One Thing - Chapter 21


Disclaimer: Not getting a penny.


Gah! How to kill off three of your favorite characters. Don't! That was my first instinct. But, if I didn't, it wouldn't work. But do not worry, they aren't staying dead. So...This may seem strange to do this, but...I'm going to write about what I know. I work in a nursing home. And once my favorite resident passed. I was such a wreck. Someone suggested I do this. It helped me a lot. I find myself doing this to my daughter when she is sleeping.


"I'm sorry." She smiled sleepily at him. "I didn't hear you ride in."

But, by the look on Tristan's face, Teagan could tell that something wasn't right. "What's wrong?"

"Dag." That one word held such unbelievable sadness. The look on his face spoke volumes. Something terrible had happened.

Flying from her chair by the fire, Teagan ran full tilt to the courtyard, Tristan right on her heels. She didn't stop until she came to Dagonet, laying on the cold, hard ground.

Teagan fell into the mud next to Dagonet. Reaching her hand, she gently touched his cheek. She shuddered at the coldness of it. A bit of anger welled up at the thought of WHY he died. But that feeling was squelched as quickly as it surfaced, to be replaced by a feeling of utter sadness. Dagonet was a warrior. He had done what he was trained to do.

But, that didn't help these men. To see their friend cut down in the last days of his service.

Standing up, she looked at each knight, her heart going out to them all, especially Bors. His best friend now lay. Gone. She gently placed her hand on his arm, offering her sympathy.

It seemed he finally realized that she was there. He roughly grabbed her. "Help him!" Bors shook her.

"Bors, I can't." She wanted to, Gods knew she did.

He pointed at Tristan. "If it were him...If it were him, you would save him!" Bors was shouting, his grief was to much.

"Bors." This from Lancelot. The rest of the knights tightened their circle around them.

Teagan sighed. "Bors, I can't. He was already gone before he came here."

Bors, just stared at his best friend, his grief bared for all to see.

Lancelot gathered her into his large arms. Teagan let her tears fall. "I can't raise the dead, Lancelot."

"I know, love. I know." He looked at Tristan. He should be the one to comfort Teagan.

The silent man came forward, scooping Teagan into his own arms. She brought her cheek to rest on his chest, seeking his heartbeat.

Arthur looked again from Bors to the rest of the knights. His heart breaking because he couldn't bring Dagonet home, to his freedom.

"Come. We must ready him for burial."

Teagan stirred in Tristan's grasp. "I will do it."

Arthur was surprised. "You?"

Teagan nodded, disengaging herself from Tristan. "Yes. And Bors will help me." She had an idea on how to help him.

"I will?" The big man choked.

0o0o0o

It took Gawain, Galahad and Tristan to carry Dagonet to the infirmary. Bors just stood by, his eyes never leaving his friend.

Taking a last look at the large knight, Teagan blew out a deep breath. She closed her eyes and willed her body to calm.

She gently ran her hand over Dagonet's head. Gently feeling the hair that had begun to grow back. The slight prickly feel of it tickled her palm. Her soft hands found the scar at the base of his neck. It wasn't that long, but raised and uneven. She wondered when he had gotten the wound. She wondered when this giant of a man received his first battle scar.

Next, her hands ran over his shoulders, his chest, feeling all the scars there also. She smiled to herself. All the knights had these scars. These roadmaps to their past, their warrior ways. Her hands felt the hardness of his muscles, from years of swinging a broadsword.

Her hand rested above his heart, almost willing it to start beating. Sighing, she knew it wouldn't.

Lastly, she brought her hands back to Dagonet's face, her gentle touch caressing his face. Her hands coming to rest over his eyes. Her minds eye could hear his gentle voice. She could hear the intelligence in the way he spoke. She smiled, remembering how much he had taught her. When she had come to this fort, she only knew the basics of healing. With Dagonet's guidance, she now knew so much more.

Bors stood watching the tiny woman. Her eyes were closed, but he could see the play of emotions on her face. One second she was sad, the next, happy. Still, in another, she was thoughtful. "Why do you do that, Red?"

She smiled at him, her hands grasping his. Gently she led Bors to where his best friend lay, so quiet, so peaceful.

"To remember him, Bors. To say goodbye." Teagan's voice was soft as she brought her hand gently to his eyes, guiding them closed. "Here, you try."

Bors stiffened. His eyes popped open, snatching his hand away. Rubbing his hand on another man was not his cup of tea. It didn't matter if it was his best friend.

But Teagan knew what he was thinking. She smiled at his awkwardness.

"Don't worry. It's nothing to be ashamed of." She brought his hand to rest on Dagonet's heart. "Close your eyes."

Bors did, taking in a deep breath as he did so. He let out a nervous laugh.

