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"Would you please sit down? You are going to pace a hole in the floor, and drive me to insanity besides." Yaelle folded her arms, leaning against the wall of Fortemps Manor, her features set in an unusually grim expression.
"S-sorry," Toren stuttered. With jerky movements, he made his way over to the chair that had been dragged into the hallway and lowered himself into it. He clenched his fists in the hem of his overshirt. Despite pacing for… he wasn't quite sure how long exactly, but apparently enough to get Yaelle annoyed with him, he hadn't managed to burn off any of the nervous energy that seemed to fill his every extremity. It burned under his skin, demanding an outlet. He couldn't fault her for snapping at him, though; she surely felt the same way, with her commander on the other side of the closed door they were both facing.
If it were any other situation, he would be running out into the city, or even all the way to the Western Highlands, looking for monsters to slay, materials to gather, even petty deliveries to make. Anything would do, as long as he could thoroughly exhaust himself doing it. But at this moment, he couldn't bear to be anywhere else but here. Not when Haurchefant was on the other side of that door, fighting for his life. Not when it was all Toren's fault.
He was undeserving, both of the titles that others had bestowed upon him and of the sacrifices that so many had already made for his sake. First the Scions, and now Haurchefant. The Echo aside, why were they so insistent on protecting him, at so great a cost? What could they possibly see in him, that was worth giving up their own lives in their minds? Why had he been so careless, to not have seen the possibility of attack, and put himself in a position for Haurchefant to take a lethal blow?
Thankfully, Haurchefant had not given his life up quite yet, or at least he had not when Toren had last seen him as he was being rushed away by the Fortemps chirurgeon and white mage. He was barely holding on, only the thinnest strand of aether tethering his soul to the living world, but he was still alive. Toren had never been especially religious, but as the hours had stretched with no news whatsoever on his friend's condition, he had offered up stilted prayers in his mind to nearly every god he could think of, begging them to keep him alive if it were within their power. He had barely been able to keep himself together after the loss of his friends in Ul'dah. To lose someone as warm, as caring, as close as Haurchefant had been to him… Toren was sure it would break him entirely.
His head shot upwards at the sound of a door opening, and he was on his feet before he could even think when he saw the House Fortemps chirurgeon emerge. The man's face was neutral, inscrutable, and Toren felt a sudden wave of panic bubbling up, pushing words from his mouth. "Is he going to be alright?!" he nearly shouted, then clamped his mouth shut, his cheeks burning in embarrassment.
The second between the chirurgeon's lips opening and him speaking seemed like an eternity. "Lord Haurchefant will live," he said.
As the words hung in the air, Toren felt as if an invisible string keeping him upright had been suddenly cut. His legs suddenly went weak, his tail and ears falling limply in relief, but he managed to stay standing.
"His wound was grave, but since the bleeding was stopped early, we were able to take our time and repair the damage to the best of our abilities," the chirurgeon continued.
Toren closed his eyes, overcome with emotion. It had been him who had poured every potion of healing he was carrying onto Haurchefant's wound, used up every residual bit of his scant healing magic that he had learned from his sister, unable to not at least try to keep his friend from bleeding out on the Vault floor despite his companion's protests. The fucking archbishop and his fucking airship could wait. They could think themselves safe for now, but Toren would not let them stay secure for long. It was worth the extra trouble it would take to hunt them down. If he had just left Haurchefant there and hadn't even tried to save him, he wouldn't have been able to live with himself. And knowing that what he had done had actually helped to keep his friend alive… if he never killed a Primal again, if no one ever called him the savior of Eorzea again, he would have at least accomplished one thing in this world more meaningful than all of that.
"May I… May I see him?" he asked, hands trembling at his sides. It was all he could do to stop himself from shoving past the man and bursting into the room. Only the fact that he was a guest in Haurchefant's family home, and that he had nothing against the healers who had saved his life, held him back, but the frantic need to see his friend's face grew ever larger with each second that passed.
"You may," said the chirurgeon. "I'm afraid there won't be much to do with him, though. He's no longer under magical sedation, but he is fast asleep."
"I don't care about that," Toren said, determined. "I… I need to see him."
Yaelle stood up straight from her position against the wall, her expression nearly unchanged from the last several hours, but the set of her shoulders was immensely more relieved. "I must report back to Camp Dragonhead with the news of his condition," she said. "F'toren, will you be staying?" When Toren nodded, she inclined her head in acknowledgement. "I will be off right away, then. Pray contact me if anything changes." She strode off, and Toren turned toward the door. He was more than ready to see his friend, to confirm with his own eyes that he was truly well.
