"You... You pulled..." He couldn't quite comprehend it, but it -sounded- disgusting.

"I keep forgetting." He patted Avrath's knee. "You're going to have to help me kid Dizha next time, you know. Zim was basically half-way out into the world, I just gave her and Vizh a hand, that's all. Now, breech-birth calves, on the other hand..." He relented, though, stroking the pup that had fallen asleep draped over his leg. Most of the puppies were heaped up, some beside them and some beside their mother, asleep and dreaming little fuzzy dreams.

"I don't know if I -want- to." He made a face.

"It's no worse than anything we saw on the field. It's -better-, if you ask me." He snorted and sighed.

"Better...because it's life, and not death." He nodded once, proud of making the connection on his own. "In that case, maybe I -should-."

"Precisely, sir."

They fell quiet, leaning against one another in the promising warmth of the barn, thinking their own thoughts.

--------

"You want a dog, don't you?"

"Sir?" He blinked sleepily, then closed his eyes again.

"The puppies... You want to take one of them home, don't you?"

"It would be impractical, really."

"That -wasn't- what I -asked-, now, was it?"

"No, sir. It's just..." He sighed and turned over, feeling Avrath's hand slide up over his back to rest on the nape of his neck. "They're a lot of work, and we don't really -need- one, and they have to be fed and looked after and what if there's another- another- We don't -need- one."

"How about two?"

"What?"

"You keep saying we don't need one. So how about two?"

"Av- Esren..."

"Azri, zhev'thi... It's your house. You want a dog? You should -have- a dog."

He took a deep breath, one hand reaching up to cover the silk strands still tied around the wrist at the back of his neck. "Our house," he said, faintly, trying to ignore the strange buzzing this produced in the back of his head, "so you should have -some- say..."

"I say that I'd like to have at least one, I think. They're cute... And their mother was beautiful. Magnificent."

"Intmidating as all hell."

Avrath could hear the smile, and he shifted his hand a little to rub his thumb against the edge of Kelvath's ear. "Well, that too. But...she didn't mind either of us."

"She minded me at first. They always do, mothers, but then... They like me, I guess. Or at least somehow know I'm not a threat." He wiggled a bit, getting comfortable. "And they're at the right age, if we should decide to take one. Or two."

"I've always wanted a dog..." He made a thoughtful little sound. "So, what would we have to do to take care of them on the road? Besides ride hard for home? It shouldn't take us more than a week, unless the weather gets -really- bad... I was thinking, earlier, in the tub... We could carry them in some kind of a sling, under our cloaks, because they're really too small to follow the horses, right now..." Avrath trailed off, wondering if he sounded silly. But, -puppies-...

"I -still- miss mine, you know? Have for -years-. I don't think it's stupid, though I think that almost everyone else does, so I don't mention it. -Didn't- mention it..." He smiled in the dark, thumb brushing over the back of Avrath's hand. "Anyhow. That would work, and yes, they are too small yet... Shouldn't take us more than four days, I think... Depending of course on the weather and the roads, and on the babies themselves -- we'll have to stop fairly often to let them down to wiggle and eat and the like..."

"So... What -do- you feed them?" Avrath turned his hand over and let his fingers tangle with his lover's, feeling less sleepy than he had when they'd gotten into bed. "Mm... Four days, a week... I was also, though that may change now, thinking that we might just stay here a couple more days."

"Meat, cut up fine, mixed with grain boiled into mush in milk... Or at least that's what -we- fed our pups when they weaned. Then we gradually cut back on the mush, though we still gave them some. And they fed themselves, on mice and rabbits and the like. As long as they didn't kill the chickens, ours or the neighbors, or ducks or geese, or kids or calves, chicks, goslings, ducklings... We didn't really care."

06.17.02
-------------

"Your scenario is this: You must infiltrate a secured building, retrieve some data, and leave again. The security consists of two checkpoints, designed only to prevent weaponry from entering the building. It -is- a public building, but the security requires a stated destination. There are cameras, but not many." Istvan paused, watching as his students scribbled frantic notes. "The cameras are located at the entrances and exits of the building, and in elevator nooks. You must, of course, be prepared to deal with contingencies -- unexpected encounters, for instance. How do you do it?"

