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jate-kara · 7 months

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Horizon | On AO3

Thirty-seven hours.

Andal had told himself he’d stop counting after twenty-four. It was his usual compromise: worry for a while, and then let it go. Focus on your work. Don't get distracted. Do some extra training when you get too restless. This was all familiar agony by now. The field was for his Hunters. The Tower was for the Vanguard.

Traveler, sometimes he wished he’d never accepted that damn Dare.

Andal risked another glance at the clock. Zavala was at the head of the conference table and still deep in conversation with Saladin. He wasn't likely to catch the fourth check in two minutes. Ikora, though - she knew. Andal felt her shoot him a worried side-eye from somewhere to his left. He pretended he didn't notice. His datapad had sat untouched in front of him for so long that the screen had gone dark, so despite the stylus he'd been toying with to at least look sort of busy, it was painfully evident that he was not paying any amount of the requisite attention. Shit.

He clicked the datapad on again, more to avoid Ikora's concern than to actually accomplish anything. His notes were messy and scattered. The notifications were equally cluttered. Mission report submission flags. Memos from scheduled check-ins. Updates from secondary Scouts he'd sent out after the primary Hunter for the mission had dropped off the map for too long. Sometimes, that was just Hunters being Hunters. Other times, that was Hunters being dead. Andal scanned the updates. There was nothing new.

There was nothing that would stop the clock he was supposed to have started ignoring thirteen hours ago.

The meeting ended an hour late. Andal was the first one up. As soon as he rounded the hall corner and was out of the others' immediate sight, he let the Void wash over him. Technically, using the Light to go invisible in the Tower was frowned upon. Only technically. And he had no intentions of getting caught, just like he had no intentions of speaking to anyone between here and his Vanguard office. His head was spinning. He had to remember to breathe. He had no idea what the hell anyone had been talking about for the last three hours.

He needed out of this damn Tower.

He didn't go to his Vanguard office. He climbed up to the highest point of the Tower that he could find and he dangled his legs over the edge and he looked at the City and the world beyond its horizon and he wanted to scream. Shiro and Tevis and Cayde were out there somewhere, each on their own assignments. He'd put them on a special check-in schedule, one that guaranteed he'd be able to talk to them, no matter how briefly. They were supposed to call one after the other: Shiro, then Tevis, then Cayde. But he hadn't heard from any of them in thirty-eight hours. Even meticulous, responsible Shiro had missed the last window; there hadn't been so much as a ping from his Ghost to say he was still alive.

Andal dropped his head into his hands and dragged his fingernails along his scalp. He'd pulled his long hair up into a messy bun a while ago, too distracted to bother with brushing it. Cayde would fuss over him if he saw it - Haven’t taken a break lately, huh? - and then gently undo and untangle it. Andal closed his eyes and imagined it, just for a second. That warmth. That peace.

He'd kill for that right now.

"I'm sure they're fine." Astraea materialized beside him. "They're just…busy.”

I should be there with them. The words died in his throat. He’d made his choice when he’d accepted the Dare. This was his life now, and had been for well over a year. Him, here, with the Vanguard and the bureaucrats, while his most important people in the world were out there. Maybe in danger. Without him. For the rest of eternity, unless some other Hunter stepped up and said they wanted the job. Or he died. In which case it was Cayde's problem.

Andal drove his palms into his eyes. “Get a grip,” he groaned, and was glad Astraea knew him well enough to know when he was talking to himself, and not at her. “Not like any of this is new.”

Astraea bumped his shoulder. Andal patted at her absently. "Thanks," he muttered. "Sorry I'm not the best company right now."

His comm buzzed before she had the chance to respond. Andal scrambled to answer it. He recognized the code immediately. "Shiro, you all right?"

There was a long, weighted pause. "Are you?"

Damn, he really did need to pull it together. "You missed your check-in," Andal said, instead of explaining the crack in his voice. "I thought-"

"Sorry about that. Ran into some comm interference unexpectedly. I've got the patrol data and I'm making the return trip. So I'll ask you again: what happened to you?"

There was no good way to answer that. "Vanguard stuff," he said. "Nothing to worry about."

"Cayde and Tevis haven't checked in either, have they?" It sounded more like a statement than a question. Shiro really had a way of seeing through bullshit. It was very useful when it was leveled at Cayde or Tevis. Not so much right now.

Andal blew out a breath. "No. Not for a while."

