Warning: Rated [MA] Mature Adults only. Contains strong m/m sexual scenes, violence, coarse language and adult themes.
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This was my first serious fic [as opposed to the funny ones] Warning No spellchecker! Hopefully it will be re-edited soon.
Note: This story borrows to lines and scenes from BCs Company and Gold. [Sorry Bernard!] It is a separate work from my other stories although it shares the Lawford story in Tiger Skin.
Special thanks to Sarah in France for all her advice, suggestions and encouragement. Without her help this story would not be here.
by Minerva
Sharpe's Confession
The South Essex Regiment was pulling out of Cuidad Rodrigo. It was to be a leaving like many others. But for Richard Sharpe this was one leave taking that promised to be the hardest so far.
In a small room of the Convent that housed the wounded British Offices, Sharpe sat beside the bed of William Lawford. His Commanding Officer lay quietly, asleep or unconscious. He was pale with dark smudges under his eyes and his breathing was shallow. Sharpe couldn't see under the blankets but knew that his chest and the remains of Lawford's left arm would be tightly bandaged.
Sharpe had deliberately drawn his chair to the far side of the bed so that he was close to Lawford's right arm where it lay atop the blankets. One part of his mind refused to believe his friend had lost his arm and still might not survive his other injuries. But the evidence was there before him and Sharpe burned it into his mind, aware that this may be the last time he saw Lawford alive.
When Sharpe had first heard that Lieutenant Colonel William Lawford was to be the new Commanding Officer of the South Essex Regiment he had been pleased. He and Lawford had known each other since India. They had been friends, close friends, much closer than many others approved of given their difference in rank and station. But the comments had never bothered Lawford and after a while Sharpe had dismissed them also.
What he had found with Lawford was something precious. 'Lovers' was the word Lawford had used and Sharpe had thought how better that sounded than the courser terms he was used to. He treasured the way Lawford would tell him of his love in little whispered words as he lay with his head on Sharpe's shoulder or the desperate declarations in moments of passion. They were words that the young Sharpe had never heard before and they held him in their power. They were like a secret talisman that he held in his heart to keep him safe.
But for all the magic of Lawford's words Sharpe had never been able to return them.
It wasn't that he didn't have feelings for Lawford. The fair young Lieutenant was the most important person in Sharpe's life. It was just that Sharpe had little experience with love and wasn't really sure what it felt like. He had never examined his feelings before. He was used to hiding them, denying them, submerging them. It was the only way to survive in the world he had been born into.
It was everyone for themselves in the Foundling Home. You couldn't afford to care for anyone else as well. Feelings were a sign of weakness and it was dangerous to ever show any weakness. So Richard Sharpe had grown up learning to care only for himself and to do whatever it took to survive.
Even as a young recruit in the army that philosophy had held true to some extent. Then William Lawford had turned his world upside down with three little words 'I love you' and Sharpe had agonised over his feelings for Lawford until his head ached. Sharpe wanted to tell Lawford how he felt, but his inexperience and fear of showing weakness held him back.
Sharpe began to dread Lawford's declarations, knowing his friend must be waiting to hear the same in return and how it must hurt him to have Sharpe remain silent. Still Sharpe held back, until finally it was too late and Lawford was promoted to another Regiment.
Their goodbyes had been strained because Sharpe had been acutely aware that Lawford was waiting one last time to hear Sharpe's confession.
"I'll never forget you Richard." Lawford had said sadly "I'll always remember what we have shared together. I owe you so much."
Sharpe had thought then of all the things that he owed to Lawford. His Lieutenant had taught him to read, giving a chance to one day rise from the ranks and become an Officer. The quiet, shy man had proved to the brave and wily, and Sharpe had come to realise that you couldn't always judge a man by his outward appearance. Finally Lawford had taught Sharpe about love, the sharing of the heart and soul, not just he body.
There were so many things that Sharpe wanted to say to Lawford but the words dried up in his throat.
Lawford stood there with a faint smile on his lips and hope in his blue eyes and Sharpe had looked away and whispered
"Thankyou, I'll not forget you either."
But that was all he could get out and Lawford had left quickly then and Sharpe had been glad.
~
Now, as he looked down at the man Lawford had become seven years later, Sharpe wondered how much of the blame could be traced back to that moment.
The Lieutenant Colonel Lawford who had taken over the South Essex Regiment was a different man to the Lieutenant Lawford Sharpe had know in India.
Sharpe had been concerned about old gossip resurfacing but he need not have worried. The only gossip he heard about his new Commanding Officer had linked Lawford's name with half a dozen other Officers and at least one Lord. There was no mention of Richard Sharpe.
Sharpe was loath to believe the stories, army gossip being notoriously unreliable, but he was deeply concerned that Lawford had developed such a reputation. It was fairly common to hear of special friendships between Officers, it was accepted, although not openly approved of. But the stories about Lawford made him sound like a cheap whore, ready to try anybody and anything.
The Reception that was arranged for Lawford's arrival at Headquarters, was a lavish affair and Sharpe had gone to extra trouble making his uniform presentable. He even talked Patrick Harper into trimming his hair a little so that it didn't hang in his eyes. But Harper was no barber and Sharpe wondered if he looked any better afterwards.
