Note: This chapter rated R for a particularly violent nightmare.
Note: Thanks to those of you who have reviewed this piece. It's always appreciated. Ms. Padfoot - I'm convinced that there would be a certain level of awkwardness between the boys after such a long and traumatic separation. I'm glad you approve. Karwyn - Will they get "together" again? Time will tell.
Recap: On Sirius' first full day at Remus' the two wizards shared a comfortable morning and a tense lunch. Sirius took a long nap and afterwards admitted to Remus that he had attempted suicide in prison. Remus got angry, but immediately regretted it. His explosion cleared the air somewhat, and both men agreed they wouldn't give up on each other.
IV. Hidden Scars
The evening turned surprisingly cool. A scent of rain drifted through the windows. The friends sat easily in the living room, lit by candles and a small fire that drove away the unseasonable chill. They had opted, wordlessly, to spend their time at play, and now lingered over Remus' old chess set. As they had done countless times in their past, Sirius directed the black pieces and Remus the white. Sirius found it disconcerting and somewhat humbling to discover that the pieces remembered him. The black knights were completely out of control, raising a constant cacophony while they energetically shook their lances in the air, urging Sirius to turn them loose against their "wicked and cowardly" opponents. The pawns had joined together in a rousing cheer, and even one of the bishops had raised a hand in gentle benediction.
In between chess moves, the two men talked about current events. Occasionally, the conversation would take precedent over the chess, much to the black pieces' vocal disapproval. Remus filled in the gaps of what Sirius had already learned from Dumbledore. There weren't many, as Sirius proved to be a surprisingly well-informed fugitive. They gossiped about who held what Ministry position and where their various Hogwarts and Order of the Phoenix acquaintances were now. Sirius' knowledge of people was sometimes fuzzy and occasionally non-existent, which didn't surprise him at all. Rather, his expression registered a certain weary acceptance of his lost thoughts and memories.
Remus watched Sirius' hand as it drifted back and forth above the board, the mind behind it contemplating his next move. Or maybe not. The lean, graceful fingers would almost fasten on a piece, only to rise again in the air, causing loud complaints from the abandoned figure. Remus sensed that Sirius was getting almost as much pleasure out of teasing the magical game pieces as he was in exercising his brain with the logic and strategy needed for chess. The thought made him somewhat sad. Sirius had always been a social animal.
One of the black knights captured a white bishop. "Down to the devil, ye foresworn priest!" The knight screamed in triumph as his heavy sword shattered the bishop's head.
"It's just as well I don't have neighbors living nearby, with all the racket your men are making," Remus grinned.
"They are a bit over the top, aren't they?"
"Over the top, out the door, through the fields until they fall shrieking into a river. I should turn them loose more often."
Remus found himself paying more attention to the play of light across Sirius' face than the play of combat on the board between them. The starry eyes were alive with keen concentration, gleaming between the twin fringes of dark lashes. The cheeks were too hollow, an obvious sign of the hardship of Sirius' current existence. With a guilty twinge, Remus realized that he found that acetic quality attractive. His fingers itched to sweep along the changed planes of his lover's face, ached to explore the texture of skin and lips and brows. And hair. And earlobes. And.
And what he really wanted was a kiss. Soft, gentle pressure, his lips against Sirius's. The lips he found it increasingly hard to take his mind and his eyes off. Especially now, as Sirius gnawed briefly on the lower one, until an abrupt smile spread across his face.
"Check."
Their eyes met for a short eternity until Remus dragged his gaze down to the chessboard. Things looked grim for his decimated white army. His remaining men stood about dejectedly. His king was trapped. Graciously, Remus admitted defeat.
"Do you want another game?"
"No, my brain's starting to hurt. You can pay me back tomorrow."
They put the chessmen away. Remus rose to make some tea just as Sirius stood to put the chess set back on the shelf. Their movements brought them face-to-face, with only the width of the game separating them. Again, their eyes met. Sirius felt as if his legs were slipping out from under him. He could see so much that he needed and wanted in Remus' eyes. If only there was a way to climb inside and surround himself with that warm sanctuary.
