by Jerry Cole
Daniel felt spite rising in him again, and it didn't matter whether Asher was just doing it to keep himself moving or not. Daniel didn't want the other man looking at him with that disdain.
"Of course you will," Daniel spat back like acid. "Because everything is a joke to you, right? If you never take anything seriously then it can never really affect you, is that it? Well guess what, you might be great at shutting off your emotions and pretending everything is just funny, but not everyone wants to be an emotionally stunted child for the rest of their lives. You don't get to just insult people and claim they can't take a joke when they get angry. You can't just ignore nearly dying with someone. You don't get to dismiss this, asshole!"
"I'll dismiss whatever I damn well please!" Asher didn't even stop, just hunching his shoulders as Daniel moved closer, like he was walking against the wind. "Maybe I joke too much, but at least I try to act like a human being and not a damn robot! You sit off by yourself, hissing at anyone who gets too close, then have the audacity to look lonely. I hide my feelings, sure, but you try to pretend like you never had them at all! You're just as stunted as I am. At least I can admit to myself how I'm feeling. You're still deluding yourself into thinking you're straight."
"I told you to give that up!" Daniel wanted to scream with frustration. "I'm not gay! Just because you have some kind of crush on me—"
"I do not have a crush on you," Asher stopped then, turning to snarl in Daniel's face. "I thought you were cute for about half a minute. You've done a very thorough job of proving me wrong."
"Then why do you keep trying to force this on me?" Daniel, unintimidated, got right back in the other man's face. "If you're not still trying to convince me to sleep with you, why do you care so much whether I'm gay or not?"
"Because I feel bad for you, dumbass!" Asher shouted back, then stumbled. He was white as a sheet, the exertion clearly beginning to get to him. Daniel caught him reflexively, ready to drop the argument so the weakened man could sit down, but Asher kept going.
"Do you think I haven't been right where you are?" Asher asked, voice losing its vehemence as his energy drained. "Ignoring my feelings, desperately denying everything I felt, scared shitless that someone was going to notice I wasn't normal? Only I had a damn good reason for needing to hide. You have nothing holding you back and you're still torturing yourself! Can you blame me for wanting to save you?"
His voice dwindled further, his eyes trying to close. Daniel was holding the other man up completely now, his ankle screaming in protest.
"Hey. Hey! Pull it together!" Daniel demanded. "Don't pass out here! Come on!"
But Asher was already gone. Daniel had no choice but to lower the man to the ground as gently as possible and resign himself to making camp early. It was still early afternoon, but he supposed neither of them really had the energy to keep going. He laid Asher down with his head on the rolled up sleeping bag, then got to work making their shelter for the night, stopping whenever his ankle forced him to in order to rest and check on Asher. The man's clothes were soaked through with blood. He must have been in an absurd amount of pain, but he'd kept going anyway. It forced Daniel to keep going too, out of spite if nothing else.
Daniel had been so close to giving up. Had Asher been able to tell? Daniel felt a creeping sense of shame as he built a rough lean-to from fallen fir branches around the unconscious man and lined it with the space blanket. Then he spent the last of the light lying on the bank of the stream, catching as many minnows as he could with his hands. They might not go far, but anything was better than nothing. He took a crack at trying to start a fire and wished he had his reading glasses. It would have made this much easier. As it was, all he did was give himself a blister rubbing sticks together.
The sun began to sink below the mountains and the forest only got colder. He watched white frost creep over the edges of red leaves and shivered. Loose skins of ice twirled across the surface of the river as it froze unevenly, not yet cold enough to catch the moving water. Daniel had a brief, impulsive thought of just throwing himself in and letting the numb cold ease his pain. He pushed that thought away fast. It had only been two days. They could still survive this.
His breath was a ghost, white and delicate as a cobweb, which coiled over the surface of the stream. He shivered, his hands wet and blue with cold. Daniel had thought it was supposed to get warmer as they moved down into the valley. Had they ended up going uphill anyway? He wouldn't be surprised if it was true. Both of them were hopelessly out of their depth. He sat watching the sun vanish behind the trees, his breath fogging before him, and waited for Asher to wake up.
