Chapter Text
Abram blinks his eyes open slowly, not understanding the sight that greets him. He’s in a temple of white pillars shining with silver moonlight, not the underworld or the Moriyama's fortress, and there’s someone leaning over him.
“Andrew,” Abram tries to say, but all that comes out is a raspy breath.
Something feels like it rips in the back of his throat, and he can taste the tangy iron of blood on his tongue. He tries to suck in another breath, but there is liquid that bubbles and pops where air desperately wants to get in, and he chokes out a painful cough that sends crimson down his chin.
Andrew’s quicksilver eyes widen from where he’s positioned over Abram, and a gentle hand moves to cover his throat, the cool thrum of Andrew’s magic begins to reverberate through his veins. Abram can feel his consciousness slipping, but he doesn’t want to look away from Andrew’s face. It’s been years since he’s seen the boy, and it is a lie to say he’s gone unchanged. Andrew has grown into a young man somewhere along the way, and the sight makes Abram want to weep, but there are no tears, there will never be.
For a moment it seems as if the Andrew in front of him shifts to the one Abram knew in that life long past, and he wonders how he could ever have forgotten a face like that.
Andrew is beautiful.
“Idiot,” the man says, voice a quiet, deep thing, like the shadows cast by moonlight. Abram wants to sink into it, pull it over his being and wrap it around his soul, not letting go till the end of days. He feels the tension in his muscles ease immediately, and his eyes begin to close no matter how hard he tries to force them open. Andrew moves his other hand to run his fingers through Abram’s curls. “Found you.”
Abram makes a noise in the back of his throat, and his vision finally slips back into darkness.
“You’re safe now,” is what he hears whispered before he falls back into the darkness of dreams.
__________
When Abram wakes up again the sun is out, and there are two winged lions sitting on either side of his head. Wane and Wax stare down at him, bright golden eyes filled with something that Abram thinks might be concern, but they’re lions so he can’t be quite sure.
It’s a relief to see them again, they haven’t changed, like so much else has.
Wane grumbles low in the still air, and Abram raises a shaky hand, gently placing it on her neck. Her fur is soft, and very much real under his touch. Wax takes that moment to press her nose into the side of Abram’s cheek, making him flinch slightly, but where there should be pain there is only the gentle warmth of her body heat. None of the aches that should be there are, and Abram knows it’s probably his god’s doing.
Slowly he pushes himself off the ground, letting his eyes rake over his surroundings. The temple looks different in the daylight. It’s bright for one thing, the white of its walls practically blinding in the harsh light of the sun, and for another the lack of cool night shadow makes it seem almost smaller, more knowable, and less mysterious.
Abram’s only ever seen it under the light of the moon, he’s not sure how he feels about it existing like this.
Wax rubs her cheek over the top of Abram’s head, rumbling deeply in her chest, and Abram sinks under the gentle pressure, relaxing just a little. He takes a deep breath, in, out, then raises a hand and pushes it under his shirt feeling the rough old scars he’s collected from years of abuse, and the newer ones acquired from being Ichirou’s hit man. His hand comes to rest on his chest, slightly under his heart where earlier his father had pierced him.
It was a blow that should have killed him, but he isn’t dead.
He isn’t dead because of Andrew.
Andrew.
Abram cranes his neck to look about the temple once more, trying to find any trace of the man. There’s something fluttering in the pit of his stomach at Andrew’s absence, it makes Abram feel sick and queasy. Andrew wouldn’t just leave him, not after he found Abram again. He should be here. Abram knows this like he knows the stars spiral endlessly around the universe, like he knows where the moon rises, he will always follow.
“He’s not here,” Aaron’s voice cuts through Abram’s rising panic, and he turns to find the sun god sitting at the base of an intricate column carved with depictions of stories long past, deaths forgotten and lost to time. “He’s asleep.”
“Where,” is what Abram means to say, but only a breath hisses strangled from his throat.
That’s not good.
“It’s daytime,” Aaron goes on as if Abram hadn’t made a sound. “And he used up too much power bringing you back from death's door. He’s too weak at the moment. He’ll be back by night.”
Abram nods, Andrew is strongest at night, when darkness floods the earth. He takes a deep breath and tries again, asking a different question. “Are Jean and Kevin here?”
It comes out as little more than a croak, but there are words behind the rasp and that’s good enough for Abram.
