Chapter Text
Techno sat in the car, letting the hum of the engine fill his ears. The rumbling shook his feet and left him unsettled. It was as if the rhythmic sound was pulling him into a silence both comforting and dreadful, adding a layer of anticipation for it to end.
His skin had gotten more taught around his shoulders, but looser around his face, aging him a number of years. His clothes didn’t fit as well, hanging like the bags under his eyes. He remembered when they were once more tailored to form, when Stephon had seen him off at the train station before the war. But it wasn’t until Samuel picked him up did he realise how loose the uniform sat on him.
They hit a small bump and his bags jumped in his lap, the violin landing onto his shoulder. He held the bundle in his arms tightly.
We’re really heading out there. Try and smile, would ya? For Queen and Country.
Techno held his breath for a moment. The dark behind his eyes was one of few familiar things. A reminder of sorts; like the bunker, those cold nights on watch, like Stephon's house. But still behind his eyes he could see Simon smiling, wide and sure to bring victory. They did of course. But they just couldn’t bring it back home. No. No, they left that for their squad. Or what was left of the squad.
He tightened his grip on the parcel, the brown paper wrinkling. Techno had half the mind to jump out, run back to the train, ride back to the station, run back the drive he’d come off after discharge, march through the outposts, race over the mud and barbed wire and grab whichever mummified wrapping there was to shake the bastard for making him the one to carry out this news. He didn’t want to be sitting and holding his feet in place so as to not kick the car door down. One. It was only one trip. His commander had ten to deliver. Thompson’s was in that filing, Manson was a loveless bastard and proud of that fact, though Techno was sure most humans did have mothers who mourned them. He just had Simon because his wife lived in a town on the way to Techno’s new master. That and per the dead man's request to not have his things handled by a stranger.
“Have you gotten all that you needed? No other luggage?" Samuel asked, as if words were desperate to fill the air even if they were already spoken hours ago.
“No.”
The drive became silent again after that.
“I suppose I should be the one to warn you then. The Watson’s are very peculiar about keeping things on schedule. The head of the family has not taken kindly to your small military expedition and taking years longer than had been warranted."
“I’m afraid wars don’t take kindly to schedules.”
“Human’s have wars all the time all over the world. That excuse will hardly be tolerated. And this little gift exchange,” Samuel said. His eyes matched to Techno’s in the rearview mirror. “I won’t mention it to our Sire, but they won’t appreciate a minute’s delay over trivial human matters.”
“It won’t take too long,” Techno said. “And afterwards, there will be no other distractions from my duties.”
The driver hummed, and Techno let his eyes wander over the other cars and small streets. There were many run down houses and little farmsteads. Simon had mentioned as much, reading out letters sent by his lover with impassioned speeches and heartbreaking ballads. Because of his many tales, Techno had a good idea of how their lives were approaching. Simon was meant to bring home a good pension and a pair of strong hands when he returned home. Unfortunately, only the former would be delivered.
“You know, I could be the one to deliver the parcel. Expedite the process.”
When were vampires ever been known to expedite things?
“I believe the gifts would be better tolerated if given by a human.”
Samuel’s eyes looked over Techno for a moment, as if those words didn’t sit quite right. Techno knew they had the right to think so. The young man never carried himself like a human. His posture, his manners, his training. Techno would hardly find himself able to look in the mirror and understand the creature staring back. At least Samuel and his ilk had a name for whatever they were.
“Very well. If you insist.”
The sky was too bright and warm. Clouds danced above as though they were celebrating after the years of turmoil and suffering. He couldn’t understand why the world decided today of all days had to be the most colourful he’d seen since his deployment. There had been so many smiles and joyful tears at the train station, so many bright handkerchiefs and dresses and suits, flags and excitement filling the air.
The small house in the small town was blooming with those tiny white asters Simon had gone on about. The leaves yellowed the trees into a welcoming honey gold. Techno was in no position to stand where Simon should have been, taking in a wholesome view which could only be enjoyed by someone who was taken from its beauty and came to call it home once more. He adjusted the violin on his shoulder, looking over to see Samuel by the car, an umbrella shading him from the sunshine. He looked as though he were waiting to attend a funeral. The only fitting sight Techno had seen today.