The Fortemps white mage was still in the room when Ten entered, pulling the blankets up over Haurchefant's prone form. His heart seemed to stop for just a moment, before he saw the movement of his friend’s chest as he breathed slowly in and out. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t believed the chirurgeon’s words, but something about seeing it for himself made the relief of it more real in his mind. Haurchefant was truly alive.
"He's in stable condition," said the white mage, stepping away from the bed as she completed her ministrations. "But his body is bound to be exhausted from the healing. He'll likely be asleep for quite some time."
Toren nodded. “I’m just… glad to know he has been healed.” He looked past the mage at the bed where his friend slept. “If it’s alright, I’d like to stay here. At least until he wakes up.”
The white mage shrugged. “That’s fine with me. He shouldn’t need anything until he wakes, but if he seems distressed at all, just let me know.” She left the room, leaving Toren alone as she gently closed the door behind her.
Toren sighed as he made his way across the room and settled in the chair next to the bed. Haurchefant was alive. He was going to be alright. So why did Toren still feel such a piercing ache in his heart at the sight of him?
Over the next full day, Toren could not bring himself to leave his sleeping friend's side. Haurchefant's father and brothers all came in at various times, assuring Toren that he could do whatever he wished and that he would be informed straight away if Haurchefant awoke, but he refused to move from the bedside chair. At one point Alphinaud had come in, his usual personality subdued as he relayed the news of the archbishop’s flight to the Sea of Clouds, but Toren barely heard him. He kept his eyes fixed on his friend's peaceful expression, his softly parted lips, the soft rise and fall of his chest under the blankets. The constant reassurances that Haurchefant was, in fact, still alive were all that kept him from falling apart completely.
It was well into the night, with Toren's eyelids feeling heavy and about to close of their own accord regardless of his desire to stay awake, when his consciousness was abruptly jerked back into full wakefulness by the sound of the sheets rustling. He blinked rapidly, hoping that he wasn't hallucinating the sight before him. Haurchefant was moving underneath the blanket, his brow furrowing in the soft candlelight.
"Haurchefant!" A burst of adrenaline filled his whole body as he watched his friend's eyes flutter open, and his heart seized as he let out a pained grunt. "Are you alright? Does anything hurt? Should I call the chirurgeon?"
Haurchefant shifted his body to face him, eyes softening as they met Toren's. He took a few breaths, moistening his cracked lips with his tongue before opening them to speak. "I must confess... I expected to see Halone herself... when I awoke," Haurchefant said, barely above a whisper, somewhat labored breaths separating his words. "Though your face is… no less lovely a sight."
Hot tears stung at the corners of Toren's eyes. How could this… ridiculous man still say such things at a time like this? "I couldn't let you wake up alone. Not after…" he swallowed, the words catching in his throat. "Not after what you did for me."
"Please… do not look at me… so sadly," Haurchefant said. "Did I not say… a smile would suit you better?"
"What are you saying," Toren mumbled, wiping furiously at his eyes. "You're the one who… who…" The lump in his throat blocked the rest of the words as he steadfastly avoided his friend's gaze.
Haurchefant was quiet until Toren had managed to pull himself together somewhat, looking up at him with concern in his clear blue eyes. "My friend… I am glad beyond measure… to see you safe," he said. "But surely… you have more important places to be… than my bedside?"
Toren shook his head violently. "Nothing is more important than you."
As soon as the words left his mouth, he bit his lip hard. He hadn't meant to let something like that slip out, but at the same time, he couldn't fully regret saying it. It was the truth, after all. Haurchefant's unending kindness, his compliments, had all touched Toren's heart, and he was only just beginning to see just how profound of a touch it was. Though he had cared deeply for the other Scions as friends, and wouldn't do them the disservice of lessening the pain he felt at their loss, his feelings for Haurchefant were something different.
A sudden clarity washed over him as Haurchefant reached out, his hand settling over Toren's where he gripped at the knees of his trousers. It was warm, and gentle, and alive, and the warmth seemed to shoot up his arm and settle into his chest, setting his heart racing.
Oh, so it was love, he thought, somewhat dazed at the rush of cool understanding through his being. But surely now wasn’t the right time to bring it up, was it? Haurchefant had nearly died. Toren’s feelings would only be one more burden on him. He chanced a look at the man in question, and his heartbeat sped up impossibly further at the look in his eyes. No, he would have to set this aside for now. There was no way he could say the words when he was being looked at so tenderly.
