*Brooding and introverted aren't usually words that apply themselves to the young man sprawled on the loveseat before the picture window. However, they seemed to apply at the moment... A book, probably the same one he hadn't been able to pay much attention to out at lake Compline, rests on his stomach, and his grey eyes stare unseeing at the vista that stretches out before him. Hundreds of thousands of acres of forest scattered over low, rolling hills, edged on the left side by mountains in their tweedy summer dress... The growing twilight renders the landscape somewhat drab and does nothing to decrease the gloominess that has settled over the trader.*

~~Behind him, leaned oh-so-silent in the doorframe to the room, his lover watches. Nothing was right about this...nothing at all. This depression seemed so deep, and he hadn't noticed it much, until the day he'd woken up nearly drowning in the other man's sorrow...and they still hadn't talked about the why of it, if Beej even knew. He didn't like the silences between them- he hated not being able to help...and he was left utterly powerless against the onslaught of it all.~~

*He refocuses his gaze, noting the difference in the reflections on the inside of the window. It never mattered whether or not the green-haired man made any noise or not, he knew whether he was watching or not. Gratitude flashes by, and a hand lifts in a small, ambiguous gesture. A greeting, maybe, or an invitation. He'd love to talk about it, or he at least thought he would... Trouble was, Beej couldn't remember what was causing this lethargy and despair. He desperately tried to keep from affecting his beloved, and he especially hated seeing his own unhappiness reflected in the slender young man.*

~~Dark now, and well past, and the last time he'd seen the trader had been just before sundown. again now, he felt a sullen, deep anger at those who had brought so much trouble to their lives, but he lets it pass, preferring instead to ease himself into the dark room and settle lightly near his beloved.~~ 'ard t're'd inna d'rk, innit?

*The irritation elicits a blink and a quick glance at the younger man, rather more animation than he'd shown in the last 45 minutes or so. A bit of a smile curves his mouth and he shrugs.* 'Outside of a dog, a book is man's best friend. Inside a dog, it's too dark to read...' I wasn't, anyhow. *He inclines his head, smile fading as the feeling he'd -almost- remembered something niggled at him. Sometimes he could swear that whatever it was was like water behind a weakening dam, the seeping dampness composed of saline tears rather than plain old H₂O*

Y'ain't inna dog tho'...y'jus' avo'd'n me? ~~His smile makes the words playful rather than angry, yellow eyes turned a deep amber in the wan light.~~ A'kno'...y'gon' be 'lright? ~~It's not hard to hear the concern there, not hard to feel it...but he tries to hold himself in check, rather than distract Beej from whatever track his mind might be taking.~~

I know... Of course not. *He finds a grin, somewhere, to answer the one on his lover's face. A nod, slowly scrubbing at his face with one hand* Yeah... Eventually. I hope... *There it was again. A word, a name, a picture just beyond his reach. He -knew- he knew it, but it maddeningly refused to coalesce...* Is it still raining?

Yeah...s'com'n down 'ard. Le'st t'roof ain't le'k'n 'gain. ~~Neets rubs fingers absently through the fuzzy stubble of his freshly mown hair, feeling the prickle of the storm's energy more intently now than ever. The air itself, or the house, or just -them-...it seemed taught, stretched like a rope to it's breaking point. He almost wished it would fray...~~

Oh. Nah, these little places are just a -bit- more sound than where were two weeks ago. *The semi-truisms he'd read were all correct- tension could sing, could be stretched out, could act like something far more physical than it actually was. Shifting slightly, he leans over and trails his own fingertips along the nape of Neets' neck.* This is how it feels, isn't it, the not-remembering...

~~Purring like a cat, a low trill of pleasure in his throat, Neets squinches his eyes shut tight against a prickling of tears.~~ Ye'h...m'sorry y'afta fe'l't...