The forest was eerie in the sunset, the light drenching the trees in red and gold. Animal noises diminished to almost nothing and left the world in eerie silence except for the rustle of the wind through the leaves. Pine needles waving were a subtler, more distinct sound from that of deciduous leaves, which tended to sound like rolling surf. This was quieter, more like the shuffle of fabric. The hem of a dress across the floor in the middle of the night. The rising of curtains on an empty stage.
Daniel wondered if Asher would wake up at all. Maybe he'd pushed too hard, lost too much blood. Maybe Daniel was alone out here now. His heart beat sped up at the thought and he shifted closer to Asher, checking to make sure the other man was still breathing. He took Asher's hand, just to soothe himself, squeezing it as he watched the forest darken around them like something from a horror film. Red light filtered like fingers through the black branches, reaching for him with sinister purpose. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the fear rising in him. He couldn't be alone out here. He wouldn't be able to take it. He squeezed Asher's hand tighter and willed the man to wake up.
"You trying to crush me, kid?"
Daniel opened his eyes, relief flooding him, and saw Asher looking up at him. The other man looked more tired than Daniel had ever seen anyone look. He looked like he was dying. His face was as white as Daniel’s breath and his grip was weak and cold.
"I know I pissed you off, but I don't think breaking my hand is called for," Asher raised his eyebrows and Daniel released the other man's hand at once, amazed he could still try to be funny when he looked close to death.
"I thought you were gone for a minute there," Daniel confessed, too scared to be dishonest, his voice a thin whisper. "I thought I was alone."
Asher seemed to sense the genuine distress in Daniel's voice and for once didn't tease him. Instead he took Daniel's hand again, squeezing it with all the little strength he had left. "It's okay, Carter," the other man said. "I don't want to be alone out here either."
"I'm afraid of the dark," Daniel's skin crawled with shame, but it was obvious enough already that he was. "My parents—they used to lock me in my room when I misbehaved, like any kid. But I hated it. I hated being alone so much. I'd cry and hammer on the door. And then one time, at night, the lightbulb in my room went out while I was locked in. I remember seeing a light reflected in the mirror on the wall and being sure there was someone in there with me. My parents thought all the yelling was just me wanting out like normal. Didn't unlock the door for hours. They apologized after, but…"
The story spilled out of Daniel like water from his lips, like the spectral clouds of his breath, surprising him as much as he was sure it surprised Asher. He was shaking, and holding Asher's hand tightly. Thinking he was alone had really spooked him for a minute.
"It's okay," Asher said again. "I'm not going anywhere. We're in this together."
It wasn't like Daniel had forgotten he was angry at Asher. The anger was still there. Just less important at the moment. Asher made the arguments easy to forget.
"I got us food," Daniel said. "Sort of."
He pulled over the palm fan covered in raw minnows.
"Gross," Asher observed lightly. "But better than nothing."
They split Daniel's little catch as the last of the light vanished. Not being able to see the minnows did not make eating them easier. At least
they could mostly be swallowed without needing to be chewed. They hardly put a dent in Daniel's hunger, but he knew Asher was right. Anything was better than nothing.
When they were done, they climbed into the sleeping bag, but even within it, Daniel could feel the growing cold. He shivered, and for once let Asher cuddle close to him without complaint. They were going to get out of this, he reminded himself. This wasn't the end. Even if he could smell Asher's blood on the night air.
Chapter Twelve
He woke to Asher shaking him and knew he'd only been asleep a few hours. It was pitch dark. He felt sluggish and numb.
"Get up," Asher hissed, "Get up. We need to move."
Daniel groaned, trying to ignore the other man, but Asher kept shaking him. Daniel finally complied, stumbling out of the lean-to. It was only then he realized he wasn't in any pain. He could hardly feel any of his injuries at all. As Asher hounded him, making him walk in circles, Daniel began to realize just how cold he was, teeth chattering violently. The fog over his mind began to clear. It was snowing, he realized, and hard, the wind howling and whipping powder into their paltry little shelter. They had nearly frozen. If Asher hadn't woken them up...
