Chapter 13

LAUREL LET Afull three days pass before considering visiting the castle. He supposed it was a kind of test to be sure he wasn't becoming addicted to Ash's annoying optimism. It had the added benefit of giving his brain, and heart, a chance to rest from the spikes of unique energy being in the healer's presence caused him.

He attended therapy, helped Minael in the garden, and took Ingrid shopping in anticipation for her concert. The outfit she'd be wearing was preordained, but they picked out a lovely pearl-encrusted clasp to thread through her hair. Helio's tone had taken on a strange docility toward him, and he got the distinct impression his vatra had something he wanted to discuss, but so far neither of them had made a move in that direction.

Instead of rereading one of his favored romance novels from his shelf, he ducked into a little bookstore and bought a new one, something he hadn't done in a long while. He'd purposely avoided any with a lead that reminded him of Ash, hoping it would prevent him from imagining them in any of the scenarios contained within the pages. Not that he would have ever admitted out loud that such a concept could even occur to him.

Huddled on the lushly cushioned seating of the gazebo by his home, he thumbed through the last few chapters of the story. There was something inherently comforting about knowing, without a doubt, that the ending would be some sparkling version of happily ever after, no matter how painstaking the journey to that point had been. He wished he could feel so certain about his own future.

When he finished the last page, charmed by the sweet little epilogue that showcased a peek into the marriage of the main pairing, he closed the book with a light snap and a sigh. It all seemed so easy in books, overcoming the various obstacles that presented themselves in a relationship. Familial pressure, differences in beliefs, backgrounds. None of those mattered when it was right between two people. Not for the first time, he wondered if it could really be so simple.

His father's explanation of his marriage to his vatra had gotten him thinking, considering the possibility. It wasn't that he was opposed to Ash's background, exactly. He wasn't affronted by the concept, and wouldn't have thought to hold the unfortunate circumstance of his birth against him. But he couldn't pretend that it wasn't strange, and that he didn't wonder if the differences in their upbringing would cause eventual issues between them.

Whether it was a valid concern, or whether it was just his brain's way of trying to form yet another barrier to protect him from Ash's advances, Laurel couldn't be sure. He wished he could trust himself more, but even that had been stolen from him in the midst of he and Malory's relationship. Not that he could make any comparison between the two men. Not even in the glittering beginnings of he and Malory's courting could he recall feeling so restless and excited. Or perhaps his memories were only clouded by the painful events that had come after. Again, he couldn't trust his own perception enough to be sure.

Though he was no stranger to lying to himself, Laurel recalled Minael's pleading that he wouldn't let his fear or ego prevent him from seeking happiness. On top of that, there was no denying he missed Ash's effusive energy. With another soft sigh, he rose to return to his room so he could dress for the castle.

UPON ARRIVING, LAURELimmediately realized that he had no idea where exactly in the castle Ash was staying. There was a guest wing, where March had stayed while he'd been courted by Nero in their little will we or won't we ritual. Of course, he'd burned down a fair section of that wing half a year ago. Not that anyone but Nero and March knew that he'd been the cause of that. Not even Beritz, for which Laurel was grateful. He was fond of the boisterous king, and had been since he'd been a kid.

He knew that wing of the castle had been rebuilt in a haste, at the insistence of Nero and Beritz, but he wasn't entirely sure if it was habitable for living in just yet. He supposed he could ask a servant, but there was something embarrassing about that, so he decided instead to walk a bit to gather his composure before stumbling down that rocky path. In any case, he knew Ash made a habit of going out into the city a lot, so there was a chance he wouldn't even be there.

As luck, or perhaps the fate that Ash seemed to be so fond of proclaiming into existence would have it, Laurel found him very shortly after arriving. Entering a courtyard teeming with blooming flora, he stumbled upon the charming scene of the healer lowered down onto one knee, talking to a very young girl. He didn't need much context to ascertain what had happened. Her damp eyes, scraped knee, and torn dress said it all.

Hanging back so he could avoid Ash's attention, he could hear the man's soft murmurs of consolation, though he couldn't make out much of the actual verbiage. She nodded, sniffling, and poked out her knee to him. Leaning over a bit to adjust his vantage point, Laurel watched him brush his fingertips very lightly over the raw little wound. Predictably, it faded over a few seconds, leaving only unblemished skin behind.

When she made a spectacle of showering him in jubilant applause, he reached past her to pluck a blossom as fat and vivid as a ruby from a nearby shrub, pushing it into her hands.

