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greenstickered2014-08-07 11:45 pm
camalyng) wrote in greenstickered2014-08-07 11:45 pm
Uncharted (Infinity Plays): Three's Company (2/4)
Title: Three's Company ‣ 1: if we see each other again is to make
What: Uncharted fanfiction - part 2/probably 4
Rating: PG13 (language)
Words: ~3400
Summary: Chloe and Harry have some catching up to do.
Note: Chapter titles from "forgetting something" by Nick Flynn. Chloe's been watching Dyesebel.
With a few thousand pesos slipped into the right palms, customs at Ninoy Aquino is quick for your lads even with the firearms they're bringing in. Charlie comes towards you with that warm smile he gets when you haven't seen each other for days in the double digits, wraps his arms around you, and kisses you on the forehead. It's what he always does at airports; the only thing that's changed is that you can feel Harry watching you. So much for really not caring.
"Thank god they finally fixed the air conditioning in immigration. Why didn't you tell me?" he asks, and you laugh, because it's been dire for years.
"Wanted to surprise you."
Charlie chuckles. "Well, it worked."
Then he releases you, and you're left to face Harry, who looks just as unsure how to handle this as you feel. Hours of planning for this first deliberate meeting since Shambhala flee your mind: Eventually, you settle for giving him a nod.
"Hello again, Harry."
"Wotcher," he offers.
Amused, you raise an eyebrow, but otherwise decline to comment. It's easier to move on to business as you lead them to the rental car.
"I've checked us in at the hotel already, and I managed to pick up Lani's tranq guns." Lani being the woman you were originally working this job with. "She says we can just return them on the way out. As for real ammo, I had to go to a couple of different places since my usual shop only goes up to .45 and you brought your .50 cal," you nod to Harry, "but that's all sorted now."
Ammo's heavy in suitcases and the three of you prefer traveling light, so it's fallen on you, the first to arrive in Manila, to stock up.
"That's my girl," Charlie says approvingly, and then he yawns. "The sooner we get to the hotel, the better: I'm knackered."
"I can't believe a vet like you gets scared flying," says Harry; he's trying to keep a straight face but you recognize the crinkle of amusement around his eyes.
"It's a tiny metal box in the sky with no escape," Charlie points out. "For sixteen hours! Like hell I could sleep in there."
"How do you cope in this industry?"
"Come in early and sleep when I land," Charlie retorts.
Abruptly, you realize you're smiling. It's nice to hear them getting along, but you don't, can't let relief in just yet: Once upon a time, you'd thought it nice that Harry was friends with Nate.
"With enough time and land between jobs he sometimes demands road trips," you add, giving your smile a purpose.
Harry lets out a laugh. "That's ridiculous, mate. You work with the best in the business and you're using her skills on road trips?"
"I drive," Charlie protests, and you chime in with, "I hate road trips: Too much driving through nothing at a steady pace for ages."
Harry looks between the two of you and nods in understanding. "Ah, a woman who's only interested in the chase." Your attempts to figure out the subtext must show on your face, because he hastily adds, "It is more fun than road trips. I'd been wondering why I was doing some of the drive tomorrow."
"You could have asked," Charlie says cheerfully, patting him on the shoulder; Harry looks down to watch and you realize that if he only barely felt a bullet and your fist, he probably doesn't feel a pat. "Anyway, there's no international flights where we're off to, and it's cheaper to drive, so why not?"
"Touche," Harry concedes, but he still flashes you a bemused smile.
On the drive to the hotel, Charlie starts an enthusiastic lecture on the Bronze Age pot he and Harry just stole from a smuggler in Turkey to go back to Afghanistan. He's three minutes in when Harry interrupts him to perform a dramatic retelling of the heist itself. With a snort, Charlie gives up and joins in, putting on a terrible Turkish accent to play the guards who spotted them, and you're surprised and relieved to find yourself laughing. You'd never expected to be able to laugh with the thought of Harry doing something to hurt Charlie always in the back of your mind.
