Christian/Will: Backstory. Behind You.
Jan. 3rd, 2005 11:19 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
palacechristian[A continuation of this]
.
Christian’s eyes refocused on the dance floor, memory momentarily in retreat as Laurie moved and got to her feet, leaning down to whisper in his ear over the noise. He nodded in response and watched as she threaded her way through the crowd and out the doors, headed for the ladies room, her handbag swinging from her hand. The smile on his face as he followed her progress was a fond one, Laurie was the first serious girlfriend he’d had since joining up and she meant a lot to him.
She was fun, easygoing and undemanding, the last being the most important to Christian as he did not consider himself to be the sort of person who needed the kind of emotional entanglement most people seemed to thrive on. Sure he loved her. No doubt about it. Needed her too and missed her when he’d not seen her in a while. But that ‘mutual support’ thing that made the other person indispensable? He seemed to have escaped having the burden of that particular need as part of his make-up, thank God. Laurie didn’t seem to require it either, which was a bonus, as was her complete indifference to his title, his station, courtesy of her Dnaran heritage, he supposed.
Running idle fingers up and down the side of his beer bottle, making flat trails through the beads of moisture, he glanced again toward the dance floor, seeing Will and Megan locked together in a slow dance. Will was different. Will was his emotional support system, but it worked, because the way he loved Will was different. Nothing romantic about it but they were still soul-mates. He could no more do without Will than he could his next breath.
Will laughed at something Megan was saying, his head tipping back and his eyes closing, a happy smile creasing his face. Behind him, Sergeant Rogers was dancing with his wife and he leaned in over Will’s shoulder and spoke, some dry witticism Christian supposed, that made Will spin around and poke the Sergeant in the stomach, a cheeky grin on his face as he danced away out of retaliatory range.
Deliberately this time, Christian allowed the room before him to fade out. Painful as the memories were it did him no harm to revisit those nightmares. They emphasized how lucky he was, how fortunate they were, to be here at all . . .
*
The Eradorian camp they’d been mapping that night was a large and permanent one. Or at least, it seemed permanent, as the valley below was still dotted with small fires and the shadowy movement of men at their ease could be seen passing before their flames. Their arrogance and confidence was beyond belief, as their high command had to be aware that the allies now knew it’s location and yet it was still here.
Christian couldn’t believe his luck; he’d fully expected to have to scout around and relocate them. Not that it would have been difficult, even in the dark and without his using any ‘other’ sense in the search, the sheer volume of personnel to be moved would have left a trail a mile wide. But to have them still here was an unasked-for piece of good luck for one, specific reason.
The commanders of this ‘outfit’ were elitist snobs and the officer’s camp site was set on a rise, a good two or three hundred yards above and away from the first of the soldiers tents. And that was where Will would be.
Using gestures instead of words, Christian moved the men into position. Their faces, and his own, were now blackened, as were their hands and forearms, and they were all as near to invisible in the darkness as was possible. Spread out and moving in absolute silence they’d got to within a hundred yards of the first command tent when a scream of pain rent the air.
Despite himself, Christian startled. He knew that voice and Godshitfuck! some cunt was gonna pay for it! He trembled, fingers shaking momentarily as his grip on his gun tightened, but Rogers was beside him, a placating hand on his arm and an equally tight and murderous expression on his face. “Means he’s alive, Sir.” Rogers was taking a chance even whispering that much but it steadied Christian and he nodded, anger banking down to a controllable level.
Christian and his sergeant carefully crept down the last few yards of incline and moved themselves along the slight depression that marked the boundary of the cleared ground. Now they were around behind the first row of tents, he could clearly see the group of men standing around a small campfire and the prone figure on the ground at their feet.
One of the men, Christian could make out his face quite clearly, was grinning, his ugly sweaty face just inches away from Will’s and in his hand he held a . . . Christian gritted his teeth, knowing now what had brought about that scream. He checked the positioning of his men and, satisfied, signaled them to begin closing in.
Their approach to the circle of men was as silent as it needed to be and Christian had time for a quick flash of pride in his troops before the words of the commanding officer, the one standing over Will with his hands on his hips, drew his full attention.
“Where is it? Where’s the camp? Where’s the Prince?”
Oh, so that was it, was it? A feral grin lit his features and he signalled and the hidden men rose to their feet, in some cases within inches of their targets. Christian was directly behind the Eradorian commander, so close he could see his rank badges on his forearm, could have reached out and touched them was he of a mind to, and he was in Will’s line of sight as well.
