Chapter Text
After the dust settled, Auri and Kal essentially retired early. They were on some backwater planet, enjoying the quiet they both deserved. Auri had been through so much in such a short time, and she had been longing for a home for so long, it was only right. And Kal had been fighting the memories of his father all his life, so it was good that he got to be away from everything for a while so he could find his peace.
Tyler, meanwhile, had followed in his father’s footsteps. War Hero. Senator. Diplomat. Everything his father had raised him to be. Scarlett had taken a similar path. Of course Zila was gone, but what she’d already done… was currently doing… was vital to their past and current success. Time was weird like that. Fin had spent a year on Trask for a bit before starting some sort of engineering guild… Tyler didn’t really understand the inner workings of it all, but he seemed happy and busy every time they talked. Scar probably knew way more than he did.
For the first few years of his entrance into the senate, Tyler had gotten a flurry of remarks. Some skeptical – after all, he was very young, and had technically broken about a million laws along the way to saving the galaxy. But most were proud, or encouraging. Just like your father was one he heard a lot. By now he’d grown almost beyond his father’s memory, and he heard the comments less and less, although some of the older members of the senate still reminded him occasionally.
Either way, Tyler was admittedly finding himself with a distinct lack of teenage years. Of stupidity, of raucousness, of the signatures of young adulthood. He’d sort of skipped over all of that. He’d poured everything into the academy, forsaking everything else, and then had thrown himself into politics like a man on fire. The closest he’d got to that was Saedii, but they’d broken up barely a year into their relationship.
Scarlett had accused him of running away. From what, Tyler wasn’t exactly sure, but he knew she was at least half right. He needed to be moving, constantly. Always busy. If he was constantly thinking about his job, about the galaxy that still needed him, he couldn’t think about anything else.
After over three years, he wasn’t even sure what else he would think about.
At least until two nights ago.
He had been catching up on some lost time – that is, he was going out with some of the younger senators for drinks. Most of them were still over a decade his senior, but it was still fun to hit a bar every once in a while.
He was properly tipsy, laughing with the group about some stupid joke he would have rolled his eyes at sober, when his uniglass pinged. Once, then twice.
There was no particular reason to check it, and normally he probably wouldn’t, saving important messages for when he had his head on straight. But he slipped it from his pocket anyway. Maybe it was Scar, and she’d be glad to see he was socializing.
Uniglasses hadn’t changed too much over three years, besides the addition of a few features here and there. They were still the industry standard, flat and transparent.
He stared down at it blankly.
It pinged a third time.
It was a message from Kal, who he hadn’t heard from in months. The last time they’d spoken was in a group video call with the rest of squad 312, and he’d mostly been lurking in the background of Auri’s screen, offering comments every so often. Their last text message exchange was from over a year ago.
Kaliis Gilwraeth > Kulea, Geonov System. 935 Frensmore. Follow Mori street south until you reach the gate. It will open for you. I will be alerted to your presence when it does.
Kaliis Gilwraeth > Leave tomorrow, immediately after your council meeting. If you do as such, you will arrive at approximately 21:00 local time. Plan to stay until the next morning at the least.
Kaliis Gilwraeth > You will not be late.
Tyler read the messages with increasing confusion. He knew Aurora and Kal had settled in the Geonov system, but this was the first he’d seen of any sort of exact location.
It was nice to know Kal was still using his same manner of speaking, if nothing else.
“Uh… Jones, are you being threatened?”
He looked to his right to see the senator beside him, eyes trained on Tyler’s uniglass. Senator Ruen, who had become somewhat protective of Tyler since he’d joined the senate. Ruen had been the first to really show him the ropes, and they’d been relatively close ever since.
Tyler laughed nervously, shaking his head. “No, no, um, it’s my friend,” he said, then reevaluated that sentence. “Well, I mean, we were squadmates. I don’t know that we’re friends anymore, it’s been a while since we’ve talked.”
Ruen raised an eyebrow. “So your ex-squaddie just sent you an address in a threatening tone.”
Tyler shook his head again. “No, you don’t understand, he’s Syldrathi and also just like that,” he admitted. “It’s… I mean, it’s unusual. But the way he’s talking is normal for him.” He frowned down at the messages, squinting a little through the brain fog of alcohol, trying to reason why the hell Kal would send something like this. “It’s just weird.”
His fingers hovered over the small keyboard. He should reply, right? He knew Kal. He knew the man would just assume he was coming if he didn’t say otherwise, and the image of Kal waiting up for him was…
Well, Auri would be there too, obviously.
But still.
He knew Kal had calmed down a lot over the years, and he probably wouldn’t be angry, exactly. Maybe disappointed, which was worse somehow, or – and of course this would never happen, but – sad, even.
Tyler’s mind conjured up another image unbidden, of Kal asleep in some chair by the door, uniglass nearby in case the gate did open, Auri having draped a blanket over him, shaking her head.
“Jones?”
Tyler blinked back into focus.
“You’re not seriously considering this, are you?” Ruen prodded.
“No, no,” Tyler said, shaking his head. “Just trying to figure out how to say no.”
He re-read the messages.
He did, in fact, have a council meeting tomorrow. And he had the day after that off. And – he quickly switched applications, copying the address into his navigation, doing the mental math. If he left his meeting right away, which ended at 18:00 hours, and folded two hours to get to Geonov, and then landed on this sector of Kulea, he’d be on the ground at… 20:30 hours local time. And then he’d hop a shuttle to Frensmore, 10 minutes, and then walk 20 ish minutes and…
Okay, what the hell.
How did Kal know his schedule?
“This is creepy,” Ruen said. “Creepy, Jones.”
Tyler belatedly registered he’d mumbled some of his calculations aloud, letting Ruen follow his train of thought. “It’s… I don’t know, maybe he asked…”
He sat up straight then, switching back over to messages.
