Song is by McFly.

TW: attempted suicide*, ableism/sanism, anti-Rromany racism referenced, unreality, psychosis, violence, captivity.

*I REALLY want to emphasis the attempted here. I promise the character in question is okay. I could not make myself go through with it! (Also, like I said, I don't actually want any deaths from this storyline, at least as direct results of the bigotry.)

Konata (ko-NA-ta) means 'known' in Esperanto, and is pluralized as Konataj (KON-a-tie), with adjective form Konatač. (KON-a-tatch)

~44~

Who is your lover? I couldn't tell
When hell freezes over, that's when I'll tell
Who is your lover? I couldn't tell, when will this stop?
we're sorry but your majesty
the boy is vermin, can't you see
we'll drown his sins in misery
and rip him out of history

-Transylvania

There were a lot of things people didn't know about ciganoj. For starters, people usually called them ciganos, butchering it into an Amestrian word. It made Maes wince every time he heard it. The other thing was that cigano was, honestly, kind of a rude word. It wasn't terrible; he'd been accused of having fleas or being a thief enough times that the word cigano just became a handy descriptor. The four groups had plenty in common, but their own word – Konataj – had gotten used less and less.

The other thing about ciganoj, or Konataj, or whatever you wanted to call them, was that not all of the accusations of thievery and fortune-telling were wrong. Obviously, if gadjos brought it up, Maes would insist that he was the pinnacle of good citizenry. But his first way of providing for his family had been pickpocketing, and locks had been the obvious next step.

Maes kept checking the door. The problem was that Pride didn't have a regular schedule. He mostly showed up whenever he felt like it, and kept him… mostly fed. Honestly, he suspected that Pride wasn't trying to psych him out or anything like that, and simply just forgot that humans needed to eat sometimes, but it would be insanely stupid to take the young mask at face value. Still, Pride got careless when he was angry. That was how Maes had managed to get the fork.

"Come on," he whispered. "I'm gonna miss my kid's birthday at this rate."

With a click, the manacles finally gave way. Thank god. The lock on the door was going to be easier for sure. No awkward twisting required. He still approached it carefully, the twisted metal of the fork in his hand held up just in case the door opened on him. No sign of movement. He was good to go.

He wasn't sure what he'd be returning to, even if he made it out of here. A month or two wasn't that long in the grand scheme of things, but Pride had been clear on one thing – the world outside thought he was dead.

Maes sighed, hesitating with his work long enough to lean his head against the metal door. He'd just been at the library. Elysia was so young, she might not even understand what had happened, but Gracia…

If I make it out of here, we're having more kids. I'll deal with it, but I want a big family. At least a sibling for Elysia. He paused, then changed the phrase. When I make it out of here. Pride couldn't keep him locked up forever.

There was a click, and Maes held his breath, testing the door. It swung open, and he let the breath hiss out through his mouth. Thank god. He'd been ready to chew himself out of the manacles.

There was light outside the door. On the upside, that meant he'd be able to navigate. But it also made him visible. Slowly, holding his breath again and crouching close to the floor, he pushed the door open inch by inch and indexed what he could see.

Burnished wood floor. The same as inside this cell, just slightly better kept, although there were planks missing and others starting to curl upwards at the edges. Other doors much like this one – which was a little worrying – but no sign of activity around them. Maes thought he could see dust on some of the handles, actually, which seemed like a good thing. The light outside came from somewhere high up, and still moving carefully, Maes slid out of the cell doorway, looking upwards with a hand to shade his eyes. The ceiling of the prison area had rotted or broken away, and there was obvious crawlspace between it and the floor above before the floor itself showed its jagged edges. Through the hole, he could just make out the outline of a chandelier high above it all.

Maes slid the fork into his sleeve, gently eased the cell door shut, and forced his heartbeat to slow with a few deep breaths. Alright. So he was in a probably-abandoned building. Where exactly he was beyond that, he had no idea.

He grimaced, rotating his shoulder a few times. The bullet-wound had mostly healed, but it still hurt. He just counted himself lucky that Pride had decided not to kill him. A bit of discomfort seemed a small price to pay for that. Then he looked around for a door or stairs, anything that would get him away from the cell block, or whatever it was.

-There. To his right. He opened the wooden door, and looked up and down the narrow stairs, before he made his way up them.

"Oh, Pride isn't going to be happy."

He swivelled around, halfway up the steps. The little girl had definitely not been there a moment ago. She leaned against the wall of the landing, giving him a curious look. "You broke yourself out. Clever." She sauntered towards him – then stopped when he held out the fork.

