I'm tired of hiding
and so are you

Sydney would have liked to sleep late the next morning. It was to be a day of rest anyhow, due to the holiday, and considering how poorly he'd slept for the past few nights, it would have been wise to take advantage of it. Sleep came no easier for him at daybreak, though, and it didn't take long before he'd had his fill of staring up at the ceiling.

He'd forgotten how irritating it was to sleep alone, he pondered while in the kitchens, looking over what remained from the previous night's feast and deciding that none of it appealed to him. He would need to find another to share his bed. It shouldn't be difficult, for it had been long since he'd had a shortage of bedmates. There were some remaining from days past who would not be averse, and a few among the newer recruits who would have already offered themselves, had they believed it to be an option. For the past few years, though, everyone had known that it was Hardin, and Hardin alone. No one had ever thought that it would be any different. Not even he himself, deep down.

He closed his eyes wearily. Perhaps he'd been wrong about the eventual loss being lessened by an earlier separation. He might have been able to endure the shorter, sharper pain after all. Rather, he knew that he would have endured it - he had little choice. He would endure this as well, but it was not without its own pain.

Especially knowing that Hardin would remain as his second. He would need to speak to Hardin soon, in fact, to plot the next phase of their plan with the new information he had received. Of course he would be expected to comment on what Hardin had done, and he would have to find a way to discuss the matter without anyone becoming overly emotional about it. He had... a day, at least.

"Did you not sleep well last night?"

Sydney was not in the proper mood to deal with Rosencrantz and his disingenuous concern, but he opened his eyes. "Not as well as I might have liked."

"Ah... There are many who would say the same this morning, I imagine. I am one of them." Rosencrantz looked down at the countertop before them, at the rolls and fruits and sliced meats. "I suppose you're accustomed to having Hardin beside you. ...Which was why I sought you out, as a matter of fact..."

His mannerisms made Sydney suspicious, but he only raised an eyebrow. "Oh...?" If Rosencrantz had been spying on Hardin, hoping for a reward for reporting what he'd done with Aiden...

"I'm afraid... I will have to apologize."

The thought of what Rosencrantz might do to Hardin that he might offer an apology for made Sydney's heart skip a beat. Instinctively, he tried to sense Hardin's heart. Depression, resignation, but he was still there, and he was alive. Sydney gave Rosencrantz a very dangerous look. "Elaborate."

Rosencrantz gave him in return a half-smile that had the appearance of being sheepish. "I must say, I'd not expected it from him at all, of course - you've said that you believe him to be your most faithful."

So it was about that. But there was something else to this conversation, to be certain. Rosencrantz appeared less smug than he had a right to be; usually he appeared more so. "...And regarding Hardin's unfaithfulness," Sydney inquired, taking great care with his words so that Rosencrantz would know that this was something he already knew, "what have you to apologize for?"

He did not do such things alone, did he? I admit, I thought to test him, given a few incidents I had witnessed - but you had such faith in him, I believed he would pass." Rosencrantz rubbed at the back of his head ruefully. "I suppose I have received my dues for this folly. I can only hope that he is not so rough with you as he was with me... but then, you do have the benefit of the gods' healing."

Sydney listened to what Rosencrantz was saying, inwardly more and more stunned as he went on. There had to be some other interpretation of these words, for Hardin would never... Unless he was hurt so deeply, unless he had ceased to care. Not with Rosencrantz, unless...

Sydney was starting to understand what must have happened - it explained everything he'd felt from Hardin - but he swallowed his fury. "I can't say that this is entirely unexpected," he said mildly. "But it is something of a surprise. I suppose that I should be having a talk with Hardin very soon."

"No need to chastise him for that bit of it," Rosencrantz noted with a shrug. "He was gentler than the battlefield, if not by much."

"Even so, we have a great deal to discuss."

Perhaps his mouth was growing a bit tight, betraying his anger, for Rosencrantz added "You understand, Sydney, that I did not bring this news to do you harm. Under the circumstances, I thought it best for you to be informed."

"It is always good to be informed," Sydney agreed. He was having more and more trouble reining in his temper, but he dared not show it here. "You shall be rewarded according to your loyalty, dear Rosencrantz. Think me not unaware of what you seek."

Rosencrantz bowed, with a smile of satisfaction, and Sydney turned away. He hardly took the time to be amused by the fact that Rosencrantz did not seem to recognize a double-edged sword when he saw one.

There were other things on his mind. Where was Hardin? He could follow the sense of him easily enough, if he tried. Not so close as to be still within the keep, but still inside the city. This direction...

Having left Rosencrantz behind in the kitchens, Sydney dropped the facade of serenity and quickened his pace, intense determination deepening his features. At his passing, the door from the keep slammed hard enough to rattle on its hinges.

He had had quite enough of this nonsense between himself and Hardin, the games and the petty revenge and the words they dared not say to each others' faces. It was time he put a stop to it.

