Note on names:
Luke- was a doctor who was author of the third Gospel and Acts in the New Testament.

Raziel- Angel of Mysteries, he gave Adam the book of knowledge.

Gabriel: "strong man of God" one of the 7 archangels

Chapter 3: Knight's Oath

Petro woke sometime early next morning, his ears picking up sounds of footfalls on the floor. He sat up listening, the quiet footfalls stilled.
Leaning out the door, he saw that Michael had returned and he was carefully pulling a blanket onto the sleeping elderly man.
Abraham had apparently fallen asleep in an over stuffed chair. Michael was wore a small smile of affection as he set the bible beside the spent candles. The Knight stood for moment, deep in thought.

Petro eased back not wanting to intrude.

Michael lay on the couch; all night vigils always exhausted him. Methuselah where not normally nocturnal, their sensitivity to sunlight made them favor the nightlife. It became a disability; they had to rely heavily on protective shields and clothing.

The Dome was turned on, shielding the faint dawn and casting a dim shadow over the village.

Petro waited till he was sure that Michael had fallen asleep before stepping out of the room, He had decided that he would leave the village as soon as he was able. Petro would be willing to chance the wilderness.

A loaf of bread tempted him from across the room. The Vatican solider would need to take food. Brother Petro carefully made his way across the room to the bread; He paused when Abraham shifted in his chair. Breathing a sigh of relief, he was about to reach out and take the bread when he happened to glance down at his sleeping host.
Michael lay in his clothing his arms around his shoulders to keep himself warm. He had given his blanket to the old man. One hand was wrapped in a bandage.

"If this is my punishment for all the sins that I have committed, then SO BE IT!"

Petro let his hand drop, even with all the hate and anger he still had; he could not bring himself to steal from Michael. He slowly sank to his knees beside the sleeping knight.
"Forgive me." He whispered in a low voice. "I had behaved…abominable yesterday."

"Forgiven" Michael whispered back, surprising the hell out of Petro. The Knight shifted, tightening his arms across his chest and turning his head to one side to sleep.
Petro felt his face grow hot in embarrassment. 'I should have waited a while longer.' He thought to himself.

"Michael, I….I no longer want to intrude on your hospitality." He whispered, aware that Abraham was still sleeping nearby. "I ask you to bring me to the holding area where you have my men, so that you can have your bed back."
Michael turned to look at Petro, "Why? Is there something wrong with it?"
Again Petro felt his face grow warm. "No." he was having trouble keeping his voice down. "It's comfortable….More comfortable then this couch I believe."
Now Michael was staring at him. "You are offering my Bed back?"
Petro nodded, thankful that in this low light the knight could not see his red face.

His host sat up. "You are a gracious guest. How are you feeling Peter?"
"Better."

"That's good." Michael stood up. "I am grateful. Oh, don't go wandering around by yourself. The villagers know of you and will be watching." He whispered before going to bed for some much needed sleep.

Brother Petro lay on the couch; the bed was indeed more comfortable. He sighed, already regretting the lack of warm blankets and soft pillows. He closed his eyes and slept.

It was midmorning when he awoke again. His body still felt a bit stiff and sore, but he could move without pain. Petro glanced at the chair where Abraham was still sleeping. Noticing that the man barely took a breath, he watched for any sign of life.
Growing apprehensive, Brother Petro got up and observed closer. Abraham appeared at peace. Shaking his head, he held his hand in front of the Elder's mouth and nose, checking for a sign...
"I'm not dead."

The sound of a teacup crashing to the floor followed as Petro scrambled backwards in surprise knocking over a small table in his haste.

A soft chuckle came from the old man. Abraham sat up, folding the blanket. "Sorry if I startled you. When you get to be my age you have to develop a sense of humor about these things." He began to bend to pick up the shards of the cup.

"Here let me." Petro quickly moved and swept up the broken pottery, he set them aside to be thrown out later.
"Then again, there are certain advantages to being old." Abraham smiled amused by the Inquisitor's attentiveness. "Brother Peter, how would you like to come to my house and meet my family?"
Petro frowned, "I do not wish to be a nuisance. Michael's holding me under guard."
"He's sleeping; we can have breakfast and pay a short visit to the infirmary. If we hurry we can make it back before he wakes up and finds you missing."

