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palacechristianDear Christian,
I'm just sitting here looking at the screen wondering what the hell to say. There's so much I need to tell you but the words just won't come. I wish I could cuddle up with you on the couch and just tell you, but that won't work. And wanting to so bad is one of the reasons I'm not here to do it.
I'm really sorry. I know you think I apologize too much but I just have so much to apologize for, you know? I never meant for things to turn out this way. I didn't mean to hurt anyone, or upset anyone, or start any fights or cause any trouble. I never, ever meant to cause trouble between you and Harry, and it's just killing me that I have. I know what you're thinking right now, but you're wrong. Just because I didn't intend to do something doesn't mean I didn't cause it. If I'd ended up in someone else's basement that night when I ran away from the Spike, you and Harry'd still be friends. It might not be my fault, but it's my responsibility just the same, all of it, and I can't duck away from that.
I want you to know that I appreciate what you and Harry did for me. You've been so great, both of you -- if I hadn't met you I'd probably be back at the Spike, or maybe just freelancing on the streets right now if I'd got lucky. You were so nice to me, even after I wasn't disrupting the building anymore, and I know you didn't have to. At first I thought it was just because I was dangerous, but Harry said that if that's all you were worried about you'd just send a couple of guys in to "forcibly medicate" me twice a day. So I guess you really liked hanging out with me. I still can't really understand it, for real in my gut, you know? But the last couple of weeks have been the best time I've had in my whole life, ever, and I wish I could've just stayed and let it go on forever.
But that's why I can't.
Shit. When I wrote to Harry I thought that was tough, but I'm trying to explain to you why I had to leave when everything was so perfect and I just can't find the words. Maybe I should've just taken the easy way and written one letter for both of you but that would've.... Well, you both deserved better. So I'm trying, I really am.
OK. I've loved being at Palace, being with you. You've been so great -- taking care of me and teaching me, hanging out with me and taking me riding. You saved my life that evening on the balcony, and I know you hurt after that. And just being with me. I don't know if I can explain how that felt, what a shock it was and how wonderful it was all at the same time -- how good it felt, even when you were just pretending that morning. I know it wasn't anything for you but for me it was like a tidal wave and a lightning bolt all at once.
And I felt safe. In every way I can think of, I felt safe and secure and taken care of. I had a warm, fuzzy nest to curl up in and two great people who'd kill to protect me and for the first time since my Uncle Kevin died when I was a kid I felt like I could just let go and know that someone else would always be there and take care of me. And I guess I could whine about how I was entitled to it since I didn't get it when I was a kid and should've, but that's a little-kid whine. I'm not a little kid any more. I'm not a puppy with a broken leg that you brought in out of the rain. I was acting like it, though, and in so many ways I just >want> to be that puppy and be taken care of and just be able to relax and know that there's someone there for me who'll handle everything. And because I want that so very much, that's why I'm leaving.
Because I'm not a little boy and I'm not a puppy and so long as I'm at Palace the temptation to act like I'm both will just be too strong. That's exactly how I've been acting, and you and Harry've both been so great, but it's time for it to stop and
Damn. I'm just rambling in circles now. I'm looking over what I wrote above and I have no idea how to redo it to make it any better than it is now. All I can do is hope that what I'm trying to say comes across somehow out of all that mess.
I guess what it comes down to is that there's way too much at Palace that I want. It's like putting a little kid down in a room full of nothing but fudge, and telling him that the vegetables are down the hall and around the corner, two flights up. Guess what he's going to eat? I'm that little kid, and I've been eating nothing but fudge ever since I got here. It didn't hurt at first, probably even helped, but it's time to go for the vegetables.
God, that sounds stupid. I'm writing in circles again.
