Butterfly Hunter 01 (24 page)

That earned him a droll
look.

“
I was an only
child, and so was Mum, and so was Dad. So Denise is all the family
I have, even if she did drop me.”

“
I’ll be happy
to meet her. She sounds – well, like no one I’ve ever met
before.”

“
Yeah, she is
that.” Dave laughed. “There. That’s what you two have in common.
You’re like no one I’ve ever met before, too.”

Nicholas sniffed. “I’m
sure she’ll understand if I think she did an idiotic thing, letting
you go.”

Dave glared at the man.
“Well, that’s what you’re gonna do, too, isn’t it? When you fly
back to England?”

Nicholas’s head went back,
and he turned kind of wild–eyed for a moment. Then: “Yes,” he
blurted. “I suppose that I will.”

Had Nicholas not been
thinking that far ahead? Dave sighed. “Well, come on. Might as well
make the most of it.”

“
Carpe diem,”
said Nicholas after a silent moment. “Seize the day.”

“
That the
Goring family motto, is it?”

“
No, actually.
Just mine.”

Dave knew a joke he could
tell, so he played it through once in his head to be sure he had
it, then nudged Nicholas’s foot with his own to get his attention.
“What’s the motto of the Fat Poets’ Society?”

“
What?”
Nicholas asked, with a smile dawning.

“
Seize the
Danish.”

“
Idiot!”
Nicholas said, though he was laughing. He stood, and came over to
collect Dave’s plate. “Right. Time to do the
washing–up.”

“
Can’t it wait
this once?” Dave asked, having had other things on his
mind.

“
Certainly
not! David Taylor, I’m shocked at you, letting your standards slide
like that.”

“
All right,
all right,” he grumbled.

It wasn’t long, though,
before the chores were done, and they were safely tucked away in
their double sleeping bag. Nicholas grabbed at Dave, and dragged
him closer. Dave went willingly, letting himself be configured as
Nicholas desired.

“
Time to make
the most of it,” Nicholas murmured, and his mouth captured
Dave’s.

Dave
didn
’t think anything of it when he found
one of the butterflies lying dead on the ground one afternoon. He
supposed that every now and then one would die, just as humans
died, naturally or by accident. He felt quite strongly that it
should be left to rest in peace at the waterhole, though, and not
be added to a collection somewhere, pinned to a board and left in a
drawer for months at a time until some stranger came to peer at it.
So, feeling a bit guilty and very idiotic, he took it over to the
sandier ground by the pool, and quickly scooped out a shallow
grave. He laid it quietly within, and pondered for a while the
brightness of the blue wings against the reddish soil. But then he
heard Nicholas moving about the camp behind him, so Dave quickly
covered the butterfly up, and for good measure placed a flat stone
over the spot as a mark of respect.

“
Sleep well,”
he whispered. “Go find old man grunter, wherever he’s dreaming now
…”

“
What are you
up to?” asked Nicholas in all innocence on Dave’s
return.

“
Just
pottering about,” said Dave. “Putting things to rights.”

And that was so very Dave
Taylor that Nicholas didn’t question him any further.

Things took a grievous
turn a couple of days later. Dave woke rather later than usual, and
stretched luxuriously to work the kinks out. He was alone, which
was also unusual given that Nicholas tended to just snuggle up even
closer if he woke earlier than Dave. He stretched again, senses
alert and seeking the scent of tea, the roil of boiling water.
Nothing. Nothing, except …

Weeping. Muffled, and resigned
rather than distraught, but crying it was. And of course Dave knew
who it had to be.

Dave grabbed his shorts
and t–shirt, and quickly tugged them on, then swung down the back
of the Cruiser, not bothering with the ladder. He’d already spotted
Nicholas, on his knees over by the wattle, with his face in his
hands. Dave headed over there at a jog.

And he didn’t have to ask
what the matter was. It was immediately obvious. A drift of dead
butterflies, their blue and black wings still deceptively vibrant,
trailed across the ground from the wattle back to the edges of the
surrounding cliffs. Dave’s heart clutched in grief and guilt. “What
happened? God, what did we do?” For, despite the fact that he was
careful to always wrap up their garbage and take it back to town
with him to dispose of, and despite the fact that he always used
biodegradable
everything
, Dave assumed that
they’d caused this tragedy.

But Nicholas was shaking
his head. “Nothing,” he managed. “Nothing. This is what happens.
Some species barely live even a few days …”

“
Ah, mate …”
Dave murmured in sorrow and fellow–feeling. He crouched down beside
Nicholas, and caught a glimpse of his white tear–sodden face. And
Dave forgot about this being a bloke, and thought only of what he’d
do when Denise was upset. He shuffled closer, shifting so that
Nicholas was bracketed by Dave’s legs, and then Dave tugged him
close so he could hold him.

Nicholas, unsurprisingly,
collapsed against him, and Dave sat there cradling him for a while,
stroking gently at his back and shoulders and hair. Dave had time
to remember how cold–blooded Nicholas had seemed when taking
specimens of his beautiful butterflies; so different to how he was
now, confronted by natural mortality. Perhaps Nicholas could
explain that, or perhaps not. Dave knew all too well that death and
grieving could affect people in such different ways.

Eventually Nicholas
quietened, but he didn’t seem to want to move, and Dave was hardly
going to make him. So Dave had time to remember the lone dead
butterfly he’d found, and he wondered if that had been
their
butterfly, the first to emerge, the one that welcomed them
to the waterhole and had seemed so keen to drink from Dave’s skin.
Of course it would have reached the end of its natural lifespan
sooner than the rest.

When Nicholas finally
stirred and sat up, Dave offered him a gentle smile, and received a
wobbly one in return. “Shall I make some tea?” Dave asked. “Or …
anything. What would you like to do?”

