ah, yes, this is a rewrite of something old. i can only hope that i have taken something with potential and only made it better. i'm still working on those reviews from Stepbrothers, but as always, it's a slow process. forgive me.

not beta'd, as i didn't have the chance before posting this in time for my sister's birthday. happy sixteenth, shannon!

saturday, 26 july, 2008. 1:11 am.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

“Have you heard?”

“…The bastard broke the kid’s heart.”

“Yah, I heard he told him off right nasty first….”

“Nah, he’d actually have to talk for that…you know how that guy is….”

“Yeah, all he ever says is ‘leave me alone.’ No wonder he’s by himself all the time….”

“Well, maybe that’s how he really wants it.”

“Who could live like that?! Everyone has to have human contact sometime. He just thinks he’s too good for the rest of us, but I bet he still finds someone to fuck every now and then.”

“Oh yeah? Who? Nobody here would keep it a secret if they shared his bed at night! Use yer head, Dane.”

“…Well, where else could he find release? Your hand only goes so far….”

“…I really don’t think he does. I don’t think he even wants to anymore.”

“You know what they say, about how someone died with him before he came here…maybe a lover or something…?”

“I think he’s just a cold-hearted bastard, Luwin. You didn’t see Barlon crying himself sick after the bastard told him off; I did.”

The voices in heated discussion weren’t more than loud whispers, but the sounds easily carried through the communal dwelling occupied by the eligible young men of age. Including the topic of the conversation. He was curled up in his corner, a spot where the light and warmth from the fires never seemed quite able to reach.

He’d monopolized this spot ever since the first night he spent in the dwelling, a little more than a year previous.

He had arrived in the village just barely alive, staying in the healer’s lodge for more than a week as he recovered. It was true that he had received his fair share of advances of all natures during his stay, but he’d coldly refused until people eventually stopped attempting to do so much as even strike up idle conversation.

That hadn’t deterred young Barlon from fancying himself in love with this silent man; he’d publicly approached him and declared his heart-felt emotions, only to receive cruel heartbreak when the object of his affections simply turned and left during the middle of his speech. Yet, it was only a few days after the incident that the young man proclaimed to have fallen in love with another man, who not only received his attentions but promptly tumbled the lad into bed.

Whether the change in feelings was affected by revenge, lust, or simple young whimsy, it didn’t matter. It hadn’t changed the gossip flying against the man who first spurned Barlon; not that the older man had shown any indication that the harsh words spoken about him ever caused him any harm.

Truth be told, he’d rather the villagers thought of him as horrible and despicable, as it wasn’t far off the self-deprecating view he’d held since before his rescue and arrival into the Quarter.

The notorious society within which he’d been forced to settle was split into two separate factions; men, and women.

Each group appointed its own leader, second, and medic.

The factions, while separate, worked closely together as they shared the same interests and compound, a common goal that kept them a community despite the wide-range mixture of people and cultures that made up their inhabitants. The current medic of the male faction was acknowledged to be the superior of the two factions, and he was often busy looking after his own and various women whose problems were beyond the skill of the female medic.

This medic was the one who cared for Zacharias when he first arrived.

--

“Sean…someone is coming up the path.”

The blond haired man in question turned from his work in helping with the raising of a new hut for a recently-mated couple; he looked in the direction of the lesser pathway into the community, the one normally reserved for those coming in from the fields or river. A one-horse cart was making its way down the dusty two-track.

Sean wiped dust from his sweaty forehead and turned to the man with flaming orange hair standing next to him; “That looks like Tim, but he’s not meant to pass through for at least another month, is he, Port?”

Port shook his head in negation, hair floating about his face; “Not until the summer Solstice. Wonder what he’s doing here so early, like.”

A slight frown of curiosity marring his brow, Sean started towards the cart, followed closely by his redheaded second-in-command.

Upon reaching conversing distance with the two men, Tim reigned in his horse, slowly coming to a halt before them; “Sean, I got a powerful injured man wi’ me…he’s going to need a healer, and right quick, like.”

Without question, the blonde turned to his second and merely commanded, “Port….”

The man nodded and loped off in the direction of the medic, and Sean turned back towards the driver of the cart. Tim was a dark-skinned and friendly fellow, if a bit broad in stature, and he often passed through the Quarter an average of two or three times a year. He typically brought with him news from other communities and greetings between friends and family, as well as the odd person or two; people in desperate need of the hospitality and home the Quarter had to offer.

The Quarter had been founded nearly fifty decades prior by a group of men banished from a selection of various tribes, banding together for their common interest. It was true that while general sexual curiosity was tolerated to some extent in most societies, full sexual perversion was usually not. Thus, these men set up a society in which they could exist, and as time went on, they gained more members; among them were a growing group of females who shared the same perversion. Eventually, the separate factions emerged, and with it, the system that effectively ran the entire community.

One of the most important was the system of child rearing. From the early beginning, it was decided that in order to keep their numbers from dwindling, children would have to be produced, rounding their community and continuing the cycle of life. Thus, every month two individuals were chosen from each faction for a ceremony of procreation…in the event of a child from such unions, that child was raised by the entire tribe, each member taking some part in rearing. Once grown, children had the choice of whether to stay or leave to search for mates and lives elsewhere. Not all of those who stayed preferred the company of their sex over the opposite, but chose to stay because the Quarter was their home and they did not want to leave it.

There was a communal dwelling which housed the children and young adults, but once into adulthood, they went on to live in the communal adult dwellings. These were the lodgings for single men and women who were free to partake in any sexual activities with any of those of the same free status. But there were also private dwellings built for couples who had chosen to commit their lives and bodies to just one other…sometimes, two or three couples chose to live together in one dwelling, if they happened to have a particularly strong bond.

There were also separate lodgings provided for the medics and leaders, but the seconds didn’t normally have a separate lodging unless already mated; Port, despite being Sean’s second, also happened to be his mate.

As a rule, the leader and their second were not allowed to be involved or run the risk of corruption through biases, but their relationship had developed after being elected to their offices. The people let it be, as Sean had proven to be a levelheaded creature of logic, not easily influenced by emotion.

“How bad is he, Tim?” Sean asked, seeing that the man appeared far wearier than he could recall ever before.

Tim sighed and gave a sorrowful shake of his head, “’Tis powerful bad, Sean…they did a number on ‘im, that’s for sure. Lucky ta still be alive, this one.”

“My home is closer than Ret’s.”

Nodding at the simple directive, Tim clicked his tongue to get his horse started again, knowing the way as he drove to the dwelling Sean had referenced. Sean watched as Tim picked up a limp form from the back of his cart and carried him inside the dimly lit building. They had just set the unconscious man onto some spare bedding when Port arrived, followed by an aging medic.

Everyone waited as Ret approached and began his examination of the man, and Tim pointed, “His back…received lashes from neck to thigh.”

Sean was eyeing the man with some interest, seeing how dirty and unkempt the strangely cut garments were; they covered skin from neck to foot, the only bit of flesh visible being gray swatches of face and hands. His hair was undistinguishable in color due to the amount of dirt and grime it had accumulated. Sean had never seen a man so dirty and ungroomed, nor one who wore such clothing. Tim must have come quite a distance to bring him here.

“His back, you said?” the medic confirmed, and Tim gave a gruff nod.

Producing a small stone dagger after rolling the man onto his front, Ret deftly slit the strange shirt down the middle of the back, peeling aside the material and baring the extent of his wounds for the first time. Everyone reeled back in mute horror, taking in the shocking sight of raw flesh, old and new blood, and rampant amounts of muck and infestation.

Port made a slight choking noise as he turned away, the back of his hand pressed tightly against his lips to keep back his rising gorge. The battle with his stomach was lost as the thick smell of infection wafted heavily to his nose, and he had to scramble outside before his innards could repel their contents.

Also nauseous, but for different reasons, Sean joined his lover outside, gulping in vast amounts of fresh air and wishing he could dispel the image of human cruelty inflicted upon another. When the noises broadcasting Port’s vomiting had ceased, Sean went over and helped the man cover his mess with dirt to keep down the smell. Moving away from the spot, they hovered near the doorway to their home, still greatly disturbed.

“Who could do that to someone,” the redhead finally whispered, echoing the thoughts spinning through his lover’s mind as well.

“I dunno, luv, I just…don’t know.”

After a moment, the blond looked up and said, “Port, I’m going to go inform Marsh about his arrival. Do you mind staying here, in case something happens?”

“I’ll stay. …I don’t know if I’ve ever said it, but I sure don’t envy Ret’s job.”

This brought a faint smile from the leader, and he leaned forward to press a light kiss to the other’s cheek before he left to find Marsh, the female leader. If the injured man happened to survive and stayed on, then it was only proper to involve the other leader in the decision as well. They might be separate in government, but as they coexisted within the same community, such a decision involved everyone.

--

Port was the only one present when the stranger regained consciousness. Ret had long since cleaned the man’s wounds and wrapped them well before joining Sean as he talked with Marsh and her second. Tim was with them as well, as he knew the most about the circumstances behind the injuries, so Port was the one to stay and keep an eye on the man. It was the deep groan that alerted him that the patient was awakening, and he crouched down nearby with a skein of water in case it was needed.

Fevered eyes blinked open, dark and glassy as they roved until finally settling upon him; the reaction thereof greatly startled him. With just one look, the injured man began swearing out vicious words in an unknown language peppered with more familiar words spoken with a thick accent. Eyes wide, Port backed off and prepared to run for either Ret or Sean--except the stranger fell abruptly silent, eyes closing as he breathed deeply.

Port was still ready to run for help when he realized that the deep breaths were dissolving into quiet sobs, the cries punctuated by a repetition of two words he barely managed to recognize; “Kill me….”

Compassion bled into the redhead’s heart, and he slowly crawled back over and laid a gentle hand upon the man’s bared arm.

The kind touch caused the sobs to become more severe, words robbed until there was just one, “Jules.”

