Chapter Text
Beau’s muscles ache. She misses the days when she could beat up monsters and wake up the next day with a few leftover cuts and bruises but those days are long gone. Now, she lives in a near-empty house, her body and mind getting older despite her protestations.
As she eats breakfast alone, she reads through the various reports and jobs she has received from various scouts and messengers. Most of them look uninteresting, but she sorts through them, putting them in order from how long they will take to address. If she knew her life was going to be filled with paperwork, she might have gone with another line of work but alas, here she is. At least she gets to decide which jobs she takes.
As she gets ready to leave, she notices a note that’s been stuck to the bathroom mirror. Her housemate, Jester, has written it. Beau, I’m at a job down south. Had to leave early to hitch a ride. I should be back by tonight.
Beau sighs. Most days, she and Jester pass each other by, taking various jobs from spying to mercenary work. They don’t often talk unless it’s about house-related things, but then again, what would they have to talk about? Two decades ago, everything fell apart and the only thing tying them together now is how affordable the rent is between them.
Beau writes a note of her own, letting Jester know where she’s going and when she’ll be back, grabs her stuff, and heads out the door.
This job is a simple one. All Beau needs to do is watch and wait and take note of who is going to be heading west in this traveling party she’s supposed to be watching. Any other information would be great for her to report but it isn’t necessary.
As she watches the group load up the cart, perched above them in the trees, she takes five people into account. They seem young and bright-eyed. She wonders if that’s what she and the Nein looked like way back when. She wonders when her own bright eyes were dimmed and whether it was before or after things broke.
The group finishes loading but they seem to be waiting for another, a sixth member of their group. Beau peers around to see where they might have gone and notices two other members. They are talking quietly and from the looks of it, one of them seems nervous as the other tries to calm them down. Beau risks sneaking closer.
“What if they find out?” The nervous one asks.
“They won’t,” the second one replies. “I will protect you. I will protect us.”
“It’s going to be a long journey though. Anything could happen.”
“Yeah, but it’s you and me. We’ll be fine as long as we're together. Plus, maybe the others will be cool about it?”
The nervous one looks in the direction they came from then nods and the two of them begin to head toward the others.
Beau follows from her place in the trees and watches as everyone in the party gets situated and then she watches as they leave. She trails them on foot until they make it out of the city before she decides she’s seen enough.
At the nearest post office, she encodes her notes and sends them along to her client. Then, she heads into the city proper to do some people watching.
Near midnight, Beau hears the front door creak open.
“It’s me,” she hears Jester say.
Beau hears Jester shuffle around the house, likely making some dinner. Against her better judgment, Beau stalks out from her bedroom and into the kitchen.
Jester is there, putting together a lackluster dinner. There is dried blood on her hairline as well as on some of her clothes, but Jester seems just fine.
“How was it?” Beau asks.
Jester seems surprised Beau is there, talking to her (though she has gotten used to Beau sneaking around the house the past few years).
“It was fine,” Jester answers.
Beau sits down at the table and Jester sits down on the other end.
“What about you?” Jester asks. “Did you have any jobs?”
“Just a small scouting mission.”
“And?”
“It was fine.”
Jester nods as she eats.
Despite the tension, Beau does not fill the silence. At another point in her life, she might have, but now, she lets it sit there, almost like a challenge.
Jester doesn’t take it though, and Beau watches as she gets up, clears her plate, and heads to her room.
“Night,” is all Jester says.
“Night,” is all Beau says back.
The next day, Beau is beating up some bandits. She’s quick with it as it’s only three people and she’s definitely dealt with worse. She resents that one of them was able to get a slash at her cloak. She’ll have to sew that up later and she’s never been good with a needle.
Jester does not come home that night. This is typical. Even on nights when neither of them is working, they often find excuses not to be home, sometimes those excuses look like a bottle of something strong, and sometimes it’s a person with a warm bed and discretion.