"You know Tevis doesn't check in because he doesn't want to, and Cayde is…Cayde. They're probably fine."

"I know."

Shiro gave a disbelieving huff. "I'll be back at the Tower in a few hours. We can go over the patrol data then, unless you have other obligations."

Shiro didn't need to come all the way back to the Tower to go over data. It was something they could easily manage through a few messages or comm calls. Some of the tightness in Andal's chest eased. "I don't," he said, without checking his schedule. "I'll meet you in my office when you get here."

It turned out maybe he should have checked his schedule, because when he finally made his way back down into the inhabited part of the Tower, Zavala was standing outside his door. Andal came to a slow stop. The Commander wasn't holding a datapad so they probably didn't have a meeting Andal had forgotten about, and he didn't have a severe expression, so Andal probably hadn't done anything to warrant a reprimand.

"Something I can help you with?" Andal asked, crossing his arms and propping a shoulder against the wall.

Zavala watched him with a furrowed brow. He was quiet for a moment, as though he was trying to figure out how to say what he wanted to say. "You seemed - distracted, earlier today. I wanted to-"

"I'm fine." Oh, way to go, Brask. Top points for selling that one.

Zavala studied him. "You've received a great deal of difficult reports in the last week," he said. "If there's anything I can-"

"Look, I appreciate it, but there's nothing to worry about." Andal tried for a smile, and knew it didn't reach his eyes. He pushed himself up off the wall, then moved to access the keypad for his office. Zavala stepped out of the way, but he didn't go any farther. Andal shot him a glance as the door opened. "That all?"

There was a tired defeat in Zavala’s eyes. "Yes," he said quietly. "Goodnight, Andal."

Andal stepped in, swiped the door shut, and slid down against the wall beside it. He didn't bother turning on the lights. The only source of illumination was the moonbeams streaming through the floor to ceiling windows, and the muted glow of the City below. Andal leaned his head back and let his eyes slip shut.

"He's just trying to help," Astraea said. She sounded disapproving. Andal kept his eyes closed. She nudged his shoulder - once, and then again when he didn't move.

"I know," he allowed.

"He's your friend. So is Ikora. I know you saw her message yesterday."

"I didn't say that I didn't."

"But you didn't answer her."

"She's got enough going on without me adding to it."

"They're worried about you."

"I'm fine."

The lights clicked on. Andal jumped, and was halfway to his feet when the sound of the door opening finally registered, like the information had been caught in a buffer before it hit his brain.

Shiro stared down at him as if he'd just found him half dead in a pit and not slumped pathetically in his office. "'Fine'," he repeated. "Yeah, you sure look fine."

"You're okay," Andal said, like it wasn't obvious.

"Is there some reason you thought I wouldn't be? It was just a patrol, Andal. Very routine."

Almost every one of the dead Hunters' missions had been routine. Andal blinked at him. "Uh. No?"

"If you want me to believe you, don't phrase that like a question." Shiro eased to the floor beside him, close enough that their shoulders were pressed together. Some of the tension strung along Andal's spine released. "You want to tell me what's going on, or do you want me to drag Cayde back here for you?"

"Are those my only two options?"

"Well, I can get Tev, but he'll probably make you buy him a drink before he'll listen."

Andal managed something close to a laugh. "If I pull him off recon to come back to the Tower, you'll need to find another Vanguard. He'll kill me. He hates it here more than I do right-"

He cut himself off too late. Shiro tilted his head at him, and Andal shrugged helplessly. "Forget I said anything," he said, as if that had ever dissuaded Shiro before.

It hadn't. And it didn't this time. Shiro's gaze was considering. "Is it the Tower, or someone in it?"

That look was distinctly Tevis. Andal shoved at Shiro's shoulder, to at least jar him out of it. "It's the Tower. And even if it wasn't, you can't just shoot someone for bothering me."

"Hey, I'd make sure they were a Lightbearer first."

There was no grin in Shiro's voice. Andal wanted to believe it had been a joke. No, he was going to believe it. For his own sanity. He scrubbed at his eyes. Shiro waited.

"It's the Tower," Andal said again. "It's always the damn Tower. I'm up here sending the Hunters out but it's never me getting shot at."

"Ah." Shiro didn't sound surprised, just thoughtful. "Someone took a hit and didn't get back up."

"Three fireteams in the last week." Andal's voice cracked. He felt more than saw Shiro shift, so he was pressed a little closer.

"We all know the risks."

