Fic: You and I Made A Pact
Title: You and I Made a Pact.
Author: l_s_d_me
Pairing: Brad/Nate
Rating: PG15
Genre: AU - Regency!
Word Count: 9300
Disclaimer: ‘tis false.
Notes: Title from the Hey Rosetta! song We Made a Pact - which is this fic’s official theme song. I’d listen to it. Tons of love to ale_writes because this would not have even happened without her, it's impossible to thank you enough. Also, if you squint there’s some Aubrey/Maturin references in here.
Summary: Longing and Distance.
When Nate awoke he could hear the house buzzing on the level below. His younger sister Annabelle was going to wed in a week’s time, an event that the neighborhood had been going on about for the better part of a year. Today was the last day Nate thought he would get any peace as guests were due to start arriving late in the afternoon. Closing his eyes, he tried to hold on to the last few strands of sleep.
It had been five years since his father’s death and he took over the running of their estate. Soon it would be just him living there, his last act as father to give his sister’s hand away in marriage. Part of him was sad for this day to come, another part relieved. His acquaintances had tried in vain to get him to pick one of the young girls from the town to marry. “This house will need a woman’s touch once Miss Annabelle is gone, Mr. Fick,” they would tell him. He always played the part, smiling at their suggestions, making light of his bachelor status.
In truth Nate wouldn’t marry, he couldn’t as long as it was a possibility that he was out there somewhere. It’d been eighteen months since their last letters, eighteen months and not a single word of hide nor hair revealing his whereabouts. Months of Nate sitting in his study late at night reading and re-reading letters that he has already read countless amounts of time, the words memorized. Nate had even gone so far as to send an inquiry to the Royal Navy on behalf of the family, but it turned up nothing. “We regret to inform you that we have no news that we are able to share at this time,” it had said. He wasn’t even close to giving up hope yet though. Eighteen months meant nothing to Nate when a lifetime was at stake.
A faint knock at the door broke Nate out of his revelry. “Come in,” he beckoned, scooting up into the sitting position.
“Good mornin’, sir,” Thomas said with a nod of his head as he walked to pull open the drapes.
Thomas had been Nate’s manservant since he was a teenager, and had acted as a father to him after Nate lost his own. In his own way, Thomas knew more about Nate than Nate’s own father had by tending to him daily.
“How are you this morning, Thomas?” Nate asked. “And how is the household faring this morning? I can practically hear the ribbons being curled from here.”
As Nate went through his toilette, Thomas reminded him of who was due to arrive today, the houses that needed to be visited, and of course, the state of the ribbons. Thomas was tying Nate’s cravat when the distinct sound of a carriage pulling up before the house caught their attention. Nate peeked out the window, turning his head to see clearly in the early morning sun.
“And so it starts,” he said with a sigh. “And it’s not even past breakfast yet.”
___
“Who is that?” Nate asked while waiting for his horse to be brought around.
Nate stared into the far section of the garden at the man walking with his father. His man turned, squinting to see past the sunlight.
“That’s the young Mr. Colbert, just arrived in town this mornin’," Thomas explained. "His father is the new master of Pendleton House, sir.”
“Do you know what brings him here so early? It’s not yet past breakfast.”
“I do believe his horse threw a shoe and he stopped to see if the stable boy could assist him in repairing it.” Thomas smiled at the mild surprise on Nate’s face. It wasn't all that common for a gentleman to be willing to take care of such matters himself, but it was a trait that Nate admired.
Much to his father's dismay Nate ran wild as often as he could. “Please think of your appearance before you simply walk into a parlor full of guests looking like you’ve been living in the wood for a fortnight.” He tried to explain to his father that he wanted more than to simply sit in the study all day pouring over ledgers, but he wouldn’t hear of it. “Just wait, Cambridge will straighten you out, my boy,” was a phrase that Nate heard on a weekly basis from the time he was fourteen and on. Eventually it became something that sounded like his father trying to reassure himself instead of trying to get a message through to his son.
“I think I’ll walk out and say hello,” Nate said.
As Nate drew closer to the pair he was able to better take in Mr. Colbert's person. He was tall, taller than the average man, with short blond hair. Nate didn't think there was anyway he could ever be inconspicuous in a crowd.
"Ah Nathaniel," his father said when he noticed his son's approach. "This is Mr. Bradley Colbert. Mr. Colbert, this is my only son, Nathaniel."
"I'm pleased to meet you Mr. Colbert," Nate said as he reached his hand out to complete the introduction. "I hear you've just arrived."
"I have," Brad said, shaking Nate's hand in kind. "Your father was so kind as to allow one of the stable hands to help me with my horse."
Nate looked over his shoulder to where Thomas was still standing, no horse in sight. He sighed, turning back to them.
"My horse seems to have disappeared between the stables and the house, and I'm afraid I am running late. If you will excuse me," Nate said with a nod to Brad and his father.
"If it's no trouble I'll walk with you," Brad said. "I'm sure my horse is ready for me now as the majority of work was already done when I left them."
"Not at all," Nate said, smiling at Brad.
Brad turned to the elder Mr. Fick, offering his thanks and a promise to return another time with his father.
"Shall we?" Nate asked, turning on his heel, Brad right by his side.
___
The sun was setting as the party sat in the drawing room that evening talking and laughing about the day’s events. Only a handful of guests had arrived that day, the bulk of them were not due in for two more days yet. Some of the ladies sat off to the side with sewing in their laps, their screens covered in flowers and tea cups. They were chatting idly to one another, eyes creased in concentration when doing a particularly difficult loop. The first cool air of the year was beginning to settle against the house so Nate had ordered for the fires to be lit early.
"I can't believe there's a chill already," Anna said, frowning out the window. "I was certain it would be another month yet before fall set upon us."
"Oh come Anna," Nate laughed. "You've always enjoyed the fall air; you just don't want to get married in the cold. Afraid you will freeze through the lace of your sleeves."
Frederick, her betrothed, laughed, knowing Annabelle well enough to know that it was the truth.
"Yes, well..." she began, looking back and forth between her brother and her soon-to-be husband, trying not to let her smile break across her face and failing at the raised eyebrows of both.
"Just think," Uncle Wynn said from the corner where he had silently been reading his newspaper, "you could be out there with Lord Nelson, trapped at sea and never warming your bones."
Nate felt his smile falter, covering it by moving to the sideboard to refill his glass of Port.
"Yes, well, I'm sure the men of the Royal Navy are at least a bit sturdier than our Annabelle here," Frederick said lightly.
Now with a full cup in his hand, Nate moved to the fire, readjusting a couple of the logs with his boot. His breath came a little more quickly than normal, and he hoped that nobody noticed. He absently touched his pocket, and the letter he kept hidden there at all times.
“I entertained the idea of joining the military once,” Frederick chuckled, jolting Nate out of his thoughts. Frederick stroked Anna’s hand, stealing a glance at her. “I’m glad I didn’t.”
“There was a time in my life when I thought that was what I wanted as well,” Nate said absently, to himself more than anybody else, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he stared into the fire.
“Is that so?” Frederick asked, surprise in his voice. “And what changed your mind?”
Nate shrugged as if it was just one of those things. “Some things were more important.”
__
“You can’t do this Nate!” Brad was practically yelling, the walls of his dormitory shaking.
“And why not?!" Nate yelled back, matching Brad blow for blow. "You are! We're not so different you and I.”
"Please," his voice cracking in earnest. "Please."
Nate stopped moving, stopped everything he was prepared to say. He could count on his left hand the number of times Brad's voice had sounded like that. It was a sound that tore at Nate's gut so much that he had to place a hand over his middle to keep himself standing, pain shooting across his face.
"Brad," Nate said softly, taking a step in his direction.
Brad held up a hand to stop him, a slight tremor noticeable with the strength it took him to try and stop Nate.
“I just couldn’t…” Brad paused, trying to steady himself. “I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you.”
His eyes were on the floor, breath catching in irregular intervals. Nate took the last few remaining steps between them, placing his hands on either side of Brad's face and raising it to meet his own.
"And what about me?" Nate's voice shaking. "How am I supposed to live knowing you're out there on some godforsaken ship in the middle of the Atlantic being shot at? How am I," he paused, resting his forehead against Brad's. "How am I supposed to live here without you?"
They stood like that in the middle of the floor for what seemed like forever. Nate's hands cupping Brad's face as they both closed their eyes, waiting for their emotions to subside.
"Lie down with me?" Brad's voice sounded more like the wind than anything solid. Nate didn't know if he really heard it or not, but it didn't matter, he would follow the ghost of Brad's words there and back. Never breaking the touch, Nate ran his hand down Brad's neck, sliding it until their fingers caught each other. Brad turned to his bed, pulling Nate with him.
The mattress was soft and wielding underneath their combined weight. They laid there facing each other, hands clasped together between them. The room was dark save for a single candle burning in the corner providing nothing more than a shimmer of light. Nate shifted closer to twist their legs together, letting out a sigh when he and Brad relaxed into the new position.
When Nate awoke later he was wrapped in Brad's arms, the candle long burnt out.
"I'm sorry," Brad said, knowing that Nate was now awake.
Nate pulled himself up so he could look at Brad's face, his blue eyes seemingly bluer from the moonlight glittering off of them.
"I'll wait for you," Nate whispered, not trusting his voice to speak any louder.
Brad closed his eyes with a quick shake of his head.
"No, don't say that," he started. "I don't expect you to. If something happens to me I wouldn't want you to...I couldn't stand the thought of you living your life alone. Don’t sacrifice that for me."
"The memory of you could never leave me feeling alone. Just promise you'll come back to me one day."
Nate could feel the hand Brad was sliding up his back all the way through is vest. When their lips met he could feel everything there between them; the years, the hours spent in each other’s company -- it was all there in the press of their lips against each other.
"Say it," Nate said with his lips still grazing Brad's.
"I promise."
___
By the following afternoon the only place to find solace in the house was either in one’s bed chamber or the study. Nate had taken to receiving the guests in the latter as he could get a moments rest there before the next carriage of visitors. Of course he had known of his sister’s and Frederick’s guest list, but seeing them descend upon his house was another matter entirely.
The view of the garden from his study window showed only a hint of what was actually there. One would have to cross to the back of the house to see the full thing, lush and full of life no matter what time of year it was. Nate had spent time with the study of plants while he was at Cambridge. He made it so there was always something thriving back there, the place never completely barren.
With a glance at the clock Nate arose, shrugging off his jacket. If he hurried he could make it before dinner, if not, Annabelle could host them. It’s not like she hadn’t done it many times before.
He made it out of the house without so much as a notice. Most of the gentlemen were in the library, and the women were huddled in the drawing room going over details for the wedding.
Nate closed his eyes, breathing deep, drawing the air into his chest and holding it there where he held everything else that mattered.
