by Fiona Glass
'I don’t understand. You can’t be non-caste. You haven’t got red hair.’
'I’ll explain in the morning. Just get yourself over here.’
He went. Partly because the chair really was that damned uncomfortable, partly because he wanted to anyway. Even if it was a trap. Even if Josh waited until he was naked and needing before slamming the lights on and calling in the authorities. He held his breath, but nothing terrible happened. Josh just turned his back, scooted over as far as he could in the narrow space, and let Madoc spoon in behind him.
The feel of another body was almost too much. Alone for so long, his only human contact the occasional hand down someone’s pants behind the immigration sheds, he’d forgotten what togetherness was like. He clutched at Josh’s arm with one hand, kissed the back of his neck, and entered him without preparation or warning, so great was his need. It had to have hurt, but Josh didn’t try to stop him, or even complain. He shifted slightly, crooking one leg to give Madoc easier access, then braced himself against the wall and pushed backwards every time Madoc thrust.
Madoc gasped, then bit his lip. The walls in the accommodation block were paper thin; he needed to stay quiet. He’d never done this indoors before, but the bit of his brain that still worked told him one shout could alert the authorities. His colleagues wouldn’t spill the beans, of course, but you never knew if the castes were paying someone. People would do a lot for the chance to advance themselves, or even for some extra money each month. One whiff of this and he’d be bumped back down the ranks and he’d lose the few privileges he still had. This room, for one, not to mention the shower.
It was no good, though. Panting, sweat dripping off his fringe and into his eyes, he pulled Josh as close as he could, thrust one last time, and yelled.
Next morning he woke early, still wrapped round Josh, with one arm completely numb. Slowly, painfully, he eased away, trying not to disturb his new lover, scared of what awareness might bring. A sharp word, a call for the authorities, even a laugh. But Josh stirred anyway, and as he opened his eyes he smiled. 'Morning, tiger.’
Madoc grinned self-consciously. 'Sorry about that. It’s been a while.’
'It was good. I thought it would be.’
That odd way of talking again, as though Josh knew something about him he wasn’t letting on. It bothered Madoc, a little, but then Josh kissed him, and one thing led to a great deal more, and he stopped worrying, or even thinking, for a while.
Later, he shared his meagre rations with his friend, before dressing reluctantly for work. 'Sorry, gotta go. If I’m late it’ll mean a black mark on my record and too many of them— well, I don’t want to push them, that’s all.’
'It must be hard.’
'Yeah, it’s not...’ Too late he saw the trap he’d fallen into. 'It’s fine. It’s just work. Gotta go.’ And he grabbed his boots and his equipment and bolted for the door.
∞
All day he thought about Josh. The faces of the passing time-travellers morphed into his face. Their hands into his hands, their dark hair into his dark hair. Longing was tinged with fear. Would he still be in the room when Madoc finished his shift? Would he have found his newly-dried clothes and got out, and carried on his business as though the night had never been? Would he have recorded their love-making, and Madoc’s foolish words, and taken them to the authorities?
Work was a bitch, with two separate travellers who’d got separated from their bags and another earful of abuse from Oates. 'You had one arsing job to do. Can’t you non-castes get anything right?’
He was tempted, so tempted, to ram his manifest down the man’s throat—or somewhere else—but there were guards waiting just out of sight and this time he had Josh to consider. Get himself in trouble and he’d never know if his lover had stayed; if there’d been something good waiting for him later on. 'Sorry Mr Oates, sir,’ he muttered, and kept the you oily bastard to himself.
By knocking-off time he was fuming, tired, and depressed. But all that changed when he banged through his front door and a deep voice said, 'Oh good, you’re home.’ Josh hadn’t left, after all.
He was so overcome he was reduced to stammering. 'Wh-what are you doing— I mean, I didn’t think—’
Josh grinned, pulled him into the room, slammed the door with one foot and kissed him into even greater incoherence. 'That’s better,’ he said at last. 'Been thinking about doing that all day. Now go off with you and get in the shower. I washed the towel earlier. You only have the one, don’t you?’
