Nod waved absently at his squad mates as they separated, all stumbling on their ways home. It wasn't unusual to see a squad of Leafmen stumble around, but the hour was unusual.
This time, the rambunctious young squad were stumbling from exhaustion rather than intoxication. An outbreak of flu had fallen over the Jinn, and the Leafmen were no exception. Nod's squad were not senior, but they had a fair amount of experience between them. As a result, they had all been pulling double duty; doing their own jobs and their peers and superiors. This was on top of dealing with the leftover stress and injuries from Mandrake's attack. Nod, for one, hadn't had a full night's sleep since the attack.
Although, how much of that was due to nightmares and not being overworked was something that he was keeping to himself.
Nod's feet moved surely but without conscious direction. They had walked the same route countless times, although probably never in this state. His mind was dimly focused on the promise of rest. Finn, recently returned from his bout of flu, had taken one look at the squad and declared them all off rotation for at least three days.
Finn didn't have that authority, but Nod had no doubts that he would get it done. He was fairly laid back, but he took his unofficial position of ensuring each Leafman's physical and mental health seriously. Finn had gone toe to toe with each previous Leafman General, and he hadn't been on nearly as good terms with them as he was Ronin. Ronin still remembered his days as a young, overworked Leafman, and with Nod to refresh him, he would agree fairly easily, Nod was sure.
Nod hoped he would agree anyway. Another week of full duty might kill him.
"Hey Nod," yawned Fern, a fellow Leafman and Private. Fern usually worked with Nod and his squad, but she had been as spread thin as the rest of them, and her tracking skills had been utilised elsewhere during this patrol.
Nod didn't envy her. Tracking required focus and awareness. At least, among his squad, they had quietly devised a short rota changing their position which did allow a few scant minutes of rest, if only a light doze. There was still risk of boggans, and there was always the risk of a hummingbird startling and trying to buck her rider, especially with how tired their birds were. Usually Nod spent an hour a week with his bird, grooming her and bonding, but this week she had been working as much as him and would likely not appreciate any time taken away from her rest. Nor would Nod.
"Fern," Nod greeted. "Heard Finn's news?"
Fern smiled sleepily. "Reckon he'll convince Ronin to let us off?"
Nod grinned. "He'll have to wake me up to tell me otherwise, and I don't think that going to happen any time soon."
Fern laughed. "See you soon, Nod. But not too soon!" She addded, and resumed her own trek home.
Nod blinked heavily, trying to keep his eyes open. He could make the journey with his eyes closed, but he wasn't sure if he would be able to reopen them. To keep himself awake, he began replaying the details of his patrol in his head, pretending that he would have to give a report on it.
On a good day, there was no need to give a report, unless there was anything unusual to report, but Finn had been hinting more and more about getting him to start giving reports. It was something about giving him more responsibility. Nod wouldn't be surprised if Finn was angling to try promoting him to Senior Private, or Junior Lieutenant within the squad. Although he did wonder if that was Finn's own idea, or Ronin's. He wasn't sure he minded who's it was.
His squad was a good one. Nod wouldn't mind being put in charge of it. They could be a little rag-tag sometimes, but they all worked together seamlessly. Nod trusted them, and they trusted him.
He almost laughed at himself. Not that long ago he had upped and disappeared on Ronin and his fellow Leafmen, and now he was having fuzzy feelings about his friends. Although, they had accepted him and his return with wide open arms – and several days of teasing – which more than endeared them to him again.
He certainly liked the way that they all accepted Ronin's place in Nod's life. Going through Leafmen training had been somewhat difficult because of certain trainees with certain ideas about his status as Ronin's legal guardian. It hadn't helped that Ronin had just been promoted General, and Nod had grown up around other senior Leafmen, which meant that all the other Generals knew him by name. To a jealous, struggling trainee, it looked as though Nod was gaining favourable treatment from his superiors, and therefore shouldn't get any favourable treatment from his peers.
If Nod was in the mood to think about it, it was probably then that Nod started to long to escape his life. To escape the Leafmen. However, he wasn't in the mood to think about it.
He wasn't in the mood to think about much other than the safety of home, the familiar sights and smells, the furniture that he had spent an adolescence clambering over. The softness of the couch.
He sighed. Just another few minutes.
Nod nodded limply at his neighbours, all of whom smiled back sympathetically or concernedly. He didn't pay much more attention to them and continued trudging on, barely aware enough of the whispers that followed to ignore them. Doubtlessly, there would be a small horde of concerned women huddled around the door by the time Ronin came home, either with gifts of food or lectures that the Leafmen shouldn't be worked so hard.
