The Bellows and The Boy

[tamgreen]

Fraser listened silently to the man's explanation of the signals. He repeated the information in his mind and hoped that it would stick better than the earlier messages he'd garbled.

"I didn't go too far," he mumbled, slightly sheepish. "And I didn't drink much."

His small voice grew quieter and quieter as Osbourne shed layer after layer. Fray was fascinated by how much there was, and felt some admiration of the practicality of the garments and accessories. When the man began to reveal his flesh, Fray's breath caught in his throat. He'd never seen so many scars on one person. Was this common for men who did the sort of work Osbourne did? What he did, what he was, showed clearly in his body, both the bulk of the muscle and the damaged flesh.

He scooted over to hand Osbourne the waterskin rather than tossing it, getting a closer look at both the fresh wound and the marks of old ones. Settling behind the large man, Fraser rinsed his hands with the water from his own skin and leaned in, eyeing the still bleeding gash on the left side of Osbourne's lower back, right across the soft expanse between his ribs and his hipbone.

"Oh," he whispered, carefully reaching out to palpate the flesh surrounding the wound. "This shouldn't wait. Can you boil some water? It ought to be stitched, but I don't have a needle or anything for sutures. A poultice might do for now. We should have honey also, but that might have to wait until morning."

 

[ELEyogi]

He could feel Fraser's eyes on him as he shuffled about, half stooped beneath the low roof of the cave, and found himself honored and embarrassed all at once. The poor boy who'd spent his life getting kicked around by soft bodied aristocrats had probably never seen what a real man looked like. A man who'd seen the world and been in a scrape or two, a man who wore his life experience on his body. It was in every creaky joint and crocked bone, raised bit of mended flesh. Osbourne had seen things and lived to tell the tale. But he was never one to boast.

When Fraser came to sit beside him, he was more than a little shocked. Even more so when he felt fingers probing his tender flesh and this time he didn't pretend to be unaffected. His breath caught and he clenched his teeth to keep from grunting outright, even shied away a little as he rinsed his hands.

"I've got lots of sharps but no needles," Ozzy offered with a quiet chuckle as he pressed himself up to retrieve his tin mug. He pour a little whiskey in first, swirled it around a bit, before throwing it back. He filled it with fresh water and set it on the edge of the hot coals before pulling his shirt over his head to reveal muscles built through years of hard living. There were more scars of course but Fraser seemed intent on the wound that needed healing, though Ozzy did notice his gaze drift a little every now and then. The flask still in hand, he regained his seat next to Fraser and smiled.

"Do your worst Doc. I promise I won't whine too much," he said before turning his back to him. "Or would it be easier if I lay down...that might be best, seeing how I reacted to a little bitty poke. I'm at your mercy," he offered with a chuckle, before smiling outright and glancing back at Fraser over his shoulder. "Don't think I've ever said that to another man before...well not without a few ales in me anyway."

 

[tamgreen]

The younger man stared helplessly at Osbourne's muscular front before the back was facing him again. Fraser didn't usually have trouble focusing when he was doing something medical, but this time he had to remind himself to keep his attention where it was due.

Doc.

That was pleasant. It matched what he'd always wanted to be, even if it wasn't true. He almost reminded Osbourne that he was not, in fact a doctor, but realized before embarrassing himself that the man was probably just being familiar. While processing this inside his head, he almost missed the last remark.

...not without a few ales in me anyway.

He was still being familiar. What exactly was that supposed to imply? Fraser started mulling it over, and then quickly wrenched himself back to the business at hand.

"Right," he exhaled. "Yes, I, uh... on your front is best. But I'll have to prepare the paste first. Hand me the flask, please? I'll need it for sterilization."

Finally, Fraser was settling into the proper focus, which was a pleasant feeling that quickly relaxed him. His movements were suddenly much more fluid, his breathing steadier.

"I've gathered calendula and goldenrod," he explained softly, almost to himself, as he used a smooth, round rock to work leaves and roots into a pulp. "The one is an excellent wound treatment, and the other calms inflammation. These together should speed healing and prevent infection. Mud makes an effective poultice when proper dressings are not available. This might feel strange when it goes on, but it should stay on as long as possible. I can make another tomorrow. We shall find some honey tomorrow as well, and that will be even better for staving off infection."

Leaving the half-prepared poultice for the moment, he used cold water and then a little liquor from the flask to cleanse his hands.

"Lie down now. I'm going to clean up the area, and I'm going to use this."

He held up the flask for Osbourne to see.

"It will sting, so brace yourself."

He waited for the man to stretch out and then drew close, pouring out a bit of cold water to clear away any dirt, and then carefully drizzling the contents of the flask over the open wound.

