contact part deux

[bouchonne]

if this were modern times byerly would probably make you listen to total eclipse of the heart before you were able to leave a message

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[bouchonne]

You drive a hard bargain. A hot spring inn? I suppose I'll endure it somehow.

[ Byerly will miss weeping Bastien. Not because he wants Bastien to cry - of course not - but simply because it feels so lovely to soothe him. It feels so lovely to be so trusted. He hopes that Bastien will never have reason to cry again, but also, that he will do so. It's quite perverse, really. ]

But only if you let me rub your feet after you've soaked in the water.

[cozen]

You can rub anything you like,

[ accompanied by a wink that is winked intentionally like someone who is bad at winking, half is him face scrunching up and mouth contorting with the pretend effort of shutting only that one eye—

which then stays shut for a moment, very attractively, as his wet clumpy eyelashes stick together. ]

We shouldn’t wait.

[ Still smiling. Not a return to morosité, despite the subject. ]

Everything we talk about doing after the war. [ Like living together. Like reunions. Like scheming—outside of work, with their own resources—and like writing. ] We might not have after the war.

[bouchonne]

[ Byerly runs his thumb over those lashes, de-clumping them, like a preening bird. He stays silent as he does, and only once the task is completed: ]

I agree.

[ It's a little reluctant, that agreement. After all, if it is not done after the war, it is done during the war. And if it is done during the war, then it will necessitate the sacrifice of duty. Time spent on papers and letters, on cosseting allies and mollifying enemies. ]

The war matters, of course. But I find I love the war rather less these days. And much less than I love you.

[cozen]

[ In answer, Bastien acquires a faint (non-literal) glow, hooks his finger against By’s neck as if through a collar, and mimes tugging at it to bring him closer for a kiss.

He knows he’s still sharing with duty and honor and la cruelle bonne chose à faire, and to some extent always will be. But it’s nice to be in the race. ]

The war does matter,

[ is an odd thing for a man who bolted from it immediately upon By’s death, maybe—but By isn’t why he’s here so much as how he’s here, how he stands the day to day misery of it, and his departure was less the smooth exit of someone who no longer saw the benefit than it was the Bard-disguised frantic exit of a wounded animal who only wants to get away from what hurts. ]

There’s no better life for anyone— [ except mages, maybe ] —if they win. You could help people be a little less oppressed, maybe, but they would still be worse off than when we started. And I don’t want to write the kind of things that Corypheus’s cult would enjoy reading.

[bouchonne]

Mm. I bet there's not a single pervert among them. You could write things that are outre, and they'd sigh and ask for things where people act more normal.

[ Bastien will not, of course, be writing pornography. His darling will be writing political tracts, and they will change the world. But it's funnier to talk about smut.

And he needs a bit of levity. Because the next thing is hard to say. He doesn't meet Bastien's eyes when he says it, and his voice is so casual that it comes full circle to sounding heavy again. ]

I am thinking that...Well. Death does make a fellow re-evaluate his priorities. And I wonder if I might compromise a bit. Still fight, but - Return to the life of a normal diplomat. No longer be m'sieur l'Ambassadeur.

[ It's tentative, hesitant. Guilty. Ashamed. Even suggesting it feels like cowardice. Which is absurd, because Bastien will not think him a coward for this, will not judge him, will not condemn him. But...But, well. When one of your few worthy qualities is your willingness to stand up and take responsibility, it's not hard to imagine that losing that quality will involve losing some of your worthiness, no? ]

[cozen]

[ Bastien watches him. His averted eyes. The reluctance in his mouth. It’s been four years—the entirety of the time they’ve been together and then some—and, ]

I don’t want to talk you into it.

[ He takes By’s chin in his hand and rubs his thumb against the hair there. He doesn’t try to make him look. ]

You can’t let me talk you into it. I want you to be free of it, [ he’s already said, and explained his selfish reasons. A place in Lowtown, among people who like them. No ridiculous midnight curfews. Missions abroad. ] I’d love it if you were free of it. We could—

[ Be selfish. But also not be selfish. Much less of a scandal if Riftwatch Diplomats Numbers 4 and 5 are caught interfering in things that are not generally considered Riftwatch’s business.

But he only smiles. A little interested, and more reserved. Left to his own devices, without begging, he doesn’t really think By will do it. ]

[bouchonne]

[ A sentiment that Byerly can see clearly in that smile, caught in his peripheral vision. ]

We could, but you don't think we will.

