One Hundred Ways to View the World

Part III: Shoes

She lay quietly in a bed of blankets, wondering if it were a dream, them lying together as though their lives had only been separated by a few days rather than several centuries. Her head rested comfortably on his chest, and she could feel it rise and fall in a steady, comforting rhythm. She'd given him the pillow last night, when he'd finally begun drifting off to sleep. After the showdown with Morgana, his body had practically been torn apart, and there was only so much she could do for him. She was no healer by any means, and there was very little she'd managed to do for him last night besides keep his weakened heart regulated and start the mending process for his cracked ribs and collarbone. She'd see what more she could do when he woke up. But for now, he was in a deep sleep, and appeared to be in little pain. And she... she felt like she were in a dream.

When she'd first opened her eyes, she'd been confused about where she was. It had been dark and cold, and for a moment she'd thought it was the inside of the Grimhold. That somehow she'd woken up within it and none of the night before had happened. She remembered jerking awake, terrified. And then... a strong arm tightened around her, pulling her close. The scent of his leather coat, though removed, still clinging to his odd garments. The warmth of his body against hers. The scratch of his whiskers against her smooth skin. The sound of his heart beating solidly within his chest, where she now rested her head. It was real. He was real. And everything, for the first time in so long, felt right.

All those years they'd spent fighting... She'd only wanted a normal life. She'd always assumed that he'd enjoyed it all. He was a brilliant sorcerer. And entirely dedicated to his task. It hadn't been until she'd learned of his long quest. Of his search for the Prime Merlinian. Of his constant devotion and love for her that had spanned over a thousand years, that she realized that he hadn't fought because he loved the battle. He was simply dedicated to anything that he felt strongly about. Be it love or duty. And their battle against Morgana had been a duty. He wouldn't back down. But that didn't mean it was the life he'd have chosen for himself. For either of them.

She'd never realized that he'd wanted a normal life as much as she. Not until he'd given her the necklace last night.

Now, she lay nestled against his still form, listening to him breathe deeply. It was morning, she knew. She had always been an early riser. They both had... But she knew that today he'd sleep for most of the day. His body needed time to recover. And she had a feeling that he'd been denying himself rest for the past few days since Horvath had gotten hold of the Grimhold.

She smiled. That was fine. She'd gladly rest with him for now.

That thought was interrupted by the loud slam of a metal door, and the clanging of someone coming down the stairs. Horvath? No. Not now. Not when he can't even defend himself. Not when I finally have him back... Veronica tightened her grip on Balthazar, and held her breath until she heard a voice.

"Balthazar!" It was the boy. The Prime Merlinian. Her Balthazar's apprentice. She let out a sigh of relief. More importantly, it wasn't Horvath. She hadn't the energy for another fight. Neither of them had.

The boy continued talking as he clattered down the stairs. "I landed your eagle on the Chrysler building, but it wouldn't go back to normal. So, it's just sort of perched up there." He paused. "Well, it was perched up there when I left. I told it to stay. Not sure how well it listens, though..." He paused again, longer this time. "Balthazar?" A note of worry in his voice. Lights began flicking on throughout the lab.

She opened her mouth to respond, then closed it. She had no idea what to say. She didn't know this boy. And she had no idea how to treat him. He was the Prime Merlinian. She felt like she should treat him with deep respect on that account alone. But her Balthazar... he spoke of the boy like an errant student. Or like a son. There was respect and a great deal of pride, but also indulgence. This was his apprentice, and Balthazar his master... That would take some getting used to all on its own. Balthazar... no longer the apprentice...

She was spared the decision of what to say as the boy turned the corner and spotted them in the semi-darkness. There was a moment of stunned silence as he and Veronica stared at each other. Then his face turned a deep red, and he looked away. "Okay," he muttered. "That's just awkward." He raised his hands in submission, staring steadily at the floor in front of him. "I'm leaving. Sorry to interrupt. I'm just... yeah... Sorry..." He began backing up, and before she could even warn him, he tripped over a mop bucket behind him and fell backwards onto the stone floor, uttering a small curse as he landed hard on the ground.

"Are you all right?" she asked, worried, carefully unwrapping Balthazar's arm from around her, and easing herself up as gently as possible, so as not to wake him. When she was certain she could slip from his side with ease, she stood and walked over to the boy. "Are you—?"

