Work Text:
For all purposes the man Percy had been was gone. A body, supposedly his, had been given to the earth, words of farewell spoken by all. He had no ties to his life from before, no one who knew he still lived, bar one. It was by the grace of that one person that he had this life, hollow though it seemed in some ways. Yet it was what he'd asked for, the boon he'd craved. He only wished... No, it was not worth wishing. Percy had a life, and for all that he may have once dreamed that John would have shared it with him, he knew that could not be. John could no more walk away from his life and what he was then Percy could return to England. It was part of what Percy had loved of him.
It was foolish dreaming and nothing more. He'd thought he could forget and move on, but it seemed impossible to him, when every breath that he took was because of the other's actions. That even the stipend he lived on was provided at first by John.
Rome, Venice, Naples, Milan, the city-states were a draw for a myriad of peoples, not all of them exiles. Those seeking the warmth, those hoping to find a place in the tumultuous political state, others simply on holiday. Some days it seemed to him there were more Englishmen here than in England. It did not reassure Percy in any way, in fact the voices he heard speaking his language from across a piazza or at the table around the corner, could they be someone who would recognize him? Yet even if they did, why would they care? By far not the first disgraced person to have made his home abroad, he found again that it was his concern for John's honour that ate at him sometimes, and kept largely away from any place too popular or well known. After a year, and then two he was used to his haunts, knew the faces he saw there, had even become used to answering to a name not his own and his dye darkened hair. The latter was likely unnecessary, in fact it was probably a bit of a silly dramatic, but he'd done it anyway, and then never stopped.
It may have been easier if he had left Rome, but he found he could not. For all that he wanted to forget and to move on, Percy knew that he never could. Knew that there was some other part of him that wouldn't. Oh, it wasn't that he'd not traveled. He had some, for while his means were not great, he was comfortable. However it was always to Rome that he returned, letting small rooms near the Tiber. The air would be still at night, hot and oppressive and he would hear the gulls cry out as dawn broke, the light filtering into his room though a dusty pane.
Ave. Ave.
It always woke him, each day without fail. Sometimes he would wake before they started to call, standing behind the thin curtains as he tried to make out their shapes wheeling in the sky. He would remember how John had stood at his window in London and the words they'd spoken.
'I should very much like to show you Rome'
Percy had been filled with such excitement at John's words. 'Oh, I should like that of all things! You have been there - what do you recall most vividly?'
'The seagulls on the Tiber. They call all night long, in Rome. You hear their cries ringing from the stones of the streets. It's strangely moving.'
'Seagulls?' Percy had almost laughed, 'There are seagulls on the Thames for God's sake.'
'Yes. It's... different in Rome. You'll see.'
It was different here, and it made him ache to not share it with John. There were people who shared his bed, and friends, some. But he thought he now understood how John had felt. How it must be to have your love taken by another who cannot return it.
That hurt most of all.
The days were easier than the nights. The sounds of the city drowned out the cries of the birds, for which he found himself thankful. He worked to keep himself busy as he might, though for him busyness often consisted of spending long hours sketching, or spent in coffee houses with those friends he had made.
They blended into each other that summer. Muggy and hot, Percy found himself doing little with his time. It seemed wasteful, a life re-given to him and do be so indolent, yet he found he had energy for nothing more than reading novels and the occasional drawing. Even the touch of another was too much, spending his nights alone in a restless sleep, though company was sometimes offered.
He could not have named the day he caught a glimpse of that face near the Colosseum. John's face, he was sure of it, even through the crowds. When he'd first arrive Percy would catch glimpses of him, but it had always been an illusion, his mind imposing the features he wanted to see on another. It wasn't long before he told himself this time was like those others, though it had been so long since such a thing had happened.
That night he did go to someone's bed, allowing himself to be used roughly hoping it would drive all thoughts of the other from his mind. Flesh against flesh, hands on his body, the feeling of another inside of him, Percy choked on John's name as he came. None of it brought him the relief he wanted. None of it made him forget.
A trip to Rome, a bit of a holiday, some more time to recover. Hal had almost insisted after the inquiry that he take some time away. At first John had resisted, yet there was sense in Hal's demands. That he went to Rome seemed not unusual at all to any of his family. They knew well that it was a place he had visited before, and he pretended even to himself that there was no other reason he may want to go there. No draw other than the warmth and the sun, the relaxation of the place. Yet he did know the truth of why he was drawn to this place for all that he was loathe to admit it, even to himself.
For the first week he was there John was able to pretend that nothing was amiss. He visited Percy's factor of course, ensuring that the stipend he sometimes added funds to was still enough. Nothing unusual of course, though it was something his banker could have done from London, there was no reason at all for him to even have that contact. A dinner or two, he was sure it was Millie and his mother that had let people know he was traveling. He had borne them, but mostly spent time on his own, trying not to think of things past.
