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Brothers	By : Koori Category: +S through Z > World of Warcraft Views: 1830 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own World of Warcraft, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter Fifty-Five – Nathaniel Conway, Age 21
He listened to Foster's footsteps come back up the stairs, they paused in the doorway. Nathaniel kept himself curled up in the corner of the bed where Ma had left him. His wrist still stung from his stupidity, wrapped in a cosmetic bandage, the wound had been closed. His brother retreated, Nathaniel didn't blame him, he didn't want to be near himself either. Soon though Foster returned, and the sound of scrubbing made Nathaniel look up. His brother was on his hands and knees in middle of their room scouring their floor with a brush dipped in soapy water.
It seemed an odd time to clean the floor, and then it dawned on his exhausted mind what he was cleaning up. Uncurling he moved over to where Foster was scrubbing at the crimson stains. "I made the mess," he said kneeling, "let me clean it."
Foster ignored him and continued cleaning. Sighing Nathaniel reached for the brush and his wrist was grabbed as he was gently pushed back onto the bed. "Or you can," he said as his brother remained silent. "Guess I'll leave you at it then," Nathaniel said standing.
"Within my sights at all time," Foster said tensely.
Nathaniel froze and looked over at his brother. "You are not my commander; you can't make me hold to that …"
Dark eyes looked back at him, "Want to test that theory, Baby Brother?"
"Fuck it," Nathaniel grumbled, "I just want to run to the outhouse, you going to hold my hand while I do?"
"Yes," Foster said as he turned his attention to the floor once again. "After I finish here, now sit your ass down."
Nathaniel stared at his brother a moment and with a shake of his head walked toward the door, which still hung halfway off its hinges. An iron vice grabbed his ankle and jerked; he caught himself before hitting the ground and glowered over his shoulder at Foster.
"Do you really want to do this?" Foster asked.
Dawned on Nathaniel this is exactly what he wanted to do as he kicked at his brother's face. Foster easily blocked it and then releasing his leg backed up, crouched down low like a viper ready to strike. Nathaniel knew it was a lost cause as soon as his brother had time to get into a defensive stance but attacked him regardless. His blows were easily deflected, and eventually like all their bouts before, he ended up exhausted in Foster's embrace.
"Feel better?" Foster asked.
"Aye," Nathaniel said between breaths.
"Good," his brother said, "now sit your ass down while I go find a mop for the bucket we knocked over."
"Bathroom first, please," Nathaniel said, "or you'll have more to mop up."
Foster relented but true to his word escorted Nathaniel to the outhouse. Afterwards as they walked back into the house, Foster paused at the kitchen for the mop. Their ma raised an eyebrow but wisely didn't ask. Once in their room Nathaniel flopped down on the bed. "By the Light, I'm tired," he said, "but my mind won't let me rest."
"Then talk," Foster said as he mopped up the spilled water and rung it out into the bucket. "Why did you do it? We both went through hell the past year and now once we're back home within the arms of the ones that love us, you do this?" He held up his own scarred wrists.
"I just feel so lost," Nathaniel said, "as cliché as it sounds, I don't know where I belong."
His brother gave him no words of wisdom as he finished with the floor. He set the mop outside in the hall and adjusted the door so it closed the best it could. Then he moved over to the bed, sliding off his boots, he stepped over Nathaniel and sat down in the corner. Crossing his legs he patted his lap. "Sit," he said. Not having the heart to argue Nathaniel did as he asked, sitting facing out; his back against Foster's chest. His brother wrapped his arms around him tightly and started to sob. They weren't soft cries either but gut wrenching sobs.
Nathaniel could never remember a time his brother had shed tears. Where they fell like rain for him, his brother had remained strong and steadfast. "Brother," he said as his bare back became damp with Foster's sorrow.
"Don't you ever do that again," Foster said through his sobs. "I can't lose you, Baby Brother, not again … please, promise me, so I don't have to live with that fear."