--

Tim revealed to Sean and Marsh that he’d come across the man while passing through a tiny and relatively secluded village a fair distance away. He’d been publicly flogged and left to die from the extent of his wounds and exposure. After a moment, he mentioned that there had been another man who had received the same fate but had already succumbed by the time Tim happened upon the pair of them.

He’d been forced to leave that man as he was, unable to stop and bury the unfortunate soul…but he’d taken the time to grab the one left alive and flee before anyone could stop him. Although, he later reflected, he wasn’t sure if someone would have cared enough to stop him…he’d seen the pained and drawn faces of some of the inhabitants whenever they caught sight of the men who had been left out for the scavenging birds.

-

It was only once Zacharias recovered that anyone learned his name, and he never uttered the name of the other man…never spoke of the situation that led up to his predicament. If it could be helped, he never spoke at all.

It was as if it never happened. If Port remembered the name spoken just the once, he never let on to anyone else.

-- -- --

Port hummed a tuneless little melody beneath his breath as he went about doing some of the day’s everyday errands. It was getting warmer, and seeds needed to be brought from storage for spring planting out in the fields. Sean was off meeting with Marsh to discuss the month’s ceremony of procreation. How Port hated the ceremony; he was always glad that as he was mated, he was no longer required to partake in the uncomfortable situation. He’d had to do it twice, and the experience was something that rather made him queasy in recollection.

He balanced a tightly-woven basket filled with grains against his hip, idly recalling how long the intricate pattern woven into it had taken him; Sean had repeatedly teased that he’d grown far more obsessed with the project than their lovemaking. That had eventually led to quite a row; Port had taken offence and let his temper get out of hand, leading to Sean losing his usually unflappable cool in response. Of course, both realized the spat was basically over nothing, but Port wasn’t known for his hot-blooded temper when provoked for nothing. Still, Sean’s apology for riling him had been rather wonderful…and then his returning gesture had been most pleasurable as well….

Port slowly came to a standstill, a dreamy sort of smile on his face as he remembered the bout of heavy lovemaking that had resulted from that little blowup. That portion of his relationship never suffered despite everything else, of that he was certain. Although, he was still somewhat amazed at how much his blonde-headed mate seemed to love him despite his peculiar idiosyncrasies. He was younger than Sean by a good three years, which wouldn’t be a great deal if not for the fact that Port was still only seventeen.

He’d been elected to position as second when he was fourteen, which is something in and of itself, as he’d migrated to the Quarter just the previous year before that. It was strange for two such young adults to both be elected as leaders for the village; usually those with more life experience were the most likely to be chosen.

A situation had cropped up not long after he’d arrived to the Quarter, one in which he was plunged into the thick of a jealousy battle between two inhabitants. He’d been unwittingly used to smite and enflame one against the other, and it wasn’t until an outright brawl occurred that he became aware of the war. Using his common sense, he waylaid the scuffle and talked the two from the bitterness; the couple split in result, but no longer harbored the feelings of aggression and hatred they once had. Sean later confessed that his feelings for the younger man had stemmed from then.

Still lost in his thoughts, Port’s eyes wandered the scenery, pausing only when he saw two figures walking down the main road leading into the village proper. One of them was tall and lanky, while the other moved in a stiff fashion…as if he believed himself walking into a village of thieves or lepers. There was only one person Port knew to act in such a manner…but it couldn’t be.

Both figures had flaming orange hair.

He didn’t noticed when his numbed fingers let the basket slip to the ground, the contents spilling about his feet. Nor did he notice the way he began to walk closer, his heart ratcheting inside his chest and his eyes becoming bright.

It was only when the taller figure stopped and cried out, voice deep but childlike in tone, “Port,” that he stopped disbelieving. A brilliant smile lit up his face as he ran to meet up with the figure barreling towards him much like a runaway horse and cart; they clashed, and he found himself swept into the air and spun around. A shriek of pure delight escaped him, as it always had, but then he was lowered and crushed against the gangling form, his oxygen supply severely limited.

“Ollie…I can’t breath…,” he gasped, and the taller man let go in an instant and backed off, an anxious expression etched onto his face.

“I hurt Port?” the man worried, and Port forced a smile--more of a grimace, really--to pull at his mouth.

“No, of course not…just go easy on your brother, okay?” Holding his arms out, Port immediately had a clinging man to his chest.

“Missed Port. Sorry I hurt; accident,” he murmured, sounding more like an eight-year-old than the mid-twenties man that he was.

Softening, Port stroked his palm down the curved back, “I understand. I really missed you too, Ollie. …Ollie…squeezing….” Again, his breath was being pressed from him, and he wiggled as he tried to extricate himself from the overly tight grip.

“Ollie, back off!” The harsh reprimand had no sooner been issued than the tall man leapt backwards, a chagrined and guilty expression on his down-turned face.

Port seethed, turning his attention to his second-eldest brother; “Damn it, Robin, must you always shout at him like some mongrel dog?!”

Robin was two years Port’s senior, and Ollie was five years older than Robin. Yet it had been the second-eldest who had taken up the burden of caring for his two brothers when their father died more than ten years prior. He had promised the dying man that he’d do his best, that he’d never let them come to harm.

It had been that promise, and that promise only, that had forced his hand in allowing Port to be merely banished from their tribe. The normal punishment was physical disfigurement before banishment. If not for that oath, Robin very well may have been one of the leading forerunners against his own brother, physically holding the knife slicing off an ear and scarring the face from hairline to chin.

It had been Robin who told a certain young man that the only place left for him was the Quarter, the only suitable home for ‘mistakes of nature.’ But, he hadn’t allowed his brother to be harmed beforehand, and had even arranged something of a guide to ensure that Port made it without dying.

“What are you doing here?” Port finally asked, certain that it wasn’t a mere friendly visit. Ollie had already forgotten he was supposed to be contrite, his attention taken up by avidly staring at the setting around him; he visibly vibrated, and Port could only guess that severe restraint kept him from flying off in the first direction to go explore.

“I brought him,” Robin replied stiffly, not needing to elaborate on whom they were discussing.

“I thought you were going to take care of him…you promised me that when I left!” Port’s cry was accusatory, his bearing straightening up with menace.

Anger flashed in his brother’s eyes when the man bit out, “I have. But there’s nothing I can do to save him anymore, not after…. He attacked a boy.”

“No…he can’t, he wouldn’t….” Port was horrified.

“He can, and did. You know how he’s not aware of his own strength…he really hurt Arvi before I managed to pull him off. He’s lucky they didn’t kill him for his crime!”

“I said sorry. Accident.” Both men turned towards the sulky voice, Ollie standing there with a bit of a glower and childish indignation in the way he crossed his arms over his chest.

Robin stepped closer and made as if to backhand him, and the taller man dropped his act of anger in lieu of flinching backwards, clearly afraid of being hit by a man a full foot shorter than himself.

“Robin, don’t be that way, please…,” Port wearily interjected, and his brother shot him a short glare before he tersely relaxed and stepped away.

The older man rolled his shoulders; “Anyway. I give him back to you to care for. He’s not allowed back now.”

Robin’s declaration was followed by a tearful, “Robin leave me? You hate me now?”

Wincing at the accusatory tone, Robin made the mistake of looking at his brother…who was freely allowing his tears to fall, large drops streaking his miserable face.

“Robin hate me! You hate me!”

Port was amused at how fast his brother emotionally backpedaled, unable to stand firm against their brother’s tears. Neither of them ever could, and he wasn’t so sure that Ollie didn’t in some way know that.

“Ollie…I don’t hate you. But you have to stay here with Port now, and be good for him, okay?”

Sighing at the sight of the tears still falling, Ollie’s fists rubbing his eyes as he began to hiccup, Robin reluctantly held out his arms in invitation. It nearly caused Port to laugh aloud to see his stiff older brother being smothered in the embrace of the taller man, allowing himself to be mercifully squeezed.

“Don’t want Robin to go…Ollie never see again,” Ollie whimpered, his words mirroring exactly what he’d said to Port when he’d been forced to leave.

Tears prickled the youngest brother’s eyes at the painful memory. Up until that point, it had been him who had cared for Ollie and made sure he stayed out of trouble, looking out for the simple-headed man. It had been him who had been Ollie’s guidance and constant companion. When he left, he supposed that Robin had been forced to try to fill that role, even though he had never had been as patient as Port had always managed to be.

Ollie finally rubbed an arm across his eyes and managed a sad little smile, “Kay. Promise to be good.”

Robin patted his brother’s shoulder with veiled affection before turning to the youngest of them. “Keep a close eye on him, Port…he seems to suffer the same bout of perversion as yourself. I managed to get the leaders to let him stay, but this last time…it was simply too much for me to smooth over.”

Then, his voice tight as the words were forced out, “It’s…good to see that you are well. Even if you’re a….”

“Mistake?” Port’s voice was wounded, the pain at hearing those words from his brother years before still open and raw.

The mistake when he was born, killing their mother. A mistake when his perversion became evident, when he allowed another boy to…. A mistake that he was ever related to his own brother. All the things that Robin had shouted at him the day he left, the words that had never failed to eat away at his heart ever since.

His brother heaved a sigh; “No, not a mistake. I was…I was wrong. Even if you malfunction in…that way. I won’t pretend I don’t think it’s wrong and unnatural, but…I was wrong that I hurt you. I’m sorry.”

Port shuffled his feet in awkwardness at hearing the words that sounded as if they had been aching to be said for some time, and it eased some of the ache he’d felt at wanting to hear them for even longer.

Robin was the first to break the silence by glancing upwards and then muttering, “Taller’n me too; simply not fair.”

That brought a smile to Port’s face, and he finally looked at his brother. “Thank you. Ollie will be fine here.”

Nodding, Robin turned and began walking back out of the village, not even able to look back when Ollie cried out behind him, “I love you!”

His feelings hurt, Ollie snuffled and willingly buried his face against Port’s comforting shoulder. “Ollie bad, but say sorry,” he mumbled, and Port soothingly rubbed his back.

“Come on…let’s go see where I live, huh?”