They finish off by leaving out the fact that Harry got himself shot and claiming they immediately went for kebabs, which you know is a lie because Charlie already told you about sorting out Harry's bullet wound, but also because the only kebabs Harry likes are meat on a stick, not anything you'd find in Turkey. He hadn't stopped complaining about it on the search for dinner before breaking into the museum.
"Your turn," Harry prompts.
"Oh, no, I can't make my last job sound nearly as entertaining," you reply. You can only think of one way to make sitting in a car alone for two hours sound like fun, and that is not the kind of thing you can say in front of Harry.
Charlie chuckles. "Seen anything entertaining lately, if you haven't done anything fun?"
"Yesterday I caught this weird soap about mermaids..."
You explain what you've managed to gather about the plot from one episode, the 'previously on' segment, and the preview for next week, and when the traffic stops entirely, you even imitate the stupid way the mermaids wave their hands. Harry points out a billboard for the show and examines it.
"They're fine for a soap, but I don't know if I can buy mermaids," he says.
"I don't want to," you say. "But after the bullshit we've seen..."
The bullshit he is, really. Harry chuckles. "Right, I'll keep an eye out when we go to the beach, then."
You can feel Charlie's gaze on you, probably curious, but he doesn't ask; he just goes with the subject change Harry offers (bullshit traffic), and you manage not to drop any more hints about your history with Harry the rest of the way back to the hotel.
As usual after a long flight, Charlie falls asleep the second his head hits the pillow. You pull his shoes off of him and then head for the lounge to poke at the air conditioning controls some more. In the second bedroom, you can hear Harry rustling about, probably unpacking a little and loading his gun, his usual habit after Lazarevic moved camps internationally. Hell, it's humid enough outside that you might as well be back in Borneo.
Shit, there's a blast from the past. You move to the window and frown, trying to clear the thought with a view that's nothing like anywhere you went looking for Shambhala, but despite Harry's e-mailed reassurances, you can't help your fear that history's going to repeat itself. Of course, this time Harry is the secret rather than the person you're trying to keep a secret from. You'd appreciate the irony more if this wasn't so potentially dangerous.
"Chloe? You alright?"
You glance up to find him looking at you with concern.
"Yeah, fine," you lie, realizing too late that your voice is doing that thing where you're not. "Just trying to figure out if that thermometer on the street's right."
Harry glances out the window. "I don't think it's fifty degrees, but do you want to find out?" He holds up his wallet. "I've got to change my cash, and it'd be nice to catch up."
"Sure," you agree cautiously. He and Charlie have made it through one job without hurting each other, but you'd still feel more comfortable if they weren't under the same roof.
Once Harry's money's changed, the two of you duck into a streetside cafe with no security rather than hit the more air conditioned mall for another round of airport-style metal detectors, bag inspections, and pat downs (you already held his gun for him while he was inside the bank). Harry pays for your iced tea as well as his iced coffee, and while his explanation that he's trying to break a one thousand peso bill makes sense, you can't help but wonder if he's trying to be a gentleman or whatever he used to call it. You watch him warily as he takes both glasses to the table; after putting them down, he smiles faintly at his hands.
"I think I felt that," he explains, catching you staring. "A little cold, a little wet."
You wrap a hand around your iced tea. "Freezing, especially after hanging around outside." The humidity's what gets you here, rather than the heat itself.
Harry shrugs, but doesn't look any less pleased with himself. "Baby steps."
Abruptly, you realize that you haven't seen him sweat since he and Charlie landed, that he didn't turn on the air conditioning in his room. You keep forgetting those other side effects he mentioned. With a nod, you start on your iced tea, and he follows suit. For a moment, the silence between you is almost comfortable.
You're just starting to relax a fraction when Harry breaks the silence with a ginger, "So I notice you're running around calling this Cutter bloke your partner." He's looking at the ice cubes in his glass and poking them with his straw instead of looking at you, but you tense up again anyway. "What happened with Nate?"
"Nate's married to Elena," you reply, dodging what you're guessing is a subtextual question of your relationship with Charlie.
Harry whistles. The look on his face when he meets your eyes again is softer than you'd expected. "Shit, I'm sorry."
