Chapter Three: Retirement

Flynn awoke like an eggbear coming out of hibernation. He was starving and he was in pain. The latter of those had become such a constant state of being over the past week that he barely paid it any head, but his rumbling stomach caused him a bit more distress.

He heard voices, and was surprised to realize he could hear them clearly, with no ringing to get in the way. Of course, he could hear from his left ear only. His right ear hadn't even begun to heal and it was starting to sink in that he was probably going to be permanently deaf in that ear. After almost a minute of lying still and grappling with consciousness, he realized the voices belonged to Yuri and Estelle. Estelle was here! That must mean she'd healed him. That was why he couldn't feel burning pain in his arm anymore.

Actually… he couldn't… no.

Flynn dragged his eyes open and looked to his arm. Or, where there used to be an arm. It now ended with a short stump below his shoulder, wrapped heavily in bandages. "No…" His voice croaked out of his parched mouth, drawing Yuri and Estelle's attention.

"Flynn!" Estelle was at his side in seconds. "Thank goodness you're awake. How do you feel?"

How could his arm be gone? Yuri had promised… He looked to Yuri with betrayal. "My… arm?" Estelle was here. She could have healed it if he still had it.

Yuri stiffened and guilt washed over his face. "Yeah. It's gone. I'm really sorry, Flynn. You were dying."

"But… Lady…"

"I got here this morning," Estelle explained, resting her hands on his left arm. "They amputated it three days ago."

"You've been out of it for almost five days in total," Yuri said. "The infection got really bad. Your doctor told me that if they didn't amputate the arm within twenty four hours, you would most likely die. I'm sorry, but I didn't want to risk waiting for Estelle."

"It's a good thing he didn't. If you'd waited until I arrived, you probably would have succumbed to the infection before I could do anything about it."

"I'm really sorry, Flynn."

Flynn stared at the stump with despair. He didn't blame Yuri, because if their places were reversed he knew he would have chosen the same. It wasn't Yuri's fault his arm was gone.

"I'll get you some water." Estelle hurried away, and Yuri sat on the edge of his bed.

"How do you feel?"

"Better," Flynn admitted. Estelle must have healed him as well as she could, because he no longer felt constant aches from everywhere on his body. The only parts that still hurt were a few lingering pains from burns on his torso and a throbbing ache in his stump. After being in agony for a week, this was heaven.

"Your fever broke this morning so we were expecting you to wake up soon. And you know… I really don't think you would have been able to use your hand anymore even if you had kept the arm."

Flynn sighed, remembering how it had been so badly charred he couldn't even feel it anymore. "I suppose not. It seems my future with the Knights ended as soon as that explosion went off."

"It doesn't have to. You're the commandant, right? You don't need to be on the field all the time, so even if you can't fight as well, that doesn't mean your career is over."

He sounded like a child insisting the tooth fairy was real. "If any captain was in my condition, I would demand they retire. The Knights have rules about disabilities which prohibit you from enlisting and qualify for automatic discharge. Amputation and deafness are both on the list. A commandant doesn't go to the field often, but one who can't isn't much use. Even then, I can't very well do a desk job if I can't write."

"You can learn to write with your left hand. I do it – it's not that hard."

"It could take a very long time until I'm proficient enough with my left hand to meet the requirements of my job, and there's the issue of being half-deaf as well. Face it, Yuri: I have no choice but to retire."

Estelle hurried back into the room with a glass of water and a bowl of soup. "Here, you must be hungry, too."

"I'm famished, thank you."

Yuri grabbed a bed table from the corner and set it over Flynn's lap while Flynn managed to pull himself into an upright position. Moving around caused everything to ache, but it was nothing compared to the searing agony he remembered. He downed the entire glass of water in one go, but hesitated before eating.

Instinct led his stump to reach for the spoon, but then he faltered. No, that wasn't going to work. He picked it up with his left hand, feeling backward as he reached for the soup. Yuri and Estelle watched him nervously and he tried to look comfortable so they wouldn't worry. Spooning soup to his mouth wasn't too difficult to manage left-handed, but it was weird and he knew this was just the tip of the iceberg. Sure he could feed himself left-handed, but could he fight?

He tried to think of other things. "Has His Majesty recovered yet?"

"He was discharged yesterday," Estelle said.

Flynn's face tightened momentarily at the mention of 'discharge', his own imminent discharge from the military weighing on his mind.

