(no subject)
In which Val finally arrives. He meets Finn. There is fallout.
Val was a bit wary of returning to Headquarters. Of returning to T.H.E.Y. at all, in fact; familiar faces would be few and far between, because as his colleagues had died off around him, he’d made progressively less effort to meet the younger set. They usually ended up dying too.
This was a terribly cynical view to take, but Val considered himself probably entitled it. In any case, he’d liked living in the nice green countryside. Surrounded by ducks, but he wasn’t about to mention this to anyone who would still know him. They’d probably laugh themselves sick.
Such were Val’s thoughts when he found himself thrown into Meligot’s office. She’d acquired an impressive array of knickknacks in the seven years since he’d last seen her.
“No more transporting,” he announced, a little wheezingly. “I’m too damn old for it.”
The girl gave him a brilliant, amused, and above all relieved grin. “Sorry, Val.”
“Not your fault.” Val sighed and sat down on the couch. “I don’t suppose you have any coffee.”
“Of course.” Meligot sprang to her feet and gave him a little salute.
“Thanks,” Val said, and stretched. His joints popped. That was annoying. He usually didn’t feel quite this old. “Incidentally, you said you’d taken a while to find me, eh? Too busy finding others?”
“That’s right,” Meligot said, pausing and looking back at him. “Off the top of my head, we’ve had a return of Marcus Goldberg, Harper Donovan, Cassandra, Natasha Walker, a man now calling himself Ramsey, Charlotte Lewis and her partner who I’ve not had the opportunity to meet, and most recently Marian Archer.”
“Well,” Val said, impressed. “I hope you’re paying them well for it. Mind you, I’m doing this on a strictly volunteer basis. I’ll save your arses for free.”
Meligot gave him a little grin. “I can’t possibly tell you how much I appreciate it.”
“Mmm.”
“Cheerio, old fellow,” she said, going to a door. “I’m off the back way to get your coffee.”
“You are a saint,” Val told her, and leaned back on the couch, closing his eyes.
"Meligot?" someone asked, and then-"Oh, hullo."
Val opened one eye and then another.
A remarkably good-looking boy was standing in the doorway, looking rather surprised. He had dark hair and blue eyes, and Val had the sudden amused impression that he looked rather like an eager-to-please puppy.
“Our Mel’s not in at the moment,” Val said, sitting upright. “She’s being a dear and getting some coffee. And you are...?”
“Finnegan. Finn,” the boy said cheerfully. “Meligot called in another retiree for help, then?”
“Quite,” Val returned with a grin. “I don’t know why she thinks she’ll find use of me, though I suppose a certain level of experience and a good way with people might help to a point. Do you need to see Mel urgently?”
“I suppose not, unless strawberry biscotti is urgent. She mentioned she had some about, and as I don’t trust her tea anymore...” Finn trailed off with a shrug and a charming little grin.
“Strawberry biscotti is always urgent,” Val assured him. “What in the worlds happened to her tea?”
“Her tea tastes perfectly fine,” Finn said, wrinkling his nose. “You can’t even taste the drugs.”
“I protest,” Meligot said, coming back through the door. “Finn was having panic attacks and blowing up things in the rec rooms. I had a lot of things to take care of. Here’s your coffee, Val. Yes, Finn?”
“It was only the air hockey table. Do you have any biscotti left?”
“A bit, yeah,” Meligot said, and dug around in one of her desk drawers for a moment.
“You blew up the air hockey table?” Val said in great interest.
“He did.” Meligot reemerged and handed Finn a biscotti tin. “Ta, boys. I’ll be in the next room keeping everyone alive.” She left.
“Little tense, isn’t she,” Val murmured.
“Just a little. Anyway, I blew up the pool table as well. But that was ages ago.” Finn dug around in the tin and offered him a biscotti. “It’s just that we’ve been losing people,” he said unhappily.
“I know,” Val murmured, and might have been about to say something else, but at that moment there was the most intriguing diversion Val had ever witnessed in his entire life.
It consisted of Lord John Alden coming through the door.
He was of course seven years older than he’d been when Val had last seen him, and he looked it, at the silvering hair at his temples and the lines around his eyes. He looked in some ways wound even more tight than Val remembered, but in others-
“Finn,” Alden said, not even noticing Val, “you went after those biscuits ten minutes ago, and here you are eating them without-”
He caught sight of Val and stopped very abruptly.
