The wind blew me in. Or rather, it accompanied me. The train was a quick one indeed. It seemed I hadn't had a moment's rest, between one speedy form of transportation and another.
One railway to another; a fast ship; motor transport to another train, and then onward, onward, onwards. Back to the ministry, report, and then back on another train with no time out for sleep.
I could sleep when I was dead. Or on the train, alternatively.
It had been a difficult mission, but I'd made a good job of it, and now I could wash my hands of all that.
I'd tendered my resignation, as well as handed over the bit of meteorite I'd retrieved for them. It was highly unusual, would require lots of study, blah blah blah. Mission accomplished, and now I was done with these people. Only one person mattered to me now — Gareth.
He was still at Skeffield Manor, apparently awaiting formal permission to follow me to Russia. I took that as a good sign he was feeling better, that he could even express the will to try.
I couldn't sense him while I was away, though. Not strongly; not our ties. It was only a faint awareness that he was alive, and somewhere far away. Drove me just about nuts. I wanted more, damn him. Why would he leave me now?
I knew it was unfair to think like that — there had once been one of us who left the other high and dry, but it hadn't been him — yet I still had those strong feelings, and others, in some ways worse ones.
I'd thought often of death, and how I would live without him. I came to the conclusion that it was unlikely I would. That was frightening, but more so was the realization that I'd given the best of my life, my magic, my skill, and my peace of mind to an agency that wished to punish the man I loved. The man whom I considered as much victim as not. The man who had nearly died the last time I'd gone far away from him and not looked back.
And so I'd rushed through every stage of the mission, pushing it past endurance, and come home. Resigned, and got on the next train. I'd barely taken time to shower and pack a bag of more suitable clothing. It had been very cold in Siberia, but here, here it was beautiful, the weather in bloom. I appreciated it far more than I had in some time, perhaps ever.
The people I'd encountered in Russia were like any others: no better, no worse, most of them decent folks just trying to survive. But they did not have weather this beautiful while I was there, and now I felt as if I could breathe deep lungfuls of air in forever and never be filled with the fresh scent of it.
I felt the brightening of our connection as I drew closer to Gareth. And closer. I fell asleep on my train, nearly missed the station, and got off only because a kind soul next to me shook me till I roused and rushed off, bag in hand but hat forgotten.
It didn't matter. I could buy a new hat.
There were no cabs in this small village, and no one headed conveniently for Skeffield Manor by motorcar, so I ended my journey on foot. The sun began to beat down on me, and I sweated, loosening button after button until I was nearly down to my shirtsleeves.
I was out of shape, perhaps: but more likely I was just exhausted from several weeks where I had done nothing but rush and hurry, and try not to worry. I had expended quite a bit of magic in the search as well. I would no doubt pay for that someday, with a shortened life span, but at the moment, I was in my prime, magically speaking, and probably physically as well.
It chafed to feel the effects of my efforts, to feel slow and winded and tired, to know that I would never be younger or more powerful than I was now.
There, a familiar bend of the road, and Deeks' home. I had little doubt he would have given me a ride, if he was home and I stopped and asked. But that would take time, too, and I hated to lower myself in front of the man. In front of anyone. I had perhaps too much pride, but even so, it was better to walk than beg a ride from him.
I walked.
Twilight was falling now, and I heard the singing of men working on the grounds of Skeffield Manor. There were gardens and places for growing food, smaller than fields but bigger than garden patches. Men worked there, men with magical and mechanical additions keeping them alive. I could hardly believe they were singing, but their voices rose in a friendly cadence, deep with feeling.
I breathed deeply of the air as I walked. It seemed cleaner than it had been before. I didn't know how that could be, since it was a country lane, not exactly the height of city smog in the first place. Everything seemed to bloom and burgeon with strength, health, and beauty.
Was it because I was going home?
Not to Skeffield Manor: that had never been my home. In fact, I hadn't had one, not really, not until Gareth. He was my home now.
I reached out, questing with my magic, taking up the threads and colors of all the people I knew near here, feeling: feeling. They were doing well.
I caught wind of the threads of Skeffield Sr., in surprisingly good health. When had he become so strong? There were Wes and Kit; I could've sworn Kit's heart no longer beat weakly at all, but at a nearly normal level of strength. Just what was going on here?
Two dogs ran down the lane toward me, yapping. Behind them, recognition bloomed before sight: my Gareth. He was walking toward me. He was different than he'd been before, changed by his experience and time away from his magic. Perhaps that was why our bond had seemed so distant. I'd had to leave while he was still recovering, and he'd changed somewhat in the process.