As the first stride flew through him, legs pushing against the dirt, Nate felt the wind against his face, the years flying past. Within minutes the house was no longer in sight and it was just him and his pulse beating in his ears.
His legs moved on their own, carrying him through the countryside. Nate could feel the sweat dripping down his back reminding him of the fingers that used to dance there before urging him on. They gave him strength then, and they still did now.
He ran until he couldn’t breathe, until it didn’t feel like he running alone any longer, but moving fluidly through time. “Quercus,” he absently thought as he hurdled over a fallen tree, surging into the woods.
___
“What?” Brad asked with an upward tilt of his head.
“I said Quercus.”
“You know I hate it when you spout that nonsense at me,” Brad said with a roll of his eyes. He was sitting on the ground with his back up against the tree that Nate had just named in Latin.
“Well it wouldn’t be nonsense if you would study your books like you were supposed to,” Nate said, hitting Brad with the side of his boot.
“I think you study enough for the both of us, Fick.”
Nate sighed, closing his book. “Suit yourself then. But when you’re failing all your classes this fall don’t come to me.” Nate knew that Brad was a genius. There was no way he’d ever fail a class; he could do most of his work and Nate’s in his sleep, which it must be said, had been done on a few occasions the previous year.
Brad stood up, leaning next to Nate.
“I’m not some inbred from the West Country, Nate,” he said. “I can read and do my numbers just fine.”
Nate smiled as he removed his jacket. “There’s more to life than reading and numbers.”
Brad quirked an eyebrow at him, half his mouth turned up. “Is that so? And these things are…?”
But Nate just shrugged as if he wasn't going to answer as he laid his book and jacket on the ground.
“Ductus Exemplo, Brad.”
And then he turned, running off into the opposite direction. He didn’t stop to check if Brad was after him. Nate knew he would be, and only a matter of seconds before he caught up. Nate could sense the wind change behind him when Brad got there, his jacket left behind with Nate’s. When Nate would start to lag Brad would run his hand from the center of Nate’s back down to the small, linger there and then press him forward.
Sometimes Nate wondered if Brad realized he did this, that he didn’t just move him along in a playful manner which so many other boys did while racing. But then, Nate also knew that Brad only did things he meant.
They ran for miles, one leading the other, ever changing depending on the terrain. When they circled back again coming to a stop where their jackets awaited them, both of their faces were flushed and smiling. Nate had to push his hair out of face to keep the sweat from dipping down into his eyes.
“Are you going to tell me what that means?” Brad asked, chest heaving.
“Lead by Example.”
Brad shook his head as he picked up his and Nate’s jackets. “Are you trying to lead me to better myself by being obnoxiously good at everything?” he asked.
“That depends,” Nate said, reluctantly sliding back into his heavy coat. “Would you follow me?”
Brad stared at him and Nate could feel the answer there, floating out into the dusk. But Brad didn’t answer him, at least not out loud. He slung his arm over Nate’s shoulder and turned them towards home. “Come on,” he said. “Your father’s going to kill you if you show up to dinner in this state.”
___
That night he dreamt of Brad.
They were in Lyme walking along the coast in the early morning, just a hint of the sun struggling to rise in the distance. Nate looked at Brad as he stared out into the ocean. He had always loved watching Brad engaged in something that caught his interest. The way his head would tilt with a slight squint of the eye like he was working to decipher some code, had always entranced Nate for some reason.
"I love the way the ocean smells," Brad said, closing his eyes. "Don't you love it here, Nate?"
"Yes," Nate said, unable to look away from Brad. "I love it."
Brad turned to look at him, eyes shining brightly. "Come on; let's go down to The Cobb."
The next instant they were there, standing with the ocean all around them. Spray shooting up over the rocks soaking their clothes. They stood strong against it, unwilling to let it push them.
"I wish you would come back to me," Nate said, the wind carrying his words out to be swallowed by the sea.
"What?" Brad asked, shouting over the rush of water around them.
"Come back!" Nate yelled, squinting through the sudden shock of the wind picking up.
Brad turned to him, opening his mouth to answer when a wave crashed hard over the rocks. Nate felt himself encased in Brad's arms that sheltered him from the onslaught. When it subsided Nate looked up, water droplets stuck on Brad's eyelashes as he smiled down at him. Nate laughed at their situation, clinging to one another as water sprays them, grinning from ear to ear.
Nate rose to the tips of his toes, pressing his lips to Brad's, the taste of salt water there.
I think you've always tasted like the ocean, Nate thought. Brad blushed slightly as though he could hear Nate's thoughts.
Brad let go of him, turning to face the water. I've always needed you more than you've needed me, Brad's voice said as it floated back to Nate. As Nate took a step forward to grab him, tell him that he's wrong, Brad turned to look at him, his blue eyes dark with despair as he let himself fall into the tide.
Nate froze as crippling nausea flowed through him. "Brad," Nate croaked, unable to get enough air. He ran to the edge and jumped off after Brad, falling, falling, never hitting the water.
He awoke with a start, gripping the bed for dear life. Sweat drenched him head to toe as he struggled to push himself up. Nate fought to control his breathing as he thrust his feet over the edge of the bed; his collar tearing at his throat. In a fit of panic Nate ripped his shirt off, throwing it across the room. He sat there as sweat dripped down his torso and back repeating to himself that it was only a dream, nothing more. Hoping that it was nothing more.
___
The following day was filled with guests arriving, estate business to contend with, and Nate's growing paranoia over Brad's whereabouts. He managed to be gone most of the day, which was a much better prospect than the idea of sitting in the house all day with nothing but idle chat.
By the time Nate arrived back home it was well after dinner. He was walking slowly up the drive when Thomas ran out to him.
"Mr. Fick," he hurried. "There are two men waiting for you in the drawing room."
Nate looked at him soundly, thinking back to the people who were due to arrive for the celebrations. Surely Thomas, or at least Annabelle, would've known who they were.
"What are their names?" he asked as they stepped into the entryway. "Did they say what their business was?"
Thomas shook his head. "They are Misters Person and Hasser, and they only said that they came to speak with you."
Nate swayed on the spot, grabbing the side-table for balance. No, he thought. Not like this. Not this way! Their names flew to the forefront of his mind; he had read in several of Brad's letters that he had befriended a young soldier by the name of Josh Ray Person, and got the even younger Walter Hasser in turn, a boy who was rarely away from Person's side.
Thomas was at his elbow in an instant.
"Are you okay, sir?" he asked in alarm. "Your face is white as a ghost. Please sit down, or at least let me get you some wine."
"No I'm fine." Nate straightened, tugging his clothes into order before running a hand through his hair. "I'll see them now."
When he entered the room his eyes centered in on the men he had never met before in his life, but felt a bond to immediately. Sitting there in their uniforms, Nate couldn’t help but picture Brad there. Once he had unexpectedly showed up on leave, he sat there smiling at Nate as he entered the room. It was the last time Nate had seen him.
Nate's Uncle Wynn was discussing the war with them, pleased to have people around who could maybe provide him with information the newspapers couldn't. Several of Nate’s younger female cousins who had come for the wedding were in the corner stealing glances at the two men in uniform, whispering about their looks.
The pair jumped to their feet when they noted Nate's arrival.
"Mr. Person and Mr. Hasser, I presume," Nate said amiably, shaking their hands. "Might you join me in my study? I'm sure you are in need of something stronger than wine after your journey."
The moment the door closed behind him Nate went to the table holding his decanter, a slight tremor in his hands as he poured their drinks. Nate drank his in one gulp, closing his eyes at the burn down his throat. When he opened them the men were staring at him.
"I'm sorry," Nate said. "It's just; I recall your names from a friend." He could hear how he stumbled over his words, trying to stay calm. "And please, call me Nate."
"That's actually why we're here, Sir," Ray said, looking nervous.
Nate motioned for them to sit by the fire. If they were going to have this talk Nate wanted to be seated, and ready for whatever they might throw at him.
"Hasser and I were stationed with Brad Colbert,” Ray started. “We worked with him for the better part of a year. But then we were sent on different assignments, and well…."
Ray looked at Walt for support, struggling with the best way to say whatever it was he was trying to say. Walt shifted in his chair, pushing back a bit of hair that had fallen out of its tie before he began speaking in place of Ray.
"We knew Brad had a close friend here, an old friend he knew from before the war started. And well...we lost contact with him about a year ago and we thought maybe…maybe you...."
Eight months after my last letter, Nate thought.
Nate felt his breath catch, his attempts to remain calm failing. Ray was watching him, not in an obvious sort of manner, but he had to have sensed the change in Nate’s demeanor. Nate couldn't decide how to feel. He had last heard from Brad eighteen months ago, and these two had confirmation that he was still alive and well a year ago.
"That's kind of the reason we're here Nate," Ray said, using his Christian name for the first time. "We wanted to know," he started, pausing with a look to Walt. "We wanted to know if you had received any word from him."
"I haven't heard from him for nearly a year and a half," Nate told Ray as the worry of it all surfaced from actually saying it out loud to another person. "I'm sorry I can't be of more help," he said, trying to detach himself emotionally from the situation.
Ray and Walt exchanged a look, eyebrows twitching as if they were speaking in place of their voices. Nate watched them, his hand grazing the pocket of his vest, Brad's note still safely in its place.
“Here, let me refresh your drinks.” Nate needed to move, needed to be out from underneath their gazes. They thanked him, sinking further back into their chairs, looking very much deflated even in their starched uniforms.
As Nate settled back down into his chair, Walt found his voice again.
“How long have you known Colbert?” he said, going for some common ground.
Nate smiled wistfully, just a small upturn of the corner of his mouth. “Oh I’d say going on seven years now. He moved here the year before we started Cambridge together.”
Ray laughed, stifling it quickly with his hand. “Brad went to Cambridge!? I’m sorry, I just thought always pictured him tracking Stags in the wild north and killing them with his bare hands.”
“That was actually how we celebrated my twenty-second birthday,” Nate said, face as serious as if he was explaining the most complicated theorem.
Walt knocked Ray in the shoulder to stop his gaping at Nate. “Good God, Person,” Walt said to him. “Of course Brad went to school, where do you think he learned all that Latin he spits out at random times.”
“Oh yeah!” Ray said, remembering. “What was it he used to say when I would begin to act up? Reducto Explif? No. Decotas Implasum?”
“Ductus Exemplo,” Nate said, garnering looks from both of them. “I taught him that.”
Silence filled the room. It was getting late, full dark had set outside and the room was lit only by the fire. Nate felt like they were trapped in time, lost in their pocket of light remembering a man they both knew differently. Ray and Walt sipped their Brandy lost in their own heads.
“So,” Nate cleared his throat, clearing the air. “How did you two meet?”