Christian, I just want you to know that I appreciate everything you've done for me. You've given me so much, in so many ways, and I have nothing to give back and I can't stand it. It's been so wonderful being with you and it hurts more than I can express to just walk away like this. But if I said goodbye in person, I'd never make it. I couldn't bear to look you in the eyes and then turn and leave. And you wouldn't let me go either, because only a cold bastard or a complete idiot watches a little puppy walk out the door and closes it behind him, and you're neither of those things. But I'm not a little puppy, either, although you couldn't tell from my behavior lately. So I'm going to be a coward and send you this letter when I send back my bracelets and my com, and hope that some day, when I can come back and visit -- as a man, an adult with something valuable to contribute instead of a puppy to be cuddled and fed and kept in a comfy basket -- that you won't be too angry with me anymore, and that maybe you'll like who I've grown up to be.
Thank you,
Johnny
***
Christian placed the letter carefully back in the envelope, his throat tight. He felt a weight on his chest, dragging him down. I have never felt so alone before, he thought. Johnny’s gone, so is Harry and even Cillian is lost. There’s only me and misery. It was stupid, ridiculous even, to be feeling this way and part of him knew that it was aftereffect, this overabundance of emotion but, like the tremors that shook him, his inability to make eye-contact and the tears he could feel running silently down his cheeks, he was unable to stop it.
And just being with me. I don't know if I can explain how that felt, what a shock it was and how wonderful it was all at the same time -- how good it felt, even when you were just pretending that morning. I know it wasn't anything for you but for me it was like a tidal wave and a lightning bolt all at once.
“I felt it too, kid.” he whispered into the silence of his room. Folding down into the poor comfort of his bed, the IV line snagged yet again and he sat up, working the needle out and letting it drop off the side. The bag was almost empty anyway. Free, he curled on his side and let his vision blur. “Lost that too.” All that possibility, all those maybes. Perhaps Johnny’s leaving was a better thing than he knew, for the undercurrent Christian had felt in that letter couldn’t be anything more than gratitude talking, misplaced hero-worship at best. I’d have done something we both regretted eventually, he thought. I always do. He made no effort to stifle the choked sobs and hugged his pillow, letting the tears flow unchecked.
Harry walked out the door of the bedroom and was headed for the main door out of the suite when he stopped. Marton would probably be by anytime now to check on things, but he probably should hang around until he got there. He sat down in a chair in the living room to wait, letting his thoughts drift. The realization that he had decided to let Johnny go hung heavy on him, but at the same time Harry felt lighter. Johnny had taken away the responsibility Harry had placed on his own shoulders by appointing himself Johnny's protector and guardian. It wasn't something Johnny had asked for, but he had made the choice to cut him loose. All that was left was for Harry to accept that.
A noise from the bedroom pulled Harry out of his introspection, and he raised his head, looking towards the half opened door. Oh gods... Christian was crying. Harry got up quietly and moved towards the exit door, not wanting Christian to know that he had overheard him. He went to turn the handle, let go, turned around and walked back towards the bedroom. When Christian had told him about Johnny's background and had had to leave the room to go throw up, Harry regretted not at least asking him if he needed help. If they hadn't tried to pretend so hard that they could handle everything... Harry shook his head. Not pretending anymore. Not this time. He walked through the open door and into the bedroom, not stopping until he was beside the bed. Not knowing yet quite what he had to offer Christian, Harry held out his hand. "I know." He said softly.
Through the fog that clouded his eyes and the sound of his own sobs that stopped his ears, Christian heard a voice, saw a hand and reached for it. It only took him a second to realize that it was Harry, not his father as he'd first thought, but he grabbed on just as tight. The weight settled on the side of the bed and he didn't know how he'd gotten there, but all of a sudden his head was on Harry's shoulder and firm, warm arms were wrapped around him, cradling him and holding him tight.
Before he knows what he's doing, without considering the raid, the fight, whatever it is Christian has gone through to purge Johnny's memories, Harry has sat down pulled the younger man into his arms. He holds him firmly, and is quiet, allowing Christian to cry as he needs to, hoping that he won't hold it against him later to be the one who was there when he could no longer hold back.
Christian found himself sobbing and trying to talk at the same time, to let Harry know . . . something. "I'm sorry." he choked out, repeating it over and over again like a litany of self-blame, "I'm so sorry."
And now that he had what he thought he wanted from Christian this whole time- an apology- Harry found that it wasn't what he was looking for at all. "Shh... Don't, Christian. Just let it go. I don't need it. I don't. It's okay." Harry soothed.