Fraser knew he was supposed to be detached and neutral while working on a patient but he found himself gasping and wincing along with Osbourne. His free hand settled on the man's upper back in a way he intended to be soothing, though he didn't exactly have practice at this sort of touch.

"Sorry," he breathed.

 

[ELEyogi]

Now it was Ozzy's turn to marvel at Fraser. For the first time since they'd met, the boy seemed sure of himself, of the words he put together. 'So this is what makes him comfortable...short of my last little quip,' Ozzy thought as he did the young man's bidding. He listened as the Fraser explained his every motion and Ozzy didn't have the heart to tell him he had the slightest idea of what he was talking about. It was more than any cutter had ever explained to him, no matter the injury.

His touch was gentle, forgiving and Ozzy tried his best not to alarm him too much with his cringing but when he spilled the spirits on the open wound Ozzy couldn't help himself and let out a howl that would have shamed him if they weren't alone.

"Sorry," Ozzy heard Fraser mutter though the tentative hand on his back spoke his sincerity more that little word.

"That's a first...Doc apologizing. I know I'm not dead, hurts too much," he said with a pained grin over his shoulder, trying to meet Fraser's eyes but of course he was busy doing his work. "Do me a favor and leave enough of that for me to get to sleep tonight will ya?"

 

[tamgreen]

Fraser gave him another gentle pat, letting out a long breath. Why was this experience so different from any other he'd had? Perhaps it was only that this was the first time he'd ever done anything like this without supervision, or in anything resembling a crisis situation.

"I'll do my best," he promised. "And I'll make something else to help you rest easy. I've gathered some meadowsweet flowers - a tea of these brings pain relief. It'll make you feel better."

He leaned away from Osbourne to return to his poultice preparation, adding a generous handful of dry, sandy dirt to the mass of macerated leaves and roots before pouring on just enough of the now boiling water to hold it all together. He waited only a short time before plunging his sterilized hands into the mixture to work it into a mud-and-herb paste, gasping softly at the bite of the heat. When it felt like the right consistency, he scooped it up into his hands and tenderly spread the warm mixture over the wound, carefully coaxing it into a cohesive covering. As he worked, his eyes strayed across the fascinating, scarred expanse of Osbourne's back.

"There now - that'll feel more soothing once it cools," he concluded. "The mud will help a bit to keep it in place, but it would be best if you didn't move around too much, at least until it dries. If you had something relatively clean we could use for a bandage, that would be ideal, but if not we'll make do."

Fraser cleaned his hands again and refilled the water cup in preparation for the meadowsweet tea. For the time being, he was glad Osbourne was lying face down - it meant he wasn't looking at him so much.

"Filipendula ulmaria," Fraser mumbled as he busied himself plucking the tiny, white meadowsweet flowers free from their stems. "They say the ancients called it 'mead wort', or 'meadsweet'. The aroma can be quite pleasant."

His eyes strayed to Osbourne's back once more, exploring the particularly shocking scars.

"How... did you get those...?" he asked in a near-whisper, leaning over just enough for his fingertips to reach the severe-looking whip scars.

 

[ELEyogi]

None but his wife had ever touch him so...curiously. The few whores he'd visited only minded his manhood and the priestess at the Temple of Sydor tended to avoid his rough spots. But even she never asked about them, just accepted them as a part of the man she might grow to love. It had been a while since he thought of her, mostly to avoid the pain that came with thoughts of the child that never had chance to draw breath.

Ozzy cleared his throat, set his cheek on his forearms and forced a smile that didn't quite meet his eyes. "Before the treaty with Entente, a few of us were sent to Kha'lry to suss out those who might be working against the cause. It was one of my first missions with the Wind. I was all alone in a foreign land...barely spoke the language and ended up in the dungeon for a few days until I convinced them I wasn't a spy. They did worse but those are all I have to show for it. The burns came from braking up a raiding party in the Borderlands. Didn't even know I was on fire until somebody was ripping my armor off. I got plenty more but those are the ones I remember."

As the poultice, Ozzy was already beginning to feel a bit better. It still hurt but the pain that came with his breath had dulled to a nuisance. Between the crackle of the fire, the subtle floral scent of the tea, and Fraser's curious fingers, Ozzy was beginning to feel something like relaxed.

"They used to give it to the teething babes at the temple. It seemed to work for them, guess it'll work for me...but my coins on the flask."

 

[tamgreen]

Fraser stared at the scars as he listened to Osbourne's story, breathing deeply and otherwise staying silent as he digested the information. He couldn't imagine fitting into the sort of life this man had led, not even a little, yet he couldn't help admiring the sort of commitment and passion toward a cause that would be required for a man to go through such torments and still keep getting up the next day to continue.

Fray sighed at his last remark and carefully removed the cup from the heat, dropping the collection of blossoms into it and letting them steep.

"No coins at all required, in any event," he concluded.

