They'd been walking for days. Weeks.

Ever.

One by one, the vehicles they'd picked up had either run out of petrol or just run down. Nothing was maintained anymore. Everything was going to junk.

So they walked.

The countryside was scorched; black earth stripped of even ash. Every night they fell into a heap wherever they were, wrapped in scavenged blankets.

There wasn't much the dragons had left untouched.

There was almost nothing left of London. Of England.

***

The sun had set long ago. Quinn looked back over their little gang.

Edward was carrying his youngest surviving child, Mary. The toddler wasn't doing well. They'd had enough to eat, barely, but it was all potatoes and things dug from deep underground, where the dragons couldn't find. It wasn't easy food or particularly nutritious. But it was food.

His wife, Muriel, was leaning on the strong arm of Creedy. Though he'd only joined them a week ago, he'd quickly stepped up and made himself useful. Every day Quinn found himself more grateful for his presence.

Their new baby had died yesterday morning. Or sometime during the night. They had all woken to the sound of her screams as she tried to wake him up.

Now every step seemed to take another year off her life.

There were others.

Two teenage girls he'd picked up on his way out of the city. They'd been done up in retro goth gear, all black and ripped, with earrings and nose rings. Terrified out of their minds, hiding in a collapsed building. He wasn't sure why they'd approached him -- maybe it had been clear he was leaving. They'd brought along a boy who couldn't have been more than fourteen, who wouldn't give his name to anyone or even speak aloud. Not related to them.

Two families, the Hardwicks and surviving children, Mary, Peter and Eddie. The Smiths, with their one ten-year old boy.

Six adults of various ages, two women, four men. As in all wars, the woman had has the hardest time of it. As the government collapsed and chaos ruled, they'd once again become property and tender, all at once. Fortunately, that had stopped when it became clear that there might not be *any* humans left in a year.

It was a ragtag little band. Quinn didn't know how he'd been elected the leader, but for the past few weeks they'd all looked to him when there were decisions to be made.

Now his eyes met Creedy's.

Silently, he agreed that it was time to stop for the night.

"Let's head over there to those rocks." He pointed to the foot of a nearby cliff. They were truly out of civilized territory now.

Making camp was a simple matter. Spots were chosen, blankets were spread.

"We need to start looking for someplace permanent," Creedy spoke quietly, sitting on a rock beside Quinn. He was shivering slightly. The nights were cold. They couldn't make a fire because the dragons would spot it, and there wasn't any wood to build one from anyhow.

Quietly, without fanfare, the party broke into small groups. The two families set up next to each other. The three teens laid their blankets down just a few feet from Quinn's. He knew they expected him to protect them from the others during the

night.

Two of the adults, Harry and Abby, went round the back of the rocks for some privacy. The other four sat and opened their packs, pulling out a handful of root vegetables and battered plastic bottles of water. Being the youngest and strongest, they wound up carrying the majority of the supplies. Quinn made certain everyone had enough to get them through at least a couple of nights a potato, a couple of onions, no more in case they ever got separated for any reason.

He looked the group over.

The girls were playing cards with the worn deck they hoarded, the boy watching them. Edward and the other father were helping the wives get the kids to sleep. They were too tired to eat most nights.

Quinn signed and opened his own pack. With his knife he cut a potato into chunks and put them in a tin bowl, mashing them with his knife, then poured water over them before setting them above the ground. The water might soften them enough to let Mary eat some in the morning. Creedy handed him half of his own potato and

Quinn started eating it, in little bites. To make it last, and because it was pretty tough.

"We'll need to look for food in the morning," Creedy said quietly. "There might be something left over there, under the cliffs."

Quinn nodded. They ate in silence.

A few minutes later Edward came over and sat down facing him.

"We've been talking," he announced. Quinn stifled a groan. He was aware of Creedy, shifting minutely closer to him. "We can't go on like this. Not that we aren't grateful to you for bringing us together... You've led us around like the Israelites for months -- do you have a plan here, or what?"

Quinn swallowed a bite that was still too hard, and worked his throat around it.

"Not a plan, exactly. I know there are old castles out here - not all of them in ruins.

Thought we would find one and claim it. Build a wall, make it defensible."

"With you as king?" Edward frowned. "You're not bad at keeping us fed and together, but I don't know about *that*."

"I don't want to be a bloody king!" Quinn hissed the words. They all knew that to shout brought attention. The kind with wings and fire.

He felt something; Creedy's hand. On his arm. Calming him.

Why would he feel better because this man he hardly knew touched him voluntarily?

Edward's frown deepened.

"We need someone to make decisions. Someone that isn't worried about any one group of people, but about everyone," Creedy said softly.

"I don't know. We'll find that castle, but it may not go the way you think it will, Quinn. I know we have to stick together, but not everyone agrees."

"We'll have to agree if we want to survive."

Edward nodded at that, and got up. Quinn watched as he went back to his family and crawled into the blankets. They were heavy to carry, but necessary. He took Mary to one side and Peter to the other.

Everyone slept in a pile now. It was easier to stay warm if you had body heat to share. The girls slept with the boy between them, the adults slept cuddled together, the single female and oldest man in the center. Frank was at least sixty, possibly older. Quinn had never asked. He kept up, every day, and carried his share. The families put children between the grownups, like they should.

Everyone seemed to stay warm enough. If the men woke cold at night, as he'd seen Edward do more than once, it was the price they paid, for being men.

Quinn would keep watch for the first part of the night, then wake one of the others. They didn't have set shifts; someone watched until he got too tired, then woke someone else. No one knew how long anyone else stood watch, so there was no way to know if anyone wasn't doing their share.

They had all agreed; if a dragon was sighted, the person on watch would get its attention and lead it *away* from the camp. Give the others a chance to escape.

A death sentence. Russian roulette, every time they took a watch.

Nobody shirked. He hadn't woken up and found no one on watch yet, so the system was working.

With a muffled groan, Quinn stood, and stretched. His own blankets were still folded, on the ground beside this rock. Creedy's were right beside them.

"Let someone else take first watch," Creedy said, standing with him.

"I'll do it." First was the hardest. It came when they were the most tired. When all anyone wanted to do was lie down and pass out.

"Let me," Creedy said, more insistently.

"I've got it." Quinn gave him a sideways glance. "What's with you?"

The man he was coming to think of as a friend shrugged and fell into step beside him as he walked off. They walked silently around the perimeter of the camp, out of sight of the others in the faint moonlight. Quinn's eyes searched the sky.

"We should come up with some kind of ritual for bedtime," he said suddenly. Not sure why he was talking to Creedy about this. "Something for the children to say. To remind them of what to do."

"You mean like 'stop, drop and roll?" A wide grin split the man's face.

"We would have to call it something important. Like a prayer."

"If we're going to start a community, that would be important."

Quinn looked over to see if Creedy was making fun of him.

The man's eyes glittered faintly in the darkness, but he wasn't smirking.

"That's why you have to stay our leader," he said, too quietly. Quinn moved closer to hear him. "Because you think of things like that."

"I don't mean to."

"But you do. The best leaders are the unwilling ones."

"Rules out King Harry, then." Quinn chuckled, but it died. The Royal family had died three years ago, when Windsor castle disintegrated under an onslaught of dragon-fire. Even the stones had burned. Harry, much maligned when he took the throne his older brother William brother had abdicated to teach at Oxford, had been loyal and brave to the end. Unlike the American politicians, he'd stood his ground and defended his country. Refused to run and hide in some underground bunker. Quinn was proud of him, and of his country.

Harry had made no bones over the fact that he wanted to be King, and thought he'd be better at it than Wills. In the end, he'd been proven right. When the chips were down England had turned to her monarchy for guidance, and shag the prime minister. He'd given it.

