Diamonds, roses, I need Moses
To cross this sea of loneliness,
Part this red river of pain.
I don't necessarily buy
Any key to the future or
Happiness
But I need a little place in the sun sometimes
Or I think I'll die.
"Moses" Patty Griffin

They had flown for hours, high up in the cold. And now, down on the ground, the air was warm and humid. But shocking all the same. Remus could feel goose bumps covering him, and shivered.

"Are you alright?" he asked. The question seemed inadequate.

"Yeah," Sirius replied.

Remus wanted to go to him, to touch him and make sure he was there. To feel that he was alright. That he was—was. He pressed his lips together, and stayed where he stood. He ached inside. Could feel his heart straining. It was like going back and being a boy all over again. Out on the edge. Uncertain.

There was a hurt to Sirius' eyes now. An edge to his shoulders. His face was thin, cheeks hollow. No more easy mirth.

Remus touched Sirius' shoulder. He was afraid. To push. To crowd. But all he wanted to do was wrap his arms around his friend and squeeze him tight. And hard. And not let go.

"It's ok, Moony. I'm not going to break," Sirius chuckled softly.

"No?" he still didn't move, just squeezed Sirius' shoulder gently. Sirius took a step forward and bent ever so slightly to embrace his friend.

Remus' arms came around him gingerly, as if he weren't quite sure how to go about it. But when he reached Sirius' back he gripped him and hung on. He could feel tears in his eyes and it was suddenly very hard to breathe.

"I thought—I thought," Remus stopped, unable to continue.

"I know," Sirius voice was muffled, "Me too."

"I loved you—always—Love you," his thoughts tumbled out.

"I know," Sirius said. He moved so that he could look Remus in the eye, "Me too."

Remus felt his heart skip, before he clasped Sirius' face in his hands. He was a little cold to the touch. A little thin. A little rough. But so perfect. So sweetly perfect. He had a small smile now. A smile that reached out so that Remus could feel it in his chest. In his knees. Something from before. From before all the bad, dark things. Something of the old Sirius. But kinder. Simpler.

Sirius black eyes shone, even in the darkness, as they searched Remus' own. Foreheads bent to touch, noses grazed each other. Sirius smiled again and before Remus could speak, he kissed him.

There was a change in Sirius. He didn't surge ahead now. Didn't thrust Remus down on the grass. There was a softness to all his motions. Something more than Remus knew, for Sirius had always been tender. But there was more. There was—something else. Something loving. And gentle. Something that spoke of patience. Patience that Sirius had never seemed to have before.

When his lips touched Remus they were soft and slow. As if they knew the measure of a moment. And when his hands slid under Remus' thin shirt they touched delicately.

When he spoke, his words were a low whispered breath. Instead of sultry and suggestive, they were words like; missed you and dear heart. Words like, love always. And never leave again.

Remus shivered. There were so many feelings now. Sorrow and joy. Shock and gladness. But there was the ache still. The barren ache of a long loneliness. It took everything he had not to clutch and devour like a starving predator. Or drink him in like clear, cold, sparkling water after a lifetime in the desert.

He made a sound in the back of his throat and released his friend. His lost lover. There was a sob somewhere. An uncontainable agony. And he fell to his knees, still gripping Sirius.

If Remus had looked up at that moment, he would have seen his own tears reflected in his friend's eyes. His own loneliness. His own longing.

There are so many ways to live in darkness. So many prisons. So many fears made real that claw at you and block out the light. So many heartbreaks.

"I never—never," Remus began. And then added, "I should have—I should have."

And Sirius, on his own knees now, cradling his dearest love, could only answer, "Me too. Me too."

Remus shuddered, gasping for breath. Sirius held him, shaking, ever so softly, with his own grief. His own fear.

Being ripped apart can bring its own shock. And one, somehow, doesn't feel the difference. Or pretends not to. One must go on. One foot in front of the other. One more breath. One day. One night. And then one year. Then two. Then twelve. Until suddenly something happens and you see you never lived at all. You were only surviving. And it's so clear now how much you'd missed. How you'd hardly opened your eyes or even breathed. And the pain feels fresh now; gnawing. As though you'd woken in the night, limb completely dead, and as you move the blood flows back tingling with pain and cold. That's what Remus thinks. That he's a deadened limb.

He would say this. And more. Beautiful wonderful things he would say. Like it was never spring 'til now. I know that winter's over. That's it's finally, truly over. Or I can see the sun again. And, I always knew. Always always knew that it couldn't be real. And I never believed once. Not once. Always had faith. Always had faith and never doubted. No, not once. Not even once. Would say them. All of them. Again and again. If only he could catch his breath. Breathe and quiet the heart that pounds so hard in its delighted needful way.

Sirius draws Remus down on the cool grass. Grass that is wet with dew and sparkles. Sparkles as though it were covered in fairy lights under the pale sliver of moon. And the stars twinkle. And Remus thinks, I never knew they could do that. Hover so close and look so deep all at once. And he feels as though he's swallowed up a whole galaxy. And maybe this is heaven.

And then there are mouths again. And a taste like the first crisp apple of autumn. Or no, the first peach of summer. And he feels as though he were floating away on a cloud. Or no, the sea. The sea that rocks you so gently. So sweetly. And never tires, but goes on and on. Cradles you with the love you never knew you needed, but always lived your life for—desperately searching.

And then clothes, wet with dew, fall away. And there's skin so smooth. So smooth you could die with the ecstasy. And warm, like caramel drizzled over fresh popcorn. Or chocolate melted slowly in cream. But also like the blanket you had as a child and would never be parted from. Or the hot bath your mother ran you; after waking cold and scared from a nightmare.

But it's also like none of these things. Because there's more. So much more.

There's the taste of Sirius' throat that has no simile, because nothing could ever be so wonderful. There's the jutting hip that's sharp, but somehow comforting. There's soft thighs that caress. And there's the smell of honeysuckle on the air; mixing with the heady scent of Sirius himself—who has no match. And never could.

And there are no words. But only sighs. And then a soft, Oh. And then, Mmmm. And a short, hard gasp. And then, Oh. And, Oh yes. Yes. And, Oh. And then, I love you. Yes. Yes, love. Mmmm. Oh, love, oh. Oh yes, love. Oh yes.

End.