"Don't think I'm stupid enough to take you at face value," he warned.

"…Hm. You're too clever." She gave him a sweet smile. "Well then, clever clogs, are you sure you want to leave?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean, haven't you been looking for Alex Elric?"

Maes froze. He didn't want to say yes, because this could still be a trick – but Will had said as much, hadn't he? Pride hadn't mentioned Alex once, and Maes had almost convinced himself that Alex was somewhere else entirely, that Pride had just been messing with Will's head. "Where is he?" he said after a moment, trying to make his heartbeat slow.

"He's perfectly safe! Don't worry! But…" The little girl pressed a hand to her cheek, looking ever so innocent. "That could change."

Fuck.

There's every chance she's lying. None of those other cells are in use. He sighed, relaxing his shoulders and trying to look like he was ready to hand himself over –

-And then he turned, and fled.


Will.

Everything was hazy. Nothing linked to each other. First there was one person with him, then two, and then nobody. Needles in his arms. Arm. Just one.

Will. Can you hear me?

Voices in his head. He was used to that. He didn't listen to them.

Will, it's me.

Don't listen to them. They're lying to you.

His arm. He pretended so well to be a normal person – no, that wasn't right. But he cloaked. He shielded. He needed his arm for that. He wanted to pretend he was whole.

Will, please.

And then, like magic, the haze began to clear. Not entirely. He still couldn't quite think in a straight line. But he remembered. He remembered –

Selim, he exhaled, or wanted to, but his mouth felt like it was sealed shut. The morphine wasn't helping with the hallucinations. They just kept coming and going. He hadn't had an episode this bad since –

-DIE DIE DIE-

-since Tucker. He'd lied. He'd told so many people he didn't mean to. He'd practiced it in his mouth until it felt right. Better that than admit that deep in it, deep in the state of mind he barely remembered, he'd known exactly what he was doing.

I don't think that's true.

Selim again. What are you doing? he asked.

I – think I figured out how to take on some of the effects on purpose. It's not like the other one, is it? Selim's thoughts were almost as cloaked in cotton as his were. I can't take anything else, though. Just the morphine.

Shit. Selim was trying to clear his head for him. It's not safe-

It's fine. I've got Pinako and Dad here with me. Pinako's keeping an eye on things.

Will suddenly felt the urge to laugh. He really hadn't thought King was going to believe Selim. But he supposed it wasn't the strangest thing Will had been responsible for. But – yeah, okay, this worked. He didn't like it. But it worked.

How are you feeling?

You don't have to ask me that, Will complained. You can tell just fine.

…Yeah, but… I still wanted to ask.

He tried to lift his arm, but it wouldn't move more than a few inches. He was tied down. Leather this time instead of metal. At least that was a nice change. His legs, too. And his other arm was…

Right.

Will, talk to me?

He couldn't. He knew the miasma of his thoughts was probably hard enough to deal with. And –

He didn't really remember how he'd gotten here. He remembered knocking over the chair he was tied to. He remembered slamming his feet against the door. He remembered –

Hawkeye. The woman who guards the Fuhrer.

Remembered her. Past that – nothing.

Solaris. He still hadn't seen Solaris. He might as well face it. She probably thought he belonged here. She wasn't entirely wrong.

It had been so long since the hallucinations had been this bad.

His line of sight shifted. Suddenly he could see King and Pinako, staring at him (not him) with deep concern. "Are you sure this is safe?"

"I – well, I don't really know. But I think it's just the mental thing? I don't think there are any drugs in my bloodstream."

"This has Hohenheim written all over it," Pinako grumbled. "This kind of alchemy stinks of him."

"I thought you liked him?" King asked.

"I mean, I did until he ran off on his family. But there's no avoidin' he was a bit of a nutcase."

Nutcase. Haha. Maybe that was where Will had gotten it. Selim didn't seem to know he was listening. That was strange.

"He's not really responding to me," Selim said sadly.

I'm trying, Will tried to say, or think, but the words kept interrupting each other, layered over each other. He hated this.

"Where is it he's being held?"

"Central Hospital, Ward One."

"Ooh." Pinako grimaced. "That's not good."

"What? Why?"

"Ward One's where they keep the dangerous ones. The criminally insane, I think is what they call it. I don't know what that scumbag Fuhrer is thinking, putting him in there. He doesn't belong there."

I don't belong anywhere, Will almost laughed. He belonged here just as much as Kimbley probably did. He wasn't even human. He didn't feel human. Humans didn't see themselves as monsters and almost like that more.

