Ugh, I am SO sorry it's taken me so long to update this. I've been trying to write it for a while, but between work and the holidays and a TON of family drama, it's been a tough one. So, I hope you enjoy this, and thank you to everyone who's given me support! Let me know what you think, please.

X

He didn't remember much about being rescued. He didn't remember the group of armed men entering the room with their guns drawn, and he didn't even see the shocked looks upon their faces when they saw the state he and Gregory were in. He didn't remember Kenny coming into the room, or Stan and Kyle arriving a few minutes later with Kyle's brother in tow, as someone was in the process of untying the ropes that bound Christophe to his chair.

What he did remember was how desperate he had been to get to Gregory. How he'd been terrified that the whole thing was just another hallucination, and that somehow Gregory would disappear before he got the chance to hold him.

He'd been too weak to stand, stumbling and falling onto the floor when he tried to cross the room, but some merciful person had brought Gregory over to him, and he'd held him in his arms for the longest time, kissing his face and trying to ignore how badly they were both shaking, or how much every touch of Gregory's body against his own hurt. It was only when Ike insisted on having a look at their wounds that they loosened their grip on each other, never completely letting go. They'd sat side by side while he examined them, hand in torn, bloody hand.

Christophe assumed he must have passed out some time after that, because the next thing he knew he was laying in a bed, with an IV in his arm, a good portion of his body covered in bandages, and a cast on one of his arms. There was a moment of panic when he couldn't figure out where he was, but then he looked to his right and saw Gregory in the bed next to him, sleeping peacefully. They seemed to be in a large tent, set up as a make-shift hospital. There were many other men in beds lining the walls, some awake and talking cheerfully to each other, while others were in much worse conditions, with bloody bandages covering their bodies. He spied Kyle's brother, whose name he couldn't remember at the moment, walking between the beds with a clipboard in his hands.

Christophe tried to sit up, but a wave of pain rolled through his body, making his vision go white. He passed out again.

Someone was laying beside him the next time he woke up, holding his hand and stroking his cheek. He hated most people touching him, but he felt at peace with the presence at his side, and didn't bother to open his eyes, simply letting the other person pet him. His face twitched when the person's rough skin caught at a scab on his cheek.

"Sorry," he heard a soft voice whisper, as the hand pulled away from his face. He opened his eyes to see Gregory's head resting on the pillow next to him, smiling hard as Christophe came out of his sleep.

"Hi," he said as Christophe blinked sleepily at him. He looked close to tears.

"How long 'ave I been out?" Christophe asked, reaching over to push a stray lock of hair behind Gregory's ear. The cast on his arm made him feel heavy and clumsy, or maybe it was just the pain and exhaustion that made him feel that way. Never mind the medications that were no doubt pumping through his veins.

"A few days, I think," he answered, his voice rough with exhaustion, "I only just woke up about an hour ago."

"Did you manage to get into my bed all by yourself?" Christophe asked, surprised.

"Oh no, Ike helped me. I can barely sit up on my own," he said, as he began to stroke Christophe's cheek again, "I don't know what's going on, but Ike said he'd try and get Stan or Kyle in here to talk to us, when they have a moment. I gathered that they're quite busy."

Christophe didn't respond to this, just scooted closer to Gregory until they were pressed together, noses nearly touching. Despite the ache he felt on every inch of his body, he couldn't remember ever feeling this happy. To be able to touch Gregory again – the real Gregory – after what they'd been through seemed like it was too good to be true.

"Zis ees real, right?" he asked, running his fingers across Gregory's lips, "I am not going to wake up again, tied to zat fucking chair? Or are we dead and een 'eaven, maybe?"

Gregory smiled against his fingertips.

"I think if we were in Heaven our bodies would be healed, don't you?"

"Definitely," answered a voice from the foot of their bed. They turned and saw Kenny standing there, grinning as usual, with Stan and Kyle approaching behind him.

"And Heaven doesn't have hospitals, anyway," Kenny continued.

"How would you know?" asked Gregory, rolling away from Christophe a little, but not letting go of his hand.

