"Ah!" The rope was snatched out of Joseph's hands with such force that it knocked him to the deck of their little ship. Ahead of him, Andy was yanked forward, her hands pulled into the mechanism of the hoist and jammed into the sheave. She cried out as the force of whatever was happening at the other end of the rope broke her hands and mangled fingers.
Joseph jumped up, grabbing the rope and hauling back on it with all his strength. The tension on the line released so fast that he fell to the deck a second time. On the other end of that line was Nico. Or … he had been. Andy went to the railing, her hands already beginning to heal. She looked at the line, then down at the water.
Joseph picked himself up and pulled at the line experimentally. It was light. Nico was not a small man and he'd been clad in chain mail from top to bottom, carrying a pole. Raising and lowering him was like moving the anchor. The rope wasn't carrying his weight anymore. "He must have used the quick disconnect," Joseph said.
"Pull," Andy told him.
"He's still down there," Joseph said with alarm. "He needs the rope." If he pulled it up, how would Nico reconnect? Would they lose him to the depths just like Quynh? Well, maybe not just like her, as Nico could theoretically march along the bottom and eventually emerge, but how long would that take, dying and resurrecting over and over? At this depth, the ship was in constant motion no matter how firmly they anchored. The rope was Nico's only way up.
"Pull!" she said insistently, coming back to the rope and seizing it with her own half-healed hands. She'd seen something, he assumed. She knew something. He might be four hundred years old, but she was so much older that there was nothing in the realm of man he'd found which predated her. Her age had given her a wisdom he could only hope to one day achieve and when he did, she would still be older and wiser than he. So when she demanded he pull, when she took up the rope while still in pain herself, even though the love of his life might be stranded for years or decades and there was even a slim chance Nico might be lost forever … Joseph pulled.
The rope was still too light. It came up easy and fast. He feared what misery he was consigning Nico to with every haul on it, with every squeaking rotation of the sheaves and pulleys. But why had Nico released himself? There was another hard jerk on the rope, not nearly as forceful as before but still enough to make them both lose their footing.
"Faster!" Andy yelled, and they laid to as quickly as possible. The rope coiled wet and sopping on the deck behind them. Joseph barely had time to wonder why their speed mattered if it was an empty rope they were pulling up, but then he saw the depth bands along the rope speed by, telling him they were nearly to the end of it.
Something came up out of the water, on the end of the rope. Joseph's heart stopped. It was part of a man. 'Part'.
Nico was dead.
Underneath the dangling portion, something splashed in the water and roiled loudly enough to be heard over the waves. Andy was shoving the side of the derrick, swinging the end with its grisly attachment over the deck and away from the water. The thing on the end of the rope, still attached by the harness, was Nico's head, chest, one full arm and part of the other. The rest of his body, from the ribcage down, was gone.
Nico was dead.
Joseph felt like he was the one who had been torn apart. There was an ache that started behind his eyes that ran down his throat, through his chest, his gut, and right to his groin and bowels. He couldn't think. He could barely see. His throat seized shut. His chest felt like it would explode from pressure. His stomach was churning and if he'd had anything to release lower down, he would have. No battle or wound or torment had ever made him feel this way. Only now. Nico. Nicolò. Oh, Nicolò.
Nico was dead.
The chain mail that should have protected him was gone, along with the padding. He still had his coif and mantel around his limp, lolling head, but the suit, the leggings? Missing, along with his body. Viscera hung from his midsection. Joseph found himself purging his stomach right then and there.
Nico was dead.
When he looked up, it was with the hottest of wrath in his eyes. This entire mission had been to find Quynh. Not only had they failed, but they'd lost Nico. Andy was old. She was supposed to be wise. She was in command. That made her responsible. This was her fault. And there she stood, looking up at Nico's innards with a skeptical, annoyed expression. Those were parts of Nico so private that no one, not even him, should ever see them, much less with that disrespectful look. It was obscene. Joseph's lips peeled back as he bared his teeth. He had no weapon on him, but he was angry enough to kill her with his bare hands.
"Eh," Andy said with the barest of glances toward Joseph, "he'll be alright."
Joseph stumbled as his angry charge turned into a clumsy pitch forward. He recovered his balance two steps closer to where Andy stood next to what was left of his love. Her words bounced around in his head, trying to make sense. Should he still try to kill her?
She looked at Joseph a little longer this time. He could see she was wary. Of him. That, too, gave him pause. This was not helping Nico. If there was any chance he might survive, then fighting with Andy at a time like this was stupid. She said, "Go release the brake so I can get him down."
He didn't remember the brake having been applied. She must have done it before she'd swung the derrick around, when he'd been transfixed by Nico's appearance. Numbly, he moved to the mechanism and released it, trying to wrap his mind around what she'd said. He was still alive? Nico was still alive? It was impossible. She lowered Nico's remains to the deck, unbuckling what was left of the harness and pulling off the chain coif and mantel. Nico's face was immobile and pale, eyes half-open and sightless.
Joseph moved next to her, looking down on the body, looking for the slightest sign of life. There should be one. Something! Joseph took a ragged breath. The wait was agonizing. But there was nothing. He couldn't remember any death taking his long to stir from. He kept wondering if Nico's missing portion would magically reappear, even though he knew that wasn't how their ability handled amputations. They had to regrow. It was a slow and often painful process which made one ravenous with hunger if the replaced portion was of any significance.
But … Nico had no stomach. How could he eat to allow his missing parts to regrow? He wasn't even conscious. He wasn't even breathing. He was … No, Joseph refused to let himself think it again. Not now that Andy had said he wasn't dead. Joseph wouldn't think Nico was dead unless he had to. He just … looked dead.
"You're-" Joseph could barely get the word out. It was more a rough sound, an approximation of what he was trying to say. He coughed and tried again. "You're sure?"