Brother Petro stifled a laugh. "Very well Abraham, I will accept only if we make it back in time."
"You have my word."

The village children stared at him as they entered the main village. They followed curiously like smiled at them and called to them by name. The Old man explained that most of the children had been born in the village but only 2 children per year where allowed to be born. "It is to keep the village small, to keep us from spending our resources. They have names like 'Mark', 'Mary'. Simple names like that. "
"What about the people who come from outside the village? Why do you change their names?" It was question that had been bothering him since he arrived.
"It's to protect ourselves, you see, if we know you as 'Peter' then we cannot say that you 'Petro' where ever where here. Also, for some the Methuselah warriors, the change of name are important, they want to be as far away from their pasts." Abraham trailed off meaningfully. "Our best Warriors, Terrans or Methuselah, are given the names of angels. Michael was proven out best and leads the guards."

Petro nodded.
They came to a two story house; a little girl came running out "Grandpa!" She threw herself at the old man, hugging his legs.
"Mary is your Father home?"
"Yes, Daddy's home, Mom just finished tiling the vegetable garden. She let me help."
"Yes I see." Abraham laughed, brushing a bit of dirt from her small nose.
Little Mary noticed the tall stranger. She shrank back suddenly shy. Her large brown eyes looked at Petro with curiosity.

Brother Petro's expression softened, it was rare that children came up to him like this; usually they hung back, fearful of his reputation.

The crowd of children (and staring adults) was getting bigger, the older boys gawked at his incredibly large muscles and the younger ones where trying to get his attention questions spilling like rain.

"Alright. alright, go home or go play." Abraham shooed the children off, but they strayed nearby watching.

"Sorry about that, they are usually better behaved around strangers" the old man said, Petro shrugged helplessly.

"Luke? Amelia? I have brought a visitor for breakfast." He called as he walked into the house.
A woman looked up, like Michel's house; most of the lower floor was one large room, with a smaller bedroom on the side. A stair leads to the other bedroom upstairs.

"Father? Who's…." She stood up, surprise on her face.
Petro recognized her as one of the weeping women from the funereal. He gave her a slight bow feeling uncomfortable.
"This is Brother Peter, Michael's guest." He explained, "Peter, this is Amelia, my daughter."
She nodded back. "Luke is out sorting the herbs, he should be in soon. Have you had breakfast Brother Peter?"
Petro shook his head,

"I still have some warm porridge if you would sit down and help yourself." She bustled about the room, setting a place for him and dishing out a portion of breakfast for him and her father.
Brother Petros never tasted porridge this good before, it contained several different grains plus a generous amount of fresh field berries. Petro found himself eating another helping much to the amusement of the women.
"A big strong man such as you needs the sustenance." She smiled her father's smile as she gave him several slices of warm buttered toast. Petro stuttered his thanks.

"Abraham?" A man came in thought another doorway, which led to the other side of the house, the old man turned. "Luke! I have brought Brother Peter out of his confinement for awhile. Peter, this is my son-in-law and our village physician Luke. "

Luke offered out his hand, he wore a white apron and glasses. "Pleased to meet you Brother Peter."
"Like wise." Petro shook his hand.

"How do you like our village? I suppose that isn't like the city you are use to."
"No, it's more peaceful here."

They sat at the table drinking tea as Luke and Abraham spoke about the accomplishments of the village. With Little Mary on his lap Luke explained that most of the fuel they used for warmth and cooking came from an open pit mine a few miles away. The brown coal they used was carted everyday to the village. And that the only electricity that they used powered the dome.
"Raziel had given us several gifts, the Dome which runs on solar powered panels and the replicator that produces the UV blocking fiber that we add to our wool and cotton."

"Who is this Raziel?"
"He's…..Raziel." Luke said uncomfortably. "We don't know too much about him, he will come to visit once in a while."
"Luke," Abraham interrupted the conversation before the doctor could say anything more. "I think it's about time that Peter check up on his men in the infirmary."
He nodded, putting Mary on the floor Luke stood up. "Most of them are in good condition, they just need to rest. There are some I'd like to keep an eye on."