_
Hours later Nate knew more than he thought anybody would ever need or want to know about Josh Ray Person and all his friends. He asked questions until there weren’t any left to ask, until he knew everything about their time with Brad. They answered with enthusiasm whether or not they realized that’s what Nate was going for or not.
The clock chiming one broke them out of their memories.
“We should be going,” Walt said. “We’re due to leave by Noon tomorrow.”
“Please stay here for the night,” Nate told them. “I won’t make you ride back to town at this time of night.”
“Really sir, don’t trouble yourself.”
“It’s no trouble, and it’s Nate,” he said, ringing for a servant.
A few minutes later a young man arrived at the study door. Nate informed him that the two gentlemen there were to be his guests for the night, and if he would please ride to town to gather their bags from the Inn he would make sure he got a little extra in earnings this month.
“Wait a moment if you will,” he said to the lad. “Mr. Person is going to write a note for you to give the landlady in case there’s any problem.”
Nate told Ray to help himself to the paper in the top drawer of his desk as he stepped out of the room to ensure everything was prepared for them.
When he returned a moment later Walt was leaning against the fireplace staring into the flames as Ray stood transfixed by something on Nate’s desk. Clearing his throat, Nate brought his presence to their attention. Ray looked a little flustered as he folded up his note, sealing it and handing it off to Nate.
“We can’t thank you enough,” Ray said as they parted ways for the night, shaking hands with familiarity this time.
“Just ring if you need anything in the night.”
Once they were gone, Nate finally let himself relax against the door. Why now? he thought. Why must this happen on the eve of Anna and Frederick’s wedding? Why?
He moved about the room straightening books, moving the glasses they had used, unable to rest, not knowing what to do with himself anymore. Coming around his desk he saw that the drawer Person had gotten the paper from was still open. He leaned over to close it and froze, hand stuck in mid air. How could he forget? How could be so stupid? Sitting there in a neat stack were twenty-five letters from Brad. Not all of them, no, the rest were in his chamber. Ray had to have known what they were; a man can’t spend that much time with someone and not recognize their handwriting. Nate slumped down in his chair, hand reaching for the letters with care.
“Brad,” he whispered. “Where are you?”
_
“I’m over here,” Brad said giving nothing more away.
Nate walked to the back half of the library, searching the alcoves there for Brad. He found him in his favorite chair, feet resting on the plush stool at his feet.
“What are you doing back here?” Nate asked, picking up Brad’s feet and moving them to the side so he could sit down.
Brad just looked at him, his blue eyes shining in the dim light of the library. He would be leaving in a few days. They were trying not to talk about it, not to think about the distance, but it was impossible.
“I was just copying something down,” Brad said, folding the piece of paper he had been writing on when Nate found him. Nate leaned to the side in an attempt to see what book Brad had, but couldn’t in the dim light. Brad pushed him back with his foot, smiling as he moved the book further back into the chair.
“Mind your own business, Fick.”
Nate jumped up suddenly, hopping to the side to straddle Brad’s ankles. “It’s my library, Brad. Your business is my business,” he said, quirking up an eyebrow in challenge.
Just then, Brad thrust forward grabbing Nate by the arms and pulling him to his body. Nate went willingly, easing up into the chair so now he was straddling Brad’s hips. Nate moaned into Brad’s mouth as they met, his tongue sliding along Brad’s. He could feel Brad everywhere, a hand on the back of his head, cupping his neck, running down his arms. Nate shuddered against him as chills followed Brad’s hands everywhere, breaking through layers of clothing. He held on while they kissed, hands grasping Brad’s shoulders, probably hard enough to leave a mark.
Nate felt it when Brad ran his hand down his chest and slipped the paper he had been folding into his vest pocket. He grabbed Brad’s hand, holding it there at his torso. But Brad shook his head, breaking the kiss. “Not ‘til I’m gone. Don’t read it until you can’t take it anymore Nate.”
_
“Nate…Nate…,” Thomas whispered as he shook Nate awake. “You should get to bed, sir. I’ll clean this up.”
Nate had fallen asleep at his desk, the letters from Brad resting there underneath where Nate was lying on his arm. He moved his hand, feeling the crumbled sheet of paper he kept in his vest pocket at all times. Nate slid it back into his pocket as inconspicuously as he could.
“That’s quite alright, Thom,” Nate said, sleep filled sadness taking over his voice. “Leave it.”
“It’ll just take a moment,” he said, reaching to shove the papers into a pile.
“I said leave it!” Nate yelled, slamming his fist down on the desk.
Thomas stopped, staring at him like he’d never seen him before. Nate rarely to never raised his voice with anybody, but here at 3 a.m. in the still of the early morning Nate couldn’t hold it back anymore. He couldn’t take it anymore.
“I’m sorry,” Nate said, slumping back into his chair, the fight leaving him as quickly as it came. “It’s been a very trying evening.”
“No word on Mr. Colbert then?” Thomas asked, concern consuming his features.
Nate’s head snapped up as he fought to find the words. “How did…? How long…? Please don’t….”
Thomas stopped him. “Nate,” he said as he dropped all formality, setting a hand on Nate’s shoulder. “I’ve known you practically your whole life,” was all he said. Nate reached up and squeezed his hand showing him everything he felt, but saying nothing. Thomas turned to go, leaving Nate to the dark, to his thoughts.
“I think it’s time, Sir,” he said as he closed the door behind him.
Nate stared at the closed door. How could he be so dim? Of course Thomas would’ve seen it, would’ve known all this time but said nothing. As his hand absentmindedly grazed his pocket his body went rigid. It’s time. Nate’s hands shook as he opened the letter, crumpled and worn from years of handling.
A manic laugh filled the study as Nate looked down at the paper: Latin. The whole thing was in Latin.
In an instant Nate was tearing through the house. It all made sense now, the library, the book; it had to have been one of his Latin books. He entered the library, the door banging against the wall with the force he pushed through it. Using the light from the moon as it streamed in through the windows Nate searched. “Where are you?” he said in vain as he ran through the stacks.
Nate skidded to a halt, his eyes catching the gilded bindings of his language books. He searched until he found all of the ones pertaining to Latin, taking them all so there would be no chance of him missing a word, of missing a phrase.
The sun was rising when Nate finally finished deciphering it all. His eyes burned with exhaustion and tears as he read it over and over again.
To die by your side would be a heavenly way to die.
Always Faithful.
He couldn’t imagine how long it had taken Brad to translate it, how long he must have secretly been studying Latin to get it right. And now Nate could do nothing but stare at it and let all the years and all the memories consume him, feel them as his tears ran down his face.
___
The house had already begun to stir as Nate made his way to his bed chamber. The servants were bustling too and fro in an effort to make sure everything was prepared for Miss Annabelle’s celebration that evening.
Nate wanted nothing more than to leave the house, stroll through the hills and valleys as he spoke to nobody save for his memories of Brad, which often kept him company. But today was not about him and what he wanted. It was his sister’s wedding day. A day to do his duty as the best brother and father-figure to her he could be. Nate couldn’t disappoint her on her day.
He dressed quickly, splashing water on his face in an effort to wash away the night. But looking in the mirror he still looked tired and distant. When Thomas entered the room to aid him he said nothing, a fact that Nate greatly appreciated this morning. The only concern shown was the extra care he took in Nate’s appearance. Thomas made sure his dress was as neat as possible; the green of his jacket making Nate’s eyes shine whether he was jovial or not.
“Thank You, Thomas,” Nate said as he turned, leaving the room.
Voices were floating down the corridor as he made his way out of the family wing. He turned the corner to find Ray and Walt standing there, lost deep in conversation. Walt’s hair was not pulled back as it had been last night making him appear older. Nate wondered if Brad looked the same. Would he look noticeably older the next time they met? If they ever meet again, that is.
The trio made their way to the breakfast room, idle chat filling the time it took them to settle into their chairs. It was still quite early in the morning and most of the guests were still in their chambers, only a few early risers were also enjoying their breakfast at this hour. Their conversation during the meal was light, holding nothing of the night before. They left that all behind them in the dark.
After their meal Nate walked in between them as they made their way out into the morning, ready to ride back to their encampment.
“Please,” Nate said, shaking their hands, “feel free to visit here as often as you’re able.”
Just then a squeal came from the house. Nate grimaced as he heard his sister coming towards him. “Nathaniel!” she said in earnest. “I’m getting married today. Oh isn’t it the greatest day ever?!” Annabelle stopped suddenly, only just noticing the two strangers to her who stood with her brother.
“I believe that’s our cue to leave,” Ray said as he and Walt mounted their horses, both giving a smile and nod to the pair as they rode off.
Nate turned to his sister, wrapping an arm around her. “Yes Annabelle,” he said, hiding his face with the act of walking them back into the house. “I could not be happier.”
__
Naturally the ceremony was beautiful. Nate appropriately watched in reverence as his sister wed. The happiness on her face was enough to make him remember a time in his life when he was truly happy, a time before the distance. Afterward Nate sat in his room in an effort to grab an hour or so of rest as the ladies retired to their quarters to refresh themselves before the ball was to begin.
As Nate entered the ballroom he was in awe of the job his sister had done in arranging it all. He walked throughout the room receiving more congratulatory handshakes and nods than he'd ever gotten for a personal accomplishment. Then again, being father to Annabelle for the last few years was difficult at times, and he was proud to see her married to a man as honorable as Frederick. Maybe he did deserve a little congratulation after all. Maybe being a father to Annabelle was what he was meant to do - what was destined for him when he wanted something greater for his life, something transformative.
When the guests had all gathered the quartet began to play, their bows gliding over the strings, beautiful music filling the Hall. Nate closed his eyes for a second before taking his place on the floor.
__
They couldn’t dance together, but there were those rare moments in a dance when the men’s hands must touch, moving in such a way to make room for the lady. Nate secretly lived for these moments, Brad’s hand closing around his, a finger sliding down to graze his wrist, the slight circle of movement there, their eyes catching. Nate thought it often felt like they were partners even though it could never happen.
"It's bloody hot in here," Brad whispered to Nate as the third set they danced came to an end.
"Such language, Colbert. What will they think of you?" Nate said smiling, nudging Brad with his elbow as they walked toward the door and out into the cool fall air.
"They probably wonder what a choir boy like you is doing in the company of such an unsavory character," he said in his best school master voice.
They settled against a wall off to the corner of the house, out of view of the party inside. Nate looked at Brad out of the corner of his eye.
"I'm not a choir boy, Brad."
"I know," Brad said. "Choir boys are much better dancers than you are."
“I’m an excellent dancer,” Nate scoffed. “It’s you with your nine feet of limbs that can’t keep in time,” he said, shoving Brad on the arm.
Only Brad grabbed his hand as it was in mid-air and pulled Nate up into his space. “I can keep perfect time,” he threatened, but his eyes saying something different. Nate smiled, “Of course, you do everything perfect,” he said, sliding imperceptibly closer to Brad. Brad’s eyes took in Nate’s lips, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed against the breath trying to escape his lungs. Nate’s mouth opened as he unconsciously wet his bottom lip.
