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newty · 4 years

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A collection of over 40 writers and their work from World War 1 and the years that followed.

11/11. Happy Armistice Day!

This is by no means a guide so much as it is recommendations and selections from my reading list, but I hope it can interest others in some extraordinary or important lives. Enjoy!

POETRY

Richard Aldington (1892-1962)

British. 2nd Lieutenant, Royal Sussex Regiment.

Themes: Callousness, Apathy, Sound, Myth & History, Art

War and Love 1915-1918 (1919)

"Trench Idyll"

"In The Trenches"

"Apathy"

"Soliloquy I" & "Soliloquy II"

Exile and Other Poems (1923)

“Eumenides”

“At a Gate by the Way”

Edmund Blunden (1896-1974)

British. 2nd Lieutenant, Royal Sussex Regiment.

Field: Ypres, Somme, Passchendaele

Themes: Survivor's Guilt, Isolation, Nature, Post-War Reflection

The Waggoner (1920)

"The Estrangement"

The Shepherd and Other Poems of Peace and War (1922)

"11th R.S.R."

"Reunion in War"

"The Troubled Spirit"

"War Autobiography: Written in Illness"

"Third Ypres: A Reminiscence"

Rupert Brooke (1887-1915)

British. Sub-lieutenant, British Mediterranean Expeditionary Force, but died of sepsis before reaching Gallipoli.

Themes: Colonialism, Memory & Death

1914 and Other Poems (1915)

"1914"

Robert Graves (1895-1985)

British. Captain, Royal Welch Fusiliers.

Field: Somme, but also in a POW and Garrison camp iirc.

Themes: Camaraderie, Grief, Flippancy/Humor, Personal Change

Faeries and Fusiliers (1919)

The Pier-Glass (1921)

"Lost Love"

Collected Poems 1955 (1955)

"Recalling war"

Frederic Manning (1882-1935)

Australian & British. Private, King's Shropshire Light Infantry. Lance Corporal, 7th Battalion. 2nd Lieutenant, Royal Irish Regiment.

Field: The Somme, Ancre

Themes: Collective identity, Numbness, Individuality, Ritual as a coping method, Myth

Eidola (1917)

"αυτάρκεια"

Wilfred Owen (1893-1918)

British. 2nd Lieutenant, Manchester Regiment.Also see: The Hydra (1917-1918), the Craiglockhart War Hospital magazine.

Field: Northern France

Themes: Inhumanity, Protest, Disgust & Pity

Poems (1921)

“Apologia Pro Poemate Meo”

“Mental Cases”

“Dulce et Decorum Est”

"S.I.W" (Self-Inflicted Wound)

“Wild With All Regrets”

Poems of Wilfred Owen (1931)

“The Unreturning”

The Complete Poems and Fragments (1984)

Isaac Rosenberg (1890-1918)

British (also Jewish!). Private, 12th Bantam Battalion of the Suffolk Regiment, then South Lancashire Regiment, then King's Own Royal Lancaster Regiment, then King's Own Royal Regiment.

Also see: Joseph Cohen Collection of Rosenberg documents and artifacts

Field: Arras

Themes: Heroism, Loathing, Confusion

Poems (1922)

"Significance"

"The Immortals"

Delphi Complete Poetry, Plays, Letters and Prose of Isaac Rosenberg (2015)

Not free, but like the one for Wilfred Owen, I recommend these collections since they're super cheap (like $3) and mostly comprehensive even if there are some formatting errors.

Siegfried Sassoon (1886-1967)

British. 2nd Lieutenant, Royal Welch Fusiliers.

Also see: A Soldier's Declaration.

Field: The Somme, Arras

Themes: Activism, Self-Expression, Nature, Leadership, Camaraderie, Grief

The Old Huntsman and Other Poems (1918)

“The Kiss”

“The Last Meeting”

Counter-Attack and Other Poems (1918)

"Suicide in the Trenches" (sometimes typo'd, like in Collected Poems, as "Suicide in Trenches")

"Repression of War Experience"

"The Dream"

A Suppressed Poem (1918) (alternative/full text)

War Poems (1919)

"Everyone Sang"

Picture-Show (1920)

"Concert Party"

"Phantom" (removed from Collected Poems in 1961)

"Aftermath"

Vigils (1936)

"War Experience"

"Revisitation"

The Collected Poems 1908-1956 (1961)

Contains text edits and revisions of previous work.

MEMOIR

Will R. Bird (1891-1984)

Canadian. 42nd Battalion, Royal Highlanders of Canada.

Field: France and Belgium

Also see: his bibliography. His work seems to have been popular, but is now exceedingly rare other than in some recent reprints.

And We Go On (1930)

Reissued as Ghosts Have Warm Hands (1968) which removes several anecdotes--and in particular, removes many instances of the ghost of his brother (who often appears to guide him after dying before Bird enlisted).

Thirteen Years After: The Story of the Old Front Revisited (1931)

Funded by Maclean's Magazine, Bird returned to France and wrote a series of reflections.

The Communication Trench: Anecdotes & Statistics from the Great War, 1914-1918 (1933)

A Soldier's Place: the War stories of Will R. Bird (2018)

Fifteen anecdotes from various war-time and post-war publications.

Edmund Blunden (1896-1974)

Undertone of War (1928)

Philip Gibbs (1877-1962)

British. Extraordinarily popular war journalist and later war correspondent.

Heavily censored in publications like the Daily Telegraph and Daily Chronicle.

Field: Western Front

The Soul of the War (1915)

From Bapaume to Passchendaele, 1917 (1918)

Reissued as The Struggle in Flanders on the Western Front, 1917 (1919)

The Way to Victory: Vol 1: The Menace and Vol 2: The Repulse (1919)

Wounded Souls (1920)

Now It Can Be Told (1920)

US title: The Realities of War

More That Must Be Told (1921)

Robert Graves (1895-1985)

Goodbye to All That (1929)

Censored (1929), Revised (1957), and I think Uncensored (2014)

Also a personal memoir--the first few chapters detail his childhood and discuss homosexuality.

Arnold Gyde (1894-1959)

British. Captain, 2nd Battalion South Staffordshire Regiment.

Field: Le Havre, Mons, Aisne

Contemptable (1916) as Casualty

Part of the Soldiers’ Tales of the Great War series

T. E. Lawrence (1888-1935)

British. Archeologist but mostly a military informant.

Field: Arab Revolt, Palestine

Themes: Isolation, Brotherhood

Seven Pillars of Wisdom (1922)

Abridged "subscribers" edition subtitled with A Triumph (1926), Further abridged as Revolt in the Desert (1927), Unabridged as "The Oxford Text" (1997)

Also see: With Lawrence in Arabia (1924) by Lowell Thomas

Thomas was a war correspondent for the US, and who filmed and photographed Palestine and Lawrence and created the media boom surrounding the two.

Also see: Lawrence and the Arabs (1927) by Robert Graves

This book was initially panned for showing Lawrence as more of a flawed person than England's glorious war hero.

Edward C. Lukens

American. Lieutenant, 320th Infantry 80th Division.

Field: Meuse-Argonne

A Blue Ridge Memoir (1922)

Includes an afterword titled “The Last Drive and Death of Major G. H. H. Emory” by E. McClure Rouzer

Wilfred Owen (1893-1918)

Journey from Obscurity: Wilfred Owen, 1893-1918 (1963-1965) by Harold Owen

Published in three volumes: Childhood, Youth, and War

E. M. Roberts

American. Lieutenant, RAF.

A Flying Fighter: An American Above the Lines in France (1918)

I’m not finding much on this book atm, but I remember finding some articles after I had read the book that mentioned much of it was embellished.

Siegfried Sassoon (1886-1967)

Siegfried's Journey, 1916-1920 (1945)

Discusses the range of his life on leave or otherwise away from the battlefield, along with his post-war travels and struggles. For his more military memoirs, see the Sherston Trilogy below.

Also see: Lady Ottoline's Album (1976)

included entirely bc there's a cute pics of him (pg 66-67,90-93) but also bc there's a lot of cool ppl in it (also Robert Graves 68, Edmund Blunden 69)

Diaries:

Scans of 1915-1922, 1924-1927, 1931-1932: Sassoon Journals @ Cambridge

Siegfried Sassoon Diaries 1915-1918 (1983)

Highlights: 27 May 1916. 13 July 1916. 23 April 1917. 17 April 1918. 27 April 1918. 9 May 1918. 19 December 1917.

Siegfried Sassoon Diaries 1920-1922 (1981)

Siegfried Sassoon Diaries 1923-1925 (1985)

FICTIONAL MEMOIR

Giving a third person narrator one's trauma or life allows the writer to view those events in a new light–and also partially absolve themselves from ownership of their actions and feelings. Thus, it was super popular to deflect the shame of trauma.

Richard Aldington (1892-1962)

Death of a Hero (1929)

Uncensored in two volumes (1930), in one volume (1965) and (1984)

Roads to Glory (1930)

Short stories

Hervey Allen (1889-1949)

American. Lieutenant, 111th Infantry Regiment of the 28th Division

Field: Marne, Aisne, Château-Theirrey

Toward the Flame (1926) (limited preview)

Henri Barbusse (1873-1935)

French. Western Front. Anti-war.

Under Fire: The Story of a Squad (1916)

One of the first WWI novels published. Formative work for Sassoon, but also popular with Owen iirc.

Larry Barretto (1890-1972)

American. Ambulance driver in France and Belgium.

A Conqueror Passes (1925)

The soldier protagonist swiftly falls into depression upon returning to civilian life, so he abandons everything to return to France. Where he hopes to return to the mental occupation of service, he finds instead that the world has moved on without him.

James Norman Hall (1887-1951)

American. Posing as a Canadian: Royal Fusiliers. After being discovered, Lafayette Escadrille and Lafayette Flying Corps, then Captain of US Army Air Service. German POW for several months.

Kitchener's Mob: The Adventures of an American in the British Army(1916)

Describes the Battle of Loos during his time as a machine gunner with the Royal Fusiliers.

High Adventure: A Narrative of Air Fighting in France (1918)

Also see: The Lafayette Flying Corps Vol 1 and Vol 2 (1920), a history written with fellow pilot Charles Bernard Nordhoff.

Also see: Falcons of France (1929), another memoir written with Charles Bernard Nordhoff.

John Dos Passos (1896-1970)

American. Ambulance Driver in France (Norton-Harjes Ambulance Corps) & Italy (American Red Cross)

One Man’s Initiation: 1917 (1920)

Reissued as First Encounter (1945)

Three Soldiers (1921)

Frederic Manning (1882-1935)

The Middle Parts of Fortune: Somme and Ancre, 1916 (1929) as Private 19022

Uncensored in two volumes

Censored edition is Her Privates We (1929), and Uncensored (2014)

Primarily depicts the mundane life of a private. A deserter crops up throughout the novel for commentary on the intersection of mental illness and perceived cowardice. The chapters on the trenches are extraordinary imo, and it's a great look at the unsensational life of billets and drill that most accounts leave out.

Charles Bernard Nordhoff (1887-1947)

American. Ambulance driver, then Lafayette Flying Corps, then Lieutenant of US Army Air Service

The Fledgling (1919)

Series of letters (and dairy entries?)

Also see: The Lafayette Flying Corps Vol 1 and Vol 2 (1920), a history written with fellow pilot James Norman Hall.

Also see: Falcons of France (1929), another memoir written with James Norman Hall.

Erich Maria Remarque (1898-1970)

German. 2nd Guards Reserve Division, then 15th Reserve Infantry Regiment, 2nd Company, Engineer Platoon Bethe.

Field: Hem-Lenglet Torhout and Houthulst.

All Quiet on the Western Front (1929)

The Road Back (1931) (limited preview)

Siegfried Sassoon (1886-1967)

The Sherston trilogy follows his entire service, although purged of anything literary or concerning his family. He also changed the names of almost everyone in it. The third book does a great job confronting the trauma he swears he doesn't have up until the last couple pages.

Memoirs of a Fox-Hunting Man (1928) Memoirs of an Infantry Officer (1930) Sherston's Progress (1936)

FICTION

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QUEEN ALONE

The palace has emphasised that while the occasion will have the due pageantry that marks the passing of a senior royal, it remains an occasion for a mourning family to mark the passing of a husband, father, grandfather and great-grandfather.

There will be just 30 mourners inside the chapel for the service because of COVID-19 restrictions.

Archbishop Welby, leader of the worldwide Anglican Communion, said he expected the funeral to resonate with the millions of people around the world who have lost loved ones during the pandemic.

Philip's dedication to his duty earned him widespread popularity in Britain, but he was also criticised by some for a number of off-the-cuff racist or abrupt comments which shocked princes, priests and presidents.

"He was authentically himself, with a seriously sharp wit, and could hold the attention of any room due to his charm and also because you never knew what he might say next," Harry said of his grandfather.

British television stations have cleared their schedules to show the funeral and millions are due to watch, though there have been over 100,000 complaints to the British Broadcasting Corporation over its blanket coverage since Philip died.

Philip was a decorated Royal Navy veteran of World War Two and his funeral, much of which was planned in meticulous detail by the prince himself, will have a strong military feel, with personnel from across the armed forces playing prominent roles.

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journeydb · 3 years

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July 31 2020 Boulder

I took my dear friend and Spanish teacher, Camila, out to lunch at the Dushanbe Tea House today to celebrate her birthday. Her birthday was in June but this is the first time we were able to see each other in person since then. We see each other on ZOOM twice a week during our Spanish class with Frances and Caroline but being in person is much better. We even gave each other a quick hug with our masks on!

Camila is one of my best friends and the reason why Bruce and I are living in Spain. Nearly twenty years ago when we decided to improve our Spanish and began taking classes with her, it was with the dream of maybe being able to live for a year of immersion in a Spanish-speaking country. And the rest, as they say, is history! Once we had lived in Barcelona for more than six months and made friends there we couldn’t even imagine not seeing them again and we went back for another year, renting the same apartment. The third year we bought it and became residents. I’m still taking classes with Camila when I’m in Boulder and probably will for the rest of our lives. There is no way I can ever thank her enough for what she has given us and for her friendship so occasionally we go out to lunch and it’s even better when we have something to celebrate!

Our little sister Fran is turning fifty-nine today! She was the sweetest, cutest baby and toddler and everyone adored her! I love this photo of her in her cute little coat with the matching hat. We were all dressed up for Easter service. Marc looks cute in his little coat too. I was eleven when Fran was born and began caring for her as soon as she came home from the hospital. For the first several months she was in a bassinet in Mom and Dad’s room and then she moved into the crib in the hall between the boys’ and girls’ rooms. I used to get up in the middle of the night several nights a week to give our mom a break. Since I often had school the next day, unless it was a weekend, once she was asleep, I had to try to go back to sleep for a few hours before getting up again. It was all worth it. She and I have always been close even though there is a big difference in our ages.

Fran has always been beautiful, inside and outside, even after the fire at our family’s house when she was sixteen which left her with second and third degree burns. Her survival of that trauma as well as many others in her life has made her one of the strongest people I have ever known.

I’m grateful Fran has made it this far, despite all the challenges in her life. She was the only girl in the younger group of siblings in our family and always surrounded by brothers, who competed with her for the love and attention of our parents. Luckily, she and our brother Randy were always super close and her sisters gave her lots of love and support.

Unfortunately, Kathi, Robin (our “adopted” sister) and I were all much older than Fran so we were gone from our family home when she was young. Laurie died when Fran was a baby, so she had to learn to stand up for herself and became strong and resilient as a result. Randy was always her best friend and protected her as best he could, including from Fran’s ex-husband, who was mean to everyone, but especially to Fran. Losing Randy in 2012 was almost as devastating as losing her son, Tucker, in 2018.

We were all smiling through our tears at Randy’s memorial as we planted a tree in Fran’s yard with our cousins, to remember him. That tree has grown a lot in the last eight years but the hole in our hearts from the loss of our brother will never be healed.

We are lucky to have so many cousins and we are close to them all. Fran was able to be in Colorado for cousin Debbie’s 50th birthday celebration, along with all of Deb’s siblings and her Dad, our Uncle Dick.

When Fran’s oldest daughter, Aimey, and her then-boyfriend, now husband, Philip, graduated from the University of Colorado in Boulder, Fran was there with us all celebrating their success.

Fran is a wonderful mother to her three daughters and I’m lucky to be their auntie.

Many members of our beautiful family were at Hobie and Katie’s wedding this year in January and it was the last time most of us were together until it’s safe to travel again. Fran was her usual colorful self while the rest of us were more subdued. She has always been artistic, creative, expressive, and her daughters take after her. They are all talented performers and Fran has always supported everything they have wanted to do in their lives. it’s been such a joy for me throughout their lives to be as involved as I could be, too, and I’m sure Kathi feels the same way. These young people are very lucky to have loving family members who “have their backs” always.

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captainsbabysitter-blog · 7 years

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Herbs and Blood Pudding

Characters: Leonard McCoy, Phil Boyce

Rating: Everyone? Teenish? This is really mild

Length: 4154 words (yikes this got away from me a bit)

Summary: Len’s turning story, part of my vampire series (On Bartenders and Escort Cards, Fangs and Kisses (nsfw), Unexpected Changes). With his wife and daughter executed during the North Berwick witch trials of 1590, Leonard McCoy makes his way to Edinburgh in hopes that a day’s walk from his village to the city is enough to shake the reputation that follows. I continue with my weird pairings as plot devices.

Notes: I know weird little tidbits of what’s considered “proper” during this time period, but I have no clue how they spoke. Shakespeare I am not, and it’s been long enough since I last read one of his plays that I decided to just... Not bother trying because it would be terrible.

~*~*~*~

He was staring at the smoke rising from the town, but Leonard couldn’t reconcile those screams with the voices of his beloved wife and child. Even just the thought was enough to double him over, retching up the bile in his empty stomach. How had it all come down to this?

The answer was simple, really. Leonard had been an idiot. He forgot that women with knowledge were dangerous in places like theirs no matter how useful their skills. He forgot that when fear gripped a town like their, those women were the first to catch blame. He forgot that no one was above suspicion when rumors of the plague come in from abroad.

She’d begged him to take Sarah when he had the chance, but he had too much faith in their justice system. Now he was taking the advice he should have taken weeks ago. When he had his head on as straight as it would go, he grabbed the pack he’d managed to shove important things into before he escaped the house. He wasn’t entirely sure where he wanted to go yet, but he figured Edinburgh was a good place to start; perhaps the miles of road between there and North Berwick would be enough.

On foot, it was close to half a day’s walk. Leonard praised the Lord he wasn’t even sure he still believed in that he chose to leave at first light. The last thing he wanted was to encounter those on the road after dark.

Arriving in the bustling city was an event in itself. Len tried finding the local surgeon only to spend the rest of the day lost in a market. The sun was well on its way to dipping below the horizon before Len finally gave up and slumped on the front step of the nearest cottage with a sigh. He really should try to find an inn, but he knew he was short on money and his skills weren’t all that useful to the average person not staring down the bad end of losing a limb.

A soft sound of a clearing throat pulled his thoughts to the man now standing in front of him. He was easily in his 50’s- a rare sight these days with illness and plague running rampant- with a thoroughly scrubbed face and hands and a clean tunic. A look of concern was fixed firmly on his features and he seemed to be assessing Len in a way the young man wasn’t sure how to define.

“I’m sorry, but were you waiting here for me? The clinic would have been easier to find.”

Len jumped up and moved out of the way, flushing a little in embarrassment. “No! Sorry, I’ve been walking all day and got lost once I got to the city… I just sorta sat down to rest. I’ll get out of your way.”

“Would you like to come in? You can wash up and I can lead you where you need to be in the morning.”

“Aye… Aye, many thanks.” Leonard was suddenly acutely aware and concerned over the state of his person compared to the other man. He added in a mumble, “If I won’t be putting ye out.”

He stepped forward and let Len in with a smile. “Not at all, come in. I’m Philip Boyce.”

“Leonard McCoy and again thank ye…”

Phil bustled around getting the fire started up in the fireplace while Len inspected his surroundings. It was just a small cottage, no obvious family, with little odds and ends that spoke of a little travel. Then there were the various sets of surgeon’s tools displayed or in bags obviously meant to be grabbed at a moment’s notice. Len blinked and turned his gaze back to Phil; no way could he have been so lucky.

“Are…” Len chewed the inside of his lip just a bit as Phil glanced at him from his place at the hearth. “Are you the city’s surgeon?”

“I am.” Soft crackling of wood sap filled the air as the flames took, licking up the sides of two small pots of water and Phil shifted his attention toward the bread and veggies sitting in a basket on the windowsill, obviously left there by someone in the town earlier that day. “Is that important?”

“Well I was looking for the surgeon when I got lost,” Len explained. When Phil suddenly faced him to look him over again with a critical eye, he elaborated, “I have some training in medicinal herbs. I was hoping to apprentice with you.”

That seemed to relax him. Phil turned back to cutting up the carrots and potatoes as he responded, “I could always use an extra set of hands. Take the second pot of water and go give yourself a good scrubbing. There’s lye by the wash bucket do you have a change of clothes?”

Len shook his head. He’d remembered to grab night clothes, but he wasn’t sure he was comfortable with a complete stranger seeing him in them. Then again, there weren’t exactly any other rooms to the cottage, so Phil was bound to see him when he washed.

“I have nightclothes, but that’s about it…”

“The chest over there has extra clothing. Something should fit you for now,” Phil gestured off near the bed where a heavy wooden chest sat against the wall. “Put your clothes in that sack over there. One of the wives will be by to pick it up tomorrow.”

“So you’re not married, then?” Len enquired, curiosity about his new mentor gnawing at his mind.

“I was. She passed during childbirth some time ago. And you? A young man such as yourself usually has an equally young bride in tow.”

“She and our daughter died yesterday.” If his voice broke a little as he forced the words out, Phil chose not to acknowledge it.

“I’m sorry.”

They fell into companionable silence while Phil continued preparing dinner and Leonard shyly stripped down to scrub the grime from his skin. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken the time to wash so thoroughly, though he suspected it was on his wedding day. The water felt nice and the lye cut through the layers of dirt like it was nothing.

As Len was slipping into a set of fresh clothing, Phil finally broke the silence, “So you have experience with medicines. What sort of experience?”

“Oh I learned a little from my father growing up, but times have changed and his knowledge is out of date. My wife came from a long line of midwives and herbalists and she taught me as much as she could.”

“I see… Well, I’ll tell you my rules regarding anyone who works with me.” When he saw Len was watching him curiously, he continued, “First and foremost, cleanliness is paramount. You won’t be anywhere near my shop unless you’ve bathed properly and regular hand cleansing is important as well.”

Strange, but Len could only assume there was a reason, so he nodded and waited for whatever else Phil had to say. “Secondly, you’ll follow my instructions without question during a procedure. If you have questions afterward, I’ll answer them, but distractions while with a patient can be dangerous.”

“Anything else?”

“You may stay here until you’re able to find your own accommodations, or there’s a room attached to the shop that you may utilize so long as you agree to tend to any minor requests during the night. Anything more complex than administering a fever draught or wrapping a minor wound, you must come here for me.”

Silence reigned again as Phil stirred the stewpot and Len processed some of his new rules. After a while, he finally piped up again, “Why so much focus on washing?”

“Because illness is kept at bay by it. I know not why, but I learned it from another surgeon during my travels and I have yet to become ill being near my patients so I adhere to it strictly. Some secret in the lye, perhaps.”