"Why? Are their wounds serious?"

"They are out of danger for now." Luke led them out towards a large building nearby. "The explosion from the truck had sent shrapnel into several of the men. Luckily their armor had shielded their vital organs, most of them had concussions."

Inside, beds lined one wall, his men lay either sleeping or being tended to by the young nurses.
The injured Soldiers looked up to see their commander, the less critically injured stood up. "Chief!"
Brother Petros felt a flush of warmth, they where alive and well. He squared his shoulders, letting the personality of the head of the Inquisitorial Department fall back into place. "Report!"
The standing men straightened, and the ones on the bed saluted. "Sir, have failed you. We allowed ourselves to be captured by an unknown force. For that we apologize."

"No apology is necessary, I am glad to see you all alive and well, as you where."
They sat back on the beds, relief written on their faces.

Brother Petro spent a good deal of time talking to the men. They told him the outcome of the battle after the truck had exploded. They had seen him go down and without him; they had lost courage and ran for the hills. Several couldn't run and thus they had been brought to the village to get treated. The villagers were kind good people. They said. The men where treated well with every wish tended to. One man was teased, for he had fallen for one of the cute nurses who helped them day to day.
Petro listened, answering questions to the best of his ability, yes the village was small, and no he hadn't been outside the dome yet. And he told them about the funereal for the 3 soldiers who died. Brother Petro led the prayer for the fallen men, the soldiers in the infirmary seemed pleased and relieved. Petro did not scold them for losing the battle.

It was mid afternoon by the time Abraham came to fetch him. "Let's hurry back; I'm sorry that I did not have time to take you on a tour of the rest of the village. Some other time, Eh?"

Michael was already awake; he had found the house the house empty and was just stepping out after washing when he saw Peter and Abraham walking up the path.

The knight took in sharp breath, taken in by the vision walking towards him. His guest, the 'knight of destruction' was more dynamic out in the open rather then indoors as if his size was contained inside, kept more compact as it were.

Out here, Petro had room to let his strong arms swing free, his long legs taking sweeping strides.
Michael let the breath he was holding out slowly, he wanted him, and the knight knew it was wrong to feel this way for him. But Oh, how he wanted him. That body, just hardly seen stoked a fire within him, one that he could not deny.

He let his eyes rove over every delicious inch of the blue-haired man. Micheal's eyes drifted lower, he remembered how his body looked in the low candle light, bared to him. The very essence of a man, perfect in every aspect, like he was some pagan god of lust and desire carved from living marble.

Petro's shoulders and chest where broader then his own, and in his borrowed shirt was tight across his chest, even with the first top two buttons undone the cloth strained to contain him. He bit back a moan as he noticed how the borrowed pants hugged his hips and thighs. So sinfully tight.

Petro's pale blue hair blew in the wind, whipping it annoyingly in his handsome face. He just swept it form his face in an easy gesture. Michael felt his face grow warm; he really should not be staring like that. He used the towel around his neck to wipe the water from his face, hiding behind it.

Brother Petro looked back at the village; Michel's house was a little away form the rest, but also higher up on the hill overlooking the quaint village.
"Abraham, What is the name of the village?"
"The village doesn't have a name, we just call it 'home'" The old man responded. He glanced ahead and saw Michael standing shirtless at the doorway, wiping his face with a towel. "Oyi! Michael!" He waved.
Michael waved back and went inside to get dressed.

Petros hesitated and followed the old man inside.
"Micheal, I will leave him with you, you two boys won't cause trouble if I leave you alone?" Abraham joked.

"Yes Abraham, we can play nice for one day." Michael came out of the room buttoning up a soft cotton shirt. A look of amusement on his fair face. "Let David know that I am taking him to the caves to see to his men."

Petro felt Michael inspecting him, the knight's eyes on his chest, he glanced down curious.

"Yes, we should go, to see if any of your supplies have been recovered, some of your clothing at least. You obviously don't' fit my clothing Peter."
"Agreed, I wish to see the rest of the men, Abraham has taken me to the infirmary to see my injured troops….they. " He frowned; Michael wasn't even looking at his face as he spoke. "They seem to be in good hands….Michael?"

