Fox in the Henhouse [Eitan]

[Florian]

91 SEARING 121

continued from The Sun Sets

Florian woke only an hour later, if he could even tell. It was too early, too late, too hard to tell when the sky was so dark. He was groggy, and he couldn't quite remember what he was doing in his bed. If only for a second, he lived in the world where his mom was still alive. The world where he hadn't found her desecrated body on her birthday.

That world was short lived. It popped, like a bubble, and it disappeared, because he felt the lump of necklace in his pocket. It didn't make sense, but maybe it wasn't supposed to make sense. Maybe someday he could make it make sense, but he was overwhelmed. Two thoughts battled inside of him, before he had even given himself a chance to process what he saw and what he felt. He wondered about the taste of caster shell, and he realized with single-minded need to survive that he could not now spend the night alone in his apartment.

He changed into his uniform in the dark. Where did Eitan say he would be? He couldn't remember. On some level, he wasn't even sure what Eitan could do. He couldn't bring his mother back. But the thought had struck him and he realized he had no one else. There was no one else in Zaichaer, there was no one else in the world who cared. And that was an if he cared; he had no reason to believe that he didn't, though, and he was desperate.

He did not remember how he found Eitan. One moment he had stumbled out of his door, and the next he had found himself in a room with Eitan. Florian didn't cry, but his sclera were red with lack of sleep and his irises grey. Unlike his use of magic, his pupils remained black. He didn't cry, but he couldn't speak, either. The words couldn't escape his throat. He had made it to him somehow, but he still didn't know how late it was. At least he had made it. He didn't know how long he was silent.

Finally he cleared his throat, his voice hoarse. Even as he thought the words, they didn't seem real, and as he spoke, he tried to pull them back out of the air.

"It was her birthday," he started. His mouth was dry, and speaking was difficult. "But she's dead."

[Eitan Angevin]

Angevin had gone to bed at a decent hour. Tomorrow, it would be the Season of Ash. Soon, they would be on a mission of the utmost importance and he wanted to have his body working on a strict schedule so he would be able to offer optimal support in his role. He hadn't been asleep long when there came an insistent knocking at his door. Confused at the darkness outside his window, he didn't know the time, and stumbled in his smallclothes to answer it.

Squinting into the light of the hallway, he inhaled to ask Albrecht what was going on, but his training kicked in and he swallowed it. This wasn't the first time he had seen the Lysanrin looking like shit, but this was different. He assessed the situation: saw blood on his hand and then on his boots. It took half a moment to fumble for the light, and then he pulled the man into his quarters. The barracks at Onneifer Airfield were spartan. Between his rank and his father's rank, he might have been able to worm his way into more space, but he didn't like doing that sort of thing.

Still, he was able to sit Albrecht down at his small table and fix tea. The man looked like he could use something stiffer than tea, but that was unlikely to be a good idea, and he could always spike the tea later.

It wasn't until he had got the blood off of the Lysanrin's hands and a cup of tea into them, and until he had pulled off those boots and wiped away the gore that he finally got Albrecht talking.

"Your mother is dead," he repeated back softly as he processed that. He knew Albrecht couldn't possibly be the culprit and so he knelt down in front of him, hands on the Lysanrin's knees, searching his lifeless eyes.

"All right." His mind was ready with a barrage of questions, ready to launch an investigation, but that was too real for the moment. Albrecht had seemed to pull himself out of reality to a safe, floating place, only vaguely tethered to the real world. And he had come to Angevin. He felt the weight of responsibility settle onto his shoulders. He couldn't fix this. He just had to witness it, be there for his friend.

They were that, at least. If mothers were fraught for him, at least he had seen the dynamic between Ava and her son. He had even sent a couple of books to her home a day ago for her birthday. Now she was gone.

This was either a dark night of the soul for Albrecht or a precursor to the same. That was a thing Angevin was not well equipped to deal with. He reached up to cup Albrecht's ashen cheek. "Albrecht. I'm so sorry."

[Florian]

Florian nodded as Eitan repeated what he said back to him. She was dead. He had seen her, and he had seen everything. Everything done to her. It was a memory that he couldn't hide, a feeling he couldn't bottle up. The vision of her body so defiled and mutilated and— he blinked the first tear out of his eyes when Eitan touched his cheek. He felt the warm cup of tea in his hand. The blood had been wiped from his hands, his boots were off. When did he get here?

Florian set the tea down and reached up touch the hand that touched his face. He was overwhelmed, and if he had ever thought he had been overwhelmed before, he was wrong. This was what it meant to be pushed to the limit. He was close to tears, but he didn't cry yet. There were no words to describe what he had seen, what had been done to her. She didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve it. He was only 23 and his only family had been stolen from him, and so brutally.

"Who would do this to her?" He asked, as if anyone could know the answer. Maybe an investigation, but even now Florian was too cynical to believe it would get anywhere. He held his own hand to Eitan's for a moment longer, and then he slid out of the chair onto the floor and stole a hug from him. It was there, hugging Eitan, that his eyes closed and he finally started to sob. He could not imagine something so final as this. He did not know how he could have prepared for his own death for so long only to be faced with hers.