Taking the man’s bigger hand into his own, he proceeded to lead him to the home he shared with Sean, hypersensitive and aware of the stares aimed at the both them as they walked. He chose to ignore it until things had been sorted out with his lover and leader. Ollie appeared to have partially recovered from before, his chipper mood sliding back into place.

“Thirsty,” he brightly declared as he ogled his new environment and eagerly tugged on his brother’s hand.

Port smiled at the childish enthusiasm, and said, “There’s a water pouch inside.”

He let go of his brother’s hand to duck inside the home, hunting for one of the leather pouches they had for storing drinking water. When he found one, he turned, only to discover that he was alone; ducking back outside, he groaned as he realized that his brother had already disappeared from view.

“Damn it, I used to know better than that,” he swore, anxiously using his eyes to search for where his brother might have gone. He walked around the side of his home and froze, his eyes horrifically widening as he finally spotted the tall redhead…planted down on the ground next to Zacharias and obliviously blathering on about something or other as the other unemotionally continued on with his work.

Rushing over, Port admonished, “Ollie, you were meant to stay with me!”

Then, to the quiet man, he hastily apologized, “I’m so sorry, please don’t mind my brother, he didn’t mean you any harm.”

“Obviously.”

Zacharias was in the process of gutting and cleaning some fish he’d hooked earlier in the morning, and Ollie seemed to be fascinated with the process. And with the man himself--especially by the mass of braids adorning his head.

Once he’d sufficiently healed from his extensive wounds, the quietly anti-social man had been forced to bathe himself well, and was given new clothing quite unlike the ones he once owned. He wore an armless tunic cinched at the waist, and trousers that stopped just below the knee, displaying more skin than he ever had before. The bath and clothing had transformed him from being filthily nondescript into a mildly handsome man. His shoulder length hair was dark brown in color, almost the shade of a grizzly’s coat, and he had light brown eyes. His features were strong and sharp, nearly all angles except for his weak chin and short nose. It could almost be said that it was as if his face had been pressed flat, but not so much as to have an unpleasant effect.

His fingers nimbly worked as they labored with the hooked stone blade meant for shaving the scales from fish, the bones and muscles of his hand clearly flexing beneath tanned skin.

A pleasant grin splitting his face, Ollie reached out and gave a good-natured tug to the end of one of Zacharias’ braids.

“Ollie,” Port severely reprimanded, and the man shrank back and hung his head, but not before Port caught sight of the deeply hurt expression on his face.

“It’s alright. As you said…he means no harm,” Zacharias quietly spoke, startling the redhead standing before the two.

There was an awkward pause while Port searched for something to say, and finally, he settled on simply directing towards his brother, “Ollie, are you still thirsty? I brought some water for you.”

Ollie lit up and eagerly nodded, holding his hands out in a greedy fashion. Port chuckled as he handed over the careworn pouch, his smile fond as he watched his brother drink his fill and plus some. Zacharias looked up and gave a thoughtful frown, astute perceptions flitting through his mind. It was rather easy to read Port’s thoughts.

“I’ll watch him here while you go find Sean, if you want.”

The offer surprised Port the most of all, and he blinked a moment before incredulously asking, “Seriously? I mean…he needs nearly constant attention.” It was a lot to ask of someone.

“I said I would. You have no need to worry; there was a girl I knew once who was the same.”

Filled with reluctance and misgivings, Port was unsure as to why Zacharias would suddenly be so…socially helpful and upfront, but it would be easier on his mind to leave his charge here while he went over the line into the female faction.

“Ollie, you’ll be okay here? You promise to be good?” he finally asked, and his brother nodded his head in solemn promise.

“Ollie be good, Port. I like the nice man.”

Nice man? Zacharias…? Port’s mouth twitched slightly, but all he said was, “Okay. Don’t you leave Zacharias’ side, you hear me? I’ll be right back.”

“Kay. I be good like you said.”

With that amiable agreement, Port walked off, uneasily glancing over his shoulder…somehow, he felt that he could trust his brother with the other man. How he knew it, he couldn’t say, but he let himself go with his instincts. They’d rarely failed him before.

There was a long pause afterwards, the remaining redhead appearing to be deep in thought as he continued watching Zacharias. He could do both, much as people were led to believe otherwise, and he enjoyed both pastimes; the braided man was interesting.

“Port look like Momma afore she die,” he finally commented, his brow creased; the worry lines disappeared as he abruptly smiled.

“Big now, not like small when left. Taller than Robin. …Look nice, my brother. You think so?” He tilted his head towards the man seated beside him, the man who seemed able to capture his unfailing attention without even trying.

Zacharias didn’t look up, his voice bland as he replied, “I suppose,” while continuing to gut his catch.

Ollie hummed. “Not pretty as you. Why hair so many?” he asked, curious and reaching out to lightly tug on one of the many numerous braids.

The man was quiet a moment, but then finally replied, “They mean I’m sad.”

On cue, Ollie felt sadness, asking, “Why? Someone yell at you? I get sad, when I’m bad.”

“No…something much worse. I…,” he sighed, looking up at Ollie with those brown eyes, “I lost someone I cared deeply for.”

“Lost? …Like when I can’t find way in woods?” Ollie pressed, perturbed and unable to explain how he could see veritable pain in Zacharias’ gaze.

Zacharias looked away, “No, they died.”

“Oh. Never wake up again…that sort of lost?” Ollie clarified, and the other man nodded.

“Momma died, I ‘member. But there was Port. He like Momma sometimes, take care of me,” he stated, grinning as he heard soft laughter escape his companion.

“You laugh at me,” he gaily accused, pointing a long finger at his new acquaintance; he didn’t know why the man was laughing, but he joined in anyway.

“Port is very mothering, yes. Some of the children will call him Ma’ta,” Zacharias offered, not realizing that for the first time in months, he’d allowed himself to feel a spark of amusement. Even if momentarily, he forgot his reason for wearing braids and maintaining a stony distance from anyone who might open up a barely scabbed wound.

“Aha ha! Port like woman!” Ollie crowed gleefully, cracking up at the childish hilarity of the thought.

The mental image of his brother in skirt or dress, or makeup around the eyes like the women of his tribe, had him collapsing into giggles, his countenance bright and cheerful. And, he was glad to see Zacharias’ teeth when the man smiled at him; a bare flash, straight and white. Ollie thought the man was the prettiest person he’d ever seen, many times more so than any woman; he decided then and there that the man was his new friend, and rather hoped the man felt the same for him.

Finally calming, he pointed towards the task nearly completed during the interim; “What kind fish?”

“River trout, mostly, a bit of crappy too. Ever tasted trout?”

Ollie frowned in thought; “Brown and green?”

Zacharias nodded, and Ollie admitted, “Yes, sometimes catch ‘this’ many,” he held out his arms, “I like fish. My favorite.”

Smiling once more, his friend turned his face towards him and asked, “Oh? Do you like catfish?”

“Live in holes along bank? …Try to bite if you reach inside hole with whole hand?”

“Yes, river catfish.”

“Hard to catch, much trouble for me. You catch before?” Ollie asked, leaning forward in eagerness; his blue eyes were wide and interested, taking in every word.

“I have caught and dried some, yes. Actually, I know a special trick that gets them to come out of their holes. I could show you sometime. Would you like that?”

Ollie’s eyes lit up bright, and he eagerly vibrated in place before allowing himself a bounce; “Oh please, oh please, oh please!”

Another smile flashed his way before it quickly died when Zacharias’ eyes shifted over the shoulder of the redhead, seeing Sean and Port approaching. Ollie turned to see what he was looking at, and lit up anew at the sight of his brother returning.

Scrambling to his feet, he bounced in place and cried out, “Port! I be good, very good, see?” His brother grinned deeply, making Ollie feel warm and happy. He had been good, and Port was pleased.

“I’m very proud of you, Ollie.” The tall man beamed from the praise, lapping it up unconditionally, as if a small child.

Port’s smile dimmed a bit with nerves, but he turned a bit towards his lover and said, “Ollie, this is Sean. He is my mate.”

Ollie frowned slightly, mulling it over in his head. “Like…Momma and Da?” he finally asked, and Port gave a faint flush even as he nodded in affirmation.

“Um…Sean like…brother, then?” Ollie guessed, his excitement barely checked.

When Port again nodded, Sean didn’t even have a chance to blink before he was swept up and into a hug with a low ‘oomph!’ Ollie wasn’t much taller than the blonde and weighed a good deal less, but his strength was almost shocking. Sean had never met a man who could pick him up with as much ease as the redhead who squeezed him and laughed with abandon.

“Brother Sean, brother Sean…gots a brother Sean!” Ollie sang out before releasing the winded man, who stumbled back and rubbed his side with a rueful grin. Sean shared an amused glance with his lover, who appeared both chagrined and trying to hold back his laughter.

Meanwhile, Ollie dropped into a crouch and jabbered at his new friend, “I gots a new brother! …Port like woman, after all.” He snickered, gleefully amused when his brother blushed and spluttered indignantly, much to the low ribbing of his lover.

Zacharias was more reserved now that there were witnesses, but his tone was still mildly warm as he replied to Ollie, “I heard. Lucky you, eh? Brothers are special.” Never mind that both of his had died young.

Ollie nodded in agreement, changing the subject by asking, “When you show me trick for fish?”

Both men still standing were amazed as Zacharias easily answered the man, his words too low for them to catch but his open manner apparent. It was a bit of a shock, really, how he acted towards the child-minded redhead.

“You didn’t believe me,” Port murmured o his lover, who was still recovering from his hug and loss of contact with the ground, not to mention witnessing the newest behavior of one of his people.

Shaking his head, his tone was rueful; “Never would have believed it if I didn’t see it with my own eyes.”

A slight smile crossed his face; he’d been surprised when he found Port looking for him in the women’s faction, a place Port never felt quite comfortable wandering through. He was aware of how the procreation ceremonies still weighed heavily on his mate’s thoughts; there was a small redhead in the children’s dwelling, and there was no doubt as to who fathered the girl. What he couldn’t understand was Port’s inability to approach that child as he did any of the others; a fear was there that Sean couldn’t soothe, much as he wished otherwise.

