All material on this site, except where otherwise explicitly stated, is copyright of the author known as Ann Somerville. All art, except where otherwise explicitly stated, is copyright of the artist known as Kiriko Moth

  Walk a lonesome road

Copyright © 2007 Ann Somerville

  Epilogue

The trip to Febkeinzian scares Dek a little – it’s out of character, and definitely a lot nuttier than his usual behaviour. The holes in his memory scare him more, and he wonders if it’s possible that the years of isolation have in fact made him worse, rather than just keeping him stable and out of harm’s way. He keeps coming across things which make him stutter and freeze, unable to explain their existence. A pair of unfamiliar thermal socks, the wrong size for him. Some official documents signed by an unknown Febkeinze military officer, offering the bearer safe conduct, when Dek has no recollection in the slightest of going anywhere near where the document was allegedly signed. The stirrups of one of his saddles were set far too long, and he’s missing a lot of his field medical kit, a few other odds and ends he can’t remember losing. And there’s other things too, a face, a voice in his dreams, that were never there before. Images of violence, of terror, and weirdly, of a dying child, that are new and whose source he can’t divine at all.

He doesn’t know how to deal with any of it except as he always does, which is just to endure, but as time passes, as the spring comes fully into bloom and he starts his trapping in earnest, the images fade a little and the sick sense of losing his mind altogether, eases. Things aren’t getting any worse, and he wonders if he maybe just suffered a bit too much cabin fever this last winter. He might have to try and make the effort to go across to Kaisei’s place more often. Add a tiny bit more human contact into his existence, just for sanity’s sake.

The rhythm of his year is much as it always has been. When he goes to Osiwen with his pelts, a little later than is his usual habit, there’s talk of a crashed flyer that’s been found a hundred and fifty pardecs northeast of the town. The strange thing is, they say, there were no bodies. Not a one. And the plane isn’t officially registered anywhere. Smugglers, the old-timers say, nodding sagely as Dek talks to them about it. A funny business for sure. He missed the investigators who were in the area a couple of months before, checking things out. The wreck was lifted out by TKs, apparently. The land will reclaim the scar in time, Dek knows, and has no further interest in the matter.

The summer’s one of the most beautiful he’s ever experienced in the north, and he spends much of it on the trail, exploring, trapping a little, but mostly just enjoying the magnificent, dangerous beauty of his home. It’s a glorious season, one that reaffirms that it was the right thing to do to move up here, so he’s a more than a little surprised to find himself dreading the coming winter. For the first time in seven years, he even thinks about maybe going south for a few months, maybe even to Kekwe to see Tik and the family, before telling himself he’d go lock ‘em up crazy within a week. He doesn’t understand it – he’s never felt lonely before, or the least bit bothered by the winter which always holds a special appeal to him with all its perfect, stark majesty. He tells himself the strange mood will pass, and tries to keep busy.

One midwinter night, as he’s doing some intricate stitching on a new pair of indoor shoes, he nearly has a heart attack as he hears a knock at his door. Who the hell could possibly be calling on him at this time of the night, at this time of the year? He fetches his gun down from the top shelf, finds the ammunition in a drawer and loads it, then puts his boots on. “Who is it?” he calls from the hallway.

“Defence Force, Utag Dekan. Official business.”

He frowns. He’s got a communicator – why didn’t they call? But even though he’s telling himself not to let whoever it is in, he finds himself opening the door, as if his hands and feet have minds of their own. He finds two men standing there – not defs. He tries to raise his gun, but can’t. “May we come in?” one of them says, and sweeps past Dek as if he’s not even there.

He can’t open his mouth, or stop them. What’s going on? They’re foreign – southern, Darsini or Weadenisi. Both tall, both wearing new, top quality winter gear and arrogant, faintly displeased expressions. The second one shuts the door behind him and then Dek is herded back into his own living room and made to sit. “You don’t need to be afraid,” the first one says. “We’re not here to harm you or rob you. We’re simply delivering a message.”

“From who?” Dek whispers.

“Here,” the second one says, and hands Dek an envelope. As Dek’s fingers touch the paper, he cries out – a sudden flood of recollection overwhelms him, images, voices he can name, faces he recognises now. A memory of a red-haired man with beautiful eyes and a gentle touch. “Ren?” he says, staring up at his visitors.