"I survived worse. Let's get him below decks."
She was talking about the horrible state she'd been in after being burned at the stake. "Yes, but you had a skeleton! You could regrow from the inside! He has nothing!"
She hoisted Nico's body herself, a feat that was possible because there was so little of him. "Go get the door."
She shouldn't be the one carrying him, Joseph realized with another flare of anger, although this one was far subdued from his previous murderous wrath. He opened the door, then scooted around her to prepare a bunk. The top of a bunk. There was no need to prepare the bottom. There was a void where the rest of Nico should be. It defied everything he knew. That missing part … shouldn't be missing.
She laid him down, face-up. "See here?" She gestured at the tissue at the bottom of Nico's ribs. It was pink and stretched inward maybe half a centimeter at the edge. Above it was paler skin. Beyond it was gore. "It's regrowing."
He stared. The lighting was bad. He wasn't sure what he was seeing. He had never seen the body regrow this slowly. But maybe in her long years, she had? She'd been with Quynh for centuries or maybe even thousands of years before Nico and Joseph had been born. "Have you … have you seen someone recover from this before?"
"I've only seen one of us die and stay dead. Lykon's wound was nothing. He was cut through the liver in a simple penetration." She gestured on her side. "We have survived worse, thousands of times. Nico is alive. He will heal."
"How?"
"That's the wrong question." Her voice was hard for that. It softened to say, "Clean him up. I'll go turn the ship around."
"Can you do that … alone?"
The little ship was not designed for operation by one person, but if anyone could, it would be Andromache. She huffed a laugh. "If I can't, then we'll just go in circles for a while." She went back out.
He pulled over a stool and sat, taking up Nico's remaining hand, his left, in his own. It was cold and lifeless, which didn't make any sense. If there was any life to him, any ability to recover, then he should be conscious. A terrible thought occurred to Joseph – what if he'd been bitten in two, killed by whatever enormous shark must have taken him, and he'd healed just a little before dying forever? That would account for the appearance of such a small strip of healed skin, but he'd still be ...
No, he would not think it. Tears began to pour from his eyes though. He might not want to think it, but his body knew. His heart knew. He bent forward and lifted Nico's cold hand, putting the back of it against his forehead. He sobbed. His shoulders shook. Tears and saliva dripped to the deck below. All his fear and grief and the hollow specter of a life without this man in it wracked his body, escalating his sobs until he was retching. He was already empty from throwing up on the deck.
With an effort, he calmed himself enough that he could breathe. His nose was clogged and his throat tight. He remained nauseous. He raised his head to look at Nico with blurry vision. "I loved you. I loved you so much. I loved-" Why was he using the past tense, he wondered? His sobbing started again.
When it finally ebbed a second time, he wiped his mouth and kissed Nico's hand, holding it both of his. It was still cold, but it was not stiff. He rubbed it between his hands. It was loose. His brows drew together. There was no rigor. If he were truly dead, then by now, there should be rigor – not a great deal, but enough that should feel it in an extremity like this. He moved Nico's entire arm. It was as loose as though he were simply unconscious, though this was less conclusive. "Nico?" Joseph whispered. "Nicolò? My love …?"
He wiped his eyes, then set Nico's hand on the mattress (it would be inaccurate to say he put it at Nico's side, as Nico's side was missing) and went to clean his face properly. Joseph returned with a wet cloth and ran it over Nico's skin. He was not dirty or even bloody, so what Andy meant by 'clean him up', Joseph didn't know.
Maybe just … get the salt off him? Because if she was right and he was alive, then maybe she was right and he should be cleaned. So Joseph cleaned him. He closed Nico's eyes. He undressed him, what there was of him to undress. Nico never moved. He'd never handled his love like this, like a corpse. Joseph wept the entire time, mostly silently.
He was still swabbing Nico's cold flesh when Andy returned from above. She put a hand on Joseph's shoulder and rubbed. He stopped, easing Nico back down on the mattress. He turned to her and put his face against her stomach, his arms around her waist. Silently, she comforted him.
In that moment, it was what he needed. He needed living touch and warmth and stalwart hope. She stroked his back with one hand and held the back of his head with the other. Her fingers dug into his hair and massaged at his scalp. He had not known she had such tenderness in her. When he parted, her face was streaked with wet as well. This was also something he needed – to know she felt this as he did, though perhaps not the same for Nico was not her everything. But he was still her friend.
His hands were still on her hips as he looked up and asked, "Why does he not wake?"
"You remember how long it took me to get conscious after the stake?"
"No. You and Nico are a pair. He had you loaded in the cart and said if I could not stand to look at you, I should not. So I didn't. It wasn't until we reached the cottage that I had a good look. That was hours later." He let her go, turning to look at Nico with a stir of hope. "And you were barely conscious even then." She'd been delirious with pain, but she'd been alive. "You really think …?"
"I do. I'll mourn him if he dies." She gave a decisive shake of her head. "But not before. I got us turned around and headed for land. Keep an eye on him and let me know when he wakes. We'll need to get some food into him."
"How …?"
"He has a mouth. We'll feed it."
"But he has no lower parts."
"Then he'll make a mess of things, like a baby. You might want to put an oilcloth under him to make clean-up easier." She gazed at Nico silently for a moment, seeing past him. "That must have been a hell of a shark."
Joseph nodded. "Twice. Whatever bit him to start with and yanked you into the hoist, then perhaps the later jerk was one following the scent of blood, getting his arm." He looked to Andy. "How did you know?"
"I didn't. I suspected." She paused for a moment. "I feared. We thought the armor would be enough." And it had been, for the various assaults of smaller predators. She exhaled heavily. "I'm going back up to make sure we stay on course. Yell if you need anything."