“So you’re naked- or nearly so- almost daily?” He couldn’t keep the scandalized tone from his voice.

“And you will be as well so long as you work with me,” Phil countered with an easy smile. “It’ll be easier on us both if you adjust to the idea now. Dinner’s ready.”

After a mostly silently dinner, Len’s practically dead on his feet. Phil led him to the bed and gestured to it, “I have some things to see to. You sleep there.”

Leonard really didn’t even have the strength to argue. Instead, he fell onto the pallet without any fight and burrowed under the comfortable quilt. As he drifted off to sleep, he vaguely wondered if everything else was going to be so easy.

~*~*~*~

The sun coming in through the open windows and sounds coming from the kitchen area were what he woke up to. He was vaguely aware that something seemed off, but his fingers inched toward where Sarah should be sleeping in the warmth left behind by his wife. When all he felt was the edge of the smaller bed, Len bolted upright and looked around wildly. Realization and the memories of the day before came flooding back and he found himself once again nauseated thinking about it.

“Good, you’re awake,” Phil’s voice pulled him back before he could rush outside in a panic. “Are you alright?”

“I’ll be fine.”

He avoided the probing look leveled his way as he detangled himself from the blankets. There was a set of fresh clothing laid out for him over the clothing chest and he hurriedly changed as Phil laid out a plate for each of them at the table.

“After we drop the pie off to the baker, we’ll go to the shop,” Phil finally breaks the relative silence of their meal a few minutes later. “I’ll introduce you as my apprentice.”

“And I’ll learn from you?”

“Mmm… On a trial basis for now. Let’s take a fortnight to judge your skill and fit here.”

“It’ll probably take at least that long to get used to you parading around naked as the day God made you,” he grumbled, pulling an amused look from Phil.

“For someone so concerned with what God thinks, you didn’t even pause to pray over your meal.”

Len stared at him for a minute and shrugged. “We’re not speaking at the moment.”

“Oh I’m familiar with that feeling. Finish eating we need to leave.”

The next two weeks move along much the same: up before the sun, breakfast, preparing whatever dinner to be dropped off before they made their way to the shop where there would inevitably already be some local farmer in various degrees of injured. Most of what they saw were simple cuts needing cleaning and dressing and the way these people trusted Phil no matter how odd the man was intrigued Leonard to no end.

He wasn’t entirely sure why, but he still couldn’t make himself entirely comfortable with undressing with Phil nearby or being around when Phil was undressing every day for the washing. Most days, Len would offer to stay behind to clean the shop and himself, wander back to the house to share dinner with his mentor, then would spend the night in the room behind the shop to avoid that sense of unease. He took the extra time to organize Phil’s collection of herbs, drugs, and other various supplies according to frequency of use; extra care was taken to group like with like.

Then near the end of his trial, he found his own time to shine.

She was barely beyond the newborn stage, and her parents couldn’t understand why a simple feeding seemed to cause her so much distress. Phil inspected her from nearly every angle while listening to the descriptions of her symptoms. All both he and the mother missed the look of understanding that dawned on Len’s face until he started rummaging through the cabinets of dried herbs and tinctures.

“Leonard, whatever are you doing?” Phil sounded more curious than reprimanding, so he just continued until he came back with a few bottles and an empty vial.

“My daughter had the same illness and my wife would always give this to her after feedings when she fussed.”

They watched him as he crumbled the dried anise, mint, and chamomile, carefully preparing them before her stoppered the vial. He was so wrapped up in his task that he didn’t notice the appraising look Phil sent his way.

As he handed the vial over, he offered the haggard looking mother a reassuring smile. “Just steep a spoonful of this in a cup of hot water until the water is colored by the tea, let it cool while you feed her, and follow feedings with as much as she’ll let you give her if she starts fussing.”

Her eyes darted to Phil for confirmation. When he tipped his head in agreement, she offered Len a relieved smile and thanked them both before taking her leave.

Phil rested a hand on his shoulder when they were once again alone and grinned. “You did well. While we have a spare moment, I’d like to discuss your continued apprenticeship.”

Once they were settled in their chairs, Phil leveled Leonard with a critical look that put him on edge. It was almost as if he were deciding something beyond just him sticking around.

“Do you want to stay here as my apprentice?”

He didn’t even hesitate. “Yes.”

“Why?”

Len blinked in confusion as he tried to articulate an answer, “Well, I… Think you have a lot you can teach me. And I’m comfortable around you for the most part. I’m not comfortable around many people.”

“Unless I’m ‘parading around naked,’ you mean?” His tone was amused, and he seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the embarrassed flush crawling up Len’s neck and cheeks.

“That’s… An adjustment,” Len admitted as he fidgeted with his hands a little. “But I think I’m growing accustomed to it…”

“There’s much to grow accustomed to when living with me,” Phil chuckled. He leaned in closer, hovering just outside Len’s bubble of personal space.

Instead of shifting away, Len found himself leaning in closer and before he was fully aware it was happening their lips met in a chaste kiss. The next moment, Len was up and across the room, eyes wide with surprise and mild horror. Whether he was horrified with his own actions or the realization that came with them, he wasn’t sure.

“I apologize,” Phil cut in before Len could say anything. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“No, it’s… I don’t know.” He tried to look anywhere but at Phil as he spoke. “This seems wrong.”

“And is that the only reason you’re upset right now? Because it feels wrong?”

“Well it is wrong, isn’t it? It’s unnatural.” Even as the words left his mouth, Leonard felt uncertain. In the last two weeks alone, he’d gone from barely adherent enough to stave off suspicion to dropping all religious pretenses and yet the ingrained teachings were hard to shake. His entire life up until that moment had been spent denying his unusual urges.

The last thing he needed was Phil making him question things further, but at the same time Len found himself desperately wanting to give in. He was wrapped up enough in his own thoughts that he almost didn’t notice Phil approach him slowly, watching Len’s face for any sign he should step back. Len watched him warily, but made no move to put more distance between them. Once he was close enough, Phil brought a hand up to cup Len’s cheek gently.

“I don’t think you really believe that,” Phil murmured as he moved in close enough to let Len decide whether or not to take the plunge.

He did. After the briefest moment of doubt, Len leaned in that last couple inches. He pulled back just as quickly, however, when he remembered where they were and that anyone could walk in at any moment.

Len chewed a bit at his lip as he considered what to say next. Phil beat him to it, “Think about what you want to happen and we’ll talk about it during dinner.”

“Aye…”

~*~*~*~

Since that night, the two had been inseparable. The weeks dragged into months which turned into a year of Leonard acting as Phil’s apprentice in the public eye during the day and his lover in secret, hidden away behind the walls of their little cottage at night. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary (beyond the usual out of the ordinary that was their relationship, that is) until Leonard woke in the middle of the night to find Phil gone from the house.

He frowned, brow furrowing as he got up out of bed. Had someone needed help and he just slept through it? Unlikely, but still possible. He changed out of his nightclothes and grabbed a lantern so he could make his way to the shop.

Muffled noises from could be heard behind the door and shuttered windows as Len approached the building. It could easily be the sounds of someone injured, so he walked in ready to help in whatever way he could. The last thing he was expecting to see was Phil, mouth pressed against the side of a man’s neck. There were weak struggles on the part of the man- a traveler that Len vaguely recognized as coming into town earlier that day- but they were dying just as he appeared to be.

“Philip?”

The sucking noise that was followed by Phil yanking his head back to stare at him wide-eyed turned Len’s stomach, as did the stray drop of blood trailing down his lover’s chin.

“Leonard… What are you doing here, dove?”

“What am I… What in the hells are you doing?!” He was torn between waiting for an explanation and running as far and as fast as he could out of town. This creature couldn’t be the man he had come to love.

Phil held his hands out in an attempt to appear nonthreatening as he took a few tentative steps toward his younger lover. “Please come sit down and I’ll explain.”

“I’ll sit if you stay over there,” Len demanded, pointing toward the chair that sat near the back of the room. It would leave him an unimpeded path to the door.

The knowledge of that tugged Phil’s features into a distressed frown, but he followed Len’s instructions without question. When he was out of the way, Leonard pulled up his own stool just close enough for them to have a conversation in normal tones. The lamplight cast flickering shadows on both their faces and to Len’s eyes, Phil looked all the more demonic for it. Fear iced Len’s veins and he once again debated the merits of just leaving.

Instead, he took a few fortifying breaths and prompted, “Well? You said you could explain. How do you explain this?” He gestured to Phil face where he was finally wiping away the drying trail and then to the body on the floor. “Or how about that? What could you possibly say to me that would explain that?”

“What would you like me to say?” He seemed almost at a loss as he spoke. “I’m a vampire, my dove. I survive by draining life from others. For as long as I’ve been in the city, I’ve been able to find enough wastes of life that I haven’t needed to feed from the innocent.”

“This whole time? I’ve shared a bed with you. I... You made me fall in love with you. Was that some sort of devil’s trick on your part?” If Phil was offended by the question, Len couldn’t make himself care. “Was I next on your list, then? Be your next meal after you grow tired of me or need to move on?”

“Never,” the response was instant and fierce, the conviction with which it was said left no doubt in Leonard’s mind.

“What, then? Were you going to tell me?”

“And how do you propose I do that? ‘Pardon me, my darling, but I thought you should be aware I’m a creature that spends the occasional night stalking men of questionable morals and intent to sustain myself’? How quickly would you have me sent to a madhouse? Or worse?”

No matter how much he’d like to, Len couldn’t deny it was all true. This was a ludicrous situation. He tried to process everything, but found himself at a loss. This was still Phil. He had to allow himself to believe that. There had been every opportunity for Phil to take advantage of Leonard’s vulnerability as he slept to drain him if he wanted to, but he hadn’t. Too many thoughts, too many possible course of action, and none of them seemed sufficient.

When he finally spoke, his voice sounded so much smaller than he intended, “What do we do now?”

“Now you decide what you want to do. We can continue as we have until I need to move on to avoid suspicion and leave you as my replacement, we can part ways now, you could alert the city to my condition…”

“And if I wanted to join you instead?”

Phil leveled him with a curious look, obviously surprised by the suggestion. “Join me? As a vampire?”

“Yes.”

“It’s an interesting suggestion, but why?”

“I have nothing else to lose. My wife and child are dead, and if I choose to walk away I lose you,” he reasoned, still parsing through the pros and cons but becoming more certain as he continued. “If I follow you, I have the potential of eternity. In just the last few decades we’ve made leaps in medicine. We could do so much good by being here to learn it all.”

That answer received a soft, fond smile. “I can’t say I’m surprised to hear this from you. If this is what you want, I must admit I wouldn’t be able to deny the appeal of keeping you. I will, however, need to give you all the information you need to make a proper decision.”

“We have the time now.”

“Yes, I supposed we do…” Phil sighed and let his eyes close for just a moment. Len assumed he was trying to decide where to start. “If I turn you, I’ll need to drink from you… And you from me. The process following that is fairly quick, but it needs to be repeated over the course of a few days. Once you’ve turned, you’ll need to feed and then feed at least once a week. You can sustain yourself with the blood of livestock, but it’s not as satisfying.”

“Does it hurt to turn?”

“It burns like fire in your veins during those first days. Your body feels as though you swallowed live embers, and you may find yourself unable to leave bed. It rages through you like a fever, but breaks just as quickly.”

They sat in silence for long minutes, the silence only broken by the sounds of the night filtering in through the cracks in the shutters. Len glanced at the body on the floor with a raised brow. “What do we do about him, then?”

“Come morning, I claim he needed treatment that I couldn’t rend and he goes on the pile of the dead. Being the doctor has its advantages in that way.”

“I see… Could we go home? I need time to think and decide.”

“Yes of course,” his entire body sagged in slight relief. “You’ll come back to the cottage with me, then?”

“I’m not staying here with the body,” he grumbled back.

Several days went by without a single mention of that night by either man. Leonard spent most of those days thinking on what he wanted. There were easily a few dozen things on either side to consider, and he frequently found himself overwhelmed by just thinking about it all. He spent each night curled against Phil’s chest as he always did, but sleep eluded him and instead he focused on the even, shallow breaths. It was still difficult to imagine that someone so warm and so seemingly alive was actually among the undead, but he had seen the proof.

After nearly a week, he finally piped up during breakfast, “I want to join you.”

Phil paused mid-bite to watch him across the small table. Why he felt the need to keep up the charade of eating normal foods was beyond Leonard. “Are you certain?”

“Yes.”

That night began the process. It was every bit as unpleasant as Phil had described, but there was also a sense of freeing elation. Their relationship already crossed so many boundaries, so what was one more?

Leonard was already damned, so what could falling further hurt?

Tagging: @pinkamour1588 @auduna-druitt @thevalesofanduin @mccoymostly @gracieminabox @yourtropegirl @southernbellestatues @thinkwritexpress-official @goingknowherewastaken @emmkolenn @randomlittleimp

#tia's vampires #leonard mccoy #phil boyce #tia writes #this was kinda fun to write #and i have more planned #because why wouldn't i get stuck writing vampires until the end of time

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placingglaciers · 7 years

Text

Coming To Terms

Title: Coming To Terms

Genre: AU, Angst, Fluff, Getting Back Together

Word Count: 10, 315

Warnings: Mentions of death

Description: After Dan and Phil had a rough breakup, there’s a tragic death in Phil’s family, which ultimately changes everything, of course.

Author’s Note: I’m taking a writing class and now I’m over-analyzing everything I read/write. (Please remember that this is fiction.)

Someone was missing. At first, Daniel thought it was the brother who had died. After the long funeral this morning, everyone was invited to the Lester home for the wake. Family and friends, both young and old, surrounded Daniel, all eating and catching up with each other. The children were in the spacious living room, playing old board games around the Christmas tree that was still up. The smells of pot roast, mashed potatoes, oven-baked chicken, buttery dinner rolls, vegetable soup, and fruit pies filled the air. The atmosphere felt nice and warm, not because of the active fireplace, but because of the people around who offered support amongst the devastation. But still, someone was missing. Daniel felt it. He tried to ignore the feeling by simply serving people their food, as a polite family friend should. However, once everyone had their plates filled and he made himself a cup of hot chocolate, the feeling returned. It was as if he was continuously listening to a song that missed the same beat. It didn’t play right. He was beginning to feel troubled because of this gaping hole that was practically palpable now. His brown eyes searched every face, each familiar due to several years of acquaintance. Everybody was there, it seemed like. Perhaps his mind was messing with him and it really was the missing brother.

Daniel stood alone in the large open kitchen that was clad with cedar wood. It was somewhat messy and cluttered due to all the food, but that was understandable. He gazed absentmindedly out of the Georgian styled windows while he drank his hot chocolate. He loved the Lester’s home for multiple reasons, but most of all, he loved it for its breathtaking scenery. They lived in the middle of nowhere, high up in the mountains. In the springtime, everything was green and the clear streams flowed endlessly down the rocky hillside. The mountains were so overwhelmingly quiet and beautiful that he often couldn’t believe it was real. However, the wintertime was just as stunning. Everything was instead white and the evergreens dominated the landscape. It would be something you’d see from a calendar. Far too many Christmases had he spent in this house, admiring the pure wooden interiors, large windows that provided the view of the picturesque mountains, and the feeling of home. This was the first Christmas he missed. And it felt just like how he felt now, with that someone missing.

His eyes took in the mountain scenery that was blanketed with fresh January snow. As he was taking his time appreciating the beauty, he oddly saw a tall black figure in the snow, a little farther away from the house. Once it slightly moved, Daniel understood that it was a person. Immediately, his heart beat fast. Wasn’t everybody inside? He tore his eyes away from the window and to the guests. He counted each one and said their names in his head. Once he was finished, he turned back to the window. The person was still there in the snow. The person that was missing. Daniel set his hot chocolate down in a panic and dashed for the back door. As he didn’t bother to put on a coat, the cold seemed to hit and bite him, hanging on cruelly. His cheeks stung and his breath shortened. He brought his black knitted sweater closer to his body and narrowed his eyes as the snow was too bright. Making progress toward the man took several minutes as his feet felt like they were treading through thick mud. The snow was over halfway up his calf; he was just thankful he was wearing his boots.

He licked his chapped lips, drew in some cold air, and shouted loudly, “Phil!”

There was a numb feeling in Philip, and it took him a while to figure out if it was because of the cold or the fact that is actual brother just died, but now he didn’t care anymore. It didn’t feel real until this morning. Not until he saw him in the mahogany casket in a gray suit he never saw before. The time between getting the worst possible news and the funeral always felt strange to Philip. He had dealt with that strange feeling with his grandparents, a coworker, a neighbor, and a few best friends. It always felt like the person who died wasn’t actually dead, but simply away for the moment. Only the next time you got to see them was in a funeral parlor, and not to shake hands and mourn a loss together, but to stare down at them in a casket. He looked like a pale wax figure to Philip. There was no life. Everything that once was had been gone. He was really dead this time. He wasn’t just “away.” He was just “never coming back,” without even a phone call to check in. It was over and done. Permanent.

Sitting in that house with all those people around him was not the most ideal situation in the slightest. He couldn’t think, let alone breathe in that type of environment. How could his mother call it a “family gathering” if not all the family was there? Couldn’t they feel the void he felt? What about the memories? Weren’t the walls splattered and soaked and painted in them? Sitting in that house only—

“Phil!”

Philip sighed heavily and finally looked up around him. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the brightness of the snow. He wanted to be alone for just five more minutes. That’s all he wanted. Just five more minutes. Maybe then he would be better.

“What are you doing out here?” It was Daniel. He stood directly in his line of vision. He was shivering and his cheeks were a bright red. The frigid wind came through and rustled his wavy brown hair. A few snowflakes stood out in contrast against his black sweater. He had a look of great concern on his face.

“I can’t stay in that house,” Philip answered, as if it was a warning.

“No, you have to come inside,” he urged, taking ahold of his arm, “let’s go.”

“I’m staying here.”

Daniel felt Philip’s hands and they were frighteningly cold. He immediately began rubbing both of his own hands on his hands, trying to bring the circulation back. “How long have you been out here?!”

“I want you to leave me alone.”

He looked seriously at him, in disbelief and also in frustration. “This isn’t funny, Phil. I’m not asking you to come inside, I’m telling you.”

Philip’s eyes drifted to their buried feet.

He took ahold of his jaw so he could look at him. “What you are doing is not only stupid, but dangerous. You know better than this. Especially after what happened to your brother.”

Philip cringed at the reference, feeling the tears coming once more.

“Do you want me to spell it out for you? To bring up the dirty details? Because I will!” Philip was crying now and struggling out of Daniel’s grip, but he still held on and continued. “Your brother was found buried under seven feet of snow, Phil. Dead. He freaking froze to death and here you are creating a mockery out of it!” He finally let go. “You’re sick.”

“Why do you…why do you even care?” Philip struggled to say, acknowledging the thin ice between them.

He sunk back and his exposition softened. “Because you’re a human being and I don’t want you to do anything dangerous. I don’t care that for the last six months we haven’t talked, I don’t want to see your parents go through hell all over again. They don’t deserve it. You know that.”

Philip’s tears warmed his cheeks, which was the only positive aspect he could find about all this at the moment. He just wanted all of this to stop. To slow down. For Daniel to understand what he was feeling and not insult him for it. He didn’t have to be so cold for him to get the point. His face scrunched up as he made his first real cry and he couldn’t stop afterwards.

Daniel didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around him. His one arm held him close by the waist and his other arm held his shoulders, his fingers in his black hair. It was the first genuine intimate action they had in about a year. Daniel just really didn’t want to see him like this. It felt so foreign to him. He felt scared, especially after Philip acting like he didn’t care about what happened to him anymore. He didn’t know what to do, but he knew he had to do something. After a few minutes, he remembered his hot chocolate sitting on the kitchen counter and how unbearably cold he felt now. He gradually let go and began leading them back to the house, relieved to see that Philip didn’t put up a fight.

Daniel could feel his insides defrost once they entered the warm house. He took Philip over to the entrance hall and removed his heavy coat and snow boots for him. Philip was functioning terribly slowly, as if he was disassociated from himself and his surroundings. Daniel didn’t have time for his attitude; he needed to get him warm fast. He set him down on the pine green recliner in the living room next to the crackling fire and the cedar wood wall-length bookcase. He then wrapped the red crocheted throw that was on the chair around Philip’s legs and left for the kitchen.

Philip’s eyes were half open at this point, mostly due out of tiredness, but also because he couldn’t tolerate seeing anything in that house. His family’s fake Christmas tree was on the opposite side of the room directly across from him. He noticed all the handmade ornaments he and his brother had made over the years. They were certainly unique with the messy handwriting, magic marker, glue, and paint. Some even had their old school pictures on them. His eyes drifted to the “baby’s first Christmas” ornaments, seeing his brother’s right away. It was simply a bear wearing a red Santa Claus hat. But he always remembered it being one of the first ornaments that were put on the tree. The white lights became blurry after a while the more he stared at the tree, so he looked at the stone mantel instead. Various Christmas cards were on display, some even taped to the wall and on the sides of the mantel—each one still wishing his family, including his brother, a Merry Christmas. Philip dried a few of his tears with his scratchy red sweater. He then kept his eyes on the wooden floor. His mismatched socks were damp due to the snow, but he didn’t particularly mind. A white die came rolling into his vision and a small hand came and picked it up.

“Sorry,” a young boy told him, partially afraid.

Philip noticed they were playing Chutes and Ladders. A few girls and the boy were playing it as if to pass by the time so they could finally go home. A few of the older children were playing the card games over by the Christmas tree. He saw all his old games just sitting in the center of the room. He remembered the summer nights he and his brother had in his room, playing game after game while listening to the radio and letting the cool breeze come in through the window. He remembered all the family game nights they had together on Saturday nights, his father always being the competitive one. He remembered that most of the Monopoly pieces were missing because he once threw the game across the room as he was a sore loser. The Uno game had a torn wild card, Scrabble had an “E” etched on a blank letter piece, and the Pictionary box was filled with previous game drawings. Those children had no idea of the history of those games. They didn’t even want to be there. They barely even knew his brother at all.

As he was drying more of his tears, Philip saw his brother enter the room with a blue ceramic bowl of soup in his hands. He stared at him for a long while, trying to understand what was happening.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” It was actually Daniel, of course, and he was handing him the warm bowl with a quilted potholder underneath it.

Philip placed the bowl on his lap, feeling the warmth travel through his legs. He stirred the vegetable soup, not really having the appetite to eat anything. He looked at Daniel again, “I can’t stay at this house.”

Daniel put his hands on his hips and nodded, “I know.”

“No, I can’t stay at this house,” Philip said more urgently because he knew Daniel didn’t understand.

Daniel nodded again, “I know, Phil. That’s why you’re leaving with me.”

It was if Philip finally came alive at that moment. His head jerked and his eyes widened, “I’m not staying at your apartment either!”

Daniel bit his lip, taking slight offense, “I understand.”

Philip’s eyes stayed on him for a few more seconds before eating a spoonful of his soup. Only until now he realized he hadn’t eaten anything since last night. He was grateful for Daniel’s kind gesture, but he would never actually admit it to him.

Daniel took the opportunity to pack Philip’s belongings for him. The sky getting dark now and driving in the mountains was already bad enough in the snow in the daytime. Besides, he knew Philip didn’t have the right type of energy to return to his room and get his things. He had to be gentle for the time being. He never saw Philip this sensitive before, so he rather not be the one to break him. He hated seeing him like this. And even though helping him would be slightly out of character, he felt like he had no other option. He saw his pain—heck, he could feel his pain. Philip didn’t deserve to be feeling alone like this.