His hands were fisted in Harry's shirt and he was reluctant to let go. He shook his head against Harry's sleeve. "No. You were right, I did it wrong. All wrong. All of it." A fresh wave of tears accompanied the confession and his stomach clenched in pain.
Harry pulled Christian in closer, holding him more tightly. "It doesn't matter." Harry said, suddenly shocked as he realized that he believed what he was saying. "It doesn't matter anymore. Wrong or Right it's over. It happened. And I don't want to blame anyone for it anymore I don't need to blame anyone- and I don't need to blame you. It didn't make it better anyway." Harry finished softly, reaching his hand up to comb through Christian's hair.
Christian quieted a little, the wracking sobs easing although he wasn't taking in each separate word, the meaning was permeating through him, calming him. "Hurts, Harry." he murmured. "Fucking hurts!"
"I know. I know it does. And I'm here. Let it all out, Christian. You don't have to try and be anything. Just let it go." Harry kept stroking Christian's hair, rocking him slightly, gently.
Sniffing, he blinked a couple of times and said, "Better off, you know? He is. Away from me." Then he added very clearly, lifting his head a little. "So are you."
Looking down at Christian, still stroking his hair and using the same soft voice, Harry spoke. "Bullshit Christian. On both counts. Johnny made this choice for himself. He wasn't escaping from us... not in the way you're implying he should have anyway. And I'm the one that put a dent in your face, not the other way around. If anything you'd be better off away from me." Harry's tone was gentle but firm
The chuckle came out of nowhere and he pulled back a little further and looked up at Harry with a rueful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Can I save the running away for later?" he asked. "Don't think I'd get very far." He could still barely see Harry through his blurry vision and he bought one hand up to wipe at his eyes, releasing his death grip on Harry's shirt. "I'm still poisonous to be around." he added. "But we can agree to disagree on that too."
"No, we can't. There are things about what happened before, during and after the raid that I'd be willing to discuss agreeing to disagree on. You being poisonous to be around isn't one of them. On that one you're just plain off the map fucking wrong. Sire." Harry reached up and wiped the tears Christian's face with the cuff of his long sleeved shirt, then reaches down and dragged over the corner of the sheet and put it in Christian's hand. "Sean always does disgusting things to the sheets in moments like these." Harry smiled gently as he handed it over.
"He does not." Christian protested but took the proffered fabric anyway to wipe away the remainder. He slid back onto the bed, propped up on one elbow and stared down at the damp curl of sheet in his hand. "I'm just tired, Harry." he said eventually. "That's all. Tired."
"I know. And if you want to fall asleep, go ahead- I'll stay right here until you do. But even though that's true, and you are- that's not what you mean... is it, Christian." Harry settled himself more on the bed, and reached down, placing his hand on top of Christian's.
"Too fucking smart for your own good, you know that?" Christian groused a little, but there was no heat in it. He accepted the touch as it was meant, as comfort, and turned his own palm-up, closing his fingers around Harry's hand. "Tired of trying." he said. Shutting his eyes made the words easier; sharing was not something he was used to, or good at, doing. "Tired of trying so damned hard and losing or fucking it up. Just sick of it." He smiled a little. "Why bother?"
"Yeah I know. You aren't the first to say it, likely won't be the last either. I'll admit it's annoying as hell though." Harry gave Christian a small grin, squeezing his hand, then turned more serious. "Because once in awhile something happens to make it incredibly fucking worth it. Round about a month or so ago, give or take a few weeks, Johnny brought half a building to their knees- and not in the traditional Palace sense. He was scared and out of control, and not long after that he tried to kill himself.
"Now, I wasn't there for that, but you were, and you pulled him back. And we both made him feel like a person who had worth. And he turned around and made it possible for you to shut down Carstairs and the Silver Spike, and nail Carstairs and a multitude of other sick fuckers.
And we got every one of those kids out. If you hadn't been there that day when Johnny decided to call it quits, hadn't tried, hadn't given a fuck?" Harry shrugged. "Whole different story. One that ends with dead kids in locked rooms is my guess."