You can't keep the surprise from your face: Not only have you long gotten over Nate, but Harry 'landed Nate in jail and then tried to kill him' Flynn is the last person you'd expected sympathy from over breaking up with him. Hell, you would have expected sympathy from Elena before Harry.
"Thanks," you get out eventually; not letting it sound like a question is a deliberate effort, but you promptly ruin it by adding, "I think. But it was six years ago: I haven't been pining away for him all this time."
"Married for six years," Harry marvels. "He doen't muck about, does he?"
"They're expecting a baby."
Harry looks so shocked and bewildered that you burst out laughing.
"Shut up," he demands. "Look, this is huge news you've just dropped on me; Nathan Drake is not adult enough to be a parent in my head!"
"I know!" you exclaim, barely curbing your laughter long enough for it. "Hell, I broke a glass when I first found out."
"What the hell."
"What about you," you reply, stalling what is probably inevitable. "Accent, better hair, self-proclaimedly less stupid - surely you're seeing someone?"
You're not entirely surprised when he shakes his head.
"I try not to hang around one place too much: People start to notice that nothing hurts like it should," he explains. "Besides, women aren't too amused by... well."
He looks pointedly into his lap, and you can't help but snicker, which he bears better than you'd expected, only rolling his eyes.
"Sorry," you get out eventually. "Really, I am - that's the shittest part. No wonder the Guardians were so pissed off all the time."
"Oh, god, Guardian sex," he says. "There's a thought to put you off sex."
"Jesus. Change the subject, please."
"You and Cutter."
You hesitate.
"If you're not saying anything because he's not treating you -"
"Harry, you're hardly one to talk about not treating a girl right," you cut in, making him flinch. "I've been trying not to say anything because the last time you found out about a relationship I was in -"
"Was seven years ago when I thought we were together, and now we're clearly not," Harry retorts. "Jesus Christ, Chloe, I just keep asking because it's weird as hell to see you possibly in a relationship, and I want to know if someone's making you happy."
You freeze, staring at him in shock. You'd thought his persistent line of questioning in this area was out of jealousy or wanting to get back together, not... this.
"I am happy," you say quietly. "Thank you for asking."
"Good, because I would've had to punch him if you weren't."
"But it is weird," you agree. "One second I'm crashing at his place to make sure he doesn't burn the flat down out of broken legged boredom, the next I look at the calendar and it's been six months, then five years more on than off."
"Five years with no ring?"
"We've never discussed it," you say. "We've never discussed it, and that's why it works."
"I think that's the part that makes the most sense to me," he says dryly, and you roll your eyes and kick him under the table even if he can't feel it. "I'm happy for you, though, honestly. He seems nice."
"He is."
"You know, he asked about..." He hits himself in one arm with what looks like a lot of force but doesn't make him so much as blink. "Said it wasn't to use me as a shield, but didn't ask how. I've been wondering."
You stare at him for a moment, then shake your head. "Probably for efficiency. So he knows that if you work together again and you get shot or something, he can concentrate on getting everyone out without worrying about something that doesn't actually hurt you much. Priorities, you know?"
"Oh," he replies quietly, looking a little surprised.
"He's good to work with," you repeat from your e-mail. "He notices the little things like that, even if it's someone he just met, and he'll remember it just in case you work together again. And he checks details without asking why. When we're working together, he knows I'm okay with subways but he shouldn't book trains in the mountains."
He exhales. "I've kind of screwed up nice scenic train rides, haven't I."
"I think that was a group effort between you, Nate, and Lazarevic," you reply honestly. "Not to mention that big guy Lazarevic liked so much, what was his name..."
"Draza?"
"That's the one."
"He died in the train crash, yeah?"
"Er, actually..."
You raise your hand. Harry looks confused for a second, and then whistles. "Nice."
"He was about to kill Nate," you say quietly.
He nods, and sips on his iced coffee. As you watch him, you wonder if he can taste.
You return to your tea, which is getting to the point where it's more water than tea. "We should probably get back for dinner soon," you say. "I'm getting hungry, and Charlie likes trying to get into the right time zone by at least eating at the right times."
