Kris sank slowly down onto a log on the outskirts of the fire, ignoring the biting wind that stole through his thin shirt and tightened his skin with cold. His eyes followed the dance of the flame, and then flew upwards with the smoke that tried vainly to shroud the brilliant starlight of the perfect night. He inhaled deeply; savoring every scent-cedar smoke, unoiled leather, the gentle smell of sleep-with a fascination he had never felt before. Driven by a sudden impulse, he bent over and unlaced his worn boots, tossing them aside with complete disregard and lowering his now bare feet to the ground, smoothing the dust in careful patterns with his calloused soles. His mouth twitched in a smile, then he rose and strode cautiously to his lover's bedside, bare feet absolutely silent as they left imprints in the fine dust. Kris crouched down next to the sleeper, moving his hand to stroke the air above the man's stained cheek. The dreamer stretched luxuriantly in his sleep, almost as if he could feel the invisible caress. Kris smiled, and raised his glass in a toast. Though the tea had gone cold long ago, it still burned white-hot as it went down.

The tough, half-cooked meat of the wood pheasant stuck unpleasantly between Kris' teeth with every bite, yet he continued to tear at the bird with appetite, if not with relish. It seemed like the birds were getting scrawnier with every week that passed. Like me, thought Kris cynically. He shifted position on the rocky ground, bathed in the light of an expiring sunset, trying to find a spot that was closer to his tiny fire. The laces of his battered boots caught on a rocky outcropping and almost sent Kris stumbling headlong into his own campfire. He bent over double to free the laces, too weary even to curse at the offending rock. Eventually it tugged free, and Kris sat down once more to finish off the remnants of his daily meal. Too soon, he tossed away the well-gnawed bones with a regretful sigh, then slumped down and put his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. The ever-present ache in his mistreated feet rose again to the forefront of his mind. Kris didn't even trouble himself to ignore it anymore; it had just become another facet of his existence, a product of his endless, pointless journey. It seemed to him that he had been running for his entire life, though in fact it had been little more than a year since he had deserted. But time was hard to measure when every day was the same; wake up, stiff and filthy, on the cold ground, then walk until nightfall and, perhaps, scrounge for something to eat,. Kris bowed his head, slipping a chilly hand into his trouser pocket. It was all so pointless; why did he even bother?

Suddenly, the sound of hoofbeats on the hard ground echoed across the grotto, and all of Kris' musings were shoved roughly aside by his survival instinct. Two riders came into view just a moment too soon; Kris didn't have time to hide himself. One rider cried out to the other, pointing in his direction, then the pair kicked their mounts into a canter. Kris shot to his feet and stumbled into a run, his heart hammering as he leaped over sharp stones and shoved through sparse thickets. He heard the sound of the horses growing louder and tried to run faster, but his legs simply would not obey him. As he burst, scratched and torn, from a thorn bush, he felt a heavy weight come crashing onto his back, throwing him to the ground with enough force to knock him out for a fleeting second. There was a flash of black as his face hit the dirt, then he became all-too aware of the weight on his back, pinning his arms efficiently with almost no effort. Kris slumped to the ground, wearily defeated.

"'Ey, I got 'im! Bring the rope, I'll tie 'im up." The man on his back shifted slightly, bringing Kris' bruised wrists closer together. He heard the sound of hooves, and then a faint thump as the second man dismounted.

"Here," the new voice said brusquely, biting off the word as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. A moment later Kris felt coarse hemp wrapping around his wrists.

"Thought you'd never get caught, did you?" sneered the man on his back, tying the rope with a rough jerk, "We have patrols for deserters like you, you know. We'll get y'all eventually." The man grabbed Kris by his fraying collar and hauled him to his feet, beckoning to the second patroller who was occupied with something in his horse's saddlebag.

"C'mon, help me get 'im on the horse, and we c'n leave." The second man sighed, re-buckled the bag, and turned to face Kris, who reeled in shock. It couldn't be…fate wouldn't be so cruel…Kris saw the blood drain from a face that was so like his own, it made his heart ache. Sean's face, though pale, gave no hint to his emotions, but this didn't stop the first man from peering between the two of them suspiciously.

"'Ey Sean, 'e looks just like you!" The man grabbed Kris' chin roughly and yanked it about to get a better view. "Same nose an' everythin'. You're not brothers, are you?" he shot Sean a wary glare. Sean walked slowly over to them, his face mask-like.

"No, Gram. I've never seen him before in my life." Gram squinted at them for a moment, then shrugged.

"Odd, that. Well, no matter who 'e looks like, we've got to get movin'. Give me a hand, will you?"

"We can't ride double, our horses can't take it," said Sean quickly. Gram scowled.

"Tie 'im to your saddle and let 'im walk."

