(no subject)
Two bits of loggage.
Finn doesn’t come home that night
Alden doesn’t expect him to, and he has readied himself for the cold empty bed before he goes to sleep, but all the same, there is nothing to prepare him for the hot wracking angry tears that follow, and he hates himself for them, and he hates Finn for them too. He cried for his mother, decades ago, and he’s cried from pain on a few very memorable occasions, but this--
He sleeps, restlessly.
Finn doesn’t come home the following morning, either, so Alden goes to Meligot’s office.
Mel is sitting at her desk, typing away at something, frowning slightly, although when Alden enters she looks up and gives him a faint smile. “Morning, Alden.”
Alden only nods curtly. “Mel, where’s Finn?”
A fleeting look of sympathy chases itself across her face. “On mission,” she says gently. “Since just an hour or two ago. Retrieving Miranda Linley.”
His insides twists themselves into a tight painful knot. “Very nice of him to tell me,” Alden says coldly.
“I assume he thought he wouldn’t need to,” Meligot says in a very reasonable voice. “Collecting Miranda should take him five or six hours at the most.”
It still feels like being abandoned. He can see on Mel’s face that she knows it.
“Here,” she adds, getting to her feet. “A cup of tea for you, I think.”
Tea does sound appealing, but something far more pressing even than Finn’s horrible absence suddenly leaps to the front of Alden’s mind. “Mel,” he says, “you’re… round.”
She blinks, looks down, smoothes a hand over her definitely rounded belly. “The correct word is ‘pregnant’,” she says mildly.
“Ah,” Alden murmurs, and sits down very carefully on her couch. “Since when?”
“December,” Meligot returns, still mild and matter-of-fact.
“December,” Alden repeats, and with dawning horror asks, “And the father?”
She merely raises an eyebrow at him, leaning back against her desk.
With a small part of his brain, Alden notes that Meligot hasn’t gone to get tea. This probably signals her assumption that the answer to his question will make Alden angry enough that he won’t stay for tea.
“Because,” Alden says, very softly, very cautiously, so that he can explore the full horror of the situation as minutely as possible, “I know most of the men here wouldn’t be interested in sleeping with you, barring-”
He shuts his eyes.
“Oh God.”
“Alden?” Meligot asks cautiously.
“Mel, what the hell were you thinking?”
“Nothing, I-”
“Damn right it was nothing! He’ll be the bloody worst father in the worlds! He-”
“Alden!” Meligot cuts in protestingly.
“Vichy, Mel! For fuck’s sake, what were you thinking?”
“I love him,” Meligot snaps. “I promise you, it wasn’t an impulsive decision, and the fact that Juilliard agreed shows that he has more emotional maturity than you give him credit for.”
Alden laughs, bitter and disbelieving.
Meligot colours slightly. “Go on then,” she says softly. “Go. Go defend my honour.”
Alden finds he’s trembling slightly. “I think I shall,” he says.
Something besides Finn to think about, at least.
He leaves.
Alden wakes up with a feeling of profound disorientation. He feels uncomfortably sore and strangely bereft, and although the feel of an unfamiliar pillow isn't strange in itself, he's gotten used to at least a familiar warmth next to him.
Thank god there isn't one, he realises after a moment, getting his bearings. If he'd woken up next to Vichy, he isn't sure what he'd have done.
As is, he sits up a little stiffly, and looks around. Juilliard still hasn't pulled the curtain down, but he's thankfully fast asleep in the next room. Alden's trousers, damn the man, are still so much confetti.
He stretches, and doesn't bother to make the couch properly a couch again, and instead leaves Juilliard's quarters, shivering a little. The hallway air is slightly too cool against his bare skin.
Alden doesn't quite realize where he's going until he's reached Meligot's office, but he only knocks on the door. When she answers, and her eyes widen in shock, he only says shortly, "Give me some damn trousers, Mel."
"Sure," she says. "Come in," and stands aside.
It's only after Alden enters that he realises Meligot already has a visitor.
The other young woman goes very bright red and turns her attention to the handheld that she's working on. She's vaguely familiar, but Alden's too rattled to place her right now.
Alden merely stands there. He has no time for embarassment, and soon enough Meligot returns with trousers, which he pulls on with a mutter of thanks. He glances at the girl. "Mel," he says quietly, "could I have a moment alone?"
"No time for that," Meligot says, and turns to the girl. "Ty? Can you tell Alden what you noticed?"
Ah, Ty. The name is familiar, too, recalling a mission nearly a year ago now. The girl has changed; he doesn't care. She tucks a bit of hair behind her ear and says, "This wasn't an accident, but it wasn't the natives of that world who did it. Offworld interference is almost certain, but it wasn't the pirates."
Alden's chest constricts. "What wasn't an accident?"
"Their disappearance. Finn's handheld is still somewhere on the world, Miranda's isn't, but according to the locals Miranda was staying with both of them are missing. Finn's handheld should be easily retrievable, but I don't know what it will tell us, and it's Miranda's we'll be tracking."
"Ah," Alden says, and sits down, very carefully. Everything has gone slow and cold. "Finn and... Miranda have vanished."