"I don't know what to do," he said, between sobs. "I don't know what do."

[Eitan Angevin]

"I don't know," he admitted, though a part of him wanted to leave Albrecht here with someone better equipped for this so he could head toward Verowa End and begin investigating, something he was equipped to handle. But he fought with himself to be still, to be soft, and to be present for Albrecht in his hour of need. "I don't know."

And then the Lysanrin was on the floor with him, hugging him like a lifeline in a storm, and he supposed he was that now. Ava Albrecht was gone, and he was all Florian Albrecht had left. That shouldn't have been terrifying, but it was. His analytical mind was worried about his ability to perform in the upcoming expedition, but he let it go. There was nothing he could do about that right now. In any case, even if Albrecht wasn't in any condition to go, he couldn't leave him behind. So he would have to keep an eye on him in the air and in the Warrens, and he would have to be doubly sure his charge was protected from horror wraiths, who would feed upon him in this state.

"Just do this," he murmured because it was all he could think to say. There must have been an instinctive knowledge of how to react in situations like this. His arms came up to support Albrecht, one hand coming up to pet his hair. They probably looked a sight, but he couldn't really speak to that.

"Just do this," he repeated, not seeing any sense in telling him not to cry his grief and shock out. "I'm here. I've got you."

He didn't tell him that she was in a better place or that the gods had her now because he hoped they didn't get their grubby hands on any part of the kind woman who fed him and liked to read and maintain her quiet little sanctuary against all odds. Tonight, the odds had come for her.

"I'm here," he repeated, feeling a bit foolish, but what was that compared to Albrecht's loss. "I've got you."

[Florian]

Florian could not remember a time when he had grieved. He never had a reason to grieve, because he had never lost something like this. He could barely think, and he was amazed he had even managed to find Eitan in the first place. He couldn't remember showing up, but something had driven him to seek out the man. He needed him — his only friend. The thought only made him cling to Eitan harder, as if he were seconds away from turning to dust in his arms and leaving him with no one. The hand in his hair only made him sob harder, but he didn't want it to leave.

Eitan could not make it okay. Eitan could not bring her back, nor could he tear out his heart so that he no longer dealt with the pain that seemed like it would last until the end of time. But right then he could hold him while he cried, and right then that was enough. It had been long since professional boundaries had been crossed, and he was being treated like a friend. They were too close now, Florian too attached, but he didn't have the time to think about anything but loss.

He stopped talking and just cried. He didn't want to get up, or move; he just wanted to cry. Eventually, his wracking sobs calmed, though his tears did not stop. It was less that he had calmed down, and more that he was so, so tired. It didn't feel real. None of it felt real, and he still hoped he could just go to sleep and wake up into the world where she was still alive. But when he closed his eyes to cry, all he could see was her. He didn't know what to do, even then. He would have to sleep soon, and survive until the next day, but with the horror of the night he wasn't sure if he could.

"I have no one," he murmured, his head tucked down, his cheek pressed against Eitan. "I have no one else." His mind barely touched on the upcoming expedition. Florian did not want to think of whether he would come or be left behind, as both felt like he was being sentenced to certain death.

[Eitan Angevin]

Angevin hadn't experienced loss like this; he didn't know if he could experience loss like this. He had relationships, but none of them as close as Albrecht had had with Ava. In some ways, the bond forged between the two of them was stronger than most he had. Others were longer-lived, but Albrecht relied on him for anything he couldn't do for himself now. And he supposed his career with the Order wouldn't be ruined if the Lysanrin experiment failed, but Albrecht's compliance did make him look more capable in the exigent eyes of Meike Richter.

And, he supposed, he was learning about himself in new ways, seeing himself in the Lysanrin's variable eyes.

He had tried to protect him from the worst of the expected hazing. He tried to protect him from the worst of the hate leveled at his people by shaping him into a more palatable version of himself. It wasn't perfect, but it was working for the time being. Neither of them was perfect either, but they seemed to be working. At least, if all he was supposed to do was be there, be available.

He wasn't sure if he should be doing anything else, so he just continued to sit there like a trellis, Albrecht a vine clinging to him for any sort of structure and growth. It occurred to him that sex might distract Albrecht, allow him to feel something else other than grief and loss and whatever else was swimming in that morass, but he thought better of it even as his body started to respond to the idea. Quelling the thought, and quelling the deflecting joke that came immediately to mind in response to what Albrecht said, he just remained.

"You have me," he said.

[Florian]

As much as Florian did not know how to handle what he had seen and what he felt, he didn't know how to handle Eitan's reaction. It was what he could have hoped for if he'd been aware that he sought the man out before he'd arrived, but it was not what he expected. He did not expect to feel cared for, but he did.

Florian pulled back from the hug, though his hands didn't leave Eitan. He seemed intent on making sure that he stayed real in his arms, even as he still hoped he was in the midst of a nightmare. He looked even more of a mess than when he'd arrived. His grey eyes were puffy and his cheeks stained with tears that refused to end, all placed on top of the exhaustion he felt. He was so tired. He was so tired, but he didn't want to sleep alone, and that was a question he did not know how to ask.