Yuri saw that and moved the conversation on. "Ioder's doing great. The Council is trying to pull itself together, although they've lost a lot of members. They're going to have to start picking a whole new Council."

A new Council and a new commandant. It was a chance for the government to move into fresh hands. Maybe the terrorists would be satisfied with this.

When he finished the soup, he said, "I'd like to get out of bed. It's been a while."

Estelle futzed around like a mother hen. "Do you need any help?"

"I think I can manage on my own." In fact, he wanted to manage on his own, to prove to himself that he could. Yuri cleared the table and bowl away and Flynn scooted to the edge of the bed. He rested his bare feet on the floor, hesitated for a moment, and then grabbed the nightstand for support in standing. His legs shook and putting weight on them turned the dull ache into a sharp stabbing, but he was upright for the first time since the attack.

"You ok?" Yuri watched him, eyes darting to his shaking knees.

"Y-yeah." He wasn't very good at hiding how much strain this put on his body. Until this morning his legs had been badly broken, so expecting them to bear his weight so soon after Estelle healed him was asking too much. He wobbled, thrown off balance by the lack of an arm to even out his right side. Even his deaf ear messed with his sense of balance, making his right half feel lighter than the left.

Yuri rested a hand on his shoulder to stabilize him. "It's really good to see you on your feet."

He slumped back to the mattress. "I think I'm going to rest again."

"That's a good idea," Estelle said. "You need to get lots of rest. Come on, Yuri, we should let him nap."

"Yeah, ok. I'll stick around in the castle if you need me, all right?"

"Thanks, Yuri."

They left and Flynn laid back in the pillows again. Following conversations was more difficult than he would have expected. He couldn't tell what direction any sound came from and noises from the hall kept distracting him, forcing him to put a lot of effort into hearing when previously it was just something that happened.

Once they were gone, he pulled up the hem of the loose, sleeveless shirt provided by the infirmary and examined his torso. Rough pink scars covered his chest and side in ugly splotches, which throbbed when he pressed them. Burns as severe as his had been, healed more than a week after acquiring them, would leave permanent scars even with Estelle's talent. It was petty to feel upset about having ugly scars when he'd already lost an arm, but permanent disfigurement was one more little thing to add to the pile of misery.

Perhaps he'd feel better about all this if it was the result of a deliberate attack on his life. If someone had tried to kill him because they didn't like his policies, it would mean something. It would be a price paid for attempting reform, and it would mean he'd accomplished enough that someone would want to stop him. This, though... it was so pointless. He shouldn't have even been in that Council meeting. He'd been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and now his career was over and his life ruined. The pointlessness of it all hurt almost as much as the actual injuries.

He dropped the shirt, not wanting to look any longer. He closed his eyes and fell asleep to thoughts of what a broken, retired knight might do with the rest of his life.

Sodia brought the retirement papers to his room about five days later. His doctor had given him the all-clear to leave the infirmary tomorrow, so he was in a fairly good mood when she arrived. This was despite the fact that there were several sheets of crumpled paper sitting on the nightstand, each covered in 'Flynn Scifo' written over and over. The lettered were wobbly and crooked, harkening back to when he'd first learned to write as a small child. It looked juvenile, and several pages of practicing later, he still couldn't figure out how to use his left hand to sign his name with any authority.

"Good afternoon, sir." She stood formally by his bed. "I brought the papers you requested."

"Thank you, but there's no need for formalities. I'm not your commanding officer anymore. There's no need to salute a civilian."

Sodia didn't ease her stance. "Sir… you will always be my commander." She set the papers on the table over his lap.

Flynn picked up his pen and searched for the lines he needed to sign. He hated every line of writing because it all looked like a five year old holding a pen for the first time was filling these out. Sodia would fill out everything but his signatures if he asked, but he wanted to do this himself.

He concentrated so much on the difficult of writing left-handed, he barely had time to think about what he was doing. Then he came to the bottom of the last one, and found the final line. This was it. When he signed this, it would be official and he would no longer be a knight. Everything he'd worked for since he was a kid would all end with one scribbled name on a paper. For a few seconds he thought, maybe he was being rash? Maybe he didn't have to retire. He could find a way to do his job even with his new disabilities.

"Sir? Is something wrong?"

If he didn't see her standing next to him, he would have no idea where in the room she was thanks to his damn ear. He wasn't fit for going to the field and a commandant needed to do more than just sit behind a desk scribbling like a child with their first pencil all day.