“Dammit, Scar,” he muttered, glaring at the little offline – do not disturb label next to her contact. “I’m sure she’s in on this, she’s the only person who knows my schedule and would tell Kal.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s probably just some weird thing they have planned and Kal’s just communicating it really shittily.”
He switched back over to Kal’s messages. Online. Hm.
He hesitated again over the keys.
“If you need an excuse…” Ruen offered. “Just because your schedule says you’re free doesn’t mean you didn’t agree to do something else already.”
“No, that’s alright, I’ll come up with something,” Tyler said, brushing him off. “Thanks.”
He put his uniglass back in his pocket without replying. He’d figure out an excuse when he was sober. For now, though, he needed another drink.
A few drinks later, he found himself sitting at a table in the corner, the others having left one by one until it was just him in the bar. He’d migrated away from the countertop with his latest drink, stumbling a little as he went. He hadn’t been this drunk in quite some time. He’d promised Ruen he’d be safe and go home before midnight station time, which had turned out to be half a lie, as it was currently 00:27 hours. Oops.
He had his uniglass on the table, staring at it between sips. His cursor blinked tiredly up at him.
Online.
It had been nearly two hours since the round of messages, and that little green dot hadn’t gone away.
“Fuck,” Tyler muttered, finally typing out a response. He typed as quickly as he could without making egregious errors in his drunken state, trying to get it out before he lost his nerve.
Tyler < I’ll be there. Can’t promise exact punctuality, sometimes meetings run long, but I’ll be there.
Tyler < Did you get my schedule from Scar?
Tyler < Also, what’s this about? Are you okay? Is Auri okay?
Shit, he hadn’t meant to send that much, just the first message. Oh well, it was done now. He groaned, closing the application and flipping the uniglass over, as though that would help somehow. The display rotated to face him again, of course.
He took another sip of his drink.
His uniglass pinged again.
Kaliis Gilwraeth > Good.
Tyler stared at the notification, willing another to pop up. Something with answers. But as the seconds ticked by on the system clock, he realized Kal’s status had finally changed.
Offline.
Shit.
Was that seriously it?
Had he actually just agreed to this?
If he bailed now, would he have six and a half feet of warbreed Syldrathi hunting him down?
No, no, of course not, he wouldn’t do that.
That would be insane.
Maker, what was he doing? This was insane!
He’d be fine. Even if Kal was being weird, Aurora would be there.
At least, he hoped so. He was pretty sure the last time he and Kal were truly alone with each other was…
“I didn’t know Syldrathi blushed with their ears.”
The minutes it took to walk back to that stupid love hotel felt like an eon.
Tyler was aware of how this looked. Leaving the server core just to come here, sneak into a room, and then discard the power armor? How had he gotten into this, exactly?
The two guards – Tyler didn’t remember their names – were still fast asleep where Scar and Cat had left them.
Kal wasted no time – and yeah, there was a sense of urgency, not knowing when they’d wake – but still, Tyler found his attention suddenly captivated by Kal’s borrowed armor sloughing to the floor, revealing bit by bit what he must wear under the academy jumpsuit, broad shoulders exposed by the grey-blue tank top.
…Sempiternity.
It wasn’t like anything had happened, at least beyond the awkward, life-saving kiss. But the image of Kal in that dark room, just before he donned the hooded garb Scar had picked out for him, was burned permanently into Tyler’s brain.
He found himself thinking of the way Scar had looked at him when he’d first introduced Saedii as his girlfriend to her. Aside from the black hair, the war paint, and, well, the boobs, she was almost a mirror image of her brother. Six and a half feet of warrior princess.
Maybe Kal hunting him down wouldn’t be so bad.
He took another sip to clear that thought from his head, determined to get drunk enough to kill these weird thoughts somehow. He was sure it was just the strangeness of the situation getting to him.
He looked at his uniglass again, Kal’s one-word answer staring back at him, his brain oh-so-helpfully conjuring Kal’s voice reading it. Warm and smooth and deep, the single word delivered to him like a glass slid deliberately across a table. Or maybe ransom money. Cold violet eyes boring into his.
Good.
His palms felt sweaty all of a sudden, and he tried to drink more only to find his glass empty.
Maker, how much had he had again?
However much it was, he was sure he didn’t need more, but somehow that didn’t stop him from lurching to his feet and crossing the bar. He decided to just stay at one of the stools this time – he didn’t want to have to walk back and forth any more than he had to or he’d fall over. Which was probably a bad sign, but he was clearly already ignoring all of those at the moment. Why stop now?
This whole situation was one ultrasaur of a red flag. But he was just so damn curious.
Which was how he’d ended up here, straightening his collar in the window of the shuttle, bumping along as it cruised down from the docking station to Frensmore.
It was a small city, but well-developed, close enough to a big port to be better off, a generally accepted retirement location for wealthy senators and businessmen who had passed on their empires. But outside the towers and townhomes, the city spiralled into farmland, becoming more and more remote.
As Tyler walked from the outskirts of the city down a small road, he checked his uniglass.
21:17 hours. He’d be late by over half an hour. He’d practically ran for his ship the moment the meeting was over, but it wasn’t enough. He felt bad. Now that he was on the dusty side road, though, he really didn’t want to run. He’d just end up filthy, and that was hardly how he wanted to see Kal after all this time.
And Auri.
His old friends, reunited after so long. He wondered if anyone else in the squad knew exactly where they were located, or if this was information only Tyler had.
He glanced at his uniglass again, planning to send a message to Kal, letting him know he was on the way, but the ping didn’t go through.
He blinked down at his uniglass, confused for a moment before realizing he had no network. Great. Now if something actually did happen out here, he’d have no network and no one would know where he was.
It was a stupid line of thinking, of course. He was a senator. If he went missing all of a sudden, Ruen would know the planet he was on, if nothing else. Someone would look for him. Many someones, probably armed.
Eventually, after fifteen minutes of walking, a house came into view.