"Going to a lot of trouble for this new Colonel, Sir" Harper said gruffly as Sharpe valiantly tried to restitch the braiding onto his jacket.
"Just want to make a good impression." Sharpe replied just as gruffly.
In truth he wanted Lawford to see him and be proud.
Sharpe secretly hoped that he could somehow recapture what he and Lawford had shared in the past. He thought over the times they had spent together as he lay alone at night and he knew that he would do anything to regain Lawford's love.
At the reception, Sharpe waited patiently to be presented, one of the last apart from a few Lieutenants who had been invited. He watched Lawford, resplendent in his gold edged uniform, looking every bit the Lieutenant Colonel that he now was. Lawford's eyes lit up when he was introduced to 'Captain Richard Sharpe'
"It's so good to see you again Richard." he said softly then turned to address the others "Sharpe and I served in India together. He saved my Uncle's life."
Lawford reached out and put his hand on Sharpe's shoulder."You've done well for yourself. Taking an Eagle, a Captaincy, I'm impressed!"
"Thankyou Sir." Sharpe replied formally, aware that every eye in the room was watching them.
"We'll talk later." Lawford concluded with a look in his eyes that Sharpe had no trouble understanding.
The reception went late into the night and no matter how hard Sharpe tried, he found was unable to speak to Lawford alone. Lawford was the centre of attention. Gone was the shy young man Sharpe had first know, replaced by a confident stranger, who laughed and flirted easily. Lawford finally left, accompanied by a Spanish nobleman. Sharpe told himself it was not what it looked like, but he knew he was wrong.
It was several days until Sharpe finally found a way to see Lawford alone. The Lieutenant Colonel had been kept busy with dispatches for Wellington and Regimental business and while Sharpe had seen Lawford during parade or when reporting, there had been no opportunity for private conversations.
Normally Sharpe avoided the Officer's mess as he seldom felt welcome there and usually didn't have the money to spare. But he knew it was his best hope of having a few quiet minutes with Lawford and so once again he shaved, combed his hair, cleaned his boots with sacking and buttoned up his jacket.
"Got a woman in camp Sir?" Harper asked as Sharpe made his preparations.
"What makes yer think that Harper." Sharpe said frowning.
"Oh, just the way you've been wandering around smiling to yourself, and all the trouble you've going to with the way you look" Harper replied with a knowing smile.
"It's none of yer business Harper." Sharpe said, trying to sound cross, but unable to keep the smile from his face.
The were whispered comments of surprise when Sharpe arrived at the Officer's mess but he ignored them and sort out a table alone. The cost of the meal he sat down to would probably have supplied his men with cheap wine for a month, but Sharpe didn't care. When Lawford walked in, saw him there and walked over to join him, Sharpe knew it had all been worth it.
They sat and talked of how they had spent the last seven years. Light talk never going further than battles and promotions and deaths and survival. They ate and drank and others officers stopped by to join the conversation and Sharpe began to think he had mistaken Lawford's words.
But finally when it was very late and they were once again alone, Lawford reached out and touched Sharpe's fingers lightly saying,
"I have rooms in town Richard, would you care to come back for a drink?" The look he gave Sharpe was direct leaving no doubt as to what was being offered.
Sharpe nodded and followed Lawford out of the mess and up into the better part of town all the time wondering at the change from the shy young Lieutenant too the confident Colonel. Sharpe told himself that he had changed too, it was to be expected, but that didn't ease the uncomfortable feeling at the back of his mind.
When they arrived at his rooms, Lawford ordered Champagne and then dismissed the servants for the rest of the night. He led Sharpe through the silent luxury oblivious to Sharpe's gapes and stares at the affluence around him.
Finally they arrived in a bedroom that was decorated in rich furnishing and as Lawford poured the champagne, Sharpe wandered around touching the brocade and velvet and wondering if Lawford had brought all these things with him from England.
Lawford handed a glass of champagne to Sharpe and raised his glass.
"To reunions Richard" he said and took a long swallow. He put the glass down on the mantle piece, took off his jacket and looked back to where Sharpe still stood, sniffing at the glass.
"Well come on, take off your clothes, you were never this slow before." said Lawford as he walked back to Sharpe, grinning.
"It's been a long time." Sharpe said as Lawford reached up and began to unbutton Sharpe's jacket.
"Has it Richard? Don't worry, it will all come back to you." Lawford paused and looked into Sharpe's eyes.
"Maybe I can teach you a few things now." and Lawford smiled like a cat and laughed as he pulled at Sharpe's shirt. The buttons went flying and Lawford drew his hands down Sharpe's chest, leaving Sharpe's mind whirling.
Sharpe pulled away slightly, trying to gain some control over their encounter. He reached up to run his fingers through Lawford's hair suddenly feeling clumsy with the champagne glass still held in his other hand.
But Lawford clearly had other ideas and he skillfully commenced to unbutton Sharpe's trousers.
"Just like old times, eh Richard?" Lawford said softly as he guided Sharpe backwards across the room until they stood against the bed.
Sharpe had to stop himself shouting 'No'. It had never been like this with Lawford. Never in a room like this and never with Lawford taking control. It had always been Sharpe who had lead the way, guiding and teaching the innocent and shy young Lieutenant.