His afternoons had become routine even in this short space of time. John would walk for much of them, the buildings and piazzas providing their own distraction from his thoughts. His dinner he would take in one of a variety of coffee houses or restaurants, usually whatever was closest when he found himself hungry. There was a strange sort of freedom to it, one that he rather enjoyed. Boredom had not yet set in, and his thought, those he kept mostly away from the one thing that could disturb him.
It was in one such establishment that he saw Percy. A trick of the light he thought at first, but once he shook his head he knew that it was him. His stomach clenched as he watched the other, his long slender fingers wrapped around a silver teaspoon, stirring his drink. There was a moment where he almost turned and walked away. No good could come of this, nothing honourable. But he found himself not wanting to, his feet carrying him to the table where Percy sat alone. "Perseverance," his voice was low as he spoke the name that only they knew.
The shock in the other's eyes quickly gave way to something else, a glint of hope, of disbelief, John saw it all there. "I do not believe I have ever seen you speechless," He spoke tightly for all that the words were meant to be light. "May I join you?"
"Of course," Percy sat up straighter, still not quite believing what was before him. "Is it... I'm sorry," He stood, as was polite, motioning to the other chair, and waiting til John sat before sitting again. "I never thought you would... I mean, for the first few months I had hoped, but after that..." Realising that he was rambling he clamped his lips shuts, looking at John and hoping. For an explanation, for anything.
There was a part of him that wished to not explain anything, nor tell Percy the truth of the matter. A different part demanded he did, for lies at this point seemed pointless. Yet the full truth was not so easily gotten at, especially when one would not fully admit it to one's self. John gave Percy a brief smile, ordering coffee from a passing waiter. "Hal insisted I take some time away." Truly his brother had not let the matter lie. "Rome is a favourite of mine." Do you mind that i'm here? John thought it as he met the other's eyes, accepting his coffee.
Of course, Percy knew that, he knew it too well. "Yes, it is a magnificent city. Everything that I was told it was." Not the same without John here, he wanted to tell him that most. "Are you here for long?"
"A few weeks, nothing more." He had commitments at home, to the Regiment and to his family as well. "Though I had thought of traveling to the country at some point, I've always found it relaxing to be away from the city for a few days."
Percy did his best to hide his disappointment at John's words, a flash of it showing before he managed a smile, sipping at his own coffee. "It is good to see you. I have missed..." He shook his head, knowing his faux pas almost immediately, launching into a story of his own travels through Italy. In time they relaxed, their conversation never quite easy, but close to, especially for brief moments where it would seem that nothing had changed, that this was the holiday they had at one point planned but never been able to take. John sat far too aware of their hands flat on the table, their fingers near to each other and what it made him fell. It was with a sad look that he stood, excusing himself amidst Percy's protestations. Then just as he'd come, he was gone. Percy simply sat, his hand shifting to touch the warmth where John's had been, his eyes shut tight trying his hardest to remember just what the other looked like, not that he'd ever been able to forget.
Three weeks since that day, and each of them Percy had gone back to the coffee house. Each day he had hoped he would look up from the novel he was reading and see John across from him, or would be interrupted by the soft noise of the other saying his name. He dreamed at night of John, imagining him here, the two of them traveling together as they'd planned. He found himself giving up that hope a little more each day, until it had mostly died, again. It hurt more this time he thought, to be given something so brief and have it taken back again. But didn't some part of him treasure those few hours he'd had?
His mind was wrapped in that debate as he opened the door to his rooms, his hand freezing as he realised that it was not locked, and that there was someone in his room. For the briefest of moments his hand went to his waist, and the small knife kept there before he realised...
"John," he almost whispered the name, standing in the doorway and taking in the other. Was it so odd that John stood at his window, looking out of it as Percy himself did so many mornings? He closed his eyes, breathing deeply before he reopened them, unwilling to believe the other was there.
"You might close the door," John leaned against the window, not looking at Percy, not yet, the bottle of brandy he'd brought open on the sill beside him. He hadn't intended to come here at all, or so he'd told himself, finding the address of Percy's rooms from his factor for simply the purpose of knowing where the other lived. No other.
Percy did, locking it as well, his eyes closed as he leaned against it, unsure why John would be here, but just grateful that he was. "I didn't expect you," Obvious really, why would he? His room was cluttered, though not unclean. "I had thought you'd gone back by now." I'd thought to never see you again.
"Tomorrow. Would you like a drink?" He turned to Percy finally, lifting the bottle towards him. "You don't appear to have any glasses. I hope you don't mind I've been drinking from the bottle."
"Yes, of course," He stepped forward to take the bottle, far too aware of the presence of the other, his fingers brushing John's. "John"
His attempt at speaking was cut off by a shake of John's head. "I've been telling myself that it was a coincidence that I came here. Rome is a good place for recuperation, I've friends here, if I were to simply check in with your factor it would make no difference. A holiday like any other I've taken. You know I'm not good at lying, I've never been, even to myself." He looked back out the window for a moment, watching the circling of the gulls and thinking of too many missed chances. "I needed to know you were well."
