Rot of Stars

by Plaguedboar

Chapter 16

Notes:

CW in the bottom notes.

The world was beautiful, indeed. Daniil smiled until it ached, his heart only now finally starting to cease the hammering against his chest. Artemy’s hair was much thicker than what he thought it would be, from what he remembered all those lonely nights ago. Yet, the texture still made it silk through his fingers, offering little sensational difference between the softness of hair to the warmth of the midday sun.

Artemy stirred from his lap. Following the rocking and tilting head, Daniil felt his way down the suggested path until it reached behind the ear, closer to the base of the skull. Daniil was rewarded with a satisfied groan erupting from the man, making Daniil chuckle.

“You can do that all day,” Artemy grumbled, closing his eyes to dedicate attention to the coddle.

“I just might.” Daniil chortled.

Whilst they stood as swaying pillars, Danill had curled the locks over and over, unable to stop himself from enjoying such a sweet taste of victory. Soon, after shyly parting and rejoining in kisses and affection long overdue, Artemy naturally began to gravitate to the touch, his curled lips spilling fragile small mutters of nothings and everythings. Saying how he missed him. Daniil replied in turn about how he missed Artemy. The winter and spring were cold. Daniil admitted he wasn't good at lighting fires, only truly knowing how to use gas fireplaces. Artemy admitted that the home was loud but still too empty and lonely. The taller man lowered his head to rest on Daniil’s shoulders, planting lazy kisses on exposed neck as he spoke of missing Daniil’s cologne, until somehow, the two had settled on the ground to where they were now.

Daniil drank the horizon before him once again; the rivers of gold seemed to glisten more and the flowers bore more brilliance than when he first looked at it. The world was beautiful and moving and quiet.

I love you. Even the wind seemed to whistle cheerfully, carrying scarves of pollen and petals across vivid greens.

Daniil wished for the moment to last a lifetime.

But he knew it wouldn’t.

“We have to head back soon, don’t we?” Daniil asked, if only to break the silence. His chest was filled with warmth, but a small creature of worry remained. Always thinking, always trying to protect him.

Don’t you ever stop thinking and just feel?

Daniil tried, and tried to remain drunk in the moment as Artemy lulled his head again.

“Let’s just enjoy the moment, Danya.”

Artemy’s head sank on his lap, limp, allowing Daniil the freedom to caress as freely as he wanted. Daniil craned his neck to their surroundings, to the path behind them, wherever he could without alarming the other. Unwelcomed eyes were always a danger.

It was intimate, and Artemy was blindly reveling in the sensation that Daniil offered. Daniil’s eyes burned and ached in the same way his smile did.

I want you. Artemy said to Daniil. I want you. Over and over Artemy emphasized, crooning and steady. Unfaltering to Daniil’s lame protests, weakened by gentle touches and kind gaze from the prior night. Daniil wondered if Artemy knew what he was saying to Daniil, and how those simple words made Daniil drunk with a bursting joy that was to be cherished and feared.

Daniil tried to remember the last time that he was wanted, or felt so. Where someone pleaded with him to stay for just a moment more for conversation. Not for knowledge nor his accomplishments or reputation. Just him.

Daniil turned his head once more to check their surroundings.

He should have protested more.

No, Artemy knows me. Ugly parts and all. My failures. My habits.

Daniil should have walked away.

But Artemy was the one that tugged me back to stay, to listen to all he had to say.

If Artemy wanted him, then he could have him. All of him. The thought that had been born from a moment of touching flattery was compromised, as the creature within ate at it with small clawed hands.

And… This is all I will be. Nothing more. Does he know that?

“You’re thinking, aren’t you?” Artemy snorted. The man stretched his neck and huffed, lovely storm grey eyes flicking open to meet Daniil’s. “Let’s hear it.”

Daniil carded all his fingers all through Artemy’s scalp, leaving behind parted rows. Artemy gave a pleased grumble, making Daniil repeat the movement as if he was petting a cat.

“I was just wondering… when did you…?”

“Hmm?”

Daniil cleared his throat and felt heat blooming in his cheeks.

“When did you recognize your… emotions?” Daniil sighed and shook his head. The need for formality at war with his heart’s questions. The pit of his stomach dropped as the words projected out of him. “Why me? Especially after all of this time?”

Daniil didn’t fail to catch how Artemy’s eyes glazed over in searching his memories. He continued to stroke the other’s hair, letting the moment breath in between them, ignoring the puff of anxiety as he awaited Artemy’s answer.

“Ah. To tell the truth,” Artemy groaned as he dislodged from nesting on Daniil’s thighs, fighting against his own body weight to sit up, “I don’t really know.”

The man shrugged whilst regaining balance, as if that was an acceptable, or worse, humorous answer. Daniil recalled his own moment of clarity; and it was in a dream of all things. An endless day, repeating over and over, where Artemy was dead. Specifically, when he heard the news- how the man he had grown to trust and rely on was gone. Perhaps the loss of hope mingled too close to the image of the man, and Daniil’s traitorous heart couldn’t separate hope with love.

No, he huffed. It was before that. Much before.

It was when he saw the figure of the alleged murderer, walking not like a glorious legend, but one of burden…  and locking eyes with him. The weariness of the day, of the war, already etched within him. Dried blood crusted down his ribs, one leg already clearly being favored over another as he shifted, and still, Artemy Burakh was there; in the middle of chaos and in the middle of prosecution, silent. Daniil thought he knew everything about his character from that moment… and he was yet to be proven wrong from the image of strength and nobility; in fact, the admiration of the man only grew from there as traits of kindness dressed in ruggedness and wit pared with humour peered through.

Even now, it made Daniil’s heart flutter.

A romantic indeed, Daniil thought bitterly. It felt easier to ruminate about it now, how easy it is to love Artemy Burakh. It shouldn’t be easy, he reminded himself.

Daniil only hoped that Artemy wouldn’t ask the same. Perhaps someday he can part with the information- or part with it unashamed.

Artemy gave a rumbling chortle beside him, leaning back almost flirtatiously. Daniil could only watch as Artemy boldly placed an eager hand on his thigh.

“But you know what? In university, I knew I liked girls with dark hair and a more slender-” Artemy was sliding his touch down the long limb in idle exploration when he met Daniil’s gaze with a dumb grin, which quickly pursed in quick reaction, “I-I mean I liked girls with dark hair. Especially black. Enjoyed when they were smart enough to carry a conversation, even more so if they had a bit of a bite. And well…”

Artemy’s hand waved from Daniil’s thigh to gesture to all of Daniil with an eager hand and pinkening ears.

“Slender what, Arte-?”

“That’s about it.” Artemy interrupted, ears reddening into a deeper crimson. “But…”

Artemy coughed, stifling himself.

“But what?” Daniil let the question slip by almost playfully, drawing out the sound for as long as he could.

Artemy chuckled dumbly and until the warm air steaming out his lungs cooled the rest of him, casting his storm grey eyes up to reflect the lovely blue sky. Daniil sighed and leaned back, rocking his weight to his hands on the cold rock, shaking his head.

He could wait until Artemy quit embarrassing himself, even if the bashfulness pulled a smile out of him. He could see why, like a curse, Artemy constantly left coy whispers in Daniil’s ears and drove him to the same sputtering state.

“That night. When you left. I was… so angry. And I didn’t know why.” Artemy’s laugh changed from hiding some odd thought to a weighted hum. The memory evidently something as painful to him as it was to Daniil. The rawness of the small words pulled Daniil to sit straight, feeling his previous slouch as insulting even if Artemy himself was now sitting back, spine almost curving to the sky.

Daniil blinked; the wind scattered petals at their feet close to each others’. In that entire time, Daniil never thought Artemy was bearing such an emotion, and he knew what anger was in every form. If Daniil had to guess, the way he thought Artemy gawked at him through the months was more of disappointment; another familiar emotion.

“I wanted to fix something that wasn’t even broken- you left strangely and suddenly, but without insult, and I was angry- and I didn’t know why.” Artemy bit his lip and shook his head, self reflecting on his stupidity. “Damnest thing. But then I saw you… and I realized I was… It was heartbreak. I was heartbroken. Then everything made sense, then you made sense- you made so much more sense and the entire time I was a blind moron. Looking back, I pity you; you weren’t exactly being subtle. And knowing you, that must have been… hard.”

“Oh. I’m-...” Daniil felt his breath hitch as Artemy chuckled at the tease, any potential sound dying out before its release. Artemy must have loved for a while more than Daniil thought. He didn’t know if he was sorry for leaving- but it was the best thing to do at the time.

Perhaps it still is.

“I-…”

Something in Daniil snapped at the revelation, and how it unlocked the shame from inadequate foresight. The thought of the Townsfolk, of the Kin, of Artemy’s children, of friends looking at them and knowing stirred like a black miasma. Did Artemy really understand what was a stake? Did Artemy understand that any association, any rumour, of one will spill into the other? Daniil’s stomach curdled in disgust at the memory of leaning in near firelight, hoping for a reciprocation. He didn’t think of Artemy’s happiness at that moment, only his own; too drunk on wine and domestic musings. Any misfortune to come to Artemy now would be because Daniil wasn’t strong enough to insist on the ‘no.’ Had he been more diligent in the beginning then-

A warm hand clasped over his, muffling the coolness of the grey stone underneath and pulling him out of black tar. Danil gasped in surprise at the sensation, and a squeeze laxed his fingers, grounding him to where they were now; in a private field. Another patch of curling warmth rested on his face, a calloused hand guiding his cheek toward the other. Daniil’s heart ached at seeing the pale gentle eyes focusing on him.

“Hey… I know. I know.” Artemy cooed, and leaned in for a rather chaste kiss on the forehead. “You were being kind, in the way you knew how to. But now is the time to quiet those thoughts; I don’t need to be protected, Daniil. This… this is what I want and my choice. I just feel so stupid for not realizing earlier having it be the catalyst to unnecessary turmoil.”

Artemy’s smile and having his body so close to Daniil’s made Daniil feel dizzy, the faint smell of earth and stone wafted from Artemy’s palm still caging him in. Daniil opened his mouth to protest something, but found no thought to be voiced. His mind was delightfully numb.

“Besides, from what you’ve told me, you were more than happy to give… well, more open to ‘donate’ your heart while I was more than willing to steal it.” Artemy’s throaty laugh made Daniil crack a smile for a moment, recalling the sheer uncharacteristic shame that stained Artemy’s face as he spoke about what he planned to do in the days of plague. Perhaps being a considered candidate to be harvested should have horrified Daniil more, but in that moment of Artemy’s confession, Daniil could only feel exalted. “So it seems to me like this, us, was inevitable- so stop trying to delay it and accept it, already.”

Daniil failed to find it within himself to resist Artemy when he leaned to plant another gentle kiss on his lips. A timid weight transferred from lax hand to his shoulder, pulling him closer to deepen the kiss to something more loving than innocent. Artemy kept him steady; Daniil didn’t realize how much he was shaking against the other’s firm stance until Artemy pulled away from the kiss, pecking some more along the brow as he did so.

Daniil took a deep breath, inhaling until air filled in every pocket in his lungs, and exhaled with a hushed shudder. This was nice. Really nice. The sensation of another’s skin and the crooning voice that reverberated through every fiber in his chest. With a small turn of his head, Daniil pressed his lips against Artemy’s hand before he leaned into it for a moment, fully trusting the other to hold him as he attempted to drown his fears, masking it as a quick nuzzle.

