Oh! Thank you so much, reviewers!!! Please keep reviewing! I hope you will not kill me for this chapter....
Achilles lay on the ground for a few moments, silently pleading for the Gods to return Paris to him. He had already loved and lost months before, and if Paris died, Achilles was sure that he too would die.
Achilles felt Paris' neck for a pulse, and was relieved to find a weak one present. Making up his mind, Achilles stood up and still held Paris carefully to his chest. He cautiously walked through the camp and woke up each one of his men.
He told each of them to guard the outside of his tent while he doctored Paris and tried to keep him alive. His warriors gazed at him in surprise, and then at Paris' battered form with sadness in their eyes.
Achilles also went to Odysseus' tent. His good friend would surely help them. Sure enough, the man was eager to help, and they went back to Achilles' tent.
Back in the tent, and sure that his guards surrounded it, Achilles gently laid Paris down on their bed. He stared at his lover's broken body, and stifled his tears. He looked to Odysseus, had bowed his head.
"Come, Odysseus. We must try to save him," Achilles muttered, and then went to get fresh water. Within minutes, he was back, and then started to heat the water over the small fire he had built inside the tent to keep Paris warm. The former prince had began to shiver, and occasionally moaned softly.
The two warriors began to tenderly clean Paris' cuts and injuries. Achilles then carefully applied a soothing healing slave to Paris' abused opening. The young man had flinched violently and had whimpered.
"Shh, I'm sorry, my love. Forgive me," Achilles whispered, and softly caressed Paris' bruised cheek. Odysseus watched him with grief filled eyes.
After hours of tending to Paris, the two warriors saw nothing else that could be done. Achilles lay beside Paris to keep him warm, but did not get too close to him. If Paris woke up and felt someone next to him, he could panic.
"Do you think he will live?" came Achilles' voice, which was small and slightly pleading.
Odysseus faltered at hearing Achilles' voice like he was a small child.
"I do not know. Paris has been badly hurt, and I fear the emotional damage more than anything else. But, Paris is very strong, and will not die easily. Have faith, Achilles."
Achilles knew Odysseus' words were wise, but they did not sooth his terrified soul. Even if Paris did wake up, what if he didn't trust him? What if Paris blamed him for the assault?
He had vowed to protect the Trojan. He had meant it; but perhaps, if they hadn't made love, if Achilles hadn't given into his desires, Paris wouldn't have been hurt.
Another icy cold fear crept its way through Achilles' body. Rejection. He could be rejected and feared by his true love.
He did love Paris; strongly and truly. The man was beautiful and kind, and possessed every desirable attribute that a lover wanted.
Hours passed and left Achilles alone to his dark thoughts. He barely noticed the other warrior in the tent.
A gray dawn broke over the beach; a light drizzle fell. Odysseus left briefly to check on Achilles' men, and Achilles was left with Paris.
Achilles had prayed all night; he still prayed. Paris hadn't shown any sign of waking. He whimpered occasionally from a nightmare; but otherwise, he did not move at all.
The blonde warrior was in a thick fog. Events of last night played through his head; being taken to the tent, hearing Paris' agonized moans and screams, killing the guards, seeing Paris being violated before his very eyes, seeing the bleeding Trojan broken on the ground....
Unwanted tears fell from Achilles' blue eyes, and soon the silent tears turned into full blown sobs; sobs of misery and guilt. The warrior no longer cared for his pride as he cried his sorrow.
"Please, please, I beg of you, let Paris come back to me. I will not survive without him. He does not deserve to die; if anyone does, it's me. I let him down...."
Odysseus then came into the tent, and his heart fell at seeing his good friend crying. He went to him cautiously and sat down, and tentatively wrapped his arms around the shaking form. To his surprise, Achilles buried his face into his chest and grabbed his robe, wringing it between his hands.
Odysseus let a few of his own tears fall. Paris and Achilles had been good friends to him, and it killed him to see them both hurt and suffering.
The two warriors stayed like that for some time. Achilles' sobs quieted, and he then whispered a 'thank you' to Odysseus.
"Anytime, my friend," Odysseus replied truthfully.
