Chapter Text
Sylus was forced to release you from his fearsome jaws when you doubled over with laughter, before you could hurt yourself with your mindless movements.
And still, once released, you managed to get your bandaged hand caught on his shirt button and messed up the neatly tied gauze strip.
You flinched when it tugged at your tender palms unexpectedly, amusement fizzling out in a choked gasp.
With an exasperated sigh, Sylus took your hand in his and loosened the ruined wrapping. "Such a foolish, clumsy kitten. As always." He clicked his tongue as he set about redoing the bandages deftly, taking extra care to fold the frayed ends under so you wouldn't get them caught on anything again.
"Don't talk to me about foolishness." With a defiant huff, you yanked your hand back from his to tuck in the edges of gauze yourself. "Unless..." You stole a peek at his face, gone stony at your words. "...you want to do that silly cat pose again so I can take a picture or two. I bet the twins would drop a pretty dime to get their hands on that."
The last part was murmured pensively to yourself. You didn't notice your own devious grin, until Sylus reached out to grab hold of your cheeks and squeeze your face into an orchestrated pout.
"Huey!" Indignant, you swatted at his hand.
He chuckled but let go, reaching over you for the dessert instead. "Keep being a brat and you won't get the rest of your dessert." He had the nerve to scoop up some of the mousse and deliver it into his own mouth. "Hmm..."
The single, throaty sound did all kinds of inexplicable things to your insides.
His eyes glittered as he watched your expression blank over. Almost like he knew. "I really should have made more than just this one serving."
Rather than confronting the strange reactions he had the power to elicit in you, beyond your control, you chose to go with blissful ignorance and snatched the dessert dish from his hand. "Ugh, great. Now I need a new spoon..."
Why did he keep doing that? He had to be purposefully toying with you, especially after realizing it bothered you. You’d lost count of the amount of times the insufferable man had put his mouth on your utensils, even your glass, today. What did people call it again?
Indirect kisses.
Turning away, mostly to hide the flush radiating more warmth from your face than a common space heater, your eyes snagged on the cutlery on the table beside the half eaten dinner.
You grabbed the unused steak knife from Sylus’ side, dragged the width of its tip through the mousse, and brought it to your mouth.
Sylus' brows lifted so high, they nearly disappeared into his hairline.
"Try not to piss me off too much," you mumbled around a mouthful of rich, bitter chocolate and cream. "I have a knife in my hand now. There's no telling what I might end up using it for." For added effect, you stabbed the knife back into the mousse, then licked off whatever chocolate clinging to it.
"Interesting." Sylus' responding smirk was sharper than the blade in your hand. "I didn't know you were into that sort of knife play."
You groaned. Dammit. You hadn't meant to, but you'd kind of set yourself up for that one...
"You surprise me every day, sweetie." Sylus' bemused gaze zeroed in on the corner of your mouth, unfocused a little. Then his hand followed, knuckles lightly brushing your jaw as he wiped whatever mess you'd made with the side of his thumb.
And lifted it to his lips, flicking out his tongue to lick at the smudge of chocolate mousse he'd cleaned off of your face.
Unconsciously, you licked your own lips, mimicking his movements.
Then you regained your presence of mind enough to glare at him through a red-hot blush, while his lips twitched at your belated reaction.
"Are you having fun, patronizing me?" You brandished your knife-spoon at him, eyes narrowed. "After I warned you not to piss me off?"
A haughty sneer, infused with genuine amusement. "I can handle your claws, Kitten." He leaned in, until he was way too close, and you felt his breath warm your face on the next words. "Do your worst."
He smelled like wine and rosemary, heady and dizzying. You clutched the knife in your closed fist, because you had trouble thinking when he was this close, and you didn't want to accidentally put it somewhere you didn't mean. "B-back off."
Sylus smirked darkly and bent a very deliberate inch closer. "Or…what?”
You went to push at his chest, but a better idea crystallized in your head. Relying on your honed Hunter senses, you moved—and watched as he jerked out of reach of your hand.