“Hullo,” Val said pleasantly.
Finn blinked.
“Val?” Alden said at length.
Val gave him a grin and turned to Finn. “Finnegan, pray introduce me to your sweet-toothed companion.”
“It’s Alden,” Finn said, giving him a blank look. “Everybody knows Alden.” He was clutching the biscotti tin, darting confused looks between the two men.
“Do they,” Val murmured, and gave Alden another little grin. “Oh, I cannot say I know him as well as all that. Awaiting the biscotti, my lad?”
“Fuck off,” Alden said without real venom. “Finn, this is Val. He’s the horrible old man who kidnapped me here at the age of sixteen.”
“Oh,” Finn said, and looked back at Val. “Thank you,” he said politely.
Val’s eyebrows rose. “For inflicting this madman upon you all?”
Finn shrugged. “I’m rather grateful you did. I’d be dead otherwise.”
“Would you,” Val murmured, and looked back at Alden. The man gave a curt little nod, so Val turned back to Finn. “Much obliged then, lad.”
Finn gave him a shy little smile.
Val regarded him thoughtfully for a moment, then turned to Alden. “Alden, be a good lad and give me a moment alone with the boy.” He glanced back at Finn. “Give him the biscotti if it’ll keep him happy.”
“I’ll go,” Alden said shortly, and left, shutting the door behind him loudly enough to be petulant, though it wasn’t a real slam.
Finn winced a little at that. “What is it?” he asked curiously.
“I’ve known Alden for a very long time,” Val said, leaning forward and clasping his hands. “I’ve never seen him act that way with anyone. How do you know him?”
“We started talking on the handhelds when contact with Headquarters was cut off,” Finn began, sitting down cross-legged on the floor and retrieving a biscotti from the tin. “Then we found out that Meligot and Vonnegh were still alive, but in trouble, and I went to get them, and got slashed up pretty bad, and the emergency transport sent me where Alden was. He healed me.” This was all said quietly, the boy’s eyes on the pastry, but he was crumbling more than he ate.
“Ah.” Val thought for a moment of the Alden he knew, and couldn’t reconcile it with this boy. “What did he ask in return?”
Finn jerked his head up and gave Val an odd look. “Ask?”
Either Alden had become even cleverer than Val had known him to be, or he was actually right about this. If he could get the boy indignant enough to admit it...
“He saved your life,” Val explained, and inspected his fingernails. “That implies a debt. How did you go about repaying it?”
“I saved his,” Finn said blankly. “But later. And he didn’t ask me to. He never asked me to do anything, really.” He went back to crumbling the biscotti.
“Good lord,” Val murmured. “Lad, I’ve known the man longer than anyone here, and I am asking you, as his friend, what the hell you’ve done to him. He does everything in measures, and I don’t know how you’d manage to make him stop.”
Finn fixed him with a fierce blue gaze. “He saved me because he was worried about me, and I saved him because he’s my friend and I care about him. It’s not a matter of debt and balance.”
“Then I repeat, what have you managed to do to him?”
“I don’t know.” Finn shrugged. “I don’t know why he decided to let me. Maybe it was something to do with meeting over the handhelds and not being forced on a mission together or something like that.”
“Probably,” Val agreed noncommittally, and regarded Finn for a thoughtful moment. “I sure as hell hope you haven’t slept with him, then, if you’re lucky enough to be his friend.”
Finn blinked at him, then shook his head with a sort of resigned despair. “What is it with people?” he asked the ceiling. “Juilliard, Meligot, Theirn, and now this...”
“I could perhaps answer, should you choose to be more specific,” Val offered, feeling suddenly amused.
“Everybody told me it was a bad idea. I swear. Everybody I talked to.” Finn finally finished the biscotti.
“Hmm.” Val leaned back, regarded Finn for a moment. “There is nothing wrong with his character; he simply has a great fear of falling in love, and so I worry for anyone who is a friend of his.”
Finn went quiet, then, and simply looked at Val. He was very pretty, and his eyes were very blue, but, just then, very cold as well.
“Has he?” Val asked, very quietly.
“Yes.” Finn returned his attention to the biscotti tin.
“Ah.” Val considered for a moment. “Then he did right by you. I wouldn’t trust anyone who’d tell me without my dragging it out at length first.”