Quinn looked at the sky again. It was automatic now.

Saw nothing.

"Haven't seen one in six days," Creedy observed. "Think we're leaving them behind?"

"Hope so. Especially if it means we find food above ground soon."

Creedy nodded. They continued to walk.

After a time they went back into camp. Edward was up, and well as one of the other men. Quinn nodded at them and went to unfold his blankets. Creedy did the same. His shivering had not abated during the walk.

Sitting down and pulling off his boots, Quinn looked at him.

"We're the only two sleeping alone, y'know."

Holding a foot in both hands as he tried to take off his boots standing up, Creedy blinked at him.

"It makes no sense for us to freeze."

"I don't feel - comfortable - sleeping with someone I don't know."

Quinn rolled his eyes.

"Is just sleep."

"No, I mean them," yanking at the boot, Creedy pointed at the slumbering pile of single adults. "If you're offering I'm accepting."

"'m offering," feeling suddenly nervous, Quinn lay back and lifted his top layer of blanket and crawled under it. Creedy picked up his own and walked over to spread them on top of Quinn's pile.

As a group they averaged two blankets per person, but the families had extra. Adding them together just made sense.

He didn't look up when Creedy crawled in a few minutes later. They lay silent, side by side, then Creedy spoke.

"Ta, mate. I was having a real hard time sleeping. Kept waking up cold."

"I should have offered before. Just didn't think about it."

"I'm grateful."

Quinn lay very still as he felt the man next to him shift. He breathed a silent sigh of relief when Creedy turned over, his back to Quinn's, and followed the example. So they lay back-to-back, barely touching, as the night wore on.

Quinn knew Creedy was asleep. Had felt the subtle relaxing of his posture, the change in his breathing as he slipped into the nether regions.

He was ashamed of himself, but not saying something before. It was one thing to be stoic himself, completely another to make someone else suffer for his pride. He had to admit, this was much more comfortable. The extra blankets kept the stray chill breezes from creeping in, and Creedy put off more than enough heat to make his presence plesant.

If Quinn could only relax he'd be comfortable himself. Thoughts crowded his mind; the first time he'd seen the dragon. That hole in the tunnel wall, and Frank's snarky face as he suggested Quinn go check it out.

The sudden heat and fear when the first drops of fire dripped to the ground behind him.

The absolute terror he'd felt as the elevator cage was crushed. His mother's arms around him had gone slack he'd known she was dead before the dragon had passed them.

He carried it inside him. The knowing. He'd caused this. Brought the world to ruin. If he hadn't gone in that tunnel--

-- maybe an adult would have. Maybe they would have recognized what they were seeing and been able to do something about it.

If only they had blown it up instead of running. Buried it again, deep in the Earth, where it had lain for so long.

No.

He sat up, vaguely aware that it was still dark, with hints of dawn over the horizon.

With a shaky hand he pushed his hair off his face. And remembered his mother's hand doing the same thing when he was a boy. Every night when she tucked him into bed. Every time he protested he was too old for that.

He dropped his hand to his lap and grabbed onto it with the other to keep it from shaking.

This didn't happen often. All the talk about leaders and communities, the death of the baby --

He put his head down and rocked slowly, trying to keep the tears from flowing. He hated crying. Hated feeling weak and helpless.

Had vowed he'd never feel that way again.

The way he had after his mother had died.

The world had died around them, then.

First martial law; soldiers in the streets. Helicopters in the air, fighter planes. They kept the dragons at bay for a while, but then there were more of them. And more.

He joined the guards as soon as he was allowed; fifteen. Took up a gun and made himself useful.

Forgot all about test scores and scholarships and expensive prep schools. None of that mattered anymore.

They took London proper when he was nineteen. Seven years of fighting them off.

Seven years of watching the world burn. America had held them off the longest, with her weapons arsenal, but going to nuclear had proved a fatal mistake. It killed the dragons, yes -- but it caused a miniature nuclear winter that still covered half the North American continent. There was no way to tell if there was anyone left alive over there.

Radiation continued to drift around the world.

A sob escaped him. He brought his clasped hands to his mouth to cover it, choking it back.

So much lost.

His eyes flickered around the camp as he struggled with himself, not wanting a witness to his weakness.

In this pre-dawn hour everyone was still asleep. He could barely make out the shadow of whoever stood watch, far off in the distance. A safe distance away.

"Hey."

Quinn flinched violently when someone touched his shoulder. He'd been so curled in on himself that he hadn't realized Creedy had woken up.

He stilled and kept biting his hand, until the other man moved in front of him and pulled it out of his mouth.

"It'll get infected."

A sure way to die. No antibiotics out here. Very little in the way of first aid supplies, and most of that used when Muriel gave birth too early. She still might die.

Quinn watched as Creedy checked his hand, holding it so the growing light played across it dimly.

His hand was dirty. They were always dirty, now. No way to heat water and washing in icy water was risking illness. He'd gotten used to smelling bad, but not to seeing the dirt grained into his skin.

Feeling suddenly shy, he tried to pull his hand from Creedy's grasp. The other man held on with gentle strength.

Quinn looked up and met his eyes. His own were still clouded with held-back tears, so he couldn't be sure he was seeing clearly.

"It's okay," Creedy said. His words fell gently on Quinn's ears, like soft raindrops. He reached out and wrapped his free arm around Quinn's shoulders. "The sun's not up yet, there's still time to sleep."

Quinn didn't resist as Creedy pulled him back down to the blankets, arranging them with Quinn on his side, his head on Creedy's chest, his hand still safely clasped in Creedy's.

The blankets were pulled over them. Quinn realized that they smelled very bad. He sucked in a breath and turned his head, not wanting to be seen.

Creedy put a hand on the back of his head and pressed his face upwards until it settled in the crook of his shoulder. Quinn stiffened.

The blanket was pulled up over his head. He breathed through his mouth, trying not to smell it.

Creedy's hand stroked the back of his head.

"You should sleep while you can."

Quinn could just hear his whisper. It didn't help him relax.

He hadn't been this close to another human since his mother died. She had protected him in the last embrace he'd felt.

She died protecting him.

He shuddered; suddenly, hard. His body tightened and his throat closed. He couldn't say anything. Could hardly breath.

Creedy's other arm came around him and held him tightly. He didn't say anything.

Quinn gulped. His hand crept across the man's chest until he had an arm around him, too. He held on, his grip getting tighter by the minute.

After a few minutes, he found he could breath. He sucked in air, and released it slowly. Several deep, even breaths and he was feeling more in control.

He didn't cry. He didn't lose control. He didn't dwell on the past.

The hand on his head lay still at last.

Everything was still. And quiet.

Quinn closed his eyes. He wondered, briefly, what this looked like to the others. With the mound of blankets and himself covered they probably couldn't see anything suspicious. Not that he cared. They were all free to find what comfort they could where they could. He thought perhaps the two teenage girls were more than friends.

There was nothing titillating in that concept. Just a silent, fervent wish that they could all find peace, and safety. That he could find it for them.

A few hours later he sat again, more slowly this time. With his arms around his knees, he looked around. His eyes went wide as he realized there was only one other person in the camp.

Muriel looked over at him from her spot in her blankets. She didn't smile, just lifted her arm and pointed.

Turning his head, Quinn could just make out the figures clustered at the base of the cliffs. He hoped they'd found something.

Looking to the other side, he saw that the bowl of soggy potatoes he'd left for Mary was gone.

"Did she eat?" he pointed at the bowl, which was now sitting near Muriel.

"Yes. It was a good idea. Thank you."