Lucian smiled at Istvan from his place at the back of the room, knowing exactly what the man was looking for. It was a little different from the event that Istvan was drawing inspiration from, but these kids didn't need to know about -that-. Kids. He looked around the room again, at the teens that sat grouped around tables, murmuring amongst themselves, hashing through possibilities... The next generation of agents, destined to spy and sneak and steal and scare and perhaps kill. It was so nice to be part of the process.

"Time," Istvan announced, shaking his head at the apparent crazy man in the back of his classroom. "How many of you have more than five plans?" Two hands rose. "-Not- counting your illustrious self, mister Aldermann." One hand.

"Five?" Three hands.

"Four?" Two.

"Three?" Four.

"Two?" Five.

"One?" Half a dozen.

"Partial plans, or none at all?" The remaining nine students raised their hands, not looking up.

"How many of these involve pepper-spray-that-isn't-really?" The dry question brings up a dozen hands.

05.21.02

"Heart trouble, or just playoff nerves? An analytical look at the Krushers fifth second-round elimination in a row when we come back."

Marc swore blackly at the sportscaster and stabbed at the mute button with his thumb.

"He can't help it if the writers are idiots," Tikka told him, gently removing the remote and any chance of Marc flinging it at the television.

"I know, I just... I was there, I don't need to hear about what I did wrong." He leaned over and peered past the other man's head. "Where's Vic?"

"I don't think that it was your fault." Tikka absently kissed whatever part of Marc's head was handiest, half-watching, half-ignoring an inane Power Of Cheese commercial. "He said something about the pool when we set out. He also said he'd be home in- Oh, here he is."

Marc looked up and over as Tikka pointed, in time to catch a flash of sunlight glinting off of bike frame and helmet. "Well, never mind, then. And I don't know -whose- fault it is, but..." He sighed.

Victor came over and dropped onto the couch as Tikka turned the volume back up.

"-round loss to their perennial cross-continent rivals, the Providence Patriots. As the away section cheered the five-two victory over the Krushers, the home supporters made their dispirited ways back home. Once again, the triers on the Krushers bench simply didn't make it -- Larry?"

"Thanks, Todd. The Krushers have a lot of talent on the bench, you can't deny that. But they always disappoint -- why is that? It's not training, or conditioning -- some of the oldest guys in the league are on the team and they're all in great shape. They've got plenty of grinders -- lunch-pail guys -- grindin' it out along the boards. They've got the finesse and the skill players, their big new Suomean, Naamainen, he's out there every night giving it his best. But they still don't get the goals, Todd. They don't get the goals because their forward line breaks down under pressure.

"The forward line breaks down under pressure and with Henele rolling four lines you get chaos. Chaos and disorder. Coaching is what they need, coaching and some more discepline to get them under control. And maybe a few more Grigios, to get out there and get and keep things stirred up, Todd."

"Yeah, Larry, that great little scrum in the third was a classic, wasn't it?"

"Oh yeah, Todd, sheer pond-hockey. Brought back lotsa good memories."

"Yes. And speaking of scrums, we've got all the highlights from today's games coming up after the break. But first, we got to talk to a few of the Krushers after the game. Tikka Naamainen diagnoses the team's troubles, and Ryan Montreau has a few choice words for the officials."

The screen faded to black, then faded in on Tikka's pale and pained face, dark hair wet and sticking to his forehead.

"It's -- We played our hearts out, out there, tonight. We've played so hard, we gave so much to every game from January on, through all the injuries and the bad calls, that we gave it -all-. We saved nothing, and so had nothing more to give when it came to tonight's game. Our heart gave out for our trying, that's all. Nothing wrong with that."

Victor sighed and took the remote from Tikka, turning the television off.

All Avrath did, all he -could- do, was hush him, petting his hair and murmuring. It was silly, he knew, as Kelvath -was- silent... But it felt right. He'd wondered, when Kelvath had started reciting, if the man was serious or not. The question had been answered more thoroughly than he'd been prepared for, and part of his brain had started a panicked gibbering. He ignored it, as he had during the long days of his command, dealing with the only thing he could affect at the moment. "I... I know, Azri, I know."

Kelvath made an affirmative noise, holding more tightly to the hand at his neck, tilting his head to hide his face.

"And... E'defti Azri... Teth'eche zhev'thi e'dri, ivu." He kissed the top of Kelvath's head and repeated himself, feeling desperately sad and not certain as to why.

Kelvath finally came up for air, touching Avrath's face with his free hand, whispering, "I know, I know..." After a moment, he shook his head. "I'm sorry."