"We can't stay here," Asher said. "We have to move. If we lay down again, we'll die."
Daniel nodded numbly, and together they grabbed the sleeping bag and blanket. Asher put the space blanket around Daniel's shoulders and wore the sleeping bag around his own as the two men stumbled downstream, following the little creek towards anything and nothing, just afraid to stop moving.
The numbness that was making walking on his ankle bearable again quickly wore off, and Daniel felt even worse for having been at least moderately pain free for a moment there. He didn't know if it was a good sign or a bad one that he could feel his injuries again.
The snow fell harder and heavier, as though offended that they had escaped its killing them in their sleep. Between it and the darkness, Daniel could barely see. They just pressed forward, finding the creek again when they nearly stepped in it a dozen times. Asher trudged with his head down, just moving to keep moving, but Daniel couldn't help watching the dark world around them—the blue black sky obscured by white, the moon a blinding traitor, lost in the powder. Branches creaked in the high wind and bent under the weight of gathering snow. Daniel kept a hand bunched in Asher's shirt, terrified of losing the other man in the white out. He was so cold, and he kept stumbling. He couldn't keep walking much longer.
And then, for a moment, the trees cleared, and Daniel saw something that was too big to be a tree and too regular to be a rock. He tried to call Asher's name, but the noise of the wind was too loud. Instead he just dragged on Asher's arm until the other man realized what Daniel was pointing at. They stumbled towards the shape in the darkness together.
Daniel sobbed with relief when he felt wood under his hands. Proper, processed logs, not a tree. He fumbled and soon found a door. Together, he and Asher fell through into a dark, still cabin.
Some small rodent scrambled away as they crashed in, slamming the door behind them. The room was not large, but it was indoors and insulated from the cold and Daniel didn't need much else. Peering around the room by the faint snow light coming through the window, Daniel noticed there was a cot in one corner, and a rudimentary kitchen with a wood burning stove, moldering firewood still stacked beside it.
"It's a ranger station," Asher said as Daniel went to collapse on the cot. "It looks abandoned. But there must have been a trail through here at some point."
"It has a roof and a bed," Daniel sighed.
"Better than that," Asher gave a bark of laughter. "Even when they abandon these places, they leave supplies behind, in case of emergencies."
He was digging through the dusty, cobwebbed cabinets. Daniel tried to will himself to get up and help, but he couldn't convince himself to move. At last Asher stumbled towards the cot, only to kneel and look under it. He whooped with delight and pulled out a metal locker, opening it.
Daniel watched with wonder as Asher revealed blankets, fresh clothes, MREs—everything they needed to survive. Daniel cheered as well, elation momentarily banishing his exhaustion. Laughing with unhinged delight, the two men threw their arms around each other in an exultant embrace. They both tore into a pack of dehydrated food and wrapped new blankets around their shoulders and sat with their backs against the bed, relishing the relative warmth from the storm. Cold spaghetti had never been so delicious. There were flameless ration heaters in the MREs, but neither Daniel nor Asher had the patience to use them right now. They spoke little as they ate, their mouths too full, but as they grinned at each other over their food it was clear all was forgiven. Both of them were just happy the other was alive.
Once Asher had eaten enough to stop shaking, he took the matches and starter blocks from the supplies and set about starting a fire in the stove. The house was vastly better than being outside, but it was still cold enough for their breath to be visible. Fortunately, even if Cub Scouts hadn't taught Asher how to make a fire from nothing, it had taught him how to build one from something, and although the firewood was old it burned well. Soon the tiny cabin was filling with heat, and Daniel let the extra blanket slip off, sighing with relief. As he relaxed, he noticed a first aid kit in the supplies. He opened it, flipping through its contents to make sure they weren't too degraded by time.
"Asher," he said when he saw they weren't. "Come here. We can finally do something about that hole in your side."
