Reparation
After the badger left, Lyal put an arm around Lyris' shoulders and squeezed her close, and she put an arm around his waist. He could feel her trembling slightly in the embrace, and it worried him. The stress of being on the run was bad enough, but she was at least acclimatized to it. Being here, accepting help - this was new territory, and he wasn't sure how it might affect her already frayed nerves.
"You okay, Lyss?" he asked softly.
"Lyal..." She started softly, but her voice began to build as she spoke her mind. "I told you he wanted you. I knew from the start that he would, just like all the others. You shouldn't have stopped pretending to be a girl; then he wouldn't want either of us..."
The buck shook his head slowly, turning her toward him. "Weren't you listening, Lyss? He just poured his heart out; didn't you hear a word of it? Yes, he said he wants me, but not now, not like this. It would feel too much like payment. He doesn't want it to be payment, he wants... what you and I have."
She looked up at him, her milk chocolate eyes mirroring his own, the love there both deep and desperate. "Everything says we're not supposed to."
"Maybe we weren't supposed to, at first. That was... let's just call it an accident. But later..." He stroked her cheek tenderly, remembering the past, cherishing the future. "He doesn't have anyone who really loves him, not like this. Not since his mate died. He doesn't want sexual gratification; he doesn't want someone who'll do things with him because he's paying them. He could have had that three times already today, and he kept saying no." He found her forepaws and held them in his own trying to make her see what he was seeing in the older male. "Don't you get it, Lyss? He wants someone to love who'll love him back."
He had meant it to comfort her a little, but she instead reached under his robe and held him closer, pressing her cheek against his bare chest as tightly as she dared. "Do you... do you want him too?"
The buck pet her headfur softly, soothing the long, flowing, dark-ashen curls as he murred softly into her long lop ear. "Not at the expense of losing you, Lyris. I'll never lose you. Not for anyone."
"He's already said that he doesn't like girls. He won't accept me, won't want me..."
"And he said that he wants to make sure we're never separated! Lyss-bunny, didn't you hear him? He may not want sex from you, but he knows about us, and he's accepted it. Or at least he doesn't want us to stop."
"Yes, he does," the doe sobbed softly. "He said so, just like he did... said it was nasty and unclean and disgusting... even the old badger thinks so, he just didn't say..."
Lyal hugged her against his naked chest as hard as he could bear it. "Don't, Lyss... don't make yourself hurt like that. You worry too much. Right now, we have a warm place to sleep and food to fill our bellies. It's not often we have all that. Just focus on that part and relax."
He paused, all at once aware of a change in the feel of her. She had started to stiffen, her trembling get stronger. The buck could sense it, could almost feel it coming on...
"Lyris... Lyss-bunny, just breathe, okay? Don't do this, bunny, please don't do this..."
The doe had him in almost a death grip around his middle, pressing hard against ribs that couldn't bear much more. He pulled her arms from around him, her wrists tight in his forepaws, looking down into her eyes, eyes that seemed to be shutting down, going away, darkening.
"Lyss! Come on, Lyss, stay with me, breathe... _breathe,_Lyris!"
She collapsed in his arms, her slight weight pulling him down with her, tugging at his sore muscles and bruised ribs, dragging the robe from around his shoulders to puddle on the floor at his hindpaws.
"LYRIS!"
Lyal sat down hard on the floor to keep his sister from hitting her head on the way down, oblivious to anything but her still, breathless form. Tears fell from his cheeks as he called her name again, and again, and finally started a ragged rendition of the lullaby that the doe would sometimes try to hum herself, even if she kept getting the melody not quite right. It was okay, he remembered, he would always remember for her, and he sang and wept copious tears and held her as tightly as he dared...He cried, but kept his voice strong and steady, for her, for Lyris, for their mother...
Softly, he kissed her forehead and kept singing.
* * * * * * * * * *
Barton had just finished laying out the blanket and pillow on the couch in his office when he heard the buck shouting - not anger, that was fear, raw terror. The badger peeled out of the office as quickly as his muscles would take him. He paused at the door for only a moment. What he heard was...
_ ...singing?_
The voice was low and strong, the upper end of a baritone that would do any Irishman proud. The badger had never heard the song before; it had the quality of a lullaby. He pushed the nearly-silent door inward, padded quietly forward, not understanding entirely what it was that he saw. The nearly naked buck had his arms around his sister, but the doe was being neither molested nor made love to. She wasn't moving. She wasn't even breathing.
"What in the name of--?"
Lyal shot him a fierce yet terrified look as he kept singing, kept rocking. Barton padded silently a little closer, caught between wanting to help and fearing that he didn't know what he was doing. Lyris, fully clothed, just lay there in her twin's arms, as he rocked slowly back and forth and sang, soft, impassioned, crying long hot tears.
