The leaves of the oak rustled wistfully. Quirin sighed. It was another quiet day. Every day was quiet. Up high, birds gracefully danced between lazy rays of sunshine, while puffy clouds sprinkled the endless sky. Cumulus, his son had called them once.

With each step Quirin took, he felt the soft grass bend under his feet. His chest tightened. "What are you reading?" He asked into the blue.

A docile breeze toyed with Varian's hair as the boy looked up. For hours he'd been lost to the passing pages of the book in his lap. Next to him, Ruddiger yawned. Gently he pushed his head into Varian's pant leg, before rolling onto his back, letting the sun do his bidding. Like an overprotective bodyguard, the little trash-panda was never far.

"A book," the boy answered.

Quirin nodded and put a plate of apple slices down - it was funny how they always tasted better when someone took the time to cut them.

He watched Varian's eyes gaze impassive over the treat. There was a moment of silence. Quirin wasn't going to rush him. He knew if he was patient Varian would eventually offer further information. Still, it irked him. Varian was a chatterbox by nature. For God's sake, the child could talk before walk! However, recently he kept to himself, always a little confused and suspicious when expected to speak more than strictly necessary. It made Quirin's heart ache and his fist clench. At times he just wanted to scream, to shake him until, everything was back to normal - until the words would pour out of him, a mile per minute like they were supposed to. What is it about? Is it interesting? Would you recommend it? Do you like it? Do you hate it? How are you? What are you thinking? Please, talk to me!

"It's about languages," Varian pulled him out of his darkening thoughts.

"Ah, how come? Usually, you're all about science," Quirin accentuated his last word with a wacky hand gesture he'd seen Varian use on multiple occasions. Keep it light, keep it easy, keep it together, he reminded himself. Just a simple chat, that's all. Though nothing these days was simple. Of course, he didn't expect it to be all puppies and rainbows, however, it shouldn't be this hard. It never had.

A carefully crafted facade replaced Varian's familiar expressions. Uncertainty and distrust were the only things Quirin recognized. They locked eyes and the hair on his arms prickled. Never had Varian sized him up like that. He could almost see the thousands of thoughts passing behind those big blue orbs, trying to figure him out. What would his verdict be? Weighted and measured, Quirin stood his ground. He didn't allow Varian to look away, keeping his eyes prison.

Without resistance, Varian surrendered. He closed his book and sighed in defeat. That wasn't what Quirin had wanted. Ruddiger's left ear twitched in a warning.

"The princess asked me to help translate Lord Demanitus' scroll," he answered in a tone Quirin couldn't place. It sounded like Varian but it didn't. There was something hollow behind it, something akin to pain.

"Oh. And can you?"

Varian shrugged. "Probably."

"Um," Quirin scratched the back of his neck, not sure what else to say. Usually, it was Varian who did the heavy lifting in their conversations. Where he'd pushed, Varian would pull and now that the roles were reversed he didn't know how to hold on.

"That's good. Good for you son." He was so bad at this. "I, ahem, have - There is some cabbage to attend to, and… I gotta go," he finished. Retreat appeared to be the best option, at least for now.

Varian returned his focus to the yellowed sheets of paper. The interrogation was over.

.

.

.

As Quirin started his way back inside, he wondered if this was it. If from now on every exchange between them would end in a medium-sized disaster, with Varian hiding behind his books and he himself fumbling with his words like a moron. Come to think of it, Varian always liked to read, especially about chemicals and stuff, but usually, he was a lot more hands-on with his inventions. When was the last time he had heard an explosion? Quirin frowned. He couldn't remember. A quick glance over his shoulder managed to distract him from his worries. A warm feeling settled into his chest. The scene was perfect. Varian, engulfed by the golden light of the late afternoon, his pet-raccoon in his lap, and each burden forgotten as they shared the sliced apple. There was the softest of smiles on Varian's lips and the world was at peace.


AN: This plays before 'Be Very Afraid'. Next: Loyalty and Rejection