"We had bad information." The words tasted acrid. Like an excuse. "The assignments I gave them went sideways because of it."

"You do what you can with what you have, and so do they."

Andal's heart turned painfully. "One of these times," he whispered, a voice for the fear burning in his chest, "it could be you. Or Tevis. Or Cayde."

"Maybe. But I've always known that, even before you were Vanguard. If anything happened, I wouldn't blame you, Andal. I'd appreciate it if you respected that enough to not blame yourself."

Shiro never did waste time dancing around the point. Andal opened his mouth to argue, but one glance at Shiro's unwavering stare was enough to kill the protest before it started. "All right," he said, and held his hands up in mock surrender. "I get it."

"You don't. But you'll get there."

Andal elbowed him. Shiro was unaffected. "I know you well enough to know this isn't the last time we're going to have this conversation. That's fine. I'll say it as many times as you need me to."

Breathing hurt, suddenly. "Thanks," Andal said, more quietly than he'd meant to.

"You don't have to thank me. Just remember what I said." Shiro's expression shifted, from resolved to concerned. "You've been Vanguard for a while. This isn't the first time this kind of thing has happened. Tell me you've been talking to someone when it does."

Andal didn't answer.

"Andal."

"...does Astraea count?"

"He doesn't talk to me about it," Astraea interjected. "He just says he's fine and not to worry about him."

Shiro heaved a soul-weary sigh. "I don't know what I expected."

Andal grimaced. "Sorry. I probably owe you a drink after all this."

"You don't owe me anything."

"Pretty sure I was supposed to give you some glimmer at some point."

That earned him a chuckle. "Keep it. I've heard Vanguard pay is terrible."

They lapsed into a comfortable silence. Andal let it be for a moment, and then he broke it. "You know, it'd be easier to see the stars out there if you'd left the lights off."

"So go turn the lights off."

"I didn't turn them on. You do it."

Shiro held up one sparking finger. "Don't fry my office," Andal grumbled, pushing himself to his feet so he could cross the room to the lightswitch. "Damned Bladedancer."

Halfway there, his comm chimed, and his heart leapt into his throat. He barely registered the code as he fumbled to swipe the screen on. "Cayde?"

"I'm sorry," Cayde blurted. He rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. "Just realized I missed the last check-in. Sundance reminded me. Fallen were shooting at us. I was shooting back. It was a mess. Glad we made - hey, are you okay?"

"Do I look not okay?"

Cayde made a show of scrutinizing him. "Huh," he said, and nothing else.

Despite the relief flooding his chest, Andal wanted to strangle him. "What do you mean, 'huh'?"

"Just huh," Cayde returned. "How's the Tower?"

"A lot quieter when you're not in it."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"You tell me." Andal's datapad pinged an alert - Tevis sending a short summary of his findings, which usually amounted to about three sentences: Went to the Place. Killed the enemies. Left the Place. This one had an extra few at the end. Shiro told me to check in more. I'm not doing that. ~ T.L.

"Andal?"

"Tevis sent me his report. He was nice enough to leave the location tag on it. He's somewhere in the City. And he missed every check-in."

Cayde tried to stifle his laugh. "Sorry, I know it's not funny," he said, through the palm he'd plastered over his mouth.

"Yeah, I can tell," Andal said dryly. "Don't you have your own report to be writing right about now?"

"No, because right now I'm talking to my beloved Vanguard."

It was far from the sappiest thing Cayde had ever said. It still made Andal's heart melt. "Fine," he said, trying for a measure of sternness and completely and utterly failing. "Do it later."

"He won't," Shiro supplied, exasperated, and Cayde sputtered some kind of protest. Andal barely heard it. He hit the lights, settled down next to Shiro, and listened to them bicker. If he closed his eyes, he was back with the crew, laughing around a campfire under a blanket of stars. The air was crisp and cool and their eyes were shining and no one was dead. He breathed and his chest didn't hurt.

He breathed, and for a while, it felt like peace.

—

Peace did not last long: only until the next morning, actually, when he woke up on his office couch with his neck at a bad angle and his limbs tangled in a survival pack blanket that didn't belong to him but had trim in Shiro's signature yellow. The sun was streaming through the windows, he couldn't move his head more than a few degrees to the left - and someone was banging on his door. Andal blinked blankly at it for a few beats. He didn't have meetings early.

"Good morning!" Astraea chirped, like the world's happiest alarm clock. "It's almost noon."

Andal cast her a sour look as he dug around in search of his datapad. "Hello?" he croaked, and cursed his dry throat.