Joseph chuckled wryly at how he needed a great deal right now. But if she'd sat down with him again, he'd have started weeping anew. And she was right – they should not mourn Nico while he still had signs of life, however small they might be.
Joseph prepared Nico's resting place for the inevitable mess that would come. He washed his hair in fresh water. He finally kissed him, his lips resting on Nico's cold forehead. He murmured prayers and well wishes and how much he loved him into his ears, hoping Nico could hear him and even if he could not, it was soothing to say.
As far as what was happening outside, he didn't care. They could have been going in circles for all he knew. Andy came in often enough for him to know she was worried. He had little to report except that the skin on Nico's midsection was slowly, steadily growing across the severed section, creating a shiny new layer that shielded his insides. There was a protrusion of spine the skin was growing around rather than over, but regardless, it was growing. It was a sign of life and things happening within Nico's body to prepare him for his return. He was truly not dead.
Joseph had long hours to consider every possible outcome, including that Andy was wrong and Nico would not return to them as a whole person. Perhaps he would be always like this – one arm, his head, and enough torso to survive somehow. What if that was all the healing could do for him?
Well. Perhaps Nico could take up art. He'd admired Joseph's renderings often enough. Maybe he could take up writing. He had a good script and he could simply expand upon the correspondence he'd had with various learned men over the last century. He could speak. He could teach. He could have a good life, if his healing was enough to free him from the many hideous complications that plagued the maimed. And Joseph would care for him always. He might grieve what they'd lost, but Joseph knew he would adjust to the new Nico and things would go on.
It was also unsettling to imagine Nico recovering completely, without so much as a scar to mark him. Which if he recovered at all, this was the most likely. As Andy said, she'd survived … well, Joseph thought her affliction had been equally bad. He did not judge it worse. She and Nico could swap horror stories and settle it for themselves (though more likely, neither of them would mention it again as that was how they both were), but to Joseph's eye her recovery from the fire was as awful as Nico's from this. Andy had no scars to show for it.
To imagine that a few months from now, he would hold Nico in his arms, whole and unmarred, felt unreal and impossible. Somehow it was more fantastical than to know Nico was already four times the age of the oldest man not directly touched by God. (Joseph had his doubts about the biblical tales of methuselahs.) He stroked Nico's face and held his hand as the hours passed and even his worried speculation about the future dulled in his mind.
He was dozing in his seat when his love finally stirred. Nico made a croaking noise, his eyes flying open, unseeing, and his hand clenching spasmodically. A flush of warmth ran through him.
"Nico, Nico! Nicolò," Joseph said hurriedly. But Nico didn't seem to hear him. His throat worked. His mouth twisted. His lids fluttered. His chest barely moved, if at all, and Nico didn't draw even a single breath. He died, as sure as any of the hundreds of deaths Joseph had seen in his life. Joseph put his head to Nico's still chest after his love had stopped moving, listening for any sound. There was none. The warmth faded from his hand. "Andy! Andromache!"
The door banged open as Andy came in with a rush. The cabin was lit only by an oil lamp hanging over the bed. It had become dark outside some time ago and the dawn had not yet arrived. She peered over Joseph's shoulder and didn't speak, her head cocked as though listening.
Joseph looked to her. "He died. He came back … and he died." The knife of fear was back in his gut, twisting. Was this the literal last gasp of Nico's healing? What if he never came back at all?
Andy grimaced. "He'll cycle. I guess I should have said, 'Tell me when he's able to eat.'" She went to their food stores, sorting through them by feel in the dark and occasionally lifting things to her nose to identify them.
Joseph gave a hollow laugh. "You are practical as always. You would have me leave him in a sack until he was able to call to us for help, wouldn't you?"
She shrugged. "We can make a porridge out of these biscuits and some brandy, when he's able." She looked over to him. "Did he breathe?"
"Not really."
She nodded and stood, leaving the food where it was. "He'll come back eventually. He has a long road ahead of him."
"I will walk it with him."
"In the condition he's in, you'll be carrying him for most of it."
He laughed again. "I am the one of us who is supposed to be making jokes."
"Are you in any condition to do that?" She was smiling at him. She put a hand on his shoulder and rubbed firmly.
He smiled back, putting his hand over hers. "No. So thank you for … Thank you."
She patted him when he moved his hand away so she could go. "He'll be able to hear you soon - once he can stay awake. I know he'll be grateful to have you by him."
Joseph nodded, remembering how Nicolò had recited biblical stories to her as she convalesced (crankily) from being burned at the stake. Joseph had read her poems. Cranky or not, she'd listened with increasing attention through those long, helpless first days when she could do no more than move her head, roll her eyes, and breathe wheezily.
He took Nico's hand and immediately he came back to life, but again it was disappointingly, frighteningly brief. Andy leaned in to watch with as much intensity as Joseph had seen her put to anything. He wondered if that meant she had doubts she wouldn't voice. Joseph found himself weeping again, partly in returned fear and partly for the pain Nico must be in. Joseph well knew the disorientation of death and it must be worse to come back to awareness with so much of himself missing.
"His diaphragm's not quite there yet," Andy said. "Can't breathe. Soon, though." She patted Joseph again on the shoulder, letting her hand rest there with a squeeze. "Soon, okay? Don't give up hope."
"I have more hope now than I did when he wasn't moving at all." He swallowed roughly. "I do not ever want to see him like that again." She patted him a last time and went topside. He appreciated that she was handling the boat herself. Exhaustion was weighing on him and all he'd been doing was sitting at Nico's bedside. She had to be tired, too. Hopefully, she was napping up there in between adjustments to their sails, because there was no way he was leaving Nicolò's side.
He didn't get any more rest that night. Every one of Nico's rousings roused Joseph in turn. It was past dawn before Nico pulled in a full breath and didn't die within seconds. He didn't stay alive, either, but at least he finally got enough oxygen to be coherent for a moment.