Laurel saw, as Ash apparently didn't, a woman he recognized as an employee of the castle who rushed toward them with a horrified expression on her face. Immediately understanding, he stepped toward them as well.

"I can't do anything to fix your dress, I'm afraid," Ash apologized to the child, looking comically somber. "You'll have to be more careful."

"Trinka!" The assertively commanding voice of her mother snapped the young girl to attention, widening her eyes as she turned.

"Hi, Mommy."

"I told you to stay where I could see you!" Though her voice dripped with definitive authority, her body language showed obvious relief as she reached them, tugging her daughter back toward her. Giving Ash an expression of repulsed distrust, she barked out her next words to him. "And who exactly are you?"

"Ah," Laurel piped up from behind Ash, laying a hand on his shoulder. "He's a friend of Nero's, and mine. Sorry for the misunderstanding." The healer turned back to look up at him in surprise. The obvious confusion in his verdant eyes nearly had Laurel wincing in sympathy.

Because she'd worked in the castle for so many years, she'd come to recognize Laurel as well. As he was a friend of the Crown Prince, someone that could vouch for the identity of the strange man who knelt before her, she relaxed, fractionally.

"Mr. von Isildor," she greeted him formally, as was expected of someone in her position addressing someone of his status.

"Mommy, he fixed it. Look!" The young girl, evidently named Trinka, gestured to her knee with an excitable flourish. "And it doesn't even hurt at all!"

"He's a healer," Laurel added hastily, hoping to give context to the statement.

"I see." Trinka's mother, lips tight still with tension, gave Laurel a small bow. "My apologies to you if she was pestering you. She knows very well not to talk to strangers," she added with a lethal glance down to her daughter.

"It's no trouble," he assured her, glad that Ash seemed aware enough of the tense situation not to speak. "Again, I'm sorry for the misunderstanding."

They left, with the woman scolding the girl in a low hiss as they disappeared from sight. Slumping a bit, relieved of the strain of the conversation, Laurel sighed.

"I didn't know you were here," Ash said, rather unnecessarily, as he rose to a standing position again.

"You really can't be doing that kind of thing, Ash."

"Doing what?"

"Ah," Laurel hesitated, balking a little at the fact that he had to actually voice it out loud. "Talking to kids when you don't know their parents. You definitely shouldn't touch them."

"She fell." The remark was so guileless, so completely free of even the smallest semblance of understanding, that Laurel nearly sighed.

"I know, but you have to think of it from her mother's point of view. You're down there saying god knows what to her kid, and she doesn't even know who you are. You could be anyone," he added pointedly. The moment the implication seemed to sink in, Ash grimaced with obvious disgust.

"You can't possibly be accusing me of-"

"No," he interrupted, serious now. "Of course I'm not."

"Where I'm from, everyone knows each other. If a kid in my town was hurt, I wouldn't hesitate to help them. I guess I didn't consider if it would look strange or not." Feeling more than a little mortified, Ash shifted onto the heels of his boots. "Should I go find her and apologize?"

"No," Laurel answered. The situation wasn't necessarily funny, but for a reason he couldn't quite articulate, he found it to be so. "I already did that for you."

"I'm sorry for putting you in an awkward position, then."

"It's fine," Laurel assured him. And because he still looked so pathetically puzzled, the sorcerer squeezed his shoulder, giving him a look he hoped was encouraging. "Just forget about it, okay? The girl's knee is fixed, and the mom knows you're not just some random creep now. So there's no harm done."

"Other than me looking like an idiot in front of you."

Helplessly charmed by the fact that he appeared to be so worried about that particular fact, Laurel took pity on him. "You didn't. You looked sweet. And caring."

Immediately perked up by the idea, Ash tilted his head as he grinned. "I guess that's not so bad then, is it? To have you thinking of me as sweet and caring."

"It's not as if it's a fact I'm only just realizing," Laurel retorted. To admit it was embarrassing, but he was willing to endure it if it would help improve his companion's mood. "Show me where you're staying."

"See, now you're giving me conflicting messages. You don't want me talking to strange kids, but if it gets you complimenting me and asking for me to take you to my room, it might be hard to resist."

Squeezing his eyes closed, Laurel let out a long exhale. "I reserve the right to retract that request, you know."