“Then please, don’t think of me callous if my kindness causes me to regard you as a stranger in the presence of others to uphold any illusion. Better yet, I want you to know when the time comes, that you find someone else, you may dismiss me and I can go- I will go without-”

Artemy’s hands gave Daniil’s frame a stern but quick shake.

“No. None of that, ever again.” Artemy’s brow furrowed, but his digits curled Daniil’s hair, and the hand on Daniil’s shoulders squeezed- not in warning, but to soothe. “The thought of me doing that? Don’t think of me that way- don’t insult me.”

Daniil shook his head.

“You misunderstand me.” Daniil breathed out. “It’s not a judgment of your character. It’s just what happens. I meant what I said before… I know my role, and I know who you can be if you just want. So, I want you to know that I’ll accept whatever may come. You may not want freedom, but I’ll never withhold it from you. Because I love you, not because I doubt you. I… just wanted you to know.”

Stillness plagued them as Daniil’s voice died in the gentle breeze; Artemy froze as the words were digested, thumb still smoothing of Daniil’s scalp. Daniil shifted his gaze away to the stone underneath them since he couldn’t hide anywhere- Artemy was a good man, even if flawed or deadly. A very good man.

“It happened to you before.” Artemy dropped his hands, almost in disbelief, forcing Daniil to willow against the open air by himself. The way that the man phrased it, it was meant to be a question but failed to ask it as the information Daniil unintentionally delivered dawned on him.

Daniil’s body reacted before his mind; he nodded.

“But-...” He started with a teasing smirk, but the artificial strength to continue dwindled and he felt his face grimace- his heart began to beat too hard against his chest. His lungs engorged on a deep breath, hoping that with more oxygen, it would return what he wanted to say.

Daniil thought little of his past on principle- a habit made since adolescence to uphold any imitation of peace. But at the invitation to do so, to remember or reflect previous figures of infatuation for the sake of delivering a dry retort or a heartfelt response… he found only ghosts fading from his grasp. Instead, he remembered a husband too round for his old university uniform and it made a laugh bubble from his throat, or a pretty girl with a large mole on her forehead paired with the excitement to poke at it in the mornings. His lips twitched, fighting to remain a smile or a frown, as the memories were still playful enough- but they weren’t his.

And Daniil didn’t mind.

“…Daniil?”

In fact, he realized, there were many more than he hoped to forget next, the curse turning into a mercy. His father’s scorn. Some beatings from school; from a crowd of youths that surrounded his cocooned body to teachers that lorded their power with a ruler. Professors that welcomed him to their offices with a knowing smirk. Dancing and smiling in lessons and balls until his body hurt the same way his soul did. They could all go. No forgotten day nor missing notable moment recorded in his journals, like being charmed by an apparent clock within a small shop wedged in between a tailor and a cobbler’s place of business, made him envious enough to revisit or even to lament their absence.

The fact should scare him, or at least, concern him, but as the day was bright and they were so small against the sky so large, he found the fact almost comforting instead. The lessons drilled and forged through his life within remained as strips of armor left behind that he can still don. It simply didn’t matter if the history was rusted away, sparing only the deepest grooves.

 

 

But he did remember yearning until it ached in university. Hope marred with the feelings of loneliness at intelligent cold eyes. A shag here and there- but seeing only ceilings, walls, or bedframes. Disappointment and shame weighed on him as he comforted a weeping form overflowing with the same emotions, before another date was set. He didn’t know if he was loved, if he convinced himself back then that that was what it was.

Another memory harboured a taller man with a smeared face; a fine figure in a tailored suit waltzing by Daniil with a woman in his arm. The quality of the searing pink dress was obvious in its frilly and elaborate laces; everything about her was a mark of good breeding, of a good family. A mixture of false relief and pride tried to possess Daniil, but only hollowing sorrow cleaved itself, poisoning his innards and weakening knees. Still, he found the strength to straighten his posture and lifted a glass of light wine at their passing. The man’s eyes looked at him, mirroring his gaze, before he nodded in polite acknowledgment and walked away, without stopping.

“Danya…?”

He remembered a blurry figure hovering over him as he tried to squirm away against coarse wool blankets, large hands were too rough and careless to leave his skin unmarked- and a creeping voice indicating the man was gleeful to be so. His throat hurt, squeezed tight. Despite it all, those same deadly hands and broad shoulders always held him gently afterwards- Daniil missed those few moments of comforting affection, as willing now as back then to discard the fact he felt panicked only moments prior. Daniil liked to imagine love were those brief moments, buried among the fear. He was grateful for the Capital fashion of long sleeves and high collars, covering up the guilt and humiliation for a long time- they both were.

 

 

But here he was now, surrounded by gold and green beneath a brilliant cerulean whilst those figures were nothing more than initials on a journal’s page. The sun shined on his face and the wind made the unbuttoned cuffs of his sleeves whip carelessly around his wrists.

As long as his knowledge and his schooling remained, Daniil concluded, it was fine. He only hoped that shared recollections with Artemy and a few of the Townsfolk like Yulia and Peter remained untouched.

“I suppose it did,” was all Daniil could muster out. That seemed to wound Artemy more than a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answer.

“Danya?”

“Hmm?”

“You alright?”

“Of course I am.”

“How many times, if… I may ask?” Artemy probed. The man readjusted himself to sit more parallel with Daniil… probably noting Daniil’s aversion to his gaze, even if Captial man didn’t know why he did so. It was easier to admit things that way.

“A couple of times.” Daniil said flatly, trying to remember any of the previous partners’ faces, if that was what they were. He sighed. “I don’t harbour any… I mean, I really don’t mind; just the way things are or… the way that I am.”

Daniil wondered if he just tried harder, if he could have changed their fates, if he could have had the elusive happiness that kept dodging him or at least, see the dwindling memories as a tragic happening rather than a blessing.

“I didn’t know.”

“It’s not as if I broadcast my love life. Unless someone wanted a laugh.” Daniil meant it as a jest but his tone betrayed his self pitying. Andrey would have laughed at him, jeering at abbreviated names in his journal, instead of having pitying doe eyes like Artemy. “I mean, the last thing I wanted was tabloids on me or on any of them.”

Would you have invited me over to pry open the gossip, Andrey? Ask me why I bothered with any of the fools instead of attending your parties with masks? Mocked me for gifting wine and pens to them? Offer to be another set of letters on the page?

A romantic, that’s what he was. Despite it all, he… Andrey was right.

Artemy must have sensed some pain, and leaned closer to him until their shoulders touched. A small wish bubbled from Daniil, a shadow of hope, that Artemy would wrap his arm around Daniil as he often seen lovers do in the parks. But Artemy remained stiff- his comments on the failing to share touch fresh on Daniil’s mind. It didn’t make sense, Daniil thought. That Artemy could hold him with palms so tenderly but reject any notion similar to a hug. The comforting weight continued to press against him, growing and looming over until the blond hair and heavy head rest against his own, as they both avoided each other’s gaze and focused on the world before them.

“I’m sorry. That is…”

“In the past.” Daniil cut the man short. Artemy shook his head, making their hair tangle.

“Your heart deserved so much better.”

Daniil gave a playful slap on Artemy’s meaty thigh instead of protesting or mocking the man’s sympathy.

“Don’t forget who you’re talking to- the heartless Bachelor Dankovsky. That’s not a reputation to build up from overnight.”

Artemy hummed, a threat of a tease near his lips, and snaked Daniil’s hand to fit into his own. It made Daniil swallow a dry lump in his throat, how easily and freely Artemy was touching him, pulling him closer without an iota of hesitation.

Daniil wanted this, whatever relationship or affair their camaraderie has evolved to, to work. He wanted so badly for Artemy to fully know and understand everything, to smother worries and sins as he had done before. Daniil wanted to wake up to Artemy’s sleeping face, brow tight and uneven mouth drooling through snores, every day. He wanted Artemy to keep saying stupid jokes and simple words.

Artemy lifted his hand to kiss Daniil’s naked knuckles.

He hoped that Artemy remained gentle with him, even when he didn’t deserve it.

“No. But it was a reputation destroyed in one night,” Artemy finally announced, starting a well thought out tease, Daniil assumed.

“Oh? When you realized I was actually feeble and forsaken?” Daniil snorted.

Artemy huffed a smile, humouring Daniil’s mask. But soft grey eyes crinkled in fondness- the mark of a warm recollection. Artemy nuzzled and shifted his head, leaning more against Daniil with the action, until the raspy whispers of the other tickled Daniil’s ear with the heated breath.

“No. It was when I was too feeble to walk up the stairs, feeling forsaken by all, and… you were there.” Artemy said, and Daniil heard the smile splitting the other's face before he felt it pressing against his temple.

Daniil blinked and remembered vividly of that occurrence, making his breath hitch. It was a moment of weakness, abandoning all walls and considerations. Daniil whispered comforts, even admitted admiration, as best he could give and gave a simple hug to the larger man made of glass.. How could he not, when the man made of that was supposed to be immovable and made of myth seemed so… vulnerable? Pitiful?

Before Daniil could think about it more, Artemy continued, pulling and then kissing his hand from the boney knuckles to the soft flesh of his palm with each sentence.

“You were there… as a friend I didn’t know I had. Didn’t know I needed. Didn’t know I wanted.”

Daniil watched Artemy cherish his hold, an act so affectionate, that Daniil couldn’t help but remember in the aftermath of last night’s nightmare, when he tried to lean into a steady frame for comfort in the same way they were now, the other only stiffened distance between them. Artemy, in his own strange way, keeps pushing Daniil away, yet, also pulling him closer. I can’t be touched lest I turn to stone. Nor touch more than this, actually. Artemy said, whilst bedding beside Daniil and caressing him so sweetly later on. To you or anyone. Unless it’s… unless it’s for the sake of force. 

Yet, Artemy didn’t become rigid to Daniil’s embrace of that night of snow and sorrow he fondly recollects now as he did to the day Daniil left his home- in fact, Daniil remembered how the larger body had melted into him.

What changed, Artemy? Did the curse evolve, or did you?

“‘Heartless Bachelor Dankovsky.’ I’m offended; what a terrible joke.” Artemy continued. “I heard the evidence myself that you had a good heart. So please… trust me with it.”

Daniil distanced himself from their nearly conjoined bodies, just to better see Artemy’s soft gaze. Weariness still bruised lilac underneath storm grey eyes, but like the romantic he was, Daniil saw the stars and kindness staring back at him. Pleading.

It wasn’t a request.

It was a promise. One that made Daniil’s heart buzz with anxiety and flutter with hope. Artemy already trusted his heart to Daniil, and was merely asking for the same burden.

The petals of steppe flowers weaved around them. Daniil swayed his head around to check once more for any unwelcomed eyes, any witnesses. There were none. Just them. Daniil looked back at Artemy and felt the corners of his mouth softly rise at the man before him.

Daniil nodded.

The truth was simple, Daniil would never have his freedom again, and Artemy didn’t want his- denying it for the sake of love. But they will have to go back to the Town in the morning, and their lives will have to go on. They will be overworked and underappreciated, never fully free from danger. But… Daniil could still hold a quiet promise that he will keep Artemy safe, and that included Artemy’s too-soft heart.

“Alright… I will.” Daniil leaned in, and allowed Artemy to seal their promise with a kiss.

 

---

 

As they walked back to Shekhen, Artemy was forced to lead the way, parting the hardy blades of grass, glowing with youthful green. Conversation and guffaws tumbled out of them, much more merrily than the previous days, in a way Daniil didn’t think it was possible. Every so often, Artemy warned of a hidden gully or pointed out a botanical interest of his, turning back, beaming as the sun glowed on them.

