Oh, ashes, ashes, dust to dust

Chapter 2

The punch knocked Fintan off his feet, landing with his back against the hardwood flooring of Bronte's lounge room.
'Why are you here?' Bronte demands, 'How are you not dead?'
Fintan takes a moment before responding, 'I had nowhere else to go. As for how I'm not dead? Maybe I will tell you, but not today.'
'not enough,'
'Well then, what can I do to make it enough, Bronte?' begged Fintan.

Bronte took this as an opportunity to take a deep breath and look over the scene of his lounge room and, on a larger scale, his castle. His bodyguards were downstairs; they couldn't hear them. Bronte made sure when his castle was built that upstairs was soundproof. Fintan guaranteed that they couldn't tell he was there.
Hell! They probably walked right past him while they were searching the house. They were free of interruptions.
He then chose to look around the room, leaving Fintan in suspense, waiting for his answer.
He looks at Fintan, nose bloody from where Bronte had punched him; he could feel the blood on his fist. not a lot of it, but enough to be noticeable.
Bronte took another deep breath through his nose, taking in the ashy smell of smoke from the fire Fintan had set, one that Bronte and everyone else had just gotten out of, everyone but Kenric. Bronte considered holding hope that he was alive, but he knew it was foolish. Fintan was only alive because he knew a way out. Kenric didn't.

'I need to sleep; my head is still spinning after the healing.'
'Your head is spinning? How do you think I feel, Fintan!' Bronte started to yell, 'You KILLED a councillor! I thought you were DEAD! I thought you had DIED!' His voice went small.
'I'm sorry, Bronte, really I am,' he said, sounding genuine.

Bronte looked at him. Fintan was standing there, his eyes displaying a diverse mix of emotions; sadness, grief, and fear were the first he saw, but he could also see, albeit a smaller level of tenderness and affection was also present. Did he really care that much about Bronte? Surely not...

'It was the only way I could get out without being arrested again.' Fintan started to explain
'Then why on EARTH did you come here?' Bronte was starting to become confused again.
'I knew you wouldn't arrest me' Fintan reassured
'How did you know I wouldn't?' Bronte questioned, but he felt like he already knew the answer.
'I know you' he said tenderly.

Was there something there? Or was Bronte just assuming too much about his old friend. Was he picking up something that wasn't there? He finally could tell what he felt.

'My duty is to the council first, personal life will always. come. second.' Bronte said, his voice cracking 'you should know this'
'but it's me, Bronte,' he said softly
I know. that's why i won't arrest you' he reassured 'i won't tell anyone you're alive. I just need you to promise me you wont go doing anything too stupid.'
'I wouldn't' Fintan reassured, although that response wasn't what Bronte wanted from him
'You did. That's how we got here.' he reminded him gently, a reminder to what Fintan has done, what he has risked for what he perceived to be the 'right' thing. What Bronte has done for what he knows is right. 'Promise me, Fintan. Promise me you wont do anything to stupid. Promise me you wont actually die, i cant lose you again, my love,' Bronte pleaded with Fintan, not realising at first what had slipped off his lips.
'i promise, i wont do anything stupid, darling.' responded Fintan, with an amused but reassuring smirk. Bronte could feel a warm flush travelling to his face, betraying his reaction past his usually cold facade.

Bronte, said after he cleared his throat 'did you get hurt by the everblaze?'
'i got a few burns, nothing to worry about though, if you want to sleep, i can take care of them myself.'
'if youre so sure? don't feel bad if you have to wake me up,'

Bronte and Fintan lock eyes for a moment before Fintan looks away, about to walk off before having to ask - 'where's the bathroom and first aid kit?'
'just down the hall and to the left, and all the elixirs and other first aid items are all labeled.' he responded
'thanks, good night Bronte' Fintan said, ending the conversation.

Bronte wished he had used a nickname for him again, but he knew that with his topic change, he had made it too awkward with his reaction. he felt bad about that. but he still walked to his room, planning on sleeping off the embarrassment caused by his accident of calling Fintan 'my love'

Fintan had found his way over to Bronte's bathroom, not shutting the door. he didnt need to, Bronte's asleep. he took off his fire-ruined shirt, back to the mirror, looking behind his shoulder.

a massive burn covers majority of his back and parts of his arms. he could feel similar burns to his arms covering his legs. Fintan reasoned that his back was the worst because his clothes must've caught fire slightly and started to burn his back.
now that he was aware of his injuries, adrenaline worn off, made it hard for him to try to treat the extensive burns covering his back and arms.
every time he tried to reach back and put some of the burn cream he found in Bronte's massive first aid kit, it hurt to try and reach his back, a few tears slipping out, silent at first but then growing to pained sobs. at first, he tried to keep his crying quiet, not wanting Bronte to hear him, but as he kept trying, the pain would get worse and worse.

Bronte never really fell asleep, stuck thinking about everything that happened in past few hours. Fintan's healing, Kenric dying, thinking Fintan died, Fintan showing up in his house, realising that he might like Fintan.
he cant though, hes a councillor. then again, councillors arent meant to harbour fugitives and thats what hes doing. thats what Fintan is.
but he cant step down, hes a councillor, a pillar of example, what people should aim to be like. its all a facade. he just hopes the cracks dont show.
if he steps down now, there would be repercussions. when youve served as long as he has, watched so much happen, to the many past and current councillors, to the elven population, and society, finally showing its cracks. hopefully that doesn't happen with him. he cant afford to be found in cahoots with a leader to a rebellion, trying to bring down what he has been fighting for, for millennia. no one can afford to have to elect multiple councillors right now, and there is no guarantee that they will do what is right for the world.

his train of thought is disrupted when he hears gentle cries coming from another room. it has to be Fintan, unless he has another visitor.

Bronte rises from his bed, leaving his room and going down the hall, stopping right beside the open bathroom door. his heart saddens at what he sees.
Fintan sitting on the floor, attempting to treat his burns. even worse, the extent of his injuries was underplayed by him, sending Bronte off to bed, making him deal with them on his own.

Fintan's back is covered in burns, probably second or even third degree, his arms up at the shoulders are covered in the same burns and further down the limb, the burns look less serious but theyre still there.

Bronte stood silently for a moment, taking in the sight of Fintan's pain. Without a word, he stepped into the bathroom, kneeling beside him. "Let me help," he said softly, reaching for the burn cream and gently applying it to Fintan's injuries. "You shouldn't have to endure this alone."