2004 Vienna, Austria
Seated in the black leather chair, LaCroix leaned over and scrutinized the positions of the chess pieces on the board next to him. The game had begun the previous night and was to be finished tonight, the victor deciding which concert they would attend next. LaCroix stroked his finger across his lower lip as he barely smiled; Nicholas apparently wanted to be the one to choose, and the aggressive moves across the board reflected that. The leather squeaked as he leaned back. The evening was approaching, and soon his son would awaken and come to him. LaCroix found he was slightly unnerved by that prospect, but he had delayed this particular moment long enough and had decided tonight he would discuss with his son something that should have been done long before now. The muffled sound of shoes walking on carpet announced that Nicholas had finally entered the study and LaCroix mentally prepared himself for what could happen.
Grinning in amusement, Nick dropped into his chair next to the gameboard. "Getting a little nervous about the outcome?"
LaCroix was momentarily startled before realizing Nicholas was referring to the game, not to his inner musings. His lips turned up into a quick smirk as he negligently glanced at the chessboard. "I already know how this particular game will end."
Nick intently studied his maker, sensing some distress through their mental link. It wasn't typical for LaCroix to be anxious about a chess game, especially one he actually would most likely win. Nick looked down at the board. "Then should we resume?"
"Perhaps later." Under Nicholas' concerned gaze, LaCroix rose out of his chair and headed over to the desk. Opening the lowest drawer, he pulled out a medium-sized lidded wooden box. He closed the drawer and, holding the box close, headed back to stand in front of his son.
"Is everything alright, LaCroix?"
LaCroix took a deep breath. "I think you would agree that the current state of our relationship is better than it has been in a very long time."
Wondering what his sire was doing, Nick leaned back in the chair. "I would agree with that," he replied, matching his tone to LaCroix's.
"I have something for you," LaCroix solemnly spoke as he placed his hand on the lid of the box. "I have had this for a while but did not know if I should give it to you."
Nick glanced apprehensively at the box. "What is it?"
LaCroix handed the box to Nicholas, then returned to his chair. Nicholas, he noted, simply held the box in his hands, staring at it. Eventually, without opening it, his son looked back up at him. "This is something," LaCroix explained, "from one of our most acrimonious times together. I am fully aware of what memories this will bring up." He looked down, then forced his hand onto the armrest, unaware he had been rubbing the spot where Nicholas had impaled a burning stake into his chest. "However, I think you should have it now."
Nick tentatively returned his attention to the box. Slowly, he lifted up the hinged lid. Peering within, he found the inside lined in red velvet and, lying on its side, a dark jade cup restored in a kintsugi style. He carefully reached into the box to touch the item. He ran his fingers delicately over the smooth stone surface and felt the repairs where the broken pieces had been mended back together. He followed the seam lines, visible with their golden hue, and lingered over areas where patches of gold had been used to replace missing jade fragments. Nick quickly looked back up at LaCroix. "Is this …."
"It is," LaCroix confirmed. "I gathered all the pieces I could find off the floor of the abattoir, and kept them for years before repairing it." He watched as Nicholas looked into the box again.
"Why did you keep this?"
The sympathetic tone Nicholas had used to ask the question was a relief; LaCroix had expected anger. As for the question itself, he considered his reasons for keeping the fragments. Initially, it was out of spite, but later morphed into a reminder of how close he had come to completely losing his son. Keeping such thoughts to himself, LaCroix chose another answer. "I suppose," he slowly answered, "to remind myself that something so broken could still be mended and function, and that it should not be forgotten that a repair had needed to be performed."
Nick gently closed the lid on the box. He knew this was the closest LaCroix would ever come to saying that he was sorry.
"Well, it is yours now. You can do what you want to with it."
Nick brought his gaze up to his sire. "You do realize what this means."
"Such mystical nonsense of course," LaCroix propounded as he quietly tapped the band of his ring on the armrest, confident that this ritual, like so many other purported cures his son chased after, would not work. But alas, he knew his Nicholas very well. "However, if that is what you still wish to attempt now that you have the pair of cups …."
Nick rose out of the chair, placing the box carefully on the seat. He moved a few steps in order to stand directly in front of LaCroix, who was now standing as well. He enveloped his maker while making their mental link vibrate with gratitude. "Thank you for at least letting me try."