Daniil didn’t recall the last time he felt like he was swelling with joy. For the first time, perhaps in his life, Daniil felt as young as the world.

He wished that he could be by Artemy’s side, and walk down the same path in the sunshine- but the path was too narrow and the steppe too foreign. He didn’t mind if that would never happen; what they had was already perfect.

Yet, he couldn’t help but wonder that perhaps the next time it can be possible, when the path was a little more sparse or when the grass matured into something softer.

He smiled again, already looking forward to it.

He didn’t sleep that night. Instead, he basked in Artemy being close to him once again, feeling the heat radiate off the body whilst it rattled with snores.

 

---

 

“Good afternoon, Rubin.” Daniil nodded as he stepped into the threshold. Rubin straightened his back, away from hunching over a patient’s document. “How was the town whilst we were away?”

Rubin blinked owlishly at him, making Daniil quirk an eyebrow. They did agree that he and Artemy would come back on Friday morning, and Daniil would resume the clinic’s responsibilities to relieve Rubin as quickly as possible. Artemy initially volunteered until Daniil pointed out he would also need a day to collect himself, putting away the cart and all, and attend to the children’s needs.

So the presence was not sudden, as he was technically twenty minutes late, nor unexpected. Daniil wondered if Rubin thought it odd or improper to carry a bag of personal items and toiletries into the place of work rather than returning and unloading to the Stillwater.

Regardless, Rubin’s large hand eagerly closed the patient’s file, and groaned as he cracked his back, brow tightening back into his usual scowl.

“From a medical standpoint, plain and uneventful. The new clinic is coming in nicely- western wall is up and they’re starting on the second floor. Perhaps the construction will be done by the summer festival.”

Daniil nodded- a sigh of relief huffed out through a grin. It would be very convenient if that were the case- the carpet has been waiting too long in the warehouse for its installation and Daniil personally looked forward to seeing how dazzling the stained glass on the walls’ corners and on the door would look as inside. Only a couple more weeks to see it, then. Once more, Rubin eyed at him, studying him as if he were a dog- Daniil didn’t know if the gaze was one of humor or interest. The man always had a rather judgmental gaze, but from the lack of narrowed eyes, he wasn’t scorning. At least, not yet. Probably waiting for Daniil to resume his duties so the taller man can finally rest.

“The best we can hope for. But we’ll need someone guarding the new clinic from eager children and adults too curious.” Daniil hummed. The stairs creaked underneath him as he went up, swinging the bag with the rhythm. He gave a quick wave toward the file on the desk. “I’ll drop my things off upstairs- I’ll look over the file, but anything I should know?”

Rubin stood up, his frame large and imposing within the small room and made the desk look comically small. Daniil felt pride bubble up as he let the customized desk for the hulking members of the clinic remain a secret. He had to check his calendar to see if he had to ask to delay the shipment of furniture again- but if the new clinic’s progress was as smooth as he understood, then the surprise would come at just the right time.

As his bag plopped on the abused couch, Daniil turned around to head back down and flinched, stopping his path before he bumped into Rubin. As the other walked in, the hulking man had to angle his head to avoid the doorframe as he forced himself, and Daniil by proxy, back into the dingy loft.

“But there was a series of murders.” Rubin said, his voice low.

“Murders?”

The man nodded.

“Three victims. Targeted people from the factory by the sounds of it. Cub was a suspect but apparently one of the soldiers saved Clara, and slashed his face- marking him.” Rubin trailed a fingernail down his temple to the cheek. “So if you see someone looking like Artemy Burakh and requiring stitches, run. Shoot them. Regardless, Cub should be getting a visit from the Saburovs soon just to confirm.”

Daniil blinked. Murders? Murders whilst they were away for only-

Murders by someone that looked like Artemy Burakh.

Daniil’s hand instinctively pressed against his abdomen, trying to keep the ghost of the burning blood from spilling out.

 

The knife was dull and hurt.

It was cold. So so cold but tears seared canyons into his face.

Daniil felt his life pouring out of brutal or mediocre gashes as his head and wrist pulsed with pain.

He was scared.

 

The loft started tilting around him and balance was getting harder to maintain in his dizzying trance. Daniil stumbled, the back of his leg colliding with the coffee table’s edge. Without bothering to fight for balance, Daniil crumbled into a clumsy seat on top of the offending obstacle. His fingers automatically wrapped around the edges of the wood, stabilizing a rocking body from meeting the floor.

“That’s… not what I expected,” Daniil mumbled.

“Dankovsky, are you alright?”

“Yes. Just…”

“Reminds you of the plague?” Rubin’s voice softened.

“Yes.” Daniil gulped. “Yes, that.”

That had to be a dream. A hallucination. It was psychosis. I was drunk. Wasn’t I drunk? I had to be experiencing a psychosis episode. I wasn’t actually murdered-

“In… more optimistic news, the couple in the Stoneyard, the Agapovs- the results of their tests came back negative.” Rubin’s low voice cut through the whirl of thoughts. Daniil fluttered his vision back into focus to see a floating file before him. Gloved hands snatched it before he could realized it. “It turns out that the river water flooded their home some weeks prior, mostly in the basement where their pantry was stored. Probably thought that drying the vegetables was enough and didn’t think about that the absorption that already took place. Told them to monitor their food and water intake, but hopefully they’ll be alright with anti-diarrhea meds.”

Daniil nodded, and opened the file to read Rubin’s notes. He inhaled and exhaled delicious air.

The couple was recently married- and spent the first month of their union being more well acquainted with the bathroom of their new home instead of each other. Dehydration and constant fevers, Daniil thought it was the injuries from the factory work both were involved in… but contaminated food seemed more plausible.

He was fine- he was alright and living and breathing. Rubin had inspected him back then, on the day after the vision, and confirmed it was a concussion. It was entirely possible that the apparent real man attempted to murder Daniil, but only knocked him out on the bridge’s stone railing before the soldier came and scared the criminal off.

That’s it. He dreamt the knife, and dreamt the pain- it made sense.

The words became easier to read and Daniil nodded. His knees stopped feeling weak the more he felt his heartbeat slow.

“However did you find that out?” He asked mostly out of courtesy to keep the conversation flowing, but also to satisfy a slight curiosity at how Rubin extracted the actual necessary information with his bedside manner. Usually patients are too intimidated by the scarecrow of a man, resorting to turn to Daniil and Artemy on the follow ups.

“Had the boy spy on them.”

Daniil snorted.

“Sticky? Didn’t know your involvement with the Agapovs was so deep to expand such… resources.” A large palm weighted on Daniil’s shoulder, lingering only for a moment before it awkwardly trailed off. Daniil looked up; Rubin was wearing the same professional stare he once used on Daniil so long ago. He could only assume that it was an attempt at a friendly gesture.

Wait, is he trying to make sure I’m alright? Bringing up the patients as a distraction? Daniil gave a shy smile, hoping to communicate his state calming.

It was a little endearing, for lack of a better word, at the consideration and concern that the other showed.

The corners of Rubin’s mouth twitched.

“The boy was getting to be too energetic and I thought his time was better placed elsewhere.”

“In a fool’s errand.”

“Can’t call it such if it yielded results.”

Daniil shrugged, playfully surrendering to the other’s argument.

“Another mystery solved with stupidity as the perpetrator.” Daniil tutted as he closed the file and tucked it under his arm. Rubin held out a hand and Daniil gripped it, riding the other’s unwavering forceful pull to stand once more on steadier legs. Daniil nodded in gratitude for the assistance and walked toward the door to the clinic’s domain.

“Death and stupidity. Eternal enemies of mine,” Daniil chuckled, expecting to feel the thundering footsteps following him down, and it did until they reached the stairs.

“Dankovsky.” Rubin called when Daniil was halfway to the reception area; Daniil looked back. Rubin still awkwardly hovered against the door frame, hesitating to fully leave the loft. Daniil quickly pieced together that the man was probably taking the opportunity being upstairs to collect his own personal items he left in their rest area before heading back down and to his proper abode.

“Hmm?”

Rubin cleared his throat.

“You look… Should Cub ever invite you for another stay at Shekhen… I advise you to take the opportunity. When you can. You look well.”

“Oh. That’s… thoughtful of you to say, Rubin.” Daniil cleared his own throat, trying to be conservative with the contentment he felt. He didn’t want Rubin to ask too many questions about what brought Daniil Dankovsky so much relief. “Thank you- I’ll keep it in mind. It was a rather restful experience. Speaking of which, you look like you may need some.”

Rubin nodded, glancing back at the room.

“Yes. Thank you.”

Daniil let his grin spread when Rubin retreated to gather his belongings, leaving Daniil to comfortably sit at the desk, and start his day.

 

---

 

The day went by fast, only one patient arrived for an odd pop and soreness  in his wrist. Nothing that a quick bandage couldn’t fixed.

But then, the time came when Daniil had to go back to the Stillwater. A place he used for retreat was now an odd prison. Once considered the lesser of evils, Daniil hesitated to open the door.

As he stepped in, the building was silent. The soft hues of the cool stone and warm wood made the place seem more ancient, and larger. After a week of spending in a small tent, Daniil wondered if he needed such a large place of residence to himself.

The steps up to the room of books and dust felt like a journey to the gallows. The fear was renewed, and felt it more so because now, his isolation was no longer a sacrifice, but an ugly little thing he asked for.

“Eva.” Daniil felt his blood freeze as he opened the door. The second floor was just as he had left it- papers strung across the desk and on the floor stained with splatters of ink. Books were scattered around as if they were thrown; a reminder of his memory loss as he didn’t recall pulling any of them out. He angled his head to read a page of one near his feet if only to verify- he certainly had no interest in 14th century dye solutions. The dresser was crammed with clothes bunched up and bursting through the openings, preventing any of the drawers from properly closing. Even the bookshelves neglected any proper order, littered stacks of papers and notes shoved into any crevice. Daniil sighed. No wonder Artemy spirited him away from the Town- he hadn’t noticed how unruly he treated the Stillwater.

It was a mess, and Eva was forced to reside in his mania and lack of shame.

The woman was lounging on his bed peering down at an open book, dressed in a lovely light nightgown. As the moon shone brilliantly on her, she glowed like an angel. Dust speckled like stars and floated like snow around her ethereal form. But as her bright eyes drifted over from reading to Daniil, she smiled so sweetly.

“Good evening, Daniil!” She bounced off the bed, the dress shimmering and flowing like a ball gown would. Daniil wouldn’t be surprised if that was indeed what it was. “You seem lively- your eyes are shining.”

He chuckled- he only had one patient and even they remarked on his new health.

“I’m fine… I think.” I would be better if I wasn’t suffering from hallucinations. “How are you? You seem a little… lively as well. Considering… the time… and the mess I caused.”

Eva shifted her weight and hummed, looking around, as she either didn’t mind or didn’t notice it.

“I saw you arriving with the Haruspex.” She pouted. “I was wondering where you were.”

Daniil swallowed a dry lump. He barely managed to get everything organized for his absence; writing directions and expectations for the soldiers laboring, addressing any straggling concerns that the families may have in their drama, and prepping the clinic and its patients for Rubin. He didn’t even consider telling Eva about his trip, so desperate to get out the door, rattling with worries.

He wondered if Andrey noticed. If any of the dead noted their haunted victim was missing.

