Shared Warmth, Shared Cold
(de Carabas/Richard)
The cold and damp are seeping into Richard's bones. He can feel his muscles seizing up. They have been here how long now? Looking at his watch – the last of his possessions from London Above that he has kept hold of – he sees it has not even been an hour. It feels like it might have been days.
The young man stands and stretches his cramped limbs. The top of his head brushes the ceiling, and the room is no wider than the span of his arms. It is, in fact, a short section of corridor, an underground passage, one of many in London Below. The Marquis didn't know it was a trap when he led Richard into it – he hasn't been in these parts for a while, apparently. Richard didn't ask why, or who might want to imprison them. The ever resourceful de Carabas has called a rat and sent it for assistance - there are still many people who owe him favours. Richard hopes they will get here before whoever set the trap returns to inspect its contents.
But that was forty minutes ago, and there is still no sign of rescue. At this time, in the dim light of their failing lamp, and the freezing cold, even the Marquis' eternal confidence is wavering.
Richard looks down at him. The tall black man is seated in a corner, an expression of vague disgust on his handsome features, his gaze distant. The light beside him flickers, and Richard flinches inwardly. It's not that he's afraid of the dark – but ever since Night's Bridge, complete blackness brings back memories he would rather not have. The cold is no better – it reminds him of Lamia, her chilling beauty and draining kiss. Richard shivers at the thought. At least here, he is trapped not with Lamia or one of her kind, but with the Marquis, who is arrogant but not malevolent.
In fact de Carabas looks as if he has forgotten Richard is there, or as if he himself is elsewhere. The blueish light throws up eerie shadows, but Richard is sure he sees the Marquis twitch, and mutter something, and pull his leather coat more closely around himself.
Richard frowns – he's acting even more strangely than usual. The young man shivers, feeling the cold bite into his body. Why is it so cold here? He supposes it must be the lack of movement; it isn't usually this bad, even underground, even in winter. The Marquis must be freezing.
All of a sudden, he knows why the Marquis is acting so oddly.
---
It was shortly after his return to London below that Richard first noticed the Marquis' aversion to cold. As far as he could tell, it was a recent development. In their previous brief acquaintance, he didn't remember de Carabas wearing so many layers.
He is staying with the Marquis, at Door's request, while she is away trying to continue her father's mission to unite the Underside. Richard's part of the bargain is that he will owe the Marquis a favour, to be specified at a later date. De Carabas grumbled at first, but they have developed a routine of sorts – while Richard stays put and receives the many people who visit him, the Marquis goes out, and never says where. He arrives back only in time for dinner, which Richard insists does not involve cat. Or crow. Or most of the usual delicacies of the Underside.
The Marquis used to complain about that, too, but he's stopped bothering recently and Richard is grateful. The only time he has the company of someone who actually calls him Richard rather than Warrior-with-a-capital-W – someone who treats him with disdain rather than reverence – is at dinner, and he prefers it not to be spent arguing.
But when de Carabas told Richard he would be accompanying him to visit the Lady Olympia, the young man was still surprised. The Marquis now tolerates his presence, but he doubts the enigmatic man actually likes him – he has a reason for everything. And this one will probably entail an even greater favour.
The Marquis will grudgingly answer Richard's questions now that he is living in London Below. It made for a slightly more entertaining journey than the previous time they travelled through the tunnels together, although less dangerous – until they were caught by the trap.
---
It is awkward, seeing the Marquis like this. Richard never expected him to have such a side to him. He clutches the coat like a lifeline, and, huddled into the dark leather, he looks smaller than usual and strangely defensive. Uncertainly, Richard takes a step to his side. The Marquis looks up, a shadow of pain or fear in his eyes before he smoothes it over with blankness. "Richard."
The young man sits down beside him. "What is it?"
The Marquis looks startled for a second, then sighs. Looking sidelong at his companion, he pauses before replying. "I died, Richard. It was… cold." His voice is heavy with conflicting emotions. "Dark, but mostly cold. That's what I remember."
Richard nods. "I know what you mean."
"I died. Unless I'm very much mistaken, you haven't done that. Yet." He looks scathingly at him.
"Lamia, remember? She almost killed me." Richard is surprised at how easily he says it, now. So much has changed since then. "She was… beautiful, but all I really remember is the cold. I didn't think anybody could be that cold and still be alive…" He runs a finger over his lips absentmindedly, remembering her touch.
"Lamia isn't alive – in the way you mean. That's why she needed your life, your warmth. But you survived – because I saved you."
The young man inclines his head in acknowledgement. "Sure. Thanks for that."
De Carabas chuckles softly, the sound incongruous in the dark still room. "You owe me."
"I do." Sighing, Richard wonders if he will ever manage to repay that debt. The memory of Lamia has reawakened him to the chill of the passage, and he shivers again, swallowing with a suddenly dry mouth as he tries to ignore the cold. He realises then that he can have no idea how the Marquis feels, that their experiences, while similar, are worlds apart in scale. Turning to him, he sees the blank look again. De Carabas has drawn his knees up to his chest like a child, and looks as if he is concentrating fervently on imagining he is somewhere else.
Richard edges awkwardly closer to him, and puts a clumsy and rather hesitant arm around his shoulders. The Marquis starts at the touch, then returns a smile which is faint but almost friendly. Richard smiles back. The tall man shifts nearer to him, and almost imperceptibly relaxes. Richard turns towards him, slipping his other arm beneath the Marquis' coat and around his waist, resting his head in the curve of the Marquis' shoulder. He can feel the other man's body heat through layers of cloth, and it is a comfort to know that he is not alone in the cold.
After a minute or so, de Carabas returns the embrace, strong arms wrapping around Richard's body and keeping him close. They stay like that, in mutual reassurance and shared warmth, until the Lord Rat-Speaker's people arrive, and a servant of the Lady Olympia, and they are freed from the trap.
After that day, Richard senses a change in the Marquis' attitude towards him, and notes that his efforts at understanding the world of London Below are more often met with amused smiles than rolled eyes, and his questions are more readily answered. It is good to know that he is now more-than-tolerated, although he knows too that the Marquis would never say as much.
After that day, Richard makes a special effort to have a fire built up before the Marquis returns home in the evenings.