Complimentary Scheme
By Kay
Disclaimer: If I owned it, it would look more like this. Some people would cry. Some people would send me cookies…
Author's Notes: Second Part up! Sorry it took so god-awfully long. I'm in college right now, and it's really busy... good, but busy. Plus, I have to make some apologies to some good friends of mine that I've really wronged... ;; Anyway-- I suck, but at least I've got something to show for my absence from writing. Er, something. Actually, this was supposed to be longer, but I cut off the last part to add to Chapter 3, because I haven't finished redoing it yet (I had to fiddle with this earlier to make it work). Anyway, it should be ready fairly soon... we'll see. First I have some HP stuff I have to update.
Thanks for being patient, guys. :) Uh, I hope the fandom isn't dead... hmm...
And yes, I plan to finish all my fanfiction. ALL of it, no matter how long it's been.
"General, there are a few saplings beyond the next hill! Should we start making shelters?"
"Someone start a cooking fire!"
"Red meat tonight! Ahahahahahaa!"
"Break out the ale, cloddish wretches! Tonight we celebrate the aching woes of our feet, hah!"
David listened to the shouts of the men with a mixture of amusement and half-affectionate exasperation, much in the way that any leader regards his troops. He knew quite a few of the soldiers-- the boisterous shouting of the man unpacking the food was Narthus, a plump and vicarious man that enjoyed eating about as much as merciless slaughtering of Hetwan. Patroclus was busy heading the shelter-building, shouting out orders in his calm and pleasant voice (to be honest, he always thought the young Greek soldier would make a great General himself soon, as long as he kept his head). A few of the Celtic healers were congregated near the shadow of the hillside, slinging their packs off their backs and bringing out soothing balms to treat the sores of their comrades. He didn't know many of them, but they seemed a far cry more subdued than the rest of his men. And it was definitely an improvement over the Vikings-- who would have ordered a party the second the traveling stopped.
He milled about for a while, trying to keep his thoughts on the simple things. He corrected a few of the makeshift shelters Patroclus was helping to build; they were a bit like tents, only slightly more oblong and triangular in shape, like a prism of rough canvas and thin tree trunks. After speaking to Ophenius, who was taking inventory, and getting a better idea of their supplies, he finally settled down near the fires that were started up. By then, the sky had darkened to a bruised purple and blue, nightfall sneaking quickly up upon them like a thief in the night.
It wasn't a bad time, actually, David thought to himself. He slumped down on one of the logs that had been cut for seating, staring into the fiery glow of the campfire. The small fires dotted the camp, each with a group circled around them, laughing and eating-- the men were happy to relax. On the edge, he saw a few of the guards he'd set up earlier, but even though they looked less than alert, the general chose not to comment on it. He wasn't feeling very quick and alert himself, after all.
'It feels so normal. Sometimes I think it shouldn't, but that doesn't stop it from feeling like that.'
Sighing softly, David tilted his head towards the sky. Slips of mahogany brown fell into his eyes-- he blinked, shaking his face slightly to send them away. From one of the campfire circles, a roar of laughter from the men seemed to penetrate the haze of thoughts in his mind. It was almost peaceful tonight. The soft voices of the soldiers, the crackling of the fire, and the cool breezes of the night on his skin…
'It's not so bad like this.'
Maybe it was just because he was out of the damned swamp, though.
David grinned to himself.
"What do you look so happy for? Someone just offer you a piece of Everworld that's not completely fudged up?"
Just as quickly as his good mood started, it plummeted to the bottom of his mud-caked boots. Inwardly, David fought off a wave of irritation and confusion, trying to ignore the feelings still left over from earlier as he turned to face his blonde friend. "Huh… funny you mentioned that. As it happens, I was offered one. I turned it down to stay in this hellhole with you guys."
"Moron," Christopher commented mildly, plopping down on the log beside him. The blonde tossed a lopsided grin at him. "See, that's why I worry about having you as our fearless leader. You're obviously insane."
"Yet you still follow me."
"We still follow you," Christopher affirmed sadly. "Mostly because you're not nearly as insane as the rest of the nutcases here."
