Come Back To Me
By Aoikami Sarah
Chapter 1
Gustav Fletching would always remember that the sunset appeared downright glorious that day—pale blue and yellow shifted against the clouds to magenta and soft violet—as good a sign as any that he was on the right path, even if he had been headed to Shady Creek Run.
He breathed in the crisp air, rubbed his hands a few times, then folded them under his arms for warmth. As the sun set, the autumnal temperatures dropped to nearly freezing. He could still turn around. The thin jacket with long tails he wore offered little protection from the elements and he had recently worn a small hole in the sole of his left shoe. Only another day or so to the border. He could still turn around. The moons rose, nearly full but waning to the south, seeming to follow him like two mis-matched eyes. He'd been walking for only a week now. He could still turn around.
A twinge of panic surprised him, making him catch his breath and shudder involuntarily. "Come on, you've been over this!" He scolded himself.
Not a week prior the Mighty Nein had trundled into his life and turned it on its head once again, releasing him from hard labor and turning him out on the world a free man. He had initially refused to let them do him this kindness, terrified of what would come of it, until a pink-haired firbolg traveling with them looked on him with unblinking, penetrating eyes. "You're a man who is afraid of what you owe," he had said. "It'll feel so much better when you're finally free from this belief."
Gustav gently slapped his cheeks to help snap himself to attention. "You probably can't make it up to him, but it's all you can do to try. It'll be terrible, but the sky is clear, you're in good health, and the path is…" he started, then observed the path in question. A long way down the Glory Run Road ahead of him he spied with his half-elven vision a covered wagon listed to one side. Three figures he could only just make out moved around it. "The path has a broken down cart in it," he muttered with a grin and picked up the pace.
As he approached he raised his hands in passive greeting. Gustav Fletching was a tall, thin, half-elven man with straight silky ash-brown hair that he wore in a thick braid down his back. His eyes were a friendly, warm brown and a sincere smile graced his fine features.
"Hail, friends. You look like you could use a hand." Disappointingly, the wagon was pointing in the opposite direction of his travel. "If you were headed north, I would ask for a ride, but perhaps you could spare a silver or two for some assistance?"
A stout dwarven man scoffed from his position squatting near the broken wheel. Two of the spokes had snapped causing the rim to bow out. A half-orc woman standing next to him raised her chin and put her hand on the handle of a great ax on her hip.
"Hail!" chimed the third member of their party and the other two groaned. A human woman in her fifties or so smiled at him and made a gesture he didn't recognize but assumed was associated with her worship as she wore clerical vestments of the Platinum Dragon. Another quick scan of the party found hints of this worship adorning the other two, as well. She swung a lantern around so that she could see their visitor. "If you could offer any assistance, good sir, we would be most appreciative!"
Gustav peered at the cart. It was otherwise in fair shape. "I traveled quite a bit in such contraptions and have repaired them more times that I care to count. I may not have a strong back like you fine folks, but I do have some know-how. If you were to pry the topmost board from the buck it can be split in two and lashed to the spokes as a splint. Could get you as far as the crossroads if you move carefully." The cleric looked to the others for confirmation and they shrugged.
"Worth a try," the dwarf grumbled made a motion for Gustav to assist.
"First, you should unload some of the weight if you have anything heavy back there because you'll need to jack this up. Do you have anything that could go under the axel?"
"Ah, we have some barrels we could use," the cleric agreed and she and the half-orc went around to the back of the wagon. "Come, children. It's alright. We're going to go play in the field for a little while. Jorga, can you help me with our new friend?" Soon, Jorga the half-orc had easily lifted three people from the back and deposited them around the other side. Two tiefling children of no more than twelve years played quietly beside the wagon and the cleric sat with another person covered in what appeared to be a large cloak just outside his line of sight.
Gustav started helping the strong ones pry the board loose and split it. They had some nails and a spare leather harnesses to aid in the repair and after almost two hours of work he had gotten them back on the road. The dwarf clasped his hand and gave Gustav an appreciative smile. "Not usual us finding someone helpful. Thank you. Go see Hildi for your silver."
"I thank you, friend." Gustav bowed low and rounded the back of the wagon. "All set!" He chimed. The two tiefling children, a boy with grey coloring and a girl with red were playing cat's cradle in the gathering gloom. Hildi stood up from the bedroll on which they had been sitting on the sparse grass off the side of the road. "Oh, excellent!" she replied, brightly. "Now, come along, we need to make it to the crossroads before we rest." She reached down to the figure seated next to her. Gustav noticed the cloak was less of a garment and more a huge length of brocade with symbols of the Platinum Dragon all over it. "Give me your hands, now, friend," she said and fished them out from under their wraps and tried to pull him up. "Oh, you poor dear, come on now…" Hildi's voice lost a little of its positivity. "Well be on our way soon and you can rest later, ok?"