But that man was long gone and someone else had taken over Lawford's education where Richard Sharpe had left off.
Lawford pushed Sharpe backwards and they fell onto the bed together, champagne spilling everywhere. As Lawford continued to undress him, Sharpe tried one last time to gain some measure of control, but Lawford only laughed and said
"My turn this time Richard." and pushed him back down.
Sharpe tried desperately to gather his thoughts together, to slow down their encounter, but there was something intoxicating about giving up control to Lawford, to surrendering his body like this. It took Sharpe back to a darker time long ago, a time he tried hard to forget, but knew he never would. A time fraught with danger but also with excitement.
Lawford's hands were on his body and his lips and tongue were at his ear and Sharpe had been thinking about this for far to long now. When Lawford rolled him over, his body responded while his mind kept saying 'not like this'.
Afterwards, Lawford quickly left the bed where once he would have been content to lay with his head on Sharpe's shoulder and whisper sweet words in his ear. With that one action Lawford confirmed that he was a stranger to Sharpe now.
Sharpe chided himself for being a fool to think they could ever recapture what they once had in India. Guilt fell heavy on Sharpe's shoulders. If only he had confessed his love for Lawford then, how different their reunion could have been. Sharpe closed his eyes as Lawford came back to the bad carrying champagne.
"Exhausted Richard? Did I surprise you with that little trick. You'll never guess who showed it to me." Lawford boasted and laughed again and Sharpe wished he could find the courage to say that there was nothing Lawford could show him that he hadn't learnt when he was living on the streets, surviving by whoring.
He'd never told Lawford that truth and had never shown Lawford half the things he had learnt there. Sharpe had been told often enough how good he was, but it had been Lawford who had made him realise that those sort of skills were not the most important thing when you made love.
So Sharpe just lay there with his eyes closed pretending to catch his breath as Lawford drank more champagne and finally said,
"It's getting late Richard, you had best go. It wouldn't do for you to be found here in the morning."
Sharpe knew he should have felt hurt by the dismissal but all he could feel at that moment was relief that he could finally leave.
Sharpe wondered as he walked back to camp if Lawford would just ignore him now. He almost expected it and was therefore surprised when Lawford invited him to the Officers mess a day later.
Once more they spent the time talking and Lawford asked Sharpe questions about the South Essex Regiment, about the Officers and the men of the ranks. He asked Sharpe's advice about the best way to motivate the men showing a real concern for their well being.
Sharpe realised that the old Lawford was still there, deep down underneath the flashy, elegant Colonel who spent money easily and flirted skillfully. The other Officers of the Regiment eventually joined them and Sharpe once more drifted into the background. Lawford left with Captain Leroy that night, heads together sharing a joke.
But Sharpe wasn't disappointed, he told himself. He was happy he had been able to spend the evening with Lawford as a friend, if nothing more.
When Lawford bought him a new uniform, Sharpe was shocked. He was worried about the inevitable gossip. But Sharpe soon found out that the word on the grapevine was that the elegant Colonel Lawford was embarrassed by his scruffy Captain and then Sharpe felt hurt, wondering if there was some truth in the latest rumour.
But when next he saw Lawford he noticed at once the concern in his Colonel's eyes.
"Don't worry about the talk Richard." Lawford began even before Sharpe had a chance to opened his mouth.
"The uniform is nothing less than you deserve. You're a better soldier than most of the Officers in this army and it's not right that they look down on you because of what you wear."
Sharpe had smiled then and Lawford had smiled back in a way that could only be described as honest.
So very slowly Sharpe and Lawford began to rebuilt their friendship. Lawford spent many hours with Sharpe discussing the Regiment, what training the men still needed and who were the most skilled soldiers. He told Sharpe how much he valued his knowledge and was pleased that Sharpe was Captain of the Light Company.
When Lawford once again invited Sharpe back to his rooms, he had been ready to turn down the invitation. Sharpe didn't want to risk the fragile friendship that they had worked so hard to regain. But the hurt that showed in Lawford's eyes as he began making his excuses was very real and it caused Sharpe to hesitate.
"Please Richard, I enjoy your company. You're not like the others, I don't have to put on a show for you."
That admission had taken Sharpe by surprise and he finally agreed.
It was not until they were back at Lawford's rooms that Sharpe realised there was something wrong. Lawford took off his shirt and Sharpe was shocked to see the fading remains of bruises that mottled his fair skin.
"Bloody Hell, who did that to yer." Sharpe exclaimed feeling his anger rise.
"It's nothing Richard," Lawford said wearily "Don't let it concern you."
Then Lawford leaned into Sharpe's arms and whispered,
"Oh Richard, I've missed you so." and Sharpe held him unsure what to do or say.
Slowly Lawford undressed them and led Sharpe to the bed. But once there he was content to just lie in Sharpe's arms.
Sharpe became concerned. Perhaps there were more to Lawford's bruising than he was letting on.
"What's wrong?" he finally asked.
"Sometimes you do anything to get what you want Richard." Lawford said in a voice that sounded worn and tired and Sharpe brushed his hand over the silky fair head that lay against his shoulder hoping to ease the sadness he heard.