"No," he murmured. "Nothing is wrong." Except everything was. He signed his name, crooked and clumsy. It barely resembled his signature, but it was enough. He wasn't a knight anymore.

"His Majesty has arranged a ceremony." She picked the papers up and handled them delicately, like she was afraid she'd forget herself and rip them to pieces.

"Yes. I suppose that's the proper thing to do."

"Many people want to thank you for your service. You've done so many great things for the empire."

He only wished he could keep doing those things. "Have you caught the culprits yet?"

"No, sir." She still spoke to him like she was reporting to the commandant. He supposed she'd break the habit with time, especially after a new commandant was appointed. "We currently suspect a group based outside of Zaphias is responsible. We don't think the Zaphias protestors know much about them, but we're still hoping someone can give us a lead."

"That's something, then. You're doing an excellent job of commanding the Knights in my stead." Ioder should promote her to commandant. He'd recommend that to him.

"Thank you, sir." She glanced at the papers in her hand. "I should go turn these in. And, sir… it's been an honour to serve under you."

A slight smile tugged his lips. "And it's been an honour to have you as a subordinate."

She pulled herself so straight Flynn almost looked for strings and saluted him one last time before leaving the room.

Yuri sat in the sitting room of Flynn's suite in the castle when he heard Flynn's voice. "Yuri?" It was quiet, hesitant. "Could… could you help me?"

Flynn had only been out of the infirmary for two days and his injuries still pained him if they were stressed, so Yuri jumped to his feet, afraid something had re-opened. When he pushed open the door to Flynn's bedroom, he found his friend sitting on the side of his bed with the button of his pants undone and the over shirt of his uniform hanging loose.

"You ok?"

Flynn looked up with a grumpy expression. Mumbling, because it clearly pained him to need to ask, he said, "Could you help me get my uniform on?"

Yuri's worry turned to compassion. "Yeah, of course."

Flynn gestured at his waistband and grumbled, "I can't get the damn button and I haven't even thought about how I'll get the belt on." He mumbled something else, too soft for Yuri to hear.

"What was that?" Flynn still struggled to find the right volume for speaking. He was always either too loud or too quite.

"Maybe I just shouldn't go."

Yuri frowned for a fraction of a second, and then grabbed Flynn's arm. "Stand up."

Flynn did, but said, "I don't want to go to a ceremony where the whole point is for people to stand around feeling sorry for me."

"Yes, clearly you've got that taken care of yourself."

"Excuse me?"

"This is your last act as commandant. Are you really going to shirk your duty? It's not about feeling sorry for you, it's about giving everyone a chance to properly thank you for everything you've done and give them closure."

"Like a funeral for my career."

"It's never going to be fun with that attitude. The emperor is throwing you a ceremony to thank you for all your hard work. The least you can do is show up." He'd support Flynn as much as he could, but he wasn't going to participate in a pity party. He buttoned Flynn's pants and grabbed the belt from the bed, wrapping it around Flynn's waist before he could back down. "So pull yourself together and get dressed."

Flynn gave him a weary sigh, but let him buckle the belt.

"Do you need to wear armour?"

"No, not on a ceremonial occasion. It's proper to carry my sword, though."

Yuri grabbed the sheath and buckled it on Flynn's right.

"What? I wear it on the left, Yuri."

"Yeah, but you can't draw with your right arm anymore, so that's pretty useless."

"I can't wield it in my left, either."

"Sure you can."

Flynn glared at the hilt. "I suppose I could hold it, but it's not like I can fight left-handed."

"Better than nothing, isn't it? Keep it on the right."

"If you insist."

Yuri straightened Flynn's shirt and then stepped back. "There, look, you're properly dressed now. One last hurrah as the commandant."

"What should I do about this?" He wiggled his stump and the empty sleeve flapped back and forth. "It looks weird just hanging there."

"Uh…" Yuri glanced around the room and spotted a couple pins on Flynn's desk. He snatched these up and grabbed the empty sleeve. "Here." He pinned the wrist to the shoulder, folding it around the stump. "There, how's that?"

"I don't know… do you think it just draws further attention to the fact that it's gone?"

"Flynn, every person at the ceremony knows exactly why you're retiring. Everyone knows it's gone."

That was evidently the wrong thing to say because Flynn face fell even more. "Yeah. You're right. No point trying to hide it."