To give himself something to focus on, Fraser once more shifted close to Osbourne and leaned over the wound site, as if he was checking on his work. He was doing this somewhat, seeing how the poultice was drying, but he was also getting a closer examination of the whip scars and burned tissue. In his mind he was travelling back in time and place, putting himself with Osbourne Clifton at the times these wounds were fresh, imagining how he'd clean and dress them, how he'd treat the injured flesh, how he'd make Osbourne suffer less, how he'd minimize these scars.

Then again, not everyone had a dread of scars.

The tea had steeped long enough, so Fray reached for the cup.

"You can try sitting up a little to drink the tea, if you like," he said, placing the cup near him.

After a few beats, he said in a much less certain tone, "I would... like to ask you a question. Do you feel these scars are something like a badge of honour or the like? Or, is it unpleasant for you to bear them? You needn't answer. Most people tell me I'm altogether too nosy and talk too much."

 

[ELEyogi]

“Ehhh talkings good most of the time,” Ozzy said as he shifted over onto his side. He was mostly comfortable now and didn’t want to ruin Fraser’s diligence sitting up, so he propped himself up on his elbow to take a thoughtful sip of his tea. Such a formidable man, Ozzy wasn’t much for delicate flavors but he appreciated it none the less, though he did add a healthy poor of whiskey to the mug before his next swig. “And I owe anyone in my company honesty, otherwise what good am I as a captain? Whether you know it not Doc, you’re in my company now and I’ll treat you accordingly. So ask your questions and I’ll do my best to answer ‘em as they come.”

“In the barracks...campsites, that’s all you’ve got to entertain yourselves between the killing. When you have to trust the man across from you to hold the line or drag your body back to safety, only way to do it is to talk. To tell each other your stories...make each other laugh when you need it. No other way,” Ozzy offered with a shrug and took a moment to collect his next thoughts.

He felt bad for the kid. Sure he was a little standoffish, and clumsy but no one deserved to be treated with such disdain and malice. He imagined that Fraser had no idea what it was like to be appreciated and loved, to be greeted with warmth simply for being himself. No child should be punished for the circumstances of their existence and it was Ozzy’s hope that he be allowed to show Fraser what true kinship felt like.

“As for my scars, well I can give or take them...they just are. Like that gap in your teeth, the curl in your hair. Can’t change ‘em so no point in losing sleep over their existence. They’re a part of me now, evidence that I’ve lived a life that some might not have survived. So I guess there is some pride in them, but there’s also sorrow. They remind me of the men who fought and died beside me. How can I pity myself when there are some who didn’t make it home to hug their mothers, to kiss their wives and babes? I may not have either but I know intimately what it’s like to experience such a loss and I’d not wish it on my worst enemy.”

 

[tamgreen]

While Osbourne sipped his tea and talked, Fraser leaned close to the fire to have a look at the rabbits. He turned the spits so they'd cook evenly. He was coming to enjoy the sound of the big man's voice, and he seemed to have such a calm aura for a man who led such a chaotic and violent existence. And there was something about him that was refreshingly genuine. He was far easier to trust than any number of noblemen who said one thing with their mouths and did another, men who always seemed to be hiding something, always scheming, always putting on a front.

Osbourne also had one thing he probably took for granted that Fray had never had - peers, compatriots, a group he belonged to and people he could share his days with. Fraser could only imagine how that affected a person.

At the mention of the gap in his teeth, Fraser immediately raised a hand to his mouth, betraying a moment of uncharacteristic self-consciousness.

A moment later, throb of pain cracking across his skull reminded him of the earlier attack that had knocked him unconscious. Fray was suddenly envying the painkiller tea he'd made for Osbourne. Perhaps he might have enough blossoms left for a second cup.

"How nice it must be," he said in a low, musing tone, "to have those you can trust, to talk and share and laugh with. Even if it's only a break between... killing. Hm... perchance, do you have another cup?"

 

[ELEyogi]

The corners of Ozzy wide mouth slid up at that, but again it didn’t quite meet his eyes. “It is nice,” he said, handing over the mug. “I’ve only but the one but you can finish it off and make another. I’ll take up the flask for a bit,” he added and reached to test the poultice. It seemed solid enough so he rolled to his belly and pressed himself up to standing in one quick jump. He took a moment to brush himself off before he made his way around the fire and slipped his dagger from his belt to take a chunk of meat from the rabbit he intended to eat.

“Just about done,” he said before tossing the meat outside the cave. “Nature calls,” he announced before stepping out into the gloom beyond the fire.