[ Bastien doesn't want to talk him into it. So Byerly ought to let that wish stand. But: ]

Who else might take it?

[ A question he's used before to justify his reluctance to leave the post. Because the answer is clear enough: there is no one. But he asks it this time like it's a question that might have an answer. Non-rhetorically, trying to will someone into existence. ]

[cozen]

I don’t know.

[ He could guess. Julius—that was his best idea, when Byerly was gone. But there’s no telling, really. ]

Half the Division is Tevinter, [ which seems like a poor idea for the job, especially with Flint already a public relations problem for that and other reasons, ] and none of us were ever diplomats before now.

[ Empress doesn’t count. ]

But neither were you. And you didn’t even have a predecessor around offering to help you.

[bouchonne]

[ He nods. He did figure it out, over time. At least partly. Certainly painfully. But perhaps he could ease that pain for someone else - someone else who could, like him, figure it out. No way to learn to swim but to dive into water, right? ]

And we could go places. No need to turn it into a mission because the Ambassador's time is oh-so valuable. Just travel.

[ Then, smile going a little crooked: ]

I'd miss throwing my title in their faces. [ They being, of course, all the haters, though Thedas does not of course have a term as convenient as "the haters." ] They'll all decide I was fired.

[cozen]

[ They don't matter might come easily. Who cares. But the answer is that Byerly cares—that Byerly has always cared, his entire life, and has only recently made strides toward admitting that, only in the last couple of years begun trying to be man he really wants to be instead of forfeiting the possibility up front out of the belief that there is something inherent to his face or voice or soul that marks him to the world as wrong and unworthy. ]

They'll,

[ he begins, intending to argue, but the tense stops him. Not they would. They will. ]

Are we daydreaming together, [ like they have every time Bastien's opined about the potential benefits (to him personally) of Byerly leaving the job, ] or are we really talking about this?

[bouchonne]

[ A lift of his shoulders, and he repeats: ]

Dying makes a man re-assess his priorities.

[ He realizes how true it is as he says it. Maybe he'd started this conversation daydreaming as usual, but it's become more real with every word. He knows it from the feeling in his heart. Every time in the past when he's even considered this, he's felt a twist of remorse for entertaining the thoughts. But now, today, that's gone. Perhaps it was Bastien's tears did it. A magic tincture that dissipated the curse of duty. (Or at least weakened it.) ]

And you're more precious than pride. Or even than honor.

[cozen]

[ Bastien’s eyes acquire a gleam—the gleam of a man who’s been offered a fortune. ]

I don’t want you to do it for me, [ he says, which is not at all the same as not wanting By to do it, ] and then regret it.

[ However. If they’re really talking about it. ]

But we could be just as useful. More useful. We could do a little less work, yeah, but the work we did could be what we’re better at. The connections you’ve made and the plans that you have with Flint, they would not go away. But we could go meet people where they are. No desks. You can still work on what you’ve wanted to accomplish.

And people will not think you were fired, [ he circles back to, ] because you are not being fired. We aren’t a big enough organization for people to get things that wrong. Some people might be relieved or might see it as an opportunity to have one of their own in the seat, but so what? Even if it someone we disagree with—they have disagreed with us this whole time, and the work still got done.

It’s been four years. Almost the entire time Riftwatch has existed. We needed someone to do it, and you did it, and it is alright to let someone else worry about it for a while.

[ So much for not trying to talk him into it. ]

[bouchonne]

[ Byerly's wry smile shows quite clearly that he's thinking the exact same thing. But he doesn't call his beloved out on that, because it's sweet. And because he wants to be talked into it. ]

I wouldn't be doing it for you.

[ It does feel important to assuage that worry. Even if it's not entirely true. It's at least a little bit for him. ]

I would be doing it for myself. To hold onto you, if nothing else. You must be getting so bored, and a bit of travel would spice that up and keep your eye on me, eh?

[ That is, for what it's worth, a total joke. Of Byerly's many insecurities, he doesn't actually worry about losing Bastien's heart. (He doesn't even obliquely worry that Bastien is faking this relationship as part of a Bardly mission any longer. That's actually totally gone.) ]

[cozen]

[ Bastien wrinkles his nose at how ridiculous that is—first of all, he gets to travel far more than Byerly does as it is. Second of all, Bastien hardly left central Orlais in 35 years.

But, ]

See the world while it’s still here.