"No thanks needed," he swallowed and bowed his head for a minute. When he raised it he made an effort to meet her eyes. "I'm sorry - about the baby. I never even asked what you called him."

"Evan," she said, and her eyes went to the far-off figures as well. "After my brother."

Quinn kept quiet and let her talk.

"He died, in the last great battle."

The one that had signaled the end of London. The one that had prompted all of them to get out while they could.

"I lost me mum, right at the beginning," Quinn told her. He'd never told any of them. No one had shared personal information other than some names and occupations. Maybe that had been a mistake. They hadn't known they were going to be staying together when they met, as he gathered them up like lost sheep on his travels.

Now, if they were going to form some kind of community, they needed to change that.

"I better go see what kind of trouble they're getting into." He got up, pleased that he wasn't too stiff. He'd gotten more sleep last night than in the past year. Why he'd slept so well, he wasn't ready to think about. He'd accepted comfort from a friend, that was as far as his mind could go. The who and why of it weren't important. Or they were too important to let himself think about.

It took twenty minutes to walk over to the cliffs. The ground was as dry and dead as anywhere else, but he saw a few brave scraps of vegetation growing between boulders. Where the ashes couldn't be reached if they were burned.

The dragons probably just hadn't been this way in a while.

Peter and Angela ran up to him, grabbing him by the arms. They tugged at him

"Quinn, Quinn!" high-pitched voices happier than he'd heard them in a while.

"We found berries!"

"And roots and things!"

Berries? Better than food. Berries were morale. They were treasure.

He let himself be pulled into the crack where one slab of granite leaned against another, creating a narrow passage. On the other side was a small protected area, still cool from night air.

Creedy saw him and straightened from his crouch.

The walls were covered with green-and-brown vines. They were dying for the winter.

"We got here just in time!" Creedy came to him and touched his shoulder. Quinn looked at his hand and then at his face.

Without tears clouding his eyes, it looked a lot like Creedy looking at him. With something powerful shining in his dark eyes. Unsure how to react, Quinn spoke.

"Are they any good?"

"Mostly overripe. We had to keep the little ones from gorging themselves and getting sick, but we can carry enough to eat them as long as they last."

"We should save some. For the seed."

"See, there you go, thinking again. No one else thought of that."

"I'll gather some old ones and wrap them up."

He didn't know much about gardening, but his mother had planted things and he'd helped. Watched them grow. If they had seed, sun and some water, he thought they could get some kind of harvest out of these. Someplace they were going to stay for a while.

The area was too small for many people. Once they were sure they weren't going to get any more berries right now, the children left, and the boy came in. He spread a shirt on the ground and began picking berries to put in it.

"We could probably make some sort of tea from this," Creedy was saying. "Soak them in water, get the little ones to drink it. Vitamins in that, even from the berries too mushy to eat."

"Good idea."

"Mary ate almost a third of that potato this morning," Creedy passed the boy, and patted him on the head. He stared up with big round eyes, and then went back to his work. Quinn watched.

It seemed that a day of rest had been declared, though he hadn't had any say in it. Muriel was too ill to go on, and there were more things to dig up. Wild onions, more potatoes, a few turnips. There was no sign that anyone had ever lived here.

"Think there was a house once?" Creedy asked that night as they sat on their blankets. The girls had invited a couple of the singles to their blankets and were now playing Bridge. It was slightly surreal, but the sound of hushed laughter was a welcome change.

"It could have burned years ago. There'd be nothing left to see."

Creedy nodded. He sipped the cold 'tea' he'd made by mashing the overripe berries and then straining the mess through a piece of cloth. It tasted like wet berries, but he seemed to like sipping it. Quinn thought it might bring back memories.

He missed tea.

"They must have had a garden."

"The cliffs must have protected just those few bits of it." They agreed amiably.

Creedy sipped. The parents began putting the children to bed and settling in themselves. For the first time in a long time there was some whining.

"Never thought I'd be glad to hear that," he said softly.

"It's a good sound."

Everyone settled down. Mr. Smith gave them a tight smile, and walked away from the camp. Quinn watched him go, surprised.

"I had a word with everyone. While you were sleeping. They hadn't realized you were taking a watch every night. There's enough of us that shouldn't have to happen."

"I like taking watch."

"You feel like you should," Creedy set down his cup and stretched his legs out in front of him. He leaned back and looked at the sky. "That should be in the prayer."

"Prayer?" startled by the change in conversation, Quinn looked a him.

"Something about watching the sky. Like those rodents they had in Texas, the ones that barked."

"Prairie Dogs?"

"Yes, those. They'd watch the sky, for hawks and bark at each other when they see a shadow, so everyone knew to run."

"Watching the sky. One eye on the sky..." he remembered newscasts that had used some version of that. "You're right, we should use that."

"We?" Creedy looked at him, his eyes dark. His hands lay casual in his lap. "About this morning, Quinn -"

"I wasn't reading anything into it." Expecting the tactic rejection, Quinn looked at the sky himself. "I wouldn't do that."

A warm weight lay on his thigh. He was afraid to look at it.

"Maybe you should."

Without looking a him, Quinn slid his own hand until it touched Creedy's. When Creedy took it and held it, he released a breath he hadn't known he was holding.

"How old are you?" Creedy asked quietly.

"I almost don't remember. It's been so long since I thought about birthdays or anything..." he had to think about it. "23. I'm twenty-three now."

"I'm twenty-five," Creedy said. "I thought you were older."

"I feel older."

"I think we all do."

The hand that held Quinn's squeezed and he, with a swallow, squeezed back.

"I never expected -" he tried to start, but the words wouldn't come.

"To survive?" Creedy asked. "To be in charge?"

"Ta meet anyone." It was harder to say than he'd thought it would be. He didn't want to examine his motives or worry about Creedy's or really even think about what this hand-holding thing could mean except that it meant possibly, maybe, some other person was going to touch him once in a while. He'd heard humans couldn't survive without that, but he'd managed pretty well so far.

"Oh," Creedy made a soft sound. "You never met anyone, then?"

"Met lots of people..." he wasn't making sense, so he shut his mouth. "It's late. I'm going to bed."

He stood rather abruptly, but kept hold of Creedy's hand. His eyes were drawn to it, to where they touched.

When he raised them, they met Creedy's eyes

What he saw in them made him want to cry. Just a little.

Pity. And sadness and worry.

Not the reasons he wanted someone to touch him.

More forcefully than necessary, he pulled his hand free. He didn't look back as he walked to the blankets and laid down, wrapping himself tightly.

He closed his eyes.

When Creedy lay down beside him, Quinn turned on his side, away from him.

Creedy wriggled around and shifted, until he was comfortable, Quinn guessed. He was shocked when the man snuggled up close to his back and put an arm around his waist, holding him tightly.

He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. What was he going to say? Let go? Get away? He really didn't want the man to do either. But to lie here, when the others could see them, and let Creedy touch him...

"Everyone's asleep," Creedy whispered in his ear. "They wouldn't care anyhow." He curled his fingers into Quinn's side. Through the layers of clothing, Quinn could feel them; the pressure and presence. He lay stiffly. Afraid to move. "You really don't have any idea how to take this, do you?"

Quinn shook his head a fraction.

"It's okay," Creedy stroked his side and nestled his chin onto Quinn's shoulder. "Just lie still."

His even breathing and the soothing motion helped Quinn relax. He managed to lean back, just a little, and let his body touch Creedy's.

It felt downright weird, to be held.

Whenever Creedy moved; just to shift his position or ease something, Quinn stiffened again. After the third or fourth time he heard a low chuckle in his ear.

"Will you just breath? I'm not going to ravish you. You're completely safe."

