Awakenings

The sound of J.T. and Matt’s sparring drew attention within the first fifteen minutes and the pair drew an audience not too long after that.  Tala was the first, wandering up after feeding everyone and cleaning up after them.  She appeared wrapped in her parka and a fleece blanket, her cheeks ruddy from the cold, a huge grin on her face.

“Sparring match?” she called.

“Yes,” J.T. answered, then swore as Matt’s kendo stick smacked against his ribcage.  Tala laughed.

“Point to me,” Matt said.

“Match to you,” J.T. corrected, unzipping his coat to rub at his ribs.  The layers of fabric had lessened the sting, but not erased it fully.  He stepped back, grounding the tip of his kendo stick in the crust of snow beneath their feet.  “Give me a minute.  You swatted me good, there.”

Matt grinned.  “Payback for the touches you’ve scored.  My bruises will have some bruises.”

“Nothing we can’t take care of later,” J.T. assured him.  He glanced at Tala.  “Anyone missing us down there?”

“Jac was wondering where you were, other than that, no one’s really asked.”  She shrugged slightly.  “I don’t think she actually needed you for anything.  She just wasn’t sure where you were.”

That eased some of the sudden concern that had popped up when Tala had mentioned that Jacqueline had been looking for him.  He cursed inwardly, wondering when he’d hit the point that he’d appointed himself responsible for everyone’s health and well-being.

I’m not responsible for everyone’s safety, just putting them back together again after something’s happened.  With a few people healing from injuries and illness, any mention of Jacqueline—his partner in crime, for lack of better terminology—looking for him was enough to set off alarm bells in his head.

“As long as that’s the case, let’s get back to it, Matt.”  J.T. zipped his coat again and picked up his kendo stick, then glanced at Tala.  “Want to keep score for us?  You’ve been the best at it for a while.”

Tala chuckled.  “I’m thinking I can handle that.  Objections, Matt?”

“None at all,” he said, grinning.  “Better than the two of us trying to hit each other and keep score.”

“All right, then,” she said.  “Three touches?”

“Three touches,” J.T. confirmed.  “And tell us if you spot Thom coming.”

Tala laughed again and nodded.  “Of course.  Lay on!”

J.T. worked one arm up and around in an arc, then the other, loosening the muscles of his back and shoulders in anticipation of the sparring match.  The cold would make their muscles tighten faster, make them more prone to injury, but as long as they warmed up properly before going at each other in a match, the risk of injury would be fairly low.

Matt took a few long, lunging steps into the sunshine and rolled his neck, then stretched one arm across his chest, grabbing it at the elbow to get more stretch, then repeated the action with the other arm.  “Will we be starting with basics?”

“You’ve grasped most of them,” J.T. said.  “Positions, basic maneuvers.  We’ll do some forms to warm up, then we’ll do an easy sparring match—first to three touches.  You know what that looks like, right?”

“Honestly, whenever Marin used to drag me to Ren fest stuff and I’d sit on those damn bales of hay and watch you guys beat each other with sticks I never quite understood why some things that looked like good hits weren’t touches but things I barely saw were.”

J.T. laughed and shook his head.  “You and a lot of other people.  We’ll sort it out.  Ready?”

Matt nodded, swinging his arms around a few times before he squared off in front of J.T., the tip of his kendo stick hovering just short of shoulder level.  “Ready when you are.”

J.T. grinned and fell into his own favored stance, holding his kendo stick in a slightly higher guard than Matt.  He watched the other man’s eyes for a moment.

Then Matt moved and J.T. reacted, stepping quickly to one side and swinging his bamboo weapon down in an arc to deflect the coming strike.  He laughed despite himself, enjoying the kiss of the wind against his cheeks as he twisted his wrist in an attempt to trap Matt’s weapon and possibly disarm him.

The younger man backpedalled, grinning.  “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” J.T. said, then lunged into a strike toward Matt’s hip.  “And everything.”

As the bound bamboo staves twapped against Matt’s side, the younger man swore and jumped back, then laughed himself.

“You’re going to bruise me good today, aren’t you?”

“You and then hopefully Thom!”  J.T. said, grinning back.  “That’s one nil.  Two more to go.”

“Oh, so it’s on now?”

“Yup,” J.T. said.  “It’s on.”