"Come on, Flynn. Everyone is waiting for you."

Flynn looked to the door and took a long, deep breath. "Ok. Let's get this over with."

The ceremony was nice. Yuri sat in the front row with all his friends and watched Ioder give a short speech about Flynn's accomplishments and all the positive change he'd brought to the Knighthood. Sodia and a few other captains said some words as well, while Flynn sat near the podium looking like he wanted to curl in on himself and disappear. There were seats for a handful of high ranking officials in the front, but the rest of the courtyard was packed shoulder-to-shoulder with knights who wanted to see him off.

There was a bit of fumbling when Ioder tried to shake Flynn's hand, since his left arm was still in a sling. They ended up with their arms awkwardly twisted, and Flynn apologized profusely even though there was clearly nothing he could have done. They gave him a wreathe of flowers, which was apparently some kind of award, and Ioder pinned a medal to the front of his uniform. Even from the audience, Yuri could tell Flynn was spending the entire ceremony struggling not to cry. In the end, Flynn walked away through a corridor of saluting knights, managing against all odds to keep his head high.

Once everything was wrapped up, Yuri returned to Flynn's suite. Flynn had left the door unlocked, so he showed himself in. "Flynn?" He heard movement from the open bedroom door. Bed springs creaked and fabric rustled. Yuri poked his head through the door. "Flynn?"

Flynn jerked, looking over with surprise. "Oh. It's you."

"What are you doing?"

Flynn lay on his back, thrashing on his bed. "I'm trying to get my belt off. I can't do this, Yuri."

Yuri considered standing back and letting Flynn figure things out by himself, but the three-pronged belt was tricky enough with two hands and Flynn was clearly not in the mood for any more struggling. "Here, I'll get it."

"This is pathetic." He lay still while Yuri unbuckled his belt. "I can't even undress myself."

"From now on, don't wear such a complicated belt. You just need to adapt." He tossed the belt away and then undid the button on Flynn's pants. "You can get the rest off yourself, can't you?"

He pushed himself upright. "I think so." He struggled out of his shirts until he sat half-naked on the bed, gazing down at chest. He looked like a map, with an ocean of smooth skin interrupted by large swaths of rough, raised scarring. He pulled his eyes away from the scars and to the uniform laying crumpled on the floor.

Yuri couldn't remember the last time he saw Flynn toss his uniform aside without folding it neatly; probably never.

"I'm not a knight anymore." He said it dully, like it hadn't quit sunk in yet.

"…No."

"I'm retired. How can I be retired? I'm not even thirty."

"Shit happens."

"What am I going to do with my life? Being a knight is the only thing I know how to do."

"You'll figure things out."

"Hopefully. You know, I keep trying to reach for things, but then… I remember. It still feels like my arm should be there, but then it's not." He wiggled his stump meaningfully. "I can't even write my name, Yuri."

He was dangerously close to slipping into a fit of self-pity again. "Do you know what you need?"

"Huh?"

"A drink."

"Pardon?"

"Let's go to the bar. We'll have a couple drinks, have a good time, celebrate the end of a great career, and let loose. Come on, it'll be fun."

Flynn scanned the room, searching for an excuse not to go. Not finding one, he sighed. "If you insist."

They went to Yuri's favourite bar in the lower quarter. Most people here knew them, so Flynn got more than a few sympathetic looks from old friends. Yuri was going to make this a fun, casual night, to prove to Flynn that he could still be normal.

They sat at the bar and Yuri said, "Two beers, please."

The barkeep did a double take. "Oh, Yuri, Flynn! Of course, I'll get that for ya." He came back with a fair of frothy mugs only a minute later. "Don't worry about," he said as Yuri reached for his wallet, "It's on the house."

"Are you sure?"

"Least I can do… you know…" He glanced to Flynn's arm. Flynn had changed into a casual long-sleeved shirt, the sleeve hanging loose.

"Thanks!" Flynn shouted.

"Whoa, keep your voice down." Everyone in the surrounding area had turned to him in surprise at the unnecessarily loud thanks.

Flynn folded in on himself. "Sorry," he whispered. "I can't… everything's really loud in here."

"Loud?" The bar was filled, but not overcrowded. A low din of conversation was the only noise. As far as he knew, Flynn's functioning ear still wasn't perfectly fine, so if anything he should be hearing things quieter, not louder.