As Beau is falling asleep, she senses something. She’s not sure what, but she knows better than to disregard instinct.
She sits up in her bed and quietly crawls out, listening through her bedroom door. When she doesn’t hear anything, she moves silently toward the window and peers out.
By the light of the moon, she can see a figure walking behind the house. Unarmed, from what she can see but armed based on assumption. She knows better than to take chances.
As quietly as she can, she opens the window and slips out. Better to go after the one separated from the group if there is a group.
The fight is more vicious than she is ready for. Whoever she is fighting is not afraid to fight dirty and each blow that lands on her feels like a boulder crashing into her. But Beau can take it. She’s always been able to take it.
As the seconds pass, they blur into minutes. It’s always hard to tell when you’re in the thick of it. A brutal punch to the ribs sends Beau to her knees. It’s been a while since she’s been on her knees for combat reasons.
She isn’t going to be beaten though, not on home turf. She gets up and focuses on precision rather than power. She tries to gain insight into this foe but comes up against an unnatural ward to her abilities. She curses.
A blow to Beau’s stomach leaves her winded, gasping for air, and for the first time in a long time, she feels a terror that she may not win this fight. In that second of pause, she feels a small pinching sensation in her thigh. Whoever the fuck she’s fighting has stuck her with a dart. That’s never good.
She manages to yank it out but already, she feels a tingling sensation beginning in her fingers and toes. She has the wherewithal to shout, to call out to anyone who might be able to hear her. She makes desperate grabs at her enemy’s face, hoping to get close enough to yank the face-covering down but her depth perception is off. She tries to adjust to it, as one would adjust to being drunk. She’s won fights while drunk before, she can do it again.
She keeps swinging. It’s hard to focus on expelling the paralysis and being precise about her movements. An upper punch makes her see stars and Beau decides maybe it’s best to let the paralysis set in.
The figure simply pushes her and she falls back with a thud. She watches to figure, blurry now, lean down.
“This is a warning,” the figure whispers.
No shit, Beau thinks.
“You will stay out of dealings related to the Coats.”
Yada, yada.
“Or you and your friend will die.”
Typical.
Beau watches the figure raise a hand and then there’s nothing.
When Beau comes to, she’s in a bed, her bed to be specific. Everything hurts.
“I found you,” Jester says as she walks in. She puts a glass of water on Beau’s bedside. “You were in a puddle of your own blood.”
Beau just stares at her. She never knows what to say around Jester.
“I would ask what happened but I’m not sure I want to know,” Jester continues. “Just tell me how bad the threat is.”
They’ve had instances like this before, instances where one or both of them have been threatened in the time they’ve been living in this house together. It was always someone (or many someones) threatening to keep out or to stay away and that if they didn’t, one or both or everyone around them would die. Not all of them held much sway but some of them did.
“Seven out of ten,” Beau answers.
Jester stares at her. “Okay,” she says. She then starts to leave.
“Wait,” Beau calls. Even the act of raising her voice physically hurts. “Don’t rush in,” she says.
“You did it the last time.”
“Just wait for me.”
“Why should I? You survived the last one. I’ll survive this one.”
“Only just,” Beau says. “I only just survived.”
“But you did. I will too.”
Beau, straining, tries to rise from her bed. “Stop it, Jester. Don’t go without me.”
Jester just stares at her. “If you try to follow, you will hurt yourself again. So don’t follow me. I can handle myself.”
“You leave without me and I will die trying to get out the door.”
“Don’t put that on me.”
Beau just stares at her. Her chest is still painfully heaving from the attempt to get out of bed. She holds Jester’s eyes, forcing her into a game of chicken. The thing is, Beau knows she can win this one. Despite everything that has happened between them, Jester would not just let Beau die.
It takes a few seconds but Jester does relent, dropping her gaze.
“Fucking hell, Beau,” Jester whispers in a voice Beau barely recognizes.