Finn grinned. “You ought to call him back in. He’ll be seething.”
“I expect he will,” Val murmured. “Shall you call him in?”
“Alden!” Finn yelled.
There was a moment of absolute quiet, and then the door opened. “Yes?” Alden asked politely, and shot Val a look of venom. Val had to swallow back a laugh.
“You can come back in now,” Finn said, completely deadpan.
“Shall I need to kill anyone?” Alden asked in mild interest.
“No. Meligot would kill us.”
Alden sighed. “I suppose it does defeat the purpose of bringing him here.”
“I am still in the room,” Val pointed out. “Finn, please reassure your young man that I haven’t damaged you irreparably.”
“It would take a lot more than you to do that,” Finn said, and his eyes sparkled rather oddly when he said it.
“True,” Alden murmured, and gave Val a narrow look. “Well?”
“Well I like him,” Val said, and gave Alden a grin.
“You finished with your biscuits?” Alden asked Finn. “If I stay around any longer he’ll start interrogating me.”
“It would only be fair,” Finn said mildly, giving Alden an impish little grin.
“God no,” Alden said in horror. “At least give me some bolstering reassurance before I face the inquisition.”
Val waved a hand. “Go on, then. I’ll attack you later.”
“I’ve more than half a mind to stay,” Finn said. “Meligot’s the only one who gets to dismiss us.”
Alden shot him a look. “You want to see him talk to me about this?”
“Yes,” Finn said promptly.
“No you don’t,” Alden said fiercely. “We’ve already gone over it at length, and I don’t need to revisit it just for Val’s enjoyment.” He shot Val a warning look.
“You should probably leave, lads,” Val said, and nodded to Alden. “I imagine it wouldn’t be quite as entertaining as you would hope.”
Finn shrugged and got to his feet, offering Alden the biscotti tin. “I’m going to hear about this later, aren’t I?” he asked ruefully.
“Yes,” Val and Alden said together. Alden shot Val a rueful look, considered a moment, and slipped an arm round Finn’s waist. “Come on.”
Finn ducked his head, but not before Val caught the pleased little smile on his lips.
“I shall see you,” Val offered, like a cheerful threat, and grinned to himself as they left.
Even if they all died, at least they’d go down with entertainment value.
And Alden in love.
That was something.
Alden wasn’t particularly surprised when Val accosted him at one of the cafés that evening.
“Where’s your-”
“Finn,” Alden said coldly, and drank his tea, “is in the garden. How pleasant of you to extend me the courtesy of a greeting before starting the interrogation.”
“I’m not the inquisition, lad,” Val said comfortably, and took a gulp of some truly disgusting-looking black coffee. “I do suspect your Finn of wanting to damage me if I do appear to be interrogating you, of course. I simply want to catch up.”
“How quaint,” Alden muttered into his tea.
“How childish,” Val returned cheerfully.
Alden slammed his cup down in its saucer. “All right,” he grated out. “Say what you wish and be done with it, dammit.”
Val leaned forward, that old conspiratorial-soldier look on his face. “Alden,” he said, “I thought you told me plainly that you’d never fall in love, for fear of-”
“Val,” Alden interrupted him firmly, and swallowed. “If you remember that conversation, surely you remember-saying you liked me rather too much to do something so foolish.”
He watched the puzzled look creep onto his old mentor’s face, watched Val nod very slowly. “Go on, lad.”
“I told Finn that,” Alden said, and avoided Val’s eyes, stared into the dregs of his tea. “I liked him too much. He was terribly persistent. I have no need of any endless string of lovers, especially now. And… with things so dangerous, it’s difficult to take heed of any of the old rules I used to apply. About what’s safe. About what’s right.” He looked back up at Val.
“I don’t care if you approve and I don’t care if you think I’m crazy, and I sure as hell wish I didn’t care enough about you to be willing to grant you some sort of explanation, like you actually deserve it.”
“I probably don’t,” Val said at length. “For what it’s worth, though, he’s a good lad, and he’ll do a lot for you.”
“I know it,” Alden murmured.
“Good.” Val looked as though he was going to say more-there was still that disbelief on his face, a sort of horribly grating shocked amusement-but he said nothing more, and got to his feet. “Ta.”
Alden didn’t dignify him with an answer.