"Not loud, exactly. It's like… usually in a place like this, you can drown out the sounds in the background, right? I can't. I can't tell where anything is coming from and it all hits me at once and I have to concentrate to pick out your voice over everyone else."

"Sorry. Would it help to pass notes?"

"No." He picked up his glass and took a sip. "I can be normal. Besides, I can't write."

"Whatever works for you." He put more effort than usual into making sure he spoke slowly and clearly, enunciating each word. "Hey, I don't think I told you about our latest guild mission, did I?"

Flynn took another slow sip. "I don't think so."

"Ok, well it's a great story. We were making a delivery to this mage doing field work in Keiv Moc…"

A few hours later, Yuri was beginning to think coming to a bar might have been a bad idea. Flynn was not normally a heavy drinker and paying attention to how much he'd had to drink had never been a concern of Yuri's before. He'd been pulled into a conversation with someone sitting on his other side while Flynn chatted with a guy who'd grown up on the same street, and when Yuri looked back he suddenly realized Flynn was more than a little tipsy.

"I'm gonna start a new Knighthood," Flynn was enthusiastically saying. "Yeah. I'll be comm'dant of that. An' – an' we'll only take cripples an' it'll be great."

The guys he was talking to cheered and Flynn took another big gulp of beer. His stump shifted like he was about to use that hand, and then he stared at it in confusion for two seconds before leaning over and wiping his upper lip on the shoulder of his shirt.

"Tha's right," another guy said. "Ya don' need the Knights. Rotten sons of bitches anyway. Fuck the Knights."

"Yeah!" Flynn cheered. "Fuck the Knights. They don' want me then… then I don' want them!" Flynn's face was flushed and he wavered on his stool in the struggle to stay upright. Alcohol was not doing great things to his balance, already thrown off by partial deafness and the loss of his arm.

"Hey, Flynn, do you think maybe we should head home soon?"

Flynn had turned away from Yuri so he could hear the people on his right, which meant he now couldn't hear Yuri. "It'll be great…. We'll fight crippled monsters." He laughed loudly at a joke he hadn't told yet. "I – I'll fight 'em with one hand!"

Yuri rested his hand on Flynn's shoulder. "Flynn?"

"Whozzat?!" He whirled around, startled by someone grabbing him without warning. This ruined the precarious balance he had left and as he spun, he toppled off the bar stool. He crashed into someone behind him on his way down, starting a chain reaction of bar patrons bumping into each other like dominos.

"Hey!" Someone shouted as their drink spilled. "Who did that?!"

"Oops!" He flailed on the ground to get up, not seeming to mind that he pressed his still-healing stump against the ground. "Tha' was me. Sorry."

An angry man pushed to the front of the crowd. "Hey, I know you. Ain't you the commandant?"

Yuri gave Flynn a hand to get his feet and Flynn gave the man an irritated look. "No. Aren't ya listening? I'm… am retired."

"Yeah, you're that guy from the lower quarter who went and became a bigshot political and sold us all out."

Yuri had a sneaking suspicion this man was involved in the government protests. Considering Yuri didn't know him, he had to be one of the more radical members that Yuri's friends kept away from. Before this conversation could get out of hand, Yuri stepped between them. "Hey, Flynn's done nothing of the sort. You want to get mad at political guys, take it out on the Council."

"Not like we can," another guy piped in, apparently a friend of the first. He snickered and added, "Most of 'em are dead now."

"Pity that blast didn't take care of this traitor either."

Yuri clenched his fists and narrowed his eyes. "Say that again."

"You heard me. I don't know who set that explosion up, but it woulda been better if it wiped out the whole lot of 'em, commandant included."

Yuri took a step closer to the man. "If you have a problem with Flynn, you've got one with me."

"Ok!" Without warning, he socked Yuri in the face.

Flynn shouted in outrage and flew forward as Yuri stumbled back. "Flynn!" It was too late to stop him. Fuelled by drunken rage, he punched the man solidly in the cheek and everything flew out of control from there. Flynn's friends from the bar ran to his aid while the protester's friends came to his. Well, if there was going to be a fight, Yuri was damn sure he was going to finish it.

Yuri was no stranger to bar fights. He even had the advantage in this one, because most of his opponents were drunk while he was still mostly sober. He fended them off with a grin, artfully dodging attacks while landing more than a few of his own. After the stress of the past two weeks, letting loose on a bunch of assholes exhilarated him.