The door flew open and a young woman appeared. Her skirt fluttered from her rush to the door and her smile worn like a prized jewel. But just as quickly as it came, the hope and anticipation fell away into one of dread.
Techno’s eyes caught hers for a moment. She gasped. He looked down at the parcel, holding it out. The only offering he could give her. Her hands shook as she took the package. Techno pressed his lips, silently cursing how his fingers were fidgeting and his heart pounding in wait for a reaction. He couldn’t stand the silence. Silence was never a good sign. It only dragged out the inevitable death and suffering to follow, the gunfire louder in comparison.
Her wail pierced his ears worse than any bayanette.
Hannah cried, no less than the soldiers Techno had dragged back to the bunkers. Tears Techno had to learn to spare. He reached out to wipe them away before moving to catch her collapsing weight.
She clung to him, hiding in his uniform as the parcel pressed between them. Techno held her, wishing more than ever, he had Simon to lift them up, say the words he always knew how to say. They knew how to handle women back in the towns and brothels, how to handle the men after a terrible number lost. He held her as she rambled into his chest. “No, why? This can’t — he can’t be — Why? Why isn’t —? Where is he?”
Her eyes were full of tears collecting like pearls. “He can’t be dead. No. He wouldn't. I had gotten his letter last week. He was coming home.”
Techno hovered his arms by her as she kept shaking. “I’m sorry.”
“Where is he? I have to see him. This isn’t funny, you know.”
“I know.”
“Where is he?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Where is he?!”
Techno pressed his lips as she pushed his arms away.
“Where is he?!” She demanded. “He’s not dead! He can’t be. He promised me — He promised me he would come home. He …”
“I’m … “
“Don’t,” she said. The woman backed away, her expression torn. Her sobs hiccuped again. Techno held back from stepping forward, the parcel clenched tightly to his chest. That wrinkled nose looking just like from the photo Simon would share with the squad. She was real now. More real than he ever expected. The last real thing Techno would have connected to Simon. And Simon wouldn’t want her to cry like this. But Techno only knew her from that one photo. And Simon should be the one to wipe those tears away. He was good at that whenever Thompson was breaking down.
She shoved them off her face, her cheeks and eyes raw and ruddy as she looked at him again. “You, are you his commanding officer?”
“No,” he said. “I was part of his squadron. Last of the squadron. My commander was — is delivering — securing the delivery of their belongings to their next of kin. Your home was on my way back, so it fell onto me out of efficiency.”
Her lips pulled back as she tried to hold in a scoff. “Fell onto you… for efficiency?”
“Yes.”
Her cheeks dimpled like in her photo. “You really do sound like a robot — all clinical like. That must mean you're Techno, right?”
The young man paused, the gravity weighing the parcel in his arms and the violin on his back. Her eyes filled again with a life far greater and deeper than a picture could paint. And by painting her, it further painted her husband in turn, Simon reading out her letters. He heard her voice if only in writing, and Techno knew of Simon sending his own poems and sonnets. Yet it only just now consolidated just how much the two of them stood to want of Simon’s leaving the trenches. Letters weren’t just letters. They were her very last pieces of his voice. And now there would only be silence.
“I am,” he said. "Erm. Hello."
She grimaced as she took his hand. “Could you stay? Just for a few minutes?”
Her touch was warm against his cold fingers, giving a small squeeze as he’s felt Simon do many times for him. “I…” He knew he couldn't stay for long. He knew it would hardly do him good. And yet he stood still, refusing to oppose the offer.
“I’m sorry. You have a caddy waiting.”
Techno looked over his shoulder to see Samuel furrowing his brows with discontent. Techno moved further in and shut the door. “I have a few minutes.”
She led him to a small kitchenette, asking the young man to take a seat as she set some tea. He had a cuppa on the train ride, but he didn't protest. The violin waited against the wall, the parcel sat beside him on the table; its packaging moistened slightly by tears. He looked away as though trying to hold its gaze repelled him. He focused instead on Hannah’s feet tapping around the wooden floor. Simon had walked on these floors before, had sat at the table where Techno was sitting. Would he be across from him, or was Techno in his chair? The thought of being made his skin crawl. He could be certain the act of sitting in his chair, in his home, watching his wife preparing something for two was nothing but morally contemptible.
