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Guts didn’t know why he was standing outside of Casca’s tent at the moment. Was he going to say sorry for getting her hurt? No, absolutely not. It wasn’t his fault she took that dart that was maybe meant for him. She’d decided that on her own, and besides, he was bigger than her, so whatever had been on the dart wouldn’t have affected him as much. So over all it was HER fault, not his.
Still… it was kind of his fault that the assassin had even been able to line up any shots at all as he had sort of gone against the plan…
Bah, whatever. Guilt had never gotten him anywhere, why would he start feeling bad about things now? Guts was about to walk away, as even if he did want to talk to the lady commander for some reason, not even to say sorry or something, she was probably still asleep, or at the very least resting. He heard a faint moan from inside the tent.
No one else was around and Guts quickly weighed his options. If he went and got someone else it could take too long and she could be in trouble, or it could be no trouble and by helping he’d lessen her wrath.
Mind made up, he entered the tent to be met with a… sight.
Casca had kicked off the blankets and was drenched with sweat, her shirt was off and she was struggling with her pants. Against his will, or so he would tell anyone, he was met with an eye-full of her breasts and toned body, and nearly cursed her for being such a waste of a beauty. She made another noise of frustration and he realized she must be coming down with a fever.
The medic had said she’d seemed fine, and it was the wound on her arm that they would need to keep an eye on, as the dart didn’t seem to be laced with anything lethal, but what if he’d been wrong? Guts had seen it before, a slow acting poison, or because of her stature it would be lethal. Or her arm wound had become infected. He came closer and placed a hand on her forehead. Yup, she was burning up. Before he could stand up again and go get help, her eyes flashed open.
“Guts?” she asked, confusion plain, “What are you doing…”
Before she could get mad at him or notice her state of undress, he tried to back away again. She stopped him with a tight grip on his wrist.
“I feel so… strange.”
Guts was at a loss. “You got injured in the last skirmish, do you remember that?”
She furrowed her brow. “Yes, I remember that. I was so mad at you…”
Great, here he was, ready for another lecture. Like a lamb to the slaughter.
“But now…” she trailed off and frowned, “I’m still frustrated but not… could you come closer?”
Guts complied for reasons he wasn’t sure of. Perhaps it was how inviting her arms looked, he could almost forget to whom they belonged to. Perhaps it was concern for her health, but whatever the reason he kneeled back down next to her and let her use him to sit up.
“I just want–” she mumbled the next words, but looked shocked by something. She started to try and take her pants off again, and Guts remembered her state of undress.
“Casca, stop that, I’m right here.”
“I’m too hot though,” she protested.
“I go get you some water then.” Guts tried to stand up yet again only for Casca’s grip to become stronger.
“Don’t go.”
“What the hell Casca?!” he exclaimed, “What’re you being so needy for?”
She must be sick or something. Still, she certainly had the strength of someone who was fine. “I’m going to try something,” was all she said. She pushed herself up more onto him and gazed unfocused into his eyes. Her eyes were so dark… They were something he thought about sometimes. Bewitched by her gaze, he wasn’t fast enough to stop her when she tried to kiss him.
The damage was done. Not sure what he was doing, he kissed her back, growing more wanting as their inexperienced lips met. She held him close, and he pulled her closer. By the time she was pulling on his shirt something snapped in him to pull away.
He pushed her away with some roughness, and avoided looking at her. He was feeling the consequencing of it all, and it was making it hard to think. His blood was not wanting to go to his brain. “Casca, what are you–?”
“I was getting closer,” she practically moaned. “Why did you–”
He pushed her off him again. His self control was waning. Why shouldn’t he sleep with Casca? She clearly was wanting him, and he wanted her. Really, if he were to just do it wouldn’t they both be in a less frustrated state?
Except Casca was clearly not herself. He dared glance at her again and caught her unfocused eyes. Though hazed with lust, she lacked a spark of vitality and defiance that he’d grown to respect. She wasn’t herself.
Even with that knowledge, his body had now found a path it badly wanted to tread. The murmuring of some men outside kicked him into sense. Anyone could walk in, just as he had! There wasn’t any privacy.
Still, Casca persisted. “Guts? C’mon, let’s continue.”