The wrong hand.
Expecting you to use the knife, as threatened, he had only reacted to you twitching said knife hand and fallen to your clever diversion.
The true weapon you'd reached for now sat smeared across the tip of his nose and along his cupid’s bow.
"Oh, noooo," you drawled, smugness incarnate. “I spilled my dessert.”
Sylus frowned at you in unbidden distaste. It didn’t have any effect whatsoever with the chocolate staining his face like half-assed war paint. “Clean it up.” Another one of those commands you had no intention of following.
It was your turn to smirk at him. “Make me.”
“…Very well.” Something dark and menacing flashed in his eyes, with a particularly diabolical edge to it that unsettled you. Sylus took hold of your hand, with the knife still in it, and squeezed until the uncomfortable pressure turned near-painful, forcing you to drop the utensil. Keeping his bruising grip on your weaponless hand, he brought your other hand up to his face and used your fingers to scoop the chocolate smears as best as he could.
And dipped them to his mouth, to close his lips around them.
You yanked your hand from his grip with an outraged shriek, face aflame. “What is wrong with you!?”
Sylus simply licked his lips, dark satisfaction glittering in his eyes. Only then did the fiend reach for a napkin to clean the remaining chocolate off his face.
You bit back the urge to wipe your sticky fingers on his expensive dress shirt. “You know, you have this really annoying habit where you keep invading my privacy whenever you want. You better get unused to that, before I decide to start charging you for it."
"Have I mentioned that I am a very wealthy man?" A slow smile that seemed specifically designed to piss you off. "I don't mind putting out for the treasures I covet."
His undisguised gaze held all kinds of subliminal meanings and promises.
You refused to face the possible implications behind any of it. "That's good for me, then.” Using the chance to compose yourself, you cleaned up your hand, then collected the discarded knife from the bed and placed it back on the table, along with the dessert. Another weapon he had successfully turned against you. “Being a Hunter doesn't pay the best—outside of hazard pay for field missions."
Sylus’ easy, amused smirk was all kinds of aggravating. “In that case, the deal I offered you is your best chance to start.” The fire in his eyes seemed of a different nature this time. Liquid heat flowing at a languid pace, seducing you beyond the risk of getting burnt, all for the reward of knowing the feel of him, having a taste of the madness tangling with this man was sure to plunge you into.
It was worse than battling a Magma Knave and having to stop yourself from touching curious fingertips to the puddles of brilliant scarlet the Wanderers left smoldering in their wake. Deadly enough to melt flesh off bones, but oh so tantalizing.
With a frown, you curled your fingers into your palms, just in case.
Sylus leaned in once more, one arm sliding out of sight along the pillows stacked at your back. “The original terms remain valid.” His deep voice tickled against the shell of your ear like a physical caress, pitched low, with a smooth, raspy timbre that was almost a purr. “Name any favor to fulfill, any question to answer.” It was obvious how he was coaxing you, dangling bait to tempt you with…not realizing he was the biggest temptation of all, a danger to your resolve and willpower which you’d once thought steadfast.
You crossed your arms, suppressing a shudder as you gave in and shifted back just a little, despite pride dictating you don’t give him a single inch. “In exchange for a kiss.” It was more of an incredulous observation than a neutral statement. “What benefit could that possibly have for you?”
And Sylus Qin was a man who never did anything without a very good reason.
“You let that be my concern, Kitten.” You caught glimpses of a wicked smile, dripping with confidence. Arrogance?
Was there even a difference with Sylus?
You scoffed. “If you’re trying to distract me from holding you accountable for your abuse of power, it’s not going to work. No amount of bribes or kis—physical assault will make me overlook the way you’ve been treating your men like defectors and blaming your decision to punish them on me.”
Crimson eyes flashed sharp with warning, like a lighthouse beacon cautioning you to change course lest you wreck on the jagged cliffs of his temper. “They have no place in this conversation, sweetie.” A slow drawl, infused with just a smidge of admonishing heat.