The banging stopped. Small mercy. Andal untangled himself the rest of the way from the blanket and stumbled from one end of the office to the other until he realized his boots were right next to the couch the whole time. "Could just cloak and go out the window," he muttered, and shuffled over to slam the door release.

Lord Shaxx was not a frequent visitor; he hadn't been even before Twilight Gap had taken him from a position in the old Vanguard to Crucible handler. There were no meetings on Andal's schedule. He hadn't agreed to any Crucible match he could remember. But Shaxx was still here, fully armored, with his hands on his hips.

"Shaxx," Andal said, haltingly. "Something I can help you with?"

"You're alive! Good. Come with me."

Andal jogged to catch up, acutely aware of Astraea's amused hum and his own disheveled appearance. "If I missed a meeting, you have my apologies. But you could just send me a message."

Shaxx gave a booming laugh. "You aren't missing anything," he said, like that made whatever he was talking about obvious. "But you think you are. And I have a solution."

"Your solution to everything is a Crucible match."

"Not quite."

Shaxx led him out of the Tower, and then out of the City, all the way to the outskirts. To the Wall. To the gaping wound in it. Andal slowed to a stop. The wind was just as cutting now as it had been then, but today, there was no fire or smoke or seething ruin. The sky was clear for miles. Flowers had grown over the rubble, and they waved gently in the breeze. No death. No bodies. No blood. Just old scars, and a quiet peace.

Andal turned to Shaxx, stricken. "Why here?"

"Where else?" Shaxx's volume had dropped, but his voice was no less powerful for its softness. He took a few steps forward and rested a hand on the wound in the Wall. "You remember that day as well as I do."

"Everyone in the City remembers Twilight Gap."

"'Everyone', you say, as if you didn't lead a charge off the Wall and into the fray yourself. As if you didn't hunt the Fallen to the end of the pass alone. No ammunition. You'd lost your knife. All you had was your will, and your Light."

"Are you going somewhere with this?"

"Tell me, Brask: do your Hunters follow you of their own free will?"

Andal bit back a sigh. "Do you think there's anyone in the damn world who could get that many Hunters to do something they didn't want to do?"

"No," Shaxx said simply.

Andal dragged a hand through the mess that was his hair. Half of it had come free of the bun when he'd been asleep, and he'd pulled it apart the rest of the way on the walk to the Wall. The wind cutting down through the mountain pass blew it across his face, so instead of answering Shaxx, he focused on tying it back.

Shaxx was still staring at him once he finished. "Zavala thinks you need time. Ikora says to give you space. I think you've had enough of both. What you need is a reminder.

"A reminder?"

"That there is a reason for the Hunters' belief in you. That you would give your life for the City as readily as any of them. That your leadership from the Tower is not cowardice. That there is no shame in your grief, and that it is not weakness to ask another for their strength."

The words rang between them. Shaxx let the echo hang there, and Andal didn't try to dispel it. He didn't want to crack a joke, or bury the ache building in his chest. He wanted to breathe without the crushing weight. He wanted to hear Shiro weave a story again. He wanted to see Tevis give that rare grin. He wanted the warmth of Cayde’s arms around him. He wanted the open air and the faint light of the stars above. But he was caught between the familiar agony and the City's horizon: always reaching for a world he could no longer touch. Always mourning the deaths he couldn't prevent. Always wondering who might be next.

Andal crossed his arms against the wind's chill. "I wish it felt like enough," he said.

Shaxx relaxed his stance: less proud warrior and more gentle giant. "I know," he returned, and what he didn't say, Andal heard anyway. There was a reason it was so hard to find Hunters willing to be the Vanguard: why Tallulah had made that bet with the Ahamkara, why Caliban had lamented his fate when the role fell to him after, and then dropped off the map, and why every successor since had either died or disappeared, too. The Tower wasn't a cage like Cayde seemed to think, but it kept them separate from the Hunters they sought to unite. They could plan and guide and inspire all they wanted: it wouldn't change the fact that they couldn't stand shoulder-to-shoulder with their Scouts. Sooner or later, it drove them to desperate recklessness. Sooner or later, one way or another, it got them killed.

Andal met Shaxx's line of sight, and knew, even through the helmet, that his gaze was steel. "I know what you're trying to do," Andal said, with a rueful shake of the head. "You don't have to. I'm not going to go off the deep end."