"Let me help," Gustav offered and bent to grasp a purple wrist. As he and Hildi gently pulled and rocked him to his feet Gustav froze. Hildi went on, thanking him again and scrounging in her coin purse for a few silver to give him for his trouble but he didn't hear her. He stared hard at the man slouching under the Platinum Dragon tapestry. His horns had lost their adornments, his face was dirty, and his red eyes were downcast and vacant.
"Molly…" Gustav breathed.
He twitched, blinked a few times and looked up at Gustav's face. His mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out.
He is soaked to the bone and shuddering violently. The soft brown eyes search his and a hand brushes his hair back from his forehead. "You're going to be alright, friend," he says...
In a moment, the lucidity had passed and he cast his eyes groundward once more, shivering slightly in the cold, crisp air.
"What's the holdup?" The dwarf asked as he rounded the side of the wagon. He pointed with his thumb at their charge. "You know him?"
"I…" Gustav placed a trembling hand against the lavender tiefling's face and in the light of Hildi's lantern he noted the tattoos, and the many fine scars. "I do. Oh, Molly…"
"Ah!" Hildi cried. "It is divine providence! You see, Felder! Bahamut brought us north to rescue these children," she said with a sweeping gesture that encompassed them, "and put us on the path in which this poor man lay, freezing and beaten to within an inch of his life so that we might reunite him with his friend!"
Finally, gears that had been turning in his mind clicked into place and Gustav gasped. He knew that look. He'd seen it over two years ago when this man stumbled upon their camp, lost, freezing, starving, and empty. "Oh, you poor thing. You're back again."
"What's the matter with him, then?" the dwarf called Felder asked, narrowing his eyes. When Gustav hesitated, he held a hand up and with a word and a flourish compelled him to be truthful. Hildi seemed displeased that her compatriot would resort to spellcraft so quickly, but he silenced her and asked again. "What's the matter with him?"
Gustav kept his grip on Mollymauk's wrist, the other hand dropped to his shoulder, but he did not seem to notice, his eyes cast down, unfocused on the ground. "He's suffered a great trauma," Gustav said carefully. "I've seen him like this once before. It took months for him to recover."
"And who exactly are you?"
"My name is Gustav, and this man is my friend," he said and stared into his eyes, searching for that fleeting sign of recognition he'd seen when he first uttered his name. "We traveled together in a carnival a few months ago, but were separated." Molly shivered, but did not respond.
"Carnival," Hildi repeated. "That explains all those marks on his skin."
"Indeed," Gustav agreed. "Molly. I—" He glanced north up the Glory Run Road then back to his old friend and nodded. "Don't worry. I'll take care of you."
.x.
The closet-sized room atop The Weeping Willow, a seedy tavern in the slums of Zadash, was less than comfortable for two, but all an out of work ringmaster and his comatose charge could afford. It was, however, a far cry better than the cold, hard ground they had suffered as they made their way back from the north. As they had to share one narrow, hard bed, Gustav would spoon Molly, one arm wrapped around his middle to keep either of them from falling out. For his part, Molly slept like the dead and though Gustav found the close proximity initially awkward, he soon fell into the familiarity of him, resting his forehead against one of Molly's horns and falling asleep each night to the rhythm of his steady breathing.
Gustav spent the day finding odd jobs to pay for their room and what food he could afford. It was often hard work, shoveling, washing, bartending, and his hands, back, and shoulders ached with the effort. Molly was improving slowly, and thankfully could take direction and stayed in the room during the day. Some nights he'd take him out for a brief walk, but Gustav would soon become exhausted. Most evenings were spent in their "charity closet" coaxing his lost friend back from wherever it was he had receded.
From the moment he first touched his face, Gustav had felt a strong pull toward Molly, a gravity that was impossible to resist. If he had encountered him before he lost his life—joking, flirtatious, enchanting as he had been—Gustav was sure he would have simply let him dance in and out of his life again. Mollymauk belonged to everyone, but this man, the same one he had rescued more than two years before, needed him and this time he would have to do it alone. Molly had an air of childlike innocence that Gustav felt he had to protect at all costs. He held his hands, rubbed his shoulders, lifted his chin to try to get him to make eye contact, and slept with him in a tight embrace, but though he was affectionate in his demeanor, it never occurred to Gustav to take advantage of his strikingly beautiful friend.
Each day seemed a little better and after about a week or so Molly could feed and clean up after himself with only a little guidance. One evening, about three weeks after he had found him, Gustav returned to find Molly standing in the dimly lit room at the tiny window, peering out at the uninteresting view of other buildings it afforded. "Do you want to go outside, Molly?" he asked quietly and joined him, putting a calloused hand on his shoulder and gently turned him around. Molly's eyes flicked around the room then to his surprise rested for a moment on Gustav. "Hello!" Gustav chimed, but it was only temporary. "You know, I often wonder if you can hear me. Perhaps you're trapped inside your own head. I wonder how much of what I say or do you find incredibly embarrassing. I'm really rather glad you've got the toilet figured out, now," he said, clearing his throat.