It was well into the night by now and Ozzy moved quietly through the brush to find a safe place to make water. The cave mouth was still very much in his line of sight but he did nothing to conceal himself. There was nothing like privacy in the Guard but he’d been used to pissing within earshot of companions since his time on the ship. He could carry on whole conversations while he released solids which came in handy when in situations where being alone could mean your demise. As he released his member, Ozzy whistled out a tune that he’d been whistling for years. An old dirge of origins he didn’t quite know, nor had anyone else who’d heard it been able to identify. It had been a comfort for him in times of stress and worry, which until today, had been few and far between. When he was done, so too was the tune and he absently tucked himself away as he headed back towards the cave.

“Bandages, you say? I may have those in my kit,” he announced as he shuffled over towards his belongs and squat down to rifle through his bag. Ozzy let out a triumphant ‘aye’ when his fingers found the roll of mostly clean linen tucked into the bottom of is kit. He undid the twine that held the bundle together and unfurled the length of cloth and held it out to Fraser. “What do you say Doc? Will it do to keep your work fresh and tidy? You wrap me up, then we’ll eat our feel. Do a little more of that talking you say folks don’t like.”

 

[tamgreen]

Fraser wasn't familiar with the phrase "nature calls", and like many things, he took it literally at first. He half stood, prepared for some possible danger, wondering if perhaps Osbourne had heard some animal noise he wanted to investigate. But the man looked so cheerful and relaxed - did he just feel this proverbial "call of nature" so keenly that he needed to suddenly walk outside and bask in the outdoors?

....Oh.

Fray froze as Osbourne pulled out his member and let loose, right there in the firelight on full display. Slowly, Fraser eased himself back down into a tailor-style sitting position, breathing deeply as he stared. This wasn't the sort of thing people were supposed to see, yet this man seemed to have no hint of shame or discretion about it. Fraser had seen plenty of bodies on display before, owing to his experience apprenticing with a doctor, but outside of that context it was a different thing altogether and Fraser began to seriously wonder if his half-family had been right about him being some sort of deviant or possibly even sick in the head, because he didn't want to look away. He drank in the sight and even the sound of the enormous man pissing every bit as forcefully and shamelessly as a horse, humming all the while.

He hadn't realized he was holding his breath until Osbourne returned to the cave and he exhaled heavily, pulling in his next breath with a gasp. What was this feeling that made his chest swell and at the same time felt like bands tightening around his ribs, while his heart pounded and his flesh tingled? Exhilaration, from a new experience and a sudden breaking down of a long-standing social boundary? Arousal? Certainly much of what he was feeling called to mind his experience with the young man called Amadeo, the one that had lost him his apprenticeship.

He almost jumped when the roll of linen was thrust in front of him.

"Of course!" he blurted out, and only a few moments later registered what Osbourne had said. He took the cloth, fumbled, and nearly dropped it, narrowly managing to grab hold of it before it touched the dirty ground.

"Right," he exhaled. "This'll nice - hm, do - it - it will do nicely, that is."

Willing his hands not to tremble, Fraser stood behind Osbourne and carefully circled his hands around the man's midsection as he wrapped the bandage all the way around him. What must Osbourne think of him by now? Why did he have to bungle things at the most inopportune times? He was confident in his own abilities, but he feared if he couldn't impart that confidence to others, he could never be taken seriously.

Not that he ever really had been, anyway.

How does a man grow so large? Every part of him. Enormous.

Fraser had to remind himself to breathe now. He wrapped the bandage around a second time.

"Feel... okay?" he murmured. "Not too tight?"

 

[ELEyogi]

All thumbs again...

Ozzy was at a loss for what had come over the boy. He didn’t remember Fraser having shaky hands as he applied the poultice. His voice had been clear and direct as he narrated his action, but now he seemed slightly off again and Ozzy racked his brain trying to come to what had changed. Did he smell? Of course he did but his tang hadn’t changed from the time he removed his shirt to now, but Fraser hadn’t been so close then. As he wound the linen around Ozzy’s wounded trunk, his nose came precariously close to the source of the larger man’s most pungent aroma. But still, it couldn’t have been that…

“Feel..okay? Not too tight?”

It occurred to him then, just as Fraser finished, that the young man might have gotten an eyeful when he stepped out to relieve himself. ‘Son of chancellor...probably never had to took a piss in public...probably never seen a cock other than his own…’ Something else occurred to Ozzy then. The caught breath. Shaky hands. Sweat beading on the bridge of his nose. Color rising on the apples of his otherwise fair cheeks. Put together with the story behind the loss of his apprenticeship…

“You earned your keep today Doc,” Ozzy said, and mushed Fraser’s hair again. But this time, he let his hand linger a bit and slide gently down the back of his neck before stepping away to tend to their meal. “You’ll make a nice addition to the company.”

The rabbits were just done enough now and Ozzy took his time, carefully removing the spits from the fire. To Fraser, he gave the one that had been untouched before he set himself down just outside the cave mouth. “I’ve no cutlery so we must dine like the men of old. Come young Fraser, we’ll enjoy are meat under the stars,” he said over his shoulder, patting the empty space beside him.