It was clearly modeled after older terran architecture, probably at Auri’s request. It had been hidden up until now by the green that surrounded it, trees and vines popped up everywhere. A large trellis shaded the pathway to the door, some sort of vegetable plant crawling up it, its spoils hanging down from the painted lattice as they ripened.
Ahead of him was a gate, stretched across the road, probably to prevent vehicles from coming down it at high speeds. He walked over to the latch, staring at the little panel where it was slotted into the post.
Kal would be notified of his presence the moment he opened this.
It was his last chance to turn back.
Carefully, he reached for the pin, attempting to lift it.
A tinny, robotic voice chittered from the panel.
“Voice authentication required!” it chirped.
He blinked. “Um, Tyler Jones?”
The latch sprung open, the gate swinging wide.
Okay. That was a little weird, but he supposed it kinda made sense that they’d want to know exactly who was entering their home, in case someone unsavory had tracked them down.
The house was beautiful, low set and painted a light yellow. The garden spilled from the front door, spreading gracefully and wildly about the tiled pathway. He stepped under the trellis, looking up at the darkening sky. It was summer here, the days just over fourteen hours long, and the sun had finally sunk beyond the horizon. The air was warm and fresh, a breeze rippling through the countryside.
He admired something growing on a vine, a smooth, green pod of some kind. The wind smelled like soil and flowering plants.
“I was beginning to think you’d changed your mind.”
Tyler looked up, a bit startled as the smooth voice cut through the quiet of the twilight. Kal was standing there, at the end of the path, leaning against the side of the house.
He looked older, but only just. His face was mostly unchanged, the same violet eyes. But instead of the piercing coldness Tyler had grown used to, there was a softness in his features Tyler had never seen. He wore it well. His silver hair was tied into a low bun, a few strands astray, framing his face. Nothing like the precise, severe braids he’d worn during his time in the academy.
Tyler allowed himself a moment to take him in. If he studied closely, he could see the familiar coil in Kal’s muscles, still constantly primed for motion, but the way he leaned was so utterly relaxed. His clothes were some loose, soft fabric, fluttering softly when the breeze picked up again. He looked… calm. At home.
Beautiful, Tyler’s mind supplied before he pushed it down.
“Your home,” Tyler started, gesturing at the garden. “It’s… it’s amazing, Kal.”
A tiny twinge of a smile was his reward for the praise. “I am glad you think so. Most of it was Aurora’s doing.”
Right. Auri. “Is… she here?”
Kal shook his head. “She’ll be back tomorrow evening. She’s attending to something, but she knows you’re here.”
Cryptic as always. At least some things never change. “Right,” he mumbled. Just you and me, I guess. “Is there, ah, a reason for this?”
But Kal had already turned away, opening the door. “Come inside. You may place your bag on the floor.”
Still a little wary, Tyler followed him through the door, closing it gently behind him. He could hear a soft jingling as he toed off his shoes and set down his bag, a wind chime hanging in an open window. He could smell roasted vegetables and some sort of cooking meat, and it was heavenly. His stomach grumbled, suddenly aware that he hadn’t eaten since lunch. He looked around the entryway, then the small living room. Soft furniture, a low-set table. Bookshelves, vases full of fresh cut flowers. Portraits and tapestries on the wall. It was the opposite of the bare grey walls of the academy. Every surface had something on it, but it was all so intentional, so clean.
“Wow,” he breathed, turning about the room towards the amazing smell.
Kal was standing over the stove in a small kitchen, a flame burning beneath a pot. Old tech, practically antiquated. The kitchen was the same, open windows and softly painted walls, counters with jars and herbs hanging from the ceiling. Kal’s back was to him, and although he wasn’t fighting anymore, his body held the same shape it did in Tyler’s memory.
“That smells amazing,” Tyler said quietly, almost afraid to break the purity of the moment. It was so quiet in a blissful sort of way, rather than oppressive – the clicking of the flame, the sizzling of the meat, the sound of Kal’s spoon in the pot, the jingling of the wind chime. All of it was picturesque, tiny soft sounds coming together in a symphony of peace.
“Thank you,” Kal replied, and the smooth, melted quality of his voice fit into the house like a puzzle piece. Tyler thought he could listen to him speak forever. “My mother taught me.”
That’s right. Both he and Kal were half Waywalker, both attuned to emotions and thoughts. He wondered absently if Kal could feel what he was thinking, but he found himself less bothered by that then he probably should be. Maybe Kal could make sense of Tyler’s feelings so he wouldn’t have to.
“You can sit down,” Kal said, gesturing towards the living room. “The table should be clear. Do you want a drink? There is a refrigerator.”
“Oh, thanks,” Tyler said, swiveling, locating the refrigerator. He acquired a bottle that was labeled as a kind of juice, and headed towards the table after being handed two glasses by Kal.
He poured them both a glass, setting them out on coasters on the low table.
He stood in the living room for a moment, just breathing.
What was he doing here?
It was beautiful, blissful even, but he was still so confused. He didn’t want to leave, he just wanted to understand.
“Tyler?”
He turned to see Kal holding two bowls, looking at him with something like concern.
“How did you get my schedule, Kal?”
Kal looked at him for a moment longer. “Let’s sit down.” He placed the bowls on the table, both filled with a thick broth and large strips of meat and veg, steaming. “I will explain.”
Tyler sat across from him, sinking into the soft couch. He watched Kal raise the bowl and sip from it, taking his cue that it was alright to start eating. The broth was salty and flavorful, and the meat fell apart in his mouth like dissolving candy. It was the best thing he’d eaten in months – he’d gotten so used to packaged, quick-make food that he’d almost forgotten how good something home cooked could be. He couldn’t decide whether he wanted to eat the whole thing in two bites or if he could savor it for hours.
“Your sister, Scarlett.”
Maker, he knew it.
“I contacted her weeks ago,” Kal admitted. “She was more than willing to provide me with information.”
