Title: Healing

Author: ThirstySatyr

Rating: M, for language, mild sexuality, and squick content

Chapter 6/6: Pushing Past

Standard Disclaimer: Not mine. Rob Thurman's.

Note: The story of Deathwish has totally negated the driving force of this story. As a result, it's quite likely the second half of this story (Healing was first, Recovery was to be second) will not be uploaded. Please forgive the abrupt ending that occurs as a result.

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When we woke the next day there was awkwardness, but no danger. Mostly, it was that neither one of us knew what to say. It hadn't been sex, I knew that much even with my experience limited to my right hand. But we didn't know what to call it, otherwise. Comfort, assurance, homecoming? We had the ideas, but we didn't know how to speak them.

Despite not finding the words, we did smile. Neither one of us was running away. We knew the running wasn't over; hardly, with my father's kind still out there. But we didn't have to run from our family. Somewhere in the breakdowns and the tears, the screaming and the fighting, we'd found an undeniable truth; we had each other. Not dimensions, not monsters, not fear, and definitely not guilt could come between us.

When my eyes opened it had been like looking into a mirror with the cracks miraculously healed. The gray eyes that looked so much like mine no longer resembled bruises. The dark smudges beneath them would take time to repair, but the eyes themselves seemed whole again; I hoped my brother saw the same in mine.

"Good morning, little brother."

I felt my smile pull wider at that. Good morning? What a fucking optimist.

"Morning? Fine. Good?" I gave him a snort that might have passed for a laugh, "We'll see..." The words flowed easily, my newly deeper voice having wormed its way into familiar.

I rolled, letting my eyes do the same, and groaned my way onto my feet. Sore was definitely not a strong enough word. I could feel where old bruises met up with new ones, and where new ones dug deep to meet with injuries I couldn't remember.

My brother chuckled and got out of bed as if we hadn't spent the past week living out of a car and beating ourselves up.

"You just couldn't take the easy path, could you?" He laughed at me.

"We could've taken up needle point…" I snapped back, all the edge dulled by my smile. "Don't think it would've been quite the same, though…"

Time passed quickly after that, as we both acknowledged the darkness that still haunted us. Days were spent with endless stretches of road flying by, nameless towns remaining nameless. The nights were spent sleeping, me tucked firmly under the bed, one hand reaching up to link with one of his. We'd collided once and again out of necessity; the world was so unreal after my disappearance and strangely aged return, we needed the reassurance that only came with touch. With the recognition that the two of us were Family, the need for reassurance passed. Our lives became running, and quickly thereafter our lives became fighting.

But we would never again be alone.

Remembering all of this almost made me give up my fight against the morphine. Almost. I wanted out, wanted awake. The most recent trip to Tumulus was clawing at my grip on reality and I needed reassurance. And though the first trip had been so horrible I'd suppressed it like my life depended on the void, this time was much worse.

'What could possibly top kidnapping and two years of torture', one might ask.

Easy; they'd taken Niko.

My family, my anchor, my solid corner piece in the puzzle of existence; and the few remaining Auphe took him from me. The only thing I'd been able to count on had been my brother. Then he was touched by Tumulus, and even he was in question.

I'd gone after him, stepping into Tumulus with a forced willingness. And for seven days we hid, ran, and fought before I called the gate that brought us back home. Three hours passed in our absence, with Robin and Promise fighting their own, if shorter, battle. We stumbled through the gate half-dead, dehydrated, hungry, and bleeding, collapsing at the feet of our adopted family.

That must be where we were now, high above the city, recuperating in one guest room or another. The strange signals my nose had been giving me were starting to make sense; Promise's apartment always smelled of wild vanilla and twilight, and Robin's of fresh earth and trees. Despite the strangeness, there had been a familiarity to the scents reaching me through the morphine.

Realizing where I was made things better. It still wasn't perfect though. The memories of Tumulus and the Auphe still pulled at me, taunting my grip on reality. I needed reassurance, just like last time. With one final tug, I freed myself from the cocoon of warm sheets and found a familiar body holding me. Skin met skin with an electric zing, and the need for more rang through me with every heart beat.

I stopped fighting with my eyes and pressed my lips to his for a moment, before moving to the skin of his neck. There, the scent of heat and wild things still lingered in my confused sense of smell, but I reveled in the comfort that came with every touch. Strong hands pulled at my hips, bringing my body snug against his. The hardness pressed against my stomach was a message unspoken and clear.

Hands and lips traveled over endless bare skin, finding scars that hadn't been there six years ago. It was new and strange, relearning someone I'd always known. I searched for the harmony we'd had all those years ago, but something just wasn't clicking. Then his hand found the center of my need, and my thoughts stopped looking for anything, and just felt. Every shift of his fingers on me felt impossible, every pressure perfect. My head was spinning, flying away from the world. I held on to him with all I had, wrapping one of my legs around him, my hands digging at his back. My teeth sank into the flesh of his shoulder, seeking the musk and tang I knew so well.

Nimble fingers laced into my hair, gripping tight. The forceful pull made it past the morphine, and struck me as odd. I fought down the momentary reluctance, letting myself sink back into the warmth. My brother had never been to Tumulus; his force just proved he needed this as much as I did. Slowly I followed throat and jaw with my mouth, retracing the face that should have been as familiar as my own. My lips found his, and I pushed; I needed his lips, the press of strength that was everything he was to me.

It was the warm brush of tongue across my lips that broke the hold of the morphine completely.

Wrong. This was wrong.

I pulled back sharply and my eyes flew open. Even before my vision came into focus, I knew what I was going to find. Green, fox like eyes, and curly chestnut hair.

"Cal?" Robin's voice sounded more confused than anything else, only the barest hint of worry at the edge.

My thoughts didn't want to catch up with reality. There was only one clear thing ringing in my head; not Niko. Familiar and safe, but not Niko. Warm and protective, but not Niko. The smell had never been wrong, because it had never been Niko. Oh, gods...

The silence dragged out, and worry began to fill the puck's face. He retreated from me, his whole body edging backward until our skin no longer touched. My lack of reaction was beginning to make him anxious.

Finally I found my voice, and I used it to say the one thing I knew was true.

"No..."

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The sequel is posted as "Recovery": www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/s/5368448/1/Recovery