'Yeah, they don’t give us much. Thanks.’ He dragged off his work-worn gear and headed for the shower. Once under the paltry jet he let the water run down his back while he tried to work out whether this was a fleeting, dangerous thing or if his luck had really changed. He was no nearer an answer when a hand pushed the curtain aside and Josh slid in, naked, slippery, and thoroughly in control. He shoved Madoc up against the wall and pounded into him until they both exploded, shouting, within seconds of one another. But before Madoc could even turn around he’d gone.
Madoc dried himself, dragged on some spare clean clothes and went after him. In the main room he pulled his lover towards the light and stared at him. 'What was that all about?’
'What?’
'You. Coming on to me then rushing off like that. It’s like the shower on a bad day—running hot then cold.’
Josh crossed his arms over his chest and hugged himself. 'It wasn’t supposed... I don’t want you falling for me, that’s all. You’ll only get hurt.’
'Don’t tell me. You’re just visiting.’
'I keep saying that...’
‘I know, I know. But it’s not enough any more. How come you’re still here? How come nobody’s come looking for you? Are you one of them? How else could you pull this off?’ He knew he was bombarding Josh with questions but he couldn’t help himself.
Luckily Josh took it well, holding up his hands to ward off the barrage with a rueful grin. 'Don’t you remember? I fell in the water before I could check in. And that overseer was so busy creaming himself at the thought of a senior caste getting wet he forgot I hadn’t been through the barrier. So right now I’m not officially here.’
'You mean...’ Madoc digested the repercussions. 'You fell in deliberately? Just to avoid them?’
'Partly to avoid them, mostly to find you.’
'But.’ His head was starting to spin. 'But that’s impossible. It’s not like I’m, you know, anybody. How could you even know who I am?’
'Let’s just say I have my reasons. Forget it. Forget all of that. Just enjoy whatever we have.’
And however frustrating it was, he knew he’d have to be content with that.
∞
The enjoyment came in fits and starts because of work. His shifts seemed to last forever, and he found it harder to leave his room with every passing day, knowing what awaited him there. At least he’d got over his initial fear that his lover would simply disappear. Not only was Josh still there each evening but he seemed not to need to go anywhere else, spending the days in Madoc’s room. Used to feeling like a tiger in a cage, Madoc found that hard to understand.
'Why don’t you go out? It’s not like anyone would question you, the way you look.’
Josh put down the plate he’d been drying and caught Madoc round the waist. 'Don’t need to go out. I’ve got everything I want, right here.’
'Give over.’ But he leaned into the embrace, then grabbed Josh’s hand and dragged him to the bed. 'Come on then. You keep saying you’re only visiting. So let’s make the most of the time we have left.’
Josh kissed him, hard, and unbuttoned his shirt. 'You're like a tiger, aren't you?’ he said. 'A real wild tiger, all slanted eyes and red fur and whiskers. As fierce as a tiger, too.’
'I have not got whiskers.’ Madoc tried to sound indignant, although he was too comfortable flat on his back with Josh’s head on his chest to really care. Josh was probably being figurative anyway—he tended to do that a lot
. 'And my temper's not all that wild. I don't bite. Not even when those caste bastards down the docks are doing their worst.’
'Maybe you should.’ Josh unbuttoned Madoc's shirt and trailed his fingers through the downy red hair on his chest. 'See? I said you had fur.’
'Give over.’ But Madoc was pleased, because nobody else took the time to tease him like this. Only Josh was different, and it had taken him till now to work out why. 'Don’t they have castes where you're from, then?’
'Not any more,’ said Josh. 'Not if I can help it at any rate.’
'What d'you mean?’
But Josh didn’t seem to want to talk about it. His fingers found Madoc's nipples and squeezed, and then he stretched his mouth round Madoc's cock and began to suck, and Madoc closed his eyes and forgot about everything else.
∞
During the night he woke to the soft sound of Josh’s snores and the realisation he’d been an idiot. Don’t they have castes where you’re from, he’d said. But Josh had arrived on one of the time ships, so the real question wasn’t where but when.