Tyler sighed, setting down the bowl. “Yeah, I kind of figured it was her.” He shook his head. “But why invite me at all? Especially when Auri’s not here?”
Kal studied him, one eyebrow raised just slightly, as though he was trying not to. “Aurora wished for us to speak first.”
Tyler’s palms felt warm. None of this made any sense. “Right…” he took another bite of meat, trying to calm himself down. “I feel like I still don’t know what I’m doing here, though. It’s been… I mean, it’s been three years, Kal. Why now? Has anyone else from the squad been here?”
Three years ago, Kal might have bristled at his tone, fighting the part of him that angered at everything. But the Kal sitting in front of him was so unburdened.
“Because I missed you,” he said simply.
Tyler stared at him, glad the bowl was back on the table, otherwise he might have dropped it.
He’d never heard an emotion declared so easily, so openly from Kal before. It just didn’t feel right. Was this how Kal’s mother had been? He could imagine her, almost, some mix between Kal and Saedii, floating around her house with the same fluid grace Kal used to fight, soft eyes and loose hair, warm meals and quiet smiles. Saedii used to say that Kal was much more like their mother than she was. That she had tried to be a carbon copy of her father since she was small. If he subtracted Saedii’s aggression from the Kal he used to know, was this what remained? Left to his own devices, without the influence of his father or of war, had Kal become his mother?
“Would you not say anything?”
Tyler blinked, aware of Kal staring at him almost imploringly.
He realized Kal had sort of bared his heart to Tyler and he’d sat there staring at him like an idiot.
He coughed awkwardly. “Right, I… I missed you too.” He nearly cringed at how vulnerable that sounded, then realized just how huge it was that Kal could say something open and he couldn’t. Maker, something was really wrong with him. Had he not grown at all? Had Kal surpassed him in this, when it was once the opposite? “Sorry, I was just surprised. You’re… you’ve changed. A lot.”
Kal tilted his head. “You are uncomfortable.”
“No,” Tyler replied quickly. “Just kind of weirded out. I’m… I’m really comfortable. I think that’s what feels weird. I got really used to coldness, I guess. Not just from you, but from everything, the universe. And then you have this little pocket of… of warmth, and you’re so…”
He trailed off, staring at Kal again, only the table between them, letting him study him in ways he couldn’t in the garden. The warm, almost earthy base beneath the violet eyes was so inviting, so gentle yet firm. The slope of his jaw and cheekbones was as sharp as ever, but somehow it felt less like a weapon and more like… well, a face. Kal had never looked so far from dangerous in Tyler’s life.
“I am so… what?” Kal prompted, waiting for him to finish his sentence.
Tyler let out a breath, his mind supplying a dozen adjectives, none of them ones he was willing to share just yet. “You look gentle,” he offered finally.
He smiled, though that expression hadn’t changed – just a tiny quirk of the corners of his lips, hardly there, but Tyler noticed. “You look tired. And yet, you look fulfilled.”
Tyler chuckled, running a hand through his hair, finally feeling truly at ease. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it. I’m busy as all hell, but I’m making my dad proud.”
“I am pleased for you,” Kal replied. “I sincerely hope you are making yourself proud, as well.”
He nodded, though he took a moment to think about it. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I am. I think there are things I’ll always regret, but I’m making a difference in the world. I’ll get to fixing my own life eventually.”
Kal released a small breath, lips twitching again – a laugh, Tyler realized. “If you are ever in need of solitude, or somewhere less sterile, Aurora and I are proud to open our home to you.”
Tyler blinked, a wave of emotion crashing through him.
This was about him.
About taking care of him.
Kal and Aurora had talked to Scar because they were worried about him.
Aurora had stayed away because she knew Tyler would want to put on a brave face for her.
Kal was offering him a piece of his hard-earned, hand-built peace. The one thing he’d fought tooth and nail for, his happy ending, his little pocket of bliss in the universe – he was presenting it to Tyler like a baby bird cradled in his hands.
He blinked hard, raising a hand to his face, suddenly aware that a tear had escaped him.
“Uh,” he breathed, clearing his throat, trying not to let his voice warble, trying not to cry. “Thank you, Kal.”
“You are protecting our universe,” Kal replied. “You are unable to protect yourself. That is a task I… a task Aurora, Scarlett, and I… will gladly shoulder for you.” He placed his hand on the table between them. “We the light.”
We the legion, we the light.
Protect the defenseless, and help the helpless.
Tyler was not helpless, exactly. But if he was currently only able to help others and not himself, then perhaps that counted.
“Burning bright against the night,” Tyler finished automatically with a weak smile.
Kal nodded. “Aurora would be happy to see you, if you do choose to return.”
“I’ll consider it,” he said. “I can’t promise much, but… if you’ll have me, I’d love to spend more time here. Maybe… maybe a few times a year?”
Kal met his eyes. “I would gladly have you.”
That sent a weird trickle down Tyler’s spine. Something about the intensity of his stare, or the quality of his voice, or the words, he wasn’t sure. Everything just felt like so much. He hadn’t been happily overwhelmed in a very long time. But before he could evaluate the rush of weird feelings, Kal stood.
“I will take your bowl.”
Tyler glanced down, realizing somewhere in the conversation he’d managed to devour the whole thing. Maybe that’s part of why he felt more at ease, his body no longer running on empty. “You cooked, I can do dishes,” he replied, standing as well.
“You sound like Aurora. I will do it,” Kal insisted, taking Tyler’s bowl.
“Alright,” Tyler sighed, not sure what the comparison was supposed to mean. He caught sight of a stringed instrument leaning in a stand by the couch. “Is that a siif?”
“Do you play?” Kal asked in response from the kitchen, the quiet rush of water from the tap under his voice.
“No, but it’s a beautiful instrument…”
“Would you pick it up for me?”
Tyler did as he was asked, plucking the siif from its stand, handing it to Kal after he came back around the corner. Kal gave another one of those tiny half-smiles.