"Was that it then? Come to see that I'm well and then go?" Percy stood frozen as he spoke, his knuckles white where he clutched the bottle hard.
"Of course not," For a moment John was angry, his eyes flashing as he turned to the other, his hand grabbing the other's arm tight. "I would have known that the other day. I left Rome you know," he had calmed, but he found himself unwilling to let go of Percy's arm, "Yet here I am again. I've found your rooms and I am." John stopped, looking at Percy carefully. "I'd never a chance to say my farewells. I wish that I had. We cannot change what has past, and cannot..." His grip loosened, his hand now resting softly on Percy's arm, even now feeling the heat from his skin through the material of the shirt he wore. It was a weakness, he thought, to feel this way still about this man. He could not change it though, so he sought to change the one thing he could. "I would like to choose how I remember you. This one night." It was all he could offer the other, one night, and no more. He could not have it any other way, unfortunately his trust for Percy gone, but this much, he could give and wanted to take as well.
"That is all?" Percy drank from the bottle, handing it back to John with a tired smile. "If I say no?"
Immediately he dropped his hand. "If that is your answer then I will take my leave, reassured in the fact you are well."
"No!" Percy reached out to touch John, his hand on the other's chest, his fingers digging into the material there. For if this was all he could have of the other he would take it, and willingly. "Don't go."
John froze at the touch, his eyes fluttering closed for just a moment, at the verge of asking if Percy was sure when instead he found himself kissing the other, the bottle roughly deposited on a bench.
The first time there was such pressure and need for them both. Their hands seemed everywhere, as they shucked their clothing, falling to the bed in a mess of want and lust. He'd gasped as Percy traced each of his scars with his tongue and lips, shuddered when Percy's took him in his mouth, his fingers curling in hair that was no longer auburn, but a dull nut-brown. It made little difference to him as he came, finding himself wanting to taste the other in return and doing so with fervor. Yet he had promised one night, and one night he would give, even if it pushed his body, for truly, he wanted every moment of it himself, a night to forget all that had gone between them.
"I'd no idea," Percy's fingers traced the scars on his chest as they rested after the first time, "I had heard you injured, but that it was this..." He ducked his head, again kissing one of the scars.
"There was worry." But the worry had turned to nothing, for he had survived, "I wasn't inclined to tell you in the end..." John trailed off, his eyes closing against the images that came to mind, of Percy in his room with Weber, of him in gaol and what he'd undergone.
"I didn't mean..." Percy found again he'd spoken too much, and shook his head. "No. Not tonight. Tonight... Just this." His hand dug into the skin at John's hip, pulling him close, for once taking an initiative. If they were to only have this moment he had little to lose, and so much needed to be said. "Do you remember that day in the shed," his fingers dug in hard to John's hip, "I enjoyed it. It sickened me, yet I enjoyed..."
"Shhh," John kissed him to stop the words, remembering too well the touch of the scourge on his flesh and the rush he had felt with every stroke. His body would not let him off so easily, tightening and pressing against Percy's thing even as he wished it would not.
But Percy was not finished, not yet. "I had never... I had let others do things to me, but I'd never been the one to inflict such a thing." His hands ran down John's arms, clasping them at the wrists. "You needed it, didn't you?"
John could remember too well watching men being flogged. He could remember watching a certain man and of dreaming that their roles were reversed. "Yes," His eyes closed as he thought of it, letting Percy move his arms above his head, still holding tight to his wrists. "I needed to know." No other explanation, just that.
It is now Percy's time to shush John, to find themselves in a situation that he'd barely imagined. For even as Percy moves against the other, slowly inside of him there is a measure of disbelief in both of them, John's eyes screwed shut just as his wrists are still held. Yet Percy knows this is right, what they both need at the moment. He brings John before he is even close, though the moans of the other make it a close thing. Yet after the first he lets go of his wrists, their mouths meeting again as he takes what he can, filling his need for he knows this will be the only time he shall have this moment. It is only after he cannot take it anymore that he lets himself finish, collapsing with a shudder.
For a few moments the only sound is their breathing, and Percy wishes it would stay that way. That this exhausted sound, this feeling of flesh against flesh could stay forever like this. The words it was broken with are the last ones he expected to hear.
"I was wrong." John speaks with his lips pressed against Percy's cheek, "When I would not say, when I asked if friendship and sincere liking was not enough, I was wrong. I should have said..." Yet even now he could not say the words, instead pushing back enough to meet the other's eyes. He hoped what he did say was enough. "Perseverance."
"I'd hoped," Enough of an admission to last Percy this lifetime, and another. "Thank you," quiet words, wanting only the touch of his skin against John's for the few hours he had left. The difference that simply one night could make stunned him. "You have given it back to me. My life. Twice. Thank you."