(no subject)

[nottheboss]

It's late at night. The corridors aren't quiet; they're full of men and women restlessly trying to sleep in their quarters. Bossie should be one of them. But instead he slips barefoot down the hallway to Carver's room, where he knocks.

"Hey, man, you up?"

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[fortitudosalutis]

"Louis," Carver repeats, charmed by that. He holds Kali between them as she stirs, chirping and wiggling in his hands. Already, she's nosing instinctively at Bossie. Seeking out food and warmth. A fighter, Carver thinks. She doesn't ever lay down and die. "Still every two hours. Guess it helps I don't sleep much."

Exhaustion's something he lives with now. He does his job, though. Pope's got him back on full duty now. And why wouldn't he? The wounds Carver took healed up without trouble. There's no a bruise left on him now.

[nottheboss]

"Yeah that's...that's why I'm here," Bossie admits, looking up at Carver. "You get some sleep. I'll keep watch. I'll take care of Kali."

[fortitudosalutis]

Oh, Carver thinks, quiet for a moment as he process that thought through the exhaustion. The kitten nuzzles against Bossie's fingers, starting to squeak in earnest.

"You don't have to," Carver replies, softer. "I got paperwork I'm doing, anyway."

[nottheboss]

"No paperwork," Bossie shakes his head. "I'm here to let you sleep." He looks up at him, Reaches up, squeezes Carver's shoulder. "Sleep. I'll be here. I'll keep it all together."

[fortitudosalutis]

It's meant as a kindness. He knows that even as he stiffens and jerks back a step, tucking Kali to his chest. Don't, Carver almost says, except that's a fucking sin.

He twitches and looks away. Kali cries, fully awake now.

"....sorry," he murmurs, tucking Kali under his chin. "I'm sorry. I can't right now, David."

[nottheboss]

The cat's crying. Carver is drawing away, stung. He didn't mean for this to happen.

"What's wrong?" He asks, his voice quiet, hurt.

[fortitudosalutis]

"Shh, Kali," Carver tries, rocking her, but she only cries louder and bites his chin. It wasn't supposed to go like this. And now Bossie's giving him that look, quiet and hurt. "I just - I can't right now. I can't."

He can't touch people. It makes him tense up and remember ill things.

[nottheboss]

He doesn't' understand. Not all of it. But he thinks he's getting a view of it now. Why Pope pulled Carver off the line for so long.

"I just want you to sleep," he says softly. "That's all. I'll take care of Kali. You sleep. You can lie down right? Just there, in bed? I won't even be near you."

[fortitudosalutis]

It's a sin to flinch, to talk back. To show any kind of weakness in front of his own men. Hasn't Pope built up this trust in him? Given him time and patience and the kitten?

"I -"

Carver shivers. Kali only wails louder.

"Okay," he manages. It's the logical thing. Everyone needs to sleep. And maybe he ought to kick Bossie out, tell him to get some sleep and be ready for morning training, but then he'd be alone.

[nottheboss]

There's a fracture there and he feels bad leaning on it. But he can also tell how this night goes if he doesn't.

He holds out his hands. "Let me feed her," he urges. "You just lie down. Rest."

[fortitudosalutis]

Carver closes his eyes tight, then forces himself to straighten. To breathe, and cradle Kali safely in his hands. She's only a baby still, such a small thing, frail in some ways. But she's named for a goddess and Pope deemed her strong. That has to be enough, doesn't it? And Bossie wouldn't hurt her. Bossie's the best of his students, gentle with the kittens.

It's fine.

Carver hands her over reluctantly, stepping back once Bossie has her. "Make sure she's warm," he murmurs. "She gets cold...."

[nottheboss]

Bossie tucks her up against his chest and croons to her--pigeon sounds, but cats like pigeons, too.

"I'll take good care of her." And you, he doesn't say, but it's implied in the way he looks at Carver.

He gets the bottle ready, feeds Kali while he takes a seat at Carver's desk. "You want me to stay closer to you or over here?"

Bossie has trouble falling asleep if anyone is too close to him; but then he has trouble staying asleep without the weight of another person beside him. He doesn't sleep much, as a result.