His eyes focused and he turned his head to Joseph's voice. Joseph's heart leaped and his soul rose when Nico obviously recognized him. Nicolò squeezed his hand a moment later, then looked over at the arm that was missing from the elbow down, flesh tattered and torn from halfway up the bicep down to where it simply ended at the joint.
"I'm sorry," Joseph said. "We did not pull you up fast enough."
Nico's eyes rolled back in his head and he died, looking for all the world as though seeing his missing arm had been too much for him. Joseph wondered if he knew how much else he was missing. Joseph had long since covered him with a blanket so he wouldn't be constantly reminded of Nico's state. It helped him stay focused on what was left, looking to Nico's face instead of dwelling on his absent stomach or hips or legs or feet.
Nicolò came and went another dozen times before he finally, blessedly, did not die again. When his initial gasps subsided, Nicolò lay panting shallowly, staring upward and barely clinging to life.
"I am here," Joseph said when it was clear Nicolò was staying. "I am with you. You are safe now. We are headed for shore. Andy is guiding the ship. She is confident you will recover from this fully, even though it may take a while. I love you. Do not speak. Do not answer. I can see your difficulty breathing. The only thing I want you saying is telling me something I can do for you – no other words."
"Water." Nicolò's lids fluttered and for a lurching moment Joseph thought he'd lost him again, but then he seemed to stabilize. It was hard to bring himself to stand and move away. Not only was he unbearably stiff, but he simply didn't want to leave Nicolò's side. Not even at his direction. But he fetched a cup and returned with it, holding it to Nicolò's lips.
His love took a deep drink, then sputtered, followed by keening and hissing in pain. Nicolò would have writhed but there was so little of him to do it with. His good arm flailed, knocking the cup out of Joseph's hand and away, water flying. A second later, Nicolò slumped, unconscious, but not dead. Joseph didn't care about the cup. He put his hand on Nicolò's shoulder and watched to see that he was breathing.
He worried about Nicolò's lack of innards. He had no stomach. How could he absorb the nutrients he needed to rebuild his body? Especially if he couldn't even hydrate himself? Could he be watered like a plant? Could he, like a piece of paper, absorb the moisture? He retrieved the cup and refilled it, returning to Nicolò's side just as Andy popped back in.
"He woke and asked for water, but when I provided it, he seemed in pain and then passed out."
"M wake," Nicolò said, rolling his head to face them.
Andy grinned at him. "Good to see you back among the living, soldier."
His breathing was still uneven and shallow. He didn't answer Andy, or even look at her. Instead, he stared at the cup. Joseph lifted it and Nicolò's eyes went to his and then back to the cup. Dealing with Andy's recovery from being burned had taught them simple signals like this. It was reassuring that Nicolò was coherent enough to remember them. Joseph brought the cup toward his lips. "Take the smallest sip, my love. Just wet your mouth. Do not swallow." He did as bid.
Joseph rested the cup on his knee and looked to Andy. "How will this work?"
"Just like that. Slowly. Small amounts. We can take turns."
"I can do it."
She nudged his shoulder. "Let me do my share."
He bristled and exhaled tensely. "You do not have a 'share' in this." He barely caught himself from saying the only reason this had happened was her futile, hopeless effort to find Quynh. "He is my love and the idea that I would hand off his care to anyone else, even you, is an insult!"
She looked unimpressed. "How would you have felt if Nico had insisted on doing all the tending of me before? How do you think I would have felt toward you if you'd let him?"
He blinked and thought that through, seeing it from points of view other than his own. If Nico only had cared for her and Joseph had gladly excused himself from the business, what should she have thought of him for it? "It would have felt unfair," he said finally, conceding. "It would have looked like I didn't care."
"Exactly." Softer, she added, "Let me do my share."
"Water?" Nicolò asked, interrupting their feud.
Joseph felt guilty for not having been watching him constantly. How long had he been looking at the cup? "Here, here. Did you swallow the other?"
"I-" Nico looked uncertain. He looked pointedly at the cup. Joseph gave him another sip.
Andy said, "He'll start healing faster after this. I'll go check on things up top."
"How long should I give him only water?" Joseph said, turning to follow her with his attention. He didn't want her to help, but perversely he wanted her to fix all of this, even though he knew she could not.
"Until he wants something to eat," Andy said, heading out.
"Are you hungry?" he asked Nico, turning back.
"No." His voice was stronger already. Joseph gave him another sip. There was a minute or so between each one. When half the cup was gone and Nico was staring off in a fugue, Joseph raised the blanket to see what had happened. He had this expectation the stuff was just running right through him. He'd seen the esophagus? Or maybe the top of the stomach, when Andy had him hanging off the hoist. Since then, even though he'd undressed and cleaned him and shifted him around, he hadn't been able to tell. He definitely had not gone digging.
There was a spot of new moisture around and under his spine, but it was small and could have been any other sort of seepage. Certainly there was not a half cup, so it must be absorbing after all. As gross as it was, Joseph had serious concerns about elimination and consumption. Their healing and immortality had always functioned in an unexplained manner. Maybe this part of the process would be an equally mysterious transmutation of food into flesh.
Nico reached for his own side with his good hand and found only the yielding space of the blanket. Hesitantly, Joseph lifted it out of the way. Nico brought his hand to his chest and smoothed it down to the end with an expression of confusion when there was nothing beyond that. He craned his head up further for a second before he had to flop back down in apparent exhaustion.
Joseph could not bring himself to explain. Instead, he offered, "Do you want to see?"
"Yes."
Joseph cupped the back of his head and lifted it. Nico shot him a fearful look at what he saw, then continued feeling over himself in the severed area, where the thin membrane had grown over. He found the exposed bit of spine that was left and felt down to the terminus of it. "What is this?"