Safe and warm. Some big feeling landed on Quinn's chest and he struggled to breath through the weight of it. It was the past and the present, all rolled into one huge pressure that kept air out of his lungs.

"Easy..." Creedy soothed with hands and voice. Quinn thought his lungs were going to explode. "Easy, I've got you."

As the pressure rose Creedy's hands tightened. When at last Quinn sucked in a shaky breath, the other man was wrapped around him like a spider. He shuddered when he thought that someone might see them.

"Breath, you daft git," Creedy cajoled. "The others will kill me if I kill you."

"'m okay-" Quinn gasped.

"You're going into shock is what you are."

"No, just - just -"

"You're just not used to being touched. I understand that," Creedy was quiet still as he whispered into Quinn's ear. "How long has it been, since anyone held you? How long have you been alone?"

It was so hard to say. Hard to admit. He didn't want to believe it himself. He just hadn't thought about it before.

"Since mum died," he whispered back.

Creedy got up on an elbow and looked down at him. There was just enough moonlight to shadow his face. Quinn looked back, though he wanted to look away.

"Since your mum died? How old were you?"

"Twelve."

"Christ, man." Creedy stared at him for a minute more and then lay back down in the same position. "Really?"

"Yeah," he couldn't talk in more than a whisper. His throat was tight again.

He wouldn't cry. It had been a long time.

"I'm sorry," Creedy whispered into his neck. Quinn felt the brush of something warm and damp there. A kiss. His first. "So you've never..."

Quinn shook his head.

"We were at war. I never -- never saw beyond the next fight."

"No one ever...?"

As he thought on it, Quinn was further saddened to realize that no, no one had. He'd watched others form alliances, relationships. The women that fought alongside them were always in demand; someone always wanted them. He'd never felt close to anyone, though. And no one had ever offered.

He'd kept everyone at arm's length. There had been a few people that tried to be friendly ...maybe if he'd let them closer.

"I never let them." Hard to admit.

"I can't believe no one ever tried harder." Lips pressed to his neck while Creedy spoke. They stayed there, warm and soft. Strangely comforting. "So...."

Quinn shifted slightly, and found himself held quite firmly against Creedy's body. It was surprisingly warm. Shorter than Quinn, he fit well right behind him. Creedy's body was firm and sturdy, and he was strong. So strong and Quinn was startled by his reaction to that.

Quinn curled up a bit more and felt Creedy's knees tuck in behind his.

He felt something else, too, but it didn't register.

He didn't say anything.

Creedy began stroking his chest.

"Have you ever thought about it?'

Quinn shook his head again. Creedy went with the motion.

"Not even a little bit?" he sounded surprised.

"I was fighting," Quinn shrugged. That should explain it.

"Most people in a war are drawn to other people."

Another shrug. It was getting late, they should sleep. They were going to move again in the morning. He didn't actually feel tired; it had been the most relaxing day he could remember in years.

"Yeah, you were." The gentle agreement didn't make sense to him. He held still as Creedy's hand slid over his chest and came to a stop, right above his heart. Fingers petted lightly, right over a nipple. Quinn gasped as it hardened. He felt it like a small electric current going through him.

"Do you mind?" Creedy whispered. "I think you're beautiful."

"No -" he didn't know what he was responding to. The touch, the question, the words... the words. "I'm not."

He was just a guy, like any other guy. Another guy that had caused the end of the world.

He couldn't think like that. It would make him crazy.

Creedy was kissing his neck. Soft, sweet kisses. He mumbled something Quinn couldn't make out. His arms tightened around him.

"No," Quinn said, more firmly this time. "Don't." he held still and waited for him to stop.

Now Creedy was the one that stiffened. "Don't?"

"Don't." Quinn shook his head. "I don't - I don't want you to." He started to move away from the other man.

"Why not?" Soft and gentle again. Quinn thought he could *feel* the pity in that voice.

"Not because you feel sorry for me. Nor because I'm alone. I've been alone a long time. I don't want pity."

To his surprise, Creedy chuckled. His hand resumed petting Quinn's chest.

"This isn't pity. I like you, you like me -- there's no pity in that. No shame either."

Quinn shook his head harder, and tried to pull away again. He used a hand to push Creedy's hips away from his own.

"No."

There was silence, and the sound of Creedy's breathing; slow and soft. Whatever Quinn had felt moments ago, he wasn't excited now, though he might be hiding it well.

He kissed Quinn's neck one more time, and left his lips pressed there for a few seconds. Quinn felt the brush of eyelashes on his skin. Such a delicate thing, that touch. It almost broke his resolve.

"Do you want me to go sleep alone?"

Perversely, Quinn now found himself holding the man close again. He let Creedy turn him over and snuggle him to his chest. With his eyes closed and Creedy's hands on his back, Quinn let himself take a deep breath and relax, just a bit.

"No," he whispered, letting one hand grab Creedy's shirt. "Stay."

Creedy didn't move away. His arms tightened in a hug. "Either you want me or you don't."

"I don't know."

"That I can understand. I just want you to know -"

Quinn felt the softness on his forehead, his eyelids. Creedy was kissing them.

"I don't feel sorry for you, any more than for anyone else. We've all suffered. We've all lost people we loved. Don't mistake worry for pity."

"You're worried about me?" opening his eyes, Quinn looked up at him, but couldn't make anything out.

"You've been running on automatic so long I'm not sure you can stop. You need to take time for yourself. You need to find a way to be happy, or you're not going to be able to help the others."

"There is no happiness. Not anymore."

"We're alive. There are children to raise. We can build a home, and begin again."

"That's not a reason for happiness."

"You can take a chance, and maybe find someone to love. Isn't that a reason?"

"I don't know."

Feeling lost, he held onto Creedy's shirt and thought. The man's hand found its way to his short-cropped hair and stroked it.

"You like to touch me," Quinn was surprised to realize that.

"I do."

"Did you have someone, before? Someone to touch?"

"I had a wife," Creedy whispered. The hand on Quinn's head faltered. "A daughter."

"How long ago?"

How long since they died? Are you latching on to me to replace them? Do I seem

broken to you?

"Two years."

Quinn sighed. The answer didn't answer any of *his* questions, but it was better than he'd expected.

"D'ya miss them?"

"A little less each day."

The watchman came back into camp. It was Frank. He was moving as quietly as he could, but Quinn felt him stop and stare at them. He didn't move.

"We need to sleep," he told Creedy after Frank had woken up another man.

"Yes." Creedy kissed the top of his head again. "Can I hold you, like this? While you sleep?"

Unable to answer because his throat had closed up again, Quinn nodded. He turned his face to press into Creedy's chest.

It felt like he was a boy again. Being held by someone. Arms wrapped around him.

To allow himself this comfort it might be wrong. But he could have it, for a night or two.

***

"There's a sign ahead," Jack, one of the single adults, came trotting back toward them. He'd been scouting. They were on what was left of a paved road, hoping to find a village, maybe even supplies. What they had dug up by the cliffs was gone. They'd been two days with only the children eating.

At the front of the crowd, Quinn paused and signaled a stop. Everyone sat where they stood. Creedy helped Muriel sit down with effort. She still hadn't recovered from childbirth. Quinn was afraid she had some sort of infection inside.

"What's it say?"

"Can't make it all out. Freidrickshire, I think."

"How far?"

"Ninety kilometers."

At least four days. They would never make it that far without something to eat. He nodded at Jack and went to sit with the others.

"There might be a town ahead, but it's forty k. I think we should split up."

"Yeah, you take all the food and leave us to starve when you don't find anything."

