A/N: Just so that everyone knows, this story (and indeed all of my other stories) can also be found at yourfanfiction . com (no spaces) so in the event that it gets deleted from here, you now know where to go to continue reading.
A celebration was indeed long overdue as was apparent by the gusto with which the rebels attacked it. Even Spartacus himself, ever on his guard as a true leader should be, found it within himself to enjoy the festivities and partake of the wine and food, in moderation of course.
Agron sat upon the steps at Nasir's side, some small concern tugging at the edge of his mind that the Syrian still held himself back from the group. It would have been too much though, to expect that he would throw himself whole heartedly into such revelries and the gladiator understood this. As such he was just glad to see Nasir beginning to relax, a genuine smile upon his lips and in his eyes whenever a drunken rebel stumbled their way to offer thanks and a handshake.
"This day will be remembered well for many more to come." He said, wrapping a loose arm around the smaller man's shoulders, delighting in it's easy acceptance.
"It pleases me to see them forget their troubles, even it is only for a brief time."
Agron was silent for a moment, a question resting uncertainly upon his lips.
"And what of your troubles?" He asked at last.
"Not forgotten." Nasir answered, lowering his gaze. The gladiator muttered a silent curse at himself, afraid the question had caused some unintentional distress but then the gaze returned, faint traces of a smile still remaining. "But memory fades a little with each day that passes, and hope grows stronger."
"I am glad." He said, relieved. "It warms my heart to think that I might one day see the light return to your eyes."
The hand that was not around Nasir's shoulder, came up to rest against his cheek. Nasir shifted where he sat.
"And it warms mine to know that you care." He whispered leaning into the touch, the movement so slight it might have gone unnoticed had Agron's attentions not been so completely focused, though he was sure Nasir remained unaware.
He caught a breath. I love you. The words rose within him and lodged themselves in his throat, but now was not the time for such declarations, Nasir was not ready. Indeed, Agron was not certain he ever would be and so, with great effort he swallowed them down and the moment was broken.
"Shall I get more wine?" Nasir asked, rising to his feet abruptly.
Agron shook his head. Too much wine was known to make fools of greater men than he and more seemed like a very bad idea in this moment, but looking up into the Syrian's eyes he saw a strange urgency he did not quite understand. Was it simply that Nasir felt a need he could not articulate, to remove himself from a moment of intense discomfort? It was a likely possibility, and yet there was something beyond discomfort in the younger man's eyes that Agron was at a loss to put name to, or explain.
"No. I have had too much already. I fear any more might rob me the use of my legs." He said with a small chuckle, watching intently the play of emotions upon the other man's face in attempt to understand their cause. "But more food would be most welcome. The days hunting and fighting has given me quite the appetite it seems."
Nasir nodded eagerly and turned, striding purposefully towards the laden table. Agron watched his back for a moment, noting that though intent, whatever it may be, was still evident, steps had slowed. A split second of hesitation as Nasir neared the space in which the refreshments had been laid out, gave the gladiator clarity. He understood now what he had seen and it gave him cause for concern.
The last time there had been a celebration within the camp had been the day that Sedullus had… Nasir had gone for more refreshments then too. Now it seemed, he sought to return to that moment, to face that demon… alone and Agron was unable to conclude whether that was a good thing or a bad.
He stood, and followed Nasir to the table, giving pause of his own as he neared the spot. Even in face of his concerns, the gladiator understood that the demon was Nasir's to face and to intrude now would be to rob him of the opportunity to fight it and possibly beat it, so he held back, giving Nasir space, while yet remaining close enough to offer support only if it seemed that it was necessary.
Nasir took a step closer and stopped. His stance was tense but steady as he cast his gaze about him at the table, the wall, the faded blood stain upon the ground where Sedullus had met his end, remembering. It was difficult, more so than he had anticipated and the memory had not faded as much as he had hoped, but he would not allow himself to ruled by it. He would not allow himself to be beaten.
Agron heard a choked sob fall from the younger man's lips and the deliberate, deep breaths intended to calm. Another step, this time accompanied by a more noticeable tremor but Nasir remained firm.
Agron watched, concerned still, but less so than before. Nasir was strong, far stronger than even he realised, but Agron had know, had always known.
In just a few more, carefully controlled steps, the Syrian reached the table, clutching at it's edge to steady himself while he slowed his breathing. It was then that the gladiator announced his presence.
"I have changed my mind about the wine." He said as he strode towards Nasir, casually dipping his cup into the wine and flashing the younger man a dimpled grin. "The damage is already done, one more cup can hardly do much more."
"And what of your legs?" Nasir asked, returning the grin with a little more effort, but returning it none the less.
"Should they take their leave, then I have you to carry me." Agron noticed, pleased, that the answering chuckle was more relaxed and gave the man a gentle nudge as he reached in front of him to retrieve a plate. "I would have more of that cheese too." He winked. "Before it all disappears down the gullet of some idle fuck."
The two men continued to laugh together as they loaded their plates with what remained of the feast.
A/N: With regards "the faded blood stain upon the ground where Sedullus had met his end". If the blood is thick enough and the puddle large enough, the stain can indeed last months, even years after the blood itself has been washed away. I know this from personal experience.
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