Christian cracked an eyelid and gave Harry a jaundiced look. "You missed a bit." he said sourly. But seeing the look he received in return, he subsided. "Okay, okay." he muttered. "No more blame Or guilt, or whatever. I concede your point. On that one." he added. "But you're not the guy who got this close to an asylum. I guess I'm just wallowing a little. A lot." he amended with a twist of self-deprecating humor.
"Well, if I understand what Marton told me, that was partly you having a very powerful talent that's tough to manage at the best of times, and partly being a stubborn bastard who didn't ask for help until it was almost too late. See what self pity gets you?" Harry gave Christian a poke in the ribs with his free hand.
"Yeah." Christian scowled, both eyes coming open in a hurry. "A belt in the ribs!" Then he smiled. It wasn't all that good a smile, but it was better than what had gone before. The smile was followed almost immediately by a huge yawn. "Sorry." he said.
Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm not taking an apology for the big stuff mate... I think we can let a yawn drop. Tell you what- you go to sleep, and you and I start again. Clean slate. Actually get to know each other this time instead of jumping in halfway and going off assumptions. I mean, I don't even know what kind of beer you like best... that's not much of a friendship."
Christian was more than ready to snuggle down under the covers and go to sleep. He nodded his agreement to Harry's offer, suddenly too weary even for words. Harry stayed where he was and the warmth he felt through the covers was added comfort. He began to drift off, hearing Harry say something about Orlando, halting his descent into dreamless sleep.
"...Orlando kept throwing up and wasn't sure what was causing it. He said it was oversensitivity to you being in the building in the first place, but according to Marton it seems like it was a direct reaction to this. He's doing better now that you're doin’ better I suppose." Harry mused.
"Crap." Christian mumbled. He shifted a little in the bed, drawing one leg up, trying to find a position that didn't ache quite so much. "Tell 'im . . . 'm sorry, 'kay." Christian didn't hear Harry say anything else, nor did he hear the other man get up and leave. He fell asleep, still weary and sick and a little lost, but with a new friend close by.
I'm just sitting here looking at the screen wondering what the hell to say. There's so much I need to tell you but the words just won't come. I wish I could cuddle up with you on the couch and just tell you, but that won't work. And wanting to so bad is one of the reasons I'm not here to do it.
I'm really sorry. I know you think I apologize too much but I just have so much to apologize for, you know? I never meant for things to turn out this way. I didn't mean to hurt anyone, or upset anyone, or start any fights or cause any trouble. I never, ever meant to cause trouble between you and Harry, and it's just killing me that I have. I know what you're thinking right now, but you're wrong. Just because I didn't intend to do something doesn't mean I didn't cause it. If I'd ended up in someone else's basement that night when I ran away from the Spike, you and Harry'd still be friends. It might not be my fault, but it's my responsibility just the same, all of it, and I can't duck away from that.
I want you to know that I appreciate what you and Harry did for me. You've been so great, both of you -- if I hadn't met you I'd probably be back at the Spike, or maybe just freelancing on the streets right now if I'd got lucky. You were so nice to me, even after I wasn't disrupting the building anymore, and I know you didn't have to. At first I thought it was just because I was dangerous, but Harry said that if that's all you were worried about you'd just send a couple of guys in to "forcibly medicate" me twice a day. So I guess you really liked hanging out with me. I still can't really understand it, for real in my gut, you know? But the last couple of weeks have been the best time I've had in my whole life, ever, and I wish I could've just stayed and let it go on forever.
But that's why I can't.
Shit. When I wrote to Harry I thought that was tough, but I'm trying to explain to you why I had to leave when everything was so perfect and I just can't find the words. Maybe I should've just taken the easy way and written one letter for both of you but that would've.... Well, you both deserved better. So I'm trying, I really am.
OK. I've loved being at Palace, being with you. You've been so great -- taking care of me and teaching me, hanging out with me and taking me riding. You saved my life that evening on the balcony, and I know you hurt after that. And just being with me. I don't know if I can explain how that felt, what a shock it was and how wonderful it was all at the same time -- how good it felt, even when you were just pretending that morning. I know it wasn't anything for you but for me it was like a tidal wave and a lightning bolt all at once.