It's... It could be worse. *Which is a statement he'd been making for the last few weeks... Regardless of his -desire- for unflagging optimism, it was less reassuring with each repetition. The hand on the back of the younger man's neck creeps around to trace the curve of his ear, Blackwater himself scooting a bit closer.*

Mebbe...but it don' mak't eas'r t'live wit'. Y'-need- mem'r'es Beej...y'need'm t'r'min' ya' 'bout why yer' doin' t'ings...need'm't mak'ya 'ole. ~~His own fingers stray from his hair now, scratching lightly through the trader's darker locks.~~

Or why you -aren't- doing things... *His eyes close and his head tips back, the rest of him slowly going limp.* Whole....? Hole... Hm. *There it was, there and gone again... He'd -almost- had it. Sighing, the man frowns and tries -not- to think of anything in particular.*

Mmmm...th't too. ~~Not doing...things...hadn't really been discussed much, but it hovered there as well, and surprised Neets rather frequently when he realized he missed it. It startled him more, and hurt a bit as well, when he thought that it wasn't the release he missed, but the intimacy. He wanted to be let in, to know what was going on...and even though his lover himself didn't know, it still didn't feel good to be on the outside.~~ S'okay...~~His fingertips massage the trader's scalp gently, soothing away tension as best he can.~~

*Beej turns his head without lifting it and opens one eye before blinking both of them.* Not if it bothers you, which it does. *He looks slightly apologetic as he closes his eyes again.* This -isn't- okay. *This pretty much everyone and their grandmother knew. There wasn't that much -to- share... Just frustration at the dead-ended memories, anger at being subjected to the process that had left him -- And not just -him-, Neets as well... this way, the hopelessness and despair that was mentioned earlier. He didn't -want- to impart it to his partner, anyhow, stubbornly clinging to the idea that he shouldn't be made to bear -Beej's- pain as well. Nibbling reflectively on his lower lip, he tilts his head into the pressure of those fingertips and tries to keep his thoughts simple and linear.*

Nah...s'okay. S'bett'r not't'do't, th'n t'jus...go at't. ~~He shakes his head slowly, longer strands of emerald hair falling past his ears.~~ S'not okay th't'ya c'n't r'memb'r...s'okay th'tcha don' fe't g'od tho'. ~~And despite this garbled little speech, he sends his message very clearly...that he's there, whatever happens. ::Here|Calm down:: His massage continues, working down the base of his love's neck to his shoulders and becoming more aggressive in touch.~~

Well, yes... *A small shrug follows that, more from indecision than indifference. The ticklish brush of hair against the back of his hand is almost enough to make him move it, but not quite.* I know. *He didn't understand the significance of the last three spoken words, but it didn't matter in the face of the underlying dispatch. ::Trying.:: and a another wash of gratitude tinged with awe underpin his reply. His next words drift out of the void he'd been striving to create in his grey matter, spoken lazily and with more than a bit of rhetoric.* Tell me again what I did to... *And as he slowly rolls his head forward, a spark lands on the the thin veil between consciousness and the lost bits of his life, flaring and consuming it as surely as newsprint is by flames...*

~~The words weren't enough tonight...he'd been less and less pleased with the words coming from himself lately anyway. They always seemed to fall short of the mark, no matter how he might wish that they'd help somehow.~~ Y'sav'd... ~~He falls silent though, letting the sudden swirl of unrest in the shared thoughts of his beloved have free reign.~~

*Burned away clean, although there's nothing neat and orderly in the aftermath. For one long moment, his mind is completely blank. No thoughts, nothing that might pass for emotions, not even the -Feel- of Neets registers... And then, like several dozen decks of cards thrown into a whirlpool, images, feelings, sensations and words tumble and spill over the canvas of Beej's mind. One set in particular captures his attention, and the rest of the known universe fades out... Everything that follows is fed down the link; fortunately for Neets there's some sort of natural governor in place, reducing the intensity from Niagara Falls to Kitchen Faucet.*

~~Silence all that he can offer, he accepts the images, the feelings, the shape and weight of them fitting into his mind awkwardly.~~

