Chapter Text
14:04
The buzz of his tomephone jolted Aymeric out of his engrossing read about- ah, yes. The legislation of aetheryte installation and what qualified an area to have one. Something to do with the square footage of the plaza and ley line deposits.
He sighed, wincing as he stretched and heard something pop in his lower back. This desk was smaller than his last one, stuffed into the dingy corner of the office that held the stationery node and not a lot else. The nearest window was all the way over the other side of the room and it was probably a good thing he’d brought a desk lamp since the overhead light didn’t work. “Cosy,” had been the way he’d described it, on a good day. The adjectives for it on a bad day were unrepeatable in an office setting.
He reached for the phone, cradling the little screen in his hands to hopefully avoid anyone seeing. His email inbox was pitifully bare these days apart from spam and, yes there it was. Another summons:
“We require you to stop by the headquarters tomorrow evening to answer a few more questions about the investigation at Thordan Inc and your father’s involvement. Please be advised that while this is currently an informal invitation…”
Aymeric didn’t need to read the rest; he’d seen enough “polite,” correspondence from Thordan’s lawyers over the last couple of months. Without even thinking about it, he opened The Herald’s website on his work PC, clicking through to the headlines. The CEO of Thordan Inc glared out at him, imperious and intimidating even trapped behind a glass screen. The articles weren’t saying anything he didn’t already know – arrested on charges of fraud and embezzlement, along with accusations of human rights abuses both in his private and professional life. The gossip rags were having a wonderful time with that one.
‘Oh, what’s he done now?’
Aymeric flinched and spun round, fully prepared to go straight on the defensive. His tiny coworker peered around him to get a better look at the screen, coffee mug dangling from her hand.
“New evidence uncovered in case against CEO of Thordan Inc,” Tataru read aloud. ‘I always thought he was creepy. Always seemed a little too pious, like he was never that sincere about anything he said. The loud ones always have something to hide.’
‘Mmm.’
‘Wonder who turned him in?’ she continued, violet eyes sparkling with a gleeful malice that really was rather disturbing. ‘Did you hear they think he’s wrapped up in some kind of cult with his church? “Abuse of power,” they’re calling it. I wonder when we’ll get the juicy details~?’
‘Probably after the trial is over.’ Aymeric stared over Tataru’s head; at the sad looking plant in the corner, the blinds that were hopelessly tangled, the photocopier that was broken again. Anything was preferable to this line of conversation. ‘Did you need something, Tataru?’
‘Hmm? Oh, nope, just getting coffee. Two bells past noon means doing the traditional office run. Did your last job do anything like that? Hancock came up with it; he tries to make combinations out of whatever they stock the machine with this week. Did you want one?’
Oh, so that would explain the rather disgusting cloud banana-lemon-hazelnut… thing he’d seen the other man drinking this morning.
‘Just regular instant will be fine. Thank you.’
‘Scaredy cat,’ she teased, and Aymeric couldn’t help but smile. ‘One boring coffee, coming right up!’
She reached forward to grab Aymeric’s cup, and he obediently scooted the chair aside to make room. Thordan hadn’t gone anywhere, still lasering in on the two of them like a Garlean sniper, and even after all this time, it still made him want to run. No matter how many times he reminded himself he was a man grown and fully capable of never speaking to Thordan again, he still felt like that scared boy of twelve summers who had broken into the filing cabinet in his parent’s study to find out who his real father was.
Tataru glanced at the screen again, then shook her head.
‘Apparently there’s a press conference tomorrow – will you watch it? Aymeric?’ She tapped his arm, breaking his reverie and forcing him to look at her.
‘Ah, probably not. The news is too depressing, don’t you think?’
‘You aren’t wrong- huh.’
Aymeric blinked at her. ‘Beg pardon?’
‘Oh, no, it’s nothing!’ She waved her hands frantically, the coffee cups clinking together like bizarre castanets. ‘Just that you have the same eye colour. Don’t often see blue that bright in Amaurot.’
If only she knew the half of it.