"You do, yes," Ash agreed, obviously amused. His instincts told him that Laurel wouldn't have dreamed of leaving now, and had probably only waited to come see him because he'd been feeling overwhelmed by the rapidly developing feelings between them. But because verbally acknowledging his theory would only succeed in causing unnecessary difficulties for him, he opted for a different route. "But I hope you won't. I've missed you and I've been wanting to see you."

Nerves tingled in Laurel's stomach, gleefully nipping at his throat, making it hard for him to speak. "I'm here, so… I guess I wanted to see you, too."

"It's a wonderful mood you're in, sunshine. I feel like the luckiest man in the world to be with you today."

Reminding himself that it was incredibly foolish to feel so stirred by such a simple statement from a man he'd already kissed and was probably dating, Laurel cleared his throat. "I've been relaxing."

Gently leading the sorcerer through the courtyard in the direction of his room, Ash nodded. "I can see that. Your aura is very smooth today. That'll make it easier for us to do what I've been thinking about." When Laurel startled a bit at his words, he replayed them in his mind, then grinned again. "Not that just yet, gorgeous. Anyway, I think a bit of nerves is healthy when it comes to-"

"Just tell me what you meant," Laurel cut him off with a shake of his head.

"Let's get you comfortable before we start discussing it," Ash suggested, a bit too innocently. "I'd like to talk a bit and catch up."

Eyeing him suspiciously, Laurel pursed his lips. "Something you need to butter me up for?"

"Maybe."

Ash's room had all the expected amenities of a royal suite. Laurel wondered if he was enjoying his stay, or if the unfamiliar luxuries were only making him feel out of place.

"You can sit wherever you'd like, but… If you agree to my little idea, we'll end up on the bed, anyway," Ash said, hurriedly scooping up loose articles of clothing from his mattress to toss them into the open suitcase on the floor.

To show that Ash's suggestion definitely did not, under any circumstance, make him feel nervous, Laurel sailed past and took a very dignified seat on the edge of the unmade bed. To his surprise, Ash plopped down into an armchair across from the bed, crossing an ankle over his knee.

"Why bother trying to get me into your bed if you aren't going to be in it, regardless?"

"Like I said, we'll both end up there if you decide to cooperate with me. As it stands, I don't think we'll get much talking done if I join you there just yet." When Laurel only blinked at him, Ash leaned forward in his seat a bit. "You're tempting me more than usual at the moment."

Pulse fluttering, Laurel resisted the urge to shift his gaze away from Ash's blatant stare. "Because I've actually had a good night's sleep for once?"

"My wrathful fairy king's traded in his storm clouds and dark thorns for rainbows and baby's breath today. You're so beautiful all I can think about is worshiping you."

The air between them seemed thick suddenly, and hot. Somehow injecting a confidence into his words that he didn't quite feel, Laurel straightened his shoulders. "What's stopping you, then?"

In a movement so fluid, so instant, he could have missed it with a single blink, Laurel was gathered up into Ash's arms. Though it was the reaction he'd been wanting, the shock of it had him gasping. When the healer's open mouth fixed to his, hot and desperate, he could only moan, fingers clutching at the cloth of Ash's shirt. Greed, instantly overwhelming in its intensity, surprised Laurel. But it coursed through him like a toxin, urging him to claim, and to be claimed.

The devastating mix of desire pumping through him, his and Laurel's, had Ash's muscles clenching. He'd known it would eventually be like this between them, and he'd craved it, nearly as much as he'd feared it. There was nothing, absolutely nothing he'd ever experienced that could compare to the sensation of Laurel's lithe form yielding against him.

More. The word burst to life in Laurel's brain, but before he could begin to process it, decide how to express it, Ash was leaning him back, using clever fingers to angle their faces so his mouth could be plundered even more deeply. It was unbearable, unthinkable, but every cell inside him seemed to be screaming, begging to be branded and scorched by the healer's hands, mouth, body. The sudden understanding of what exactly it was he was so stricken with need for hit Laurel like a battering ram, dousing him in shocked fear.

Immediately sensing the shift, Ash dragged himself back, panting. Carefully, to be sure he wouldn't say or do anything that could be too closely associated with apologizing, he slid his fingers up a bit to card through Laurel's soft locks of golden hair. "Did I hurt you? I've got rough hands, I know."

"No." Blowing out a breath, Laurel shook his head. "No, it's not that. I like your hands. I'm just…" Because he wasn't ready to be let go yet, he tilted his face up to brush his lips against Ash's, almost apologetically. "I told you it would be dicey doing this kind of thing with me."