Once Sean was informed of the circumstances involving Ollie’s stay in the Quarter, he had not hesitated a moment in offering that the man be brought to live with them instead of the communal dwelling. The swelling love in his mate’s eyes had only reminded Sean of just why he cherished the lean man.

And now, here was the childish yet likeable fellow who was talking rapidly with Zacharias--who was replying in kind, albeit far more reservedly, but still talking. It was something of a relief to witness, to know that perhaps this simple man could thaw the heart of Zacharias, giving him back his emotion and want for humanity. Too long had Sean been forced to watch Zacharias suffer in silence, watch him close off from nearly all pleasures of life. Zacharias needed a friend, and it appeared only too obvious that Ollie had taken to him quite nicely. With any hope, the friendship would force the quiet man from his shell long enough for him to realize that there was something in this life still worth living for.

He sympathized with the poor fellow, after all; if he were to lose Port, his outlook could very well turn bleak and shrouded in misery.

“Ollie…we have to show you where you’re going to be living from now on,” Port spoke finally, and the crouched man looked up at him with a bit of hesitation before turning back to his new friend.

Zacharias didn’t need to read minds to know what he was thinking. “Go. We will talk later,” he quietly promised, and the redhead finally nodded and decisively stood. His brother automatically clasped his hand within his own and began walking away. Ollie looked backwards just once as he followed Port, pleased when he saw that his friend was looking at him as well.

Long after the small group had departed, Zacharias sat in thought--his cleaned fish lay forgotten in front of him. There was something impossible to not like about the tall redhead, something that he instinctively found himself reacting to. Ollie was so earnest in nature and obviously goodhearted, that much was for certain. But there was a depth to the man that many people wouldn’t be able to understand or even notice. He couldn’t even be certain that Port himself would be able to recognize it; he seemed to love his brother, that much was obvious, but he still treated him as one would a small child. Not just in his words, but his fatherly actions, as if Ollie was nothing more than a toddler to be coddled and corrected.

Zacharias knew Ollie’s mind was childlike in many ways, but he had sensed that the man was much brighter than he let on to be. It had first become apparent when Ollie’s attention had been riveted by their conversation about fish; the way his eyes lit with knowing and intelligence. Even his overall grammar had improved the more serious his tone became. This led the man to believe that perhaps Ollie had been treated as a child for so very long that he’d come to revel in continuing to behave that way…even when he was clearly brighter than he seemed.

Vaguely, Zacharias could recall the case of a similar child he had known, many years ago. The girl had been pitied and spoiled for most her life, and she gradually learned that childish antics would cause others to indulge her whims. Zacharias had been one of precious few who had never given in to such actions, and upon the realization that such antics wouldn’t work with him, she’d curbed the behaviors. While not on the same level of intelligence as even Ollie, he had been able to hold mature discussions with that girl. …She had been a friend.

Finally shaking himself of his musings, Zacharias cleaned up his mess and silently went about his business, thoughts on the adorable redhead shunted to the back of his mind. If they had been in the forefront, he might have noticed that when it came to Ollie, his hard-built defenses had already crumbled.

He got up and went to ask Ret for a loan of a specific dried herb he didn’t already have in his packs.

--

Darkness pervaded the compound late that night, but a group of men laughed as they ate their communal meal around one of the fires inside their dwelling; the smoke twisted up and flowed through a smoke hole specifically put into the ceiling, joining the tendrils sent up by similar fires. They didn’t pay much attention to the quiet man sitting within their midst, a bowl of forgotten stew sitting near his feet as he stared into the coals with concentration; they never paid much attention to him at all, anymore. It was how he liked it. But tonight was one night he didn’t give it much thought.

When he certain the moment was right, he used sticks to remove a wrapped bundle from the coals, silence falling as they watched him unwrap one of the fish he’d caught earlier in the day; it was specially prepared in an obviously time-consuming manner…as if made for a special occasion or gift.

They remained silent for the entire time he went about transferring the meal to a bundle of large leaves, the fish tied carefully to prevent meat or steam to escape, and they were still watching as he quietly stood and left the dwelling…an event that had never happened, that they were aware. Once darkness fell and the Quarter inhabitants retired to their dwellings, Zacharias stayed inside and kept to himself. He was not known for going on social callings.

Whispers broke out the moment he exited, rumors spreading on what he could be doing and who he was going to see. Everyone knew that when you visited a person, you bore a gift.

Long after he was gone, conversation buzzed with his name and speculations on the lucky bastard he’d deigned worth his company.

The paths were dimly lit by stars just barely beginning to peer down from the night sky, but Zacharias knew his way well enough that he had no difficulty making it to the leader’s dwelling, having gotten wind that Ollie was staying with his brother. Hesitating only slightly as he heard muted voices coming from inside, he nonetheless gave a light knock beside the open doorway. Sean’s face appeared after a moment, momentarily strained at the thought of what could pull him away so late at night, only to show shock as he saw his visitor.

“I’ve come to see Ollie, as I promised,” Zacharias murmured, and the blonde blinked, but stepped back and motioned the man inside.

Ollie was seated next to his brother and rapidly chattering away at him about something or another, but Port was as anxious about the reason for the knock as Sean had been. Nothing could have prepared him for the man who ducked inside and latched eyes immediately to his brother, who in turn practically glowed once he saw who had come to visit.

“Zacharias! Ollie miss you!” he cried, and Sean and Port were shocked to see the unabashedly pleased grin flicker briefly across the brunette’s face in response. He moved over and crouched beside his friend, laying out the bundle as Ollie copied his position.

“I brought trout,” Zacharias pleasantly announced, and Ollie’s eyes went huge and round, the blue of his irises darker in the dimmer light of the dwelling.

“For Ollie?”

The brunette nodded-- again smiling at receiving a blinding grin--only to be knocked off-balance by the taller man’s intense hug; his eyes widened as both fell over. Ollie took the opportunity to snuggle against the man’s chest with joy, giving off a joyous--if tuneless--humming.

Port was shocked beyond words, but Zacharias didn’t once make a move to stop the cuddling that was being forcibly inflicted upon him. Finally, Port coughed and gently stated, “Ollie, you should let the poor soul back up…that can’t be too comfortable for him.”

Somewhat reluctant, Ollie was nonetheless apologetic as he backed off and pulled his friend up, biting his lower lip in anxiety that he’d hurt him. Zacharias brushed off the apology, indicating the fish with almost gleeful impatience as he asked, “Aren’t you going to try it?”

Ollie appeared to have forgotten all about it, but set into the fish with gust; he picked up a tender sliver of flesh and popped it into his mouth, chewing before he slowed. A wondrous expression came to his face, and he rapidly swallowed.

“It’s good! I never eat like that!” he honestly exclaimed.

Zacharias was pleased, and his faint smile showed it as he proudly proclaimed, “My uncle taught me the technique for fish when I was but very young. It’s all in the herbs and just the right amount of time in the fire. It’s always been my favorite.”

“You would teach me?” Ollie asked, his eyes wide and eager, chewing on another sliver of fish.

Hesitating just slightly, Zacharias nonetheless gave a slight nod, “Yes. I will teach you to cook a fish the way I was learned from my uncle.”

Ollie seemed ready to explode before he entire countenance suddenly fell. His tone was one of misery as he shook his head, saying, “I can’t cook.”

Zacharias leaned forward, voice fiery as he argued, “Yes, you can.”

The redhead again shook his head; “No. Ollie not smart enough to get it right.”

Port had never heard his brother speak such of his own intelligence, knowingly acknowledging that there was something less than normal about the way he thought and understood. Above all, it was a first he’d ever heard Ollie say something so adult in delivery.

He blinked when Zacharias wasted no time in leaning forward, gripping Ollie’s chin as he stated firmly; “Yes, you can. If you can catch the fish, then you can most certainly learn to cook it. I know you can do all this, Ollie; all you have to do is trust me. Can you do that?”

Ollie’s eyes were wide and openly trusting, borderline worship shining behind those irises as he nodded and promised, “I try.”

Again, the rarity of Zacharias’ smile was flashed, catching the other two occupants of the dwelling off guard; Sean would never have guessed that the man possessed such a charming dimple in his left cheek, but it was beyond obvious just then. Not for the first time, he marveled at the difference in appearance one smile could make. When Zacharias smiled, Sean could see the depth of his beauty fighting to come out, that depth he’d always known to be hidden somewhere beneath that forced cold exterior.

Upon Zacharias’ verbal confirmation to Ollie’s promise, the redhead grinned and returned to his fish, digging up another sliver of fish with his fingers and popping it into his mouth before seeming to finally remember that there were others present as well.

He held his gift out to his brother and Sean, asking, “You try? Very good.”

Port shook his head, saying gently, “That is your gift, brother,” but the taller man frowned as he looked down at the food nestled within his large palm.

“But I want to share,” he protested finally, looking up again with a hint of stubborn fire in his eyes. Not being able to argue the logic, both Sean and Port took a small portion of the fish, their expressions just as wondrous as Ollie’s had been once they tasted of it.

“That’s simply fantastic,” Sean commented, never knowing to have tasted trout that well done. As a rule, he cared more for small game and birds than fish, but the sample he’d just ingested was nearly enough to make him change his mind.

Ollie beamed at the praise, as proud as if he’d made the fish himself. He went as to offer a piece to the benefactor of the light meal, but the man gently pushed the bundle back at him, saying, “No thank you. I will have the first piece to come from your hand rather than mine.”

Light flared into Ollie’s eyes, and he easily promised, “I try very hard to do it right, then!”

Allowing a fond smile to grace his mouth for a few moments, Zacharias nonetheless visibly retreated back within himself once more as he announced, “I will retire now,” causing Port to tense at seeing the frightened horror on his brother’s face.

“Zacharias leave me now?” Ollie pressed, and the other man nodded. Ollie accepted the situation without throwing a fit--as he had in the past--and Port was relieved. It was difficult to calm a grown man who could rail and rant and toss someone off as easily as he could water from the river.