Then, Jester walks out and Beau can hear her walk into her own room and settle down in her bed.
It is amazing what a good night’s rest can do. Beau’s body still aches but she can move without wincing now.
Jester is at the kitchen table. She is going through notes and despite how early it is, she looks as furious as she did the night before. Maybe sleep can’t fix everything, but Beau knew that already.
“They mentioned the Coats,” Beau says as she sits down.
“I figured,” Jester says. Her voice is ice cold.
“They’ve got a whole fortress.”
“I know.”
“I think we could do it. But maybe, we hire an extra hand.”
“No.”
“No?”
“They came to our house. They made it personal. No need to bring in anyone else.”
“Famous last words.”
Jester looks up. “This isn’t funny.”
“Never said it was.”
Jester just huffs.
“I say we leave at midday,” Beau proposes.
“Fine.”
Sometime after midday, Beau and Jester are crouched behind trees near the Coats’ fortress. They’re both assessing a way in.
“Pick off the guys in front?” Jester whispers.
Beau nods. “Then we take different wings once inside. You go left, I’ll go right.”
They time their assault with the changing of the front guards and in an instant, they have incapacitated everyone outside the complex. Beau makes sure to cut the alarm bell out front.
Once they’re inside, the pair exchange a glance and head down opposite hallways. They’ve done this so many times before. It wasn’t always a fortress and it wasn’t always just them, but the muscle memory is the same. Infiltration is a skill and practice makes perfect.
What Beau realizes, as she makes her way through the right wing of the building, is that the members of the Coats are far easier to take down when she gets the first hit in. Beau has always liked a good fight but sometimes it’s better to incapacitate and move on. It’s taken her whole life to get better at leaving bodies behind.
Eventually, she reaches the central room. Members of the Coats are milling around inside and there are too many for her to try and take on all at once, especially if they’re all as capable as her messenger from the night before. They’re all wearing the same black garb, their faces covered. None of them seems to be commanding any kind of higher status whatsoever. If there is a leader in this group, she can’t tell who it is.
Beau hears Jester behind her.
“What next?” Jester asks, peering into the central room.
“Ordinarily, we would go in guns blazing except I want a word with whoever’s in charge and I can’t tell right now.”
Beau watches as Jester peers around the crowd.
“We’ll make them talk,” Jester says.
Before Beau can say anything else, Jester sends in a massive spell and throws up her spirit guardians around her. Beau has no choice but to follow.
It is a quick and decisive battle. Jester was always going to be better at this than Beau with her magic and Beau’s lack of it. But also, they have always worked better as a team than as individuals. They worked greatest when they belonged to the Nein but Beau can’t think about that now.
Jester holds a flame to one of the Coats’ faces. She asks where their leader is and they point to a figure whose back is against the wall. Beau sighs at that. It’s always the ones that deliver the most brutal warning messages that end up being the cowards. She should have known that the beating she took was all bluff and no bite.
When they are back home, Beau makes dinner for both of them. She’s not good at it, but she excels at making greasy food and greasy food always tastes better after a battle. She and Jester both know it even if neither of them says it.
“You going out tonight?” Beau asks Jester.
“No. You?”
Beau shakes her head. It's been a while since she’s indulged herself. It used to be that she could go out to a tavern, be well in her cups, and still come across as a fun time. Nowadays, if she were to do that, she’d just look like the rest of the sad old drunks that spend their hours somewhere between life and death.
“You did good today,” Beau tells her.
Jeste looks confused by that. They don’t typically compliment each other on their work. They both know what each other can do. It’s wasted breath to do so after all these years.
It looks like Jester is about to say something when there’s a knock on their door.
The figure standing there is a young girl, somewhere between fifteen and twenty. She’s bleeding heavily.
“Beau,” Jester says.
“I got it,” Beau responds.
Jester helps the girl inside and Beau checks the perimeter of the house to make sure the girl doesn’t have company. When Beau is satisfied she has arrived alone, she joins the two of them in the house where Jester is healing her.