Aaron snorts, a sneer coming to decorate his face as he gestures to the lions. “They were almost eaten when they showed up, we’d only just got the barrier down. You should have seen Andrew’s face when he saw Jean. It’s amazing they’re still alive.”
“Where are they?” Talking hurts, but Abram is used to pain. He only hopes Riko’s gotten to experience it tenfold. That the Moriyama's reaped the seeds they sowed by the actions they took, that they suffered for what they did to Kevin and Jean. And if they haven’t then Abram will make certain they do one day.
That he swears.
“Wandering.” Aaron raises a hand when Abram tries to pry himself off the ground. “Just stay there, I’ll find them.”
And with a flash of light he’s gone, leaving Abram alone with only the lions for company.
____________________
The sun has lowered significantly in the sky when Jean and Kevin finally show up. Abram has moved himself to the bottom of the pillar, watching quietly as clouds pass in wisps. He takes this time to think, to reflect. They’re safe here, for now, Andrew’s temple isn’t easy to find, and the knowledge of it has been lost to time, but it makes Abram wonder how much the Moriyamas know. How it came to be that not only Abram, but also Jean came under their control. It can’t be a coincidence, something about it screams ‘planned’.
It doesn’t make sense for Jean and Abram’s souls to escape imprisonment only for them to be reborn as mortals. That isn’t how death works for gods, they should have ended up in a situation more like Andrew’s, awakening slowly to a world changed.
But that isn’t what happened, Abram was born a Wesninski, and Jean a Moreau. It doesn’t make sense.
Something had to have caused it.
Something someone did.
Purposefully.
But why? To what end?
Jean comes over to him, grey eyes swirling with the force of barely controlled winds, the storms contained within them are lessened, however, by the open worry he wears on his face. Kevin is three steps behind him, mouth parted in silent awe as his gaze wanders the temple that surrounds them. Abram spots it again, the little patterns that whirl endlessly in the man’s eyes, and wonders.
Maybe Kevin had been purposeful too.
Sinking slowly to his knees Jean comes to sit beside Abram, shoulder brushing lightly against his own. Kevin kneels in front of him, hand coming up before Abram’s face, it pauses, however, at the growl that escapes Wane’s mouth. Jean shoots the lions a glare, but they don’t move from their perch some ten feet away.
“They really don’t like you,” Abram croaks.
Kevin shushes him. “Don’t waste your voice on nonsense.”
Abram shoots him a glare, but shuts his mouth with a snap. The scratchy feeling in the back of his throat has only increased since he’s finally opened his mouth, but Abram is slowly learning how to work around it. At least they can understand what he’s saying.
“You look like shit,” Jean speaks up solemnly, and Abram turns his glare to the taller man.
“At least it’s not a permanent state for me.” Abram’s barb is only met with an eye roll on Jean’s part.
“Riko did that,” Kevin says, and his voice is drawn thin, like silk spun too tightly.
Jean reaches over and places a hand on his shoulder, touch light and fleeting, there and gone in the blink of an eye.
Abram nods slowly. “Do you know what happened to him after?”
Kevin looks away, gritting his teeth as he lowers green eyes to the marble beneath them.
“Andrew happened,” Jean says evenly. “I don’t think Riko will be coming after any of us.”
Abram lets that sink in, and a sharp smile begins creeping its way onto his face, forged by knives and blood. “Good.”
Jean watches him for a long moment, shoulders slumped in on himself, but there is something in his face that is lighter, like skies clearing after a long winter.
Something's changed, and Jean can feel it too.
It is good Kevin wasn’t there to see it, Abram supposes.
“What now?” Kevin’s voice cuts through a silence that Abram hadn’t noticed had settled around them. It isn’t as sharp as normal, more subdued, and Abram can tell from his eyes that Kevin is still processing all of this.
Abram lets the question sink in.
What do they do now?
There is so much…
“We need to fix this.” Abram says, and hopes it makes sense.
Jean simply raises an eyebrow at him.
Abram sighs, then gestures between the two of them. “ This.”
Jean looked down to his hands, flexing his scared fingers, then over to Kevin, something sad crossing his features. “I don’t think we can.”
“No,” Abram says sharply. “We can, we just need to find a way.”
“Find a way…” Jean bows his head, dark curls moving to cover his eyes.
“Then we will,” Kevin says to Abram’s and Jean’s surprise. They look to him sharply, eyes wide, and Kevin squares his shoulders. “We’ll find a way.”