"Thanks. I think," he replied dryly, relaxing a bit inside. The banter was light and earnest; it felt familiar to fall into the play of words, so long as he didn't turn and look at the blonde's face. Whatever was wrong with him earlier would just fade away soon, obviously. There was no reason to worry. It was just Christopher.
David smiled in relief at the thought. That was right. It was Christopher. His friend for years. Constant companion. Why was he getting so worked up about talking to him now? Hadn't it always been like this? Nothing was different.
Nothing had changed.
He turned and gazed at the blonde from the corner of his eye, keeping his gaze directly on the fire in front of them while he subtly studied Christopher. The flickering flames threw a fiery tint to his yellow hair-- the strands seemed almost molten, his eyes a stark and almost harsh blue when compared to the vibrancy of the gold. He was grinning. That wasn't unusual. Christopher had always been a grinner, spent most of his days griping, but usually had some sort of half-assed smile on his face when he did so-- that was just his way.
He didn't look different at all, David thought absentmindedly, enjoying the silence now. 'What was I worried about?'
"Hey, look," the blonde said.
"At what?"
"Oh, ha ha. Very funny," Christopher grumbled, shoving a foot at the ground. He pounded his heel into the earth, studiously keeping his eyes fastened on the dirt clod he was creating. "I think some of my lame attempts at humor are rubbing off on you."
"Ugh, don't compare me to you."
"You know you want to be me," the blonde muttered, smirking. "They all idolize me here. They think I'm funny."
"At least April, Jalil and I know better, right?" David teased. He smacked the boy lightly with his elbow, unable to resist giving him a cocky grin. "We know the truth. How horrifying your jokes really are. Horrifyingly bad."
"Shut up, Napoleon, or I'll steal your sword in the dead of night and throw it into a random lake."
"When she burns you, I'll enjoy listening to your screams."
"Your sword doesn't scare me, David," Christopher leered, elbowing him back. "It'll take a lot of shit to scare me after what we've seen."
"Oh yeah?"
"Well, if your sword was a half-dead psychotic woman, maybe I'd be scared."
"Too bad she's not," David mused almost wistfully. He was enjoying the bantering. "It sure would be handy on the battlefield."
"Yeah, though guns would be better."
"We'd be more on level with the Sennites," David admitted, running a dirty hand through his tousled mop of hair. His smile faded, falling back into the worried frown that usually occupied his features. "I mean, there's only so much they can do now, after running out of most of their ammo and resources. But the smart ones still have stuff hidden away… what's left of them…"
The conversation, which had been light-hearted and joking a moment ago, immediately fell back into serious grounds. Next to him, the blonde scowled at the reminder that there were still Old Worlders running around with automatic weapons-- though most had fled to Ka Anor by now, or decided to wait and store up their gear for better use.
"Right now, the Hetwan are the ones we'll have to worry about. But we can't let ourselves forget the leftover Sennites. They'll be the difficult ones in the end," David continued absently, watching the fire sparks jump in the air. He chewed his lip in contemplation, unaware of the action that had become an addictive habit through his stay here. Nor was he aware of Christopher's fascinated stare. "The question is, can they last through the war until the end? I don't see them as very patient. They'll want to act. So far, we've been lucky at smoking some out… but the others… sooner or later, they'll have to get back into the action, right?"
"Eventually, they'll have to burn themselves out," Christopher agreed darkly, turning his face away momentarily. "I just hope I'm around to see the little bastards fall."
David almost had to smile. "Extracting justice on the bad guys?"
"Vengeance will be mine," the blonde said solemnly, his blue eyes twinkling. "Haven't you heard that rule before?"
"Hmm."
"I never was the most forgiving of guys," Christopher continued thoughtfully, sounding almost amused. His mouth quirked into another grin. "You should remember that."
"Hmm," David said again, but it was an agreement. His friend seemed content to leave it at that, and they fell silent, sitting in front of the crackling fire and listening to the sound of the men yelling vulgar jokes at each other. On another night, they may have joined them-- naturally, Christopher always enjoyed getting 'with the guys,' and David, too, felt good after a brief reprieve from his general status--
But this felt good, too. Sitting away from the group, just Christopher and him, and the night winds blowing his hair into his eyes. The warmth of his friend's proximity. The companionable silence. It had taken too long, David knew, before he realized how much he valued his Old World friends…
They truly made him feel at home, even more than Everworld itself.