"Right, of course."
Harry ducks his head to finish up his drink. You finish your iced tea first, and excuse yourself to the ladies'. When you return, his glass is empty and he looks oddly resolute.
"I'm not looking for anything here," he says.
"What?"
"I'm not trying to get back into your pants or anything," he elaborates. "And I wasn't trying to even before I knew what the deal with you and Cutter was. I just wanted to make that clear."
Seven years after the fact, you still drop your gaze because you've figured not making things clear was a large part of what got the lot of you into that mess in Shambhala.
"And that wasn't a hint," he says, correctly interpreting your loss of eye contact. "I don't blame you at all for what I did seven years ago. Just wanted to put it out there. I'll be happy to get through this job with all three of us in one piece."
You're a little appalled to consciously realize that had been your benchmark for this job too. Never mind the swords or the money, you'd just wanted to get both the lads out alive.
"Well, no," Harry adds. "I guess I am looking for one thing."
Curious, you glance back up at him.
"I wish I could earn your trust again," he says simply. "And maybe some day we could be friends. But I know that's not something we can do in one job and a punch in the face, and I know I haven't exactly done anything to deserve it, so I completely understand if you're not interested."
"I'd like to trust you," you reply. If only because even leaving aside seven-year-old regrets, it is exhausting not trusting someone you're working and sharing a space with, always looking out for someone who doesn't even know why you're doing it. "It's just..."
"Hard," he supplies, when you fail to come up with a suitable word in a timely manner. "I know. In your position I wouldn't have any faith in me either."
And that's the problem, isn't it? Maybe if you'd had more faith in him back then, he wouldn't have pulled all that shit to make you have no faith in him now.
But there's no going back, and now that he's back in your life, all you can really do is bite the bullet and say, "In my position, I think we can work on that."
The two of you talk about nothing on the way back, nothing but silly anecdotes and the people you meet and the weather (it's not fifty degrees, you decide as you pass other thermometers in the thirties). It's almost like it was in the beginning, before the thought of inviting Nate to Turkey crossed either of your minds: You'd clicked right away, with the same sense of humor and much the same attitude towards life in general.
As you wait in silence for the lift up to your room, you glance sideways at him, wondering if it's the right time to apologize. You've waited seven years; one more day probably wouldn't hurt, but Harry's been honest with you today, so perhaps it's time to return the favor. Besides, it would be good to try and clear the air before you really start this job.
"I know you said you don't blame me, but I still want to apologize."
Harry looks blankly at you for a moment, before it clicks for him and he shakes his head. "Chloe, I forgave you a long time ago. I was a prick."
"And I was a two-timing bitch," you mutter, the first time you've ever said it out loud.
"You loved him," he says with a shrug and a small, ironic smile. "I get it."
You purse your lips, a little flabbergasted by this easy and apparently old forgiveness. For some reason, you'd expected him to still be holding onto that bitterness, probably because you still haven't forgiven yourself for it.
For a moment, you consider admitting that you'd cared about him too, if less than Nate and too late to repair things between you. The lift arrives before you can decide either way, and the two of you step inside.
After you tap your floor, Harry says, "But while we're apologizing, I'd like to say sorry for what I did back then too."
"I'm not sure I'm the one you should be apologizing to," you point out.
"I know, but Nate would empty a magazine into me before I got a word out," he says, matter of fact. "And as you let me know back then, you weren't especially pleased by my actions either."
You sigh, and watch the floors change. You've thought about this before, more since Charlie first Skyped you that he was working with him, and while you're willing to work on trusting him, there's no forgetting that moment of terror when Nate was shot, the way he tossed you aside on the train, the grenade in his hand.
"Apology accepted," you say. Really, considering your feelings is a big step for him. "But I don't know if there's any forgiveness for that."
"I honestly didn't expect any," he says, with a nod. "I just wanted you to know that I'm not proud of what I did back then, and I wouldn't do any of that now."
As you mull this over, the elevator stops and opens, and he steps out with a tentative smile.
"Anyway - let's go wake up your partner."