They were so close that Nate could feel Brad exhale before closing the inches between them, his lips grazing softly over Nate’s. Nate grabbed his lapels as he tilted his head up, moving his mouth against Brad’s.
Over the past year and a half they had done a lot of things together. They swam in the swimming hole, fallen asleep on the same bed while studying, and so many other things that looked like nothing, but were everything at the moment. But this, this was new.
Suddenly Brad stepped back. “Damn,” he cursed to himself.
“I’m sorry.” Brad started backtracking, pulling further from Nate. “I didn’t mean to….”
Nate smirked at him, he knew the look on his face had to be predatory.
“Why not Brad? Do you think I don’t want this? Do you think I haven’t wanted you since that first moment I saw you across the lawn?” Nate said, taking a very deliberate step closer to Brad. “Well I have.”
Nate grunted with the impact from his back hitting the wall as Brad shoved him hard against it. His world is suddenly nothing but Brad and his mouth swallowing down Nate's groan of approval. Not wanting Brad to back away again, Nate snaked a leg around the back of Brad's calf, holding them together.
Brad gasped as Nate pressed himself up against him, their breath coming quick. Nate held him tight, reveling in finally having the feel of Brad against him become a reality.
"We should have done that ages ago," Brad whispered into Nate's hair where his face was pressed. "I would have," he continued, "but I wasn't sure, and didn't think I could handle you challenging me to a duel for your honor."
Nate bent his head and placed a kiss on Brad's shoulder. "I'm sure you know me better than that," Nate said. "I'm sure you know me better than anybody."
This kiss was different than the first. Brad nearly growled as he took Nate's mouth, their tongues pressing and sliding, willing each other further. Nate squeezed him tighter as Brad leaned his whole being into Nate, thankful the wall was there to hold them up.
A voice broke through their minds at nearly the same time. It was a man searching for his partner, nothing out of the ordinary. Nate and Brad froze on the spot, wrapped completely around each other, each panting as their chests rose and fell together. Nate could feel the blush as it spread up his cheeks; a blush that was cooled by Brad placing a kiss on each cheek.
They pulled apart but kept contact, unable to completely relinquish their touch. Brad reached up, running a hand down Nate's cheek, continuing down his neck before settling on his should. "Come on," he said, voice not as steady as it usually was. "We should get back inside before we're missed."
Nate shook his head as he moved to cup the back of Brad's neck, looking him directly in the eyes. "It doesn't matter what anyone in there thinks," he told Brad. "The only people whose opinions matter are right here."
___
With a bow to his partner, Nate walked back into the crowd, weaving through groups of cheerful couples. He passed by the smiles and the well-wishes nodding and sharing in their joy.
As he moved about the room a face in the window caught his eye, causing him to freeze on the spot. Could it be? Nate thought as he made to push through the crowd. He’d know that face anywhere; the line of the jaw, the height which was apparent even through a reflection, and the eyes, shining blue through the night, it all screamed of Brad.
Nate was running now having broken out of the throng of people. The night air hit him like a brick wall after the stifling heat of the dance as he pushed further into the unknown. He skidded around the side of the building, sliding on the grass. I’m almost there, Brad, he screamed in head. Please wait, don’t leave without me again! Nate sped up as he reached the back where the windows to the Hall were situated. He grabbed a hold of the corner as he slipped again, but this time unable to right himself he fell onto the wet ground. Looking up frantically for any sign of Brad, he saw nothing. There was nobody here but the people dancing inside, him laying in the grass, and the smell of ocean filling his head.
___
In the end they all left.
Annabelle and Frederick went back to his estate, the family and friends who had come returned to their homes, and Nate…well Nate stayed.
The cool fall nights turned into a winter where Nate locked himself in his study for hours hiding from the freeze that threatened to fill him as well as the country if he didn’t take care. But as with all things, the world kept turning and the seasons kept changing until one day, one day….
“I’ve always loved how the Lavender fills the air here in the spring.”
“Me too,” Nate said as he continued to examine the plant he was holding, breathing deeply. “I miss you.”
“I've missed you too, but you don’t have to miss me anymore.”
“You’re not here, how am I supposed to stop missing you. I don’t even know where you are.” This wasn’t the first time Nate had heard Brad’s voice while roaming the garden, or any other number of activities that left him at peace.
Nate heard a chuckle behind him. “Turn around, Nate.”
Apparently the world does stop because in this moment Nate didn’t know how to continue breathing. His chin dropped to his chest as he screwed his eyes shut, his breath coming in gasps. He stayed like this for only a moment before an arm wrapped around him, pulling Nate back into an embrace.
“Brad…?” Nate gasped, his hand rising to grasp Brad’s arm around his front.
Nate could feel the ragged breath Brad had been holding released when he sunk further against him, chest to back. The air smelled like Lavender and the ocean as Brad nestled his head into the crook of Nate’s neck, getting as close as he could for the moment.
"Nate...Nate...," Brad mumbled over and over again against Nate as they held onto each other.
And then it was all too much for Nate, he had to see Brad's face, he had to see all of him. He spun around, his breath still coming out in uneasy bursts. Brad was there in front of him. Nate cupped his face with both hands, his fingers grasping at the longer strands of Brad's hair that hung down around his face. He looked older to Nate, like the sea had gotten the better of him a time or two, but it only made him more beautiful in Nate's eyes. It was as if Brad had challenged the sea and won.
Brad just stood there as he let Nate touch him, occasionally leaning into the feel of Nate's hands on his face. Nate's eyes traveled down across the uniform and coming to a stop on the cane that Brad was holding, his weight inconspicuously leaning into it. Brad's hand twitched in nervousness at the notice of where Nate's gaze had landed. The hands that were cupping Brad's face traveled down his neck and arms, one coming to rest at his hip, the other resting upon the hand that grasped the cane tightly. Nate looked back into Brad's eyes willing him to see all the love and acceptance there. Brad nodded once and Nate was sliding up into his space, his hand holding Brad's hips up against his own.
When their lips met for the first time in three years Nate was certain that there was nothing else in life he would ever need than that of Brad Colbert. Their mouths pressed together as lightly as the first time they had ever kissed, but it was made up of so much more than what they had shared back then. They sighed into each other's mouths, deepening the kiss. Brad groaned deep in the back of his throat as Nate grabbed a hold of his hair, holding him there. The only other sound Nate heard was the clink of wood against the ground as Brad let go of his cane, wrapping himself completely around Nate. It was the first time in years that Nate had felt the kind of safety he felt in Brad's presence.
___
"You can tell me," Nate said as they sat in his study.
Earlier Nate re-adjusted the chairs so they were closer to each other, but still within enough space of the fire for the light to shine on their faces. Brad's hand found Nate's.
_
"Three per line!" Brad yelled over the roar of the ocean. "Three!"
The men could hardly hear him as water pounded on board. Brad held up his hand indicating how many men he needed and they snapped to order. They had sailed into a storm while chasing a French ship away from the coast. Brad had been directing the men to draw down the sails when the Mizzen was snapped by the wind.
"Colbert move!" Midshipman Trombley yelled in an attempt to garner Brad's attention, even though there was no way he would be able to hear over the storm.
However the loud crack of the wood, which cut through the air like a canon shot, caused Brad to turn just in time to save his head from being smashed. He was left there on the soaking deck, his body being pinned underneath.
Brad could do nothing but lie there as the men gathered around him, working to lift the massive piece of wood. He could faintly hear his Lieutenant Pullings directing the men. When they pulled him free pain shot through him.
“Take him down to Dr. Maturin and quick!” Pullings yelled as the men scooped Brad up, his body more like a rag doll than a warrior.
_
“For weeks I knew nothing but the roll of the ocean and the murmurs of death all around me,” Brad said, his grip on Nate’s hand growing tighter by the minute. Nate just held on, letting Brad hold as tightly as he needed to.
“I thought I was dead already, and the men skirted around me like I was a Jonah aboard their ship. It wasn’t until we reached land that I was handed over into the care of Doctor Timothy Bryan.”
_
“You’re one lucky bastard to still be alive,” Doc Bryan said as he read through the notes Dr. Maturin had compiled for him. “Well, maybe just stubborn.”
Brad only heard half of what Doc Bryan said as he slipped in and out of consciousness. He would awake at moments finding things different about his person.
Blackness.
Leg Splint.
Blackness.
Bandage over Ribs.
Blackness.
Covered in Ice.
Blackness.
And on and on for what seemed like ever.
_
“I thought I was a dead man,” Brad whispered. “I wasn’t foolish; I knew that it was only a matter of time before my body gave up on me.”
Nate worked to steady himself, his body nearly shaking with everything he’d felt for nearly two years. He couldn’t make himself speak, all he could do was sit there and listen, trapped by the story he was hearing.
“I’m sorry,” Brad said. “I should have written. I was just….”
“No,” Nate said, moving to sit on the arm of his chair so he was closer to Brad. “Don’t apologize to me. It’s all okay now.”
Brad looked up at him, his hair having fallen in his face as he spoke Nate reached to push it back, resting his hand on Brad’s cheek. “It’s fine.”
Nate moved back to his chair with Brad still holding onto his hand as a lifeline.
They faded into silence, both of them staring at the fire, refusing to lose contact from the other. Nate sat watch as Brad’s breathing slowed, his head coming to rest on the back of the chair. He looked at this man he had known for nearly a decade, who he knew at one point better than he knew himself. He watched until his eyes closed against the heat of the fireplace.
The sound of a ragged gasp followed by his arm being pulled hard to the side woke Nate. The fire had died down and the room had gone chilly. Nate looked around confused for a moment before his eyes focused on Brad, mumbling in his sleep, jerking back and forth, his breath coming in fast spurts.
Nate jumped up from his chair, tearing his hand from Brad’s so he could grasp him by the face.
“Brad…Brad, wake up,” Nate said, willing him to open his eyes.
Brad awoke with a gasp, his eyes searching blindly until he found Nate in front of him.
“Nate,” he exhaled, bringing his hands up to hold his shoulders.
There was a beat and then Brad pulled Nate down on top of him, bringing their mouths together. Nate moved his hands from Brad’s face, sliding one back around the back of his head to cradle his neck, while the other held onto the back of the chair in order to steady them. Brad held onto him for dear life, kissing him like it was the first and last time he’d ever get to do it; like his life depended on it.
He broke away, laying his head on Nate’s shoulder.
“You should get some sleep,” Nate said almost too quiet to hear. Brad just nodded as they untangled themselves from the chair.
"Will lie down with me?" Brad asked as they reached the door of the study. Nate ran his hand down Brad's arm, sliding it until their fingers caught each other as he closed the door behind them.