Instead, Ollie’s voice was timid as he asked, “You see me tomorrow?”

Zacharias bowed his head slightly in agreement; “Of course. Hersha’ le dun.”

“What that mean?” Ollie asked, brow furrowed at not understanding the strange language.

Blinking, having not meant to speak the phrase, Zacharias nonetheless translated, “It means, ‘sleep well and dream light’.”

Having spoken, he bowed his head in respect towards Sean and Port; “I apologize for my untimely intrusion; I will take my leave of you now.”

Thus said, he got to his feet and ducked from the dwelling, leaving Ollie to stare after him, melancholy etched clearly upon his face as he used one long finger to poke at some the leftover bits of his fish. Somehow, he was certain it wouldn’t taste quite as delicious as it had when his friend was still there.

“You will see him tomorrow,” Port soothed, and the other redhead sighed.

“I know. Just want to see now.”

-

The stars were a bit brighter as Zacharias walked back to the communal dwelling. He was lost in his thoughts, trying to figure the exact reason he’d taken the time to prepare the trout the way he was taught years ago. At the time, he hadn’t thought about the ‘why’, just the knowledge that Ollie would enjoy it; that had been reason enough.

But growing up, that particular method was only used during ceremonies or momentous occasions--the birth of a child, or achieving adulthood. There was much time and effort involved in order for the more delicate fish used to turn out the way it was meant. Zacharias’ uncle’s version of the delicacy had been much desired throughout the village, and the man had passed it down to his only surviving nephew in the hopes that it would continue to live through the family line.

Zacharias’ family had fallen ill to a widespread, deadly disease when he was barely of the age to walk, killing his parents and two older brothers while sparing his life. His uncle had raised and cared for him, taught him the ways of being honest among men; for the first time since he’d arrived in the village, Zacharias wondered how his uncle fared without him. If he ever wondered about him in return.

Not that it would matter, regardless. The majority of his punishment had been in the death of his memory; whether he had lived or not, his status would have always remained in that of the departed. Even if he returned to his village some day, they would never recognize him as one of their own.

Such a thought made him pause, bitterness searing deep within his gut as he glared into the darkness around him; there was that odd prickle behind his eyes that was easily blinked away, his frown chasing away the bleaker things.

So engrossed in his internal battle to keep himself from remembering too much, Zacharias didn’t notice how conversation halted once he’d stepped inside the communal dwelling, nor did he give notice when it buzzed back into existence as he made his way back to his sleeping pallet.

He did, however, notice when a spiteful voice spoke, “I heard he’s not right in the head. Acts a fool…even worse than the youngest child. There isn’t any intelligence there at all--rather pathetic, really. A waste.”

“Aw, Jerick, that’s cruel. A body can’t help the inflictions they’re born with.”

“But does that mean the rest of us should be forced to take on the burden of his survival? My father always said that a child as can’t grow up to be useful to the tribe wasn’t meant to live. Why should we have to put up with him, huh?”

There was audible disgust; “Do we have to put up with your ugly nature? ‘Cause that seems to be an infliction upon us.”

“The man’s an idiot and drain upon all of us! If he can’t do anything for himself, he’ll never contribute anything worthwhile! Surely that must mean something to the lot of you, having to work harder to feed the mouth of some feeble moron!”

Unadulterated rage and righteous fury held Zacharias’ spine rigid, his hands curled into white-knuckled fists as he turned from where he’d stood frozen during the speech; he stalked over to the group of men, eyes seeing just one. Hatred lit his eyes as the gaze of the one who had spouted all those foul words against his friend rose up and spotted him.

Jerick startled to his feet, but was unable to react when Zacharias stormed over and delivered a resounding blow to the side of his face. He stared at the brunette, mouth open in shock and not even noticing the red-welted handprint rising on his cheek.

The moment of silence following seemed to boil Zacharias’ rage even further, his mouth twisted into a sneer.

“Lenoya trildar e ti!”

He didn’t even noticed he was spitting out an insult in a language they didn’t recognize, but followed it with a gesture they knew more about--he rudely spat at Jerick’s feet, glaring at the man before abruptly turning and stalking off for his lonely corner once again.

Only after he was seen retiring to his bed did people finally shake themselves from their near-stupor, retiring to their pallets with unnatural stealth. There was normally much ribbing and talking going on, and other ‘activities’, but this night, not many felt up to doing more than falling asleep.

Jarick was still at a loss as to what had happened exactly, but the throbbing now encompassing the entire side of his face wouldn’t allow him to forget the look of fury that had overtaken such a usually cold-mannered visage.

Whatever those strange and guttural words Zacharias spoke had been, they made him shiver with unpleasant disquiet.

--

If the display of Zacharias’ temper hadn’t been a clue as for the strength of his feelings for the simple-minded redhead, the following day’s events would definitely have been something to behold. Almost immediately upon seeing the braided brunette hair of his friend the following morning, Ollie bounded over and knocked the poor man from his feet to the dirt below.

Zacharias went down with a pained ‘oomph!’ and silence fell as everyone anxiously awaited the foul slew of curses that had been known to pour from the man whenever his ire was raised--instead, they heard the odd sound of a rusty laugh, low and obviously unused for a long time.

Port sighed in relief, unaware he’d been holding his breath in the first place. That laughter wasn’t something that should have been able to shock all inhabitants within hearing distance, but it did--coming from a man who never smiled, never laughed.

That man was sprawled in the dirt beneath the weight of a hyper, chirping redhead who acted as though his best friend in the world was within his proximity. Looking away as Zacharias laughingly convinced Ollie to roll off so he could get back to his feet, Port figured that perhaps the man was his brother’s best friend. For as long as he could remember, nobody had ever taken to Ollie quite so well, immediately accepting the man for who he was.

It had always pained Port that people could be so cruel towards his brother, as the kindly fool didn’t have a mean bone in his body. But Zacharias…this man who Port would have bet would be the least likely to even withstand his brother’s presence, was patient with him. Laughed with him--as if he truly cared for and liked him.

It was perplexing, to be sure, but who was he to complain?

The memory of fevered sobbing still haunted Port at times, that one simple phrase searing his heart with ache. It took utter desolation for someone to wish for death with such bitter certainty. In a way, Port harbored some guilt for having been unable to honor that request, even though Zacharias had never given any indication that he ever regretted surviving his wounds.

It was still obvious to anyone perceptive enough that the man had lost everything he valued worth living for.

As Port watched Ollie drag his unresisting new friend towards the river, he could only wonder if perhaps Zacharias might find something worthwhile in the unlikely friendship.

--

As the days of the season melted away, the initial bizarre sight of Zacharias and Ollie together became commonplace enough that the tongues had quit wagging with wild speculation. For the first time, Ollie found himself ingratiated into the good graces of nearly everyone within the village, and he especially loved the children.

The youngest of them found a wonderful playmate in the easy-going man, and were delighted that a grownup would whole-heartedly partake in their games and amusements without rebuke. The older ones enjoyed his company merely for the fact that he liked to talk and listen to them as individuals--they recognized that he was a kind soul, and a friend if they were ever in need.

Even if he could be easily distracted.

Ollie had never received such warm words and true friendship from so many in his life--before, people had treated him well enough, but they never saw him as a normal person worthy of time and attention. Now he had many friends within both factions; nobody was able to coexist between the men and women as easily as he, for he was able to freely come and go as he pleased without worry of hindrance.

He often found himself sharing meals with the female healer, who had a special fondness for his unabashed nature and friendly curiosity in the way things worked and why. She often answered his many questions with open candor, and laughed at his light-hearted take on life. He adored her very much.

But as much as he enjoyed being with everyone, he still regarded Zacharias with near-worship. The man was never harsh or impatient with him, and had never laughed at something Ollie might do that others would not. He smiled whenever Ollie was close, and he made things easy for him to understand and grasp.

Sometimes Ollie would sit and watch Zacharias work, eyes sharp as they followed every movement--as time went on, the redhead finally decided that he loved his very best friend with all of his being. The revelation didn’t change his behavior, didn’t change the way things were between them. But he felt it all the same, and it sometimes caused strange sensations inside whenever he sat too close, or saw a far-off sadness enter his friend’s eyes whenever there was too much silence.

It hurt. As did seeing his brother and Sean when they thought nobody was watching, or hearing them at night when they thought he’d fallen asleep. He’d lay there, face towards the wall as he heard them whisper--and sometimes other things--and he’d pick at the swept dirt floor until he fell asleep with a growing dull ache somewhere in his gut.

-

It was several months after Ollie’s self-revelation before the delicate issue finally came to a head. As promised, Zacharias had been teaching him his special preparation of fish, patiently going over the process often so that Ollie might manage to do it by himself without prompting.

“Now that you’ve gathered your herbs, what do you do?” Zacharias asked the redhead, who frowned down at the somewhat small catfish he’d pulled from the bank less than an hour previous. It was gutted and cleaned, and lay upon a few dock leaves as Ollie racked his brain before admitting, “Dun remember.”

His frustration was evident in the tone of his voice and how his hands clenched up into fists, the knuckles turning red before flashing white. Zacharias reached out and withdrew a bit of a slender root and some leaves, going through the process once more, voice smooth and patient.

Tears welled up within Ollie’s eyes, and he abruptly brought his large hands to his face as he wailed, “No good, I just stupid!”

“You are not, you’re just frustrated,” Zacharias reasoned firmly, and continued with his explanation.

With a sharp cry of denial, the taller of the men reached forward and pitched the fish into the dirt before knocking their supplies to the side and askew. A hand grabbed a firm, yet gentle, hold on his wrist, the reprimand of, “Stop that, it won’t help anything,” only serving to make him more angry.

“No! No more. I am stupid and…hate you!” Ollie spat, unseeing of the flash of hurt on Zacharias’ face just before the redhead blindly lashed out with one fist. It connected with a meaty thud, and Zacharias’ sharp grunt stilled Ollie’s vengeful fit into shocked silence, the redhead turning pale to see blood shining in the silken split of his friend’s mouth when fingers pulled from the already puffing lower lip.

