Work Text:
“Wake up!”
The flesh of his cheek tingled hot and throbbed under the weight of the blow it had just received, and Lucien opened his eyes. He wasn’t sure whether he’d blacked out naturally, or if he’d been drugged, but he knew he had been nowhere near the clinic the last time he’d been conscious.
He was immediately aware that something was wrong; his arms and legs were tied tightly to the back and legs of the chair he’d been propped up in. If the ache in his joints was any indication (and that could be difficult to suss out since they always ached), he’d been there for a while before the raging Australian in front of him had managed to rouse him.
“Ya got a lotta explainin’ t’ do, Fancy. Ya really think nobody’d find out ‘bout that body?” the blonde spat.
Inwardly, Lucien cringed, but attempted to brush the question off. Grinning, he cocked his head a bit – as if confused – and stared up at the other man. “Which one?”
The responding blow was followed by the fresh taste of blood blooming in his mouth. The doctor, it seemed, was not playing this time.
“Ya know damn well which one! Ya been ‘round Jaws long enough t’ know he weren’t gonna stop lookin’… An’ I shouldn’t have t’ tell ya Hanna’s the same! Ya know how close they came t’ findin’ out it were yerself? Ya have any idea wot they’d do?”
Something cold and heavy was growing in the pit of his stomach, but it was ignored in favor of the rage that boiled just beneath his skin. “We were betrayed! Do you really think I would have allowed that man to live when he threatened our very existence?! I did what was necessary! Saved the boy the trouble of having to do it himself. We’re safe. He’s safe. If anything, I did him a favor! That should be enough!”
Luce’s shoulders stiffened and the fists his bony hands had formed slammed down futilely in the air. “I don’ care wot he did! If’n he were threatenin’ ya, then ya could’a told me! I could’a done sommat t’ help!”
“My gun was enough…”
“Yer gun’s traceable!” the younger man cawed. “Hanna don’ seem much, but he ain’t stupid! Even I won’t be able t’ throw him off’a yer scent fer too long!” Turning, he stalked away from the bound Englishman – tugging fretfully at his own hair. “Christ, Fancy… Ya really done it, this time. I dunno how t’ pull ya outta this fire. Ya really think Poncey’s gonna last long in prison? Ya think ya could really protect him from everythin’ they’ll do t’ him in there?”
That got Lucien’s attention, and even the rage couldn’t stop his stomach from knotting again. Smile faltering, he offered his interrogator a perplexed expression. “Can the evidence not be disposed of?”
Luce snorted and turned to sneer down at the other man. “Ya really think I’m gonna stick my neck out that far fer ya, Fancy? I ain’t in the business’a fuckin’ Hanna over. An’ ‘fore ya even suggest gettin’ Lamont involved… I ain’t makin’ that call. I ain’t pullin’ no more favors like this. Yer gonna have t’ do it yerself if’n ya think that’s wot ya wanna do.”
“He isn’t all that fond of me after that incident with the gorgon’s head…”
“Then mebbe ya shouldn’t’a burned that bridge, ya stupid fuck! Jesus Christ, Fancy… Why didn’t ya jus’ fuckin’ come t’ me?! I could’a wiped his head! I could’a done anythin’ else but kill him! Ya know I would’a had yer back! I wouldn’t let nothin’ happen t’ Poncey or yerself, especially comin’ from the likes’a him, but… Ya done dug yerself too deep this time. There ain’t nothin’ I can do, now. I ain’t sacrificin’ this entire fuckin’ clinic jus’ cos ya couldn’t come t’ me.”
There was something desperate in the doctor’s eyes. Something like what Lucien had seen the few times he had watched the light fade out of others, and yet it was so different – something beyond fear and betrayal. It was unsettling, and it dawned on him that the ticking that constantly followed the body he shared had increased in pace. Their heart was pounding. Lucien Tibenoch was truly fearful of what was to come.
“What do I do?”
“If’n yer a God-fearin’ man… I’d suggest prayin’. Other’n that… I dunno, Fancy,” he sighed. Closing the distance between them, the blonde ran a hand through the Englishman’s hair and down a still-pink cheek. “Fer wot it’s worth, I don’… I don’ want nothin’ t’ happen t’ ya.”
It wasn’t quite what he wanted to hear. It wasn’t a promise to smooth things over with Lamont for him, or to destroy whatever evidence the nosey little redhead had found. It was…sentimental, and it cut him to the core. Rather than demand to be released, Lucien merely sat and pressed his face into the other man’s hand.