Author: l_s_d_me
Pairing: Brad/Nate
Rating: PG15
Genre: AU - Regency!
Word Count: 9300
Disclaimer: ‘tis false.
Notes: Title from the Hey Rosetta! song We Made a Pact - which is this fic’s official theme song. I’d listen to it. Tons of love to ale_writes because this would not have even happened without her, it's impossible to thank you enough. Also, if you squint there’s some Aubrey/Maturin references in here.
Summary: Longing and Distance.
When Nate awoke he could hear the house buzzing on the level below. His younger sister Annabelle was going to wed in a week’s time, an event that the neighborhood had been going on about for the better part of a year. Today was the last day Nate thought he would get any peace as guests were due to start arriving late in the afternoon. Closing his eyes, he tried to hold on to the last few strands of sleep.
It had been five years since his father’s death and he took over the running of their estate. Soon it would be just him living there, his last act as father to give his sister’s hand away in marriage. Part of him was sad for this day to come, another part relieved. His acquaintances had tried in vain to get him to pick one of the young girls from the town to marry. “This house will need a woman’s touch once Miss Annabelle is gone, Mr. Fick,” they would tell him. He always played the part, smiling at their suggestions, making light of his bachelor status.
In truth Nate wouldn’t marry, he couldn’t as long as it was a possibility that he was out there somewhere. It’d been eighteen months since their last letters, eighteen months and not a single word of hide nor hair revealing his whereabouts. Months of Nate sitting in his study late at night reading and re-reading letters that he has already read countless amounts of time, the words memorized. Nate had even gone so far as to send an inquiry to the Royal Navy on behalf of the family, but it turned up nothing. “We regret to inform you that we have no news that we are able to share at this time,” it had said. He wasn’t even close to giving up hope yet though. Eighteen months meant nothing to Nate when a lifetime was at stake.
A faint knock at the door broke Nate out of his revelry. “Come in,” he beckoned, scooting up into the sitting position.
“Good mornin’, sir,” Thomas said with a nod of his head as he walked to pull open the drapes.
Thomas had been Nate’s manservant since he was a teenager, and had acted as a father to him after Nate lost his own. In his own way, Thomas knew more about Nate than Nate’s own father had by tending to him daily.
“How are you this morning, Thomas?” Nate asked. “And how is the household faring this morning? I can practically hear the ribbons being curled from here.”
As Nate went through his toilette, Thomas reminded him of who was due to arrive today, the houses that needed to be visited, and of course, the state of the ribbons. Thomas was tying Nate’s cravat when the distinct sound of a carriage pulling up before the house caught their attention. Nate peeked out the window, turning his head to see clearly in the early morning sun.
“And so it starts,” he said with a sigh. “And it’s not even past breakfast yet.”
___
“Who is that?” Nate asked while waiting for his horse to be brought around.
Nate stared into the far section of the garden at the man walking with his father. His man turned, squinting to see past the sunlight.
“That’s the young Mr. Colbert, just arrived in town this mornin’," Thomas explained. "His father is the new master of Pendleton House, sir.”
“Do you know what brings him here so early? It’s not yet past breakfast.”
“I do believe his horse threw a shoe and he stopped to see if the stable boy could assist him in repairing it.” Thomas smiled at the mild surprise on Nate’s face. It wasn't all that common for a gentleman to be willing to take care of such matters himself, but it was a trait that Nate admired.
Much to his father's dismay Nate ran wild as often as he could. “Please think of your appearance before you simply walk into a parlor full of guests looking like you’ve been living in the wood for a fortnight.” He tried to explain to his father that he wanted more than to simply sit in the study all day pouring over ledgers, but he wouldn’t hear of it. “Just wait, Cambridge will straighten you out, my boy,” was a phrase that Nate heard on a weekly basis from the time he was fourteen and on. Eventually it became something that sounded like his father trying to reassure himself instead of trying to get a message through to his son.
“I think I’ll walk out and say hello,” Nate said.
As Nate drew closer to the pair he was able to better take in Mr. Colbert's person. He was tall, taller than the average man, with short blond hair. Nate didn't think there was anyway he could ever be inconspicuous in a crowd.
"Ah Nathaniel," his father said when he noticed his son's approach. "This is Mr. Bradley Colbert. Mr. Colbert, this is my only son, Nathaniel."
"I'm pleased to meet you Mr. Colbert," Nate said as he reached his hand out to complete the introduction. "I hear you've just arrived."
"I have," Brad said, shaking Nate's hand in kind. "Your father was so kind as to allow one of the stable hands to help me with my horse."
Nate looked over his shoulder to where Thomas was still standing, no horse in sight. He sighed, turning back to them.
"My horse seems to have disappeared between the stables and the house, and I'm afraid I am running late. If you will excuse me," Nate said with a nod to Brad and his father.
"If it's no trouble I'll walk with you," Brad said. "I'm sure my horse is ready for me now as the majority of work was already done when I left them."
"Not at all," Nate said, smiling at Brad.
Brad turned to the elder Mr. Fick, offering his thanks and a promise to return another time with his father.
"Shall we?" Nate asked, turning on his heel, Brad right by his side.
___
The sun was setting as the party sat in the drawing room that evening talking and laughing about the day’s events. Only a handful of guests had arrived that day, the bulk of them were not due in for two more days yet. Some of the ladies sat off to the side with sewing in their laps, their screens covered in flowers and tea cups. They were chatting idly to one another, eyes creased in concentration when doing a particularly difficult loop. The first cool air of the year was beginning to settle against the house so Nate had ordered for the fires to be lit early.
"I can't believe there's a chill already," Anna said, frowning out the window. "I was certain it would be another month yet before fall set upon us."
"Oh come Anna," Nate laughed. "You've always enjoyed the fall air; you just don't want to get married in the cold. Afraid you will freeze through the lace of your sleeves."
Frederick, her betrothed, laughed, knowing Annabelle well enough to know that it was the truth.
"Yes, well..." she began, looking back and forth between her brother and her soon-to-be husband, trying not to let her smile break across her face and failing at the raised eyebrows of both.
"Just think," Uncle Wynn said from the corner where he had silently been reading his newspaper, "you could be out there with Lord Nelson, trapped at sea and never warming your bones."
Nate felt his smile falter, covering it by moving to the sideboard to refill his glass of Port.
"Yes, well, I'm sure the men of the Royal Navy are at least a bit sturdier than our Annabelle here," Frederick said lightly.
Now with a full cup in his hand, Nate moved to the fire, readjusting a couple of the logs with his boot. His breath came a little more quickly than normal, and he hoped that nobody noticed. He absently touched his pocket, and the letter he kept hidden there at all times.
“I entertained the idea of joining the military once,” Frederick chuckled, jolting Nate out of his thoughts. Frederick stroked Anna’s hand, stealing a glance at her. “I’m glad I didn’t.”
“There was a time in my life when I thought that was what I wanted as well,” Nate said absently, to himself more than anybody else, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he stared into the fire.
“Is that so?” Frederick asked, surprise in his voice. “And what changed your mind?”
Nate shrugged as if it was just one of those things. “Some things were more important.”
__
“You can’t do this Nate!” Brad was practically yelling, the walls of his dormitory shaking.
“And why not?!" Nate yelled back, matching Brad blow for blow. "You are! We're not so different you and I.”
"Please," his voice cracking in earnest. "Please."
Nate stopped moving, stopped everything he was prepared to say. He could count on his left hand the number of times Brad's voice had sounded like that. It was a sound that tore at Nate's gut so much that he had to place a hand over his middle to keep himself standing, pain shooting across his face.
"Brad," Nate said softly, taking a step in his direction.
Brad held up a hand to stop him, a slight tremor noticeable with the strength it took him to try and stop Nate.
“I just couldn’t…” Brad paused, trying to steady himself. “I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you.”
His eyes were on the floor, breath catching in irregular intervals. Nate took the last few remaining steps between them, placing his hands on either side of Brad's face and raising it to meet his own.
"And what about me?" Nate's voice shaking. "How am I supposed to live knowing you're out there on some godforsaken ship in the middle of the Atlantic being shot at? How am I," he paused, resting his forehead against Brad's. "How am I supposed to live here without you?"
They stood like that in the middle of the floor for what seemed like forever. Nate's hands cupping Brad's face as they both closed their eyes, waiting for their emotions to subside.
"Lie down with me?" Brad's voice sounded more like the wind than anything solid. Nate didn't know if he really heard it or not, but it didn't matter, he would follow the ghost of Brad's words there and back. Never breaking the touch, Nate ran his hand down Brad's neck, sliding it until their fingers caught each other. Brad turned to his bed, pulling Nate with him.
The mattress was soft and wielding underneath their combined weight. They laid there facing each other, hands clasped together between them. The room was dark save for a single candle burning in the corner providing nothing more than a shimmer of light. Nate shifted closer to twist their legs together, letting out a sigh when he and Brad relaxed into the new position.
When Nate awoke later he was wrapped in Brad's arms, the candle long burnt out.
"I'm sorry," Brad said, knowing that Nate was now awake.
Nate pulled himself up so he could look at Brad's face, his blue eyes seemingly bluer from the moonlight glittering off of them.
"I'll wait for you," Nate whispered, not trusting his voice to speak any louder.
Brad closed his eyes with a quick shake of his head.
"No, don't say that," he started. "I don't expect you to. If something happens to me I wouldn't want you to...I couldn't stand the thought of you living your life alone. Don’t sacrifice that for me."
"The memory of you could never leave me feeling alone. Just promise you'll come back to me one day."
Nate could feel the hand Brad was sliding up his back all the way through is vest. When their lips met he could feel everything there between them; the years, the hours spent in each other’s company -- it was all there in the press of their lips against each other.
"Say it," Nate said with his lips still grazing Brad's.
"I promise."
___
By the following afternoon the only place to find solace in the house was either in one’s bed chamber or the study. Nate had taken to receiving the guests in the latter as he could get a moments rest there before the next carriage of visitors. Of course he had known of his sister’s and Frederick’s guest list, but seeing them descend upon his house was another matter entirely.
The view of the garden from his study window showed only a hint of what was actually there. One would have to cross to the back of the house to see the full thing, lush and full of life no matter what time of year it was. Nate had spent time with the study of plants while he was at Cambridge. He made it so there was always something thriving back there, the place never completely barren.
With a glance at the clock Nate arose, shrugging off his jacket. If he hurried he could make it before dinner, if not, Annabelle could host them. It’s not like she hadn’t done it many times before.
He made it out of the house without so much as a notice. Most of the gentlemen were in the library, and the women were huddled in the drawing room going over details for the wedding.
Nate closed his eyes, breathing deep, drawing the air into his chest and holding it there where he held everything else that mattered.