But it had gone rather better than it might have.
Val was a bit wary of returning to Headquarters. Of returning to T.H.E.Y. at all, in fact; familiar faces would be few and far between, because as his colleagues had died off around him, he’d made progressively less effort to meet the younger set. They usually ended up dying too.
This was a terribly cynical view to take, but Val considered himself probably entitled it. In any case, he’d liked living in the nice green countryside. Surrounded by ducks, but he wasn’t about to mention this to anyone who would still know him. They’d probably laugh themselves sick.
Such were Val’s thoughts when he found himself thrown into Meligot’s office. She’d acquired an impressive array of knickknacks in the seven years since he’d last seen her.
“No more transporting,” he announced, a little wheezingly. “I’m too damn old for it.”
The girl gave him a brilliant, amused, and above all relieved grin. “Sorry, Val.”
“Not your fault.” Val sighed and sat down on the couch. “I don’t suppose you have any coffee.”
“Of course.” Meligot sprang to her feet and gave him a little salute.
“Thanks,” Val said, and stretched. His joints popped. That was annoying. He usually didn’t feel quite this old. “Incidentally, you said you’d taken a while to find me, eh? Too busy finding others?”
“That’s right,” Meligot said, pausing and looking back at him. “Off the top of my head, we’ve had a return of Marcus Goldberg, Harper Donovan, Cassandra, Natasha Walker, a man now calling himself Ramsey, Charlotte Lewis and her partner who I’ve not had the opportunity to meet, and most recently Marian Archer.”
“Well,” Val said, impressed. “I hope you’re paying them well for it. Mind you, I’m doing this on a strictly volunteer basis. I’ll save your arses for free.”
Meligot gave him a little grin. “I can’t possibly tell you how much I appreciate it.”
“Mmm.”
“Cheerio, old fellow,” she said, going to a door. “I’m off the back way to get your coffee.”
“You are a saint,” Val told her, and leaned back on the couch, closing his eyes.
"Meligot?" someone asked, and then-"Oh, hullo."
Val opened one eye and then another.
A remarkably good-looking boy was standing in the doorway, looking rather surprised. He had dark hair and blue eyes, and Val had the sudden amused impression that he looked rather like an eager-to-please puppy.
“Our Mel’s not in at the moment,” Val said, sitting upright. “She’s being a dear and getting some coffee. And you are...?”
“Finnegan. Finn,” the boy said cheerfully. “Meligot called in another retiree for help, then?”
“Quite,” Val returned with a grin. “I don’t know why she thinks she’ll find use of me, though I suppose a certain level of experience and a good way with people might help to a point. Do you need to see Mel urgently?”
“I suppose not, unless strawberry biscotti is urgent. She mentioned she had some about, and as I don’t trust her tea anymore...” Finn trailed off with a shrug and a charming little grin.
“Strawberry biscotti is always urgent,” Val assured him. “What in the worlds happened to her tea?”
“Her tea tastes perfectly fine,” Finn said, wrinkling his nose. “You can’t even taste the drugs.”
“I protest,” Meligot said, coming back through the door. “Finn was having panic attacks and blowing up things in the rec rooms. I had a lot of things to take care of. Here’s your coffee, Val. Yes, Finn?”
“It was only the air hockey table. Do you have any biscotti left?”
“A bit, yeah,” Meligot said, and dug around in one of her desk drawers for a moment.
“You blew up the air hockey table?” Val said in great interest.
“He did.” Meligot reemerged and handed Finn a biscotti tin. “Ta, boys. I’ll be in the next room keeping everyone alive.” She left.
“Little tense, isn’t she,” Val murmured.
“Just a little. Anyway, I blew up the pool table as well. But that was ages ago.” Finn dug around in the tin and offered him a biscotti. “It’s just that we’ve been losing people,” he said unhappily.
“I know,” Val murmured, and might have been about to say something else, but at that moment there was the most intriguing diversion Val had ever witnessed in his entire life.
It consisted of Lord John Alden coming through the door.
He was of course seven years older than he’d been when Val had last seen him, and he looked it, at the silvering hair at his temples and the lines around his eyes. He looked in some ways wound even more tight than Val remembered, but in others-
“Finn,” Alden said, not even noticing Val, “you went after those biscuits ten minutes ago, and here you are eating them without-”
He caught sight of Val and stopped very abruptly.
