One More Confessional
Part Four
197S9.9.02
Nooj is walking much better this morning. He'd been getting slower and creakier every day; now his limp is notably less pronounced. I saw Gippal working on his arm earlier -- boy, he must have been in heaven -- so I assume he did the leg yesterday. Now I'm wondering if the Maesters didn't assign Gippal to the same team as Nooj for a very specific purpose: to be his personal mechanic.
I thought that getting our orders would calm me down, but I'm more restless than ever. Ever since yesterday, I've been prowling around the camp, checking out other team's encampments in preparation for the looting -- I mean, "foraging operation" -- that Nooj has asked us to do after the others ship out. So many people are careless, just leaving valuable stuff around, and it's very tempting to start liberating it now. But I've gotten in too much trouble for stealing from comrades before; it's a habit I'd really rather not get back into. I can resist.
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After a quick packing lesson (just a refresher course for me, as I suspected it would be, although it's good to get the practice since I've never actually served in the military), we headed down to the firing range.
Baralai was as nervous as a cat; he could barely hold the gun at first. Probably afraid of messing up in front of Nooj. But after Gippal stood behind him and rested his hands on his shoulders for a minute, he calmed down and performed beautifully. Better than I did, for sure. Even Nooj seemed impressed.
Nooj was competent, but really not much better than that. Lack of practice, I suppose; the Crusaders still don't generally use machina, at least not to my knowledge. My shooting needs a lot of work. I hope I get a chance to study with Gippal as Baralai has. Gippal, naturally, is a crack shot, the best of us by far.
Now we're back in camp with very little to do. Gippal and Baralai have disappeared together, and this time I have my suspicions. There was something about the way Gippal touched Baralai down at the shooting range, much more tender and familiar than I have seen them before. I'm not sure what to think about that. I wonder if I'll have the guts to ask Baralai when I see him next?
Nooj took off also, to that pool I bet he thinks we don't know about. The boys and I have been down there to bathe and relax a couple of times. I'm seriously considering joining Nooj there now, but not for a bath, and certainly not to relax.
I know he likes his privacy, and maybe he'll be angry if he thinks I'm invading it. But this is getting ridiculous. I haven't been able to think about anything else for two days. Whenever my mind has a free moment, it goes back to the campfire -- his leg warm and solid under my cheek, his hand pressed hard against me, the look in his eyes--
Ah, what the hell. The worst he can do is say no, right? I'm going.
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I don't know if I can go through with this.
I went down to the pool and hid in some bushes while he disrobed for his bath. The moon is bright tonight, and so I saw everything. And I do mean everything. I should probably have guessed that battle injuries causing the loss of two limbs would also do serious damage to the body that remained, but the thought didn't occur to me until too late. His entire torso is thick with scars, twisted and mutilated. The comparison to the parts that remain whole is heartbreaking, because they are near perfection; imagining what he looked like before he was ruined almost brings me to tears.
I am terrified. And yet I still desire him, as much as before. Maybe more.
Fayth, I need to get a grip! Of all people, I shouldn't let a few scars stop me; after all, my own are just as ugly and just as deep. The only true difference between us is that his scars are visible. Mine aren't.
It's just the shock of seeing them unexpectedly. Maybe now that it's passed, I can approach him without showing fear or revulsion. I'd better get back there before I lose my nerve.
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That was--
Nooj is--
Words are failing me utterly, I can't possibly find the right ones to describe our encounter. But I have to try anyway; I never want to forget this night.
I went back down to the pool, back to those same bushes, and waited for him to finish bathing. I watched him some more, getting used to the look of his body, and I began to see a sort of grotesque beauty in it, as if someone had taken a painting by a master artist and carefully slashed most of it to ribbons, leaving just enough intact to let the original magnificence shine through.
When he stepped out of the water, I stripped naked and revealed myself. His eyes widened at the sight of me. It seemed wrong to break the stillness with words, so instead I dropped to my knees and showed him why I had come.
He made no sound, tangling his wet hand in my hair and pressing me close, his breath becoming ragged when I started using my teeth. Eventually, he pulled me back, gently but firmly, and lowered himself to the grass. I met him there, and he took me into his arms. We explored every inch of one another with our hands, the scar tissue no longer frightening or strange up close; it was simply a part of him, like his sleek hair or smooth cheeks. When we finally joined, it was the most perfect and natural thing I had ever experienced, as if I had been waiting all my life for him to arrive inside me.
We held each other for a long time afterwards, still not speaking. He rolled onto his back and I curled against his chest, tracing the scars there, memorizing the path of every cut and tear. He is so solid, so real, strong and yet gentle all at once. His natural hand is deft and sure; the machina one strokes me so delicately that I can hardly bear it. Never have I been handled with such care. Never have I responded so powerfully to a touch.
Any thoughts I had of sleeping with Nooj to get him out of my system are long gone -- he has worked himself so deeply into my system that already I cannot imagine being without him. I knew that he was dangerous. I just didn't know how dangerous. But it's too late; for the moment, I am lost. All I can do right now is see where this thing takes me.