"It's not easy being in charge of a Regiment, you know. I'm here only because I have money. I have very few soldiering skills. I need to remain in favour or I will be overlooked." Lawford looked up at Sharpe with admiration in his eyes. "It's different for you. You've earned your place here by your bravery and being a good Officer. I constantly feel I have to prove myself. I have this horror of ending up like Simmerson"
Sharpe smiled slightly "No worry there Sir, you've done wonders with the Regiment. You've pulled us all together, given the lads back a sense of pride."
"Christ Richard, can't you drop the Sir" Lawford said and Sharpe laughed softly. It was a little formal considering they were laying naked in bed with each other.
"You never could say 'William' and feel comfortable with it." said Lawford sadly and Sharpe wondered if Lawford was also remembering the other things Sharpe had been unable to say.
But Lawford reached up then and pulled Sharpe's mouth down to his stopping any further conversation.
The William Lawford who took Sharpe to his bed that night was more like the man Sharpe knew. Gone was the forceful, calculating seducer replaced by the vulnerable hesitant man that Sharpe remembered.
Lawford looked into Sharpe's eyes and whispered
"Whatever you want tonight Richard." then lay there waiting.
Sharpe hesitated, glancing at the bruises and Lawford said softly,
"It's all right, truly, it was days ago now." and he lightly ran his fingers over Sharpe's back, tracing the scars that he found there. The touch was familiar, reminding Sharpe of the first time Lawford had kissed him.
It was all the invitation Sharpe needed and he responded by kissing the bruises he found on Lawford's chest. Lawford sighed and arched up to Sharpe, his fingers gripping the scarred back.
'Like old times' Sharpe thought as he caressed Lawford who lay pliant and responsive beneath him.
Sharpe had never been afraid to show gentleness with Lawford, knowing he would not take it as a sign of weakness, but of caring. He did so now, wanting to ensure that Lawford forgot whoever had mistreated him and thought only of Richard Sharpe who cared.
Sharpe thought once again of the first time they had made love, on a tiger skin beneath the stars in India with nothing more than trust and spit to help them. Lawford had been nervous, and Sharpe had wondered if he would go running back to camp when he realised what was to take place. But Sharpe had taken his time and they had both achieved a measure of satisfaction that night.
Now, as then, he went slowly and carefully, seeing to Lawford's pleasure before his own and when he finally entered him it was to Lawford's sighs of satisfaction not pain.
Later as Lawford lay on Sharpe's shoulder again he quietly said
"Sorry Richard, no tricks for you tonight."
Sharpe spoke then, confident in the vulnerability that Lawford was showing.
"You should know that you don't need those sort of things with me." he said softly "We've been friends for too long."
But Lawford had just remained silent and Sharpe found his gaze going back to the greenish bruises on Lawford's back and arms. He wondered who was responsible for them and thought about the numerous Officers he'd seen his friend flirting with. How could Lawford accept that sort of treatment, Sharpe asked himself, afraid that if he thought about it too much he might find an answer.
Perhaps Lawford had already answered that question earlier 'Sometimes you do anything to get what you want.' and Sharpe knew it was true.
They lay like that until it was almost dawn, content to hold each other and sleep.
"I best go now." Sharpe said reluctantly when he woke. But as he rose to leave, Lawford held his arm, kissed him hard then drew back and looked into Sharpe's eyes.
"I still love you Richard." he said.
~
In the days that followed, Sharpe became even more confused by Lawford's behavior. The Colonel was happy to seek out Sharpe's company in the mess and would often spend the evening talking over strategies and asking Sharpe's advice regarding the Regiment. But Lawford made it apparent that Sharpe would have to wait in line for anything more.
Sharpe watched with growing jealousy as Lawford invited various Officers or Portuguese and Spanish Officials back to his rooms. He knew he had no claim on his Colonel but Sharpe wondered how Lawford could confess his love and then disregard him so.
The more Sharpe tried to work out Lawford's motives the more confused he became. Lawford had money to buy any promotion he wanted so it couldn't be a case of seeking favours to get ahead. If that was the case there would be no need to entertain the likes of Captain Leroy who obviously had no influence there.
But Lawford had also said that he worried about ending up like Simmerson, hated by the Regiment he led, fearful of his back. Was Lawford just trying to earn the favour of his Officers? Tie them to him in the only way he knew? Surely not, thought Sharpe, couldn't Lawford see that the Regiment had come to respect him in the short time he had been there.
Sharpe thought back to times long ago and remembered all the reasons he had for doing what he had done. Survival, protection, acceptance, fear and a yearning to be wanted in any way. Perhaps Lawford's reasons were just as varied.
The Regiment spent the winter patrolling the boarder between Portugal and Spain, a thankless job that the men would normally have complained about. But Lawford saw to their comfort and well being, ensuring that where ever possible they had warm billets and enough rations. Sharpe became concerned that the men were getting too soft but for once Lawford disregarded Sharpe's suggestions and said to let the men enjoy it while they could.
Lawford came to rely more and more on Sharpe's expertise and experience often asking his advice regarding tactics and strategies. Sharpe was pleased. He told himself that Lawford's respect and friendship were enough, that he would not sleep with him again if invited.
But one evening in a small town far to the south Sharpe found himself alone with Lawford once more, drinking brandy. The Light Company had been out on patrol for nearly three weeks and Sharpe was glad to be able to spend time with his Colonel again. Lawford let his fingers stray across the table to lightly caress Sharpe's and with that one small action all of Sharpe's defenses fell.