"Oh, you know, I have my sources," Kenny said with a shrug.

"How are you guys doing?" Kyle asked, grinning down at them.

"We've been worse," answered Gregory, "What's going on?"

"Ike said you guys are doing good," said Kenny, "I mean, you kind of look like shit, and you both have some broken bones and stuff, be he assured me you'll be up and back to butt fucking in no time."

He laughed at the glares both Christophe and Gregory were shooting him, and pulled up a chair next to their bed. Stan and Kyle sat on Gregory's abandoned bed next to them.

"I'm glad you guys are ok," said Kyle, "I was so worried we'd be too late. As it was you were both unconscious for three days. Ike was afraid the dehydration alone would kill you, never mind all... this," he said, gesturing vaguely at their worn bodies.

Gregory just smiled tightly at him and said nothing. Christophe could tell he was already getting impatient with the small talk, and neither of them wanted to discuss what had happened in that dank, dark room with anyone.

"What 'appened?" asked Christophe, "Did you kill Cartman?"

"No," said Stan, "He's sitting in a shitty jail cell right now, though. He's going to go on trial in about a month."

"You should let me visit 'im when I'm 'ealed," said Christophe, trying to sit up more in the bed, and failing, "I would like to repay some of 'is, ah, 'ospitality."

"Yeah, well, we're trying to get him on charges of human right violations, so it might look a little hypocritical if we let him get his ass kicked while he's awaiting trial," answered Kyle.

Christophe felt a little disgruntled at this. Cartman would probably be put to death if he was found guilty, which was almost guaranteed, but watching someone else execute him wouldn't be nearly as satisfying as doing it himself.

"How did you find us?" Gregory asked beside him.

"Butters," answered Kenny with a grin, "He tried to warn us ahead of time that this was a trap, but we didn't get the message until it was too late. But he was in contact with us before the raid, so we knew what was going on here."

"Oh," said Gregory, looking slightly embarrassed, probably at the prospect of other people knowing what had happened to them. Although, Christophe mused, anyone who looked at him could tell that he'd been through hell.

"What's 'appened since we were, ah, liberated?" Christophe asked, hoping to take the other mens' focus off them.

"Well," started Kyle, "Most of the soldiers have surrendered, although there's still pockets of fighting going on in some areas. The New York resistance group is mostly in charge of the interim government. Butter has been helping them, since he had a lot of experience with that shit, working for Cartman. They're using the soldiers who surrendered to help with clean-up in major cities. There was a lot of really intense fighting and riots in most places, so they have their work cut out for them. And they haven't decided when they're going to hold elections yet, but they're working all that stuff out. Everyone seems pretty happy, though. You guys missed most of the partying."

"But you aren't involved in the interim government?" asked Gregory.

"No," said Stan, exchanging a look with Kyle, "We've been helping them out, giving advice and opinions and whatever they ask for, but uh, Kyle and I are done with this. We just want to go back to Colorado and start over. We're going to go back to our cafe, and maybe... think about starting a family," he said, looking a little embarrassed, "Kenny's, uh... I don't know. What do you think you'll do, man?" Stan asked, turning to Kenny, who just shrugged at him.

"I really liked doing this organizational shit, so I might stick around and help with the government stuff. Craig is already back in DC," he explained to Christophe and Gregory, "so, I don't know. I might go out there. I might go back to Colorado... I don't know."

"We'd miss you, if you didn't come back with us, dude," Stan said, leaning over to put his hand on Kenny's shoulder. Kyle was nodding emphatically next to him.

Christophe shifted in his bed, quickly growing bored with the extra company. Next to him, Gregory yawned, hiding his face in Christophe's shoulder.

Kyle elbowed Stan, and they stood up together, with Kenny following suit, once he realized what was going on.

"Well, anyway," said Kyle, "You guys get some rest, ok? And let us know if you need anything. We'll probably be around for another couple of days before heading back to Colorado."

"Yes of course," said Gregory, clearly trying to will himself awake, "Please keep us updated if anything changes."