But Will showed no surprise, even though he’d obviously seen Christian standing there, he reacted not at all, giving the Eradorians whose attention was focused entirely on him, not a clue. He grinned up at his questioner, his face reflected the pain he was in, but his green eyes danced with savage satisfaction as he said, quite clearly and succinctly, “Behind you.”
As the Eradorian commander threw back his head to laugh, Christian’s men cocked their weapons. The soft sound was made monstrous by the timing, every trigger drawn back as one. And the Eradorians froze.
*
Disarmed and disheartened, the Eradorian officers seemed disinclined to cause any trouble. Christian monitored them mentally, just any case, as he didn’t want to waste time with gags. His men stood behind the prisoners, guns ready in case of trouble, but he doubted there’d be any. Another small group had already fanned out, watching for any sign of trouble from below while Christian knelt at Will’s side.
“You ready to go, babe?” he asked, searching Will’s face with worried eyes. The brave façade had crumbled a little once the officers were under control and his face was gleaming with sweat, eyes bright with pain. He saw Will nod, trying to regroup.
“Mmm.” he said hoarsely, the smile he attempted not as successful as he might have wished. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”
Christian nodded, took one last look around and got Will to his feet, blatantly assisting his friend with telekinesis and not caring who saw him. His men all knew anyway and he didn’t give a flying fuck about the Eradorians. The stupid shitheads probably wouldn’t recognise it anyway, they were clueless about Talents and Gifts. Superstitious morons!
“I can walk.” Will breathed out in pained gasps.
“Sure you can.” Christian said gently, supporting Will with only a tentative grip. “But you’re not going to. Against regulations.”
“Phht.” The dismissive sound, mild as it sounded, was obviously too much and he staggered sideways a little, righting himself with the utmost difficulty.
Enough. Christian put his full mental support into holding Will up and dignity be-damned. It was difficult to know where to touch and where to avoid and in the end he solved the problem by simply lifting Will into his arms. He wasn’t holding his weight, just using his arms as guides and to prevent any further harm from befalling his friend. He nodded at the sergeant and the men stepped back.
Much as he’d have liked to kill the bloody lot of the bastards, this wasn’t the most opportune of times. He had different priorities. So, he simply sent a strong mental blast, dropping them to their knees and then into unconsciousness, enough to give he and his men time to make it away with their prize.
The expression on the faces of his men told him they’d rather he’d killed them, but he gave them all a stern look and cocked his head toward the trees, beginning a neat, silent withdrawal back the way they’d come. Taking Will home.
.
Christian’s eyes refocused on the dance floor, memory momentarily in retreat as Laurie moved and got to her feet, leaning down to whisper in his ear over the noise. He nodded in response and watched as she threaded her way through the crowd and out the doors, headed for the ladies room, her handbag swinging from her hand. The smile on his face as he followed her progress was a fond one, Laurie was the first serious girlfriend he’d had since joining up and she meant a lot to him.
She was fun, easygoing and undemanding, the last being the most important to Christian as he did not consider himself to be the sort of person who needed the kind of emotional entanglement most people seemed to thrive on. Sure he loved her. No doubt about it. Needed her too and missed her when he’d not seen her in a while. But that ‘mutual support’ thing that made the other person indispensable? He seemed to have escaped having the burden of that particular need as part of his make-up, thank God. Laurie didn’t seem to require it either, which was a bonus, as was her complete indifference to his title, his station, courtesy of her Dnaran heritage, he supposed.
Running idle fingers up and down the side of his beer bottle, making flat trails through the beads of moisture, he glanced again toward the dance floor, seeing Will and Megan locked together in a slow dance. Will was different. Will was his emotional support system, but it worked, because the way he loved Will was different. Nothing romantic about it but they were still soul-mates. He could no more do without Will than he could his next breath.
Will laughed at something Megan was saying, his head tipping back and his eyes closing, a happy smile creasing his face. Behind him, Sergeant Rogers was dancing with his wife and he leaned in over Will’s shoulder and spoke, some dry witticism Christian supposed, that made Will spin around and poke the Sergeant in the stomach, a cheeky grin on his face as he danced away out of retaliatory range.
Deliberately this time, Christian allowed the room before him to fade out. Painful as the memories were it did him no harm to revisit those nightmares. They emphasized how lucky he was, how fortunate they were, to be here at all . . .
*
The Eradorian camp they’d been mapping that night was a large and permanent one. Or at least, it seemed permanent, as the valley below was still dotted with small fires and the shadowy movement of men at their ease could be seen passing before their flames. Their arrogance and confidence was beyond belief, as their high command had to be aware that the allies now knew it’s location and yet it was still here.