“Yes, Ren. He wanted you to have this message. Insisted on it, in fact,” the first says, with an eyeroll at the second one. “He wanted you to have your memories back, and we have granted that wish.”

“Is he all right? What about the baby? Where is he?”

The first one holds up his hand. “No point in telling you, as we’ll have to remove all memory of our visit when we leave. Everything that’s safe for you to know is in that letter.” And then he turns, as if he’s done.

“Wait!” Dek cries, getting to his feet. “Can you give him a message?”

The second one frowns, and there’s a few moments’ silence in which, Dek guesses, they communicate through their thoughts. “Very well. What do you want to say?”

“Just...tell him...I miss him. That...I hope he’s doing well...and that I’m fine. I’m doing good,” he says firmly.

“We can tell him that. Now we have to go.”

“Will I hear from him again?”

“Not if I have my way,” the second man mutters.

“Perhaps,” the first man says with a quelling look at his companion. “No promises, and if you attempt to contact him in any way, we’ll return and this time, your memories will be permanently destroyed,” he says, his eyes severe.

“I won’t. Tell him thanks for this.” Dek holds the envelope close to him. “Tell him....”

“We have to go,” the first man says, but not unkindly. “Best you don’t dwell on this, Utag Dekan.”

Dek finds himself standing in his living room, his gun in one hand, a letter in the other, and his boots on his feet. He has no recollection how these things have come to pass. But he remembers Ren now, and the previous winter, and the real reason he went to Febkeinzian, and he guesses that someone’s protecting Ren now who’d wanted to be sure that no one looking for Ren would find him in Dek’s thoughts. After a year, it must be safe enough to let him remember.

He puts the gun away, removes his boots, and takes the letter back to the table. He’s almost afraid to open it, which is ridiculous because why would Ren write to him to cause him sorrow? Growling at his own stupidity, he carefully peels back the seal, and extracts the single sheet of paper. There’s no signature, just an ‘R’. The handwriting is tidy and elegant – not really how he might have imagined it.

Dear Dek

If you’re reading this, then my pleading worked. They probably told you, but you mustn’t try to reply to this – it’s not safe for you.

(A memory of a warning comes to Dek, and he nods.)

My daughter was born six weeks after I left you. She’s quite beautiful, with red hair and green eyes. Everyone says she takes after me.

(So it was his child. And ‘his daughter’ – he’s decided to keep her?)

She had some physical problems and required surgery, but is recovering well. By her first birthday, we expect her to be pretty much normal. I have named her Misawenu, Misa for short. It means ‘blessed miracle’, which she surely is. My sister is helping me to look after her here.

(His sister! So she got out too. Dek smiles, thinking of Ren’s reaction to that news.)

It was fortunate she was here to help as I wasn’t very well for a while. However, I’m fine now and taking things easy.

(Dek wonders how much Ren is glossing over, and decides it doesn’t matter so long as he’s being truthful now.)

I’m retraining to become a licensed physician here, and working as a medic as I study. My sister is doing the same. We’re hoping to set up a practice together when we finish.

Life here is good, and people are very kind. I’ve had any amount of help, and I’m as happy as I could expect to be in the circumstances, though my thoughts are with those I’ve left behind, and I miss them. I miss you and I worry about you. I hope I’ll be hearing news of you soon.

Everything I have now – my daughter, my sister, my new life – I owe to you, and a day doesn’t go by that I don’t think of you and bless the day I met you. I wanted you to know that all your efforts weren’t for nothing.

Be at peace, my dear friend. R.

There are drops of water on the paper, and Dek doesn’t know where they’re coming from, until he realises it’s from him and he’s crying. He lays the letter carefully on the table, then covers his face and sobs as he hasn’t in years, not since Lomare died, not since the first night after the funeral. He doesn’t even know why he’s crying because he’s so happy Ren’s safe, that he’s got something back from the wreckage of his life. Only....

Only, he misses the bastard so much, and he knows he’ll never see him again. Even getting this message to him was risky, and reading between the lines, he realises Ren must have badgered someone pretty unmercifully to allow it to be sent.