Simon should have been here. Instead, Techno sat with a parcel, potentially in his comrade’s chair, beside Hannah, as she set down two unmatched cups full of barely pitted tea. Between them was a cursed package neither of them could, nor wished to, bear witness.
“He was your squadmate?” she said, keeping herself busy with offering him some homemade sweets and what little sugar she could offer for the bitter drink. He took his tea black, and found his body was uncomfortable with any excessive sugars or heavy calories. He hadn’t had much of an appetite since this particular delegation. He focused on the steam rising from the cup, and gave her a noncommittal hum to her non-question.
“Since we both enlisted. Met him when we got to the trenches. He was … well, you know.”
Her eyes softened. “He was Simon.”
“He was Simon.”
“He mentioned you guys quite a bit in his letters.”
“He did,” Techno said, not too surprised. He’d asked him to refrain from mentioning him too heavily, though the request quickly backfired. Perhaps that was why Simon had asked it be him to deliver the parcel instead of his commander. She had some idea of who he was through their thread of letters, as Techno knew of her. “Not much else there is to talk about besides … you know.”
She nodded, hiding her frown behind her cup. The clock ticked away, yet the world has never felt so still. Her eyes were pinching with thought and the question that was no doubt on her mind sat brewing like a storm, waiting to rumble and crash with thunder. He knew it was coming. He reported the answer to his commander, before it was asked for it. There was no reason why the anticipation of it being voiced should leave his chest heaving and his hands tightening in want of a defence against it.
Yet the feeling wouldn't shake. Simon should be here. The question should not have been asked, ever. Not in this home. Not in front of Hannah. It didn't sit right. Things had been much easier when she was a photo, but now … the distance was crossed, the connection reworked and changed so fundamentally there was no way to brace for it.
“How did he —”
“Ma! Momma! There's a black car outside! Is it because Dad’s —”
Techno looked over his shoulder, eyes landing on a small boy who fell into an eerie silence. The smile on his face faded, revealing a look of a terror too familiar for comfort. The boy looked exactly like Simon.
“Jamie, why don't you go up to your room, okay?”
“Mom, who is that?”
“Jamie.”
“Why is he here? Where's Dad?”
Hannah knelt before the boy, holding him still. “Go to your room. Now, baby.”
Techno held the boy's gaze and they flinched. “Okay,” he said, picking up his pace for the stairs.
“Sorry about him,” she said.
“You're fine,” he said.
“You know how boys are.”
Techno caught her eyes. “You'll be fine,” he said.
She turned away from him. “Don't say that.”
Techno pressed his lips and gave her a small nod. “Do you still want to know?”
“Were you there?” she asked.
“I… I was,” he said.
Her lips wavered as she held her aching chest. “I'll prefer to read the report then. I don't … I don't want the details.”
“Okay.”
“I'm sure you don't want to recount them.”
“I only recount what needs to be recounted,” he said.
She let out a shaky breath, placing her hand on the parcel. “And he left this for me?”
“He did,” Techno said, moving to stand. “I also brought his violin—”
“Did he leave anything for you?”
Techno paused, the question taking a moment to register. “For me?”
She nodded.
“I - I don't -”
“You played his violin, yes?”
“Yes.”
The clock ticked in the silence. “I told him he didn't need to take it with him when he left, but he told me it might break while they were off in battle or something, doing me a favour taking it with him. I old him that thing better break before he did,” she said. “Did it break?”
“Several times," Techno said. "He kept fixing it.”
She gave him a watery smile. “I'll take his parcel, thank you,” she said.
Techno gave her a soft smile as the clock tapped away. He knew it wasn't a good idea to leave the master waiting. He stood up, slow as not to knock over the fragile instrument. The back strap was too loose from over use but still held strong as he presented the case to the woman. She rose from her chair, hands out with a delicacy Techno wasn’t used to. Her fingers pressed against the worn leather, the must rubbing off just as it did on his uniform.
“You take his violin,” she said.
Techno stilled at the idea. His captain had instructed him to ensure all of Simon's belongings were delivered to his family. They weren't his to keep. Techno was sure there wouldn't be a proper place for him to store it safely. Maybe the bedroom he’d be given, maybe they’d take it to some attic or mistake it for firewood. And yet Hannah smiled at him, as if it were the most obvious decision to make.
