And then Ben realised what had really happened. Nikolas was not goneagain. Nikolas wasstillgone. Finding him, Nikolas safe—all ofthathad been another dream. It had been so real again, the smell of him, the feel of him and his reassuring presence. Ben almost laughed, a choked, horrible sound. Nikolas had seen off the policemen just as Ben would’ve wanted him to had it been real. He wished he’d not woken up this time. Maybe if he could stay asleep, he could stay with this dream-Nikolas in the dream world. Awake, he was entirely alone. The world was so white, so bleak and so perfect in its uncaring coldness. He went into the cabin.
Nikolas was the conscious decision of his heart.
His heart now made another decision just as conscious, just as deliberate.
§ § §
Nikolas returned from his walk frozen but for the first time since Gabby, content to feel the cold and to have nothing more to fear from it. He would soon be warm, either in Ben’s arms or, if he was particularly persuasive, in Ben’s body. He was always very persuasive where Ben’s body was concerned. He smiled to himself as he let Radulf into the cabin. It was quiet. Ben had finished chopping wood and there was a big basket of kindling by the fire. He called up to see if he was showering and wanted some company, but there was no reply. He climbed stiffly up the stairs, and the only warning he had something was badly wrong was when he saw a bloodstained shirt on the floor. He went into the bathroom and hissed, “Ben?”
Ben didn’t stop his activity, but he smiled slyly to himself. “I knew it would work. Give me a minute, and I’ll make you stay for good.” He continued sawing the kitchen knife across his wrist.
Nik suddenly shouted, “Ben!” Ben looked up startled. “Drop the knife, Ben.That’s an order!” Old habits never died. After only a second’s hesitation, Ben stopped and let the knife rest loosely on his lap. Nikolas knelt down cautiously and took it from him. He quickly pulled off his own shirt and bundled it against the deep cut on Ben’s wrist. Ben was staring at him, puzzled. He was even paler than before, stress aging his face. He glanced down at where Nikolas was pressing his wrist.
“Am I dead? You feel real, but you don’t look very pleased to see me.”
“Shut up. Can you stand?” He helped Ben to his feet and led him to the bed. He kept the pressure up on the shirt until Ben was sitting then commanded sharply, “Hold this.” Ben did, frowning down at the material. Nikolas went into the bathroom, averting his eyes from the pool of blood and tore furiously through the cabinet, pulling out some bandages and tape. He came back into the bedroom and stood staring at the gaunt figure on the bed. Suddenly, he threw the bandages in Ben’s face. Ben’s eyes opened wide with shock. “Fuck you! You stupid child!What the fuck is this?”
“You’re not…you’d gone again. I thought—”
“I went for a walk with the fucking dog!”
“I just wanted to be with you again—catch up to you before you got too far away from me. I thought…” He frowned down at his wrist. “I thought it’d be easier.”
“Well you were cutting the wrong way. Trust me, it works well enough if you cut the other way.”
“Oh.”
Nikolas knelt down beside Ben. He took the shaved head in his hands and stared at him. “You’re in shock. God forgive me, but I think you’ve been in shock since you came to me in the hospital. I’m sorry, I didn’t see it. I’ve been a little preoccupied.” He stood up then kissed Ben’s head. He sat alongside him on the bed. “Keep the pressure on.”
Ben nodded dutifully. “I am.”
Nikolas let Ben continue with this task to calm him down, to give him something concrete and easy to focus on. “You thought I’d gone again? Is that what you’re telling me? That I’d just disappeared again?”
“No, I thought you’d never come back. I thought you werestillgone.” It seemed important to Ben that Nikolas got this distinction, that what he was doing, therefore, was totally rational and understandable.
“And you were going to what? Follow me into death?”
Ben bowed his head. “You’re making me feel stupid.”
“Good, because you are stupid. Ben, look at me.” He waited patiently. Ben turned his head reluctantly. “Death is the final certainty for everyone. Eventually, one of us will die, and the other will have to go on alone. No, stop that. Listen to me. Ben, look at me and listen.” Once more, he waited. “I think I’ve made a mistake with you.” He managed to smile faintly at Ben’s reaction to this. “Not like that. I’ve made mistakes by taking you for granted, assuming you knew how I felt about you when I didn’t feel inclined to tell you, not letting you into the parts of my life that are painful because I wanted to protect you. You aren’t my little brother. I don’t have to protect you to assuage my guilt for failing so badly to protect him. A very wise child told me recently I should dig out the shrapnel from my wounds—that I couldn’t heal until I did.” He closed his eyes for a moment to gather courage and then continued, “I don’t intend to die for a very long time, Benjamin. My will to live has defeated everything in this life that seems determined to kill me. I’m going to live for a very, very long time, and I intend for you to be by my side until that time is done. Do you understand what I’m saying? What I’m now asking you?”
Ben’s eyes were so wide they appeared almost black, the green just a hint of colour around the edges. Nikolas put his hand to the side of Ben’s face and stroked over his cheekbone with his thumb. “Until death parts us, yes?” Nikolas removed his hand and reached into his back pocket. Ben’s eyes followed every movement. Nikolas took out the bloodstained knife and, still staring intently at Ben, drew it across his own, already battered wrist—no hesitation, no hint this caused him pain. When he was satisfied with the blood, he gently lifted Ben’s wrist and eased off the tacky, temporary bandage. The cut, much deeper than the one he’d made on his own wrist, began to bleed again. He caught Ben’s gaze once more. “Yes?”
Ben nodded. “Yes. Until death parts us.”
They pressed their wrists together, a fitting bond between two men whose lives had been so determined and shaped by blood. They leant in and kissed, sharing mouths as their blood flowed warm between them.
PART III
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Nikolas knew they both turned heads that night as they entered Alan Lund’s restaurant. Who would not look up at two such scarred, hard men? He was aware of the gaunt certainty of pain etched on his features. He felt as if he’d been in a war—bruises staining his skin yellow and green, and stitches down one side of his shaved, blond head. He was still limping slightly.
By his side, Ben was wide-eyed and thin, his clothes hanging loose, hair hacked off. It was like escorting a camp survivor—Nikolas acting as Ben’s jailer, walking close, hand possessively on one arm. But no prisoner was shown the care Nikolas gave Ben as they sat—brushing the back of Ben’s neck lovingly, entwining their fingers on the table.
As their hands met across the chequered cloth, matching bandages were revealed, these, for a moment, reminding Nikolas of handcuffs joining them. Yet, they linked them in a far more private bond than steel ever could.
Ben ordered steak and wolfed it as if starved. They both drank only water. All the time, if Ben’s eyes weren’t scanning the room as if for potential danger, they were fixed upon Nikolas with total concentration. Ben didn’t smile much, but when he did, they were intensely private smiles for Nikolas alone.