"Whatever for?" Avrath, sounding genuinely puzzled, extricated his hand from Kelvath's and brushed the back of it across the man's cheek.

"Nothing. Everything. I- I don't know, I just... I'm sorry."

"I don't think you waited too long." Avrath ran a finger over Kelvath's eyebrow, smiling in the dark. "If it makes you feel any better, it- I was surprised. I have to say I...not that I -never- expected you to say...anything, just... Not in such a form."

"Oh." He reached up again, wrapping his hand around Avrath's decorated wrist. "I... I didn't expect it, either, sir. Should- I-" Kelvath broke off, words and tone still unsteadily uncertain.

Avrath kissed him, softly, sweetly, and said the only thing that came to mind. "Don't worry, e'defti. Don't."

"I won't," Kelvath said, letting out a long breath that might have been a sigh, or maybe just a suppressed yawn.

"Here! Here I am..." Kelvath came through the front door a little breathless, a little scattered, his arms -full-. Avrath blinked, put down his book, and came to help.

"So you are. What are-" He rescued a half-dozen packages, catching them before they tumbled to the floor. "What are all of these?"

"Ack- Thank you." Kelvath smiled sheepishly, then strode into the kitchen and put everything down before anything -else- could happen. "Well, some of them," he turned and took the items his compatriot held, "are for you. Some are food, and some are just things we've needed for a while."

"I see you managed to get home without any pillows..." He grinned, folding his arms and leaning a hip against the counter, just watching as Kelvath sorted everything out.

"They didn't have any at Thirve's shop." Kelvath put on a scowl, pushing his lower lip out. Then he got distracted by his purchases, his face smoothing out into a delighted smile as he stacked a handful of smaller parcels atop one large one.

"What hardship for you! Not a -single- cushion for your delicate head?"

"No. Nor one for yours, either." Kelvath rolled his eyes, then gathered up the stack and turned toward the other man. "Here... This is what I forgot to get before we left."

Avrath forgot all about his teasing as the gifts were presented. Kelvath looked like he wanted to say something else, though he had no idea what it might be, as he stood there. He took the packages and sat down at the table, tilting his head a little. "Do I start anywhere in particular, or...?"

Kelvath moved over to lean in Avrath's former spot, watching him with a little smile on his face. "No, just... Wherever you want to start, sir."

"All right." He nodded, took a deep breath, and frowned intently at the array of packages. He selected the most strangely-shaped one, picking at the knot in the string until it gave way, then winding it up into a neat little bundle which he then set aside. Then he carefully unfolded the paper, exposing a bundle of pens. The nibs were of all different sizes and shapes, set in sturdy wooden shafts just the right diameter for holding for hours.

The other packages turned out to be a half-dozen colors of ink and an entire ream of paper. The latter caused Avrath to turn and stare at Kelvath for a minute or two.

"What?"

"Well... An entire -ream-?"

"Why not?" Kelvath shrugged easily, smirking and casually, carelessly rested a hand on the hilt of the knife he wore at his hip. It had been an unexpected find, tucked under the kitchen knives, hidden under oil and cloth and whetstone. A Zhi'thethi dagger, of exquisite balance and superb beauty, with a wicked edge and a simple leather sheath... He wore it everywhere, and used it for a little of everything; to do otherwise was to insult the gift and the spirit in which it was given. Besides, it was nice to have something -worth- showing off.

Avrath's eyes were caught by the movement, and he bowed his head in acknowledgement. "Why not. -Thank you-, Azri." Then he grinned, opened a bottle of black ink, selected a pen, and began to doodle.

-----------

That night, stroking Kelvath's back with inkstained fingers, he sighed a little.

"What?"

"I just keep thinking of all that -paper-."

"You can go draw some more, I'll just sleep. I really don't mind." And he didn't. Sure, he'd miss Avrath, but at least he was in the same house, if not the same room or bed.

"No, I mean-"

"Avrath," Kelvath cut him off, "if you say one more word that even -hints- at fretting over some piffling thing like -money-, the spirits of your mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother, along with all of your deceased aunts, will swarm around you like midges and haunt you for the rest of your ungrateful days." He moved his head a little and nipped at Avrath's jaw. "E'defti, zhev'thi, mod'zhi razha... I don't really want to get into a war of comparison. After all, -I- have the Zhi'thethi dagger that you did -not- tell me about. And you know, I was shocked and faintly appalled that you'd spent so much on me, -me-... But I said nothing, as it was not my money you spent."