He chuckled weakly and made a show of checking the email that had just come in; he’d never thought he’d thank the Fury for an unexpected email from his boss. Tataru wandered away, already chattering to someone else, and Aymeric caught a glimpse of the news ticker again. The same cold eyes that looked back at him in the mirror every morning.
He shuddered, closing the browser, and stared helplessly at his inbox. Yotsuyu apparently wanted some info dug up on crystal import taxes and zoning guidelines for housing districts on top of the aetheryte information, all before he left for the day. She did this a lot. When he’d tried protesting that he finished at six, she gave him a smile that was all teeth and said wasn’t it a good thing that the building was open all hours of the year. Of course today would be no different.
Suppressing the urge to scream, he picked his phone up again, and opened the group chat.
14:46
The sound of heels frantically sprinting back and forth was almost deafening on the marble floors.
Haurchefant languidly glanced up from the filing he was meant to be sorting out – for the love of Halone if he had to move one more receipt from where it was clearly not meant to be he was going to scream – and watched as yet another nattily dressed business woman disappeared into the lifts, looking absolutely petrified. That was the sixth one today, and he’d already had to watch Oscarvel field several frantic phone calls that he’d promptly been shooed away from. Guess the administration talks weren’t going well.
Speaking of… he could see Oscarvel sat at what should have been his desk, smack bang in the middle of the reception area, sprawled out like he owned the place. He had his linkpearl on and was making a point of talking loudly into it, tapping away at his keyboard like he was hacking into an Allagan mainframe, and generally giving the appearance of doing Something Very Important. The other man caught Haurchefant looking and gave him a scowl, an indirect “get back to work,” if he’d ever seen one. Haurchefant gave him a lazy salute in response, fighting down a giggle as Oscarvel’s glare intensified. They could squash him into a corner and try to forget he existed, but that wasn’t going to keep Haurchefant down!
… or at least, that was the plan, anyway. The reception desk at Thordan Inc was usually a buzz of activity, a well organised team that kept the building flowing and organised most of its CEO’s daily routine. As Thordan’s PA, Haurchefant probably should have been working in one of the offices upstairs, well within shouting-and-ordering-around distance, but he’d always much preferred it down here. Working with a team always gave him a warm feeling, a reminder that they were the beating heart that kept this building going, like busy little worker bees. He’d certainly never have shut any of them away in this dismal little space.
Well. No point sitting around moping about it, and these receipts weren’t going to file themselves. He hauled himself to his feet, tucking the paperwork under one arm and picking up his cane with his free hand. Maybe in the next box he’d find bills for sketchy Limsan dancers or Ruby Sea, that particularly potent strain imported from Doma that divers made from herbs found on the sea bed (don’t ask him how he knew that). If Thordan had been stupid enough to leave evidence of his plans lying around before, he could do it again. Aymeric could have fun leaking that to the press.
He took a slow walk to the filing cabinets, making sure to brace his weight properly against his cane. It had been a little strange, getting used to walking on expensive marble floors again when for the past six months it had been nothing but hospital linoleum and cheap carpet, but he’d adjusted quickly enough. It still took him longer than he’d like to get up from his desk and make his way to the door, moving one stiff leg at a time.
“Patience is a virtue,” he reminded himself. “This is a marathon, not a sprint.” And if Oscarvel wanted him sprinting, well, that was a good fucking laugh. Besides, it was more likely that everyone who actually did still have a job at Thordan Inc had much bigger things to worry about, like who was next on the chopping block and who else might actually get arrested. Security had already come to the building to escort people out for questioning twice; gods only knew who was next.
He awkwardly shouldered the office door open, hissing as it sent a jolt of pain down his arm. It also made for a less than graceful entrance, and he stumbled inside as his foot skidded on the slippery surface. Face aflame, he gave the gawkers a cheery smile and firmly shoved aside the thought that growled “could have at least grabbed the door for me, assholes,” into the back of his mind. He straightened back up and slowly made his way to the filing cabinets, mentally reminding himself to put both feet on the ground and his neck held up properly, the way his physio kept telling him.
