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The cotton sheets did little to protect him from the chill of the ground, but Serpentine would not allow anything thicker. Even the sheets were not ideal; he knew that they could tangle and catch should someone try and strike. Not ideal, but necessary. Buddingtonite could not lie on the stony ground without some cushion. Even if his comfort had not been a consideration, his rank certainly was. It was unbecoming for a General-King to touch the dust like some prisoner thrown there. It was equally unbecoming for a General-King to be caught half-stripped of his uniform. A sheet to shield him from below, then, and a sheet to shield him from above. It was better than using either of their overly heavy capes, better than a thick blanket which an enemy could use to smother or choke. The sheets were barebones luxury, and if they moved both would have been immediately aware.

Serpentine made it his business to be aware.

There were times where he allowed himself to regret. Times like these where it was quiet, save for the sounds of his friend’s breathing. Times like these where he did not have his duties to distract him. As he shifted his weight to continue acting as his slumbering partner’s human pillow, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to remember all he had lost.

He missed the flowers. He missed the certainty that one day, the war would end. He missed Mica, who had taught him many of the lessons that had kept him alive for all these years. He missed Brahma…and Sekani.

Buddingtonite’s sudden need pulled him back into the present. Serpentine reacted before the first calling of his name, gloved hands reaching for the General-King’s bare shoulder, only to be pushed away by his fierce thrashing. A hard line set across the General’s face, unseen beneath the mask, but it was not one of anger, but one of the concern. The same concern that tinted his voice now as he spoke, “My king… I am here.”

Despite his reassurances, Buddingtonite called. His king, his partner, his friend - frantic, entangling himself with the sheet covering him as though it were a living creature. Serpentine tugged on one glove with his teeth to loosen it before peeling it off. With his bare, scarred hand he made contact again, gripping his friend’s shoulder with more ferocity as he struggled to spare the ginger from whatever nightmare currently besieged him. “I am here, Buddy. Wake up!”

Those candy-apple eyes finally opened, but Serpentine could not feel relieved. There was no immediate recognition in them, only a glazed panic that all too slowly dissolved with every blink. After a small, torturous eternity, the General-King sighed and spoke. The Indian took each of those words, few as they were, and if anything became more concerned. “Of course you were asleep. You asked me to prepare you a space to nap and promptly passed out.”

It would not have surprised him if the red-haired man confessed he didn’t remember. There was much, these days, that his friend seemed to forget. Serpentine could blame the increased responsibilities that had fallen on Buddingtonite’s shoulders upon his promotion to General-King, but the signs had appeared long before then. A scream in the night there. An eye twitch here. Multiple, panicked phone calls. No, his friend had begun to fall long before he ever hit his final rank.

Such knowledge burned Serpentine in ways even Senshi magic had ceased to do. Both he and his partner had joined the war for selfish reasons; he had never been one to deny that. For him, revenge against the tiger-striped b***h. For Buddingtonite, the safety and protection the Negaverse offered. In accepting the Dark Gift, they had thrown their support behind the side which offered them the best chance to win and then go back to their normal lives. So they had fought, clawed, and schemed, for all these many years. This world was supposed to be their paradise, their reward for overcoming the forces of Order. What did they receive instead? This tarnished world, where citizens lay vulnerable to the whims of those dictated the Negaverse’s party line? This life where there own officers openly turned against each other for rank and privilege, all the more because there were too few opponents left? Eternal service, with no regard given for their passions, their joys, their hopes… their wounds?

Nærøyfjord had promised an end to this disatisifaction, a salvation for them both. Thus far, Serpentine had not been able to speak with his friend about the prospect of betrayal - much less convince him to drive to a hotel for no discernable reason. How long would the Knight continue to wait? How much worse would the condition become if it continued to fester?

He needed to act soon.