“Come with me.”
Tyler followed. At this point he felt willing to do just about anything Kal asked. Kal led him out the back of the kitchen, exiting through the rear of the house. Sprawling plains and farmland stretched away to the horizon, a little wooden bench placed nearby.
“Aurora and I watch the sunset from here,” Kal said, sitting on the bench. “Sit with me.”
Tyler did so, settling into it, looking out at the dark expanse of land, the deep blue-purple sky littered with stars above.
Kal plucked lazily at the siif, playing a simple, haunting melody, and Tyler relaxed, tilting his head back towards the sky. He was suddenly aware of the ache in his neck and shoulders, of how utterly and completely exhausted he was.
The tune carried on for a while, Tyler sinking into himself and the bench, breathing the cool, unrecycled night air. It was probably the cleanest he’d breathed in years.
Eventually he tuned back into his senses and realized the music had stopped.
He rolled his head to the side to look at Kal, the siif in his lap, long fingers idly playing with the strings. Fingers that used to use such precision to drop their enemies now allowing themselves to be loose and fluid, musical. His gaze wandered up to Kal’s face, his profile illuminated by the soft glow of the windows behind them, casting odd shadows. His eyes looked almost indigo in the dark of night, silver hair gleaming by the light of two moons.
“You are staring.”
“Sorry,” Tyler mumbled, but he didn’t look away.
“You are tired. There is a bed, or couches, if you prefer,” Kal offered, still staring down at the instrument in his lap.
“Hmm,” Tyler replied. His eyelids felt heavy, but he wouldn’t let them stay closed, wanting a little more time to take Kal in. Just in case this was a dream.
Kal stood, slowly. “I will be back shortly.”
Tyler just sighed, his head lolling back again, staring up at the sky. His breathing was slow, and his eyelashes stayed against his cheeks longer and longer with every blink.
He wasn’t sure how much time passed, but then Kal was back, the instrument gone. He stood behind Tyler, looking down at him looking up, Kal’s face occupying the space the stars had just been.
Tyler felt the absurd urge to giggle, and allowed himself a smile. “Hi, Kal.”
Kal’s eyebrow quirked slightly. “Hello, Tyler.”
The strands of hair free from his bun hung loosely down towards Tyler. “Auri calls me Ty, you know.” He reached up with one hand, getting halfway to touching one of the strands before he stopped, realizing that was a bad idea, even in this weird, sleep-drunk state. “You should do that too. I like it.”
A smile tugged at Kal’s lips. “Is that an order, sir?”
“Would you be more likely to actually do it if it was?”
Kal made that huff of breath sort of laugh sound, and before Tyler really registered what was happening, those fingers were closing around his wrist, bringing Tyler’s hand up just far enough to brush the ends of one of those strands before releasing him. “Perhaps.”
Tyler worked the end of the strand between his fingertips, admiring the silver, enjoying the soft feeling. Some part of him was aware that he was mere centimetres from touching Kal’s face, which was a rather bold display of trust from the Syldrathi. He stared up at Kal’s eyes staring down, hoping Kal wasn’t too annoyed at bending over like this. “Then yes.”
“First legionnaire Jones, then Jones, then Tyler,” Kal mused. “I suppose it’s only fitting to continue the pattern. Ty.”
Tyler grinned, incredibly pleased at this. “Legionnaire Gilwraeth,” he recalled, the words feeling strange rolling through his mouth. It had been so long since he’d uttered them. “Yeah, I definitely prefer Kal. Or sweetie.”
Kal huffed again, gently swatting Tyler’s hand away from where it was playing with his hair in response. “Brush your teeth first, Ty.” He straightened up, and Tyler mourned the loss of those eyes peering into his, the texture of his hair under his fingers, the proximity. But he laughed at the jab, glad that this part of Kal had not been lost – his wit, this easy banter. The light blush coloring the tips of his ears, just visible in the yellow windowlight.
“Since apparently I’m spending the night, I did bring one, actually,” Tyler grinned, finally sitting up. “I’ll take the couch.”
Kal nodded. “If that will make you most comfortable.”
Tyler stood, his legs feeling a bit wobbly. “Maker, I am so tired.”
Kal led him back into the house. “Your job permits your body rest, but not your mind.”
Tyler shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so…” he rubbed at one of his shoulders, wincing. “Although, I don’t think my body’s in the best shape either. I think I need to stretch more.”
“The Tyler Jones, forgetting his training etiquette? I am astonished,” Kal snarked from somewhere down the hall, in a room Tyler hadn’t seen yet. He reemerged a moment later with blankets and pillows. “Go brush your teeth. I will make you a place to sleep.”
Tyler just nodded, content to let Kal do the thinking for him while he was in Kal’s home. It was almost comforting, not having to decide what to do next. Maybe Kal was right – his mind needed rest. He fetched the toothbrush and his sleeping clothes from his bag and went into the bathroom.
He smiled at the array of products in the shower as he brushed his teeth, what he assumed were Aurora’s small collection of citrus-scented washes. There was one described as ‘cedar’ and ‘moonflower’ which was different enough from the rest that it must have been Kal’s. There was a small bottle of nail polish on the edge of the sink. It was clean, but so clearly lived in, just like the rest of the house.
He changed quickly into loose sleeping pants and a t-shirt, bundling up his work clothes to shove back in his bag. He’d get the wrinkles out when he got home.
Both couches had a pillow and a blanket laid out across them, mirroring each other over the table they’d had dinner on.
Tyler briefly considered asking Kal what this was about before deciding to just pick one and lay down. The couch cradled his aching muscles, and though he had to bend his knees a little, the couch was pretty good sized, and he fit comfortably. As he laid there, trying not to immediately fall asleep, the lights in the house flicked out one by one, Kal’s footsteps moving quietly about the house as they went.
