A Farewell to Arms: part ten
by Angela
July 2007

Ash didn't understand what was happening. He seemed to wake from dreams – colorful, loud, incongruent, confusing – only to find himself sort of drifting in an absence of anything. It was dark and still. Silent. He tried to move his arms and legs, to touch his face, to speak, but it was as though he had no body to move.

It was too confusing even for panic, and he started to wonder if the dreams were in fact the reality and that calm and rational emptiness the dream. But it was impossible: his dreams were full of Eiji Okumura and circus clowns and cats big enough to ride on – it was only in the dark silence that he remembered letting Eiji leave, getting stabbed by Lao, drinking that stuff Nadia gave him.

He considered the possibility that he could be dead, but didn't want to linger over it. Logic insisted that the nothingness was reality, so for a long time he slept as much as he could, preferring fantasy to emptiness.

---

The rhythmic thump and whoosh of his heart circulating blood seemed almost loud enough to wake the dead. Except that it wasn't a sound at all, but rather an awareness of what was going on inside his body. His stomach was hollow – the pain of hunger viciously sharp.

So he wasn't dead, then.

It was a relief. He drifted back to sleep.

---

Ash noticed that his mouth tasted sour. That didn't mean anything to him at first, he just longed for gum or a drink of water to wash the taste away. Then he realized that he was tasting. He ran his tongue over his teeth. Or at least, he thought he did; there was no feeling in his tongue to verify that his movement was real. He opened his mouth, trying to taste something else. A familiar bitterness. Silk. He'd been gagged with enough silk ties to know the taste. He breathed in, remembering that taste and smell were related. He smelled shampoo. Incense. Flowers.

He must be at Nadia's. Clearly she'd been able to secure the second drug in the Moonflower Sequence. He worked through his situation carefully. The last time he was awake, he was sure he couldn't smell or taste anything, but now he could. Did that mean that his senses were gradually returning?

He wondered about the stab wound in his belly. Had he been in the hospital? He took a deep breath, searching the air for the sharp bite of antiseptic. It didn't seem to be there. Instead, he smelled soap and wine and the barest trace of cooked food. Nadia and Alex must've kept him out of the hospital, which must've kept him out of jail. He wondered which of them had stitched him up, and how many days had passed.

Ash thought of Eiji. He wanted to go to him. He pictured the disappointment in his eyes when he realized that Ash wasn't coming to see him off. He imagined the resigned sadness Eiji would feel when he didn't show up in Japan, the plane ticket wasted. I tried, Eiji! he thought, irrationally trying to send the message across the world to his friend. Wait for me.

---

He didn't have a way to keep track of time, so it felt like days or even weeks after rediscovering taste and smell that he noticed that his sense of touch had returned. At first it was the tiniest itch on the arch of his left foot. Without thinking, he curled his right foot over and scratched with his toes. Ah, so good…

With a rush of awareness, he realized that he was feeling. It was even more exciting than that first shocking taste. It meant that he'd figured right. If he was patient – and what other choice did he have? – he'd eventually be able to see and hear.

For now he was content to revel in what he had. Ash pressed into the soft give of what felt like goose down beneath him, savored the restrictive tangle of the slick fabric wound around his legs. The air was cool against his skin – he breathed it in, savoring the taste and scent of it as it passed through his mouth and nose.

With touch came a sense of space. Hands glided over fabric and wood, reaching down to the floor to feel plush carpet. He pulled himself to his knees, wincing at the sharp stab of pain in his abdomen – it wasn't healed yet, not by a long shot. Ash quickly calculated an estimate of how long he'd been under, all the while reaching and feeling the boundaries of his new universe. Textured wallpaper. Carved four-poster bed. Silk-brocade bedding.

Where was he? He figured it'd been only three or four days since that day at the library – certainly not enough time for the apartment to sell, and that was the only way he could imagine that Nadia and Alex could've gotten the money for such a luxurious room.

He was still pondering it when he felt something in his hair. The brush of a hand across his forehead. Something nudged against his lips and he opened them. Food. It was a grape, juicy and sweet. Ash devoured it, immediately reaching out for more, starved. His fingers closed around a delicate wrist. He pulled it toward him, opening his mouth for another bite.