"Dad, isn't there – isn't there something you can do? Falman?"

Falman and King looked at each other. "If it wasn't the Fuhrer," Falman said anxiously. "But I'm not sure there's enough favours in the world to get him out of there."

"This'd be hard enough with a sane person," Pinako sighed. "It's a beast of a task when you're talkin' about somebody with real problems."

"But they don't care!" Selim's voice broke a little. "Will's been out of it, but he's been awake, which – you should hear how they talk about him, Dad, it's awful! Nobody's actually trying to help!"

Will closed his eyes. Selim sounded so hurt. There wasn't enough help in the world to fix him. He'd accepted that a long time ago. He'd just thought he could hide it. Function anyway.

Somebody was holding his hand. It stirred a ghost of a memory. He cracked his eyes back open, looking at Trisha through the haze of his eyelashes. "Mom."

Trisha smiled weakly. "It's going to be okay, honey. Just… be patient."

"You're just…" he licked his lips, "saying that because you're supposed to."

"Somebody should, shouldn't they?"

"I killed you."

"Nonsense. You don't still believe that, do you?"

He shrugged. It was hard to convince himself otherwise. Human transmutation was supposed to be impossible. He should have been able to tell himself that there was never a chance. But…

But he was supposed to be better. He was smart enough to pass the State Alchemist exam at twelve. He still couldn't fix what he'd broken.

There were voices again. Not in his head. Outside. Will struggled, trying to sit up. He could almost do it. Please, please, I need to be able to think –

And following on the heels of the thought, why?

No. Fuck that. He wasn't that far gone yet. He squeezed his hand until his nails cut into his palm. You're not allowed to fucking die. You'll end up dragging Selim with you. And you have a promise to keep. Alex. Alex was in trouble. Alex needed him.

Of course he doesn't need you. He said as much.

For a moment, Will had thought it was Selim, but it didn't sound like him. It was just his own thoughts, pulling him down under the surface again.

Think. Right before the transmutation. Before you bullied him into it (was it that simple? Izumi didn't think so-).

look what I can do

Alex probably didn't remember. It hadn't even been that much of a big deal. But he'd managed to push a late tree into blooming. Little tricks. He'd gotten all the cherry blossoms in his hair, and Will had snorted and helped him brush them out. Thick hair, not like Will's – like Trisha's, dense and wavy and full of life.

The door opened. Will took a deep breath and tried to clear away the debris.

Diana sagged in relief – a small gesture, in the fall of her shoulders, in the soft smile. "Thank goodness."

"As you can see, he's rather out of it. According to Kimbley, he's been like this since he came back from Forcett."

"And you trust Kimbley's testimony."

"Why shouldn't I?"

Diana stood next to the bedside, her hand sliding forward to brush against Will's fingers. "I don't understand why you would pardon him."

"Oh, nothing he's done is really worse than what's in your own ledger, is it?"

Bastard. Will felt Diana's fingers tense and pull back. They kept talking like he wasn't there. He tried to sit up again. "Kimbley can suck my dick," he growled, and his voice was so much more raspy than he thought it was going to be.

Mustang chuckled. "It appears he can speak again, at least."

"Never stopped," Will replied, but that wasn't entirely true. Even speaking now felt… wrong. Words too big for his mouth. "Where's Jareth?"

"Jareth? My, my. I didn't know the Lieutenant and Fullmetal were on first name basis."

"They usually aren't, but we're fairly lax with Fullmetal."

"Because of his condition?"

"Because he's a child, sir."

Stop calling me a child, he wanted to complain. But the words kept getting muddled up in his head. Wouldn't come out in the right order.

"Sir, could I have a moment alone with him?"

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," Mustang warned, voice stony.

"Fuhrer Mustang, sir, I doubt Kimbley's version of events considering his history, and Fullmetal has clearly been through something traumatic. I don't think you staring him down is helping!"

"I've let you have plenty of slack, Diana. I'll watch from the door. Happy?"

She wasn't, clearly. Neither was Will. He knew the Colonel well enough to know when something was wrong. She hadn't answered where Jareth was. But Mustang backed off to the door, and Diana shifted, ever so slightly, hiding her lips from Mustang.

"I need your help," she mouthed in barely a whisper. Then she said out loud, to cover it, "You've been called to testify at trial, Will. Are you up for it?"

Up for what? "I… don't understand. What trial?" He couldn't be going on trial for the murders of the soldiers in Forcett already.