Nod usually just smiled and nodded agreeably, taking whatever food was offered and offloading it to another squad mate or to Ronin himself – once Nod had taken a peek at the insides. Ronin, however, was hopeless at handling little old ladies. Other than Queen Tara, Ronin had grown up with very few other women around him, and none of those women were little old ladies, and none quite as fierce as Coral and Birdie.
He chuckled at the thought. Ronin would sooner face off against an army of boggans rather than deal with those two. He had actually whispered as much to Nod when they last cornered him.
The smile slid from his face as Nod remembered that Ronin had, in fact, done just that, and barely survived. The thought of it still gave him chills. It had him waking up in a cold sweat most nights. He wasn't sure how he would have survived the loss of Ronin. He wasn't sure if he would have. He hadn't been incredibly close to Queen Tara, but she had been a prominent figure throughout his life. Losing her had been like losing an aunt, losing Ronin would be like losing a parent. It would be losing a parent.
He hated the thought that they would have been barely reunited before they were separated forever.
Not that he saw much as Ronin these days. The man was always busy. Always bothering the healers, always working. Always busy. It had been a long time since Nod rescued him from Coral and Birdie, since they last sat down for a meal together, since they last shared a conversation that wasn't about work or was longer than ten words – "You alright?" "Fine, you?" "Fine." "Great." "Great." "See you." "Bye."
Nod blinked when his feet stopped moving. He blinked again at the sight of wood. It took a long moment before his brain kicked back in and informed him that he was staring at his front door. It took a longer moment before his brain also decided to chip in with the information that his key was in his pocket and he would need to use his hand to find them, and then open the door.
To be fair to his brain, that wasn't normally information that it had to prompt him with.
Nod stumbled through the door pondering the oddity of that thought. Then he stopped thinking almost altogether. The door swung shut behind him.
Nod tugged at his armour, dropping his gauntlets and shoulder pads and his belt. He tugged at the buckles on his shoulders, securing his breast plate, and succeeded in pulling free one of the straps. The plate fell off entirely and Nod distractedly kicked it away.
He dropped, face down, on the couch, too tired to get all the way to his room. It was a whole ten paces away. Nod decided, as much as he was able to decide, that a nap was needed first.
He would just close his eyes for a little while before he got back up and got into bed. At some point he would probably have to pick up his armour, but that was future Nod's problem and present Nod was barely conscious.
Nod burrowed his head into the soft cushions and coverings that covered the couch. When he first moved in with Ronin, his bed had been too strange for him to sleep in, but the couch had been wonderfully familiar. It was still as familiar. Still as soft.
Nod sucked in a deep breath, feeling every aching part of him finally relax into the couch. He inhaled the earthy scent of Ronin. Of home. Of safety. With a happy hum, Nod fell asleep.
Ronin stared at his pile of reports with a sigh. He had been working through them for days now, and he never seemed to have made so much as a dent in the pile. He had been cursing that he was restricted to administrative work only, but now he had no idea how he would be able to get through all this paperwork and do his other duties. He checked the time and sighed again, seeing the late hour. He rubbed a hand over his face. It didn't matter how much work there still was to do, Nod would kill him if he stayed any later. He pushed back his chair and rose to his feet carefully and, thankfully, painlessly.
For once, he had followed the healers' advice to the letter – or rather, Nod had forced him to – and he had to admit that his recovery was turning out to be a quicker and less painful affair than he had first anticipated.
"Ronin?" Finn called, peering into his office.
Ronin nodded back at his Captain, stretching out and making it clear that he was leaving. He could only hope that Finn didn't have any more reports for him. "I'm on my out, Finn, so any reports you have…" he pointed to the haphazard report pile he had started.
Finn eyed it warily. "Uh, no. This isn't a report, this is an… advisement."
Ronin hid a smile. "An advisement?" Finn's last advisement to the late General Birch, which had been overheard by every Leafman in the area, had been the reason Ronin promoted him to Captain.
Finn nodded. "It's about the squad rotations. Specifically Lieutenant Clove's squad," he trailed off, giving Ronin a look.
Ronin frowned. "Clove? Is there a problem? That's Nod's squad."
"No problem," Finn answered, "but… the entire squad is beat. They've been working day in day out for weeks now, and they've all been pitching in wherever when they're not running patrols. They've gone above and beyond the call of duty, but it's taking its toll. They need a break."
