Plura Ater Nox

Chapter 8

Standing before the General's desk, his hat removed, Captain Andreas stood proposing his first big move into Nazi occupied Europe. He didn't have any elaborate plans, just something small. His claim was that it would break the ice, giving the Allies leeway into the mainland thus assisting in driving out the menace.

"So, sir, with your permission, I'd like to take my troops in and try to reclaim Dunkirk; succeed where the French failed." Captain Andrea's concluded.

"Are you stark raving mad? That's the point we got pushed to near death at! Ye gads, you're mad as a hatter, Andreas!" General Marshall spat at the low ranking commanding officer.

"I'm not madder than a fool. If I were mad as a hatter, I would propose storming on the heart of it all, Berlin. But Dunkirk is a more reasonable choice. I have a certain feeling about this point I wish to seize back for France, sir."

"And what might that feeling be, insanity?!"

"……"

"I'll accept your silence as a yes." General Marshall replied. He kept the same neutral expression he always wore. He stood up from the chair at his desk, wandering to the large double pane window. Resting a hand against it, he stared out. He watched the young men train for what might be the last days and weeks of their lives as they would be sent out to the front to fight and return. In some cases, they would never see home again.

'This war is robbing these young men of their best years. It's going to forever scar them. They won't be able to heal. Only their physical wounds will, everything else will be tarnished, forever. It's a shame to have to send these resilient young men out to fight.'

He paused, remembering the letter of resignation he had received from one of these young men. He had smiled while reading it for some reason. His guess was that this boy wasn't going to be risking his life and that he wouldn't be scarred. The general had also ignored the notice of discharge that the captain had written up. He brushed it off as being the writings of a madman

He had asked his secretary to write up the discharge as a resignation instead of a dishonourable discharge. The general had his own doubts about the legitimacy of the captain's allegations. He assumed that the captain was just pissed off because he lost one of his men. It wasn't unusual. The general had an idea as to why it might have happened. There were horror tales being circulated about the war courtesy of the IRA who hated the British and didn't care if England was conquered.

He inhaled thoughtfully. As much as he despised the much-outlawed IRA for its anti-enlisting propaganda, he found a small reassurance in what it did. It saved the lives of a few young men with impressionable minds. These young men would help the war in another way, by directly helping the allies instead of solely the British.

He sighed and turned back to Captain Andreas. "Captain your dismissed. You may go forth with your mission, but be warned, if any of your men die, you will be discharged for misconduct and lack of hind sight."

"I doubt my failure, sir." Captain Andreas saluted his superior, before giving a nasty, twisted smirk. "Permission to speak."

"Permission granted."

"General Marshall, why did you allow the resignation on the part of one of my men slip so readily? It was misconduct. Or have you developed a soft spot for the dissidents who support the goddamned nationalists?!"

"I let it go because I didn't wish to see the boy die, captain."

"You're being presumptive sir. You seem to believe the boy would die. However, he was in my company and I discharged him. You overrode my write-up. You're a British General, you don't work for the United States Army. You may have the power of command but to override the decision of a commanding officer in another army is ulterior."

"I just have compassion, something you could use a lesson in."

"There is a war to fight and I need all my men. What I do not need is compassion for that weak that can't defend their country."

"You haven't changed, have you, Nakago." General Marshall replied neutrally, wandering over to face the blonde captain. His gaze was pointed though indifferent. He didn't give way for the captain to reply. "Captain, you're dismissed, now get out of my sight before I scrap this mission."

Captain Andreas turned sharply on his heel and vanished from the vicinity without so much as even nodding at his superior. He had no patience for anyone that he considered weak-willed. He had one other reason for this mission. He was surrounded in Suzaku Seishi and the only Seiryuu Seishi had resigned. He desperately yearned to track down his kin so that he wouldn't be out-numbered.