"It's completely fine. Should I have asked? I was sure you wanted me to kiss you then."

"No, no. I did want you to. And asking is… I don't want that."

Smirking a bit, Ash let his fingers drift over Laurel's silky bangs to absently toy with the shell of his ear. "I suppose that would be cruel, making you admit any time you wanted me to kiss you."

He shivered, feeling the color in his face rise. "Clearly I don't need to, anyway. It's creepy how you can always tell what I'm feeling."

"I think you'll learn to like it once you get over the intimacy aspect," Ash said, before his expression turned a bit more serious. "Am I moving too fast for you? Are you wanting to hold off on being physical?"

"Not really," Laurel admitted. "This is perfect. You did everything right. It's just me. I told you I'm kind of… Damaged."

"And I told you not to talk about yourself that way," Ash chided him, softening the blow of his words with another light kiss. "I also told you we'll work through it together. You believe me, don't you?"

"I'm starting to."

"That's good. Now lay down."

"The kiss wasn't that good, Ash," Laurel responded wryly, raising an eyebrow. Ash snorted.

"Not for that. Call me old-fashioned, but I'll want a little more romance for our first time. Maybe you could light some candles for me, or spread out some rose petals or something."

"I really can't tell if you're joking or not." Still, he complied, carefully lowering himself to the soft mattress so he could stare up at the other man.

"My body's a temple, Laurel," Ash said soberly, though his emerald eyes danced with humor as he spoke. "You can't access it without the proper tribute."

"I'll keep that in mind." He supposed it was an indicator of how far he'd come with trusting the healer that he didn't stiffen up when Ash tossed pillows aside to move his body up to the headboard. Very carefully, he lifted Laurel's top half and wriggled under him, so the sorcerer's head and shoulders were resting in his lap, where his legs were crossed.

"Is this comfortable?" He asked, peering down into the depths of Laurel's amber eyes.

"It's fine." He wouldn't have called it comfortable, having Ash's firmly muscled thighs on either side of him, but only because it made him imagine what they would feel like without the sturdy fabric covering them. "What exactly are you trying to do to me?"

"I was hoping you'd let me demonstrate a little of how my treatment works. Nothing big," he promised, as Laurel's expression instantly turned wary.

"A demonstration?"

"I'd like to give you an idea of how it'll feel when I'm in your head. You can pick whatever you'd like me to see. Just so you can know, a little, how it will be when we get to that part of everything." Before he'd even finished his sentence, licks of anxiety had begun rising. "Nothing painful," Ash went on, to try and quell those worries. "A happy memory."

"But you said I'll be knocked out when you really do it, right? So what's the point of this if I won't be able to feel anything when you do the real thing?" Laurel asked, knowing he was only stalling. His stomach felt like a ball of ice sinking lower, lower down into his guts.

"You'll be asleep, sort of. But it's not like that. You'll feel me in your head. You'll be aware of what I'm doing, and what we're seeing. I told you it's not pleasant for- Wait!" When Laurel shifted, intending to raise up and away from him, he gently pushed back down on his shoulders. "Wait, please. I'll calm you down, so you can listen. Just stay still."

Though he was trembling already, heart beating a frenzied beat against his ribcage, Laurel squeezed his eyes closed and tried to still himself. "Is this like what you did to me before?"

"Not as strong," Ash explained. "That was close to my full strength. I was worried you would hurt yourself, or somebody else, so I blasted you to avoid it. But it's too easy to get addicted to that feeling, or so I'm told. So it isn't meant to be used lightly, or for fun."

"So you're told? You've never tried it on yourself?"

"Not possible, I'm afraid. It can only be used on someone else. It's okay," he assured Laurel when the blonde male frowned a little at the words. "It would be too much temptation, I think. I'd probably spend all my time holed up in my room mentally masturbating myself into oblivion."

"Stop putting images like that into my head," Laurel groaned, throwing the back of his arm over his eyes. Ash's magic was seeping into him now, like intangible fingers of pure energy, swelling and swelling until there was no room for anything else. He could feel himself rising higher and higher, as if his body was being pulled toward a peak. A peak that he was terrified would destroy him if he crossed over it.

"Don't fight it," Ash murmured, when he began to squirm, brow furrowed with suffering. "Just let it relax you. I did this with March too, you know," he added, hoping his words would be sufficiently distracting. When Laurel's eyes snapped open to lock onto his, obvious displeasure burning in them, he wondered if he'd need to amp up the concentration to counteract the obvious agitation the statement had caused.