[fortitudosalutis]

There’s no reason not to trust Bossie here. He’s one of Carver’s soldiers, trained and tested, and he’s kind when he has the chance to be. Korengal and the work that followed couldn’t break Bossie of that habit. Maybe it’s something inherent to him, that the world hasn’t yet been able to quash. He’s good to the cats. Sometimes he likes to point out birds to Carver and the others, brightening up whenever they don’t immediately shoot him down.

He won’t hurt Kali.

Carver scrubs at his face, then breathes out and lies down on his side on the mattress. He’s not allowed to keep knives on hand when he’s sleeping anymore, to say nothing of his sidearm. “There’s fine,” he murmurs, closing his eyes. He’d prefer having someone closer but he can’t ask Bossie to do that. Not when Carver’s nightmares so often swing violent.

[nottheboss]

Carver doesn't check under his pillow or at his side table for a weapon, and Bossie realizes he doesn't have one. It's alarming to think about--Carver sleeping here unprotected. When did that happen?

He finishes feeding Kali and cleans her up, then just holds her against his chest, keeping her warm while he watches over Carver. Maybe he'll sleep quiet for once. Maybe. He hums a lullabye, just in case.

[fortitudosalutis]

Carver covers his face with his arm, eyes closed tight. He can hear Kali drinking, attacking the bottle with everything she’s got, and then her quiet grumbling as Bossie attends her. It’s quiet, soothing in a way. Carver curls tighter into himself, slowing his breathing down deliberately. Just go to fucking sleep, he orders himself.

Eventually, he does. Exhaustion drags him under. But the nightmares twist through him before long, leaving him shaking and biting at his hands.

[nottheboss]

He knows when they start. He's familiar with Carver's sleep, enough that he doesn't move to touch him right away. "Carver," he says. And then louder, "Brandon!"

[fortitudosalutis]

It doesn’t work immediately. Carver just curls tighter into himself, shielding his head, biting down on his hand to muffle the noise. The enemy comes faceless, in shadows, holding him down with a grip like iron.

He jerks himself awake, scrabbling for a weapon that isn’t there, and nearly pitches himself off the mattress. “Fuck!”

[nottheboss]

"Hey, hey," Bossie sets Kali in her basket and reaches out to help Carver steady himself. "It's okay. We're safe."

[fortitudosalutis]

Sometimes in moments like this, Carver thinks he’s having a heart attack. That it doesn’t matter he’s still pretty goddamn young, his heart is pounding itself out of his chest and everything hurts, especially to breathe, and something has to give.

He shudders, digging his nails into the mattress. “I didn’t—did I hurt you?” Carver hisses. He can’t remember if he swung at Bossie or not.

[nottheboss]

"No, we're good." He sits on the edge of the bed, watching Carver. "It's okay. Breathe, remember? It helps. Just breathe."

[fortitudosalutis]

Breathe. You aren’t dying, you aren’t lost. Carver digs his nails into his knees, heart still pounding, his skull aching under the weight of the dream and the exhaustion that came before it. What was it that Pope told him? Count the blue things. Name them.

He breathes; too sharp, too shaky.

“Uh, fuck. Kali okay?” he tries.

[nottheboss]

"Yeah," he reaches over and picks her up again and she mewls in alarm. "Do you want to hold her? Hold her and breathe, just focus on being calm for her, okay?"

There are times that's the only thing that gets Bossie to calm down: because he's doing it for someone else.

[fortitudosalutis]

“Uh huh,” Carver manages, realizing only belatedly that his hand is throbbing. He bit himself hard enough to draw blood. But he holds his hands out for Kali, swallowing hard.

You have to be careful with the kittens. You can’t hold them too tight.

[nottheboss]

"Easy," Bossie urges, and sets her delicately in his hands. He sees the blood then and ducks into the bathroom, gets the first aid kit and comes back. "Let me see...?"

[fortitudosalutis]

“Hi, baby,” he murmurs, rubbing her gently with his fingers. She cries, distressed, and Carver starts to tuck her under his chin, going still. He holds her carefully, suddenly dumbstruck. “One of her eyes is open,” he murmurs, staring at her.

The left eye is open, a bright baby blue. She can see him.