Diana glanced back at Mustang. "Valjean is being court martialed for the death of M- Maes Hughes." She stuttered slightly over the name.

What?

What?

He jerked against the restraints. "He's not dead. I –" Then he paused. He hadn't heard a damn thing from Solaris since he'd left. "How long?" he hissed.

"…A little over a month," she replied.

Maes had died just after he'd left. All this time. All this time, he'd been trusting her. And she'd hidden it from him, right before sending a State Alchemist to report on her. "What is wrong with you?"

"Will, please, I-"

"Why wouldn't you tell me?"

"Will, don't get agitated-"

Before he could say anything else, Mustang had cut between him and Diana, shoving him back down onto the bed with surprising strength. The hand on his shoulder was almost bruising him. "I was worried about this exact thing, Diana. He's insane."

"He's not usually this-"

"This bad? Is that what you were going to say?" Mustang cut her off. "If you're trying to tell me that I should be fine with your life being threatened because it's an uncommon occurrence, then that says a lot on its own."

Will wanted Diana to defend him, to say something else. But she simply lowered her eyes, nodding. "I'm sorry, sir."

"If you still want him to testify, then I'm sure we can manage something. I'm just not sure how useful it'll be."

"You're right. At least now he knows, sir. He can tell us himself if he's up for it – when he's calmed down a little."

Will bit down on his tongue until he tasted blood. He shouldn't hurt himself more. He knew that. But –

They're claiming the Lieutenant killed Hughes? came Selim's horrified voice. That's impossible.

He was probably hallucinating. He'd been so desperate for Solaris to show up, thinking she would free him, take him out of here –

Mustang walked away, and Diana gave his retreating back a quick look before sliding… something under Will's pillow. Then she, too, turned away. So much for comfort. So much for a way out.

Will –

Jareth wouldn't. Not his best friend. He wouldn't. So he was imagining this. Just like with everything else. Maybe he'd wake up and still be at Izumi's. Maybe he'd wake up with all his limbs.

Will, I heard it too.

No. No, he wanted it to be a lie –

"STOP IT."

Will paused, and realized a few things at once. One, his heart was hammering against his ribs, and he was breathing faster than he'd thought. Two, Selim had yelled at him. Out loud.

"What do you suggest I do then?" he mumbled.

"I don't – I don't know. But convincing yourself that your life isn't real seems like a bad idea."

He'd already come half-convinced. But Selim… had a point. "I can't do anything. I can't do anything without my arm."

"So let's figure out how to get it."

Selim sounded so determined. Will switched back to internal. Okay, and then what?

"You break out."

And have the whole military after me. I'm accused of killing at least twenty soldiers, Selim. They're not gonna let me go that easy.

Selim subsided into silence for a moment, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Will could feel it in streaks of almost-pain on the inside of his mouth. He didn't mind. It was just strange. "Something's clearly going on. I don't really know the Colonel well but she's – I mean, if she could've, she'd have gotten you out of here right away."

The Colonel is also who cleared me first getting jabbed with morphine mid-episode.

"To stop you from shooting yourself," Selim shot back – then covered his mouth.

Great. Now King and Pinako were looking even more concerned. It was almost funny. I'd offer a comforting lie for them but I got nothing. Fine. If I'm such a danger, maybe I should be in here.

"And then what? You leave Alex with whatever creeps manipulated him? You abandon the Colonel?"

She abandoned ME.

"She had the Fuhrer over her shoulder, Will. I don't think –" Selim cut himself off. "Isn't it more likely that she couldn't do anything? Just like you?"

…That did make him pause. He kept falling into the same trap as always – seeing Solaris as infinitely capable, infallible, doing everything with purpose. But that wasn't true. She was smart, and savvy, but she wasn't infallible. When they'd fought, she hadn't been herself. And afterwards, she'd tried to overcorrect. She was – well, human.

I have to get more information. Somehow.

He felt the grin on Selim's face. "Testify at the trial."

What?

"You heard me. That's how you're gonna know what's at stake. You just have to –" Selim hesitated. "Well, uh, you have to pass for not crazy."

I'm not sure I have it in me. It was more vulnerable than he usually admitted to. He didn't like actually saying out loud how little control he had.

"Do you think I can help?"

Maybe? Yes, actually. I need you to be with me. Tell me what to say. You already know what I'm thinking. I need you to – to translate it. Make it sound right.

"I can do that. The next orderly that comes in, tell them that you're sorry, you've calmed down – oh, don't bristle like that, Will! You know it'll help."