The knight's eyes snapped up to his face.

"Can you ride?"
"Pardon?"

"Have you ridden horses before?" Michael asked, he frowned when Petro shook his head. "It would be faster if we rode double, come on, I'd like to get back before sundown."

Retrieving one of the horses at the stables Michael had to resist looking at the Inquisitor every time Petro had his back turned to him the tight pants where really distracting, especially from behind where he could see…

Michael shook his head to clear it. "It's easier to ride double without a saddle, don't' worry about falling off, just hold on to me." he mounted up first, wearing gloves and blowing cloak, his helmet under one arm.
Petro nervously looked at the beast; it was that wonderful gray charger that Michael had ridden into battle. The horse flicked his ears back prancing lightly on swift hooves.
Michael offered his free hand. "Just jump up and throw your leg over." He instructed.

The blue haired inquisitor took the hand did as Michael said, jumping with one leg going over the horses back, however without the use of both of his hands he over compensated and launched himself over the back of the horse unbalancing Michael.
The horse whinnied as his rider tried to keep the other man from falling, the shift in weight causing the horse to move suddenly.

"P-Peter!"

Petro grabbed for a hold anything to stop his downward descent; he pulled Michael from the horse as he fell. "Whoa!"

They fell into a heap in the grass.

Brother Petro looked up to the burst of giggles. Two women passing by with baskets of grains smothered their laughter behind their head shawls. He sat up, his face flushing with embarrassment.

Michael just lay where he fell, laughing, his face was also red, but more in mirth. Petro didn't see what was so funny. But the sound of his laughter, the careless freedom of it, was an invitation. He grinned; he supposed it did look pretty funny, two fully grown men falling off one horse. Petro chuckled.

Michael's laughter died, he was looking at brother Petro, that soft sound of his laugh. He could sense that this solider of god rarely allowed himself the pleasure of a simple laugh. And that smile, it transformed him completely. Gone where the hard lines in his face, softening his vibrant blue eyes, the soft lips forming into a more pleasing shape.

Michael found himself unable to draw a breath. He sat up, "When you smile like that, you truly could be one of god's angels." he caught his breath and regretted it as soon as he said it, Petro's smile disappeared.

The knight picked himself off the ground and dusted off. "Ok." He said in a more normal tone of voice. "Let try this again."

With less difficulty, they mounted and rode slowly towards the edge of the dome, the 'sky' illusion showed a small round point of brightness where the Sun was positioned in the sky, the veil was a non-descript shade of faint gray blue.

Petro was uncomfortably self-conscious, the handsome knight's comment made him nervous about riding. They where pressed together, every movement of the horse jostled them closer even as Petro tried to back away as far as he could.

Michael was acutely self-conscious too. He could feel the larger man's body just behind his own, his hands lightly grasping his cloak, the feel his muscular thighs pressing, squeezing against his hips made Michael's mouth go dry.

They stopped just at the edge of the veil, the methuselain Knight put his helmet on to shield his face and wrapped his cloak closer around his shoulders. "You had better hold on to me firmly, we are going to ride much faster from here on….and a warning about the sunlight, it will be bright for you."

Petro almost fell back as the horse bolted out of the veil, he leaned forwards pressing his form to the knight's, his arms going around him, holding on for dear life.

The brightness of the sunlight blinded him; he squinted, seeing nothing but a blur of green and endless blue around him.

The galloping horse slowed to a steady run, Petro was able to see once his eyes had adjusted. The country around them was a vibrant green, with a cloudless blue sky above them. The sun was shining brightly.
Petro immediately felt himself grow more relaxed, letting the warm sun bathe his worry away. The movements of the horse slowed as the rider carefully lead them past some large rocks.

"Look back Peter, tell me what do you see." He stopped and turned the horse so that Petro could get a view of the Dome from outside.
The Dome shimmered, reflecting the land around them; it was an effective cloak as well as a shield.
"Remarkable."
Michael smiled behind his helmet, the visor was sun blocked with a dark film, and he could not see the blue sky as brother Petro did. "You know I envy you, Brother Peter, to be able to bathe in gods light whenever you wish." He turned the horse around and galloped down the long valley.
Petro held on firmly, trusting that his host would not let him fall; Michael's body was solid and felt like his was holding onto a movable statue of steel and iron. Solid, trust worthy and faithful. The inquisitor could not remember meeting such a man as Michael.