He moved to strike again, but Matt was ready this time, dancing back with a devil-may-care grin on his face.  “Fantastic!” the younger man said.  “Now I get to show you the dirty tricks Thordin’s been teaching me.”

He dipped down and grabbed a handful of snow, pitching it toward J.T.’s face.  As the medic lifted his arm to shield his face, he felt Matt’s kendo stick bounce off his ribs.

“Oh, very nice!”  J.T. said.  “Very nice.”

“Playing fair doesn’t always help you win,” Matt said.  “Sometimes it just gets you dead.”

“Wise words,” J.T. said, resetting his stance and wiping the last of the snow from his face.  “Ready?”

“If you are.”

J.T. laughed again.  “Then lay on!”

The sound of bamboo on bamboo echoed off the trees, off the ruins, as two men squared off in the snow at the top of the hill, laughing and yelling as if they didn’t have any other care in the world.

J.T. cracked his neck and rubbed his eyes as he walked from the warmth of the main tent toward Matt’s forge up the hill.  For the first time in weeks, he wore his claymore strapped across his back.  In his right hand, he carried a pair of kendo sticks.  His breath steamed in the chill of the bright morning, the third in a stretch since the others had dragged Phelan home.  Maybe it was an omen.  He didn’t think so.

“So he’ll live to do something idiotic on another day.”

J.T. snorted at the sound of Ériu’s ghostly voice.  He hadn’t seen or heard from her since the day she’d left to find Phelan more than a week ago.  “Apparently so.  Seems that he’s made a promise not to pull any more stunts like that one, though, and the girls seem to believe it.”  He shrugged slightly.  “I’ll believe it when it happens.  Or doesn’t happen, as the case may be.”

“As will I.”  She hovered above the crust of snow, her ghostly steps leaving no trace of her passage.  “The only reason I can forgive him is because no harm came to anyone here in his—or my—absence.”

He gave the ghost a wry smile as he climbed the hill.  “We did try not to stir up trouble while you were out.  It was surprisingly easy, considering we were all too worried to stir up much of a ruckus.”

“You tease me.”

“Of course,” he said.  “It’s the only way I stay sane.”

He ducked into the forge to find Matt working on melting down some scrap into ingots.  The younger man glanced up at the sudden brightness that flooded the dark space, raising a brow.

“Morning, Jay.  What brought you up here?”  He eyed the claymore and the kendo sticks.  “I’m not sure those would handle the heat very well.”

“They don’t always handle the cold very well, either.”  J.T. shook his head.  “I know that Thordin’s been working with you to learn how to swing a battleaxe and that’s fine.  But before he showed up, you asked me to help you learn swords and I said I’d teach you.  Time for a lesson.”

“Now?”

“Right now.  Can what you’re working on stand a break?”

Matt glared at the crucible and the scrap piled in it.  “Yeah,” he said, his voice flat.  “Ambient temperature outside is making it harder to melt shit down right now.  Maybe if I wait for afternoon it’ll get a little easier.  Even a few degrees might make a difference.”

“Could be.”  J.T. flipped one of the kendo sticks toward Matt and nodded when the younger man caught the bamboo stave.  “Come on.  I’ll put you through your paces and let off some steam myself.  It’ll probably be good for me.”

“Stressed?”

J.T. shrugged as he turned and shouldered open the door into the cold sunshine.  “A little.  I’ve been holding other people’s lives in my hands too much and it makes me ornery.  Come on.  Out into the sunshine.  I’ll try not to hit you too hard.”

Matt smiled, following him out the chill, his tone wry.  “Thanks.”

His companion shot him a lopsided grin.  “You’re welcome.  If we’re lucky, Thom will show up and kick both of our asses—well.  He’ll try to kick mine, anyway.”

“He did say he’d be up here later.”

“Good.”  J.T. gave Matt an evil smile.  “Let’s get warmed up, then.  Once he shows up, we’ll show you what a real sparring match looks like.”

“Jacqueline’s going to need to slather a bunch of salve on your bruises by the time you’re done, isn’t she?”

J.T. laughed.  “Quite possibly.  Probably.”

It felt good to laugh and not give a damn about what would be happening in the next few minutes, hours, days.  At least for a little while, he could have that.

He was going to take every advantage of the downtime that he could—starting right now with ignoring the baleful look that Ériu’s ghost shot him.

It was high time he had a little fun.