Perhaps I had changed, too.
I sped up, tired as I was, and he broke into a run. The dogs reached me first, and turned around to run with me, barking wildly.
I had eyes for one man only.
The dogs broke around us as we met. They kept running, ears flapping, barks happy, tails waving, taken up in the joy of the day. They ran down the road together, back the way they'd come, and toward the sound of singing. I had little doubt they had many friends there, but just now I cared about nothing but Gareth.
He caught me up in his arms, my tall, and gangly, gorgeous Gareth, his hair astray, his breathing rough, his glasses misting. "Silus," he whispered, and held me tight, tight, then drew back to search my face, then tugged me close into a kiss.
It felt so good kissing him, so right. My stubble rasped against him, but he didn't push me away, just kissed me deeper.
Standing there in the middle of the road, we clung to one another and kissed like randy teenagers.
"You're back," he said at last, gasping. I went in for another kiss.
"You're well," I managed. He went in for another kiss.
"I found a rare meteorite for them. Well, a piece of it. That will have to do."
"You brilliant man." He kissed me.
I shuffle-walked him toward some convenient bushes growing alongside the road. "Get in here with me," I growled.
He laughed, almost maniacally, and there were tears of happiness in his eyes. We couldn't seem to stop touching each other. I was like a starving man given food. I couldn't eat it fast enough.
"I can do new things," he said, behind the shrubs, decently covered, more or less, as I sank to my knees in front of him and opened his trousers. Birds called their dusk songs; in the distance, the men were still singing. I smelled beautifully clean air, and green, and Gareth.
He said, "I can fix people's hearts now, possibly even more than that."
"Can you? Lovely." I swallowed him. He tasted so good...
"Oh, Silus!" He held onto my shoulders.
Pleasure and magic and love all blended together, till I almost couldn't see for the brightness of them, the power of them. At last when I sank back, breathing hard, and he dropped down beside me, panting like a racehorse, my vision began to clear.
The singing had stopped, and an insect symphony had begun instead. It was nearly full dark.
"Darling." He drew me to him, and kissed me, and began to fumble with my trousers as well. "Do try not to be l-loud," he said, with a laughing gasp.
He touched me like I was the most perfect being in the world, the only one worth paying attention to. As it should be.
Mm, it was so good. Worth all the rush, worth everything to have him here, loving me. A couple of sharp bits of nature pressed into my back, but that mattered nothing compared to the warmth of him, loving me, needing me, never forgetting me...
He really did have quite a bit of power magically; I was getting a good feel for it, the way our strands of color and light and magic reconnected, refreshing and rebuilding our bond, the one that had been so damaged by his imprisonment and my absence.
I felt them strengthening, renewing, rebuilding all that was between us, and forever would be. We needed time together, that was the only problem. Well, we'd have it now. We would...
"I love you," I said as I struggled to recover. I wanted nothing more than to put my head down on his chest and sleep, sleep for ages.
"I know. You don't have to say it." He kissed me tenderly, and helped me get my clothes back in order. He looked remarkably pulled together for a man who'd just had sex in the bushes, not nearly as frazzled as I felt.
"C'mere." I tugged him closer to so I could get my arms around him. "You're amazing." I rubbed my face against his shoulder, and hummed, then yawned widely. "I quit the ministry, by the way."
"Did you?" He sounded lazily sleepy, much as I felt. It was not an entirely comfortable place to sleep, but I thought it would do. I had slept on trains and in cabs, in the bowels of ships. I could sleep in the bushes with my beloved, on a warm and lovely night, the best night of all.
"I'll quit too, then," he said. "If they'll let me."
"They'd better." They hadn't wanted him anymore, anyway. I yawned widely, and then closed my eyes. "Rest, dearest."
"Goodnight." He pressed one last, tender kiss to my head, and then I was out, sleeping more soundly than I had in weeks, months. Maybe forever.
Ahead of us the future lay wild and free. There was much we could do, much we could learn about each other, and a whole new life to build. We had both changed in recent months. But I thought we had both changed for the better. And even if we hadn't, we still loved one another, and we were going to face this thing called life together and never part.
Who said so? I said so, and that's how it was going to be.
As I fell into sleep, I thought I heard a rich warm chuckle that sounded green somehow, fresh and alive and waving in the gentle breeze, happy for us. I dismissed that thought, and let myself go, but not Gareth. No, not him, never again.
I was holding on tight from now on.