"You did this with March?" Laurel asked, between gritted teeth.

"Not this, gorgeous," he promised, gesturing to where Laurel's body rested on him. "Just the spell."

He explained about when he'd gone to resign from the agreement, inadvertently upsetting the newlywed, and how he'd fixed it. By the time he'd finished the story, Laurel was limp on him, eyes half-closed with utter relaxation.

"It's not so bad, is it?" Ash finally asked, stroking his knuckles over the sorcerer's cheek.

"No." His voice was soft and vulnerable, like his mental state. "It's good."

"So then you'll hear me out now," Ash said. At Laurel's hum of assent, he continued. "You can pick whatever memory you'd like. Something happy. Not one that's blocking you, I mean. I just thought it might be easier for you if you understand the process a little more."

"I could try it, I guess."

"You can still say no," Ash said, smiling a little when Laurel stretched a bit, settling back onto him, muscles limber. "Just so you know, what I've done to you doesn't make you do anything you wouldn't normally do. Just makes it easier to think objectively."

"Yeah, I know. I don't think you'd do anything weird to me," Laurel said, before raising one of his brows in thought. "Well, I don't think you'd do anything weird to me that I didn't want you to do," he revised.

Running his tongue around his teeth, Ash cleared his throat. "You want to elaborate on that thought?"

"Not really."

Probably for the best, Ash reasoned, considering the precarious area of his body where Laurel's frame rested on him. "Alright, we'll touch on that later."

"I don't know about that," Laurel said, laughing.

Struck, Ash tilted his head, feeling as though he'd been slammed through the chest with an arrow. "I didn't realize it, but I've never seen you really laugh until now."

"That can't possibly be true."

"No, it is. I mean, you've laughed in front of me, a little. But not so relaxed. You're really beautiful."

"That's it?" Laurel asked, gazing up at him, brain foggy with a glittering haze. "No comparing me to sunsets or whatever? I'm just beautiful?"

"Sorry," he managed, while his brain groped for something pretty to fill the space between them, failing miserably. "You just surprised me."

"You don't have to apologize. I'm glad you find me so pleasing to look at."

"Is there anyone who wouldn't?"

Letting his eyes flutter closed, Laurel let out a sigh as he shrugged. "It would be hard for me to answer that. I'm sure there's a few out there."

"You're beyond comparison. You could convince kings to raise armies for you, and gods to destroy planets for you. You could crumble mountains with the timbre of your voice, ignite forests with a single look."

Cracking open one eye, Laurel let his tongue dart out to moisten his lips. "Ever since you came in through my window the other night, I've been imagining you sneaking into my room while I'm asleep to ravage me, like an incubus."

"Ah." Swallowing thickly, Ash flicked his gaze up to the corner of the room while his pulse rampaged inside him. "You win."

Laurel's laugh bubbled out again, full of mirth and joy. "I'm sorry. I'll probably regret telling you that later."

"Probably. I'm afraid I might regret it more, as it'll be nearly impossible to think of anything else tonight after you leave."

"That's what I was counting on," Laurel admitted, smirking when Ash shifted under him in what he thought might be an attempt to conceal what felt like a fairly sizable stiffened cock. "Don't bother trying to hide that now. I've been feeling it for awhile. I don't mind."

Ash raised an eyebrow, exhaling deeply. "Did I mention how fond I am of the mood you're in today?"

"You might have. I'm ready for your little demonstration now."

"Well, I'm a tad distracted at this particular moment. You'll have to give me a minute to think of something very dull and uninteresting."

"I could recite some math formulas for you, if you'd like."

"No good," Ash said. "It would still be your voice, after all."

Chuckling, Laurel let his eyes close again, muscles feeling as pliant as warmed wax. He was positive he'd never felt so calm, so completely free of worry with another person, as he did in that moment.

LAUREL'S REFLECTION INthe clear, sparkling water was that of an adolescent. His narrow shoulders were scattered with freckles already, urged out by the bright rays of the sun he'd spent the last few days in.

Ingrid was ten, and already a skilled swimmer. Still, Laurel hovered close as she torpedoed under the surface of the water, ribboning over and under it with unrestrained glee. He was tired of swimming, but his brotherly sense of duty tamped out the mild complaint.

