He ruined me, and I am rebegot
Of absence, darkness, death: things which are not.

~John Donne

There was an arm across his chest. The unusual sensation roused Kindrie. He went from sound sleep to bolt upright in a heartbeat. Beside him, the Highlord stirred and murmured a sleepy protest. Kindrie stared down at him in wonder.

It was real. It wasn't a dream. It really happened.

He smoothed Torisen's hair away from his face gently, then rose from the cozy bed on the floor. Moving silently, he dressed in the predawn dimness. Best if he was far away before the Highlord woke, before reality set in. Kindrie was well aware that much, if not all, of Torisen's behavior last night had been brought on by the severe emotional stresses he had endured. Once the Highlord woke up and remembered what had occured, he was likely to lash out at somebody in confusion. Kindrie had no intention of being there to take the inevitable anger.

He slipped quietly from the room and picked his way down the dusty stairs. At the bottom, he opened the door cautiously and eased into the hallway. No one was around. He heaved a sigh of relief and wandered off towards his rooms, hoping he looked like he had just gone for a stroll because he couldn't sleep.

His luck did not hold for long. Adric, Lord Ardeth, caught him as he was rounding the final corner before his rooms.

"What are you doing out and about at this hour, dear boy?" The old Lord's eyebrows raised in surprise.

"I went for a walk. I was having difficulty sleeping." Kindrie kept his voice even with an effort.

"And have you seen the Highlord?"

Kindrie's heart jumped into his throat. "I have not. Why? Isn't he in his rooms?" Damn. He'd best learn to control his voice better than that- even his own ears could detect the strain in it.

Ardeth looked at him sharply in the dim candlelight. "No. No one has seen him since last night."

"I wish you luck finding him, then." Kindrie yawned, belatedly covering his mouth. That had sounded much better. "The walk seems to have done me good. If you'll excuse me...?" At Ardeth's distracted nod, Kindrie escaped to the sanctuary of his own rooms. He sighed with relief when the door closed firmly behind him. He leaned his back against the door for a moment, breathing rapidly. A smile spread across his face as he thought of Torisen. Whatever was happening to have Adric roaming the halls of Gothregor before dawn, it would not trouble the Highlord's sleep. His breathing steadied and he made his way into his suite. The smile widened as he remembered Tori's peaceful face, so relaxed for once. And better yet, the kindling of the fire in the Highlord's eyes when all his defenses were down and-

Kindrie froze midstride on his way into the bedroom. When his defenses were down. "Oh, God," he whispered numbly. "What have I done?" Betrayal of the worst kind, something all healers were warned against time and again... the patient who trusted blindly, searching for comfort...

The weight of memory and shame bore him to his knees. There will come a time for all of you, the ancient and scratchy voice of his instructor admonished him, when a patient will see you as the solution to all their problems. You will be the one who makes everything alright again. While in this state, all the patient's defenses are down. You, as the figure of trust, could manipulate the patient into doing anything you chose. But as healers you cannot do this- it violates the most basic oath all of you take...

The old man had droned on and on about the healer's responsibility to the patient. How a patient who came to a healer for help with an emotional problem was in many ways more difficult to deal with than one with injuries or disease, how easy it would seem to offer suggestions and guidance rather than just provide a sympathetic ear and help dealing with the crisis emotionally, how easy it was to manipulate a vulnerable patient into a romantic infatuation...

Dear God. That is exactly what happened. Torisen had a problem, I helped him deal with it, and I couldn't keep my hands to myself. I know how he feels about me. I know- knew then, dammit- that he was in shock, reaching out blindly for a comfort he thought he wanted. And even this morning, I thought only of myself... He moaned in an agony of self hatred. How could he have allowed this to happen? And it had been so sweet, so fine...

A fine mess you've made indeed, fool. You had best go far, far away, where he will never find you again.

And yet- how could he? Names of God, the whole incredible situation had only come about because he loved the Highlord. He had since he first laid eyes on the man. How could he possibly leave the presence which attracted him so strongly?