"Does it look to you like he could keep up with us?" asked Sean scathingly, "I'd give it a mile, two tops, before he falls flat on his face again." Kris' face burned with anger and shame. Gram gave a groaning grunt of frustration.

"What're we goin' to do, then?" Sean paused for a moment, apparently thinking hard.

"You ride back to the camp and get another horse. I'll stay here and guard him tonight; you can probably make it back by late afternoon tomorrow if you hurry." Gram furrowed his brow, assessing the situation, then gave a nod of satisfaction.

"Right. 'Ere, let me take Smokey, she's fastest." Sean grabbed the reins of the grey-brown horse that was grazing on the sparse vegetation near his feet and handed them to Gram, who mounted easily.

"Keep a good eye on the son of a bitch. Wouldn't put it past 'im to try to strangle you while you're sleepin'."

"I'll be careful," Sean assured him coolly. With a final half-salute Gram wheeled the horse about and trotted off into the flaming west. It wasn't until the final echoes of the horse's hooves died away that Sean turned to face his prisoner. They stared at each other in silence for what seemed like an eternity.

"…Sean…" Kris whispered hoarsely, desperately searching the cold mask in front of him for some hint of the man he had loved. As he watched, a single tear welled up in slate-blue eyes, trickling slowly down a pale cheek. He was totally unprepared for the punch to the jaw that sent him reeling backwards, bound hands flying to his face. Kris sank to his knees, only to be pulled up again as Sean grabbed his shoulders and wrenched him to his feet. Kris suddenly found himself nose to nose with the other man, both of them breathing in ragged gasps.

"I…" Sean began, his eyes swirling, glistening with golden light "…I hate you." Sean pressed his mouth savagely to Kris' in a violent, heartbroken kiss. Kris responded likewise, savoring the taste of the warm mouth despite the bitterness that would inevitably follow. After a few lingering moments Sean broke the kiss and lowered his head to Kris' tattered shoulder, leaving a damp trail down the other man's neck.

"You bastard," he breathed brokenly. Kris tried to wrap his arms around Sean's shaking torso, only to remember belatedly that they were still bound. Sean seemed to realize this at the same moment; drawing back, he pulled a knife from his belt and cut away the rope without a word.

"Thanks," Kris said softly. Sean said nothing, but hung his head.

"Why did you let me catch you?" he whispered. Kris gave a humorless laugh.

"What else could I do? Look at me Sean," he lifted the man's face to stare regretfully into his eyes, "I can't run any more." Another hot tear escaped Sean's eye, but he quickly brushed it aside and turned to his horse.

"You just need some proper food. I have some good provisions, you can take them when you go. It should take Gram about a day to get back here, so if you start now you can…"

"Sean." He stopped rummaging through his saddlebags and stood still as stone. Kris approached him slowly and put a hand on his shoulder. "It's no good. You have to face it, Sean, wherever I go there'll be more patrols." Kris lifted his face to the sky and sighed. "I'm done with running." Suddenly Sean spun around and grabbed Kris' collar, shaking him, tears of fury running down his tormented face.

"They'll kill you," he growled, "Every deserter they catch is hanged." Kris reached up and wrapped his fingers around Sean's clenched fists.

"You keep saying 'they,' but 'they' includes you too, doesn't it?" Kris pointed out carefully. At this, all the fury seemed to flow out of Sean, and the man drooped like a pine bough laden with too much snow.

"I didn't want to do this," Sean said despairingly, "Of all the duties I could have been assigned…But it's the army. I couldn't do anything about it," he raised his eyes to meet Kris', his voice half-pleading. "It was my duty." Kris shut his eyes, unwilling to see the pain in his friend's gaze. He spoke quietly, as if commenting on a fact of life that nothing would change.

"I understand. You have to keep your honor."

"I will," Sean answered automatically, before he realized what he was promising. A second later his eyes widened and he pulled away.

"No."

"Just let them have me, Sean. Anything would be better than the hell I've gone through this past year. I just want it to be over and done with." Sean locked eyes with Kris, who saw the younger man weighing every alternative, saw him come to the conclusion he didn't want to acknowledge. Sean's mouth tightened in defiance.

"I won't let you. Go, Kris." Kris saw Sean reach surreptitiously for his dagger, and made up his mind hurriedly.

"Alright, I'll go." Relief washed across Sean's face, followed by shame that flickered for only a second before he managed to mask it. Kris saw it, but decided not to comment. He sighed as if in defeat, then looked up to give Sean a small smile.

"Just let me stay the night?" An answering smile, albeit a preoccupied one, spread across Sean's lips.

