Loading... Chapter Thirty Four
Spending time with Lance was the silver lining of many dull missions. Everything felt easier when he was around. The only problem was that Daniel and Lance still weren't talking.
Instead of sneaking around like a thief, Lance got to enjoy the golden Paris sunlight as he ran errands for his father. But trouble was lurking right around the corner.
A crossbow bolt flew straight into the heart of a man who stepped onto the street. Lance stepped back. The guard hadn't even gotten a chance to take a breath after spotting him.
"Tarlè," the shooter called from behind.
Lance turned towards the voice, confusion only deepened when he saw Daniel standing there. "I'm assuming that was your work, Ortiz. Nice trick," he said, before glancing back at the would-be attacker. "How did you know he'd be there?"
"I have much to tell you," Daniel said. The foresight was wearing off, but it had given him exactly what he had asked for, the chance to make everything how it needed to be. There was another advantage of not wanting to return home to Spain right away. Time. He had a chance to explain the near-magical things that happened to him, and apologize for pushing Lance away while chasing ghosts. The tear in their friendship wasn't instantly fixed, but it wasn't an uphill battle, either.
Days later, Lance sat in front of a fire being lulled to sleep as its warmth protected him from the cold outside. He'd been staying with his family, and this spot in a distant wing made him feel more at home than anywhere else. When his eyes started to grow heavy, there was a knock on the door. Lance must have been asleep for some time, since when he woke, only the deep orange coals of the fire remained.
Lance rubbed his eyes as he got up to answer the door. Who would stop by this late? Let alone detour to his small section of the house. Soon he had his answer. "Daniel," Lance said. He noticed that his friend's eyes looked glossy. "What are you doing here?"
"Can I come in?"
His words seemed a bit slurred, but Lance let him in regardless. Better to have Daniel here instead of wandering the streets on the way to the inn. Lance closed the door, ready to stay something else, but Daniel wasn't there. He must have gone straight to the bedroom.
Lance rocked on his feet to check if Daniel wandered towards the main house, but it didn't appear anyone went in that direction. That simply left one place for him to be. Lance walked back to see Daniel lying down on the bed, curious if he had already passed out.
For a moment, Lance didn't know what he wanted to do. He held a hand out as if to ask why. The chair where he had been napping would have been the proper place for a guest. "Alright then," he mumbled to himself, and settled down on the other side of the bed. "Can you at least tell me why you are in my bed?"
Daniel wiggled, and flipped over so they were face to face. His eyes never left Lance, who was having some trouble maintaining eye contact. There was so much pain there. Lance felt like he could see a crack in those sky-blue eyes that ran straight down to the soul. "I don't want to be alone," Daniel said at last.
That answer was so raw it sent a pain into Lance's chest. "It's okay, you're not alone." He'd known that Daniel hadn't been fully himself since Amilia was killed in front of him. Something inside broke that day. Lance missed her too, but was nowhere near as shaken up about it as Daniel. Seemed fitting, since the only way Lance could imagine what his friend was going through was to picture Daniel's death. The fact that other members had been taken from them would bring a whole new heartache that mirrored the first.
Lance pulled a blanket over them both so they could stay warm. When he settled back down, he ended up tucked closer. "You never are alone," he said, placing his hand against Daniel's chest holding onto a tiny bit of cloth between his fingers.
Daniel looked as if he was thinking. "I miss us, too," Daniel said after a long silence. He didn't even miss a particular moment, just all of it, any of it.
The words sounded as sweet as a bird's song. Time and again, Daniel chose her instead, a choice Lance understood. He'd made his own choices too. There had been discussions about his legacy that happened so long ago they seemed written in stone. Still, Lance smiled and closed his eyes, content with just those few words.
As soft as a feather, Lance felt a kiss high on his cheek causing his eyes to flutter open. He searched Daniel's face trying to read it. He was tempted to ask why again, but he knew. It was an attempt to feel whole again. Daniel caught Lance's lips, kissing him before either of them ruined the moment.
The taste of bittersweet wine was still there, so sharp that Lance wondered if he could get intoxicated as well. If not from the feeling alone. "I've missed this," Lance admitted before drinking down another kiss.
There was so little sweetness to be had, but Lance ventured further to create some. "What can I do for you?"
"You are going to call me a sap again," he said softly.
"If I recall," Lance whispered back, "You said you were for me."