Ronin frowned even deeper. He thought about the little bit he had seen of Nod these past few weeks. He had been looking paler and even more and more exhausted. Ronin had chalked it up to losing MK, and he had only hoped that Nod hadn't started to come down with the recent flu.
At least Finn had his sisters to fawn over him when he was sick. Nod only had him, and Ronin didn't want to have to choose between his duty and someone he loved again. Not when he sometimes still felt like he had made the wrong choice.
But… "I don't know if we can spare them. They're a talented squad."
Finn shrugged. "It's spare them now or lose them when they collapse out on patrol. Private Clem has already collapsed in the rookery," he added. Clem was as experienced as Nod, and Finn was well aware that the two had been working together a lot recently. If she was tired enough to collapse, then so was Nod.
Ronin sighed. "I'm sure you have something in mind to replace them. Do it. You're right, we can't afford to lose them later."
Finn grinned. "Of course, General," he agreed, the picture of a well-behaved Captain. "I'd suggest you hurry home, I send Nod stumbling home hours ago. He'll be waiting up for you."
Ronin rolled his eyes. "Goodnight Captain," he said as he left his office.
Ronin wasn't entirely sure what he had expected on returning home, but it wasn't the sight of Nod's armour strewn across the living room. And it certainly wasn't the Leafman in question unconscious, face-down, on the couch. He didn't even twitch when the door slammed shut.
If Ronin hadn't already agreed to putting him and his squad on leave, then he certainly would have now. He had raised Nod from a teenager, he knew how light he usually slept.
"Nod?" he called softly, picking up the discarded armour pieces as he neared closer.
Nod mumbled but he didn't wake up. Ronin rolled his eyes, of all the times for him to stay asleep it was when he needed to wake him up. He couldn't leave him sleeping on the couch. It was fine for a quick nap, but he couldn't let Nod spend the night there.
He let him sleep for another few minutes while he put away the rest of Nod's armour and started to pull off the few items that he had left on. Including his shin guards and boots.
Amazingly, the slight movement of pulling off his boots roused Nod.
"Wazzit?" He mumbled, trying to pull away his foot.
Ronin let him pull away and pulled his boot off with the movement. He knelt down next to Nod's head. "Hey, sleeping beauty, do you know where you are?"
"Huh…" Nod mumbled. "Ronin?"
Ronin chuckled. He guessed that Nod was still mostly asleep. "C'mon, you're almost awake we might as well get you to bed."
He tugged one of Nod's arms free from under his stomach and hoisted it over one shoulder, dragging the rest of him up with it. When he had been younger and less injured, and Nod had weighed significantly less, Ronin had thrown Nod across his shoulders, but he doubted that he would be able to do that these days.
Together, they shuffled to Nod's room. Ronin did most of the work. Although Nod did manage to get himself together enough to move his feet forward, just not always fast enough. Ronin lowered Nod onto the bed far gentler than he usually would have.
Nod was left sitting on the edge of the bed, blinking blearily at his hands. "Ronin?" He murmured again.
"C'mon Nod, off to bed," he instructed, pushing Nod over onto his back.
Nod wriggled and struggled somewhat disoriented. "No," he mumbled.
Ronin frowned and pressed a hand against Nod's forehead. He hoped that Nod wasn't coming down with the flu. He didn't feel warm, but he seemed out of it enough. "Nod, it's alright," he soothed. "It's late in the evening. You fell asleep on the couch. You've been working constantly, and you're exhausted. You're not in work tomorrow. Just close your eyes and get some sleep."
Nod relaxed but he didn't stop frowning up at Ronin, even as he tucked him in. "Is this a dream?" He mumbled.
Ronin snorted. "Do you normally dream about me, Nod?"
Nod blinked owlishly. He hummed. "You're usually dying," he muttered.
Ronin froze. Nod didn't react to what he said. He closed his eyes and curled up into a ball, seemingly immediately falling asleep. Ronin pulled back from Nod, reeling.
Nod dreamed about him dying? He supposed that that would explain why he was so exhausted. Ronin had had his own experience of seeing his fellow Leafmen die. He had lost count of how many times he watched Soren die. It was only a combination of luck and medication that he hadn't started dreaming of Tara's death.
Ronin sighed. They would have to talk about this, he knew. As a General it was his duty to ensure that all his Leafmen were healthy, and that included mental health. And Nod was far more than just another Leafmen, no matter how much Ronin tried to treat him as such. That had only become clearer when Nod had been bullied throughout training.