"Yes." Ty looks up and frowns. "I thought that was why you came here."
"It is now," Alden says, and takes a deep breath. "All right, let's go."
"Wait," Meligot says, and lays a hand on his arm. Alden can barely stop himself from shaking her off. "Ty, would you go outside for a moment, please?"
Ty flees, handheld clutched to her chest. She is as skittish as Alden remembers, but more together, too.
"All right," Meligot says, shutting the door behind Ty. "What happened?"
Alden doesn't want to tell her now, but it's pushing at the back of his throat. He laughs, in a painful, strangled way. "You'll never forgive me for it, Mel."
"You killed Juilliard," she says dryly. "It's all I can think of. I know you went off to see him."
"Worse," Alden returns, and laughs again, with that fucking edge of madness that he thought he'd burned away last night. "I--" He was going to say slept with him, but that is worlds of incorrect. "We fucked," he settles for, because it's the only right thing to say.
Meligot goes very slightly pale. "Ah," she says, and hesitates, and adds, "And you'd like to go after Finn now?"
Alden shakes his head. "Mel, it's immaterial now. I'm not letting Finn-- not letting him get lost, or die, or whatever damn fool thing he might do out there."
Meligot winces. "All right," she says, and opens the door. "Ty? You can come back in now."
Ty slinks back in, giving Alden an uncertain look as she goes over to stand next to Meligot. She stands nearer than she needs to, but if Meligot notices she doesn't say; then again, Alden may have disconcerted her too much to register it.
Alden forcefully pulls his thoughts into some sane working order.
"Ty," he says quietly, "forgive my... unorthodox entrance."
"I have met you before," she says, with the shadow of humour.
A quick grin crosses his face. It's painful, like a spasm, but it's something. "You shan't mind traveling with me again?"
She shakes her head. "It's not the return to active duty that I'd planned, but it's more important." She looks over at Meligot, uncertain, as if she expects to be told to stay behind. There's something else in the look, too, but it's muted and again Meligot doesn't notice.
"Are you both ready to go?" Meligot asks. She glances at Alden. "I'm assuming the request for trousers was dramatic flair, and you do have a change of clothes in otherspace?" When Alden nods, she smirks slightly. "All right. Ty?"
"I tend to go native," Ty says. "But I have emergency supplies in here." She hefts the knapsack slung over her shoulder. "Toolkit and change of clothes, among other things."
Meligot nods. "All right. Stand together, then." She steps away, behind her handheld, and as they step closer to each other, she gives them a tiny smile. "Good luck."
And the world spirals out.
Finn doesn’t come home that night
Alden doesn’t expect him to, and he has readied himself for the cold empty bed before he goes to sleep, but all the same, there is nothing to prepare him for the hot wracking angry tears that follow, and he hates himself for them, and he hates Finn for them too. He cried for his mother, decades ago, and he’s cried from pain on a few very memorable occasions, but this--
He sleeps, restlessly.
Finn doesn’t come home the following morning, either, so Alden goes to Meligot’s office.
Mel is sitting at her desk, typing away at something, frowning slightly, although when Alden enters she looks up and gives him a faint smile. “Morning, Alden.”
Alden only nods curtly. “Mel, where’s Finn?”
A fleeting look of sympathy chases itself across her face. “On mission,” she says gently. “Since just an hour or two ago. Retrieving Miranda Linley.”
His insides twists themselves into a tight painful knot. “Very nice of him to tell me,” Alden says coldly.
“I assume he thought he wouldn’t need to,” Meligot says in a very reasonable voice. “Collecting Miranda should take him five or six hours at the most.”
It still feels like being abandoned. He can see on Mel’s face that she knows it.
“Here,” she adds, getting to her feet. “A cup of tea for you, I think.”
Tea does sound appealing, but something far more pressing even than Finn’s horrible absence suddenly leaps to the front of Alden’s mind. “Mel,” he says, “you’re… round.”
She blinks, looks down, smoothes a hand over her definitely rounded belly. “The correct word is ‘pregnant’,” she says mildly.
“Ah,” Alden murmurs, and sits down very carefully on her couch. “Since when?”
“December,” Meligot returns, still mild and matter-of-fact.
“December,” Alden repeats, and with dawning horror asks, “And the father?”
She merely raises an eyebrow at him, leaning back against her desk.
With a small part of his brain, Alden notes that Meligot hasn’t gone to get tea. This probably signals her assumption that the answer to his question will make Alden angry enough that he won’t stay for tea.
“Because,” Alden says, very softly, very cautiously, so that he can explore the full horror of the situation as minutely as possible, “I know most of the men here wouldn’t be interested in sleeping with you, barring-”
He shuts his eyes.
“Oh God.”
“Alden?” Meligot asks cautiously.
“Mel, what the hell were you thinking?”
“Nothing, I-”
“Damn right it was nothing! He’ll be the bloody worst father in the worlds! He-”
“Alden!” Meligot cuts in protestingly.
“Vichy, Mel! For fuck’s sake, what were you thinking?”