Achilles sat quietly. He then spoke. "I am so afraid for him, Odysseus."
Odysseus nodded. "Yes, I am too."
Long minutes passed, and then the unthinkable happened.
Paris shifted slightly and moaned softly. Achilles watched him carefully, and then walked over to him. He sat down a few feet away from him.
The Trojan let out a strangled whimper, but then turned to his side. Dull brown eyes opened wearily, and brown was set on blue once more.
The two stared at eachother for a long while. Paris seemed tense and frightened, and Achilles nervous. Odysseus hung back.
"A...Achilles?" Paris asked weakly, and his voice was hoarse.
"Yes, it is me, Paris. You came back to us," Achilles whispered, and hesitantly took Paris' hand. To his utter grief and confusion, Paris moved away slightly and pulled back his hand.
Paris looked up at Achilles with tears in his eyes. "You told me you would protect me." he whispered, his voice filled with hurt and tears. "You promised they would not hurt me."
The words hit Achilles like a hard blow. His world came crashing down onto him in reckless abandon.
He choked back a distressed yelp. "No, Paris, if I could have saved you I would have. I tried; I tried so hard to keep you safe...I'm so sorry. Please, please forgive me. I love you more than life itself," Achilles pleaded, and more tears fell from his already red eyes. One of his biggest fears was becoming a reality.
Paris began to cry as well. He looked regretful.
"I'm sorry, Achilles. I...I just cannot...." Paris was cut off by himself as his features contorted with pain. "Hurts...." he gasped out softly, and then closed his eyes once more. The battered body went limp once more.
Achilles sucked in his breath sharply, and then let out a whimper of inner pain. He laid his hand on Paris' brow and felt a fever raging.
Odysseus bowed his head. He could only imagine how Achilles felt; to have someone you love not trust you.
He put what he hoped was a comforting hand of Achilles' shoulder, and the man turned to look at him. What Odysseus saw broke his heart.
The expressive aqua eyes were full of torment and suffering. The orbs no longer sparkled; instead, they were dull and cloudy. Tears were gathered in the eyes, but it did not get rid of the shadowed, blurred expression.
"It wasn't your fault, Achilles," Odysseus whispered.
Achilles shook his head. "No," he began, his voice quiet, "It was my entire fault. I deserve this pain."
Odysseus shook his head. "No, Achilles. No one deserves this pain. It is Agamemnon's fault."
Achilles stood up abruptly. "Don't you understand, Odysseus?! I promised Paris I would protect him, and I broke that promise! He is the one reason I am alive right now, Odysseus. His love for me kept me alive. He stopped me from hurting myself more," Achilles paused and rolled up the sleeves to his robe to reveal scar covered wrists and forearms, obviously self inflicted, "the least I could have done was keep him safe from pain. I love him, Odysseus. I love him more than life. I love him. I need him." At first Achilles had been shouting, but now his voice dropped to a whisper.
Odysseus sat in silence. He had never known that Achilles had cut himself. Obviously, there was more than a lover in Paris. He was more like Achilles' savior.
Achilles' guilt would slowly kill him, and the urge to hurt himself would become stronger. Odysseus desperately hoped that Paris would trust Achilles again.
Achilles buried his face in his hands. "He knew I would never hurt him. He knew it. I would never lay a hand on him in an unkind way. Gods, I am half afraid to touch him, for fear I would damage him."
"His trust was violated in the worst way imaginable, Achilles. It is normal for him to be frightened of touch and people for some time. I am confident that he will recover, however. What you have is something strong and rare. Nothing can tear that from you," Odysseus murmured, hoping that his words had some effect on Achilles.
Achilles did not answer. He just walked toward Paris, and lay down next to him. He wrapped his long arms around Paris' body, and let a few tears fall once more.
To Achilles' utter relief and joy, Paris subconsciously pressed himself against Achilles' warmth.
Paris did not cry out once more that night from nightmares, as they never occurred.
Hope you liked. Don't kill me. I did forget the mention that Achilles was a self abuser, and had cut himself constantly before Paris arrived. Paris helped him stop the urge to hurt himself. I may write a one chapter companion piece to explain that.