Kindrie rose from the floor, to stagger blindly over to his bed. He sat there staring blindly out the unshuttered windows as dawn slowly broke, unanswerable questions echoing endlessly through his head and ravaging his soul.

Eventually, hunger roused him. Kindrie shook off the depressed stupor with an effort and changed his clothes. Granted, he felt no real desire to care for himself at this point, but he was too sensible to ignore the demands of his body for long.

The keep was in an uproar. Servants flew everywhere through the halls, intent on their assigned tasks. Puzzled, Kindrie did his best to avoid being trampled and made his way to the kitchen. He cajoled some bread and cheese from the cook and also discovered what all the fuss was about. The Lord Caineron had arrived, with several of his marriageable sons in tow. Kindrie spared a moment's pity for Jame, then made a dash for his second favorite hideout. The thought of the tower room made his guts churn.

As usual, the library was deserted. Many of the other lords considered Torisen's love of books and learning very odd, but it had served the Highlord well in the past to be informed. Kindrie sighed. Face it, you can't avoid thinking about him. This is his home, for God's sake. Everything you see is going to remind you of the man. He choked on his bread as an image of Torisen's flushed face passed before his mind's eye. Head thrown back, eyes closed, panting for breath... Kindrie moaned softly, the bleak despair closing down on him. He didn't deserve the sweetness of memory, not when the act which had brought him such joy was a betrayal of trust. And such a betrayal, too- for the Highlord had surely never allowed himself to trust a Shanir before.

All this is very well, I'm sure- suffering in anguish over what happened is very noble. His inner voice of reason spoke up with a vengeance. But shouldn't you be trying to find him, to apologize and make it up to him somehow?

The logical part of his brain was no match for his guilt. I betrayed him. Pain tore at his chest, his gut- pain that was less than he deserved. Trust given freely, betrayed for the sake of pleasure...

Guilt overwhelmed reason and logic with contemptuous ease. The small voice that whispered of how much Torisen had wanted him was buried under self-inflicted torment.

The Healer moaned again and buried his head in his hands. "Why?" he whispered. "Why, damn it?" He rocked in the chair, hands knotted in his hair.

Then he froze. There were voices in the corridor. "-in here," Jame's voice said. The door opened.

Kindrie's eyes darted around the room, seeking an escape route. The silent books offered no solutions.

"There you are!" Jame said cheerfully, catching sight of him. "We've been looking for you all over."

Graykin entered after her, sparing a glance for the vast floor-to-ceiling bookshelves.

"Why?" Kindrie cursed himself for a fool. Even that one word showed plainly how upset he was- his voice was high and strained, rough with emotion.

"Tori wanted us to find you. Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing." Kindrie rose abruptly and brushed past Jame to the door. "I was just leaving."

He bolted through the door before she could catch him. He heard a muffled curse behind him as the door slammed, then he ducked down a side corridor. Where in all hells does this go? No matter. He followed the narrow corridor through innumerable turnings and wound up right where he had been earlier- in the kitchen. He ducked through the busy hive of activity and out the back door.

Outside, the gray clouds did little to lighten his mood. The kitchen garden sprawled out before him in relentlessly neat rows. A cold breeze blew, cutting insistently through his thin shirt and tunic. Perversely, he was glad of the discomfort. Surely he deserved to suffer physically as well as mentally after what he'd done.

Kindrie wandered aimlessly through the garden. It ended abruptly in a low wall where the level land began to slope down towards the river. He hesitated, checking to make sure no one was in sight, then climbed over it. The smooth stones were cold under his hands.

On the other side, the ground remained level for a few feet, then took on a steep slope. Kindrie slid down towards the river, compelled by the need for privacy. Once down, he was in a whole different world. A towering ancient tree stood on the bank, offering vast bare roots to sit on. Kindrie made himself as comfortable as possible and picked up a fallen twig, peeling the bark off it in strips.