Shaxx didn't move, except to square his shoulders. There was a current of tension to his stance that hadn't been there before. "It's a funny thing," he said. "Caliban said something similar to me once. And where is he now?

"I'm not Caliban."

"Neither was Aparajita. Or Kauko Swiftriver."

"I'm not them either," Andal shot back. "I gave my word when I accepted the Dare. I'm Vanguard now. It's my responsibility. That won't change. I just - I wish I could be out there with them."

The words left him like they'd been forced out by a blow to the chest: explosive and desperate. Shaxx considered him for a long moment. He didn't look convinced, not even a little, but he didn't push further. In the distance, the sun was sinking below the mountains. Shaxx turned to that instead, and Andal followed him. They stayed in the quiet of the Gap until the fire of the sunset had faded into twilight. Then, with a thunderous clap to his shoulder, Shaxx left for the City.

Andal propped himself up against some overgrown rubble and dug his datapad out of his pack. He wanted to put it back immediately. Every Hunter he'd dispatched on a mission in the last two months had apparently decided to send in their reports at the same time. His messages were a veritable flood

"Not dealing with that right now," Andal muttered, and scrolled past them. The rest was standard - Vanguard shit, a couple pings from Shiro for no reason besides saying hello, a single line from Tevis's datapad that just said Checking in - from Shiro, Tev is with me - and sixteen missed calls from Cayde. Andal jolted upright, then immediately relaxed. The most recent call had a short note attached: sorry - sat on my datapad. <3

Warmth swelled in Andal's chest, and stayed there all the way back to the Tower. His Vanguard apartment was tucked in the lower levels, far from any hum of activity. It made the chances of running into a Consensus lackey significantly slimmer - which was good, because he didn't have that much patience for them on his best days, and all he wanted to do now was clean up, make some tea, call Cayde, and settle in on the couch to maybe review at least some of the report deluge.

Right after he figured out why the damn door was already unlocked. Andal reached for his knife, called the Void, and slipped inside without a sound. Nothing out of place in the entryway - except an extra pair of boots that most certainly did not belong to him, and a familiar cloak hanging on the hook.

The Void receded in a rush. He heard more than saw Astraea lock the door behind him. "Cayde?" Andal called, sheathing his blade and toeing off his own boots.

A soft noise came from the pile of blankets on the couch. Andal made it to Cayde's side just in time to see him shoot upright and fling the blankets off. "Damn it," Cayde muttered. His shoulders slumped. "I was gonna make you dinner."

This close, Andal could see the telltale signs of exhaustion. Cayde had a particular way of holding himself when he'd gone too long without stopping; that thin strand of tension was corded through his frame as if it was the only thing holding him up. "Sorry," he mumbled, and stifled a yawn. "Got in early, took a shower and thought, hey, what's five minutes. Turns out it was not five minutes."

"Are those my clothes?" Andal asked, amused.

Cayde looked down at himself like it was a surprise. He'd stolen a simple pair of black sweatpants and a soft navy blue jacket that he'd only bothered to zip up a quarter of the way. "Maybe."

"Either they are or they aren't. There's no maybe option."

"Maybe," Cayde said again, with more conviction.

Andal fought the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he kneeled next to the couch. "You look tired," he said, pushing a careful palm against Cayde's exposed chest to ease him into lying down.

Cayde went without resistance or retort. There was a faint, unfocused haze to the glow of his eyes. He covered Andal's hand with one of his own and held it there, pressed to the low thrum of life. "Missed you," he whispered.

Andal's heart turned so sharply his insides ached. "That's supposed to be my line," he managed, leaning forward to lay his cheek against Cayde's chest.

"Hey, Andal?" Cayde's voice wavered. His other arm settled across Andal's back. "You'd tell me if something was wrong, right?"

Andal hummed an affirmative. It earned him a low chuckle. The fingers tracing lazy circles on his back crept up to tug his hair free, and Andal couldn't help the soft groan when they dragged along his scalp. "I don't mean with just this," Cayde said. "I mean in general."

"Not when you're in the field. I don't want you distracted."

"You know I think about you anyway." There was a spark of mischief in Cayde's tone. "And anyway, I'm not in the field right now."

Andal rolled his eyes and pushed himself to his feet with a huff, heedless of Cayde’s pitiful whine at the loss of contact. "I need to clean up. Then we can go get dinner."

Andal made it halfway to the bedroom before he heard footsteps, and arms wrapped around his waist from behind. "Lemme help," Cayde murmured, a rush of warmth against the back of his neck.