He wipes his eyes, but he can feel more tears rising. A year ago, he didn’t know Ren existed, and never wanted anyone in his life. Now he’s crying like a fucking baby over a guy who considers him a friend, but who’s moved onto his new life and new interests.

He finds the book where he’d put Lomare’s picture and his graduation certificate, and places the letter carefully between its leaves. He probably ought to destroy it but it’s the only tangible evidence he has that Ren ever existed. That, a too large pair of socks, and his memories. At least he has the memories.

When he returns from some late summer trapping the next year, there’s an envelope on his kitchen table. Inside, there’s a image of a laughing baby with red curls, being held up by a familiar pair of big hands. On the back, in writing that Dek is now also achingly familiar with, are the words, ‘M at one year old.’

Dek grins – he’s not one for babies, but this child’s smile is infectious, even in a image like this. But then he looks again and realises those hands, which he would swear on oath belong to a talkative, brilliant empath, are free of any mark. He peers at it carefully – maybe the image has been altered, but he doubts it. He realises Ren is sending another, more subtle message. The tattoo’s been removed. Without that or the biochip, the Pindone authorities will have almost no chance of removing him from the country legally, and with the efficiency of the Weadenisis, Dek doubts they have much chance of extracting him illegally.

That’s when he starts writing the letters to Ren, knowing he has no chance of ever sending them, but wanting to...connect somehow. And he makes toys for the baby – a dyed leather ball, a mobile of feathers and engraved nuts and glasstone which he polishes to a brilliant gleam. A pair of slippers made of the finest, softest gemil hide. He even makes a miniature-sized jacket like the ones the Febkeinze women wear when they’re showing off. He keeps them all in a safe box under the floor, knowing he’s being more than a little foolish, but he figures there’s no harm in this particular insanity. One night after New Year, he goes to deposit a new letter in the box, and finds it empty. He grins, and knows he has only to wait.

Midsummer, there’s another image in an envelope. The child, standing up with the help of an anonymous person, is dressed in his jacket and slippers and is giggling at a ball being held in her father’s hand. ‘M loves her new toys’ is written on the back. And his most recent letters have gone. That Ren hasn’t written to him more than on the image, doesn’t matter. They don’t really need the words.

The fourth year, there’s a letter with an image of a sad-faced little girl in a uniform whose identifying badges are carefully obscured. ‘Poor M doesn’t want to go to school because she wants to play with her Papa.’ Ren’s letter explains that Misawenu is actually enjoying school. Ren himself is done with his classes and has begun a year’s specialist training – in what, he doesn’t specify. Dek hopes Ren’s getting the satisfaction he deserves from his new work. He’s a gifted doctor, and the world needs more of them.

The fifth year, there’s no message in the summer, and nothing comes at New Year either. Dek’s been expecting this, and tries not to be disappointed – Ren, after all, has got to move on with his life, and doctors have a lot more to fill their days than crazy hermits.

When the knock comes at his door, he doesn’t go for his gun, though he’s not sure, thinking back on it afterwards, exactly why he doesn’t. He flings open the door, and there, in the snow-gleaming moonlight, is Ren, grinning like a maniac. “Just passing through. Can I come in?”

Dek opens his mouth, blinks, then hauls Ren in by his arm and slams the door. “You’re really here? I’m not being fucked with?”

Ren puts his hand on Dek’s shoulders and squeezes. “No, really here.” He’s got a backpack on, which he unbuckles and swings to the floor. “I was hoping I could stay a few days – if I can’t, I need to let my ride know.”

“Stay,” Dek growls and Ren grins again.

“Hoped you’d says that.” His eyes go distant and then he nods. “Right – that’s set. Any chance of a hot drink? I’m freezing.”

Dek busies himself with boiling water for khevai, hauling out some cookies he’d made that day as a treat for himself. Ren dumps his pack and his outer gear in the drying room, and pads into the kitchen. “I missed this place,” he says contentedly. He sits down at the table. “Missed you.”