Even if he'd not had the benefit of the Dark to assist him, he might have guessed he'd find Hardin by the river, close by the waterfall. It was where Hardin often went for solitude. He hadn't noticed Sydney yet, sitting as he was in a shadowed corner, staring at the water. The noise drowned out even Sydney's strange footsteps.

Sydney paused, took a breath, tried to compose himself. Yes, he really did have to do this.

It was obvious when Hardin did notice his presence, for he went noticeably tense, even from across what was left of the road. His eyes narrowed, and he sat straighter. This didn't fool Sydney for a moment, for he could see the spectre of Hardin's soul, and it murmured Don't look away, don't look away, I must stand fast. But then, Please go - no need for words now...

Perhaps not. For once, Sydney was having trouble with even his own. "...Rosencrantz himself informed me of what happened last night."

Hardin just nodded once, stiffly, stubbornly, and did not avert his eyes. "I expected that he would." This is the end, I know... but I should not beg. Yet... I am sorry. I regret it all.

No surprise, but Sydney found himself lost for words again. He could hardly stand there forever in silence, listening to the apologies and pleas that Hardin tried to keep himself from even thinking, so after a time he moved closer, and sat down beside the wall as well, only an arm's length from Hardin. Hardin's eyes never left him, and never lost their fixed determination, though he was clearly confused.

"I'm very tired of this, Hardin." Sydney's words were soft, neutral. "Of the questioning, of the distrust."

"...As am I." I would withstand it, for you. I have borne it so long... So long, damn it.

Sydney lowered his head at the unspoken words, but then looked to him again. "You've endured much."

"...Yes." I can endure more... But no, no - best to end this farce.

"And last night," Sydney continued. "Though his true motives were unclear, you allowed it. This was your way of saying that you'd endured enough. It was not some... drunken folly, but intentional."

Another nod. His soul seemed to have nothing more to add.

Sydney sighed, looking upwards at nothing in particular. "All the drink in Valendia could not cause such folly as that of a man inspired by love."

His eyes were on the sky, but he heard the rustle as Hardin turned his head sharply. ...All these years you deny me the use of this word... and now you turn it on me to mock me?

"You misunderstand," Sydney said quickly. His gaze stayed carefully on the clouds - he could not look Hardin in the eyes now. "I speak of none but myself, John," he finished in a murmur.

He felt Hardin's puzzlement... then his sudden comprehension. Then a flare of denial and disbelief, then comprehension again. Sydney nodded. It was easy to lie when looking a man in the eyes, but not so simple when speaking the truth. "...I've made many mistakes. I've believed much the same as the conclusion Aiden shared with you. I belong to the gods, I have been changed - I know not how much humanity is left within me."

"...More than you thought, it would seem," Hardin muttered, shifting slightly to face him, though Sydney's eyes were still elsewhere. ...He's trying. By the gods, he said it. But it's naught but a single word, and after all of this, I...

Sydney could feel the conflicting urges within Hardin. He was still too angry. "You need not say it," he told Hardin. "I spoke not for reciprocation, but for understanding. If you do not believe it, then I would rather you not say it."

The fact that Hardin wasn't sure anymore seemed to shame him, but it led to a valid question. "...Where are we to go from here?"

"Wherever you wish to go. I tire of arguing with myself."

Hardin's hands found his shoulders, turning Sydney to look at him. "No. I want to know where you want us to go from here, Sydney."

Sydney's eyes narrowed in annoyance before he could help himself, but he refrained from shaking himself free, or ordering Hardin to remove his hands, or any of the things he might have done. Even so, Hardin flinched back instinctively under his stare. This was perhaps very telling. "You are the one who is afraid, who is uncertain. You will need to think upon it."

"Only if you could tell me that there is anything left to think upon," muttered Hardin, letting him go. "...What reason have you to be afraid? You knew my heart at all times, and that it was for you."

There was more than one answer to that question, and none that he wanted to tell Hardin about in detail. A more vague approach might be enough to explain...

Hardin's expression grew more determined. "I want truth, Sydney."

"...I am immortal." For the time being, anyhow. "You are not."

"Did you think the thought had never occurred to me? It made me all that much more certain - you have all the time in the world, but I do not. Whatever time I am granted..."

"All the time in the world..." Possibly this was the literal truth, if they failed, but Hardin knew this. And unfortunately, Sydney could see Hardin's point, as well as his own. He shook his head. "Last night, you had changed your mind."

Hardin lowered his head slightly, shamed and frustrated. "...I was not expecting to ever have this conversation."

"It seems you were not expecting many things." As for this conversation, it was tiring, and they were getting nowhere, so Sydney changed the subject. "...Did he hurt you?"

"No. ...Somewhat," Hardin amended. "But nothing serious." He chuckled, without humor. "I wouldn't let him."

Sydney nodded. He could see traces of memories of that encounter in Hardin's heart. "I'd long wondered when you might decide you missed the touch of human hands."

Hardin's expression grew dark as he stared down at the grass beneath them. "...I missed you more."