And I felt safe. In every way I can think of, I felt safe and secure and taken care of. I had a warm, fuzzy nest to curl up in and two great people who'd kill to protect me and for the first time since my Uncle Kevin died when I was a kid I felt like I could just let go and know that someone else would always be there and take care of me. And I guess I could whine about how I was entitled to it since I didn't get it when I was a kid and should've, but that's a little-kid whine. I'm not a little kid any more. I'm not a puppy with a broken leg that you brought in out of the rain. I was acting like it, though, and in so many ways I just >want> to be that puppy and be taken care of and just be able to relax and know that there's someone there for me who'll handle everything. And because I want that so very much, that's why I'm leaving.
Because I'm not a little boy and I'm not a puppy and so long as I'm at Palace the temptation to act like I'm both will just be too strong. That's exactly how I've been acting, and you and Harry've both been so great, but it's time for it to stop and
Damn. I'm just rambling in circles now. I'm looking over what I wrote above and I have no idea how to redo it to make it any better than it is now. All I can do is hope that what I'm trying to say comes across somehow out of all that mess.
I guess what it comes down to is that there's way too much at Palace that I want. It's like putting a little kid down in a room full of nothing but fudge, and telling him that the vegetables are down the hall and around the corner, two flights up. Guess what he's going to eat? I'm that little kid, and I've been eating nothing but fudge ever since I got here. It didn't hurt at first, probably even helped, but it's time to go for the vegetables.
God, that sounds stupid. I'm writing in circles again.
Christian, I just want you to know that I appreciate everything you've done for me. You've given me so much, in so many ways, and I have nothing to give back and I can't stand it. It's been so wonderful being with you and it hurts more than I can express to just walk away like this. But if I said goodbye in person, I'd never make it. I couldn't bear to look you in the eyes and then turn and leave. And you wouldn't let me go either, because only a cold bastard or a complete idiot watches a little puppy walk out the door and closes it behind him, and you're neither of those things. But I'm not a little puppy, either, although you couldn't tell from my behavior lately. So I'm going to be a coward and send you this letter when I send back my bracelets and my com, and hope that some day, when I can come back and visit -- as a man, an adult with something valuable to contribute instead of a puppy to be cuddled and fed and kept in a comfy basket -- that you won't be too angry with me anymore, and that maybe you'll like who I've grown up to be.
Thank you,
Johnny
Christian placed the letter carefully back in the envelope, his throat tight. He felt a weight on his chest, dragging him down. I have never felt so alone before, he thought. Johnny’s gone, so is Harry and even Cillian is lost. There’s only me and misery. It was stupid, ridiculous even, to be feeling this way and part of him knew that it was aftereffect, this overabundance of emotion but, like the tremors that shook him, his inability to make eye-contact and the tears he could feel running silently down his cheeks, he was unable to stop it.
And just being with me. I don't know if I can explain how that felt, what a shock it was and how wonderful it was all at the same time -- how good it felt, even when you were just pretending that morning. I know it wasn't anything for you but for me it was like a tidal wave and a lightning bolt all at once.
“I felt it too, kid.” he whispered into the silence of his room. Folding down into the poor comfort of his bed, the IV line snagged yet again and he sat up, working the needle out and letting it drop off the side. The bag was almost empty anyway. Free, he curled on his side and let his vision blur. “Lost that too.” All that possibility, all those maybes. Perhaps Johnny’s leaving was a better thing than he knew, for the undercurrent Christian had felt in that letter couldn’t be anything more than gratitude talking, misplaced hero-worship at best. I’d have done something we both regretted eventually, he thought. I always do. He made no effort to stifle the choked sobs and hugged his pillow, letting the tears flow unchecked.
