Ginn Hale - Wicked Gentlemen

"Don't even think about it, Belimai." Harper shook his head. "Do you think I could stand it if—"

"If what? If you finally got rid of a pathetic junkie? That would be a shame, wouldn't it?"

"No. You know that isn't how I think of you."

"Weren't you just accusing me of going out to find a fix? Wasn't that you, Captain Harper?" Belimai forced his mouth into a smile, trying to look as if he took pleasure in proving his point. "You know, you're not fooling anyone but yourself. You know I'm trash. You wouldn't have a use for me any other way, would you? You need some crust of Prodigal shit to rescue so you can feel like a savior. So you can sacrifice yourself. Who knows, if you could get yourself killed, someone might even decide to make you a saint."

Harper opened his mouth to tell Belimai that he was wrong, but Belimai went on in a rush.

"Well, fuck you!" Tiny rivulets of blood seeped from Belimai's eyes. "I don't want to be saved. I don't want you to be my personal martyr. I'm going to turn myself in and save you."

"You can't." Harper's words came out in a tight whisper. He swallowed and felt as if he were drinking shattered glass.

"Like hell I can't." Belimai snatched up one of his shoes and looked around to find the other. "We'll see how you like being the reason a man loses everything, you perfect bastard. Where is my goddamn shoe?"

"It won't do me any good if you turn yourself over," Harper said quietly. "The Inquisition isn't after you anymore. They never were. You just fit the description of the Prodigal they needed. They found someone else."

Belimai stood there, caught in a paralyzed flux of rage and uncertainty. At last he hurled his shoe at Harper. The heel smacked across the corner of Harper's shoulder. He hardly registered the blow.

"I'm sorry, Belimai." Harper sat back down on the edge of the bed. "They arrested Sariel when they couldn't find you."

"They took Sariel?" Belimai asked quietly.

"There are only a few of you in the entire city who can fly, and the Inquisition only has records of you and Sariel. It was bound to be one or the other of you."

"So once they had Sariel, I no longer mattered. You aren't in trouble for hiding me?" Belimai asked.

"That first night was dangerous, but after that, no." Harper wanted to say something more, but all that came out were cold statements of fact. He sounded like he was giving a court testimony.

"Why were those two captains looking for you?" Belimai crossed his arms over his chest. "Have you found a new lost cause? Your sister, your brother-in-law, some bad dog?"

Harper leaned down to where his wet coat lay in a heap. He dug through the pockets and pulled out the papers he had stolen. He handed them to Belimai.

"I'm not the good Inquisitor that you like to imagine me to be, Belimai."

"No?" Belimai glanced between the papers and Harper. "Aren't you the man who wants to redeem every living Prodigal?"

"No." The slicing pain in Harper's throat cut his voice to a thin breath. "I've never wanted to redeem you. I wanted to join you."

Belimai's brow wrinkled. Harper knew Belimai couldn't understand how he could want such a thing. For Belimai, Prodigal blood was nothing but a curse. Belimai looked down at the papers as if he could find an explanation there. He read intently. Harper watched Belimai's frown deepen into a scowl. At last, Belimai folded the confessions and handed them back to Harper.

"Have you done any of these things?" Belimai asked.

"No. I've broken my vows and I've lied, but I didn't murder Lord Cedric's niece or her maid. The Brighton abbot drummed up these charges to protect a friend of his from investigation. He had the one witness to the crime killed. Now I'm the only thing left in the way of a smooth prosecution."

"Sariel's prosecution?" Belimai clarified.

"Yes."

"I suppose you refused to get out of the way. What am I saying? Of course you refused." Belimai shook his head. "You really are a damn saint, aren't you?"

"No, I'm not. I'm not even close. I've done mindless, stupid things." Harper closed his eyes for a moment. "I'm sorry I accused you of going back to ophorium. I should have known you never would."

"I've always kept myself so clean before." Belimai smirked. "I probably would have lost my nerve halfway to Brighton, in any case."

"No," Harper said softly, almost to himself. He knew Belimai wouldn't have. He hadn't lost his nerve when Scott-Beck had sliced him open. It had taken trained Confessors months just to get a single name from him.

"And you have the audacity to accuse me of being a martyr," Harper said.

"I shouldn't have said that." Belimai bowed his head.

"It would have come out sooner or later." Harper shrugged.

"No." Belimai reached out and touched Harper's shoulder. "I only said it to hurt you. I wanted to make you feel as bad as I did." Belimai smiled. "It's my own little way of sharing what I have with you. Aren't you lucky?"

"I think I am." Harper almost winced at his own words. He sounded like a stumbling fool. "If you had gone to the Inquisition, Belimai...I don't know what I would have done."

Harper felt suddenly horrified at how close he had just come to losing Belimai. If he hadn't woken up when he did, Belimai would have simply slipped out the door and never have come back. The thought of such a loss tore deep into Harper's chest, like a physical pain. He wanted to tell Belimai how much it hurt him. He wanted to find the words that would convey just how desperately he yearned to keep Belimai's company. All that came to his mind were the fumbled first attempts of his youth, just a string of jumbled sounds whispered into his pillow. In the intervening two decades he had taught himself to say even less. The practice of silence and evasion was no longer an effort; it was his nature. He had spent too many years distancing himself from direct honesty, and now that he wanted to find the words to make his confession, he couldn't.

Harper caught Belimai's hand gently and pulled him closer.

"Do you remember the first time we slept together?" he asked.

"Yes." Belimai frowned slightly at the change of subject. "You were so drunk I'd be surprised if you did, though."

"I remember the morning after," Harper went on. "You wanted to make sure that I didn't harbor any romantic inclination toward you. I assured you that I didn't."

"I remember." Belimai watched him intently, as if the next words Harper said might cause the floor to collapse beneath them both.

"I may have lied," Harper admitted after a moment.

The change in Belimai's expression was fractional. The corners of his mouth curved up only an increment. His thin, black eyebrows lifted just a breath. It was only the slightest smile, but there was an open, joyful honesty to it that Harper had never seen in Belimai before.

"I'm glad to hear that," Belimai replied. He dropped down on to the bed beside Harper and leaned against him. The heat of Belimai's body soaked through the chill of Harper's clothes. Harper wrapped his arms around Belimai, taking comfort in the simple sensation of holding him.

"Harper?" Belimai asked after several minutes.

"Yes?"

"What's that in the bed?" Belimai pointed to where the crushed remains of a golden pastry lay pressed between two folds of the blanket. Harper laughed. He had forgotten about the butter pastries Morris had given him. It felt like that had happened days ago.

"My breakfast. There should be another one around here somewhere."

"I see." Belimai picked the pastry up. He examined its stiff, flattened form for a moment, then took a bite.

"A little stale, but still edible." Belimai held it out to him. "Hungry?"

"I don't suppose there would be anything else to eat here, would there?" Harper asked.