself. He couldn’t believe this house had been untouched all that time. He went to the cabinet and there was a bag of ancient grounds, along with some dried mouse-eaten grain.

“Look,” he said. “Bazairi roast. Aged ten years.”

Fraul smiled thinly. Heath went to the fireplace and put the kettle on, warming his hands.

“I think,” he said slowly, “that you had your agency taken away.”

“What is this word, agency?”

“Um…autonomy.” Iron shrugged. “Choice.”

“Yes.” Fraul nodded slowly. “My choice. I did not know…that I was someone who could be overtaken.” He stopped before he went too far into the past. His thoughts went to Raru and his eyes went to Heath. “I’m afraid,” he murmured. “I’m afraid of Raru. Look at him, how tall he is. He could throw me like a doll.”

“And he drinks.”

“Yes!” Fraul sat forward urgently, putting a hand out. “How did I not see it? How did I walk so blindly into this? Tell me that, please, please, please, Heath.”

The healer sighed. They were silent. The shuffling of people began outside.

Heath saw what this man needed. He crossed his arms and propped his chin on his fist, lips in a flat line.

“I think you’ve lost faith in yourself,” he said. “And you’re not giving yourself any time to heal.”

“How can I give myself time to heal?” Fraul asked, and his voice broke. “I don’t feel safe anywhere.”

“What happened, with Raru?”

Fraul looked away and let out a breath. “Nothing of note,” he murmured.

“Really, what happened?”

“He…didn’t want to watch what I was putting myself through. He reached his limit.”

Heath was silent. “And that person,” Fraul went on, “that person you said I was. He is gone. He is gone.”

Heath rolled his eyes. “You know what you need?” he asked.

“What?”

The bearlike captain threw himself at Fraul, hands first. He went against every healing instinct he possessed and let himself go back to the younger days, when the captains would spar with each other, grappling and twisting and biting at each others’ limbs. For a second he had fun, guarding himself, remembering that he actually possessed some fighting skill.

He felt a knee in his stomach and he was tossed onto the floor–he grunted, wheezing, grinning. Fraul vomited and Heath got up to hold him up, rubbing his internal organs.

“That’ll bruise for sure,” he muttered.

Fraul was shaking, but it was in laughter. His stomach roiled and he had to stop laughing to vomit again. He grabbed the arm of the couch and held on until the shifting seas of his consciousness flattened out.

He drew great struggling breaths, and finally he was able to look up and meet the other man’s gaze. He was smiling, and his nose was wrinkled in pain.

Heath looked genuinely concerned. “I didn’t think you’d want me to go easy on you,” he said.

“No.” Fraul put a hand toward his spine although he couldn’t quite reach it. “No.”

“I think you would have done the same to Raru, if he’d pushed you there. There’s so much we don’t understand about the body, and the mind. It will protect itself. You will protect yourself.”

Fraul sighed. He said, “I miss sparring.”

Heath helped him into the chair and felt the tension roll through him. They both ignored it.

“You’ll spar if you want to, I’m sure,” he said. “But give your body rest first. Then push it.” Fraul nodded. Heath opened the door. “Come see me today. Or tomorrow. We’ll figure something out.”

“I will.” Fraul smiled. He watched Heath go. Then he pushed himself out of the chair, walked three steps to the couch, collapsed and rested for twenty minutes, walked three steps back. He fell asleep in the chair, and when he woke up there was food on the table. It had the faint lingering scent of whiskey.

*

That night, Raru visited him again. He said, “Heath told me.” Fraul smiled.

“Do it,” he said. “Try to move me.”

“What?”

“Show me you don’t pity me, Raru.”

Raru got that wolfish look. He said, “Are you sure?”

Fraul’s eyes were vacant. He was waiting. Raru felt some edge of competition get to him. He was a soldier, dammit. This was a challenge. He hadn’t won a fight with this man yet.

He stood for a moment, considering. He had the advantage of height. Or he would, with an Ezuran opponent. Fraul sat on the couch, sizing him up, waiting for his first move. He had the advantage of defending.

Raru wished he wasn’t drunk. But he shook that off, took off his sword belt, and laid it aside. Fraul, copying, took off his rings and put them beneath the couch.

Still facing the wall, Raru struck away Fraul’s guarding hand, opening him up. He stepped forward and the other man put out his right leg and their shins connected; at the last moment Raru grabbed his arm to stay standing and he knew this hurt, but the vacant eyes registered no pain.

Raru barely blocked a vicious strike that would have landed in the soft flesh of his underarm and the shallow artery there. With a furious snarl he shoved under that strike and bore down on Fraul into the couch. Raru’s tendons stood out as he absorbed two needling hits to his lymph nodes.