He reached the top of the stairs and went to the first room on the left. A wave of nostalgia hit him once he opened the door. Everything from Philip’s teenage years was still there. All the posters, hideous striped wallpaper, old bulky computer, bedspread, books, and stereo. Years he spent having sleepovers in this room. He knew where the floor creaked exactly, how the window squealed when being opened, how cold it got in the wintertime, and how the rain sounded on the roof. He spent the majority of his life here, laughing and talking with Philip on the bed, listening to music, talking to strangers on the internet, and playing board games on the floor. It was as much of his room as it was Philip’s. And the fact that he hadn’t been here in years pained him. This was where it all started for him. They had their first kiss on the window seat on the opposite side of the room. Daniel made his way over and sat there, the memory rushing back to him. They were only fifteen at the time. They didn’t do it as a joke or as an experiment. Daniel knew that he loved that boy much more than he knew he ought to.

Daniel swallowed now, trying to forget that memory from ever happening. He grabbed Philip’s blue duffle bag from the wooden floor and set it on the bed. He found all of Philip’s clothes and personal items and quickly shoved them into the bag, trying not to linger at each item as he knew each one had a memory to him. Before leaving, he decided to clean the room a little bit for Mrs. Lester. As he was making the bed, he discovered Philip’s old childhood blanket folded neatly underneath one of the pillows. He handled it carefully as it was incredibly valuable to Philip. The last he saw it was in his room at his apartment. He was confused. Why bring something so silly to such a serious event? As he was searching for the answer, the memories began coming again, only that they were more intense. He quickly shook his head and shoved the blanket into the duffle bag. He zipped it shut and left the room without even looking back.

***

The road was pitch-black except for the car’s headlights. Philip was slumped over in the passenger seat with his head banging on the cool window every time they hit a bump in the road (which was often). Daniel didn’t even put on the radio, not because he knew he couldn’t get a signal, but because he just wanted it to be quiet at the moment. His ears couldn’t be bothered with hearing static-y music and overplayed commercials. In a way he knew Philip didn’t want to listen to anything either. He was having a hard enough time with his loud thoughts. And no matter the fact that the music would be a distraction, the both of them knew it would only be temporary. They would have to face the truth all over again eventually.

At the bottom of the mountain was the smallest town Daniel had ever visited. There was only one grocery store, one school, several small businesses, the post office, and the town hall. You had to travel many more miles to get to anything else. Daniel knew there was a cheap motel there that they could stay at. Driving Philip to his apartment would not be ideal as he didn’t have the energy to be on the road for another three hours. He supposed the both of them could get separate rooms, eat breakfast at the neighboring diner, and be on the road again by ten in the morning. Paying for separate rooms stung Daniel. Not because it was slightly unnecessarily expensive, but because it was the first time they had ever gotten separate rooms. He knew it would be best for them to be alone for the night. Both of them deserved their privacy. And besides, why make a bad situation even worse? The tension between them was still thick and not worth interfering. It was probably too late for that anyway.

Once they set off to their separate rooms, Daniel opened the door and turned the light on. The room was clean for the most part. It smelled pleasant and he could tell that the furniture was fairly new. He set his things on the dresser. Even if Philip would’ve stayed at the house, he would’ve been staying at the motel anyway for he lived even farther than Philip. He changed into his pajamas and set the thermostat higher as he was a bit chilly in his t-shirt and shorts. He took his toiletries to the bathroom and brushed his teeth and washed his face. The towels were bright white and still fluffy and he was appreciative of that. After he was finished, he took his thick book out of his bag and sat on the bed. He only kept the bedside lamp on so he wouldn’t have to get out of bed to turn the overhead light off. The blankets were clean and warm, so he had no complaints. He checked the time on the alarm clock and saw that it was only nine-thirty. He wasn’t considerably tired, but he knew that he had a long day of driving ahead of him. Therefore, he picked up where he left off in his book, feeling comfortable enough to stay there for hours.

On the other side of the wall was Philip’s room. He was already in his pajamas, in bed, with the lights off. The blankets were all scratchy and the room was too cold for him to effortlessly fall asleep. More than that, now that he really was alone, all he had to keep him company were his thoughts. He kept thinking back to his brother’s wax-like face and his absence. Nothing felt the same anymore. He felt out of place and awkward in the world now. He had no other way around the thought: he was alone. If things were different, he would be on the phone right now talking to his brother, saying how terrible his room was, but how nice Daniel had been to him. He remembered standing out in that snow for over an hour. That’s how long it took for someone to notice. He didn’t want to know what would happen if he stayed out there any longer. Would he have died? Just like his brother? Philip shifted on his back and stared up at the ceiling. He didn’t want to think about that. He didn’t want to think about his own death already. But he was so hopeless. What else could he have done? He hadn’t talked about his brother’s death at all. And it’s not because no one asked him, it’s just he didn’t want to face the truth of it. He didn’t know what to say. No words could compare to how much his brother meant to him. Philip pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. Hot tears streamed down the sides of his face. He had to talk to someone. And if that had to be Daniel, then so be it.

Philip got out of bed and grabbed his old blanket he brought with him and his room key and shoved his feet into his boots. Then he silently walked the short distance to Daniel’s room.

There was oddly a knock at Daniel’s door, which startled him greatly. He set down his book on the bedside table and got up from the bed. He assumed it was the owner or a staff member, coming over to tell him something they forgotten when he checked in. He put the chain lock on the door and opened it. It was Philip instead, and although he wasn’t expecting him, he wasn’t surprised.

“What is it?” Daniel asked him, shivering at the cold air that was coming in.

Philip kept his head down and he clutched his blanket tighter. “You forgot to tuck me in.”

Daniel rolled his eyes and let out a tired sigh. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with his attitude this late.

Philip finally looked at him and ran his fingers through his hair tiredly, “No, really, I can’t sleep.”

“And you expect me to do something about it?” Daniel asked uncooperatively. “Because we can’t do what we used to do when you were like that.”

“Dan, please,” he whined desperately.

What was his problem? Daniel was practically spoon-feeding him now, making sure to hold his hand through every step of the way like he was some kind of child. What more could he want from him? Shoving him away wouldn’t work. Clearly, Philip had issues to talk out. Daniel bit his lip and took the chain off his door. “You can come in, but all we’re going to do is talk. You need to tell me what is going on with you.”

Philip eagerly entered the room, and to Daniel’s amazement, he sat on the bed Daniel was using. He noticed Daniel’s book on the bedside table, with an old grocery store receipt sticking out as a bookmark. “You couldn’t sleep either?”

“Yeah,” Daniel answered quietly, hating admitting to it. He sat down beside him, making sure there was enough space between them. He rested his head against the headboard and stared up at the ceiling. The room was silent for a while until he heard Philip sniffling. He turned his head and saw him crying softly. He swallowed and searched for something appropriate to say.

“Did you see him this morning?” Philip managed to say, drying his tears with his arm.

Daniel’s mouth opened, but no words came out. He was surprised as out of everything else Philip could’ve said, he started with that question. In time, he answered, “Y-yeah. He didn’t look real to me.”

Philip nodded and let out a sigh, “But that was him. He’s dead now. Like really dead. Dead-dead. Gone forever. There’s no going back. He’s dead.”

He was struggling to keep himself from falling apart, “I get it.”

“The last I saw him was when I was leaving our family Christmas. He told me to be safe. The last I heard his voice was two weeks ago. He called me about his trip he was going on and we ended up talking about tomatoes. Tomatoes.”

He let out a chuckle, “Yeah, that seems a bit unusual.”

“When’s the last time you saw my brother, Dan?”

His words stung Daniel. He really wished he didn’t bring it up. Philip was trying to make a point, and he knew where exactly to push to make it hurt. Daniel bit his lip and a few tears streamed down his cheeks. “It was at brunch last March. It was on a Sunday. He ordered blueberry pancakes and toast. He talked about how well his business was going and what plans he had for Easter.” He looked at Philip, “Look, I know I haven’t made much of an effort the past six months or even past year to keep in touch with your family. But you can’t blame me. You didn’t even talk to my family when we were together. So don’t you dare make me feel bad about this. I am allowed to miss him. And though you may miss him more, don’t invalidate my feelings like that. You always used to do that. And you can imagine how it made me feel.”

Philip shook his head and sniffled loudly, “Don’t. Don’t say that. Don’t make this about…about that.”

“So we’re just going to ignore it then?”

He squeezed his eyes shut and his tears fell more rapidly, “God, why did you even come?”

“I cared about your brother. I talked to him more often than what you will give me credit for. And I thought we could be mature about this.” Daniel stayed quiet as he searched for something else to say. He really didn’t want this to turn into them fighting. It wouldn’t be right. Not after what happened today. “I understand that you’re grieving and I’m trying to respect that. But please know that I’m hurting, too.”

Philip rested his head against the headboard and looked up at the ceiling. The lighting created long shadows of the dresser and desk on the ceiling. He had to admit he felt better now. He wasn’t completely fine, but he recognized the change since when he was in his room alone. He was surprised as there hadn’t been much progress in their spiteful conversation. It was just relieving to finally talk to someone about it. He wasn’t certain why Daniel hadn’t kicked him out yet. Perhaps he’s too lazy or polite. Or maybe he really did want to talk to him. “It doesn’t matter; whatever time we had with him wasn’t enough,” he finally said, his voice a little hoarse now that he had calmed down. “If we had the chance, I know we both would go back and tell him not to go on that trip. I realize that now.”

For the first time that day, Daniel had seen Philip finally accept the ugly truth of it all. He wasn’t tip-toeing around the subject, he was jumping right in. He was admitting their differences while simultaneously noticing their similarities. There was a strength and maturity to him now that he wasn’t caught up with his own feelings. Daniel had to respect that. Philip was trying, at least. The wall between them seemed to have been torn down with his words and they could finally see each other with honesty. This wasn’t about the past and its awful regrets; this was about what happens now and how they could be at peace once again. He looked at Philip with sincerity and wished things were different. He wished he could just kiss him and make everything better. He wished they could say, “At least we still have each other.” Death always makes people appreciate the people that are still around them. He wished he could show that. He wished he could show how much he was glad Philip was there and alive with him. He wished it wasn’t too late.

Daniel turned his body so he was facing Philip’s side and he rested his head on the headboard once again. He tried to sit as close as he could without making it obvious. He still looked at him with sincerity in his eyes. “Why did he even go?”

Philip looked at him and noticed that he seemed closer than before. It oddly comforted him. Therefore, he turned his body to face Daniel and their bodies were a reflection. He fidgeted with his childhood blanket in his hands and counted all the green racecars he saw on it before they fell down into a fold. He sighed, “I don’t know. He was always more adventurous than me, you know that. He made a whole business out of it. And I suppose that’s why he went. It was for a business thing, skiing up in the mountains.” He shook his head and looked at Daniel with soft eyes. “We’ve been on several skiing trips before. I don’t know how this time it became so…”

“He was at peace when he died, at least,” Daniel told him reassuringly. “They say you become very warm and tired when you freeze to death. And then you just die in your sleep. Sometimes the person is naked by the time they are found. It’s called ‘paradoxical undressing.’ You lose all sense of reality and you get so hot that you just…take off your clothes.”

“Well I don’t think my brother was naked when they found him. I think he didn’t even have enough room to do that.” He oddly let out a smile, which quickly changed the mood. “To think he was buried under seven feet of snow just to be buried again under six feet of dirt.”

Daniel had to chuckle at that, “I’m sure he would’ve found that funny.”

He nodded, “I think so too.” He then sadly smiled, “I miss him, Dan.”

Daniel bit his lip and nodded, “I know and it’s okay.”

Philip felt himself sliding back to the person he was this morning. He can’t keep doing that to himself. He needed to show that he was strong for Daniel. He needed to show that there was nothing to worry about. He was all better now that they talked. Right? That was the whole point of this wasn’t it? “Hold me,” he suddenly said as if it came out of his subconscious.

Daniel stared at him in shock, “Wh-what?”

“I need you to make me better,” Philip cried, now accepting what he said.

Daniel shook his head, “I can’t do that; you have to be able to do that on your own. Depending on me to make you better is unhealthy.”

“Dan…Dan, I’m losing it,” Philip said seriously. “You can’t expect me to pick myself up off the ground when I feel like I’m drowning in quicksand.”

Daniel held his mouth open, not knowing what to say. He could tell that Philip was feeling truly helpless here. He was practically self-destructing right before him. It would only cause more damage if he let him figure it out on his own; he knew that as a fact. He was done being cold with him. Philip had no bad intentions to this. He just really needed some help. Seeing him struggling broke Daniel’s heart. He gently grabbed onto Philip’s arm, which seemed to have calmed him down a little. He then pushed the covers away and Philip sunk down into the bed, sniffling. Daniel turned out the light, noticing that it was about midnight, and laid closely against Philip. He held him close to his front torso by keeping his arm around his waist. His face was in his hair, and for the rest of the night, all he could smell was strawberries.

***

Daniel had lain in bed awake for roughly fifteen minutes before finally deciding to get up. The bed was freezing and the morning light was already streaming through the window. As he propped himself up by his elbows, he realized that all that was left of Philip was his racecar blanket. He supposed that’s why the bed was so cold. However, he didn’t remember him leaving at some point in the night. And about last night…it was very different from any other night he had ever had with him. At least, in an incredibly long time. Daniel could feel himself missing him already. He wanted this to be different. He wanted to wake up next to him, with a smile across his face, feeling warm and happy, excited to spend the day with him. However, he had to remember that was not who they were anymore. They were distant, brokenhearted souls now. Perhaps one night couldn’t have fixed it after all.

He finally got out of bed and went to the bathroom. He washed his face, which woke himself up more. He looked terrible. His hair was a mess and his face was covered in tear residue—or whatever it was. He leaned on the sink and breathed for a moment. He needed to mentally prepare for what the day had ahead of him. The long drive ahead could be filled with either silence or complete conversation, but he knew he would be going back home alone both ways. Of course, being devastated wasn’t on his agenda, but as long as he knew Philip was at least safe and well he had nothing to truly complain about. He would just have to build thick skin in the meantime.

After having some mental clarity, he changed into some day clothes, just another sweater and pair of jeans, and grabbed his wallet, phone, and room key. He walked over to Philip’s room and knocked on it a few times, but there wasn’t an answer. His stomach tensed; something was wrong. He looked around his surroundings and merely saw the morning traffic, the busy gas station across the street, and the adjacent diner. The mountains were as beautiful as ever as the sun shined on them. He could see his breath in the air and he knew he had to make a decision fast. He figured he should go with his original plan. Have breakfast and then try to either call the Lester’s for Philip’s phone number or just try to fish it from memory. He walked on the slushy path over to the diner, wishing he at least brought his scarf. As he entered, he smelled eggs, bacon, and potatoes cooking. The coffee was perking and waitresses were running around taking orders. There were a few people at the breakfast bar while others were in the vinyl booths.

“Daniel! Come over here!” It was Philip’s father, beckoning him over to his table where Philip sat across from him and Mrs. Lester was beside him.

Right away Daniel knew this was going to be bad.

***

It was roughly six in the morning that Philip had suddenly woken up. He heard a ringing noise coming through the wall. His first thought was that Daniel couldn’t hear his phone ringing as he was in deep sleep, but then he saw the window curtains. They were pink. His were blue. He turned over and saw Daniel sleeping soundly, one of his arms draped over the pillow he was just sleeping on. He sat there in the silence, trying to comprehend it all. Last night was the best night he had slept in about a week. He thought that was odd as he was sitting on a cheap motel’s mattress. It couldn’t possibly been Daniel who cured his insomnia. It had to have been something else. The more he thought about it, the more he realized how okay he felt. Granted, he wasn’t feeling the greatest, but it was an improvement. He remembered what he told Daniel and how he felt then. He kept his gaze on Daniel’s sleeping body and realized he wasn’t alone. That was what last night was about. He simply needed to know that the unbearable void he was feeling could be felt also by someone else who understood him. He didn’t know quite what to do with the fact that he slept with his ex, but he figured they could both blame it on the mourning. He was just surprised he didn’t feel resentment about it.

The ringing was from his phone, of course. It was his mother. She was deeply worried about him as she didn’t receive a call from him last night. He supposed calling her was the last thing on his mind then. Being that he was in a slightly better mental state than before, he called her back and told her where he was. Within minutes, it was decided that they would have a family breakfast together at the diner. He knew that Daniel was planning on just the two of them having breakfast, but he figured they needed some space after what happened last night. Things were better between them, but they certainly weren’t back to the way they used to be. He mostly agreed to do breakfast because he needed to start again. He needed to make new memories that he could look back on and see the good in. He needed to move forward and be fine with the hole in his life instead of walking straight into it and becoming lost. He was trying to get better.

His father ordered hash browns and sausage and his mother ordered some oatmeal and toast. All he asked for were blueberry pancakes and a glass of milk. As they were beginning their small talk, however, he noticed that his father saw something behind him. As soon as he spoke, his stomach dropped and he didn’t feel like eating anymore.

“Daniel! Come over here!” Mr. Lester shouted across the diner and waved for him to sit at their booth.

Daniel awkwardly made his way over to the table and sat down next to Philip. He smiled politely at them. “I’m glad I found you! I was wondering where Phil went!”

“We told him you could come of course, but he said you were still sleeping,” Mrs. Lester told him.

Daniel looked over at Philip, trying to understand what was going on. His eyes shifted over to the couple, “Well it’s nice to see you again.”

Mr. Lester looked over to his wife and held her hand. He then looked at Daniel with honesty in his eyes, “I don’t think we have properly thanked you yet for being here and supporting not only our family, but Phil as well.” His eyes shifted over to Philip sadly, “It has been rough on him, as you can imagine, but we sure are thankful for you being here and taking care of him.”

“Of course, we don’t want to forget that you are deeply affected by this as well,” Mrs. Lester added kindly. “To see you care for others in a time where you are also grieving is truly selfless. Altruistic, even!”

Daniel blushed and looked at Philip. They haven’t been told yet. It’s been six months and they still don’t know. What was Philip hiding from them? He could tell that they were all on different pages of an incredibly confusing book. But he needed to keep the peace. Especially now. He looked into their thankful, but tired, eyes and could tell they were barely hanging on to a thread. Telling them even more bad news would be cruel. With knowing that, he scooted closer to Philip and gradually reached out his hand. His fingertips first brushed against Philip’s wrist and then palm until he was completely holding his hand. He stared at the affectionate gesture for a few seconds. It’s been far too long since they had been like this. He had forgotten how well their hands fit each other’s and how smooth Philip’s skin was against his. It wasn’t until now that he missed that feeling. He felt oddly warm and his lips stretched into a smile. “It’s—it’s been rough, but we’ve already been through so much together. With your son dying…I cannot imagine what it would be like to go through it alone. He meant so much to me. He was a big part of my life, as you know.” He then looked into Philip’s eyes who appeared confused and scared at the same time. “And all we can do now is to honor him. Not to be held back for what happened, but to remember all the good times and move forward.” His eyes shifted back to the couple, “If all you choose to think about is the bad, then that’s all you’ll remember.”

“Oh…” Mrs. Lester brought a napkin up to her watery eyes. “Where is that coffee we ordered?”

Within a few minutes, a waitress arrived with their food and set down everything on the table. She noticed Daniel and asked if he wanted anything. He simply said a cup of coffee and a slice of pie he had seen when he walked in.

“What are you doing?” Philip whispered in his ear with concern while squeezing his hand hard.

“Relax,” Daniel answered and rubbed his shoulder comfortingly and held his hand again. “Do it for them.”

Philip looked at his parents and understood what Daniel meant. They needed this. After all they’ve been through, it made sense. He began to loosen up now and enjoy himself. He started eating his pancakes and commented how good they were while everyone else followed with compliments about their food as well. It felt like a nice, regular, family breakfast.

“So, Dan, we haven’t heard from you in a while,” Mr. Lester said after drinking some of his coffee. “We missed you at Christmas this year.”

“I know, I feel bad,” Daniel answered while digging into his apple pie. “My parents have been complaining that I never spend Christmas with them anymore, so I had to give in at some point, you know?”

“Oh, yes, yes, we understand,” Mr. Lester said reassuringly. “How is your family, by the way?”

“Good, good,” Daniel nodded his head. “My brother is still going through school. He hates it.”

Philip laughed, “I would too if I were studying to be a psychiatrist.”

Daniel didn’t say anything. He honestly thought Philip forgot.

“He’ll get through it,” Mrs. Lester said hopefully. “It was hard enough to get Phil through university.”

“You hated it, remember that,” Mr. Lester confirmed, cutting his sausage with a knife.

Philip blushed, “No I did not. I loved it.”

“You liked the academic part of it, not the social part,” his father reminded him. “But I much rather have a smart son than an uneducated one, I suppose.”

“Wow, thanks,” Philip said sarcastically and smeared some of his syrup with his pancake.

“Oh, no, I remember your university days quite clearly, Phil,” Daniel teased. “You never went out at all. And you always had something to complain about. And to see you choose to go back to school again surprised me.”

Philip’s cheeks turned red, “Stop it!”

“You know, I met your mother when I went to university,” Mr. Lester began after a few bites of his breakfast. “And your brother met his girlfriend there, too, remember? So I thought for sure you were destined to meet someone there.”

Mrs. Lester chuckled, “Boy, was I sure surprised when I walked into your apartment and saw you kissing Dan in the kitchen! I thought, ‘Well, this is…unexpected!’”

“I should have never given you a key!” Philip genuinely joked.

“Oh, but I was so happy for you! We really were worried you were going to grow up alone, dear.”

Daniel smiled widely and squeezed Philip’s arm. It was as if his very own heart beat just by seeing Philip’s happiness. He felt light and careless. He couldn’t stop smiling and he didn’t even question why this time. He knew. He knew deep down why. It was to the point where he forgot he was supposed to be pretending.

“Oh come on, I would’ve at least had a pet bird or something,” Philip struggled to defend himself.

“Oh, please!” His father exclaimed. “Between a pet bird and Dan, who would you choose?”

“Dan,” Philip answered automatically in a laugh. It surprised him. Did he really say that? He felt like he someone else said it. Or, at least, the person sitting where he was sitting said it. But he couldn’t possibly have said that. Having the pet bird was the much more logical answer. But instead he said…he knew he wasn’t just showing off anymore. It was as if at that moment everything slowed down. His parents were smiling and drinking their coffee and Daniel was smiling right back, finishing his pie. One of his hands was placed casually on his thigh as if that was where it belonged. It was fine when they were holding hands, but now it was different. He knew that Daniel threw out the whole “pretend” thing a while ago. This was getting real now. His throat was burning and he was blinking back the tears as he looked out the window. He kept his eyes on the massive snowy mountain, hoping that all of this would be over soon. He was starting to not like how good he was feeling. It didn’t feel right to him.

“—no, no, no, that’s not what happened!” Mrs. Lester’s voice came back into range for Philip. “Phil called me in a panic at two in the morning, not Dan. He was too busy trying to get the car to start.”

“Well either way, I had to get out of bed to drive in the pouring rain to pick you two up!” Mr. Lester reminisced. “What were you two doing out so late anyway?”

Daniel scrunched his eyebrows as he tried to think, “I don’t know, I think we were coming home from the movies? I think it was the prem—”

“We were coming back from one of my friend’s art shows,” Philip interrupted, knowing exactly what the conversation was about despite zoning out for a few seconds. “We stayed for the after party.”