I know, he grumbled. That didn't mean he liked it.

"Going off the schedule I've seen, you've got two hours. I have to rest or something, so I won't be – uh, actively around? I guess? But try to sleep, okay?"

Right. That wasn't going to happen. But…

He curled against the pillow. Selim was by his side, and he wasn't going anywhere. He kept doubting it, waiting for the other shoe to drop. But he wasn't alone.


Jareth had expected jail to be awful. That hadn't surprised him. But the part that he'd been… not exactly shocked by, but tremendously disappointed by, was how much the bailiff and the guards seemed to glory in having power over him.

He prodded at the bruise on his jaw, wincing. Cowards. None of them would have even be able to get near him if he wasn't cuffed.

"What happened?"

Amue was here. Lovely. "Oh, uh…"

She let herself into the cell. "Tell me the truth."

Stupid fucking lawyers. He wasn't sure he had the stomach for the whole truth – that one of the guards had whispered a threat in his ear, and that he'd lashed out and gotten the punch in response. That much was bad enough. The threat itself…

'Bout time somebody made a girl out of you.

Assholes. It shouldn't be getting to him. But he hadn't been able to sleep a wink, constantly listening for the jangle of keys. This was why Archer had gotten his bail denied. He was trying to punish him.

"One of the guards got a bit handsy," Jareth sighed. "I don't take well to strangers getting familiar."

"So you hit him, and he hit you."

"Yep."

"That's all?"

"Nah, I'm starting fights for fun while on death row," he snapped.

Amue crossed her arms, unimpressed. "You're not on death row. But I believe you. You don't have to be so defensive."

"Being called a fag every two minutes is liable to make anybody a bit jumpy."

Amue didn't look any more surprised than he'd been, but just as disappointed. "I see. I suppose it was too much to ask them to keep a civil tongue. Come on. We're due back in court."

"Yeah, yeah, I know."

"Your uniform's here. I'll be outside."

At least he'd feel a little more like himself. He waited until she'd ducked back outside of the cell door, bars closing behind her. Then he sat down, pulling the tank top out of the stack of clothes and shrugging it over his head. The jacket came next –

There was something in the breast pocket. Jareth glanced quickly outside, but Amue was alone. No guards or anything. He opened the little piece of paper.

I love you. -S

Oh.

He felt his cheeks light up, and tucked it back into his jacket pocket, unable to stop the embarrassed grin from spreading over his face. He wasn't sure he deserved Sheska. But damn if he wasn't glad he had her.

He just wished… oh, it wasn't her fault. He hadn't heard from Diana at all. He'd seen her, steely-faced in the back row. But he would have killed for just a moment with her.


Alex had been pleased to discover that there was a library almost as expansive as the one back in Dublith, here under the ground. Some of the books were a little worse for wear, but so many of them he'd never even seen before. And Envy was surprisingly good, if quiet company – he had a book of his own, but he was mostly petting Xiao Mei on his lap.

The problem was, even reading wasn't quite distracting him enough. "…Alphonse?"

"Mm? Yeah?"

"What can you tell me about Wrath?"

"Oh, she's cool. A little on edge, but being undercover will do that."

Undercover. He'd put that much together. He bit his lip, trying to figure out how to ask what he wanted to. "…Who's Greed?"

"Greed? Oh, well, he's even more undercover than Wrath is. You might not even meet him for a while." Alphonse sounded… nervous at that. Which meant there was every chance he was lying – or otherwise obfuscating the truth.

Alex was getting damn tired of being lied to. "You told me you were working against the military."

"We are. We just have help."

"Like Hawkeye – Wrath."

"Yeah." Alphonse offered him a smile, although it didn't quite reach his eyes. "The military screws up everybody who joins it. Even Hawkeye's a little, uh, rattly? Depends on the day, but still."

That much he could agree with. He doubted Will would ever have gotten so bad if he hadn't joined the military. Then again, he hadn't even talked to his brother for months now. Maybe his memory really was filling in the gaps with sweeter things.

There was the sound of a struggle from outside, feet slamming against the floor. Alex closed the book, moving towards the door –

Sloth appeared, face serious. "You'd better stay in here, kid."

"Who are you calling kid?"

"I mean it."

Alex shrugged her hand off – but then Envy was grabbing his wrist, shaking his head. Which meant they both knew what it was. He yanked his hand away. "I shouldn't have everything hidden from me. Stop it."