As the first stride flew through him, legs pushing against the dirt, Nate felt the wind against his face, the years flying past. Within minutes the house was no longer in sight and it was just him and his pulse beating in his ears.
His legs moved on their own, carrying him through the countryside. Nate could feel the sweat dripping down his back reminding him of the fingers that used to dance there before urging him on. They gave him strength then, and they still did now.
He ran until he couldn’t breathe, until it didn’t feel like he running alone any longer, but moving fluidly through time. “Quercus,” he absently thought as he hurdled over a fallen tree, surging into the woods.
___
“What?” Brad asked with an upward tilt of his head.
“I said Quercus.”
“You know I hate it when you spout that nonsense at me,” Brad said with a roll of his eyes. He was sitting on the ground with his back up against the tree that Nate had just named in Latin.
“Well it wouldn’t be nonsense if you would study your books like you were supposed to,” Nate said, hitting Brad with the side of his boot.
“I think you study enough for the both of us, Fick.”
Nate sighed, closing his book. “Suit yourself then. But when you’re failing all your classes this fall don’t come to me.” Nate knew that Brad was a genius. There was no way he’d ever fail a class; he could do most of his work and Nate’s in his sleep, which it must be said, had been done on a few occasions the previous year.
Brad stood up, leaning next to Nate.
“I’m not some inbred from the West Country, Nate,” he said. “I can read and do my numbers just fine.”
Nate smiled as he removed his jacket. “There’s more to life than reading and numbers.”
Brad quirked an eyebrow at him, half his mouth turned up. “Is that so? And these things are…?”
But Nate just shrugged as if he wasn't going to answer as he laid his book and jacket on the ground.
“Ductus Exemplo, Brad.”
And then he turned, running off into the opposite direction. He didn’t stop to check if Brad was after him. Nate knew he would be, and only a matter of seconds before he caught up. Nate could sense the wind change behind him when Brad got there, his jacket left behind with Nate’s. When Nate would start to lag Brad would run his hand from the center of Nate’s back down to the small, linger there and then press him forward.
Sometimes Nate wondered if Brad realized he did this, that he didn’t just move him along in a playful manner which so many other boys did while racing. But then, Nate also knew that Brad only did things he meant.
They ran for miles, one leading the other, ever changing depending on the terrain. When they circled back again coming to a stop where their jackets awaited them, both of their faces were flushed and smiling. Nate had to push his hair out of face to keep the sweat from dipping down into his eyes.
“Are you going to tell me what that means?” Brad asked, chest heaving.
“Lead by Example.”
Brad shook his head as he picked up his and Nate’s jackets. “Are you trying to lead me to better myself by being obnoxiously good at everything?” he asked.
“That depends,” Nate said, reluctantly sliding back into his heavy coat. “Would you follow me?”
Brad stared at him and Nate could feel the answer there, floating out into the dusk. But Brad didn’t answer him, at least not out loud. He slung his arm over Nate’s shoulder and turned them towards home. “Come on,” he said. “Your father’s going to kill you if you show up to dinner in this state.”
___
That night he dreamt of Brad.
They were in Lyme walking along the coast in the early morning, just a hint of the sun struggling to rise in the distance. Nate looked at Brad as he stared out into the ocean. He had always loved watching Brad engaged in something that caught his interest. The way his head would tilt with a slight squint of the eye like he was working to decipher some code, had always entranced Nate for some reason.
"I love the way the ocean smells," Brad said, closing his eyes. "Don't you love it here, Nate?"
"Yes," Nate said, unable to look away from Brad. "I love it."
Brad turned to look at him, eyes shining brightly. "Come on; let's go down to The Cobb."
The next instant they were there, standing with the ocean all around them. Spray shooting up over the rocks soaking their clothes. They stood strong against it, unwilling to let it push them.
"I wish you would come back to me," Nate said, the wind carrying his words out to be swallowed by the sea.
"What?" Brad asked, shouting over the rush of water around them.
"Come back!" Nate yelled, squinting through the sudden shock of the wind picking up.
Brad turned to him, opening his mouth to answer when a wave crashed hard over the rocks. Nate felt himself encased in Brad's arms that sheltered him from the onslaught. When it subsided Nate looked up, water droplets stuck on Brad's eyelashes as he smiled down at him. Nate laughed at their situation, clinging to one another as water sprays them, grinning from ear to ear.
Nate rose to the tips of his toes, pressing his lips to Brad's, the taste of salt water there.
I think you've always tasted like the ocean, Nate thought. Brad blushed slightly as though he could hear Nate's thoughts.
Brad let go of him, turning to face the water. I've always needed you more than you've needed me, Brad's voice said as it floated back to Nate. As Nate took a step forward to grab him, tell him that he's wrong, Brad turned to look at him, his blue eyes dark with despair as he let himself fall into the tide.
Nate froze as crippling nausea flowed through him. "Brad," Nate croaked, unable to get enough air. He ran to the edge and jumped off after Brad, falling, falling, never hitting the water.
He awoke with a start, gripping the bed for dear life. Sweat drenched him head to toe as he struggled to push himself up. Nate fought to control his breathing as he thrust his feet over the edge of the bed; his collar tearing at his throat. In a fit of panic Nate ripped his shirt off, throwing it across the room. He sat there as sweat dripped down his torso and back repeating to himself that it was only a dream, nothing more. Hoping that it was nothing more.
___
The following day was filled with guests arriving, estate business to contend with, and Nate's growing paranoia over Brad's whereabouts. He managed to be gone most of the day, which was a much better prospect than the idea of sitting in the house all day with nothing but idle chat.
By the time Nate arrived back home it was well after dinner. He was walking slowly up the drive when Thomas ran out to him.
"Mr. Fick," he hurried. "There are two men waiting for you in the drawing room."
Nate looked at him soundly, thinking back to the people who were due to arrive for the celebrations. Surely Thomas, or at least Annabelle, would've known who they were.
"What are their names?" he asked as they stepped into the entryway. "Did they say what their business was?"
Thomas shook his head. "They are Misters Person and Hasser, and they only said that they came to speak with you."
Nate swayed on the spot, grabbing the side-table for balance. No, he thought. Not like this. Not this way! Their names flew to the forefront of his mind; he had read in several of Brad's letters that he had befriended a young soldier by the name of Josh Ray Person, and got the even younger Walter Hasser in turn, a boy who was rarely away from Person's side.
Thomas was at his elbow in an instant.
"Are you okay, sir?" he asked in alarm. "Your face is white as a ghost. Please sit down, or at least let me get you some wine."
"No I'm fine." Nate straightened, tugging his clothes into order before running a hand through his hair. "I'll see them now."
When he entered the room his eyes centered in on the men he had never met before in his life, but felt a bond to immediately. Sitting there in their uniforms, Nate couldn’t help but picture Brad there. Once he had unexpectedly showed up on leave, he sat there smiling at Nate as he entered the room. It was the last time Nate had seen him.
Nate's Uncle Wynn was discussing the war with them, pleased to have people around who could maybe provide him with information the newspapers couldn't. Several of Nate’s younger female cousins who had come for the wedding were in the corner stealing glances at the two men in uniform, whispering about their looks.
The pair jumped to their feet when they noted Nate's arrival.
"Mr. Person and Mr. Hasser, I presume," Nate said amiably, shaking their hands. "Might you join me in my study? I'm sure you are in need of something stronger than wine after your journey."
The moment the door closed behind him Nate went to the table holding his decanter, a slight tremor in his hands as he poured their drinks. Nate drank his in one gulp, closing his eyes at the burn down his throat. When he opened them the men were staring at him.
"I'm sorry," Nate said. "It's just; I recall your names from a friend." He could hear how he stumbled over his words, trying to stay calm. "And please, call me Nate."
"That's actually why we're here, Sir," Ray said, looking nervous.
Nate motioned for them to sit by the fire. If they were going to have this talk Nate wanted to be seated, and ready for whatever they might throw at him.
"Hasser and I were stationed with Brad Colbert,” Ray started. “We worked with him for the better part of a year. But then we were sent on different assignments, and well…."
Ray looked at Walt for support, struggling with the best way to say whatever it was he was trying to say. Walt shifted in his chair, pushing back a bit of hair that had fallen out of its tie before he began speaking in place of Ray.
"We knew Brad had a close friend here, an old friend he knew from before the war started. And well...we lost contact with him about a year ago and we thought maybe…maybe you...."
Eight months after my last letter, Nate thought.
Nate felt his breath catch, his attempts to remain calm failing. Ray was watching him, not in an obvious sort of manner, but he had to have sensed the change in Nate’s demeanor. Nate couldn't decide how to feel. He had last heard from Brad eighteen months ago, and these two had confirmation that he was still alive and well a year ago.
"That's kind of the reason we're here Nate," Ray said, using his Christian name for the first time. "We wanted to know," he started, pausing with a look to Walt. "We wanted to know if you had received any word from him."
"I haven't heard from him for nearly a year and a half," Nate told Ray as the worry of it all surfaced from actually saying it out loud to another person. "I'm sorry I can't be of more help," he said, trying to detach himself emotionally from the situation.
Ray and Walt exchanged a look, eyebrows twitching as if they were speaking in place of their voices. Nate watched them, his hand grazing the pocket of his vest, Brad's note still safely in its place.
“Here, let me refresh your drinks.” Nate needed to move, needed to be out from underneath their gazes. They thanked him, sinking further back into their chairs, looking very much deflated even in their starched uniforms.
As Nate settled back down into his chair, Walt found his voice again.
“How long have you known Colbert?” he said, going for some common ground.
Nate smiled wistfully, just a small upturn of the corner of his mouth. “Oh I’d say going on seven years now. He moved here the year before we started Cambridge together.”
Ray laughed, stifling it quickly with his hand. “Brad went to Cambridge!? I’m sorry, I just thought always pictured him tracking Stags in the wild north and killing them with his bare hands.”
“That was actually how we celebrated my twenty-second birthday,” Nate said, face as serious as if he was explaining the most complicated theorem.
Walt knocked Ray in the shoulder to stop his gaping at Nate. “Good God, Person,” Walt said to him. “Of course Brad went to school, where do you think he learned all that Latin he spits out at random times.”
“Oh yeah!” Ray said, remembering. “What was it he used to say when I would begin to act up? Reducto Explif? No. Decotas Implasum?”
“Ductus Exemplo,” Nate said, garnering looks from both of them. “I taught him that.”
Silence filled the room. It was getting late, full dark had set outside and the room was lit only by the fire. Nate felt like they were trapped in time, lost in their pocket of light remembering a man they both knew differently. Ray and Walt sipped their Brandy lost in their own heads.
“So,” Nate cleared his throat, clearing the air. “How did you two meet?”