When brown eyes finally met dark blue, Ollie’s tears renewed as he turned and scrambled to his feet, running away from the blankness he’d seen within his friend’s gaze. This had happened before--people liked him until he hurt someone, and then they were angry, made him leave and never come back and he didn’t want to go. The thought that Zacharias might never talk to him again tore Ollie’s heart open, and he kept running until he found a place he felt safe.

Sitting alone in the wake of the other’s rapid departure, Zacharias nursed his tender lip until the coppery salt of his blood ceased to flow. Over and over, his mind replayed the brokenness of his friend’s expression before he’d fled, and could only reason that the man was suffering more than himself at the moment. The pain wasn’t a bother, now that it had settled into a throbbing warmth and gently swelling sensation. But knowing Ollie was upset niggled at him until he knew he’d have to find the other man and convince him that nothing had changed.

Even still, he took the time to clean up the mess and take the fish to the communal dwelling, giving it to someone who would eat for their evening meal. He handed it to a man without word and although he received an incredulous stare as a result, it was accepted just as silently.

Only then did Zacharias start off in the direction his friend had fled. Without having to give it much thought, given the direction and knowing Ollie well enough, he knew where to find him. They had been in the river earlier catching catfish, and it was a spot they often frequented.

Sure enough, he eventually found the redhead hunched over his knees as he sat within the tall weeds lining the bank. Ollie was rocking back and forth, his slim body shaking with low sobs and occasional shuddering breath.

Zacharias paused once he realized, overwhelmed with a peculiar aching sensation in his chest--it was vaguely reminiscent of the burn plaguing him for months after his arrival to the Quarter. Every quiet sob stung him enough that the corners of his mouth tugged downwards; Ollie wasn’t meant to be unhappy, he so rarely fell from his lively chatter and laughter.

The brunette moved closer, the swishing of grass against his leggings finally alerting the crying man that he was no longer alone. When he looked up and saw Zacharias--the man he loved and had hurt--he flinched away, shuddering slightly.

“Leave me ‘lone,” he moaned hoarsely, but Zacharias ignored the plea and came closer, finally crouching down next to him.

“Ollie, please look at me. Don’t cry,” he said softly, one hand reaching out to settle upon a trembling shoulder. There was a shuddering sob, the only warning he had before the orange-headed man turned and threw himself against his chest, harsh cries again escaping.

“I so sorry, Zacharias! So sorry I hit!” he choked.

The brunette was a bit thrown, but as he’d grown used to rather sudden displays, it took him only a moment to recover and rub a soothing hand down the shaking back. For a moment, he considered pulling the man closer, wrapping his arms around his friend and holding the redhead for as long as he’d allow, but then he pushed the thought away.

“I know you’re sorry, it’s ok. You didn’t hurt me badly,” he murmured, unconsciously stroking his cheek against the soft head of hair hovering so near his face. He idly wondered how it’d feel to feel of it between his fingers; only one other person had allowed him the privilege, and for once, there was no pain behind the memory. Just a distant loss.

After a while, Ollie’s tears tapered off and Zacharias pulled back, saying, “There now, are you done?”

His tone was friendly and teasing, but Ollie frowned, glaring off to the side as he said petulantly, “You promise I could learn, but you lied to me.”

Despite the sting implied behind those hurt words, Zacharias recognized the adult tone to the statement and was pleased that he was at least affecting his friend in a positive way. There was a sense of accomplishment to that, a granule of personal affectionate pride.

“I would never lie to you,” he admitted, fingers finding Ollie’s chin when the other’s frown merely deepened; he brought that blue gaze towards his and offered a slight smile.

“I would not, and I do not lie when I say that I believe you to be intelligent, Ollie. You are capable of many things, I promise you.”

Blue eyes filled with an intense sorrow, looking away as they began to shine, “I never be normal, I know. Everyone…is just nice because they are sorry I born stupid.”

Fingers abandoned Ollie’s chin as Zacharias instead moved his hands up to gently cup his friend’s face, solemnly stating, “You are not stupid, and I know you aren’t normal. You are more beautiful than anyone else, made exactly as nature intended.”

There was a brief moment’s worth of hesitation, but then the brunette leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Ollie’s lips, pulling back before the other man could react.

Blood stained Zacharias’ cheeks at the blatant display of his developing feelings--things he felt sure weren’t right to harbor for Ollie. Not because of his lack of intelligence, but because… well, he wasn’t really all that sure as to why, but there was something in his gut that whispered that such feelings weren’t good enough when coming from him.

That was the reason he hastily withdrew, a soft apology on his lips before sudden warmth hindered the rest of his speech.

Brown eyes widened once he realized that the warm hindrance was Ollie’s mouth pressed against his, engaging a desperate and needy kiss that bruised his swollen lip even as large hands moved to his shoulders to instinctively hold him into place.

He jerked backwards and fell onto his spine in his haste to get away, only to be dismayed that Ollie followed the movement until settled on top of him, trapping him to the ground beneath the taller man’s weight.

“You love me?” Ollie asked softly, his eyes burning into Zacharias’ with a powerful need to hear yes.

Instead, Zacharias pleaded, “Ollie, please get off me,” even though he hated the hurt evident on the other man’s face from the dodging response.

Ollie frowned, voice turning hard, “No.”

Brown eyes widened at the adamant refusal, and he squirmed beneath the redhead, voice ragged with panic as he begged to be let free; the redhead greatly outweighed him in size and strength. As if Ollie knew that, he pressed downwards with his arms against Zacharias’ chest, and the brunette felt true fear blossom as black began to blur the edges of his vision.

“Get off! Get off!” Raw panic overtook him as he struggled to breath, tears springing up as his fight to free himself proved fruitless.

“I wanna know if you love me,” Ollie stated firmly, seemingly unaware that his friend was growing close to passing out from lack of air and fear.

Desperate, Zacharias cried, “NO!” as his nails flew up and scraped the redhead’s face, causing Ollie to shriek with pain as the man jerked away from its source, rolling away and holding his eye.

Zacharias curled onto his side, sucking in choking gasps of oxygen as his wet face smudged into the dirt; he could dimly hear Ollie’s tight sobs of pain, but his mind was far more preoccupied with his own. Eventually, some scrabbling noises alerted him to the fact that Ollie was once again fleeing from him and the riverbank, but couldn’t find it within to care much at the moment.

He lay there in the dirt long after his erratic breathing tapered off, the feel of mud stiffening on his cheeks as he inhaled the smell of damp earth beneath his face. Despite attempting to do otherwise, he could still detect skin and blood beneath his nails, could remember exactly how it’d felt when he’d torn the flesh from Ollie’s face.

That sickening, chalky, curling sensation of the skin made him cringe further against the dirt, fingers raking through the grass and digging up grit that only made the sensation even worse, reliving that moment a thousand times and feeling worse for it.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Zacharias lay on the ground and attempted to think of nothing at all beyond breathing and listening to the river playing along beyond him. He was aware of the encroaching darkness, and though he knew it wasn’t wise to remain where he was, he couldn’t find the energy to move.

Perhaps an hour passed before a rustle sounded, the noise jerking him upright before he could stop himself, eyes wide as they scanned the graying landscape; it had been a forced sound, something made from a moving being. There wasn’t anything that he could see, but he nonetheless pushed himself up and over to the river, finally rinsing the caked dirt from his face and hands.

His upper body ached, particularly over his breast bone, as that had been where Ollie’s arms applied the most pressure when he’d been atop him. Zacharias’ damp fingers darted up and touched his chest, a momentary wince of pain crossing his features from the feathery touch.

Dusk was more rapidly approaching when he finally set out to return to the Quarter, and he unconsciously sped up, not having the desire to travel in the darkness if he could help it. The dark reminded him of secret pleasures, of fearful hiding from angry tribesman he once thought were his friends. It reminded him of the terror’d night everything had exploded around him and left him for dead, bird food for the scavengers.

The further he walked, the slower his steps became, a numb weariness creeping up that only doubled as he caught the first whiff of night fires--the lazy smoke instilled a sense of instant drowsiness straight into his system, the shock of his day finally catching up.

As he walked into the village proper, he kept his gaze to the ground, having stumbled more than once or twice otherwise. It was this reason he never saw the incensed redhead who descended upon him until too late, a fist snapping his face to the side and his body belatedly following along as he fell to the ground with a sickening thud.

He lay crumpled there, in shock from the pain radiating from the left half of his face--it rather felt as though he’d been belted with the largest piece of ash wood a person could heft. More of that coppery salt filled his mouth from where he’d bitten through his tongue during the blow, and Zacharias turned his head and let the liquid fall from his lips to the earth below.

“How dare you?!”

Port’s voice was full of hate, his fists and teeth clenched and his body radiating violent tension. He shifted slightly, and Zacharias ignored the gut instinct telling to lay still, instead awkwardly gaining his footing and finally meeting the other man’s gaze--Port’s eyes were full of unshed tears of rage and pain, his pale face flushed a dark, mottled red.

Zacharias dully blinked, blood shining on his lips.

“You…! He nearly lost his eye!” Port raged, a vein popping against his forehead as he stared at the man he’d never have thought would attack his brother. His anger clouded his sense of reason, his ability to realize that Zacharias already appeared the worse for wear.

Zacharias said nothing to defend himself, his eyes sliding shut as his exhaustion teased along the edges of his mind, his body swaying just enough to make his eyes pop back open again. He had no chance to defend himself from Port’s full-body tackle, sending the both of them to the ground.

The brunette curled into a defensive ball, but that didn’t protect him from the rough blows to his head and torso, his consciousness only understanding mass pain and confusion before the blows abruptly ceased and Port was bodily yanked free of him.

Something warm encompassed Zacharias, and his mind finally slid into the comfort of unconsciousness, unknowing of the large hands that pulled him to a firm chest, clutching him tight.

“No! Don’t hit no more!” Ollie sobbed, afraid of the unkind monster his brother had become.