“I love him,” Meligot snaps. “I promise you, it wasn’t an impulsive decision, and the fact that Juilliard agreed shows that he has more emotional maturity than you give him credit for.”
Alden laughs, bitter and disbelieving.
Meligot colours slightly. “Go on then,” she says softly. “Go. Go defend my honour.”
Alden finds he’s trembling slightly. “I think I shall,” he says.
Something besides Finn to think about, at least.
He leaves.
Alden wakes up with a feeling of profound disorientation. He feels uncomfortably sore and strangely bereft, and although the feel of an unfamiliar pillow isn't strange in itself, he's gotten used to at least a familiar warmth next to him.
Thank god there isn't one, he realises after a moment, getting his bearings. If he'd woken up next to Vichy, he isn't sure what he'd have done.
As is, he sits up a little stiffly, and looks around. Juilliard still hasn't pulled the curtain down, but he's thankfully fast asleep in the next room. Alden's trousers, damn the man, are still so much confetti.
He stretches, and doesn't bother to make the couch properly a couch again, and instead leaves Juilliard's quarters, shivering a little. The hallway air is slightly too cool against his bare skin.
Alden doesn't quite realize where he's going until he's reached Meligot's office, but he only knocks on the door. When she answers, and her eyes widen in shock, he only says shortly, "Give me some damn trousers, Mel."
"Sure," she says. "Come in," and stands aside.
It's only after Alden enters that he realises Meligot already has a visitor.
The other young woman goes very bright red and turns her attention to the handheld that she's working on. She's vaguely familiar, but Alden's too rattled to place her right now.
Alden merely stands there. He has no time for embarassment, and soon enough Meligot returns with trousers, which he pulls on with a mutter of thanks. He glances at the girl. "Mel," he says quietly, "could I have a moment alone?"
"No time for that," Meligot says, and turns to the girl. "Ty? Can you tell Alden what you noticed?"
Ah, Ty. The name is familiar, too, recalling a mission nearly a year ago now. The girl has changed; he doesn't care. She tucks a bit of hair behind her ear and says, "This wasn't an accident, but it wasn't the natives of that world who did it. Offworld interference is almost certain, but it wasn't the pirates."
Alden's chest constricts. "What wasn't an accident?"
"Their disappearance. Finn's handheld is still somewhere on the world, Miranda's isn't, but according to the locals Miranda was staying with both of them are missing. Finn's handheld should be easily retrievable, but I don't know what it will tell us, and it's Miranda's we'll be tracking."
"Ah," Alden says, and sits down, very carefully. Everything has gone slow and cold. "Finn and... Miranda have vanished."
"Yes." Ty looks up and frowns. "I thought that was why you came here."
"It is now," Alden says, and takes a deep breath. "All right, let's go."
"Wait," Meligot says, and lays a hand on his arm. Alden can barely stop himself from shaking her off. "Ty, would you go outside for a moment, please?"
Ty flees, handheld clutched to her chest. She is as skittish as Alden remembers, but more together, too.
"All right," Meligot says, shutting the door behind Ty. "What happened?"
Alden doesn't want to tell her now, but it's pushing at the back of his throat. He laughs, in a painful, strangled way. "You'll never forgive me for it, Mel."
"You killed Juilliard," she says dryly. "It's all I can think of. I know you went off to see him."
"Worse," Alden returns, and laughs again, with that fucking edge of madness that he thought he'd burned away last night. "I--" He was going to say slept with him, but that is worlds of incorrect. "We fucked," he settles for, because it's the only right thing to say.
Meligot goes very slightly pale. "Ah," she says, and hesitates, and adds, "And you'd like to go after Finn now?"
Alden shakes his head. "Mel, it's immaterial now. I'm not letting Finn-- not letting him get lost, or die, or whatever damn fool thing he might do out there."
Meligot winces. "All right," she says, and opens the door. "Ty? You can come back in now."
Ty slinks back in, giving Alden an uncertain look as she goes over to stand next to Meligot. She stands nearer than she needs to, but if Meligot notices she doesn't say; then again, Alden may have disconcerted her too much to register it.
Alden forcefully pulls his thoughts into some sane working order.
"Ty," he says quietly, "forgive my... unorthodox entrance."
"I have met you before," she says, with the shadow of humour.
A quick grin crosses his face. It's painful, like a spasm, but it's something. "You shan't mind traveling with me again?"
She shakes her head. "It's not the return to active duty that I'd planned, but it's more important." She looks over at Meligot, uncertain, as if she expects to be told to stay behind. There's something else in the look, too, but it's muted and again Meligot doesn't notice.
"Are you both ready to go?" Meligot asks. She glances at Alden. "I'm assuming the request for trousers was dramatic flair, and you do have a change of clothes in otherspace?" When Alden nods, she smirks slightly. "All right. Ty?"
"I tend to go native," Ty says. "But I have emergency supplies in here." She hefts the knapsack slung over her shoulder. "Toolkit and change of clothes, among other things."
Meligot nods. "All right. Stand together, then." She steps away, behind her handheld, and as they step closer to each other, she gives them a tiny smile. "Good luck."
And the world spirals out.