“Oh, so that’s why I was wearing a suit!” Daniel said with relief.

“And Dan, being notorious for driving on an empty tank, thought we could make it home,” Philip explained endearingly.

“I remember you two leaving an absolute muddy mess all over the house when you came home,” Mrs. Lester expressed after taking the last bite of her oatmeal. “Ooh, was I mad.”

Daniel laughed and finished the rest of his coffee. A familiar energy was flowing all around them and it was as if no time had passed. This was just the way they always had been, and, hopefully, the way they always will be.

Mr. Lester checked his watch now that the conversation had died down. “Oh, I apologize for keeping you two so long. I forgot how long the drive is.”

“Oh no, it’s alright,” Daniel reassured him. “We don’t have much going on today anyway. But please, any time you want to catch up again, don’t be afraid to call.”

Goodbyes were told and hugs were given. Breakfast was paid for and the cold soon bit at their cheeks again. They all hugged once more and Daniel and Philip watched as the couple drove back up to the mountain. It was over now. Time to get back to whatever it was (Daniel wasn’t certain what to call it anymore). It was silent as they watched the traffic pass by. Eventually, Philip cleared his throat.

“I’ll start packing my things,” he said as he made his way back to the motel.

“So you would really choose me over a pet bird?” Daniel asked as he was walking away. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the true answer, he just wanted to know what made Philip say that. However, by the way that he kept on walking was an answer in itself.

Daniel made his way back to his motel room. The alarm clock read nine-thirty; they were going to be late. He began carelessly shoving his dirty clothes and toiletries in his bag. He tried to clean up the room a little as a way to be courteous to the housekeeping crew. Being that he had only used this room for less than twelve hours, there wasn’t much to do other than to fix the bedspread. As he was smoothing out the wrinkles in the comforter, he felt a bump underneath it as if he accidentally left his t-shirt on the bed. He lifted up the covers and saw a blue blanket that had a racecar pattern. Philip’s blanket. He carefully pulled it out and smoothed the rest of the wrinkles on the bed before handling the valued item. The fleece material was rough now due to a couple decades’ worth of use. There were stubborn stains throughout and most of the topstitching was missing. Daniel bit his lip when the memories started pouring in again. He just wished he was small enough that the blanket could protect him from them. He didn’t like one thing about what was happening. Not just with the inconvenient memories, but with being with Philip in general. Simply looking at him now became difficult. He was once the only person Daniel didn’t feel afraid to say “forever” to.

For some reason, Philip’s door was open when Daniel stopped by. He was neatly folding his clothing and checking and rechecking his belongings, making sure he had everything. Daniel was practically in tears now as he leaned on the doorframe. Everything felt like it was slipping away from him so easily. He missed just sitting around, watching him do simple tasks.

“I am trying so hard…” Daniel blurted out, a hot tear streaming down his cheek. He sniffled loudly; too late to be discrete about it now.

Philip went to put on his shoes, not making it clear if he was listening or not. Something about this was all too familiar to Daniel. The miscommunication. The cold shoulder. The silent treatment. He was losing him for the second time. He felt it. Only once before had his heart sunk so low that he felt too heavy for his feet to carry him. The pit in his stomach became hollower the more the silence continued. He sniffled loudly as the tears continued.

“You know I can’t be strong for the both of us,” Daniel cried as he fidgeted with the blanket in his hands. “Not this time. I can’t ignore what’s happening. You can’t just…expect me to be okay with this!”

Philip grabbed his shaving kit and toothbrush and entered the bathroom, not closing the door behind him. Daniel took that as an invitation. He dropped his bag on the floor, closed the front door, and slumped on the edge of the bed nearest to the bathroom, feeling thankful for something else to share the unbearable weight he was feeling. He watched as Philip put shaving cream on his face, a task he used to observe while he was in the shower. He then focused his attention on the blanket. His thumb rubbed over a red racecar that had a “#1” on it.

“You left this in my room,” Daniel began, slowly calming down. “It made me think about how much crap this poor thing has gone through,” he chuckled. “I don’t remember how you got it; I’ve always known you having it. We had to have been at least six or seven when we met each other. Do you remember making forts out of it in the kitchen? And then your mom would sneak in sandwiches for us. We always had to tear it down before dinner, though. We hated that.” Daniel paused for a moment and saw that Philip’s face was halfway shaved now. He appeared too concentrated to show any real emotion to the story. Daniel licked his lips and continued, “When there were thunderstorms, we’d always hide underneath it in your bed with a flashlight on. Your brother tried to read us comic books to distract us, but he was never successful. I remember this one time he just gave up and fed us cookies,” Daniel laughed at the happy memory and then understood how sad it was now.

“When we were teenagers, you were embarrassed about it,” he continued. “You hid it underneath your pillow. There was a reason why no one else slept in your bed besides me during sleepovers,” he smiled to himself and heat rushed to his cheeks. “It wasn’t long after that we started kissing. Every day after school we’d kiss underneath that blanket, for hours it felt like. I used to look back on that and think it was silly, but not so much anymore. Understanding the context, it was sweet actually.

“It took me by surprise when I found it at the bottom of a box when we moved in to our first apartment. You blushed and said that it was an accident. You didn’t mean to bring it. I believed you for a while until I caught you crying into it.” By now, Philip was done shaving and he was drying off his face. All Daniel could hope was that he was listening. “We were naïve weren’t we? We didn’t know one thing about living by ourselves. You were scared to death. I was too, but I tried to be strong for the both of us. Time is the only cure to homesickness, which was meaningless information at the time as we were both young and impatient.

“The last I saw this blanket was about six months ago at our—my apartment. It was only a blur then in the background, sticking out underneath your pillow. It was something I’ve grown used to—you still sleeping with your childhood blanket. I feel stupid now for ever getting jealous of it. There were times where I wished I could give you the security and comfort you needed. I just never knew how.” Sounds of Philip brushing his teeth could be heard now, which put a rush to Daniel’s words. He wasn’t even sure what his point was anymore. Now he was just rambling as a means to make himself feel better. “Besides all the yelling and the throwing, that’s what I last remember of this blanket. I couldn’t keep eye contact with you as I knew I would do something regretful if I did. Instead, I just kept my eye on this little blue blur. And that’s what got me through that terrible night.”

Daniel tried to look at him in the eyes through the bathroom mirror. “I want you to know that to this day, Phil, I still haven’t told anyone about this blanket. I may have cursed your name night after night and wished awful things upon you, but I still kept our secrets. I’m not filled with rage anymore now. I understand what happened and I can be mature enough to take the blame. But I’d be lying if I said I feel better because of it.” He looked up at the water-stained ceiling and bit his lip. Something was still on his mind; the same thing that had been haunting him ever since yesterday afternoon. He was done debating over whether or not to admit it. Things were already worse as it was. He looked at every single racecar that was on the particular fold of the blanket before whispering, “I think I’m still in love with you.”

Philip, still being completely silent through this exchange, merely dried his mouth, turned off the bathroom light, and walked over to the edge of the bed where Daniel was sitting. He took the old blanket in his hands and sat on the floor with it. His hands ran over the pattern silently.

Daniel took the opportunity and sat across from him. He watched him closely, noticing the sadness in his eyes and the fact he hadn’t washed his hair in a few days. His shirt was a bit wrinkled and he accidentally cut himself while shaving. There was so much to this man that it was too overwhelming to take in for only a funeral visit. It was unfair. Daniel became lost in the way Philip’s fingers gently outlined each racecar. He knew he was stalling. What was too difficult for him to say? Daniel already poured his heart over a dirty blanket for him. With losing his patience, Daniel took his hand and said, “There has to be a reason why you still keep it.”

Philip twisted his mouth and tilted his head as if he was searching for the right words to say. “My brother gave it to me for Christmas one year.”

Daniel let go of his hand and sat back. He wasn’t expecting that answer. This changed everything. It all made sense. He made sure to keep his distance now that he finally got Philip to open up. He was eager to hear what he had to say next.

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” Philip shook his head. After a pause, he said, “I didn’t expect you to be at the funeral, considering you wanted nothing to do with me last I checked.” He looked at him with warm eyes now, as if he had come to a realization. “You changed. A lot, might I add. And I probably did, too. Now, if it was for the better, I don’t know. But I am happy you still care and came through for my family and I. Being with you has been really nice so far.” He smiled at him and wrapped the blanket around Daniel’s shoulders, “Thank you.”

Daniel’s bottom lip quivered. The pit in his stomach was still there and it was growing deeper. Philip’s response was too vague. He still hadn’t said the one thing Daniel had needed to hear for a while now. He felt like he might just sink into the floor if he didn’t hear those words soon. He shifted closer to Philip and asked with urgency and not one hint of shyness, “Do you still love me?”

Philip smiled at him as if it was a joke. He was too casual for Daniel’s preference at the serious question and it irked him. “I’m sitting on a dirty motel floor with you, what do you think?”

Daniel pursed his lips and shook his head. He couldn’t look at him. How could he say that? It was an honest question that needed an honest answer. Disappointment clouded his mind. Every time he thought they were going somewhere, it ended up being a dead end. He’s tired of this back-and-forth game. By this point, he would accept the unfavorable answer as at least it was definite.

Philip knew he hurt him, despite his lighthearted intentions. It was his fault. Never was there a more inappropriate time to put in a joke than this. Perhaps he did it because it was the easy way out of a difficult question. He didn’t have an answer for Daniel. At least, not an answer he would like. He knew how Daniel felt about him. He knew ever since breakfast. How could Daniel be so certain about his feelings already? To Philip, it was better putting it off and being humorous about it than to actually come to the realization of how he felt. Besides, the timing was too awkward for him to give a proper answer. He was still coming to terms with his brother’s death and how that changes everything. To him, Daniel’s question was like one of those juvenile love notes; check “yes” if you like me/check “no” if you don’t. How could Daniel expect him to find the time to answer such a meaningless question in comparison to his brother’s death? The two didn’t mix well and he wasn’t sure if Daniel understood that or not.

He glanced at Daniel and saw the anger and resentment boiling up within him. He didn’t mean for this to happen; it just came out the wrong way. He hated to see him like this after how happy this morning was. And if that was an indication of some type of answer, then he was going to take it. He gradually made the move to hold his hand, rubbing his fingertips over his knuckles soothingly. He looked into his eyes with sincerity and he finally saw a change in Daniel’s face. Although he didn’t feel ready enough, he slowly leaned in and kissed him softly. Philip wished he could admit the kiss felt the way it used to be as if nothing changed, but he had forgotten what that felt like. It was as if his heart jumpstarted and he wanted this good feeling to last as long as possible. They shared the warm, heated air between them, which was difficult to overcome as the tension was unbearable. Philip let their foreheads touch again and he almost had Daniel kiss him back, but he backed away slightly.

“To answer your question,” Philip said, his voice barely above a whisper, “I’ll let you know when I know.”

Daniel nodded, their heads gently knocking into each other as they were so close. “Good, because I’m not so sure either.”

#phanfiction #phan #phan angst #phan au #phan fluff #tw #getting back together #if you ever seen glow you would probably know right away which scene inspired this #also this is my first fic that hasn't been reviewed by my beta so...yeah

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uphindia-world · 4 years

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Australian broadcaster and writer Clive James dies aged 80 Clive James, the Australian broadcaster, writer, critic and poet who charmed generations of Britons with his humour and wit, has died at the age of 80, his agents said Wednesday.James died "peacefully and at home, surrounded by his family and his books" in Cambridge, eastern England, on Sunday, United Agents said in a statement.A private funeral attended by family and close friends took place on Wednesday in the chapel at Pembroke College in Cambridge University, where he read English literature as a student in the 1960s.The charismatic and erudite broadcaster, who left Sydney for England in late 1961 and made his career in Britain, had fought a long battle with leukaemia."Clive died almost 10 years after his first terminal diagnosis and one month after he laid down his pen for the last time," UA said."He endured his ever-multiplying illnesses with patience and good humour, knowing until the last moment that he had experienced more than his fair share of this 'great, good world'."He first made his name as The Observer newspaper's television critic for a decade from 1972, where he turned the TV review into somewhat of an art form.His own hit TV show, "Clive James on Television", fronted with his wise-cracking presenting style, put some the world's most bizarre programmes under the spotlight -- notably clips of the Japanese game show "Endurance".Another regular guest was the Cuban singer Margarita Pracatan, who paid tribute on Wednesday to James' intelligence, talent "and beautiful way of living".James pioneered the 'postcard' format of travel documentaries.He retired from mainstream television in 2000.- Penned his own obituary -The British Academy of Film and Television Arts (BAFTA), presented him with a special lifetime achievement award in 2015.BBC director-general Tony Hall said: "Clive James was a clever, witty and thought-provoking broadcaster.""He had a huge range of talents and everything he did was essential listening or viewing.He is irreplaceable."James wrote several novels and poetry books and received the Philip Hodgins Memorial Medal, a major Australian literature award, in 2003.He published several volumes of his memoirs, including "The Blaze of Obscurity" about his years in television.After an unsuccessful operation to remove a cancer on his cheek in February this year, James set about compiling an autobiographical anthology of poems called "The Fire Of Joy", which was finished a month ago.During his long illness, James penned his own obituary, regularly updating it on his website.He said it would "serve as a cheaper obituary than anything most newspapers are likely to have in the freezer"."I will keep updating it until they carry me to the slab, during which journey I will try to give details of my final medication," he wrote.- Jonathan Miller dies, 85 -James' death was announced after the family of theatre director Jonathan Miller said he died on Wednesday at the age of 85.Miller once appeared as a guest on James' chat show "The Late Clive James" in 1988, in which he discussed his love of stationery.The polymath first found fame in the early 1960s in the revue "Beyond The Fringe" with Peter Cook, Dudley Moore and Alan Bennett.Miller directed theatre and television plays, including "The Merchant Of Venice" at the National Theatre and six of BBC television's Shakespeare plays.His started directing opera in the 1970s."Our father died this morning peacefully at home with his family around him following a long battle with Alzheimer's," Miller's family said in a statement."He was 85 and leaves his wife Rachel and children Tom, William and Kate.His death is a great loss to our family and to his friends and will leave a huge hole in our lives."Britain's National Theatre called Miller a "legendary figure across theatre and opera", while the English National Opera said "his contribution to comedy, theatre and ENO in particular was immeasurable."For over four decades Jonathan created some of ENO's most celebrated and popular opera productions."

#australian #broadcaster #clive james #dies #Writer

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auroraphilealis · 7 years

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Steal My Heart (Steal My Whole Life Too) Chapter Twenty-Three

Genre: Chaptered, fantasy AU, Prince!Phil, Thief!Dan, romance, enemies to lovers, angst and fluff, slow burn (like serious slow burn)

Warnings: some violence, mentions of death (no main characters), dark magic, descriptions of wounds/blood, some hints of sexual scenes (but no actual smut), murder, dangerous situations, stealing/thievery

Summary: Captain of the Royal Guard and Prince of Morellia, Philip Lester has never been given the chance to find love. Instead, he’s run from a system that works to end class differences and improve equality for its citizens. Happy as he is to make the world a better place, Phil can’t help feeling bitter towards his ancestors for making it impossible for him to find someone who will actually love him for more than just his title, and strives instead for a life of justice and doing good - only to meet his match in the King of Thieves, a man who will change everything he once thought he knew in life. Together, they must depart on a quest to save the kingdom, and, in the process, destroy their differences and find their own form of love.

Word count: 240,000+

Updates: Sunday

Thanks so much to @botanistlester for betaing this giant monster, as she’s been super helpful and encouraging with her little comments and endless excitement. We couldn’t have done it without you <3

Sorry for that slight cliffhanger xD we think this chapter more than makes up for it, so hopefully you will agree too. And thank you for making it this far! We’re both so proud of this fic and couldn’t be happier with the response we’ve been getting ^_^ again, thank you all so much for all the comments, I am sorry we haven’t had a chance to reply yet, I’m chronically sick and struggle to do things, and snowbunnylester has been crazy busy and dealing with things too, but we read every one and treasure them all, thank you so much to all of you

Disclaimer: In no way do I claim that this is real or cast aspersions on Dan or Phil

For reference, @snowbunnylester is Phil, @ineverhadmyinternetphase is Dan

(AO3 link) (Masterlist)

Chapter 23

The hardest thing Phil had ever had to do in his life up until now was to leave Dan's side when he was so sick and injured, and he hadn't even gone that far. He would have thought himself pathetic if it weren't for the ache in his heart and the never ending thoughts in his mind that told him over and over again that this whole thing had been his fault, because in technicality, it had been. Phil was having a rough time forgiving himself, and now that Dan was asleep, Brandon gone, and Phil left all alone… he had nothing left to do but beat himself up for it.

How long ago had it been when Dan and Phil had first talked about what they were going to do when they faced the dragon? They’d never discussed a strategy, sure, but they had talked about sacrificing themselves for each other. What had Dan said then? Dan had promised Phil, promised him, that he would get them both out of there alive… and he hadn’t. But Phil wasn’t mad about that, no, he was mad at himself, because during that same conversation, he’d promised himself that he would never let Dan get hurt for him, and yet here they were, with Dan lying on the bed covered in blood and a wound so large that Phil wasn’t sure how it could ever possibly heal.

All he could do was hope, and as he stared from across the cave at his thief’s body, all wrapped up in bandages that had already stained red, was that he would survive. Surely… surely, he would survive.

The image of Dan’s body, cut open from armpit to hip, was seared into Phil’s mind. He was never going to forget the way the three, long scratches had looked, and knew he’d be seeing it a thousand more times still, but nothing would compare to that first brutal moment of realization that Dan was… Dan was far more wounded than Phil had initially realized.

The cave with the dragon had been too dark for Phil to see the cuts, but here, even before the sun had risen, Phil had gotten a pretty clear look at the long, deep gouges that had been pressed into his thief’s skin. Even now, Phil just wanted to throw up, knowing what had been done to the love of his life.

The love of his life... Phil loved Dan more than he’d ever thought he could love anyone, and he’d almost left the words too late. His shoulders shook with the memory of bellowing them at Dan, hoping, praying, that somehow they would make a difference.

They had. Miraculously, they had, and Dan had woken up, and…

The fact that Dan loved him back still rung in Phil’s head, a constant mantra, a constant reminder, that Dan was still here, and he was fighting. Phil hadn’t lost him yet.

Dan loved him. Dan had said he loved him. He had been half unconscious, and drugged up from the poultice on his side, but he'd said he loved Phil. The memory of that was still making Phil's chest and heart glow with pride and unbridled happiness, even with all the anguish twisting Phil’s gut into an outright mess. Even if Dan didn't remember when he woke up, Phil would never forget.

Daniel Howell, King of Thieves, loved him.

It was the one thing Phil was holding onto now, when all he could think about was how much he hated himself. He’d let Dan get hurt for him, had nearly lost him, and now, Dan would have three new scars, all because of Phil.

With Dan asleep, and Phil all alone, he could cry again. The sounds were choked off sobs that bubbled up from his very gut and left him feeling devastated and destroyed in the worst of ways, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop when all he could think about was the way Dan had looked on the dragon’s cavern floor, out cold and unresponsive as Phil shook him and begged him to wake up.

All he could think about was the way Dan had looked hanging off that ridge, both legs dangling off the ledge as his weight slowly took him down, down, down, with Phil hanging off his own ledge and not enough strength to pull himself up in time to save Dan.

Phil had hated himself then, too. If Dan had died because of Phil… Phil wasn’t sure what he would have done. He wasn’t sure if he could have gone on, and the thought of that alone was too much. Would he have lost all will to pull himself up that ridge? Phil didn’t know. He almost hadn’t made it after Dan had rescued himself either, but the way Dan had pleaded with him, for the first time in either of their lives… that had been everything.

That was a sound that would never leave him again, either; Dan pleading for help, looking so small and broken, in too much pain to even stay conscious enough to get them both out of the cave. How tortured he must have been… Phil would never forget the look on his face.

So he cried, because that was all Phil could do… cry.

After what felt like hours of crying, Phil eventually managed to pull himself together enough to wipe away the tears and start making something to eat. He’d yet to sleep, and the sun was just coming up again outside. It had probably been a full twenty-four hours since Phil had last gotten any rest, and yet, he wasn’t tired. Not anymore.

There was still far too much left to do for him to be able to sleep, not to mention attend to his wounds, which almost seemed like an afterthought in and of themselves. He’d yet to touch them, let alone wipe them down and bandage them, unwilling to use up Dan’s store of bandages on himself, but they didn’t even hurt anymore. Phil’s body was sore, but he felt numb all over by the time he started a fire to cook for Dan when he eventually woke up.

Dan slept for a long time, the kind of deep heavy sleep that left him completely unconscious and unaware of his surroundings. It was what his body needed to heal and cope with the pain he'd been given, and much as Dan wanted to stay awake and stay with his Prince to keep talking and reassuring him that everything was alright, he was powerless against the black that tugged at his skull.

So Dan slept.

When he next stirred, it was to stiff muscles and sore bones. He blinked groggily, trying to move, to figure out where he was and why he felt so heavy and exhausted and sore. As he twitched, pain flared down his side and he groaned. His bandaged wounds felt stiff, the memory of Phil and Brandon patching him up hazy but enough to remind Dan what had happened. He’d battled with a dragon, and hadn’t come off too well. But at least Phil was relatively unharmed.

Dan tried to open his eyes, to find his surroundings and look for wherever Phil had gone too, but the movement sent pain flaring through him again, and blackness was still tugging at the corners of his skull. Dan tried to fight it, tried to look for Phil instead, but he was too weak and it was too much. It didn’t take him long to go under again.

The smell of something cooking roused Dan next, and he blinked his eyes open, lashes heavy and crusted with tears and dust. The pain in his left side had dulled to a low throb, so he propped himself up carefully on his elbows, not moving more than he absolutely had to, and lifted his head up to have a look around.

He was back in the cave where Phil had killed the Duke - Phil must have carried him a long way, then. There were flickering flames in Dan's field of vision, and he could see the comfort of a campfire with something cooking over it that smelled wonderful. Dan's stomach rumbled in response.

Then he saw Phil crouching over it, and a smile automatically rose to Dan's lips. Phil. Phil, who'd saved his life, carried him all the way back here to safety, looked after Dan in a way no one else had throughout Dan’s life. And more than that - Phil loved him.

Phil loved him.

Dan's heart fluttered in his chest as he settled into this new feeling of being loved and loving whole-heartedly in return. He let out a happy sigh and broke the silence with a croaky voice. "Phil. I hope I get some of whatever it is you're making?"

Phil was huddled over the fire, nearly done with the deer meat Dan had caught for them two days ago when he finally heard Dan’s voice calling to him from behind him. Turning with a startled sigh, Phil stared at Dan with wide eyes for all of a few seconds before his expression turned into a slow, pained smile.

"Of course, my thief. It's nearly done, now. How are you feeling?" he asked, voice still stuffy with the sound of Phil's long cry.

Dan's brows furrowed at the stuffy sound to Phil's voice. He couldn't see very well from here, but that sounded an awful lot like Phil had been crying, and Dan just couldn't have that. Before he could question further, however, his stomach gave another giant rumble. He looked down, embarrassed, relieved to hear that the food was nearly ready. He felt very weak.

Phil couldn't help chuckling to hear Dan's stomach rumble. He was healing, then, to be that hungry. It was relieving to know, relieving to be reassured that things were going to be okay. Phil's body was half turned to Dan, half turned to their food, now, wanting Dan to know he had Phil's attention despite his focus being on dinner.