You glared at him mutinously, refusing to budge as he invaded your space some more. “What if I want them to?”
Sylus didn’t even pretend to hear you. His heated gaze was fixed on your lips as he audaciously ignored your question. Expression mild, he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear with casual familiarity. “This particular offer has a time limit, so I suggest you hurry up before it expires.”
Instead of withdrawing his hand, he trailed his knuckles along your jaw, down to your chin, where he tipped your face up with two fingers and bent closer, to speak his next words against the corner of your mouth. “You have one minute to set your terms.”
You groaned quietly. Him and his obsession with deadlines. “Okay, okay, back off so I can think.” You pushed at his shoulder weakly, realized too late that admitting he had any sort of power over you was a bad idea—the sly twinkle in his eyes confirmed your fears.
And yet he allowed you to nudge him back, enough to have you drawing unfettered breaths again.
It took precious seconds to settle your thoughts into coherent patterns again. You cleared your throat. “First of all, I want you to un-ground Cohen.” A firm nod to emphasize the seriousness of your demands. “And call off his punishment. Whatever that agreement you mentioned entails, I’m sure it’s super one-sided and designed to maximize your advantage and power over him. In short: a scam.”
It wouldn’t do to let him know Luke had told you everything he’d overheard between them through the ruined office door. Better to act clueless and use his unawareness to your benefit.
Several beats passed before Sylus opened his mouth. “You’re offering to kiss me in exchange for a favor…but you intend to use that favor to help another man?” Irritation darkened his eyes like the most ominous of thunderclouds. “Way to make me feel like a consolation prize.”
You glowered, aggrieved. He had it all wrong. You weren’t offering anything. He was the one who—
“In that case…” He crossed his arms over the solid expanse of his chest, forehead furrowed with bother as he glanced down at you. “…I’m drawing up an additional rule before we start. You may only use the favor for yourself. Not somebody else. Certainly not your pretty doctor.” He caught your gaze, held it with his, cold and resolute. “Cohen Festing is off the table.”
You made a sound of pure frustration. “Why can’t you just admit that you’re being too harsh on Cohen—and the twins—and dial it back a little? You’re not going to have any men left at this rate.”
You might as well have been talking to a brick wall. Not a single crack perturbed his impassive features.
Exasperation had you throwing your hands up in surrender. “Choosing to follow someone as your leader shouldn't obligate you to throw away your free will and blindly condone anything he does. Especially if some of it goes against your personal ethics. I know you have a tough image to uphold, but—”
Sylus cut you off before you could work yourself into a full rant, sharp as razor’s edge. “Onychinus is no place for the weak of heart.” His nostrils flared. Something dark and jagged shifted in the obscure depths of his gaze, like a knife twisting to turn a wound from life-threatening to fatal beyond doubt. “We are not a charity.” Soft words now, sensual in the same way that blood trickled out in smooth rivulets after, when the blade no longer stemmed the flow. “Onychinus is the most feared power in the N109 Zone and beyond, because every single member was so far willing to do whatever it takes, to maintain our position, our goals, and our name.”
The intensity of his not-quite fury left you silent and fighting tremors of unease. Between the snarky back-and-forth and rare bouts of comfortable banter you’d gotten used to, it was much too easy to forget how unsettling and mildly terrifying Sylus could be when he assumed his role as the notorious leader of Onychinus.
Twin garnets softened as he looked at you, cocked his head, until his silky hair flowed across his brow. “I suggest you don't tell the King of the Underworld how to run his own organization…” That ever-present crease smoothed out almost imperceptibly. “…unless you're interested in joining.”
You heaved a tired sigh, letting your head fall backwards onto the pillows waiting to carry its weight for you. “Never in a million years.” It wasn’t even a matter worth contemplating in earnest. He knew, and yet he never missed a chance to taunt and tease you with it.
Even the twins had started to follow his lead…
The question, when it came, was soft, low, almost offhanded. “…Not even if I made you my Queen?”