The stars were out, gleaming down bright against the snow-covered landscape as Thordin sat quietly on one of the old concrete benches at the end of the bridge.  He stared out over the plaza, breath steaming in the darkness.  The stitches in his cheek tugged, his ribs ached with each breath.

But I’ll live to see another day, just like the rest of them.

It had been a near thing with Phelan, he knew that for certain.  Jacqueline had made them all swear they wouldn’t talk about what she’d done.  The secret, he knew, would eat at the heart of him.

She was so touched by Jehovah’s power, by the power of the followers of the Christos, that it was almost painful to witness when she reached out her hand to it.

His eyes stung, and not from the cold.  She could do so much with the gift she’s been given.

He had seen that power before, long ago in another life, before mortality became the order of his day, before the tree and that terrible day in the woods when hunters and their dogs had ripped him apart.  That was when he’d known why the gods of the world’s heart had begun their inexorable retreat, why some of the Southron clans had been so desperate.

His own people had been far more blasé about the whole affair and their enemies had taken terrible advantage.

“All will be well, now,” he whispered to himself.  “The Dragon is here, Neve is here and safe, the Taliesin is whole and has an angel to love him.  All will be well.”

Then why does dread gnaw at my belly like a dog worrying a bone?

He suppressed the urge to shudder, staring at the snow that glittered under sunlight.  Had it only been a few months since the world had been shattered, since he’d abandoned his hermitage in the Poconos to wander once more?  That had been the right decision, as he’d come across Neve and Cameron just in time to help them.  Still, something gnawed at him, clawed at his very soul.

There is something else out there we need to be doing.  But what is it?

He’d have to talk to Phelan.  Phelan would know, he’d understand.

He was the bloody Taliesin.  If anyone knew—if it was possible to know—the puckish bastard did and would be able to tell him what it was.

“And once we know,” Thordin murmured to himself, “we can set ourselves on the path to do it.”

Whatever the cost may be.

Their cot was snug, warm as they entered, warmer even than it had been by the fire.  After frigid nights in the open and on horseback, Cameron was more than happy to work off his boots and walk across a wooden floor in his stocking feet.  Neve abandoned her crutches near the door and hobbled to the bed, sinking down on the edge and watching as Cameron tugged the door closed behind them in the dim light of their lamp.  His gaze flicked up to meet hers and he smiled faintly as he tossed his boots into the corner.

“What?”
“I missed you,” she said softly.  “I was worried.”

“I promised I’d come back,” he said, hanging up his jacket on the peg near the door and starting to unbutton his shirt.  “I meant that.”

“Were you careful?”

Cameron smiled.  “I’m alive and intact, aren’t I?”

“That doesn’t quite answer my question.”

He nodded slightly and came to the bed wearing only his jeans and socks.  He sat down with her and slid his arm around her shoulders.  “I had ample opportunity to get myself hurt pretty badly,” he murmured, resting his chin against her hair.  “If Thordin hadn’t redirected my attention, I might have ended up in a nasty fight and all of us could have ended up in worse shape than we did.  Then again, maybe they wouldn’t have gotten hurt if I’d stuck around.  I’ll never know.”  He stretched, trying to shake off the weariness that pressed down at him.  Had it only been a few hours since they’d made it back?

“You’re tired,” Neve said, reaching up to ruffle his hair.  “We should sleep, not talk.  I shouldn’t have made you sit up waiting with us.”

“It’s all right,” Cameron said, his eyelids growing heavier.  It had hit him like a Mack truck all of a sudden, exactly how tired he really was.  He was sore, too, from the long ride, but that wasn’t anything a hot bath wouldn’t fix in the morning.  He could probably charm Tala into helping him heat the water if he promised to help her with the smokers or something later.

Neve was lowering him down to their pillows and unfastening his jeans before he realized what she was doing.  He blinked up at her, brows knitting.

“What are you—”

“Sleep,” she breathed, leaning down to kiss him before she shucked off his pants.  He shivered, flesh puckering as it was suddenly exposed to the open air.  She threw their blankets over him and limped to the lamp to turn down the flame.  “We’ll talk in the morning.”

“You sure?”

“Of course.”

Then she was under the blankets with him, cuddled against his side.  Cameron sighed quietly, wrapping his arm around her just before sleep swallowed him whole.

“Cam, wake up, sweetheart.  Let’s go to bed.”