The cold wind rustled the branches above him. A few leaves still clung in a desperate attempt to deny the approach of winter. Kindrie discarded his naked twig and picked up another, aimlessly resuming his shredding. The sound of the river chuckling wetly was a soothing background, lulling his mind into calm for the first time since he had realized the magnitude of what he had done. Out here, there was no Torisen Black Lord, no Jame playing matchmaker, no guilt, no need to face the anger which was sure to come... His hands clenched around the twig, shattering it. The fragments dug into his hands as he remembered how far from anger the Highlord had been last night. With an effort, Kindrie blanked his mind and returned to listening to the mindless chatter of water and wind.

Torisen woke cold and alone. He groped blindly for the warmth that memory said should have been there, but found only an empty bed. He sat up, wrapping the blanket tightly around himself. No one was in sight.

"Damn," he sighed regretfully. He resigned himself to the situation and rose to get dressed. He smiled, thinking about the experiences of the past night. It had been quite an awakening for both of them. He finished dressing and turned to leave. He paused with a hand on the latch- he could hear voices out there, even through the thick wood of the door. His keep must be in quite an uproar for the noise of it to reach this remote tower. He hesitated a moment longer, then turned decisively. Concealed behind a vast and tasteless tapestry, which showed many people sprawled half-naked in a satin-bedecked bower, was a passageway. Jame had shown him the door, then took him into the dusty corridor and told him the turnings to reach his rooms. He remembered how amazed he had been that he hadn't known of this particular passageway's existence.

He pulled the tapestry aside and opened the hidden door. Whatever it was going on out there, he didn't want to walk into the middle of it as he was now- rumpled finery, stubbled chin, hair standing up stubbornly... no, his image would suffer dramatically if he were caught like this. Not to mention the grin, which likely told all too clearly exactly what he'd been doing last night...

Torisen slipped silently through the shadowed corridor, trailing one hand along the wall to count openings and turnings. The dust made him want to sneeze, which he controlled with an effort. It wouldn't do to have the inhabitants of Gothregor inquiring too closely as to why someone was sneezing behind the walls. He amused himself briefly with the notion of having the servants clean all the secret passageways. He wondered how many there truly were. Perhaps Jame knew- she certainly hadn't hesitated to learn this one.

Ah, there- if he had counted right, he should have reached the doorway into his bedroom. He pressed the hidden catch and was rewarded with a fine dim view of the inside of his wardrobe. He worked the well-concealed release on the wardrobe doors and emerged into his bedroom.

Whistling cheerfully, Tori proceeded to clean himself up a bit. He was just fastening the last buttons on his coat when Burr burst in on him.

"There you are!" Burr was clearly agitated, with red face and wild eyes. "I've searched everywhere for you! What do you mean, running off and hiding when the Lord Caineron has arrived and wants to see you?"

Tori froze. "Caineron?"

"Came in this morning. Woke the entire Keep- except for you."

Torisen ignored the reproach in Burr's voice. So that was the cause of all the fuss. "What does he want?"

"Aside from your head on a pike?" Burr grinned mirthlessly. "The same thing he has always wanted- to bind you with ties of marriage."

"I told him, I will not-"

Burr interrupted. "Not Kallystine this time, Tori- it's his sons he's brought with him."

For one crazed moment, Torisen wondered why Caineron sought to tempt him with his sons. Then he kicked himself mentally- of course, the old fool was after Jame. He grinned wryly. "I don't suppose anyone's told Jame of this, have they?"

Despite his resolve to give the Highlord the hiding he so richly deserved for this latest stunt, Burr found himself grinning. "Aye- and a pretty sight it was, too. Now off with that plain coat and into something more appropriate."

Tori suffered himself to be shoved into an elegantly embroidered formal coat with a wry twist of his mouth. For someone who could usually not care less about his own appearance, he certainly had been doing a lot of dressing and undressing lately. Fortunately, Burr was too distracted to notice his lord's blush at the thought of exactly why he'd been doing so much undressing.

Burr hustled him down to the third level, where Caineron and three of his sons had been housed. After announcing the Highlord, the faithful servant departed hastily, leaving his lord to face his unwelcome visitor with no support. Tori sighed and went in to face the lions.