“I’m sorry.” Daniil dropped his bags before reaching and taking her delicate hands as she would have liked. Like always, he only felt the weight, nothing more differentiating them from the air around him as they perched in his grasp. “I should have announced my leave, at least to you. It was a… business trip.”

Eva giggled through a quaint smile.

“Daniil. You don’t need to guard your heart around me.” Eva caressed his cheek, trails of soft fingers made the approaching stubble tickle. “I think of him crass… But you look at him as I have once done to you.”

Daniil shuddered, unable to identify his emotion. It could have been sorrow or relief or guilt. He wondered if she knew because she was a manifestation of his mind, or if his eyes betrayed him as much as others claim. He didn’t know and didn’t want to know if the real Eva would speak just as gently and ignore her vain attempts for affection. 

Daniil wondered if she loved him, or if she loved the idea of him… and if he loved her or the idea of her, and that’s why she was soft spoken and forgiving. Not because she willed it or he deserved it, but because his mind craved it.

Regardless, his heart was blanketed in a comfort that he wasn’t expecting, and he longed for hers to rest in the same way.

“You’re too kind. Too good to me.” He whispered. “After all I have done and failed to do, and here you are. Eva, please. Tell me- why are you here? I… couldn’t help you in your life. Please, let me rectify this.”

“But I don’t need your help, Daniil. I already told you. I’m here for you.” Eva shook her head, gold strand flowed down her bare neck. Happily, she turned and guided him to the bed, a hand still nestled in his own. Through the piles of papers and clothes, and books toppling over each other, Eva’s steps never made a sound. Her form was as graceful as the dust that fluttered white in the full moon’s light.

The mattress bounced underneath him as he sat on it, even more so when Eva sprang on it in a girlish bit of mischief. He took the book she was reading earlier and carefully set it down on the floor, mindful not to close it and disregard her leisure.

He would have placed it on the side table, but a doll of mangled limbs and buttons sat there as a permanent installation. The gift from Murky. It made Daniil smile- it has been a while since he saw the children proper, even if Sticky occasionally popped up for the sake of an errand. Though he didn’t always welcome him, he would never shoo either of them away- and in case they entered through his theatrical groans, there was a small soft spot in his heart to ensure that Murky would never see her doll on the floor.

Thinking back, the last time they were at the Stillwater, they were being little spies for Artemy and their hunger quickly caused them to go home. Daniil failed to provide a proper meal for them. Perhaps if he were a more decent man, he would have had more things than flour or bags of grain and the odd mysterious silver can that he didn’t remember purchasing in the pantry.

“Alright, what makes you say that? Help me understand.” Daniil asked, trying to keep his tone light and free of worry.

It was easier to do that now.

Eva adjusted her posture to a graceful lean that belonged to magazine covers, after finishing smoothing her gown.

“Well… I loved you, I still do, in the same way you love the weak. Not everyone does, but you do. Do you see yourself in them?”

Daniil was taken aback at the rather bold claim. Eva’s gaze was like an ember- warm, but flickering with something dangerous and tested. A knowing observation claimed with no hesitation. There was truth in it- that Daniil felt right advocating for the weak, but he was also the one that executed them. He held a gun and killed 13 dying patients to hasten the transfer from the cathedral to the theater. Love was not an emotion that he would associate with his profession’s outcome.

Eva blinked at his sputtering.

“What? No. I- it’s not love. It’s… duty. An honor to preserve life. There is no deeper intention behind it.” She sighed at his answer, disappointed. She took his hand once more, and exposed his palm up. A thin finger traced a circle through the gloves, the night’s light bleaching whatever it touched into the same shade of white.

“All is filled with meaning. Things big and small. You kill the strong to help the weak. The feeble. The worthless. And so I love you, and want to help you truly live without having fear cleave you.” Eva stopped and started at him, her blue eyes turning from a calm ocean to a piercing ice, her voice drying into a rasp. “I am here so others are not.”

Daniil shivered at the almost threatening warning.

“I don’t understand. Are… are you protecting me? From what? What others?” The bravado in his tone was gone, even if he tried to keep his questions light and as placid as he always did. Instead, he hated how meek he sounded. Daniil felt his focus going too fast to too many places in the room, trying to find reason or answers. Papers in the bookshelves. Ink stains on the floor. Books opened and closed. Eva’s unblinking stare held steady unto him. “Andrey?”

“Don’t listen without intent of believing, Daniil.”

Daniil shook his head and looked back at her, glaring. He didn’t know if he was offended by her implication of self imposing ignorance upon himself or if he was disturbed that, potentially, his own mind was mocking his senses of logic. Was she implying that he was using her as a shield against the others that could visit him?

His rib cage felt too small, as small as the room trying to contain the stark white moonlight. He wanted to see her smile and blink again.

Eva’s lithe form slid closer to him, head as still as a hunting cat. She studied him, almost gauging him, looking for weakness.

“I don’t fear the truth,” he scoffed.

“But you do fear. You fear so much.” Eva blinked, softness coming back into them as her words softened to as it was before. Daniil wondered if she thought she was offering him a comforting fact. As the space in between them lessened, Daniil found her approaching him with a wariness one would give to a wild animal. He didn’t know what she wanted; if she wanted him to confess or crumble or defy her, demand straightforward answers.

But if she was indeed a symptom of an illness- what hope would I have to get an answer? Can she really know something that I don’t?

The leather in his gloves crinkled and groaned as they curled into fists.

“Yes, I do.” He snapped. “I fear failure. I fear not understanding and being under prepared. I fear eyes that know more than me. I fear being a vessel for chaos due to my incompetency. I fear what any normal man should.”

Eva leaned in more and… placed an arm around his back- a gentle anchor. Cautiously, the woman leaned against him. As he relaxed, so did she, rubbing soothing circles through his coat.

“I know.”

Any hiss he had left in him quickly fell into a croon. His fist tightened before loosening to conduct his words in small sways, articulating each point with his hand pinched. With each admittance, the next one became easier, and Eva became softer.

“I fear love that flees and searches for escape. I fear the affection with hidden knives. I fear injustice that persists and mocks me. But not truth. Never truth. I fear I am mad and all I have done will end up in ash and dust or amount to nothing.” Daniil finished with a shudder. He didn’t know why he was confessing… but it felt like a soreness of a healing wound. Aching but good to say it out loud.

Daniil sighed, and looked at the shadows on the floor. His own resembled a tombstone with his hunched back and head dropped in between slouching shoulders.

Eva… had a shape. But it was undefined, like the shape of a fire’s light. Daniil watched her shadow against his, shedding fluttering ash dancing from her form, engulfing his. Her hand, never cold, never warm, tilted his head to look at her, away from the floor.

It made his heart jump to his throat.

“Many live their lives and accomplish nothing, but they gleefully lived and loved. Isn’t that enough?” She sighed out. Her skin glowed against the moon. “To eat and drink and love and be loved and dance and sing! Listen to me and listen well; you’re not a concept nor a stone- you’re a man.”

Her long delicate fingers trailed down from his cheek, to his neck, to his chest, and perched over his heart. It was beating madly; Daniil couldn’t tell if it was trying to pulse toward her grasp or away from it. Her hand spread over it like a spider’s- if her flesh sank into his, he wouldn’t be able to feel like it. Though he wanted to look at her shadow, at her hand, and try to make sense of it, all he could do was remain as he was, captivated by her.

Her voice chimed.

“The earth craves you as it does to all; I’m here to make sure your heart still beats and blood still flows- I would love to see you dance and sing, Daniil.”

Eva pulled him closer, her arms sewing his body unto her. He didn’t fight against it, and leaned against her shoulder.

“It’s...” The thought of Artemy wormed into his mind as Eva mimicked what he longed from the man. How wonderful it must feel to have a solid arm around him, holding him. Daniil fantasized perching his hands to rest on Artemy’s proud chest; Daniil imagined it would be like placing a hand on a bull- healthy and strong, padded with a charming layer of domestic fat. Just them, alone in a private world, awkwardly dancing and shuffling around in each other’s arms, through Daniil’s stiff form and Artemy’s ignorant steps. Daniil could sing into Artemy’s ears, low and soft words of admiration of love, meaning each one. Artemy could like that, and perhaps like hearing it more on lazy mornings with eyes still closed, his weight still stationed atop of Daniil’s lounging, clinging around Daniil’s waist.

Daniil would like that. All of it.

But Artemy couldn’t hold and touch like he wanted to, so the other claimed. Eva’s eyes softened as Daniil began to realize his musings were foolish. A sad little creature mewed that it was better this way- that it was always better to avoid touching. Daniil tugged the cuff of his glove in between their bodies to secure it, out of habit. He and Artemy could still be a comfort to one another but safe from wandering eyes.

“It’s hard to dance and sing when there’s no music,” he finally huffed out in amusement against her shoulder. He didn’t know why Eva was there and protecting him, ensuring his survival. He wondered if he had a glorious task to fulfill to make such a haunting worthy. Surely, he thought, that he had more to offer than just automating through the day. “Just living is not enough to celebrate.”

Eva gave a small squeeze, thin fingers carding through his hair. Golden hair tickled his nose.

“Daniil, don’t you understand?” He could hear her smile. “Life is the celebration.”

 

---

 

Daniil awoke with the red of morning attacking his eyes. He blinked and sat up from bed; sleepwear rumpled and his bare hands touching his hair, smelling of shampoo.

He had no memory of bathing or shaving.

The room was messier in the light.

 

---

 

“Hey, Danya. Old boy.”

Daniil kept walking, ignoring Andrey as he loitered on the bridge’s railing. To his frustration, Andrey swayed to walk alongside him, hand perched in his back pockets with an amused tilt to his stride. It reminded Daniil of a vulture.

“Hey, I’m talking to you. Don’t you want to hear what I have to say?” Andrey purred.

“Perhaps I would be, if you didn’t insist on engaging in conversation out in the open,” Daniil mumbled, pulling out his pocket watch. He was on time to get to the clinic, technically. He should have left a few more minutes earlier, and perhaps, he could have avoided Andrey and his apparent morning walks.

“You’re not exactly a regular at the Broken Heart; thought you should be. Or should have been. Eva told me how happy you are- never thought I’d see the day. Should I expect pink elephants next? Or a blue mongoose?” Andrey snorted, his long legs moving faster to keep up with Daniil.

“Don’t expect my attention if you’re just going to mock me and my-” Daniil nearly yelped as he was jerked back; Andrey held on to his wrist and flicked it away when Daniil submitted to standing still. No building in front or behind them, just a lonely road with a bench and a lamp stretching in between the islands of homes and stores. An oxymoron, somewhere both private and public where they can speak.

Daniil glared at the other man with narrow face and piercing eyes.

“No, old boy. I mock idiots and fools. You may be a fool right now, but only because you have no choice but to be one.” Andrey stood as proud and tall as he could over Daniil, looking down at him. Daniil never submitted or cowered to the other’s form of provokation; he and Andrey were more equal in strength than Andrey would have liked to admit, but Daniil never felt the need to intimidate using his physical capabilities. Andrey smirked, enjoying the defiance.

“Make it quick- why are you here?” Daniil growled. “I’m busy.”

Andrey pointed down the road.

“To protect you. From that man, the Ripper. You think you know what he’s capable of, but I know it deeper. If I were you, I would make sure that gun is nice and loaded before you head around. Don’t even let him look at you funny, otherwise he can unravel you and call it ‘care.’”

Daniil rolled his shoulders, and checked his watch once more. He didn’t know the extent that dead Andrey and real living Andrey knew of Artemy, but Daniil knew the other’s character perfectly well.