Remus took the chess set from him. "Sit down. Your ankle will never heal if you insist on using it." His voice sounded hoarse and uncertain. He walked to place the game on the shelf. Sirius remained standing, watching his every move. The most obvious thing for Remus to do now was to go directly to the kitchen. Instead he moved slowly back to stand in front of Sirius. His eyes searched the lean face for some sort of sign. Sirius was impassive, although Remus practically heard the roar of a turbulent, emotional river under the surface. He waited, wondering if Sirius would say something, anything to give him a clue to the thoughts tumbling about inside. But, Sirius had no words to describe the depths of his own desolation. His emotions flew in tight, trapped circles, like a flock of startled birds that his hands were not quick enough to catch.
Half-formed phrases sprang to Remus' lips. He swallowed, knowing them to be useless. Nothing captured what he wanted to say, so he followed his instincts. He inched forward, his eyes never leaving Sirius', until he had closed the gap between them. The fingers of one hand delicately traced along Sirius' jaw, and then lightly caressed the outline of his face, while the other arm slowly crept around the slim waist.
'His hair feels different,' Remus thought, noting a coarser texture than the silky skeins he remembered. He sensed a slight shudder reverberate through Sirius, but he was so close now, he dissolved into the lean body and tasted the mouth that had so often brought him to bone-melting ecstasy. 'Mmmmm.' He wasn't sure if that purring, contented sound was in his mind or if he had uttered it.
Sirius stood still, except for the slight, involuntary tensing of all the long muscles of his body. He starved for the feast of sensation those hands and lips brought to him. But the darkest pit in his mind, the decrepit hovel of his worst nightmares threatened to spew forth remembered slime of degradation. He fought to keep that door closed. This was Remus. Remus wouldn't hurt him. And, now their bodies were touching, chestbellyhipthigh, and it was familiar and good, so good, and maybe it would be okay for just a little while and the fingers sliding through his hair and the hand wandering over his back belonged but hardly mattered because the mouth pressed against his lips took his breath away so soft so sweet so comforting so he kissed back for a minute or an hour or forever and it was right.
Remus' lips demanded to reacquaint themselves with remembered textures. He let them wander on a slow journey along a firm jaw with its slight rasp of stubble, up across warm skin to traverse the ridge of cheekbone. He felt a whisper of lashes before he slid along the graceful arch of a satiny brow, only to dip down to return to the moist, warm mouth. He fastened on Sirius' lips again, feeding on taste and sensation. Delicate tendrils of desire curled like smoke throughout his body.
And then he noticed no arms encircled him. No hands touched him. With a determined effort, he drew back, releasing his hold slightly. Remus couldn't place the expression on his lost lover's face. He thought he saw uncertainty and he knew he saw a longing hunger, but there was some other emotion he couldn't place.
"What's wrong?" He asked quietly.
Sirius didn't reply and silently Remus despaired, bracing himself for the emotional barriers to spring up between them again. Sirius frowned slightly and then, with a tinge of shame, said, "I'm not ready for this. I'm sorry."
Smothering a groan, Remus murmured, "It's okay. We don't have to do anything more."
"It's been so long.and I'm not used to.touch. I'm sorry."
"It's okay. Really." He stepped back, opening a sliver of light between their bodies. "We need to get used to each other again. Right?"
"Yes."
Remus realized that he had given Sirius a path out of the tangled thicket of emotions that ensnared him. Sirius had taken it with the alacrity of a rabbit diving for cover just ahead of a hawk's talons.
It was getting late. And, in spite of his long afternoon nap, Sirius looked tired and strained. He sidled away from Remus and glanced towards the couch.
"Oh, no." Remus said firmly. "You're sleeping upstairs in the bed. You need it more than I do."
"I'm fine on the couch. I'm not going to push you out of your own bed."
Without pausing to weigh the possible consequences of his words Remus answered, "Then we'll share it. It's plenty big enough for both of us." He waited for the expected argument, and was surprised by the meek reply.
"Okay."
