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luchiaI'm saying all this stuff is on the previous post, because I'm a lazy bum! And now, the epilogue that makes little to no sense. ♥
Hell’s Around The Corner
(But The Trip Ain’t Free)
And Sometimes, They Can Follow You Out
"I dream sometimes," he said, still toying with the revolver. It made a muted clicking noise every time a chamber moved, every time he decided on the next chance. His coin still ticked away on the table. The room was swarmed with half-heard noises. "I don't dream much anymore, but sometimes I manage to."
It took Cain a while to finally sit in front of Ambrose's perch on the table. His suit was white and blue. Cain didn't know what the colors meant - he'd never been a part of their world of masks and moonshine, never picked up on the nuances and symbolism that told people everything they needed to know after one glance. But at least he knew it wasn't black.
"They're all safe," Cain said quietly, but the other man didn't take his eyes off the gun. A clockwork coin in his pocket, and a simple gun in his hands. "You're safe."
Click-click-click. "I dream that all of this never happened," he continued, sounding for all the world like he hadn't heard Cain. "That I'm just a watchmaker living with my aunt and cousins. That I can watch them grow old and happy together."
"You still can," Cain said, almost reaching out to touch Ambrose's leg before reason overpowered emotion. "Just leave. You know they're scared for you."
Ambrose let out a light laugh. "Someone has to be, don't they." His eyes were focusing again, but Cain wasn't sure that was a good thing considering how he seemed to be focusing on the revolver. Click-click-click; it screamed above the ever-present coin. "It seems I'm never scared. Isn't that funny? You wouldn't think a person would miss fear."
"You're not exactly normal."
Ambrose chuckled, and the slow spinning stopped.
"Ambrose." Cain said it as calmly as possible. "Ambrose, give me the gun. You haven't lost. You arranged all this. How can you lose a game against yourself?"
"It's how I played the game," he said, voice soft, and finally looked away from the gun and at Cain. "I'm sorry I used you. I'm sorry you-"
"Just give me the gun," Cain said, trying to not let the urgency show, to avoid talking about any of this, trying to not sound scared and desperate-
Ambrose pressed the gun against Cain's temple, and he couldn't do anything but stare up at Ambrose's eyes. They were dark and vicious and hidden, and not a small bit insane. "Do you really want it, Cain?"
Cain could hear the other question behind the words, though, could hear it translate into do you really want me in his mind instantly. He leaned forward, putting a hand above Ambrose's hip. "Very, very badly," he said, and tilted his head just enough for the barrel to seem like a very uncomfortable headrest, supporting him. "How badly do you want to shoot me?"
"I don't want to, but I should," Ambrose said, sounding like this was a completely casual chat, as if they were back in his shop with a mask hardening on Cain's face. "It'd be fitting. Gangster shoots detective before capture, read all about it."
Cain smiled, and couldn't really understand why it was so funny to him. "If it helps you make up your mind, I don't want you to shoot me."
"Well, that's because you're sane."
"And I'm pretty sure you don't want to shoot me."
"That's because I'm not."
Cain couldn't help it. He laughed. Mask or no mask, black suit or white suit, sane or not, there was still some Glitch inside. He'd come to appreciate the Ambrose side of the coin, but it was the inner Glitch that Cain would run into a burning building for.
Ambrose was fast. Before Cain had even really registered he'd moved, the gun hand fallen to the floor and Ambrose was kissing him like he could drink the laughter out of Cain's soul, holding onto him like he was the only thing keeping Ambrose from blowing away in the wind. Cain let him, trying to remember if he'd ever seen Ambrose happy on his own terms, when it wasn't a mask. When he had last smiled because he felt like smiling.
"Cain."
Cain's eyes snapped open. The Lieutenant was grinning at him, shaking his head. "You need to learn to sleep at home," he said, and laughed slightly. "You need to learn to go home. You don't live in this office, you know."
Home didn't feel the same without Jeb there and the boxes all put away neatly. Jeb was in the police academy, and Cain barely restrained himself from pulling his son out almost every five hours, but it was what Jeb wanted. Cain had stomached a year of it by now, and he could deal with the rest of it too.
And then he could assign Jeb to somewhere in an incredibly quiet suburb.
"I'll sleep when I'm dead," Cain said wryly, and stretched out in the creaky chair. He remembered Glitch asking if he'd gotten DeMilo's job. The fact Ambrose had to kill the man for Cain to get it was a morbid point of amusement for Cain.
The Lieutenant shook his head, still smiling, and shoved a package onto Cain's mostly-tidy desk. "This came for you downstairs. I was on my way up, figured I could ask about Mystic."