He scrambled back and stuck his hand in a bucket of water. Water. He emptied the bucket on her to her surprise.
She squealed in a strange way, but did stop her insistence.
“Cooled off now?” he asked.
“Mmm, could you do that again?” she asked, “What I wanted before was good, but this also…”
Sheesh, was she so fickle? He was comparable to a bucket of water? Still, it only confirmed his thoughts that he shouldn’t take advantage. Either the fever or the poison was still affecting her.
“Put on your clothes properly and I will.”
“You’re no fun.”
Still, she struggled with her clothes. He took pity on her and helped her with her shirt. The sooner her breasts were out of the sight, the sooner he could at least try and show some self discipline.
He stood with the bucket and decided to do as she wanted. It was all, in a way, sort of his fault. As he walked through camp, he ignored the, albeit good natured, teasing of the band of the hawk. He’d been called worse things than ‘errand boy.’
When he finally came back, Casca seemed more herself. He was tempted to splash her again, but she only grabbed a few cloths to dip and then place on the back of her neck.
“Are you yourself again?” he asked.
She was slow to respond, but finally said, “I think you should leave. Please tell everyone I’m not to be disturbed.” Guts stood to leave, glad she was back to her senses, at least partially. Before he left she said, “And could you check on me tomorrow? To make sure…”
To make sure she didn’t try to jump someone else? He finished in his mind. “I’ll try.” was all he said. He finally left and after telling a few key people Casca’s request, decided to go and train until he couldn’t feel his arms. Women. Couldn’t live with them, couldn’t live without them. He was starting to understand that phrase.
…
The next morning, Guts held to his word and checked on Casca. She was still sleeping when he called to her, so he let himself in. She roused soon after that and tried to sweep his feet from under him and stab him.
Ah, so she was back to normal.
She got as far as knocking him off his feet before he grabbed her wrist and broke her hold on the knife. “Strange way of thanking me.”
“What for? Did I ask you to come into my tent ever?” she shot back, venom full in her voice.
“You don’t remember?” he asked, “Yesterday?”
“Yesterday…?” Casca trailed off, she glanced away from him suddenly. Her aggression dropped slightly. “And what did I ask of you?”
“That no one bother you and for me to check on you,” he answered, he was concerned despite himself. Her mind was what made her valuable to Griffth, if she were to start losing it… “Do you not remember?”
She shook her head, dropping her eyes to look at her hands. “I’m having trouble telling what was dream and what was real.”
“Do you want me to tell you… or... “ It was Guts’ turn to be embarrassed. He didn’t want to talk about how she made him feel sometimes, and he was sure she didn’t want to hear it.
“No. I think I’ll be fine. Thank you.” She rested her forehead on her fists. “I’m feeling much better today. The poison must be out of my system.”
Guts nodded. “I’ll be on my way then.”
She frowned and nodded as well. He was almost out of the tent when she asked hesitantly, “I didn’t kiss you, did I?”
Guts groaned internally. Really? She was asking this now? Did she even want to know?
“Of course I didn’t,” she answered herself when he was slow to respond, “Why would I do that?”
He wanted to lie. He wanted to make it easier on her. But part of him didn’t. Would a lie be any easier?
“You tried to,” he finally decided. It was the truth. The fact that he had kissed her back for at least a little bit didn’t need to be said.
She was quite and he avoided looking at her. He was expecting her to respond with disgust or anger, but what she said next was neither. “I’m sorry,” she apologized, “I know you don’t like people touching you and–”
“You weren’t yourself.” He waved her off. “Besides, I’m still a man, aren’t I?”
“Those sorts of things shouldn’t be forced.”
He didn’t like where this was going. “All I meant was nothing happened.”
She nodded once. Her mask of indifference fell back on, and it was almost as if he’d imagined it. “You may leave.”
You may leave, he mocked in his head. Like he would listen to her. Still, he left without another word. Their tentative comradery was once more intact and Guts didn’t want to have to fight with her for another week because of something actually stupid.
As he walked away, as much as he wanted to forget it all, he really couldn’t. A smile worked its way to his face. He didn’t know why, but he felt strangely happy about the whole situation. Terribly confused, but ultimately happy. Maybe I’m the one going mad, he wondered.