Twenty minutes later, they were lying side by side for the first time in over a decade. Remus thought about stealing a final, good night kiss and wrapping himself around his mate. He decided not to force the issue, although he longed to fall asleep curled up against another beating heart. For now, though, this was enough. He slept.
Sirius lay awake, his mind wandering. He realized after a while that he was breathing in time with Remus. He held his breath, listening to the slow cadence from the man beside him. With great caution he slid closer, hungry for the comfort of Remus' presence, slowly fitting his body around the sleeping werewolf. Remus stirred, turning slightly towards Sirius, and the angles and curves of his form settled into place, two pieces of a puzzle fitting perfectly together. Sirius finally relaxed and floated into slumber.
*~*~*~*~*~*~
Pitch black. Night? No, a blindfold. A meaty hand pushes. Shoves him forward. His hands come up. Defensive. Shackles locked around his wrists. Struggle backward. Invisible hands too strong. Propel him against his will. Into a room. No echoes of scuffling footsteps. A small room.
It smells. Fetid damp. Old sweat. Stale pain. Rancid sex. New nightmares. A hard, twisting thrust. Falling. Shock of hitting the stone floor. Rough stone scrapes. Hard and cold. Along his palms. Under his knees. Hauled up on his knees. Hot breath from behind. Stinks. Stubbled jaw rasps against his face. Slobbering lips and poisonous tongue. He struggles. Writhes. Crawls away. He crawls. On his hands and knees. But, the other is too quick. Too strong. Grabs and drags him back. Hoarse, mocking laughter.
Hard stone beneath his knees. Clank of metal snapping shut. His hands locked to a ring on the wall. The iron ring on the wall. Clutch the iron ring on the wall. Cold curve against his palms. Curled fingers around the curve.
Brutal hands all over him. Burrowing fingers. Stubby fierce fingers paw his clothes. Calloused tough fingers grab his hair. Seize hanks of his hair. Yank back hard. "Give me a kiss, pretty boy." Cackling laughter and the smelly drooling mouth. Laps and kisses. Sour tongue licks him. Putrid, lapping, teasing tongue. Spit cools on his face. He wants to puke. Drown them in a sea of vomit. The hands feel him. Squeeze him. Own him. Twist away from the hands. A growl at his struggles. Impatience. A fist pounds out of the dark. Once. Twice. Again and again. Stars behind his eyes. Blood, coppery warm. Taste the slow drops from his nose. His split lip.
Cold air against his skin. Hot hands against his skin. Bulky body presses up behind. "Gonna ride you hard, pretty boy." Panting whistling gasps. Hands claw his hips. Clench his bones. Force him still. No. Stop this. No. Hard rod. Searing bolt. "Scream for me, pretty boy." Pain. White-hot pain. Don't scream. Mouth open and round. Don't scream. Silent and round. Don't scream. Round iron ring on the wall. Don't let go. Round like a life preserver. Don't let go. Preservation. Don't let go. Don't scream. Don't let go. Don't scream. Dontscreamdontscreamdontscream.. No blindfold vague shapes in the dark wrists suddenly free a voice murmurs something from behind hands touch his back and
"NO!!" The scream rips from his throat. He whirls and thrashes, finally free to fight back.
Remus scrambled for his wand. "Lumos!" With rapid flick, the candles blazed with light. Sirius sat rigidly still, fists raised, his back hard against the far edge of the headboard, his breath rattling through bared teeth. Remus was shocked at the trapped, hunted look in the dilated eyes. "Sirius?" He said softly. "You were having a nightmare." Dropping his hands to the mattress, Sirius closed his eyes and waited for his heart to stop galloping. "Are you alright, love?" Remus' honey-smooth voice flowed over him, a blanket of soothing concern.
Hiding his mental crawl out of the stinking sewer of his memories, Sirius muttered, "Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry I woke you."
"You sounded hurt. You want to tell me about it?"
Sirius shook his head wearily. "It's nothing. Just residual Azkaban shit, I guess. What time is it?"
"Two-thirty, three. Will you be able to go back to sleep?"
"I think so."