That night Lawford again left Sharpe in no doubt as to who was in control as he saw swept along in rush of passion.
"I missed you Richard, I've been so lonely without you." Lawford said breathlessly as he tore at Sharpe's clothes, unable to get them off quickly enough.
"Doesn't look like yer been that lonely." said Sharpe as he pulled off Lawford's shirt and found a ring of teeth marks that nearly circled Lawford's throat.
"Jealous Richard?" said Lawford without pausing and he pushed Sharpe down onto the bed and sank his teeth into Sharpe's neck.
"Bloody Hell!" Sharpe shouted and rolled away. His neck hurt and he was shocked by Lawford's savagery. The bite had been more than a playful nip.
"What's wrong Richard? Don't you want to play. Don't you remember the time on the tiger skin. I seem to recall you were the one doing the biting that night."
'Not rough though' thought Sharpe, that night had been slow and gentle. Sharpe opened his mouth to reply, but Lawford was on him again, covering his mouth with his own and scratching his nails down Sharpe's chest.
Lawford's show of strength and assertivness inflamed Sharpe and once again his mind went to war with his body. As always it was his body the won the battle.
When Lawford released his mouth, Sharpe bit hard onto Lawford's shoulder and was rewarded by Lawford's shocked gasp. It prompted another attack from Lawford, this time directed at his chest.
At first Sharpe was afraid that Lawford might be prepared to inflict serious harm on him, but he realised that his Colonel still held a measure control over himself when Lawford whispered,
"It's all right Richard, I'd never hurt you. I know where to stop."
Sharpe gave himself up to the game then, unable to resist the sense of danger. Both men were an equal match in strength but Lawford had the subtle psychological advantage of being Sharpe's commanding Officer and gradually Sharpe once more found himself submitting to Lawford.
He was therefore taken by surprise when Lawford suddenly surrendered his hold and said through ragged breaths
"Take me Richard, now."
The sudden tilt of power was like the rush he felt in battle and Sharpe had to use all of his willpower to stop himself from losing what little self control he had left.
He roughly pushed Lawford over then made himself loosen the grip he had on Lawford's upper arms, afraid he may have already left bruises.
Sharpe waited, his breathing fast, his mind trying to gain some control while his body screamed at him to seek gratification in the body trapped beneath him.
"What are you waiting for, do it!" hissed Lawford and Richard Sharpe did.
Afterwards as he lay there counting his battle scars Sharpe wondered at Lawford's changing facade. Sharpe wasn't sure who the real Lawford was any more.
How could Lawford seek him out for his gentleness then push him to the limits of his self control. Did Lawford want to be hurt, did he realise what a dangerous game he was playing?
"What are you thinking Richard?" asked a Lawford in a sleepy voice as he lay sprawled beneath Sharpe.
"I don't understand you." Sharpe replied and Lawford said
"Then don't try to. But remember this Richard, I'll always look out for you, see that your rewarded for what you do."
Lawford ran his hand down their still entwined bodies,
"I don't mean this, I'm talking about you courage, your leadership, your ability in a battle. There are those who would rather you didn't get your promotion, Richard. There are many who are jealous of you and see you as a threat. But I'll do whatever I can to see that you get what you deserve."
Sharpe rolled over so he could better see Lawford's face.
"Who hurt yer that time?" Sharpe asked, for he had been unable to forget the bruises he had seen. But Lawford's eyes clouded over and he said
"I told you it was nothing Richard. Don't ask questions you don't want to know the answers to. Have you never done something you didn't want to talk about?"
Sharpe was silent then as his conscience ran through the list and he closed his eyes and allowed himself to dose until Lawford told him to go.
In the next few days Sharpe was glad of the freezing weather. It gave him an excuse to keep his jacket buttoned up. But he soon realised it was impossible to hide from the eagle eyes of Patrick Harper.
"Where'd you find the whore who did that Sir" said Harper with a grin, one evening when he brought a dish of warm water for washing to Sharpe's room.
"Twasn't a whore Harper!" Sharpe replied in a voice that left no room for discussion.
"If you say so Sir," said Harper ignoring the challenging look Sharpe was giving him "But if it was, I'm betting it would have cost you a pretty penny."
It was not until Celerico that Sharpe realised how much Lawford did care about Sharpe's career and how far he was willing to go to secure it.
Sharpe knew that he had overstept the mark in his confrontation with Lieutenant Ayers, the Provost. It had been a foolhardy decision to disregard Ayres' authority, but in the back of Sharpe's mind were his Colonels words 'I'll always look out for you' and some part of him wanted to put those words to the test.
When they met at the temporary Regiment headquarters in Celerico, Sharpe could tell straight away that Lawford was not pleased. There were no words of greeting, rather Lawford was abrupt and clearly worried. Sharpe tried to make light of his plight, certain that Wellington valued him too highly to risk loosing him.
It was not until Lawford exploded in rare anger that Sharpe finally accepted the seriousness of what he had done.
"Christ Almighty Richard, don't you bloody understand. This is a general-court-marshall offence." Lawford's genuine concern for him was more than evident, and Sharpe began to think his Colonel's fears could be well founded.