Port snarled, baring his teeth in a feral grimace as he struggled futilely against the hold Sean had on him and demanded, “Get away from the scummy bastard, Ollie! I will murder him for attacking you!”

“No! Port will NOT hurt Zacharias!”

Port felt his breath catch in his chest at the furious roar from his brother, the rage and pain obvious in Ollie’s voice. There was spitfire anger shooting from Ollie’s gaze, and Port felt his own anger sizzle down, unable to cope with such vivid hatred.

Ollie swallowed and looked down, unconsciously rocking himself and the man in his arms as he hoarsely stated, “I hurt him first, he just fight back. It was…accident.”

His left eye was nearly swollen completely shut, savage scratching running over the offended organ and eyelid before swiping down over the curve of his cheekbone. The blood had long been cleaned away and some antiseptic spread over the wounds by Ret, but it had taken some serious coercion for Ollie to finally admit who had actually caused them. And even then, he had only been able to whisper that name, tears thick in his voice as he went over the incident in his mind, only to come to the conclusion that he’d been at fault. He’d started it, hadn’t he?

Ever since his brother’s confession, Port had nursed a blind building rage, the sight of Zacharias finally returning to the village causing him to loose what little of his senses he’d still retained at that point. All the kind thoughts he’d entertained about the change in the brunette’s behavior--especially the warmth he’d shown for Ollie--had disappeared in a split second, and Port had been determined to savage the man until he could no longer hurt anyone else again.

Whether that to be the death, or not.

But as he witnessed the pain on Ollie’s face--the pain that he, himself, was causing--his anger disappeared completely, leaving only sorrow and guilt as he saw the limp way Zacharias’ head lolled before Ollie corrected his hold to better support it.

“Ollie…he hurt you, far more than anyone before,” Port finally stated.

The taller redhead looked away, voice reticent; “I know, but it my fault. I hurt, pressing--I just wanted to know if he….” He trailed off, red flaring across his cheeks as he sucked in a silent breath, his body giving off a muted tremble.

Curiosity caused the bodily-restrained brother to grow more lax, allowing Sean to take the chance of loosening his hold, although he was wise enough to keep his arms firmly in place around his hotheaded lover. He knew far too well how quickly Port could be set off again.

“What did you want to know, Ollie?” Port asked, slightly frowning.

His brother’s face ducked further down, voice soft as he admitted, “If he love me like he love other man.”

A collective gasp came from both Port and Sean, especially as they were unaware that Ollie even knew about the other man that had been in Zacharias’ life before he’d come to the Quarter. It was something they were sure he’d never talk about, even with Ollie.

There were other words, but they were mumbled so that they couldn’t make them out; Port slid down to his knees, numbly followed by his lover as they saw Ollie fearfully glance at them before he returned his gaze to the man he held in his arms.

“You what?” Port asked softly, and Ollie glanced up once more.

“I in love with him.”

The couple was shocked, and Port obtusely said the very first thing that came to his mind; “That’s impossible, Ollie.”

“Why, ‘cause I born stupid?!” Ollie challenged hotly, wounded tears filling his eyes as he met the contrite gaze of his brother.

His chin jutted out at a stubborn angle, voice vehement as he continued, “I know how to love--everyone know how to love! Zacharias say I perfect, not normal but right. You never like me this way, I know, but he say I more beautiful than anyone.”

A soft groan directed Ollie’s attention back down to the unconscious man he was holding, but there was no obvious indication that the sound was a signal of his arrival back into the land of he awake and sentient. Still, he took a moment to whisper something soothing, pleased when Zacharias seemed to turn further into his embrace.

“Ollie….”

Port was aware of the wheedling tone of his voice, but Ollie just frowned and stated, “I know. Let me ‘lone--I hurt enough.”

His brother’s mouth snapped shut, hating that defeated tone even though Ollie shook Zacharias’ shoulder until he’d pulled him from his sleep. A groan again sounded as the brunette stirred as if drugged, bleary eyes blinking a few times before drooping.

Without a word, Ollie got up and hauled his friend to his feet, pulling the man’s arm over his taller shoulders and inducing him to start walking; he began to lead him to the communal dwelling, intent upon allowing Zacharias to go back to sleep once there.

It was hard work, he found, when he had a man curled against his side and practically asleep even though his feet moved along with the person half-carrying him. But the pair of them eventually managed to make it inside where, Ollie faltered just by the door; he had no idea where Zacharias slept, having never had a reason to be inside with the other man before.

Most everyone turned and stared upon their entrance, shocked visages taken in his disfiguration of the face and the poor state Zacharias appeared to be in--he couldn’t even stand on his own.

“Where he sleep?” Ollie finally questioned, nervous and desperate to get from beneath the weight of so many stares.

Several people looked back towards a certain corner--one person actually taking the time to point out the way--and Ollie gave a brief nod before silently struggling to have both of them make it there in one piece. He could still feel the heaviness of staring on them, making him uncomfortable, but he managed to get them there without mishap.

Ollie paused once he’d reached Zacharias’ pallet, hovering there as he tried to figure out what he should do next. Eventually, he figured that the best approach was to allow Zacharias to slide from his shoulder and to the ground on his own--which didn’t end as well as he’d hoped, the man hitting the ground with a painful thud and low groan of pain.

Nevertheless, the brunette woke enough to blearily peer about him before rolling onto his bedding with a low grunt, again stilling into a lifeless slump even though he was about half on and half off. Ollie gave a rather fond smile before crouching down and shifting Zacharias into laying fully on the pallet, and then he took the time to gaze about curiously, aware that people were still staring at them.

Looking at the sleeping man a moment, Ollie finally sank fully to the ground, curling up at the other man’s back, just barely touching him. Ignoring the hushed--and not so hushed--talking flying because of the entire incident, the redhead fell asleep there as well, his prominent knuckles resting against that warmth lying just before him.

--

Zacharias was the first of the pair to wake the next morning, hearing the noises of late-morning activities happening outside the now-empty dwelling. A weary sigh left him at the severe ache all over his body, and he gave a wince when he went as to stretch his back and limbs--only to freeze when he felt a solid object just behind him, a person’s breath audible beyond his own.

Stiffly rising upright and turning, he was stunned to see Ollie asleep beside him--the grown man’s thumb stuck beneath his teeth and loosely parted lips, like a small child.

He had no idea how or why Ollie came to be there--most of the previous night was a jumbled mass of nightmarish perceptions and pain--but he couldn’t find much against the thought that Ollie had stayed the entire night by his side.

Jules had never had the luxury to do so, much as both had always wanted the chance. All Zacharias had wanted with his previous lover had been a chance to live happily--without secrecy, and without persecution. The night their relationship was discovered, the couple had been secreted away in the woods, Jules lovingly placing kisses all over Zacharias’ face and neck as they lay entwined--for once, fully clothed--amongst the leaves and brush.

Their affectionate embrace had cost Jules his life, and Zacharias had been sure his heart had died with him.

Then had come a man who bypassed his barriers by merely existing--he couldn’t push Ollie away, couldn’t help but to love the man in some way. In so many ways.

In the beginning, it had started as a fuzzy tendril within his heart for the child-like man, caring for his innocence and cheery disposition. That caring morphed into honest affection once he became aware of the redhead’s true nature--a sweet and warm kindness flecked with that reputable stubbornness that never seemed to cease. Ollie held such fresh ideas of the world and all that was in it, and Zacharias found himself able to experience everything with a new light when Ollie was there to point it out.

There was passion hidden deep within that lanky frame, a passion for life and living--and a passion for Zacharias. The depth of that passion wasn’t clear to him, not really, but he could sense that there was most definitely something there. He had seen it in Ollie’s face after kissing him, and he had some vague recollection of hearing it from the redhead’s mouth already, though he couldn’t say for certain exactly when.

It was a comforting and warm notion nonetheless, and one he found himself surprisingly eager to entertain.

After a long pause in which he stared down at the sleeping form beside him, Zacharias lay back in his initial position, cautiously moving closer to his friend so that his back was nearly curled against the front of the other.

As soon as there was contact, Ollie made a soft noise in his sleep and automatically pulled in closer, burrowing his face against the back of Zacharias’ neck. The brunette couldn’t help but to felicitate the motion by tilting his head forward to expose more of it, a smile playing at his lips as he felt the gentle flit of Ollie’s breath against his skin.

An arm moved across his waist--dead weight, but surprisingly gentle in nature as Zacharias found himself cocooned within Ollie’s sleeping embrace. The brunette’s eyes closed in pleasure, and his hand reached out to softly stroke the skin of the arm resting against him, causing the appendage to twitch and jump. He heard Ollie’s breath come faster and less rhythmic, signaling the man’s approach to waking.

He waited, unsure of what else he could do, really; there was some movement and sleepy muttering as Ollie proceeded to snuggle against the form he held against his chest. As he grew more awake, the redhead abruptly realized that a warm body was within his arms, one that smelled suspiciously familiar.

Opened blue eyes were rewarded to the sight of skin and dark braids, and Ollie’s small yelp of dismayed surprise startled them both, the taller man scrambling away once he’d realized that he was indeed holding Zacharias…who had been awake and letting him.

Zacharias winced as he rolled over, moving stiffly from his aching muscles and sore bones, but wanting to see the face of the other man; he was greeted with a tearfully nervous expression, the redhead obviously worried that he’d done something terribly wrong.

“Tinla’de,” Zacharias greeted softly, unaware of his lapse in language.

Ollie blinked damp eyes; “What?”

Rethinking what he’d said, Zacharias flushed and offered a small grin in apology, translating, “Tinla’de…good morning.”

Confused, it took a moment for Ollie to realize that not only was Zacharias not yelling at him, he was smiling that straight-toothed grin that usually bode well for the brunette’s mood.

“I…not make you angry?” he finally pressed, unwilling to relax until reassured.

“Of course not. …If anything, I should think my actions would have incurred your wrath, seeing how badly I’ve hurt you,” the brunette responded, his eyes drawn to the vicious wounds upon his friend’s face. It was the first he’d had any indication the severity of his attack, and it disturbed him greatly. He just hadn’t realized how much skin and blood had been beneath his nails.