And Abram finds a laugh, hoarse and scared, bubbling from his throat. Kevin of all people, of course it’d be him, Abram can’t help the hope he feels blooming in the pit of his stomach at the thought.
__________
Abram waits till dusk settles in the sky to go find Andrew. Jean and Kevin have retreated for the night in quiet whispers that Abram suspects are the beginnings of a plan that may end horribly. He pries himself off the ground slowly, legs weak from disuse, and finds himself once again wandering the halls of this temple. It’s similar, yet different. It has changed with the years.
In a way it seems more real, more grounded in this world.
It makes Abram wonder how much Andrew has changed with it.
His legs move him in the direction of their tree. Their lions had disappeared sometime in the afternoon, to where Abram doesn’t know, but he misses their presence at his side. He’d only had them back for a few hours, but now that they’re gone again the hole they leave is more noticeable.
It doesn’t take long for Abram to find that place again, where he’d first seen Andrew, where they’d first started cracking the seal, where he’d first began living. Abram walks up to the tree slowly, running his hand over the rough, familiar, bark.
This at least hasn’t changed.
“I waited,” Andrew speaks behind him, and Abram turns to find him sitting carelessly on a decaying pillar. “But you never came back.”
Abram’s heart rate jumps at the sight of him, and Abram has to stop himself from running to the man at that very moment.
It’s all too much, the distance between them seems vast in the silent stillness of the night.
Abram takes a long moment to stare at him, soaking in his presence like a dying man seeing the first glimpses of a future life. Andrew is older, in robes of night and shadows, and his hair, while still moonlight pale, is shorter than Abram remembers it. It has stopped curling delicately around his ears, soft with the touch of youth. Now it seems sharper, like Andrew himself is. His eyes are still the same, however, twin moons that sit in an empty void.
Abram takes a listless step towards him. “I tried to come back.”
“Not hard enough.”
“Andrew.”
The name feels ripped from his throat, raw and ragged. Abram is adrift, with land in sight that he isn’t sure he can reach anymore. He’d left again, would Andrew even want him back? After everything? In this life and his past Abram has done unspeakable things, has been a tool for others to use and use for their own gain. Andrew deserves so much more.
“Abram.” Abram blinks, and the man is standing before him. Bright eyes close as he stares at Abram’s own. It’s a moment before Abram realizes he’s looking down at the man, and a smile crosses his face briefly. That hasn’t changed either. Andrew reaches up and traces a slow, gentle finger across Abram’s cheek. “You’re not leaving again.”
“No.” Abram leans into the touch, craving more contact. “I’m not.”
And it’s a promise.
“Good.” Somehow Andrew is even closer, breath ghosting across Neil’s lips. “Next time I’m following you.”
Abram isn’t sure he likes that thought, but he doesn’t say that to Andrew.
“Could you keep up?”
“ Shut up, Abram.” Andrew’s voice is quiet, but his eyes are sharp, the hand cupping Abram’s face goes to grip his jaw, and Andrew’s nose brushes against his own.
“I missed you,” Abram says, and Andrew’s breath hitches. “For so long. After so many years I found you again, and I… I didn’t even know.”
“I lost you again,” Andrew grinds out. “I won’t let it happen a third time.”
Abram smiles, small and brief. “Thank you, Andrew.”
“Don’t.”
“Too late.”
“I hate you.”
“It’d be easier if that were true.”
Andrew lets out a frustrated noise, then leans forward, pressing his lips firmly against Abram’s own. It’s rough, but gentle at the same time, and Abram finds himself sinking in a way he barely remembers. They don’t move as one, they’ve never been that close, but it’s like a dace between them, a give and take and give. Andrew shoves himself closer, hand going to grip at Abram’s hips, fingers cool as they brush over Abram’s warm skin. Abram runs his fingers through silk like strands of hair, tugging lightly in a way that makes Andrew groan deep in his chest.
They pull away with a rush of breath after what feels like minutes, but could have only been seconds. Andrew is disheveled, hair sticking up in odd directions from Abram’s hands and his lips are swollen and wet.
Abram swallows thickly, voice rough from something more than his injuries when he speaks. “You should do that again.”
Andrew rolls his eyes, but pulls Abram back in, their lips crashing against another like celestial bodies finding one other in a universe too vast.
Abram pulls Andrew closer, and lets himself fall.
They’ve found each other again, and Abram will tear the world asunder before he lets go of Andrew a third time.