"Just the night," he agreed, removing his hand from his dagger hilt. The fiery light from the setting sun silhouetted Sean as Kris stepped forward and brought their lips together in a tender kiss. Somehow, they were able to make it back to Kris' abandoned campsite, Sean even managing to his saddlebags along with him. Kris built up the fire, then the two of them lost themselves in fevered kisses and hot skin as the daylight died. Though he said nothing, Kris knew this last lovemaking for what it was: a farewell.

Later, as they lay half-covered by furs and entangled in each other's limbs, Kris blew gently on his lover's neck.

"Sean, you awake?"

"Yes." Kris bit his lip; he didn't want to break the spell of the moment, but there was one thing he needed to know.

"If all this was over," he whispered huskily, "the war and everything, and you had a wife and family and land and all that…" Sean shifted in Kris' arms, "Could you be happy?" A breath breezed from Sean's sweet mouth, but Kris silenced him before he could speak.

"No, think about it. Please. All I want is the truth." The fire popped and sizzled quietly for many minutes before Sean finally spoke.

"Yes," he said quietly, reluctantly, "I guess I could. But I'd rather stay with you." Kris felt a tremendous burden lift from his shoulders. He twisted his neck and planted a soft kiss on the other man's lips.

"And I'd rather stay with you. But we can't always get everything we want." Sean ran his hand lovingly down Kris' lax chest.

"We had tonight, though. And maybe when it's all over we'll see each other again." Kris captured the wandering hand and gave it a gentle kiss.

"When it's all over," he promised, wrapping his arms around Sean and holding him tightly for a long moment. "I love you, Sean." Sean nuzzled Kris tiredly.

"Love you, too." The younger man was asleep in minutes, but Kris was content to listen to Sean's slow breathing, to feel the steady heartbeat pulsing in the vein in his throat. He fought the urge to sleep; he knew he would have to rise soon, before dawn, but he kept promising himself ten more minutes, then just fifteen more… It was only an hour until sunrise when he finally pushed aside the furs and stood, shivering as the icy wind bit savagely at his bare skin. Sean made a small noise of protest, and Kris hurriedly replaced the blankets.

"It's okay, Sean," he whispered softly, "Go back to sleep. I just need something to drink."

"Tea in the bags…" Sean murmured before turning over and falling back to sleep. Kris hastily re-donned his clothes, and then set a pot to boil over the fire while he sorted through the provisions to find the tea. When the water boiled, Kris poured himself a cup of the steaming liquid and threw in a generous pinch of leaves. Hesitating for only a second, he then reached into his pocket and withdrew a small, conical packet, much the worse for wear from residing in his trousers for the last few months. He had run across the tattered, mad beggar as the last leaves fell from the trees. The old man had thought Kris was his son, and insisted on pressing this 'gift' upon him. He had even gone so far as to tell Kris what it was, before trundling off, muttering, through the forest.

Just as Kris untwisted the packet, a distressed whimper emerged from the pile of furs. Putting both the tea and the powder carefully aside, Kris knelt cautiously next to Sean. The younger man was tossing in his sleep, murmuring incoherently, his face tormented. Kris placed a gentle hand soothingly on Sean's cheek. The man stilled, but two tears leaked from his eyes as he fell back asleep. His breath passed out in a sigh, his lips forming two disjoined phrases.

"Honor…I promise." Kris clamped his eyes shut quickly, though not quickly enough to suppress the hot tears that spilled from his eyelashes. He stood back up slowly, and then returned carefully to the fireside. Picking up his tea, Kris emptied the packet into his cup, watching as the white powder dissolved in a whirl of steam.

Kris stripped off his clothing, slowly, as his rapidly numbing fingers fumbled with the ties on his shirt and trousers. He slipped in beside Sean and wrapped his arms tightly around the man as his limbs grew cold and his stomach hot. Sean snuggled into his embrace, a sigh laden with trepidation escaping his lips.

"It's almost dawn," he whispered, "You'll have to go."

"Not quite yet," Kris said thickly, pulling Sean closer, savoring the man's warmth and love one last time. Sean took a deep, sleepy breath.

"You smell like almonds," he breathed into Kris' chest. A small, sad smile fluttered across Kris' face.

"I know. Brings back memories, doesn't it?" Sean shivered, both with laughter and bittersweet tears. Kris lifted his arm with difficulty and twined his fingers in his lover's long, dark hair.

"Go to sleep," he murmured with frozen lips, "It'll all be clearer in the morning."

A/N: Aaaahhhh! Sorry! *ducks rotten vegetables* I based this off a dream I had once, and I wanted to stay true to the dream, so Kris had to die! I know this chapter is pretty bad, but if you'd review and tell me just how bad it its, maybe I'll be able to improve it. Hmm, is cutting off some of my words? I'll have to look into that. Anyway, thanks so much to everyone who reviewed! You guys make my day. ^_^