"I actually want to get clean sometime today, Cayde."

"Your hair's a mess."

"I was out in the wind." Andal twisted in his arms so he could look him in the eyes, and his next protest died on his lips. It wasn't often Cayde looked at him with so much raw vulnerability; he cloaked his fear and his grief in dazzling sunlight, so the rest of the world would focus on the flash of his smile and not the cracks in his heart. Andal had learned to see through it a long time ago. But it was different when Cayde stripped it away himself.

"I missed you," Cayde said, and his voice cracked. "I still miss you. And I can't figure out how to get to where you are so I can stop."

Andal brushed his fingers along the sharp line of his jaw. Cayde’s next inhale stuttered, more a sob than a sigh of contentment, and Andal's world collapsed and coalesced until all he could see was Cayde, burning with his own familiar agony and breaking himself apart to cross the horizon between them.

Andal surged forward and wrapped his arms around him and kissed him until the fire in his lungs was because he couldn't breathe, and not because the peace he wanted was out of his reach. Cayde was warm and solid and pressed against him, and that low thrum was strong and sure beneath his fingertips, and Cayde's breath was a soft whisper against his neck.

"I'm here," Cayde said. The words were ragged, strangled by his desperation. "I've got you."

Andal tried to ease a step back, to see his face, and to kiss him again, but Cayde resisted any movement that could put any amount of space between them - like if he let go now, Andal would once more be beyond him. It made Andal's chest ache. He didn't want to let go. He wanted to be here, where there was no death, or loss, or crushing weight. He wanted to lose himself in the steady hum from the heart of Cayde's frame. He wanted to open the windows and gaze at stars while he was wrapped up in Cayde's arms. It felt like peace. Like home. A single word burned in his throat, a plea he could never voice - Stay.

"You wanna tell me what's going on?" Cayde asked, a long time later, and still holding him close.

Andal shook his head.

"Okay," Cayde said. "You wanna go clean up?"

Andal heaved a deep sigh. Cayde laughed softly. "C'mon, it'll help."

"I'm fine here," Andal grumbled, and grasped futilely at Cayde's shoulders when he gently pulled away.

"C'mon," Cayde said again, tangling their fingers together and tugging him toward the bedroom. "I gotcha."

Cayde helped him wash up and slip into a comfortable hooded sweatshirt and loose pants, then set him down on the couch and went to work on his hair. It was still wet from the shower, and gradually less disastrous the longer Cayde spent painstakingly massaging various products into it. The careful rhythm soothed Andal into a warm haze. His head dropped back against Cayde's collar, and he only noticed he'd almost drifted off because those lovely fingers in his hair stopped moving.

"You know you have to sit up more if you want me to finish this."

"Mm."

"Andal." There was fond exasperation there. Cayde tapped his cheek. The quiet ping of a message notification interrupted whatever he was going to say next. He gathered Andal to his chest and planted a quick kiss on his hair, then started to extricate himself from the embrace.

Andal's heart lurched. He closed a tight grip around Cayde's wrist reflexively. "You're leaving?"

Cayde paused his efforts to untangle himself from Andal and also escape the sinking cushions of the couch. He didn't tug at the wrist Andal had in a vice grip. "Just for a minute," Cayde answered slowly. "I asked Tevis to pick us up some food. He's almost here."

Andal made himself let go. "Tevis hates the Tower. He won't come here unless he absolutely has to. Trust me, I've tried."

"Well, he does absolutely have to. He owes me a favor."

"Do I want to know how that happened?"

"Nope," Cayde said, with a little too much enthusiasm, as he finally managed to get back to his feet. He reached down to tilt Andal's chin up with a single digit. "Be right back. Don't go anywhere, beautiful."

Andal swatted at his hand. "Quit flirting and go let Tevis in," he said, despite the warmth blooming under his ribs. "I don't want him to break my door down."

It wasn't Tevis that showed up: it was an uncharacteristically surly Shiro. He handed the bags to Cayde with all the airs of a man who'd just spent too long fighting a losing battle. "I owed him a favor," he muttered. "And he decided that his debt to you was paid when he picked the food up and brought it to me. So I could take it to you."

"I told you he was a cheat," Cayde said, unhelpfully.

"Thanks, Shiro," Andal called, and Shiro studied him intently for a second. Whatever he found swept some of the aggravation away from his stance; he tossed off a cheerful wave as he ducked out.