Remus was unwilling to let this pass. "Sirius, you might shake it off quicker if you put into words -"
"No!" Sirius snapped. With his eyes squeezed shut, and his whole body tight with the effort of subduing the visions in his brain Sirius somehow managed a calmer tone of voice. "Let's just drop it, Moony, okay?"
Muffling his own worry and agitation, Remus murmured, "Alright. But I'm here if you change your mind."
Sirius nodded. Outwardly calm, but with eyes still glittering black and focused on his internal torment, Sirius slid back down under the sheet. Remus waved out the candles and settled next to him, worry tugging at his thoughts. What had happened in that hell-hole? What did they do to him? He bit his lip to keep from asking again about the dream. He'd let Sirius set his own pace on Azkaban. He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the faint tremor in the mattress caused by the trembling of Sirius' body.
Sirius resolutely pushed horror out of his mind, but felt it lurking at the edge of his consciousness, waiting with the nonchalant serenity of a cunning predator. He needed something to help him pull himself out of this pit. Like a beacon against the darkness of prison and insanity, he had clutched the thought 'I am innocent'. So, now, his mind and heart found another lifeline. 'Remus loves me.' He closed his eyes, centering his thoughts on the beautiful, tender man next to him. His mind raced uncontrollably, tossing up flashes and glints of memories of Remus. His heart ached with the love he had never lost for this uniquely fascinating man, who was his lifeblood. And after a long while, Sirius surrendered to his overwhelming need to bridge the few inches of distance and the wide gap of years that separated them.
"Remus?" His voice, as insubstantial as a puff of dandelion seeds, floated through the dark.
"Yes?"
"Hold me?"
"Yes."
Remus tenderly gathered his damaged mate close into the protective shield of his body. He felt sinewy arms wrap around him and warm breath sigh along the curve of his neck. Remus' lips brushed a gentle kiss into the tangled hair. His hand swept in slow circles across Sirius' tensed shoulders, gradually soothing him into relaxation. But, as Remus radiated comfort and security, deep down he felt Moony stir and awake to the distress of his long-lost Padfoot. He sensed the wolf's patient but deadly anger. A reckoning would be paid some day. This harm would be avenged.
TBC
Note: Thanks to those of you who have reviewed this piece. It's always appreciated. Ms. Padfoot - I'm convinced that there would be a certain level of awkwardness between the boys after such a long and traumatic separation. I'm glad you approve. Karwyn - Will they get "together" again? Time will tell.
Recap: On Sirius' first full day at Remus' the two wizards shared a comfortable morning and a tense lunch. Sirius took a long nap and afterwards admitted to Remus that he had attempted suicide in prison. Remus got angry, but immediately regretted it. His explosion cleared the air somewhat, and both men agreed they wouldn't give up on each other.
IV. Hidden Scars
The evening turned surprisingly cool. A scent of rain drifted through the windows. The friends sat easily in the living room, lit by candles and a small fire that drove away the unseasonable chill. They had opted, wordlessly, to spend their time at play, and now lingered over Remus' old chess set. As they had done countless times in their past, Sirius directed the black pieces and Remus the white. Sirius found it disconcerting and somewhat humbling to discover that the pieces remembered him. The black knights were completely out of control, raising a constant cacophony while they energetically shook their lances in the air, urging Sirius to turn them loose against their "wicked and cowardly" opponents. The pawns had joined together in a rousing cheer, and even one of the bishops had raised a hand in gentle benediction.
In between chess moves, the two men talked about current events. Occasionally, the conversation would take precedent over the chess, much to the black pieces' vocal disapproval. Remus filled in the gaps of what Sirius had already learned from Dumbledore. There weren't many, as Sirius proved to be a surprisingly well-informed fugitive. They gossiped about who held what Ministry position and where their various Hogwarts and Order of the Phoenix acquaintances were now. Sirius' knowledge of people was sometimes fuzzy and occasionally non-existent, which didn't surprise him at all. Rather, his expression registered a certain weary acceptance of his lost thoughts and memories.