You snorted, about to recommend a good therapist in Linkon he could take himself and his boatload of hubris to, when you caught sight of his face in your peripheral vision.
The angle of his head cast his face into half-shadow, but there was a cautious gleam in his eyes. Muted expectation, something almost like hope…and now that you looked closer, you glimpsed how his features were set with the faintest hint of strain. The unfamiliar expression put a puzzling air of vulnerability around him.
Like you had power over him through whatever response you deigned to give his casual proposition.
It knocked you off-kilter for a second.
Was it not all just a joke after all? You’d assumed he was mocking you as always, offering his favorite staunch Hunter a place in the ranks of Onychinus, knowing you would never accept a way of life that so badly clashed with your own beliefs and convictions.
Feeling crushed by the burden of that possible truth, you forced yourself to seriously consider his offer. If only to give him an answer that wouldn’t ridicule his efforts to recruit people for his cause. “…would that give me the power to pardon Cohen?”
His face darkened instantly.
Oops. Wrong answer?
Weary, you rolled your eyes. “I guess not.”
He wouldn’t get more than that out of you. You’d leave the rest up to his imagination.
Testing the bandages on your palms, you dared to stretch out your arms behind you, intertwining your fingers behind your head. “A favor for myself, you say…”
You kept your gaze glued to the chandelier on the ceiling, reluctant to see what damage your response may have carved into his expression now that he no longer bothered to wear his mask around you.
“Beyond the obvious…hm.” You rolled your stiff shoulders a little, reminded of the lingering soreness now that you were basically lying down, at ease. “I don’t have any illusions that you would agree to let me leave, or save my life, despite your lack of conditions…”
A yawn interrupted you mid-musing. Aside from that nap on the balcony, you realized, you hadn’t properly slept since before the nightmare.
Your mood darkened at the memory. “Maybe I should sleep on it and get back to you with my specific terms later.”
After all, tired you was almost as impossible to trust with big decisions as hungry you.
You let your eyes slip shut, adjusting your neck to settle your head on the pillows in a more comfortable angle. Maybe you had overdone it with the workout a little. Your muscles twinged unpleasantly, the dull discomfort radiating towards your head like the beginnings of a tension headache.
The mattress by your hip dipped considerably. Was he shifting closer? The next moment, the bright red screen behind your closed lids was plunged into cool darkness.
You cracked one eye open. Sure enough, he was bending over you, disregarding your boundaries once again, face close enough for you to count his much too long lashes. If you wanted to.
Gone was any trace that you may have upset him just minutes prior. Instead, he wore a faint smile, devoid of barbs or haughtiness. Just a slightly amused Sylus who regarded you with a strangely disarming, dim fondness in his clouded gaze, like you were about to tell his favorite bad joke for the hundredth time.
“If you don’t make up your mind soon…” He tilted his head, until his nose brushed your cheekbone, just barely. “…I’ll make it two kisses.” The languorous murmur threatened to derail your rational thoughts.
Snapping out of the dangerous daze, you thumped his chest. “That’s not fair! You can’t just go changing your terms however you want after you’ve already set them!” You complained in a huff. “And before you get any ideas, you also can’t increase my debt because I’m taking too long to settle it. Since you keep going on about paying you back.”
“It’s called interest, sweetie, and it’s not even illegal in Linkon City.” Distinct amusement glittered in his half-lidded eyes as he ribbed you as easily as he breathed. Still too close.
You thumped him again, though your range of movement was growing limited. “We narrowed it down to a question or favor I’m ‘not allowed to use for somebody else’. Why are you rushing me?” You would have crossed your arms in indignation, if he wasn’t in the way. “Would you like to call in a notary to make it official by law, while you’re at it? Go ahead, I can wait.”
Sylus laughed. He laughed.
He was so close that you felt it more than heard it, with the way his front had ended up pasted to your side at some point in the last minute that he’d been creeping up on you.