Dek doesn’t respond to that, but as he turns around and sets khevai and food down before Ren, he looks at him properly for the first time. Ren’s hair is now grown back so much he’s wearing it in a long, sleek tail. He’s put on weight, muscle, and he’s regained his girlish figure. “You look good,” Dek says finally as Ren patiently allows the survey. He looks incredibly handsome, in fact.

“So do you.” Ren reaches up and holds Dek’s arm. “I really missed you. Every fucking day.”

“Never thought about you at all,” Dek says gruffly.

Ren laughs. “Nice try, but you can’t lie to an empath. Are you well, Dek?” he asks, searching his face for clues.

“Same as ever. Let me...uh...khevai and stuff.”

Ren lets go and Dek serves himself, then sits down. “So...why?” he says, sipping his drink and letting himself enjoy the miracle of Ren’s presence in his kitchen.

“Because I’ve finished my training and I had to see you. They refused to let me come before I did that, but I told them I wasn’t going to cooperate any more unless they let me come up after I qualified. And since I’m the Dual Soul I kind of have more clout with them than most paranormals, so here I am. You want my news?”

Dek gives him a look and Ren laughs. “Well, Misa’s fine and blooming. Her feet and hips were a little deformed because of the position she was in, but she got off lightly in that respect, and everything’s been repaired. Dek, the medical knowledge there is incredible,” he says with awe in his tone. “I thought I was well-trained, but now I realise Pindoni medicine is just so damn primitive. They couldn’t have done this,” he says, holding up his previously tattooed and now unblemished hand. “I probably would have died from Misa’s extraction if they weren’t so advanced. Damn near did,” he adds with a grimace and even though he’s clearly well and not in any danger, Dek can’t help feeling a knot of anxiety at how close it came. “I hadn’t planned to keep her, and when I found Jinase had been rescued too, I asked her if she would look after the child. Dek – they forced her to have three babies, can you believe that? Took every one of them away. I don’t know how she stayed sane.”

“Good breeding,” Dek says. How could they use humans that way? The he realises how what he said might sound. “Uh...I meant good genes.”

“I know,” Ren says with a smile. “Jinase said to wait until after the baby was born, and when I came around properly – I was so sick for a long while – and there she was, so beautiful, so innocent, I knew...this was my chance to make something good come of it. She can’t replace Meram, but no one could. She’s nothing like him, but she’s still precious to me.”

And Dek can see that, how this unwanted thing has become a source of joy for his friend. “You hear anything about your boy?”

Ren’s smile becomes a grimace. “Geya’s parents are raising him, which isn’t a bad thing because they’re good people. She’s involved in some secret research and gave up custody. My parents are raising Jinase’s two kids. Her husband died in prison. Really died, so far as anyone knows. Jinase’s...uh...well, she’s got things to work through. So do I.” Dek nods. It’s amazing either of them are sane, really. “That’s what I’m going to specialise in, recovery from psychological trauma. Not as a psych, to provide practical support. I’ll work as a general doctor but on that too, when I can.”

“For that group?”

He’s surprised when Ren shakes his head. “Not full-time, no. Me, they’d be happy to have, but Jinase and Misa aren’t paranormal, and by their own rules, can’t be part of the Elected. They’re the people behind all this. I said I couldn’t leave them, so they’ve set me up to work outside their enclave, but for them as well. They’ve set the three of us with completely new identities – Misa’s a Weadenisi citizen with full protection – and paid for my training and household. In return I just have to report any new paranormals I find so they can try and conceal them from the government. I know you probably don’t approve....” He shrugs. “I don’t trust any government to protect my kind any more.”

After all he’s learned, Dek’s not sure if he approves or not, but that’s not the important thing right now. “Why are you allowed to tell me this?” he asks, suddenly suspicious.

Ren winces. “Ah...can we come back to that? I need to tell you some more first.” Dek nods, though he doesn’t like this new secret. “Now I’m fully qualified I’m setting up a practice in a rural community in northern Weadenal – it’s all farms and forest reserves, very lovely. Near the mountains. Jinase’s working with me there. There’s a base hospital that we’re going to work at, two days a week for each of us. It serves a big community – I can do good work there.”

“Sounds great.”

