Reciprocity

A fan fiction about the Coldfire Trilogy, set between When True Night Falls and Crown of Shadows, during the last month of the voyage home. The Coldfire Trilogy was written by the spectacular Ms. C.S. Friedman, and I am receiving no money for this. Cheers!

After everything they've been through, the Tarrant and Damien race home to prevent the demon Calesta from destroying human civilization and everything they hold dear. With his only companion a cold undead sorcerer, Damien feels he carries all the burden by himself, and it weighs.

Waking in the dark, Damien's head throbbed from his latest nightmare. His blood felt frozen. One month until they reached their destination, that was all he had to endure, but right now he felt like this agony would never end. He tried to tell himself that one made the sacrifices one must, but he knew that two years ago he would never have thought so. Why did he even argue with himself over his morality? Alone in the darkness, he must admit he was tainted beyond acceptability to serve his Church as a representative. Another chill spiked down his spine, and he pulled his cloak around himself as he headed onto the deck, hoping he might find more warmth up there.

He smiled without humor when he stepped outside, seeing that the only other person currently there was Tarrant, cold as the ice in Damien's blood. Hell, he was the ice in Damien's blood. Nevertheless, the priest walked over to him near the rail, obscurely desperate for even illusionary human companionship. The undead sorcerer turned to him as he approached, tilting his head to give Damien a look that seemed almost...understanding. But he said not a word.

Damien stood at Tarrant's shoulder for a time, staring out at the moons reflected in the ocean waves. Then, abruptly, he felt himself losing control. He turned a little away from his companion and put his hands to his face. It was too much, all too much! He'd borne so much on his shoulders, paid so many prices, and the decisions he'd made... They had lost every brave soul who had tried to help them, and there was no one human left to turn to. No one left to help him carry this weight. All he could do was try to keep his weakness from the cold man at his side.

He couldn't hide from Tarrant, though. The adept turned sharply toward him as if he knew what Damien was feeling. But Damien desperately, desperately wanted him not to see. The Hunter's customary contempt, or his rarely offered pity, Damien wanted neither of them. The broken-hearted priest was shocked, then, when he felt a comforting hand fall on his shoulder, cold as the heart of winter. In his smooth voice, the Hunter said gently, "Keep faith, priest. God won't leave you so easily."

Damien wanted to shout at him, or laugh, but he couldn't control his own voice. For a while, he could only stand there with his head bowed into his hands, fighting back the tears accumulated through the last few years.

Eventually, he mastered himself enough to face Tarrant. Still unwilling to look at the man directly, Damien muttered at his feet, "I thought you gave that up long ago."

The other replied, "I should know better than anyone, shouldn't I? If I didn't believe in God, priest, I wouldn't be here now." He paused for a moment before quietly continuing. "This is hard on both of us. Believe me when I tell you I know exactly how you feel. For all that you've endured, you know what I've had to go through. Neither of us..." Tarrant faltered, and stopped. When he spoke again, his voice dropped as if he were speaking to himself or saying something difficult. "Neither of us would have gotten this far alone. And it's far too late for us to pretend that we don't rely on one another." He took a breath. "There is no one else, priest. And I...I need your faith as much as you need my power."

Damien squeezed his eyes shut, feeling them sting again. He laughed a little, bitterly. "Just us. Yeah." He inhaled a deep, shaky breath. "We just do all we can, right? And if we don't, Calesta devours us, and the whole world with us. God, Gerald, how do we carry a burden like that? What if—"

Tarrant cut him off. "There are no 'what ifs,' Reverend Vryce. We do what we must, and what we can. We have no further choice." He smiled with no real humor. "If we fail, you won't be here to worry about it. Take that as consolation."

A bit more controlled now, Damien turned back to look at the moons. "Four years," he murmured. "God, I hated you then."

The Hunter watched him from the corner of his eye. "And now you don't?"

Damien shrugged uncomfortably. "I don't know. We have so much else to worry about."

"You have some foolish notion of 'saving' me, don't you?" Damien's eyes jumped back to Tarrant's face, a little startled. The adept snorted lightly. "Of course I know. I prod through your hopes and fears every night when I feed you a nightmare. You'd be surprised at how little you keep from me, priest." A corner of his mouth twitched. "Or maybe not. Still, it's a ridiculous idea, you know."

Damien lowered his gaze to the waves. "Maybe," he answered quietly. "Maybe it's just my way of making excuses, not having to blame myself for the things I've done. But then again," he glanced sideways at his undead companion, "you never do know what will happen, do you? Four years ago, you wouldn't have..." The adept's expression hardened, and Damien cut himself off.

"No." The Hunter's voice sounded tight. "Four years ago, I would not have. And you might pay a terrible price for that mistake."

Damien shrugged, forcing himself to remain casual. "Well, it opens up a bit of choice for you, doesn't it? Maybe it won't be so bad." He smiled suddenly with an honest smile. "I know you, Hunter. I'm sure you'll find your way out of it."

But the Hunter scowled. "You know better than that. I've told you before; I don't regret what I've done. Without that, your 'redemption' doesn't mean a damned thing."

Damien took a breath, intending to argue, but found he had no energy for it. "Maybe." The priest sighed. "The way things are going, chances are good it won't be an issue anyway."

"Hmm." Tarrant's molten eyes narrowed. "I haven't lived this long in order to hand myself and everything I've worked for over to a demon." He turned to look at Damien. "And neither have you. If you find yourself lacking in motivation, priest, consider the simple fact that surrender is our only other option." A cruel smile spread across the Hunter's face, and his voice dripped sarcasm. "If you choose to take that option, you might find me merciful enough to grant you a quick end."

The silver gaze swung disdainfully back to the sea. "But probably not."

Damien felt his lips compress. The man certainly knows how to make me angry. But Damien understood why. Anger would keep him from thinking about the futility of their mission. Looking at his companion more thoughtfully, a faintly amused thought ran across the priest's mind. Here is the greatest protector of the Church.

Having unexpectedly received what he came for, Damien turned to leave. He stopped after a few steps as it occurred to him to return the favor. "Gerald?"

The Hunter's eyes flicked over to him, a touch surprised.

Lips twitching, Damien continued softly, "You know, He might be more understanding than you think." He grinned as the other man glared at him. "Or maybe we'll see each other in Hell."

After that, Damien turned and headed quickly back to his room, satisfied that Tarrant would be far too angry at him to think about anything else for quite a while.