Be At Peace
Ray cradles one hand in both of his while the other lays flat against the
crisp white sheet. The hand is thin and the skin is hot and dry.
His grip is careful and he bends forward a little, sheltering the hand as if he
can protect it and its owner by his presence.
The room is too warm and the faint scent of something exotic wafts in on the
evening breeze. It causes the sleeve of Ray s discarded traveling coat to move,
as if it is impatient to leave.
Ray shares the feeling, but he's already resolved to do this. He's never been a
coward and it's too late to start now.
The hand cools in the breeze and he wraps it gently within his own. Too soon
he'll have to let go, but not yet. Not so soon.
Silver-tongued and charming he's been called, but all his glib words and quick
wits have abandoned him. Maybe they were forgotten when he received the call, or
lost as he made his frantic journey halfway across the continent.
Perhaps they were silenced when he arrived moments too late.
They've given him the courtesy of privacy to say his goodbyes - something he
didn't have when he lost his father and mother.
His thoughts turn to Morocco and the hands that reached out to him and drew him
into safety. He'd trusted those hands once. Loved them.
And then he'd been betrayed by them.
Pushing away those thoughts, Ray lifts the hand to his lips and kisses it
tenderly. The skin is cold and he lowers the hand to the bed,
placing it carefully beside its' mate then drawing up the blanket to cover them.
He studies the figure, leaning forward to smooth a stray hair. The gesture turns
into a caress.
There are footsteps beyond the door. They stop, and the door opens slowly,
tentatively. The person approaches.
A warm hand rests lightly on Ray's shoulder providing comfort. The room is
silent, isolated from the sounds and movement beyond the door as if there is a
wall of glass between them.
Ray can feel his heartbeat and the push-pull of his lungs but he has no idea how
to feel about anything else. He isn't sure he wants to when this cocoon he's in
is so safe.
A gust of wind invades the calm, pushing his coat onto the floor with a soft
thump. The sound, or Ray's reaction to it seems to rouse his companion. Three
steps and a whisper of fabric as the shadowed body leans forward over the still
form. Lips move but Ray cannot hear the words. They are spoken only for the man
in the bed.
His companion straightens again and turns towards Ray, reaching out to him.
Ray takes the offered hand and draws it in, standing to wrap his arms around the
thin frame. They remain that way until the nurse arrives,
soft-spoken and apologetic.
Ray nods to his companion, who goes to retrieve the coat. It allows Ray one last
moment to say goodbye.
*****
Ray's still wiping at his eyes when they arrive at the hotel.
He waves off the silent offer of help and goes directly into the bathroom.
Twenty minutes later, when any tears or redness might be dismissed as remnants
of his bath, Ray emerges and settles onto the bed.
The covers have been turned down and the pillows piled the way he prefers small
gestures, but appreciated.
Ray leans back and closes his eyes, not wanting to think. His companion moves
around the room quietly, pouring tea and setting it on the nightstand where the
fragrance teases Ray. Finally he surrenders and opens his eyes.
"I'm alright," he insists although they both know that he's not.
The tea is lightly sweetened with a hint of milk his companion's favorite recipe
for comfort. Ray drinks it all. It's only when he starts to feel that he might
actually sleep that he lifts his hand, reaching out.
His companion is at his side in an instant, climbing into bed beside him and
pressing a kiss to his temple.
"I thought you were going to wait for me here. You said..."
"I know. But I couldn't let you face him alone." Florian smiles sadly, settling
in against Ray. "And I needed to make my peace with him too."
"You forgave him?" Ray draws Florian closer. All these years and he'd never
really forgiven himself for what Azura had done to Florian. How had Florian
managed...?
Ray smiles sadly - it doesn't matter. Azura is gone, taken by cancer - the only
enemy he couldn't defeat.
Tomorrow, there will be funeral arrangements to be made and solicitors to see -
Azura had no family. But tonight, Ray can take the comfort Florian offers and
try to rest.
He has nearly drifted off when he hears Florian whisper, "You are forgiven. Be
at peace.
A weight he's carried for years slips away like mist.
::end::