Cameron startled awake at the sound of Neve’s voice, shocked he’d drifted off by the fire.  Thom was slumped across from him, curled on his side with his head pillowed on Marin’s jacket, snoring softly even as Marin shook his shoulder in an attempt to wake him gently.  “When…?”

“J.T. rounded us up a little while ago,” Neve said softly as she tugged on his arm.  “You were already halfway gone by then, but you were still sitting up, which is more than I can say for Thom.  Phelan’s going to make it.  I can sleep now.”

“Oh.”  The words didn’t quite register until he was halfway to his feet.  “Wait, Phelan’s going to make it?  We’re sure?”  That’s good news.  I wonder when that happened.

Hell, I wonder how that happened, since the last I knew, Jac was worried he was going to die on her.  What changed?  He rubbed his eyes as he straightened fully, blinking blearily at Neve.  “Well?”

She choked back a laugh and nodded.  “Yeah, we’re sure.  I’m not sure what anyone did, before you ask, but he was lucid and talking.  He promised he was going to stay put.  No more running.”  She leaned against him for a moment.  “I don’t know about you, but I’ll take that and count it as a major victory.”

“Mmph.”  Cameron rubbed his eyes again, agreeing.  The next time he had to ride out to anywhere and fight anything would be far too soon for his liking if it happened any time before the weather finally broke.  He slid his arm around Neve’s shoulders, glancing across the fire toward Marin and Thom.  “Did you want me to kick him?”

“Kick me and you’ll land in the fire,” Thom mumbled, flopping onto his back. “I’m awake.  Are we going to bed?”

“Without a doubt,” Marin said with a smile, tugging on Thom’s arm.  “All of us, right now.”

“Hopefully not together,” Thom said.

“Not to the same bed, no.  I thought that you and Neve could take our bed and I’ll bunk with Cameron.”  Marin grinned, winking at Cameron and Neve.  Cameron suppressed the urge to chuckle at the absurdity of the thought as Thom swore softly.

“Like hell.  You and me, bed, right now.”  Thom struggled to his feet and captured his wife around the waist with both hands.  Marin laughed and kissed him gently.

“Yes, dear.”

Cameron squeezed Neve gently. “I don’t feel like sharing,” he said quietly.  “Not tonight.”

“Good,” Neve said softly. “Neither do I.”  She nudged him gently in the direction of their shed.

Cameron smiled, all too happy to accompany her.

“Are you going to give me that same promise that you’re going to sleep?” Jacqueline asked, a trace of weary amusement in her voice as the door clicked shut behind Marin and Neve.

Phelan let his eyes slide shut as he sank against his pillows with a slight shiver.  His back ached bone-deep, the wounds throbbing with each heartbeat.  “Would you believe me if I did?”

“I might,” she said softly, smoothing his sweat-damp hair back from his face as she reached down to adjust his blankets.  “I’d like to sleep myself sometime tonight, but I’m not going to leave you until you’ve rested and someone relieves me.”

“You should sleep, too,” he murmured.  “You were long on the road with the others.”  With me, probably sleeping even less than they did on the road, if any of you slept at all.  He didn’t really remember much of what had happened after Cameron and Jacqueline had suddenly showed up at his camp and after the Dirae had raked him.  It must have been days on the road before they made it back home again.  “Someone else can sit with me.”

“I don’t want someone else to sit with you right now,” she said.  She turned down the lamp to its very dimmest flame.  “If I was okay with that, I’d have let J.T. send me to bed.  He tried.  You were still asleep.  I told him I’d take the first watch until someone came to relieve me.  I imagine it’ll be Kel or Matt or someone in a few hours, then I’ll crawl into my bunk and sleep for a few hours—that is if I can sleep without worrying that you’ll somehow get worse if I’m not here.”

“You and J.T. did more than you needed to if you’re worried about me surviving the night,” Phelan said quietly, shifting on the bunk.  “I can feel it  Wounds the Dirae leave make you soul-sick, but I can tell that Jay did something to help with that—or you did.  It’s hard to tell which.”  Maybe it was both, each in their own way.  His eyelids were heavy.  Sleep was coming whether he wanted to surrender to it or not.  “I’ll survive the night,” he said around a thickening tongue.  “And I’ll see you in the morning.”

Her lips brushed his temple.  “Sweet dreams, Phelan.”

He tried to wish her the same, but sleep took him before the words could cross his lips.