His route took him past a bank of desks with a handful of employees huddled behind them. None of them looked happy, and on second thought maybe his dingy little cupboard wasn’t such a bad thing after all. At least there Haurchefant could listen to music and pause for breath every once in a while, rather than this stifling atmosphere; silent apart from the frantic clicking of keys and wary looks on everyone’s faces. There were more empty work areas than yesterday – if HR kept going the way they were, there would be no one left by Iceday.
It did give him a strange feeling, though, with no one calling out any greetings or even throwing smiles his way. This time last year, he would have had friends in this department, ones who would have insisted he stay and rest a while and ask about his day. Now everything had moved on without him, as if the accident truly had left him naught but a ghost at the side of the road, eyes passing over him without any thought or care, no smiles turned his way-
‘Not helpful,’ he reminded himself, gritting his teeth in a smile regardless. He had plenty of people who cared for him. Just not in this building, was all. It mattered not.
Sorting the paperwork was a pleasant enough distraction for a little while, the satisfaction of everything being properly in its place enough to make him feel useful again. Why, if he got through the entirety of these cabinets, he could boast to anyone within earshot at how masterfully he’d tidied them! Estinien and Aymeric would undoubtedly tease him about this later, when he’d send multiple photos to the group chat of these exquisitely organised drawers, but alas they were not connoisseurs of expertly conducted admin. Ah well. Francel would surely appreciate his efforts.
Humming softly to himself, Haurchefant sat on a nearby step stool and began hauling a bunch of files out of the nearest drawer. His back thanked him for it; his wound was already beginning to protest at so many awkward movements, and the burning sensation subsided just a little. He signed, leaned his head against the metal of the cabinet and closed his eyes, slowly counting to five as the pain dulled down to something acceptable. It was funny, the things you took for granted, and how quickly something could be snatched away from you. His entire accident had taken less than thirty seconds, from the sickening realisation that his brakes weren’t working, skidding off the road, and a stray piece of metal impaling him right through the arm he’d used to shield himself, his abdomen, and the driver’s seat. Thirty seconds and things like walking on his own and being able to lift his arm without pain – gone. The doctors had said he should count himself fortunate it hadn’t been his eye socket.
Really, he should consider himself lucky. He wasn’t paralysed, in a coma, or otherwise totally incapacitated. He could still speak, feed himself, and had avoided brain damage. Still alive, despite someone’s best efforts. Mustn’t complain-
‘-no idea who’s going to be next. They got rid of Ottilie, for Rhalgr’s sake, none of us are safe. She ran that department single handed.’
‘They’re having another meeting tomorrow, they’ve called the whole team together, first thing in the morning.’ It sounded like the two workers just behind him, hidden just out of sight behind the wall he was sitting against. The second speaker sounded close to tears, and Haurchefant couldn’t blame her. Losing his job was about the worst thing he could imagine, at the moment.
‘Gods only know what they’re going to say; I’m already working overtime as it is. If they let anyone else go, I won’t see daylight.’
‘And none of Thorden’s internal team have been fired – they’ve got the money for executive golden parachutes but not a normal person’s wages?!’
‘Oh and if you’re utterly useless, don’t forget that. I don’t know how in the hells that useless prick Beaux is still here, or Haurchefant.’ He froze at the mention of his name, keeping very carefully still, a trait that had served him well since childhood. ‘They’ve paid out a fucking fortune for him to sit there and look pretty.’
‘Maybe that’s why he’s still here; it’s all he’s good for now.’
‘All that money for him to come back and work two hours a day while I’m here from dusk until dawn. Gods, maybe it would be better if I did quit.’
There was no leap to his defence, just some giggling and token protests before the conversation drifted elsewhere, the quiet ringing in his ears again as he clutched the now-creased folders to his chest.
It took a full two hours for him to get up in the morning; sit up in a way that didn’t agitate his wound and eat something that wouldn’t lead to his damaged digestive system trying to kill him later. Carefully navigating his way to the shower and making sure he didn’t catch his back or hips when awkwardly clambering into the tub, then take the five different medications he’d been prescribed, chased with painkillers for good measure. Getting dressed was no longer something he could do while scarfing down a bit of toast with one hand and nursing a coffee in the other; it was stopping to rest in between putting socks and shoes on because the sharp movements made his wound scream. Sometimes it would pass in a few seconds; others he’d be doubled over for several minutes until the pain settled. Two hours of that, and then an undignified limp to work that he’d used to be able to sprint when he’d been particularly hungover and irresponsible.