The sun was setting earlier these days. Kindrie watched it dip towards the horizon, visible through the incomplete cloud cover. He sighed and rose from his tree root stiffly. Blood rushed back into his numb behind and he hissed with pain. Legs which felt more like jelly threatened not to support him. Kindrie grasped the solid trunk of the tree and stretched carefully until he was reasonably certain of his ability to stand. Then he set off back towards the keep, numb with more than cold.

Picking his way back up the bank was a challenge on stiffened legs. He managed, although he slipped more than once. The knees of his trews would likely never be the same. At least he felt better inside, and had reached some sort of decision. Torisen could not have possibly wanted what had happened as much as he had seemed to. What they had shared had been wonderful, yes, but it was born of stress and the needs of the moment, rather than any true caring or desire. The best thing would be to ignore what had happened and continue on with his life as though he had never held the Highlord in his arms... His heart twisted. Kindrie ruthlessly cut off that line of thinking as he climbed back into the kitchen garden.

As for his own lack of self-control... well, the best he could do about that was to ensure such a thing never happened again. The best course of action was simply to avoid the Highlord. Black despair threatened him again. He held it off with an effort and entered the kitchen as the sun vanished completely behind him. He wished thst he did not feel as though it had taken all hope and light with it.

In the kitchen, Kindrie snagged a meatroll off an overflowing tray for his own supper. He knew there was no possibility his fragile inner peace could survive seeing Torisen again. So he took his roll and slipped unnoticed through the halls of Gothregor, to reach his rooms and safety at last.

Inside, he bolted the door and sat down in his favorite reading chair. Looking for his book, his eye caught something odd on his pillow. Puzzled, he rose to see what it was. There shouldn't have been anything there.

It was a note. I sent Jame to find you earlier, but you apparently didn't want to talk, it read. I just wanted to let you know I will be busy for some time, until I can convince Caineron to get out of my keep. It was not signed, but a signature was hardly needed. Kindrie's heart thumped painfully in his chest. There had been no accusation, no anger, no poisonous denial... His knees gave way and he sagged to the ground, the note crumpled in his fist. He buried his head against the bed, pain washing over him once more.

He had no idea how long he stayed there, consumed by the now-familiar ache. Eventually the burning agony in his knees roused him. He pulled himself back into an upright position and returned to his chair, where he stared at the note still clenched in his fist. Perhaps there was hope- but no. Torisen was probably still not thinking clearly. After a day or two, the glow would wear off and the Highlord would come to his senses. Better Kindrie just keep out of the picture. The inevitable angry scene would be avoided entirely then.

While he knew avoidance was the only option, Kindrie still wished it could be otherwise.

Nighttime was purest torture. There in the dark, Kindrie was torn by memory. Despite the fact that they had only spent one night together, Torisen had made quite an impression on the sensitive healer. Loving him had felt so natural, so right- the fulfillment of hopes and dreams, not at all like the priest and his favorite acolyte. Kindrie ruthlessly suppressed that memory, then equally ruthlessly buried thoughts of Torisen. But it wasn't easy, when his body yearned for the touch of a hand in the dark, or warm lips... An anguished whimper rose from the healer and he thrashed restlessly in the bed. It should never have happened. You betrayed his trust. It will never happen again. The guilty litany did nothing to dispell the longing.

Eventually, despite himself, Kindrie dropped into an exhausted sleep.

They were holding him down, the other acolytes, so He could have his way. Kindrie howled and thrashed, but it was no good- there were too many of them. He was getting closer, the hot foul breath in his face, hurting him there in that place where nobody should go.
Then Torisen was there, chasing them off, freeing him. He fell into Tori's arms, safe at last, and the Highlord covered his face with tender kisses. But then he was disappearing, only his voice lingering... "I love you, Kindrie..."

Kindrie woke with a gasp and a cry, so tangled in the sheets that he couldn't move. He fought his way free, heart pounding. It was all a dream, they weren't really there... Torisen didn't really love him. He gave up all pretense of control and sobbed helplessly into his pillow. He hadn't had that nightmare for years. And Tori had saved him, had held and comforted him... The knowledge that it was just a dream was a shattering blow. Torisen would never be there to protect him, never chase away the evil dreams. Eventually, the tears ran out and sleep stole over him again.