Title: Catharsis
Author: dealiberty
Pairing: Gawain/Galahad
Rating: R
Dedication: For eudaimon, for being you.
A/N: This fic is complete. A chapter will be posted twice a week, on Fridays and Tuesdays. Thanks to both eudaimon and trinityc for beta-ing, and the endless support you've given me.

"I've sent him out."

"Damn Arthur. Damn Tristan. Damn everyone." Gawain throws the knife he had been sharpening roughly against the wooden post on the far end of the stable, lodging it in the grainy depth. Not surprisingly, it's the exit that Tristan and his horse have just disappeared through.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?"

"Out."

"I can see that, you fool, but I have to talk to you. Now."

"About Galahad? Talk when I get back, Gawain. I don't have time." A casual shrug of the shoulders and a smirk. "Until then..." And he was gone.

Just thinking back to the impostor of a conversation makes Gawain punch the ground in frustration. "Dam' it, Tristan, you bastard."

Gawain feels like killing something. Slowly and painfully. He feels like hurting something, making it hurt like he is hurting. This intense gut wrenching feeling of complete helplessness - this feeling of not knowing - is eating him up, and spitting him out again, just so that it can make him go through it all once more.

"Bloody inhumane feeling," he grumbles, getting up and pacing, trying to find a way to cure his restlessness.

But it doesn't help, so he flops uselessly back down again.

In times like this, when he was frustrated, hurt, angry - when he felt anything at all - he used to go to Galahad. Galahad was his touchstone. But now...now he's not sure what to think. He's not sure if that touchstone, his constant in life, is really all that he thought it was.

He's starting to doubt Galahad, and there is nothing - not even the thought of Galahad with Tristan - that hurts him more.

He's never dreamt that he would try and hide from Galahad, never dreamt to try and get away, but here he is. Sitting in the stables. Avoiding Galahad.

Gawain knows it will not be long before the younger knight seeks him out. He knows because he left Galahad still sleeping in his bed this morning. No note. No nothing. Just left.

To talk to Tristan.

And now Tristan was gone. And no one knew when he was coming back.

And Gawain can't get him out of his mind.

"Dam' it all," he shouts, startling the horses, forcing him to go and calm them back down again. Good. Good - something to keep himself busy for a little while at least. Something to keep his mind off Galahad, and off Tristan.

"Galahad." Gawain's hand has frozen over Galahad's back, and Galahad, in turn, freezes.

"Don't Gawain. Please don't ask." There's a pleading note - a desperate note - to his voice, and Gawain feels his heart stutter.

"Alright," Gawain says, forcing himself to ignore the marks. "Alright."

He's got fistfuls of hay in his hand, clenching until it's beginning to itch horribly. He throws it hard, like he threw the dagger earlier, but this time, it's futile. The wind floats the golden straws gently back to him - like the thoughts of the two knights he is trying to rid his mind off that just keep invading quietly.

He can feel his heart clenching, beating faster, more irregular, than normal. His breath is coming in little short, sharp gasps, drawing in oxygen that never seems to be enough. And there is a stinging in the corner of his eyes.

And Gawain realises that he's not so much angry as he is hurt.

Footsteps that pause at the entrance alert him to that fact that, as predicted, Galahad has found him.

"Gawain?" The voice is shaky; he's holding back tears then. And he's confused - very confused.

Slowly Gawain lifts his head.

Galahad's standing there staring incomprehensibly at Gawain, holding Gawain's knife in his hand.

"Gawain?" He asks again, taking an unsteady forward.

Gawain stands up and brushes the hay off himself, trying to assemble his wayward thoughts. It would not do to have Galahad see him fall apart. It would only hurt him more.

Once he has sufficiently collected himself, he throws a half-smile at Galahad, still standing, looking younger than he had in years, at the entrance.

Three strides. That is all it takes. Three strides and Galahad is burying his face in Gawain's neck, breathing hard.

He pulls away slightly to look into Gawain's eyes. "Gawain, what are you...."