Please, please review. I won't update probably for a long time, as I'm leaving the 10th to go on vacation.
Achilles lay on the ground for a few moments, silently pleading for the Gods to return Paris to him. He had already loved and lost months before, and if Paris died, Achilles was sure that he too would die.
Achilles felt Paris' neck for a pulse, and was relieved to find a weak one present. Making up his mind, Achilles stood up and still held Paris carefully to his chest. He cautiously walked through the camp and woke up each one of his men.
He told each of them to guard the outside of his tent while he doctored Paris and tried to keep him alive. His warriors gazed at him in surprise, and then at Paris' battered form with sadness in their eyes.
Achilles also went to Odysseus' tent. His good friend would surely help them. Sure enough, the man was eager to help, and they went back to Achilles' tent.
Back in the tent, and sure that his guards surrounded it, Achilles gently laid Paris down on their bed. He stared at his lover's broken body, and stifled his tears. He looked to Odysseus, had bowed his head.
"Come, Odysseus. We must try to save him," Achilles muttered, and then went to get fresh water. Within minutes, he was back, and then started to heat the water over the small fire he had built inside the tent to keep Paris warm. The former prince had began to shiver, and occasionally moaned softly.
The two warriors began to tenderly clean Paris' cuts and injuries. Achilles then carefully applied a soothing healing slave to Paris' abused opening. The young man had flinched violently and had whimpered.
"Shh, I'm sorry, my love. Forgive me," Achilles whispered, and softly caressed Paris' bruised cheek. Odysseus watched him with grief filled eyes.
After hours of tending to Paris, the two warriors saw nothing else that could be done. Achilles lay beside Paris to keep him warm, but did not get too close to him. If Paris woke up and felt someone next to him, he could panic.
"Do you think he will live?" came Achilles' voice, which was small and slightly pleading.
Odysseus faltered at hearing Achilles' voice like he was a small child.
"I do not know. Paris has been badly hurt, and I fear the emotional damage more than anything else. But, Paris is very strong, and will not die easily. Have faith, Achilles."
Achilles knew Odysseus' words were wise, but they did not sooth his terrified soul. Even if Paris did wake up, what if he didn't trust him? What if Paris blamed him for the assault?
He had vowed to protect the Trojan. He had meant it; but perhaps, if they hadn't made love, if Achilles hadn't given into his desires, Paris wouldn't have been hurt.
Another icy cold fear crept its way through Achilles' body. Rejection. He could be rejected and feared by his true love.
He did love Paris; strongly and truly. The man was beautiful and kind, and possessed every desirable attribute that a lover wanted.
Hours passed and left Achilles alone to his dark thoughts. He barely noticed the other warrior in the tent.
A gray dawn broke over the beach; a light drizzle fell. Odysseus left briefly to check on Achilles' men, and Achilles was left with Paris.
Achilles had prayed all night; he still prayed. Paris hadn't shown any sign of waking. He whimpered occasionally from a nightmare; but otherwise, he did not move at all.
The blonde warrior was in a thick fog. Events of last night played through his head; being taken to the tent, hearing Paris' agonized moans and screams, killing the guards, seeing Paris being violated before his very eyes, seeing the bleeding Trojan broken on the ground....
Unwanted tears fell from Achilles' blue eyes, and soon the silent tears turned into full blown sobs; sobs of misery and guilt. The warrior no longer cared for his pride as he cried his sorrow.
"Please, please, I beg of you, let Paris come back to me. I will not survive without him. He does not deserve to die; if anyone does, it's me. I let him down...."
Odysseus then came into the tent, and his heart fell at seeing his good friend crying. He went to him cautiously and sat down, and tentatively wrapped his arms around the shaking form. To his surprise, Achilles buried his face into his chest and grabbed his robe, wringing it between his hands.
Odysseus let a few of his own tears fall. Paris and Achilles had been good friends to him, and it killed him to see them both hurt and suffering.
The two warriors stayed like that for some time. Achilles' sobs quieted, and he then whispered a 'thank you' to Odysseus.
"Anytime, my friend," Odysseus replied truthfully.
Achilles sat quietly. He then spoke. "I am so afraid for him, Odysseus."