"Um, hey… David?"
"Huh?" He blinked, feeling scarlet rush to his cheeks-- and cursed himself, knowing the pink flush would stay there for a moment, and hated the fact that he was embarrassed so easily, even though being caught off-guard and in thought wasn't something to be censured for…
As it turned out, however, he didn't need to worry about Christopher seeing him look embarrassed. When he turned his head, David realized the blonde wasn't looking at him at all-- he was staring at the ground awkwardly, still toeing at the imprints in the dirt that he'd made with his boots.
"Um," he said, still refusing to look at David, "this isn't easy for me…"
"What's wrong?"
"I just wanted to say… well…"
David stared at him.
Christopher scowled. "Fuck, this is mortifying."
"Jalil must be rubbing off on you," the general replied after a moment, mildly. "You know what 'mortify' means."
"David," Christopher interjected harshly, his voice strained and somewhat nervous. "I've been meaning to talk to you for a while, see, because I've had something I… I always wanted to…"
His heart shouldn't feel this strange suddenly-- clogged up and tightened, stuffed as a wad into his chest, matter and pulp pounding against the tissues of his ribcage. David swallowed, unable to pinpoint why he felt so uneasy and… well, slightly nerve wracked, actually.
"I wanted to say…" the blonde stopped, blinking at the ground. "Well, I guess I just wanted to say thank you."
'W-what?'
For a moment, the world sort of buzzed in David's ears, a constant rush that built into a deafening crescendo and left him with the hollow sense of non-obtained completion. "Thank me?" he echoed, incredulous. Surprised. Confused.
Maybe a little disappointed.
"That's it? Thank me?" he repeated again, feeling himself calm back down again even as he confusedly wondered if his blood sugar was acting up. "What the hell for?"
"For… for a lot of shit," Christopher grunted, scratching the pale hair of his neck almost sheepishly. Now that he'd said it, he looked more relaxed. "You do a lot for me, you know? But I never appreciate it. Well, not to your face."
"Christopher, I have no idea what you're talking about," David sputtered. "I haven't done anything for you."
"You did when Etain died."
The conversation and atmosphere dropped like a dead fly.
The silence fell like a familiar curtain over David's shocked features, the widened mahogany-hued eyes and gaping mouth. After a moment, in which Christopher prodded at his dirt clod a bit more, leaving his friend to stammer wordlessly at the nightly air and try to work out some semblance of an answer, he finally spoke again.
"Look, I know I was… difficult. Back then. After it happened."
David closed his mouth, uncertain but no longer startled. Now that he had the voice, however, he couldn't figure out what words to use with it. He'd never been good at comforting, and judging from the downcast expression of remembrance that traced Christopher's face like a shadow, his friend was thinking back on dark times.
As it was, he didn't have to do anything except listen.
"I never deal well with losing stuff," the blonde admitted. "When I was four and my brother was born? I threw a fit because I thought he was going to take away Mom and Dad. It was so stupid. I ripped up all my favorite baseball cards 'cause I was so mad at them."
David watched the small smile appear on Christopher's features, feeling one answering on his own face, very slightly.
"When I lost Etain," the blonde continued, his smile fading. "… it was a lot like that, only worse. I wanted everything to hurt just like me. I pushed everyone away. I just hated the fact that she'd been taken from me from something I couldn't even fight against. I couldn't even…" He stopped, a pained noise emitting from his lips. "Hell, I couldn't even say goodbye. It was just like that. And that hurt like a bitch, General, you gotta know it."
"I know," David said after a pause. He ached with empathy for the blonde that was revealing his pain so openly suddenly, after so much time. Though he wasn't sure what had provoked it, it was a good thing-- very simply a good thing to hear the healing in his voice. After so much had happened…
"I wanted to give up," Christopher murmured distantly, his blue eyes focused somewhere very far away. "I wanted to say, 'fuck the world.' Because it seemed like it would be so easy. All I had to do was throw in the towel, ignore the stakes, and everything could disappear for me. And I really tried. I tried to lose myself."
Suddenly, he whirled on David with an incredulous expression, pointing out his finger and yelling, "But you!"