“I —”
She further pressed the instrument to his chest, eyes set on him. “I know I’ll have enough of him around here, and maybe even more when Jamie grows up. But I don’t know where you’re going, and if you’ll have any of him left. But … you should.”
He shouldn't. For where he was going, he knew he shouldn't. He made no move to collect anything else of the Squadron, a bit thankful he’d not.
“Misses Hannah.”
“Miss, Hannah,” she lightly corrected.
He frowned with her. They sat in the quiet for a moment before the car horn blared through the small house. His spine straightened, and Hannah patted his shoulder in dismissal. He bowed his head. She took his face into her hands, kissing each cheek with a small whispered thank you. He nodded, mimicking the words that felt hollowed at first, but quickly warmed when she smiled in return.
The car honked several times in succession.
He adjusted the strap on his shoulder before making his way back to the vehicle. She waved goodbye, and he raised his hand in appreciation of the gesture. Samuel looked thoroughly unamused as the human took his place back in the car, violin beside him, by the window.
He lowered his gaze, hands fidgeting his pant leg and his feet unable to stay still. His eyes shut as the car started like a cannon. He had held his breath for a moment, expecting shouts and orders to follow, but the quiet stretched on as Samuel drove further down the road. The violin had jumped from a small bump, leaning against the window. He looked up to find himself in the rearview mirror. Hair to his ear, the back just reaching his shoulders. His face taught and pale from the long days in the bunker hiding from the sun. Even so, he found the burning marks of tears on his cheeks. He let out a shallow breath, and watched the road in silence.
“They’re taking too long,” Fit said.
Phil huffed. “What is one more night at this rate?”
“A waste of time. They may as well have taken him back to Stephon for insubordination alone.”
“No,” Phil mused, watching the cars sitting out in the lot, one missing from the rest. “Then it wouldn't be the offended party dealing out the punishment, now would it?”
Puffy shifted from her seat at the desk, letters in order along with the human’s file delivered by his previous master. Though the photo would most certainly be several years out of date. “What are you planning to do with this human then? Now that you have little Theseus instead.”
Phil hummed. He’d not put too much thought into it as of late. A punishment was certainly in order. Disregarding his contracted agreement, falling victim to petty human matters out on the Austrian lines, and blatantly refusing Phil’s proposition under his covenship. He was a rebellious creature for a fact, and would need severe correction if he were to have any place under his roof.
“Kristin had been very fond of Theseus,” Fit said. “But even with Samuel’s help, the boy can be very tiring. A good companion might do her well.”
“That is true,” Phil mused.
Puffy flipped through the files, skimming a few lines. “Stephon does note they have had practice in training other humans. Perhaps he could make himself to the boy.”
Phil’s neck blistered at the thought of the disobedient creature coming near the child. He would just encourage the boy to disobey and put himself in harm’s way. And from how the familiar had behaved in just abandoning his previous master for two years, he did not have faith in the great Stephon’s training methods and their outcomes of highly prized familiars.
Before he could speak on the matter, the door burst open, drowning the three vampires in a bright light.
“PHILLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!!!”
“Master Theseus!”
The young boy, no older than eight and with the energy of a hurricane, ran and trampled through the study room, little feet thundering against the hardwood floor and arms flying through the air. The servants froze at the sight. To interrupt the master of the house was forbidden, and to any human who'd done so were rarely ever heard from again.
The only occasion when a person ever returned was in the case of young Theseus, who found some way to replicate the feast again and again. With each time, leaving the servants baffled every time.
Though they shouldn't be. As little Theseus wasn't just any human.
He was an intended.
The master of the house smiled, patting the boy's soft hair, a coo escaping him. By his side, Fit mimicked the gesture and Puffy reinforced it with a few calls of her own. The little human further buried his face into his master’s chest, too shy to speak in front of other grown ups. Phil couldn't help but find the trait endearing.
The room was dark and quiet, curtains which would usually be pulled tight were opened to reveal the front of the house and the large surrounding woodlands protecting them from unsolicited strangers. There were new candles left burning in the room and no light to be seen. Save for the hallway blinding them through the opened door.