"You sell out!" an angry protester said as Yuri leaned sideways just in time to avoid a fist to the face. "Why're you defendin' the government!?"

Yuri darted around, lashed out his leg and shoved at the exact right time to send the man flying to the floor. "If you can't tell the difference between the corrupt government and a retired knight, that's really not my problem."

Yuri's heart pounded and adrenaline surged as he whirled through the fight, feeling more alive than he had since he first saw smoke pouring out the castle. He and Flynn were fighting side-by-side, and maybe this meant things could actually go back to normal. "Hey, Flynn, check out – Flynn!"

And then he realized Flynn wasn't fighting side-by-side any longer. Yuri was fighting just like he used to, but through some combination of lingering pain holding him back, struggling to fight with only his weaker left arm, and the disorientation of being partially deaf, Flynn was getting his ass kicked. One guy had his arms around Flynn's armpits, pinning him against his chest, while another rained punches on him.

Yuri charged and tackled the guy punching him, pinning him to the floor. "What kind of douchebag are you?!" he roared as he slammed his fists into the guy's face. "Beating up a disabled guy?!"

The man holding Flynn released him, letting Flynn fall to the floor. He attacked Yuri, but as he bent over to grab him, Yuri reached up, grabbed his arm and collar of his shirt, and used his momentum to flip him over his shoulder and slam into the ground. Yuri leapt to his feet and went to Flynn's aid. "Hey, you all right?"

"Y-yeah," Flynn mumbled, wiping blood from his chin.

"Let's get out of here before the knights show up." He helped Flynn to his feet and wove through the brawling crowd. He felt guilty about leaving a fight he'd started before it ended, but he needed to get Flynn out of here.

Outside, the cool air cleared his head and further calmed him down. "I'm sorry, Flynn, I should have watched out for you more."

"No. I… I should take care o' myself…" He wrapped his arm around Yuri's shoulders for support as Yuri guided him back to the Comet. "It's my fault. I can't fight."

"You're just out of practice, that's all. I bet you haven't been in a good old fashion bar fight in ages."

"I can't fight." They reached the main square and Flynn pulled away from Yuri. "Look at me. I used'a be the comma'dant an' I got beat up by a bunch o' nobodies." After taking a few steps forward, he stumbled, spun his arm to try to balance and then fell forward. He caught himself with one arm but forgot to compensate for not being able to catch himself on the other, so he fell sideways and smashed his shoulder into the ground. "I can't even walk!"

Yuri stood by Flynn's side, trying not to get irritated with him. This was his fault; he should have watched closer to make sure Flynn didn't go overboard in drowning his sorrows. "Yeah, well, that's because you're drunk."

Flynn got to his knees and awkwardly crawled to the edge of the fountain. He leaned against it, resting his head on the stone edge. "I don' feel good."

"Again: drunk." Yuri wasn't very familiar with being the sober one when they went out. Usually he and Flynn either got equally smashed or Flynn stayed sober and reprimanded him.

"'M not drunk!"

"Whatever you say, Flynn." Yuri sat on the edge of the fountain and Flynn's head lolled against his knees. "Do you want to keep going home or were you planning on sleeping out here?"

"Whatza point? 'M not a knight no more." He clutched his empty sleeve and tugged angrily.

"I'm not a Knight either and I managed to survive."

"Shut up!"

Yuri glanced around, wondering if Flynn's unexpected bellow had awoken someone in the surrounding neighbourhood. "Hey, keep your voice down. The entire lower quarter doesn't want to be part of our conversation."

"Don' tell me ta quiet. 'M plenty quiet. Ev'thing's quiet 'cause 'm deaf and 'm broken and 'm useless."

"What are you talking about? You held your own pretty good for a guy with one arm."

"Stop it!" Flynn's voice cracked. "Don' tell me it's ok. It's not ok! I los' my fuckin' arm!"

"Ok, you're right. This whole situation sucks, but you're drunk and beat up, so I think we should continue on to my place."

"Don' wanna go with you. I hate you an' your… your arms."

He looked at the top of Flynn's head with a frown. "You hate me?"

"Why'd ya tell 'em to take my arm? You promised."

Guilt stabbed his heart. "You would have died."

"But now I have no arm!" He smashed his fist against the street. "An' 'm unem… play…unployed… can't get 'nother job, an' 'm ugly an' can't hear right an'-"

"Ugly? What are you talking about?"