He was already picking himself up, clearly embarrassed. "Yeah..." he muttered. "Nothing new. I've taken worse." He stood, brushing himself off. His eyes were still trained on the floor. "In fact, I've taken a lot worse from him." He finally glanced up at her. "Sorry. Really. I didn't mean to interrupt you guys."

She just stared at him, curiosity in her eyes as she finally studied the Prime Merlinian up close. Not what she'd expected, though really, who ever was? The man Balthazar had become certainly hadn't been what she'd expected when she'd first met him. But that was good. She wouldn't change what he was for the world. "You didn't interrupt anything. I was already awake." Her serious expression softened a touch. "And I'm sure he'll be sleeping for most of the day."

The boy snorted. "Yeah, right. He'll be up in an hour, yelling at me for being too 'high profile' in the park." He grinned, finally looking her in the eye. He stuck his hand out at her. "Dave, by the way. David Stutler."

She nodded, studying his hand for a moment before taking it. "I am called Veronica. Balthazar was telling me about you last night. You've made an impression on him."

His eyebrows raised as he glanced over to his sleeping mentor. "I did? Could have fooled me. He's usually too busy ridiculing me or making smart-ass comments to actually make me think..." His voice trailed off as he looked carefully at the older man. A moment of silence. "He's really out, isn't he?" His voice was tinged with a trace of worry now. "Is he okay?" He took a step past her. Then another, finally kneeling near his master.

She crouched beside him, leaning forward and brushing some loose hair from Balthazar's face. "He'll be fine. He just needs time to recover."

She glanced over at the boy. He swallowed hard, his eyes roving over the bruises now visible on Balthazar's pale face. The carefully cleaned scrapes and cuts that were visible. The blood-spotted bandages wrapping down his neck and under his black shirt, hinting and further injuries invisible to the eye. "He doesn't look so good." His brows furrowed together. "I left too soon, didn't I?" He turned to face her, his expression serious. "I took off without even making sure he was okay. He died and as soon as I brought him back—as soon as he could move—I left him. What was I thinking?" He ran his hand over his face. "Horvath could have come back. Or his heart could have given out again..." He pounded his fist on the floor, angrily. "What was I thinking?" he growled softly. At the feel of his knuckles against cement, he winced, and rubbed at his hand.

She gently put her hand on his shoulder, responding quietly. "You saved his life, David. We got back here fine. He's still alive. That's more than either of us expected."

The boy looked back up at her, his expression strained.

She managed a small, reassuring smile. "He's going to be weak for a few days. And sore. But he'll be alive, because of what you did. Trust me, David. He doesn't blame you for leaving us." She smiled at his incredulous look. "We actually discussed that last night as well. And he told me as much. He said you earned it."

Dave said nothing, but he seemed to relax a touch. She stood, motioning for him to join her. "Come. Let's let him rest. We can talk at the table."

He quietly followed her into the main room where his Tesla coil was located, and they both sat quietly at the small, wooden table. It was an awkward silence.

Her eyes fell on the heavy leather coat and shiny black shoes that Balthazar had peeled off while she'd stripped his cot of blankets and the pillow. Her eyes traveled over each individual item, taking it in. Such strange clothing. She'd examined him when he'd fallen asleep last night. Physically, he'd barely changed. But it was still so odd seeing him dressed the way he'd been. Remembering how he'd looked so long ago. She'd never seen anything like the clothes he wore. She wondered what a woman in these days wore...

"So..." Dave started, trying to break the silence. "Veronica... Balthazar talks about you. A lot."

Her eyes shot over to meet his. "He speaks of me?"

"Yeah. Of course." He looked surprised. As though she should have just known that. "I mean, not all the time. He's pretty private, usually. But when he does talk about his life from... before. He always winds up talking about you." At her smile, he added. "And I'm pretty sure he's always thinking about you. Even if he isn't talking."

"He was always very devoted. To everything. If he believes in something, then you can't convince him that it's wrong. Ever."

Dave nodded, relaxing a touch. "I know. I kept trying to convince him that I wasn't the Prime Merlinian. I sucked at almost every spell he showed me. Other than that ring, there was no reason for him to bother training me. But he believed I was it. He made me believe it, too." He laughed a little. "I think that even if I wasn't the Prime Merlinian, he'd have turned me into one out of sheer stubbornness."

She smiled. "That sounds like him."

Another silence, though this one was far less awkward. The boy was easy to talk to. And, it was funny. Even having spoken with him so little, he reminded her of a younger Balthazar in a way, though she had an odd feeling from listening to them that neither master nor apprentice realized how similar they really were.