The memory of the most recent nightmare assaulted him, and a shiver went up Daniil’s spine.

For several nights, that minotaur, the one once called Oyun, went after him as he wore different faces. Kin members that ran too far from where they were allowed were hunted just as much as innocent Townspeople that got too close. Each time, Daniil felt brutal blows- his legs broken so he couldn’t get away. Some tried to crawl, the ground scraping against their bellies, and some just curled as he once did in the Abattoir. His ribs cracked so he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t fuel the pleas for mercy. His skull fractured so he couldn’t think, only remember that once, there was laughter in the world.

The beatings were bloody. They were always bloody. To feed the earth.

But the last night was different. When Daniil woke up, he felt sweet revenge soothe him when he was the minotaur… until Artemy trudged in.

“Artemy would never hurt me.” Daniil snapped.

“Oh-ho! It’s Artemy now, is it?” Andrey flashed perfect white teeth, and threw his head back laughing, making Daniil blink before feeling his face flame. If Daniil knew and embraced the relationship, shouldn’t Andrey know as Eva did? The man did admit that Eva and him were talking. Yet, Andrey didn’t actually bring up Artemy as Daniil’s suitor, it was Daniil that gave enough pieces for Andrey to complete. “You say it with such fondness! You cried it enough times on the steppe? How rustic!”

“Don’t be foul." Daniil groaned. I feel like I’m in one of Sticky’s terrible patients’ dramas.

“Can’t be as foul as he is, plucking such a tender victim.” Andrey scoffed and slumped down on the lonely bench, letting a stiff finger pointing at Daniil bounce as he shuffled to get comfortable. “He now properly doomed you and you don’t even realize it. You could have been immortal, you know. Live on through the generations.”

Daniil rolled his eyes and checked his watch.

“I’m not helpless, Andrey. I’ll be going now.”

Daniil turned and marched-

“Don’t be such a romantic. What happens if he’s no longer sweet Artemy, and the Ripper comes out?” Andrey voiced out, projecting the words to ring through the air and the murky river nearby. Daniil, in spite of his wishes, stopped. “Where will you run? He only plays the hero, saving our little moga from the cold. But look at you; nowhere to run now. No one to rely on if he ever gets… impatient. It doesn’t even have to be malicious; just a slip of his oafish self. You’ve seen it. Experienced it, even. And yet, you still gamble on his good graces and yield? Or… is that thought that excites you? Do you love your fear, Daniil Dankovsky?”

Daniil didn’t bother looking back at him, knowing that the other was bearing a hyena-like glee, and ignored the shaky stirrings in the pit of his stomach. But Daniil did turn his head, enough for Andrey to see his profile, but kept his glance down at his watch, flipping it open once more.

“What he’s capable of, and what is in his nature are two different things. He’s not a slave to his strength, Andrey.”

And that strength comes at a cost, Daniil wanted to argue. His knee makes stairs a struggle. He recoils and freezes at touch. He flees battles after winning too many in the war.

“If that’s what you want to believe. I can help you, old boy. When the moment comes where your fangs lack the venom you need.” Andrey crossed his legs, content on starting his day in lounging with a cocky grin. “But in the meantime, don’t forget what I’ve said, and what you’ve seen.”

Daniil walked on, knowing full well that Andrey ended his warning with a wink.

The streets were always empty, when the blue hour melted into soft red and yellows. Daniil was grateful for it; it gave him a chance to walk and think in the fresh air as the brick buildings sang in their warm tones of earth.

Even if Andrey was crass… there were still things to think about. Daniil’s march slowed.

Artemy was a very easy man to love, and a very attractive one in every regard. Daniil accounted for the possibility that Artemy may one day graduate from his emotions, as permanent as they may feel for now. But Andrey was right, the Town was now the entirety of Daniil’s world.

Daniil thought of his father. Of his university mates and his previous colleagues. He saw the darkness in Artemy and felt it- and yet, it failed to sway him away from affection.

Do you love your fear, Daniil Dankovsky? Andrey asked the absurd question.

… Was he asking if I am yielding to him because I love him, or because I fear him?

Aren’t they one and the same, in the grand scheme? Artemy says he can’t have freedom and love. Well, it’s not a leap to also suggest that love can also invoke fear.

Daniil nodded at his conclusion and followed the path, expecting to see the blue door of the clinic mottled in the sunlight.

Instead, he found Artemy, leaning against the door. His foot bouncing and his arms twitching, repositioning themselves. The lone figure straightened himself as Daniil’s footsteps finally reached his ear.

“Oh, Artemy. Burakh. ” Daniil sighed out with a smile he couldn’t restrain as the man hurried to hum, lumbering through patches of missing bricks and kicking the overgrown weeds in between the stones. The name felt tender on his lips still. Artemy gave a stiff bow of his head in a stiff greeting. The strange look of wariness and panic on the other made Daniil stiffen. “Is… everything alright?”

Artemy thought, the act making him freeze before he shuffled his limbs again.

“Not exactly.” His eyes, wide and manic, rested on Daniil, and then at the blue shabby door of the clinic. “I may have left something untended for far too long.”

“The murderer? Rubin informed me.” Daniil stuffed his pocket, trying to look for the keys as they approached the door. Artemy hovered too close to Daniil in a strange dance, planting a foot on and off the stoop as if eager to be the first in the clinic in spite of Daniil being the one to hold the keys. Finally, the quirked eyebrow from Daniil made Artemy rest in his fidgeting, allowing Daniil enough room to face the door.

“No. Although I would love to join the lynching when he’s caught.” Artemy growled low. “No, it’s something else, something I would rather discuss inside.”

Daniil’s hands fumbled with the strips of metal, trying to jiggle their way in. He couldn’t wait to never have to struggle with unlocking the door again. After his shift, there would still be enough daylight to check up on the construction. He already had some letters in his bag to send to Yulia and Peter for a quick tea and catch up on the detailed updates- though he suspected that Peter would decline. He always did when the primary reason to talk was business and tea; Andrey was probably the one with the domain of numbers and clients. 

All that was left to do was wait for Sticky to show up and send him to deliver the messages.

Wait. If the man threatened me before and started his murderous spree now… would he target the children as they come out of here? Is it better to keep Sticky within the walls, or away from them?

Fine, I’ll drop it off at the post myself, later today.

“Bloody keys.” Daniil gritted his teeth and shoved the key to the right angle, finally making it click in place and using his shoulder to get the door open. Sighing and rubbing his shoulder as he walked, he placed his bag on top of the reception desk and leaned against the rough wood, watching Artemy timidly follow in to the threshold. The posture was odd on him, as if he was trying to keep something from inside his body from tumbling out. “Alright, what was it? The syringes? Rubin has already boiled washed them-.”

Artemy shook and waved away the suggestion.

“No, it’s Sticky and Clara-. I have been wanting to-… I mean no offense- with everything-…” Artemy hissed sharply, stopping his blubbering. A furrowed brow scrunched his face.

“Artemy, it’s alright. Just speak.” Daniil said plainly. The man’s charisma may have abandoned him, but the worry and sorry state made up to keep Daniil’s patience. “What is troubling you so? Did something happen?”

Artemy grumbled.

In two steps, the man was right in front of Daniil, close, his heavy hands on his shoulders. The burst of movement, the sudden touching, the sheer concern made Daniil flinch to receive whatever awful news Artemy had. Daniil felt his stomach freeze- they only returned yesterday and Artemy spent the day unloading the Kin goods and apparently being questioned by the local authorities on his innocence, not to mention tending to whatever the children-

The children.

“Are the children alright?” Daniil clasped desperate grips over Artemy’s wrists. Artemy shook his head.

“They’re fine. No, Daniil, you’re not well and now I can’t shake the feeling you’re in danger.” Artemy creaked. Daniil froze at the reason bluntly spoken, his hands relaxed before they draped off the iron grip Artemy held on him. The children were safe, at least. At least it wasn’t them or Artemy. A breath of relief escaped at his assumptions being wrong, but Artemy squeezed Daniil’s focus back to the scruffy jaw and rounded grey eyes.

Daniil sighed, and opened his mouth to tell Artemy there was nothing that he should fret over, but Artemy literally shook the opportunity away from him with stiffening muscles, making his frame feel smaller in comparison to the other. The man was desperate to keep Daniil’s undivided attention on him.

“The night terrors, the vomiting and painkillers, the fevers and stomach aches. It’s not normal. So while it's quiet and early in the morning… allow me to give you a proper check. Please, be the first patient today.”

Artemy’s hands trembled.

They never tremble. The other was always the steadier one, the stronger one. Daniil shifted his gaze down. What if he finds out that I’m… Mad? Psychotic?

…Broken?

It’s best if I try to find out on my own.

Daniil took a deep breathe, a tease eager in his throat-

And Artemy’s pleading gaze stripped it away from him.

The weight of what was being asked finally dawned on him. This was the first test- to see if he trusted Artemy as much as he said he would. Daniil wondered how he could persuade Artemy to postpone the meeting or to cancel the intent at all. But… he had no memory of bathing and cleaning himself of the steppe’s scent and grime. He had no memory of eating since the warm milk and steppe cakes the prior morning, and yet, he wasn’t hungry. The symptoms were too fresh to ignore.

It was already too late to find the solution in secret. Any more would be cementing his submission into deterioration. Had Artemy wanted to, Artemy could brute force him into compliance. He did once, long ago for a check up, in a grueling show of strength- Daniil may have been too sickly to fight back in his recovery, but he never fully forgot the ease the other showed in manipulating his flesh to a proper position before prodding his back with intruding fingers. There were plenty of times in his life he was forced to comply, or something close enough to claim it as such…

No.

Artemy was gentle, and pleading for Daniil to comply, because it was his choice to. If I refuse, what would he do?

Artemy’s hands trembled more, trying to restrain a tension jittering his bones.

He would beg until I said yes. Daniil thought, answering his own question. Daniil wasn’t Oyun. Daniil didn’t hold a threat to Artemy beyond the snark that they were both well armed in.

“Very well.” Daniil whispered, barely audible to himself.

Artemy’s hands tightened their grips, squeezing almost uncomfortably tight, before the other suddenly slumped his head on Daniil’s shoulders, a gentle weight airing relief to the curve of his neck.

Daniil wondered if Artemy noticed his pulse quickening as the man buried himself into Daniil.

 

---

 

The light was white and sterile, cold even on the warm summer days and Daniil felt naked on top of the table in almost nothing but his undergarments,a patient yet again. Artemy was decent enough to let him undress in private, like they would allow a normal patient to do- and the moment Artemy requested, Daniil felt his stomach ache in knowing it was going to be a thorough inspection. Daniil hunched his shoulders and crossed his arms over his bare chest. Bile burned the back of his throat; and Daniil didn’t know if it was born from anxiety of Artemy finding something wrong or from Artemy finding nothing. Daniil pondered if Artemy felt the same as him.

At least, that’s what he hoped the churning on his stomach was, and that he would have been feeling nervous despite Andrey’s earlier words.

It wasn’t as if there was something unorthodox in the works for them; this was strictly professional Yet, Daniil rattled at the thought of the other’s touch despite knowing how careful his hands could be.

He also knows how brutal he could be. The man Daniil lived through, long ago, had a merciful death. It was quick and professional. Oyun didn’t have the privilege. A battle that Daniil thought Artemy would be as quick as effective in… turned out to be sadistic. Slow.