Even if that man had abused him in the past.

Petro shook the thought from his head; it was unworthy of him to think this of his host now. Not after everything Michael had done for him.

The pair rode into a maze of gullies and tunnels, Michael seemed to know the way and erringly found the cave which held all the military equipment that the Village Guard possessed.
The Inquisitor looked around with some interest, they had mostly crossbows spears and swords, and here and there he could see a canon. The horses where stabled right near the entrance. Michael let Petro dismount before sliding off the horse.
"Welcome our base. My soldiers sometimes sleep in the living quarters in the back, that's where your men are being held."
Brother Petro eagerly followed close behind Michael as the Knight led him deeper into the cave.
The remaining Inquisition squad where shocked to see him. They lined up against the iron bars of the holding pen they had been imprisoned in.
"Chief!"

"Chief, You're alive?"
"Chief, Help us out please!"
"Silence!!" Petro roared. The men fell silent. "There is much at stake here; we have run afoul a people hiding in secret. They will not let us go unless I have given them my express oath, a promise that I would not reveal them to anyone. No one! Absolutely NO one must know about them."

Michael listened with his back turned, smiling in secret pleasure. When Petro turned on that Commanding presence it sent chills down his spine.
"I am willing to make that promise in exchange for our freedom, I have seen the other missing men and I need your word that you will obey me."
The men where quiet, one of them spoke up, "What do you wish us to do Chief?"

"I want each and every one of you to swear on pain of death, that you will not reveal what has happened in the past few days."
Michael froze, what was he doing?

Slowly one by one the Vatican soldiers raised their hands. "I swear, Chief."

Petro let himself smile, "Good, I will speak to the leader about setting you free, and remember you are sworn to secrecy, this is going with you to your graves!"

"Fine speech Brother Peter." Michael commented as they walked away from the holding cells. "But will they really keep their oath?"

"Yes, they will. As long as I am their commander they will keep it. I swear it." Petros responded sharply.

The Methuselah led him to another part of the cave. "My men have recovered some of your arms, armor and weapons. The last truck and vehicles have been salvaged."
This part of the cave was filled with more advanced weaponry. One wall held that strange sword that Michael bore into battle. Petros glanced at it before walking past.

"Gabriel, have you gathered Peter's belongings like I asked?"
A smaller man with wild mane of red-brown hair kicked a wooden crate. "Yep, all his armor is in here. Along with some crazy shit!"
"Language Gabe, I'm here only for some clothing for my guest. Have you seen anything that might fit him?"
Gabriel looked Petro up and down visibly impressed "Mr. Big, Tall and Badass Eh?" He snickered and bent over the box. "I'm sure I found something that'll fit Goliath there."
Petro bristled, Goliath?
"Ahh, here they are." Gabriel pulled out a bag which contained a change of clothing that Petro had packed for the mission. The solider handed the bag to Petro, shaking his hand. "Nice to meet ya! I saw the jousting match right before the battle and I must say you impress me Vatican. Not just anybody can knock Michael on his ass."
"Gabriel!"
"Well it's true!" Gabriel let go of Petro's hand and turned to his leader with wide eyes. "Please say that will be a re-match, all the men have been discussing it for days. It's getting really annoying!"

"We will see." Michael frowned." But no promises, Peter might not-"
"I would like a rematch Michael. I have had the rare chance of meeting someone who could match me." Petro said. The small red-haired man stared up at him, gawking.
"Then….?"
"When I have fully recovered from my wounds." Petro said with finality.

"Cool!" Gabriel was practically bouncing with excitement." I will let the others know." He ran off calling for the other guards.

Michael sighed. "Now he will be insufferable. Fine mess you put me into Brother Peter. They will be demanding it."

Petro grinned. "I meant every word Michael. I will enjoy testing myself against a worthy opponent."

The knight smiled, nodding "Very well, as you wish Peter."