“Well, what are you all staring for?” Fit snapped at the other humans. “Get out.”
They bowed in a hurried apology and scrambled out of the master study.
“Oh, Theseus, what is the matter?”
The boy pouted, holding him tighter. “I had a nightmare.”
Puffy purred, patting his head. “It's alright, Darling,” she said. “Nightmares aren't real.”
The boy held the sire tighter. “This one felt real.”
Phil pet him with a soft smile growing. They were warm to touch, lively and manic. An excitable human to keep around. “I'm sure,” he said, making no effort to sound as though he believed the statement. “Did you just want an excuse to come see Fit before he left?*
The human blushed at the accusation and Phil beamed at the fact he'd been right. “Only partly to see him. And part nightmare.”
Phil chuckled, lifting the child onto his desk despite their little protests. He squirmed more as the Sire tugged at his night shirt and hair to clean him up a bit. “Stop it,” he whined.
“Come now,” Phil said, rubbing his cheeks gently. "No need to be so rude."
The boy batted his hand, pouting as a few tears welled up. Phil’s playfulness wavered at the sight and stepped aside as Puffy brushed one away.
“Oh deary. What's got you upset?” she asked.
Tommy's cries built up and would inevitably lead to more screeching. He had little patience for creatures unable to conduct themselves properly. And while Tommy was adorable and amusing to observe at times, the child easily became so draining. He preferred it more when the boy’s steward was around to direct his behaviour. But alas they were sent away for a rather important retrieval.
But from the looks of the window, there was still quite a bit of time.
“Are you guys going to send me away?”
Phil tensed at the question. “What has you asking that?”
The little boy shrugged, gripping at his nightshirt and staring at the wooden floor. “I just… in my nightmare… you sent me away. And you found a different human you liked more.”
Phil’s dead heart sank at the accusation, and at the very thought of getting rid of his little human to once again search for another to call his own. So very manipulative of an accusation towards his Sire, though it did flatter him to receive indirect requests for affection. But he wasn’t one to reward such naughty behaviour. So unbecoming of his intendeds. “Oh, lovely.”
Puffy took over, wiping his cheeks with a stiff handkerchief. “It was just a silly nightmare,” she said with a touch more force. “You know Phil wouldn’t do such a thing.”
“I know,” the boy cried. “I just … I really don’t want it to be real.”
“And you really thought I ever would?” Phil said. “I’m hurt, Theseus. Now I might have a nightmare of you running away.”
“Eh?” the boy cried. “I wouldn’t. Now you’re being mean.”
“Oh? You accuse me of being mean while you had just done the same?” Phil asked, poking his nose.
Theseus batted away his sire’s finger, only to tense. A natural response for a human to have towards their superiors. A trait his little one needed to overcome if he were to turn.
“Then you have nothing to worry about,” Fit said, picking him up effortlessly. The boy frowned, pushing away like a cat who refused to be held. “Come on now. It’s beddy-bye.”
“I want Phil,” the boy insisted.
“All after you accused me of not wanting you?” Phil said.
The boy's face welled up with tears and hurt. Fit crooned, petting his head to comfort him while not fully deserving it. “I’m sorry,” he cried. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Phil. I didn’t mean to have the nightmare. I don’t like it.”
Phil smiled, his steps slow as he approached and pat them on their soft little head. “Thank you, little one,” he said. “But you need your sleep.” Theseus frowned, trying to rub away all his tears. Such a silly little human. He watched Fit take them away, into the Coven’s wing of the manor where he’d be safest.
Puffy also bid him a goodnight leaving the documents on the table for another gentle perusing. With all others gone, Phil lifted the file and studied the eerily familiar face on the portfolio. A face he’d not seen in two or three hundred years and decidedly found it pertinent to show up under Stephon’s collection of familiars. Kristin had advised against it, taking the human in. But his age wasn’t like hers where he could withhold indulgences as readily. But he should have known a creature remotely similar to his last fledgling would behave in such a manner. He would not let those same patterns befall his little Theseus. Not under his roof.
He was the Sire. He was commanded under their Coven Head to protect and uphold the manor and he would do so without hesitation to deliver due and just punishment.
And he would make sure to let this Techno understand as much.