Ollie brought his fingers up the marks, a wince flashing even though his fingertips barely even feathered across the wound. He dropped his hand and looked away, quiet with shame as he said, “No, it accident, I know. I hurt you and you hurt back.”

Zacharias flashed another smile, one dampened with his own sense of shame and guilt as he amended, “We’ve hurt each other, but we’re sorry, yes?”

Blue eyes flit to brown, and Ollie gave a slow nod, relieved to see the brunette’s smile become less tight, but was still unable to fully relax.

“You not mad I sleep here, with you?”

Zacharias thought for a moment, but then replied honestly, “No, I didn’t mind. I was glad to wake and see you here.”

Ollie’s fears melted completely and his face became bright, warm coppery glitter and spring green, and Zacharias found himself saying, “Come here.”

The redhead grew hesitant, but when Zacharias waved him closer, he did as asked, even though he managed to keep a respectful distance between them. It had been a hard lesson for him to learn that people didn’t appreciate having their personal space invaded, but it was a lesson he struggled to keep to heart.

“No, closer,” Zacharias urged softly, reaching out and tugging the man’s tunic even though he didn’t quite understand exactly what he had in mind either.

But finally, Ollie allowed himself to be manipulated into moving as close as possible, and the brunette promptly curled into his chest, seeking his warmth even as the redhead unbelievingly wrapped an arm around the smaller man.

After a moment, Zacharias mumbled his name in question, and Ollie made some noise in response, his mind focused instead upon the fact that he was able to hold the object of his affections so close to him without reprimand. That head of braided hair was tucked up beneath his chin, tickling his collar bone with every slight movement between them.

“Ollie…do you love me?” Zacharias’ question was soft and unsure, openly vulnerable, but it caused the redhead to still, heart thumping hard within his chest.

“You be mad if I do?” he whispered back, biting at his lip with uncertainty and somewhat wishing he could see his friend’s face.

“No.”

Ollie squirmed a bit; “Yes, I love.”

There was a pause, and then a muffled, “…I think I love you too.”

“Even if I stupid?” Ollie pressed, hope and heart leaping into his throat at the confession. He’d never felt so scared and happy at the same time before, funny niggles of ice and worms on his skin and within his stomach.

An arm snaked across Ollie’s side and around his back, curling and squeezing him as the brunette laughing replied, “Even if.”

Ollie basked in that simple statement for a few minutes before cautiously touching that mass of braids, voice soft and full of hope as he asked, “You let me kiss you now?”

A cheery laugh resounded against his chest even as Zacharias pulled back enough to look up, his brown eyes dancing with pleased warmth; “Absolutely.”

The redhead followed through with allowance immediately, capturing the man’s lips against his own, a tenderly rough press of mouths as Zacharias accepted his love of Ollie into that last painful ache, easing his loss of Jules with the gain of someone just as special.

Ollie pulled away some, mouth trembling with the swirl of unfamiliar emotions and sensations, which was only increased when Zacharias guided them back together before opening his mouth and pressing his tongue against the redhead’s lips in silent question. Ollie froze, overwhelmed, but Zacharias was patient, allowing the other man to incorporate the new development into his brain before finally opening enough for the warm tongue to slide inside.

It was different and beyond what Ollie thought he knew, but it spread wild heat through his body more than their touch had previously, and he took to the deeper sort of kissing with vigor, causing Zacharias to shake with unsuppressed lust.

The brunette had had no clue he’d missed such a simple and familiar embrace, but now that he’d indulged himself with it, he knew he’d want the pleasure again and again, for however long Ollie would allow him.

It was during their third such kiss--not that Zacharias was counting--that a startled and slightly outraged cry broke them apart, unpleasant memories tearing through the brunette as he felt cold fear settle down his spine at the strangled look Port gave them both, standing nearly right on top of them.

Ollie recovered first, sitting upright and licking bruised lips as he stammered, “P-Port, I….”

His brother turned a viciously cold eye upon him, causing the taller redhead to flinch when he was told, “Go home.”

“Port--”

“Do as I say!”

Tears of shame welled up as Ollie scrambled to his feet and fled, looking back near the entrance and jumping skittishly away when Port yelled a second, “go home,” in his direction.

Zacharias had recovered by this time, stiffly forcing himself onto his feet and wishing he’d been able to unfreeze fast enough to keep Ollie from going; the tall man was in pain, and it hurt him even though he had some small comfort in the fact that at least he’d told the man his feelings. Ollie shouldn’t doubt that, if Zacharias could get to him in time to soothe his tears.

He turned to Port, angry and frustrated; “What is the matter with you?”

“How could you do such a thing to him?!” Port demanded, sickened.

“What are you talking about?”

“Pretend. Ollie loves you the only way he knows how, and you jerk him around! I always thought better of you, but you’re…you’re a lying bastard!”

Zacharias was affronted, despite understanding that Port needed to see him as the villain, a savage monster taking advantage of the man’s brother; “I do not pretend, and would not to anyone.”

“He’s…Ollie is different, and you know it! For you to…it’s wrong.”

“No, it is not. He is not a child anymore, and hasn’t been for a very long time.”

"His mind is a child's! He doesn't understand the differences that we do!" Port was livid, and the fact that Zacharias was so calm in the face of his temper didn’t help matters.

The brunette advanced upon the younger man, taking thin shoulders beneath his palms as he zeroed a level gaze into blue eyes much like Ollie’s.

“He is not a child, mentally or otherwise. You are young, very young, and I know that you’ve always seen a need to protect him from the world and its people…but this world created a man like Ollie for a reason. Most children who aren’t meant to live don’t survive their birth, and you know that, have seen it time and again. Would you tell your brother he is a mistake, unworthy to live or love? …Why can he love me, but it is wrong for me to love him?”

Zacharias looked away a moment and then turned back; “After a lifetime of people telling him what he can’t hope to accomplish, he’s grown to believe it, accept those words as facts. But nobody ever told him what he could do, and he’s just now discovering that there is much out there well within the limits of his capabilities. Would you deny him that? …If you love him, will you always be the one to hold him back, his hands forever tied to yours?”

Desperate tears welled up in blue eyes as Port lowered his gaze, voice thin; “I would hate myself if I were to let something happen to him.”

The brunette gave those thin shoulders a small shake, voice gentle yet authoritative, “You are not his father, and you are not his keeper. His life is his own responsibility, and he will come to learn that. But he loves you, and will always took to you as his guiding force, just as he always has. It must be you who lets go, you who must let him fall if he is ever to learn to get back up on his own.

“I love Ollie enough to allow him that freedom. What I must know is; do you?”

Port looked up, silent a moment before dumbly repeating, “You love him?”

“I would not tell him so if I didn’t mean it.”

There was another moment of silence, and Port sucked in a breath before asking the nagging question on his mind; “And the man that came before him? Does he still haunt your heart, tainting whatever love you offer Ollie?”

There was pain in Zacharias’ eyes as he let go of Port’s shoulders, stepping back and collecting his thoughts. When he spoke, it was slow and containing an ache that would probably always be there; “It is my burden to keep Jules alive in my memory and heart, to give him the honor of life so denied us both in our village. When they cast us into death, they did so in their minds more than their bodies, our spirits dead to everyone who once knew us. It would be wrong to forget him. …But I promise that my love for your brother is just as much…just as much.”

It was such brutal honesty that Port had to swallow, uncomfortable even though he’d been the one to bring it up. This braided man was different than the one he’d known for so long, open and honest, and the redhead was certain that he’d never have had the privilege of seeing that if he’d not been Ollie’s brother.

Still, he squared his jaw and managed to state, “If you hurt him the way you did yesterday ever again, nothing will stop me from personally gutting you.”

Zacharias laughed, short and mirthless. His body still ached from Port’s last attempt to murder him, and the threat was no doubt a valid one. Still, he nodded and turned away, heading towards the entrance before Port stopped him with the demand on where he was going.

Turning as if it was only obvious, Zacharias stated, “To find Ollie so he may finish what he’d started.”

Port flushed; “You mean, he…?!”

Zacharias offered a one-sided grin--more of a smirk, really--and continued towards the entrance before pausing near the doorway.

“You know, you really ought to learn to curb that temper of yours. It just doesn’t do to have a Second who’s emotionally unstable.”

Port blinked in shock, and it wasn’t until the brunette had slipped outside that he realized it had been a joke, a teasing jab at his pride. The redhead hastened towards the entrance, of the notion to catch up and give the infuriating man a piece of his mind, but stopped short as he saw Zacharias crouch down near Ollie, who had hunkered down against the wall of the dwelling to wait.

Ollie’s face was tear-stained, but Port saw the anxiety fade from his brother’s gaze when the man looked up with Zacharias’ arrival. There was a brief exchange between them before the brunette reached out and took a hold of Ollie’s larger hand, placing palms together so that their fingers could curl down into an intimate gesture.

There was another brief exchange before Ollie moved up and pulled Zacharias’ face to his, initiating their fourth open-mouthed kiss--not that Zacharias was counting--as Port looked on with a growing blush.

When the couple finally broke apart, both men sported pinked faces, although Zacharias grinned as he asked, “Hey, Ollie…how about we go for a swim where no one else can see us?”

Port let out a barking laugh, clapping a hand over his mouth and covering both actions with a cough, but he needn’t have bothered; neither man paid him any mind as they rose and walked off for the river, Ollie’s arm creeping around Zacharias’ shoulders until the smaller man looked up and adjusted the arm holding him so that they were closer.

People stared as they walked, and tongues wagged with fiery gossip, but there was no recrimination. No anger or disgust.

Zacharias’ heart grew even lighter, and he broke the embrace in order to race his lover, laughter ringing when he was overtaken and fell behind, a playful voice egging him on.

Port finally left to find his mate, certain that it wouldn’t take much to convince the man to find someplace where people couldn’t see them either.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

a/n: end