The vibrations of his chest against your body were an unfamiliar but not unpleasant sensation. Despite your initial indignation, you found yourself falling silent, just listening to the deep, resounding evidence of his amusement while it shook you like an earthquake.
His face, too, glowed with the same careless abandon, bright crimson glittering through laughter-crinkled eyes, his grin wide enough to show off the sensual fullness of lips you’d known only capable of delivering sharp taunts and calculated cruelty.
You didn’t know what came over you. But seeing him like that flipped a switch in your mind…and sent all your hitherto efforts to resist his temptation and save yourself from the burn to ruin.
Grasping the collar of his shirt, you pulled him across those remaining few inches of distance and crushed your lips to his smiling ones.
He froze, less than the span of a single of your thundering heartbeats.
Then his arm wound around your waist to pull you into him, one large hand sliding up your nape and into your hair. His breath rushed out in a frantic puff of air before he slanted his mouth over yours, to steal the air from your lungs before you could draw in enough of it to voice any doubts left in the confines of your brain…to be contemplated after your impulsive actions, which had given away any leverage you may have had over him before the deal was sealed in a tumble of lips and tongue and teeth.
His nose prodded your cheek as he kissed you like a starved man chasing the fleeting taste of something unattainable, something he’d once relished, perhaps in a dream, or a different lifetime…and longed to savor again ever since.
His weight crushed you into the pillows, warm and heavy and familiar.
Chocolate and rosemary and Sylus. Your senses were drowned in him as you held on for dear life, refusing to yield to the advance of his tongue, battling him for dominance, fighting to claw back every breath he snatched away from you like he wanted you to breathe him instead. To draw him in and let him burrow under your skin, into your veins, into every crevice of your heart, until he became the very thing keeping you alive.
And he, the very thing you would die without.
Deep inside, within the functioning remnants of your dazed mind, the part of you that was terrified of dying whispered: If he can save you and your heart…so let him have it all.
A different voice objected with an ear-splitting screech. Foreign but by now well known. Do not lose yourself. HE.WILL.CONSUME.YOU.
As if on command, your Evol stirred, beckoned by the presence of the man you lay intertwined with, like lovers.
Before you could decide, in your haze, whether to release or repress it, a sudden, sharp bite of pain dragged your reason and spirit gone astray back to the place they belonged.
You opened your eyes to a world drenched in glaring gold, and above you an angel with a halo of pale silver on his head. Then you felt strong fingers squeezing your hand hard enough to send sharp pangs travelling through your wrist and beyond.
Even before the sight above you crystallized into focus, you were pushing him away, pushing yourself off the bed and into motion, striding across the room to yank back the curtains and stand with your back against the window.
The shock of cold helped clear the fog from your mind, settle the surge of power pricking your insides like needles…and cool down the ooze of heat in your blood. But your face remained afire, your breaths coming in harsh, heavy pants like your lungs were demanding compensation for the air they’d been made to miss.
“I know what I want now.” You sounded even more breathless than you felt, your heartbeat overwhelmingly rapid, deafening, echoing inside your head.
You looked up. Sylus still sat on the bed, near the edge, like he’d been about to follow after you. He was breathing just as heavy, streaks of dusky pink across high cheekbones, his lips shiny with wet and bruised. His hair was disheveled, like you’d messed it up with your hands. The top buttons of his shirt were undone.
You couldn’t remember doing any of it.
The sight of him thoroughly unraveled and feverish with lust might have been detrimental to your heart, your sanity…if you weren’t already teetering on the verge of madness for entirely other reasons.
“I know you’re hiding something. Something that concerns me.” You swallowed harshly, trying to ignore the way your kiss-swollen lips tingled all over and smarted where he’d bitten you. It was impossible. You drew in a shaky breath, willed the feebleness in your mind, in your limbs, away. “I want to know what it is. All of it.”
Surprise and regret warred a bloody fight among the embers continuing to smolder in his gaze. You saw exactly who came out the victor, supported by a blade of guilt that emerged to stab you in the back right when you’d dared to turn away from him unprotected.
