In the last outback at the world's end

[tezcatl_ipoca]

10th May, Midmorning
The WhitechapelI have hardly rested, with the ache of that pull inwards in these bones. It has eased within the town but still tugs me eastward; I refuse to answer it. I have walked on through the town on these injured feet and out the other side. I have no desire to be here: no desire to be conscious as I am, to be. I was

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[jaeresteade]

I watch Lucien leave, fists clenched, still shaking a little. Bastard. Go over to the bar and pour myself a plain soda with lemon. Hurts just to hold the glass, but I think I can use the hand. Just as long as we don't get too busy.

Shit. I sit down hard on the nearest stool, thinking about work, about what the hell I can do with a hurt hand. Or no hand at all. I close my eyes and try to breathe. I'll keep it clean, put poultices on it if I have to. It'll heal. I've had worse. I've had worse, but never on my handValmont pokes his head in, but I can't think of anything to say, and after a while he takes himself off. I sit with my drink and try not to think about anything. Not Lucien or needles or infection or things being cut off. Not anything at all

[tezcatl_ipoca]

I like the way he smiles at me. It makes something in my back unknot, the way the hot water is. "In any case, many of the people here at the Whitechapel have had hard times in the past, and so it seems right to help travellers passing through." I hope I'm only passing through, that I can go back into nothingness. This is too painful, in many ways. "Most people wouldn't think of the Whitechapel as a sanctuary, and it's certainly not as calm as a church, but I've found a sort of peace here."

I know I don't want to be in a church, though I couldn't tell him why. But a thought occurs to me, and my smile goes. "I can't pay. I have no money." Will he make me leave?

[valmont_vicomte]

"I know," I say. "It's alright, Micah. You're not a customer. And it's a little soon for you to think of us as friends, so I don't know what this is, really, but I'm happy to help you. And maybe one day you'll do me a favour, and maybe you won't." I shrug. "You'll rest until you're stronger, and then we'll figure out what to do, but until then you don't need to worry about it." I come over and sit on the edge of the bath. "Truly." I pass him the soap. "Now get clean," I add, smiling. "You are horribly filthy."

[tezcatl_ipoca]

"I know. It's alright, Micah." I breathe out.

"I will owe you a favour," I say, very seriously. "I will pay you back, Valmont. For your - kindness." That's the right word. There's a long tingle up my spine, something stronger behind the words than just my intention.

He sits on the edge of the bath, and his closeness makes the shiver move up into my neck, hairs rising. I take the soap and work up lather, scrub chest and armpits. It's a pleasant sort of feeling. I smell the soap: a clean smell, a slight sting at the back of my nose. I rinse, scrub again. Touch dirty hair uncertainly, then duck down under the water, come up spluttering and rub soap into that as well. "Will you help me stand?" I don't see how to wash the rest of me otherwise.

[valmont_vicomte]

He's so very serious, the way it's hard to be once you're much older than he is. And so I don't smile at his promise, I just nod.

"Will you help me stand?"

"Of course," I say, and shrug off my jacket since I don't want to get it wet. I haul him up, and he definitely smells better now. I put an arm around his waist - "forgive the familiarity, but you might slip with your feet still so sore, and I don't want you to break your neck." Water soaks through my sleeve. "Scrub away." This is quite the closest I've been to another man's groin in a while, I think with some amusement. Never a dull day in Excolo.

[tezcatl_ipoca]

I am a little unsteady, when I stand. His arm is firm around me, and -

I look down. It is not an unpleasant feeling, though unexpected. It makes me want to lean into him, though I don't. I suppose I should wash it, so I reach for the soap and lather myself again.

...That definitely feels good.

[valmont_vicomte]

Obviously I don't look at him as he washes his lower half, that would be rather uncouth. But when he makes a little huff of sound I glance down, and - Ah. Well. He is a teenager, and he's not exactly the first teenager to react like that to me, either. I just don't normally see it as...clearly. I clear my throat.

"You can probably rinse off now," I say, and help him sit back down. "I'll see if I can find you something clean to wear while you...relax." I slip out of the room, and manage not to laugh as I do. Poor boy. At least he seems too confused still to be embarrassed about it.

I remember that I've put aside some old clothes to donate to the church - they pass out secondhand clothes - so I find a shirt, perfectly decent except for some slight staining at the collar which barely anyone would notice but I know is there, and a pair of pyjama trousers in a dark enough fabric that they could just about pass for regular pants. I take them back upstairs, and pause outside the door, but I can't hear any signs of - relaxing, so I go back

[tezcatl_ipoca]

I'm a little disappointed when he tells me to sit down and helps me back into the water, because it did feel good. I like the feel of his hands on me as he helps me. When he leaves I worry for a moment that I did something wrong, but I keep washing dirt off various parts of myself and after a little while in the warm water the stiffness goes away. I don't feel very relaxed, though. The body's skin tingles all through, restlessly. It's like hunger.

