In Each Other

So. What to do now? What to do now that he had done as he'd intended and informed Norris that there would, in fact, be nothing between them? What to do now that he found himself regretting those words? He wanted to find Orlha, to shake her and demand that she tell him *why*. He wanted her to explain to him what it was about Norris that moved him. wan wanted her to reassure him, tell him that the warmth he felt towards the soldier was nothing but comradly regard and nothing more. Certainly not love.

He knew better, though. He knew that Orlha would only give him that slightly aggrieved, piercing look and maybe cuff him on the ear for being a fool. She wouldn't say anything; no 'I told you so' would ever pass her lips, but she would think it and he would know it and he didn't think he could face that right now. Not with his thoughts running all helter skelter like this. Was he in love with Norris? It sure felt that way. How else to explain the tight pain in his chest when Norris had denied him? How else to explain why the soldier's cold eyes had woken in him a chill so fierce that not even the afternoon sun could chase it away? It was akin to what he'd felt when Dario and Riddel had announced their engagement.

Riddel... He wondered what she would think of this. She'd known for years that he had loved her even as she had loved Dario. They had never spoken of it, but it was there in a glance, a brief touch, a soft sigh. He wondered what she would say if he told her that he had finally given her over, if she would be pleased that he was able to move on, or if she would be surprised at the new object of his affections. Even as he wondered, he decided that he didn't really want to know, and his thoughts took another path.

He needed someone to talk to, that much was clear. Orlha and Riddel were easily ruled out, as was Marcy. Much as he loved the little girl and much as he admired her spirit, she was only a child and he doubted she would understand. Besides, the young Deva had a penchant for gossip and the last thing he needed was news of this little mess spreading throughout the ranks of his companions. Sprigg was a sweetheart, and caustically wise, but somehow he doubted she could help. She had developed a slightly cynical worldview in all the years she had been away from reality, and he was certain she would only lecture him on the foolishness of his affections. He didn't even consider going to his male friends. He wasn't quite yet ready to admit to them that he loved another man.

As he made his way to the beach, a glimmer of hope sprung up in his breast. It was a slightly foolish thought, but it made some sense. After all, who does one go to when one is in need of romantic advice? Mama, that's who. Karsh almost laughed in relief, picking up his pace, boots sinking into the loose sand. His real mother was a world away and he knew he couldn't ask Serge to ferry him there simply for insight into his love life. But there was another Termina, another Zippa, and she loved her son just as much as the mother he'd grown up with. Perhaps they weren't as familiar with each other, but the bond of mother and child was still there, and still strong. It would be easy gh tgh to borrow a rowing boat from Fargo, and he rather fancied the exercise would clear his head.

He found the pirate captain with little trouble; Fargo was at the small dock, overseeing the unloading of several casks of what Karsh suspected to be grog. "Hello, there! Captain!" he called, and Fargo turned. A huge smile broke out on his weathered face and he motioned Karsh to join him at the tiny dock. The Deva bounded down the slope of the beach, striding over to the pirate and clapping him on the back. The two of them were, if not close, at least on good terms, and had often discussed some of their more daring and scandalous adventures over a bottle of good rum.

"And what brings you down here, eh?" Fargo winked and jerked his head towards the casks, all lined up in a neat row on the sands. "Sure it ain't that swill over there." He laughed, a full-throated guffaw that brought an instant smile to Karsh's face. Fargo was a man of mercurial moods; one second he was just as aimiable as a puppy, the next he was a snarling hound. The uncertainty made his pleasant moods that much more enjoyable, and Karsh allowed himself a brief moment of basking in the sailor's good humor.

"Actually, it is," he responded cheerfully. It came as something of a relief to him that he didn't have to force the emotions. That, at least, meant that he wasn't completely ruined by the situation he found himself in. "I came to make sure you're not allowed to bring it onto the island." Fargo laughed again, sharp black eyes cutting a quick glance at the Deva.

"Oh, come on then," he wheedled. "It ain't all bad. Just something for the lads to enjoy of an evening. Not much else to do around here, is there?" Karsh admitted to himself that Fargo had a point; as lovely as Radius's little island was, it was certainly not the most exciting place he had ever been, and a bit of alcohol was welcome by all as a method of relieving the boredom. A temporary solution at best, but it was all they had.

"Oh, all right," Karsh said, making a show onceonceeding. Fargo beamed and winked at him, a single gold tooth flashing in the sunlight. Karsh shook his head and grinned. "Honestly, I came to ask for a favor. I need to borrow a boat."