“Hullo,” Val said pleasantly.
Finn blinked.
“Val?” Alden said at length.
Val gave him a grin and turned to Finn. “Finnegan, pray introduce me to your sweet-toothed companion.”
“It’s Alden,” Finn said, giving him a blank look. “Everybody knows Alden.” He was clutching the biscotti tin, darting confused looks between the two men.
“Do they,” Val murmured, and gave Alden another little grin. “Oh, I cannot say I know him as well as all that. Awaiting the biscotti, my lad?”
“Fuck off,” Alden said without real venom. “Finn, this is Val. He’s the horrible old man who kidnapped me here at the age of sixteen.”
“Oh,” Finn said, and looked back at Val. “Thank you,” he said politely.
Val’s eyebrows rose. “For inflicting this madman upon you all?”
Finn shrugged. “I’m rather grateful you did. I’d be dead otherwise.”
“Would you,” Val murmured, and looked back at Alden. The man gave a curt little nod, so Val turned back to Finn. “Much obliged then, lad.”
Finn gave him a shy little smile.
Val regarded him thoughtfully for a moment, then turned to Alden. “Alden, be a good lad and give me a moment alone with the boy.” He glanced back at Finn. “Give him the biscotti if it’ll keep him happy.”
“I’ll go,” Alden said shortly, and left, shutting the door behind him loudly enough to be petulant, though it wasn’t a real slam.
Finn winced a little at that. “What is it?” he asked curiously.
“I’ve known Alden for a very long time,” Val said, leaning forward and clasping his hands. “I’ve never seen him act that way with anyone. How do you know him?”
“We started talking on the handhelds when contact with Headquarters was cut off,” Finn began, sitting down cross-legged on the floor and retrieving a biscotti from the tin. “Then we found out that Meligot and Vonnegh were still alive, but in trouble, and I went to get them, and got slashed up pretty bad, and the emergency transport sent me where Alden was. He healed me.” This was all said quietly, the boy’s eyes on the pastry, but he was crumbling more than he ate.
“Ah.” Val thought for a moment of the Alden he knew, and couldn’t reconcile it with this boy. “What did he ask in return?”
Finn jerked his head up and gave Val an odd look. “Ask?”
Either Alden had become even cleverer than Val had known him to be, or he was actually right about this. If he could get the boy indignant enough to admit it...
“He saved your life,” Val explained, and inspected his fingernails. “That implies a debt. How did you go about repaying it?”
“I saved his,” Finn said blankly. “But later. And he didn’t ask me to. He never asked me to do anything, really.” He went back to crumbling the biscotti.
“Good lord,” Val murmured. “Lad, I’ve known the man longer than anyone here, and I am asking you, as his friend, what the hell you’ve done to him. He does everything in measures, and I don’t know how you’d manage to make him stop.”
Finn fixed him with a fierce blue gaze. “He saved me because he was worried about me, and I saved him because he’s my friend and I care about him. It’s not a matter of debt and balance.”
“Then I repeat, what have you managed to do to him?”
“I don’t know.” Finn shrugged. “I don’t know why he decided to let me. Maybe it was something to do with meeting over the handhelds and not being forced on a mission together or something like that.”
“Probably,” Val agreed noncommittally, and regarded Finn for a thoughtful moment. “I sure as hell hope you haven’t slept with him, then, if you’re lucky enough to be his friend.”
Finn blinked at him, then shook his head with a sort of resigned despair. “What is it with people?” he asked the ceiling. “Juilliard, Meligot, Theirn, and now this...”
“I could perhaps answer, should you choose to be more specific,” Val offered, feeling suddenly amused.
“Everybody told me it was a bad idea. I swear. Everybody I talked to.” Finn finally finished the biscotti.
“Hmm.” Val leaned back, regarded Finn for a moment. “There is nothing wrong with his character; he simply has a great fear of falling in love, and so I worry for anyone who is a friend of his.”
Finn went quiet, then, and simply looked at Val. He was very pretty, and his eyes were very blue, but, just then, very cold as well.
“Has he?” Val asked, very quietly.
“Yes.” Finn returned his attention to the biscotti tin.
“Ah.” Val considered for a moment. “Then he did right by you. I wouldn’t trust anyone who’d tell me without my dragging it out at length first.”
