Summary: A moment between Andrew and Varian during his time in prison. Varian might be more emotionally compromised than he cares to admit.
What do you want Varian?
The queen had asked a lifetime ago. Back then he hadn't answered, but lately, the question popped up more and more frequent in his mind - a broken record stuck in his head, pulling and pushing all the wrong buttons.
Sluggishly he stared at the dull ceiling above and wondered. What do you want Varian, deep down? The hard wooden bench pressed uncomfortable against his sore body and a tense knot was forming inside his stomach. Slowly it wandered upwards.
I want my da - harshly he swallowed the thought. His throat went tight and his eyes burned with tears he would never allow himself to shed again. He couldn't. No more, he had sworn. It was nothing but a child's dream. Angry he shoved it back into the dark where it belonged. You would have to rip his heart out before ever finding it again.
He turned around to face the cold stone wall, massive boulders shattered and stacked only there to keep him in. What a waste. He curled further into himself.
"Varian?"
He just wanted it to be normal again. He wanted his life back! Right, as if that could ever happen. There was no reversing the clock. What he had done was not to forgive.
"Are you listening?" A voice twisted itself to the fore.
Varian sighed. Sometimes he missed the solitude of his former isolation, not by much, but then again it had always been simpler to lose himself in the bleak silence. Sharing a cell was difficult. It took so much effort to get used to the banal chatter around him. At a whim, Andrew could unleash an armada of nonsense that made his brain cells scream in agony. It was exhausting, but at least barking dogs don't bite. He was just another guy who thought grinding his own coffee gave him a personality.
Still indecisive, if his cellmate was a blessing or curse, he replied, "No."
He got better at drowning out the rubbish about how great Saporia had been, about the advanced culture, blazing architecture, the inspiring science, and magic. A true utopia with trust and loyalty as it's most important virtues. He went on and on how family meant everything and a promise was holy between them.
Varian's nerves were already stretched paper-thin and the continuation of the criminal's monologue wasn't helping.
"Soon my friends will come," Andrew boasted not for the first time.
At the misplaced confidence the alchemist laughed. It was a fake nasty little thing, usually forced out when he was sad or angry, or some other emotion he pretended he didn't know how to feel anymore.
"Then where are they?" A dangerous allusion lurked in his challenge. He dragged himself up into a sitting position.
"Just waiting for the right opportunity," Andrew answered slightly taken aback. It was rare for the boy to chime in, especially like this.
"You mean like the kingdom being under attack and everyone distracted? Because I hate to break it to you this already happened and you're still here," Varian sneered with malice. "Nobody gives a shit. You're on your own."
Suddenly the brutal truth of his own words tore through him. There was no anticipating the force of their impact. Without a warning, it hit right where it hurts most. Just like me, he thought. He was all alone. He had nobody. And he deserved it.
The tonal whiplash made his head spin. What was wrong with him? The lack of coherence and consistency over his own emotions frightened him. He was fine just a second ago and now his house of cards was crumbling beneath his fingertips, making room for pain he couldn't fathom to handle by himself. He took a stuttering breath. It was too much. He couldn't - He wished Ruddiger would have been back. He was such a mess and the ball of anxiety was only growing larger.
"We don't have to be." Andrew's hand had found its way onto his shoulder and Varian flinched.
Carefully the older man seated himself next to the child and tugged Varian into his arms. It was the first human contact in ages, at least physically. Varian felt like throwing up. His face was pressed against the soft fur of an obscure coat and he could sense the familiar weight of a heavy hand on his trembling body. If he closed his eyes and concentrated really hard it might be enough to pretend… His breath hitched. He was disgusting, so weak, he knew, but just for a moment, Varian leaned in. "I'm so sorry," he heard himself say and felt more tired than ever.
"It's okay buddy." Andrew simply smiled down at him. This was almost too easy. "I get you. We're in the same boat, you and I. Forgiven and forgotten."
And when Andrew's voice sounded strained in his ears, he wouldn't comment on it, he didn't care.
.
.