He glanced back behind them at the well-structured beach house his family owned, where his parents were sitting on the porch, under large umbrellas. His father, stretched out on a lounge chair, was on his side, gazing at his vatra in a way that he had only recently realized was mildly embarrassing. The image of his parents was bright and detailed, but there were patches of his vision that were blurry, or lacked detail.

Those are the parts of your memory your brain didn't deem important enough to index,Ash's voice informed him. Laurel shivered, remembering he was only viewing a memory. It was an eerie sensation, processing his surroundings from his own eyes, but as if he were viewing a recording. He could look down at himself, at the long, gawky, lanky frame he'd felt so awkward for having. But he couldn't control his limbs, couldn't pull himself from the salty water that lapped at his navel.

"Do you think Dad will build sandcastles?" Ingrid finally asked, popping up beside him like a spring.

"Go ask him," he suggested, following after her when she bounded off toward the shore. He watched her scramble up the wooden steps, still dripping. He heard a gull cry out above him.

Minael sat up, gazing out to where Laurel stood as he tried not to shiver in the air that felt too cool now that he was out of the ocean. When their father stood, Ingrid pumped her fist in the air, letting out a whoop. To Laurel's surprise, their vatra stood as well, following closely behind them.

With Helio's meticulous instruction, and Minael's gentle guidance, they managed to construct what Laurel could now see was a rather unimpressively designed structure. At the time, though, he'd been very proud. When the wind picked up, stirring the large, floppy hat Minael insisted on wearing, claiming that the sun would age him terribly, they decided to retreat into the house.

After gorging himself on the lemonade and freshly iced cookies his father had left out for them, he curled up onto a small couch, cradled by the sounds of Ingrid's animated commentary on a game of chess between their parents. His father was terrible at chess, he knew, and their games mostly consisted of Helio attempting to prolong his win to a point that would make it seem as if his victory over Minael had been earned rather than predetermined by the difference in their skill at the game. With that thought in his head, he dozed off.

LAUREL'S GLIDE BACKto consciousness was gentle, as if passing through a silk curtain. When his eyes fluttered open, taking a moment to focus, Ash was staring down at him.

"How do you feel?"

The effects of the healer's earlier spell were still flowing through him at a steady, unceasing pace, so he felt fine, if a little unnerved. "It's not terrible, it's mostly just strange. But…"

"But?"

"It's not going to be like this when we do the real thing."

"I know," Ash assured him. He uncrossed his legs, letting the sorcerer wriggle to a sitting up position against him. "What we see won't be the same, but it's the same idea. You just have to endure it, and I will too, and then it will all be over."

But he'd been able to feel the breeze chilling his wet skin, the gritty texture of the sand in his fingers. He'd been able to smell the uniquely mineral-tinged scent of his father's sunscreen. When Ash wrapped an arm around his waist, tugging him closer, he nuzzled into it.

"I know you were trying to ease my mind about all this, but… I didn't realize how much I'd be able to feel." He didn't voice it, couldn't bring himself to, but he knew from the earlier explanations that he'd been able to feel all of those things as well.

Ash's fingers tightened on him for a moment before releasing. "Did I only make it worse?"

"I don't know," Laurel admitted. "I'm just… It feels wrong, making you go through something just because I did."

"You can't feel that way, though, especially not anymore. I mean, I was willing to do this before when you were just supposed to be some stranger. But now, you're not a project to me, Laurel. I have feelings for you. I want you to be happy. You know that."

"That's why," Laurel groaned. "I can't stand the thought of it. I don't want you feeling what I've felt. I don't want you seeing me like that." When he began to struggle against the arm holding him, Ash only wrapped the other around him, pinning him tighter.

"Stop." His tone was quiet, pleading. "There's nothing I could see that would change how I feel about you. I promise."

"You don't know that."

"Is that what you're so afraid of?" Ash asked sharply. "That I'm going to leave you if I don't like what I see?"

"You would feel the same way if you were me. I know you would," Laurel answered, his words drenched in hopeless despair. Ash sighed, letting his head slump forward onto the sorcerer's shoulder.

"I didn't want to to do this, but… I don't have another choice. Just stay still."

"What are you going to do to me?"

"Just close your eyes and relax like before."

AND AGAIN, LAUREL'Sbrain was thrust into the past. The very recent past.

