thegentlemanthug | RS/These streets are in your marrow

After he pulls the man from the river, Ben feels uneasy in his mind, moreso than when he was first lucid after his beating. He had the opportunity to know his past, and he walked away. He is a coward as well as a friend to wretches.

He is returning from an errand in town for the dockmaster, his face apparently trustworthy despite his lack of memory, when he realises he has gone too far on the underground railway. He gets off at the wrong stop and means to return immediately to the right one, except that he knows this place. He knows it deeply and strongly, calling to him with a strong sense of who he is.

Either he can ignore it once more or he can follow it, step out from under this cowardice and learn something of who he is. And maybe he can find out the fate of that drowned man, learn something of him, know his pain and soothe it.

He lets his feet take him where they will, trying to follow his gut and not his better sense. He feels the familiarity in the streets, recognising a street sign there, a flower seller there, and his pace quickens as he draws towards somewhere he knows must be home.

The door calls to him and he runs to it, knocking hard on the wood before he can stop himself.

It opens on an older lady in an apron and, before she can speak, he tears his hat from his head and starts trying to explain himself.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, madam, but I had the strangest feeling I ought to come here today."

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"Nothing wrong with me but a hole in my knowing of you," Bennet reasons, helping his lover out of the water, so he can dry him more thoroughly, his touch chaste.

Matthew cannot stand, no matter how hard he tries, and he falls heavily against Bennet. He is embarrassed at his incompetence, weak after months left alone in a room, months before that where he'd not left his bed. He's ashamed at what he has become, and worried what his lover must think of him without his memories.

Bennet, for his part, is certain this must be illness - his lover had been in a hospital, after all, and his leg had clearly been recently broken.

He only hopes that he can restore him to health, with the aid of their housekeeper.

"'m not normally like this..." Matthew still has to protest as Bennet helps him to dry off.

"This isn't me."

"I don't mind what you are," Bennet tells him, admiring the way the candlelight plays across Matthew's skin.

"I don't think my feelings would be any different for you."

Matthew knows that isn't true, remembering all too well how Bennet used to hate him, back when they'd first made each other's acquaintances.

"Took you long enough to warm to me the first time," he mumbles. "Need to make a good impression this time 'round."

Bennet wraps Matthew up in his towel and regards him seriously.

"What was it like? When we met?"

"You hated me," Matthew laughs.

"Second I opened my mouth. Didn't want no American in your shop."

"I hated you?"

Bennet cannot reconcile that with how he feels now, doesn't see how he could ever have hated this man.

"How did we end up here then?"

"You saw the error of your ways," Matthew grins sleepily. "You realised even Americans can have charm and wit and irresistible skills in the bedroom."

It may not be quite the truth, but it's not such a terrible lie. Whilst Bennet has no memory, he'd prefer to give a slightly sugared history, rather than explain that he had simply pursued the other man until he'd caved in to his advances.

"I can't see how I wouldn't have known that from the start," Bennet says, decidedly.

Without asking permission, he lifts Matthew up into his arms with the greatest of care and starts towards their bedroom, stark naked.

Matthew cuddles in, arms loose around Bennet's neck, letting himself be carried without squawking. His pride is a different animal altogether when there's no one to see him but his Benny, and he'd never have managed the staircase on his own two feet at any rate.

"When your memories come back, you'll laugh at this conversation," he decides, remembering all too well how Bennet used to be towards him, the revulsion the first time he'd tried to kiss him.

"When they come back," Bennet echoes, having faith in that time to come.

He had hoped they would flood back once he was back home, but they are still tantalisingly out of reach. He feels safe, loved, but he doesn't remember why that should be.

Bennet knows the way to their bedroom without prompting, and Matthew is pleased to find that he is carried to his own side of the bed as well. Some memories run deep, it would seem.

"Did Mrs Ramsay..." he starts to ask, before noticing the bottle already laid out on the bedside table. Yes, she had brought the laudanum from the hospital. Good. "Never mind."

"Is there something you need?" Bennet asks, looking about for his lover's nightshirt and, finding none, heading for the drawers.

Matthew is content to sleep naked, as he usually does. If things had gone differently, he would have had more concern for his modesty, but he has already kissed his lover and shared a bath with him. He has nothing to hide, and he's not cold.

"No," he tries to reassure. "I've got everything I need. Come to bed?"

Bennet is not self-conscious as he gets into bed beside Matthew.

But once he's under the bedclothes, he isn't sure what to do, suddenly shy.

Knowing that he must act as if this is any other night, to help Bennet's memories come back to him, Matthew moves himself closer. It's difficult to find their normal sleeping position when Bennet is not performing his half of the dance, but he still manages to curl himself into his lover's side.

Bennet lies back on the pillows, an arm around his lover to hold him close.

"Your leg's not hurtin' like that?"

Matthew's leg plagues him constantly and, yes, it does hurt, but the heat of the bathwater has soothed it. He would suffer far worse, anyhow, to be back safe in Bennet's arms like this.

"I've had worse," he promises, breathing deep and letting himself simply be surrounded by his lover.

"I wish you'd never have the like again," Bennet says fervently, kissing his Matthew's forehead.

"Rest easy, now. I'm here."

RS/These streets are in your marrow

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