Christian couldn’t believe his luck; he’d fully expected to have to scout around and relocate them. Not that it would have been difficult, even in the dark and without his using any ‘other’ sense in the search, the sheer volume of personnel to be moved would have left a trail a mile wide. But to have them still here was an unasked-for piece of good luck for one, specific reason.
The commanders of this ‘outfit’ were elitist snobs and the officer’s camp site was set on a rise, a good two or three hundred yards above and away from the first of the soldiers tents. And that was where Will would be.
Using gestures instead of words, Christian moved the men into position. Their faces, and his own, were now blackened, as were their hands and forearms, and they were all as near to invisible in the darkness as was possible. Spread out and moving in absolute silence they’d got to within a hundred yards of the first command tent when a scream of pain rent the air.
Despite himself, Christian startled. He knew that voice and Godshitfuck! some cunt was gonna pay for it! He trembled, fingers shaking momentarily as his grip on his gun tightened, but Rogers was beside him, a placating hand on his arm and an equally tight and murderous expression on his face. “Means he’s alive, Sir.” Rogers was taking a chance even whispering that much but it steadied Christian and he nodded, anger banking down to a controllable level.
Christian and his sergeant carefully crept down the last few yards of incline and moved themselves along the slight depression that marked the boundary of the cleared ground. Now they were around behind the first row of tents, he could clearly see the group of men standing around a small campfire and the prone figure on the ground at their feet.
One of the men, Christian could make out his face quite clearly, was grinning, his ugly sweaty face just inches away from Will’s and in his hand he held a . . . Christian gritted his teeth, knowing now what had brought about that scream. He checked the positioning of his men and, satisfied, signaled them to begin closing in.
Their approach to the circle of men was as silent as it needed to be and Christian had time for a quick flash of pride in his troops before the words of the commanding officer, the one standing over Will with his hands on his hips, drew his full attention.
“Where is it? Where’s the camp? Where’s the Prince?”
Oh, so that was it, was it? A feral grin lit his features and he signalled and the hidden men rose to their feet, in some cases within inches of their targets. Christian was directly behind the Eradorian commander, so close he could see his rank badges on his forearm, could have reached out and touched them was he of a mind to, and he was in Will’s line of sight as well.
But Will showed no surprise, even though he’d obviously seen Christian standing there, he reacted not at all, giving the Eradorians whose attention was focused entirely on him, not a clue. He grinned up at his questioner, his face reflected the pain he was in, but his green eyes danced with savage satisfaction as he said, quite clearly and succinctly, “Behind you.”
As the Eradorian commander threw back his head to laugh, Christian’s men cocked their weapons. The soft sound was made monstrous by the timing, every trigger drawn back as one. And the Eradorians froze.
*
Disarmed and disheartened, the Eradorian officers seemed disinclined to cause any trouble. Christian monitored them mentally, just any case, as he didn’t want to waste time with gags. His men stood behind the prisoners, guns ready in case of trouble, but he doubted there’d be any. Another small group had already fanned out, watching for any sign of trouble from below while Christian knelt at Will’s side.
“You ready to go, babe?” he asked, searching Will’s face with worried eyes. The brave façade had crumbled a little once the officers were under control and his face was gleaming with sweat, eyes bright with pain. He saw Will nod, trying to regroup.
“Mmm.” he said hoarsely, the smile he attempted not as successful as he might have wished. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”
Christian nodded, took one last look around and got Will to his feet, blatantly assisting his friend with telekinesis and not caring who saw him. His men all knew anyway and he didn’t give a flying fuck about the Eradorians. The stupid shitheads probably wouldn’t recognise it anyway, they were clueless about Talents and Gifts. Superstitious morons!
“I can walk.” Will breathed out in pained gasps.
“Sure you can.” Christian said gently, supporting Will with only a tentative grip. “But you’re not going to. Against regulations.”
“Phht.” The dismissive sound, mild as it sounded, was obviously too much and he staggered sideways a little, righting himself with the utmost difficulty.
Enough. Christian put his full mental support into holding Will up and dignity be-damned. It was difficult to know where to touch and where to avoid and in the end he solved the problem by simply lifting Will into his arms. He wasn’t holding his weight, just using his arms as guides and to prevent any further harm from befalling his friend. He nodded at the sergeant and the men stepped back.
Much as he’d have liked to kill the bloody lot of the bastards, this wasn’t the most opportune of times. He had different priorities. So, he simply sent a strong mental blast, dropping them to their knees and then into unconsciousness, enough to give he and his men time to make it away with their prize.
The expression on the faces of his men told him they’d rather he’d killed them, but he gave them all a stern look and cocked his head toward the trees, beginning a neat, silent withdrawal back the way they’d come. Taking Will home.