The door opened and closed softly and he sucked in a sharp breath, suddenly aware that Jacqueline’s arms were around him and he was hanging onto her like a drowning man clinging to the only thing keeping him afloat.  He turned his face slightly to peer past her arm toward the door to see who’d entered, who’d interrupted.

“Neve,” he croaked.  “Leannán.  Come in.”

“We’re already in,” Neve said quietly.  “J.T. said you asked for us, but if you two are busy…”

Phelan swallowed hard, stiffening slightly.  Jacqueline’s arms loosened and she straightened, pulling away.  He regretted that, but let her go.  “No,” he said quietly.  “It’s all right, I did ask for you.”

“Do you want me to go?”  Jacqueline asked softly.

“No,” he said.  “Stay.  You should hear what I’m going to say, too.  You deserve it as much as they do.”  His gaze flicked from her back to Neve and Marin, who drifted closer to the bed as he took a deep, steadying breath and tried not to wince.  “I’m sorry,” he said.  “I’m bloody sorry.”

It wasn’t what he’d originally intended to say, but it was what he’d decided to say now.

“Are you going to tell Thom and Cameron and Thordin and all the others that, too?” Neve asked quietly.  “They deserve it as much as we do.”

“I figured you guys could do that for me,” Phelan murmured, closing his eyes for a moment.  Weariness he hadn’t felt a moment before was threatening to pull him down like an undertow.  “But you deserved to hear it from me.  I am sorry, and you’ve my promise that I’m not going to try to run again.”

“You swear?”  Marin asked quietly, though her voice was firm.  He heard steel there, a dim and painful echo of the woman who’d raised Ériu.

His heart gave a brief, painful squeeze and he nodded.  “I swear.”

“I’ll take it,” she said quietly, then looked at Neve.  “Are you satisfied?”

She nodded.  “I think so.”

“Good,” Marin said.  Then she shot him an impish smile.  “We’ll leave you two alone.  Neve and I have to pack the boys off to bed.”

“They haven’t been to bed yet?”  Jacqueline asked, blinking blearily.

“No,” Marin said.  “But we left Thom asleep by the fire.  You haven’t been to bed yet, either.”

“I’ll go soon enough,” Jacqueline said, glancing toward Phelan.  He gave her a shy smile and felt a flush creeping across his cheeks.

Neve noticed and laughed.  “Good night, you two.”

With that, she and Marin slid out the door and left them in peace.

Stay awake.  Stay awake.  Stay awake.

He felt like he was roasting from the inside out, felt like he wanted to puke his guts out even though his stomach was empty, and yet he was trying to stay awake so he could get potentially reamed out by three women who were largely responsible for his continuing to breathe.

If they’re yelling at me, I’m still alive.  That’s what matters.

Phelan winced as Jacqueline pressed cold fingers against his forehead. “I’m still here,” he murmured. “Thanks to you.”

“J.T. had something to do with that, too,” she said quietly.  She’d turned down the lamp after she and J.T. had finished working on him.  The worst of the initial reaction to the Dirae’s poisoned wounds had passed on the road, shorter in duration than his past experiences but no less unpleasant.  He wasn’t sure what Jacqueline had done for him while they were on the road, or what J.T. had done after they’d reached home again, but he was still alive, which wasn’t something he’d expected after he realized that he’d been slashed by a Dirae’s claws while he tried to get Cameron and Jacqueline to run.

“You didn’t have to come after me,” he said.  “You probably shouldn’t have.”

“That ship’s sailed,” Jacqueline said.  “Are you going to stop belaboring the point?”

He cracked an eye open just enough to see the tears glittering on her cheeks.  He swallowed hard.  “Jac.”

She met his gaze in the dim, her eyes red-rimmed from too little sleep and too many tears. “I love you, Phelan,” she said quietly.  “I meant it when I said it and I still mean it now.  I should have told you sooner.”

His throat grew tight as he inched his hand out from beneath the covers, seeking hers.  Jacqueline took his hand and squeezed his fingers.

“Don’t scold them,” she said softly.  “You’re our family.  The only thing we were worried about was keeping the family together and keeping you safe.”

He shook his head slightly.  “I’m not going to scold anyone.  Do you really love me?”

Her expression softened and she nodded.  “Yeah.”

Phelan squeezed his eyes shut and for the first time in decades began to weep.