"No change," Cain said irritably, looking at the small box. "He's as clean as ever on record. I don't know how he does it. The man's practically untouchable."
"And yet he'll go to lunch with you every couple of months," the Lieutenant said, watching Cain open up the package. "I have no idea how you can manage-"
"When did this show up?" Cain snapped, and the Lieutenant stared at Cain, who was staring at the battered-looking pocketwatch in his hand. Cain shoved it into his pocket and grabbed the package, reading the return address as quickly as possible as he stood up.
"Right about when I walked in from lunch," he said, voice laced with concern, and Cain grabbed his coat and hat. "What's going on?"
"I need to go," Cain said, and practically ran down the stairs and out of the building.
---
There wasn't a sign above the door, just a twist of stained glass in a shape that could have been either an A or a G, depending on how the light hit it. The sign said out to lunch, but he could see someone moving inside, and that was enough to make Cain start knocking loudly and slightly desperately on the door.
He'd been looking for a year. He'd been looking for a year, and the man's shop had been around the corner from their apartment.
It was Glitch who opened the door, not looking the slightest bit surprised, even if he did look happy. He looked healthy for once, too. There weren't any dark circles under his eyes, no worryingly prominent bones in a thin body, and his eyes were calm for once, a calm like cliffsides and mountains and rivers, where they were fully aware of what they were and wouldn't have it any other way.
He looked happy.
When Cain didn't say anything, Glitch carefully put a hand on Cain's arm and walked him inside, closing the door behind them. "I do glasswork now," Glitch said. "I occasionally make watches, I tinker a lot, but mostly I do glasswork." He smiled, and it was a real smile. "No more masks."
"I am very, very glad to hear that," Cain said, smiling back tentatively while Glitch almost gave him an all-out grin. "I missed you."
"That's because you're strange," Glitch said, and flicked the brim of Cain's hat slightly. "You need to get your head together."
Cain grabbed him and pulled him into a hug, laughing. "I missed you so much."
Glitch kissed him, and there was the old Ambrose in it, but it was covered with warmth and life in a way he'd never been before, the tang of desperation that had haunted Cain's dreams almost laughable in the face of this. When Glitch pulled away, they were still smiling. "Feel like staying for lunch?"
Cain smiled. "I didn't even know you could cook."
"I can cook fairly well, actually. But sandwiches aren't cooking, they're picking and layering," Glitch corrected, and frowned. "You can cook, right?" Cain couldn't help but look a bit sheepish. "You can't cook?! How have you been surviving?" He shook his head, walking into the back room. "Don't answer that. You're coming over for dinner, and that's final."
"The office feeds me," Cain said, almost defensively, and Glitch shook his head, pulling ingredients out of the ice box.
"Not anymore, they don't," Glitch muttered. "You're skinny and you look like you haven't gotten any decent sleep in a week."
"It's closer to a year, actually," Cain said quietly. Glitch went quiet, and Cain was about to flounder for something to say when Glitch spoke.
"I killed a lot of people, and I needed to find something to help me atone for that." He waved at the shop. "Every bit of extra money I get that I don't need to live, I give to someone who needs it." He moved towards the table where he'd been making his own sandwich, and started on one for Cain. "And Mr. Mystic and I have some arrangements that have helped a lot more people than you'd think."
It all translated into I needed a year to know I could live with myself, and that was fine with Cain, because Glitch had come back better than Cain had ever dreamed he would.
"Do you want tomato?" Glitch asked.
"No."
"Can I convince you to sleep here tonight?"
Cain smiled. "Always."
Glitch beamed at him. "I missed you too. Pass me that plate?" Glitch was wearing brown pants and a white shirt, grey suspenders keeping the pants up. He was clean and rumpled, and content.
Absurdly happy for no reason he could really name, Cain did.
(But The Trip Ain’t Free)
And Sometimes, They Can Follow You Out
"I dream sometimes," he said, still toying with the revolver. It made a muted clicking noise every time a chamber moved, every time he decided on the next chance. His coin still ticked away on the table. The room was swarmed with half-heard noises. "I don't dream much anymore, but sometimes I manage to."
It took Cain a while to finally sit in front of Ambrose's perch on the table. His suit was white and blue. Cain didn't know what the colors meant - he'd never been a part of their world of masks and moonshine, never picked up on the nuances and symbolism that told people everything they needed to know after one glance. But at least he knew it wasn't black.
"They're all safe," Cain said quietly, but the other man didn't take his eyes off the gun. A clockwork coin in his pocket, and a simple gun in his hands. "You're safe."