Daniel nodded slightly, an agreement that this close, said magnitudes. "I was scared."
"Like now?" Daniel looked away, and confirmed Lance's question. "I get scared too sometimes, so try me."
"I feel shaky. Could you—hold me?"
Lance didn't even take a second before lifting his arm and leaning back so Daniel could rest on his chest. Once he was settled, Lance wrapped both arms around him.
They knew they couldn't stay like this forever. Both of them wanted things the other couldn't provide in the long run. But for now, in this moment, it was enough to feel at peace. It was a bit of sweetness the world didn't seem to give on its own. When the morning came, they faced it together in one sense or another. Daniel knew there were plenty more bridges that had to be rebuilt. He'd spent far too many days trying to hide in the past.
The journey back to Spain was one Daniel dreaded, but didn't try to delay it any longer than he had already. He needed to face the reality of everything. Lance returned with him as support when Daniel made his first appearance at the guild.
"Ortiz, where have you been? Where is everyone else?" Gael asked, as he turned away from some newer recruits. He glanced between Daniel and Lance before realizing this shouldn't be discussed in public. "Come, not here."
Once they were closed off in a more private room, Daniel opened up about the events, struggling at first before it all spilled out without censor. Lance stayed at his place near the door, wishing he could help steady Daniel's voice.
"What of the artifact?" Gael asked.
"I...didn't bring it. It's a danger, and I was too weak to protect it on the return."
Gael's lips tightened as he considered if this was true. He stood before speaking. "I will send a group to scout that area. That should keep other visitors away until we can figure out how to collect it without losing anyone else."
Daniel didn't agree with the idea, but he kept silent.
"For now, just rest and return tomorrow for some further questions before any missions."
Daniel nodded before being excused.
Owen excused himself as well. He leaned back into his chair, exhaling as he roughly brushed his fingers through his hair. Working at the newspaper seemed to lose its spark. Owen felt sluggish and wondered if anyone noticed he was getting by doing the bare minimum. The only upside was that Michael steered clear of him now that he seemed more zombie than human. Owen placed a cigarette between his lips and headed downstairs after his shift. Without being hard pressed for answers in AoS, or having a story to be passionate about at work, things were a bit colorless. His complete disinterest with life made him realize how easy it was to blend in with the background noise of New York. The realization was unsettling enough for him to consider a small idea.
***
"Hello, my name is Owen, and my best friend is a fictional bisexual French man." His fingers gripped at the faux wooden podium in a confusing mixture of feelings and fear of the waxy top coat wedging itself under his nail. "Normally, that's fine. But uh, god, I didn't think I'd ever be up here talking to, well—" Owen cut himself off to gesture to the group sitting in folding chairs. "You all. But my ex-girlfriend left a giant fucking crater in both my lives. And I just really wish he was here. That...that we could get a drink, and talk as I walk down the same street I take to get home from work every day. Just talk, you know? Have someone who understands without being so involved in my day to day life. Playing feels like opening a wound, and not playing is slightly more tolerable. But dieu tout-puissant I miss him. You are all here because you want to play the game, but know you shouldn't." A bitter laugh broke up his words. "I'm here because of the reverse. So, uh I'm going to step down now." Owen dragged a hand across his brow before he committed to giving up the soap box.
Manners would have dictated that he listen to others speak, but he was in no mood for it. He headed straight outside, nearly forgetting his jacket on his chair. His hands anxiously pulled out a pack of cigarettes, idly remembering the cashier's expression when he bought them. Since when did people judge so harshly for smoking?
Someone else stepped out of the meeting. Owen assumed it was an older guy by the paint-speckled work boots he spotted, but he didn't bother to confirm until the man spoke. "What are you, like 24, 25?"
"Something like that."
"Yeah, that's what I thought." The man nodded to himself before continuing. "I know what it's like to lose someone at that age. When fiction mimics a reality, it hurts just as much. If you want, we can talk over drinks, or something."
"Look," Owen said, exhaling heavily. "I came out here to smoke, not try to find a replacement."
The man grumbled something that Owen thought was about people his age, but the gravel in the man's voice made it too hard to tell. The guy dug for his car keys and headed for the parking garage. Owen raised a brow, surprised the guy had a car. Maybe if he had been nicer he wouldn't have needed a taxi later. But then again, nice wasn't on his agenda tonight, or at least not until this cigarette burned down some.