All of this, then to his sad little room to file papers and receipts because Oscarvel had taken his job. Since he was there by Thordan’s appointment, he was most probably there to keep an eye on Haurchefant since he was friends with the wicked Aymeric who had bought the empire tumbling down. They’d legally made it so that he’d kept his job while he’d been rotting away in that hospital, but there was nothing saying everyone else had to make him feel welcome.
He took a deep breath, hauled himself to his feet, and returned to his little side room, quietly muttering a prayer of thanks that at least these offices had multiple exits and he didn’t have to stumble past his detractors. He quietly collapsed back into his seat, let the door swing shut behind him, leaving him in the vague gloom. It was a lovely day outside, but you’d never know it, looking at this place.
Haurchefant wrapped his arms around himself in a feeble attempt at comfort, trying his best to stop a shiver running through him. It was fine. It always was. Let them say what they would, even if they were too cowardly to say it to his face. He’d stuck out far worse, and things would change for the better, as they always did.
Though right now, the only parts of the road ahead that were clear to him was an endless pile of pointless paperwork that needed filing, the humiliating walk home in the scorching weather of the Fourth Umbral Moon, and a letter from his father that had been lying unopened on the kitchen counter for almost three days now.
Haurchefant reached for his phone, and sent a text to the group chat.
17:03
Estinien wasn’t one for metaphors, but the atmosphere in here had somehow turned into fine china and he was trying to figure out a way to navigate it without smashing anything.
Dinner had been somewhat of a pathetic success (pasta, tomato sauce, and half price Dzo meatballs he’d picked up on a late night supermarket trip) and Hamignant had helped wash up without complaint. Now the pair of them had retreated to the sofa, Hamignant huddled up at the end of it, staring dully at the TV with his eyes occasionally flickering over to Estinien like he was waiting for his brother to say something. Like what? Sorry for being a mediocre cook? To announce that he’d quit his job and could actually do something where they saw each other for more than a few hours each night? That he could magically make everything okay and that the last few months had been a horrible dream and it was all going back to normal now?
Estinien sighed. What were the right words to make everything better? Fuck if he knew. Maybe he should text Haurchefant and ask for lessons in mindreading. That was half his job, especially when Thordan was involved. Vague barked orders could be turned into an invoice or a food delivery in the blink of an eye. Must be a nice.
‘How’re you feeling? About the school?’ he tried, shifting a little to face Hamignant. Talking had stopped making sense, these last few months, an equation he had to somehow balance when it had been simple before. They’d always had so much to say to each other when Estinien had called from the latest hotel room he was staying in or whenever he’d snatched free moments between training, his brother excited to tell him all about his week. Now a simple conversation felt more difficult than walking around blindfolded through a war zone.
‘I’m not going.’
‘What?’
‘I’m not going,’ Hamignant repeated flatly. ‘There’s no point.’
Estinien rolled his eyes. ‘And why have you decided that before you’ve even tried?’
‘Stop doing that!’
‘Stop doing what?!’
‘You’re not listening. I told you I didn’t want to.’ Hamignant turned to look at him, soft green eyes narrowed into a now familiar glare, but to Estinien all it did was accentuate his baby face. His hair was sticking out at the side where he hadn’t bothered to try and brush it, harsh circles smudged under his eyes where he clearly hadn’t slept. ‘I’m not going back to school, okay? Not now, not ever.’
‘Right. Okay. And what are you going to do instead?’ Estinien folded his arms, gave him a pointed look. ‘You know anywhere that’s going to hire a teenager?’
‘I don’t know,’ Hamignant snapped. ‘I don’t want to go and get some shitty job, I don’t want to do that either! I can learn at home. By myself.’
His brother looked so small when he was trying so hard to look big, hands balled tight into fists and brimming with tension. What the hells was he supposed to say?