He tackled his lover about it in the brief minutes between waking and leaving for another day’s work but Josh was grumpy for some reason and wouldn’t talk to him. It wasn’t until the evening, when he was back from work and almost too tired to care, that he suddenly realised Josh’s bad mood was still there. He wanted to ignore it and head straight for bed, but it was unusual enough to set off his inner alarm. 'What’s up?’
Josh picked up a book—one of Madoc’s tiny handful of personal possessions—and fidgeted with it. 'This is my last night,’ he said at last. 'I have to go back tomorrow.’
The room span briefly. 'What? No! You have to stay. You’re the only thing that makes any of this worthwhile.’
'I’m sorry, love. I’ve been putting it off too long as it is. I have a job, responsibilities. If it’s any consolation I never expected to feel like this.’
Madoc’s brain screamed at him, refusing to let go. 'Take me with you. Wherever it is you’re going, it’s got to be better than here.’
'I can’t. Really. It’s just not possible. Oh, stop looking at me like that. If you must know, it’s the whole reason I came.’
Madoc wasn’t really listening. 'I don’t care. Just take me. It’s the least you can do. You can’t just drop in on somebody’s life and turn it upside down and expect to walk away without another thought.’
Josh hugged him then, so tight he could hardly breathe. 'If you think for one moment that I’m finding this easy—’
'Tell me then. Explain to me why it is that you can’t stay and I can’t come with you. Go on.’ He knew he sounded like a sullen teenager but he didn’t care. The one bit of happiness in his life and it was threatening to come to an end.
'I can’t.’ Josh ran his hand through his hair, then on and over his face. 'I just... All right. Look. I can’t tell you everything but I can give you a hint. You at least deserve that. Come and sit down. No, really. I can’t think with you standing over me and scowling like that.’
Madoc sat down, planting his elbows on the wooden table and feeling like his heart was made of the same hard substance and might chip if Josh was too rough with it. 'Go on then.’
'I don’t know where to— Okay. You know the caste system wasn’t always here.’
'What? No.’
'Well, it’s true. A century ago, before the Great Plague, people lived and worked—and loved—side by side. There were divisions, of course, and when the plague came and took so many lives the divisions widened, with each group blaming another for the spread, until the hatred took hold and solidified, and the caste system was the result.’
'They don’t teach that at school.’
'They wouldn’t, would they? They don’t want anyone thinking about what life would be like if everyone went back to that.’
'It’d be amazing.’ Just think of the possibilities. His brain ached with the effort of it; of imagining a life with caste and non-caste doing the same jobs, living in the same homes, even having relationships. And if there was no caste system, then perhaps other divisions could follow suit. The rules against men loving men, for instance... 'It’ll never happen. Things are too set for that.’
A brief smile tugged Josh’s lips. 'Don’t be so sure.’
'Yeah, but think of the changes there’d have to be. It’d take a revolution. A war, probably. Anyway, what does all this have to do with me?’
'I’m hoping you’ll work that out,’ Josh said, and pulled him into a hug.
∞
Morning found Madoc on the dock, watching his lover depart. The weather had turned miserable in sympathy; grey clouds scudded overhead and a fitful wind blew leaves and bits of litter about. Madoc shivered and rubbed his arms, and strained to make Josh out on the quayside opposite. Two weeks, he thought. Two weeks of happiness. Longer than he’d dared to hope, but nowhere near long enough.
'Will I ever see you again?’ he’d asked Josh, during the night.
'I hope so,’ came the whispered answer. 'You just need to remember where to look.’
'When am I supposed to do that?’ He tugged the sheet away from Josh’s chin and tried to see his eyes in the dim light spilling through from the lamp outdoors. He thought he could see a gleam, maybe even a twinkle, but he couldn’t be sure. And in spite of telling himself he’d stay awake all night, he fell asleep soon afterwards.