"I'm alright," Dan promised, wincing a bit as he tried to sit up against the wall Phil had propped the furs next to. His side pulled, but the pain was bearable and still dulled by the poultice. He leaned back against the rough stone wall and closed his eyes, speaking through pants. "I'm a little hazy on what happened. Did you - did you get the scale? And more importantly, are you ok?"

At the last question, Dan opened his eyes again and fixed Phil with a penetrating stare. He was feeling much more aware, the smell of food rousing him from his groggy state, and he was starting to get a bit worried about Phil; Phil, who was being more quiet than usual, and who still sounded stuffy and sad and wasn't looking directly at Dan.

Phil nearly dropped the ladle he was using to stir the thick stew he was making when Dan began to pull himself up into a sitting position, and he would have reprimanded Dan if Dan had made a noise of pain, but he hadn't, and as it was, Phil didn't want to insult Dan by insinuating that he couldn't do anything, not when he knew his thief as well as he thought he did at this point.

Unable to look at Dan straight on from the guilt wracking through him, however, Phil merely nodded his head slowly in response to his enquiry.

"We got the scale," he reassured Dan, voice soft and gentle, hoping it would put his mind at ease. "And I'm fine, if not a little banged up."

Besides. It wasn’t entirely a lie. Phil was just a little banged up in comparison to Dan, and he couldn’t feel a thing anyway. The blood staining his wrist was just from Dan, that was all… He was certain his head was okay from the knock he’d taken to the floor, and it wasn’t as if the falling rocks could have done much more damage than a few bruises here and there. His ribs were scraped up, sure, but that was merely from pulling himself across the cavern floor, and that was nothing. Not when you compared it to the wounds Dan had sustained, after all.

Shaking his head, Phil offered Dan a shaky smile. “Promise,” he added for good measure, because he could already see that Dan was about to protest.

Quick to change the subject, Phil turned back to his stew and furrowed his brow at it as he picked up a mouthful to check if it was ready. Blowing on the hot broth, Phil took a quick bite, and hummed to himself in satisfaction when it became clear that the meat was tender and cooked through.

"Sit still. I'll bring you your dinner in just a second," Phil reassured Dan with another quick grin, and reached for the two bowls he’d retrieved from their bags earlier. He was quick to ladle two servings into the bowls, and then removed the smoldering pan from the fire so that it wouldn’t burn, but the two could remain warm in the cold of early morning. Then, Phil carried both bowls over to Dan in the middle of the cave, propped up as he was against the wall, and settled in next to him, turned with his back to the early morning sun to cast himself in shadow.

Dan didn’t need to know the extent of the damage Phil had truly sustained, not when he had so much healing of his own to do just then.

Unwilling to hurt Dan, however, Phil did leave a little space between their bodies so he wouldn’t end up accidentally jostling his thief, and then delicately placed the bowl in Dan’s lap.

"I know you're left handed, but please eat with your right. If you're having trouble, I can help you."

Dan was mostly endeared by Phil's fussing, as unnecessary as he deemed it to be. It was still sweet, and Dan kind of liked being looked after for once. He was used to cleaning himself up after the scrapes and bruises that resulted in his many other scars, so it made a nice change to sit still and let Phil look after him, never mind the fact that it had been a long, long time since Dan last had someone else looking out for him.

Still, it bothered him a bit when Phil brushed off Dan’s questions and came to sit beside him, insisting that he eat with his right hand to save his left side from moving too much.

"I'm fine," Dan grumbled, but he obediently used his weaker right hand when he picked up the bowl of broth to sip from, and then his focus went a little as he started to eat. His rumbling stomach was soon satisfied, and he gave a little noise of appreciation as he devoured the warm broth. "Remind me to make you cook again, this is good."

It made Phil smile to hear Dan compliment his meal, and he turned to his own with lackluster hunger. He didn't feel much like eating, but he knew he needed to keep his strength up, and so he slurped down the thick stew nearly as fast as Dan, who seemed absolutely ravenous as he ate.

Between slurps, Dan turned towards Phil, a little disappointed by the amount of space between them. The angle still didn't let Dan get a good look at Phil's face, either, which was bothering him a bit. Phil still seemed quiet, a little less like his usual teasing self. He hadn't made fun of Dan even once this whole time. It was worrying Dan, made him feel like there was something he was missing.

Well, there was a lot that Dan was missing. His memory of getting here was sketchy at best, a dim thought of Phil carrying him here, and the sharp pain he’d felt when Brandon had been here, patching him up. But Brandon didn’t seem to be around now. It was just Phil, who was being very quiet and refusing to let Dan look directly at him.

"I'm glad we got the scale," Dan said thoughtfully, broaching the subject with caution. "But I'm sure it must have been all you. How'd you do it? Are you ok, really?" Dan frowned as Phil began taking the bowl off him just as Dan finished his stew. Dan stopped him by placing a hand on Phil’s arm, much weaker than he’d like, but enough to hold Phil in place, at least momentarily.

“I want the truth,” Dan insisted, his voice low. “And before you argue, I’m going to keep bothering you until you let me see whether or not I think you’re ok, so come here.”

Phil had just taken their bowls and set them aside when Dan began speaking, his words a rush of worry and concern as he narrowed his eyes at Phil. Blinking in surprise, Phil turned back to Dan and bit his lip, glancing down at the hand Dan had placed on his arm. It wasn’t that safe for him to approach Dan, beat up as he was, and yet he knew better than to argue with his thief when he wanted something. If Phil didn’t go to him of his own free will, what was going to stop Dan from moving and tugging on his wounds more than he should do right then?

Sighing, Phil said, “I’m fine,” as he moved obediently closer to Dan. Phil kept himself mostly in shadow, so that Dan could still see very little, and pushed forward to change the subject to dragons and scales.

“And don’t be ridiculous. Getting the scale was a team effort. When you knocked me out of the way, and took -- took the Dragon’s hit yourself,” Phil said, stuttering through the words as he was once again struck with the overwhelming pain that it had happened at all, “I had my dagger raised to defend myself. You must have struck me in just the right way, because later, when I was trying to find a way out… I saw my dagger, and next to it, a dragon’s scale,” Phil explained, shoving his cut up and bruised hands into his pockets as he sat on his knees in front of Dan and tried to find the item.

The dagger he’d stashed there dug into his skin, suddenly, and Phil hissed in pain, but was quick to dismiss it, dragging that out and then plunging his hands back in his pockets once again.

“I wasn’t sure, at first, if I had even cut it free or if it had just fallen. The dragon was going nuts, but I thought it was just because we were there, and it couldn’t find where we’d gone, but then I crawled over to the scale and found blood, just enough, on the ground and on my blade. The dragon’s heat was so hot, it even seared a bit of scale to my dagger, and I thought, surely, that would be enough for a cure, so I -- I took it, and ran with you.”

Phil’s fingers finally managed to grasp around the scale in his pocket, and he pulled it free to hand to Dan, hoping that the blood he’d gotten all over it wouldn’t affect the healing properties it apparently had for the curse the witch had set.

The dragon’s scale was bright red, glinting dully in the palm of Dan’s hand as he took it from Phil. It was rough beneath Dan’s fingers, hard like armour, stained with blood and its edges sharp. Was it worth it, all the pain and hardships it had taken to get it? Dan stared, wondering how something so innocuous looking could be so priceless.

If it saved Cornelia’s life, it would be worth it. If Phil didn’t have to lose anyone else.

Right now, though, Dan had more pressing matters to attend to. He looked up from the scale to study Phil's face instead, and he gasped at what he saw.

Phil was bloodied from a cut to his head, the red dried down his forehead and crusted over the top of his eye. His face was bruised, and his hands scraped and littered with cuts from the glimpse Dan had caught of them before Phil hid them back inside his pockets. Dan tutted, grabbing Phil's hands and tugging them out of his pocket, bringing them closer for inspection. He frowned, turning them over carefully.

Phil had been hoping that the sight of the dragon scale would be enough to distract his thief from the sight of Phil’s hands, but clearly he was wrong, as not a few moments after Dan admired the dragon scale in his hand, his eyes flashed back to Phil’s face, his hands, and he dropped the scale in an instant.

Instead, he reached out and snatched Phil’s hands into his, looking over them with a little concerned furrow between his brows.

"Idiot, you should wash these right now." Dan was itching to reach out and bring Phil into a hug, but when he lifted his arms, his side pulled and flared with pain, so all he could do was sit there and study Phil closely.

Phil's face was puffy and red, his cheeks marked with tear tracks. Dan clicked his tongue, lifting a palm to gently cup Phil's cheek.

"I didn't want to leave you alone in here," Phil admitted quietly. "You were my first concern," he explained, not wanting Dan to think that Phil just didn't care about himself. At the same time, though, maybe Phil just didn't. He was so angry at himself, so angry that he'd let Dan get so hurt. They'd both nearly died, and it had all been Phil's fault.

Panicking when Dan winced, Phil reached out to pat at him, to force him to sit still, to check on his bandages and see how bad the bleeding was. Phil's fingers fluttered over the stains he could just barely see, and was just about to get up to get the medical supplies again when Dan reached up and cupped Phil's cheeks gently, clucking his tongue.

Slowly, Phil lifted his eyes to meet Dan's, finding nothing but openness there. There was no anger or distrust, just soft concern for Phil.

"What happened? Why are you crying?” Dan asked softly, cupping Phil’s face carefully in his hands. “We'll get the dragon scale back to your family soon, I promise. You're almost free, Phil. Shouldn't you be happy?"

"How can I be happy when you're hurt?" Phil asked, sniffling as the lump formed in his throat once more and his eyes filled with more tears. "How can I be happy when I nearly got you killed? Why would I be happy when it's my -- my fau-- fault," Phil stuttered out, swallowing hard around the lump in his throat as yet more tears began to drip down his cheeks.

"I nearly lost you, Dan -- I thought -- I didn't know if you would even wake up, or if I could pull myself up in time to catch you, and you were covered in blood, and we were so close... I almost lost you. I almost got you killed, all because I was stupid and clumsy enough to trip over a rock when the dragon was asleep right there. I never should have let you come with me," Phil cried, and shoved his face into his hands once more, dislodging Dan's hold on him as he dissolved into tears once more.

He couldn’t seem to help himself. He just felt so… useless.

Dan's breath caught, and he reached out again, wanting desperately to stop the flow of tears running down Phil's cheeks. It hurt him more than anything to see Phil crying, and especially because of him. Dan never wanted to see Phil upset -- it physically tugged at his chest, leaving him upset and making his heart do strange fluttering things. He reached for Phil again, helpless, desperate to do something to fix this.

"Phil," Dan started softly, reaching for him again and ignoring the slight pull in his side. He ached all the way down his left side, so he carefully reached with his right hand to grasp Phil's wrist, giving it a pathetic tug which was apparently about all Dan could manage just then. "Phil," he tried again, tone gentle as he swiped a thumb under Phil's eye. "You idiot. Stop blaming yourself, alright?"

Dan drew in a breath, thinking through the best way to comfort Phil as he continued to swipe under his eye. He couldn't blow off the injury, knowing Phil would only tell him off for not looking after himself, but Dan had to make Phil see that it was okay, that they'd both made it out alive, and that Dan was bursting with happiness and pride that Phil had succeeded in getting them both out safely.

"Even if you'd tried to stop me coming, I'd have followed you all the way here," Dan promised quietly. "Did you really think I was just going to let you go off after a dragon all by yourself? The fact of the matter is, Phil, neither one of us would have survived this trip alone. You needed me to stop you getting hit by the dragon, and I needed you to bring me all the way back out here and rescue me. You saved my life, Phil."

Dan's touch was weak, and yet it was enough to make Phil look up, enough to make Phil scoot closer, willing to do anything to make this better, including giving Dan all of his attention when he asked for it. Warm fingers swiped the tears away from Phil's cheek once more, and he lowered his gaze, lowered his head, until he was staring down at Dan's legs where he had them spread out. His eyes flickered over Dan's side, over the bandages and the blood staining through them, over the pain he'd caused him, as Dan spoke quiet words meant to be reassuring.

Somehow, they still hurt. They still made Phil ache with guilt, because it was difficult to distance himself from the fact that Dan had nearly died for him after promising Phil that he wouldn't. If Phil had just never gotten close to the thief, perhaps Dan wouldn't have ever wanted to follow Phil all the way out here. On the same token, Phil wouldn't be nearly as happy as he currently was, wouldn't have known how to save Cornelia, might have lost his own life as well as everyone else's in the Palace. There was no point in wishing the past away, and yet Phil did, if only to keep Dan safe.

Dan leaned a little closer, as close as he could with the bandages restricting his movements, and tugged on Phil until he was close enough for Dan to look him right in the eyes. "You listen to me, now. I'd jump in front of a dragon for you any time, a hundred times, and I know you don't want to hear that but you have to listen to me now. I love you, Phil Lester, and that means I am going to do some stupid, crazy things for you, okay? But I know you'll always be there for me. You saved my life, and together, we've saved your family's lives, too. Or we will, as soon as we can get back to the capital."

Dan's grip on Phil's face was weak, but when Phil felt Dan pulling on his face, saw Dan trying to scoot forward, he looked up at him and pulled himself closer, until he could feel Dan's breath puffing against his face.

His eyes still watered, and there was so much pain in his heart, and yet, hearing Dan say I love you again seemed to make everything feel so much more right. The guilt was far from assuaged, whether Dan wanted it to be or not, but Dan was right. They were safe now, they had the key to saving Phil's family, and Dan loved him.

"So I have to get used to you doing crazy things for me, then?" Phil asked, sputtering out a laugh, eyelashes lowering until he was peering up at Dan from under them. He reached up to press his hand over the one Dan had on his face, and smiled as softly as he could.

"I love you, too, you know,” he murmured, gentle as ever. “I thought you’d never get the chance to hear me say it, but Daniel Howell... my King of Thieves... I love you," he murmured, just staring into Dan's warm brown eyes and clinging to the fact that Dan was alive.

Hearing Phil say he loved him was all Dan needed. He grinned as wide as he could, eyes crinkling right up, and pulled Phil in for a soft kiss that was about all he was capable of just then. Hearing those words again at a time when they weren't both fearing for their deaths just made them so much the sweeter.

"I know,” Dan murmured, his expression soft. “I know you love me. So no more crying and feeling guilty, you hear me? This is not your fault." Dan faced Phil dead-on, expression serious. "I injured myself; me, not you. Or rather, the dragon did it. If you want someone to blame, blame that bloody giant hell beast in the cave. Certainly not yourself, okay? Now go grab a bowl of water, we both need to clean up.”

Sniffling, Phil laughed as Dan very gruffly changed the subject from corny and heartfelt, to necessity. "I'm going, I'm going. Just. Don't move around too much," Phil insisted, and then stood up after one last pat to Dan's hand to leave the cave.

"I promise to stay still," Dan laughed in agreement, watching Phil out of the cave. For the most part, he kept his promise, keeping his place sitting up against the wall and only moving to gingerly press his fingers down the bandaged wound. The pain was getting sharper again - Dan wondered if he was allowed more herbs.

With a large bowl that the healers had sent with Phil in his bag, Phil headed up the mountain slope to the lake Brandon had shared with him and Dan before to fill it up. His eyes were still wet with tears, and his heart still ached, but there was something warm inside of him too.

If Dan was well enough to argue and tease, surely he was going to be okay, in the end.

Once the bucket was full, Phil very carefully carried it back down the slope and into the cave where Dan still lay propped up against the wall, eyes closed as he breathed evenly. He wasn’t asleep though, that much was clear in the way that he flinched from time to time from the ache in his side. Surely, he needed a poultice change already.

Placing the bowl of water down at Dan’s feet, Phil moved to gather up the bag of medical supplies. He was quick to pull out the smaller bowl Brandon had used to mix the poultice, the two bottles of herbs that would need to be mixed together, and the wrapping that had been sent with him. They were wrapped up in small balls, and Phil took one out, before returning back to Dan’s side again. This time, he brought the pain medication as well, but he was unsure if Dan would take it or not.

Once properly settled once more, Phil reached for a fur he could use as a washcloth, settled that down at his feet as well, and moved to hover over Dan’s body, reaching instantly for Dan’s wrappings.

Dan’s brow furrowed when Phil seemed to forgo his own wounds for Dan’s instead, and reached out to catch his hands before he could touch Dan’s wrappings.

“What are you doing?” Dan told Phil off, holding his hands still. “We’re meant to take care of you, first, Phil! You haven’t looked after yourself at all yet.”

But Phil was having none of it, glaring down at Dan. “Daniel Howell,” he growled, “You have three, dangerous looking wounds in your side, and I can see you wincing in pain. I need to take care of you first. You are not dying on me,” he argued, and his voice sounded so strained, so afraid, that Dan could do nothing but shut his mouth and release Phil’s hands.

After that, Phil reached for Dan’s wrappings again, and undid them carefully. As the bandages came away, Dan winced and hissed through his teeth, reaching out to grab Phil’s arm. Dan didn't dig his nails in this time, though, instead rubbing apologetically over the bruises he'd left before. Dan hadn't even realised he’d been gripping that hard.

The pain that flared through him was throbbing and growing steadily stronger, and Dan breathed through his mouth and rested his head back as the bandages seemed to stick to his skin, tearing at his wounds. By the time Phil looked up at him with terror in his eyes, Dan realized just how bad this was about to hurt, and gritted his teeth.

“Dan,” Phil murmured, as he began to realize what he was going to have to do to get the bandages off. “We didn’t -- there was nothing protecting the bandages from adhering to your skin. I’m -- I’m going to have to tug the bandages free,” he whispered, staring at Dan with pain in his own eyes, because he’d promised himself he’d stop hurting Dan.

“I have to clean your wounds, Dan, I’m sorry,” Phil whispered again, glancing at just how much bandage was left still twisted around his torso, from armpit to hip. This… was not going to be easy going, that much was sure.

“Just -- get it over with,” Dan said through gritted teeth, and braced himself.

Nodding his head once in confirmation, Phil bit his lip, and started to pull the fabric free. It tore at Dan’s body, causing Dan to scream through his teeth much like he had when Brandon had first started to apply the poultice earlier, and the sound broke Phil’s heart. He didn’t stop tugging, however; how could he, when the pain would only last longer if he delayed now? Pulling as delicately as he dared, Phil unwound Dan’s bandages the rest of the way, horrified by the amount of blood he was pulling away.

Finally, finally, Dan was free of the bandages, and he slumped back against the wall behind him, chest heaving and eyes watering in pain. He could feel his body shaking, but he couldn’t quite make it stop. He was sure he was sweating now too, and if he hadn’t needed the poultice earlier, he sure as hell needed it now.

Phil didn’t look at Dan’s wounds, not directly, not right away. He wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to stomach them, after all, not after last time, so he turned away to dispose of the bloodied bandages, and then took a deep breath as he grabbed the washcloth he’d fetched and dunked it in the water behind him.

Climbing between Dan’s legs this time to properly be able to touch him, Phil held his breath, and finally turned back to face Dan’s body.

The cuts were just as bad as they had been a few hours before, tinged yellow from the thick, sticky poultice that still clung as a residue to his skin. The wounds, at least, had seemed to stop bleeding, and there was no pus that would be indicative of infection, for which Phil was relieved. He hadn’t known he could feel positive looking at Dan’s body all torn up like this, and yet he did, because at the very least, it didn’t look like the dragon had had any poison, or at the very least, had failed to infect Dan.

Dan was still covered in blood, however, dried up and crusted against his skin, dark brown in some places and red in others. The sight made Phil’s stomach turn, but he shook the feeling away as he tried to instead focus on the fact that he was meant to be helping Dan right now. Offering Dan his left arm once again to squeeze, Phil used his right to gently start scrubbing away the dried blood all over Dan’s body, avoiding the cuts all together for right now.

Dan held as still as he could, but it was difficult not to flinch as he felt Phil start to gently clean the wounds again. Dan had risked one glance down, when the bandages were being unwound, but the sight of his own flesh so sickly and cut up had turned even Dan’s stomach, so he’d quickly looked the other way, focusing instead on distracting himself.

The last thing he needed to do was freak out when Phil was already being as careful as he could. Besides, Dan had faced worse than this in his life. He knew what he needed in a crisis. As long as he stayed distracted, he would make it through.

So he turned to what his heart was full of - the fact that Phil loved him.

"So, my Prince," Dan started with bright eyes and a wicked grin, hiding the pain he still felt. "Distract me. Tell me the story - how exactly did you realise you fell in love with me?"

Glancing up at the unexpected question, Phil found that Dan's face had softened some. Some of the pain had seemed to fade, until he was left with something closer to a happy sparkle in his eye, despite the crinkles of pain surrounding it.

"That's a hard question, my thief," Phil murmured in reply, trying to think. For most of their journey, Phil had felt those three words sitting on his tongue, and yet he couldn't pinpoint the exact moment he'd fallen in love. "It seems you might tease me, if I tell you," he added quietly, murmuring an apology when his touches turned to Dan's actual wounds and his thief cried out in pain.

"Stay still for me. I know it hurts, but I don't want to hurt you anymore than I have to."

Dan gritted his teeth, forcing his muscles to relax rather than tense up the way they wanted to as Phil began directly cleaning his wounds. The sting was sharper, and Dan used every ounce of his own self-control to keep from flinching away.

“‘S’why I’m asking you to distract me,” Dan gritted out, eyes fluttering closed. “Tell me. I promise not to tease you too much.”

Phil held back a chuckle, watching the strength in his thief as Dan closed his eyes and tipped his head back. He wouldn’t deny his thief anything he wanted, especially when Phil was having to put him through more pain when trying to clean his wounds. Phil’s thoughts turned inwards as he tried to think, but he thought he knew the moment when attraction and interest had turned into love, and it was kind of an embarrassing admission considering… well, everything. Phil feared that Dan wouldn't believe him, but his thief had asked for a distraction, asked for a story, and perhaps he just wanted to hear about how much Phil loved him some more.

“I told you last time that I started to fall for you that night in the underground,” he began, voice a bit musing, “when you set me straight, and made me realize that I was no more perfect than you were, and that in so many ways… you were a better person than me…” Phil shrugged his shoulders a bit, pleased when Dan seemed to settle under his voice. The fact that he was strung up in pain wasn’t helping Phil’s heart, who didn’t understand how in the world Dan could still be so gentle with him.

He sighed.

“Everything’s happened so fast, since… since the first time you kissed me. When I look back on it, it’s hard to keep everything perfectly straight in my head, but mostly… well, we’ve been through so much together. You can hardly blame me falling for you so fast,” he murmured, and refused to meet Dan’s gaze, at that. “Perhaps some might call me stupid for it, but I’ve always been one to be ruled by my emotions, and I’ve kept my heart protected so long it only seemed appropriate to hand it to you…” Phil’s voice trailed off, thoughtful, for a minute. He knew he wasn’t making much sense to Dan, knew that he had to seem like he was talking in inane circles that made no sense, and yet, he couldn’t seem to stop himself.

That same fear that had gripped him in admitting aloud that he was in love with Dan haunted him even now. Was it too soon? If he admitted to just when he fell in love with Dan, would Dan be scared away? Would he be coming on too strong?

Despite Dan having returned the sentiment, despite Phil believing him one hundred percent that he loved Phil just as much as Phil loved him, Phil was aware that he'd probably fallen for Dan far before Dan had fallen for him.

Still… what did Phil have left to lose? He’d nearly lost everything, nearly lost his last chance to love and be loved by Dan. What could admitting this truth truly do to him?