What: Uncharted fanfiction - part 2/probably 4
Rating: PG13 (language)
Words: ~3400
Summary: Chloe and Harry have some catching up to do.
Note: Chapter titles from "forgetting something" by Nick Flynn. Chloe's been watching Dyesebel.
With a few thousand pesos slipped into the right palms, customs at Ninoy Aquino is quick for your lads even with the firearms they're bringing in. Charlie comes towards you with that warm smile he gets when you haven't seen each other for days in the double digits, wraps his arms around you, and kisses you on the forehead. It's what he always does at airports; the only thing that's changed is that you can feel Harry watching you. So much for really not caring.
"Thank god they finally fixed the air conditioning in immigration. Why didn't you tell me?" he asks, and you laugh, because it's been dire for years.
"Wanted to surprise you."
Charlie chuckles. "Well, it worked."
Then he releases you, and you're left to face Harry, who looks just as unsure how to handle this as you feel. Hours of planning for this first deliberate meeting since Shambhala flee your mind: Eventually, you settle for giving him a nod.
"Hello again, Harry."
"Wotcher," he offers.
Amused, you raise an eyebrow, but otherwise decline to comment. It's easier to move on to business as you lead them to the rental car.
"I've checked us in at the hotel already, and I managed to pick up Lani's tranq guns." Lani being the woman you were originally working this job with. "She says we can just return them on the way out. As for real ammo, I had to go to a couple of different places since my usual shop only goes up to .45 and you brought your .50 cal," you nod to Harry, "but that's all sorted now."
Ammo's heavy in suitcases and the three of you prefer traveling light, so it's fallen on you, the first to arrive in Manila, to stock up.
"That's my girl," Charlie says approvingly, and then he yawns. "The sooner we get to the hotel, the better: I'm knackered."
"I can't believe a vet like you gets scared flying," says Harry; he's trying to keep a straight face but you recognize the crinkle of amusement around his eyes.
"It's a tiny metal box in the sky with no escape," Charlie points out. "For sixteen hours! Like hell I could sleep in there."
"How do you cope in this industry?"
"Come in early and sleep when I land," Charlie retorts.
Abruptly, you realize you're smiling. It's nice to hear them getting along, but you don't, can't let relief in just yet: Once upon a time, you'd thought it nice that Harry was friends with Nate.
"With enough time and land between jobs he sometimes demands road trips," you add, giving your smile a purpose.
Harry lets out a laugh. "That's ridiculous, mate. You work with the best in the business and you're using her skills on road trips?"
"I drive," Charlie protests, and you chime in with, "I hate road trips: Too much driving through nothing at a steady pace for ages."
Harry looks between the two of you and nods in understanding. "Ah, a woman who's only interested in the chase." Your attempts to figure out the subtext must show on your face, because he hastily adds, "It is more fun than road trips. I'd been wondering why I was doing some of the drive tomorrow."
"You could have asked," Charlie says cheerfully, patting him on the shoulder; Harry looks down to watch and you realize that if he only barely felt a bullet and your fist, he probably doesn't feel a pat. "Anyway, there's no international flights where we're off to, and it's cheaper to drive, so why not?"
"Touche," Harry concedes, but he still flashes you a bemused smile.
On the drive to the hotel, Charlie starts an enthusiastic lecture on the Bronze Age pot he and Harry just stole from a smuggler in Turkey to go back to Afghanistan. He's three minutes in when Harry interrupts him to perform a dramatic retelling of the heist itself. With a snort, Charlie gives up and joins in, putting on a terrible Turkish accent to play the guards who spotted them, and you're surprised and relieved to find yourself laughing. You'd never expected to be able to laugh with the thought of Harry doing something to hurt Charlie always in the back of your mind.
They finish off by leaving out the fact that Harry got himself shot and claiming they immediately went for kebabs, which you know is a lie because Charlie already told you about sorting out Harry's bullet wound, but also because the only kebabs Harry likes are meat on a stick, not anything you'd find in Turkey. He hadn't stopped complaining about it on the search for dinner before breaking into the museum.
"Your turn," Harry prompts.