The wind swirled again, and a seagull rose into the air with its wings outstretched, balancing on invisible currents without a wire. An occasional spit of drizzle spattered on the greasy slabs of the dock. Madoc wiped one raindrop out of his eye and tried to convince himself it wasn't a tear. He couldn’t see Josh’s face properly, now, let alone the expression in his eyes. A pallid blur in amongst the crowd of time-travellers waiting on the quay: travellers whose belongings Madoc had already ticked off on his latest sheet. Josh hadn’t been through that, of course, because he’d had nothing with him when he arrived. It hadn’t mattered, though. He’d marched into the thickest part of the crowd as though he owned the place, and given his looks nobody had even questioned him. At least that was one less thing to worry about, Madoc thought. One less thing than the ache in his chest and the throttling lump in his throat.
'Oi! Four-eyes! You better not be ogling the men’s backsides again.’ Oates had appeared at his side just when he least needed him.
'Sorry Mr Oates, just a bit concerned about the previous ship. Some of the figures don’t quite—’ It wasn’t true; it was this blink where the numbers didn’t match, but he didn’t want to tell Oates that. Didn’t want to do anything that would draw attention to Josh.
The horn sounded, warning that the ship had only minutes left to depart. Josh! He’d almost missed the last chance of seeing him. Oates was bellowing something at him but he ignore the man, scanning the quay, the last few stragglers, the diagonal plane of the ramp. Was it too late? No, there he was. One last fleeing glimpse: Josh, turning to gaze across at him part way up the slope. He seemed to be mouthing something. Madoc peered, desperate to make out the words before his lover was lost to him. See you at the bar, he thought it might have been. But he had no idea what bar, where, or more importantly when. It had probably been something else, something important. Something he would never know. Because the ship’s doors had clanged shut with Josh on the inside, and he knew he was unlikely to see his lover again.
He stood for a moment while the emotions washed over him. Desolation, and sudden loneliness, and above all fear of what the future would bring. Most of all he was angry—angry with the system that prevented men from loving men, and separated folk because of the colour of their hair and skin. He wanted to change all that, to sweep it away so that Josh could come back and feel as though he belonged. Even as he watched the ship slide away from the dock, something clicked inside his head. He would change it. He didn’t know how, but he’d channel this anger and direct it at the stupid rules that kept people who loved each other apart, an
d he would fight the caste system with every last ounce of his strength until the day he died. Oates was still shouting, but he had better things to do. Clenching his fists at his sides, he watched the ship until it was no more than a pin-prick on the horizon between sky and sea. And made Josh a silent vow.
∞
'No.’
The effect on the overseer was instant. His neck muscles bunched and his pale cheeks turned an unhealthy shade of red. 'What did you just say?’
Back down. Back down now. You might still just about get away with it. But if Madoc was honest with himself this had been building for days. No, weeks, or even months. If he was really honest, he’d been heading for this since the day Josh left. He’d felt the worst pain of his life that day, and knew nothing else could come close. No beating, no imprisonment, nothing the castes could threaten him with. And if they couldn’t scare him, their hold over him was loosening, with every day that passed.
Until this moment, when the simmering anger had bubbled over into determined action at last. Or inaction, since Oates had ordered him to take the whip to a younger dock-worker, who’d transgressed the rules in some way that only the castes understood. If indeed he’d transgressed them at all, and not just been in the wrong place at the wrong time and upset Oates. That was equally likely. In any case he was scarcely more than a boy and shaking so hard he’d already wet himself. Madoc took another look at him and threw the whip aside. 'I said, no. Look at him. He’s petrified. Do your own dirty work. I’m not hurting anyone else.’
Oates raised a meaty fist, but this time Madoc didn’t flinch.
'Go ahead. Beat me senseless. It won’t achieve anything.’
'It’ll give me the satisfaction, you insubordinate little rat.’ But they were attracting attention. Faces began to turn their way from all around the dock. Bored faces in the castes’ case—yet another worker getting a telling off. But intrigue, even horrified excitement, showing on some of those same workers’ faces. And Oates seemed not to want to perform in front of an audience. 'Later, then. Report to me when your shift’s over. I’ll have thought up a suitable punishment by then. As for him...’ He sneered at the boy. 'Get him out of here and tell him not to bother coming back.’