“I will tell you…” His voice was hoarse, husky, rough from lingering desire and the grit of self-reproach. “…when the time comes.” He did not meet your eyes as he confirmed what you’d feared.
What you would have expected, had your brain not stalled and tumbled into handing him more power over you on a silver platter.
Once again, Sylus Qin had played you for a fool. And once again, you only had yourself to blame for anticipating a different outcome, thinking he might have changed this time. Enough to surrender part of the truth, at least.
You should never have trusted his promises. Chances were, they ended up empty. Or kept deliberately incomplete in order to deceive you. To betray what little trust you could bring yourself to give him, even after every repeated instance he’d so far proven your hopes futile and misplaced.
Somehow, you bit back the shivers wanting to wrack your body, summoned by the cold at your back. You pressed further into the icy window pane, wishing it would numb your nerves and advance beyond, down to the dull, heavy ache taking over your chest.
The phantom pressure of his hand clutching your waist. The tug of his fingers tangled in your hair. The sharp nip of his teeth on your lips. His taste, his warmth, his crushing embrace. You wanted to forget it all. “You don’t need to come back to visit your prisoner anymore. There is nothing left to be said between us.”
His jaw clenched as he rose from the bed slowly. “Don’t tell me you regret it?” The taunt was flat, without its usual bite, his smirk missing its sharpness that would have made the cover-up act believable.
“Yes.” You answered without hesitating, voice steady and full of unflinching conviction, even as everything else inside you quivered, crumbled. “I wish I’d never made this deal with you.” You thrust your hands into your hair, nails scratching at your scalp as if you could erase the feeling of him touching you there, paint over it with self-inflicted agony. “I wish I could take it all back—” The jokes, the unlikely comfort you’d found in him, the all-consuming kiss. “I wish I had never met you.”
And in that moment, you meant it.
His face shuttered abruptly. You watched as the mask slid back into place, piece by previously discarded piece. But although the window granting you however fleeting insight into his soul disappeared before your eyes, you could still perceive the extent of his agitation. Beyond the icy indifference he’d wrapped around himself like armor.
As he turned to leave the room, his Evol lashed around him uncontrollably. A sinister, shapeless mass of coiling tendrils that had escaped his conscious command through the fissures your parting words had cleaved into his composure. It mirrored the jumble of thoughts in your head.
Dark and corrosive, a spiral of ruin and regret no longer under your control.
But worse than that was the pain, in all the places you’d touched him—your most devastating temptation. His fire had lapped away at you, quickly spreading from a single touch that had set you ablaze, to a sea of flames that knew only how to sear and consume.
And now, it burned with a bone-deep ache, like skin singed and scorched beyond repair, forming desperate blisters to heal the hopeless damage beneath.
~~~
Although everything in you wanted to flop face first onto the bed and surrender yourself to the blissful nothingness of sleep, you were too restless to settle down, the burns too fresh.
Glowing, white-hot embers still charred their way through your faltering mind and your foolish heart alike, not letting you dissolve into ashes just yet. So you kept busy, organizing the things you’d been provided, slipping into your favorite pair of pajamas for comfort.
Caleb had gifted them to you on the day you had passed the Association’s exam and been handed your Hunter’s license. The pattern of bows and arrows criss-crossing over the pale pink fleece in different styles and sizes always reminded you of home.
Today, it particularly hurt. Having to endure your current reality, a reality that no longer had Caleb and Grandma Josephine waiting for you, safe and warm in the home you’d done most of your growing up in.
You pressed your bandaged palms over your eyes, until the dull ache forming behind them escalated, and your palms protested the excessive force.
The faint smell of your long cold dinner lingered in the room like a bad memory. What had smelled and tasted so appetizing before now nauseated you, poisoned by the dark turn the candlelit dinner had taken.
Gritting your teeth, you rose and tossed everything back onto the serving cart—the unfinished plates, the stupid, tainted dessert, even the wine, although you briefly considered drowning your sorrows in it—and pushed the entire thing outside into the hallway.