"W-what?" David demanded weakly, blinking in confusion at the waving finger Christopher was shaking at him.
"You!" barked the blonde, a twinkle of mischief appearing in the tired blue of his eyes. "You wouldn't let me, you dumb, fearless son of a bitch. You kept knocking on my door, bringing me food… every time I tried to lose myself, you were always there trying to help me back on my feet. It was like a goddamn conspiracy! You meant to do it!"
"But I--"
"And you just wouldn't give up!" Christopher said loudly, overriding his protest. "How was I supposed to have a pity fest that may have eventually lead to my demise when you were always there? You dragged me to the meals, stuck by my side when I was obviously in a foul enough mood to scare the rest of the people in the castle…"
David bit his lip pensively, eyeing his friend almost warily. "Um. Sorry?"
"Damn straight you should be!"
"But I didn't do anything--"
"You wouldn't leave me alone! You were always around, looking dumb and worried for me, with some idiotic sad expression on your face…"
"Hey!" David said in indignation.
"And," Christopher overrode firmly, "you were the only thing that kept me going for ages."
The silence fell again, and David felt something a little like wonder inside of his chest, stirring up through a blockade. "What?"
When his face softened, the mischief fading from his gaze and a seriousness slope tracing his smile, Christopher actually looked amazingly sweet. He reached forward, putting a hand on David's shoulder, steady and demanding every hint of his attention possible. For a moment, the two boys sat there like that-- leaning close together, hooked by the connection of one hand and eyes that were filled with the firelight and a million words of gratitude spreading from Christopher to David.
"You kept me alive," the blonde whispered. "So thanks. David."
He was going to drown in that blue. David swallowed, unable to look away, unable to understand what was happening. "What? But Jalil--"
"Jalil knew how to pull me back to life. But you were the one that kept me from falling in the first place, Napoleon," the blonde murmured affectionately, smiling gently. "I never got to tell you thanks for all that time, babysitting my ungrateful ass… David."
The way he was saying David's name was starting to get worrying. It was a sound-- or rather, a tone-- that he had heard before. Recently. To someone else, in fact. The young general swallowed again, his throat contracting and the feeling of wonder in his stomach spreading throughout him. If there was anything to say to that, he wasn't sure what. He wasn't sure of anything much at this moment.
"Christopher," was what he said instead.
They were close enough that their noses were almost brushing.
"Sometimes," Christopher whispered, "I think that I learned from her death. Because now I know…"
Close enough to feel the heat of David's bright red face.
"… that I've got to keep those precious to me…"
Close enough to feel the words vibrating against him.
"… very, very…"
Lips brushing carefully.
"…close…"
He was going to wake up any second, David thought hazily, because this couldn't be happening--
"Wasn't that line from a movie?" Jalil asked out of nowhere.
--and it wasn't happening, but the ground felt awfully hard when Christopher shoved him off the log.
Faced with the sudden cold rush of air against his heated cheeks, as well as the hardness of the dirt he was now sprawled out on, David blinked. Rapidly. A lot. "Um… ouch."
Christopher was already sitting up straight on the log, looking sheepish and apologetic as he looked down at David. "Oh. Shit. Sorry. Here, let me help you up--" Grasping the general's hand, he yanked, sending the boy scurrying back on the log as his head turned upside down again.
"Ouch," he repeated nonsensically, narrowing his eyes at Christopher as he tried to stop the dizziness. "What was that for?!"
"It's because he's a dumbass," the bored voice replied from behind them.
David nearly fell off the log again.
'Oh. So that was who said--'
"Jalil, you're a sneaky bastard," Christopher sulked, throwing a frown at the dark-skinned scientist standing behind them. "And you have horrible timing."
"And here I thought it was perfect," the boy shot back.
'Good timing for--' and in an instant, David's head flew back to him and he was mortified.
"Oh shit! Oh god--!" Christopher had been-- and he had-- and almost--
"No, he's just Christopher," Jalil muttered sardonically, coming forward and sitting on the other side of David. He was dressed down-- his pants no longer tucked in his boots to keep out the mud, his cloak stashed in the tents beyond. He looked almost in place with the shadows as he settled beside them and the campfire, the white glare of his shirt the only sign left before his mocha skin faded into the night.