Kal re-entered the room, his hair down now, and Tyler allowed himself a moment to stare at the silver swath draping his face and shoulders so perfectly in the dark. He pulled back the blanket on the couch opposite Tyler.
“What’re you doing?” Tyler mumbled.
“Sleeping,” Kal replied. “As you should be.”
“But… bed,” Tyler protested weakly. “And you’re tall.”
Kal laid down, meeting Tyler’s eyes across the table. “I appreciate your concern. Now sleep, Ty.”
Tyler huffed, pretending to be annoyed, although he was sure Kal could tell he was secretly pleased. He was sure Kal’s waywalker abilities had guided much of this weird, dizzying dream of an evening. “Night, Kal.”
Kal offered Tyler one last tiny smile before sleep finally took him.
“Goodnight, Ty.”
Chapter Text
An alarm blared from Tyler’s bedside table. He groaned, reaching over to slap his uniglass to make it stop.
He looked up at the ceiling, plain, boring grey. His bed was somewhere between too soft and too firm — he couldn’t actually tell which it was, just that it left him with an aching back in the morning.
He’d dreamt he was back on that couch in Kal’s house. For a moment it had felt so real that he almost turned his head to check for Kal on the couch across from him. He’d be awake already, of course, silver hair spilling gracefully over his shoulder and face, onto the pillow, violet eyes just waiting to meet his.
He sighed as though he could expel the dream from his lungs.
He’d been thinking about that weekend on and off for the past month.
Maker, had it really been a month?
How many nights had he laid down, repeating sleep, Ty in Kal’s voice in his head like maybe his former tank ordering him to would make it happen.
He’d always had trouble sleeping, and the bed didn’t really help. Neither did the food. What he wouldn’t give to have that fragrant stew again, to breathe fresh air for a bit while his body sunk into a natural sleep.
He’d lived with station lighting most of his life — he really didn’t know why he was longing for a planetary sunset now. Artificial lighting was fine, and recycled air was just as fresh. In fact, it was probably cleaner, microbes destroyed before being put back into the station. The air in the garden had smells which meant particles, and the scent of greenery and rain and turned dirt just tricked him into a sense of clean air.
He could logic himself around this a million times, and yet he’d always end up longing for objectively less sterile things. Maybe it was a product of living in the incredibly sterile academy for so long. Maybe he was just a human and not a little diplomat robot.
He dragged the uniglass into his bed, opening his calendar and squinting at his bright schedule in the dark room, his eyes straining at the harsh adjustment.
He would be working until 17:00 hours tonight, which really wasn’t that bad. It was earlier than usual, since he didn’t have any extra meetings after his daily work.
If I left right after work, I’d be there before sunset.
If he skipped his lunch break, and doubled down on his paperwork, he’d maybe even get out early.
These fantasies kept him going many days, but he never went through with it, of course. It had barely been a month since his last visit, and Kal had agreed to a few visits a year. If he went now, he’d have to wait half a year before he could allow himself another visit.
But as the day went on, he could feel his resolve crumbling. He started off strong by spilling his coffee, splattering his shoe and nearly scalding the back of his hand. Then he wasted over half an hour going back and forth with a particularly annoying document. And by the time lunch rolled around, he was desperate for a breather — but he hadn’t brought a lunch, and the rotating menu for the cafe today was… bad. Or at least not good enough to make him want to pay the incredibly marked up price. So he’d gone back to his office and proofread a few more reports in the small window of peace. The rest of the day had been on and off struggles with reports, bad communication from his colleagues, brief moments of productivity, and long stretches of spacing out after a particularly taxing conversation. On top of that he was starving and sleep deprived.
This day was shaping up to be just so great.
His poor assistant, Henry, was bearing the brunt of his bad mood, and he felt shitty for it but Henry was who he was talking to most today, and he was just so frustrated.
“Um, sir?”
“What,” Tyler snapped, then took a deep breath, looking up from his desk. “Sorry, Henry. What do you need?”
Henry shifted on the balls of his feet, a nervous habit. “I’ve cancelled your appointments for tomorrow morning. Shuffled some things around.”
Tyler blinked at him. “Excuse me?”
Henry smiled nervously. “Well it’s been a stressful week, sir, and today you’ve just been very… tense.” He winced slightly as though speaking so outwardly caused him physical pain. “And when you came back from that little trip a month ago, you were so refreshed.”
Tyler frowned, his gaze returning sharply to Henry from where it had wandered back to his paperwork. “Exactly how do you know about that?”
Henry shrugged. “Ruen is very talkative. And was very worried about you. Asked me to report to him on how you were after your little excursion.”
Tyler sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Thank you for your concern, Henry, but I’m fine.”
“Okay, well, your meetings are still moved, so at the very least you can sleep in,” Henry said briskly. “Or make yourself some food for once.”
And he pivoted on his heel and walked off.
Tyler rubbed his forehead, feeling round two of a headache coming on.
It didn’t matter if Henry was right. He couldn’t just throw away everything he needed to do. Although, with a cursory glance at his calendar, it did seem like Henry had moved everything around pretty well. That was his job, Tyler supposed. Handy. But still. A random morning off would hardly do much for him.
Although, now that he was looking at it, his final appointment of the day was also moved, which would put him off of work at 15:30 hours.
No. He couldn’t do as Henry was suggesting, he’d be showing up completely uninvited and unannounced and it would not be good.
He turned his focus back to the report in front of him, tiny black typeface squinting back at him. His headache reared.
Our home is open to you, Kal’s smooth, deep voice reminded him, the corner of his brain determined to torture him with taunting glimpses of the man. We are doing this for you.
Maybe if he pinged Kal, he could tell him no because it was too late of notice, and he’d be able to stop thinking about it.
Tyler < hey Kal, thinking about your offer, what’s tonight like for you?
Tyler < I know it’s short notice, I won’t be offended if it’s a bad time
He shoved the uniglass away, immediately feeling guilt wash over him. He felt like he was already abusing Kal’s hospitality.