 

[tamgreen]

Fraser squirmed at his touch. He wanted to press closer and pull away at the same time. What sort of touch was this? It brought him a touch of nostalgia about his mother and her affectionate touches that made him feel safe and loved. It called to mind Amadeo once more, the lovely young man who covertly rented his body to wealthy men but showed Fray a few things for free. It also made him feel something like a pet, a cherished beast who might curl up at its masters feet safe, fed, and adored. He'd never seen himself in such an ignoble light, yet in that surreal moment he could see a strange sort of appeal to it.

But what had Osbourne intended to communicate with the touch? Was it really just a thanks for the medical care? Was this how men in Osbourne's position treated their compatriots?

Quickly Fraser chugged the remainder of the whiskey-spiked meadowsweet tea, and set the second cup to brewing before he settled down beside Osbourne with his dinner. He balanced the spit across his knees in hopes of keeping as clean as he could, and reached down with his small, slender, precise fingers to dig into the rabbit meat with almost surgical precision.

"Meat under the stars," he repeated, "like the men of old. I suppose you're accustomed to this. I never had a father until after my mother died... and he certainly wasn't the type to eat meat under the stars. I do believe I've been spoiled for quite a lot of years. I never wanted any of it, except the books. My father has a wonderful library. I'm the only one who made worthwhile use of it. There was nothing much else to keep me happy there. I suppose I won't be back there again. I brought two favourites, but I wasn't allowed to bring more. Books aren't so very practical a thing to have on the road, I suppose, but I'll miss them desperately. I need to always be learning. Though I do see the potential for plenty of learning out in the wide world - learning through experiences, even hardship. I imagine there's plenty you've learned that I may never understand - you have that advantage of experience. I've taught myself a lot from books but I'm coming to realize just how ignorant I really am."

He glanced up at Osbourne quickly and then turned back to his meal. "I'm rambling."

 

[ELEyogi]

Rambling he was but Ozzy didn’t much mind and wished Fraser would stop apologizing for being himself, but he feared if he mentioned such a wish that the sheltered young would only apologize more. Instead he said, “Ramble away young friend. Telling stories around fires has been the way of man for centuries. It’s what holds us together.

“I never knew my father...my mother either,” Ozzy admitted with a shrug as he took a bite from his rabbit still affixed to the spit. It was still too hot and lack anything other than it’s natural flavors but to a ravenous man it was a feast. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until that first bite and was halfway through the hind legs before he spoke again.

“The man I call Father is the one who found me after Quick threw me overboard but there was one before him who raised me up. The Rever’s eldest son Nuresto. I was barely walking when they found me but I followed behind him like a duckling does it’s mother,” Ozzy remembered with a grin. “I’m sure I was nothing but a nuisance but he let me tag along with him and when I was old enough let me come out on the hunts with him and his men. Taught me how to fight when the bigger boys picked on me for my freckles and this wild main of red hair. And when I ran away from the Temple, he came looking for me. When he found me, he didn’t drag me back. Gave me a knife and told me to find my kin. Promised to pray Loam keep me safe on my journey and that there’d always be a place for me at the Temple if I ever returned. I never did and slavers stole the knife but I know he kept his promise.

“Never did find my kin...not the blood sort anyway and you know what, I don’t feel bad about it anymore. The kin I’ve chosen, that have chosen me, are enough. The Rever and her brood. Nuresto. Sir and Lady Clifton. Fletch and Quick, hell even Goldie as much as he grinds my nerves...and now you Fraser Pryce. I wouldn’t trade my rag tag bunch for any blood ties. You know as well as I that blood is not as thick as is claimed.”

 

[tamgreen]

Fraser frowned at his rabbit, unable to eat for a minute or two.

"I miss my mother... always," he mumbled. "I suppose it's probably better for you, not knowing. If they're awful, treacherous people like my half-brother, you might be risking your life. If they're... wonderful... it just destroys you to lose them."

He started picking at the meat again, but slowly and halfheartedly.

"It's kind of you to count me among your chosen kin, but you needn't humour me," he continued. "I know I don't... fit. I've known that all my life. I'm nothing like you, and I don't need to meet your friends to know I'm nothing like them either. I just don't understand people, and they don't understand me, and maybe that's the real reason why I could never succeed in a particular trade. I don't sit and mourn about these things - they're just facts. Difficult ones, but ones I need to come to terms with so I can move on with my life. That's one of the things I'm glad my mother taught me when I was young. I'm strange - she didn't humour me and say I wasn't. I don't fit in, and maybe there's nothing wrong with that. Ma was strange, too, in all sorts of wonderful ways. I'd rather be like her, work hard and make do on my own, than try to be... a Jacoby."