And then you yanked open the French windows to let the frigid, biting air wash the room clean of all the traces of him that wouldn’t disappear on their own.
Your mind was harder to clear. But soon enough, everything around you was cold, and you let it come, hoping it would freeze everything inside you as well.
Shivering violently, you perched on the edge of the mattress, refusing to follow instinct and wrap your arms around yourself to maintain what little heat your body was struggling to hold on to.
You wanted to be numb. Maybe the burning would stop, then.
The door opened at your back. Footsteps sounded. Not his. His stride was firmer, more than assertive, as self-conceited as his personality.
Luke rounded the side of the bed, entering your line of sight. “Holy shit, it’s cold in here.”
He went ahead and closed the windows without stopping to ask you for permission.
You stared at him blankly, numb but not numb enough. Anger carved a frown into your stiff face. Yet you didn’t say anything.
Luke turned and peered at you cautiously, hands shoved into his pockets. “Are you, uh, okay?”
You didn’t bother answering his question. There was no way to, without breaking the walls of apathy you were erecting around yourself out of dire necessity.
“You heard, didn’t you?” You also didn’t bother clearing your throat to get rid of the grating coarseness in your voice. Like you’d been screaming for hours, your vocal cords raw from abuse.
A blend of compassion and concern vied for dominance in the older twin’s eyes. “…Yeah.”
He’d been looking at you the same way the people at the hospital had looked at you, the day of your family’s demise. Full of knowing, and pity, and misplaced guilt at having to be the bearer of bad news that would plunge your own personal world into darkness.
The memories were old and faded, but this feeling of mental nakedness, of realizing that others, strangers, were privy to the terrible tragedies of your life, remained as jarring as ever.
You turned your head to escape the consoling gaze you could sense on you, comfortable and warm like the gentle glow of a fireplace after winter’s cold.
You had no use for his sympathy and warmth, when all you wanted was to not feel anything, left alone and untouched, frozen in your castle of ice.
The gaming console near the foot of the bed caught your attention. Slowly, because you were stiff and sore all over, you leaned over to grab it. “Here.” You tossed it to him, watched him almost drop the device while scrambling to catch it.
“Oh, sweet!” It was less difficult to look at him when a grin lit up his face. “I didn’t think Boss would agree to let me have it back this soon.” He turned it around in his hands, as if checking for damage.
“He didn’t. I’m giving it back because he told me not to.” When his face fell, you merely gave him a long, jaded look. “I suggest you hide it well. Don’t come blaming me if you get caught.”
Suddenly a ghostly shade of pale, Luke wrung his hands in mute distress, looking like he wanted to protest.
You interposed before he could do more than open his mouth. “Did Cohen bring my charger too? My phone is dead, and I can’t get my Hunter’s Watch switched on either.” You pointed at the two dark-screened devices on the bed next to you.
Still appearing lost, Luke scratched the back of his head, console safely tucked away under his arm. “Your charger is here, but…” He paused, looking more worried than before as he watched you fiddle with the unresponsive watch. “Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t seem—”
“Are you telling me this is enough of an emergency to summon Cohen for a visit?” You bared your teeth at him in a feral grin. “By all means, call him. I have something to discuss with him anyways.”
Luke’s throat worked visibly as he swallowed. “N-no…I’ll get you the charger.” Frantic, he hurried over to the unused closet and retrieved a worn duffel bag from its depths. Two chargers emerged in Luke’s hand when he reached inside. One old-fashioned cable you hadn’t gotten around to replacing yet, and one Protocore-powered, wireless terminal for your Hunter equipment.
Wordlessly, he helped you set them up on the nightstand by the bed. He also took away the foldable table he’d brought along with dinner earlier.
“Thanks.” You waved at him as he walked to the door afterwards, hoping it was enough to banish the uneasy glances he kept throwing your way. As if you would spontaneously combust any moment or something.