He was in the castle city, near the shop he would stop in to have tea after his therapy sessions. The buildings he passed with his brisk, purposeful pace were familiar. The sound of hooves clopping past as carriages made their way down the stone streets, the low buzzing chatter of the residents of the city, the bright shouts from vendors hoping to catch the attention of potential customers were all familiar. And when he looked down at himself, at the hands that were wide-palmed with strong, calloused fingers, those were familiar too. But they didn't belong to him.

He was in Ash's mind, in his memory.

Feel what I feel. Ash's words played in his head like a song from nowhere and from everywhere all at once. He knew what was coming, tried to give himself time to prepare. But the sight of himself at the café table, eyes closed while he raised his face up to let the sun wash over it, bewildered him.

He felt his heart, Ash's heart, he reminded himself, knock in his chest before exploding into a shower of sparks inside him. Sunflowers, a tiny garden of them, flashed into his brain for a moment, bright and fleeting. Excitement, pure and honest, pumped through him.

The scene changed. He could see himself slumped into a corner in Nero's castle, with his face hidden in his arms. When it raised, his eyes were damp with tears. He was beautiful, painfully so, because he was vulnerable. No, Laurel realized again, mind whirling. This was how Ash saw him. He could feel the healer's urge, so powerful, to touch him, to comfort him. But he hadn't.

Then they were at the café again, when Ash had fretted over his exhausted appearance. The intensity of the healer's concern for him was overwhelming, nearly closing his throat. But there was another feeling there, something he could hardly articulate. A sense of rightness. A key in a lock. It was strong, all-encompassing. It blasted through him, leaving no room for doubts. They were meant to be together, and they would be.

And then when they'd been in Ash's hotel room, locked together in front of the door, absorbing the feel of each other's lips. He could feel the way he'd yielded, practically melting in Ash's arms, could hear the soft sounds of his pleasure. Ash's desire for him, so different than his own tumultuous, greedy, rampaging lust. It was warm, steady, comforting. He wasn't afraid to savor, because he knew with complete certainty that there would be more kissing, more time spent exploring each other. There was no need to rush.

Self-assurance, a degree Laurel had never experienced before, flooded through him as he hovered in Ash's consciousness. A quiet confidence, one that needed no bravado, that they could get through anything that was thrown at them. They would get through anything. He could feel the promise of their bond, huge and perfect and shining and unbreakable, an invisible lifeline that would tear through anything that could come between them.

LAUREL COLLIDED BACKinto the present with a sharp cry, too frenzied now for gentleness. Breaking free of Ash's grip on him, he rolled to his knees, wrapping his arms around his stomach as he peered up at the other man, eyes fragile and haunted.

"That's what you feel?" He demanded, panting. Despite the lingering effects of the spell, he could feel pain for the healer rising up in him, clogging his lungs.

"Constantly," Ash replied, tilting his head in puzzlement for the reaction. "I'm lucky to have found you."

"Lucky?!" Laurel barked the word out like he'd never heard it before. "It's not lucky. It's… " Shaking his head, he pressed his palms to his eyes. "How can you stand it? How can you stand being around me?"

"What do you mean?" Ash asked, startled by the anguished tone. "It makes me happy. You make me happy, Laurel."

"No, that's horrible. It's horrible. I'm so sorry."

"What are you-" Ash's words broke off into a gasp as Laurel sprang up, encircling the healer's neck in his arms, squeezing him tightly.

"I'm sorry," he muttered out, muffled against his throat. "I'm really sorry."

"I don't understand what you're sorry for." Cautiously, he brought his hands up to Laurel's waist, rubbing up and down his back. "Couldn't you tell what being with you does to me?"

"Yes. I felt it."

"Why do you think it's so awful?"

"You're alone," he finally answered. "I… I don't… I can't feel that for you. It's too big."

Understanding now, Ash let out a sigh, lips curving into a smile against Laurel's shoulder. "You'll feel it when you're meant to. I don't expect you to return my feelings yet. I know you can't. I just wanted to show you that there's a depth to what's between us. It's strong, and it wouldn't be damaged by whatever it is you're so afraid of me finding out. You understand that now, right?"

"Yes." Unwilling to let go, the sorcerer shifted on his knees, altering his position into something more comfortable, letting his weight rest on Ash's chest. "You can tell what I'm feeling too, right?"

"Usually."

"But you can tell that I… You're important to me. Really important."

Absurdly pleased by the simple statement, Ash nodded, letting one of his hands drift up into Laurel's pale locks of hair, pressing him even closer.

"Yeah. I can tell."