On the third one he ducked under it, twisted it into a grapple, appeared behind Fraul and was about to ask for his surrender. He had the arm twisted up at the elbow and pinned across the back. Fraul pushed into the grapple, twisting his own arm further until Raru had to let go, and they both crashed backwards as Fraul landed with an elbow in his diaphragm. This elbow became a forearm on his neck, though Fraul’s back was still turned to him, and he used this arm to twist himself around and bear down on Raru’s throat. His eyes were cold and emotionless. Raru felt concern for his own safety. He tapped out.

For a moment Fraul didn’t realize he had done it. Raru’s eyes widened and he tugged at the other man’s shirt, trying to kick him off, and then the coldness receded like a wave and Fraul lifted his forearm.

Raru rolled over coughing, and Fraul knelt beside him and waited. Raru rubbed his throat, pretending to be hurt, and when Fraul came closer to him he reared up and went to catch the other man in his arms. Fraul elbowed him in the ribs, but to do so he had to twist hard at the spine.

His body contracted, the fight forgotten, defending itself against an unseen enemy. He crumpled to the ground on elbows and knees, forehead to the pine, and breathed.

“Are you all right?” Raru asked. He touched Fraul’s shoulder and drew his hand away at the heat that radiated off his back. He wanted to apologize. Then he swallowed and realized how bruised his throat would be.

He went outside. He returned with a bucket of clean enough water, and used his shirt as a rag. He set about cleaning the sweat off his own face, and then from Fraul, whose skin boiled at his touch and who grunted into the floor.

Raru was shaking his head, but he chose to say nothing. At least, for a moment. Then he said in wonder, “You almost killed me.”

Fraul turned his head a little and his smile was garish. “Did I?”

Raru smiled, sitting back on his haunches. “I missed that.”

“You missed…” Fraul breathed and tried to sit up, hiccuped and went back to the floor. “You missed us fighting?” His voice was muffled by the wooden planks.

“Sometimes I’d pick a fight with you just so you’d come at me.”

“I know.”

Raru wiped his own face and then came to sit beside him. They had total privacy. He felt the blood pounding in his head and his skin was warm, and he ran the rag over Fraul’s back. Fraul closed his eyes, but his brow was creased and the breaths he took shook his lips.

Raru stopped. He felt sad. He leaned against the wall and ran his gaze over Fraul, hair sweaty and tousled and graying. His nose was narrow and had never been broken. Raru watched him until he opened his eyes and breathed, “Thank you, dear.”

“We’ll spar soon,” Raru said, smiling. “I’ll get you back.”

*

In the morning, as Raru had expected, Fraul had not slept–they both lay on the floor. Raru asked, “Can I do anything for you?”

“No,” Fraul rasped. “Get to camp.”

“Can I at least put you on the couch?”

“No,” he said quickly. “I’m fine.”

“All right.” Raru pushed the hair out of Fraul’s face. “I’ll be back to check on you.”

“Send Heath. When he can.”

“Yes, sir.” Fraul smiled, but it was a clammy and halfhearted smile. Raru left feeling guilty.

That night when he returned, he hadn’t drank all day. He had that lust-fire in his blood and he had sparred at every chance just for a break from it. His own lieutenant had noticed the bruises and said, “Picking fights again, sir?” Raru had snapped at him to mind his business.

He checked on Tali, told her where her father was, and Erica waved him away. She was watching all the springies these days, since she spent so much time in their part of camp. Crowe had seen fit to appoint her instead of one of the older captains. Ashin had gone back to his own house and his retirement.

Raru paced to Feira’s house and found it well-lit, the windows open, the chair by the couch. Fraul had somehow negotiated himself off the floor. He beamed as Raru came in and unhitched his sword belt.

“Darling,” he said quietly, and Raru fell on him like a starving man. Fraul felt his blood run quicker, but the residual pain in his back still took all his attention. He put a hand on Raru’s chest and pushed. Raru ignored or did not feel it, pressing more of his weight on Fraul’s body, reaching between his legs, and Fraul almost relented when something snapped in the muscles of his spine and tears came to his eyes. He bit down without thinking in the meat of Raru’s shoulder. Raru drew back.

“Damn,” he said, his eyes sad. Fraul spat out his blood. Raru repositioned himself, sliding under Fraul’s body and pulling him onto his chest with as little movement as possible.

“Not for forever,” Fraul murmured, as much to himself as to Raru. “But for now.”

“You seem better.” Raru held him and stared at the ceiling, willing the blood to flow backwards into his skull. He rubbed his face and said, “I…haven’t drank.”

“I can hear it.”

“You can?”

Fraul gave him a sleepy look. “I can always hear it.” He dropped his head to Raru’s chest and breathed deeply, feeling safe, nudging his face deeper into the muscles of Raru’s breast. Raru smiled to himself and felt the ridges of Fraul’s back, the scar that had shrank to a single layer of skin across his spine. He couldn’t sleep; his fingertips explored every ridge of bone and muscle. Fraul slept like a dead man, unmoving.