"This!" Flynn grabbed the collar of his shirt and yanked it down, stretching it to expose his shoulder and the top of his chest.

"You mean your scars? You idiot, you have plenty of scars already. That doesn't make you ugly."

"Not like this." He let go and the collar snapped back to place. "They're all… all ev'rywhere…rough an' gross."

Yuri didn't know how worthwhile it was to try to talk to him about this now when he probably wouldn't even remember half of it in the morning, but he might as well try. "You can't even see them unless you take off your shirt and knowing you, that would only happen if you were being intimate with someone. Anyone who would give you grief about your scars doesn't deserve you anyway."

"What d'you know? Ya dumb… dumb… two-arm person. I used ta be the comm'dant, Yuri! An' now 'm… I'm… I…" His words broke off with a sob. His head turned and he pressed his face into Yuri's knees, wrapping his arm around Yuri's shins.

Yuri just sighed and let him cry. His shoulders heaved as tears and snot soaked into Yuri's pant leg. Yuri sat still and let him get it all out. This went on for about five minutes, until his sobs mostly dried up and he mumbled, "I don' feel good…"

Yuri leaned forward and rubbed his back. "Let's go back to my place and-"

"Think 'm gonna-" He threw up on Yuri's pants.

Yuri paused for a long moment, and then sighed once again. "Yeah. We're going home."

"Sorry," Flynn mumbled.

"It's fine; I was gonna wash these pants anyway." He stood and grabbed Flynn under the armpits, hoisting him to his feet.

"'M really sorry, Yuri."

"I told you, it's fine." His pants were already covered in Flynn's tears and snot – vomit wasn't that much worse. At least, that's what he told himself.

Flynn leaned on Yuri all the way back to the Comet, pressing his face into his shoulder whenever he could. "'M sorry I said I hate you… I don' hate ya… I love you, Yuri."

"Yeah, I love you too, Flynn."

"Ok, good, 'cause I don' know what I'd do if you di'n't."

"That's nice, Flynn."

They reached the inn and Yuri carefully guided Flynn up the steps, which was difficult because Flynn seemed to have forgotten how stairs worked. "Yuri… you hafta help me figure out what 'm gonna do with my life. I dunno. 'M not a knight. What'm I gon' do?"

Flynn had apparently decided this was a good place to stop and ask him that question, so Yuri heaved Flynn up the last couple of steps. "You can figure this out when you're sober."

"'M sober now… 'm barely drunk. 'M like… four drunk. Outta scale o' ten."

"Uh-huh."

"Can't be drunk. Proper people get drunk an' 'm a… a broke people. Person. Thing."

"You're not broken, Flynn." He unlocked his door and dragged Flynn in. Repede looked up from where he was napping but put his head down with a snort of disdain when he smelled alcohol. "You're just as much of a proper person as you were before, you're just not in the Knights anymore."

"But I wanna be a knight, but I can't."

"Yeah, I know. I get that you're upset, but you should go to sleep now."

"Ummmm…" he swayed and Yuri caught him before he hit the floor again. "Yeah. Maybe good idea. 'M kinda sleepy."

Flynn stumbled to the bed, tripped, and face-planted. Yuri rolled his eyes and fetched a glass of water and a wet cloth from the wash basin on the dresser. "Drink this."

"'M not thirsty."

"You'll thank me when you wake up. Just drink it."

Flynn gazed at him in confusion. "Why?"

"Because you love me and I want you to, remember?"

"Oh. Oh, yeah. Ok, Yurrr, I'll drink it." Flynn did as he was told and downed the entire glass of water, which would hopefully help soften his hangover in the morning.

Yuri rubbed his face with the cloth, washing away dried blood and vomit. He wasn't too badly hurt from the fight, at least not externally. He was probably going to ache from bruises in the morning, though. "Go to sleep."

Flynn flopped on his side and closed his eyes. Yuri knelt and untied his boots, pulled them off, and then maneuvered his legs onto the bed. "This makes up for all the times you've berated me for drinking too much."

Flynn mumbled something into the pillow, but Yuri couldn't make it out. For a moment he considered crawling into bed next to Flynn, but Flynn splayed across the narrow mattress and the reminder that he was at the point of throwing up was still fresh on his leg. Yuri shook his head in bemusement, tossed his pants into the laundry and changed into sweats, and curled up on the floor next to Repede.