I hear him come back upstairs and pause outside the door. I can almost feel him there, the beat of his heart and the warmth of his skin. Come in, Valmont.

He does, and there are clothes over his arm. I rinse my hair a final time: "I think I'm clean now. Except my feet, perhaps. I didn't want to put soap on the stitches."

[valmont_vicomte]

"After the iodine I'm sure your feet are clean enough," I say. I put the clothes on the chair and find a towel. "Let's get you out," I say, and am relieved when he stands to see he's more at ease, as it were.

"You can wear these old things of mine," I say. "They're cleaner than yours." That's an understatement. I wonder if Jarmyn's back from the cafe, and I'm quite relieved he didn't walk in on bathtime, all things considered.

[tezcatl_ipoca]

When he helps me out of the bath, his hands feel cooler on my skin. It makes me think of how I bit Jarmyn, though I don't know why. "You can wear these old things of mine. They're cleaner than yours."

The towel takes most of the water off me. I pick up the clothes and sniff them: a soapiness, and a very faint hint of Valmont's skin. I pull the clothes on, and they are more comfortable on my skin, it's true. I stroke the fabric of the shirt. It's soft and slightly worn. I wonder if he thinks they are alright on me.

I wonder where the whiskey is, too. He sent Jarmyn to bring it, and food. "I feel better," I tell him, and I sound a little surprised, because I wouldn't have thought of washing myself to feel better.

[jaeresteade]

I don't mind being sent to get food, because it's something to do. Just wasn't feeling very useful hanging around. So I run over to the Miskatonic and order three roast beef sandwiches and two coffees, which they're kind enough to pack up for me. I promise on my immortal soul to bring back the mugs and napkins, and then take everything back to the Inn. I grab the bottle of whiskey on my way past the bar and carry it all upstairs. The bedroom's empty, so I poke my head in the bathroom.

Valmont's coat's off, and Micah looks damp and considerably cleaner. Clear what happened there, then, and what an interesting bath it must have been. "Where're we eating, Boss? And I got you coffee."

[valmont_vicomte]

Jarmyn pops his head round the door, and I'm glad he wasn't here a few minutes earlier. That could have been more awkward all round.

"Coffee? You angel. We'll eat in the dorm," I determine. "That way Micah doesn't have to walk up and down the stairs." I smile at the boy. "The shirt suits you," I say. "Just -" I reach over and fold the collar properly. "Better."

There's a little table and chairs in the dorm so that people can play at cards or write letters, so we sit down there. The sandwich is marvellous. I do love the Miskatonic.

[tezcatl_ipoca]

My face feels hot when he turns down the collar of the shirt. There's a rich, sharp, familiar smell in the air, and some part of me says: coffee. I don't understand it, the things I know and the things I don't

[jaeresteade]

Don't want the man for anything more than giving me orders at work, but what he says over the coffee still makes me grin. And that smile, goddess. He's fussing over Micah, who doesn't seem to mind too much. It's on the tip of my tongue to say he'll be a good father, or make some wish for Hermia to have a boy, but I bite it back. Just can't go saying things like that

[valmont_vicomte]

I watch Micah eating. Jarmyn fusses over him; I wonder if he's missing, what was his name, that pretty boy? Tarquin. I get the impression Jarmyn likes having someone to worry about.

When Micah starts examining his feet I wrap up the rest of his sandwich and cap the whisky bottle.

"Have the rest later," I suggest. "Do you like coffee?" I pass him my cup to try.

"Maybe tonight there had better be soup?"

"Probably a good idea," I say. "You can eat with my family tonight if you like, Micah." I imagine he's rather too nervous to be taken to the Miskatonic yet. "And I should work out where to have you sleep, since I don't think the other men who sleep here would be very friendly if you wake them up in the night." I run my hand through my hair. "I'll think it over. For now you can nap here if you want to get more sleep. What would you like to do?"

[tezcatl_ipoca]

"Just try the bread. Your stomach'll take it better."

The meat tastes better than the bread, but I reluctantly put it aside for now. The whiskey causes pain as well, but after a moment I don't mind about that.

Valmont takes the rest of the food away, and I almost put my hand out to stop him, but I think he'll give it back. I want to trust him, even though I'm still watching the wrapped food nervously. But he lets me sip his coffee. It doesn't taste familiar, the way it smelled: the milkiness of it makes me wrinkle my nose a bit, and I pass it back.

"You can eat with my family tonight if you like, Micah. And I should work out where to have you sleep, since I don't think the other men who sleep here would be very friendly if you wake them up in the night. I'll think it over. For now you can nap here if you want to get more sleep. What would you like to do?"

More sleep sounds good. "Where do you sleep?" I ask him. He doesn't seem like he'd mind being woken up.