Harry walked out the door of the bedroom and was headed for the main door out of the suite when he stopped. Marton would probably be by anytime now to check on things, but he probably should hang around until he got there. He sat down in a chair in the living room to wait, letting his thoughts drift. The realization that he had decided to let Johnny go hung heavy on him, but at the same time Harry felt lighter. Johnny had taken away the responsibility Harry had placed on his own shoulders by appointing himself Johnny's protector and guardian. It wasn't something Johnny had asked for, but he had made the choice to cut him loose. All that was left was for Harry to accept that.
A noise from the bedroom pulled Harry out of his introspection, and he raised his head, looking towards the half opened door. Oh gods... Christian was crying. Harry got up quietly and moved towards the exit door, not wanting Christian to know that he had overheard him. He went to turn the handle, let go, turned around and walked back towards the bedroom. When Christian had told him about Johnny's background and had had to leave the room to go throw up, Harry regretted not at least asking him if he needed help. If they hadn't tried to pretend so hard that they could handle everything... Harry shook his head. Not pretending anymore. Not this time. He walked through the open door and into the bedroom, not stopping until he was beside the bed. Not knowing yet quite what he had to offer Christian, Harry held out his hand. "I know." He said softly.
Through the fog that clouded his eyes and the sound of his own sobs that stopped his ears, Christian heard a voice, saw a hand and reached for it. It only took him a second to realize that it was Harry, not his father as he'd first thought, but he grabbed on just as tight. The weight settled on the side of the bed and he didn't know how he'd gotten there, but all of a sudden his head was on Harry's shoulder and firm, warm arms were wrapped around him, cradling him and holding him tight.
Before he knows what he's doing, without considering the raid, the fight, whatever it is Christian has gone through to purge Johnny's memories, Harry has sat down pulled the younger man into his arms. He holds him firmly, and is quiet, allowing Christian to cry as he needs to, hoping that he won't hold it against him later to be the one who was there when he could no longer hold back.
Christian found himself sobbing and trying to talk at the same time, to let Harry know . . . something. "I'm sorry." he choked out, repeating it over and over again like a litany of self-blame, "I'm so sorry."
And now that he had what he thought he wanted from Christian this whole time- an apology- Harry found that it wasn't what he was looking for at all. "Shh... Don't, Christian. Just let it go. I don't need it. I don't. It's okay." Harry soothed.
His hands were fisted in Harry's shirt and he was reluctant to let go. He shook his head against Harry's sleeve. "No. You were right, I did it wrong. All wrong. All of it." A fresh wave of tears accompanied the confession and his stomach clenched in pain.
Harry pulled Christian in closer, holding him more tightly. "It doesn't matter." Harry said, suddenly shocked as he realized that he believed what he was saying. "It doesn't matter anymore. Wrong or Right it's over. It happened. And I don't want to blame anyone for it anymore I don't need to blame anyone- and I don't need to blame you. It didn't make it better anyway." Harry finished softly, reaching his hand up to comb through Christian's hair.
Christian quieted a little, the wracking sobs easing although he wasn't taking in each separate word, the meaning was permeating through him, calming him. "Hurts, Harry." he murmured. "Fucking hurts!"
"I know. I know it does. And I'm here. Let it all out, Christian. You don't have to try and be anything. Just let it go." Harry kept stroking Christian's hair, rocking him slightly, gently.
Sniffing, he blinked a couple of times and said, "Better off, you know? He is. Away from me." Then he added very clearly, lifting his head a little. "So are you."
Looking down at Christian, still stroking his hair and using the same soft voice, Harry spoke. "Bullshit Christian. On both counts. Johnny made this choice for himself. He wasn't escaping from us... not in the way you're implying he should have anyway. And I'm the one that put a dent in your face, not the other way around. If anything you'd be better off away from me." Harry's tone was gentle but firm
The chuckle came out of nowhere and he pulled back a little further and looked up at Harry with a rueful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Can I save the running away for later?" he asked. "Don't think I'd get very far." He could still barely see Harry through his blurry vision and he bought one hand up to wipe at his eyes, releasing his death grip on Harry's shirt. "I'm still poisonous to be around." he added. "But we can agree to disagree on that too."
