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Nathan creeps into camp 3b, an intruder in his own home. He's been gone for a week - it's the hunters' fault when he thinks about it (because everything always is) since he would've returned much sooner had he run into some already. Nathan always returns after a kill because he needs to add their stones to his pile. Now, the opposing feelings of anger and relief at the week's outcome are squaring off to each other. Nathan puts his head into his hands and squeezes as if that will dispel them.
The sound of pine needles softening footfall announces Gabriel's visit long before he appears in front of Nathan. Nathan has sunk down onto his knees at this point. This close to the forest floor, he can smell the pine needle's fresh, strangely powerful scent. Nathan watches Gabriel's boots stop in front of him.
"I was wounded not lost." He says automatically, getting it over with.
"Ah, not quite right. I speak first."
Nathan doesn't reply. He doesn't move from where he kneels and he can sense Gabriel's gaze on him, tangling in his hair and running along his hunched back. With a sickening jolt, Nathan thinks that Gabriel must be checking for blood or chunks left on him, or waiting for Nathan to spit out a confession. His shoulders pull closer together. His throat feels tight. Nathan never wanted it to end up this way.
Gabriel asks, "Are you going to see Greatorex now?"
His answer is easy.
"No."
To Nathan's dismay, he's seeing Greatorex anyway. A while later, she and Van invite themselves in, tired at his insistence on isolation, and make themselves at home. Greatorix's second point of action is to poke fun at camp 3b's fire, which does admittedly consist of a pitiful pile of twigs and not much else.
Nathan assures her it isn't his fault because the rest of the woods are soggy.
"It can't all be soggy."
"It is."
"Try pissing in only one place next time, that way there'll still be dry stuff left around."
Nathan tells her to fuck off and watches with increasing annoyance as Greatorex builds her own fire, using wood she gets from God knows where because all of it's bone dry. She begins lining the edge of her fire with Nathan’s pile of stones and Nathan can’t tell her what they mean so he can’t shout at her to put them back. Instead he stands there, hands shaking, as they get arranged neatly in the mud.
Greatorex sets about cooking the rations she’s brought while Van makes herself comfortable by laying a coat (definitely nicked from Nesbitt) over the floor to sit on. She puffs on a cigarette and its strawberry flavour sits crisp and fresh in the still forest air. Nathan takes one with only mild reluctance before retreating to the edge of the clearing.
Gabriel rolls his eyes at him and sits near Greatorex and Van, where the fire's warmth reaches.
As night draws darkness over the sky, Gabriel chats with the others while Nathan continues his evening in a cool silence, smoking Van’s cigarette. After a while something changes. Maybe it's the free way Gabriel tips his head back when he laughs, exposing his jawline and the muscles in his neck, or his increasing use of hand gestures too convey his points. Maybe it's simply the sound of his voice as Nathan used to hear it, no longer tentative and concerned but relaxed, happy. Nathan immerses himself in their stories. Greatorex has a pleasantly surprising number of rumours about Celia from their time in the Hunters and Nathan listens with increasing interest as a narrative involving Celia, lost tampons, and disciplinary action is told. He creeps closer to the fire.
At some point Nathan finds he's wound up right next to Gabriel, maybe when he reached to take his share of rations from Greatorex. He hasn’t moved away. As the sun disappears even more completely, and light comes only from their flickering fire, Gabriel let's his head rest, almost by accident, upon Nathan’s shoulder.
...
Van is speaking now. She's telling them why she stopped drinking alcohol. “– soon as I stood up I realised how far I'd overestimated my bladder's capacity.”
Nathan smiles and tries not to laugh. His shoulders shake a bit, jostling where Gabriel’s head lies, reminding him he's there. The heavy, comforting weight oscillates between keeping Nathan calm and bringing about a strange nervousness, causing his palms to go sweaty. Nathan sometimes has to wipe his hands on his trousers and he scowls every time Van catches the movement with her eyes. He’ll need to do it again soon. He’s not used to having someone close. Especially not someone as important as Gabriel.
Gabriel has tried to stay close to Nathan. He nearly tempts him sometimes, with gentle touches to the back of the hand, a soft stroke over his shoulder, aiming for a hug or a hand to hold. Nathan doesn’t allow it. He’s contaminated, dirty, like a drop of ink in water, and every interaction, every word, somehow twists down the well-trodden path in his mind, the one that sees the faces of those he killed and flares up in anger and shame. He just wants to be alone. Now, however, it’s the strangest thing; Nathan is thinking of the dead, yet he’s still able to tolerate – no wants – the company of the living.
Van pauses in her speech, only for half a second, and her eyes search Nathan’s face carefully before she resumes talking. “- and I kind of had to hunch over to keep it in, much to everyone else's delight – Nathan, is everything ok?”
Nathan finds he can’t meet her gaze. He looks away from the fire, out into the darkness of the woods, unobtrusive and steady in the cold night air.
Greatorex stirs a bit from where she leans against a tree. She brushes a strand of hair out of her eyes and leans forward to rest her chin on her hand, “Now you should be asking if Gabriel’s ok, Van, because your story’s sent him to sleep.”
Van laughs but for some reason Nathan finds his face begins to heat up. He isn’t sure when exactly he started supporting a large proportion of Gabriel’s body weight but it’s suddenly become glaringly obvious to him. Gabriel is leaning heavily on Nathan’s side, with his head tipped onto Nathan’s shoulder and the waves of his shoulder-length hair running delicately over his face. His arm has fallen into Nathan’s lap and Nathan feels too hot where Gabriel’s hand touches the inside of his thigh.
Van purses her lips together to hide her smile at Nathan’s reaction. He tries to fidget slightly but the problem is he doesn’t want Gabriel to move.