 

[ELEyogi]

“Seems to me that being a Jacoby doesn’t much suit you anyway,” Ozzy said with a snort as he used one of the thin rib bones as a toothpick. “And I’m not humouring you Doc. I’ll let you in on a little secret,” he said and leaned his head close to Fraser’s. He dropped his voice low as he said, “Nobody fits and anybody who does is a liar.”

Ozzy tossed his spent carcass out into the darkness and took up is flask. After a few quick sips and smiled at Fraser. “Everybody’s got their quirks Doc. I’m a foundling who was raised in the Idyllwildes by 46 different mothers among countless siblings. Hell I don’t even know how old I really am. Quick worships the shadows and counts every step she takes. Fletch carries around a pouch full of sand from The Barrens and Goldie well try to steal anything that’s not nailed down. None of us are perfect, but we are who we are and that good enough to love. Long as your with me Doc, don’t ever worry yourself with trying to fit ‘cause you can’t. You’re never going to see the world the way I do, nor I you. Don’t mean we can’t share it...And worry not about your past failures. With all the odds stacked against you, you’ve succeeded in this trade. No one in the Wind has a successful first mission...not even me and I’m supposed to be in charge now. But look what you’ve done. You delivered you message. Patched up your new boss. And quite pleasant company to boot, all things considered.

“You’re going to have to let the Jacoby shit go Doc...You’re a Pryce aren’t you?”

 

[tamgreen]

Nobody fits.

This was quite possibly the most comforting thing anyone had ever said to him since his mother had been alive. Between that and the warmth of the proximity to the man next to him, and the warm tickle of breath in his ear, Fraser felt a bloom of joy swell within him. When had he last felt true joy?

He glanced up, still not looking directly at the man's eyes but at the scar on his cheek, and smiled. It was a big enough smile to show the gap in his teeth he used to get teased for.

"Yes - I am a Pryce!" he declared. "And that will always be more than enough. Being counted among your company? All the better. Ma would have liked you quite a lot, I think. She was really something. The finest thing she ever said to me was, 'No one writes books about the ordinary ones.' I imagine there could be volumes of books about you and your fellows. You know, I have always wanted to write a book. It's the thought that struck me the hardest when I thought I was about to die. That I would die never having written a book. I suppose most people when facing death would think about family and such. What about you, Osbourne Clifton? What floods your mind when you fear you're about to meet your end?"

 

[ELEyogi]

Was that an actual smile...and is he actually looking at my face? Not just some spot above my head…

“Not much besides what I need to do not to meet it,” Ozzy answered honestly, though the question stuck with him. He’d always heard talk about lives flashing before the eyes of those facing imminent death and wondered what might come to him if he ever truly believed he might be dying. “The closest I ever came to death was when the current dragged me under and all I can remember was blackness. No profound final thoughts, no regrets, just nothing. I don’t know if that’s sad or stupid...probably both,” he said with a snort and took one last swig from his flask before he capped it and set it down on the ground between them.

“You’ll tell me more about her tomorrow,” he announced as he pressed himself up to standing and made his way back into the cave to retrieve his shirt. “Get yourself settled in for the night while I go check that we’re still alone. Promise me you won’t go off wandering without me again,” he said with a raised eyebrow, trying his best not to sound too paternal. It seemed Fraser had had enough of that, or perhaps not enough, either way Ozzy had no intention of treating him like a child. “Can’t have my new doctor getting mangled in the wilderness.”

There...that sounds about right.

 

[tamgreen]

A hint of a smile twitched at Fray's lips at the instruction not to go wandering - it brought a sweet sense of warmth to his insides to know someone was caring for him enough to look out for him - but the smile quickly faltered at the prospect of getting "mangled". What was there out here that would mangle him even more than he already had been by the now dispatched bandits?

And what did "getting settled in for the night" mean in a situation like this? He didn't even have something to sleep on. He started to scoot his bottom back toward the cave, and then changed his mind and quickly stood.

"Are you sure I shouldn't come with you?" he blurted out, the expression on his face communicating something more akin to Please don't leave me alone!

 

[ELEyogi]

Ozzy saw the terror in the boy’s eyes and bit his lip to keep from smirking. He realized very quickly his jest about being mangled may have been a touch too much for a boy who’d barely survived a pummeling at his brother’s behest.