_
Hours later Nate knew more than he thought anybody would ever need or want to know about Josh Ray Person and all his friends. He asked questions until there weren’t any left to ask, until he knew everything about their time with Brad. They answered with enthusiasm whether or not they realized that’s what Nate was going for or not.
The clock chiming one broke them out of their memories.
“We should be going,” Walt said. “We’re due to leave by Noon tomorrow.”
“Please stay here for the night,” Nate told them. “I won’t make you ride back to town at this time of night.”
“Really sir, don’t trouble yourself.”
“It’s no trouble, and it’s Nate,” he said, ringing for a servant.
A few minutes later a young man arrived at the study door. Nate informed him that the two gentlemen there were to be his guests for the night, and if he would please ride to town to gather their bags from the Inn he would make sure he got a little extra in earnings this month.
“Wait a moment if you will,” he said to the lad. “Mr. Person is going to write a note for you to give the landlady in case there’s any problem.”
Nate told Ray to help himself to the paper in the top drawer of his desk as he stepped out of the room to ensure everything was prepared for them.
When he returned a moment later Walt was leaning against the fireplace staring into the flames as Ray stood transfixed by something on Nate’s desk. Clearing his throat, Nate brought his presence to their attention. Ray looked a little flustered as he folded up his note, sealing it and handing it off to Nate.
“We can’t thank you enough,” Ray said as they parted ways for the night, shaking hands with familiarity this time.
“Just ring if you need anything in the night.”
Once they were gone, Nate finally let himself relax against the door. Why now? he thought. Why must this happen on the eve of Anna and Frederick’s wedding? Why?
He moved about the room straightening books, moving the glasses they had used, unable to rest, not knowing what to do with himself anymore. Coming around his desk he saw that the drawer Person had gotten the paper from was still open. He leaned over to close it and froze, hand stuck in mid air. How could he forget? How could be so stupid? Sitting there in a neat stack were twenty-five letters from Brad. Not all of them, no, the rest were in his chamber. Ray had to have known what they were; a man can’t spend that much time with someone and not recognize their handwriting. Nate slumped down in his chair, hand reaching for the letters with care.
“Brad,” he whispered. “Where are you?”
_
“I’m over here,” Brad said giving nothing more away.
Nate walked to the back half of the library, searching the alcoves there for Brad. He found him in his favorite chair, feet resting on the plush stool at his feet.
“What are you doing back here?” Nate asked, picking up Brad’s feet and moving them to the side so he could sit down.
Brad just looked at him, his blue eyes shining in the dim light of the library. He would be leaving in a few days. They were trying not to talk about it, not to think about the distance, but it was impossible.
“I was just copying something down,” Brad said, folding the piece of paper he had been writing on when Nate found him. Nate leaned to the side in an attempt to see what book Brad had, but couldn’t in the dim light. Brad pushed him back with his foot, smiling as he moved the book further back into the chair.
“Mind your own business, Fick.”
Nate jumped up suddenly, hopping to the side to straddle Brad’s ankles. “It’s my library, Brad. Your business is my business,” he said, quirking up an eyebrow in challenge.
Just then, Brad thrust forward grabbing Nate by the arms and pulling him to his body. Nate went willingly, easing up into the chair so now he was straddling Brad’s hips. Nate moaned into Brad’s mouth as they met, his tongue sliding along Brad’s. He could feel Brad everywhere, a hand on the back of his head, cupping his neck, running down his arms. Nate shuddered against him as chills followed Brad’s hands everywhere, breaking through layers of clothing. He held on while they kissed, hands grasping Brad’s shoulders, probably hard enough to leave a mark.
Nate felt it when Brad ran his hand down his chest and slipped the paper he had been folding into his vest pocket. He grabbed Brad’s hand, holding it there at his torso. But Brad shook his head, breaking the kiss. “Not ‘til I’m gone. Don’t read it until you can’t take it anymore Nate.”
_
“Nate…Nate…,” Thomas whispered as he shook Nate awake. “You should get to bed, sir. I’ll clean this up.”
Nate had fallen asleep at his desk, the letters from Brad resting there underneath where Nate was lying on his arm. He moved his hand, feeling the crumbled sheet of paper he kept in his vest pocket at all times. Nate slid it back into his pocket as inconspicuously as he could.
“That’s quite alright, Thom,” Nate said, sleep filled sadness taking over his voice. “Leave it.”
“It’ll just take a moment,” he said, reaching to shove the papers into a pile.
“I said leave it!” Nate yelled, slamming his fist down on the desk.
Thomas stopped, staring at him like he’d never seen him before. Nate rarely to never raised his voice with anybody, but here at 3 a.m. in the still of the early morning Nate couldn’t hold it back anymore. He couldn’t take it anymore.
“I’m sorry,” Nate said, slumping back into his chair, the fight leaving him as quickly as it came. “It’s been a very trying evening.”
“No word on Mr. Colbert then?” Thomas asked, concern consuming his features.
Nate’s head snapped up as he fought to find the words. “How did…? How long…? Please don’t….”
Thomas stopped him. “Nate,” he said as he dropped all formality, setting a hand on Nate’s shoulder. “I’ve known you practically your whole life,” was all he said. Nate reached up and squeezed his hand showing him everything he felt, but saying nothing. Thomas turned to go, leaving Nate to the dark, to his thoughts.
“I think it’s time, Sir,” he said as he closed the door behind him.
Nate stared at the closed door. How could he be so dim? Of course Thomas would’ve seen it, would’ve known all this time but said nothing. As his hand absentmindedly grazed his pocket his body went rigid. It’s time. Nate’s hands shook as he opened the letter, crumpled and worn from years of handling.
A manic laugh filled the study as Nate looked down at the paper: Latin. The whole thing was in Latin.
In an instant Nate was tearing through the house. It all made sense now, the library, the book; it had to have been one of his Latin books. He entered the library, the door banging against the wall with the force he pushed through it. Using the light from the moon as it streamed in through the windows Nate searched. “Where are you?” he said in vain as he ran through the stacks.
Nate skidded to a halt, his eyes catching the gilded bindings of his language books. He searched until he found all of the ones pertaining to Latin, taking them all so there would be no chance of him missing a word, of missing a phrase.
The sun was rising when Nate finally finished deciphering it all. His eyes burned with exhaustion and tears as he read it over and over again.
To die by your side would be a heavenly way to die.
Always Faithful.
He couldn’t imagine how long it had taken Brad to translate it, how long he must have secretly been studying Latin to get it right. And now Nate could do nothing but stare at it and let all the years and all the memories consume him, feel them as his tears ran down his face.
___
The house had already begun to stir as Nate made his way to his bed chamber. The servants were bustling too and fro in an effort to make sure everything was prepared for Miss Annabelle’s celebration that evening.
Nate wanted nothing more than to leave the house, stroll through the hills and valleys as he spoke to nobody save for his memories of Brad, which often kept him company. But today was not about him and what he wanted. It was his sister’s wedding day. A day to do his duty as the best brother and father-figure to her he could be. Nate couldn’t disappoint her on her day.
He dressed quickly, splashing water on his face in an effort to wash away the night. But looking in the mirror he still looked tired and distant. When Thomas entered the room to aid him he said nothing, a fact that Nate greatly appreciated this morning. The only concern shown was the extra care he took in Nate’s appearance. Thomas made sure his dress was as neat as possible; the green of his jacket making Nate’s eyes shine whether he was jovial or not.
“Thank You, Thomas,” Nate said as he turned, leaving the room.
Voices were floating down the corridor as he made his way out of the family wing. He turned the corner to find Ray and Walt standing there, lost deep in conversation. Walt’s hair was not pulled back as it had been last night making him appear older. Nate wondered if Brad looked the same. Would he look noticeably older the next time they met? If they ever meet again, that is.
The trio made their way to the breakfast room, idle chat filling the time it took them to settle into their chairs. It was still quite early in the morning and most of the guests were still in their chambers, only a few early risers were also enjoying their breakfast at this hour. Their conversation during the meal was light, holding nothing of the night before. They left that all behind them in the dark.
After their meal Nate walked in between them as they made their way out into the morning, ready to ride back to their encampment.
“Please,” Nate said, shaking their hands, “feel free to visit here as often as you’re able.”
Just then a squeal came from the house. Nate grimaced as he heard his sister coming towards him. “Nathaniel!” she said in earnest. “I’m getting married today. Oh isn’t it the greatest day ever?!” Annabelle stopped suddenly, only just noticing the two strangers to her who stood with her brother.
“I believe that’s our cue to leave,” Ray said as he and Walt mounted their horses, both giving a smile and nod to the pair as they rode off.
Nate turned to his sister, wrapping an arm around her. “Yes Annabelle,” he said, hiding his face with the act of walking them back into the house. “I could not be happier.”
__
Naturally the ceremony was beautiful. Nate appropriately watched in reverence as his sister wed. The happiness on her face was enough to make him remember a time in his life when he was truly happy, a time before the distance. Afterward Nate sat in his room in an effort to grab an hour or so of rest as the ladies retired to their quarters to refresh themselves before the ball was to begin.
As Nate entered the ballroom he was in awe of the job his sister had done in arranging it all. He walked throughout the room receiving more congratulatory handshakes and nods than he'd ever gotten for a personal accomplishment. Then again, being father to Annabelle for the last few years was difficult at times, and he was proud to see her married to a man as honorable as Frederick. Maybe he did deserve a little congratulation after all. Maybe being a father to Annabelle was what he was meant to do - what was destined for him when he wanted something greater for his life, something transformative.
When the guests had all gathered the quartet began to play, their bows gliding over the strings, beautiful music filling the Hall. Nate closed his eyes for a second before taking his place on the floor.
__
They couldn’t dance together, but there were those rare moments in a dance when the men’s hands must touch, moving in such a way to make room for the lady. Nate secretly lived for these moments, Brad’s hand closing around his, a finger sliding down to graze his wrist, the slight circle of movement there, their eyes catching. Nate thought it often felt like they were partners even though it could never happen.
"It's bloody hot in here," Brad whispered to Nate as the third set they danced came to an end.
"Such language, Colbert. What will they think of you?" Nate said smiling, nudging Brad with his elbow as they walked toward the door and out into the cool fall air.
"They probably wonder what a choir boy like you is doing in the company of such an unsavory character," he said in his best school master voice.
They settled against a wall off to the corner of the house, out of view of the party inside. Nate looked at Brad out of the corner of his eye.
"I'm not a choir boy, Brad."
"I know," Brad said. "Choir boys are much better dancers than you are."
“I’m an excellent dancer,” Nate scoffed. “It’s you with your nine feet of limbs that can’t keep in time,” he said, shoving Brad on the arm.
Only Brad grabbed his hand as it was in mid-air and pulled Nate up into his space. “I can keep perfect time,” he threatened, but his eyes saying something different. Nate smiled, “Of course, you do everything perfect,” he said, sliding imperceptibly closer to Brad. Brad’s eyes took in Nate’s lips, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed against the breath trying to escape his lungs. Nate’s mouth opened as he unconsciously wet his bottom lip.