"Or just don't come back for us." Sitting beside his sick wife, with his listless child in his lap, Edward looked unbearably angry.

"Listen to yourself, man," Creedy chided him. "Who's been helping you this last week?"

They'd all taken turns carrying Mary and even seven-year-old Peter. At twelve, Eddie was doing his best to keep up, even encouraging Angela. The adults had all pitched in, helping Muriel and each other.

Edward had the grace to look ashamed.

"It's what I would do, if I were saddled with this lot," he said, gesturing at them all.

"You should camp here, and rest today and tonight. There's enough water for a week, and enough food for the children for a day or two." Quinn studied them trying to decide who was in the best shape. "Keep going after that and we'll meet you on the road."

"Who?" Jack asked. "Who gets to go?"

"It's not a reward," Quinn frowned at him. "We'll be traveling light, with no food and only a little water. If we don't find anything we'll probably starve before we get back to them."

Jack looked displeased by that. Frank spoke up.

"That's too big a risk. Why can't we just keep on the way we've been going?"

"We won't make it without more food." There was no gentle way to say that.

"We might find something." Misty, the young brunette that tied her hair into tangled braids every day, spoke up. "Some food, on the way."

"We can't stake our lives on that," Quinn sought out Creedy's eyes. He wanted him to stay, here, and have a chance at survival.

"I'll go," Jack stood and began shedding clothing. "We'll have to travel light."

"And not sleep," Brandy, the red-headed woman, also stood. "I used to run distance in school." Her hair was short curls, plastered to her head with sweat and dirt. She had amazing green eyes, and an American accent. Quinn wondered where she had come from.

"No women," Jack snapped. "Can't keep up."

"Oh, please. If I Muriel can give birth and then walk for three weeks, I think I can keep up with you."

"We only need a few people," Quinn said. "Creedy, will you stay and keep the others - safe?"

"You don't have to go, Quinn. I could go for you."

There was a moment of silence as the others -- aware now that something was going on between the two men, even if Quinn was positive none of them knew exactly what it was – watched the two of them.

"I have to," Quinn said at last. He didn't expect argument, and didn't get any. Creedy's mouth tightened, but he nodded, once, and turned away to talk softly to Muriel.

"I want to go."

Everyone stared, shocked, as the silent teen that accompanied the girls spoke up.

"I can run fast for a long time. I outran the dragons, when they came to our farm and burned everyone up. I ran and ran, until I got to the caves. They chased me, but couldn't find me once I was inside. I went out the other end and they were all gone. So I ran to London."

He took a deep breath, and didn't say anything else. As stunned as everyone else, Quinn just managed to nod and say : "Okay. You can come. What shall we call you?"

"Rabbit. Me da called me Rabbit."

"Okay, Rabbit." Quinn stood and went over to him. "I'm really glad to finally meet you." He stood over the boy and offered his hand.

Looking frightened, Rabbit took it. Quinn shook it, then pulled him close and lifted him into a hug. He held the boy tightly, feeling himself inside this younger version. When he let go, Creedy was staring at him.

Preparations went quick. They left all but a blanket apiece and as many bottles of water as they could carry. Quinn made sure the others were safely camped, then walked the perimeter once more.

Creedy caught up with him a half-mile away as he did his circle.

"I don't like to be left behind."

"I need you - to take care of the others. The food is going to run out, and things could get ugly."

"I know. Edward will be a problem when the kids start crying."

"More if Muriel goes down."

They faced each other.

"This is insane," Creedy said softly. He reached up and put his hand on Quinn's cheek. Quinn flinched away. "I can only touch you at night, when you're too tired to object?" Creedy looked hurt.

"I told you, I don't know what I want from you," Quinn took the hand in his own.

Creedy lifted the hands and kissed the back of Quinn's.

"You don't have to know. What do you feel?"

Quinn shrugged.

"It's been so long since I felt anything new."

"You did a few weeks ago..."

Quinn closed his eyes. He'd slept in Creedy's arms since then, allowing the other man to comfort him emotionally, if not physically.

"I don't know."

"Well, I'll still be here when you get back," Creedy released his hand and turned to go.

Not knowing he was going to do it, Quinn grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around.

Their eyes met. Quinn caught his breath.

"Creedy."

"Quinn."

Then he leaned in and pressed his lips to Creedy's.

It was a chaste kiss, as suited the first one he'd ever given. He got worried and backed off before he wanted to. Creedy grinned and reached out to pull him close again.

"Why'd you stop?"

This time the kiss was harder, and wetter as Creedy opened his mouth and introduced their tongues. Quinn heard himself moan and was shocked to find himself hard and ready. For the first time in years.

"Jesus," Creedy breathed, getting enough space between them for air. "You are beautiful. How could you do this *now*?"

"I couldn't leave you without doing it at least once."

"Thank you. That should keep me going until you get back."

Faces close together, they panted.

"I've got to go," Quinn said, finally

"So go," Creedy kept hold of him. "It's not fair of you to start this and then leave me hanging."

"I didn't know," Quinn said roughly. "I didn't know I wanted this. I didn't know what it would do to me, to leave you behind."

"As long as you come back to me."

"I will," Quinn promised, gripping the back of his neck. "I *will*."

"You better."

Creedy broke away and walked toward camp rapidly. He didn't look back over his shoulder.

By the time he got back to the camp, Quinn had his body back under control. Creedy gave him a long, worried look.

Quinn summoned a smile for him. His little group was ready...

They left the camp at a slow jog. There was a lot of ground to cover and no telling what they would find ahead.

***

"I've got to stop," Jack staggered and Quinn reached to hold him up the same time Brandy did. Behind them Rabbit panted to a stop and folded over, hands on knees, gasping.

"Our endurance sucks," Brandy observed. Quinn let her keep Jack upright while he went to check on Rabbit. The teen waved him off and straightened.

"We've got to sleep, Quinn," Brandy said. She sounded angry. "We can't keep up this pace."

"'ave to -" he slurred, trying to catch his own breath. "Been too long."

"I know we've been gone too long, but we aren't even there yet! It's not going to help anyone if we kill ourselves getting there."

"You rest. I'll go." He scraped dry hands over raw skin. No more water. No food in four days. He was going to collapse if he didn't keep going.

"I'm with you." Rabbit caught up to him, a bit unsteady.

"You up to it?"

"More than you, geezer."

"You can't -" Brandy looked at him her eyes wide and bruised-looking, worried.

"What if you don't make it?"

"Then you'll have to. They're counting on us." He gave an unconcerned shrug, but knew it wasn't convincing.

"Quinn, I don't know," Jack was trying to figure out a way to stop him, Quinn could tell.

"No, you don't. I'm responsible. I chose this. I go." Rabbit gave him a dirty look, and he sighed. "We'll go."

He waited until they were settled in with some protection from the wind and didn't give them any instructions. The road was clear, they would come when they could.

"I think we should walk for a while," he told Rabbit several hours later.

The kid looked at him and blinked, then stopped. Quinn put a hand on his back and shoved. "Keep walking."

"Bugger off," the kid panted, but he walked. Quinn was startled by the choice of words, but amused.

"You've been by yourself a while, eh?" he panted back, almost staggering as he tried to get one foot in front of the other.

"Long enough."

"Anybody ever hurt you?" he'd been wondering about it since they picked up the kid and the girls. The way he wouldn't speak... maybe Rabbit would talk about it now. They were alone.

"Why? You gonna fix it?"

"You know I can't." This was a bad idea. "Have you rested long enough?"

"My legs are going to fall off, and my throat's on fire."

"We need to find some water."

Without waiting for him to say anything else, Quinn forced himself to a slow jog again. There was almost no light, but the road was firm under their feet. Asphalt lasted forever -- if it wasn't burned.

