(no subject)

[amicably_absent]

It was something Ambrose had been putting off doing.

In the privacy of his rooms, he took off his coat and hung it up, slipping off his shoes and tucking them under the bed. His socks went next, into the laundry chute, then his shirt (off over the head), and his striped undershirt, which was tossed down as well. He dumped his pants down there as well, mildly disgruntled at Glitch's refusal to bother with underwear.

He cracked the curtains to let a streak of setting sunlight through. He walked forwards, tugging the cloth from the mirror.

It was not as bad as he feared.

It was not as good as he had hoped.

Some of the scars were vaguely familiar. One on his arm from a sword fight, maybe. On his hand from a design that went wrong. Others though...

He turned, looking at himself. He was even paler than he had been, arms and legs thinner, but there was wiry muscle. It seemed to be the fat had gone first, then the muscles. Little relief, but it was something.

It was still a sight he didn't like. The wild curls softened his face and just seemed messy. The zipper was an ugly scar he couldn't remember; his fingers touched it softly, barely able to look in the mirror and completely unable to look away as he saw his fingers touch metal as he feels the coolness, the rough texture catching his skin even as he felt soft tugs on his scalp as it happened.

He drew his hands away sharply, looking down to his body again. Small shifts changed the light casting over him, brought other marks into sharp relief. A star burst in his shoulder and in his lower back, bones jutting against pale skin, ghost like and alien body not his own very much his.

He closed his eyes and reached for the cloth on the ground, ending up standing there with his head bowed, cloth clutched to his chest as he was torn between throwing it over the glass and wrapping it about himself.

At least the sunlight on his skin felt the same.

Comments

[amicably-absent.livejournal.com]

"Thank you, again," Ambrose says softly. He lets it cool a bit more, breaking it up with his spoon, blowing on it and then popping it in his mouth to suck clean.

"You can feel the upswing in the land itself. The magic is seeping back into the land now it's not being channeled and perverted by the witch."

[less-hugging.livejournal.com]

He nods, helping himself to a serving. "People are starting to hold their heads high again."

[amicably-absent.livejournal.com]

Ambrose takes a small nibble of his food with a sigh. "The weight of the world is lifting... People are playing again. Even the adults." There's a faint smile and sparkle in his eye as he glances up at Wyatt and back again.

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There's the faint hint of colour blooming on Wyatt's cheeks as Ambrose's words hit home. "Yeah," he chuckles. "Yeah, even the adults."

[amicably-absent.livejournal.com]

Ambrose gives a small chuckle that sounds suspiciously close to a subdued version of Glitch's giggle. "The world's been too solemn for far too long."

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"I couldn't agree more." He raises his cup in an informal little toast that needs no exclamations and no clinking. He sips, enjoying seeing Ambrose like this. He's been too solemn for too long, too. He obviously needs to get out more.

"How do you like the cobbler? Anything like you remember it?"

[amicably-absent.livejournal.com]

Ambrose smiles around the next mouthful, swallowing before speaking. "I don't remember it. How silly is that? I remember liking it, but not how it tasted." He sighs with contentment. "Like baths. I don't remember them from before either."

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"No, it makes sense," he tries to reassure Ambrose. "I know exactly what you mean. Like coffee. I hadn't had a cup for years until I went to the kitchen at the Tower the morning after. I didn't remember what it tastes like, or how I used to brew it. I just wanted a cup. It's the same with a lot of things."

He feels the same way about other things, but he isn't sure how much he should share. "I remember Jeb as a boy, running towards me. I remember sweeping him up and spinning him around before hugging him, but I don't remember how heavy he was, or his warmth, the texture of his clothes or his hair or if he smelled like the woods after a day of fun and games.

"I just remember loving him."

[amicably-absent.livejournal.com]

It's something Ambrose can't compare to. He can't remember loving anyone like that.

"It must be hard, to have those memories of your son fade like that. But remembering that you love him is maybe enough." He looks slightly distant for a moment. "My birth family was dead before the war. But I can't remember how they died."

[less-hugging.livejournal.com]

"It's enough for me. There's no other way."

He looks up, watching Ambrose calmly despite wanting to pull him into a hug, because all he can see is Glitch sitting there, remembering something heart wrenching. But maybe he's imagining things.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

[amicably-absent.livejournal.com]

"I should just be thankful I remember they were gone before the war," he shrugs slightly awkwardly and looks down. "My family was always in the palace. Until little DG..."

His gaze goes distant for a moment.

He looks up with a small frown.

[less-hugging.livejournal.com]

"Yes?"

Better to be safe than sorry, he figures, to let Ambrose figure things out in his own time.

[amicably-absent.livejournal.com]

"I... seem to have forgotten... no... Cain." The light comes on. "Of course. I'm sorry, Wyatt. I have no idea what happened there."

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"It's okay. You do that sometimes. It's just your brain processing things, too much information or difficult memories. Like a defense mechanism."

He decides again not to push, remembering too clearly the tail end of those two days when Glitch just wouldn't stop glitching.

"I don't mind. It probably sounds real bad, but...I've grown used to it."

[amicably-absent.livejournal.com]

He thinks. "You mean, I glitched." He can accept this as an answer. "I don't think I'm used to it yet. I can't imagine... not knowing who you are, or where you are, just that everyone keeps staring at you with contempt, revulsion and hate. And you don't know why."

His fingers trace the zip and then he takes a large, comforting bite of cobbler.

[less-hugging.livejournal.com]

"Yeah. You glitched."

His heart sinks like a rock. He has absolutely no idea what to say.

[amicably-absent.livejournal.com]

Ambrose looks up and smiles slightly. "Glitch is lucky to have you. You have so much compassion for him. I've never known an officer with so much heart."

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He shakes his head earnestly, modest but not out of some sense of scoring brownie points. "I'm the lucky one."

He looks away, a smile tugging at his mouth that speaks of some strong emotion. Affection or love, it's something briefly overwhelmingly heartwarming.

"I love him, Ambrose, I-I..." He looks up at him again. "I count my lucky stars that he and DG found me, that we... I've been blessed twice over in my life, and I barely expected to be blessed once. I'm the lucky one."

[amicably-absent.livejournal.com]

Ambrose smiles and reaches over to close a hand over Cain's, squeezing lightly. "You are, Wyatt. You have a wonderful son, and people who love you dearly."

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"I do." He's still smiling, turning his hand slightly to grip Ambrose's fingers gently. "I am. It's good to be alive."

And suddenly, he wonders why Glitch didn't just tell him so after they were interrupted.

[amicably-absent.livejournal.com]

Ambrose's smile softens, fading as he just holds Wyatt's gaze, feels the warmth of his fingers.

He understands why Glitch is so shamelessly confident in himself if he has Wyatt watch him like that.

[less-hugging.livejournal.com]

Like he's the most wonderfully perplexing creature in the whole world, and there's nothing he can say or do to change this fact. No scars will change it, new or old, no amount of glitching, no matter what he forgets...

"You're quite something, Ambrose. Thank you."

[amicably-absent.livejournal.com]

He gives a small huff of amusement, a blush and he looks away. "You're the first person to say that and not be talking about my inventions of my martial training."

[less-hugging.livejournal.com]

"Doesn't make it any less true." He squeezes his fingers a last time before letting go, in case Ambrose wants to get back to his coffee or his cobbler.

He'll certainly have a large bite, himself. Then, thoughtfully, "I guess it's true what they say..."

[amicably-absent.livejournal.com]

Ambrose goes for his coffee, sipping it. He looks over, trying to resist and unable to. "What's true that whom says?"