"Three vertebrae of the spinal column," Joseph told him. "They are damaged."
Nico's hand fell limply to the side of the bed. "I … I am gone."
Joseph lowered his head, but kept his hand on the side of his neck. "Do you remember what happened?"
"No. Last was … on deck, joking about the odds. That this would be the time we found her." Nico's eyes slid shut and his face slackened. He looked tired. It was the most words he'd said so far, although this still put him as more verbal than Andy had been after she'd been burned.
"Let me give you another drink and you can take it in while you rest."
Nico made a faint, displeased noise, but he took the sip when offered, then lay back with his eyes shut.
"Andy assures me you will recover."
Nico made a swallowing motion, then a pained wince. He turned his face away. Joseph's face pinched in sympathy, but there was nothing he could do. Nico turned back. "Do you believe her?" Asking the question seemed to be the reason for him swallowing early.
Joseph didn't answer that. He couldn't. He had too much fear and that wasn't what Nico needed to hear. "It is because of her that you are here. We had lowered you. There was a terrible yank on the rope. Then it was almost slack. It was so light, I thought you'd unhooked the quick release and you would need the rope to come back up. So at first I would not pull on the rope. I would not strand you down there. Yet she insisted I pull. She was …"
Joseph looked aside and shrugged. "Insistent. I pulled. And you came up. There was another yank along the way and I think that was when your arm went, for clearly you weren't wearing the chain mail when that happened. If we hadn't pulled, none of you would have been left."
"Do you believe her?"
Joseph grimaced. Nico was both intelligent and persistent, but Joseph evaded again. "You are healing and getting stronger. I see that." He blinked back the wetness in his eyes.
Nico held his arm out to the side and Joseph carefully laid his head on Nico's upper chest – his shoulder, mostly. Nico curled his arm around Joseph's head and sank his fingers into his hair. "You should believe her."
Joseph let out a shaky breath and nodded slowly. He sniffled and wished he had Nico's unshakable faith. He didn't, but he could wish for it. It seemed like such a comfortable, low stress way to be. It took so much strength to be that way. He admired that in Nico. The only thing he was that absolutely certain of was that Nico loved him and he loved Nico in turn. Speaking of which, he lifted his head slightly to say, "I am the one who is supposed to be comforting you right now."
"You are," Nico said plainly, rubbing his fingers on Joseph's scalp and pushing him back to his chest. "You caring about me is always a comfort. It always has been. It always will be."
Joseph snorted softly. "Is there anything I can do for you, though?" He sat up to see Nico's face. "Do you have pain anywhere?"
Nico raised his injured arm. The flesh had sealed at some point, the tattered ribbons of torn muscle were now hidden under a thin, pink membrane. Joseph hesitated to call it skin. The bone protruded – white, yellow, black, and dark red, with the latter two colors being where tissue had died and dried on it. Normally, a severed limb like that would be healing faster, but obviously Nico had a lot to heal. "It hurts. This and my back – the part I touched earlier."
"Does it itch? Like it is healing?"
"No. It's the bone. It aches. It feels … sore?"
Joseph looked at across Nico's chest, trying to think of what he could do about it. So it hurt. Why would it hurt? How would it hurt? The bone must still be alive, with the healing trying to progress into it, if Nico was feeling anything from it. There was no blood circulation to support it, being that it was beyond the membrane. The same for his spine. That would explain why it hurt. Was it drying or drawing? He tried to think of what he could do to alleviate it.
"Let me try something," Joseph said. He went to the galley and returned with a pair of clean, wet cloths. He wrapped one around the bone of Nico's arm. "How does that feel?"
Nico was silent, looking at it for so long that Joseph considered repeating his question. Finally, Nico said, "Yes. That's better." He shut his eyes. "I'm thirsty again."
Joseph gave him another sip. "I hope you are growing a stomach down there. You will heal faster once we can get more into you at once." He wrapped the other cloth around Nico's spine.
Andy showed up as he was finishing. "What are you doing down there?"
"Wrapping the exposed bone with a wet cloth."
"They hurt," Nico said. "But better with the cloth."
She nodded. "Are you ready for some food?"
"Yes," Nico said.
"You should have told me," Joseph chided.
"Only now. Only … realized it now." He seemed tired. Joseph stroked his forehead and petted his hair. Nico shut his eyes and let his head loll.
Andy went to the galley and made the paste of brandy and biscuit she'd mentioned earlier. "Wake up, sleepyhead," she said as she returned. "Food of the gods coming through."
Nico blinked awake, still looking out of it.
"He seems disoriented," Joseph said quietly. "He was not this way earlier."
"Needs food." She presented Nico with half a spoonful.
He mulled it around in his mouth. He swallowed and flinched. "No. No more."
She tasted it herself. "Is it the brandy?"
"Hurts," Nico said. "It hurts … when I swallow. After it goes down."
"I don't think he has a stomach," Joseph said with concern. You couldn't just shove food and water into a man's mouth and expect him to be sated with it. He had to have a system to digest it.
She flipped up the blanket and reviewed the healing. Nothing had come out. As far as that went, the membrane of healing had covered the entirety of Nico's cross-section. There was nowhere for anything to come out. Then again, maybe their ability would fully metabolize whatever he ate. Joseph and Nico both had, when necessary, survived by eating things that normally would not maintain a person.
Andy covered him with the blanket again. She turned to Joseph. "I'm going to need your help to bring the ship into port. Once we're there, we can put him in a chest and get him to a house. Maybe honeyed milk will go down better, or even just honey."
Joseph nodded and looked to Nico. "Can you spare me for a bit, my love? I'd rather we not run aground and have to rescue you from the wreck."