'Hotohori and Mitsukake. They are the only two Suzaku Seishi. There might possibly be three. That girl, she might be the one they called Chiriko. There is one other Seiryuu Seishi, but not the one I want. He had no purpose before. He was merely there to serve my needs before Seiryuu no Miko arrived. He had no further use once destroying the summoning of Suzaku. He has no use now. As much as I need him in my brigade, I do not need to worry about him getting weak and finding good in the enemy and joining them as he did before.' He stopped at the exit to the building. 'Soi…were you reborn into this miserable, forsaken world?'

~~~~

Stripped down to just his breeches as he sorted his laundry into piles of dirty, dirtier and dirtiest, Séamus sighed, bringing the back of his hand up to brush his bangs back out of his face. They protruded far down these days, serving as an impediment on his sight. Pushing his hair behind his ears, he reach for a scarf he had and tied it around his head, hoping it would push his hair back and keep it there until he had a chance to see the local barber and have his hair trimmed.

Stepping back, he dropped the sorted piles in sequential order from least dirty to dirtiest, as this was the only means he knew how to classify and sort laundry by. Actually doing his laundry was something that was out of his range of expertise. He left that task to his landlord's wife who did it as part of the agreement.

Taking the basket in hand, Séamus turned to leave and put it out by the landlord's wife's washing basin, he hit head on with Jeremiah. Consequently, the basket fell from the young man's grip, the contents scattering over the floor. He hadn't a chance to retrieve it before his brother had him gripped by the shoulders, staring intently into his eyes with passionate filled ones.

Backing his brother against a wall, Jeremiah pinned his brother in place. "You are going where, nor am I, brother." He whispered huskily. He didn't give any breathing space between his words and next move.

Fiercely he pressed his lips against his brother's, his tongue and mouth plundering the sweet cavern that was his brother. He failed to notice the stunned shock of his twin. There were no signs of revolt, just shock. That was a good thing.

Once Séamus recovered from the initial imposing move of his brother that locked him into a corner and kissing his with wild passionate, he shuddered a moan against his twin's mouth. Bringing his hand up, he threaded his fingers through the unkempt, silky hair of his twin. He used this to hold his brother's mouth against his.

After a moment he pulled back, asking, "what brought that on?" He breathe was somewhat laboured as it had been taken away by his brother's sudden moves.

"My freedom, Shun." Jeremiah breathed softly against his brother's mouth, his eyes dancing in time with his brother's. "I don't have duty…I didn't want to die or risk losing you again because of war, my dear Shun-chan."

"Aniki." Séamus replied; his breath still not controlled. He could only stare into his brother's eyes, searching for origin of this hidden passion he had just experienced. He wanted to know where it all came from…

"Don't speak until I'm done, Shun." Jeremiah pressed a finger against his brother's lips, stopping his twin from speaking. Once satisfied he had the floor, he stared earnestly into his twin's eyes. "I love you, and I'm not letting you get away this time. I was a fool to even have let Nakago get away with what he did. But he did. But the same mistake won't happen this time.

"Shun-chan, I need you to answer something for. Put my anxieties to rest. You've been courting Miss Chelsea but you haven't been affronted by my conduct. What do you feel towards me, please, I cherish your honesty. I've given you mine."

His lips lightly kissed his twin's finger. "Words fail me, Aniki. I do return your feelings. I'm courting Chelsea because she's delightful company and she's a very intelligent lady, I respect her for her spirit and strength. She's a great friend."

Séamus took his brother's hand in his. "You don't have to be jealous of her, Aniki."

Holding his twin's hand for a minute, not moving, Jeremiah sighed, bringing his twin's warm hand to his face. Gingerly kissing his twin's fingers, he stared, fixated, into his brother's deep blue eyes. He said nothing as his mouth softly came to press against his brother's.

Breathing huskily against his brother's mouth, Séamus threaded his fingers through the sandy brown tresses of his brother, drawing his twin's mouth closer to his. His mouth pressed fiercely against his twin's, milking it.

Briefly breaking his mouth away from his twin's, Jeremiah sighed, snaking his arms around his brother's slender frame. He held his twin against him, inhaling his brother's scent. Softly under his breath, against his brother's ear, he murmured, "we won't make the same mistake twice, Shun-chan…. I won't ever leave you. I'm sorry about before; I'll…"

"Shh, it's okay, Aniki." Séamus brought a finger to his brother's lips, cutting off his twin's explanation, as he deemed it unnecessary. "Don't waste your breath. You did nothing wrong before. At least you got to live peacefully."

Random, stray tears fell from his eyes.

"Shun!" Jeremiah's hand flew to his brother's face, wiping the tears immediately. He then gingerly pressed his lips to where his brother's tear had fallen. "Don't cry…your tears are mine. You cry, I cry."

"Aniki…" Séamus whispered, his bottom lip quivering. His eyes shone with moisture, staring emptily at the ceiling above, seeing nothing for a minute. His body shivered.

"Oh god…Shun!" Jeremiah completely embraced his brother in his arms, trying to bring heat to his brother's body. "It's okay. Please, tell me, what's wrong. You cried. Your tears are mine. Please, don't bottle up your pain!" His hands grasped his twin closely, feeling over his twin's back.

"Ye gads…you're cold, Shun-chan!" He exclaimed, alarmed. "You'll catch a chill if you don't warm up quickly!" He could feel the same shiver of coolness that lanced his brother's body and it unsettled him greatly.

