This Other Country (22 page)

Ben was apparently lost to his own thoughts, staring at the tor above them illuminated in moonlight. “This girl I love?” Nikolas locked his expression down, divulging nothing, and Ben continued, “I
don’t
want to meet her now. Not yet, anyway. I think I need to get this straight first.”

“This?”
Fuck it! Go away, Aleksey, you stupid baby!

Ben’s gaze lowered and fastened onto Nikolas.

Nikolas swallowed then ventured in as even a voice as he could conjure, “I think, in your own way, you’re beginning to remember what we are to each other. I said we were friends. We’ve been…
best friends
for over eight years, Ben. We’re very close. I want you to understand that I’m seeing this whole situation very differently to how you’re seeing it. I know a great deal about you—because you’ve told me these things. I don’t know what to do. I’m as lost in this as you.”

Ben’s eyes were enormous, green even in the darkness of the room. “Your best friend?”

Nikolas nodded.

“So you’re…” Ben frowned deeply. “You’re missing me as well?”

Nikolas swallowed and bit his lip, glancing away. Ben made a small noise and touched him very briefly on his leg. “I’m sorry. I’ve been thinking so much about me I didn’t think about how this has affected all of you.”

Nikolas kept his eyes lowered.

“But this is weird, yeah?”

It was Nikolas’s turn to frown, uncomprehendingly. Ben shrugged. “I mean, two guys, best friends, bit weird, yeah, but I get that, but…” A wave of his hand said it all. Nikolas semi-naked, Ben on the bed far too close to be just friends, the dark, the moonlight…

Nikolas began to laugh. Ben looked theatrically put out. “What? What did I say?”

Nikolas just shook his head and rose from the bed. “Benjamin? You have no idea.”

§ § §

Returned once more to his sparse room, Ben felt a sense of lightness he’d not felt since waking up confused and alone in a house in London he didn’t recognise. Sure, he didn’t recollect this room, either, but he knew Nikolas was only a little way from him, and Nikolas would be there in the morning. He lay down in the unfamiliar bed and thought about all they’d discussed that day. His mind was spinning with images. He wondered if he’d dream and, if he did, would his mind conjure a world it couldn’t remember? Could you dream someone else’s dreams? It felt as if he were living another Ben Rider’s life, so why not dream that Ben Rider’s dreams?

In the morning, he woke from a shocking, unbelievable dream fully erect and coming into the sheets. He cried out in the intensity of the release and the terrible shame of his desires, but when it was over and he was wrung out and shaking, fully awake, he could no longer remember the details or who’d been in that unreality with him.

He lay back and thought about the day to come. It was still dark through the glass roof above him. He suddenly had an extremely good idea.

He pulled on some jeans and a T-shirt and made his way to the kitchen. Radulf came over to greet him, dragging a filthy old piece of blanket. Ben frowned and rubbed the dog’s ears for a while, trying to remember something. He looked into the unseeing amber eyes. It was like having the worst case of déjà vu: everything just on the edges of his consciousness, just out of reach. He gave it up and concentrated on the task at hand.

He thought first about coffee, but for some reason, he just knew Nikolas didn’t drink it. He had once but now he didn’t—and why did that make him think about Radulf’s blanket again? He made tea instead. He chose some mugs, added sugar to his, because he did take sugar, regardless of what his boss claimed yesterday, and then found a packet of biscuits. He put the two mugs on a tray and threw on the biscuits then added a saucer so they could put the teabags on when fished out.

He carried the tray carefully along the walkway to the back rooms and quietly slipped into the bedroom. His boss was still asleep. He stood for a while, looking at him. He slept to one side of the bed, which was odd, given he could have spread out. It seemed incredibly strange, in his conscious thinking mind, to sit carefully cross-legged on the space alongside this man—but absolutely right deep down. He’d soon find out which of his body parts was lying to him.

§ § §

Nikolas woke, hoped he didn’t have to come back to consciousness at all, but then did and remembered it all, letting it hit him and wash him away once more with a pain he’d thought would kill him.

He’d once thought Ben dead.

This was almost worse. This was almost
worse
.

God help him, but this was almost worse.

He heard a faint sound and turned so quickly there was a, “Fuck. Careful,” and he was handed a mug, dripping with slopped tea. He sat up.