He halted at the open door, looking back over his shoulder hesitantly. “Don’t forget. Just hit the red button if there’s anything you need.”
You sighed and gave him a quick nod, because he seemed to be waiting for some sort of confirmation.
And still, his eyes remained dark and distraught until he left and closed the door behind him.
Sigh.
The moment your phone had enough juice to stay on, it went off with an incoming call.
You picked up with a quick glance at the displayed caller name. Xavier.
“Hello—”
“Oh, good. You finally picked up. I’ve been trying to reach you for a week!”
With a wince, you held the speakers a short distance away from your ear. You still heard him well enough, voice pitched to a piercing edge, with a vein of worry laced through his tense, tight tone.
“Xavieeeer. Hi there. I’m so sorry for going MIA…I was going to have my, uh...nurse leave you a note, but he must have forgotten.” Hopefully Cohen would never find out you’d called him that.
You were met with icy silence, expectant and stern, oddly reminiscent of a parent waiting for their child to present the latest excuse for some mischief it was about to be punished for.
You cleared your throat, forced lightness into your words as you set off to explain. “So, uhm...remember how I wasn't doing so well lately? I seem to have stumbled into some…medical trouble during my trip to the N109 Zone.” The story you’d devised in preparation for when Xavier or Rafayel got a hold of you rolled off your tongue mostly smoothly. “And now I'm staying with an…acquaintance who runs a clinic in the mountains, specialized in this field of adverse effects the N109 Zone can have on outsiders.”
You shifted nervously when he stayed silent. “It’s some kind of Metaflux radiation that's harmful especially to those with Protocore syndrome or similar conditions. You know, since the N109 Zone got hit with the worst of the Chronorift Catastrophe. The aftermath is still causing issues today.”
Your rambling seemed to have sounded believable enough. Or maybe the excuse you’d come up with proved conclusive, considering not even Xavier had the level of clearance required to access all classified files kept by the Association on the N109 Zone.
As Nero had helpfully informed you, right after he’d let you have a look at that old map. For a price, of course.
“You became sick…because of that?” His voice had lost most of its heat, replaced by a diffuse mix of concern and confusion.
You held in your exhale of relief, unwilling to undo all your efforts by accident. “It happens to some people, apparently, if their bodies haven’t had enough time to adjust. A little like decompression sickness for divers.”
Rafayel had once bragged about how his aquatic predisposition made him immune to all kinds of afflictions that normal humans might suffer from after “fooling around in the sea”. He had sounded as smug as ever when he raved about the superiority of his people.
You snorted softly at the memory. “Just my luck, huh?”
A brief silence filled the line. You could picture Xavier wearing his usual, helpless frown as he processed everything, racking his brain for ways he could help you. “When are you going to be back? Is there anything I can do?”
No one could accuse you of not knowing your partner inside out. “The re-acclimation process takes two weeks at most, I’ve been told. I should be out of here by the end of next week.” Either walking on your own two feet, or carried in a body bag.
The bleak thought gave you pause. “…Just hold down the fort until I return. And tell Captain Jenna not to worry. I’ll be back with a note from my doctor.”
…Could Cohen even write you one? Officially?
You would have to find out…maybe bribe Zayne into covering for you, if not.
Exchanging a few more words with Xavier—mostly reassurances that no, you didn’t need him to show up, not even for emotional support—made you realize how much you missed the normalcy of your life. Joking around with your colleagues. Spending time with your chosen family.
By the time you said your goodbyes, your heart was aching, heavy with the awareness that you might not get the chance to see him again. Or Zayne. Or Rafayel.
Or Tara. Captain Jenna. Even Nero.
“Come back soon. We’re waiting for you, Partner.” You heard the smile in his voice. Your mind provided the matching image of his face, luminous and scrunched up in laughter. Radiant like the sun, comforting like the moon.
Your own smile was a sad parody in comparison. Sorrow dimmed your mood like dark clouds, snuffing out the moonlight of him too. A total eclipse. “Take care, Xavier.”
I’m sorry.