"Oh, no, I can't make my last job sound nearly as entertaining," you reply. You can only think of one way to make sitting in a car alone for two hours sound like fun, and that is not the kind of thing you can say in front of Harry.
Charlie chuckles. "Seen anything entertaining lately, if you haven't done anything fun?"
"Yesterday I caught this weird soap about mermaids..."
You explain what you've managed to gather about the plot from one episode, the 'previously on' segment, and the preview for next week, and when the traffic stops entirely, you even imitate the stupid way the mermaids wave their hands. Harry points out a billboard for the show and examines it.
"They're fine for a soap, but I don't know if I can buy mermaids," he says.
"I don't want to," you say. "But after the bullshit we've seen..."
The bullshit he is, really. Harry chuckles. "Right, I'll keep an eye out when we go to the beach, then."
You can feel Charlie's gaze on you, probably curious, but he doesn't ask; he just goes with the subject change Harry offers (bullshit traffic), and you manage not to drop any more hints about your history with Harry the rest of the way back to the hotel.
As usual after a long flight, Charlie falls asleep the second his head hits the pillow. You pull his shoes off of him and then head for the lounge to poke at the air conditioning controls some more. In the second bedroom, you can hear Harry rustling about, probably unpacking a little and loading his gun, his usual habit after Lazarevic moved camps internationally. Hell, it's humid enough outside that you might as well be back in Borneo.
Shit, there's a blast from the past. You move to the window and frown, trying to clear the thought with a view that's nothing like anywhere you went looking for Shambhala, but despite Harry's e-mailed reassurances, you can't help your fear that history's going to repeat itself. Of course, this time Harry is the secret rather than the person you're trying to keep a secret from. You'd appreciate the irony more if this wasn't so potentially dangerous.
"Chloe? You alright?"
You glance up to find him looking at you with concern.
"Yeah, fine," you lie, realizing too late that your voice is doing that thing where you're not. "Just trying to figure out if that thermometer on the street's right."
Harry glances out the window. "I don't think it's fifty degrees, but do you want to find out?" He holds up his wallet. "I've got to change my cash, and it'd be nice to catch up."
"Sure," you agree cautiously. He and Charlie have made it through one job without hurting each other, but you'd still feel more comfortable if they weren't under the same roof.
Charlie Cutter
Chloe Frazer
Went out with Flynn for currency and maybe a drink
We'll be back for dinner. Let's just stay in tonight. The hotel restaurant menu's underneath this, prices look ok
x
Once Harry's money's changed, the two of you duck into a streetside cafe with no security rather than hit the more air conditioned mall for another round of airport-style metal detectors, bag inspections, and pat downs (you already held his gun for him while he was inside the bank). Harry pays for your iced tea as well as his iced coffee, and while his explanation that he's trying to break a one thousand peso bill makes sense, you can't help but wonder if he's trying to be a gentleman or whatever he used to call it. You watch him warily as he takes both glasses to the table; after putting them down, he smiles faintly at his hands.
"I think I felt that," he explains, catching you staring. "A little cold, a little wet."
You wrap a hand around your iced tea. "Freezing, especially after hanging around outside." The humidity's what gets you here, rather than the heat itself.
Harry shrugs, but doesn't look any less pleased with himself. "Baby steps."
Abruptly, you realize that you haven't seen him sweat since he and Charlie landed, that he didn't turn on the air conditioning in his room. You keep forgetting those other side effects he mentioned. With a nod, you start on your iced tea, and he follows suit. For a moment, the silence between you is almost comfortable.
You're just starting to relax a fraction when Harry breaks the silence with a ginger, "So I notice you're running around calling this Cutter bloke your partner." He's looking at the ice cubes in his glass and poking them with his straw instead of looking at you, but you tense up again anyway. "What happened with Nate?"
"Nate's married to Elena," you reply, dodging what you're guessing is a subtextual question of your relationship with Charlie.
Harry whistles. The look on his face when he meets your eyes again is softer than you'd expected. "Shit, I'm sorry."