They were so close that Nate could feel Brad exhale before closing the inches between them, his lips grazing softly over Nate’s. Nate grabbed his lapels as he tilted his head up, moving his mouth against Brad’s.
Over the past year and a half they had done a lot of things together. They swam in the swimming hole, fallen asleep on the same bed while studying, and so many other things that looked like nothing, but were everything at the moment. But this, this was new.
Suddenly Brad stepped back. “Damn,” he cursed to himself.
“I’m sorry.” Brad started backtracking, pulling further from Nate. “I didn’t mean to….”
Nate smirked at him, he knew the look on his face had to be predatory.
“Why not Brad? Do you think I don’t want this? Do you think I haven’t wanted you since that first moment I saw you across the lawn?” Nate said, taking a very deliberate step closer to Brad. “Well I have.”
Nate grunted with the impact from his back hitting the wall as Brad shoved him hard against it. His world is suddenly nothing but Brad and his mouth swallowing down Nate's groan of approval. Not wanting Brad to back away again, Nate snaked a leg around the back of Brad's calf, holding them together.
Brad gasped as Nate pressed himself up against him, their breath coming quick. Nate held him tight, reveling in finally having the feel of Brad against him become a reality.
"We should have done that ages ago," Brad whispered into Nate's hair where his face was pressed. "I would have," he continued, "but I wasn't sure, and didn't think I could handle you challenging me to a duel for your honor."
Nate bent his head and placed a kiss on Brad's shoulder. "I'm sure you know me better than that," Nate said. "I'm sure you know me better than anybody."
This kiss was different than the first. Brad nearly growled as he took Nate's mouth, their tongues pressing and sliding, willing each other further. Nate squeezed him tighter as Brad leaned his whole being into Nate, thankful the wall was there to hold them up.
A voice broke through their minds at nearly the same time. It was a man searching for his partner, nothing out of the ordinary. Nate and Brad froze on the spot, wrapped completely around each other, each panting as their chests rose and fell together. Nate could feel the blush as it spread up his cheeks; a blush that was cooled by Brad placing a kiss on each cheek.
They pulled apart but kept contact, unable to completely relinquish their touch. Brad reached up, running a hand down Nate's cheek, continuing down his neck before settling on his should. "Come on," he said, voice not as steady as it usually was. "We should get back inside before we're missed."
Nate shook his head as he moved to cup the back of Brad's neck, looking him directly in the eyes. "It doesn't matter what anyone in there thinks," he told Brad. "The only people whose opinions matter are right here."
___
With a bow to his partner, Nate walked back into the crowd, weaving through groups of cheerful couples. He passed by the smiles and the well-wishes nodding and sharing in their joy.
As he moved about the room a face in the window caught his eye, causing him to freeze on the spot. Could it be? Nate thought as he made to push through the crowd. He’d know that face anywhere; the line of the jaw, the height which was apparent even through a reflection, and the eyes, shining blue through the night, it all screamed of Brad.
Nate was running now having broken out of the throng of people. The night air hit him like a brick wall after the stifling heat of the dance as he pushed further into the unknown. He skidded around the side of the building, sliding on the grass. I’m almost there, Brad, he screamed in head. Please wait, don’t leave without me again! Nate sped up as he reached the back where the windows to the Hall were situated. He grabbed a hold of the corner as he slipped again, but this time unable to right himself he fell onto the wet ground. Looking up frantically for any sign of Brad, he saw nothing. There was nobody here but the people dancing inside, him laying in the grass, and the smell of ocean filling his head.
___
In the end they all left.
Annabelle and Frederick went back to his estate, the family and friends who had come returned to their homes, and Nate…well Nate stayed.
The cool fall nights turned into a winter where Nate locked himself in his study for hours hiding from the freeze that threatened to fill him as well as the country if he didn’t take care. But as with all things, the world kept turning and the seasons kept changing until one day, one day….
“I’ve always loved how the Lavender fills the air here in the spring.”
“Me too,” Nate said as he continued to examine the plant he was holding, breathing deeply. “I miss you.”
“I've missed you too, but you don’t have to miss me anymore.”
“You’re not here, how am I supposed to stop missing you. I don’t even know where you are.” This wasn’t the first time Nate had heard Brad’s voice while roaming the garden, or any other number of activities that left him at peace.
Nate heard a chuckle behind him. “Turn around, Nate.”
Apparently the world does stop because in this moment Nate didn’t know how to continue breathing. His chin dropped to his chest as he screwed his eyes shut, his breath coming in gasps. He stayed like this for only a moment before an arm wrapped around him, pulling Nate back into an embrace.
“Brad…?” Nate gasped, his hand rising to grasp Brad’s arm around his front.
Nate could feel the ragged breath Brad had been holding released when he sunk further against him, chest to back. The air smelled like Lavender and the ocean as Brad nestled his head into the crook of Nate’s neck, getting as close as he could for the moment.
"Nate...Nate...," Brad mumbled over and over again against Nate as they held onto each other.
And then it was all too much for Nate, he had to see Brad's face, he had to see all of him. He spun around, his breath still coming out in uneasy bursts. Brad was there in front of him. Nate cupped his face with both hands, his fingers grasping at the longer strands of Brad's hair that hung down around his face. He looked older to Nate, like the sea had gotten the better of him a time or two, but it only made him more beautiful in Nate's eyes. It was as if Brad had challenged the sea and won.
Brad just stood there as he let Nate touch him, occasionally leaning into the feel of Nate's hands on his face. Nate's eyes traveled down across the uniform and coming to a stop on the cane that Brad was holding, his weight inconspicuously leaning into it. Brad's hand twitched in nervousness at the notice of where Nate's gaze had landed. The hands that were cupping Brad's face traveled down his neck and arms, one coming to rest at his hip, the other resting upon the hand that grasped the cane tightly. Nate looked back into Brad's eyes willing him to see all the love and acceptance there. Brad nodded once and Nate was sliding up into his space, his hand holding Brad's hips up against his own.
When their lips met for the first time in three years Nate was certain that there was nothing else in life he would ever need than that of Brad Colbert. Their mouths pressed together as lightly as the first time they had ever kissed, but it was made up of so much more than what they had shared back then. They sighed into each other's mouths, deepening the kiss. Brad groaned deep in the back of his throat as Nate grabbed a hold of his hair, holding him there. The only other sound Nate heard was the clink of wood against the ground as Brad let go of his cane, wrapping himself completely around Nate. It was the first time in years that Nate had felt the kind of safety he felt in Brad's presence.
___
"You can tell me," Nate said as they sat in his study.
Earlier Nate re-adjusted the chairs so they were closer to each other, but still within enough space of the fire for the light to shine on their faces. Brad's hand found Nate's.
_
"Three per line!" Brad yelled over the roar of the ocean. "Three!"
The men could hardly hear him as water pounded on board. Brad held up his hand indicating how many men he needed and they snapped to order. They had sailed into a storm while chasing a French ship away from the coast. Brad had been directing the men to draw down the sails when the Mizzen was snapped by the wind.
"Colbert move!" Midshipman Trombley yelled in an attempt to garner Brad's attention, even though there was no way he would be able to hear over the storm.
However the loud crack of the wood, which cut through the air like a canon shot, caused Brad to turn just in time to save his head from being smashed. He was left there on the soaking deck, his body being pinned underneath.
Brad could do nothing but lie there as the men gathered around him, working to lift the massive piece of wood. He could faintly hear his Lieutenant Pullings directing the men. When they pulled him free pain shot through him.
“Take him down to Dr. Maturin and quick!” Pullings yelled as the men scooped Brad up, his body more like a rag doll than a warrior.
_
“For weeks I knew nothing but the roll of the ocean and the murmurs of death all around me,” Brad said, his grip on Nate’s hand growing tighter by the minute. Nate just held on, letting Brad hold as tightly as he needed to.
“I thought I was dead already, and the men skirted around me like I was a Jonah aboard their ship. It wasn’t until we reached land that I was handed over into the care of Doctor Timothy Bryan.”
_
“You’re one lucky bastard to still be alive,” Doc Bryan said as he read through the notes Dr. Maturin had compiled for him. “Well, maybe just stubborn.”
Brad only heard half of what Doc Bryan said as he slipped in and out of consciousness. He would awake at moments finding things different about his person.
Blackness.
Leg Splint.
Blackness.
Bandage over Ribs.
Blackness.
Covered in Ice.
Blackness.
And on and on for what seemed like ever.
_
“I thought I was a dead man,” Brad whispered. “I wasn’t foolish; I knew that it was only a matter of time before my body gave up on me.”
Nate worked to steady himself, his body nearly shaking with everything he’d felt for nearly two years. He couldn’t make himself speak, all he could do was sit there and listen, trapped by the story he was hearing.
“I’m sorry,” Brad said. “I should have written. I was just….”
“No,” Nate said, moving to sit on the arm of his chair so he was closer to Brad. “Don’t apologize to me. It’s all okay now.”
Brad looked up at him, his hair having fallen in his face as he spoke Nate reached to push it back, resting his hand on Brad’s cheek. “It’s fine.”
Nate moved back to his chair with Brad still holding onto his hand as a lifeline.
They faded into silence, both of them staring at the fire, refusing to lose contact from the other. Nate sat watch as Brad’s breathing slowed, his head coming to rest on the back of the chair. He looked at this man he had known for nearly a decade, who he knew at one point better than he knew himself. He watched until his eyes closed against the heat of the fireplace.
The sound of a ragged gasp followed by his arm being pulled hard to the side woke Nate. The fire had died down and the room had gone chilly. Nate looked around confused for a moment before his eyes focused on Brad, mumbling in his sleep, jerking back and forth, his breath coming in fast spurts.
Nate jumped up from his chair, tearing his hand from Brad’s so he could grasp him by the face.
“Brad…Brad, wake up,” Nate said, willing him to open his eyes.
Brad awoke with a gasp, his eyes searching blindly until he found Nate in front of him.
“Nate,” he exhaled, bringing his hands up to hold his shoulders.
There was a beat and then Brad pulled Nate down on top of him, bringing their mouths together. Nate moved his hands from Brad’s face, sliding one back around the back of his head to cradle his neck, while the other held onto the back of the chair in order to steady them. Brad held onto him for dear life, kissing him like it was the first and last time he’d ever get to do it; like his life depended on it.
He broke away, laying his head on Nate’s shoulder.
“You should get some sleep,” Nate said almost too quiet to hear. Brad just nodded as they untangled themselves from the chair.
"Will lie down with me?" Brad asked as they reached the door of the study. Nate ran his hand down Brad's arm, sliding it until their fingers caught each other as he closed the door behind them.