Odysseus nodded. "Yes, I am too."
Long minutes passed, and then the unthinkable happened.
Paris shifted slightly and moaned softly. Achilles watched him carefully, and then walked over to him. He sat down a few feet away from him.
The Trojan let out a strangled whimper, but then turned to his side. Dull brown eyes opened wearily, and brown was set on blue once more.
The two stared at eachother for a long while. Paris seemed tense and frightened, and Achilles nervous. Odysseus hung back.
"A...Achilles?" Paris asked weakly, and his voice was hoarse.
"Yes, it is me, Paris. You came back to us," Achilles whispered, and hesitantly took Paris' hand. To his utter grief and confusion, Paris moved away slightly and pulled back his hand.
Paris looked up at Achilles with tears in his eyes. "You told me you would protect me." he whispered, his voice filled with hurt and tears. "You promised they would not hurt me."
The words hit Achilles like a hard blow. His world came crashing down onto him in reckless abandon.
He choked back a distressed yelp. "No, Paris, if I could have saved you I would have. I tried; I tried so hard to keep you safe...I'm so sorry. Please, please forgive me. I love you more than life itself," Achilles pleaded, and more tears fell from his already red eyes. One of his biggest fears was becoming a reality.
Paris began to cry as well. He looked regretful.
"I'm sorry, Achilles. I...I just cannot...." Paris was cut off by himself as his features contorted with pain. "Hurts...." he gasped out softly, and then closed his eyes once more. The battered body went limp once more.
Achilles sucked in his breath sharply, and then let out a whimper of inner pain. He laid his hand on Paris' brow and felt a fever raging.
Odysseus bowed his head. He could only imagine how Achilles felt; to have someone you love not trust you.
He put what he hoped was a comforting hand of Achilles' shoulder, and the man turned to look at him. What Odysseus saw broke his heart.
The expressive aqua eyes were full of torment and suffering. The orbs no longer sparkled; instead, they were dull and cloudy. Tears were gathered in the eyes, but it did not get rid of the shadowed, blurred expression.
"It wasn't your fault, Achilles," Odysseus whispered.
Achilles shook his head. "No," he began, his voice quiet, "It was my entire fault. I deserve this pain."
Odysseus shook his head. "No, Achilles. No one deserves this pain. It is Agamemnon's fault."
Achilles stood up abruptly. "Don't you understand, Odysseus?! I promised Paris I would protect him, and I broke that promise! He is the one reason I am alive right now, Odysseus. His love for me kept me alive. He stopped me from hurting myself more," Achilles paused and rolled up the sleeves to his robe to reveal scar covered wrists and forearms, obviously self inflicted, "the least I could have done was keep him safe from pain. I love him, Odysseus. I love him more than life. I love him. I need him." At first Achilles had been shouting, but now his voice dropped to a whisper.
Odysseus sat in silence. He had never known that Achilles had cut himself. Obviously, there was more than a lover in Paris. He was more like Achilles' savior.
Achilles' guilt would slowly kill him, and the urge to hurt himself would become stronger. Odysseus desperately hoped that Paris would trust Achilles again.
Achilles buried his face in his hands. "He knew I would never hurt him. He knew it. I would never lay a hand on him in an unkind way. Gods, I am half afraid to touch him, for fear I would damage him."
"His trust was violated in the worst way imaginable, Achilles. It is normal for him to be frightened of touch and people for some time. I am confident that he will recover, however. What you have is something strong and rare. Nothing can tear that from you," Odysseus murmured, hoping that his words had some effect on Achilles.
Achilles did not answer. He just walked toward Paris, and lay down next to him. He wrapped his long arms around Paris' body, and let a few tears fall once more.
To Achilles' utter relief and joy, Paris subconsciously pressed himself against Achilles' warmth.
Paris did not cry out once more that night from nightmares, as they never occurred.
Hope you liked. Don't kill me. I did forget the mention that Achilles was a self abuser, and had cut himself constantly before Paris arrived. Paris helped him stop the urge to hurt himself. I may write a one chapter companion piece to explain that.
Please, please review. I won't update probably for a long time, as I'm leaving the 10th to go on vacation.