"I've done what I can for you Richard, don't ruin it by being hard headed. You will do whatever Wellington orders you to, do you understand?" This last was said quietly so that Major Forrest who also accompanied them would not hear.
"We'll talk tonight in my rooms." Lawford finished in a hurried whisper as they were shown into Wellington's office.
The interview went much as Sharpe had expected, Wellington asking him if he had threatened Ayres with a rifle and Sharpe replying
"Yes, Sir."
Wellington then delivered a lecture on the importance of respecting the property of their allies and Sharpe had listened halfheartedly, wishing the interview was over.
It wasn't until Wellington said
"Your gazette has not yet been ratified."
That Sharpe felt the first stirrings of worry. The General went on to make it clear that there was little that went on in the army that he was unaware of and suddenly Sharpe become painfully aware of the situation he and Lawford were involved in and how it would look to Wellington.
Suddenly Sharpe realised he was getting off with out a punishment. He began to wonder just what Lawford had done to ensure this and he felt his anger build.
"I was expecting more Sir. Court-marshals and drumheads." Sharpe said in a challenging voice.
Too late, he heard Lawford's intake of breath beside him and within moments Sharpe realised he had become a pawn in a different game.
"I am borrowing Captain Sharpe from you." Wellington told Lawford "I doubt whether I need him for more than a month."
"Yes my Lord" Lawford replied gravely and he gave Sharpe a look that warned him to be quiet.
Wellington went on to tell Sharpe to have his Company ready to march in the hour and to report to Major Hogan for his orders. In the meantime Sharpe was to make his apologies to Lieutenant Ayres.
As he watched Wellington turned to Lawford, smiled and inquired after his health. Lawford smiled in return, a smile that Sharpe had seen many times before and then Wellington said,
"Meet me for dinner tonight. The 'usual' time."
Sharpe felt his blood turn to ice, surely he was imagining what was taking place here. But the look that Wellington flicked at Sharpe followed by "Captain Sharpe will be too busy I fear." confirmed his suspicions.
~
When Sharpe finally returned to Lisbon after the dangerous mission Wellington had sent him on to recover the Spanish gold, Lawford was waiting to greet him with open arms. As he prattled on about new recruits being expected any day, his eyes betrayed his growing concern as he took in Sharpe's latest injuries.
Later when they were alone together in Lawford's rooms Sharpe realised that Lawford too was once again sporting bruises.
"Looks like I wasn't the only one to have a rough time of it." said Sharpe as he ran his hand along the dark marks that covered Lawford's ribs.
Lawford pulled away then and walk to the bed, sitting down wearily.
"We all fight our battles in our own way Richard. You should know that."
But Sharpe was too tired to ask more questions. All he wanted was to lay in Lawford's arms and forget about the last four weeks. His shoulder ached and his thigh was still sore where it had been pierced by El Catolico's sword. He walked to the bed and sat down beside Lawford.
"Oh Richard." Lawford sighed and ran his hand across the new scar that adorned Sharpe's shoulder. He looked into Sharpe's eyes and said
"I'll make sure your gazette is ratified, any way I can. You deserve it."
"Yer don't have to do that." said Sharpe, shocked that Lawford would go to this extent for him.
But William Lawford just looked at him with a sad smile and shook his head.
"I'd do anything for you Richard."
~
Now William Lawford lay in this sick room with one arm missing and severe chest wounds, suffering from blood loss and fever.
Sharpe thought back to that night of horror when Cuidad Rodrigo had fallen. The carnage inflicted on the city would always be second in Sharpe's mind to what had happened to Lawford that night.
The disbelief of seeing Lawford's fallen figure, the shock at the extent of his injuries, these were Sharpe's memories of that night.
When Patrick Harper had looked up and told Sharpe to cut off what was left of Lawford's arm, Sharpe's first thought was that Harper spoke from jealousy, that he had been waiting for a chance to hurt Lawford as he knew Sharpe cared about him. But the reality of the moment finally sunk through the shock as Sharpe watched his Sergeant tear Lawford's cloak to make crude bandages in an attempt to stop the bleeding.
Fighting back nausea Sharpe followed Harper's directions and with his sword severed the remains of Lawford's left arm. Reluctantly he bent and pulled the ring from the lifeless fingers aware that this was the last time he would touch the arm that had held him and the fingers that had caressed him. It was then Sharpe felt his eyes fill with tears which he tried desperately to hide by shouting at Harry Price and others around him as they tried to help.
It was hard to leave Lawford that night to the care of strangers, not knowing if he would see him alive again.
Sharpe had thought once more of all the things he had wanted to tell Lawford. How much in his life he owed to his friend, how much he cared and yes, how much he loved him.
Somewhere in the past seven years Sharpe realised that he had come to accept the love he felt for Lawford, to identify it and to give it a name. Loving William Lawford was not a weakness but a strength and now Sharpe might never have the chance to tell him. Sharpe desperately wanted to apologise for all those years ago when he had failed to tell Lawford he had wanted to hear. He wanted to say he was sorry whatever his remission had lead Lawford to seek out, to do, to become.
As he left the Convent that night Sharpe found Patrick Harper waiting patiently outside.