You can't keep the surprise from your face: Not only have you long gotten over Nate, but Harry 'landed Nate in jail and then tried to kill him' Flynn is the last person you'd expected sympathy from over breaking up with him. Hell, you would have expected sympathy from Elena before Harry.
"Thanks," you get out eventually; not letting it sound like a question is a deliberate effort, but you promptly ruin it by adding, "I think. But it was six years ago: I haven't been pining away for him all this time."
"Married for six years," Harry marvels. "He doen't muck about, does he?"
"They're expecting a baby."
Harry looks so shocked and bewildered that you burst out laughing.
"Shut up," he demands. "Look, this is huge news you've just dropped on me; Nathan Drake is not adult enough to be a parent in my head!"
"I know!" you exclaim, barely curbing your laughter long enough for it. "Hell, I broke a glass when I first found out."
"What the hell."
"What about you," you reply, stalling what is probably inevitable. "Accent, better hair, self-proclaimedly less stupid - surely you're seeing someone?"
You're not entirely surprised when he shakes his head.
"I try not to hang around one place too much: People start to notice that nothing hurts like it should," he explains. "Besides, women aren't too amused by... well."
He looks pointedly into his lap, and you can't help but snicker, which he bears better than you'd expected, only rolling his eyes.
"Sorry," you get out eventually. "Really, I am - that's the shittest part. No wonder the Guardians were so pissed off all the time."
"Oh, god, Guardian sex," he says. "There's a thought to put you off sex."
"Jesus. Change the subject, please."
"You and Cutter."
You hesitate.
"If you're not saying anything because he's not treating you -"
"Harry, you're hardly one to talk about not treating a girl right," you cut in, making him flinch. "I've been trying not to say anything because the last time you found out about a relationship I was in -"
"Was seven years ago when I thought we were together, and now we're clearly not," Harry retorts. "Jesus Christ, Chloe, I just keep asking because it's weird as hell to see you possibly in a relationship, and I want to know if someone's making you happy."
You freeze, staring at him in shock. You'd thought his persistent line of questioning in this area was out of jealousy or wanting to get back together, not... this.
"I am happy," you say quietly. "Thank you for asking."
"Good, because I would've had to punch him if you weren't."
"But it is weird," you agree. "One second I'm crashing at his place to make sure he doesn't burn the flat down out of broken legged boredom, the next I look at the calendar and it's been six months, then five years more on than off."
"Five years with no ring?"
"We've never discussed it," you say. "We've never discussed it, and that's why it works."
"I think that's the part that makes the most sense to me," he says dryly, and you roll your eyes and kick him under the table even if he can't feel it. "I'm happy for you, though, honestly. He seems nice."
"He is."
"You know, he asked about..." He hits himself in one arm with what looks like a lot of force but doesn't make him so much as blink. "Said it wasn't to use me as a shield, but didn't ask how. I've been wondering."
You stare at him for a moment, then shake your head. "Probably for efficiency. So he knows that if you work together again and you get shot or something, he can concentrate on getting everyone out without worrying about something that doesn't actually hurt you much. Priorities, you know?"
"Oh," he replies quietly, looking a little surprised.
"He's good to work with," you repeat from your e-mail. "He notices the little things like that, even if it's someone he just met, and he'll remember it just in case you work together again. And he checks details without asking why. When we're working together, he knows I'm okay with subways but he shouldn't book trains in the mountains."
He exhales. "I've kind of screwed up nice scenic train rides, haven't I."
"I think that was a group effort between you, Nate, and Lazarevic," you reply honestly. "Not to mention that big guy Lazarevic liked so much, what was his name..."
"Draza?"
"That's the one."
"He died in the train crash, yeah?"
"Er, actually..."
You raise your hand. Harry looks confused for a second, and then whistles. "Nice."
"He was about to kill Nate," you say quietly.
He nods, and sips on his iced coffee. As you watch him, you wonder if he can taste.
You return to your tea, which is getting to the point where it's more water than tea. "We should probably get back for dinner soon," you say. "I'm getting hungry, and Charlie likes trying to get into the right time zone by at least eating at the right times."
"Right, of course."
