Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Author Note: Set after 'Chosen Path'

FIRE WITH FIRE

After Gannicus's leaving, the camp was in uproar. Everyone's heads were filled with the champion, the loss of him, and possibility of betrayal, and the damage one whore had brought. There was much to talk about. Agron spat viciously. The problem was clear to him - too many soft houseslaves with heads turned Roman, not enough soldiers and gladiators.

His gaze lingered on the stooped shadow of his heart. He had not thought of Nasir as a houseslave for many days.

Nasir had been sat alone at Chadara's grave since the burial. He was barely visible, wreathed in darkness and misery.

Agron did not approach, even though every part of him yearned to. He watched and waited, with burning eyes and heart. There were not many he would be so patient for. But a grieving Nasir had asked this of him, had pressed close and said there were things he would say to Chadara alone. He had whispered wait for me, with pain and pleading that had made Agron want to kiss him fiercely and draw out the poison of grief. He knew the rawness of loss. He would do all in his power to relieve Nasir of it.

If that meant the frustration of waiting, he would wait, for as long Nasir asked of him.

Naevia sat nearby, Mira beside her. Their talk was too quiet to hear.

Crixus watched them. He did not speak, to the women or to Agron, thank the gods. There was only silence and shadows between the gladiators for now. And a matching reason for why they gazed.

Something smelled different. Herbs were burning for healing. Naevia got to her feet. Agron's gaze was drawn to her. She held calm lost before. There was anger in her still but now she looked like a sword in hand would bring death to those before her.

She and Nasir had both come through fire changed and chosen the fight. Shared fates brought bonds. His Syrian was surrounded by them. Even Crixus, fucking Gaul that he was, counted Nasir as one of them and one to owe a debt to.

Agron nodded to Naevia. He had not wanted to hunt for her, but her return had brought reward. It had returned his heart to him. And she continued to give comfort, healing, and friendship to Nasir.

Agron called to her in the darkness. "Gratitude, for….."

"Gratitude is mine," Naevia's words sliced into his own. "We held together as we waited for word of the arena."

She did not wait for a reply, but melted into darkness and Crixus and the temple was silent again.

Agron kept watch.

The moon was high when Agron saw Nasir rise. Mira had gone to Spartacus, and Nasir walked on unsteady legs, bowed by exhaustion, grief, and injury. Agron rose to meet him, eyes drinking in every detail of flesh. Nasir's gaze was wretched. Agron's heart burned harder. His waiting was over.

"We slaved together for our dominus. We had each other…."

Agron reached and pulled Nasir close before words were finished. He breathed Nasir in - the healing salve, herb smoke, blood, and the dust of stones. Nasir held onto him tight, hands on chest, lips brushing skin. Touch was what both craved.

"She saw things clear, like this."

Nasir scratched nails down Agron's chest. Agron tugged his hair, other hand roaming over all skin it could find. Nasir gasped and his arms shook. Words seemed unable to stop slipping from his mouth.

"All she knew was how to survive as Roman, and the power and safety it brought."

Agron pressed closer. His Syrian was deep in grief, acting as though he would bury himself in Agron's skin. Agron knew well that madness. He still often felt it. Sometimes only Nasir's touch brought him back.

He grasped Nasir's chin with gentleness and forced the Syrian's gaze up to his face. There was wildness in Nasir's eyes that made Agron want to slaughter those responsible. Too late.

He spoke instead, heated look intent upon Nasir. "I am here. And I will not let you fall from me."

His hand strayed protectively to Nasir's injury. The gods had blessed him with the Syrian. And he would watch and hold and pleasure until the gods again pulled them apart. Even then Agron would put up a fight worthy of the arena against such separation.

Nasir stared, breathing heavy. His hold slackened. There was still wildness in him. He would likely now always carry a piece of it. He gripped Agron's neck and pressed their foreheads hard and close. They shared breath. Nasir's fingers scratched again. Agron answered with teeth. He pushed a hand forward for the reassurance of Nasir's heartbeat and offered the same.

They were in darkness and torn into pieces, but they were not alone. That was worth fighting for.

-the end