Just like then, Ronin would have to talk to Nod about it.
Ronin didn't know how he would broach that subject. He had never been much for talking. That had always been Tara and Soren's area of expertise. Tara had been the one getting them out of trouble with Generals, and Soren had been the one talking them into it. Ronin had always just been along for the ride. Without either of them there, he felt like he was spiralling, like Nod's mother had, like, admittedly, Nod had been when he dropped out of the Leafmen. Ronin got into his own head too much, and he had needed Soren and Tara to pull him out.
Nod had inherited his father's penchant for trouble, and his godmother's desire to push the boundaries, but, in many ways, he had inherited more from Ronin than he had anyone else. It had never been Soren, or Tara, or his mother, that he tried to copy, to dress up as, to behave as, it had been Ronin. Ronin who had acted like he didn't need anyone, because he had always had Tara, until he hadn't. And now there was Nod, who had always had Ronin, until he nearly hadn't. Except, he probably still didn't have him, because they hadn't talked about this like Tara would have done with him, or Soren would have done with him.
Nod was far more than just another Leafman, he was even more than his ward, Nod was his son - and not just because he had stepped in after Soren's death. Nod had been his from the moment he was born. Ronin had been the third person to hold him, after his parents - Tara had been the fourth. Nod was his, and he was Nod's. They belonged to each other, they were family. And they needed to talk.
As a child, Nod had awoken with the sun. As he grew older, into a moody teenager, he had started to lie-in more, but the shadows were still long and looming when he would stumble from his bedroom.
Today, Nod's bedroom was bright than he ever remembered it being, even in the height of summer, when dawn was several hours before he had to awake and there were hours of sunlight before he had to drag himself up. Today, his room was filled with sunlight as the sun hovered worryingly close to its height.
Vaguely, he remembered Ronin telling him that he wasn't working today, which made his heart stop its gallop in his chest at the thought of missing patrol. It was probably for the best anyway, even the thought that he might have slept through his dawn patrols wasn't enough to push him out of bed. And, no matter what Finn and Ronin might say, Nod made a point never to miss his patrols. Even when he left, he had given the obligatory two week notice in advance, he had just made sure that Finn and Ronin had never seen it.
Today, the thing that dragged Nod out of bed was the tantalizing smell of cooking in the kitchen. He couldn't tell what was being cooked but the smell was appetising enough to make his mouth water, and the familiar smell of breakfast was enough to make his eyes water which was stupid. He had been too young when his dad died to properly remember when his mom would cook breakfast for them, to properly remember waking up in his dad's arms, to properly remember sitting on his Queen Tara's lap - before she was Queen - and pretending to fight Ronin for food. He was too young to remember that family, he told himself. Even though, sometimes, he wondered if he was too young to be the only one left of it.
Nod didn't know if he made a sound, a sob, maybe? Or even too sharp an intake of breath? But Ronin very carefully cleared his throat in the kitchen. He didn't say anything, he never did, but Nod understood him perfectly clearly, clearer than he had in some time. If he didn't get up, Ronin would come get him. And Nod didn't want that.
He pushed himself up out of his bed and rolled out his shoulders, stretching out the aches in his muscles. They had been pushed the brink since the attack, and Nod probably hadn't given his body the rest that it needed. Even now, he wanted nothing more than to pull his blanket back over his head and go back to sleep until he was back on rotation, but he needed food. And he needed Ronin.
He was still dressed in the clothes that he wore under his armour, and he had only the faintest memory of stripping it off, but he didn't bother changing into anything else. Unless the boggans attacked again, Nod planned on returning to his bed to sleep until tomorrow.
He shuffled out of his room and into their kitchen, sniffing the air as he walked. He hummed appreciatively when Ronin glanced up from a small stack of reports and smiled at him.
"Smells good," Nod complimented.
"I was worried that you were going to sleep all day," Ronin commented, putting down the report.
Nod felt like that was a notable thing, but all of his attention was instead taken up by the plate of food that he been placed in front of him. He had certainly been lacking in sleep the last few weeks, but he thought that he had been eating a healthy amount. His body, apparently, disagreed.
"Don't forget to chew," Ronin reminded, with just enough concern that Nod forced himself to slow down.
"How come you're still home?" Nod asked, after carefully chewing his food and waiting a moment between swallowing and shovelling more food into his mouth.