He couldn't see the land around him. All he could hear was their footsteps slapping unevenly.

If he closed his eyes -- and he might as well, considering how dark it was, but he didn't he could imagine the countryside as it had been. The green bushes and lush moors. Neat farms with fields lined up in rows. Children playing in the grasses.

His mother used to take him to the country during school breaks. They would walk and hike and talk. Bird-watching and rock collecting. He'd played with the country kids, building forts and running wild, playing big games of imagination.

Now it was all barren. Grey ash ground into the dead Earth. Manmade structures gone, and everything so quiet. No insects, no birds. No little animals.

How would the ecological system recover without insects? Could they still be around, just hidden? How would you grown food, pollinate without them? How would the dead decompose?

It was all too much. He only had to worry about surviving tonight, and tomorrow. Find the village. Find water, find food. They could worry about bugs later on down the line.

***

Dawn was just beginning to show when he staggered to a stop again, this time his feet wouldn't stay under him and he went down to his knees, sending a shock through him. The accompanying rush of adrenaline helped clear his head a little.

He looked back and saw that Rabbit had dropped several yards behind him. The boy was lying on his side, gasping, arms clutched around his middle. He needed to get to him, but it just wasn't possible now.

The sun rose while they lay, fighting to recover. Without water it wouldn't be much of a recovery.

"How much more?" Rabbit called to him. Quinn flipped onto his back and to his other side. The asphalt was cold and gritty under him.

"I think I can see something from here!" he shouted back.

Rabbit made his way to his hands and knees, and began to painfully crawl forward.

Quinn waved at him.

"You rest there! I'm going on!"

Without protest, the teen fell on the pavement and lay gasping.

Quinn pushed himself to his knees. His body screamed for mercy. His lips were cracked, but too dry to bleed. He licked them. It was like rubbing them with a rasp.

If he didn't get up, everyone they left behind would die.

If he didn't get up.

The adults. The girls. The men. The women. Rabbit.

The children.

First one foot, under him, then the other. The pavement scraped his palm as he pitched forward, balance gone. Fresh stinging pain that faded quickly when added to the others.

Elbow to the ground. Push off with free hand. Stand, and stagger. Sideways, until he hit -- nothing. There's nothing to hit. The world is a dirty fireplace, ashes piled for centuries.

"Quinn..." Rabbit gasped behind him. Or off to the side. Somehow Quinn got turned around.

"I'm okay!" he shouted, far too loudly. It hurt his throat, but he tipped his head back

and staggered -- and screamed to the sullen sky. "I'M OKAY!"

He choked and wished for spit to swallow the hurt.

With a little jig he was facing forward again. With a waist-high wave back toward Rabbit, he took a step. Okay, a lurch, but it was momentum, and he went forward.

It's not like he had an audience. No one would be scoring his grace and distinct lack of such.

This was basic. This was survival. For himself, for his little clan, maybe for Englishmen everywhere. They might be the last ones.

One foot in front of the other... more like one lurch to the left, one to the right. Each one took him a half-step forward, so he kept going.

Some time after the sun came up he struggled out of his coat and shirt. Would have taken his pants off, but knew he'd fall if he tried.

Knew if he fell again, he wouldn't get back up.

Now it wasn't about getting up, but *staying* up. And moving. The clothes were too heavy. His skin weighed too much. If he could've left a few bones on the trail, he would've. Let the dragons eat *that*.

If this had been a movie made before the world ended he would have staggered into a protected place. A village with walls so strong even the dragons couldn't get in. There would have been a crowd to meet him, pretty women bearing pitchers of water, children offering flowers and food.

All he saw was ash. Ash and the scattered stone foundations of what had been houses.

It was so bloody quiet without birds. He missed birds.

There. He'd done it. He'd made it to the city. Now if the food and water would kindly come and find him, everything would be fine. Good, even.

Possible.

Standing on what had been the main roundabout, Quinn finally stopped. The sun was high, so he'd made it in a matter of hours. About an eighth of a mile to the hour, that was excellent time. If you were starving and dying of dehydration.

His mind pushed the thought away almost before it registered. He wasn't dying. No such thing. The dragons weren't allowed to win. They'd taken his mum, that was all of his family they were going to fucking get.

It had been so long since he heard the sound he didn't recognize it at first. Actually, that wasn't true. He'd heard it all too recently -- before the baby died. It had stopped slowly and painfully.

This child sounded older. Still a baby, but not so young.

Could there *be* survivors here?

Or was he hallucinating? Hearing things that weren't really there?

As he took the first step in the direction of the sound, he thought, no. If he was going to hear things, it wouldn't be crying babies. One of his least favorite sounds in the world, frankly. He wanted to hear running water and children's laughter and the murmur of adult conversation over a good meal.

Bolstered by his thoughts, and having no other options, he followed the sound.

At the other end on the village, past the last scorched stone skeleton, he saw a miracle.

There was a big, dark hole in the ground. On the ground beside it sat a small child no more than two or three. Filthy, naked, it sat on the ash and cried, a heartbreaking sniffling wail.

Beside it, one delicate hand still reaching for it, was the crumpled form of a woman. In what looked like a blue dress.

Quinn tried to break into a run, but only managed a slightly faster stagger. His mind was trying to attach significance to the hole in the ground. It could be - maybe it was - if it was -

He went right past the child and fell on the ground beside the hole, almost pitching over into it. His hands skidded on the scorched rim, burned black and almost-smooth.

The dragons had tried very hard to get down there. It seemed to be a straight fall into an infinite blackness of stone walls. The smell that rose from it made him gag and retch, nothing in his stomach to come up, the spasms agonizing. He curled on his side, gasping. He wanted to cry from the pain, but there were no tears. Instead his eyes burned like acid had been poured into them. He fought with himself to not rub them and make them worse. Without lubrication, he might damage them permanently. Nothing would matter if he stupidly blinded himself.

The child stopped crying. It was still trying to pat the woman, probably its mother.

It looked at him with brown eyes barely visible for the swelling around them, face so dirty he was afraid to think what was on it.

The smell of decay wafted gently from the hole. Not that he could look at it with some degree of rationality, he recognized it. Something was rotting down there. It was a miracle the dragons hadn't smelled it and come flapping.

There was a sort of rough ladder cut into the sides, and it wasn't quite such a straight drop as he'd first thought.

Hope wasn't the same as food or water, but it gave him the strength to sit up. He touched the baby's head; blond hair plastered with dirt and God-knew-what.

It looked at him with big, brown eyes. Its lower lip quivered.

Aside from the filth and lack of clothes, it looked - healthy. Almost chubby. Like it'd had enough to eat in the past few weeks.

He looked at the dead woman and quickly saw what had killed her. There was a jagged wound on her upper arm. Once it must have been swollen and red now, with the blood settled to the lower parts of the body, it looked white and obscene.

Infection, he would guess. That meant they had no antibiotics here. Would have been nice, but right now he'd settle for food and water.

"I --" he had to clear his voice, try to work up enough spit to talk. There wasn't any, so he just croaked. "C'mon, then, let's see what's down there."

The child was heavier than it looked. Scooping an arm under its bottom to lift it, sex was confirmed; definitely a little boy.

He stared at Quinn and seemed to think about screaming, but grabbed onto his hair and bumped his head into Quinn's shoulder instead. Stuffing a grubby fist into his mouth, he sucked on it and whimpered.

Startled, Quinn put his other hand on the boy's back and patted.

"How long've you been on your own, eh? Couldn't have been too long "

In the cold air decomposition was slowed, but the woman was swollen and had started to turn black at the extremities. There were no flies or insects to hurry the process. Quinn couldn't look at her for long. He was grateful her face was hidden by the curve of her arm.