Kaliis Gilwraeth > Aurora will be glad to see you. Inform us when you are en route.
Well, okay.
Now he felt like he had to go, if Aurora knew and wanted to see him. He really just couldn’t stop causing problems for himself, could he.
After that it felt impossible to think about much else. He went through the motions of the day as efficiently as he could, and left a little earlier than he should have.
He nearly dozed off on the fold trip, and then again on the shuttle, his body just beyond exhausted. He was too tired to really think about the lingering guilt he felt.
He woke up a little on the walk down the long dirt path, the fresh air and mild exercise lighting up the little human-instinct blips in his brain.
The sun was still up, the sky bright, a few hours of daylight left yet. The air was hot but not stifling, insects buzzing and chirping in the tall grasses to his left and right. The scent of pollen hung in the air.
He got through the gate and felt relief, immediate and unexpected, flood through his body the moment he set eyes on the house.
He’d barely gotten to the trellises when the front door flew open and Aurora ran out.
“Tyler!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him. “It’s been so long!”
Tyler startled slightly, wrapping his arms around her. “Hey, Auri,” he replied, managing a smile.
He glanced up to see Kal leaning against the wall of the house, smiling slightly. Kal met his eyes and gave him the barest of nods.
Tyler wasn’t sure why, but it felt like permission granted as he sunk into the hug, letting himself hold Aurora tightly. Mercifully, Auri hugged back just as strong. He could feel the tension bleed out of his body.
This is for you.
Aurora rubbed his back slightly. “You seem so tired, Ty,” she said softly. “Come inside, please?”
Tyler reluctantly let her go. “Thank you,” he said, a little embarrassed with himself.
Aurora walked back towards the house, tugging Tyler after her by his sleeve. “Come on.”
Tyler chuckled wearily and followed, looking up at Kal as they passed him. Kal just gave him another tiny half-smile and followed them inside, closing the door after them.
“I’m so jealous Kal got you all to himself last time!” Aurora chirped, practically dragging Tyler into the kitchen after her.
Tyler blushed a little at the phrasing. “Uh — ”
But Aurora plowed on, unaware. “You’ve got to tell me everything, you know. I feel like I don’t know what your life looks like anymore! How’s work? Scarlett?”
Tyler chuckled softly, leaning against the counter as Aurora checked on something in the oven. “Work’s okay, tiring mostly, but it’s worth it. I’m working on a project with the Academy right now, actually, as an independent station, and its rights to assisting refugees.”
Aurora hummed, pulling out a platter from the oven. “That sounds right up your alley, Ty.”
“It’s super worth it,” he agreed, eyeing the fish she’d removed, some sort of glaze over it that smelled almost sweet. “Wow.”
Aurora smiled, starting to cut it into pieces. “Kal mentioned you were surviving on glorified cafeteria food, so I thought I’d make one of our favorites.” She slid the fish onto little plates, plopping large scoops of rice beside them. “Here, take one for Kal, too.”
Tyler obediently picked up two plates and went out of the kitchen, finding Kal waiting on the couch he’d slept on last time. He handed the plate over, and sat across from him, feeling weird. He wasn’t entirely comfortable yet – though he knew he was welcome, and it wasn’t half as awkward as it had been the first time, he still felt a bit strange invading their space. Especially with Aurora as a new player. Tyler felt like he’d almost figured out how to be alone with Kal, but now the game had changed.
Aurora followed a moment later, sitting down next to Tyler, placing Kal across from both of them. That made Tyler feel worse somehow, though he couldn’t figure out why.
The food was spectacular, truly, and Tyler felt a deep sense of gratitude towards his hosts, despite the discomfort. He stayed awake enough to answer as many of Aurora’s questions as he could, although he felt a bit embarrassed to admit that he didn’t know as much about how Scarlett was doing as he should have. Kal didn’t say much, apparently content to let Aurora ask all the questions and to answer for the both of them. It reminded Tyler vaguely of the video call the squad had held months ago, with Kal sort of in the background while Aurora spoke for them both.
When they were finished, Kal did the dishes, much to Aurora and Tyler’s protests. Eventually Aurora gave up and dragged Tyler outside.
“It’s sunset soon,” Aurora explained, sitting down on the little bench. Tyler sat beside her. “I think we can see all the moons tonight.”
Tyler leaned back, looking out at the horizon, the reddening sky. “Aren’t there two?”
“Three, actually,” Aurora sighed, relaxing into the bench. “One of them has a weird orbit, so we only see it every fifty days or so.”
“Ah.” Tyler closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in the cooling air. What he wouldn’t give to have this waiting for him at the end of every day. “Cool that I’m here for it this time.”
Kal joined them, then, leaning down to kiss the top of Aurora’s head before sitting beside her, carrying the siif. Aurora kicked her feet up, her legs in Kal’s lap, leaning her head on Tyler’s shoulder.
Tyler smiled at the comfortable contact, and glanced up at Kal to see him watching them with some unreadable but seemingly approving expression, which Tyler was thankful for.
Kal played some tune Aurora seemed to be familiar with, humming softly along as the sun drifted leisurely below the horizon.
Tyler was struggling to keep his eyes open by the end of it, his earlier exhaustion catching up to him now as the sky dimmed. There were indeed three moons – the two he’d already seen, plus a fainter one in the distance. It was beautiful.
“Ty, you look like you’re going to fall asleep,” Aurora teased.
Tyler shook his head, trying to force his eyes open. “I’m good.”
“They must be working you so hard,” Aurora huffed, sitting up. “Come on. You are not falling asleep on the bench, you’ll kill your back.”
Tyler relented, and let her drag him inside.
The routine was similar to last time, only just the one couch was made into a bed. Tyler went through the motions without thinking much, too tired to analyse anything.
Nearly the minute his head hit the pillow he was out.