“
Tea.”
Nicholas nodded. He glanced away for a moment, chewing on his lower
lip in thought. Then he looked back at Dave. “I’d like to tell you
something. If you don’t mind.”

“
Of course.
You can tell me anything.” Dave shifted, and stretched out his left
leg which had gone to sleep. “All right for now, mate?”

“
Yes. Thank
you.” Another watery smile. “I’ll be along in a minute. I’ll wash
my face. I must look a sight.”

“
Beautiful as ever, I’m afraid,” Dave said stoutly. “You
are
so
bad for my peace of mind.” And Nicholas even laughed a
little under his breath at such a ridiculous
notion.

“
I have – I
have a brain aneurysm.” Nicholas’s face was long and chalk–white.
“I’ll save you from all the details of what’s happened, and how
they found it, but –”

“
Oh Nicholas!”
Dave quietly burst
out once he’d regained his voice.

Nicholas blinked, and
carried on. “– but I could drop dead at any time, or have a stroke,
or what have you. There’s no predicting it, and very little
preventative treatment available. The risks of surgery are about
the same as the risks of not doing anything, so I decided not to.
Do anything.”

A stunned silence grew.

Dave struggled for
something to say. Eventually he came up with: “Is that what the
medication’s for?”

“
Yes. It’s
nothing exotic. It controls my blood pressure. Which should reduce
the risk of –” But apparently he couldn’t bring himself to say it
twice.

“
This is
awful,” Dave managed, which was horribly inadequate, but what else
was there to say? Nicholas was only two or three years older than
Dave himself. Otherwise healthy men in their twenties shouldn’t
have to face this kind of thing. Dave tried to think it through.
“Is that why –”

“
Yes,”
Nicholas said, cutting him off. “I expect it’s the explanation for
a lot of things.”

Dave felt at a complete
loss.

Then suddenly it was far
far easier to feel angry. It helped him ignore the great gaping
chasm that had opened up right under his feet. “Why the hell didn’t
you tell me?” he asked – not loud, but furious. “You might have
died out here, and I wouldn’t know why, or what to do –”

“
There’s
nothing you could do,” Nicholas crisply replied. “Or not that you
wouldn’t have done anyway. Simon made sure that you’re qualified to
apply first aid. You would have called for an air ambulance, and
tried to resuscitate me.”

“
Yeah,
thanks,” said Dave, laying on the irony.

“
I left a
letter – with the medication. You or the medical personnel would
have looked for the medication, and found the letter. There’s
nothing more you could have done.”

“
I don’t
believe you. Telling me might have made the difference between you
dying and … and you
not
dying.”

“
Well,” came
the tart response. “Under some circumstances, I think I would
actually rather die.”

Dave just stared at the
man, infuriated by the situation he could have – he could
still
find
himself in. But he understood, too. Reluctantly, he had to admit
that a part of him did understand. Nicholas didn’t want this
condition to define his life.

“
Exactly. I
was tired of – of being taken care of. In relation to my health,
anyway. And – well. I might live until something else gets me, or I
might not have much time. I don’t know. But I wanted to do this, to
find the butterflies. I didn’t want to risk you deciding that you
couldn’t bring me out here.”

And he really did
understand. Dave hated that. It went against all his rules, but he
couldn’t help thinking he’d have probably done the same.

“
Thank you,”
Nicholas said stiffly. “I do appreciate the position I might have
put you in.”

“
Thanks,” said
Dave, very quietly, but he meant it this time.

“
And once
you’ve forgiven me, I can assure you …” Nicholas caught Dave’s eye,
and glanced towards their bed on top of the Cruiser. “Regular
exercise is to be encouraged.”

“
Oh,
Nicholas
,” Dave said brokenly. He
was breaking apart inside from anticipated grief.

And as with their first
real kiss, Dave couldn’t say now who initiated it – but what did
that matter? A moment later they were sitting on the ground between
the two chairs, and Dave was cradling Nicholas again, who curled up
within his arms and clung on. It seemed that Nicholas was done
crying for now, but of course he still needed the
comfort.

All Dave could think was
that, no matter what Nicholas was to Dave, whether he was a client
or a friend – and no matter if they never saw each other again
after this trip – Dave liked the world a whole lot better for
knowing that Nicholas was in it.

“
Thank you,”
Nicholas said again, almost gasping.

“
Is this why
–” Dave dared to ask. “Is this why the butterflies?”

“
Tell
me.”

“
They make you
feel long–lived.”

“
Positively
ancient,” Nicholas agreed. “And … ?”

But he was all out of
wisdom. “Tell me,” said Dave.

Nicholas sighed. He was
almost calm again now. “Because … you can hibernate a very long
time in that chrysalis. But once you emerge –”

“
You become
fabulous,” Dave supplied.

Nicholas shifted around so
that he could see Dave properly. “But then the clock starts
ticking.”

They took it slow. They drank
the tea, which had remained warm in its pot. And then Dave took
Nicholas back to their bed. This time, Dave made love to the man.
And he treated him as gently as he knew how.

“
There,” said
Nicholas afterwards, sounding philosophical. “We hit the high
point.”

Don’t,
Dave wanted to say. But who was he to deny
Nicholas anything?

“
It was one of those dangerous moments,”
Nicholas said, obviously quoting something,
“when feeling, running high above its
average depth, leaves flood–marks which are never reached
again.”
He sighed again. “Denise would
recognise that.”

Don’t.
Dave hid his face against Nicholas’s throat,
cheek against the steady thrum of his heartbeat, and he held on to
the man with tender strength.

“
Do you know
what the name David means?” Nicholas asked a long while later. When
Dave shook his head, Nicholas answered, “Beloved.”