Nothing. Nothing at all.

Dan tilted his head, eyes fluttering open again to catch Phil’s expression. Dan didn’t quite understand what Phil was getting at yet. He’d known that Phil hadn’t experienced anything in the matters of the heart before Dan showed up, at least not anything good, and while that made Dan feel proud, he couldn’t help but worry that he’d stolen Phil’s heart far sooner than Phil had stolen his.

Not that it had taken long for Dan to fall, really. It had just taken him far, far too long to admit his feelings to himself.

Phil turned for a minute to rinse his fur turned washcloth of the blood soaking it already, the poultice that had seeped into it and turned it sticky, and then turned back to Dan once more. His thief’s eyes were wide, curious, despite the way he continued to tremble in pain. Phil offered him a smile, before turning once more to his task of clearing out Dan’s wounds.

The story was truly helping to keep him distracted as well, as the task was a difficult one. Phil’s stomach refused to stop rolling.

“If I’m being honest, I think… it started when you threw the dagger at the Duke. I blamed the butterflies on the new-ness of a romance to me, but when I think on it now… I wonder if it wasn’t more than that,” Phil explained softly. “No one had ever been possessive over me. In fact, the minute my brother was unattached once more, all of my Courters were gone in a flash. Not that I’d ever entertained them, but that didn’t make the sting any weaker. Still... I'd never even accepted a gift before you," he explained, his smile turning a little coy as he flicked his gaze up to Dan’s to take in his reaction to that.

Dan was grinning like a cat who’d caught canary, and the sight made Phil laugh and shake his head.

"Anyway, It felt good to be thought of as special enough to need to protect. Not to mention, you stayed and entertained me the whole party. No one had ever done something like that for me before,” Phil admitted easily, and shrugged his shoulders again.

Dan smiled warmly at the story. He remembered that night well enough, swinging through the rafters with dancing eyes just for the chance to watch Phil for a while. A proper foray inside the palace, his first time among the royals, even though they hadn’t known Dan was there at that point. Only Phil had spotted him, as ever. Dan loved studying Phil, even then. He'd wanted desperately for Phil to be happy, and did everything in his power to make that happen.

"I'm glad you enjoyed my entertainment that night," Dan murmured, his tone mildly shaky as he held himself still under Phil’s touches. "I wanted to distract you, knowing how you must have been bored out of your mind. I don't know how you sit through all those terrible speeches. And the Duke had that dagger coming, trying to claim what was already mine."

Dan's eyes shone, soft, as he looked back up to Phil. The universe that Dan had always thought was so against him had given him this man, this perfect man, and somehow made him love Dan. Dan was so full of it, so full of emotion, despite the pain flooding through his side. He could drown in it, could feel himself falling ever deeper, and he wasn't even afraid of it anymore.

Dan loved Phil, and he wasn't terrified of losing him, or letting him in too close. Phil already had Dan's heart and soul, saw him for exactly the flawed criminal he was, and loved him anyway. Dan had never dared to believe he might find someone like that one day.

Phil’s fingers pressed a little too roughly to one of Dan’s cuts, and he hissed out in pain, a noise that made Phil freeze up and pause for a moment. He bit his lips and whispered a quick, “Sorry,” before getting back to it. The wounds were long, thick, and Phil wanted to do a good job of cleaning them lest they get infected later on because he hadn’t been thorough enough.

Still, to distract them both, Phil got back to telling his story.

“That night before the wedding? You can’t even begin to imagine how heartbroken I was when you left angry, having misunderstood my refusal of you. I was just scared to give myself to you too early, to find out that you were just like the others,” Phil admitted, voice soft. “I should have known you were not, and the following day, when you snuck into my brother’s wedding, I think I just… knew.” Phil paused, stopped what he was doing at Dan’s side, and drew away to look at him with a deep flush on his cheeks.

“The moment I knew I was a goner? The moment I knew I was in love? Well, that came in two parts,” Phil admitted. “First, when you comforted me in my room and offered your help to save the Princess, despite all the odds stacked against us and you having to have known what would be revealed about your part in my uncle’s death, and then again when you insisted that you would not let me go after the dragon myself because you could not bear to let me come to harm. That offer of sacrifice, for my family, let alone me… when you insisted on going alone… I think that’s when I knew that I loved you.”

Dan froze. The moments Phil was describing stuck out like sharp pinpricks in his memory, moments he didn’t think he would ever forget. He’d never expected to be offering up his own life and morals for a Prince, let alone the Captain who’d been trying to capture him, but at the time Dan hadn’t even thought twice about it.

Phil meant too much to him to risk leaving alone. Dan would have offered to walk to the ends of the earth for him back then.

And now, Dan knew that Phil would do exactly the same for him.

"It means so much to me, Phil," Dan murmured softly, his right hand reaching out to find Phil’s arm, clutching tight. "Having you here, by my side -- I never thought I'd get lucky enough. You mean so much to me, my Prince." Dan had to stop then, dragging in a sharp gasp when his wounds pulled. He grimaced, curling his hand around Phil's arm again. "It's the only thing that kept me going. Knowing that you love me. Me, capturing the Captain of the Royal Guard, who ever would have guessed it?" Dan shook his head, grinning at Phil through his little shuddering winces. "Who'd have thought you'd be the one to make me fall in love?"

It was obvious that Dan's pain was only increasing with every passing second. Phil wanted to make it stop, put an end to it already, and pull his hand away, but he needed to clean Dan up or the risk of infection would increase, and Phil just wasn't having that. Not for Dan. Dan had to live, and Phil would fight for Dan to be okay. Still, he was proud of his thief when he talked through the pain, grimacing and gasping from time to time. His words sent a particular warmth through Phil, and he let a smile began to blossom across his face.

"But you didn't even know that I loved you until you were out cold, and even then, I wasn't entirely certain you had heard me,” Phil pointed out. “I spoke so much to you, Dan, even after you opened your eyes, just trying to encourage you to keep moving, to save yourself. I didn't know if you could hear me, but it didn't matter. I just needed you to be strong for me, and you did. I can't tell you how happy it makes me that it worked, that my ‘I love you’ got through to you, that it gave you strength."

The tears pricked at Phil’s eyes again, but he ignored them as he sniffled, focusing his attention on Dan's wounds. He needed to make this better. Just a little more...

"Do you want to know a secret?" Phil asked, voice quiet. He glanced up at Dan, saw him biting his bottom lip, wincing away. "The moment I properly realized I was in love was in your cavern, in your home. You were showing off to me, willing to do anything to make me feel safe going through the tunnel, and then, without my prompting you again for my want of a precious item, you went and you got your family locket for me. When you held it out to me, it hit me that I was already a goner. All of the little things you'd done for me..."

Phil trailed off, pulling the wet fur away from Dan's skin.

"I'm proud to be the one who made the great King of Thieves fall in love."

Dan's eyes lit up further at the mention of the locket. His eyes darted naturally down to where it lay resting between Phil's collarbones, close to his heart, and it just felt so right. The locket was such an important part of Dan's past that seeing it in Phil's possession was just perfect. As if Phil was always carrying a piece of Dan with him.

"That's when I knew for certain, too," Dan murmured softly, eyes flickering back up to Phil's face as he dabbed at the wounds. Dan did his absolute best not to flinch, knowing Phil needed to do this, and Dan wasn't going to make it any harder for Phil than it had to be. So, he kept talking, saying things he knew Phil needed to hear now that they were so open with each other.

"That locket is my only family heirloom, though not quite as rich as your watch." Dan smiled a little, glancing to the band of silver still hanging on his wrist with the Lester family crest pressing against his skin. He sighed. “My family’s possessions will never stand up to yours, and I can steal you far finer things, but that… that locket, that’s my most prized possession. And now it’s yours, as it should be.”

Phil's eyes flicked up to Dan's as he spoke, surprised by the honesty in his expression and the fact that Dan had loved Phil for just as long. For all that they had gone through, all the discussions and fear they'd held in their hearts, they'd loved each other for far longer than any of that. Smiling softly, Phil continued to listen, reaching up to grasp his locket in his fingers as he looked at the watch on Dan's wrist, far more rich than Dan's family heirloom, but no more important. They were equal gifts, in Phil's mind, and his heart gave a tiny little lurch knowing that Dan had been comforted by Phil for far longer than Phil had realized.

"When you gave the watch to me, it was the first time I felt like I could belong,” Dan confessed. “I fell for you so gradually -- but I first realised how deep I was when your father suggested we come after the dragon together. I turned to you, asking if we could work together, and you just took my hands and said 'we can' like it was the easiest thing in the world." Dan shook his head, lips twitching as he smiled softly at Phil. "You made it sound so easy, and I trusted you. I think I always trusted you -- once I knew what sort of person you truly were."

Phil had meant those words so honestly when he'd spoken them, had truly believed that he and Dan could work together, had had no qualms or worries that things wouldn't work out, and it felt good to have that reflected back at him as something Dan had seen from Phil as well.

Chuckling a bit, Phil dunked the wet fur into his bowl of water one last time and left it there. "I think I always trusted you, too. The amount of times you could have killed me had you wanted to... I'd had my guard down around you since the day in the library, possibly even before that. I chased you around the kingdom, heard word of your deeds, and I didn't even flinch. I didn't agree with what you did, at the time, not fully understanding to the proper extent what good you were doing, but I didn't hate you or fear you for it anymore."

“Good to know you did hate and fear me at some point.” Dan managed a chuckle, resting his head back against the rocky wall of the cave behind him. “It’s weird, thinking back to that now - that there was a time when all I wanted was for you to fear me. Or to get your attention. I confess, a big part of all that was me trying to keep your eyes on me.” Dan smirked a little, knowing it pleased Phil to hear the truth of his intentions, even from so long ago.

Phil reached for the smaller bowl, then, chuckling at Dan’s admittance, and the two small containers of herbs for the poultice he’d have to smooth together, pouring an equal amount of both of them into the bowl the way he’d seen Brandon do, and then capped the two bottles and started to mix the substance together. Phil could only hope it was enough, and not too much mixture to cover Dan’s rather extensive wounds.

Dan watched him do so, neither man speaking for a moment, and Dan taking a moment to recover from the pain of having his wounds cleaned. He didn’t even want to look at them, knowing how much they hurt, and could only hope whatever medicine was in those herbs Phil was using would help him to heal quickly. They still had a mission to finish, after all, and Dan would not be the one to slow them down.

Once the mixture looked the same as Brandon’s did last night, Phil put down the stick he’d been using to mix it, and turned back to Dan, already reaching inside of the bowl to start spreading it into Dan’s skin. This was the part Phil had dreaded the most, the terror of having to touch Dan’s wounds setting his heart to racing.

Wanting to change the subject and distract them once again, Phil murmured a soft, “It took me by surprise… to hear of my uncle, that night.” It didn’t seem like the best time to finally talk about that unspoken issue, and yet, Phil stumbled forward blindly, figuring it was now or never.

Dan swallowed. He’d been expecting this question - and it was fitting now as ever, when they were already reminiscing. Phil deserved to know the truth, and Dan knew this, even as his heart rate picked up a little under his skin.

Hesitating with his fingers a breadth away from Dan’s skin, Phil looked up at him. “Are you ready?” he asked, unsure.

The way that Dan nodded, eyes wide and a little bit terrified, told him he knew Phil was asking if he was ready to have this conversation just as much as he was asking if he was ready to have the poultice applied.

Pressing his fingers delicately to Dan’s skin, and beginning to rub the mixture into his wounds, Phil started speaking again.

"It took me by surprise, hurt a little, even, but I had already promised I would never judge you for your past, and I never will. There are facets to you I don't know, things you haven’t told me, things you've done that would probably upset me, but, I trust you." Phil was as gentle as he could be as he slathered the mixture to Dan's side, grimacing when Dan whimpered and winced. He spoke on, hoping to distract Dan some, but also wanting to comfort him.

"Those things don't matter to me, not really. I want to hear about my uncle, I want to understand, but it's already forgiven. All of it. Everything you've ever done. I don't blame you for what the world has driven you to do, and I know you, Dan. I know your heart. When it comes right down to it, you’re nothing more than a kind soul. You've done all you've done to protect yourself, and maybe to get revenge as well, but even that came from a pure place,” Phil explained, hoping that Dan would understand, would hear the sincerity in Phil’s voice and believe it for what it was.

Dan was automatically going tense from the minute Phil mentioned his misdeeds. He didn't expect Phil to agree with his actions, had always thought this would be a major point of contention for them, but Phil was already saying he was forgiven. He didn’t even know the full details of what Dan had done, and he was already forgiving him. The amount of love in that action completely floored Dan.

He swallowed for a moment, completely speechless. Even the feeling of Phil dabbing poultice on his wounds couldn't jerk him out of his astonishment. He’d expected this conversation to be hard, to involve a lot of grovelling and a lot of Phil being angry, but this…

This was more than anything Dan could have hoped for, and far, far more than he deserved.

Dan took in a slow breath, opening his eyes to meet Phil’s gaze dead-on. This was the moment he knew he could be completely open with Phil, could release all of the secrets he'd been holding close to his chest for so long out of fear of judgement, and fear of rejection, and just… fear. Dan didn’t know how to be open, had never really learned how to share himself, and this was a tale he had never before told.

But now, Dan knew that Phil wouldn't judge him. And that gave him the strength he needed.

"I'm going to tell you everything," Dan said slowly, his eyes downcast as he watched Phil applying the poultice so carefully to his wounds. His Phil, who deserved the truth, finally.

"It starts at the beginning, but I'm also going to tell you why your uncle died. You just - you need to understand where I was when it happened, what had just happened to me. So, I'm going to start at the beginning,” Dan insisted, hoping that Phil would be just as patient with him telling this story as Dan had always been with Phil.

He already knew that Phil would be.

It was clear neither man could look at each other. Phil's heart was racing as he dabbed at Dan's wounds, scabbed over already but deep red along the edges. Dan was bruising along the entire left side of his body, and Phil focused on that rather than the lump in his throat and the tension in his body. He wanted to hear about his uncle, sure, but he was afraid. He was afraid of the pain, afraid to know what had happened, to have his heart break for Dan all over again, because he knew... he knew that Dan had not killed Phil's uncle out of empty malice. Something had happened.

Dan let out a slow breath, gathering himself. He was about to open a lot of old wounds, and unlock a part of his brain that he kept firmly tucked away from everything. He’d never truly expected to have to relive everything again, but with Phil, Dan knew he could be safe.

Dan chose a spot on the floor to stare at as he began speaking.

“I had a happy childhood, in the early days. You already know my father was a village healer, and we were fairly well-off, for our surroundings anyway. Our neighbours trusted us. My parents were a happy match, I think they truly loved each other. At least, from what I remember.” Dan’s mouth twisted a little bitterly. “Things started to go wrong fairly early.

“I had a little brother. He was born when I was five, but my mum - she died giving birth to him. So I don’t remember her much at all. And my brother, he was very sickly. I was left to watch him most days while my father went to work, and I used to sneak out and steal him things to make him happy, or at least to stop him from crying. Like the lion, the one I now know was yours.” Dan flicked a quick glance to Phil, who was avoiding looking at him.

Dan swallowed, glancing back down at his spot on the floor. “My brother loved that lion. And I’d tell him stories while I mixed his medicines, and I fed him and put him to bed and played with him. He was basically my whole world - my father, he didn’t do so well after my mum’s death. But I had my brother. We were still happy, as much as we could be.”

Dan stopped speaking for a moment, letting a lump gather in his throat. Although long-buried, these memories were still the rawest part of Dan’s experience. He kept them locked away for a reason, but… it was time. Time for Phil to know him, completely.

“My brother and I, we made our own little world.” Dan bit his inner cheek roughly. “Like I said, my father didn’t do too well after my mum’s death. I think he was heartbroken, he just sort of… wasted away. He was distant. It was difficult to get him to care about anything, me or my brother. He just lost himself in his work and sort of… left us to it, while he grew weaker and weaker. I wasn’t too surprised when he passed away a couple of years after my mum, and then my brother and I really were on our own.”

Dan took in another breath. “My brother was a toddler by then, but he couldn’t walk too well on his own. I used to leave him playing with his toys while I ran down to the market and stole what I could for us. The villagers couldn’t take us in, we were in a poor area. To the East of your kingdom, where your uncle has rule.” Dan’s eyes hardened a little. “I didn’t know at the time, but taxes were high and labour was cheap. No one had enough to live on, not really, but to me it seemed like everyone had just abandoned us. I was angry. But I had my brother to care for, and I knew how to steal well enough to get by without getting caught. We lived peacefully, for the most part. We were still happy, at least some of the time.”

Dan’s eyes hardened, and he grew tense, staring intently at the spot on the cave floor. “But then… then, my brother took a turn for the worse. He’d always been sickly, like I said, but this… this was worse. He stopped talking, he stopped walking at all, he would just lie in bed listlessly. I couldn’t get him to play anymore. I couldn’t get him to laugh. He just… he had this cough, and there was blood, and he wouldn’t eat. He was so light by the end that I could carry him in one arm.

“I did everything I could for him.” Dan was trembling, but he didn’t look away from his spot on the ground. “I spoke to everyone in the village, but no one knew what it was. My father would have, probably, but he - he’d never taught me his trade, I was too young when he passed. I did everything I could. Eventually, someone said maybe one of the royal healers would know what to do, so I packed all our stuff up, and I made a hoist for my brother, and I carried him all the way to the eastern court. The one where your uncle held reign.”

Dan’s expression was cold, his voice a low monotone. “It nearly killed us both, getting him there. He was getting worse so quickly, it was all I could do to get him to take two sips of water every day. It was a long journey, and I didn’t really know where I was going. I just followed the roads, and I lied and stole my way into the city, but… we made it. We got all the way to the eastern palace, and I looked around and saw all these riches. Finery greater than anything I’d seen in my entire life. I remember thinking, there must be so many people living here! To have all this wealth, there must be, because it didn’t make sense for just one family to have so much when my village had so little. Naive, I was, and stupid. That didn’t last long.

“I took us up to the palace gates, my brother on my back, and I knocked.” Dan clenched his jaw. “A guard answered. He laughed when he saw us. I asked him where the healers were, and he asked for my papers. I didn’t know what he was talking about. He said we had to have official papers to be allowed in, so I asked where to get them, and he said we needed our parents to sign them. I explained that we didn’t have any parents anymore, and he…” Dan took in a breath. “He said we had no chance, then. Unless we could pay. I asked how much. He laughed and said he doubted two scruffy orphans knew how to act in a court, and certainly couldn’t afford to see a royal healer. I got angry and started yelling, so he hit me and sent us away, said if he saw us again there’d be trouble.”

Dan’s jaw clicked. “I wasn’t going to give up, though. I found us a street corner where I set my brother down - he was getting worse, he wouldn’t wake up for more than a few minutes at a time - but I set him down and went stealing. Luckily I was already pretty good, so I broke into one of the richest houses I’d seen and stole a gem from them in the night. The next morning, I went back to the palace gates and showed it to the guard, stupidly. I was sure it would be enough to buy a healer for my brother. But, of course, the family had reported the missing gem that morning, and the guard took one look at it and threw me in jail. I begged them to let me go, told them about my sick brother, said I just needed a healer, but they wouldn’t listen.”

Dan’s hands were curled into fists by now, his nails digging into his palms. He was still refusing to look at Phil. “I was in your uncle’s palace. Even the jails were richer than anything I’d seen in a long time. I screamed and begged and kicked up enough of a fuss that I was sure they’d let me out, back to my brother, but to no avail. In the end, I had to wait until nightfall and then sneak out when one of the guards fell asleep. I don’t know what would have happened if I hadn’t escaped, but I wasn’t about to hang around and find out. My brother needed me, after all. Only--”

Dan stopped speaking suddenly, the lump in his throat growing larger. His eyes stung, but he carried on anyway. “--Only, when I got out of the jail, it was dark and cold. The middle of winter. I fled back to the streets, ran to where I’d left my brother, and… and I was too late. He was cold by the time I got there. Wasn’t breathing anymore. His skin had started to turn blue.”

Dan bit his lip savagely, refusing to look at Phil. He waited a long moment, waited for the burning in his throat to die down a little more, before he dared attempting to speak again.

“I was twelve when my brother died. And I blamed your uncle completely. I was so sure that if I’d just managed to get my brother to a healer, to get someone to look at him - then he wouldn’t have died. If he’d had proper shelter, if I hadn’t had to leave him out on the street while I got thrown in jail - then maybe he wouldn’t have died. But he did. He was seven. What sort of place lets a seven year old child die?” Dan shook his head quickly. “I was so sure it was wicked, that your uncle was wicked. I blamed him completely. I… I was sure I could never forgive him. I swore I’d get revenge.”

Dan was still refusing to look at Phil as he continued.

"I was furious, after my brother died. It doesn't condone my actions at all, but I just wanted someone to pay. I turned to stealing then, properly, I mean. Losing my brother meant I had no family left, and I already had a few tricks up my sleeve, but I got serious. I was so determined to get my revenge. I stayed in that part of the country, learning my trade, learning how to fight, how to be strong. I stole from those richer than me, the wealth that made me sick when there was poverty all around me. I wanted to help, but I didn’t know how - I was so consumed with anger, with my drive for revenge. And then... I ran into Chris. I saw him practicing his sorcery in the black market and thought, that, that's the worst kind of revenge. It had only been a few months since my brother died, I was still so angry."

It was difficult, the more Dan spoke, to focus. Phil's eyes were misty, his heart heavy. His uncle had never been a particularly good man. Sort of like Phil's brother, he had no understanding for the general populace. He had compassion, but he had no understanding, and thought little of the consequences of what he did. It didn't surprise Phil in the least to learn that his uncle had been, essentially, ignoring the suffering of his kingdom. What hurt him more, though, was the image of Dan’s brother, left out in the cold, because a guard had treated Dan like he was nothing...

Phil tried not to cry as Dan admitted that he'd wanted revenge. It was something Phil had seen coming, had known without a doubt would be the only reason Dan would have turned to such a gruesome curse, and yet it still hurt. Yes, Phil mourned for his uncle, but what hurt more was knowing that his kingdom, the society they encouraged, had failed Dan so much that a little boy could turn to revenge and murder and theft before anyone would invite him in as family. Dan had had to lose everyone he loved, the people given to him on this earth by birth, before he'd found a way to be loved and included.

The vast network of criminals, Phil had always known, were like a family. How could Phil ever blame Dan for turning to them for support?

It made sense, now. But Phil had always known it would.

Dan was still trembling, eyes hard, afraid to look up at Phil, not wanting to see pity in his eyes.

"I told Chris to curse him. Your uncle, I mean. Something slow and terrible. Chris agreed, for the right price, so I broke into another rich house and stole him a diamond. He promised to perform the curse. I stayed to see it come about, to see the way your uncle wasted away in death. The people asked who it was that had cursed him, and I spread word it was the King of Thieves. That’s when I first started using the title as my own.”

Dan squeezed his eyes shut. He bit his lip, and quietly continued, "...I won't lie and say I wasn't happy. I wanted your uncle to be gone, in the most painful way possible, like he'd stolen my family from me. I know it wasn't his fault, but I was a child desperate for someone to blame. Again, that doesn't excuse my actions." Dan glanced at Phil, then, slowly, trembling. "I'm sorry. I'm not - I'm not vindictive, normally. That night was the last time I called myself Daniel Howell. I took the title King of Thieves completely as my own, wore it as armour against the world. People feared me and I relished in that. I swore I'd never be so weak again, but you - you're showing me a different way. That being soft isn't being weak, that maybe justice is possible. And as much as I will always be a thief... I do regret that night. I don't think my family would be very happy, if they could see me now."