Tyler woke up to light streaming in through the windows, blinking awake slowly without the screaming of an alarm. He stared across at the opposite couch, briefly confused when, unlike his dreams, there were no violet eyes waiting to stare back at him.
He groaned softly, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. Kal and Aurora had slept in the bedroom, of course – it didn’t make sense for Kal to sleep on the couch while Aurora was home. Still, he couldn’t help feeling a twinge of disappointment.
“Ty?”
Tyler uncovered his eyes to see a familiar face above him. “Hi,” he mumbled, trying not to grin. It was as though he’d summoned the man simply by missing him. “Why’re you up?”
Kal shrugged. “I’m up at sunrise.” He took a seat near Tyler’s knees, and Tyler barely kept himself from drawing his legs up, getting out of his way. “How did you sleep?”
“Fine,” he managed, feeling very awake all of a sudden. “Good. Really good.”
Kal’s lips twisted in that bare smile. “Aurora is a heavy sleeper.”
Tyler swallowed, nodded. “Right.” He pushed himself up on his elbows a little, not wanting to be completely prone while Kal sat looking over him. “The sunrise is nice,” he said. “It’s so much better than system lighting.”
Kal nodded. “Yes, that was one thing I disliked about the Academy.” He picked up a bowl from the table, and offered it to Tyler. It was full of some sort of podded vegetable, still glistening with morning dew. “I like to be in the garden while the sun comes up.”
Tyler cautiously took one, biting into it. It was crunchy and slightly sweet, with high water content. It made him realize how dry his mouth felt after sleeping. “Oh. I like those.”
Kal pressed the bowl into his hands. “We have plenty.” He rolled out his shoulders, and Tyler watched the fabric of his sleeping shirt – some sort of natural fiber – as it stretched and slipped to accommodate the muscles of his back. “When must you go?”
Tyler blinked, quickly dragging his gaze down to the bowl. His palms felt warm. “A few hours, probably.” He popped another of the pods in his mouth, just in case his tired brain tried to make him say something stupid like you look nice in the mornings. As if Kal didn’t look nice usually. But there was something so alluring about him in such a relaxed state, normally coiled muscles loose as he stretched them out before the day. He must have put his hair up before he went out into the garden, that same loose bun halfway down the back of his skull, a few loose strands down the nape of his neck and framing his pointed ears. His skin looked warm, soft morning light bringing out the shadows around his eye, temple, cheekbone, beside his nose, under his jaw –
Tyler coughed, choking down the last bite of the vegetable. What was wrong with him? He must have been more tired than he thought. Or maybe it was Kal’s easy proximity playing tricks on him, still so used to the Syldrathi keeping his distance from everyone but Aurora. Maybe it was the fact that he had been there, when Tyler had woken up, after all.
“Are you alright?”
Tyler gave a thumbs up, almost glad he’d nearly choked, since at least it gave him an excuse for the redness he was sure was visible in his face.
Kal took the bowl from his hands. “You can have more later, I think.”
Tyler squeezed his eyes shut, flaring hotter with the embarrassment of being treated like a child. “I’m good, seriously.”
Kal set the bowl on the table all the same. “You can accompany me until Aurora wakes up,” he said simply, and stood, leaving Tyler still half-propped up on the couch. “If you wish. We will eat before you leave.”
Tyler nodded, and kicked the blanket off, stretching as he stood, trying to wring out his sore back. One night of comfort hardly erased the many hours spent on the mattress in his apartment. “What’re we doing?”
“I am completing our morning tasks,” Kal replied, heading towards the back door. “You may accompany me, or stay here, or help.”
Tyler toed on his shoes and followed.
It was chilly, dew clinging to the grasses and flowers, the wind chime singing constantly in the morning breeze. Tyler felt weirdly exposed in his t-shirt, goosebumps prickling up on his arms. Kal looked near ethereal, the loose strands of hair blown gently around his face, his looser, lighter clothes fluttering just slightly.
Tyler drew cold air into his lungs, thankful for the chill to cool his face and hands as he followed Kal out past the garden.
For the better part of an hour Kal led him about the little farm, releasing some small fowl from a pen to roam the grasses, collecting a few bright blue eggs that Tyler could almost close his fist around. Kal told him each of the birds had names, courtesy of Aurora, and that her favorite was a small greyish bird named “Toaster” and to not ask the significance of the name, because he did not know.
Kal trailed through the garden next, and showed Tyler which sprouts were meant to be there and which to pull. Tyler learned to tell which fruits were ripe, which herbs were ready to be dried. He got decently good at testing the firmness of a round vegetable on the trellis, and nearly yelped in surprise when Kal let him bite into it only for it to nearly explode all over him. He stared up at Kal with what must have been an offended expression, bright blue juice all over his face, and Kal grinned so hard Tyler thought he might actually laugh.
And – Maker help him – despite the mess he’d made of his shirt and the sweet scent that just wouldn’t come off even when the juice was gone, he would have done it again to see Kal smile like that. All teeth, but somehow not sharp.
They finished with Kal helping him tie up the herbs to dry in the window, and Tyler had realized by then that he knew the morning routine for the house. He could perform the morning chores. He knew when they ate, when they slept, how to help take care of the place that fed and sheltered them.
He felt oddly proud at this, and couldn’t help feeling grateful to Kal for showing him this. If for nothing else, then to not feel quite so useless the next time he was here. Like he could earn his keep, no matter how much Kal and Aurora insisted he didn’t have to.
Tyler leaned against the kitchen counter, watching quietly while Kal washed his hands. The air was beginning to warm, the wind chimes slowing their dance.
“Thank you,” he said quietly, and braced himself. Tyler waited for Kal to insist it was nothing, that he belonged here, that it didn’t matter whether Tyler knew how to help them. Waited to have to try to explain that it did, it did matter, it wasn’t nothing. It was quite possibly the opposite of nothing.
Kal turned off the water and looked at him. Just looked.
“You are welcome,” he said eventually, and Tyler smiled.