‘Min, they won’t let you be homeschooled if there’s no one to supervise you,’ he said, trying to sound as gentle as he could. ‘Someone has to actually teach.’
‘You could do it.’
‘I failed most of my exams,’ Estinien said dryly. ‘I asked the social worker, she said you’d need a tutor. You can’t just read a book and call it done.’
‘All you need to do is send them a report every month,’ Hamignant said, stubbornness settling in and refusing to let go, his jaw set in that exact same infuriating way Estinien knew his own did. ‘I looked it up on Moogle. You can just say I’m doing the work and sign it. They won’t know.’
Estinien groaned, burying his head in his hands. ‘Have you actually thought about this? For longer than five seconds, I mean?’
‘Why? Because I’m too stupid to decide for myself?’
‘Aye, because it is stupid,’ Estinien agreed, letting his hands fall to the sofa with a thud. ‘You know that isn’t going to work, Min. I have to pay the bills. You need a school, I found a school. What’s so difficult about that?’
‘You didn’t even ask if I wanted to go!’
‘Right, because every kid gets asked- ‘
‘I’m not a kid!’
Mission failed, rather spectacularly. Fucking perfect.
‘Well, you’re not an adult yet, either,’ he said loudly, trying to squash the argument before it even started. ‘Young adult, teenager – whatever. You’re going to school.’
‘And when it all goes to shit – because it’s gonna, then what? We’ll have wasted all this time and then we’ll have to find another school and then it happens all over again. Might as well save the hassle.’ Hamignant crossed his arms and stared daggers at his brother, his eyes so angry and accusing it actually made Estinien look away. ‘It’s all a waste of fucking time.’
‘Don’t swear,’ Estinien said automatically, mentally tacking a “little shit,” on to the end of that. ‘You know what Mam says.’ That last part had been pure reflex, an oft repeated phrase in their house ever since Estinien had been a teenager and a younger Hamignant had taken great delight in crowing back at him. Now it just rang hollow, ricocheting around the room and only emphasising how much space there was with just the two of them. Threats never held much gravitas when it was just him saying them.
‘Mam’s not here. That’s the problem.’ Hamignant’s voice was still acidic as ever but the tiniest bit shaky, his nails digging into his palms. Estinien looked at him helplessly, fighting back the reflex to wrap Hamignant in a hug like he could when they were six and eighteen and all of the world’s problems could be solved by your big brother.
‘Look – alright, tell me what’s going to go wrong, okay?’ Estinien held up his hands, because he wanted to at least try and sort this out now and not have an identical screaming match tomorrow morning. ‘I spoke to the head teacher woman. She was nice. She said it was a small form class and they’d get a couple of the other kids in your year to stick with you.’
‘Right. Because I’m in a wheelchair so I can’t make friends by myself. Thanks.’ Hamignant curled into himself further, drawing his legs up to his chin. Estinien didn’t miss the wince of pain that flickered over his face as he did so, the simple movement taking far more effort than it should. The shorter hair didn’t suit him; it made his small face look too thin, the burns on his ears and neck obvious with nothing to hide behind, the still faintly purple line of stitches just visible at the top of his hairline. ‘They won’t even really be my friends. They’ll just be feeling sorry for me. Or they’ll stare.’
‘Stare back.’
‘The only thing people want to ask me is what happened to my legs. They don’t even ask my name anymore.’
‘You don’t have to answer any questions you don’t want to,’ Estinien told him. ‘It’s none of their business. They can find something else to gossip about.’
‘Like what? What my weird scars are? Why I have to miss class on Earthsday mornings to go to that stupid physio? Why I’m older than the rest of them and stuck in the baby class?!’
‘No one knows how old you are. You wouldn’t be the first one to be held back a class.’
‘So they either pretend to be friends with me because they feel sorry for the disabled kid, or they start taking the piss because I’m a freak. Pick one.’ Hamignant wasn’t backing down but Mam had always said they were as bad as each other and what was he supposed to say?