Nico nodded tiredly. "Go."
Andy eyed him critically. "Another drink of water. Then we go."
They got the boat in safely. Joseph worried the entire time. As soon as they were tied off on the dock, he hurried back downstairs. Nico was difficult to rouse. Even though his eyes opened and he held Joseph's hand, he didn't say anything coherent – a few slurred words seemed all he was capable of.
Andy came down the steps. Joseph was questioning her before she reached the deck. "He acts drugged. What is wrong with him? What can we do?"
"Give him more water. Then a bit of that biscuit paste. Then water."
"But he can't swallow it."
"He couldn't earlier. Maybe he can now."
"He's not present. He's not awake enough."
"You asked me what to do," she said, setting about emptying one of their supply crates. "Do it or not. That's on you." There was enough care in her voice that it came out exasperated rather than angry.
Joseph hissed, rolled his eyes, and filled the cup with water. He held it to Nico's lips carefully. "Nico? Nico, drink." Nico didn't seem aware of what was happening. His lips moved a bit, but more like he was trying to speak than drink.
Andy put in, "He's not going to drown, you know. Just pour it in there."
Joseph grumbled and tipped the cup so a few spoonsful dribbled down Nico's chin. Maybe some went in his mouth. He didn't sputter or otherwise react. Andy had moved on to gathering up blankets and pillows. Joseph asked her, "What are you doing? Are we moving him in that crate?"
"Yep."
It seemed undignified and inappropriate, but he had to admit Nico was small enough to fit. He moved on to getting a tiny amount of biscuit paste on a spoon, tasting it first himself. It tasted lousy, about what you'd expect for strong liquor and a cracker, but it wasn't inedible. He'd eaten worse and been glad to get it. Joseph parted Nico's lips and smeared it inside.
Nico's eyes widened and he lifted his head, showing the first signs of alertness he'd shown since the boat had docked. His mouth moved on the stuff. He didn't swallow, but he also didn't spit it out. Joseph told him, "This is for your own good. I hope you know that. All of this is – everything we're doing." Nico let out a sigh and slumped back. His hand found Joseph's arm and petted it a few times before falling limp to the mattress.
Andy came to look over Joseph's shoulder. "We might as well move him now."
"I haven't given him water."
"He'll be fine without it."
Joseph rounded on her angrily. "You think he is fine? You said that when he came out of the ocean! He can't speak. He's worse now than he was a few hours ago! There is something wrong!" He pointed and gestured emphatically.
Andy seemed unconcerned by his vehemence. "Yeah, he's starving. It's the delirium of starvation. You've felt it before, right?"
Joseph hesitated with uncertainty and looked back at Nico. He'd starved to death and died of dehydration. They were bad ways to die because they didn't come quick. You might linger in misery for hours or days before succumbing, then return to life somewhat restored (though still hungry or thirsty). And yes, you were insensible and feeble toward the end. But if this was what was happening and Nico would heal from it as always, then … well. It wasn't evidence that Nico was inexplicably declining. It was just … part of the process.
Joseph hated that process. It involved watching Nico suffer and die in all the worst ways. He blew out air tensely. "Why so fast, though?"
"He's using everything he gets to heal. If he's not eating constantly, then he's going to starve. Let's get him in the crate and into town. We'll have better food and we can spell each other if I'm not having to manage the boat."
He was tired enough not to insist he would see to all of Nico's care. Plus, her argument earlier was still persuasive. He helped her load Nico, packed him with blankets, and they set the lid on loosely enough that he'd still get air. Getting him to the house they'd rented went without issue. Andy left immediately to get food. They hadn't kept anything in the little house that would attract vermin or thieves, so the place was basically empty.
It had two bed frames with leather bindings. Joseph used the blankets they'd wrapped Nico in to make a mattress, as the straw-stuffed ones they usually relied on had been emptied when they left to avoid them becoming nests for rats in their absence. Nico was still out of it. He made a death rattle and stopped breathing just as Joseph was finishing tucking him in. He went to his knees next to the bed, holding Nico's still, cooling hand.
"Please, my heart. Come back. There will be an end to you having to come back soon. Then you will live without dying."
Nico gasped and revived, his hand flushing with warmth and twitching in Joseph's, gripping as soon as he recognized him. "I'm hungry, Yusuf," was the first thing he said, confirming Andy's diagnosis. "No, no. You are Joseph now. I forgot."
"It is no trouble," Joseph said, stroking his hand. "We did not bring food with us from the boat." He kicked himself mentally for that oversight. "Let me see what I can find quickly in the garden."
He returned shortly with mint leaves and a few onions, which he'd cleaned hurriedly in a bucket of water. He peeled them carefully and sliced them into slivers which Nico took without complaint. Joseph told him, "Andy will be back soon. She left to find something better. What do you think you can stomach?" Assuming he had a stomach. For all the attempts at getting water and food into him, Joseph doubted he'd yet consumed more than a cup total. How much could be regrown with that?
"Anything," Nico panted on the bed. "She should hurry. I do not feel right." It was the most worrying thing he could have said. Nico rarely complained.
"Is there anything I can do for you? Anything?"
"No." Nico raised a hand to Joseph's cheek, touching over beard with his fingers and bare skin next to his nose with his thumb. "Food."
Joseph offered him the mint leaves. "Chew these. It will improve your breath." Nico managed a smile at him. Joseph continued, "I'll go see if I can find more onions or something else."
The garden was simply the back yard of the place, overgrown and unmaintained. The soil was good and someone could have made a productive lot out of it, but they'd been spending most of their time at sea. Whatever was here was what had survived from the previous tenant and the neighbor occasionally grazing her sheep in the yard. He found more onions, some garlic, and a collection of spring herbs. It was too early for fruit, although he saw some blackberries that were barely colored. He picked them anyway.
