Author's Note: I'm finally back with some post-Kessel Run content! (Although technically I wrote a large chunk of this during the Kessel Run Challenge but didn't get around to finishing it until a few days ago. :P )
This ficlet takes place during Part Three of Between the Moon and the Stars, right before the scene where Dorian returns from his clandestine piano lesson with Allana...
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That Which He Close Concealed
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It was nearing midnight, and Veeran Starskip was still awake.
He didn't usually have any trouble falling asleep. By the time his work was done and his last meal was eaten, he was ready to collapse onto his bed and pass into a deep and typically dreamless sleep that only the first light of day or the bells of the village church could rouse him from. And yet, here he was, wide awake and staring up at the slanted ceiling of his room above the stable, wondering just what sort of mess his brother had gotten himself into.
He'd known Dorian wouldn't call it off, so he wasn't exactly surprised when his twin said he was going out for a few hours and to not wait up for him. It had only been a matter of time, and when the baronet's carriage had passed by the stable yard without Miss Solo in it… well, it didn't take any great intellect to put those pieces together.
Veeran glanced over at Dorian's bed with its precisely folded sheets – the doctor had always insisted on precision, hadn't he? – and he sat up with a heavy sigh, running both hands over his face. The truth would get out sooner or later, and they would both be dismissed, and then where would they go? Certainly not anywhere around here. Would they wander the countryside like vagabonds, begging for work? Or would they return to London, to the only life they'd known?
God in heaven, he didn't want to go back. Maybe Dorian could handle it; Dorian had always been good and noble-hearted and brave. But Veeran wasn't any of those things, he only ever pretended to be. It was only here in this place – this quiet, happy, untainted place – where he'd begun to think there might be anything more to him than mayhem and muck and noise, or that there was even a chance he could start over. If he was forced to leave here… if he had to go back to being— to surviving…
He laid both arms across his knees and stared at a patch of moonlight on Dorian's bed. A few hours and a quiet house and a beautiful girl. He wasn't jealous. He wasn't, even if he sometimes wondered what would have happened if it were him in the alley that day instead of Dorian. Would she have favored him with that same soft smile? Would he have wanted that? Would he be acting as mad as his brother if he thought there was even the slightest chance…
No, he knew his place, and it wasn't for him to reach so high, no matter how prettily she smiled or how sweet she was with the horses. It wasn't anything more than a passing fancy besides, and he knew better than to believe otherwise, or to jeopardize what he and Dorian had here by being so reckless.
Oh, but that thought stung. It stuck in his gut like a knife and twisted. After everything they'd been through, his twin was willing to risk their one chance at happiness for a girl he barely knew, a girl he would never, ever be able to keep. And what's more, he didn't care that he was going to drag Veeran down with him.
He wanted it all to go away. He didn't want to feel this way anymore, losing what little control of his life he had left, afraid and jealous – fine, he was jealous – and ashamed of it all. He wanted… dammit, he didn't know what he wanted; he only knew that he couldn't go back to the life he'd lived before. He wouldn't go back.
He let out a bitter laugh despite himself and rubbed a hand over his face. After everything they'd been through… but what right did he have to begrudge Dorian anything? Who had stood as a shield between Veeran and the doctor, right from the beginning? He might not have come out of it completely unscathed, but he knew how much worse it could have been.
Veeran bowed his head in his hands and ran his fingers through his hair. He owed his brother everything. His life, his sanity… he knew how close he'd been to losing them both, and there were still times when he wondered…
A faint creaking met his ears, the sound of someone climbing the stairs. Veeran sat up straight on the edge of the bed and tried to drag every wayward thought into submission. There were some things Dorian didn't need to know about him, not now and maybe not ever. Veeran was no shield – he was a blunt instrument, always had been, an effective if imprecise tool – but he could manage a secret or two if it meant sparing his brother even more pain.
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