"No, we can't. There are things about what happened before, during and after the raid that I'd be willing to discuss agreeing to disagree on. You being poisonous to be around isn't one of them. On that one you're just plain off the map fucking wrong. Sire." Harry reached up and wiped the tears Christian's face with the cuff of his long sleeved shirt, then reaches down and dragged over the corner of the sheet and put it in Christian's hand. "Sean always does disgusting things to the sheets in moments like these." Harry smiled gently as he handed it over.
"He does not." Christian protested but took the proffered fabric anyway to wipe away the remainder. He slid back onto the bed, propped up on one elbow and stared down at the damp curl of sheet in his hand. "I'm just tired, Harry." he said eventually. "That's all. Tired."
"I know. And if you want to fall asleep, go ahead- I'll stay right here until you do. But even though that's true, and you are- that's not what you mean... is it, Christian." Harry settled himself more on the bed, and reached down, placing his hand on top of Christian's.
"Too fucking smart for your own good, you know that?" Christian groused a little, but there was no heat in it. He accepted the touch as it was meant, as comfort, and turned his own palm-up, closing his fingers around Harry's hand. "Tired of trying." he said. Shutting his eyes made the words easier; sharing was not something he was used to, or good at, doing. "Tired of trying so damned hard and losing or fucking it up. Just sick of it." He smiled a little. "Why bother?"
"Yeah I know. You aren't the first to say it, likely won't be the last either. I'll admit it's annoying as hell though." Harry gave Christian a small grin, squeezing his hand, then turned more serious. "Because once in awhile something happens to make it incredibly fucking worth it. Round about a month or so ago, give or take a few weeks, Johnny brought half a building to their knees- and not in the traditional Palace sense. He was scared and out of control, and not long after that he tried to kill himself.
"Now, I wasn't there for that, but you were, and you pulled him back. And we both made him feel like a person who had worth. And he turned around and made it possible for you to shut down Carstairs and the Silver Spike, and nail Carstairs and a multitude of other sick fuckers.
And we got every one of those kids out. If you hadn't been there that day when Johnny decided to call it quits, hadn't tried, hadn't given a fuck?" Harry shrugged. "Whole different story. One that ends with dead kids in locked rooms is my guess."
Christian cracked an eyelid and gave Harry a jaundiced look. "You missed a bit." he said sourly. But seeing the look he received in return, he subsided. "Okay, okay." he muttered. "No more blame Or guilt, or whatever. I concede your point. On that one." he added. "But you're not the guy who got this close to an asylum. I guess I'm just wallowing a little. A lot." he amended with a twist of self-deprecating humor.
"Well, if I understand what Marton told me, that was partly you having a very powerful talent that's tough to manage at the best of times, and partly being a stubborn bastard who didn't ask for help until it was almost too late. See what self pity gets you?" Harry gave Christian a poke in the ribs with his free hand.
"Yeah." Christian scowled, both eyes coming open in a hurry. "A belt in the ribs!" Then he smiled. It wasn't all that good a smile, but it was better than what had gone before. The smile was followed almost immediately by a huge yawn. "Sorry." he said.
Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm not taking an apology for the big stuff mate... I think we can let a yawn drop. Tell you what- you go to sleep, and you and I start again. Clean slate. Actually get to know each other this time instead of jumping in halfway and going off assumptions. I mean, I don't even know what kind of beer you like best... that's not much of a friendship."
Christian was more than ready to snuggle down under the covers and go to sleep. He nodded his agreement to Harry's offer, suddenly too weary even for words. Harry stayed where he was and the warmth he felt through the covers was added comfort. He began to drift off, hearing Harry say something about Orlando, halting his descent into dreamless sleep.
"...Orlando kept throwing up and wasn't sure what was causing it. He said it was oversensitivity to you being in the building in the first place, but according to Marton it seems like it was a direct reaction to this. He's doing better now that you're doin’ better I suppose." Harry mused.
"Crap." Christian mumbled. He shifted a little in the bed, drawing one leg up, trying to find a position that didn't ache quite so much. "Tell 'im . . . 'm sorry, 'kay." Christian didn't hear Harry say anything else, nor did he hear the other man get up and leave. He fell asleep, still weary and sick and a little lost, but with a new friend close by.