Artemy didn’t use any weapons on the god-like figure that towered over him. That would be kind. Instead, Daniil felt him beating the other; taking at least fifteen minutes of torture. First Artemy tried to go for the head, getting a couple of good hits in, but Oyun shrugged it off; Daniil hardly felt it. So the man in green quickly adjusted his technique to breaking what supported the beast. Fracturing Oyun’s balance; shattering a knee, twisting a wrist until it popped into white hot pain.

Daniil whimpered at the memory.

But there was one moment that stood out. Daniil did find it odd, along with Oyun, that once during the battle, Oyun engulfed Artemy’s head, gripping ear and hair. The older man hesitated when cold grey eyes flickered a knowing glare at him, no fear nor anger. The minotaur’s arm was frozen, unable to swing Artemy’s head into the ground, but then resumed the final impact when Artemy yelled obscenities at him. Daniil didn’t know what to feel, because he knew the outcome of the battle, and yet, this was wrong. The only thing he truly felt was horror at the sheer brutality. Meaty hands held their promise… and swung Artemy’s head like a doll against the stone of their arena. The impact was smaller and wetter than Daniil thought. Blood pulsed out of blond locks like a halo.

Oyun huffed once, twice, and wiped the blood off the side of his mouth. Feeling only pain and bitterness pulse through his body- no glory.

The area was small and quiet.

Oyun groaned at the pain, wrist limp and leg practically collapsing under itself… only to hear another groan echoing in the room.

Then… Artemy rose again. The blood still on the stone, and dripping down the his face, but no other evidence of the final blow.

In the end, Artemy punched Oyun’s throat, stealing air, kicking the man down mercilessly when Oyun fell onto his knees, remaining hand on throat. Daniil felt Artemy’s full weight as he straddled and pulverized Oyun’s head, screaming, knuckles a sledgehammer against soft flesh and weary bones, until Daniil couldn’t take the pain, couldn’t take the look of savagery and rage on Artemy, and couldn’t handle Oyun’s memories of holding a wailing babe with round cheeks and bright blue eyes, reaching for the red charm around his neck. He wanted to give up, he wanted to die; the return of the nightmares was too much.

And like before, his punishment for not seeing the end was the shape of Artemy with yellow eyes looming for him. Waiting to finish the job in his flesh instead of the victim’s.

But…

Artemy woke up as well, protected him, and would comfort him so sweetly through a stormy night.

The memory made Daniil shiver. All of it. His stomach hurt.

He wanted so badly that the Artemy with the soft gaze and trailing touches was the real one, and the Ripper a necessary mask. He had to want, had to hope, because there was nothing else to do and nowhere else to go.

Do you love the Ripper as well? A sad little voice asked. Do you love your fear?

Practically naked, alone, and vulnerable. No weapons nor illusion or protection- Daniil agreed to submit and let himself be exposed completely.

Artemy’s potential weighed heavily on his mind- the strength and sheer will the other bore. Daniil gripped the edge of the table, making the sheet wrinkle. He tried to shake that disgusting feeling away, as if was betraying the man’s character. After all, he didn’t feel the fear in the steppe in the morning and was well aware of the man’s action prior to their mutual confessing.

He trusted the man, completely. Artemy already doted on him before, and cared for him tenderly; there was no reason to believe that he would harm Daniil.

Then again, Daniil thought of many people like that.

They always said the same thing. That he was loved… but evidently, they grew to know Daniil too well.

Daniil shivered more, his insides unraveling from a tight knot to something that had no structure.

It wasn’t fair, how Daniil was treating Artemy. I trust him. He would never harm me.

But he can, if he wanted to. The voice not his own, but just as familiar said. You were going to be harvested.

He told me! Daniil snapped at the voice. He told me of his sins before he said he loved me, before I said I loved him. I believe him.

He will know now, the voice replied. He will know that you’re losing your sanity, the only thing you have left. He said of his sins, but you failed to say yours, coward. Then he’ll treat you the way that worthless maggots should be treated.

Daniil was rocking himself, reminded himself how the many showed nothing but concern and consideration through their time together. Whenever he felt fragile in that state of waking nightmares, and in recovery of the plague, he was handled as such. Artemy was always careful.

“Daniil?” Artemy’s voice creaked quietly from the doorway. The door opened and the air pressure seemed to shift.

“Hmm?” Daniil didn’t have the grace to mumble out a complete word nor the ability to look Artemy in the eye, he kept staring at the cracked tile on the floor. There was a good chance it still held some residual vomit.

“Are you alright?” Artemy lowered himself to Daniil’s sight, and Daniil could only nod. The act caused a few hair strands to drift to the front of his eyes like a curtain. A brush of warmth glazed by his temple as Artemy brushed the wads of black back. “It’s okay, I’ll be quick.”

And the man kept his promise. Daniil took a deep breath when asked, shivering against the cold steel of the stethoscope, and let Artemy press and squeeze whatever pleased him. After each test, Artemy jotted his findings down on a notepad, right on top of a folder reserved for patients.

Artemy looked inside his mouth, and inside his ears, made Daniil look at the light… even tested his reflexes.

It felt like hours. Throughout the entire time, Artemy was silent.

Good thing- Daniil would have snapped at him to stop and finish his testings as soon as possible.

Eventually Artemy put down the pen after writing the final result of the final test and Daniil bit his lip.

“Anything of note?” Daniil reached for his shirt, a little too out of range. But as he squatted forward to stand up, Artemy’s hands drifted to his shoulders. Weighing him to sit back down once more.

“You have a heart murmur and your lungs are wheezing.” Artemy hummed, looking at Daniil’s eyes reacting to the light and to the new information.

“Treatment plans?”

“Still not done checking.”

Daniil blinked, trying to gather what other tests there could be. Artemy already checked his respiratory system, cardiac, reflex, and drew even blood. Daniil stiffened when Artemy tilted his form to drift downward, and to lay on the table.

His stomach hurt.

He should be fighting, biting back against the hands that held him… but Daniil made a promise to Artemy. That was the only thing that kept him there.

“What are you doing?” Daniil whimpered. This wasn’t normal. Doctors don’t ask patients to lay on their sides with their arms relaxed in front of them. The room started to spin; once more, he felt Artemy’s fingers start trailing across his skin. From the back of the neck to the base of his spine- it made Daniil shudder. The man was behind him; Daniil couldn’t see his expressions- not that he paid attention to them whilst the normal inspections were taking place, but now he didn’t have the choice to study him.

“Checking your Lines now… Don’t worry,” Artemy cooed, trying to keep his tone light., “I’ll be gentle.”

“Oh, that’s what they all say.” Daniil snapped before he could stop himself. The quip lost its light and sarcastic tone he wanted to convey, only the harshness of the words remained. Artemy’s hands stopped immediately.

“Daniil?”

“I’m fine.”

The warm patches on his back stayed still for a moment longer before they became active in their explorations once more, sliding down with the curves of his body. The fingertips’ movement was slower, more careful and easier to predict their paths. Daniil soon became grateful for the position the longer he stayed there; at least it gave some opportunities to hide his face into his hands, or tuck his elbows in to cover his torso.

 Artemy did reach his hand over a thin wrist at one point, but stopped as Daniil flinched. Instead, Artemy merely started pressing an open palm against his chest- Daniil could feel the hardiness and work that molded the other.

So it went; sometimes Artemy got to investigate what he wanted, and sometimes Daniil flinched him away. Not that he meant to- his body reacted before his mind. Daniil wanted to snap, grab his shirt and leave. Laying there like an animal made him feel more like a specimen than a patient, and Daniil wanted to growl out that he agreed to a proper procedure with proper tools, none of the steppe methods and techniques of ceaseless touching.

But a gentle hum stopped him. 

Daniil blinked, too surprised noting that he didn’t shrink his wrists away from Artemy.

Artemy hummed and soon, words were woven clumsily into the melodies.

Scratchy and off-key, Daniil thought. Is that how your father sang?

When Artemy felt ripples of gooseflesh pulse through Daniil, he sang and hummed slower. When Daniil felt the need to curl up as exploring hands traversed his waist, Artemy deepened his voice.

This wasn’t normal… but Daniil couldn’t find it in himself to keep his arms tucked too close to himself, and let them lay limp. When Artemy trailed down his thighs and back up to his hips, Daniil bit his lip but the muscles remained relaxed.

The clock ticked in the corner of the room, but Daniil felt his eyes getting heavier. The room was starting to warm up, or, Artemy was chasing away whatever made Daniil shiver. The melody still echoed in the sterile room, but the more Daniil listened, the more he felt his limbs turn heavy and formless.

His thoughts became fuzzy, seemingly dissolving like spun sugar in rain.

Artemy hovered his fingers, as fuzzy as everything, in front of Daniil’s eyes… and snapped themselves into focus. Daniil flinched at the sound, blinking owlishly.

“Huh?”

“All done. You can put your shirt on.” Artemy softly spoke.

Daniil still laid, dumbfounded at the absurdity of the entire situation. He feared the results, but felt foolish in fearing the process of getting there. A sigh of relief he didn’t know he was holding scurried out of him. What he thought was going to be invasive turned out to be an… extremely gentle kneading, not unlike the day Artemy pulled him out of despair at the Stillwater.

Daniil drunkenly pulled himself up, and gratefully accepted the shirt hanging off of Artemy’s fingers.

“So…?”

Artemy grumbled and leaned against the cabinet, letting the space in between be a character within the room.

“Your Lines seem distressed here…” Artemy pointed at his own body, over the liver, and then traversed over to the base of his ribs, “and here. Usually indicates a disbalance in the gut- a large one in your case.”

Daniil shrugged, feeling his self returning the more he buttoned.

“Would explain the vomiting and aches.”

Artemy nodded and crossed his arms.

His finger tapped against his the crook of his elbow. Brow suddenly furrowed and then relaxed. Mouth opened and closed, apparently asking and answering his own questions. Daniil watched the man seeming at war with himself, and Daniil braced himself for the news. With little else to do or say to ease the news out, he straightened his back.

“Tell me, Daniil… Do you have any cognitive disruptions?”

Daniil felt himself pale; his skin felt like it was going to freeze and his blood felt too hot.

“Why do you ask?” He asked instead.

“Your Lines are erratic. The ones in your gut also cause major disruptions in the brain. I’m surprised that you’re even able to walk. Given everything, it would be best or safer for you to be under supervision…” Artemy sighed and shook his head, aborting the suggestion. “When did this start, Daniil? I mean, when did it get worse?”

“When I left your care, it pains me to admit it.” Daniil mumbled, looking down at the crack again.

“What have you been eating?”

Daniil opened his mouth, but then closed it, and looked away to a further corner of the room. Trying to search for an answer or a lie, whichever came first.

It was essential information that he himself did not know. He wanted to lighten the mood that draped a ghastly shadow over them by answering ‘bulls’ balls’ but it died in his own concerns. Daniil was not one to negate the need for fuel or nutrition, but… he didn’t feel hungry. He never felt weak or sickly from the lack of substance. So he must be eating something- and perhaps it was something he did in his bouts of amnesia.

“Well you’re not starving to death, even if you lost weight.” Artemy answered for him in a flat tone. Artemy sighed, and his footsteps to Daniil felt careful and purposeful. A handsome face, with a tight brow but a slight smile appeared in Daniil’s view. “Now, do you have any cognitive disruptions?”

Daniil’s jaw clenched. Worthless maggot. You only had your mind and sanity to offer and now he’ll know. He’ll take back what he said. Open you up. Harvest you. When winter comes and the clinic is built, who will you be?