It didn't occur to him to be alarmed. His desperation for food and an end to his solitude shoved his natural wariness aside and he found himself hoping this person – whoever he or she was – would stay a bit.

The next grape was somehow even better. Ash couldn't remember having tasted anything so wonderful: the smooth skin tart and yielding beneath his teeth, the juicy inside exploding with damp flavor. Ash's fingers tightened around the wrist of his caregiver – it was small and smooth, and he could feel the pulse of blood just beneath paper-thin skin. Tapering fingers brushed across his lips. Another plump grape was pushed past his teeth. The sensation sent a shiver of pleasure through his whole body. It was as though his senses were super-charged. Every touch and taste was magnified, intense.

The meal was brief, and Ash was left unsatisfied.

He understood well enough that it wasn't really the food he craved. He wanted contact. His whole body was alive and thrumming with the need to touch and be touched. Even the minute friction of his pajamas across his legs felt like a seduction. He hoped it hadn't been Nadia feeding him – he wasn't prepared to think of her the way he thought of that wrist, those fingers. He didn't want to imagine Nadia doing the things he'd been almost hoping those hands might do.

It shocked and humiliated him to realize what he wanted, to admit to himself that despite – or because of – his jaded past he was craving sexual contact with a faceless stranger. Hadn't there already been enough of that in his life? But no, his body had a mind of its own and it wanted. Desperately.

It reacted in the usual way – tightening, stiffening until it was as though all of his nerves were focused there. He groaned. Not now. He didn't need that, or the tangle of thoughts that inevitably came with it. Eiji. Eiji, his lips parted, soft, pleading sounds coming from him. Ash imagined pushing into him, feeling the taut heat of his skin around him.

The images were vivid, and Ash was shocked to find they came so readily, so easily. For months he'd been so careful, so balanced. Eiji deserved more respect than that. He felt dirty. He felt weak.

Ash realized he wasn't going to fight it off this time.

Is anyone there? He tried to speak, believed he was speaking, but had no proof. He couldn't hear. He put his fingers against his throat and tried again. Vibration. "Did you leave, then?" he asked.

After long moments with no response, Ash sighed. Was it safe, then? He crept his hand downward, his fingers sliding across front of his pajamas. Even through the fabric, they felt hot and alien. He fumbled with the buttons, letting his nails drag across each new inch of exposed skin. Not being able to see or hear was interesting. Exciting. It meant no distractions.

His hand moved lower, slipping beneath the elastic waistband of his pants. He was hot and hard, and he gasped out loud as his fingers brushed across the sensitive tip. He curled around himself, imagining a different hand. He moaned against his pillow, imagining a different voice. How long had it been since he'd allowed his mind to drift in that direction? A year? Longer?

And then he thought he heard something. Not heard, exactly, but sensed. He suddenly wasn't so sure he was alone. "Hello?" His hand slid slowly away and he rolled over, wrapping his arms around the pillow. The feeling of being watched disappeared as suddenly as it came, and he scowled. He just couldn't tell.

Frustrated, Ash spent what seemed like hours alone before finally drifting into sleep. His dreams were made of sighs and lingering touches that spiraled into ardent, vigorous sex. He woke often, dazed and ungratified, images lingering in his mind: Eiji's eyes, Eiji's face, his lean, muscled shoulders and back.

Even the shame that always flooded him when he gave in to such fantasies seemed dim when contrasted with the overwhelming yearning that throbbed within his body. He'd never felt this way, and wondered how much of it had to do with the rediscovery of his senses. Or maybe it had something to do with the Moonflower Sequence. He wondered if there wasn't something in that second concoction that worked as an aphrodisiac.

Snarling, he punched his pillow. He didn't even know where the fuck he was. If he couldn't figure out that much, then the more complicated questions were pointless. It didn't matter why he felt the way he did – what mattered was that he didn't give into it. As it was, he'd never know when he was alone. And even when he knew he wasn't, he sure as hell didn't know who was in the room with him. It wasn't the kind of situation where he could let his guard down, no matter how good it felt.

---

Sometime later Ash woke to soft caresses. He opened his eyes groggily, still surprised that there was only the faintest hint of light to mark the change. Rivulets of cool liquid slid down his chest, and he realized that the caress was a damp sponge. His pajama top was gone, and someone was gently washing his skin with soapy water.

