Disclaimer: Dishonored does not in any way belong to me, it's the property of Arkane Studios, etc.
Written for stillupsetoverlegacy on tumblr for Fugue Feast in July.
this was no accident
Thomas wakes up on the rooftop of the Chamber of Commerce under Rulfio and a new recruit that he recognizes only by the grey of their uniform.
The last thing he remembers is finding an unconscious Whaler - the new recruit currently resting on top of the heap, perhaps? He had been about to raise the alarm when someone (Corvo, probably) had wrapped unexpectedly strong arms around his neck and choked him out.
Daud, Thomas thinks, panic flashing through him. He starts to struggle out from beneath the other men, but a chunk of roofing crumbles near his head and he freezes. The section the three of them are resting on is rather small, and it's not a short drop either way.
Rulfio doesn't stir when Thomas shakes his shoulder, though he does grunt and raise his head when Thomas punches him in the arm, hard.
"Help me move this guy," Thomas orders.
Rulfio shifts, kneeing Thomas in a very painful place as he tries to get his bearings.
"Watch it," Thomas hisses, wincing.
"That's Aedan," Rulfio says belatedly, his words slurred.
"Fine," Thomas says, "help me move Aedan." Usually he can pick out a Whaler's identity with ease, but lacking such cues as voice or body language, he has more trouble, especially because this is one of the newer recruits. Rulfio has no such problem, since he's in charge of training everyone.
"What the hell happened?" Rulfio mutters, standing slowly. He's got one arm wrapped around Aedan's chest, under the unconscious man's arms, though he sways slightly. He raises his other hand to the back of his neck and plucks an empty sleep dart out with a grunt a moment later.
That explains the relative sluggishness, Thomas thinks sourly as he climbs to his feet. His back was resting on an uneven section of the roof and protests loudly, but apart from that, and some lingering soreness around his neck, he doesn't appear to be harmed.
"Attano, I think," Thomas says, glancing around. They're over Daud's office which- makes sense, given that Rulfio had been training someone on the floor below and Thomas had been watching the walkway outside Daud's office.
"I didn't even see the bastard," Rulfio says, annoyed.
No one had; the scout reporting the situation at the Greaves Refinery had claimed none of the sentries had seen Corvo either.
"Here, I'll get him down," Thomas offers, bodily taking Aedan's weight before Rulfio can reply. He transverses down to the floor and lays Aedan there; the novice doesn't stir at all, apart from the steady rise and fall of his chest.
There's blood on the floorboards, still tacky; Daud and Corvo must have fought.
"Thomas," Rulfio calls from outside. He's crouching behind a crumbled wall on the tenement building opposite; there's an impressive bloodstain there when Thomas transverses over to join him.
"Do you think-" Thomas stops. The thought of Daud being dead is almost too much to consider. He drops down to some rubble just above the waterline; nothing besides hagfish and garbage appears in his void gaze, however.
There's the possibility, of course, that Daud's body is simply- gone. Thomas doesn't want to consider that either. Corvo's shown mercy to each of his targets before this; even Burrows. Why would he change his methods now?
Apart from the fact that he's been betrayed twice now.
"I don't see him," Rulfio says, appearing at his side.
There is no question of the blood being Corvo's; both Thomas and Rulfio are high enough in Daud's confidence to know that he had no intention of killing the former Royal Protector. Thomas had backed Daud completely on that matter, though Rulfio had been more interested in the impressive bounty the new Lord Regent was offering for Corvo's head.
Someone steps onto the grating above them and a masked face peers down. "Rulfio?"
Rulfio waves a hand. "One moment, Aedan," he calls. He turns back to Thomas. "I assume you want to look for Daud?" he asks in an undertone.
Thomas nods. He should stay behind to- take charge of things, find the rest of the Whalers and figure out the extent of the damage but his thought remain fixated on Daud.
"I'll coordinate things here, then," Rulfio says. He tilts his head and Thomas can just imagine the smirk; can hear it in the other man's voice when Rulfio adds," No need to thank me."
Thomas frowns, the leather of his gloves creaking from how hard he clenches his fists. He doesn't appreciate Rulfio's posturing. "Fine," he says shortly. "I'll start at the Refinery and work my way up from there."
Rulfio nods; a moment later, he's gone. His voice carries down from the top floor, confidently issuing orders to Aedan.
Thomas transverses to the top of the collapsed wall blocking the mouth of the road, then sets off for the Station and the Refinery beyond.
He finds Daud in an abandoned apartment near the top of an equally deserted building on the edge of the Flooded District. The pathetic cries of weepers shambling in the street below drift up, just audible through the broken window.
Thomas had discovered several fresh bloodstains in various high places, exactly the spots someone with a strong grasp of transversals would use from one jump to the next. He'd passed a few unconscious Whalers as well, but he'd stopped only to check if they were in a secure location before continuing his search.
Daud doesn't look up when Thomas drops into the room, his concentration absorbed by the unsteady stitches he's putting over an impressive gash in his side. The sheet covering the sofa is stained with blood, which continues to leak from the wound.
Thomas stands in front of the window, his hands twitching at his sides. He wants nothing more than to go to his master's side and take over, but he is not certain of his welcome.
"Do you need help, sir?" Thomas asks; hopefully any strange notes in his voice will be distorted by his mask.