Ben narrowed his eyes. “Okay. I’m thinking head was right; this isn’t your usual wake up call.”

Nikolas put a hand out and stopped him moving away. “No. It is actually. I just wasn’t…” He regrouped with some visible effort. “You always bring me tea and the morning paper then go for a run.”

“Huh. You don’t come running, too?”

Nikolas gave him a winning smile. “Oh, no, never.” He’d just discovered the first advantage of your boyfriend forgetting you.

“Sorry, I didn’t see a paper.”

Nikolas didn’t intend for him to, either—he’d had them cancelled. Stills from the video would probably be appearing on the front pages. He’d cut off their subscription to Sky, too, and added passwords to all the computers in the house. He just shrugged. “It’s probably just late. Don’t worry.” He went to take a sip of tea and saw the teabag rising through the murky liquid. Ben saw the direction of his gaze, apologised, took the mug off him, fished the bag out with his fingers and handed the mug back. He began to drink his own tea, squishing the bag further down so it was out of the way. He wrinkled his nose and peered at the brown liquid. “Ugh. Sugar. That’s disgusting. Huh.”

He ripped open the packet of biscuits, and around a large mouthful confessed, “So, I was thinking, maybe if you know so much about me,” he swallowed, so he wasn’t spitting crumbs anymore, “Maybe you could tell me some stuff—not this heavy crap you don’t want me to know, but simple things, like, I don’t know, what do I like to eat now?” Nikolas was watching him, his thoughts studiously veiled. “What did I say?”

“Oh, it wasn’t what you were saying. Never mind. Like to eat? Anything. That’s what you like. Anything. Everything.”

Ben frowned. “Oh. No change there then. What else…? What do I like to do?”

Nikolas contemplated the glass ceiling for a moment then replied, “The same things I like to do.”

“That’s good then.”

Nikolas rummaged in his bedside drawer for a moment. Ben appeared intrigued and slightly worried, but Nikolas only came out with a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Ben pursed his lips. “You smoke?”

“Oh, yes. I have for years.”

“It’s not good for you.”

Nikolas raised his eyebrows. “You’ve never objected before. In fact, I think you like me smoking. So, what do you want to do today?”

“Er…don’t you have to work?”

Nikolas was confused by this idea for a moment but then shook his head. “I thought we could perhaps go riding.”

“Horses? I don’t know how to ride.”

“Actually, you do. Now. I taught you.”

“Oh. Well, yes, then. Now?”

Nikolas scrunched his face around a long drag of his cigarette, contemplating the man in his bed. “It’s still dark. It’s…ah, five a.m. How nice.”

Ben winced and glanced at the clock, as if he didn’t believe time had betrayed him as well as memory. “Oh. Sorry. It seemed later. I’ll go…do something then. Until you’re up…”

Nikolas didn’t point out the obvious. He’d been hiding the obvious discreetly under the sheet throughout their conversation.

§ § §

They rode up through the grounds together, the early morning, autumn light slanting through the ancient oaks. Nikolas wondered which of them was feeling the dislocation and confusion more. He’d put his money on it being him. Ben didn’t remember. He did.

Ben was staring around, riding easily, loose in the saddle, his body clearly recalling things his mind didn’t. Nikolas wondered idly what would happen if he took Ben down to the soft moorland grass and did the things he wanted to him. Would Ben’s body respond to that hard penetration, even while his mind rejected it?

They rode slowly until they reached a high point where a smooth valley between two tors allowed them to give their horses free rein. Nikolas closed his eyes for strength for one moment then suggested, “Race?”

Ben grinned. “Winner takes all?”

Nikolas nodded, although he knew Ben couldn’t mean what that usually did between them. Ben suddenly kicked his horse to life. Nikolas laughed. Ben had never once
not
cheated in any race they’d had. He’d let Ben get a head start and then casually beat him. That’s just the way they were together. He never let Ben beat him in anything. He knew Ben would want that if he could remember.

He galloped his horse alongside Ben’s, nudging him slightly with his thigh so Ben was badly placed to take a jump across the remnant of Drake’s Leat, which crossed this part of the moors. Ben’s horse predictably faltered, so Nikolas, taking the jump cleanly, pulled easily ahead. He heard Ben swearing and then they were close again. The finish line was approaching—a wall built centuries ago by French prisoners of war with a gap in which only one horse could pass through at a time. First one through won.