[ He puts his hand in By’s hair, fingers stroking behind his ear. ]

Work abroad—we both do our best work with time to settle in, I think. We spend a few weeks with someone in Antiva, someone in Wycome, do some listening and some prying, make friends, not be so formal. We could do more that way. We’d be a good team.

[ Bastien could have been doing it that way all this time, if he’d been willing to spend half his time away from Byerly. ]

[bouchonne]

The crystals make it easy.

[ He leans his head into Bastien's fingertips. ]

Instantaneous reports. Not at the speed of a raven's wingbeats - at the speed of speech.

[cozen]

[ Instant communication. What a world. Bastien nods. ]

And when we are here, we can stay in Lowtown. There are those apartments on the docks if we want to be cheap about it. Then no more leaving right when things are getting good to try to catch the ferry. We would only have to come to the Gallows to work sometimes.

[bouchonne]

And to torment Artemaeus.

[ Fondly: ]

I'd bully him into getting coffee for us. He wouldn't be able to say no.

[ The humor fades a moment as he admits: ]

That's another thing, too. I'd worried that he wouldn't be safe if he weren't under my protection. But even in my absence, he was fine.

[cozen]

Ouais. It has been a long time. He has other friends. No one will kill him for being a Tevinter traitor anymore.

[ Wait for it. ]

Maybe for being a helpless nuisance—as a crime of passion, you know. But no executions.

[bouchonne]

Hah.

[ Fond as he is of Artemaeus, Byerly has to admit that's not an unlikely outcome. But also not one that By could or would protect him from.

Then: ]

Have you forgiven him?

[ Since Byerly might have been oblivious to that initial coldness, when he first arrived, but he's certainly become aware of it since - even if he does not fully know the root of it. ]

[cozen]

[ Bastien shrugs. ]

I’m sure it isn’t his fault. It’s just how he is.

[ Because deciding someone’s faults are inherent to their being and not something to forgive them for, only something to account for and work around for the rest of their lives, is completely different from holding a grudge. ]

[bouchonne]

So -

[ Really, Bastien. ]

That sounds like a no.

[cozen]

You don't forgive a cloud for raining, [ with as much airy dignity as he can muster while still puffy-eyed and red-nosed from sobbing into Byerly's neck. ] You learn to carry a parasol.

[ But he abandons the pretense, shortly, and collapses back against By's shoulder like his strings have been cut. ]

They announced you were gone, and I was—

[ He does not really want to put himself back there. ]

—sitting on the floor trying to–

He wanted me to give him directions. And when he caught me leaving, it was just, you know, don't go, Byerly wants you to interim division head. He said so in his letter. And when I said no he blew the wheels off my cart with magic.

[bouchonne]

[ For what it's worth, Byerly also feels a surge of anger. Bastien was sitting on the floor? And Benedict didn't recognize that for the crisis it was? Maker, if Byerly found Bastien sitting on the floor, then he'd climb down beside him and hold him and - Well, do much what he's doing right now, in short, which is the prerogative of a lover, and maybe he shouldn't be angry with the boy for not knowing how to treat his inscrutable beloved.

But. He tries to be fair. ]

That sounds like I deserve your anger, then. For not putting anything more than that in the letter. [ A beat - ] The magic thing was asinine, though.

[cozen]

[ A nod. For both things. He was angry with Byerly; they've talked about it. By said he was sorry. It's alright now. ]

I wouldn't expect—it is not as though we are friends, he and I.

[ They haven't spoken about much except work and Byerly in years. If not for Byerly as a connecting line between them, giving Benedict a reason to remember who he is, he wouldn't be shocked if Benedict still thought his name was Bertrand. ]

And I know he was grieving, too. It was only a very bad time for someone to be needy and demanding at me.

[bouchonne]

[ He was grieving. What a strange and uncomfortable thought. And what a lovely one. To have anyone take heed of his death - improbable. To have multiple people not just notice, but mourn - It seems impossible. He shouldn't get any ounce of pleasure from it. But - He does.

No matter. ]

The lad is -

[ Well. ]

Well, he's an absolute fuck-up, but - in a way I understand rather intimately. He's learning to be a person, is the thing. This might well have been his very first time grieving anyone or anything - or at least doing so in a way where he let anyone else see. Hardly surprising that he didn't know how to do it.

[ Byerly is careful to not allow his tone to suggest that there might be anything in that that Bastien might relate to. Sometimes, in a moment like this, turning your eye inward sparks more fury than empathy. And suggesting that a large part of Bastien's anger is actually directed at himself will likely be enraging indeed. ]