He threw open the door, and stepped out onto the balcony, looking down into the great hall. Somebody was running towards the great doors, somebody in rags – and as a shot rang out, he realized Hawkeye was firing.

Well, the least he could do was help. He jumped off the balcony, feet smacking into the ground with a shatter of wood – he'd fix it later – and pounced on the man, pinning him to the floor. "Okay, who are-"

He stopped, frozen. Hughes looked up at him with no recognition, struggling against his grip.

"H-Hughes?" His voice sounded like it was coming from far away. He wasn't sure he'd spoken at all. Except… Hughes wasn't fighting as strongly anymore.

"I know that voice," he said in confusion ."…Alex?"

"Hughes, what – what are –"

"No time. Let's go." Hughes hauled himself up, grabbed Alex by the hand and made another break for the doors, but a figure appeared at the entrance, blocking their way. A statue? No, it was moving –

The figure swung a fist at Hughes, knocking him clean over. Then it advanced on Alex, dark-blue skin rippling with muscle and fangs bared in a rictus of a smile. Then it spoke, fangs moving impossibly –

"I leave you incompetent fools to your own devices for barely a moment and you've got prisoners escaping."

"Call me incompetent again, Greed. Dare you," Sloth shot back, appearing behind Alex. "Alex, you should go –"

"Oh, so this is Alex." Greed came closer to him, leaning down and bringing his claws to Alex's chin, turning his head this way and that. "Hm. Not particularly impressive."

"We can't all be the Ultimate Shield, you prick."

"No, no, I know."

Sloth murmured to him again, "Alex, you really should go-"

"Why?" he asked.

Then, suddenly, Greed laughed. Hughes was struggling to his feet – Greed grabbed him in one hand, holding him by his throat above the floor. Even though Hughes was taller than Greed, he couldn't make any purchase on the diamond-hard skin, fingernails scrabbling and scratching at the clawed hand.

"What did Pride tell you? Hm? Something noble, I imagine."

"Alex-" Sloth sounded almost desperate. He hadn't really believed she had emotions.

"Pride and Envy told me that we were working against the military. But they also told me Hughes was dead."

"Interestingly," Greed sighed, "Pride told me the same thing. I'm not shocked. He always was a pushover. About Hughes, to be clear. The rest is nonsense."

Nonsense? He'd been confused, sure, but clearly he'd just been misunderstanding something.

"Sir," came Hawkeye's voice from behind him, "you should put Hughes down before you suffocate him."

Hughes was starting to look blue, his legs kicking less and less against the air. Greed didn't move a muscle. "Why? He's supposed to be dead. Might as well fix that."

"He belongs to Pride."

"Don't tell me about belongings, Wrath. But I suppose I've pissed him off enough lately." He dropped Hughes onto the ground, and there was a sickening snap as Hughes's ankle hit the ground before the rest of him. "See? Now he won't run away again."

Then Greed lowered his shield, normal human skin appearing from beneath the shield.

Alex took a step back – only to feel a gun pressing against the small of his back. Hawkeye. Of course. He should have guessed, really.

"You'll find, I think, that Pride might have an honest face, but he certainly doesn't have an honest tongue." Fuhrer Roy Mustang smirked at him, crossing his arms. "You'll get used to it."


Jean Havoc was supposed to be in the courtroom.

He was at home. He hadn't even left the house in… days. He had an idea, now, of how Jareth had basically ignored everybody for a month. It was easy.

The court summons was on the table in front of him. And right there, clear as mud, his name.

He was supposed to be in the courtroom.

To say what? To pretend Jareth wasn't queer? To say, simply, that he knew nothing about Maes Hughes's death?

He wasn't stupid. He knew what they were going to ask him. A month ago, it would have been fine. A month ago, he'd still known who he was. Just a normal guy. The kind of guy who chased skirts and doe-eyed girls, and never thought about much else.

It'll be okay, he tried to tell himself, downing another shot of gin. Just go. Just go and-

And be interrogated in front of everyone about his relationship with Jareth. And try and fail to lie. He wore his heart on his sleeve. Everybody knew it.

Jean rubbed his hands over his face, cheeks wet with tears. He wasn't going to be responsible for his friend's death. It was the only thing he could see in front of him – the absolute inevitability of it. He couldn't lie for shit, and definitely not to higher-ups. Not when he kept tasting Jareth's lips on his, the fear mixed with passion –

He poured himself a double shot of gin, and drank it in one go, the burn in his throat just giving him more clarity. Then he put the glass down on the coffeetable, resting over the piece of paper with his name, and picked up his gun.