Suddenly, Lyris' body released one massive spasm as she inhaled ferociously, shocking Lyal out of his singing. Her body, once stiff as rigor, at last seemed supple if unconscious; her head fell back, her ears no longer stiff and upright but hanging down as if expressing exhaustion. The buck shifted to lift her, and Barton padded quickly around to ready the daybed/sofa for the doe to rest upon. Lyal seemed to struggle, grimacing without making noise. The badger moved in quickly to scoop the lass into his arms and, kneeling next to the sofa, lay her carefully onto it. As Barton pulled a light blanket over her, the buck shuffled forward in his kneeling position, still naked, stopping at the end of the sofa, petting his sister's headfur and ears tenderly, tears still visible on his cheeks.
"Lyal," whispered the old badger, adrenaline still racing in his veins. "What is it? What have I just seen?"
"I still don't know, sir," the rabbit said, softly but otherwise in a normal voice. He shook his head at his startled glance. "She won't hear us. When this happens to her, she wouldn't hear a bomb..." He stopped, so much as to say that a bomb actually had gone off, somewhere, at some point in this wretched part of their lives. Barton found himself believing that it could really have happened, and just that way.
"Describe it t' me, lad. Tell me what happens."
Lyal did his best to detail the symptoms, the description of what seems to happen to her. "She doesn't seem to realize what's happening, when it happens. I don't think she really knows what's causing it, or maybe if she's the one causing it to herself, or if it's something else, something she can't control after all."
"An' th' singin', it helps bring her out agin'?"
The buck nodded slowly. "Once in a while, it even seems to stop it from happening. It's why she hums it to herself sometimes. Other times... it's like a rope, a tether, something to try to bring her back to me."
Barton breathed slowly, absorbing the information. "It's like a panic attack - more extreme than most. Almost like epilepsy. Lyal, I need t' know: Have ye been beaten? With Lyris, especially... were ye ever beaten about the head?"
"Yes. We've been beaten."
The simple, quiet, resigned answer chilled the badger to the bone. He watched the buck move to try to comfort his sister, saw him wince and guard his upper body muscles a bit. He'd seen this before, and he finally twigged to what was wrong.
"Yer hurtin', lad. Yer ribs, is it?"
Lyal nodded. "They'll be all right. Takes time for ribs to heal."
"How long's it been?"
"Maybe a little over seven months now."
The old badger shook his head. "Ye've been re-bruisin' 'em, all this time, ent ye? Dinna ye see a proper doc? Broken ribs should be bandaged!"
"No, it's okay, really, I--" The younger male inhaled sharply as Barton pressed a forepaw very gently on the spot he'd seen the lad guarding. It wasn't just that the lad was thin enough for him to feel the rib; he could feel where it had been bent, maybe even broken, from sometime long ago. It wasn't still truly broken; if so, his touch would have caused sheer agony. It was still bruised, though, and it was no wonder the lad was guarding as he was. The badger rose, his face set, once again furious that the world would allow children to be treated this badly.
"See to Lyris," he said softly. "I'll be right back."
Back in his supply room, he found the elastic bandages and metal clips that he kept on hand for some of his forgetful massage patients. When therapy dictated that gentle massage was allowed if the muscles were re-wrapped promptly, the client was supposed to bring a fresh bandage, to allow the old one to be washed or abandoned as needed. It was just easier, in the long run, to keep extras. He hadn't thought of himself as an emergency aid station before, but he was just as glad that he would be able to serve the purpose for the young buck.
Barton returned to the treatment room to find that Lyal hadn't moved from his twin's side. "Stand up fer me, would ye lad? It'll be easier on both of us."
Placing his forepaw's in Barton's, the young buck accepted the careful help in standing. He clearly wasn't embarrassed about being naked, but he did have the grace to look toward the towels. The older male took the hint, especially as he realized that being that close to the naked young male wasn't nearly as "easy" as he'd made it out to be. He handed a towel to Lyal, who unfolded it and wrapped it around his lower half, bracing his butt against the edge of the massage table to help hold the cloth in place.
"I'm gonna wrap ye up f' the night," Barton said with the hint of a smile. "We'll need t' take this off in th' morning so ye can do some deep breathin', or that chest cold o' yer's really will try t' turn into pneumonia. I've got plenty of these, an' they're cheap; we'll use as many as we need until we can figure out how t' get ye to a proper doc." He unrolled the bandage a bit. "Now I need t' tell yer, I'm nae up on all th' top medical journals; this is more fer hoodoo than fer curin' ye. I'm hopin' mebbe I c'n give ye a little support and relief from havin' t' guard yer chest so much. Not sure it'll help, but it shouldn't hurt ye anyroad... Ri' now, up wi' th' arms, lad - slowly, now, try nae t' hurt yersel'."