"I had a good day, today, Molly. I found work! No more ditch digging or clothes washing for me. Which is good. I'm not cut out for day-labor." He lifted a thin arm and flexed non-existent muscles to make a point. "I went door to door in the Insterstead Sprawl and on a whim went into a clothes shop. The owner, Miss Crystal, was in dire need of help, so now I'm assisting a tailor! She gave me these to wear," he said and indicated to himself and the new suit of clothes he wore. Charcoal grey trousers and a fitted coat with a purple vest and a soft, white shirt looked crisp and new and contrasted sharply with his poor, dusty shoes. "Need to do something about the footwear yet, but quite the perk. I've finally found something I can do where I can put my skills to use! It's a really nice shop, Molly. You'd love the clothes. And as I'll be making more coin I've arranged with the tavern keeper to move us from this charity closet to a regular room down the hall tomorrow—three silvers a night. Still just one bed, but bigger." He smoothed his hand over the thin blanket they both slept under. "A little better. Things are going to get better soon, right?" Molly leaned against the wall and stared at his feet. Gustav sighed. "Right."
Gustav removed his jacket and vest and set them carefully on a hook on the wall and his worn out shoes underneath that and next to Molly's thigh-high boots which he hadn't worn in the three weeks since they arrived. He lit the tiny oil lamp near the bedstead and sat down with his left leg folded under him so that he could face him. He pulled from his bag his old clothes, a paper-wrapped bundle containing a loaf of day-old bread, and a wedge of questionable cheese. "I made two whole silver this morning which went to back rent of this closet, but tomorrow, I'll have much, much more! I promise, this is the last lousy meal I'll give you," he said waving it at him. "I did get you a treat if you'll take your lessons. Come here," he said and patted the space on the bed to his left. It took some doing, but Molly did push off the wall and do as he asked. "Good!" Gustav cried, flipped his long braid of ashy hair over his shoulder and rolled up his sleeves. "Tonight we're going to work on talking! Before I embarrass myself, would you care to speak unprompted?"
To his shock and delight the tiefling's brows came together slightly and he gave a sort of loud sigh.
"Oh, that is very exciting, Molly. How about a hum?" He encouraged him to breath deeper, to try to hum and soon a spooky crackling growl of a noise emanated from his throat. A mildly frustrated look came over his face and his eyes darted up to meet Gustav's.
"Good! Good! Terrifying, but good!" his teacher cheered. This was almost as miraculous to Gustav as the day he'd learned to clean himself. "Now, how about a word?" He pulled the treat out of his bag—a single, shining, red apple. "Can you say 'apple'? If so, you can have it~," he sang. "All of it."
Molly's mouth opened and he wet his lips. "Aaaaa…" he breathed, rasping the sound. "Aaaa...p—"
"You can do it!"
"Aaa—pple," Molly croaked.
"Huzzah!" Gustav cheered and tossed the apple in the air. Molly fumbled it, but caught it and stared at it for a beat with the hint of a smile tugging at his lips—the first Gustav had seen. He took a big, sloppy bite from the apple and ate it slowly, seeming to savor the sweet taste, so different from the bread and porridge that made up their daily diet.
Gustav's stomach grumbled and he satisfied himself with some bread and cheese. "Now," he said between bites. "Some advanced level stuff. As you know, my name is Gustav Fletching. Can you say my name? I'd be happy if you did, so that if you wander out while I'm gone you can tell them to find me." He brushed a lock of Molly's hair that had fallen into his face and was making its way into his mouth with the apple back behind his horns. "Can you say Gustav?"
"Gushtaff," Molly whispered with his mouth full and his teacher laughed. "Gustaf," he repeated a bit louder and clearer if imperfect.
"Fletching."
"Fffech…"
"Fuh-letch…"
"Fletch."
"-Ing."
"Ing."
Gustav laughed again, delighted both by the progress and Molly's adorable responses which elicited another smile. "Fletching. Gustav Fletching," he said, pointing to his own chest and Molly repeated it very well this time and his eyes sparkled with delight. "Oh, this is quite excellent, my pupil! Alright. Now, you." He pointed to Molly's chest.
His bedraggled shirt had been laundered and repaired, the tear made by whatever it was that had surely killed him stitched shut, but the scar between his pectorals that it left behind showed, surrounded by dozens of thin lacerations where the neck gaped. "Mollymauk Tealeaf," he said quietly and waited.
The smile fell from Molly's face and his eyes narrowed. He stared at his friend for a beat.
Two words scrawled on a parchment held up for his examination. "I'm afraid 'MT' won't pass muster as a proper name at the checkpoint," he says. "This will have to do, Mollymauk Tealeaf!"
"Gustav…" he said. His eyes rolled back and he slumped forward, the half-eaten apple dropping from his hands and onto the floor.