Daud does glance over than, his mouth twisted in pain; what catches Thomas' attention, however, is the bleak look in his eyes.
"Suit yourself," Daud says, and Thomas transverses over immediately. He kneels carefully beside Daud, tugging off his gloves before he has the chance to think about it. He removes his mask as well; there's no point in hiding his identity now, and the lenses hinder his vision at this distance.
"Drink this," Thomas says, pressing his last vial of Elixir into Daud's empty hand before carefully taking the needle from him.
"I'm not going to catch the plague," Daud says, but he tilts his head back and swallows it anyway. Thomas drops his eyes from the line of Daud's throat and resolutely does not think about it as he carefully stitches the edges of broken skin together again.
The bleeding slows considerably after Daud doses himself, a fact for which Thomas is grateful. They sit in a silence that is not quite comfortable, broken only by Daud's laboured breathing and periodic, muffled sounds of pain. Thomas doesn't know what to say, and Daud offers no comments either.
"Is there anything else that needs tending, sir?" Thomas asks, leaning back after he finishes tying off the thread.
"No," Daud says, turning away. He rummages around in a battered med kit that Thomas hadn't noticed before and pulls out a length of bandage.
"You had time to grab a med kit, but not Elixir?" Thomas asks; the words come out more accusing than he intends but- the point stands.
Daud's mouth quirks into a wry smile. "The kit was already here. This is an old safe house."
"That's even worse, sir," Thomas says flatly.
Daud turns his head, stares at the dingy wall opposite. "I would think you of all people would understand losing value in your life."
Thomas inhales sharply, his hands clenching into fists. He barely registers the dull pain of fingernails digging into palms. "That-" Words fail him.
Daud glances at him sidelong. "I wondered what it would take to make you- angry with me."
Thomas frowns and takes the bandage from him. He focuses entirely on the task of wrapping Daud's wound. "You should have an actual medic look this over when we get back to the base, sir."
Daud doesn't say anything to that, and he doesn't meet Thomas' gaze when the Whaler looks up.
"... Sir?"
"You said you thought these were the last days," Daud says at length; his neutral tone offers no hint about what he thinks of that.
It's Thomas who looks away this time; he can feel his cheeks heating. He doesn't know what possessed him to leave his journal out for anyone to see.
"The only thing that interested you was Delilah," Thomas says. "She was- a formidable opponent. I don't care about what happened to her," he adds. "It just seemed as if you were- finished. With us, and Dunwall. As if Delilah was the final act before- well, I don't know, but Brigmore was the end."
Thomas was mistaken about that, at least; Corvo's apparent decision to spare Daud feels like the end. All the same, Thomas will follow Daud wherever he intends to go, if Daud will let him.
Daud tilts his head back; in that moment, he looks so much older than his years, the lines of his face deepened with exhaustion. "I'm leaving Dunwall."
Thomas- isn't surprised. "Where are we going?"
Daud looks at him then, startled. "What do you mean?"
Thomas sits back, wishing for the anonymity of his mask in that moment; he settles for crossing his arms. "I'll be coming with you, sir," he says. "And I'm sure some of the other men will as well." He adds, "If you'll have m- us," a bit self-consciously when Daud just stares at him.
"I'm leaving the Whalers," Daud says. "You can't come with me."
Thomas frowns. As far as refusals go, that certainly wasn't as strong as it could be. Daud looks more bemused than anything. "If you're leaving us, then you don't have the authority to forbid me from going with you."
Daud's looking at him in open disbelief now. "You could lead the Whalers. You're my second in everything but name."
"I don't want that," he says. He's content to serve Daud in any capacity, be that as lieutenant or a member of the rank and file, but he has no desire to lead the Whalers on his own. Perhaps he could; however, Thomas' methods tend more towards Daud's recent actions concerning Delilah than the more ruthless policies Daud had held in the past. He knows there are those among the Whalers who disagree with that, and Thomas doesn't care to hold together an outfit of killers who disagree with him.
Daud shakes his head. "Damn it, Thomas." He stands up suddenly, then winces. His hand presses against his side and he looks, for a moment, angry.
"Perhaps you should-" Thomas' suggestion of rest dies in his throat at the narrow look Daud sends him.
"We'll go back and settle this, then," Daud says, walking stiffly to his discarded shirt and coat.
Thomas occupies himself with tidying up the med kit, then pulling his gloves and mask back on. By the time that's done, Daud has managed to pull his shirt on and button it. He's struggling into his coat, swearing quietly as he does so.
"If you don't want m- us to come, you can just say," Thomas says. He stares at the wall when Daud looks at him, uncomfortable even behind the shield of his mask.
"I said we'd settle this," Daud says. "So stop moping, Thomas. We're going back now."
"Yes, sir."
Daud nods, once, then walks over to the window with only a slight limp. He stops for a moment, then transverses.
Thomas casts a glance back at the room and spots a bloody blade discarded in the corner. Daud is already several buildings away, but Thomas notices the lack of sword at his side immediately.
After a moment's hesitation, he carefully picks up Daud's sword. It shouldn't feel any different than any other Whaler blade, but it seems heavier in Thomas' hand all the same.
He steps up onto the windowsill and transverses, following Daud as he has for the past six years and as he plans to do for as long as he can.