"How's Mr Lawford, Sir?" Harper asked in a quiet voice.
"Alive" was all that Sharpe replied as they walked through street which showed the aftermath of the sack. Sharpe looked up to try and see the stars above which he thought of as his long time friends and companions but the sky was clouded and light snow was beginning to fall. Suddenly Sharpe felt alone and was glad that Harper had waited for him.
Harper's voice broke through the stillness.
"I know what he meant to you Sir."
"What?" said Sharpe, afraid that somehow Harper knew Lawford had just died.
"In India, I know what he meant to you. You might have made light with the story you told me but I heard it in your voice when you said his name. I can see it in your eyes when you watch him on parade."
Sharpe was silent. He had told Harper about his relationship with Lawford because he was worried about the possible rumours. Harper was his friend after all. But he'd never mentioned feelings and certainly not love. Sharpe had explained it in a purely physical way, something that was not altogether uncommon amongst men in the army. Sharpe realised he shouldn't have tried to deceive Harper. The Irishman was far too canny and knew Sharpe too well for that.
"I'm sorry Pat." Sharpe said apologising for not telling Harper the truth.
But Harper could not read his mind and said,
"Ah it's all right Sir, nothing to apologise for. It happens to us all at one time or another, whether a man admits it or not. There's never enough women to go around so it's natural that a man might turn to his friend. And when friends share so much their feeling can change and deepen. Who better to love than a good friend."
Sharpe thought over his Sergeant's words. Harper never ceased to amaze him with his insights and wisdom. He wondered if Harper had ever had a friend like Lawford. Not recently, Sharpe decided, Harper was far to busy doing things for him. Sharpe recalled a saying that was often heard in camp, 'A Sergeant's work is never done.' It was certainly true of Harper!
When they arrived back at their billets Harper said,
"You go on up to your room Sir, I'll get you something to drink. I've got a bottle of brandy hidden away for you."
"Thanks Pat, I need it tonight." Sharpe replied wearily and climbed the stairs to his lonely room.
When Harper brought the brandy he said quietly,
"It's not good to drink alone Sir" and Sharpe asked him to stay, glad of the company.
As the brandy loosened Sharpe's tongue he told Harper about his life. His early years in the foundling home, his experiences on the streets and how it had been as a young recruit in the army. He spoke of Lawford and their time together in India. He spoke honestly and truthfully of how it was between them, both then and now.
Patrick Harper had listened, never commenting other than to nod his head. Only his eyes had shown first his sorrow and anger then his compassion and understanding.
Sharpe realised that it was Lawford who should be hearing his story but Lawford lay injured, maybe even dead and Harper was here, a friend who never let him down. Yes, Harper would understand and forgive him, even if Sharpe could not forgive himself.
Eventually the brandy did it's work and Sharpe felt his words slurring and his eyes closing. Harper pulled of Sharpe's boots and loosened his belt and jacket, then he tucked Sharpe into bed as if he were a child.
"You sleep now Sir, it will all look better in the morning." Harper said softly and Sharpe felt gentle fingers brush the hair from his face and something light touch the top of his head.
Sharpe smiled and murmured
"Good night Pat."
~
A nun in sombre black floated into the room like a dark phantom, checked on Lawford and then left as silently. When Sharpe turned back to the bed he found Lawford's eyes open, too bright and too intense.
"Hello Richard." Lawford said weakly and stretched out his hand. Sharpe took Lawford's hand in his own, noting how hot and dry it felt. Fever, his mind said in alarm, but at least the doctor had assured Sharpe that there was no sign of gangrene.
"You've come to say goodbye, haven't you Richard." Lawford said quietly and Sharpe nodded. Of course Lawford would know the Regiment was pulling out tomorrow.
"You're the only one who's come you know." said Lawford with a sigh.
Sharpe frowned, wondering if Lawford was delirious, for Major Forrest had been there earlier that day. But then Sharpe realised what Lawford meant. He was Lawford's only lover who had come to say goodbye.
Sharpe looked away, not wanting to Lawford to see the hurt in his eyes.
"I'm sorry Richard, I didn't want to hurt you. They didn't mean anything to me, really." Lawford added softly.
"None of my business." Sharpe said, almost adding Sir, but an argument was the last thing he wanted when they had so little time left, so he added, "I understand" and was pleased when he saw Lawford's weak smile.
"It's all a game really, isn't it. Just give and take you said once. I used to wonder how you could be so cynical about love Richard." Lawford paused and took his hand from Sharpe's. He brought it up to Sharpe's face and traced the scar he found there.
"But I realised there were many things I didn't know about you and some of them were things that you probably didn't want me to know."
Sharpe looked away again, shame burning his face. Had Lawford know all these years what Sharpe had once done?
"I must have given you a few laughs, eh Richard? Poor shy Will Lawford, innocent as a lamb, declaring his undying love for worldly Dick Sharpe, whore and.."
"No! It wasn't like that!" Sharpe interrupted, his voice loud and harsh in the cold stone room. He looked back at Lawford.
"I was ashamed at what I'd done, what I'd been. That's why I never told you." Sharpe shouted "I never laughed at you."
Lawford closed his eyes and looked away. When he looked back his gaze was steady again.
