Obligations
by Wiebke Fesch

Same disclaimers and notes as Part 1.

-----CHAPTER 14-----

Tarra stared at the ceiling, his left arm clutching his right shoulder, his right arm lying limply on the bedspread, the bloodstain on the bandage turned brown. It had been roughly six hours since the Harhune and in that time, he had been lying in bed, seemingly in a state of shock. In the beginning Seel had been there as well, but since that time, Swift had been the only one in the room, sitting beside the bed.

Swift prayed that the screams would not reach the upper floors. Tarra didn't seem in a state to handle that, the sound of his own guilt. He had meant well, but clearly he was having second thoughts. Why else the ghastly pallor, the constant weeping, the eyes that would not hold Swift's glance, but only dart away?

After years of caring for his son, protecting him from harm, he had initiated a process guaranteed to cause him pain. Swift had a son of his own and he knew that to see him go through something like althaia would break him. Hurting someone you care for -- it always seems to violate a rule, no matter the circumstance.

Over the course of the hours Swift wondered if perhaps it would have been better had someone else donated the blood, but he knew that Tarra would not have wanted it any other way. He was the boy's human father, and wanted to be the boy's Wraeththu father as well.

Finally there was a knock at the door. Seel. "It's begun," he announced softly.

Tarra looked over and sat up weakly against the pillows. "How is he?"

"As one would expect," Seel replied, moving toward Swift. "Swift, come downstairs with me, it's time to sleep. Tarra, I'll send up a servant to look after you if you wish."

Tarra shook his head vaguely. "No, I'm fine."

Seel leaned over the bed and examined the bandaged arm. "What about your arm? Shouldn't we change the bandage?"

"I said I'm fine," Tarra growled, his left hand bunching into a fist, then dropping down on his lap. "I'm sorry, Seel. I-- no, I'm fine, please you can just leave me."

"We'll be back tomorrow, Tarra," Swift assured, following Seel out the door.

As soon as they reached the landing of the ground floor, Swift heard the screams. He hesitated for a moment, then headed for the master bedroom.

In bed Seel kneaded his back and said soothing words -- it would be over in a few days, there was no need for worry -- but Swift was not persuaded, remaining painfully awake. Finally Seel fell asleep and Swift was alone, listening to the pattern of pain. The screams were hardly constant. There were long periods of quiet, each one in the end shattered by wretched wails, howls and shrieks.

Swift managed to sleep in fits, finally rising with the gray morning light. It was a period of quiet as he crept to the closet and changed into fresh clothes, fixed his hair. His hand was on the doorknob when he heard Seel stir. "Swift..."

He turned around and headed back towards the bed. "Good morning, Seel. I have to go. Have to get out of the house."

Seel nodded. "I understand, Swift. Don't stay away too long. Come back and have lunch with Tarra upstairs."

Swift forced himself into the morning routine. He went to Ashmael, met with various leaders, met with townsfolk, hashed out plans. A couple of hours after noon, when he should have already eaten, Swift arrived back in the house. There were no screams this time but still he went directly upstairs, to join Tarra in the safety of the topmost floor.

Tarra had improved slightly. Now he was sitting in a chair, staring out the window. A half-eaten meal sat on a table to the side.

Swift said nothing as he entered the room and sat on the end of the bed.

"Someday I will have a son," Tarra said quietly.

"You have a son, Tarra," Swift said, uncertain that any response was expected.

"Another son, Swift. I meant someday I will have a pureborn son -- like you." His eyes were wet with tears. "A son that will never have to go through this. I treasure him so much and I want this so much but--" his voice broke, his body shuddering with sobs.

Swift came up behind him. To countenance such suffering was unbearable. There had to be a way to stop it.

"Tarra, please. You can't keep this up. Come, lie down." He offered his hand. "Just lie."

Reluctantly Tarra flopped onto the bed. "Now what?" he asked, sounding hopeless.

"Now..." Swift stalled. He really wanted to say something but no words would come. "Everything will be all right" was certainly too trite a sentiment. "It's all for the best," "Don't blame yourself," "It'll be over soon" -- what could he really say?

Perhaps this was the key. Maybe words weren't the right way to start. Swift sat down next to Tarra's shoulder, bent down, and pressed his lips to the distraught har's mouth.

The sharing of breath can be powerful, Swift knew, a way to share, a way to give. As he moved against Tarra's lips, he tried to give him hope, sweetness, love. At first Tarra was reluctant, shying from the contact, but soon he gave in, realizing what Swift was offering.

With his good arm, he ran his fingers through Swift's hair, and soon Swift was on top of him. He was sorely tempted to give Tarra the full version of the true wordless gift, but before he could move in that direction, Tarra had pulled out of the sharing.

"No, Swift, that's all right," he soothed. "That was enough." He sighed. Swift knew that Tarra's body still longed for the aruna he had been denied for so many years. Still, he gently pushed Swift away.

"I'm sorry, Tarra," Swift apologized. "I wish I could do something."

At last there was a smile. "You have, Swift. And you will. Save yourself for my son downstairs."

- - - - -

Afterward he met Seel coming from the direction of the basement stairs. His expression was grim. "The Althaia is never any easier, Swift."

Swift walked over to the entrance to the stairway. He suddenly needed to see.

"No, Swift, we already agreed." Seel's tone was one of warning. Swift didn't have to obey him, but it was clear that Seel would not appreciate any defiance.

Suddenly the door opened. Ashmael. "It's all right, Swift." He looked to Seel. "He can come down."

Seel threw up his hands as Swift followed Ashmael down the steps.

"I thought about what we agreed, Swift, and I decided I was wrong. You need to see it. Besides, at the moment he's hardly in a state to recognize you." Ashmael gestured for Swift to walk ahead of him as they passed down the stairs. Seel followed close behind.

TBC...