“Daniil. I just want to help. Whatever you say, will stay in between us.” Artemy took a hand that was limply hanging off his thigh, and Daniil felt the gentle press of lips against knuckles, summoning life into his hand.

Daniil gulped down bile, feeling the acid taint the back of his throat.

“… I don’t know.” He shuddered. “Memory loss. H-hallu-…” Any sounds died in a whimper. Daniil finally looked at Artemy. Really looked at him, squatting in front of Daniil in a way that Daniil knew hurt his knee. Daniil searched for an answer in the lovely eyes that were studying him, onlooking with pity and sorrow. The mouth was slightly open in anticipation. Artemy’s own face was pale.

Is this the face of one that will condemn you?

“Go ahead.” Artemy squeezed his hand in encouragement.

“Don’t think of me mad.”

Artemy huffed a sad smile.

“I think of you neglected. I think you have been scared for too long. Tell me, it’s alright.”

Daniil nodded, letting himself gasp.

“Memory loss. Hallucinations or psychosis” Daniil didn’t see how Artemy reacted as he listed off his symptoms, choosing instead to cover his eyes with his remaining hand. The one within Artemy’s grasp was soon engulfed by both of his. “Paralysis. Frequent feelings of impending doom. Mania, probably.”

“Oh Danya…” Artemy whispered. Daniil felt his hand be caressed with slow brushing of Artemy’s thumbs. Daniil started slowly unveiling his eyes, letting the light strip the comfortable dark behind his fingers until he witnessed Artemy staring mournfully at the open space between him and the floor, thinking.

“My work is unaffected, I assure you-”

“Damn the work, Daniil!” It made Daniil flinch at the sudden burst of emotion.

Artemy’s brow remained furrowed as he stood up, pacing. Relieving his knee and mumbling under his breath. Daniil’s comment apparently sparking a new passion within him.

It felt like an eternity of that, and Daniil’s stomach churned. Just Artemy pacing, and Daniil mute.

The truth was out in the open, and Artemy was quiet toward him. Daniil hoped that what the other felt was not offence from the extend period of time with lack of information, nor frustrated that the man renowned for his mind was losing it.

“Hmmm…” Artemy stopped, and twisted his body to Daniil, “Since the celebration and going to the steppe, have you been feeling better?”

“A little?” Daniil thought. Although he still suffered from bouts of amnesia and seeing the dead, his mind did feel clearer in that time period in comparison to before the festivities.

“Have you been lighting fires?” Artemy lessened the distance between them, pacing closer to Daniil. “Keeping the Stillwater nice and dry?”

Daniil shook his head.

“No. I’m barely in it during the day. Mostly here.”

“I never see you take lunch. Even Rubin brings his own meals… So you stay here all day, then go to the Stillwater to sleep and perhaps have dinner or breakfast there?” Artemy hovered over him, forcing Daniil to straighten his back up.

The man’s face was… relaxed. Almost humoured.

“Correct. It’s not as if it's intentional- I promise you. Even at Thanatica I stopped when I felt hungry enough and ordered a meal. It’s just… missing nowadays. The hunger.” As Daniil tried to look away, Artemy palmed his cheek, and slowly guided back toward that odd expression that he bore.

“A while ago, the kids told me that the Stillwater was devoid of anything of meaningful substance… No meats or cheese or fruits or even vegetables. ‘Just a pathetic bag of meal and grain,’ they said.” A warm and airy chuckled passed through Artemy’s chest. “I thought at the time it was your hesitance to consume what came on the train. Seemed like you- make a sad little loaf of bread or porridge with some milk and call it good enough.”

Daniil gripped his shirt tightly.

“Do you really think all of this is caused due to eating habits?”

Artemy hummed, eyes crinkling.

“You started feeling better after getting some real food in you, didn’t you? When I passed by to drop something off or at Shekhen or even way back under my roof. But it’s damp here in the clinic and at the Stillwater- have you noticed?”

Daniil blinked.

He pushed his hair back. No matter how hard he thought, his head was heavy with the image of Artemy smiling before him in relief, and failed to conjure a thought. Artemy squatted to align himself with Daniil’s sight, and delicately took a hand away from death gripping the cloth.

“Danya, did you know that bad grain causes all of your symptoms? Bad grain and fungus.”

Daniil stared at Artemy.

Artemy stared at Daniil.

Daniil felt his chest flip and flutter.

“What?”

“It might be that you’re suffering from grain poisoning, or something similar to it. Saw it at the fronts after the soldiers raided an abandoned mill and ate some bags of barley- they were all mental for a bit until we disposed of it all. I think you were so preoccupied with doing everything but taking care of yourself, that you didn’t think of what you were consuming.” Artemy’s shy smile appeared as he shook his head at the apparent foolishness Daniil committed. “Did you even shop for your meals or did you just cook what Eva left behind?”

Daniil stilled.

“But I don’t remember ever cooking it. Or eating. Or…” From his recollection, the poisoning from infected or rotten grains did cause hallucinations. But it shouldn’t cause memory loss.

It couldn’t be so convenient, so simple… But Artemy’s face didn’t waiver.

“Thought of that too. Well… I was looking into your medication; your painkillers. On top of the potential that the ingredients inside are compromised, one of the signs of taking too much, abusing it, erdem, is liver and kidney damage. You know, the organs that purify the body against the toxins that can very well give you cognitive disruptions? Even if it wasn’t the grains or the painkillers themselves… You may still bear some sort of poisoning or infection from being in places resembling more of a dungeon- prime environment for fungus, whilst weakening yourself to their effects… it might explain the stomach aches, the hallucinations… everything.”

Daniil trembled until his muscles became sore. He only saw Eva after moving to the Stillwater, and only after staying there a few days. Daniil looked at his hand, the same one that he usually emptied the pill into- currently nested in Artemy’s own. He only started truly forgetting and losing parts of his life after that night at the strange merchant, at the Fellow Traveler.

The worst thing he had were the nightmares at the Burakh’s residence… but nothing else.

Everything was… self-inflicted?

“Grains… side effect of…” Daniil mumbled, repeating what Artemy said. It… would make sense. The timing was matching up. “So… there’s a reason?” Daniil whispered out, voice shaking like the rest of him.

Artemy nodded.

“Yes, Daniil. There might be a reason. At least, a theory we can start with.”

Daniil’s head felt too light and he swayed forward, but his descent to the floor was stopped by a wall of solid warmth- Artemy flinched at the sudden touch, but quickly adjusted himself to compensate for the balance that Daniil lost.

“It’s alright. It’s going to be alright..” Artemy cooed, resting his jaw atop of Daniil’s head. In that moment, Daniil knew if Artemy could have, he would have wrapped his arms around Daniil, fully absorbing the remaining fears and basking in the swelling relief. But instead, Artemy focused his efforts on Daniil’s biceps, lazily stroking them up and down in comforting tenderness as Daniil rested against Artemy’s chest.

“I… don’t know what to say.” Daniil felt his face flush with waves of numbness. He panted out a giggle before it twisted sharply in his chest into stifled dry sobs. Artemy only hummed as he continued to soothe, humming and smoothing out the shirt’s sleeves, rocking them both as the emotions flowed out.

Above all, he felt sore. Daniil wanted to cry, he wanted to thank Artemy- if not for a solution, then a hope that his mind wasn’t cracking or disintegrating.

That he didn’t lose everything.

He felt Artemy’s heart, lazily beating underneath and firm frame and soft flesh. The fragile strength that was barely holding him up finally gave away, and Daniil slumped completely his lead-weighted body against Artemy, trusting the other not to let him fall, hands clinging on the man’s clothes with curled digits.

Artemy chuckled.

“You can say ‘yes’ to come by later- have dinner with me and the kids. House is a mess though.”

Daniil couldn’t resist; he smiled at how simply Artemy had suggested such an event. Squeezing himself closer to the pillar of support, Daniil eagerly nodded. Artemy was just as soft as he was firm.

“Yes. Sounds good, Artemy. Sounds great. Fantastic.”

He looked forward to it- to the dinner. To the next visit to Shekhen. To the summer festival Rubin spoke of. To the opening of the clinic. To Artemy having a clean surgical room and lounging with Daniil next to the fireplace upstairs to relax. Daniil looked forward to a lot of things.

 

---

 

Daniil’s heart was light and the world was bright. A simple adjustment in his schedule evolved into something precious.

Every morning, Daniil would get to see Artemy, either greeting the man within the clinic or heading out earlier to meet him at the Burakh residence when Rubin was slotted in for the solo morning duties, and they would converse.  While Artemy laughed with a cup of steaming milky coffee in hand, Daniil would drink odd concoctions trying not to gag it out.

Then in the evening, when the sun barely sat above the rusty summer horizon, they would dine together. The children occasionally missed an appearance, the warm evenings and bright stars luring them into playing outside until after the food was consumed. Yet, Daniil found himself visiting a little earlier by the day to squeeze in more time to humor Sticky and his questions of bacteria and mold, and sit in comfortable silence with Murky while Artemy finished cooking his soup and stews. Their meals.

Rubin never noticed, too busy minding his own leisure or work.

“Not like he can say anything,” Artemy once said, snorting as he cleaned the dishes from the prior night. “He’s doing the same thing to our dear Lara.”

“I pity her, he must eat as much as three men, given his size.” Daniil relished Artemy’s laugh at the joke, not so much when he had to take a swig of his morning ‘medicine.’ The aftertaste made Daniil hold back a dry heave. “Remind me… how long would it take until the symptoms start to ebb?”

The sludge of green and bitterness slushed menacingly in the cup when Daniil tried to gyrate the mess floating to the bottom back into the whole, before considering it properly mixed and gulping it down as fast as possible. It didn’t matter how careful he was, the tart and sour  taste lingered in his mouth. As much as he hated it, the gunk was a remedy Artemy swore by; nutritious and detoxifying, he said. But Daniil wouldn’t be surprised if the man actually just pillaged the local grocery and grounded everything he could get his hands on into one cup.

Artemy shrugged and offered a handkerchief as he passed by the table when Daniil started coughing, body naturally trying to defend itself against something so foul tasting.

“A while, depends on the severity. A couple days to start seeing results. A couple of months to completely resolve it.” Artemy replied, picking up the cup to wash it before what remained crusted and hardened. “But hopefully, you’ll be good before the… new moon. Even added in a couple drops of twyre extract- should help nullify it even faster if the grains were local.”

Daniil paused at the information, borrowed fabric still tugging the dryness of his lips.

So deep in the trench of his own foolish fears, that he failed to fully consume the level of concern- no, fear that the other displayed that day. Daniil leaned back on the chair and sighed.  Now, the man was adding some drops of precious limited resources to a morning drink… Artemy must have been desperate, Daniil realized. Extremely so. The surgeon didn’t even tell Daniil what message the children gave him that haunted him into fast action, waving it off whenever inquired.

“You shouldn’t have wasted such frivolous things on me.”

“Nonesense.” Artemy leaned over and  kissed Daniil on the forehead, smoothing the black hair away. “We have bottles and bottles of brown twyre extract. My father may have said it could help with memory loss, so it was worth a shot.”

“And if it doesn't work?”

Artemy pursed his lips and looked away.

“Well.. you’ll be very sympathetic to the Agapovs’ plight, but hey, at least we know we have the proper meds in stock.”

Daniil threw the handkerchief back Artemy’s laughing face.