Teagan took his hand again, guiding that of Bors. "Think about him. Remember your time spent together. Growing up together." She glanced at Bors' face. She saw it soften. "Remember the first time you realized that you were friends."

"Remember, Bors. Remember the bad times if you must, but always hold the good in your heart. Remember that he is free. He didn't die defending Rome. Or Britain. He died defending you and all those he held dear."

Bors broke out of Teagan's grasp, only to bring her into a crushing embrace.

"I'm sorry Red."

She looked at him, eyes questioning.

"I'm sorry. For being an ass. About Dag and all."

Teagan tightened her arms around him. "I'm so sorry about Dagonet." She let her tears fall.

0o0o0o

That evening, at sunset, Arthur, Guinevere and the rest of the knights stood beside Dagonet's grave.

Teagan however, did not. She stood further away, watching the men mourn the loss of their friend, their brother. She watched each face, knowing that the grief of Dagonet's death was deep.

As she left the graveyard, she hears Bors address his friend one last time. "Rest, old friend. We will ride together soon enough." (1)

0o0o0o

It was dark when Teagan made her way to Tristan's room. He had left the cemetery without a word. She wasn't sure if he wanted company or not. But she didn't want to be alone and knew she didn't want Lancelot's loud company. She loved him dearly, but he talked to much. She didn't want to answer his questions tonight.

She stood there for a long time before Tristan's voice startled her.

"I know you are there." She heard him call. "Come in if you wish."

Slipping into the room, she was welcomed with near total darkness. The only light was from the high, uncovered window. Tristan lay on his small bed, his arm over his arms.

Her breath caught as she realized that he lay there with only breeches on, leaving his chest bare. Even his boots were off. She suppressed a smile. She wondered if he was ticklish on his feet.

Looking around quickly, she noticed that he was already packed. And there wasn't much. It was obvious to her that this man didn't have many possessions. She knew he wouldn't. He wasn't the type.

Everyone was leaving early, herself included. She didn't want to leave this fort. She had done well here. In all her years of tending bar at different forts, Teagan had never met such a charismatic bunch as this. Smiling softly, she realized that this was why she had stayed so long here. Each man was different in his own way. Each man adding to the whole in his own way.

Teagan looked at one of the reasons this fort had been good to her. "Do you wish me to leave?"

He didn't look at her. "No. But, don't just stand there."

Teagan sat on the edge of the bed.

"That thing you did with Dag..."

Teagan blushed. "You saw that?"

Tristan cupped the back of her neck, letting his fingers caress her hair. Red hair fascinated him. It wasn't something he came across often. He had never been this close to a woman with red hair.

His eyes held hers for a brief moment. "We all saw it." He looked away, almost embarrassed. "Would you do that to me? Now?"

Teagan didn't know what to say. She didn't want to think about this man dying. "But...you're not dead."

Tristan didn't tell her, but he had never had anybody touch him that soft. He wondered what it would be like.

He smiled a small smile. "No. Please?" He turned his head to look at her more fully.

She smiled, her fingers caressing the marks on his cheek. "Of course." He watched as she closed her eyes, blowing out a breath.

She started with his face, lightly tracing his cheek. He had high cheekbones, covered by a beard. Taking her nails, she gently raked her fingernails through his beard, her fingers tracing his jaw, up to his hairline. She took the time to run her fingers through his hair, up through to the top of his head.

"When did you learn to read?" She whispered, her eyes still closed.

"I don't remember." He did, but couldn't think straight. "Arthur taught us. Thought we needed to learn."

Teagan ran her finger lightly over his eyes. "You like it." It wasn't a question.

"Yes." He said softly.

Eyes still closed, Teagan then ran her hands down his throat to his shoulders, down his arms. Her gentle touch causing his muscles to twitch and flex.

As her hands went down his arm, they came to rest on his hands, her fingers finding the scar on his right wrist. "When did you get your first scar?"

"I was twenty. My first battle."

He watched as Teagan face showed a glint of anger, a hint of sadness. She quickly brought her hand back up his arm, coming to rest in the soft hair that covered his chest. She could feel the beat of his heart under her palm.

She smiled. His heartbeat was strong, full of life. Running her hand in small circles, she felt his heartbeat quicken. It became stronger underneath her palm.

Tristan couldn't help it, he groaned under her gentle touch. Opening her eyes, she noticed that Tristan was staring at her. His brown eyes boring into her blue ones.

She chuckled, causing her hand to jump on his chest. "Not quite the response that I usually get."

Tristan was fast, pulling Teagan into his lap He buried his face into her hair. Her red hair that would be his undoing. "You make be so un-bloody-hinged that I can't think straight."


A/N: I tried to do something different with this. I hope it worked. And I honestly to do that thing with the touch. Touch is so much better than words.

(1): Borrowed line from the book. This is from Frank Thompson. Not me. I thought it fit. I get no money from this.