*Heat. Too-warm sunlight on his back and none from the missing body not snug against his. Heat is what has awakened him, the improper amounts in the wrong places... The boy finds it strange to miss something he hadn't even -known- until two days ago so fiercely. Well, it was probably easily remedied... He tried to sit up and only succeeded in turning himself over. All right, this -was- strange. His hands... He couldn't move them... He hadn't thought James -- the name is almost a suckerpunch, and he slowly draws his arms and legs into himself -- would be daring enough to try anything...exotic...no matter what that book had said about it... Maybe he'd simply been wrong...*

~~He watches his lover crumple, sees limbs drawn tight against torso, and blinks. This was it then...maybe... He slips a little closer, leaving his hands where they are, making small, soothing motions over shoulders suddenly tense as a steel coil.~~

* -- The touches go unfelt by the trader, or so it seems. Layers of memories are settling out like so much silt in a bucket of water, but he doesn't notice -that-, either. -- A small sound caught his attention, and he turned towards it. They weren't that far away, and time hadn't dulled the low, harsh tone of the older man's voice. He only half-heard the words, not wanting to hear such...such _lies_ spoken to his... How long, then? When had he arrived? Details inane and incredibly important intertwined... the unnatural and incorrect bend to an arm, the way the sun struck a particular rock to cast an almost perfectly round shadow, the hues of new and old bruises, the dusty and oily taste of the air on his tongue, the minor fact that he was breathing at all...*

~~Neets stands by, not wanting to say a word to disturb the flow of events, and caught...because the only comfort he can offer is something he fears would be too much, and would throw off the wash of remembrance.~~

*Words... They were... The words fade in and out, but the point they convey is not lost. The big man kneeling on the sand is shaking his head slowly, making one last remark before turning to look at Blackwater. Unadaulterated hate looks back at him, the scope of it almost incomprehensible. Leibran had always been, if not mean at least condescending to him, but this... this he could not cope with. Of course, he could deal with it much better than what came next... The man very deliberately and very slowly placed his hand over his son's mouth and nose, eyes burning with a sickening intensity. -- It wouldn't matter if Neets held him, kissed him, or if he put on Louis Prima and danced around the small room in nothing but a smile. There's nothing coming -in- from outside, everything he's half-remembering, half-reliving fills up his available mental faculties. --*

~~He doesn't catch precisely what's going on, only fringes here and there, but it's enough. It would have to be this, of course, the strongest and most painful memory of the lot no doubt...that was how it worked.~~

*Grey eyes wrest themselves away from the other's, only to fall on the hand that has silenced his friend and lover. There was a resigned, inevitable air to the tableau, as if everyone involved had known that it would come to this. Beej cannot find his voice as a second dark hand curves over the pale, vulnerable expanse of James' throat. His mind flings words at him, and he tries to come up with a course of action that will stop this, or at least make sense of it, and ends up falling over, instead. Lying there, he can hear the voice speaking again... ''...Evil, you know... Damned good-for-nothing...You killed her, you know, killed her...'' He thought he might have finally cried out, but he just didn't know. -- He did, but quietly, burying his face against the comfortingly bony shoulder of one Neetlemyre J. Knickerbocker. --*

~~There now... His arms come up, circling the trader loosely as one hand runs through his hair. Making a smallish sigh, he waits in near silence, broken only by a few words.~~ S'okay...S'okay Beej...

*He didn't -want- to hear this, he didn't -want- to see it, either. Hadn't, the first time around. This burned, tiny trickles and tributaries of acidic attitudes and announcments, the condemnation of all that he thought was safe from harm... This wasn't supposed to be happening, damn it. They'd left, just left, without even telling the girls where they were headed or -when- they were going, they'd all made their goodbyes and then... Well before sunup, they'd just disappeared. They hadn't done it well enough, and he couldn't help thinking that part of that was his fault. ''...the damned ring, you just had to steal that, too, you little pissant...'' The girls had been the ones to keep his mother's' things, though, and they were the ones... The ring...? A ruby, like the clearest, deepest red wine, set in a spider's web of gold and silver, too small for his work-roughened hands, tucked into a blob of cotton-wool and a little wooden box, which was just now jabbing into his hip. Beej struggled upright again, he had to tell the truth, had to name the ones that had given the ring over to their possession, even though he didn't -want- to look, or to bring the man's wrath down on Lyla and Jo...* Mmph *--Is his cleverest reply, involuntarily relaxing a fraction or two at the familiar voice. He still doesn't seem to be responding to outside stimuli, otherwise.--*