"Who are you?" he asked, still unhearing. He reached for the hand. It froze beneath his touch, and he realized it was the same delicate wrist and thin fingers from before. "Do I know you?"

The hand pulled back, but Ash tightened his grip. He wasn't going to let this person move away and virtually disappear from his world without giving him some answers. "No," he snarled, even as he groaned inwardly at the sensation of the foamy water sliding over his hand and down his forearm. "Answer me."

The person hesitated for a long moment and Ash wondered what would happen. They'd have to wrench pretty hard to get out of his grip, but he wasn't in any position to fight if they did. To his surprise, his caretaker leaned close.

Ash smelled jasmine and soap, felt the damp pulse of breath near his ear. A cascade of long hair fell onto his damp, bare chest, strands clinging in the soapy water. A woman, then. She seemed to whisper in his ear, unaware or uncaring that he couldn't hear a word of it.

A woman. Ash breathed in the scent of her, stretching his fingers around her wrist to touch more of her smooth skin. Ash liked women. They were safe.

He let go. The hand pulled abruptly away and he was afraid he'd frightened her. She must be one of Nadia's friends. It made sense. She obviously couldn't keep him at her place – Charlie practically lived there, after all – and, to put it mildly, Alex didn't really have the aptitude for nursing. A charitable third party was the only option. He tried to remember everything he'd said in the past few days. Eiji always told him that his tone was mean and demanding when he was tired and not paying attention to how he sounded. Now Ash wondered if he'd been barking at this poor girl the whole time. Probably.

In another moment the bath resumed. She slid the sponge over his chest and shoulders, squeezing so that lukewarm water cascaded over his skin. Ash felt himself arching into her touch, his breath quickening as the hand moved lower, across his abdomen, his belly. He was hard and alert and there was nothing he could do about it. He clenched his eyes shut and hoped she wouldn't be offended.

Then she touched him. It was the barest brush – accidental – but Ash had to bite his lip to prevent the groan from escaping. She washed his thighs, the tepid water sliding between them when her hands – trembling? – squeezed too hard on the sponge.

Ash didn't even know what sounds he made, just that he made them. The girl dropped the sponge, and for a dreadful moment he thought she was gone, that she'd run away to tell Nadia what a horrible pervert he was. But then, barely an instant later, her hands were back.

They were slick soapy, sliding over his thighs in place of the sponge. Ash sighed raggedly, clenching his fists to keep from grabbing her wrists and guiding her upward. He didn't know what she had in mind, touching him like that, but he was smart enough not to spoil it if he didn't have to.

The blunt crescents of her fingernails scraped gently against his flesh; her smooth palms soaped circles on his skin, each rotation taking her closer. Closer. There was no way she couldn't know, hadn't seen. It was as though she were ignoring an elephant in the room. Ash almost wished she would leave. He didn't care anymore if it was her hand or his that did the job, as long as it was done.

Then her fingertips grazed against him. Ash held his breath, wondering if it had been another accident or if this was some new and terrible way to tease him. "Please," he whispered, ashamed and yet too weak to resist.

As though the word were magic, Ash had his wish granted. The girl slid both hands up his thighs, hesitating only an instant before wrapping one slick hand around him. Ash cried out, clenching his hands into the towels beneath him. He didn't know why she was doing this, but details like who or why didn't seem to matter so much.

Long locks of her hair fell over him and Ash reached for them, eager to touch her. Her hair was smooth and thick – impossibly straight, like Eiji's. He thrust his hands into the mass of it, grasping and scraping his fingernails against her scalp. She leaned into his hands, her breath coming hot against his chest in time with the movement of her hand.

Ash was already close to coming. He sucked in his breath, willing his body to calm. It didn't seem right to end it so quickly. He grabbed her hand, yanking it away mid-stroke, and the bereft feeling of disappointment was almost too much to bear. "Wait," he gasped, out of breath without any exertion. "Let me touch you."

She was still. Waiting.

His fingers moved over her narrow wrists and up the taper of her forearms. They were small and narrow; Ash felt her muscles bunch in tension as he brushed against her smooth skin. The sleeves of her brocade blouse were short, exposing the soft curve of her biceps. He traced upward over the fabric-covered shoulder until his hand found skin again over the high collar. She moaned or spoke – Ash felt the low vibration of her voice through his hand.