“You flatter me,” Haurchefant said, lips curving in a soft smile. “But what of… the archbishop? Did he escape?”
Toren’s eyes fell to the floor. “Yes,” he said. “He’s headed to the Sea of Clouds in his airship. But Haurchefant, it doesn’t matter what kind of lead he has. I’m going to hunt him down and make him pay for… for what he did to you.” His free hand clenched into a fist, nails digging into his palm.
“You should… go after him,” Haurchefant said, his grip tightening on Toren’s hand. “Though I’d much prefer you… at my side, it is where… you are needed.”
Toren squeezed his eyes shut. As much as he wanted to insist otherwise, Haurchefant was right. Now that he was awake and sure to recover, Toren had no more excuses to stay at his bedside, as much as he wished he could. "Will you be here? When I get back?"
Haurchefant's lips twisted into a wry grimace. "I expect it may be… quite some time before… I am back on my feet," he said. "Which is to say… yes, I will be here." He squeezed Toren's hand. "Pray return to me… safe and hale, my dearest."
Toren waited for the "friend" that usually came after "dearest", and his heart skipped a beat in his chest when he realized it hadn't been spoken. He felt heat rush to his cheeks at the implication. He knew he shouldn’t get his hopes up, that such statements were just the way his friend was, but at the same time, he had never actually heard him call anyone else such an intimate name. He glanced at Haurchefant, whose expression had softened again, and abruptly looked away, sure his face was on fire now. Ugh, he couldn’t think straight when Haurchefant was looking at him that way. He should probably just leave now, before he made an absolute fool of himself.
“Alright,” he said. “I’ll… I’ll be off then.” He moved to stand up from the chair, knees protesting after being seated for most of the day, only to be stopped by a tug at his hand.
“Surely you don’t… mean to leave at this late hour?” Haurchefant said, frowning as Toren turned to look at him again. “Forgive me for saying… so bluntly, but my dear, I can see you have not rested.”
“I…” Toren trailed off. Now that Haurchefant mentioned it, his body did feel rather heavy, the shock to his system from his friend’s awakening rapidly fading and leaving him feeling even more drained than before. Besides, Alphinaud and Tataru were likely already asleep themselves, and he wasn’t about to wake them when they wouldn’t be able to make progress for hours regardless. “I suppose you’re right.”
Haurchefant nodded. “Rest is important. And it would… put me at ease, to be assured that you are in your best form… on your quest.”
Toren looked away, suddenly awash in guilt. “I… it wasn’t important. I just needed to see that… that you’re alright.”
“Toren.” He looked back at the uncharacteristic sound of his name, and his body tensed at the stern expression on Haurchefant’s face. “Please. Take your rest now, and leave on the morrow. I would not see you harmed due to fatigue.” He let go of Toren’s hand, slowly pulling back the blanket and patting the empty half of the bed gently. “Come, my dearest. There is space enough for the both of us here.”
Toren blinked, his thoughts grinding to a halt as he processed Haurchefant’s words. Was he really asking…? Mind in disarray, he opened his mouth to respond twice before words came out. “H-huh? I- I’m sure I can find a guest room somewhere… I mean, the chirurgeon might… What if I kick you in my sleep and hurt you?” He stumbled over his words in his sudden panic, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. Surely it was loud enough for Haurchefant to hear. The thought only stoked the flush on his face hotter, but the calm smile on his friend’s lips stayed steady.
“There is more than enough room here… and nothing to worry about. Besides, I would like to… see you off in the morning, if you would permit it.”
“I…” Toren opened his mouth to protest, only to be interrupted by his own yawn. He blinked his eyes slowly afterwards, frowning at the amused look on Haurchefant’s face, but unable to do anything to refute it. The bed did look rather soft and tempting… he relented. “If you’re sure it’s alright.”
“Oh, believe me, it is more than alright,” Haurchefant said, his words tinged with his sweet laughter. “I daresay my dreams… will be even sweeter with you beside me.”
Toren did his best to ignore the heat flaring in his own face, carefully making his way to the other side of the bed and climbing under the blanket. It was even softer than he had imagined it would be, and his eyelids were already closing before his head even settled on the pillow. The last thing he saw before his consciousness faded completely was Haurchefant’s face, smiling, blue eyes just as tired as his own, but full of affection and beautifully alive.