Click-click-click. "I dream that all of this never happened," he continued, sounding for all the world like he hadn't heard Cain. "That I'm just a watchmaker living with my aunt and cousins. That I can watch them grow old and happy together."
"You still can," Cain said, almost reaching out to touch Ambrose's leg before reason overpowered emotion. "Just leave. You know they're scared for you."
Ambrose let out a light laugh. "Someone has to be, don't they." His eyes were focusing again, but Cain wasn't sure that was a good thing considering how he seemed to be focusing on the revolver. Click-click-click; it screamed above the ever-present coin. "It seems I'm never scared. Isn't that funny? You wouldn't think a person would miss fear."
"You're not exactly normal."
Ambrose chuckled, and the slow spinning stopped.
"Ambrose." Cain said it as calmly as possible. "Ambrose, give me the gun. You haven't lost. You arranged all this. How can you lose a game against yourself?"
"It's how I played the game," he said, voice soft, and finally looked away from the gun and at Cain. "I'm sorry I used you. I'm sorry you-"
"Just give me the gun," Cain said, trying to not let the urgency show, to avoid talking about any of this, trying to not sound scared and desperate-
Ambrose pressed the gun against Cain's temple, and he couldn't do anything but stare up at Ambrose's eyes. They were dark and vicious and hidden, and not a small bit insane. "Do you really want it, Cain?"
Cain could hear the other question behind the words, though, could hear it translate into do you really want me in his mind instantly. He leaned forward, putting a hand above Ambrose's hip. "Very, very badly," he said, and tilted his head just enough for the barrel to seem like a very uncomfortable headrest, supporting him. "How badly do you want to shoot me?"
"I don't want to, but I should," Ambrose said, sounding like this was a completely casual chat, as if they were back in his shop with a mask hardening on Cain's face. "It'd be fitting. Gangster shoots detective before capture, read all about it."
Cain smiled, and couldn't really understand why it was so funny to him. "If it helps you make up your mind, I don't want you to shoot me."
"Well, that's because you're sane."
"And I'm pretty sure you don't want to shoot me."
"That's because I'm not."
Cain couldn't help it. He laughed. Mask or no mask, black suit or white suit, sane or not, there was still some Glitch inside. He'd come to appreciate the Ambrose side of the coin, but it was the inner Glitch that Cain would run into a burning building for.
Ambrose was fast. Before Cain had even really registered he'd moved, the gun hand fallen to the floor and Ambrose was kissing him like he could drink the laughter out of Cain's soul, holding onto him like he was the only thing keeping Ambrose from blowing away in the wind. Cain let him, trying to remember if he'd ever seen Ambrose happy on his own terms, when it wasn't a mask. When he had last smiled because he felt like smiling.
"Cain."
Cain's eyes snapped open. The Lieutenant was grinning at him, shaking his head. "You need to learn to sleep at home," he said, and laughed slightly. "You need to learn to go home. You don't live in this office, you know."
Home didn't feel the same without Jeb there and the boxes all put away neatly. Jeb was in the police academy, and Cain barely restrained himself from pulling his son out almost every five hours, but it was what Jeb wanted. Cain had stomached a year of it by now, and he could deal with the rest of it too.
And then he could assign Jeb to somewhere in an incredibly quiet suburb.
"I'll sleep when I'm dead," Cain said wryly, and stretched out in the creaky chair. He remembered Glitch asking if he'd gotten DeMilo's job. The fact Ambrose had to kill the man for Cain to get it was a morbid point of amusement for Cain.
The Lieutenant shook his head, still smiling, and shoved a package onto Cain's mostly-tidy desk. "This came for you downstairs. I was on my way up, figured I could ask about Mystic."
"No change," Cain said irritably, looking at the small box. "He's as clean as ever on record. I don't know how he does it. The man's practically untouchable."
"And yet he'll go to lunch with you every couple of months," the Lieutenant said, watching Cain open up the package. "I have no idea how you can manage-"
"When did this show up?" Cain snapped, and the Lieutenant stared at Cain, who was staring at the battered-looking pocketwatch in his hand. Cain shoved it into his pocket and grabbed the package, reading the return address as quickly as possible as he stood up.
"Right about when I walked in from lunch," he said, voice laced with concern, and Cain grabbed his coat and hat. "What's going on?"
"I need to go," Cain said, and practically ran down the stairs and out of the building.
---
There wasn't a sign above the door, just a twist of stained glass in a shape that could have been either an A or a G, depending on how the light hit it. The sign said out to lunch, but he could see someone moving inside, and that was enough to make Cain start knocking loudly and slightly desperately on the door.
He'd been looking for a year. He'd been looking for a year, and the man's shop had been around the corner from their apartment.