The sun was just dipping into the horizon when they started back towards the village Michael took his time, slowing the horse to a walk as he pointed out landmarks in the surrounding countryside.
Petro was more at ease, his bag slung over one shoulder, one hand on Michael's shoulder as they rode.
"Over there….is where the first settlers camped out, Solomon wrote his laws concerning the secrecy of the village. Solomon was one of the First Christian Methuselah; he died at age 879 about 50 years back, he never got to see his dream realized. He was also David's Father. David had built the village you see today."
"And it is still growing." Petro said with admiration.

"Do you want a better view?"
"Huh?"
"I know a better view of the valley, hold on." Michael spurred the horse at a run, relishing the feel of Petro's arms around him as the Vatican knight held on.

The rider let the horse chose the pace, guiding him somewhat to the left of the village, up the high hill where the light of the sun still touched.
"I'm going to race the sun!" Michael pulled off his helmet and kicked at the horse to urge him faster. Petro tugged on the methuselah's shoulder yelling.
"Stop! Put your helmet back on you'll burn!"
To which the Knight laughed.
"Michael!"

Michael raced to the top of the hill where Petro could see the light slowly fading, he clung tight to him using his own body to try and shield the daring knight.
The sun just disappeared under the low horizon as the riders made it to the top of the high hill. Michael was panting; he didn't expect Petro to hold him so tight and the resulting pounding of his own heart.
"Petro…" his voice was low. "You can let go…I've lost this race."
Petro released his arms. "Michael-"He intended on giving the man a piece of his mind. But when Michael turned around to face him, he paused. Michael's face was flushed, his pale green eyes filled with a kind of sorrow and longing.
Green eyes, the color of fine jade, of emeralds, of the green fields that they had ridden through. Why hadn't he noticed it before?
The horse shifted, turning them slightly, the last of the faint sunlight caught on Michael's face and he flinched, an ugly red burn appearing on his porcelain skin.

"Ouch!" Michael put a hand to the burn. "I guess I cut it really close this time." He turned away shielding his bared skin from the brighter light.

"That was really stupid." Petro frowned.

"Yeah."
They dismounted to give the poor panting horse a rest as they looked out at the valley. The sun had sunk down far enough so that Michael could face west with out getting burned again.

"You see? Over there, are fields of grain. Over there to the east is the pass to the coal-mine. If you look carefully, you can see where the vegetable gardens are, it's the job of the children to make scarecrows and keep our hard work from being eaten by scavengers." Michael spoke to distract himself. "Feather down the valley is the sheepherders with our sheep. Beyond that, is where the underground river springs up…"

Petro wasn't looking down the valley; it was a beautiful view with the stars starting to flicker in the deep azure sky. The Inquisitor was looking at the knight, his brow furrowed. "Let me see." He reached out and took the hand that was hiding the burn.

Michael stiffened. "It's not that bad..." he tried to pull his hand away.
"You should get it treated." Petro gripped his wrist tighter.

The knight looked at Petro, the man with hair the color of blue sky at noon that he'd rarely get to see. His eyes the deep shade of azure, the very color of twilight. By god this man was handsome; everything that he ever wanted. But this one could never be touched by him; Petro said he'd never forgive him.
Brother Petro could see pain flash across his fine face. " Michael I…"
"Let me go!" Michael yelled hoarsely, pulling his wrist free.

Stunned, Petro watched as his host flew down the steep hillside, his feet barley touching the ground as he descended.

He couldn't stand it anymore, this burning desire, this agony. Michael hardly noticed as his feet took him down the hill. "God please forgive me, I want him, Please, please forgive me."

It was too steep for the horse to make it directly down the hill and it was getting dark. Holding the helmet Michael had dropped, Petro lead the horse back to the stables.

He wasn't at home, it looked as thought someone had brought in pot of roast and vegetables for their supper. A loaf of freshly baked bread sat on the table waiting for them, but Michael wasn't here.
Petro didn't touch the supper; he paced about, that uncomfortable feeling of helplessness forcing all other thoughts away. Michael was hurt; the burn on his face must have been painful. But it was that look of anguish that concerned him the most. It was a look he recognized as intense emotion barely contained with all the stress of the past few days, of his men dying, of keeping an unwelcome guest in his home. No that was wrong. Petro shook his head. He wasn't unwelcome; Michael did everything he could to make him feel comfortable even…He looked at his bag of clothing.