"No…I-I'm fine." He protested against his twin's move. In truth he did feel cold and he had felt under the weather for the last few days. But he hadn't had the guts in his heart to burden his brother with such information.

"Are you sure?" Jeremiah fired in retort, his eyes fixated in deep concern on his brother's. He felt distrust towards his brother's words. He didn't want his brother to be unwell. A certain intuition sparked within him. He did sense something amiss in his brother. His brow furrowed deeply in worry.

"Why are you lying?" There was an underlying tone of hurt in his voice. "Why?!"

"I-I'm not…" Séamus fired back, wincing at his brother's tone. He felt pain from his deception but he didn't want to burden his brother.

"Are…please, don't." Tears stung the older boy's eyes. "Please…" His voice cracked.

"I-I'm fine…"

"No, you're chilled. You're brow is feverish." The older one pressed a hand to his brother's face. "Shit, you're burning up terribly!"

"No…stop." Séamus took his brother's hand in his. "Honestly, I'll be fine. You're overreacting a touch, don't you think, brother?!" He flashed a warm, reassuring smile at his brother.

"No…" Jeremiah sighed resignedly. "I-I'll let it be…" His tone was morose.

He then watched his twin gather up what had been dropped. 'Why won't you admit it, brother?! Why are you hiding it from me, what do you fear?…'

Next Morning

A soft groan came from Séamus, as he rolled over, tossing his arms over his face, trying to block out the light. It hurt his eyes. Everything ached with a dull tingle. Everything burnt; an infernal raged in his body, his brow laden thickly with a visible layer of perspiration. His body was a germ factory as his eyes watered and a wheezy cough rumbled deeply in his chest.

'Good god, I feel like total shit!' He groused, groaning and moaning in pain. He thrashed, trying to get comfortable. But it wasn't happening, as his body was twisted and intertwined in the blankets of his bed. It only increased his temperature.

Ironically, at the same instant, parts shivered, chilled. The parts of his body that had been exposed to the room had grown cool. He couldn't gain equilibrium for his entire body. He lay in a cesspool of his own bodily fluids that had dripped from the pores of his form through the night.

"Ani-ki…" His voice cracked and was barely above a whisper.

He closed his eyes, throwing his pillow over his eyes. 'Please, don't let this be TB or anything like that. Shit…is this Cholera…' He moaned pained. It wasn't fair. He had only been under the weather, not feeling the greatest, but this was an injustice!

'Just like before. I'm no stronger, I'm just as weak….' Tears stung his eyes and escaped unheeded. The salty tears melted into the moisture that laced his face, dripping off his chin onto the pillow.

"…I'm just terminally pathetic!" His voice was horse and muffled beneath the pillow he had tossed over his head in a vain effort to block out the natural elements of reality. However, it just didn't work, his form pulsed with heat and cold bursts. His level of discomfort soared astronomically.

"No, you're terminally ignorant." Jeremiah glibly remarked sashaying into the area that was a pathetic rendition of what might be a bedroom. Actually, it was a shoebox with a bed inserted. The area of the room barely could hold even a tiny closet. The bed was narrow.

The outside area of the room was barely adequate in size. It held a tiny kitchenette, with a freezer box and a half-size wood stove, and a living room with a chesterfield and a radio.

The only response that was heard was a disconsolate groan.

Smiling wanly, Jeremiah sat on the edge of the bed. "This is what you get for not listening to me, Séamus."

"You're so kind! Thanks for your bloody damned compassion, makes me feel a whole fucking lot better! Oh, your thoughtfulness is just so overwhelming." Séamus fired back in retort, his voice strained. His tone was harshly dry. He didn't glare out from beneath his pillow, but it was obvious that he was irritated.

"Wow~ It's sick but it can still bite!"

"Don't humour me, asshole!"

"Someone's cranky…"

"No shit!"

"Poor baby needs sleep!"

"Leave me the fuck alone. I feel like total shit and I don't need you making it any bloody worse!"

"Aw…my poor brother…" Jeremiah purred, his hand gingerly slipping beneath his brother's pillow. He touched his cool hand to his twin's heated forehead.

Upon contact, his eyes were narrowed in concern. "I think you should see the physician, brother. It seems bad. If you had listened…"

"Spare me the bloody sermon!" Séamus sharply exclaimed, his tone confrontational. Proceeding this, he broke out into a coughing spasm.

Jeremiah's brow furrowed concertedly. "I'll go get him now."

Standing up swiftly, he fled the room, desperately in search of the physician. He barely had enough knowledge to track down the man. He had only blind luck and shanty knowledge to pull on as he broke into a run, checking the buildings that lined the street. He desperately sought to remember where his brother had said the doctor's officer was. He couldn't quite seem to have any recollection of it. It was all blinded by a blur of memories that he didn't want nor want to see at this moment.

He stopped dead in his tracks; images of a sickly boy flashed before his eyes. Further images of himself, at the same images also did. He could see himself frantically mothering-henning his ill twin in a futile attempt to relief the pain his brother was being plagued with.

At that moment, an idea struck him. He could see himself leaning over his brother, his mouth barely inches from his twin's. He wasn't about to kiss his twin. No, he was about to transfer chi via his mouth to his twin's.

'That's right! Chi transfers! Maybe that could lower his fever!' Jeremiah thought happily as he turned back around and ran back to his twin's flat in order to put his notion into practice.