And Gawain kisses him. No questions. Gawain's not ready for questions yet.

But this time, Galahad pushes him away, looking betrayed.

"No, Gawain," he whimpers, shaking his head and stepping backwards. "Please no. You're just going to fuck me, make me forget. You're going to fuck me and leave me sleeping. You're going to fuck me and leave me alone. Again. Like this morning."

He's almost sobbing, and Gawain's heart breaks. It's his fault again. His fault Galahad's hurting. He takes one step towards Galahad and draws the youth back into his arms.

"Please don't, Gawain. Please don't."

Gawain pulls him tighter into his embrace, running his hand through Galahad's curls, then resting his head there.

"I'm sorry, Galahad - so incredibly sorry. I just had something to do," he whispers soothingly, trying to lessen the pain. Galahad's starting to calm under his touch, breathing become less ragged, grasp on Gawain's tunic, less desperate.

"Did you get it done?" He asks, voice small - insecure.

"Yeah," Gawain lies - lies to Galahad for the first time in his life. "Yeah, I got it done."

And this time, Galahad lets Gawain kiss him.

He can taste the salty tears on Galahad's lips and Galahad's kissing back frantically as if afraid that Gawain would disappear.

Everything - Galahad's stance, his grip on Gawain's arms, his puffy eyes and tear-streaked face - all reminders of the hurt Gawain had inflicted, whether he meant to or not.

And Gawain wants nothing more than to make it better.

He lets his lips trail from Galahad's lips to his neck, biting lightly, then set about soothing it, making Galahad moan softly.

Slowly Gawain sinks to his knees and Galahad's eyes snap open to lock with his own.

Galahad's are bright with arousal and wide with fear. But he makes no move to push Gawain away as Gawain's hands slip beneath his kilt, lifting it up.

"I promise," Gawain whispers, breath blowing over the head of Galahad's shaft, making him whimper. "I promise I'll be here."

Never breaking eye-contact, Gawain swallows him with practised ease. And all Galahad can do is throw back his head and moan.

Galahad's slowly losing himself to the feel of Gawain's skilled lips on him. He's hardly able to think straight, but he's still afraid to let go.

He doesn't want to wake up alone. Never wants to be alone.

This morning, he woke up - alone - in Gawain's bed. For the first time since they'd been together, Galahad had drifted out of sleep only to find the heavy weight of Gawain's absence next to him.

And he was convinced that Gawain didn't want him anymore.

This morning, he was afraid that Gawain would be disgusted by him, would see him as tainted and impure - afraid that Gawain would love him no more. He thought that, to Gawain, he was to become nothing but a fuck, something to relieve his ache, to give him pleasure.

And those thoughts almost broke him.

To him, Gawain was everything: his world - and more.

Tristan. The situation with Tristan was complicated - Tristan was complicated. But Tristan was....

Gawain does something with his tongue and Galahad loses his train of thought. And finds his release.

Distantly, he feels Gawain easing him to the ground and gathering him up close - and Galahad surrenders to the blanket of darkness.

Gawain cradles the younger knight to him, ignoring his own need for release. That's not important now. Nothing is as important as the man in his arms.

He's never seen Galahad so close to breaking and he doubts anyone - not even Tristan - has.

And it had been because of him.

As Galahad opens his bright eyes and smiles a sleepy, sated smile, Gawain thinks he's never seen Galahad look so young - so vulnerable. And Gawain's a little awed - maybe even scared - at the thought that he holds so much power over another person.

Tristan be damned, Gawain tries to think. He will get to the bottom of this, he will find out why Tristan hurt Galahad - and Tristan will get what he deserves.

But it isn't worth hurting Galahad over.

He's trying to protect Galahad yet, as he's clearly seen, he's the one hurting Galahad - maybe even more than Tristan did.

And it isn't worth that. Nothing is.

Gawain leans down and kisses the waiting lips gently. And Galahad trembles, leaning into him.

Too much power.

And Tristan lurks at the back of his mind.

A/N: This chapter has been slightly tamed. The full version can be found on my journal.

Dea