It was Glitch who opened the door, not looking the slightest bit surprised, even if he did look happy. He looked healthy for once, too. There weren't any dark circles under his eyes, no worryingly prominent bones in a thin body, and his eyes were calm for once, a calm like cliffsides and mountains and rivers, where they were fully aware of what they were and wouldn't have it any other way.
He looked happy.
When Cain didn't say anything, Glitch carefully put a hand on Cain's arm and walked him inside, closing the door behind them. "I do glasswork now," Glitch said. "I occasionally make watches, I tinker a lot, but mostly I do glasswork." He smiled, and it was a real smile. "No more masks."
"I am very, very glad to hear that," Cain said, smiling back tentatively while Glitch almost gave him an all-out grin. "I missed you."
"That's because you're strange," Glitch said, and flicked the brim of Cain's hat slightly. "You need to get your head together."
Cain grabbed him and pulled him into a hug, laughing. "I missed you so much."
Glitch kissed him, and there was the old Ambrose in it, but it was covered with warmth and life in a way he'd never been before, the tang of desperation that had haunted Cain's dreams almost laughable in the face of this. When Glitch pulled away, they were still smiling. "Feel like staying for lunch?"
Cain smiled. "I didn't even know you could cook."
"I can cook fairly well, actually. But sandwiches aren't cooking, they're picking and layering," Glitch corrected, and frowned. "You can cook, right?" Cain couldn't help but look a bit sheepish. "You can't cook?! How have you been surviving?" He shook his head, walking into the back room. "Don't answer that. You're coming over for dinner, and that's final."
"The office feeds me," Cain said, almost defensively, and Glitch shook his head, pulling ingredients out of the ice box.
"Not anymore, they don't," Glitch muttered. "You're skinny and you look like you haven't gotten any decent sleep in a week."
"It's closer to a year, actually," Cain said quietly. Glitch went quiet, and Cain was about to flounder for something to say when Glitch spoke.
"I killed a lot of people, and I needed to find something to help me atone for that." He waved at the shop. "Every bit of extra money I get that I don't need to live, I give to someone who needs it." He moved towards the table where he'd been making his own sandwich, and started on one for Cain. "And Mr. Mystic and I have some arrangements that have helped a lot more people than you'd think."
It all translated into I needed a year to know I could live with myself, and that was fine with Cain, because Glitch had come back better than Cain had ever dreamed he would.
"Do you want tomato?" Glitch asked.
"No."
"Can I convince you to sleep here tonight?"
Cain smiled. "Always."
Glitch beamed at him. "I missed you too. Pass me that plate?" Glitch was wearing brown pants and a white shirt, grey suspenders keeping the pants up. He was clean and rumpled, and content.
Absurdly happy for no reason he could really name, Cain did.
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(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-20 10:35 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-20 03:10 pm (UTC)This is the happiest one!(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-20 02:11 pm (UTC)*downloads soundtrack, flails* Distilled from win. ♥
(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-20 03:14 pm (UTC)Some day I'll type up the original of the three endings, where there's a mafia war! \o/
(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-20 03:35 pm (UTC)Dude, "Clue"!endings. Choose-Your-Own-Adventure fic. I approve!
(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-21 03:20 am (UTC)Glitch: I've never poisoned people, you know.
Cain: *takes another bite* Eat your sandwich, sweetheart.
AND THEN THEY LIVED STRANGELY BUT HAPPILY EVER AFTER UNTIL THE DEPRESSION :D
I'll put links at the bottom. "The Badass Ending", "The Semi-Realistic Ending", and "The Sandwich Ending."
(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-20 04:31 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-21 02:57 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-21 03:03 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-20 04:39 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-21 02:58 am (UTC)I feel like I should admit that originally more people than just DeMilo were going to die.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-21 12:33 am (UTC)I loved this story from the very start and it turned out better than my expectations. You go girl!
(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-21 03:08 am (UTC)Thank you for reading~
(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-21 03:01 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-21 03:23 am (UTC)(And I finish everything, btw. It might just take me a few
weeksmonthsyearsA WHILE to do it.)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-22 02:09 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-22 03:20 pm (UTC)It's early and I have nothing witty to say, I am sorry. D:(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-24 11:24 pm (UTC)Hi! Moving sucks! And trying to cut down on caffeine while packing is probably pretty stupid. And yet...
I thought this was going to be way more depressing. Scary Ambrose though. I'll read your space opera some time, but my internet may be intermittent or not home based for a while. Also, teh working. I START MONDAY! THEY ARE DISTURBINGLY HAPPY ABOUT ME. WHAT AM I GONNA DO????