The words burrowed into Phil’s heart and left him breathless with heartbreak. How circumstance could lead someone to so much pain and sorrow that they turned to dark magic to find some kind of solace for what had happened to them… it was just… horrifying, and yet Phil understood it. Had he been in Dan’s place, he didn’t know what he would have done.

"I'd hug you right now if I thought I could without hurting you," Phil murmured, sniffling. He was crying, he was always fucking crying. The poultice was finally applied, and Phil needed to cover Dan's body with bandages again before infection could get in and settle into his wounds, but first --

Phil gripped tight to Dan's face and forced him to look at him.

"Regardless of what you’ve done in life, Dan, I'm certain that even your family could forgive you for it. You were twelve years old, with no family, and a stupid man in power who'd caused the poverty of your town, who’d taken away the last bit of your family because of -- because of greed, or -- or lack of understanding, or whatever, it hardly matters now. I just -- I know your family would applaud you for being so strong,” Phil reassured him, voice soft and sure and strong despite the tears clogging his throat. “Softness isn't weakness, no, but maybe then it was for you. You had to find a new family, find a new place in life to be safe. You had to make a name for yourself, become feared, so that you’d know you'd be okay, so that you could care for the other kids like your brother, so you could protect the poverty stricken, the orphans. And now, you can be Daniel Howell again, because you have a new family,” Phil said. “You have me."

Dan's heart was breaking all over again, cracking right open as he revealed all, but then healing straight back up with Phil's gentle words.

Phil had called him family.

Shock was Dan’s most prevalent emotion, because Phil was crying for him, forgiving him, and calling him family all in one perfect speech, as if he'd reached right into the depths of Dan's being and plucked out exactly the words he needed to hear. This was the last response Dan had been expecting when Phil finally learned what had happened back then, what Dan had done in his past.

But perhaps Dan still hadn’t given Phil enough credit. Of course Phil would see through all that, would see straight to the lost, lonely little boy Dan had been, who Dan still was.

Dan could feel himself healing, the old wounds he’d never allowed himself to see or feel slowly crumbling under the pressure of Phil's gentle touch.

Phil wanted him. Phil wanted to be his family.

Mortified, Dan could feel heat prickling at the back of his eyelids, a lump in his throat growing and burning with emotion. He blinked, and a few tears spilled through, and Dan allowed himself to properly cry for his family for the first time in years. He'd never let himself mourn, instead turning to anger and hate, but here was Phil, healing him all up again.

Dan had no words. He didn't care that Phil's fingers were sticky with the poultice, or that he still needed his bandages redone, or even that Phil was still covered in blood and crying himself; Dan needed him just then. He reached for Phil, not stopping even when his side ached and bruised and pulled with pain, reached for him until Dan could finally collapse into his embrace.

They were both crying, which made for a mess, but Dan didn't want anything other than Phil’s touch just then. He fell into Phil's hold, pressing his face against Phil's chest, and let himself cry for a moment. His shoulders shook, his entire body trembled with pain and shock and exhaustion, but he needed Phil just then.

When Dan collapsed into him, his arms having been reaching for Phil, Phil instantly reached out and caught him. He feared the pain this would cause Dan, but when he realized that Dan was crying, Dan was crying, he stopped caring, pressed Dan's face into his chest, and held onto him. Dan's shoulders shook under Phil's hold, but he knew it was from the crying and not pain, and Phil pressed one hand to the back of Dan's head to hold him close.

The last thing he ever wanted to do was let Dan go.

It seemed they'd broken a dam, because the two of them were an absolute mess wrapped up in each other like this. Phil wondered for a brief moment if Dan had ever let himself mourn for any of this, hoped that this would set him free, and cooed softly in his ear. He pressed kisses to the top of Dan's hair, rubbed at his back, and prayed he could hold Dan together. He wanted to be the person who could keep him going strong.

"I'm so sorry," Dan gasped when he could speak again. "I never - I never ever want you to lose your family over me again. That's why, when I saw the curse attacking Cornelia, and I knew you could be in danger as well -- I couldn't just stand by. I couldn't just let you lose anyone else to dark magic, not when I had a chance to stop it. It felt like maybe I finally had a way to make it right -- but I never even dared to imagine that I might get you along the way, as well.”

"Shh, shh, Dan, it's okay. Shh. I forgive you," Phil murmured sweetly, pressing more kisses to the top of his head. "You did make it right, but you didn't have to. The fact that you even wanted to was enough," he said, and sighed as he carded sticky fingers through Dan's hair. He wondered how much of a mess the two of them must have looked like to an outside viewer, and chuckled to himself at the thought. Phil, covered in blood, and Dan, a sticky damp mess with three huge cuts on his left side.

What a mess the two of them made.

"I love you, Daniel Howell,” Phil whispered, burying his face in Dan’s hair to whisper the words against the shell of his ear. “I love you, and nothing is ever going to change that, no matter what you've done in the past, or even whether you regret it or not,” he said, and pressed a kiss against Dan’s temple.

“You want to know why?” he asked, voice a gentle caress. “Because we're family now, and one day, one day soon... I am going to marry you, my King of Thieves,” he whispered, like it was a secret just between the two of them. For now, it was, and Phil was going to keep it that way.

Dan was his.

“You have done everything and more than anyone else in your situation would have ever done, Dan. So please, please… It's time that you forgave yourself."

Phil's words were like honey, and they settled sweetly over all of Dan's wounds, patching him up and holding him together just like Phil was holding him together in his arms, pressing sweet kisses to his hair and face. Dan stayed like that, pressed against Phil, until his sobs subsided a little and he could get control back over his trembling limbs.

Slowly, reluctantly, Dan drew back, only to meet Phil's gaze dead-on. "I love you too, Philip Lester," he murmured softly. "Whatever hardships might come, I love you too, and I'll always fight to be by your side." It was almost too much, the way the emotion was building in him. Dan was drowning, completely gone, but the blue of Phil's honest eyes held him in place.

Dan was so tired. He could feel it in his body, drowning his limbs, but he didn't want to sleep again just yet. His side was stinging and aching, and being in Phil's arms was the only thing that made it feel better, so he kept himself wrapped up as much as he could.

"Turned me proper soft, you have," Dan mumbled, nudging his face against Phil's shoulder to press a sleepy kiss there. He was fighting off exhaustion, not ready to let Phil go quite yet - or ever, really.

Dan was getting tired, Phil could see it on his face and in the way his words had slurred. The wound, the battle, the fighting and the emotional break down in Phils arms, it was taking its toll on Dan, that much was obvious. Phil had never seen his thief so weak before. It was still heartbreaking, and the worst of it was seeing Dan's tear tracks still fresh on his cheeks. Phil never wanted to see Dan cry again.

He reached up to wipe them away with the soft pads of his fingers, and then sighed as Dan nudged back into his shoulder, pressing soft kisses there. Phil liked that, and he rested his forehead on the top of Dan's head

After a moment, Dan started to make grabby hands for the fur washcloth Phil had left behind him in the bowl of water, not minding that Phil had yet to bandage him back up. He had a Phil to clean up. "C'mere. Need to get you all clean so you can cuddle me better."

It wasn't until Phil felt Dan moving about that he realized what he was doing, reaching for the fur washcloth Phil had long discarded, and mumbling something about taking care of Phil. Brow furrowing, Phil almost instantly shook his head no.

“Dan, no. I need to bandage you up,” he complained, pouting a bit as he pulled Dan away from him. “I can clean myself up while you rest. That’s more important right now,” he added, though he didn’t truly want to leave Dan’s arms anymore than Dan seemed to want to leave his.

The pain had faded some from Dan’s eyes, and Phil hoped that that meant the poultice had started working again. Tilting Dan’s chin up, Phil smiled sweetly at him. “I just need you to focus on getting better for me, okay?”

Dan grumbled when Phil stopped him from reaching for the washcloth, instead tilting his chin up with one hand and holding him in one place with the other. The slight pout to Phil's lips was adorable, and all Dan really wanted was to keep him close forever. Dan knew Phil hadn't looked after himself at all, though, and he wanted to rectify that no matter how tired he was.

"You can bandage me again when you're clean," Dan mumbled, trying and failing to get out of Phil's hold. Dan was too sleepy to do anything really serious, so he sagged down in Phil's hold after a minute and sniffed, staring down at the floor.

Watching Dan struggle with the desire to take care of Phil and try not to sleep was… highly amusing, to say the least. Phil couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips, couldn't help the laugh that bubbled in his chest, a nice relief to the lump of tears still sat trembling in his throat, and he caught Dan easily again when he fell into Phil's arms.

"S'pose I can let you take care of me for a bit," Dan said softly, allowing himself to sag a little further. "It's kinda nice. I'll get you back for it as soon as I'm better." And truthfully, it was amazing to have Phil holding him so gently and carefully, taking care of him, laughing with him. Dan was living for it.

"Yeah, I reckon you'll survive if you don't get to clean me up," Phil replied, laughing as he pressed a kiss to the side of Dan's head. "But I promise you can do whatever you like with me when you get better." Perhaps the sentiment was shared a little loosely, Phil's voice soft and scared, practically begging Dan to get better so Phil could have him back properly again.

“‘Course,” Dan mumbled in agreement. "Just, promise me you won't leave me alone? I don't expect you to stop cuddling me just because I've got a bit of a scratch on my side."

So maybe that was a bit of an understatement. Dan was needy when he was sick, it turned out, and he totally couldn't be blamed for wanting Phil touching him all the time.

Phil swallowed when Dan begged him to stay by his side, and laughed with a roll of his eyes. "It's a bit more than a scratch," he mumbled, reaching down to pet his hand down Dan's back. "But I promise I won't leave you alone. I promise I'll stay right here, and I'll hold you all night long. I'm not going anywhere, Daniel Howell. You're stuck with me now."

After tilting Dan's chin up once more for another gentle kiss, this time deeper and more passionate than any they'd shared all afternoon, filled with desperate relief on Phil's part, Phil scooted back to grab the bandage roll he’d left behind him, and began to cover Dan's body from armpit to hip once more. He bound the bandages tightly, but not too tightly, wrapping them around, and around, and around until Dan was nearly slumped over into Phil's shoulder from exhaustion alone, and then he finally tied them off and helped Dan to lay back down in the warm safety of their furs.

"I'll join you soon. Let me just… clean up a bit,” he promised in quiet reassurance, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Dan was already mostly asleep by the time Phil has finished bandaging him, so he had very little energy left to check that Phil was cleaning himself up properly. Perhaps it was time to trust in Phil properly though, as hard as that was for Dan, so he slumped down in the furs and allowed his heavy eyes to close, succumbing once again to sleep.

Unwilling to leave Dan's side for even a second to see just how bad his wounds were, Phil began to dab at what he knew was there; his hands, his head, even his face to a certain extent. Most of the blood on him was Dan's, Phil was certain, but he knew some of it was his as well, and there was a surprising amount that leaked out of the fur each time Phil dipped it in the bowl of water next to him. Still, he kept dabbing at his face and his hands, discarding his bloodied shirt after a moment to take care of his chest as well, and then sighed in relief as he seemed to get the majority of it.

Exhaustion was finally began to strike Phil, leaving him bleary eyed from all the strain his body had been put through in the last… twenty-four-ish hours. It was probably closer to twenty-six or something now, Phil didn’t know. All that he did know was that he’d probably missed quite a few of his larger wounds, but the ones he cared about were clean, and he wanted nothing more than sleep now.

Surely, none of his wounds needed wrapping, save maybe the one on his wrist, but that could wait. For now… Phil just wanted to sleep.

Crawling into bed alongside Dan, Phil reached a careful arm around his middle and drew him in close to his side, sighing as he finally got to bury his face into Dan’s hair and rest.

He fell asleep finally with tired eyes and a heart filled with hope for their future.

#phanfic #phanfiction #phanfictioncatalogue #phandom #phan #dan and phil #iwritephanthings #snowbunnylester

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im-still-writing-out-of-time · 7 years

Text

The Fallen

This was @runaway-surgeons winner’s choice fic. (They chose to get a sneak peak into my WIPs and choose one for me to finish). This is part two of The Guardian, which will be put under ‘The Angel’.

You should probably read The Guardian first, but this could possibly be read as a stand alone. Without further ado, The Fallen.

Masterlist

For thirteen years, Eliza had watched over her family- her son, her husband. She had been allowed entrance to heaven, only to say she wanted to be able to watch over her family. She had been there every time Philip had woken up with nightmarish memories, every time he had peed in the bed. She had watched Alexander get up and wash the sheets, bathe Philip, completely take over her maternal role.

She had kept them safe. Of course, Philip got in fights as he grew older- those weren't her business to stop. He was strong willed, just like his father. He was sixteen now. He grew up into a handsome young man, brown curls that danced over his shoulders, green eyes that twinkled when he flirted with girls- another thing Eliza would stay away from. She needn't interfere with his love life in death any more than she would have in life.

While Philip was charming his female classmates, Eliza would watch over Alexander. Alexander, who was always so tired. Alexander, who worked constantly. Alexander, who had not taken another woman in his bed, not even once in those past thirteen years. She wanted to tell him it was alright, that she would understand, but he seemed more happy single. It gave him more time to work. Work himself into the ground, Eliza mused.

He had aged beautifully. His dark hair had started to gray around the temples, but rather than looking old, he looked elegant. He kept his long hair as she had always loved it. He was in his mid-forties- he was aging too fast. Had her death done that, or was that just how he was destined to age? Often times he would sit at his desk and write, but on occasion, he would stare at his picture of her on his desk, and talk to her. She was always listening.

She listened to the stories that he told, though she knew them anyway. She had watched them in real time. She loved to sit with him and listen to his storytelling. He always had a way with words. It's part of the reason she fell in love with him in the first place.

Philip had fallen in love with both written word and music, a beautiful fusion between both her and Alexander. She watched as he stepped in his car and drove away from the school. He was always a careful driver, a side effect of the accident that had killed her. He had been diagnosed with PTSD as a young child and, even now, he sometimes suffered from panic attacks that would make him pull over until he calmed down.

He checked all of his mirrors, the lights on his dashboard, made sure the music was on low, and swiveled his head to look for anyone surrounding his car, almost obsessively. He pulled his seat belt across his chest and pulled on it, tightening it until it wouldn't move. He pressed play on his phone and turned on his radio, breathing along with the meditation loop playing. He had to focus on his breathing while he was driving. He was terrified of dying in a car accident just like his mother.

Eliza always say with him in the car while he was driving. He would talk to her as if he knew she was sitting there. He would talk about his day, his dreams, his worries and life aspirations. He always talked about making her proud. And he did.

Philip pulled out of the school parking lot carefully onto the road. Eliza was amazed at how comfortable he looked behind the wheel. This was the first time she had ever seen him like this. He kept his speed at the speed limit as he headed home. As he got closer, the traffic cleared considerably, and he was even more comfortable. He pulled over and changed his meditation loop on his phone to music- music that he sang along with.

He was just as good at music as she had hoped he would be. It was her passion, and she was glad Alexander had signed him up for lessons when he was little. They had paid off. His voice was gorgeous, clear, and he knew how to control it. He was the most comfortable Eliza had ever seen him, and the results were beautiful. His eyes sparkled as he sang, a slight smile on his face, and his thumbs tapped the beat out against the steering wheel as he drove. He had grown into a beautiful young man, and Eliza could see it now more than ever.

Eliza knew something bad was going to happen before she could see it. She could feel the impending doom before anything was actually happening.

Philip was driving to Albany by himself, an unplanned trip to spend some time with his grandparents. He was especially close to his grandma, who would let him help her bake. He was leaving the city just as the sun was starting to disappear behind buildings. He opened his window, shutting off the air conditioning, and allowed the wind to push his messy curls back.

He smiled as he hummed, the radio picking up a station he didn't normally listen to, but the songs were good. Eliza was with him, of course, as she always was. She sat uncomfortably in her seat- could guardian angels feel discomfort? They must, because she felt a hollow churning in her stomach.

He was driving down the road, humming along to the radio. Eliza saw it before he did. The truck was careening towards the car swerving back and forth across the road. Eliza knew that face.

That was the face of the man that killed her.

Eliza left the car faster than she had ever moved before and tried to stop the truck from moving. Unsuccessfully. She gathered as much power as she could and grabbed the man’s steering wheel and yanked it as hard as she could to the side.

She felt the truck jerk sideways just in time for Philip to look up and fully comprehend what was going on. His eyes grew wide, his hazel pupils surrounded by white. His hands grabbed the wheel and turned it to the side, but not fast enough.

The drunkard’s truck hit the back of Pip’s car and sent him into a tail spin. Eliza moved to her son’s car once more as the stranger’s truck smashed into a guardrail, followed by a lamppost. His truck caught on fire, a blazing inferno, as Philip continued to spin down the road, his eyes clenched tight, hands gripping the wheel so tight, his knuckles turned white.

“Mommy!” He sobbed. “Mommy save me!”

Eliza saw the scared teenager morph into that scared little boy right before her eyes. The crying from the back seat that haunted her as she slowly stopped breathing. Those same scared screams of “mommy” that filled the air as she died, now filled the air in her baby’s own car.

She hoped that man died a painful death. He had hurt her baby too many times to get away with it. She should be bitter that his actions were what killed her, what cut her life short, but she was more than livid that this man was able to walk and terrorize her little boy once more.

The small car stopped spinning, the driver side colliding with a lamppost, and Philip's shuddering breaths filled the car as the side airbags deployed. His chest was heaving and his eyes were bloodshot, blood dripping from his forehead, tears trailing down his cheeks as he sobbed. His hands shook as he reached for his phone in the center console.

“9-1-1, what's you're emergency?”

“Um, my name is Philip Hamilton. I was just-” His breaths started coming faster and faster until he was hyperventilating. “Car. Accident.”

“Philip, I need you to breathe for me, okay? Breathe with me. In, and out.”

His sobs grew louder as he inhaled with the operator. “I want my mommy,” he whispered between sobs.

“I know Philip. You're gonna be okay. I have a police officer and an EMT heading to where your cell phone is pinging, but can you give me a description of where you are?”

“Um,” he breathed shakily, turning his rear view mirror. “The other car hit a guardrail, and then a lamppost. It's on fire now.” A small pause. “Can I call my daddy?”

“Philip, I'm gonna need you to stay on the phone until you can see emergency personnel, okay? Can you do that?”

“Okay,” he said. He was silent as he waited, save for the soft sobs and shuddering breaths. “I see their lights. I hear the sirens.”

“Okay Philip. If you're sure it's them, you can call your father.”

“Thank you,” he sobbed, hanging up. His hands were still shaking as he pressed dial.

Alexander answered on the first ring, for once. “Hey, Pip. What's going on?”

“Daddy!” He cried. “I was in an accident. I- I want mommy.”

“Pip, are you okay?”

“I-I-”

“Philip,” Alexander crooned. “Please calm down. Please breathe. Okay?”

“I think I'm okay,” he whispered. “The EMT is walking to the car. I'll call you when I can. I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you too, Pip.”

The first responder moved to the passenger side window and knocked on it. Philip’s hand fumbled with the button before finally rolling it all the way down. “What’s your name?”

“Philip Hamilton.”

The man, decked in firefighting gear, smiled softly at him, a determined look on his face. “We're going to get you out as soon as we can, okay Philip?” Philip nodded his head before leaning back against his headrest, his eyes drooping. “Philip, bud, I'm gonna need you to stay awake for me okay? What hurts?”

“My leg is killing me- I think it's broken. Um,” he whimpered. “My head hurts, and my chest feels really tight. It's really hard to breathe.”

“Okay, Philip. I'm gonna get you out of there. Can you move?”

“Maybe?” He said, reaching for his seat belt. The seat belt zipped away from his body and he shifted his weight in his seat, crying out in pain as he shifted his leg. “I think my leg is broken,” he sobbed, pulling himself over the center console. He collapsed in the passenger seat after grabbing his phone, too weak and exhausted from the adrenaline crash, and the firefighter pulled him from the car, cradling him in his arms.

“We're gonna get you to the hospital, Philip. Is there someone we can call to meet you there?”

“My dad,” he said, handing the firefighter the phone. The firefighter stripped his gear and tossed it to the floor before grabbing the phone from Philip's shaking hands. The paramedics in the ambulance worked on him while the firefighter’s soothing voice droned on in his ear.

“Okay, Philip. You're dad’s gonna meet us at the hospital.”

“Did the other man die?” The man’s head nodded solemnly. “Good,” Philip spat. “I hope he rots in hell.”

“Philip-”

“He was drunk, wasn't he?”

“Yeah.”

Philip set his head back down on the stretcher and closed his eyes. “I saw his face. I know him. He's the same man who killed my mom thirteen years ago. He was a drunk driver back then too and he almost killed both of us. My mom took the brunt of the impact. I was only three at the time.” He grabbed the firefighter’s hand for comfort. “I watched my mommy die,” he whimpered. “And I thought I was gonna die too.”

“Sounds like your mom was watching out for you, Philip.”

“I know she was,” he said, smiling at the thought. “I could feel her there.”

The rest of the ride was quiet, the paramedics trying to set his leg back in place, the only sound coming from the dispatcher radio in the cab. Philip was right, Eliza had been watching out for him, but at what cost? She sat by his head in the ambulance, stroking his hair; those long flowing curls she had refused to cut, even when he was a baby.

She was tired, so very, very exhausted. She hadn't felt this drained of energy since she had been alive. For thirteen years, she had kept her energy levels high, but now, she felt ready to drop. She felt the need to go back to heaven, to sleep, or rest, or what ever angels do when they feel this tired.

She kissed Philip on the forehead as they pulled him from the ambulance and she wandered, wondering how to get where she needed to go. Before she knew it, she was no longer wandering around the streets of New York, but instead in a room of stark white- a soft, comforting white.

“What am I doing here?” She asked the man who appeared in front of her. “Why am I suddenly so tired?”

“Elizabeth, as you were told when you first died, no human has ever become an angel after death- you were our first. You were allowed to stay on earth as an angel to keep watch over your family- your young Philip and dearest Alexander. However, you were given rules that you must not interfere with human matters. Explain to me why you interfered today.”

Eliza stepped forward, the angel in front of her standing his ground. She was only a newborn angel; he had been guiding souls for millennia, she couldn't scare him. “That was my baby down there. I couldn't just let him die!” She said between clenched teeth.

“But you were ordered not to interfere with matters, Elizabeth! And yet, today you caused the death of a man, a sinner who could have been saved upon death.”

“A sinner who deserved nothing more than the hottest pit in hell,” she spat, causing the angel to gasp.

“Elizabeth you must not speak like that. All sinners are saved by Christ, should they so want to be saved!”

“That man killed me. And he was about to kill my son. Do what you want with me, but I refuse to sit idly by and watch the ones I love be ruined by a man who didn't deserve to live in the first place.”

“Elizabeth, it causes my being great pain, but you are no longer allowed to be an angel. You will be cast away from those of us who understand and follow the rules of the angels. You will be stripped of your wings, and you will return to earth. From there, you are out of my hands and you must decide whether you wish to become a fallen angel who spends eternity in Hell alongside Satan himself, or a mortal soul who walks alongside Jesus. I hope, dear Elizabeth, that this time you make the right decision.”