Harry ducks his head to finish up his drink. You finish your iced tea first, and excuse yourself to the ladies'. When you return, his glass is empty and he looks oddly resolute.
"I'm not looking for anything here," he says.
"What?"
"I'm not trying to get back into your pants or anything," he elaborates. "And I wasn't trying to even before I knew what the deal with you and Cutter was. I just wanted to make that clear."
Seven years after the fact, you still drop your gaze because you've figured not making things clear was a large part of what got the lot of you into that mess in Shambhala.
"And that wasn't a hint," he says, correctly interpreting your loss of eye contact. "I don't blame you at all for what I did seven years ago. Just wanted to put it out there. I'll be happy to get through this job with all three of us in one piece."
You're a little appalled to consciously realize that had been your benchmark for this job too. Never mind the swords or the money, you'd just wanted to get both the lads out alive.
"Well, no," Harry adds. "I guess I am looking for one thing."
Curious, you glance back up at him.
"I wish I could earn your trust again," he says simply. "And maybe some day we could be friends. But I know that's not something we can do in one job and a punch in the face, and I know I haven't exactly done anything to deserve it, so I completely understand if you're not interested."
"I'd like to trust you," you reply. If only because even leaving aside seven-year-old regrets, it is exhausting not trusting someone you're working and sharing a space with, always looking out for someone who doesn't even know why you're doing it. "It's just..."
"Hard," he supplies, when you fail to come up with a suitable word in a timely manner. "I know. In your position I wouldn't have any faith in me either."
And that's the problem, isn't it? Maybe if you'd had more faith in him back then, he wouldn't have pulled all that shit to make you have no faith in him now.
But there's no going back, and now that he's back in your life, all you can really do is bite the bullet and say, "In my position, I think we can work on that."
Charlie Cutter
Chloe Frazer
Coming back now. Hope you're awake!
The two of you talk about nothing on the way back, nothing but silly anecdotes and the people you meet and the weather (it's not fifty degrees, you decide as you pass other thermometers in the thirties). It's almost like it was in the beginning, before the thought of inviting Nate to Turkey crossed either of your minds: You'd clicked right away, with the same sense of humor and much the same attitude towards life in general.
As you wait in silence for the lift up to your room, you glance sideways at him, wondering if it's the right time to apologize. You've waited seven years; one more day probably wouldn't hurt, but Harry's been honest with you today, so perhaps it's time to return the favor. Besides, it would be good to try and clear the air before you really start this job.
"I know you said you don't blame me, but I still want to apologize."
Harry looks blankly at you for a moment, before it clicks for him and he shakes his head. "Chloe, I forgave you a long time ago. I was a prick."
"And I was a two-timing bitch," you mutter, the first time you've ever said it out loud.
"You loved him," he says with a shrug and a small, ironic smile. "I get it."
You purse your lips, a little flabbergasted by this easy and apparently old forgiveness. For some reason, you'd expected him to still be holding onto that bitterness, probably because you still haven't forgiven yourself for it.
For a moment, you consider admitting that you'd cared about him too, if less than Nate and too late to repair things between you. The lift arrives before you can decide either way, and the two of you step inside.
After you tap your floor, Harry says, "But while we're apologizing, I'd like to say sorry for what I did back then too."
"I'm not sure I'm the one you should be apologizing to," you point out.
"I know, but Nate would empty a magazine into me before I got a word out," he says, matter of fact. "And as you let me know back then, you weren't especially pleased by my actions either."
You sigh, and watch the floors change. You've thought about this before, more since Charlie first Skyped you that he was working with him, and while you're willing to work on trusting him, there's no forgetting that moment of terror when Nate was shot, the way he tossed you aside on the train, the grenade in his hand.
"Apology accepted," you say. Really, considering your feelings is a big step for him. "But I don't know if there's any forgiveness for that."
"I honestly didn't expect any," he says, with a nod. "I just wanted you to know that I'm not proud of what I did back then, and I wouldn't do any of that now."
As you mull this over, the elevator stops and opens, and he steps out with a tentative smile.
"Anyway - let's go wake up your partner."