“Sure, why not,” Ozzy said, throwing a consoling arm around the boy’s slender neck. “If you’re to be in my company, best you learn to patrol sooner than later,” he said, giving Fraser a final squeeze before slipping the knife from his belt. “I imagine you’ve never handled one of these in your apprenticeships so we’ll have to learn you that too. I’ll put Quick on it when we make our return to Brynsland. She’s about your size and ain’t met a man she can’t take down.” With that, Ozzy led Fraser out into the night. “Step where I step,” he said in low tones, his gaze already sweeping along the treeline. “Keep that blade at the ready and your other hand on my belt so we don’t get separated. And Doc, this is one of the few times I’ll tell you to keep it down. Now take a deep breath...let your eyes adjust to the darkness. And listen to the woods, they’ll let you know if trouble is afoot.”

Ozzy fell silent then and slowly picked his way around the perimeter of their makeshift camp. He doubted any had followed them without him noticing but it was better to be safe than sorry. The circle he made was wide and he found his way to a point high enough that he could see over the tree line and down into their camp. If there was to be an ambush, this was were it would begin. He took his time searching for any sign of disturbance and found none. It seemed that those two bandits were the only ones and Ozzy considered himself lucky. He could sleep tonight.

As they made their way back, Ozzy took note of the stars above and took long, deep breaths of the crisp night air. He loved the outdoors and if given the choice, he’d build a tiny cottage in the wilderness to live out the rest of his days. It was a dream that seemed more impossible now than ever before. In a few short days he would take up residence in the most opulent civilian building in Brynsland and there was nothing triumphant about it.

“First patrol in the books,” Ozzy said, offering Fraser a clap to his back. Again his hand lingered a moment, ushering the smaller man into the cave mouth. “You can use my bedroll if you like. I’ll prop myself up at the mouth to be safe,” he said as he moved to his bundle. He pulled on his mesh and slipped into his cloak and gloves before releasing the padded canvas from his kit. It had a length of heavy wool attached for warmth and he unfurled it all before the fire. “Ain’t much but it’s better than the bare ground,” he said with a nod that implied Fraser didn’t have a choice. “We’ve got a long journey ahead so we’ll be up with the sun.”

 

[tamgreen]

Fraser's hand gripped the tall man's belt as if his life depended on it, which he thought it very well might. In his other hand, the knife grip grew slick with his sweat. He barely dared to breathe as he tiptoed along in Osbourne's footsteps, tuning his ears to any possible out-of-the-ordinary noise, even though he didn't yet know what were normal noises in a place like this. Once he had reminded himself to breathe, he inhaled through his nose and out through his mouth, noticing the scents around him even more than the sounds or sights.

Honey - there was a hive nearby.

Fray was winded by the time they returned to the cave. He dropped the knife and sank down onto the cave floor, feeling more exhausted than he was sure was reasonable after the brief journey. How would he survive this life long-term? They weren't going to carry him around on a sedan chair.

He groaned at the thought of being up at dawn after such a night, but gave gracious thanks for the use of the bedroll. Otherwise, Fraser Pryce had little to say for one of the few times in his life.

He unlaced his fine leather shoes and slipped them off before tucking himself in with no other preparations. For a long time he lay on his side gazing at the strong silhouette of Osbourne reclining at the cave mouth. Then he turned over, curling up into a shivering ball, barely taking up space on the bedroll.

Everything seemed to be weighing on him at once, Kemp in particular. He would never have expected to hold out the slightest thread of hope for his half-brother's favour, but it overwhelmed him now to know just how much he was despised - enough for Kemp to not only wish him dead, but to plan on it. To his embarrassment, he was soon sobbing quietly into his cupped hands, hoping Osbourne wouldn't notice.

 

[ELEyogi]

Ozzy was asleep no sooner than he settled his big body against the earthen wall of the cave. It offered an almost perfect curve to nestle himself into. With his legs kicked out before him, crossed at the ankles, it was a comfortable as he would allow himself to be. Bandits were not the only concern in the woods. There were bears and wolves, wild cats, and any manner of poisonous reptiles that might creep into their camp as the fire died down. Just before he settled, he unsheathed his sword and placed it across his lap. ‘Just in case,’ he thought as he grazed his fingers along the etched flat.

Sometime later, faint noises disturbed his slumber. At first he thought it a small burrowing creature, attracted to the fire’s warmth or perhaps the remnants of their evening meal. Ozzy pressed himself away from the wall and threw back his hood, eyes scanning the gloom within the cave. He was about to get up when he noticed the quivering ball on his bedroll.

Poor kid’s been through the gauntlet today…

Ozzy was surprised it’d taken Fraser so long to break and part of him wanted the boy to be proud for it. But what was pride when you suddenly realize that you were all alone in the world. For all his kind words, Ozzy understood they were just that. Words from a stranger that could turn in an instant.

Quietly he pressed himself to a stoop and shuffled deeper into the cave and settled down beside Fraser, placed a hand on what might have been the boy’s back. “Tomorrow will be a new beginning for both of us young Fraser. I cannot promise it will be easy, but I can assure you will not face it alone. So long as you are in my company, you’ll never be alone again.”