"Sure," said Stan, reaching for Kyle's hand and leading him away, with Kenny in pursuit.

Gregory rolled back against Christophe, burying his face against his shoulder once more.

"I don't think I've ever been so tired in my whole life," he mumbled. Christophe was glad that Gregory had a habit of carrying on conversations while he brushed his teeth, or Christophe probably wouldn't have had a clue what he'd said. Luckily his experience made him fluent in Mumblese.

"I think you 'ave reason to be tired," he responded, shifting so that he could put his arms around his exhausted boyfriend, "After what we 'ave been through... I think we deserve some rest."

"Couldn't agree more," Gregory mumbled, as he made himself comfortable against Christophe's chest, and quickly dropped off into a deep sleep.

In the coming years they would never really talk about what happened to them. They were not the sort of men who discussed such matters in an open way. Occasionally Christophe would wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of Gregory screaming and thrashing beside him, and he'd shake him into wakefulness, and hold him until he calmed down. Gregory would do the same for him, when he had nightmares.

The torture had messed them both up, both physically and psychologically. Gregory was never able to walk without a cane again, and had severe anxiety when they went anywhere new, although he hid it very well. Christophe's broken hand, which had been mangled by Cartman himself, healed fairly well, but was still prone to painful arthritic fits when the weather was bad, and he grew increasingly protective of Gregory over time, watching all his interactions carefully, and glaring at anyone who came too close to him.

But despite their problems, they were both very happy. They both felt they had a new lease on life, and were grateful to be given a second chance.

Upon returning to Colorado, Stan and Kyle had found their cafe had been smashed into and burned down, whether by rioters or the army, they never knew. They moved back into the former Resistance base, where they were soon joined by Christophe and Gregory, once they were well enough to travel once more. Their next joint venture was born from an innocent inquiry at dinner one night.

"What do you guys miss most about your house?" Kyle asked, as he passed a dish of potato latkes to Stan.

"The garden," Gregory answered without hesitation.

"Hm, I miss being able to walk around naked, personally," said Christophe, though a mouthful of food, ignoring the look Gregory gave him, "but ah, yes, we 'ad a nice garden. I liked that."

"You both did the gardening?" Stan asked, glancing at Kyle as he did so.

"Well, actually Christophe did most of it. I picked out what I wanted to be planted, and I watered and picked the strawberries sometimes, but he did most of the dirty work," Gregory said, smiling at Christophe who merely nodded at this.

Kyle simply looked at them thoughtfully, and then said, "Well then, I have a proposition for you."

Tournesol Farm was fully planned out within a week.

"Stan and I have been talking about this for a while," Kyle explained to Gregory, "but see, we weren't really sure if we could get it off the ground. We figured I could run the business side, and he could direct labor, which would probably be former Resistance members in need of work, but we weren't sure we could handle it on our own. With your help in the office, and Christophe's help in the field, I'm sure we could be successful."

And he was right. After only the second season on the property they'd purchased an hour north of Denver, they had enough money for Christophe and Gregory to build their own home, right next to the old farmhouse they'd been sharing with Stan and Kyle.

Gregory never would have though he'd enjoy living on a farm, but as he watched the sun rise over the vast fields of sunflowers from his bedroom window, he realized how much he enjoyed the peace. He had no regrets about leaving his former life behind, and was perfectly content that these days, the biggest battles he and Christophe had to fight were the occasional spat with Stan. Gregory didn't even mind those, since Christophe's standard response to anger was to drag Gregory off to their bedroom to expel his pent-up energy.

At that thought, Gregory smiled to himself, and headed out to work.

X

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Ah, JESUS I had such a hard time finishing this. Sorry if the ending was lame but HEY I'M DONE YAY. So, uh, reviews, please?

Just an FYI, my next project is for the SPBB thing, and will be a WWII AU fic. It'll be Gregstophe and Style again, and it should be pretty fun, once I get on it. I'm also sort of dabbling at a Tophlovski fic, if any of you are into that.

So THANK YOU for reading this, and I hope you enjoyed it. 3