Cayde was already unpacking the ramen onto the coffee table. Behind him, Sundance closed and locked the door with a sigh. Andal cast her a thankful look as he settled on the floor and propped his back against the couch.

Cayde dropped down next to him. "I was thinking," he said, looping an arm around Andal, "that I'd stick around the City for a couple weeks. Maybe drag you out of the Tower sometimes. Shiro said there're a few local festivals coming up, and-"

He didn't finish, because Andal stole the rest of his words with a searing kiss.

"Didn't know you liked festivals that much." Cayde sounded breathless. His gaze was completely unfocused. "Damn."

Andal tapped his cheek. "You okay in there?"

"I think I shorted something, but yeah." Cayde shook his head, like that would clear the fog. "Do that again."

Andal almost considered it. Almost. But the weariness in his bones felt like a lead weight, and the ramen was steaming, and Cayde was half curled around him. "Later," he said instead, and felt Cayde's chest hum with a soft laugh.

"You got it."

—-

The damn Tower was only ever loud on the rare occasion he wanted it to stay quiet.

Andal heard the hurricane coming before it hit and immediately categorized it as a five, because while there were two pairs of hurried footsteps approaching his office door at battering speed, the only raised voice he could make out was coming from the Speaker, and that always meant serious trouble. Could be an issue with the Consensus. Could be an emergency meeting to address some kind of apocalyptic threat.

Or it could be Tevis Larsen, stalking through the door with the Speaker two steps behind him. He didn't wait for the leader of the entire City's governing body to come through after him; he slammed a fist back into the controls to close and lock it in his face.

Andal shot to his feet. "Tevis, what the hell?"

"He asked me to explain calling out to the Void to him." Tevis looked utterly unperturbed. "I said no. He kept asking. I wasn't gonna say no twenty times."

Andal dragged a hand down his face. Tevis, who hated the Tower, was in the Tower, in Andal's office, with a slighted Speaker standing just outside the door, presumably after having followed Tevis across the entire structure asking about a power that was anything but well understood, which had to do with a branch of the Light that certain vocal fringe groups still considered controversially aligned with the Darkness, despite every writing Ikora Rey had ever produced with evidence to the contrary. Great. He could already see the fifteen new committees this was going to spawn.

"Tevis," Andal said, voice tight, "the Speaker is in charge of the entire Consensus. He runs the City."

"I don't answer to the damned Consensus. And if you weren't on the Vanguard, I wouldn't answer to them either."

Andal closed his eyes and massaged the bridge of his nose. "Fine, then look at it this way: I work with these people. Could you try not to make me look bad?"

"Cayde's been in here all the damn time lately. I don't think their opinions can get any lower."

Andal bit back a retort and reached for the door controls so he could start to smooth the mess out, but Zavala's voice on the other side stopped him. Ah. He was already on it. Andal would have to thank him later. "Okay," he said, turning back to Tevis. "What the hell is going on?"

Tevis's face didn't even twitch. "I can't just visit a friend?"

"Not when you've spent the last week avoiding me."

Tevis shrugged. "Shiro's been on my ass about coming to see you. I got sick of it."

"Shiro's been on your ass about that for a lot longer than the week you've been back in the City. Nice try, though."

A flicker of unease flashed in Tevis's eyes. He tugged at his hood, but didn't lower it, shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and glanced at the door. "Can we talk somewhere else?"

Andal waited until there were no more voices behind his door, then led Tevis outside, away from the Vanguard and the Consensus and the low buzz of their chaos. He only stopped once they made it to his sanctuary at the highest point of the Tower.

"You allowed to be up here? Thought your Vanguard might be kinda uptight about it." Tevis sat down gingerly, like he didn't trust the edge not to crumble by virtue of it being a Vanguard structure, and dangled his legs over the abyss below.

"Don't know. Never asked." Andal eased down too, and leaned back on his hands. In the distance, the sun was just starting to sink toward the horizon. A warm gust of wind caught Tevis's hood and blew it back, and Andal jolted. Tevis's long, dark hair was pulled up and braided into an elaborate coil at the back of his head. It wasn't something he had the inclination to do himself; mostly he just tied it however was quickest.

"Did you finally let Cayde do your hair?" Andal blurted.

He knew the answer before Tevis gave it by the exasperated eyeroll. "One time and one time only," Tevis muttered, but a faint smile still curved the corner of his mouth when he ran a hand over the coil of hair. "He said he wanted to practice it. Looked so happy about it I didn't have the heart to tell him off."