She stood and stared at the being in front of her. He was glowing, his bright wings fixed on either side of his spine. He was much taller than herself and his face was a mixture between being stern and solemn. How it must hurt his being to cast his own angel away from guiding souls. She smiled at him as her wings dissolved away from her body. “I'll make the right choice for me.”

Eliza had always loved watching over her family under the guise of being an angel. It had been calming, peaceful. She had watched Philip grow up, and yet, she didn't realize how much growing he still needed to do until he had cried out for her. Even now, laying in a hospital bed, Alexander by his side, he looked more like a child than a sixteen year old boy.

She took post at his bedside, her hand resting on Alexander's shoulder, the other hand dancing its fingers through Philip's curls one more time. “I love you so much baby boy,” she whispered. Alexander looked calm, for once, as he held Philip’s hand. They were talking, something that didn't happen often enough, and Philip looked joyfully animated.

They were talking about literature; like father, like son.

Eliza smiled, knowing they'd be okay without her watching over them 24/7. She would miss all the time she spent watching Philip grow, and watching Alexander work, or just sit at his desk and talk to her. She stepped away from Philip and moved to Alexander, her hand resting against his cheek. By the look in his eyes, she was sure he could feel her. “I love you Alexander. Please don't work yourself into your grave. You need to stay alive; for me, for Philip. You're brilliant, and a wonderful father. I know how much you doubt yourself, and I'm telling you not to. You're such a good father Alexander. I wish I could have been by your side in life, rather than watching from death.”

Her lips pressed against his, and his eyes fluttered shut, imagining her there in front of him. They opened just as gently as they had closed, and he stared at Philip. He was the perfect mixture of himself and Eliza. It broke his heart that Eliza hadn't seen her little boy grow up. But she had.

“Philip, my sweet Philip,” she started, moving to grab his free hand. “I'm so proud of who you've become. You're such a beautiful young man. Find a girl that's good for you, that you know I'd be proud of. Listen to your father, but get him to slow down his working. Make him spend time with you. Make sure you both know how much I love you. I'm gonna make sure I check in on you, and you'd better be the same sweet boy I know and love.” She pressed her forehead to Philip’s and he suddenly stopped talking. “Stay safe, baby.”

And she was gone.

“Dad?”

“What Pip?”

“Did you feel that too?”

Alexander smiled. “I always told you your mama was watching, Pip.”

“Yeah,” Philip said, tears in his eyes. “I guess she was.”

#Hamliza #Hamilton au #Philip Hamilton #Alexander Hamilton #Eliza Schuyler Hamilton #alexander hamilton x eliza hamilton #Hamilton fic #Hamilton fiction #Hamilton writers #Hamiton writer #tw: car accident #tw: drinking mention #The Guardian #Part two #angels #Angel au #fallen angel

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satinnet3-blog · 5 years

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POSSUM Review: Behold, The Most Beautifully Bleak Horror Film Of The Year

A blank face peering out the window of a disintegrating house. A jar of revolting green candies. A children?s book that reads like a nursery rhyme, and an incantation. A mysterious puppet kept hidden away in a leather duffel bag. This isPossum, Matthew Holness? ?Possum? Review ? Variety -length film, which began as a short story featured in the anthologyThe New Uncanny. Holness sets his atmospheric story in Norfolk, in claustrophobic spaces and industrial places that feel not unlikeEraserhead.Possumis an uneasy, spare psychological thriller that draws from fairytales and films like Fritz Lang?sM, Cronenberg?sSpider, and Dreyer?sVampyr.

Sean Harris plays tortured puppeteer Philip, who?s been forced to return to his childhood home after a scandalous performance that?s never fully explained. His house alone is reason enough for Philip to be miserable: it?s a dismal, gothic place that betrays the gloom of the people who live in it. Edgar Allan Poe could have been describing it inThe Fall of the House of Usher. Philip?s parents died in a fire in their bedroom, but his cruel uncle, Alun Armstrong?s Maurice, still lives here. Maurice seems to spend his days waiting to taunt him, sitting around in the kitchen just across from a forbidding door that Philip refuses to open.

In his rare encounters with other human beings, Philip inspires anxiety. Suspicion surrounds him when a local boy goes missing, and the boy?s disappearance dredges up memories of a similar incident when Philip was young. In a desperate search for a place to rid himself of Possum - the puppet in his bag - Philip roams, runs, and stumbles around marshes, the woods, and industrial decay. DP Kit Fraser shot the movie on 35mm, giving the film a faded and textured ?70s look, its palette dominated by rust, corrosive green and yellow, and inky darkness: rain, charcoal illustrations, soot, black balloons. Fraser?s cinematography, along with its mournful, unsettling score by the legendary BBC Radiophonic Workshop, make the film?s landscape feel like a visualization of Philip?s mind, with Philip getting lost in it, always retracing his steps in an inexorable retreading of the past.

InPossum, Sean Harris reestablishes that he?s one of the best working actors today. His most recognizable role is Solomon Lane in the last twoMission: Impossiblefilms, and his performance in the miniseriesSouthclifferightly earned him a Leading Actor BAFTA. Harris shares a striking resemblance to Ian Curtis (his first feature-film role in24 Hour Party People) with a touch of young Peter Cushing, and as Philip, he?s mesmerizing, with the expressive intensity of a silent film star like Conrad Veidt. Philip is simultaneously frightened and frightening, childlike, vulnerable; he hunches over, hands hanging limply in front of him, as if he doesn?t quite know what to do with himself when he isn?t carrying his literal baggage. Even when we suspect Philip may have done terrible things, Harris makes him sympathetic, even likable.

Philip is an unreliable narrator, and it?s hard to differentiate what?s real and what isn?t.Possum?s disjointed narrative never allows us to get our footing as we wonder whether each scene is dream, flashback, or reality, yet it?s never frustrating; rather, it slowly builds tension to a disturbing denouement. It?s like a haunted house story where Philip grapples with his ghosts, though sometimes it feels as if he?s the ghost.Possum?s scares are rooted in the uncanny, with Freudian subtext and a pervasive, unshakable sense of impending doom, but it may frustrate those looking for lots of gore, jump scares, and a conventional, linear narrative. And if you?re hoping for a comedy in the vein of Holness?sGarth Marenghi? Possum review ? grisly shivers and a bag full of nastiness , this film isn?t it. There is no levity, no release inPossum, only dread.

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tokupedia · 7 years

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Kamen Rider 45th Anniversary File: Double

2010:

Protecting the Earth is an Angel’s Duty! Tensou Sentai Goseiger debuts as the 34th Super Sentai season.

HeartCatch Pretty Cure aka THE BEST CURE SERIES EVER as deemed by some of Pretty Cure’s fans debuts and joins Goseiger and Double on Sundays. The season is slightly more mature with the subject of grief over the death of loved ones as one of its story arc themes and has great action in it. It also has a connection to Sailor Moon in the fact that Cure Moonlight is voiced by Sailor Mercury!

After years of silence with nothing new on TV or film whatsoever, Garo returns in Garo: Red Requiem, a full-length feature 3D film which introduces the awesome Makai Priestess Rekka and the lovable Makai Priest Shiguto as the allies of Kouga.

After the successful crossover with Decade in the cinemas last year, Kamen Rider Fans get even more Den-O with the Cho Den-O Trilogy.

Samurai Sentai Shinkenger vs. Go-onger: GinmakuBang!! debuts in Japanese theaters and marks the only appearance of Hyper Go-On Red.

Ultraman Zero: The Revenge of Belial, the sequel to the Ultra Galaxy movie, debuts in theaters.

Space Battleship Yamato gets a live action adaptation on the silver screen.

Tokusatsu actor Shunsuke Ikeda, best known as Ichiro/Kikaider 01, died from complications of his long battle with diabetes. He was 69 and fans in Hawaii and around the world mourned his passing.

During the All Kamen Rider vs. Dai Shocker film, the evil Shadow Moon was laying the smack down on Kuuga Rising Ultimate and Decade, when the rev of a motorcycle stopped the super villain in his tracks and a mysterious figure on a bike broke the two parties up by stopping in the middle of the brawl.

On opposing sides of the field, the Riders saw a Green Rider...

while Shadow Moon saw a Black Rider (No, not that one)

But then the mystery Rider spoke up after a disagreement about his color from the two sides: “I’m both actually. My name is...Kamen Rider... Double. *turns towards Shadow Moon* “Now...Count up your Sins!”

This strange hero spoke with two voices and could easily beat up Shadow Moon using USB thumb drives that contained his powers. However, things got weirder when the hero got into an argument with... himself as one half of him said he wanted to go home as the rest of the Kamen Riders could finish off the weakened Shadow Moon. The other wanted to stay and “get to the good part” (possibly his Rider Kick or weapon finisher), but reluctantly agreed and then drove off....much to the bewilderment of his seniors who witnessed his fight.

This was the start of a brand new tradition, where the old Rider would get a bit of help from his successor and pass the torch.

Planning

Toei needed to change the schedule up to stay on budget, so they made a bold move as Kamen Rider’s premiere would be moved into the Fall of the year and air throughout the majority of the following year. This also put the series in a unique position as it would run alongside 2 Sentai seasons before switching up for the next show. The merchandise sales of the single Rider Series in tandem with the 2 Sentai seasons would in theory give enough cash revenue to balance the books.

Another change is the fixture of Support Robots, while Hibiki is considered the alpha prototype of the concept, this season cemented its place in the Kamen Rider series (With Gaim being the only series thus far to opt out.)

Then the belt itself began to change, while Ryuki switched the belts away from the format of being attached to the bodies of the Riders, Double improved the belt’s combat ability even further. No longer was a Rider constrained to a single form or weapon via a singular input system, but now could diversify their abilities in various ways by using multiple input modules and transformation devices.

Sure, this was done to make Kamen Rider even more toyetic to boost profits and cover rising production costs, but writers and staff when on their A-game made it feel like a natural evolution of the franchise and not a forced toy commercial.

When it came time to plan W....I should explain that real quick. The show and titular Rider are different in terms of label in a manner similar to Faiz. The English word “Double” sounds like the Japanese pronunciation of the letter “W”. But since the show romanizes the hero to Kamen Rider Double on toys and on the title card, the Rider is referred to as Double and the show is W because of the Japanese text of the show’s title showing the english letter W.

Anyways, when it came time to plan W, the “Fall 10th Anniversary Project”, the staff was debating on ideas and one argument they had was that Double should be all red. Toei thought since Red was a heroic color it would test well with focus groups. PLEX disagreed with the Toei staff and saw inspiration from the Showa era, wanting a Rider who harkened back to the original Double Riders with a green and black body color.

(Double, as drawn by Ishinomori assistant and concept designer Masato Hayase)

In fact, the designers wanted a lot of Showa elements back in the franchise, something the producers and writing staff were adamant about or outright felt was a bad idea. One of them was Yasuko Kobayashi, when the design staff proposed the return of a beloved aspect of a Rider costume that had been missing for over 25 years for the main heroes: the classic scarf. She at first saw it as unsightly for a modern audience and too “Showa-y”. But she eventually caved into the pleas of putting it on under the condition that she chose the color: silver instead of the proposed white color.

Another proposed idea when the writers decided on a neo-noir detective theme was that the hero would wear a Sam Spade/Columbo style trench coat over the suit. But the staff nixed this as they realized it would make Seiji Takaiwa’s job more difficult as he would be wearing a heavy coat over a costume.

(*in a Peter Falk voice* “The last time I trusted a dame was in Tokyo in 1971, she said she was going out to get a bottle of sake. Two hours later, the agents of Shocker marched into Japan!”)

The love letter to the Showa Era didn’t stop at a scarf and a color scheme. Double has allusions of influence from Kikaider 01, Kamen Rider X, Black, Chojin Barom 1 and The Skull Man. The main Gaia Memory that Philip carries is called Cyclone, a reference to wind energized Riders from days of old and the original motorcycle Ichigo rode. There is even Bat and Spider monster villains during the early days of the incidents of the story and Bat and Spider gadgets the heroes use in the grand tradition of that mythology gag.

The next phase was marketing and whoo boy, did this series get the royal treatment. In addition to the new Movie Wars series and a summer film, the series had its own clothing line, several radio shows on a fictitious radio station with some connecting to the show and continued the promotion of Ganbaride with Double getting his own sets of cards. This was also the start of the Legend Rider series of toys, as Bandai made Gaia Memory toys based on each Rider.

Avex got multiple bands and artists together to create exclusive new “bands” for the show with most named after a Hurricane event such as Labor Day or Galveston 19. The music entertainment label even pulled some strings to get 2 members of the hit idol group AKB48 to be recurring supporting cast as Queen and Elizabeth. It truly was a love war..

Futo itself feels like a real city, with locations, businesses and people that you get to know. The world building was so well done that future Rider entries still touch it up every now and then. (Ex. In Drive, we learn Futo is just outside Tokyo and later see Futo Tower in the distance at an amusement park when Drive is fighting a monster!)

Now, let’s meet Futo’s resident local Superhero!

CYCLONE! JOKER!

Real Names: “Phillip” (Raito Sonozaki) and Shotaro Hidari

In 1999, a criminal element unlike any that ever had been seen before in Futo began emerging; distributing a drug-like device that enhances humans into superpowered monstrous beings known as Dopants. The only force that could stop the source of the city’s tears was someone Shotaro would later simply would refer to as “The Boss”, Sokichi Narumi, a private detective who was a real man’s man and moonlighted as a Kamen Rider with the help of his childhood friend. Despite his best efforts, the crime of the city continued.

Later, while on a case to bust the bad guys on Christmas Eve 2008, Shotaro and Sokichi snuck into a warehouse distributing the drug-like Gaia Memories. Unfortunately, the bad guys found out they were sneaking around and a fight broke out. Due to his youth and stubbornness, Shotaro disobeyed an order to stay put from his boss and found a young eccentric man who had no memories that they dubbed “Phillip” after the famous private eye Phillip Marlowe from the Raymond Chandler novels. While trying to escape, The Boss got shot up pretty bad in a hail of gunfire. With his last breath, Sokichi told his protege to finish the case and become a man worthy of wearing his hat, giving him his prized fedora as he dies from blood loss.

Surrounded by guards, an armed helicopter and a monster later known as the Taboo Dopant, the eccentric Phillip asks his new friend a question and opens the briefcase they were carrying: Do you have the courage to ride with a Devil?

The two use a belt in the briefcase with Gaia Memories and as the guards and helicopter fire their guns....a new figure emerges from the blaze unharmed and destroys the entire floor with a gust of powerful wind (helped by the helicopter crashing into the building).

Jump ahead to late 2009 and Akiko Narumi has come to collect on her father’s detective agency as its new landlord (unaware her father has died). She gets ready to evict Shotaro until a case comes up and she finds all the weird stuff they do, like a hidden garage with a massive vehicle and Phillip scribbling on boards any data they can find on cases. But then Akiko finds out her evictee is a superhero and at first wants to evict the both of them right away, but then decides after being saved it would be better to help people and continue the Narumi Detective Agency. The trio continue investigating cases and stopping Dopants, while under the vengeful eye of the Sonozaki crime family and learning much later there is an even bigger enemy in the shadows pulling the strings.

But as their exploits grow, the citizens of Futo christen their masked savior as “Kamen Rider” and Philiip and Shotaro work hard to deserve that honor, fighting crime to wipe away the city’s tears and making villains count up their sins!

Gear:

http://kamenrider.wikia.com/wiki/Double_Driver

http://kamenrider.wikia.com/wiki/Gaia_Memories

http://kamenrider.wikia.com/wiki/Memory_Gadgets

http://kamenrider.wikia.com/wiki/HardBoilder

http://kamenrider.wikia.com/wiki/Rotation-Interchange_Base_RevolGarry

http://kamenrider.wikia.com/wiki/Metal_Shaft

http://kamenrider.wikia.com/wiki/Trigger_Magnum

http://kamenrider.wikia.com/wiki/Transforming_Gaia_Dinosaur_Fang_Memory

http://kamenrider.wikia.com/wiki/Transforming_Gaia_Bird_Xtreme_Memory

http://kamenrider.wikia.com/wiki/Prism_Bicker

http://kamenrider.wikia.com/wiki/Lost_Driver - Used in emergencies only or when one of the halves of Double isn’t available.

Powers and skills:

Phillip has a genius level intellect on par with a supercomputer and thanks to his connection to the Earth’s True Gaia Memory essentially has a mystical kind of Google search he can call upon. This allows him to accurately find people, places and objects if specific keywords are given that produce the results he is looking for.

Shotaro is a skilled brawler and a competent detective as he was trained by Sokichi. He is able to see small details the police sometimes overlook.

Both of them as Double are pretty diverse.

Cyclone: levitation or slowed descent via wind manipulation, wind energy blasts, capable of creating tornadoes and elemental augmentation of weapons

Joker: Enhanced strength, superior fighting skills and reflexes.

Luna: Mr. Fantastic like-Elasticity on the left side of the body, illusion generation and homing projectiles or giving the Metal Shaft rubbery lasso/whip-like capabilities.

Heat: Pyrokinesis, explosive generation and elemental augmentation of weapons.

Metal: Higher defense and strength and elemental augmentation of weapons. Summons Metal Shaft weapon

Trigger: Expert Marksmanship, enhanced firepower which can be strengthened further by elemental Gaia Memories. Summons Trigger Magnum Weapon

Fang: Feral instincts, Bladed weapon/projectile

Xtreme: Laser blasts, Twin Maximum Drive capability, instant analyzing ability to discover weak points, shield generation, swordsmanship. Capable of evolving to a higher state using wind power to give Double wings and stronger attack power.

Weaknesses:

When Phillip enters Shotaro’s body via memory transfer or vice versa in the case of the Fang memory, their bodies are at risk of being taken or destroyed, which could result in one of them..one of them....dying. *Cyclone Effect starts playing and the typer fights the urge to start crying*. If one or both of them has a status effect inflicted by a monster, that will carry over to Double in some cases unless Xtreme form is activated. Even then, there is a chance they will still be affected. Phillip has a one track mind as once he finds something that fascinates him he won’t stop until he knows everything about it, usually this could take hours or days for him to finish depending on the subject. (I like to think we on the internet have all had moments like that)

The key to Double is keeping the two users in sync with each other, if they cannot agree on something that causes them to fight intensely or in one instance where a villain used Phillip’s amnesia against him, the sync destabilizes and Double either de-transforms or gets weaker.

Speedy opponents can swipe away all of Double’s Gaia Memories save for the ones in his belt, thus putting the two-in-one hero at a major disadvantage.

Lastly, the Memories themselves have risk. A “Twin Maximum”, a move where Double uses more than one Gaia Memory in his base forms, is very dangerous as the suit will overload with energy and the Double Driver will act erratic. The energy surge will cause possible harm to both users, but Shotaro gets the worst of it as it causes physical damage to his body and could kill him. Its only perk is a more powerful attack but it is too foolish to attempt such a life threatening tactic unless it is a last resort. Twin Maximums can only be pulled off by teamwork with Accel or using Xtreme form.

The Fang Memory causes Philip to go berserk if Shotaro does not reign in his partner, as it regresses Philip to a savage mindset if he does not impose his will into it. As explained in expanded universe material, there is a FangMetal and FangTrigger form but the Joker Memory’s compatibility combined with Shotaro’s will make it the best candidate for Fang. The use of the other memories would result in Shotaro losing control and Phillip going completely wild. The use of this memory also tires out Shotaro as he needs to use all his willpower to keep Phillip’s mind stable from its side effects.

The last one is that Gaia Memories are capable of breaking, so it is possible that the duo could lose their powers on a more permanent basis.

Signature Finishers:

http://kamenrider.wikia.com/wiki/Maximum_Drive

Enemies:

Dopants

(A Masquerade Dopant, an example of Dopants and the common grunts of the Museum)

http://kamenrider.wikia.com/wiki/Category:Dopants

Dopants are superhuman beings created when an ordinary human injects a Gaia Memory directly into their bodies. Each Gaia Memory is based on an object, concept, person or animal. (Ex. Dr. Shinigami, Apple, Time and Triceratops)

Due to the drug-like effects of the Memories being directly inserted into the body of the user, some people who use Gaia memories have mental or physical health deterioration and become unstable and even more violent. There are also side effects in some cases if the memory is destroyed, such as the Yesterday Dopant having a mind wipe occur from the powers leaving her. Some side effects are more fatal if the user has “O.D.” on the Memory as their body will break down and dissolve. Basically, this show in its own subtle way is sayin’: Don’t do drugs kids, it’ll mess ya up and you could die.

Double uses his Driver to filter out the bad stuff of a Gaia Memory to use its power safely with no ill side effects (for the most part). But so does...

The Museum and The Sonozaki Family

http://kamenrider.wikia.com/wiki/Museum

http://kamenrider.wikia.com/wiki/Sonozaki_Family

The Museum is an organization run by the aristocratic Sonozaki Family whose goal is to evolve humans and save life on earth in an event called the Gaia Impact. The Sonozakis have Memory Drivers that filter out the negative side effects...not that it changes who they are on the inside as they are wicked in some regards. (Though they redeem themselves in some ways) The head of this prestigious crime organization is Ryubee Sonozaki. Despite being an old man, you do not want to underestimate him as the Terror Dopant...

Also this is the first time in Rider History we have had a pet as a monster lieutenant: A cat.

(*Dr Claw Voice* Ryubee: I’ll get you next time Kamen Rider...next time. Mick: MRRREEEEEOWW!)

And lastly we have...

NEVER and Foundation X

http://kamenrider.wikia.com/wiki/Category%3ANEVER

http://kamenrider.wikia.com/wiki/Foundation_X

NEVERS or Necro-Overs are, to put in the simplest terms, sentient pseudo-zombies who retain the knowledge, skills and faculties of their former living selves and are designed to be a breed of super soldiers. Despite interest and development by Foundation X to use them, they were soon abandoned after Gaia Memories were developed. One of them was a Kamen Rider who proved troublesome for Double and nearly killed him, though he was once a good person who slowly went mad from his undead nature.

Foundation X makes their presence known in this season and after the failure of the Sonozakis and their own ranks to stop Double and prove the value of Gaia Memories, the organization got word of another power source even greater than that of Gaia Memories to research...

Though Double/Joker gets to have fun (Maximum) driving them outta their town every so often when they try to reclaim their former territory to set up sinister research projects.

Final thoughts

Kamen Rider W is a beloved entry of the franchise and many newcomers get it recommended to them when asking where to start. The mindset is it is much like a western superhero show with a bit of Scooby Doo/noir mixed in. There is a mystery to solve and a bad guy to catch, defeat and unmask. (Though some of the mysteries are a bit smarter than that cartoon by giving you a bait and switch on who the monster of the week is!)

Unlike most Rider shows, the bad guys for the most part get their powers taken away after the beatdown and they are handed off to the police or get help instead of killed outright (though there are exceptions). In fact, this is the first time since Agito we see a Rider cooperating with the cops and even helping them. (It also helps that Accel is a cop too.)

I on the other hand say you need to go to Decade first as that first Movie War depends on you watching that show to see that final story chapter and understand what is going on. But if you don’t want to watch the Movie War...you kinda have to given Kamen Rider Skull is part of it and the episodes plug the film blatantly at one point to tie into the story.

Other than that, you will have a Hard-Half Boiled good time watching a recent perennial fan favorite!

WBX~ CRIME IN THE CITY!~

#kamen rider #45th anniversary #kamen rider w #kamen rider double #maximum drive #gaia memory #hard boiled #detective #raymond chandler #fan favorite #neo noir #super hero

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