He looked down the hole. There was no light, but he could feel his way around if he had to. If people had survived, it was because of whatever was down there.

He had no doubt there was no one else left alive. They wouldn't have left the baby up here crying for who knew how many days and nights.

Scooting toward the edge on his butt, he swung his legs over the edge and tried to fit his feet to the roughly-chiseled 'steps'. It wasn't going to work he had to roll to his stomach, using his elbows to not squash the baby, and work his way down blindly.

Once inside the tunnel he found that he could lean back into the other side for support, which left a hand free to hold him.

It seemed a long way down. His mind tried to comfort him by considering possibilities.

This was probably a natural cave system that they'd adapted. That meant there might be underground water. Maybe they'd even stockpiled supplies.

The baby seemed to be falling asleep. Het must have been crying for a very long time. His face was sticky and warm on Quinn's shoulder.

He wondered if Muriel could take it and nurse it. She might have milk left. He might be a godsend for her, having lost her own infant.

The tunnel gave out suddenly and he fell a few feet, lading hard and falling again. He rolled frantically to keep from crushing the baby, who began screaming again.

Quinn sat up, and stared in shock. There was light, faint but real, coming from a crack in the wall at the other side of the cave he found himself in. It was about twenty feet across, with a low roof. He wouldn't be able to stand.

The light was well hidden from above.

He could hear water. And smell it, above the rotten stench of decomposition that came strongly from yet another passage.

He laughed while the baby cried, and wished he knew of a god to thank.

In a literature class at a University -- someplace he'd never been, only heard of -- this place would have been described as a charnel pit or possibly a slaughterhouse.

To Quinn, the stench of rotting flesh was almost a miracle. It had been years since he smelled it.

His hunger was suddenly overwhelming, and he laughed. It might have been a bit hysterical. He wasn't in any position to judge. The baby slept, regardless. His presence must have triggered some instinct that told him it was safe now. An adult male of his own species had him; he was safe.

Quinn wondered if the boy's father was down here, among the dead.

The dripping water distracted him and he gathered himself up and trodged down the low passageway. Toward the faint light.

The stench grew worse. He was forced to put a hand over his nose and mouth, but even that dirty-sweat smell couldn't block out the rot. Without thinking he pressed his face to the baby's head matted mop of hair and drew back with a grimace. Little bugger'd been playing in his nappy, when he'd had one. Quinn now had a much better idea of what at least some of the gunk covering him was. Unfortunately.

Even the dead smelled better than the rancid toddler.

He passed another opening, and paused. There was a cross roughly chiseled into the rock above it. That would be the cemetary, then. He hurried now, afraid that the last burst of adrenaline in his system would fail him. He needed water urgently, and then food. To fall short now would be too tragic to bear.

His eyes measured the distance as he went. It was becoming brighter, though not so much so. As the rotting smell faded he became aware of other things; human sweat and the stink of human habitation in close quarters, the dark coldness of the air around him and the scent of... fire?

It *had* been a while. What was down here to burn?

The tunnel was very long. Openings branched off, but he didn't see light in any of them. And he was still following the sound of water.

When he finally saw it, he stopped breathing. There *was* a fire burning, on the other side of the large cave the tunnel opened into. The water was smooth and dark, reflecting the light like a hundred mirrors. The whole room was lit. Like an enchanted cave in a fairy story.

There were several chests around the room, looked like they were used for seating. And other places roughly beat out of rock outcroppings.

A pile of firewood higher than his head, stacked a safe distance away from the ring of large stones.

The baby woke, and began crying again. Quinn didn't notice.

All he saw now was the torn loaf of bread, small and dark, that sat near the fire. There was a metal pan, too -- he set the child down, not hearing its angry shrieks, and ran to grab the broken handle.

It was empty. The water beckoned.

He dipped and drank, then plunged his arms into it and scrubbed his face with handfuls. As he did, he saw Creedy in his mind's eye. Creedy and Rabbit and Brandy and John, the mothers and children.

God, the children. Realizing he was contaminating the very thing that could save them all, he fell backward in horror, hands bruising on hard stone.

With water came clearer thought. He hadn't begun to drink his fill, knowing it would only make him sick, but event he few swallows he'd taken were enough to help him think.

The baby had stopped screaming and now gnawed its fist, eyes huge and red and frightened. Getting up slowly, Quinn dipped the pan full again, then set it down by the fire. It was starting to burn down, actual logs giving way to coals and ash.

Dragon food. He never wanted to see that again, but here it was, and it was a good thing.

He set the pan close to the flames and picked up the boy again, rocking him.

"Let's find something to wash with," he said, using his teeth and free hand to tear off a piece of the bread. It was more like a large chewy cracker. Apparently the people that lived here and died here didn't have yeast or sourdough started. Quinn had learned of that during the war. He knew that given a chance he could make it.

The baby chewed on the crust and Quinn wondered if he would choke, but didn't dare take it away. When the water was warm he drank some more, and gave the child a drink in a tin can he found, sitting clean by a chest. Then he undressed to his trousers and ripped a piece off an inner shirt to bathe them both with, in a far corner of the cave.

Six or seven pans of water later and he could see that the boy was cute. His hair was dark blond, his eyes brown. Quinn himself felt better than he had in years. He ate about half of the loaf that was left, wetting small pieces to feed the boy.

All he had to do now was boil some more water, let it cool, and carry it back to the others before they died.

Hoping there would be more pans or even a kettle to speed the process, he lifted the boy, who was now looking quite sleepy, and set out the investigate the cave system these people had called home. He didn't have much time hopefully Rabbitt would join him soon and they could go back together. Could they make the return journey without sleep? Probably not, but he was going to try.

The next room really was a treasure-trove; it was a *kitchen*. Or something close to it. Wooden boxes and barrels filled with preserved foods he barely restrained himself, he wanted to open a can of fruit right then and there and gobble it down.

There was enough to feed his little troop for months.

Past that it was dark. He went back to the main cave, carrying a large metal bucket he'd found. He wasted a bit of hot water to rinse it and then filled it and set more to boil. Since there was no reason to go further without light, he set the sleeping child down on the pile of discarded clothing and began looking into the chests.

More treasure.

*Books*. And paper, yellowed with age but possibly still useful. He hoped they hadn't been *burning* them. But it looked more like they were where to be protected from the cold and damp of the caves. Set far enough away from the fire to protect them but not close enough that a stray spark could threaten them.

Clothes in another two -- he dug happily and came up with clean things to wear. Putting them on was the best feeling - almost as good as not being thirsty anymore.

He kept drinking, a few swallows every time he passed close to the pan. He poured and filled, poured and filled. The bucket looked heavy. As exhaustion caught up to him, he began to wonder how he would get it back to the others, especially carrying the child.

There wasn't that much time. He had to keep thinking about them. If he didn't exchaustion would take over and he would collapse where he sat. With enough water and food in his stomach for the first time in forever... but he had to rest. Just a little bit.

He sat beside the baby, a book in his hands, almost afraid to open it.

It had been so long since there'd been anything to *read*. He was almost afraid he'd forgotten how.

Maybe it would have meant more if the story was a classic, or something famous.

He ran his fingers over the faded cover and opened it.

Dreamcatcher, by someone called Stephen King.

It was remarkable enough that it was a book, whole and complete, that he didn't need it to be Dickens or Shakespeare. But he hoped to find some of that, too. To have something that important survive would be the kind of miracle he wanted.

The kind of dream he'd like to catch.