“It really is. Dek....” Here it comes, Dek thinks, bracing himself. “I came up here to see you because I missed you, but also because I wanted to ask you if you’d like to move south. With me. Me and the ladies of course,” he adds with a smile.

“Can’t,” Dek says automatically. “Can’t live with people, you know that.”

“But it’s not like living in a city. It’s more people than here, but you’d have space. Plenty of space. I...um, chose it because it was the closest to this place I could find. The house is part of a farm. The land is rented out at the moment, but if you were interested, you could work it. They run barchins, other animals too. It’s beautiful country.”

Ren’s eyes are Dek’s weakness and the bastard knows it. “You could come up here?”

Ren gets up and moves his chair around the table so he’s right next to Dek. “I could,” he says slowly. “And Marra knows I miss you enough to think about it, but there’s Misa.” He takes Dek’s hand and Dek aches for how much he misses Ren’s touch.

“Bring her with you?” Dek asks, but Ren shakes his head.

“I can’t,” he says, and Dek suddenly gets it.

“She’s the lever? You stay here, they’ll keep her?”

“Yes. I mean, it’s harsh, but I understand it. There’s a lot more than me at risk. I could stay, but they’d have to erase my memories of her and of you, and...I’m not brave enough to lose either,” he whispers, reaching over to touch Dek’s face. “I’ve lost so much, I can’t.”

Dek catches his hand and squeeze the fingers in comfort. “And if I don’t go? That’s it, isn’t it? I won’t hear from you again.”

“No. But they’ll...make you forget me. It won’t be like it’ll hurt.”

But Dek shakes his head. “Lost too much too,” he says roughly, and then he turns his head and kisses the fingers he’s got trapped. “Can’t lose you again.”

“Will you come then?” Ren says, hope rising in his expression. “I know it’s a lot to ask, and you love your home, and maybe it won’t work...but Dek...it could be good too.” He leans forward and brushes his lips against Dek’s. “I think you know how I feel.”

“Ren...I....” He can’t say the words. “I....”

Ren takes pity on his inability to articulate. “Yeah. Me too.” He touches Dek’s mouth, traces his finger carefully over Dek’s upper lip. “That day when I left, my heart broke, but when they sent me your message, and then I got your letters and those lovely toys, I thought...there’s a chance, maybe. I had to hang onto that. So...will you?”

Dek stares at him. It’s a big step. A huge, almost unimaginable step. But waiting for him is Ren, and that means, in the end, the decision’s easy. “Yes.”

Ren grins and throws his arms around him, and somewhere along the line, their lips meet again in a clumsy kiss. Dek’s out of practice, and Ren’s too eager to be careful, but it doesn’t matter because they’re together, touching, as it should be. As it needs to be. “You’re sleeping with me,” Dek says.

Ren pouts playfully. “Oh, and I thought maybe Jesti would be missing me.”

“Jesti passed away last month,” Dek murmurs.

“Fuck...I’m sorry. She was a grand girl.”

“She was, but it’s all right,” he says as Ren touches his face again in sympathy. “She was getting on for fifteen, old for an urtibes. It was her time, she didn’t suffer. Just died in her sleep.” Still, it had hurt to find her dead, and Dek kind of wishes she’d lived long enough to see Ren return. He can imagine going to the barn to talk to her about it. It’s still so strange not to be able to do that. “Maybe she knew I was leaving.”

Ren cups his chin. “Not leaving. Coming home. Coming home with me.”

“Sounds good,” Dek says, smiling, and then he kisses Ren because he’s never been good with words but he can make his hands do all kinds of clever things. He’s planning on showing Ren a few of them tonight, and maybe some more over the next few days...years...rest of his life? He doesn’t want to think that far. Today is enough. Tonight...will be a new beginning for him. “Now will you tell me if you really slept with my brother?”

Ren grins in his own uniquely insubordinate way. “Hmmm – I think you’ll have to work that out by trial and error. Lots and lots of trial.” He leans in and licks Dek’s ear. “But don’t worry about falling short of expectations. You’re already more than I ever thought I’d have.”

“You really do talk too much.”

“Better get used to that, because I’m never going to change.”

And strangely enough, that’s actually fine by Dek. Very fine indeed.

The End