David glanced between the two frantically, his mind chaotic. Or rather, just very confused. Because Christopher-- well, he hadn't tried… but had he? And what was he going to do about it? Furthermore, the general realized with a sinking feeling accompanying the panic, what was Jalil going to do? After all, weren't they…? And hadn't he just…?
"Nothing happened!" he yelped, oddly high, before realizing how horribly stupid he sounded. He went bright red again. "I mean…"
"Well, nothing did happen," Christopher amended grumpily. "No thanks to you, Sherman."
"I probably saved our general from a lifetime of nightmares," the scientist replied dryly. He flashed David a surprisingly white smile, his teeth almost glowing in the darkness. It was sympathetic. "He comes on strong. Ignore him."
"Screw you, too, Jalil."
"Shut up, blondie."
"I-I didn't…" David glanced between them nervously, completely confused. His best friends just looked back at him with patient expressions. "I mean, I don't…"
"You scared him," Jalil chided the blonde, his tone firm and severe. "These things have to happen gradually, you know. You can't just grab him in a random hallway and jump his bones like you did me, jackass."
"What?!" David felt his face heat up again. "I-I don't want--"
"Now go away and let me fix things," the mocha-skinned scientist continued. Christopher glared at him, but stood up. He brushed his knees off, freeing the imaginary dirt scattered there amongst the very real mud stains.
"Fine, I'll be in our tent. Spoilsport."
"Airhead."
Christopher stuck out his tongue, made an extremely rude signal with his fingers, and turned around to leave.
David sat, still stunned and slightly mortified, watching the blonde figure get swallowed by the shadows beyond the campfire. He could hear his footsteps fade off as he moved away, presumably to go to one of the makeshift tents, but his mind was still whirling with the past few moments. Next to him, Jalil sat quietly, allowing him to gather his thoughts and bearings a bit. If he'd been more aware of things, David would have been grateful for his tact.
As it was, he was having trouble getting his head on straight.
'Okay, David… you're a general. You lead battles for Christ's sake. Get a hold of yourself and stop panicking,' he told himself desperately, screwing his eyes shut tightly. 'Okay, breath. You can do this. Just think this through. What the hell just happened?!'
"I'm sure you're wondering what the hell just happened," Jalil said next to him, calmly. "And what I'm going to do to you now."
His voice was placid and tranquil, and hardly angry. For a moment, David forced himself to take deep breaths and stop the panicked swell of thoughts in his mind. First things first-- and Jalil didn't sound upset or panicked, so he shouldn't either-- and once he finally gained complete control, he lifted his head and opened his eyes. In the darkness of the camp, his face illuminated only by the flickering flames, Jalil offered him a knowing, gently mocking smile.
"Will you be alright?"
"Oh, yeah," he said, attempting to sound cool and in control. "Perfectly fine. Just peachy, in fact. You know what? I'm so fine about everything that I'm going to pretend none of this ever happened."
"You're sounding like Christopher."
"No, I'm not."
"You are," Jalil countered, grinning slightly. His teeth were oddly white compared to the shades of his skin and the blemishes on his clothing. "Only he could use a phrase like 'just peachy' and get away with it."
David just glared at him.
After a moment, the young scientist sighed. He brushed a little dirt off of his slacks, ignoring the fact that he was sitting on a log, and therefore, most likely going to get even more dirty in the next few moments. "Okay, look. I'm sure you have questions…"
When he looked at him, David reluctantly nodded.
"And I'm sure you have just been completely thrown into the dark, considering what Christopher just did."
"Yeah, well, he tried to…" The words got stuck in David's throat, and he felt his face flush again. Turning in an attempt to hide the unattractive redness of his face, he continued quickly, "Well, you know. You were there."
"Yes, I was," Jalil said dryly. "And before you hurt yourself while worrying about whether or not I'm going to kick your ass, you can rest easy. I'm not upset or angry. I'm not going to kick your ass, nor will I accuse you of trying to steal my lover."