 

---

 

A week later, and Daniil couldn’t deny the results. His stomach aches lessened, and he stopped vomiting completely. Whatever fog had settled on his mind was lifted, with no missing portions of the day. Not only that, but little by little, he started to regain his memories. The improvement was oddly bittersweet- he had to mourn the peace he once had with his amnesia. 

But it wasn’t all bad; he remembered he had a beetle collection, and his father had it. He remembered his father awkwardly giving him a book once, filled with beautiful illustrations- a kind memory he disregarded as someone else’s. He remembered a girl laughing off a poor dance attempt and plotting with him to break one of her heels to escape the lessons. He remembered music he used to listen to as he worked in Thanatica.

Blurred faces became fuzzy, fuzzy memories became hazy, and hazy memories became clearer. It made him smile.

The clock ticked in the corner of the clinic’s reception room, and Daniil found himself enjoying the unique hollow sound it had; perhaps he would bring it to the new clinic.

Another week, and Daniil’s exhausted bruises all but disappeared from underneath his eyes, a result of deeper sleep and better fueling.

“You looking much better, Mr. Dankovsky,” a hunched man with a crooked knee hobbled with his medication in hand. Daniil huffed a nod, and quickly marched in front of the older fellow, stretching out his arm to assist with the door.

“Yes,” he bit back on correcting the senior of his title, “a lot of worries were put to rest- speaking of which, remember to get a cane. Painkillers don’t cure you.”

“Yes, sir. But I'll not be using it in the festival!” The man smiled back, more teeth missing than not, as he tipped his hat. Daniil made a note to check in with the man’s oral health the next time he came in to fill his prescription in the next week or so.

A few days later, a woman would say the same thing.

“I was always shy, you see. With all of you being men.” The red haired woman giggled in that shrill tone again without humor. Her eyes were mortified, and her cheeks a bright red, hiding them along with as much of her face as she politely could behind her wadded embroidered handkerchief.

Daniil could still feel the mirrored redness staining his own cheeks, burning his ears white hot. He looked up after jotting down the rest of the appointment’s notes, not failing to notice how she craned her head from behind her shield to try and read his cursive.

Her giggling pierced his ears again as his eyes met hers.

“I a-assure you, miss, we’re all professionals here and are here for your health. Shame dies at the d-door, and thus, the need for hesitation.”

Silence hung heavy on them, both afraid of further stuttering or giggling.

The woman plucked her purse from the floor and bit her lip. Daniil awaited her to get up to leave, so he could open the door in a polite send off, but her figure just straightened, and hid her face again.

“Thank you again, I do appreciate it. I mean, I was willing to die with it… but, you know, my girl friend told me you were much more agreeable now, much less ghastly- I even asked for the day off from the factory after I learned you were here today… instead of… you know...” She unveiled her face to mouth the rest of her words. The bald one.

“I’ll consider it a privilege to have your trust..” Daniil forced himself to smile. As he arose from his seat, the woman followed his example and gingerly clasped his outstretched hand and gave it a shy shake. The lady blushed again and nodded. “You’ll be in good hands, and all information is confidential.”

Moments later, he held the door open as she scooted away, a bottle of medication and ointment for rashes in hand.

People came and went. The older man came back with a cane, and Daniil had the bottle of antibiotics for his gums ready. The woman brought her daughters that bore the same giggles, and her daughter’s friends.

Some days there the clinic was packed, and Daniil had to send Sticky to fetch one of the other two for further assistance. Some days, there was no one.

It was much easier to walk, and much easier to sleep, especially when bundled in Burakh’s quilts and blankets. He slept in the loft of the clinic more often, as the Stillwater was considered condemned to its permanent mildewed walls and moist wood.

Mornings were pleasantly slower; shedding off the blankets and rinsing the night away with refreshing water. Making the coffee and awaiting Artemy’s arrival with the sludge in the bottle.

As he pranced downstairs to properly start his day, Daniil straightened his back when the figure of a man crept through the windows. Around 8 in the morning and already loitering outside; must be bad. The form shuffled, casting long shadows on the floor against the warm sunrise. Daniil sighed, it must have been an urgent case if the man was there waiting before Daniil was even ready to go down the stairs. Starting an hour early didn’t sound too egregious if the other was desperate to come, but not so much to resort to frantically knocking like the midnight visits. Stretching his vest straight, Daniil flipped the sign on the window to ‘open,’ and sat down on the desk, waiting for the other to burst through.

The clock ticked.

Daniil quirked an eyebrow. The sign wasn’t exactly silent when flipped, clanking against the glass and rattling into its position. The man must have surely heard it, or seen it.

Awkwardly, Daniil flipped through his calendar and schedule, hesitant to take his eyes off the entrance- perhaps the man was waiting for his appointment? In the world of ink and graphite, there was for a woman in a couple of hours, at 11, and a father with his son an hour and a half after her. No one for the early morning. The possibility came to Daniil that the man was there for troubled hearing.

Daniil tapped his pen, waiting, irked at the shadow that remained flicking through the sunny warmth in the room. He was about to stand up and attend to the man himself when the door opened.

Who walked though wasn’t tall, nor short. Shorter than Daniil. Much older. But he carried himself quietly and with more grace his age would normally exhibit. The sleek cane he used was similar to the rest of his clothing; plain and dark, but with a quality in stitching and structure that Daniil couldn't help but notice. What could shine did so brightly in fresh polish; from the buttons on his coat, to the handle on the cane, to the frames on his rounded glasses. Even the man's hat lacked any reasonable wear.

The man looked at the floor as his foot dragged across the boards, tapping the occasional spot with his cane before waltzing to peer at the decoration at walls. He cocked his head, leaning in on some children’s drawings Lara provided from her class- an attempt to add something charming to the drab place; a descrption and sentiment shared only by her and a strangely supportive Rubin. Finally, the man bestowed his attention to Daniil.

“Hello, sir. What brings you here?” Daniil checked the schedule again, feigning ignorance at the fact he knew that the man was visiting without an appointment. “Walk-in, I see?”

The man hummed, neither a confirmation nor a denial, and continued to wander around. Studying the place. Judging. It made Daniil suddenly irritated. His weary hazel eyes landed on the multitude of folders on the desk.

“Hmm. Well, Bachelor Dankovsky… didn’t expect to see you.” He tutted. “Preferably not at all; but here you are… doing rather well.”

His voice was warm, almost friendly, but it only made Daniil uneasy with how contradictory it was with the rather cold word choice. The Townspeople were welcoming Daniil more, but that didn’t mean he was beloved by everyone. He wondered if he failed to treat a child, or even a grandchild of the man.

“Apologies, sir, I don’t know what you mean by that. Did you have an appointment with Dr. Rubin or Dr. Burakh?”

The man huffed and shook his head, politely answering with the motion. Calculated footsteps made small hollow echoes against the wood until he stopped at the clock, tapping it with the handle of his cane. He crowed his amusement; it felt almost strained- an underused sound.

“You know… my girl was a fan of your work.” The man’s odd laugh regressed to a sad little smile, but before Daniil could voice out his inquiry, the man continued. “Saw the construction earlier, and it’s fantastic.”

In between folded hands, Daniil forced a smile and nodded. The work in question could be in reference to his time at Thanatica, or to the new clinic. Regardless, Daniil couldn’t deny he had pride for both.

“Glad to hear, I’ll consider it an honor. It should be done before September’s end.” Daniil leaned further into his elbows, tilting closer to the man. “No doubt it will be much more comfortable than this place.”

If the other had a more pleasant aura, Daniil may have called the current clinic shabby, subtly agreeing with the other's degrading assessment, in good humor. But in the few minutes he knew the other, Daniil would rather defend the leaky and defective building.

“Keeping with the Town’s aesthetics, aren’t you?” The man hummed courteously.

“Of course. Clashing with the neighboring buildings would just be a detriment for both the clinic and the town.” Daniil shrugged.

“Glad to hear. It will indeed be beautiful from what I saw from the blueprints.” The man sighed sadly, and tutted as he shook his head. “Sadly, in my experience, it might take another year given the circumstances and… well, expectations.”

Wait, how did he see the blueprints? Is he Yulia’s friend? Who was it… the geologist? Peter’s mate? No, too old. A older professor, maybe?

Placing aside the information, Daniil clenched his jaw. Had he been in the Capital, he would have assumed whomever was saying that was insulting either the work ethic of the builders or the quality of the concept- a jab of dreams being too grand for reality. Even if the man’s experience held merit, it was awfully rude to curse such a delay. Daniil wiped his clothes of any wrinkles, and stood up. Either to guide the man into the examination room or out the door. He was there for business, not for social chatter.

“I would hope not.” Daniil gritted out. He wanted to explain that the building was more on the elaborate side, with more features and future plans being put into place, and that the ambition was within scope. Yet, he couldn’t help but add in a jab. “As you may know, patience is a virtue- hurrying good work is like pulling blood from a stone.”

“Bit inappropriate to say that here, ain’t it?” The man quickly and curtly replied with a glare, stopping Danii in his tracks.

Daniil swallowed a dry lump in his throat.

It would be rude to say that to the Kin and potentially reference their, apparently, felled god. Blood was pooled from the earth to make the panacea…

“I-I think that bit of phrase is harmless. So… Do you have an appointment?” Daniil aborted his path to the man and instead stepped to the front of the desk as if it were a more casual visit, turning to pull out the calendars, flipping through Rubin’s and Artemy’s. Perhaps a visual break from the other would calm nerves desperate to fire. “The shift is mine and I can tend to you, but if you wish to speak with my other colleagues, I can pencil you in another time-”

“I don’t see anyone without a proper degree.” The man once more quickly and curtly replied. Daniil felt heat pricking in his cheeks. “One that even you yourself are lacking, may I add.”

Daniil fought back against the temptation to slap the wad of documents down against the desk. To call the man an ingrate and to tell him to shut up. Instead, Daniil tucked the papers and journals underneath his arm and turned to lean against the desk, facing the man once more.

The glasses on the man flickered, amused by Daniil’s obvious frustration.

“Oh, apologies. I’m afraid I must acquaint myself.” Daniil glared. He held out a hand to shake. The least he could do is get the man’s name. The man in dark clothing already knew his name, and he didn’t want to bother faking anymore pleasantries by reintroducing himself.

The man chuckled, and gloved hand met Daniil’s, giving it a cold and steady shake.

“Apologies, I never gave you my name, did I? I’m Herman Orff. Inquisitor Herman Orff.”

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Notes:

CW: reference to past (sexual) traumas.

Whew. Honestly after the struggles of the previous chapter, this one was such a breeze! BUT... that may be because my brain is mush, haha. Also the follow up to the confession was a little on the tricky side as I know how to write yearning, but not really having, you know? Also like, I know that Daniil should be bursting with happiness, but at the same time, I don't think that addiction of denying himself happiness or overthinking would be solved.

And the 'grain poisoning' I was referring to was actually 'ergot poisoning'! Real thing and earlier drafts did have Artemy talked about it, but I decided I wanted to keep real things and references out of the fic, trying to keep it vague time wise and knowledge wise.

Funny thing for all my long time twitter oomfies, the direction this fic was heading toward was vague posted on twitter since before the first chapter's publication!

The stage has been officially set, the sledgehammer of angst is here.

I truly hope that this was as fun to read as it was to write, the chapter and the fic thus far, and I wanted to say thank you for all the support this year- to the commenters, my lifeblood, to the kudos and to the lurkers! I hope to see you all in the next year! 💙💙💙

Notes:

I will be trying, as always, to revisit and fix any flaws.