"A boat, says you." Fargo twirled his mustache and regarded him curiously. "Got some girl you're goin' to see?" Slightly hysterical laughter bubbled up in Karsh's throat along with the first pangs of panic. ~A girl. I only wish this was about a girl...~ His thoughts, thankfully, were cut short when Fargo elbowed him gently and laughed. "None of my business, I know. Sure you can borrow a boat. The lads are bringin' in the last of the casks, and you can take their rowboat." Black eyes turned hard and stern, regarding Karsh with something akin to warning. "But if you bring her back and she's all banged up..."

The threat was left unfinished, but Karsh knew well what would befall him if he were to bring back the precious vessel in less than perfect condition. So he smiled and nodded his head and waited for Fargo's men to row into shore. The ocean glittered like sapphires as the tide came in, and a playful breeze whipped seaspray in Karsh's face. He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes and savoring the rich smell of the ocean, the sound of the waves as they lapped at the shore, the delicious warmth of the sun on his face and shoulders. Moments like this, when the world seemed in harmony in spite of all that was wrong, were what made living here in El Nido worth it. He doubted anywhere else on earth was quite so perfect.

Oars splashing drew him out of himself and, after helping unload the grog and bidding Fargo farewell, Karsh was off. The rowboat skimmed the waves, propelled by the Deva's powerful strokes. To a man, Fargo and his sailors had laughed when Karsh told them he was going to Termina. "Too far f row rowboat," they'd claimed, and "You'll get tired before you're halfway there." Karsh had just smiled and taken it with good humor. If the day hadn't been quite so lovely, and if he hadn't been quite so pleased at the prospect of seeing his mother, he might have lost his temper. Well, no. No 'might' about it. He would have lost his temper and snapped at the men, and perhaps Fargo would have denied him the boat. So it was probably all for the best. Let them think what they would.

What did they know about it anyway? Simply because *they* couldn't row from Hermit's Hideaway to Termina didn't mean that *he* couldn't. Granted, he had never actually *tried* it before, but he figured there was a first time for everything. His arms were accustomed to repetitive motions, after all; often when he had time to himself, he would join his father at the forge. There was something peaceful about channelling his strength into the act of creation, though he still was not ready to lay down his axe no matter how his parents might hint. The joy of violent movement and the frenzy of battle were still too great a draw. One day, though...

His thoughts distracted him from the hard labor of the journey, though by the time he docked in Termina his shoulders were beginning to ache. Ruefully, he rubbed at them and made a mental note to get some sort of salve to rub on them later. For now, though, his steps carried him through the crowds of dockworkers, around several shops, and into the back alleys of Termina. He didn't particularly feel like risking his neck by taking the more straightforward approach; last time he had been through the marketplace, there had been Porre soldiers everywhere. So he stuck to the shadows, startling cats and gathering a little troupe of dogs that trotted after him, cheerfully hoping for a handout.

Karsh smelled the smithy before he saw it, the warm scent of the forge and the sharp tang of the metal bringing back a flood of pleasant memories. There was nothing quite like the smell of home after all, and as he strode through the back door, Karsh called out his customary welcome. "MA!! I'm home!" The familiar sound of bustling footsteps reached his ears and, moments after he'd hailed her, Zippa appeared.

"Ooohhh, there's my lad!" Her round, motherly face beamed delightedly at him and she took him in her arms. "Give us a squinch!" Karsh hugged her obediently, burying his nose in her bright gray hair and inhaling the smell of clean herbs and baking bread that always seemed to hover around here. At first, he had been wary of this woman, disturbed by how closely she resem his his true mother. Still, Riddel had made him swear to visit and he, in an effort to bring a tiny bit of joy to this Zippa's life, had been coming around at least twice a week, sometimes more. After the first few times, he'd relaxed and though it still made him feel a bit queasy when he bothered to think about it, for the most part they had an ideal relationship.

"What brings you back so soon, love?" she asked, taking his large hand in hers and drawing him down the hall. She bumped open the kitchen door with her ample hips and waved him towards a chair. "Here, have a sit. I'm just baking some bread. It'll be done in a moment." She grinned and winked and tucked a stray bit of hair behind her ear. "That's why you came, isn't it? You always did love when I baked." Karsh rolled his eyes and shrugged, laughing along with her.