"Your…" And he went bright red again, couldn't help it, just the sound of the word made him feel humiliated. Lover. What kind of word was it? Just the idea, just the connotations, and to see Jalil say such a flippant thing…
"Yes, David, he's my lover. My… boyfriend, if you will," Jalil said reluctantly, distaste floating vaguely across his features. "I don't really care for either term, but there's not much else to label it. My partner, I suppose. We don't really talk about it, actually, so it's difficult to really consider what we would call each other…"
"Oh," he said weakly. There wasn't much else he could say at that point.
Jalil continued in spite of his slightly queasy sound, only glancing momentarily at the young general. "Look, David, I know this is strange. We've been friends, more or less, ever since we came into Everworld. You've known us for years. We've conquered gods before, obliterated armies, saved princesses… for chrissake, we flooded the Nile, remember?"
"Yeah," David said. Smiled. "Yeah, we did."
"We've done a lot of things together," Jalil continued quietly, his smile now reflecting David's own. "I can safely say that you are one of my greatest friends. If this thing with Christopher upsets you too much, or you can't stomach the concept, then that's okay. That's okay, David. You mean too much to me-- and to Christopher-- to throw away for something that we haven't even figured out yet. But I like him, David. I like him a lot, and even though I'm ready to drop this twisted relationship we're working on at the drop of a hat for you, I'd like to keep it. But you still have to be okay with it."
"That's not… I mean… I'm fine," David finally stammered, still bright pink. He looked at the earnest, uncharacteristically open features of his friend's face, and felt the flush grow a little. "I'm fine with you guys. Really. If it… you know, makes you happy."
"It does." The scientist grinned again, dark eyes flashing mischievously. "Very much."
"Okay, but um…" The general screwed up his face and groaned, dropping his face into his hands. "I'm still confused. Christopher was…"
"Trying to kiss you?"
"W-well, not-- I mean--"
Jalil laughed.
"What?!" David demanded, feeling the burn in his cheeks heighten even further. The sensation only made him more irritated. "What the hell's your problem?! Shouldn't you be pissed off about it?!"
"Oh, David, David," Jalil said with another chuckle, shaking his head. "You can plan an amazing battle. You can defeat Hetwan and challenge gods. But you're so unbelievably naïve, you know that?"
"What?!"
But it was too late; even as David sputtered indignantly, his friend slipped off of the log and into the shadows, heading towards his and Christopher's tent. He merely waved over his shoulder once.
"Jalil!"
The flap closed, leaving David gaping at the empty clearing around him.
Somehow, even after the discussion, he just felt more confused than ever.
Jalil tossed him a scathing look as he sealed the flap shut. "Well, he won't be if he heard that, Einstein."
"Hey, you're the brainiac, not me."
"It was your brilliant idea to bring him in on this."
Christopher thought that over for a minute. "Oh. Yeah, I guess you're right. So… have you wooed him yet?"
"No."
"Damn."
"You scared him," Jalil said mildly, crouching down beside the blonde. He took the tangled knot of strings away from him, picking idly at the loops sticking out. "You can't expect to do this in one night, remember? We'll have to take our time if this is what you want."
"Of course it's what I want." Christopher looked up sharply. "It's what you want, too, right?"
"I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't want it."
"Are you sure?" He took the knot of string away from Jalil's prying fingers, and with a frown, turned the young scientist's face towards his own. "If it makes you uncomfortable…"
"No, it doesn't."
"But I was the one to ask--"
"Christopher," Jalil said firmly, jerking the bedroll strings back, "I want to do this. If you hadn't brought up the idea, I would have eventually. We both got into this knowing what would happen, and I'm not going to back out now. He means too much to us."
Christopher sighed in relief. He sat down, throwing his arms around the back of his head and stretching. He eyed the dark-eyed boy's progress with the bedroll. "Great. Just… making sure."
Jalil tugged lightly at the knot, and made a satisfied noise when it fell unraveled at his fingertips.
Christopher watched. And grinned.
"So… like, undoing that knot was a lot of work. Let's just share this one bedroll, huh?"
"Christopher… you're an idiot."
Right then. So. Yes, very OOC. And my David sucks. I can't write that boy. Ah well. Also shorter than the last part, and that it would have been, had I not been too lazy to find a good ending with the next part. But that just means that part of the next part is written, and it should be out sooner. YAY! Happiness. I'm SO sorry it took so long... let's hope people still read this stuff, eh?
Love Everworld, damn you all. XO