Remus watched Sirius' hand as it drifted back and forth above the board, the mind behind it contemplating his next move. Or maybe not. The lean, graceful fingers would almost fasten on a piece, only to rise again in the air, causing loud complaints from the abandoned figure. Remus sensed that Sirius was getting almost as much pleasure out of teasing the magical game pieces as he was in exercising his brain with the logic and strategy needed for chess. The thought made him somewhat sad. Sirius had always been a social animal.
One of the black knights captured a white bishop. "Down to the devil, ye foresworn priest!" The knight screamed in triumph as his heavy sword shattered the bishop's head.
"It's just as well I don't have neighbors living nearby, with all the racket your men are making," Remus grinned.
"They are a bit over the top, aren't they?"
"Over the top, out the door, through the fields until they fall shrieking into a river. I should turn them loose more often."
Remus found himself paying more attention to the play of light across Sirius' face than the play of combat on the board between them. The starry eyes were alive with keen concentration, gleaming between the twin fringes of dark lashes. The cheeks were too hollow, an obvious sign of the hardship of Sirius' current existence. With a guilty twinge, Remus realized that he found that acetic quality attractive. His fingers itched to sweep along the changed planes of his lover's face, ached to explore the texture of skin and lips and brows. And hair. And earlobes. And.
And what he really wanted was a kiss. Soft, gentle pressure, his lips against Sirius's. The lips he found it increasingly hard to take his mind and his eyes off. Especially now, as Sirius gnawed briefly on the lower one, until an abrupt smile spread across his face.
"Check."
Their eyes met for a short eternity until Remus dragged his gaze down to the chessboard. Things looked grim for his decimated white army. His remaining men stood about dejectedly. His king was trapped. Graciously, Remus admitted defeat.
"Do you want another game?"
"No, my brain's starting to hurt. You can pay me back tomorrow."
They put the chessmen away. Remus rose to make some tea just as Sirius stood to put the chess set back on the shelf. Their movements brought them face-to-face, with only the width of the game separating them. Again, their eyes met. Sirius felt as if his legs were slipping out from under him. He could see so much that he needed and wanted in Remus' eyes. If only there was a way to climb inside and surround himself with that warm sanctuary.
Remus took the chess set from him. "Sit down. Your ankle will never heal if you insist on using it." His voice sounded hoarse and uncertain. He walked to place the game on the shelf. Sirius remained standing, watching his every move. The most obvious thing for Remus to do now was to go directly to the kitchen. Instead he moved slowly back to stand in front of Sirius. His eyes searched the lean face for some sort of sign. Sirius was impassive, although Remus practically heard the roar of a turbulent, emotional river under the surface. He waited, wondering if Sirius would say something, anything to give him a clue to the thoughts tumbling about inside. But, Sirius had no words to describe the depths of his own desolation. His emotions flew in tight, trapped circles, like a flock of startled birds that his hands were not quick enough to catch.
Half-formed phrases sprang to Remus' lips. He swallowed, knowing them to be useless. Nothing captured what he wanted to say, so he followed his instincts. He inched forward, his eyes never leaving Sirius', until he had closed the gap between them. The fingers of one hand delicately traced along Sirius' jaw, and then lightly caressed the outline of his face, while the other arm slowly crept around the slim waist.
'His hair feels different,' Remus thought, noting a coarser texture than the silky skeins he remembered. He sensed a slight shudder reverberate through Sirius, but he was so close now, he dissolved into the lean body and tasted the mouth that had so often brought him to bone-melting ecstasy. 'Mmmmm.' He wasn't sure if that purring, contented sound was in his mind or if he had uttered it.
Sirius stood still, except for the slight, involuntary tensing of all the long muscles of his body. He starved for the feast of sensation those hands and lips brought to him. But the darkest pit in his mind, the decrepit hovel of his worst nightmares threatened to spew forth remembered slime of degradation. He fought to keep that door closed. This was Remus. Remus wouldn't hurt him. And, now their bodies were touching, chestbellyhipthigh, and it was familiar and good, so good, and maybe it would be okay for just a little while and the fingers sliding through his hair and the hand wandering over his back belonged but hardly mattered because the mouth pressed against his lips took his breath away so soft so sweet so comforting so he kissed back for a minute or an hour or forever and it was right.
