In Which Searle Enters the Ugly Place

April 19, 1174

What the hell was wrong with him?

Here she was, his beautiful wife--naked, beneath him, her legs spread. It seemed that he'd spent the last age lying here with her, running his hands all over her body, leaving impassioned kisses on her neck and breasts and more. She instilled in him the same feeling she always had, from when she'd been a trembling virgin in their wedding bed. The desire, the longing. The affection. The need. The having had a taste and the willingness to do anything and everything for just another bite.

The forces of carnal attraction prodded his mind, tugged at his heartstrings. They propelled his blood at breakneck speed and set his nerves on fire. But that was just most of his body. There were certain places where the only force at work was gravity.

"God damn it! Not again!"

"Searle..." Ren's eyes were understanding and almost too sympathetic. Trembling, Searle shut his own; it was painful to look at her as he'd failed her so. "Searle, it's all right..."

"No. No, it's not." His frail, broken body was about to collapse of its own useless weight. Searle let himself fall to the side just in time to avoid crushing her. "What's wrong with me, Ren?"

He heard a rustling of sheets as he hoisted himself over the bedside. The pillow rubbed up against the headboard before meeting Ren's soft curls. "It happens sometimes."

"Not at my age, it doesn't." He grabbed his discarded loincloth off the floor and pulled it on. Perhaps there was little sense in it, but he didn't want her to see him naked any longer than she had to--not tonight. Not just after she'd been robbed of yet another last chance by his own failing anatomy. When had been the last time they'd made love? He remembered little other than that horrid feeling of not being able to do anything but lie stiff as a board as she'd done all the work. The wild newlywed sex was a thing of the past; if only he could have said it was for lack of trying. Lack of will, even. "I'm barely even a man anymore, aren't I?"

"What?" Ren sprang from the bed and landed squarely on the hardwood. It figured that even the quiet thud! of her light feet hitting the boards was almost too much for him. "Don't be ridiculous. Of course you're a man."

Skeptical, he turned around and watched as she dressed herself, the white lacy skirts falling to cover areas of her body he'd likely never grace again. This was how she would remember him, wasn't it? Even if she didn't want to, she would remember this. And it would only get worse, he was sure of it. First he'd had to start using that walking stick if he cared to stand for more than a couple minutes. Then the stairs had become too much for him to handle. Now his organs weren't even functioning. At this point, he was lucky to have remained capable of wiping his own ass. "Ren..."

"Searle, come here a moment? Please?"

How could he refuse her after failing her so? Searle grabbed hold of the bedpost and guided himself by means of the footboard. He stood freely only when he'd reached her feet. "Mmm?"

Ren reached forward and brushed her soft hand against his cheek. Searle's vision had been poor even before he'd fallen ill, but all the black in the world couldn't have hidden that smile. "You're a man, Searle. And not just any man--my man. Never forget that, all right? Promise me?"

Searle sighed. "Ren..."

"Promise."

He wanted to. And yet, he didn't think he could. "Ren--"

The sound of a creaking door and the pitter-patter of tiny feet were a welcome distraction. Relieved, Searle turned around to see his son toddling toward them--their only child, in all likelihood the only child he'd ever have. "Mama? Papa?"

"Hello, baby." Searle hoisted the boy into his arms and grinned in spite of the effort. Not even three years old and the kid was already getting too heavy to lift. Or maybe Searle was just getting to weak; no one else seemed to have any difficulty holding Karlspan. "What are you doing up at this hour?"

The boy only giggled. It was nice to know that someone in the room didn't think him a worthless invalid. "Papa, toss!"

Behind him, Ren swallowed. "I don't think that's a good idea."

Karlspan pouted, but Ren had a point. If Searle could barely hold the boy up, then throwing and catching could only lead to disaster. "Maybe in the morning, kiddo. Right now, we all need our sleep."

His disappointment easing somewhat, his son pointed his tiny fingers toward the bed. "Here?"

"I don't see the harm in it." Searle kissed the boy on the cheek, then looked back at his wife. "Does Mama have any objections?"

Ren shook her head, blond curls bouncing about her covered shoulders. Perhaps she was on the same page as he was. Having the kid in the room would ease the awkwardness. "It's fine."

"Then it's settled." He nuzzled his nose against its miniature duplicate and placed Karlspan on the mattress. "I'll just put you down here, and--"

Whatever he'd meant to say next, the word never passed his lips. Instead, it caught in his throat and clung hard to the wall, obstructing the air without the aid of a strained gasp. No longer able to hold himself up, Searle dropped to his knees, then his side. The world was an ugly place from the ground.

"Searle!"

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