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They were in trouble. Alex forced himself to his feet, felt the world tilt, and someone caught him, Jacoby.

"Some of them ran off." The man was looking in the distance, holding a pack of Heals to Alex.

He took them. "It was bound to happen, eventually. But fuck I wish it had happened later. Once we'd left." He swallowed them dry.

"I thought you wanted to protect these people. Now you want to abandon them?"

Alex pushed himself away from Jacoby. His balance wasn't quite fully back, but if he didn't move too fast, he could stay vertical. "I want Tristan fixed. That can't happen if he's constantly fighting. And if this place is destroyed then what?"

"We go home. And he looks fine to me." Jacoby nodded toward the town.

Tristan was standing at the edge, covered in blood, and at this distance, he looked at peace, calm, relaxed. Of course Jacoby would think that was a good thing. He was only used to the Tech mask Tristan had used around those people. Tech had been normal, other than being something of a hermit. But he wasn't real. Tristan should be alert, scanning the sky, making plans for the next attack, if this was a job or to leave if this was something they'd stumbled on by accident. He wouldn't be standing there, looking like all was well with the world.

"Well, looks like the party's about to start," Jacoby said. "My cue to head back to the hover before my fan club finds me and tries to force me to participate."

Alex watched them, even those who needed to be helped were cheering their victory. The only somber ones were those carrying the dead to the town, but it wasn't a 'how could this happen' kind of somber. It was 'they fought well, and will be remembered' kind.

How many dead this time? How many next one?

He walked to the town, at first slowly, then faster. By the time he reached the center his head was clear, his legs steady. Wood was being set for the pyre. Eight bodies were already here. The human dead were being taken to the forest for the wild animals to eat.

They were short a musician, but it was still lively. He saw Sartas, seated on the bench by her door.

"You need to tell them to stop," he said once he was before her.

She smiled. "I couldn't, even if I wanted to. They won the battle, now they celebrate."

"Sartas, this wasn't a victory, some of the mercs fled."

"And now they can tell their master there is death here."

He crouched before her. "You worked with them. You know that isn't how the corporation think."

"All they think about is their profit. Now they know there is no profit to be made here."

Alex searched her face. All he saw there was pride. She didn't get it. She was right, profit was what motivated a corporation, but what they spent on mercs wouldn't be enough to show up on their report.

She took his hand. "Do not worry, you can worry tomorrow. Tonight, celebrate the victory with them. Be with your mate." She indicated Tristan, who looked away from them as Alex looked where she'd pointed.

"He isn't my mate."

She canted her head. "He looks at you with heat. Want."

Anger and hate were what she was seeing, confusing that for other things. Things Alex would never have. He shook his head and stood. Maybe she was right. Not about Tristan, but about tonight. What could the corporation do? They'd need time to regroup. Even if they had more mercs on planet, it would be a few days before they were organized.

So yes, he could enjoy tonight.

Or at least try to.

* * * * *

The priestess Spoke before the burning pyre, with thirteen bodies laid on it. The dead from this battle. She spoke of the Source, how it brought everything into being, and now, would take the dead back into itself. Once she was done, the music started again, and the celebration was officially underway.

Throughout it, as some children pulled on him to dance with them. Or as people recounted their battle. He kept wanting to stay at the edge, looking for the next attack to come. Celebrating didn't feel right, it never had, he realized. When he worked as a coercionist, defeated an opponent simply led to the next one, there was no celebration of the victory. There had been those on the Golly, but he'd participated only reluctantly. When he left to search for Tristan, he'd been focused on that task. And then living with Tristan hadn't lent itself to celebrating anything. One fight after the other is what it had been.

He kept having to remind himself that what was happening around him was the norm, people enjoying their achievements, celebrating them. He was the unusual one here, possible everywhere. He didn't care, but it told him he should make an effort, so he did.

It was dark when the party began quieting down. Tristan had left hours before, but Alex had stayed this time. Following him wouldn't accomplish anything other than make them both miserable.

Some of the Samalians had retired to the homes, some only as far as darkened corners, and he could hear what they were doing. How comfortable they were with sex unnerved him slightly. He didn't think himself a prude, but outside, where anyone might figure out what they were doing? Not something he'd ever do.

Those who'd drunk too much fell asleep where they'd been sitting, forming a pile of bodies leaning against each other. Only a few groups were still awake and taking. He walked around them heading out of the town center.

He was far enough not to hear the snoring or other sounds, which was why the footsteps coming at him fast caught his attention. He turned in time to see the blond and copper Samalian as they collide, pushing Alex against the wall, hard.

"You like it painful?" Rig'Irik growled, the smell of alcohol heavy on his breath. "I can make it painful." He dug his claws in Alex's arm.

"I told you, I'm taken."

"I'm better for you." Rig'Irik moved his other hand to Alex's face, claws out.

Alex's elbow snapped the Samalian's muzzle shut as he raised it into it as hard as he could. Rig'Irik staggered back. "I told you no."

With a snarl Rig'Irik lunged at him. Alex caught his arm, spun and slammed him into the wall. The Samalian spun and clawed at Alex's chest. Alex had a knife in hand and slashed back, the edge digging into flesh.

Rig'Irik roared in pain and threw himself at Alex, they were on the ground, rolling, then stopped. Alex straddling the Samalian, knife at his neck. Rig'Irik was panting, and excited. Lust filled his eyes.

"I want you." The desire and pain in the voice echoed memories Alex had. His first days with Tristan. Wanting who he had been so badly he let him do anything to him. Slowly he moved the knife away, then planted it in the ground next to Rig'Irik's face.

"I'm not someone you want to want. You deserve better than me. Find yourself a guy or a girl who is worthy of the kind of guy you are. That's not me. I'm too damned broken to deserve anything other than what I've got, okay?"

"Alex, I don't care."

He could see it in those eyes. He would let Alex do anything he wanted to him. Turn him into a monster. And it would be so easy, Alex was tempted. Was this why Tristan had kept him around. Had he seen this need to be with him and taken joy in breaking him? In seeing just how far he could push until, or if, Alex broke? No, Tristan hadn't taken any pleasure in what he'd done. He hadn't wanted Alex around.

He still didn't.

"You should care. What you'd have with me isn't a life. It's waiting to die." He pushed himself off. "You deserve to live. So go find yourself someone you can live with." He walked away.

He stopped by the House. Tristan was curled up in a ball against the polycarbonate wall. He looked peaceful. Nothing like the monster he really was. The monster Alex wanted. The death he was waiting for.

If he thought it would lead to it, he'd curl up against him, one last time, before he tore Alex apart in rage. But in his current state he'd just flee. Alex couldn't bear to see a scared Tristan again.

He turned his back to him and headed for the hover. He needed plenty of rest because tomorrow he'd have to start getting everyone ready for the next battle.