"Looks good on you," Andal said brightly, and earned an elbow to the side of the head. "Ow."

"You get shot and you don't make a damn sound. How the hell is that 'ow'?"

"Most of the time getting shot kills me."

Tevis gave a deep sigh. "Not what I meant."

"Pretty sure there was something else you came here to talk about anyway." Andal gave him a sidelong glance, and Tevis's shoulders tensed. "Did something happen?"

"No," Tevis ground out. His face went through an impressive array of volatile emotions before settling on blatant discomfort. He opened his mouth to say something else and all that came out was a single cracked syllable.

Andal shifted closer, so their shoulders were pressed together. He didn't say anything and, for a long time, neither did Tevis. He just sat there glaring into the distance with his hands clenched into fists in his lap.

"You're okay here?" Tevis managed at last.

"I'm not sure what that means, Tev."

Tevis scowled. "Being in the Tower all the time isn't killing you?"

Andal tilted his head at him. Tevis avoided his gaze. "It's where I belong now."

Tevis scoffed at that. A thin tremor ran down his spine. "Fucking Dare," he hissed under his breath.

Andal groaned. "Don't start. I get enough of that from Cayde calling the Tower a cage every other week."

"No, I don't mean - " Tevis stopped short. His fists were clenched so tightly his forearms were trembling. He took a ragged breath. "When you left to be Vanguard, I told myself it wasn't that different. You were always the mastermind and the marksman. Who the hell cared if you were on overwatch from the Tower now? You were looking out for us, same as always. But it wasn't the same."

Tevis took a steadying breath, but it didn't stop his arms from shaking. "Wasn't the same," he repeated, like he was forcing the words out. "Didn't know how to deal with it, so I left. Spent a lot of time on my own before I met Cayde and he dragged me into his crazy bullshit. Never thought I'd like being part of a crew. Never thought I'd miss it this much, either."

Andal's chest ached. He nudged Tevis with an elbow. "You know you can still come see me," he said. It came out flat, as if it couldn't mean anything when it was weighed against the gravity of everything else.

Tevis gave him a tired stare, then turned back to the horizon. "It's like there's a barrier," he said, so softly Andal almost missed it. "Between here and out there. Shiro goes back and forth across it like it's nothing. Cayde's a damn disaster about it, but he won't admit it. And you have to stay in the Tower even if half of you's on the other side of that horizon."

"What about you?"

"It's easier to just stay out there."

Tevis fell silent. Andal let the quiet be until some of the tension in Tevis's shoulders had eased. "Hey, Tev?"

"Hm."

"You know avoiding me because you miss me doesn't make a lot of sense."

"That's what Shiro said."

"Shiro's usually right when it comes to you."

"The hell he is."

"Cayde agrees with me."

"Of course he does. Cayde'll do anything to be a pain in my ass." Beneath the dry delivery, there was a note of undeniable fondness.

Andal huffed a laugh. "Can't really argue with that."

Tevis went quiet again. At first, it looked like he was winding up to bolt. Andal could count on one hand the number of times Tevis Larsen had had an honest conversation about his feelings and not imploded afterwards, and all of them had happened at death's door. But while he had half curled in on himself like he was protecting a wound, Tevis didn't get up, or make a move to throw himself off the Tower to escape. He stayed, and he watched the sun sink into a sea of fire at Andal's side.

"I'll try to be here more," Tevis offered gruffly, once the burning sunset had faded to a cool twilight. "On one condition."

"Anything."

"You check in too."

Andal blinked at him. "Huh?"

"You make a hell of a Vanguard, Andal, but I know it's killing part of you to be up in the Tower. Stop acting like it isn't. You can't talk to Cayde about it because he gets all guilty. Fine. Talk to me or Shiro then."

Tevis offering to talk about emotions on a regular basis: that was a new one. It stunned Andal to brief silence. "Okay," he said, a long moment later, and almost jumped when Tevis dragged him into a rough hug.

"I'll hold you to it," Tevis said, and even though Andal couldn't see his face, he heard the smile in his voice.

Andal tilted his head back to look up at the stars. They cast a faint glow high above the hum of the City, just enough to see the faint outline of the horizon beyond.

Suddenly, it didn't feel so far away.

—-

#destiny #destiny 2 #andal brask #cayde 6 #candal #shiro 4 #tevis larsen #zavala #ikora rey #lord shaxx #my writing

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