He took in what he had and Nico ate until everything was gone, no matter how edible. Then he was failing again, tired, eyes drooping, no longer making conversation. Joseph held his hand and silently wondered what was taking Andy so long, even though she'd hardly been away an hour.
As if summoned by his very thought, she arrived, making a quick knock at the door and then coming in. Nico turned his head toward her, so he wasn't entirely gone again. She said, "I have a quart of goat's milk, a quart of honey, some cheese, a loaf of bread, some kind of sausage, and some ale." She unloaded her bounty on the kitchen worktable.
"Can he eat all that?" Joseph said, wondering if Nico would be eating bread and meat. He could chew, certainly, but could he digest it? Joseph was already worried about the onions and unripe fruit. He dug around in the cabinets for the simple dishes they'd left here before. They were clean aside from a bit of dust, which he wiped off with his hand.
"No, but we can," she told him. "We take care of him by taking care of ourselves. Give him milk and honey for now. And anything else he wants. They'll bring us more in a few hours, along with some kind of pie and some hot food for dinner."
"Oh, that sounds good." He wouldn't admit it, but he was hungry, too. He poured cream-heavy milk into a bowl with a liberal dollop of honey, mixing them together. He didn't bother with making it a perfect mixture. He took it to Nico and let him drink as much as he wanted. After the first few sips, Nico took the bowl from him and sipped at it slowly, eyes hooded.
Quietly, Joseph asked him, "Are you feeling better? You said you did not feel right earlier."
"Better. Ale, water, salt?"
"You want the ale?" Joseph asked dubiously. "Alright. We might have some salt in the cupboard." He fetched the ale.
Andy interrupted where she'd been slicing meat, cheese, and bread and hunted in the cabinet. She produced the salt cellar. "There's a spoon or two in there. Maybe he just wants a taste?"
"Yes," Nico called back, his voice stronger. "Just a little."
The next few days passed without incident. Nico's healing pained him, but it continued. It proceeded at a glacial pace compared to the regeneration of a finger or foot, which were parts he and Joseph were more accustomed to losing. Joseph couldn't have explained the process any more than he ever could about the nature of their regenerative vigor. But they were, at least, in familiar territory now.
Joseph and Andy took turns, although Andy was always the one who left on errands. They set up the other bed in the same room for whoever was taking their rest. Joseph was dozing on it a few days later as Nico stared out the window at the garden. Andy was attending him, which at the moment just meant sitting by idly, waiting for him to need something.
Nico looked from the window to his right arm. Overnight, it had healed down the bone to his elbow, but had not healed further since morning. "Will this continue?" Nico asked her. It was a low voice and Joseph knew it was intended not to disturb him. He listened as he pretended to sleep.
"Yes," Andy said. "Maybe once you're done growing your guts back, it will start up again." At this point, Nico had a delicate-seeming bag of innards beneath his chest, with his spine slowly reforming at the rear of it. He didn't have hips yet, but he had achieved something messy in the way of elimination. With that hint of normalcy, Joseph had reached an equanimity about the whole thing.
"Tell me about the worst you have ever had," Nico asked. "Other than the fire. How are you so sure of all this? Is it faith?"
"Some." She swallowed and let her gaze go out the window. Joseph listened, his eyes slitted enough to see but not give the appearance of wakefulness. "Quynh and I … experimented. Back when we thought we were invincible and literally couldn't die. But never as much as what happened to you. And we never took the head off, although we discussed it. We'd both taken wounds that either cut all the flesh around the neck yet not the spine, or broke the spine without cutting all the flesh. It was never completely separated."
She looked to Nico. "And we were never fool-hardy enough to try it."
"What happened with the statue?"
Andy had mentioned that once, long before, and then refused to explain. The times she'd been frightened and hurt were not ones Andy spoke of much. But today, perhaps she thought Nico had earned some answers. "We were … playing a game in some ruins. Lykon, Quynh, and I. It was like tag. I shot at Lykon. Missed. He dodged behind a statue."
"Shot?"
She smiled suddenly. "It was … yeah, well, tag with arrows. Did I mention the part about how we thought we couldn't die permanently back then?" Nico nodded. She went on. "Anyway, I was coming around the statue. Lykon climbed it, jumped on it. It tipped. And came over on me." She made a pained exhalation. "Thousands of pounds of marble. The ruins were paved. Everything from my navel down was flattened by the pedestal and above that was crushed sort of irregularly by the statue itself. My head," she held her hands a few inches apart, clearly not wide enough for a human skull, "was under the shield."
"And you survived," Nico said.
She nodded. "I did, but I didn't come back right. Quynh had to brain me later and then I was somewhat better. I got clubbed a century after that and I think everything was back to normal after that time."
"What wasn't right?"
"My balance was off. Coordination was worse. I guess I got used to it, because after the clubbing it felt like I'd been given a prize of everything working better."
Nico's brows rose. "And the avalanche?"
"I mentioned that? When did I mention that?"
"Quynh mentioned it. She said it happened before you met her."
She snorted. "Yeah, I said something about it to her. What did she say?"
"Very little. Tell me."
She gave him a skeptical look and said nothing.
"Do you remember?" Nico prompted.
"Oh yeah. Some of it." She rolled her eyes. Finally, she swallowed and said, "Okay. Maybe you should know. I was going along the side of a mountain in the Urals. Alone. This was … a long time before Quynh. There were some stones that were loose. I don't remember if I kicked one out of the way or it slid. But the mountain came down on top of me. I don't know how long it took for me to wake up."
She was silent for a while. Nico watched. Joseph did as well, his eyes having opened enough that anyone looking at him could see he was awake. Neither of them had noticed. She said, "Eventually, I found I could move one of my hands. After that, it was just a matter of time until I could dig myself out."