Lyal managed to get his arms up a respectable distance, enough that Barton could reach around and start weaving the bandage into its proper place to support the lad's ribs. "They call this 'compression therapy,' keepin' th' ribs from movin' too much. Time was, this was done all th' time; fer this, it's sorta hit'n'miss. It'll make yer breatin' a bit shallow; if ye try drawin' too deep a breath, it'll press agin' ye t' remind ye. I think it'll help, though... change's good as a rest, they say. Now... nae too tight, aye?"
The buck nodded. "S'okay. Thank you. It's ... I had this at first; we just couldn't go back and get someone to re-wrap it. Cost of food and shelter came first, then the problem of talking to a doctor..."
Barton nodded. "Yer underage, I know. Canna involve a doctor wi'out the police bein' invited t' th' party. So... I'll have t' find 'nother way t' get ye what ye need. I've friends, some special friends, and I think they'll rally." He'd run out of bandage, reached over for the clips to cinch it into position, smoothed it down with a forepaw which, if he were truly honest with himself, had been wanting to caress the lad's soft belly fur for most of the day. "There. How's your breathin'?"
"Better." The look on the buck's face said that it was a lot more than just "better." Barton managed a small smile.
"Ye'll notice it most when standin'; gives ye more support. We'll see t' gettin' a proper doc and diagnosis as soon as we can. Meanwhile..." He knelt before the young rabbit as he finished placing the bandage and the metal clasps. "There we are then," he said. "One more problem fixed, at least for now. Are ye allergic t' pain pills? Acetaminophen?"
"I don't think so."
"Thinkin' on it, that stuff's in yer cold pills, an' ye've taken them all right. We c'n add a bit more if'n ye need it. I buy it in bulk, fer the headaches this place c'n gimmie." The old badger smiled as he looked up into the rabbit's face - that sweet face, that face that wanted so much to trust but didn't know if he should - and realized that he was in a very compromising position, kneeling before the lad. Worse, he wasn't entirely sure that he wanted to leave it.
The kit seemed to sense the emotion, or so Barton thought. Lyal leaned over a little and, wrapping his arms around the old badger's neck, he hugged his face to his soft-furred belly. Barton almost resisted until he realized that the movement wasn't sexual. The buck didn't try to kiss him, didn't try to push away the towel, didn't make any noise or words to show anything other than tender caring. It was a hug. It was a warm, needful, real hug, and the badger raised his arms to return it, wrapping them carefully around the rabbit's middle.
Lyal sighed softly, his voice touched with tears. "You were right, you know. What you said in the front, after we left... People look at us and just see two little street rats, dirty and grubby. The kind of people you ignore when you walk past them on the street, or at most, drop a few coins in front of, to make yourself feel better. Even at the shelters, they don't care about the people they are supposed to be helping. There is this feeling of... despair. It's so thick, sometimes you can taste it in the air.
"What is it about you that sees past all that? Why do you treat us like we're people instead of ferals? That's what's scaring Lyris, you know - the more you act like we're people, the more she feels like she's losing control of the situation. As long as we're treated like garbage, she knows where she stands, but you're... different."
"I sure hope so," Barton said softly, his cheek still against the buck's warm belly. He wasn't entirely sure that his motives were as pure as he'd wished.
"She's afraid of that," Lyal said softly. "She's afraid that you don't like her, that you'd want her out of here if you learned..."
The old mane-dresser sighed deeply when he felt the rabbit's forepaw slide softly through his headfur. He fought tears, coming from too many sources. The buck was so warm, so needful, so vulnerable, and himself more of the same. He pulled back slightly and looked up into Lyal's eyes, seeing tears and wishing that he could dare to kiss them away, just out of the sheer need to comfort another soul in torment. Not now. Maybe not ever, but not now, not yet. Slowly, he stood and brushed the young rabbit's headfur tenderly.
"I like her well enough, lad," he said softly, "when she's nae actively tryin' t' nettle me. I know why she does, though; like ye said, it's safer for her not t' trust. And she's got nae reason t' trust me, either. Maybe she's right not to."
"Why?" Lyal looked up into the old badger's eyes as if begging him not to destroy his last bit of hope. "Why shouldn't we trust you?"
"Because I'm like every other lonely male ye've ever met, at least in one way. An' she's afraid I'm gonna send her away an' try t' keep ye for meself, en't she?" Barton smiled a little. "Not gonna let that happen, lad. You two..." His mind flashed briefly on what he had seen and heard earlier, the idea still not quite settled in his mind, but one thought uppermost. "...need each other. Twins'r like that, I'm told. Like they're joined from th' moment o' conception. I've no right t' judge ye, or t' try t' separate ye. So th' first thing ye need t' know is that I'll nae let that happen.