Nikolas was through a couple of lengths ahead of Ben and slowed his horse, urging her in circles in triumph. He swung one leg up over her neck and slid gracefully to the ground. Ben reined in and copied him, although dismounting more traditionally. They were both panting and laughing. Nikolas’s horse swung her head and nudged him hard, and he was pushed toward Ben. He caught her and fished in his pocket for her treat then offered one to Ben’s horse. This brought them closer still. Nikolas could sense some emotion pouring off Ben at the same rate as the heat from his body—but frustratingly not what it was. Ben was staring around at the moors, which stretched in every direction, smooth, undulating green and golden brown broken only by rocky outcrops. He suddenly turned to Nikolas, his eyes alight. “I feel…I feel happy.” He chuckled. “Isn’t that weird?—considering.”

“It’s this place.”

Ben shook his head. “Maybe. But that’s only part of it. It’s…something else.” He suddenly huffed and brushed at Nikolas’s chest. “Mud.”

Nikolas took a sharp intake of breath, and Ben snatched his hand away.

§ § §

Later that day, Ben discovered Squeezy and the other man, Tim, had returned to London. He was alone in the house with his boss now, which was fine, except he was having a hard time working out what it was he actually did. Nikolas didn’t give him any jobs to do, and there didn’t appear to be any actual guarding needing doing. He was free to roam around and amuse himself. He found himself gravitating to wherever Nikolas was and finally tracked him down in the study, which was part of his boss’s private suite at the back of the vast house, a book-lined extension of the bedroom. Nikolas was talking on the phone, tapping restlessly on his desk with a pen. He didn’t appear to have heard anyone come in, so not wanting to interrupt, Ben sat quietly in the bedroom, waiting. He couldn’t hear what was being said on the other end of the call, but Nikolas snapped, “Did you check his offices?” Then, after a pause, “No! He fucking injected me with something. He knew what was going on. I want him found.” Again, whoever was on the other end of the call spoke rapidly, but Nikolas interjected, “There were other actors—in the pub. Find them, and find out who was paying them and how. We follow the money trail.” He put the handset down and ran his fingers through his hair.

Ben stood up uncertainly.

Nikolas swung around. “Ben?” He glanced at the telephone. “Fuck.”

Swiftly, Nikolas stood and came toward Ben, taking his arm. “Are you all right?”

Ben was thinking, but whatever it was that would make everything make sense was just out of his reach and stayed tantalisingly distant. He toed the carpet for a while. “Strange charity you run.”

Nikolas nodded. “But you’re okay?”

“What were you talking about? Was that about me?”

“Not directly. Are you hungry? Do you want to go out to eat tonight?”

Ben immediately changed tack and nodded happily. As he was leaving to change, he asked, confused, “Do we go out to eat together often?”

Nikolas chuckled. “That I will tell you. Yes—you definitely can’t cook.”

§ § §

It was tricky for Nikolas deciding which restaurant would most likely spark safe memories for Ben and which might bring on more troubling ones. Some of the places they went, Ben had also gone with his newly discovered family, the Redvers, and as they’d subsequently tried to murder him, Nikolas wanted to avoid those now, although Ben didn’t find them troublesome to revisit normally. In the end, he drove them into Exeter to a new bistro that had only just opened in the Cathedral Close and they’d been planning to visit but hadn’t gotten around to. Safe. Neutral.

After they’d ordered, they had some time to wait for the food to arrive. They usually amused themselves by arguing—Nikolas being irritating and Ben rising it to until he realised he was being had and then retaliating by using the intimate knowledge he had of things Nikolas would prefer not to talk about. Now Nikolas was at something of loss. Every subject seemed fraught with danger. He could have saved himself the trouble of trying to think up a topic to introduce when Ben asked, “Do you have a girlfriend—being divorced, an’ all?”

Nikolas drank his wine quickly and ordered another bottle. The three-glass limit was being temporarily suspended. “Not currently.” Before the conversation spiralled down into things he didn’t want to discuss, he announced, “I’m going back to London tomorrow. I want you to stay here. Rest. Relax.”

“No, I need to come with you. What kind of bloody bodyguard am I if I stay here?”

“A sick one at the moment.”