His ungloved hand shifted position to rest against Buddingtonite’s neck. With practiced skill, Serpentine began to massage the area. Perhaps relieving the tension would somehow offer a peace that the officer’s presence alone could not. Especially when he began to speak his mind. “You cannot go on like this, Buddy. You hardly ever go home. The nightmares are obviously getting worse.”

His voice was pitched so that only the man half-resting against him could hear. In its softness, one could hear the care that had been built between the two over their many trials. Serpentine would speak to no one else in this tone, in this manner. Everyone else received cold orders. Not Buddingtonite, for reasons that had nothing to do with rank. “What must I do, for you to rest easy?”

Serpentine did nothing to hide his disgust as he huffed. The Lovelies? He would never trust them with such a task. If any of Buddingtonite’s followers had been here, and if there had been a bed, there would merely have been another orgy. There would be no rest at all, not a moment, and he would not be able to stay close. The smile did little to relieve him, not when he could see the sweat pearling on his partner’s skin. The words were harder to swallow, still. It was a direct order not to bring it up again, but the worst was what came after.

“Time off?” The General’s voice was rough as shorn ice as he repeated Buddingtonite’s words. He was rarely surprised anymore by how low his friend had sunk, but this? This truly shocked him. Was his partner, his friend… truly trying to dismiss him? For expressing concern? How was he going to convince him to save himself if he was not around? His hand retreated to the floor as though his companion’s neck was suddenly made of fire. “Are you ordering me to leave? It is your right, as my King.”

The pride that still governed his life insured that he hated himself for this moment. He hated his own vulnerability. He hated how the words came pouring out of his mouth. He hated the crack in his voice as he spoke again, knowing that previously he could have hidden his emotion. Not anymore. Not since he had been made ugly. Not when he had no one else. Not when there was a chance that they could both leave this life.“But you are my friend, first. Richard, I will not leave without you.”

He pushed himself to his feet and busied himself to roll up the top sheet. It was better to keep busy. He could not acknowledge the raw emotion he had just released any further, even if his friend would not understand the true meaning of them just yet. It was.. embarassing. But the matter of Buddingtonite’s health still needed to be addressed, all the same. “You are unwell. Let me take you to my home, if you will not go to yours. My apartment is small, but clean. We will both be safe there.”

Buddingtonite had always been a flatterer. It was one of his greatest skills, and one on which his friend had come to rely. No one praised Serpentine more than his friend. No one was more in awe of his skill. No one indicated they respected him as much. For the vain, proud man, these facts had become the cornerstone of their relationship. It was not as simple as a corrupted King and his dark knight steadfastly at his side. They were more than that to one another. They were friends, equals in ways that had nothing to do with rank. Each fed and supported the other in ways no one else could provide. To hear the General-King praise him did relieve him, if only a little. It was normal. It was affirming. Even the rather unsavory talk of restrooms was characteristic of his friend’s true personality.

More relieving still was the clarification as to time off. It was the best possible scenario. Yes, they both more than deserved a rest. Hopefully, after this night, they would be able to seek a more permanent change. Their work seemed neverending now that the Negaverse ruled Destiny City; after tonight, perhaps that would change. If nothing else, then they would both get a good, hot shower and a soft bed (or couch) upon which to sleep and he could broach the topic in the morning. He was quick to agree, rising to his feet with a simple push. “Yes. Both of us should rest.”

He was slightly surprised to hear Buddingtonite express concern over his health. At times, it seemed that the General-King always called him for tasks, regardless of time or what he may have been doing before. Always, without fail, Serpentine came. Had he looked overtaxed, on the rare occasions that Richard saw him don his uniform, before the mask had consumed his features? Were there circles under his eyes? His face did not need any further blemish. “Worry not. I will be fine.”

Then the conversation turned to beer. Now it was Serpentine’s turn to smile. He removed the mask so that Buddingtonite was sure to see it; soon enough, when they powered down, his scars would be visible again anyway. “Don’t I always? You can drink your fill. Let’s teleport there immediately.”

'There is much that we need to discuss. I hope my love is truly enough to convince you of what must be done.'