Ronin shot him an amused look at that but the way he shifted in his chair told Nod that this wasn't just Ronin deciding that he needed a break from being in the office.
"I wanted to talk to you," Ronin said. "And I had a hunch that you wouldn't be up until late. I didn't want to miss you again."
Nod raised an eyebrow. "You missed me before?" He wondered.
Ronin gave him another look that had Nod stopping. "Apparently. I missed you so much that I woke up one morning and you were gone. I haven't seen you in weeks. You've run yourself ragged and I'm worried about you. I don't want to wake up to find you gone ever again. And I don't want you to be to worried about the same thing."
Nod leaned back in his seat. "What do you mean?" He wondered even as every nightmare that he'd had the past few weeks flashed before his eyes. Sometimes it was the boggans, sometimes it was an infection afterwards, but sometimes Ronin was just gone and it was like he was never there, and sometimes he was there. Those were the worst, because they put themselves in danger every day, but they expected to die from an arrow or a fall or an injury, but Nod didn't know what to do if Ronin was just gone one day, like his mother had been. He would prefer Ronin dead than gone like his mother had been. Death was better than the half-life that she had lived. By the time that she died, everything that they owned had already been carefully packed up and moved to Ronin's house - their house.
Ronin didn't look away from Nod, but he looked like he wanted to. He had never been a man of words or emotions, but Nod knew that that didn't mean he didn't have them. It just made things harder sometimes.
"Do you remember what you said last night? You said that you dream of me dying, is that true? Is that why you're so exhausted?"
Nod shifted. "Well, I've been on patrols every day, it's not just…" he trailed off at Ronin's glare. "Yes. I… I see you dying every night and sometimes I'd just rather not."
"Nod," Ronin said, softly.
"I get sleep," Nod defended. "I wouldn't risk the squad by falling asleep out on patrol. But I just… It's not really sleeping when it's nightmares so I just…"
"Wait until you're exhausted enough to collapse?" Ronin growled.
Nod shrugged. "I wouldn't go that far," he mumbled. "But, kind of."
Ronin sighed. "Nod, you can't do that. You can't hurt yourself like that."
Nod's temper flared. "You're one to talk, just throwing yourself at those boggans like that. You call me reckless."
Ronin didn't rise to the bait. He just stared at Nod until he deflated. "Nod, I'm sorry that I scared you."
"I wasn't scared," Nod defended, automatically. "I just…" he paused, meeting Ronin's understanding gaze. "I don't want to lose you again, Ronin. You have no idea how close it was. The healers they… they weren't sure. And… I mean they thought that Dad would be fine but he wasn't. They thought that Mom would be fine but after Dad. I'm… I am scared," he admitted. "I don't want to lose you like Dad. And I can't handle losing you like Mom. We've… there's… I've no one else. You're all I have - but it's like you're not even there."
"Nod," Ronin murmured. "You're not going to lose me. Not to any boggans, or arrows, or even to Tara's death." He throat close up when he said her name, but he powered through. She would want him to. If he had been the one who died, then she would do the same and probably a bit better. "We are all that we have, but you're all I need. I don't want to live in a world where you're not here. Even if being here meant bird racing, I'd prefer to know where you are, what's going through your head. I knew that once, but somewhere, I lost it. I lost you. I'm not going through that again. I'm not losing you. I'm not going to go without a fight," he promised.
Nod sniffed. "Promise?"
"Promise," Ronin answered. "Many leaves, one tree. No one is alone, not even us."
Nod smiled. "Okay," he croaked out.
Ronin smiled back and him and crossed room to pull his adopted son into a bone crushing hug. For probably the first time since Nod became a teenager, he didn't resist. They stood together for a long moment, until Nod's stomach grumbled.
Ronin pushed him back with a laugh. "Go finish your food and go back to bed," he ordered.
Nod grinned. "Don't mind finishing that order," he replied, finishing with a yawn. He inhaled the rest of his food and retreated back to his bedroom, climbing under the covers after extracting a promise from Ronin that he would take it easy, and wake him up if his squad was needed. After that, he slept.
For the first time since the boggans attacked, Nod didn't dream of Ronin's death. He dreamed of his family, his first family. His parents, Tara, Ronin and him - his early life. He was happy. He dreamed of MK and her stomper father and her dog. He dreamed of his patrols with his squad, of playing pranks on his Lieutenant and on Finn. He dreamed of happy things for the first time in a long time. A finally felt at peace, a heavy weight removed from him chest.
Nod slept