With one hand on Fraser, the other on the sword in his lap, Ozzy allowed himself to drift off again. Silently hoping that he be able to keep his promise.

 

[tamgreen]

Fraser froze when he felt the very large hand settle on him. He felt the warmth and gentle pressure of it spreading across his flank, hip, and a little ways down his back and right buttock. He had to fight himself not to squirm away or push the hand off. Part of him even wanted to yell, to lash out at the man for reaching into his personal bubble. But lashing out at the one person besides his mother who'd ever been truly kind to him, truly accepting? That was exactly the wrong thing to do.

He also wanted it to stop because it felt so nice. Nice in a way he wasn't ready to accept. He wasn't crying anymore, and he was certainly distracted from his misery, but he was in no way relaxed. He could feel every inch of the uneven stone floor beneath him, despite the bedroll, and on the other side was That Hand.

As exhausted as he was, Fraser was wired, his eyes wide open. He barely moved an inch from where he'd been when Osbourne's hand settled on him. His mind cycled steadily between several things. How uncomfortable the bed was. How pleasant the man's hand was. What it meant for him to feel that way. What it meant to be told, "You'll never be alone again." Whether or not that was a comfort to him. How happy or unhappy he would be if he embraced being alone. What he could accomplish with his life, either alone or in the company of these strange warriors. What would make his mother proud. And now and then he thought of Osbourne Clifton pissing shamelessly in the firelight. And then he returned to the warmth of the hand on him, again, and again, and again.

While Osbourne slept seemingly without a care, Fray wasn't sure he'd slept even a minute when the grey of dawn began to creep into the cave.

 

[ELEyogi]

Ozzy woke with a start as he usually did when sleeping rough. His hand still rested on the smaller man’s back...what he thought was his back. In the predawn light, he could clearly make out the slender outline of Fraser at rest on his side. His hand rest squarely on the young man’s hip and he wasn’t in any rush to pull it away.

Keep it together Clifton…

It had been some time since he felt this sort of pull, the urge to touch this young stranger was almost overwhelming and Ozzy imagined it would only get worse as time went on. ‘How long had it been...the fisherman from the village outside Rhysland,’ he thought of the slight man who’d taken him in, thinking he was a weary traveler. Osbourne was so enthralled, he almost revealed his true identity to the raven haired fisherman with windburned cheeks and supple lips. Lips that had somehow shown up on the face of young Fraser Pryce. And his eyes, so thoughtful and inquisitive. Creamy unblemished skin...Osbourne was having trouble keeping himself from pulling back the flannel to glimpse that cherubic face in slumber.

He stayed there, watching the subtle rise and fall of Fraser’s breath for longer than he should, but he couldn’t pull himself away. Part of him wondered if he’d scared the boy with his closeness. That he might be trembling wide eyed beneath his hand. It was that thought that got him moving. No matter his interest, Ozzy couldn’t risk losing what little ground they’d made thinking with his manhood. In a few days time, there would be no shortage of lithe young men to distract him from what would surely become an infatuation.

Be the big brother he deserve, not some lecherous old man...

He could do that, without question. It was how he treated the others and Fraser needed that more than a confusing relationship with his superior. He gave the undulating lump one last look before he gave a gentle squeeze.

“Going out to stretch my legs,” he whispered as he slid his hand up Fraser’s side. “We’ll be off as soon as you’re ready.”

 

[tamgreen]

Fraser's toes curled as the hand that had been keeping his hip warm all night long finally moved. He grunted softly and curled up tighter as Osbourne got up.

"Okay," he mumbled sullenly in response.

But how could he be ready for anything after such a night? His head throbbed even worse than yesterday, his eyes felt raw and full of dry, hot sand, and as he attempted to roll onto his back, he found that sleeping on his side on a hard floor had cut off his circulation and his entire left leg had gone numb. He started to slowly move the useless lump of dough that was his foot and winced at the unpleasant tingles that began to flood his leg.

He was distracted with the task of coaxing the blood flow back into his leg when he heard the unmistakable noise of a forceful stream of liquid splashing onto the soft forest floor. He looked up instinctively to find Osbourne standing several paces away, pissing in the clear light of morning.

Why was this so wretchedly fascinating?

Fraser forced his attention away from the titillating sight and shook his tingling leg a few times. He was realizing now that he had a bit of an urgent need himself - he hadn't relieved himself since quite early on yesterday, and his body in crisis mode seemed to have stored it up quite effectively without bothering him until he'd had a chance to rest. Now it was abruptly sending his body into a panic.

His breath coming in small gasps, he pushed himself up and tried to stagger out into the forest on his bare feet, but his leg was still half-numb and he reeled clumsily to one side before collapsing with all the grace of a newborn colt, letting out an involuntary yelp.