Taking a deep breath, he knew where Michael might have gone.

Petro found the doors of the church slightly ajar. There was a curious sound, a snapping sound, He pushed thought the door.

Michael knelt facing the alter, his bare back covered in bloody welts, a leather whip in one hand. The knight was panting hard, his shoulders heaving as he lashed his back with a cat-o-nine tails, leaving a fresh welt. There must have been a metal tip in there somewhere.

Numb with shock Petro stepped into the church. "Michael?"

The Knight paused and stood up. "You should not be here. Brother Peter." He said keeping his back to him. "Leave me!"
"Like hell I will, what are you doing to yourself?"
The methuselah shrugged. "Punishment….Seeing you again, has brought up a bunch of bad memories."
"Which should be left in the past Michael!" Petro came closer, his breath catching in his throat as he could see the damage.
"Not for this 'Monster'." Michael's voice became strained, he held back the words he wanted desperately to say, I want you. I want you so much its killing me but you won't accept me. The knight took a deep breath. "I would do anything to earn your forgiveness Petro…you have my respect, my friendship…" he paused as he felt a warm hand enclose the hand that held the whip, a low voice just over his shoulder.
"Then please stop this Michael, I forgive you."

Michael closed his eyes savoring the words.

"I forgive you."

The knight felt release at those words, a wonderful, uplifting release. He turned as Petro took the whip from his hand. "Petro…"
"You have my respect Michael; you have had it since when we met." He smiled his handsome face full of compassion and understanding. "….you also have my Friendship, my trust, my brother in arms, my brother under God."

Michael held back the tears that threatened; his smile came as he drew in a shaky breath. "Brothers under God." The words gave him strength."…thank you Brother Petro you have no idea…" He cut himself off, unsure if he should continue.

Petro put a hand on Michael's shoulder. "Let's go back home."

Brother Petro ran to Luke, asking for some ointment or a wash to sooth wounds. The sleepy physician gave him the herbs without questioning, telling him only the instructions.
Michael lay on his front, exhausted by the day's events his back hurt terribly from the self inflicted wounds. He could hear Petro in the next room, the clank of a pot, the splash of water, the mild curse as the Vatican knight spilled something. He became aware of his presence beside the bed.

Petro dipped the cloth into the herbal wash and began to wash the red welts. Michel stiffened. "Peter?" He felt a hand press his shoulder down.

"Stay still…"
The washing was soothing; Michael relaxed feeling the pain lessen with the treatment. Still, his guilt would not go away.
"Brother Peter…"
"Please, call me Petro." The blue haired man applied the wet bandages, pressing gently.
"Petro, I have a confession to make. I confession that I….should make."
"Oh?" Petro pressed the last folded bit of cloth to the burn on Michael's face.
Michael sighed, feeling his hand there. "I haven't been entirely truthful…about what I said up in the church. I wasn't punishing myself…. I have been trying to drive it out."
"Drive what out?" Petro stilled tensing up.

Michael lifted himself off the bed slightly looking back at him. "My desire for you."
The words were said in a whisper, Petro heard his heart pounding in his ears. What?

Michael held his hand over Petro's, not wanting him to pull away. "I am sorry…I know that you would never feel the same way, so what was I to do? I wanted you. How many times today? I've resisted as much as I could. Please forgive me, I should have never..."
"Shush….We…we'll talk about this in the morning." Petro heard himself whisper. Everything was strange to him, the pounding of his own heart, and the sound of his soft breath. The soft candle light heightened everything in the room.
Michael seemed a fallen angel, with his fair beautiful face. The burn only made him look all the more vulnerable. He closed his jade-green eyes, long dark lashes gracing his pale cheeks. Deep golden hiar glowing in the small fire's light.

Petro sat watching him for a moment longer and then blew the candle out. "Goodnight Michael."
"Goodnight…"

To be continued

A/N: another chapter done! This time with more plot and character development? Truth be told I had to do the last parts slowly, so emotionally charged.
It was finished at 4:30 am, with me getting less sleep this time around. *yawns* Please leave a comment, I enjoy reading Comments about my work.
~Ely