“She knows more than I do,” he said, and he sounded so lost and helpless that even Ethan found himself taking a little pity on him. He tugged the pan out of Rupert’s hand and nudged him aside to take his place at the sink.
Rupert staggered a distracted step away, but the vague look never left his eyes.
“Nonsense,” Ethan said, “She just thinks she does.”
He had to scrub at a stubborn spot, so he must have missed Rupert shaking himself back to reality.
“She figured out what the She-Mantis was on her own. I hadn’t a clue. God, I’m--”
Ethan could sense the impending flood of low self-esteem, and tried to stem the flow with a warning, “Rupert.”
“I put the tape in the wrong way for god’s sake. That could have cost her her life!”
Ethan set the clean (enough) pan aside and turned to lean back against the counter, and watch Rupert. Predicted his routine before he did it. Hand through the hair, then off with the glasses.
Really, he knew he shouldn’t be amused. The distress Rupert was in was clearly real.
But he couldn’t help the warm rush of affection or his own small smile. He couldn’t stop it even in the face of that withering glare.
“It’s not funny, Ethan. I know you don’t particularly care for my career, but this is the life of a young girl we’re talking about.”
“She’ll be fine, Rupert. Much as I hate to admit it, she’s in good hands. You’re a hundred times better than the rest of those--”
He cut that sentence off quickly at the dangerous flicker in Rupert’s eyes, and then continued on as though he hadn’t ever even begun to impugn the honorable Watcher’s Council.
“You’re like a new parent with an infant. Paranoid.”
Rupert was half turned away from him, tension drawing his body tight. Ethan stepped closer and ran a hand over his shoulder. His muscles were tight as steel.
“Infants don’t have to fight demons and vampires,” he said. “My paranoia, as you say, is--”
Ethan just wrapped his arms around him, settled against his warm back, and kissed his shoulder lightly.
“Unnecessary,” he said.
He smiled against the nape of Rupert’s neck as he felt him relax by small degrees in his embrace. He brushed a kiss against the spot just behind Rupert’s ear, and got the hoped-for response. Rupert easing back against him just a little more, tilting his head back, inviting further caresses. Reaching up to lay one hand over Ethan’s own.
But before things could really get interesting, he moved away, and turned around. He was still holding Ethan’s hand, but his eyes were somber.
“But she won’t be. Fine. She’s a Slayer.” He dropped his hand and looked away. “She’s going to die. It’s only a matter of when.”
Ethan found that his breath caught a little, that his throat ached just a bit. Hated to see Rupert suffering. Especially times like now, when there wasn’t anyone he could torment or curse to make it better.
He had to wonder, again, for the thousandth time, why Rupert had ever gone back. Why choose this, when he could have been free?
He knew better by now than to ask, though. Not because Rupert wouldn’t explain--because he would explain--but because he knew that no matter how many times he heard it, he would never understand.
“I-- I need some air. I’m sorry,” Rupert said, softly, and then he headed out into the night.
Ethan went to the window, only long enough to ensure that Rupert was merely out in the courtyard and not galavanting off to be vampire bait, and then he went back to the kitchen. Let him mourn in peace.
The End
previous | title page | next