The baby stirred, sucking harder on his hand, and Quinn closed the book. It would be safe here until he got back. And if he didn't get back, they would probably still be safe.

Standing, he stretched and sighed. Water really was life. It was so easy to take it for granted...

He wanted to explore just a little bit more before he started back. There seemed to be many tunnels, and many rooms. Maybe his people would stay here for a while.

The dead wouldn't mind.

Taking a torch from the pile, he lit one and started walking back through the storerooms.

He went through six of them. Each one had thing sin it, though less and less as he went along.

Then he heard a thumping sound. From the next cave or one past it. He picked up his pace, and his body protested. He hurt in every joint. Every muscle ached. How was he going to get back in time?

The baby woke and began crying. He slowed and tried to quiet it. And he couldn't just keep calling it 'the baby', even in his head. Maybe he should let Mary and Edgar name it? If they were willing to take him. But why wouldn't they be, after losing their little one?

The thumping got louder it sounded like there was something large moving around. In the dark.

He hesitated. Stopped, and looked around.

He was in a nearly-empty cave. There were a couple of old chests and a barrel, empty when he looked in it. Relatively clean,w hich was surprising... without thinking too hard about it, he put the baby in the barrel. He'd be safe there while

Quinn went to check out the noise. If it was something dangerous it probably would have had him by now. If it was a Dragon it couldn't get in here all he had to do was run back.

Even telling himself that it was hard to take those first steps. The passage was dark and smelled musty - no, not musty, he couldn’t place the smell.

He grabbed a torch that flickered dimly and held it high. The passage approached a turn, he couldn’t see what was on the other side. The noises grew louder; insstent, like someone- somehting - kicking a wall. A stone wall.

Whatever it was, that had to hurt.

He crept toward the wall. There was no sound behind him; the baby was still asleep.

A sudden noise made him startle, he bumped into the wall and swore under his breath.

He was acting the idiot. Without givng himself a chance to think about it, Quinn went around the corner, only to be brought up short by a barrier. Waving the faint light over it, he saw it was a wall, built of barrels skewered on metal rods.

A dark shape loomed, he stumbled backwards and fell, losing the torch.

An almost-forgotten sound echoed in the space.

The whicker of a horse.

"Thank you God," Quinn whispered. In that instant he forgave the Lord for taking hismother and everything he’d known and loved. The presence of a horse, here, in

this dark, cold underground sanctuary-cum-morgue...it could only be a miracle.

The one he’d been waiting for since he was twelve.

There was a low barrier. He fumbled over it, the stone rough under his fingers. Cut that way tokeep the horse from jumping? The ceiling was very low. The animal probably didn’t like it down here.

He’d never been close to a horse. Seen them in London, of course, the mounted police proud on their strong backs. They’d died early on, the Dragons seeming to have a taste for them. Or maybe it was because the mounted men could outrun them, so they were sent out to fight sooner than the men on foot.

Soon that hadn’t mattered.

Now he stood, torch held high, back to the wall. It felt damp.

The horse loomed in the darkness, the brown eye rolling at him, ears laid back. It was angry? Scared, Quinn stood his ground. He had fire. He had need. He wasn’t going to run from a four-legged can of pet food.

"Easy, there, easy..." making quiet soothing sounds, like he had to the baby, Quinn approached it. There was a bit of bread in his pocket. He offered it with trembing fingers. If the horse would cooperate, he could get back to the others so much faster...

He could save them.

...be weighted with lead. His body was limp, his limbs not responding as he thought about moving.

"You did it. My God, Quinn." Suddenly his head was lifted, shoulders slid into Creevy’s lap, and was the man crying?

"Brandy..." Quin whispered, remembering who he still had to save. "Couldn’t find...Jack."

"You’re alive. We thought – we all thought – you were dead. Jesus, Quinn, don’t ever do that to me again!"

"Sorry." Quinn tried to smile. He was so tired. The thought of sleeping here, in Creevy’s arms, seemed just about perfect. "Try not to."

"You better not." Creevy’s face was so close, and Quinn didn’t understand why he was crying. "You bloody well better not."

Creedy’s hand, pushing back his hair. Then Creedy’s mouth on his, kissing him gently. Whispering in his ear and kissing his eyelids as they fell closed.

The last thing Quinn heard before darkness took him was the baby, crying angrily.

He felt better.

Without really knowing how he’d felt before, Quinn was still sure of that.

Warmer than he could remember being in weeks, and not thirsty. His sunburned face wasn’t as tight as it had been, and his body no longer ached in every muscle.

Gradually he became aware there was a warm weight, a body, snuggled up behind him. An arm under his head and another around his waist. Blankets over them both, creating a dark, safe cave that blocked out the rest of the world.

A touch of warmth and wetness to the back of his neck, his hair strangely absent. Damp breath and his own breat hitched, coming faster for a moment.

"Welcome back, sleepyhead."

It was very quiet. Experience helped him pick out the human noises in the night. He opened his eyes.

"How..." his throat was sore, his tongue stiff. Stopping and swallowing, he tried again. "How long did I sleep?"

"About a day." the arm around his waist tightened. Quinn moved with the pressure, his body held more firmly against the one behind him. Creedy’s body, hot and aroused.

"Easy, luv," the other man murmured, stroking Quinn’s stomach, kissing his neck. "You’re still wiped out."

"I’m good," he responded, still surprised to find it so. "How’s Rabbit?"

"He’s fine. The baby too. Edgar took the horse, after it rested, and backtracked your trail. He found Brandy."

"Jack?"

"I’m sorry, luv. There was no sign of him. Either a dragon got him or he crawled off the road someplace."

"Damn..." tears stung his eyes. Slowly he lowered onehand to cover Creedy’s. "I tried."

"You saved us all. You and that bloody horse. Where the hell did you find it? I thought they were extinct."

"Creedy?" Quinn asked, feeling suddenly vulnerable and wanting. He turned over, sliding one leg over Creedy’s calf. "Could we talk later? There’s something..."

"Yeah?" Creedy’s hands, holding his face. Those old eyes, almost smiling at him.

"Something I want to show you," Quinn finished. For the moment it seemed like that, something to show and not tell. He would tell soon, but right this minute, all he wanted... "Could you kiss me?"

Creedy almost moaned the words. "Oh yeah." His mouth wasover Quinn’s, air sealed out and in, his tongue sleeping between Quinn’s teeth to taste and touch.

Shuddering, Quinn found himself lost in a storm of sensation. Creedy’s thigh slid between his legs, Creedy’s fingers were under his shirt, rubbing a nipple. Creedy’s hand was on his ass, kneading and massaging.

"I – don’t – Cree-"

Instantly he was free. Free and alone, Creddy not touching him at all. Quinn felt ridiculously abandoned.

"Sorry, luv. Got carried away. I’ll stop," Creedy said, as if he hadn’t already done so.

"No." Grabbing at him, Quinn pulled him close again, pressing their bodies together from chest to groin. The strength of his own arousal was a revelation, frightening yet wanted. "Please. I want you to."

"I want to. I was so scared, Quinn. They said you had to be dead and we were all going to die. Then you showed up, on a bloody horse like an American cowboy."

Quinn closed his eyes as Creedy slowly fitted them more tightly together. He took his time this time and Quinn was comfortable with the closeness when he was done.

"I love you, Quinn," Creedy whispered against his lips. "Don’t do that to me again."

"I won’t." the words stuck in his throat. Quinn had to force them out. This was the scariest thing he’d ever done. "I love you too."

Scary, yes, but Creedy’s sharp intake of breath made it worthwhile. Being held, being loved; it was all so new to Quinn, and he didn’t know how to react. That was okay, though. He would have years with his lover to learn.