Avrath's mouth twisted into something resembling a smirk as Kelvath ran down. "What I was trying to say, -e'defti-, was that with all of that -paper- that you so generously graced me with, I could really -do- something. Not just a bunch of unrelated scrawlings, but... Try to tell a story in pictures, or something."

"Oh." Heat crawled up his neck, blossomed across his face, scorched the backs and tips of his ears, and finally dribbled up into his hairline. "I... Um... Sorry...?"

Avrath laughed, moving his hand to ruffle Kelvath's hair. "Oh, it's all right. And... Mod'zhi razha?"

Kelvath smiled, feeling his embarrassment recede faster than the ebb tide. "Mod'zhi razha, kai'ziltha mod vir'zhe ki'fthche..."

"And how is it that you, the farm-boy, ended up with more of a classical education than I, child of the bustling city?" He stretched over and kissed the tip of Kelvath's nose.

"I spent more time in school than out?" He asked, innocently. "Hazh'che mod'zhi razha, tivi ka'lirtha mazh'the thi'lche tev tazhte..."

Avrath laughed again, hand slipping down to curve around the nape of the other man's neck. The ancient poem was making him a little light-headed in the same way that just looking around the house sometimes made him... "Maybe. Maybe it was just that you went to school longer, rather than being marched off to The Royal Academy Of Warfare For Boys."

Curiosity piqued, Kelvath stopped in the middle of a line. "You went to the academy? I never knew that..."

"Yes. I was sent there two days after my twelfth birthday. My father was...the impetus behind that." He gently squeezed the nape of Kelvath's neck, carefully schooling his voice. "Finish the poem, please? I can't remember how it ends."

"Oh." He blinked at that, then forced his mind back to the old words. "Tev tazhte, mezhi tir talithche av'eh... A-ars mache ti'litha..." He didn't know if he -could- finish, the words -so- old, -so-... Something tickled his shoulder, and he reached up to find that it was plaited ribbons. "Teth'eche, Esren, tiv zheshi metir; math'eche, Esren, tiv _gir_ ir'thezhi ma'chi; teth'eche, Esren, tiv nizhi al'thi; math'eche, Esren, tiv gir vit'relthi zhev'thi mas..."

Avrath found he was holding his breath, doing his best to hear every syllable, commit each word to memory... He was startled into breathing again by the hitch in Kelvath's voice and the sudden silence following... It wasn't over, yet, he knew; there were two or three more lines -- and then he -knew-, -remembered-, and understood. Before he could tell Kelvath that it was all right, he didn't have to continue; before he could say anything to derail or distract or otherwise stem the tide, the other man was speaking again.

"Tivu vezhi se evi'che zhi hevet, tivu zha'dirthe se evi'che zhi advi..." Another hitch, his next inhalation rough enough to be mistaken for a sob. "Tivu zhev'thi...se evi'che -mezh- _ef'inzhi_. Mezh ef'inzhi, e'defti, sir..." His throat hurt too much to speak above a whisper, and there was a knot in his chest, too... He didn't understand why, either. After all, it wasn't as if Avrath was going to -laugh- at him.

All Avrath did, all he -could- do, was to hush him, petting his hair and murmuring. It was silly, he knew, as Kelvath -was- silent... But it felt right. He'd wondered, when Kelvath had started reciting, if the man was serious or not. The question had been answered more thoroughly than he'd been prepared for, and part of his brain had started a panicked gibbering. He ignored it, as he had during the long days of his command, dealing with the only thing he could affect at the moment. "I... I know, Azri, I know."

Kelvath made an affirmative noise, holding more tightly to the hand at his neck, tilting his head to hide his face.

"And... E'defti Azri... Teth'eche zhev'thi e'dri, ivu." He kissed the top of Kelvath's head and repeated himself, feeling desperately sad and not certain as to why.

A partial translation of part of Kelvath's poem, with the last seven lines being the part that makes them both so emotional. (Their excuse is that they've been through a fairly hellacious war, so they can break down -now-, years after the fact, if they want to. It won't get anyone -killed-, now, for one thing. I think I agree.)

-------

I bare my sword against all thy enemies

Of heart, soul and home

I take up my bow against all thy detractors

And make trophies of their tongues

...

Before thee I forswear all others

For thee I would lay down my life

Before thee I refute all temptation

For thee I would spurn all other loves

My soul is thine to keep

My heart is thine to guard

My love is thine for ever.