Y'jus keep r'memb'r'n...s'okay. ~~His voice is soft, the light tones roughened with concern...not that Beej would hear that. Not now.~~

*There is, to his mind anyhow, the rather audible sound of a sheet of acid-etched glass snapping and splintering when he finally regains an upright attitude. ^that would be my heart...^ wandered absently by as he watched a rather calm Leibran Am'Saar stand and brush sand from his clothes. The young man lying on the ground at his feet was still, far too still... The man turned to Blackwater, calmly regarding him as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. This was a less-than-heartening development, and as he began to cross the sandy expanse, the younger man thought for sure that he was about to meet the same fate as James. -- 'Okay' was open to debate. However, as he isn't exactly up to spirited discussion... He can, and does, press closer, acknowledging Neets' presence with the only available method. --*

No...yer not gonna'git 'urt. ~~He sounds sure of this, despite the strange leaps and bounds the elder man's memories are taking him through. He'd worry about it all later, when he had the time. For now, he would just be here, in contact as long as he's wanted.~~

* -- We're running out of ways to say that the trader hears but doesn't show it. He just stays where he is, curled up and almost in his lover's lap. Oh, and he'd shake his head at the statement, because...-- ''There you are, boy. You're the one that put those filthy ideas in his head, aren't you?'' Am'Saar sneers at Beej, barking out a short laugh when his captive shakes his head in denial and disbelief. ''Oh, yes, I know it was you. I know these things, I hear them... I heard him confiding in one of his sisters. He shouldn't have tried to dirty her like that...'' His mouth opens and closes, the parched air drying it even more. He didn't know what to say, where to start, how to deflect this obviously instable man's attention... |I... He... You _killed_ him!| There's a reason the classics never go out of style... Because they're the only thing that can be relied on in times of extreme duress. He couldn't keep looking at his antagonist, he couldn't bear to look past him... And so he only catches the faintest of blurs from the corner of his eye before pain and darkness, centered around his nose, explodes in his head. -- And with a gasp, his head twitches backwards. From the way he's blinking and poking at his nose, it would seem he's mostly back among the living. -- * Dearest Dieties Above and Beyond... *His voice isn't the steadiest it's ever been, either.*

Y...Beej? ~~He doesn't quite know whjat to say, how to phrase the too-obvious question ''are you alright?''. Who would be, in the wake of that?~~ S'that't? W'at's bin' bugg'n ya?

Hmm? *He looks at Neets at long last, blinking a couple more times. He was better, but 'okay' wasn't the proper word for it. Almost as suddenly as the torrent of memories had occurred it subsided, leaving them in a much more normal state of -being-. ((*Hopes that makes sense*))* I'm... That was... Yeah. That was it. *Feeling rather hollow and chilled all of a sudden, he stands and gently tugs at his love's hands.* Come to bed?

Ye'h...~~He nods slowly, rising at the tug. Whatever it was, the sudden shift could be felt throughout, and he's glad of it. Questions could come later.~~

Good... *Not that he sounds -convinced- that it is, but... He'd talk, later. -Much- later. He leads the green-haired man up the narrow staircase to the sleeping loft, only bothering to divest himself of his shirt and pants before crawling under the rumpled covers and curling up again.* *Gone*

~~He can think of nothing better than curling into the same safe loft and letting the night air lull him into sleep. And given his choice, he'd take Beej next to him any day.~~ ~~GONE~~