"And the second thing ye need t' know is that m' willpower en't all it should be. I know that my caring fer the both of ye - wantin' t' help, t' bring ye food, gi'e ye shelter - that's just as it ought t' be, and I'll keep on doin' it, without expectin' anythin' from ye fer it. But me heart's more than a little sore over you, laddybuck. Ye've really hit me hard, without even knowin', an' I canna let that get in th' way here."
Lyal shook his head a little. "I don't understand, are you saying..."
"What I'm sayin'," the older male stroked the kit's cheek softly, "is that I want ye, Lyal. I do want ye, and I mustn't let that happen, nae right now. You an' Lyris both need t' know that ye c'n trust me. And even if ye really trusted me, an' ye came t' me bed this very night in love an' nae in payment, Lyris would never be able t' believe that. I'd be hurtin' her to th' core, and hurtin' you in th' process. I won't do that. I won't hurt either o' ye."
Choking slightly, the buck whispered, "But that hurts you."
"Aye, lad," Barton nodded. "Aye, it does. But I c'n take it, at least for now. Ye've both had enough hurt over these months to last a lifetime. I can take a li'l hurt fer now. Besides, it feels good t' know that you two are gettin' some help at last. Feels good t' know I c'n help."
The buck wrapped his arms around the old badger and squeezed him, not caring about the pain in his ribs... which, in truth, really had been lessened with the bandaging. "You aren't like them," he whimpered. "I knew you weren't. I knew it..."
"Tryin' not t' be," Barton chuckled softly, petting the buck tenderly. "Although yer makin' things a wee bit difficult!"
Lyal pulled back suddenly, looked up at the old mane-dresser, his face filled with worry. "Oh! I didn't mean... I'm sorry, I..."
The older male laughed softly, grinning. "It's all ri', lad. I'm nae completely crazed!" He sobered a little and looked into those beautiful chocolate brown eyes. "But if there's something I could ask of ye..."
For a long moment, the young bunny just looked at him, his ears hanging softly down among his long dark ash-colored curls. Then what looked like understanding dawned in the buck's eyes, a softness that spoke of everything from a tiny remnant of innocence to the dawning of a new sense of trust. He reached up to take Barton's head into his forepaws and drew him down for a single, simple, soft, and completely chaste kiss. There was gratitude, yes, but not repayment; there was desire, but not mere lust. Barton felt stirrings in him that recalled days when such a kiss from Wallace could have him nearly in tears from the sheer tenderness of it. Breaking from it reluctantly (on both their parts), the old badger smiled.
"Ri' enough," he whispered. "Now... I figure ye'll want t' stay wi' Lyris through th' night, so let's see about makin' ye comfortable here. Have ye got togs t' sleep in?"
"Just my jeans, but I'm used to it." The buck reached for his towel, then stopped to look up at Barton with a slightly blush. "I'm, um... I'm really not trying to..."
"I know, laddie," the badger grinned. "I'll need t' leave ye fer a bit anyroad... I forgot th' blankets, when I heard Lyris cry out! You change; I'll be right back."
Barton padded softly from the room, giving Lyal space to change. It wasn't like he needed to get another look at the lad naked; the image was fairly well burned into his mind, both the "before" image of the dirty street-rat picture, and the "after" of the clean, warm, soft-furred young male who was more than a mere lust-based temptation (although that would certainly do for a start, he had to admit). He could almost hear Wallace giving him a proper raspberry for his continued resistance, while at the same time praising him for doing exactly the right thing.
The thought actually took him by surprise. Was he really? It certainly felt right. There's always that proverb about the good intentions and all, but surely that didn't happen every time. Surely there's still room for charity and love... or even simple affection.
In his head, he saw Wallace with that look on his muzzle which threatened what the meerkat had always called a "slap upside the haid." Blankets! his lover told him, pointing to the door. Barton shook his head laughing and went gently back into the private room.
Lyal was already tucked up with his sister, all quite properly. The buck looked up and smiled at him. "Feels like good sleep now," he whispered. Barton took that to mean that the doe was sleeping rather than rendered unconscious by the earlier attack. He nodded, squatting down near the buck to provide him with the blankets. He was rewarded with a brief kiss to his muzzle and a smile of genuine thanks. His heart played silly-buggers with a few clichés, and the feeling couldn't have been better.
"See ye in th' mornin'," he whispered, petting Lyal's headfur gently. "If ye need anythin', come get me, whate'er the time."
The smile on the buck's face was worth everything.