Her roving eyes fell again on Balthazar's strange clothing. She broke the silence this time, motioning to them. "Is this the common dress for people these days? It's so different..." She shook her head. "And those shoes are... interesting. We had nothing like them in my day."

Dave snorted, drawing her eyes again. "Yeah. Most people under the age of eighty have nothing like them in my day either."

"Ah." She nodded, thoughtfully. "Balthazar dresses differently from you. Just because he is older. Is that what older people where? What I should wear?"

Dave grinned. "No. Definitely not. I'll see if Becky wants to help you with modern girl stuff. I'm useless with trends. And Balthazar... he doesn't care about them. He only wears what he likes. Seems like he mixes and matches stuff. But for the most part, I don't think he's really liked much of the 'new' fashion for the last hundred years or so." He paused, leaning the old, wooden chair back on two legs. "I've noticed that he doesn't really conform to the world. He just sort of expects the world to conform to him."

She nodded. "He never conformed well. Too strong-willed. It was a good thing that Merlin found him." Her eyes were dark and serious. "People like us weren't always treated well by those who didn't understand. And people like him, who didn't follow rules they didn't approve of. Those people didn't live long."

He flinched a little at those words. "I'm glad Merlin found him, too, then," he said softly. "'Cause I don't think anyone else could do what he did for that long. He doesn't like to talk about it. Not often. But from what I hear, it was hell for him. I don't know anyone these days who would do it." He glanced curiously into her eyes. "Maybe it was normal in your time, though? All that chivalry and stuff."

A soft laugh. A gentle smile. "Chivalry is only a word. I don't believe that one era abode by it any more than another. We just gave that word to a moral code that people chose to either follow or not. The code was always there. It was just that in our day we gave it a name."

He sighed. "That's sort of disappointing. I liked thinking that there were people like that. Once."

"There are people like that." She glanced back into the room where her love quietly slept. "He's like that." She turned to eye the boy critically. "You are like that."

He snorted. "No, I'm not. I'm just a college kid who happens to do magic. I only know what I'm doing because of Balthazar. He's the hero, not me. I'm just the guy with the cool ring that he lost."

"You saved his life. That wasn't required of you. And you fought Morgana, though Balthazar tells me you didn't know you even had a chance without your ring. You came back to save him at risk to your own life. You helped save me." Her voice was steady, but there was emotion deep in her eyes. "What exactly do you think chivalry is, David, if not that?"

She'd embarrassed him, though from the look on his face, he appeared pleased. "I'm only his apprentice," he muttered, staring intently at the table. "He's still the hero. If he could have done it, he would have. He didn't want me to come and risk my life. He planned on dying alone to save you and protect me." He'd begun tapping his fingers on the table awkwardly, trying to focus on something other than her intense eyes. "I'm just saying. I know he's not the type to explain that stuff. You should probably know what he did for you. And me. And... well... everyone, I guess. He knew he couldn't win. He expected to die. He was okay with that, I think..." His eyes met hers once more. "...as long as you knew he that he still loved you. He left me the necklace to give to you."

Her eyes widened a touch, glassy with unshed tears. Balthazar... It shouldn't have surprised her. That was how he was. And Dave was right. Balthazar would never have told her what he'd planned on giving up for her.

"He missed you," Dave said quietly. "For a really long time. I'm glad he didn't die. He finally had you back. And..." Another awkward pause. "And... he and I were finally getting along..." He floundered for the right words. "He did a lot for me in only a few days. I didn't want him to die..."

It hadn't come out right, but she somehow understood. They both sat silently, considering the man sleeping in the other room. Considering chivalry and ideals and dreams and love.

Her eyes roved back to the strange shoes on the floor just as she noticed the matching pair on the boy's feet. They looked ridiculous on him. She didn't have to ask where he'd gotten them from.

"I'm glad he has friends, now," she whispered.

"Yeah." He smiled, finally meeting her eyes once more. "Me, too."

Author's note: More Balthy100. As usual, the prompt, "shoes", was only the starting point for my story. (Yes, I realize that this chapter, just like the last, really has nothing to do with the prompt. But in my defense, the last one started with me thinking of "trousers" and this one actually started with me having scribbled down the little snippet of conversation between Veronica and Dave about Balthazar's taste in clothes, and, of course, shoes)...

Anyway, I hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading. Reviews would be greatly appreciated and very motivating!

Dewa mata!

Sirius