I wanted to write this as a barely Tom/Kartik piece. I think it would have been more so if it was from Tom's point-of-view, but it was more fun writing it from Kartik's. At the end, it turns a little Gemma/Kartik, but whatever. Oh, and you'll notice I only use the word "fixed" once or twice simply because whenever I wrote: "I don't need to be fixed!" it sounded like a dog trying to stop its owner from taking it to the vet.

Story Eleven

Title: Fixed

Rating: K

Summary: Kartik was repaired a long time ago.

"Excuse me? Mr. Kartik?"

The voice is a refreshing surprise. It's a cool, early morning in late autumn, and I'm cleaning out Rajah's stall. I stop what I'm doing though upon hearing the voice, relieved at the sensation I feel as each vertebra in my spine unravels from my hunched over position. I've wanted to take a break since I started an hour and a half ago, but haven't allowed myself to do so.

I turn around to see him standing there, already completely dressed for the day ahead of him. He always takes such care in his appearance. I normally find it silly, but right now I find myself glancing between the half clean horse stall and the young Mr. Doyle and feeling a sort of likeness to him.

But no, what likeness there is, it's a very vague one.

"Yes, Sir?" I ask, taking a small step forward. He's about three meters away, as if he's afraid to wander into my territory. I like this powerful feeling. I've never felt it around him before. He cares so much about social boundaries. But perhaps these three meters between us is a social boundary, not the border of my territory at all.

"Do you have time to talk?" He's so far away that he calls the words to me, arching his neck slightly as he says it. His eyes take me in and I suddenly realize that I'm half naked. I shiver, remembering the temperature in this moment as well.

"Of course," I say, confused as to why Gemma's brother wants to talk to me. Of course he's needed to talk to me before, but he's never approached me while I'm working in the stables. He's only ever talked to me in passing, when we've arrived at a destination, when he has instructions for me.

And so what he says next takes me completely off guard, as if I hadn't been puzzled by his sudden want to talk to me before. "I've never seen you smile," he says, taking a few steps towards me. He stops a yard away from me, but I can tell that he's not satisfied with the distance by the way that he's fidgeting—smoothing is already smooth pant legs, fiddling with the ends of his sleeves. Perhaps he wants to stand closer, or perhaps he regrets closing the distance between us so.

I'm not sure how to respond to this. Taken aback, I say, "Well, I smile sometimes…" I try to think of the last time I smiled. Was it last night, when Emily came by and tried to read a few sentences from the Odyssey? Or when I saw Gemma the other day? But no, I don't do too much smiling around Gemma. We argue more than we get along, it seems, or at least we talk of dark things. Trying to rationalize my behavior, I add, "I just don't smile while I'm working, because…well, I'm too busy to smile." It's not that I'm particularly sad or anything. Although my life is not easy, it is by no means terribly depressing. Or maybe it is…there's my family. I haven't seen them since I was a child. Amar was my last connection to them, and now he's gone, just like Tom's mother.

It's the first time I've thought of him this way—by his first name. Normally he's just Mr. Doyle or Gemma's brother or the like, but he's standing a yard away from me and he looks so vulnerable. I can hardly believe that he's a bit older than me.

"I was just wondering if you were alright. If you needed…"

He doesn't finish his sentence. He just stands there, looking at me. There's something strange in his gaze, but I can't place what. Does he fear me? Look down on me? Consider me as an equal, perhaps, in one way or another? Want me?

He's blushing now, realizing that I'm looking at him looking at me. He doesn't say good bye. He just turns around, flustered, embarrassed…he seems unusually upset, perhaps dejected. I watch him until he enters the house, and then turn around, heaving out a huge sigh.

Rajah doesn't pay attention to me as I reluctantly begin to clean his stall again, but I notice the way that Ginger eyes me, a knowing expression on her face. I stop my work for a moment and meet her gaze, trying to figure out what she's thinking.

And then I realize it. She doesn't find the meeting between Tom and me strange in the slightest way. In fact, she knows how he intended to finish his fragment.

I was just wondering if you were alright. If you needed...

He wanted to know if I needed to be fixed—repaired, mended, renovated, even. That's all he knows, fixing things, and he seems to think that I need to be repaired just like his patients, like his father.

But I don't need to be repaired. Someone did that to me a long time ago, and her name was Gemma.