"Yeah, you're right," he teased. "The only reason I came home was to steal all your bread." Zippa chuckled and sed hed herself across the table from him, folding her hands and cocking her head. She'd always reminded Karsh of a bird, particularly when she did that, and he reached out to pat her cheek.

"Well, if it isn't my cooking, it's got to be for some motherly advice," she said, and all the laughter was gone from her voice as she regarded him. "Don't you open that mouth and tell me that's not why you're here. I can see it in your eyes, my boy." Karsh just blinked and shook his head, smiling very slightly. He'd had no intention of denying his reasons for coming home, but he was glad that she'd been the one to bring up the subject.

"Okay," he sighed, feigning reluctance for her sake. "I actually did need to ask you something. See, there's this..." And here he hit the first wall. He wasn't entirely certain how his mother would react to the news that he was falling for another man. She'd always been very understanding about that sort of thing; hell, he remembered her cussing a blue streak the day she learned that the General had thrown a couple of boys out of the Dragoons for having improper relations. In fact, he largely suspected that she had gone he mhe manor the very next day and chewed Viper out royally, for the pair was tracked down and promptly reinstated, and Zippa had gone about for weeks with a secret smile on her face.

Still, it was one thing to defend a stranger's right to do as he liked, and quite another to accept that one's own son was, well, gay. There was really no easy way to say it, and no way to skirt the issue, so Karsh drew a deep breath and took the plunge. "There's this man that I've been travelling with and... I think I'm in love with him, Ma." His eyes worriedly searched her face as his throat constricted in terror. Now that the words were said, he wished he could snatch them out of the air, prevent them from reaching her ears. Of course, it was much too late, and Zippa's lovely features twisted thoughtfully. Karsh held his breath and prayed that his heart wouldn't pound right out of his chest.

"So that's it," she murmured, nodding her silvered head. "I thought there was something wrong when you came in." She offered a wan smile and rose to pull her baking out of the oven. "A mother knows these things, Karsh. Even one who hasn't seen her son in three years." There was a long silence then as she set the bread out to cool. Karsh could barely look at Zippa, much less speak, and, for the first time in his life, the smell of fresh baked bread turned his stomach.

Zippa resumed her seat, folding her hands carefully in front of her and looking her son in the eyes. "I can't lie to you, Karsh. This is a little bit upsetting. Your father and I... well, we'd always hoped for grandchildren. Hoped you take over the smithy one day and have a brood runnarouaround." Karsh flinched away, cheeks stained bright red with shame. His stomach felt as though it were trying to claw its way free by way of his throat, and he swallowed several times, powe han hands opening and closing on nothing.

"I'm sorry, Mama..." He almost didn't recognize his own voice it was so choked with emotion. ~Stupid idea... very very stupid...~ His thoughts mocked him, singing over and over the same words. ~Stupid idea... should have just said it was a girl...~ But Zippa spoke again, and her tone was soothing.

"There's nothing to be sorry about, love," she said. "It's not your fault, nor your choice, and I know that well enough. It's just..." She sighed and reached out, one of her small hands resting on his wrist. It was warm, and soft, and Karsh placed his own callused hand over it, glancing up into her eyes. She gave him a wan smile and though the light in her dark eyes was pained, it was still loving. A warm flood of relief washed over him then, and he allowed himself to relax somewhat. "I never thought I'd have to deal with this sort of thing myself, you know?" Zippa laughed and shook her head. "No mother does. But I do still love you, my boy. I just... I want you to know that."

"Thanks, Mama..." and he lifted her tiny hand to his lips and kissed it warmly. "I'm really sorry to spring this on you, but you were the only one I wanted to talk to about it."

Zippa burst out laughing, the old familiar mirth that had rung out so often in his childhood. She shook a scolding finger at him, her bird's eyes twinkling with good humor. "I see how it is, you! You think if you butter me up, I'll help you!" Laughing, Karsh tried to protest, but he couldn't even get a word out before Zippa was waving her hands dismissively and clucking like a mother hen. "No! I'll not hear another word out of you, Karsh! You look famished..." And she was up and bustling about the kitchen, pulling out meat and cheese and slicing the bread nice and thick. "What on earth are those people feeding you?"

And Karsh, with a sigh, settled into the chair and prepared to be mothered. Perhaps the visit would take a bit longer than he had originally anticipated, but he had no doubt that once she was done fussing over him, Zippa would help him figure out his mind. And in the meantime, a sandwich or two couldn't hurt.