“Feeling flustered?” Van asks comfortably. She doesn’t change the tone of her voice for the tease and Nathan takes a moment to understand what she said, what she's implying, and something in his stomach swoops at the sudden acknowledgement of his predicament.
Nathan manages to shake his head before looking down at Gabriel’s hand in his lap, the way the fingers curl slightly in their relaxed state. He wants to hold it, to look more closely at how the nails change to skin and trace the fingerprints at their tips. The silence is long as Van waits for him to voice an answer, enjoying watching his unexpected torment. Nathan chews on his lip and doesn’t look up when he says, in his best attempt a normal voice, “I'm not flustered.”
Van gives Nathan an entertained “Hmm” for his efforts.
“He’s asleep,” Nathan tries again. He knows it’s a ridiculous thing to say and his voice sounds stupidly unsure when he says it. However, after the calm evening surrounded by their laughter, Nathan can’t hide from how perfect Gabriel is and how confused he is that such a person is near him, touching him and trusting him enough to fall asleep against him.
Thankfully, Greatorex replies to that with something other than a jab at Nathan. "He’s had a tiring week."
“Why? What happened this week?”
Greatorex glances at Van, bemused, before saying to Nathan, “You left.”
Nathan looks away again, back into the darkness of the forest, feeling an ashamed pressure over his heart. The one thing Gabriel has always been certain about is staying where Nathan is and it’s another thing to feel guilty about when Nathan grows upset at company and leaves for days on end without seeing him. He shouldn’t do it. He knows that. He tries to resist but it always turns out the same, everything – even something as simple as eye contact - becomes too much. Whatever Van puts in her cigarettes must be wearing off a bit because Nathan’s heartrate is rising in an uncomfortable, anxious way. He lifts his hands up and away from his body, as if in surrender.
“You’ll wake him,” Van warns quietly, lifting herself slowly to her feet.
Nathan stops his movements quickly. He takes a moment to stare nervously at what he can see of Gabriel's face. Through the hair falling over Gabriel's forehead, Nathan can see his features are lost to a peaceful, subdued expression. Nathan feels a twang of light-hearted annoyance at how unbothered Gabriel is by what he's putting Nathan through. Nathan shakes his head to clear it. He looks back up at Van, “What do I do?”
Van shrugs, “I’d let him rest.” She tosses a packet of cigarettes onto where Nathan’s bag lies at the edge of the clearing, “And personally, if I were you and felt the same way about Gabriel as you appear to, I’d be very pleased with myself for how I’ve ended up.”
Nathan fumbles for a response before telling her to fuck off. Van simply chuckles and raises an amused eyebrow that can only mean ‘I’m not wrong though’. She says to Greatorex, “We’d better head off before Nathan gets his knickers in a twist.”
Nathan swears at her again, wondering why the words don’t have the effect he wants and knowing it’s almost definitely because he’s still blushing uncontrollably. Across the clearing, Greatorex has stood up and is cheerfully, if not sleepily, brushing some fallen leaves and dirt off her trousers.
“I expect you to make the journey to me next time we hold our little campfire evening,” Greatorex tells Nathan, pressing a comforting hand to his shoulder, “And, I’ve had a really lovely time.”
Nathan frowns at them both, realising them standing up is an indicator that they’re departing. “You’re not going to leave me here.” He asks incredulously. He can’t help but feel like this has suddenly become some kind of practical joke.
Van holds a finger to her lips, smirking slightly, and motions to Gabriel, “You’ll wake him.”
Nathan pulls a face but finds his hand instinctively reaches up to Gabriel’s ear, the one not resting on his shoulder, as if to shield him from further sounds. Van shakes her head at him, smiling again. Then she and Greatorex make their way out of the fire’s glow and into the darkness of the woods. Nathan listens to their footsteps and voices retreat from earshot.
Beside the warmth of the fire, Nathan lets his arm circle round Gabriel’s waist, holding him gently. Gabriel’s legs are splayed out over the forest floor and Nathan holds in a smile at the casual pose; Gabriel always seems so comfortable in his body, so at one with his environment. For a while Nathan listens to the rhythm of Gabriel’s breath, feels the rise and fall of his chest against his own, and matches his inhales and exhales to it. Gabriel shifts peacefully in his sleep and Nathan has hold his waist more firmly to stop him slipping.
At some point in the night, once the fire has burnt itself out, Nathan grows used to holding Gabriel like that and feels his own eyes close contentedly. Nathan’s half asleep by the time Gabriel stirs, grumbling about a crick in his neck. Gabriel barely opens his eyes as Nathan shifts beneath him, gently lowering Gabriel to the ground. Nathan stays propped up on one arm for a bit, smoothing down Gabriel’s hair and watching sleep take him back. Then he lies down next to Gabriel, close enough to touch.
...
The next morning Nathan awakes before Gabriel. When he looks down at his friend it's like being punched in the gut. He brushes some pine needles out of Gabriel’s hair as the emotions cascade through him, sharp and brittle. He isn’t enough for Gabriel, he might be able to hold him for a night but at the end of the day Nathan is a murderer. It reignites the angry, lonely corner of his mind and Nathan scowls into the sweet morning air. He pulls his hand away from where it rests on Gabriel’s shoulder, hating himself, and goes to the remains of the fire.
When Gabriel wakes up he watches Nathan picking stones out the fire, counting them carefully and arranging them in a pile. He watches as Nathan fishes a round white one out of his pocket and runs the smooth surface over his lips. Annalise. Of course.
Gabriel’s anger at the world is controlled only by the ghost of a memory, of last night, of Nathan holding him and not being scared, or sad, by it, but being nervous and gentle.