“What’s your name, kid?” Beau asks.
She looks between the two of them. She seems afraid of something.
“Why did you come here?” Beau tries.
Again, the girl doesn’t answer.
“Would you rather write it down?” Jester asks.
The girl nods and Beau finds some ink and parchment. With the hand that doesn’t look beat up, she writes Is it safe here?
Jester nods. “It should be.”
“If it’s not, we can handle it,” Beau adds.
The girl scribbles on the paper again. I heard this was a place to go if you’re in danger.
Beau and Jester exchange glances. They’ve never heard that one before.
“What are you running from?” Beau asks.
The girl writes, Home.
Beau and Jester both make sure the girl is fast asleep before they slip into another room to talk about her.
“What are we doing with her?” Beau questions.
“We can’t send her away,” Jester says.
“I agree, but what are we doing? This is hardly a place for her to stay.”
“Until we can find her somewhere safer, somewhere better, we make it work.”
Beau thinks about it for a moment, running through what “making it work” would look like. It would cost a bit more to support an extra mouth. They’d have responsibility for someone other than themselves.
“And how long do we entertain this?” Beau asks.
“As long as we have to.”
Beau begins to protest before Jester cuts her off.
“This wouldn’t have even been a question before,” Jester says, and Beau knows she’s getting dangerously close to talking about the things they don’t talk about.
“That’s a low fucking blow,” Beau says, the anger in her voice reminiscent of old wounds.
“I’m just reminding you,” Jester replies, holding her ground.
Beau takes a deep breath. Then another one. She reminds herself that she doesn’t hate Jester, that she never did. But man, does she know Beau’s sore spots.
In the morning, Jester is gone. Beau sees a note from her saying that she’s gone to the market to get some real food.
As she sits at the kitchen table, she hears the girl rise in the other room and watches as she emerges. The girl flinches when she sees Beau, as if she forgot other people were here.
“You live to see another day,” Beau says, raising her glass.
The girl sits down at the table. “My name is Kit,” she says quietly.
“Nice to meet you, Kit,” Beau says. “Nice to hear you as well.”
Kit looks around. “Where did the other one go?”
“Market,” Beau replies. “All we’ve got here is booze and bacon and that isn’t exactly the healthiest.”
Kit looks unnerved.
“Look,” Beau says, “I know you’re spooked. Whatever you’re running from, as much as I hate to admit it, you came to the right place. Well, I don’t know if right is the best word for this place but okay should suffice.”
When Kit doesn't answer, Beau gives up for the time being. “I’m gonna do a sweep around the house. You can just chill out here.”
“Wait,” Kit says right before Beau reaches the door. “You never told me your name, either of your names actually.”
Beau turns. “You heard of this place but you don’t know our names?”
Kit just shrugs.
“I’m Beau. The other one is Jester.”
“Thank you, Beau,” Kit says.
Beau awkwardly nods and leaves.
The next few days are interesting. That’s the best word Beau can think of to describe it. As she and Jester get used to their new house guest, Beau sees flickers of the old Jester come out. She isn’t that warm, bubbly presence she used to be (she probably never will be again), but there are cracks in the jaded walls she’s maintained all these years. Beau even finds herself surprised at how accommodating she herself can be.
Eventually, a routine is established. Beau does small jobs in the morning, any of the ones that allow her to be back around noon. Jester leaves when Beau arrives and is back by nightfall. For the first time in a long time, they are both home every night, checking the traps they’ve set outside the property and trading off household responsibilities. And they are civil through all of it, even if the tension and the anger and the history remains just below the surface.
About two weeks in, during a quiet afternoon, Kit approaches Beau as she cleans dirt stains out of her clothes.
“What’s up, kid?” Beau asks.
“I want to learn how to fight.”
Beau shakes her head. “I’m not a teacher. I don’t have the patience for it.”
