Chapter 73

After Brocade was good and buried, Cinnamon tried to figure out who had done the part giant Troll in, if only to thank them and shake their hand. He was also curious as to why anyone would want Brocade dead outside of himself and, to a lesser extent, Daffodil. But there were no obvious signs of Trolls hiding scars walking around the Tree and, eventually, he put the hunt to the side and concentrated on his apothecary business.

Almost two years had passed before Cinnamon and Creek ran into each other again. Creek had nearly, accidentally, scared Cinnamon into falling out of a tree when he had singing to himself. Very rarely did Cinnamon sing in front of anyone unless there was a point to be made and even then the songs were brief, Cinnamon never feeling the urge or need to put himself on display like that. He had been amazed to hear Creek compliment his singing though, it being the first if many conversations that eventually lead to friendship and, down the road, courtship.

The two years with Creek had been the happiest of Cinnamon's life, even as he questioned Creek's sanity for agreeing to his wooing gift and courtship on a regular basis. Each day, every moment, with Creek was a gift that Cinnamon cherished and did his best to make Creek feel the adoration Cinnamon felt for him at every given opportunity.

Still there was a wall between them that Cinnamon couldn't figure a way around. Like Creek was holding Cinnamon at arm's length, certain thoughts and words kept hidden from Cinnamon, no matter how close they grew to each other.

Many times, Cinnamon wondered if the distance as because they hadn't had sex, Cinnamon knowing full well that many of Creek's previous relationships had been mainly physical. But while Creek had seemed surprised when Cinnamon had said he wanted Creek for more than his body, the statement had seemed to make Creek happy and more relaxed around Cinnamon, allowing for the intimacies that they had.

In the end, it was Cinnamon trying to knock down that wall between that ended their romantic relationship: Creek being unwilling to share his secret with Cinnamon not backing down and greatly regretting it after. For a time afterward, they awkwardly avoided each other until they made their way to being friends again, both missing having their other in their life.

Back to the present, Creek had pulled Cinnamon off the chair's armrest and onto the seat with him while Cinnamon had told everyone what happened with Brocade, wrapping his arms around Cinnamon and burying his face in his bare chest as he cried softly, practically on Cinnamon's lap now. Even Creek's hair had wrapped around Cinnamon, keeping him close.

At some point, Cinnamon had wrapped his arms and hair around Creek in return, rubbing over Creek's back as he cried softly, "Don't cry, Spirit."

"How can I not cry?" Creek stayed against him, speaking softly. "You were abused for years by that monster and no one believed you or helped you."

"Daffodil did," said Cinnamon.

"Years later," grumbled Creek. He managed to look up, "Why didn't you tell Miss Frizz?"

"Why didn't you with whatever Brocade did to you?" asked Cinnamon, sighing softly when Creek looked down again, and held him closer. "My own aunt ignored me, it wasn't worth the risk going to go where Brocade lived to see if some stranger would help me."

"What about my Dad," Poppy's voice reminded Creek and Cinnamon that they weren't the only ones in the pod. She watched the two of them awkwardly unwrap their hair from around each other but their arms stayed in place for the moment, and asked again, "Why didn't you tell my Dad?"

"I tried once," said Cinnamon, "He recognized me as 'Ginger's boy' but barely listened to what I said. Just said, 'that's nice' and went along his way."

As Poppy, colors pale along with the other Trolls with the exception of Creek, looked down, Smurfette took her hand and held it tightly, "King Peppy knew one of your parents?"

Cinnamon nodded, "My mother."

The room became stiff with silence, no one knowing what to say or feeling comfortable enough to try and continue or change the subject.

Clearing his throat, Therapist waited until he had Cinnamon's attention, "I think it might be beneficial if we talked more, alone."

"Why would talking to you alone be beneficial?" asked Cinnamon.

"It's what Therapist does," Creek tried to explain, "Help people with their problems."

"And what problem do you expect to help me with?" Cinnamon asked Therapist.

"The aftermath of your ordeal," said Therapist.

"That was over six years ago," frowned Cinnamon.

"Yes, but residual effects from such emotional trauma can last long after the event, especially when not dealt with properly," explained Therapist.

Thinking it over, Cinnamon's frown deepened. He turned to Creek, voice concerned, "What exactly did Brocade do to you that you're still dealing with, Spirit?" His hand carefully tilted Creek's face up to look at his eyes, thumb caressing under one.

Staying silent, Creek glanced over at the group. Most of them knew but clearly Daffodil and Stormy didn't have a clue while naive Clumsy looked concerned, surely putting the pieces together after learning about Hefty's assault the night before.

For a moment, Creek's eyes locked with Brainy's. But that moment was all Creek needed to see everything Brainy was feeling: worry, fear, jealousy, anxiety, and guilt, all fighting each other for dominance.

Guilt dug its claws into Creek as well, knowing full well he was the source of all that turmoil in Brainy, especially with his current position practically in Cinnamon's lap in front of the poor love-sick Smurf. He knew he should try to consider Brainy's feelings and pull back from Cinnamon a little but he couldn't find the strength to loosen his hold.

"Creek?" Cinnamon called, not sure what to make of Creek staring at the group around them.

Taring his eyes away from Brainy, Creek looked up at Cinnamon, then down when he spoke, "Brocade only hurt me once but," he hesitated.

"Once is one time too many," Cinnamon assured Creek, giving him a gentle squeeze, "I'm glad that he didn't seem to give you any scars."

"No, he did," Creek spoke softly, "They just aren't physical ones."

Eyes widening, Clumsy turned to Hefty and stared at him.

Noticing, Hefty suppressed a sigh and nodded.

Biting his tongue, Clumsy looked down and tried to blink away tears.

"Shortly after I turned eighteen," Creek continued, unable to look at anyone, unable to risk backing out now after Cinnamon told them everything due to Creek's selfish desire to know Cinnamon's pain, "Brocade said he was going to throw me a pod warming party to celebrate my moving out of Miss Fizz's and getting my own place but there never was a party." He took a shuddering breath, fighting back the emotion building up in him like bile in the back of his throat. "He just used it as an excuse to get me alone, to drug me so I couldn't resist so he could force himself on me," a second shuddering breath couldn't hold back the tears any longer, "Sexually."

Silence and a strange stillness followed and seemed to stretch until it was all but screaming in Creek's ears.

Just as Creek thought of letting go and running in any direction to get away from the overbearing silence, Cinnamon suddenly curled around and gripped Creek tightly in both his arms and his hair again. The silence caved to the sound of Cinnamon's breathe in his ear and whispered words, "You're even stronger then I ever gave you credit for Spirit."

The words filled Creek with warmth and relief, grateful they weren't the hatred and rejection he felt he deserved. Part of him acknowledged that Cinnamon didn't know the full truth yet and that rejection could still be coming for just because Cinnamon said he was grateful to whoever killed Brocade, didn't mean he'd still accept the Troll who did it. But Creek clung to Cinnamon and his acceptance for a little longer as he cried.