Remus' lips demanded to reacquaint themselves with remembered textures. He let them wander on a slow journey along a firm jaw with its slight rasp of stubble, up across warm skin to traverse the ridge of cheekbone. He felt a whisper of lashes before he slid along the graceful arch of a satiny brow, only to dip down to return to the moist, warm mouth. He fastened on Sirius' lips again, feeding on taste and sensation. Delicate tendrils of desire curled like smoke throughout his body.
And then he noticed no arms encircled him. No hands touched him. With a determined effort, he drew back, releasing his hold slightly. Remus couldn't place the expression on his lost lover's face. He thought he saw uncertainty and he knew he saw a longing hunger, but there was some other emotion he couldn't place.
"What's wrong?" He asked quietly.
Sirius didn't reply and silently Remus despaired, bracing himself for the emotional barriers to spring up between them again. Sirius frowned slightly and then, with a tinge of shame, said, "I'm not ready for this. I'm sorry."
Smothering a groan, Remus murmured, "It's okay. We don't have to do anything more."
"It's been so long.and I'm not used to.touch. I'm sorry."
"It's okay. Really." He stepped back, opening a sliver of light between their bodies. "We need to get used to each other again. Right?"
"Yes."
Remus realized that he had given Sirius a path out of the tangled thicket of emotions that ensnared him. Sirius had taken it with the alacrity of a rabbit diving for cover just ahead of a hawk's talons.
It was getting late. And, in spite of his long afternoon nap, Sirius looked tired and strained. He sidled away from Remus and glanced towards the couch.
"Oh, no." Remus said firmly. "You're sleeping upstairs in the bed. You need it more than I do."
"I'm fine on the couch. I'm not going to push you out of your own bed."
Without pausing to weigh the possible consequences of his words Remus answered, "Then we'll share it. It's plenty big enough for both of us." He waited for the expected argument, and was surprised by the meek reply.
"Okay."
Twenty minutes later, they were lying side by side for the first time in over a decade. Remus thought about stealing a final, good night kiss and wrapping himself around his mate. He decided not to force the issue, although he longed to fall asleep curled up against another beating heart. For now, though, this was enough. He slept.
Sirius lay awake, his mind wandering. He realized after a while that he was breathing in time with Remus. He held his breath, listening to the slow cadence from the man beside him. With great caution he slid closer, hungry for the comfort of Remus' presence, slowly fitting his body around the sleeping werewolf. Remus stirred, turning slightly towards Sirius, and the angles and curves of his form settled into place, two pieces of a puzzle fitting perfectly together. Sirius finally relaxed and floated into slumber.
*~*~*~*~*~*~
Pitch black. Night? No, a blindfold. A meaty hand pushes. Shoves him forward. His hands come up. Defensive. Shackles locked around his wrists. Struggle backward. Invisible hands too strong. Propel him against his will. Into a room. No echoes of scuffling footsteps. A small room.
It smells. Fetid damp. Old sweat. Stale pain. Rancid sex. New nightmares. A hard, twisting thrust. Falling. Shock of hitting the stone floor. Rough stone scrapes. Hard and cold. Along his palms. Under his knees. Hauled up on his knees. Hot breath from behind. Stinks. Stubbled jaw rasps against his face. Slobbering lips and poisonous tongue. He struggles. Writhes. Crawls away. He crawls. On his hands and knees. But, the other is too quick. Too strong. Grabs and drags him back. Hoarse, mocking laughter.
Hard stone beneath his knees. Clank of metal snapping shut. His hands locked to a ring on the wall. The iron ring on the wall. Clutch the iron ring on the wall. Cold curve against his palms. Curled fingers around the curve.
Brutal hands all over him. Burrowing fingers. Stubby fierce fingers paw his clothes. Calloused tough fingers grab his hair. Seize hanks of his hair. Yank back hard. "Give me a kiss, pretty boy." Cackling laughter and the smelly drooling mouth. Laps and kisses. Sour tongue licks him. Putrid, lapping, teasing tongue. Spit cools on his face. He wants to puke. Drown them in a sea of vomit. The hands feel him. Squeeze him. Own him. Twist away from the hands. A growl at his struggles. Impatience. A fist pounds out of the dark. Once. Twice. Again and again. Stars behind his eyes. Blood, coppery warm. Taste the slow drops from his nose. His split lip.