Finn grinned. “You ought to call him back in. He’ll be seething.”
“I expect he will,” Val murmured. “Shall you call him in?”
“Alden!” Finn yelled.
There was a moment of absolute quiet, and then the door opened. “Yes?” Alden asked politely, and shot Val a look of venom. Val had to swallow back a laugh.
“You can come back in now,” Finn said, completely deadpan.
“Shall I need to kill anyone?” Alden asked in mild interest.
“No. Meligot would kill us.”
Alden sighed. “I suppose it does defeat the purpose of bringing him here.”
“I am still in the room,” Val pointed out. “Finn, please reassure your young man that I haven’t damaged you irreparably.”
“It would take a lot more than you to do that,” Finn said, and his eyes sparkled rather oddly when he said it.
“True,” Alden murmured, and gave Val a narrow look. “Well?”
“Well I like him,” Val said, and gave Alden a grin.
“You finished with your biscuits?” Alden asked Finn. “If I stay around any longer he’ll start interrogating me.”
“It would only be fair,” Finn said mildly, giving Alden an impish little grin.
“God no,” Alden said in horror. “At least give me some bolstering reassurance before I face the inquisition.”
Val waved a hand. “Go on, then. I’ll attack you later.”
“I’ve more than half a mind to stay,” Finn said. “Meligot’s the only one who gets to dismiss us.”
Alden shot him a look. “You want to see him talk to me about this?”
“Yes,” Finn said promptly.
“No you don’t,” Alden said fiercely. “We’ve already gone over it at length, and I don’t need to revisit it just for Val’s enjoyment.” He shot Val a warning look.
“You should probably leave, lads,” Val said, and nodded to Alden. “I imagine it wouldn’t be quite as entertaining as you would hope.”
Finn shrugged and got to his feet, offering Alden the biscotti tin. “I’m going to hear about this later, aren’t I?” he asked ruefully.
“Yes,” Val and Alden said together. Alden shot Val a rueful look, considered a moment, and slipped an arm round Finn’s waist. “Come on.”
Finn ducked his head, but not before Val caught the pleased little smile on his lips.
“I shall see you,” Val offered, like a cheerful threat, and grinned to himself as they left.
Even if they all died, at least they’d go down with entertainment value.
And Alden in love.
That was something.
Alden wasn’t particularly surprised when Val accosted him at one of the cafés that evening.
“Where’s your-”
“Finn,” Alden said coldly, and drank his tea, “is in the garden. How pleasant of you to extend me the courtesy of a greeting before starting the interrogation.”
“I’m not the inquisition, lad,” Val said comfortably, and took a gulp of some truly disgusting-looking black coffee. “I do suspect your Finn of wanting to damage me if I do appear to be interrogating you, of course. I simply want to catch up.”
“How quaint,” Alden muttered into his tea.
“How childish,” Val returned cheerfully.
Alden slammed his cup down in its saucer. “All right,” he grated out. “Say what you wish and be done with it, dammit.”
Val leaned forward, that old conspiratorial-soldier look on his face. “Alden,” he said, “I thought you told me plainly that you’d never fall in love, for fear of-”
“Val,” Alden interrupted him firmly, and swallowed. “If you remember that conversation, surely you remember-saying you liked me rather too much to do something so foolish.”
He watched the puzzled look creep onto his old mentor’s face, watched Val nod very slowly. “Go on, lad.”
“I told Finn that,” Alden said, and avoided Val’s eyes, stared into the dregs of his tea. “I liked him too much. He was terribly persistent. I have no need of any endless string of lovers, especially now. And… with things so dangerous, it’s difficult to take heed of any of the old rules I used to apply. About what’s safe. About what’s right.” He looked back up at Val.
“I don’t care if you approve and I don’t care if you think I’m crazy, and I sure as hell wish I didn’t care enough about you to be willing to grant you some sort of explanation, like you actually deserve it.”
“I probably don’t,” Val said at length. “For what it’s worth, though, he’s a good lad, and he’ll do a lot for you.”
“I know it,” Alden murmured.
“Good.” Val looked as though he was going to say more-there was still that disbelief on his face, a sort of horribly grating shocked amusement-but he said nothing more, and got to his feet. “Ta.”
Alden didn’t dignify him with an answer.
But it had gone rather better than it might have.