Nathaniel's own cheeks grew damp. "I just want to go back to the way things used to be …"
"We can't, Baby Brother, we can't go back we can only go forward … please promise me you won't hurt yourself … please …"
"I promise …" the words were hard to say, it felt like he was giving up the one thing he had control in his life. "I promise to not to surrender to my dark thoughts as long as you're alive …"
"No," Foster said, "longer … forever, watch over my children and their children; do not take the coward way out ever … promise me!"
"Please," Nathaniel whispered, "we don't know what the future holds …"
"Swear to me as my brother you will never harm yourself again," Foster's voice gained strength.
"I swear," Nathaniel said softly, "when my death comes it will not be by my own hand."
"That will do," Foster said, he reached out and found a blanket he pulled up over Nathaniel. "I need to rest, please try to do the same but if you cannot remain with me. I need to feel your heart beat alongside mine."
Nathaniel adjusted himself slightly; he wasn't sure how his Foster fell asleep so easily sitting up. Finally with a sigh he closed his eyes and rested against his brother's shoulder. He was surprised to wake to a darkened room, unaware he had dozed off. Foster's steady breathing told him his brother still slept. It dawned on him there were others in the bed with them, Sara slept at their feet in her nightgown. Her hand wrapped around his. Resting against the wall was his father, shirtless with Ma in her nightgown tucked up next to him. Their small bed was quite crowded.
The women were asleep but Pa's eyes found his. "Wanted to sleep like elves," he whispered.
"They have bigger beds," Nathaniel replied in the same hushed tones.
"We'll work on it," his father said, "are you hungry?"
"A little," he admitted. They had slept through dinner, it seemed.
Reaching beside him, his pa grabbed something sitting on a tray next near him and tossed it at Nathaniel. Catching it he found it to be a cold roll. Taking a bite he discovered it stuffed with meat. Would have tasted better hot but his stomach appreciated it.
"Have another one of those?" Foster asked startling him.
Their pa tossed one that his brother caught, eating it over Nathaniel's shoulder. After a second roll and a drink of ale from a flask Foster moved him off his legs and laid him down beside Sara. Then his brother spooned him from behind. Pa moved Ma so she lay behind Foster before wedging himself between her and the wall. Letting out a content sigh Nathaniel closed his eyes and fell into a dreamless sleep soon after.
He awoke to the familiar feeling of entwined bodies; his left arm was wrapped around Sara as she slept cradled next to him. Foster's right hand rested on his chest, as his brother slept on his side, close to him. Nathaniel could not see how his parents faired in the crowded sleeping arrangements but the soft snores from beyond Foster signaled that at least one of them was still sleeping.
Absently running a hand through his sister's hair, he thought about the past twenty-four hours. Glancing at the bandage around his wrist, a blush of shame crossed his fair cheeks. How stupid …what if Foster hadn't found him, he would have repaid back the family that raised him as their own without question, with a corpse. That would have destroyed his mother, he was an idiot. To endure everything he had in the past year to give up because of some poorly chosen words. The hand on his chest moved lower and Foster's thumb starting massaging his abdomen, trying to cut short the spasm he felt rising.
"Breathe through it," Foster whispered.
Taking a breath through his nose and blowing it slowing out through his lips Nathaniel tried to calm himself. The painful fits had lessened drastically since their arrival home. Though they seemed triggered by stress and the past day had been that in spades. His entire body shuddered as he began to sweat profusely, he was losing the battle. Foster shifted himself so his full weight was behind the hand on Nathaniel's belly, massaging. Sara's cool hand found his forehead as she leaned close and kissed his cheek.
"It will be okay," she whispered. "Ride it out, your family is here."
Taking that as permission to let go, Nathaniel stopped trying to fight it and let the pain sweep through him. His loud scream was the last thing he remembered before darkness returned to embrace him and he gladly surrendered.
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Brothers