Then her mouth was on his, hotly plundering and devouring the taste and feel of him. Ash was so startled that he almost pulled away. But then he was caught up in it, realizing how long it'd been since he'd been kissed. Not counting Dino's repulsive displays of power, the last had been Eiji, that long-ago day at the prison. Had it really been two years? He moved his mouth beneath this girl's, his tongue tangling with hers, and wondered why he'd never gotten up the nerve to kiss Eiji again in all those months they were together.

His fingers reached again for the skin of her neck, and for a moment Ash let himself believe it was another neck – lean and strong and beautiful. He traced his fingers lightly over the smooth skin, imagining that boyish jaw and narrow chin. His skin buzzed with the light friction as he traced up Eiji's throat and over the gentle curve of his Adam's apple. He loved the way Eiji's body was formed; it was undeniably masculine, but still somehow delicate and small, making Ash feel protective.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, alarms were going off. Ash pulled himself from his imaginary lover, breaking his kiss with the stranger on the bed with him. The girl was breathless – Ash felt the heat of her short gasps as he pulled back – and she reached for his shoulders, pulling him close again.

Ash put his hand up. "Wait," he commanded, confused. Something was definitely wrong. His heart was thrumming with alarm rather than passion, even though he wasn't sure what there was to be alarmed by. He thought back. Was it something to do with Eiji?

And then he realized. Eiji's Adam's apple. It had been real – he'd touched it himself and only pretended he'd been touching his friend. A man then. He reached out, gathering the stranger close as if to continue. An unquestionably flat chest pressed against his.

Ash's alarm pitched up a notch. He could think of only one man with long hair and such delicate bone structure. "Yut Lung?" he asked deafly. The man in his arms stiffened and pulled back. He seemed to speak.

Ash twisted violently, knocking him off the bed. It hurt like hell, and he hoped that his wound was healed enough not to break open again. "Get the fuck away from me," he snarled, grabbing for some kind of cover. His fingers found a plush towel and he carelessly threw it over his lap.

Apparently the other boy understood that he meant business. Ash felt the vibrations of the door slamming even as he shook with fury and shame.

It all clicked – the opulent setting, the strangers caring for him. He'd been starting to wonder why Nadia and Alex hadn't been in to see him yet. He deduced almost immediately that Yut Lung was somehow the only person who had been able to produce the second vial of Moonflower stuff.

But why had Alex contacted him at all? He knew that Yut Lung was one of the enemies he was trying to elude. It made no sense.

Ash yanked the damp towels from beneath him, feeling around for something to wear. He climbed off the bed and explored his surroundings, finding a pair of pajamas folded up on a nearby chair. He slipped into them, feeling a tiny bit better – if you must be in your enemy's lair, it was best to have clothes on, after all. Beyond that he was helpless. Being unable to hear was manageable. Blind, too, could be done. But both together? It'd be suicide to try to escape. He clearly had to bide his time until his senses returned. He just hoped that Yut Lung would steer clear of him until then.

Later, when he'd kicked away all the damp bedding and resituated himself in the bed, Ash felt a brooding sense of unease that had nothing to do with being a prisoner in Yut Lung's mansion. What the hell had gotten into him back there? Never in his life had he ever treated anyone like that – making a sex object of a total stranger. It disgusted him. He'd certainly been attracted to people before, but he knew how awful it was to be seen as nothing more than a body and a face. He never believed he could do it to someone else.

Ash slumped against the pillows, remembering his fantasy. He was almost relieved that Eiji was on the other side of the world. He'd been working so hard to quell the perverted longings he had for his friend, but clearly it hadn't worked. He had no problem with the emotional stuff – he'd known he loved Eiji since that day he'd swiped Charlie's car and ditched Ibé just to help him out – but he knew that sex was trickier. Ugly. He didn't want Eiji to see that side of him, ever.

Ash thought of the letter and immediately felt the familiar swell of feeling. He wondered how he was going to manage it, spending his life with Eiji and hiding such a powerful longing. He clenched his teeth. It didn't matter how – he'd just do it.