"I'm sorry," He said, slouched over but his face turned up to look at Eitan's. "I'm sorry, I didn't know where else to go." He leaned back into him, cheek pressed again into his chest. "I'm sorry. Please don't make me leave."

Florian hated to admit to himself that he needed him. He hated that he needed anyone, yet he knew that he would not be able to survive this grief himself. He felt unwarranted guilt for waking him up, but what choice did he have? The fact that he could not hide in Eitan's arms forever was not unknown to him, but the chance that he could, for a moment, find safety therein was not going to be wasted.

"Please don't make me leave."

[Eitan Angevin]

Angevin let him pull back from the hug and didn't shake off his hands. He didn't like the color of Albrecht's eyes, but he didn't suppose grief would look beautiful. The Lysanrin was a pretty fellow when he wasn't in the middle of trauma, but pretty was the last of his worries just then. His hand came up to cup Albrecht's cheek, thumb wiping a lingering tear from his cheekbone. Tenderness wasn't considered all that masculine, perhaps, but fuck; the man had lost his mother.

"You were right to come here," he assured him. He had wanted to earn his trust, after all, and to make things easier for the Lysanrin. This was not an opportunity he had wanted, but he was glad that, despite their often fraught relationship, he was still a safe harbor during a storm.

"You don't have to go anywhere." He paused. "At some point, though, I'm going to have to sneak away to send a note to my superior in the Order so an investigation can take place. I'll make certain nothing else happens." He sighed. "For what it's worth."

He paused again, uncertain.

"Do you want to sit? Do you want something to drink? To eat? Do you want to lie down?" He stopped himself from listing off more things he could do for Albrecht, wondering if he might not just have to make executive decisions for the grieving man. Perhaps not having to make decisions would make it all slightly easier. But he peered at Albrecht, trying to suss out what to do next.

[Florian]

Florian nuzzled the hand that touched his face. He didn't know why he did it, exactly, just that he wanted to be touched and held and comforted, and that it felt like the only thing anchoring him to the present was the fact that he was getting those things. He wasn't sure he wanted to be present. He wanted to drift off and forget, and more than anything he wished he never had a reason to need to be comforted like this.

Eitan brought up the idea of an investigation. That, too, was more than he could have hoped for, but he supposed it was part of his job, even if thought of an investigation made it all the more real. His apologies were answered, and at least Eitan's reactions did not make it seem like he had disturbed him.

"I don't know," Came his answer to the questions, and he didn't know. He hadn't eaten since breakfast, which he had thrown up, because he had been expecting to eat dinner at her place. Still, he was too nauseous, too stressed to even consider food. He couldn't remember the last time he had anything to drink, but there was tea on the table. He had been sitting, but he'd chosen to join Eitan on the floor. And he had tried to sleep, but he had woken up dazed and found his way here instead. He was overwhelmed by everything. He yawned, though, and that at least took care of one decision for him. He leaned against Eitan.

"I'm so tired." He yawned again, exhaustion winning the battle between it and sadness and horror. With his body the deciding factor, he finally had an answer. "Can we lie down?"

He did not want to be alone, and he didn't have to be alone. Relying on someone, on anyone other than his mother was a new experience for him. He did not like to be vulnerable, and yet he was so often vulnerable with Eitan. His head swam with emotions, but his eyes only showed the same, lifeless grey of grief.

[Eitan Angevin]

"Sure, all right," he said after peering into Albrecht's eyes for a few moments. He didn't know what he thought he'd find there, or if he had found anything, but it had been worth a look. Taking the Lysanrin's hand so he knew he wasn't letting go or running away, he hauled himself up to his feet and then helped Albrecht up too.

The officer's quarters weren't palatial by any stretch of the imagination. A few paces and they were at his bunk, the bedding rumpled from his interrupted sleep. He was gentle yet firm in a way he hadn't been before; perhaps some part of him instinctively knew what to do or perhaps he was just good at guessing. Angevin urged Albrecht down onto the bed. It wasn't large, but he would tuck him safely against the wall so that he would be between Albrecht and any danger that might come into his room against all odds.

They could make it work if they lay like spoons.

"I'll just, uh... put some clothes on." He gave Albrecht's hand an awkward squeeze, then let go, resting his hand on a slender shoulder for a moment before stepping away to pull on a thin undershirt, at least. He couldn't help what his body might do while he slept, but he could try to make it a bit less awkward, at least.

Perhaps the trauma would quickly render Albrecht subconscious and he could sneak out briefly to have a message delivered to the Hall of Reconcilation. Or, if worse came to worst, he would just do it in the morning. If Albrecht had left the door wide open, the scene was likely already looted beyond much hope of evidence. If it was closed, they would just have to hope it remained closed until the Order could get investigators into it.

He climbed into bed and just got into a position he thought it would be easy for Albrecht to wrap himself up in.