One More Confessional

Part Nineteen

197S9.9.26

I just sat with Nooj for awhile; he's still a little out of sorts but more stable than he was. More than anything, he seems to need an anchor to reality, and I serve that purpose for him. He's finishing up his report now, and I suppose I should do the same.

Let's see. They had just reported to the priest on duty, Gippal and Baralai were headed for the command center as ordered, and Nooj was about to follow despite his unsteadiness. Then I heard the warrior monks behind us ready their weapons and prepare to fire. I whirled around and yelled out a warning as the first bullets started to fly. Gippal and Baralai didn't even need to look; they took to their heels at my shout. Nooj started after then, and I reached for his arm, to help him escape, when one of the warrior monks grabbed me from behind. I struggled, eventually working an arm free. Then I snatched the dagger that Nooj gave me from the boot where it's lived ever since, and stabbed down and back. The monk cried out and loosened his grip enough for me to get away. And I ran, leaving the weapon behind in his gut.

I'm sorry to have lost it; it was a fine little blade.

Anyway, it took me a little while to catch up, but not as long as it should have -- Nooj was faltering, his limp as bad as I'd ever seen it. Baralai had to practically carry him up the stairway. He tried to convince us to leave him, but of course none of us would hear of it. So we moved as quickly as we could, dodging bullets, taking cover where possible, putting distance between us and those warrior monks. Eventually, we got far enough away to take a breather; as soon as we stopped, Nooj started frantically asking for me, as though he couldn't see me right by his side. I responded with his name and a hand against his cheek, and he pulled me close and kissed me. There was an air of desperation to that kiss -- he was a drowning man, seeking oxygen and a lifeline, and I gave him both, projecting as much calm and reassurance as I could muster.

He was stronger after that, and we got moving again, at a steady pace. Now we're waiting out the daylight and trying to figure out what happened back there.

Gippal and Baralai differ on some of the details, but they remember basically what I do as far as the basic facts go: the three of them pointed guns at one another with every intention of pulling the triggers. But Nooj has no memory of that part whatsoever. He claims to remember nothing between the attack of the pyreflies and finding himself collapsed on the ground. And I can 't help but believe him -- he'd never admit to such a thing if it weren't true. He so hates not being in control, of anything but especially of himself; I can only imagine what a nightmare this must be for him.

Anyway, he seemed quite distressed to learn that he had pulled a gun on Baralai. The guys quickly assured him that they knew he wasn't himself in that moment, that none of them were, that they had all been taken over by some force in that cave. But I see doubt in their eyes. Especially Baralai's. He's not falling apart like Nooj was earlier, but he's not exactly doing well either. He's wearing a haunted expression, and I think he may even have been crying earlier. Ever since we stopped here, he's hovered at the edge of the clearing, not really interacting with any of us unless he has to. It's troublesome.

Gippal seems the least affected by the events of the cave -- he's subdued, of course, thoughtful, occasionally staring off into the distance, but at least he can function. He looks worried about his boy, though.

All three of them agree that they saw a male figure and felt a hulking presence of some sort that made a growling or rumbling noise. Then they were gripped by all kinds of terrible emotions -- despair, anger, fear. So strange that I escaped all that; I wonder why. Not that I'm complaining. Just looking at them when they talk about it makes me shudder.

So now we're on the run from Yevon. I should probably have known that my life would lead me back here eventually. I just wish we could make some sense of it. Why send us into that evil place? Why try to murder us when we came out? Why slaughter every recruit who came at their call? There's no reason for all this death that I can see. It's too incomprehensible for me even to be sad or upset; I can't wrap my mind around it, can't believe that what happened back there is even possible. I guess I'm in denial. Maybe it's better that way. I don't know whether I could carry on otherwise.

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We're going to sleep out the rest of the day and then move when dusk starts falling. Just like in the desert. I understand why we have to do it, but all this switching around of sleep schedules is starting to drive me a little nuts. At least sleep should come fairly easily; after running all night, I'm exhausted.

I thought about asking Baralai to go over the painkiller instructions with me, but he's still keeping his distance. No wonder if he wants to be alone after everything he's been through; he must feel so betrayed by the Maesters, by Yevon. I think he's been drifting away from the temples anyway, but to be hunted by the very people he was raised to revere-- that's got to be terribly difficult. Hard enough for me, and I haven't worshipped them in a long time. So I'll let him be.

Gippal is oiling and tuning Nooj's machina right now. That's probably another thing I should learn how to do when I have the chance. I doubt I have the skill to repair them if anything goes wrong, but at least I can help keep them in regular working order. I seem to have chosen a complicated and high-maintenance man as my companion. I don't mind, though; he is worth it.

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How is it that, wherever we go, no matter what the terrain or how close the quarters, Nooj always manages to find a secluded place to take me in his arms? It's a wonderful knack.

We traded our favorite intimate pleasures today. He loves the feel of my mouth on him, and I can't get enough of his deft machina fingers. As I have come to see the prosthetics as simply part of the man, their touch doesn't seem so sacrilegious anymore. But being stroked by them still excites me almost beyond bearing -- the coolness of the metal against the warmth of my skin is as maddening as ever. And then, when we are both ready and we join, the heat of him melts me and we merge into one. It's unlike anything I have ever known. I told him that once, and to my surprise he agreed with me. He's had many lovers, far more than I have, and to know that I bring him more pleasure than any other in his memory amazes me. It's almost humbling.

He looked at me so intently at times, as if he had never seen me before. Or as if he were trying to memorize me. It must be the danger we're facing -- it brings back that feeling that each time could be the last.

Afterwards, when we were curled up in each other's arms, I took the opportunity to tell him about our meeting on the boat and our decision to ask to serve together under his command. He seemed genuinely touched, but he was dismissive of the idea that it could have worked. It was a little disappointing; I'd hoped that we could get him to agree to our plan. But who knows. Maybe in the moment, faced with separation from us, he would have changed his mind.

It's all moot now, of course. There's no question of us being assigned to any Crusader company, separately or otherwise. We'll need to stick together, at least for now.

The sun has almost set, so I should probably wake him, but I'm reluctant -- I'm sure the sleep is doing him good. He looks so relaxed lying there, the fading sunlight touching his handsome face, softening the strong features. And I want him to get his rest, since he wasn't sleeping so soundly earlier. I actually woke because he was thrashing around and muttering again. That concerns me. It can't be pain like it was before; he's been taking the capsules without complaint, and I can tell that they're working. More likely it's some aftereffect of the cave. I couldn't make much sense of his mumbling, but one phrase was quite clear: "go to Bevelle." He's not planning an outright attack on Bevelle, is he? Maybe if he raised an army, but the four of us can't take on that citadel alone. I hope he puts a serious plan in place soon; we need to figure out where to go from here. Well, wherever he decides to take us, he knows we will follow. He is our captain, after all.