amicably_absent

Ambrose waits tensely. He paces for a while, strokes the case a bit, hand trembling slightly against the glass.

He eventually pulls his gloves and face shield back on and goes back to his welding, trying to ignore Seek's heavy gaze and sad look, his emotions clear under his mask to the Viewer.

He's sort of scared what he might know. They both are. But he can submerge himself in work.

He doesn't notice when they come in, foot braced on a new piece of metal and taking to it with a circular saw.

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Neither of them say anything when they enter the room, not wanting to distract the engineer when wielding such a lethal tool. One after the other give their silent nod of greeting to Seek, and only when it looks as though Ambrose is done with the saw, Jeb clears his throat softly. Wyatt's eyes go from the tank and to his lover and back again. Restlessness given silent voice, making Seek's skin twitch.

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Ambrose finishes cutting through, kicking the metal off with a hard, sharp kick and then looking up. "I'm sorry, I didn't realise... Hello again." He turns off the saw and removes the gloves and mask, leaving the heavy leather apron on. "Jeb told you... Yes, of course he did." Pause. "Of course he did."

He goes back towards the tank, the glitch not noticed.

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Father and son exchange glances, and Jeb's the one to give him a push forward. They walk side by side to the tank, but keep a polite distance to it.

Best give Seek and Ambrose some space to work.

His heart's hammering in his chest. By the pinched look on Jeb's face, so is his.

"...Ambrose?"

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"Yes?" He looks back over his shoulder as Seek steps up to him, ready to connect him up to the tank.

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"Love you."

That's all.

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He smiles at Wyatt and closes his eyes, waiting for the moment that Seek's hand touches his face.

He never remembers how it feels. It hits him, almost like sex, a rush and thrill and shock like cold water, making him gasp and inhale deeply, head falling back as thoughts starts to form, memories rush and he fells the broken pieces sliding together in his mind.

He tips his head back down, opening his eyes to look at them.

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"Ambrose..." Jeb says, both reluctantly excited and nervous. "Do you remember my mother? You seem so certain sometimes, that I remind you of her."

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"I knew an Adora," he says quietly. "I can only presume it was her. She worked in a bakery with her father. I would spend my lunch times in there sometimes, though usually I only had time to pick up something before returning to the academy. She had blond curls and dark eyes and would laugh that I needed to eat more of her bread and less of her father's pastries, to put some hair on my chest." He looks to Wyatt, alert and focused.

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It's an old joke, but it still makes Wyatt smile through the lump of emotion in his throat. He meets Ambrose's eyes, and nods affirmation. "That's my girl."

Beside him, Jeb is quiet.

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Ambrose leans back against the tank, looking down for a moment before up again. "We would talk while my order was being made, or if I stayed and ate there, when I didn't have work pressing on me. I was young then, and when I started to work with Anoria, I had to stop my visits. I can't even remember if she was there the last few times I went. It was many years ago."

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"She must've been my age..." Jeb whispers, and just seconds later, Wyatt's arm squeezes around his shoulder.

"No. But I was. All my classmates at the TMA laughed at me for gushing over an older woman, but I didn't care. I'd never met anyone like her. She was intelligent, and witty, and nothing at all like the floozies the other guys went after."

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"She scared off my first boyfriend," Ambrose sighs. "I do remember that. Standing at the counter with her as she casually interrogated him and then, when he left, told me I was too good for him. She was right," he adds with a smile. "But you don't really expect your baker to say those things."

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"Yeah..." Jeb says quietly, just a notch above a whisper. "She had a way of speaking her mind. Got her in trouble more often than not, but at least you knew you could count on her to be honest with you. Even if the truth hurt, she'd tell it."

Wyatt swallows beside him, smiling sadly. "I know someone else like that. Means well enough, but he's blunt as an old knife sometimes."

Jeb nods, and feels heat rush to his face with the sinking gut feeling that Wyatt knows why he came here in the first place. "Yeah... I got that from her, I guess. But she was better at words, though. Subtle, like. She knew subtle like I don't."

"You'll learn, son. Don't worry about it."

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Ambrose watches them, quiet and focused, noble and somber despite the Viewer touching his face.

By the time they finish, he's been handed a notebook and is making frantic notes, leaning on the glass for stability, working with Ambrose's focus and Glitch's frantic, mad cap inspiration.

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They watch, two pairs of blue eyes watching the pen rasping away at the paper, wondering what's going on. Neither dare say anything, not wanting to distract Ambrose.

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He pauses eventually. Seek is looking giddy, perhaps overwhelmed by the flow of information that he's being forced to accept and transmit. He looks up again. "Seek, you can go. I don't want you hurting yourself, please."

Seek nods and glances to the other two to see if there's anything else he's needed for before breaking the connection.

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Jeb shakes his head silently, smiling gratefully at the old Viewer. They're good.

He gets pretty much the same expression from Wyatt. They've heard enough. "Thanks, Seek. It's very good of you to help out."

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Seek steps back. Ambrose slumps, sliding to the floor, gaze vacant and hollow as he leans back against the tank like a puppet with cut strings.

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It's a reflex, or feels like it, when both Cain men surge forward in alarm. Wyatt gets there first, wrapping his arm around Ambrose's shoulder and cradling his head with his hand, but Jeb's just a step behind him, checking his pulse with gentle fingers to the inside of his wrist.

"Ambrose?"

"Sweetheart?"

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He's breathing steadily and his heart rate is just perfectly fine. His fingers twitch and half close on Jeb's wrist, blinking without his eyes refocusing. He swallows, lips parting and sighing softly.

He closes his eyes. His hand keeps holding loosely to Jeb's wrist as he pulls everything back together. "I few a just moments need." He makes a frustrated sound. "Glitching."

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"It's okay. Take all the time you need," Wyatt murmurs softly, meeting his son's eyes over Ambrose's head. If he looks anything at all like Jeb, stricken and pale with worry, he doesn't want Ambrose to see it.

He breathes deeply, telling himself everything's fine. It's just a glitch.

"Hey, Ambrose, d'you need anything? Like, water or something?" Jeb asks.

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Ambrose opens his eyes, managing to focus on Jeb with a slightly withering look that seems to be asking how he's meant to express if he does and how to ask for it, but it softens when he takes in how pale and upset Jeb is. He squeezes his wrist and pats it slightly, closing his eyes again. "Okay be will I, always happens this."

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He cringes at the look, very probably realizing his mistake. "Okay. Good. Just...relax, all right? We've got you covered."

He doesn't know that Wyatt's worry is swiftly turning into fatherly pride.

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