‘Hamignant. Stop. You aren’t a freak.’ It stung to hear him say that, because Hamignant had been nothing but perfect since the day he was born. Mam had handed him his baby brother and told Estinien he needed to look after it, this tiny fey creature with eyes like new grass after rainfall and a grip that clung tight to his thumb and refused to let go. Even with his legs twisted and burn scarring curling its way up his neck, there was nothing wrong with Hamignant. Estinien would swing for whoever said otherwise. Kids or not.
‘How many other burned up kids in wheelchairs are there going to be?’ Hamignant demanded, oblivious to the wounds in his brother’s soul he was inflicting with every cruel word. ‘None. I can’t be normal anymore and I’m sick of it.’ His lip was trembling and he flinched as Estinien put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. ‘I don’t want to. Please don’t make me.’
His voice was tearful rather than angry now, and it was ripping Estinien’s heart in two. Quietly he shuffled closer, wrapping an arm around his brother’s shoulder and letting Hamignant lean on him, take a few shaky breaths to calm himself. Honestly, Estinien felt he could use that for himself, but there was no one left. Just him, Estinien fucking Varlineau who failed all his exams and didn’t know the right words for a language he was thoroughly incapable of speaking.
‘Min. Look, I – it’ll be fine. I promise. If anyone starts on you, tell me. I’ll sort it out.’ He could feel his brother’s shoulders tensing and got the sense that the battle was already lost. ‘C’mon. You’ve faced far scarier things than this- ‘ He sighed as Hamignant yanked away from him. ‘You need to get good grades, get out of school if you hate it that much. Think about something other than the next five minutes.’ The words sounded pathetic even as he said them, because he’d always been shit at sitting still and working at a desk. He hadn’t even bothered trying, and now-
He ran his fingers over his burned palms, trying not to notice how thick the scar tissue was, how his fingers took a moment to respond properly.
He should probably take his own advice.
‘What am I meant to think about?! It’s just more and more of the same until I graduate, and that’s years away!’
‘Halone’s tits, Min, your world doesn’t end with school!’ Estinien snapped, guilt curdling in his chest as the harsh words left his mouth. ‘You’ve got your entire life to figure that out! Don’t you have anything you want to do, anything you enjoy? Because you’re only going to get that if you go to school.’
‘What can I do, stuck in this thing?!’
‘Anything the hells you want! Just tell me, and I’ll get it for you.’
‘I don’t know!’
‘Fucking hells,’ Estinien groaned, getting to his feet and pacing an angry path from the sofa to the kitchen. It wasn’t a particularly long one, his knee smacking into the coffee table as he kicked it out of the way. ‘I just- I want you to have a future. Something to look forward to, something you can work towards. Not just – waste away in your pyjamas and never see daylight. Have something to get up for in the morning.’
Hamignant barked out a laugh. ‘What, like you?! Smoke and lie in bed all day? Very inspiring.’
Estinien froze, the retort dying on his lips. It wasn’t just the new house and guardianship he’d had to get used to. It was sleeping in every day because there were no more early morning practice sessions, the gym clothes he hadn’t bothered replacing because his hands shrieked with agony if he even looked at a set of parallel bars or rings, his traitor feet stumbling on the mats when before he’d trusted them with jumps and flips so treacherous none of his teammates had dared. It was all the missed calls from Alberic and frantic texts that were slowly burning themselves into his phone’s screen, the registration forms for next year’s Eorzean Olympics stuffed into the bottom of his bag because they hurt too much to look at. Refusing to check his bank account because the cash he’d won from the last competition and his student loan was practically gone. You never thought about how much stuff you needed, when your house burned down with your parents inside.
He’d had the same dream for years, and look where that had gotten him. Maybe all the trophies and medals were cheap thrills for the looters picking over the ruins of the farm, the golds and silvers melting down to an unrecognisable slurry. It didn’t matter where you placed when they were nothing but slag masquerading as tombstones.
Without another word, he slammed out of the flat, hands gripping his phone so tightly he was surprised the screen didn’t crack. His eyes were blurring something fierce, and it was a miracle he managed to access voice-to-text without dropping the stupid thing:
(depression chat):
ABorel: Sanctuary. Royal blue. (14:10)
Haurche😎: sancutary. cold fog grey (15:00)
EV: sanctuary bright fucking screaming red (17:30)