"I loved you Richard, nothing you told me could have changed that. Why didn't you trust me? Why couldn't you love me too?" Lawford's voice shook as he said those last words.
One last chance, Sharpe thought, if he missed it now he would never be given another. He reached out and took Lawford's hand and looked hard into his eyes.
"I did love you William. I still do!"
It sounded strange to Sharpe, as if someone else had spoken the words. He watched as Lawford blinked then turned his head away again.
"Afraid I'm dying Richard? Is that what it takes or do you think a lie will make me happy?" Lawford said and pulled his hand away.
Richard Sharpe felt his heart sink. It was too late. He had missed his chance years ago and it could never be recaptured. Sharpe had hurt the only person who had ever said they loved him and there was no way he could ever undo that wrong.
"I'm sorry" he whispered, "I never meant to hurt you. I wanted to tell you but I couldn't. No one ever loved me before and I didn't know the ways of it. It's the truth." Sharpe felt his eyes fill with tears. God not know, he thought, haven't I made a big enough fool of myself already.
Lawford looked back, "Christ Richard, not tears too. I must really be in bad shape." But Lawford's voice softened then and he continued,
"We're a fine pair aren't we. Wellington would kick our arses if he could see us now! Come on now, it's all right. I know what you're trying to say." Lawford reached out and took Sharpe's hand again.
"Yer not going to die and I'm not lying." Sharpe said simply and both men sat together in silence for a while.
"I wish we had more time" Lawford said "I'll come back you know. I can still ride and carry a sword."
"I hope so." was all Sharpe said.
Lawford struggled to sit up. "It's getting late Richard." he said as he looked out the narrow window at the deepening darkness. "Early march tomorrow eh?"
"Yes." Sharpe said as he gently helped his friend into a comfortable position.
"What do you say, one last kiss?" Lawford smiled, trying to make their parting easier.
Sharpe ran his fingers through Lawford's fair hair one last time and gently kissed him. He was aware again of the unnatural heat of fever and hesitated remembering Lawford's injuries. But Lawford pulled him close and kissed him passionately until they both had to pull away to catch their breath.
"Go now Richard, quickly, I hate goodbyes." Lawford said simply.
Sharpe rose and walked to the door. He hesitated, turning back one last time.
"I love you." he whispered to Lawford and William Lawford smiled and whispered back " I love you too, Richard."
~
With those parting words buried in his heart, Richard Sharpe left the silent convent and walked out into the cold night of Cuidad Rodrigo. The sun had set and stars shone brightly in the sky. Sharpe quickly brushed at his eyes as he became aware of a large dark figure waiting silently for him. As constant as the stars, thought Sharpe.
"Were yer waiting for me Harper" he asked, hoping his voice sounded steady.
"Well Sir, it was getting late and all, so I thought I'd just come by to make sure that Mr Lawford was still all right." Harper said.
"Yes, he's still coming along. No sign of gangrene but he has a fever. We spoke for a little while." Sharpe hesitated then smiled at Harper
"Said he'd come back, after all it was only his left arm."
Harper gave a laugh.
"God Bless him then Sir, I'm sure he'll try,"
They walked together in silence for a while then Sharpe asked.
"Have yer ever loved anyone Pat, really loved them?"
Harper was silent, pondering what Sharpe had said.
"Well yes Sir, of course I have. I know what you're asking me, but you've got to realise that there are all different sorts of love."
Sharpe looked at his Sergeant as they walked through the empty street.
"What do yer mean Harper?" he said slightly confused.
"Well Sir there's the sort of love you have for your mother and your father and for your sisters and brothers. There's the sort of love you have for God and the Church if you have any faith. There's the sort of love you have for the first girl who ever made your blood burn. Then there's the sort of love you have for the woman you marry, though I've not found that one yet." Harper smiled at Sharpe and they both laughed.
"And there's the sort of love that you have for a friend, a companion, someone so close that you trust them with your life. Now sometimes love can overlap. What starts out as one sort can end up as another. And just because you sometimes loose a person you love , it doesn't mean you'll never find love again. The human hearts a wondrous thing Sir. It's like a magnet, drawn to love and at the same time drawing love to it."
They had reached their billets and now stood at the bottom of the stairs to Sharpe's room.
Sharpe looked at Harper, pondering his words.
Once again he was surprised at his Sergeant's wisdom in matters that seemed unfathomable to Sharpe.
"You don't have to be alone Sir." Harper said softly and Sharpe knew it was true.
Harper was always there for him, watching his back, taking care of him. Whether it be on the battlefield or just in camp, the big Irishman was always there doing little things that Sharpe had come to rely on.
"Love's not always about telling a person, is it Harper." Sharpe said thoughtfully, aware that he had just made a great discovery. "It's about showing a person too."
Harper smiled at him, his eyes kind.
"I'm sure deep down Mr Lawford knew you loved him even though you didn't say it." Harper said quietly and turned to go.
"Wait a minute Pat." Sharpe said uncertainly and reached out to catch Harper's arm. Their eyes met and both men looked at each other, searching, gauging, gambling that what they each felt would be returned by the other.
It was Sharpe who finally spoke. He'd lost too much by remaining silent before. He wasn't going to let it happen again.
"Come up to my room for a drink Patrick, there's something we should talk about."
The End.
1998.