FSE

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"Hey, Damien. You're pretty skinny."

The silver-haired boy looks up from where he has been reposing against a wall of the school. "I guess..."

"No, you are. So you don't need to eat today. Cough it up."

"Guys... you did this yesterday."

"Yeah, we did." Damien lands in the dirt, and tastes blood on his lips. A few moments later, his pants are down and the pockets emptied of change.

Dangit... dangit, his mother would be furious he had gotten them dirty...

Wind and cold, and this time rain, but he is there anyway, searching and not knowing why. "I want you." The black voids surrounded by steel eyes reflect every drop of the gelid needles and every obsequious lilt of lightning, ears quivering to every following throaty thrash of thunder.

He is soaked, chilled to the bone as wind and cold cut crossways, horizontal scissors slicing at his very skin. It hurts, but he begins to remove his shirt.

Suddenly, damp warmth presses into his back while the freezing bullets continue to strafe his legs and face. "You idiot," a comfortingly deep growl rumbles into one ear. In the next instant, he is lifted off his feet and carried through the air farther than a single jump has any right to take him.

"It worked, didn't it?" he rasps as his heart readjusts to the new altitude, his body now shielded completely by the wings above him. The two fly in silence for a time, and Damien takes the opportunity to close his eyes and feel Siber's heartbeat against his back, feel his chest muscles as they work to keep the boy aloft, feel his strong, warm arms nearly lull him to sleep despite the obnoxious thunder. It is late tonight, but Damien needs this; he needs to feel the wolf above him respond when a fresh bruise makes itself known against the larger creature's grip through a twitch of the muscle, and adjust to avoid the sensitive skin. He needs to hear the low growl of irritation when he finds it is near impossible to fulfill that goal.

Eventually, he awakens, with a different warmth radiating through him. A soft dance of fire tongues telekinetically licks his body to awareness, and he has been turned against a stone wall, so his eyes can adjust before witnessing its bright gyrations. Damien stretches out, feeling those bruises mumble a reminder they are there, and sits up, blinking sleepily. It still rains heavily outside, but the drops cannot reach him, no matter how they screech. Siber is sitting on the far wall, watching out of half-lidded eyes and idly stretching his wings from side to side.

"What happened?" the wolf asks quietly.

The boy looks into the fire and refuses to answer.

"Who hurt you?"

Individual embers gaily thrust themselves from the grip of the fire and blink out into death. "Kids at school," Damien mumbles, watching them.

"Why?"

"Because I'm weak." His voice is rolling a slush ball across a thinly frozen lake. The sound only lasts until either the support breaks, or the momentum disintegrates.

Siber watches carefully. "Why?" The fire releases tiny screams of happy pain as its fuel snaps, but perseveres, determined to feed it.

"I... don't know."

This is dangerous. Siber knows how dangerous this is. Graves recite to him every time he sees a child that this is dangerous. "Why?"

Damien turns to him and blinks expressionlessly. "Because I don't know."

Siber meets his gaze with unmoving amber. "Why?"

His voice is quieter, and more determined even though it threatens to choke. "Because I don't know."

"Why?"

"Because." The boy is slightly angrier. He doesn't understand why the wolf won't just hug him and tell him everything will be okay. "I don't. Know."

There's no hesitation. "Why?"

This time he shouts. "I don't know!" The cave walls growl their resentment at being called to respond, and then shiver silent.

Siber waits for the echoes to fade, and then resumes his stretches. "Why," he murmurs quietly over the crackle of the fire, "do you not know?"

Damien stares at him blankly, and then a slow smile curves across his face. "Why do you want to know?"

"Because I'm a curious individual."

"Why?"

"Because that's how I learn so much."

"Why?"

"Because I'm stubborn enough to always seek answers."

"Why?"

"Because I know I will get them."

"Why?"

"Past experiences tell me I will."

"Why?"

"They have all been successful."

"Why?"

"I'm very good at what I do."

"Why?"

"Lots of practice."

"Why?"

"So I could get this good."

"Why?"

"Because my son is dead because I didn't ask enough questions."

A sharp intake of breath is all that can be heard as Damien's ears, then cheeks and neck, flush deep red. Siber, meanwhile, tugs at one of his own wings with a disappointed frown, as though it has done something wrong. He looks Damien in the eyes, or tries to - the boy's silver will not meet him. "Do you have any more questions?"

The boy shakes his head "no."

"In that case, you should sleep. Relieve yourself outside, first; that is the reason your body awoke you. It is far too fatigued for it to be any other reason."

Damien starts to speak, like a fish out of water asking to drown again, but does as he is told. When he returns, he stands a quarter way around the fire from the wolf and stares at him, his arms crossed. "You didn't undress me this time."

"You were not as cold this time."

"You left me in wet clothes. I could get pneumonia."

"And I would share a part of your sorrow. Is there a point to your rambling?"

Damien's eyes seek the floor. "Can I... sleep in your arms?"

"No."

He is taken aback, then holds himself as though shivering. "Is it... because of what I asked you?"

"No." Siber blinks at him, honesty apparent in his eyes.

"Then..."

"The stone is warm by now from the fire. Let it hold you; remove your shirt if you wish, for direct contact." His features flicker from hardening to softening, to remaining static. "I know that is what you want."

"Stone... isn't... a human being."

Siber smiles warmly, wryly. "Neither am I." He cuts off the boy's protest. "Sleep. Your mother will not appreciate it if you are tired in the morning."

"My mother..." Damien's eyes become distant. After a moment's more hesitation, he starts towards the side of the fire he'd been on, and settles himself, curling into a ball, his back to the blaze. Siber watches for a few moments, until Damien's fatigue overtakes him, then walks over, kneels by him, and strokes the small back. Almost immediately, he feels the boy relax under his touch, and is paralyzed.

Too much. Too much. His heart melts, and freezes as a gust of cold wind pushes domineeringly over the flames. Reflexively, he spreads his wings to shield the boy, then lets out a small, helpless sound and with a frenzied look, dashes into the rain.

Too much. Too much. Rain shrieks with pleasure at a new pelt to penetrate; thunder grinds out its voluptuous hymns; lightning cackles and rapes the very earth. Meanwhile, the hearth within the cave calms itself, and sings a lullaby to the child sleeping in its warmth.