“Think of how much better it would be if I could fight too. Then maybe, I could get out of your hair. I know you want that.”
Ouch.
“Knowing how to fight won’t save you from whatever it is you’re running from,” Beau says.
“You don’t know that.”
“If you wanted it dealt with, you would have asked us to march back to wherever you came from and put some fuckers in the ground. What you’re running from has strings attached and you can’t cut them just by punching and kicking them.”
Kit is silent for a while after that.
“Look,” Beau says as she hangs up her clothes. “I’ll teach you some basic self-defense if you really think it’ll make you feel safer. But I’m not gonna teach you how to fight.”
“That’s good enough for me,” Kit says, excited. It’s the first time Beau has ever seen her excited.
Kit is not a fast learner. It takes time for her to grasp the basic concepts Beau is trying to teach but her desire to keep trying never wanes and Beau has to respect that.
After a few days of lessons, Jester arrives to see them finishing up. It’s hard to read her expression in what little light there is but there certainly is an expression that passes over her face. Beau sends Kit inside and braces for whatever Jester has to say.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Jester hisses once the door closes behind Kit.
“She’s learning self-defense. She asked me to teach her.”
“And you didn’t think to notify me?”
“I didn’t know this was worthy of notification.”
Jester scoffs. “Well, thanks for keeping me in the loop with regard to the person living in our house.”
Before Beau can get another word in, Jester walks away and enters the house, slamming the door shut as she goes.
Beau waits for a moment. She’s deciding whether it’s worth it to march in there and continue the argument. She thinks about the kid, hearing them. She thinks about whether Jester is right or not. No, she couldn’t possibly be right. Beau thinks about it again. Maybe it’s one of those your’re-both-wrong scenarios but Beau feels defensive at the moment and honestly, who thought it was a good idea for two people as stubborn as the two of them to live together? (She knows the answer).
Against better judgment, she marches in, prepared to defend herself.
“You don’t have to control everything,” Beau says, letting anger harden her already steely voice.
Jester, who is rummaging through a closet, turns to Beau. “We’re not doing this,” she says, “not here.”
Kit is in the room but she gets up. “I can give you space,” she says.
“No,” Jester says. “We don’t need it.”
“You don’t get to dictate the terms, Jester,” Beau says. “Kit, you can do whatever you want.”
Kit retreats to her room, whispering a sorry to Jester as she passes her.
“I don’t want to argue right now,” Jester says.
“Neither do I,” Beau says. “But you don’t get to take jabs at me and expect me to just take them lying down. You should know me well enough by now.”
“A jab? All I said was I was pissed you didn’t tell me.”
Beau chuckles dryly. “You said more than that and you know it. Cut the shit, Jester. What is this really about?”
Jester shuts the closet door, fairly forcefully and crosses the room so there is only the kitchen table between them.
“I deserve to know what happens here,” Jester says. “What happens with her is my business as much as it is yours. Also, I would have thought that neither of us wanted to teach a child to fight after everything that happened so imagine my surprise when I see you doing just that.”
“She isn’t a child,” Beau says. “She asked me and I’m not teaching her to fight. I’m teaching her to defend.”
Now Jester chuckles dryly. “It’s all the same in the end, isn’t it? How many bodies have we left in our wake in the name of defense? Do you really want that life for her?”
Beau feels the instinct to lash out arise but she tampers it. She hates that Jester has had a knife in her back for years and always knows when to twist it a little. (But Beau supposes they both have knives in each other’s backs if she’s being honest with herself).
“You know that I don’t,” Beau responds softly. “You know that I don’t,” she repeats even quieter.
The tension in the room deflates and Jester goes into her own room. Neither of them says sorry because both of them know it doesn’t change anything. They’ll both express their apologies by simply carrying on the next day as they always do after a fight. It’s not healthy, that much Beau knows, but still, neither of them have left after all these years.