by Marie Brown
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Simeon Kerrigan regained his senses all in a rush. From blank unconsciousness to extreme discomfort, all in a heartbeat. His eyes opened to a topsy-turvy world where nothing much made sense. His face pressed into something soft and yielding, wrapped in soft wool. An arm? Whose?
He moved his own arms, but the one under his cheekbone didn't so much as twitch. Edwin's, then. Where was the rest of him? And in what condition?
Simeon pushed himself into a more-or-less upright position, a difficult proposal. He couldn't seem to find the ground. The dim light offered little assistance. The time must be right before dawn, judging by the filtered gloom, barely bright enough to see by. Simeon gripped rough bark and spiky branches, trying to make sense out of his surroundings. He and Edwin lay tangled together... in a tree?
Yes, in a tree. Simeon could see the ground now, at least twenty feet below. Damn. They'd probably been saved by hanging up on the prickly branches, but right now, he didn't feel much gratitude towards the tree. Rather, he felt distinctly annoyed. One wrong movement would likely pitch the two of them straight to the ground. And while the grand gesture of flinging himself off his failing ship had felt highly appropriate, well, now he had Edwin Julius to worry about, and damned if he'd just stand aside and let the man die.
The dim light brightened a tiny bit while he thought, enough to let him guess at what a frightful tangle Julius lay in. Limbs bent at horribly awkward angles, tied up in the Wing harness. Stupid device, anyway. What good came of a rescue device with a forty-seven percent failure rate? Better to honestly perish in the wreckage.
Except... During the exhilarating, terrifying fall, Simeon somehow lost his desire to die. He'd done the worst, he'd kissed Edwin Julius, and the man hadn't stopped him. Rather, he'd held on tight and kissed back, with every bit as much hidden passion as that which raged through Simeon Kerrigan. Death would put an end to any hope of discovering why the man hadn't rejected him violently.
Julius stirred, let out a faint groan. Simeon's grip tightened before he told his hands to do any such thing.
"Edwin? Are you awake?"
Another groan, this one louder. Julius moved his legs, tangled only in branches, not Wing harness.
"Edwin! Careful now, you'll drop us from this tree."
"Kerrigan?"
That rough whisper sounded like the finest thing Simeon had ever heard.
"I can't feel my arms!"
Julius thrashed, frightened. Simeon cursed.
"Steady on, old man! You must hold still. Your arms are fine. The circulation must be cut off, that's all. Now hold still!"
But Edwin, barely conscious, fearful, managed to flop like a landed fish and send both of them hurtling towards the ground below.
They landed, again, with a sickening crunch. Edwin went limp.
"No, oh no..."
Simeon scrabbled at the stiff, starchy collar of the man's shirt. He broke it loose, pulled it away, felt for a pulse.
He found it.
Limp and unconscious, Edwin Julius still lived. His heart beat on. Good.
Reassured, Simeon sorted himself out. Tangled as they'd been in the tree, the two of them had fallen to the ground still entwined. Under other circumstances he might enjoy having Edwin's limbs so jumbled up with his own it took real effort to tell which part belonged to whom, but not now. By virtue of moving carefully, Simeon identified all his own extremities and pulled himself free of Edwin and the wreckage of the Wing. Most of that apparently remained in the tree, but bits of the harness still clung stubbornly to Edwin. Simeon removed the straps, then gently tugged Edwin's limbs into a more conventional resting position.
No sooner had he arranged the man's body properly than Edwin's breathing became labored, with a heavy wheezing sound. Obviously something had gone wrong inside, and he must hold the man up, lest he drown in his own lungs.
Simeon looked around furtively in the faint, early light. Only the trees watched them, and only a few exotic bird chirps marred the forest's silence, other than Edwin's gasps. Nobody could possibly see what he did. No one would care, anyway. Because this clearly constituted a survival situation. Any proper gentleman would be expected to do whatever it took to save his closest friend, never mind the distastefulness to society of one man holding another.
Edwin hadn't pushed him away.
Simeon nodded minutely. He found a reasonably comfortable place to sit, with his back against a tree and thick forest loam to cushion his rear end. Then he tugged Edwin into position, trying to be as considerate as possible of the injuries he couldn't see. Simeon sagged into his chosen seat, with barely enough strength left to pull Edwin mostly upright and into his arms.
His action resulted in an immediate improvement in Edwin's breathing, which smoothed from labored gasps into a more peaceful sound. Simeon held him carefully, feeling guilty pleasure course through him. Edwin's body slumped against his own, warm and welcome. If only the man would wake, here in this isolated place where no eyes existed to judge them...
Simeon listened to Edwin breathe as the forest brightened around them and birds burst into raucous song, greeting the day. In, out. Somewhat gurgling breaths, but steady. In, out. He felt peaceful, comfortable, for the first time in many months. Really, he'd have to figure out something to do about his unnatural attraction to Edwin, but later. When they were safe.
In, out.
For now, he'd stay here in the privacy of the forest, listening to the in, out of Edwin's breathing, and enjoy the feeling of warmth and closeness.
In, out. In, out.
Who knew how long Simeon sat there listening to his friend's breathing. Not long enough. Nowhere near long enough. Because there came a time when that breathing stilled.
Silence.
Simeon listened close, jolted out of his quiet, peaceful reverie by that break in rhythm.
Silence.
Simeon felt panic clutch right at his heart, all but stopping its steady beat. He groped frantically at Edmund's wrist, his neck, searching for any sign of a pulse. Nothing. No heartbeat, no breath...
No life.
Simeon heard a harsh groan tear out of him, an animal sound of distress. But no amount of emotion on his part could make the man in his arms live again.