"You were buried?"
She nodded. "I was buried. Crushed. Pinned. I had a little food with me, but so little as to hardly matter. The water was gone by the time I woke. There was a snake, later. There were mice, too, but I couldn't get them. Too quick. The snake was stupid and I was warm. Anyway, I was in there for a few months … I hope. It was either that, or a year and a few months. It's hard to gage time when you're dead so often and can't see the sun. But probably just a few months."
Buried alive, Joseph thought. Unable to escape. With no one coming for you. No one even knew. Was it the memory of that which fueled her refusal to give up on Quynh?
"So." She gestured at Nico's body. "I was pretty sure you'd come back."
"And that Quynh is still alive."
"And that Quynh is still alive," Andy repeated. Her voice was just a little harder for it.
"The next set of chain mail should have plates in it," Nico said after a pause.
At that, Joseph drew in a quick breath. Both Nico and Andy looked over, hearing him. He sat up and quit the pretense of their conversation being private. "If there are creatures there that can bite through mail, then there may be no armor made that is strong enough. Are we so foolish that we will seek after the point beyond which we will not return?" He looked to Andy. "Even you and Quynh did not." He gestured at his throat to illustrate his meaning.
She didn't seem offended by his resistance to continue under their current circumstances. She looked back to Nico. "Maybe if I went down in a barrel?"
"How would you see what you needed?" Nico asked reasonably.
"We could take the bottom out of it," Andy said.
"A barrel is flimsy," Joseph objected, imagining a simple oak wine barrel. Then, despite himself, he suggested, "It would need to be metal."
"Like an iron maiden," Nico said. "That would keep you safe."
Andy gave a single dry laugh at his dark sense of humor. "Or a gibbet."
Joseph moved to the edge of the bed, thinking there might be ways to make this safer (and that this was an infinitely better use of his energy than trying to talk either of them out of it). "You could barely move in that. You'd need something bigger. Like a cage for an animal, such as a lion. I have seen these. They're all of iron bars."
Nico nodded. "With openings too small for a large shark to enter. Too thick for anything to bend the frame. Maybe a solid bottom so when you collapse, all of you is within the cage and nothing for them to bite off."
"We could still wear mail," Andy said. "We'd need the protection for our arms. And some slots to put a pole out through. With a door we could work from the inside, in case we saw something." She nodded. "I think this could work." She looked over to Joseph as if seeking his approval.
He sighed and said irritably, "I do not want to ever see Nico like that again. Or you. Or anyone I care about. But if the cage is strong enough, then no beast of land or sea will be able to do that. And I know …" He paused and swallowed before continuing thickly, "I know you both know the danger."
Andy nodded. "We do."
He nodded back soberly. "I can take my turn now." Joseph rose from the bed. He'd barely slept, but he would not sleep now if his thoughts were consumed with worry about them returning to the search.
Andy stood. "I'll go see about food." She left, which Joseph suspected was with the intention of giving him and Nico privacy.
When she was well gone, out of earshot from even her impressive senses, he turned to Nico. "We are," Joseph paused, tentative in his delivery because of all people, having endured what he had, Nico was the one to make this decision, "going to continue, then?"
Nico nodded without hesitation.
"To what end?" Joseph dropped his voice even lower. "You know it is impossible. Quynh is lost. When will we stop? When we lose another?" He could not bear to voice the likelihood that it would be himself, or Nico. Even losing Andy felt like it would be too much to say aloud. "Cage or not – we thought we were safe before."
"It is over when Andy says it is over. I know Quynh is lost. I do this for Andy." Joseph was silent, so Nico continued, "If we are the ones who make her stop, then she will never forgive us and she will never be at peace. We are saving her. She would join Quynh under the waves if we did not help her in this search."
Joseph swallowed. He suspected it was true. Andy lived – Andy remained – for them now. If they abandoned her, then they would lose her forever, whether that meant she killed herself intentionally trying to save or join Quynh, or if for the rest of her eternal life, she remembered them as the ones who had left her when she needed them most. He nodded shallowly, miserable at the prospect of watching Nico descend into the water again.
Nico put his hand on Joseph's cheek. "Yusuf. So many times we have each pledged that we loved the other more than life itself. If anything like this ever happens to me, search for me some – yes, I know you will." Nico smiled in good humor, probably at the ridiculousness of the idea Joseph wouldn't bother to look or could be turned from it by any words Nico said. "But when it is impossible as it is with Quynh now, I want you to stop. If our positions were reversed, do not drag Andromache down with me. Do not risk her life. Or your own."
"Nico, I … I don't know," Joseph said, feeling tears well up at the thought of not only losing Nicolò, but trying to find peace with it. "I could stop for Andy's sake, but I do not want to consider what I would do alone …"
Nico hooked his fingers behind Joseph's jaw and scratched through the bristly hairs. "Then do not consider it. If this event comes to pass, which I do not believe it ever will, and you choose to follow me into the afterlife immediately, or you choose to stay and honor my memory by living, you may consider the choice then." He shook his head. "I do not require either. It will be for you to decide."
The corners of Nico's mouth quirked up. "But know – if my faith in God means anything, it is that we came into this life together and we will leave it the same way. So until you are absolutely certain, do nothing rash with this glorious flesh you have been gifted with. For I will wish to see you in it, whole and unharmed, when I return."
Joseph smiled then, too. He had never heard Nico seriously consider that one of them might die without the other, but had the shark taken him entire, then what else would have happened? Even Nico's stubbornness must have realized this. A thing they had disagreed on for hundreds of years was no longer a disagreement. Or at least, not entirely. But if it did come to pass that one day Quynh might walk out of the ocean, then it behooved them to have Andy safe and whole and ready to receive her back. She deserved no less.