That was enough encouragement for Sydney to raise a hand, placing it lightly on Hardin's shoulder for a moment. Hardin glanced sideways at it, almost suspiciously, then looked away again. "Are you not angry?"

"I am, but not at you," Sydney replied dryly. "I understood what had happened after Rosencrantz spoke of it. He tricked you - he saw you in a moment of confusion and struck before it could pass. ...I would blame myself, if one needed to blame another."

"I would as soon leave it to him," Hardin muttered. "But I am no innocent - I could have refused."

"You had the right not to, and therefore did nothing wrong," Sydney observed. "Rosencrantz is as you named him, a poisonous viper. He will take any opportunity if he believes it advantageous, and strike at anyone without a second thought. Though he has his uses, I find myself wondering what the gods were thinking, sending him to me."

Hardin nodded thoughtfully. "Yet you cannot send him away. ...What do you intend to do with him?"

"I'd been pondering exactly that..." Sydney mused. He'd brainstormed a few ideas, and some were rather satisfying. "The most appealing by far is to do nothing. Allow him to continue his business with the Blades, perhaps other factions. He is rather skillful in his negotiations and double-dealings, he sees and takes the opportunites that another might let slip past. I might appoint him as my messenger to Duke Bardorba - he would like being let in on the secret of our alliance, and believe I trust him. I will say nothing to the contrary, allow him to go on in his belief... But in the end, when he is no longer necessary, he will get quite a surprise. I told him earlier that he would be rewarded according to his loyalty - and this I swear."

Unlike Rosencrantz, Hardin immediately understood what Sydney was saying, and looked to him, somewhat surprised. "As my second," Sydney added, with the hint of a smile, "you are free to voice objections to this plan, and any improvements you could suggest would be welcome."

"...Hardly." Hardin chuckled, and then laughed softly. "You are an evil, manipulative bastard, Sydney."

Sydney allowed his satisfaction to show with a small smile. "Would you expect less?"

"From you? Never."

"So you will have faith in that, at the least." At first thought, Sydney had thought it a joke, but it came out more bitterly than he'd expected.

Hardin hesitated at that, his smile dimming. "...I know that I should know better. All I can say is... think of it less as doubt than unavoidable worry."

"Very little in this world is entirely unavoidable," Sydney pointed out. "Particularly when it concerns one's own self."

"I've come to believe that worry is one of those rare, unavoidable things," Hardin muttered. "Particularly when it does not concern one's own self, but..."

He hesitated then, as he thought for a moment about what he'd almost just said. Did he believe it? Was he going to pass up the chance to say it, now that he had it at long last? "...When it concerns those we love. ...I love you," he added, finally, and very deliberately.

That was the decision, then. Sydney was not going to question it, nor would he rail against it anymore. Not now, anyway.

He was done, also, with fighting against the urge to turn, to lie down in the grass with his head in Hardin's lap. Hardin looked down at him, questioning. "I'm relieved to be spared the trouble of finding another suitable bedmate," Sydney said lightly.

Hardin stroked his hair absently. "You'd not been in your bed most nights anyway."

"I was preoccupied," Sydney murmured. He liked Hardin's hands - they acted as his own often. "I've given up."

"On what?"

"On trying to turn aside the inevitable. The things we can affect are more than enough to deal with."

Hardin thought about it, and seemed to decide that this was another of Sydney's mysteries. And among them... "He will not be your successor." He thought it was fairly obvious, but requested an absolute answer.

"He will not," Sydney confirmed.

There was another question in Hardin's heart, however. This time, he had the nerve to ask. "...And I?"

"Nor will you."

There was a moment of hurt, but it seemed more instinct than truth; after an instant, it resolved to understanding. "I shall be gone before you have need."

Sydney nodded, as well as he could in his current position. It was not entirely true, and not an absolute, but everything he'd seen had pointed to it. At the thought of what Hardin may see in his eyes, Sydney closed them.

This only inspired Hardin to stroke his face as well, to run the pad of his thumb along the planes of Sydney's temple and cheek and chin. Sympathy colored his thoughts now, rather than hurt, and it chafed. Sydney couldn't bring himself to rebuke the man, however.

Hardin remained unaware. "You've not slept well?" he asked, changing the subject.

"However could you tell?"

Hardin snorted. "I would not object to spending the rest of the day asleep," he suggested.

"You might, if you knew how tempted I was to fall asleep right here, just like this."

Hardin shook his head slightly, looking down as Sydney looked up to him. "I would not."

Despite the sense that he had an aching in his back, Sydney could tell that Hardin was speaking the truth. He reached a hand upwards, touching Hardin's cheek with a careful caress and a fond smile. Hardin returned it, haltingly, and Sydney closed his eyes as Hardin took his hand, kissing the palm. Although he couldn't quite feel it the way one would feel a kiss pressed against skin, the gesture made him reconsider the idea of sleeping just yet.

But he was tired, and his eyes were closed. Hardin was still there. He could sleep, and not think about the pain he would someday feel upon waking. He might change his mind later, when time grew shorter, but for now... he could allow them to believe in such a selfish ideal.