Cold air against his skin. Hot hands against his skin. Bulky body presses up behind. "Gonna ride you hard, pretty boy." Panting whistling gasps. Hands claw his hips. Clench his bones. Force him still. No. Stop this. No. Hard rod. Searing bolt. "Scream for me, pretty boy." Pain. White-hot pain. Don't scream. Mouth open and round. Don't scream. Silent and round. Don't scream. Round iron ring on the wall. Don't let go. Round like a life preserver. Don't let go. Preservation. Don't let go. Don't scream. Don't let go. Don't scream. Dontscreamdontscreamdontscream.. No blindfold vague shapes in the dark wrists suddenly free a voice murmurs something from behind hands touch his back and
"NO!!" The scream rips from his throat. He whirls and thrashes, finally free to fight back.
Remus scrambled for his wand. "Lumos!" With rapid flick, the candles blazed with light. Sirius sat rigidly still, fists raised, his back hard against the far edge of the headboard, his breath rattling through bared teeth. Remus was shocked at the trapped, hunted look in the dilated eyes. "Sirius?" He said softly. "You were having a nightmare." Dropping his hands to the mattress, Sirius closed his eyes and waited for his heart to stop galloping. "Are you alright, love?" Remus' honey-smooth voice flowed over him, a blanket of soothing concern.
Hiding his mental crawl out of the stinking sewer of his memories, Sirius muttered, "Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry I woke you."
"You sounded hurt. You want to tell me about it?"
Sirius shook his head wearily. "It's nothing. Just residual Azkaban shit, I guess. What time is it?"
"Two-thirty, three. Will you be able to go back to sleep?"
"I think so."
Remus was unwilling to let this pass. "Sirius, you might shake it off quicker if you put into words -"
"No!" Sirius snapped. With his eyes squeezed shut, and his whole body tight with the effort of subduing the visions in his brain Sirius somehow managed a calmer tone of voice. "Let's just drop it, Moony, okay?"
Muffling his own worry and agitation, Remus murmured, "Alright. But I'm here if you change your mind."
Sirius nodded. Outwardly calm, but with eyes still glittering black and focused on his internal torment, Sirius slid back down under the sheet. Remus waved out the candles and settled next to him, worry tugging at his thoughts. What had happened in that hell-hole? What did they do to him? He bit his lip to keep from asking again about the dream. He'd let Sirius set his own pace on Azkaban. He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the faint tremor in the mattress caused by the trembling of Sirius' body.
Sirius resolutely pushed horror out of his mind, but felt it lurking at the edge of his consciousness, waiting with the nonchalant serenity of a cunning predator. He needed something to help him pull himself out of this pit. Like a beacon against the darkness of prison and insanity, he had clutched the thought 'I am innocent'. So, now, his mind and heart found another lifeline. 'Remus loves me.' He closed his eyes, centering his thoughts on the beautiful, tender man next to him. His mind raced uncontrollably, tossing up flashes and glints of memories of Remus. His heart ached with the love he had never lost for this uniquely fascinating man, who was his lifeblood. And after a long while, Sirius surrendered to his overwhelming need to bridge the few inches of distance and the wide gap of years that separated them.
"Remus?" His voice, as insubstantial as a puff of dandelion seeds, floated through the dark.
"Yes?"
"Hold me?"
"Yes."
Remus tenderly gathered his damaged mate close into the protective shield of his body. He felt sinewy arms wrap around him and warm breath sigh along the curve of his neck. Remus' lips brushed a gentle kiss into the tangled hair. His hand swept in slow circles across Sirius' tensed shoulders, gradually soothing him into relaxation. But, as Remus radiated comfort and security, deep down he felt Moony stir and awake to the distress of his long-lost Padfoot. He sensed the wolf's patient but deadly anger. A reckoning would be paid some day. This harm would be avenged.
TBC