Asher looked wary, but they moved in front of the fire and the larger man lifted up his shirt to reveal the stiff, soaked bandages. Daniel grimaced, but got to work cutting them away so that he could see the actual injury.
"The good news is," he said as he cleaned it with alcohol and water, "it doesn't look infected. And the bleeding definitely isn't as bad as it was that first day. I think you'll be okay. We should probably still try and stitch it, since we don't know how much longer we'll be out here."
Asher took a deep breath, looking supremely unenthused about that idea.
"I don't suppose there's any anesthetic in that box?" Asher asked with a nervous laugh.
Daniel leaned over to lift out a bottle of whiskey.
"That'll work."
Asher took two shots, Daniel took one, and then he threaded a suture needle and got to work, grateful the hole was small. Two or three stitches would likely be enough. Knowing that didn't make it any less gross for Daniel or any less painful for Asher. But Daniel got it done.
"Before I re-bandage this," he said, glancing up from spreading disinfectant gel. "Do you want to wash—?"
He paused, caught off guard as he realized Asher was staring down at him with unexpected intensity, the firelight reflected in those startlingly blue eyes.
"Probably a good idea," Asher agreed, not breaking his stare. "But moving is kind of difficult right now. Plus, my clothes."
Asher's clothes on that side were stiff with blood.
"There was some spare sweaters and things in the emergency supplies," Daniel suggested, tearing his eyes away from that stare, unsure why it made him so uncomfortable. "They'll do until we can wash your stuff."
"Fair enough," Asher agreed, and began taking off his clothing without another word.
Daniel helped him, despite his embarrassment, knowing the other man's range of motion was limited right now. When he was down to his underwear, Daniel soaked a cloth in water. "Just relax," he said. "I've got this."
Asher didn't argue, lying still as Daniel leaned over him, gently wiping away the dried blood and accumulated grime of several days hiking. Daniel tried not to acknowledge the intimacy of what he was doing, even as he was dragging the damp wash cloth down the taut muscle of Asher's thighs, the moisture glistening on his tanned skin in the glow of the fire.
They were just taking care of each other. Keeping each other alive, the same way they had been since Asher had pulled him out of the river. He would have done this for anyone. But part of him knew
that, for anyone else, his heart would not be racing like this, his touch lingering on Asher's chest, tracing the patterns of his tattoos.
"I don't think there's any blood up there Danny," Asher pointed out, and Daniel pulled away, cursing how quick he was to blush.
"Just being thorough," he said, telling himself he believed it. "That should be enough. Sit up and I'll bandage it."
Asher did as he was told, still watching Daniel with those intense eyes, while Daniel quickly wrapped the bandage around Asher's waist. When it was done, he started packing up the first aid kit again busily.
"Hopefully, that'll hold you until we can get back to civilization," Daniel said, not meeting Asher's eye. "Try not to move too much. I've never stitched anything before and I don't know how secure those are."
"They're fine," Asher assured him. "I've been stitched up more than once. I can tell."
Daniel smiled, appreciating the vote of confidence, but as Daniel moved to stand and put the first aid kit away, Asher caught his sleeve. Daniel looked down at him, catching that blue gaze.
"Don't you want to get cleaned up too?" he asked.
Daniel swallowed hard, realizing he was falling into something dangerous.
"There's only one bed here," Asher said with a grin. "I'd rather share it with someone clean. No offense."
He had a point. Daniel looked away, considering it for a moment. "Fine." he said, "Just put away the supplies, would you?"
Asher nodded and turned to repack everything they had dragged out while Daniel pulled off his clothing. He'd slept naked with the man before, but for some reason it was only now he couldn't stop casting self-conscious glances in Asher's direction. He set his clothes aside and soaked the wash cloth again, sitting close to the fire as he cleaned himself. It was a relief to clear away all the dirt and grime, especially from the host of cuts and abrasions he'd acquired in the tumble down the river and over the cliff. His ankle and shoulder looked the worst—his ankle swollen and angry from being walked on, his shoulder still one big purple bruise. He ran the washcloth over his shoulder, feeling the water run down his back, and winced at even the slight pressure on it.