.
Their moment was interrupted by vicious hissing and snarling. The raccoon had returned. Cleverly it weaseled through narrow window bars to put itself between the adult and the child.
Andrew removed his hands. A second later and his fingers would have been gone. The tiny critter seemed ready to rip his throat out. It was fiercely protective of its precious human. On all occasions, it kept him at bay, not allowing him near the boy, let alone touch him.
As the furball of fury climbed into the alchemist's lap, the Separatist stepped back - not that he had a choice. However, he was in no need to rush. Time was nothing he lacked and if he couldn't find an opening today, well there was always tomorrow.
With the imminent threat averted, Ruddiger turned to tend to Varian, making sure the kid was okay. Little paws reached up, patting his cheeks soothingly. Concerned chittering accompanied the gentle gesture. And Andrew fought the urge to roll his eyes.
It didn't take long before gloved fingers brushed over gray pelt. Cautiously Varian nuzzled his face against the ring-tailed bandit, anchoring himself in the familiar scent. Glazed eyes finally focused on the warmth and comfort his companion conveyed and the boy visibly relaxed. It always worked like a charm.
Andrew didn't comment on the display of affection. He hadn't made it this far by questioning things. Frankly, he was rather relieved that he didn't have to deal with the moody teenager.
The rodent's gaze crossed his and a venomous growl escaped its throat - as if Andrew was personally to blame for the sorry state its charge was in. The distaste was almost palpable.
Ruddiger bared his fangs. Not a warning but a promise.
It was hilarious.
"Easy there," Varian chided the animal ever so softly while caressing it behind the ear.
Bit by bit, the broken boy returned to normal. His breath became more stable and the shaking stopped. Just as the nocturnal beast was done picking up the pieces, it leaped out of Varian's arms to bring him its loot of the day. A big shiny red apple.
Dark pupils regarded Varian in expectation before the fruit was nudged against his side. Eager sounds of cooing followed, encouraging a carefully crafted dance of pulling and tugging until the brat would eventually give in and take the damn thing. The raccoon made a muffled purring noise, an obvious sign of victory while they both ended up munching on the juicy gift. The separatist felt his own hunger gnawing at his stomach, but Varian didn't offer and Andrew wouldn't ask.
By now they had performed their stupid little routine a million times. He'd never forget when he witnessed it first. Back then the criminal had to avert his gaze - watching them care so deeply for each other felt painfully intrusive. It was one of the most awkward moments in his life - uncomfortable didn't even begin to describe how he felt as the malnourished child looked up with those sad baby-blue eyes and offered him a portion of the treat his loyal buddy literally risked its neck. Never had he declined something faster in his life, coming up with some bullshit excuse about allergies and rodent fur. Thankfully, Varian hadn't pressed or brought it up again, though the lingering taste of bile remained in his memory. Whatever.
Andrew wasn't fond of children per se - too loud, too bright, too needy, with heads way too big for their small bodies and filled with dreams even bigger, but this just pissed him off. It made him angry, angry, and something else. To love the brat was so easy and somebody must have royally screwed up for him to end up here. It was funny, in a heartbreaking kind of way. Poor, poor summer child, the Separatist thought. He smiled. A part of him couldn't wait to ruin him. They had it coming and he knew he wouldn't disappoint.
Legends about the Wizard of old Corona spread throughout the country long before Varian's grand debut. Unpredictable and dangerous was what they called him. He'd been a true enigma, perhaps still was. To hear the news about the alchemist's attack, his power, and what he'd done had been amazing. Singlehandedly destroying the city, commander of monster and machines alike, wielder of magic, almost erasing the entire bloodline of the ruling family and bringing the kingdom to its knees - it was a dream come true! Finally a kindred spirit, especially such a mighty one. Andrew had been ecstatic. Unfortunately, reality was different. How so often it put a damper on his hopes. The scrawny little child they had thrown into his cell was a total wreck. But it had to be him. Five guards, wrist and ankles bound by steel, chains, manacles, shackles... It looked ridiculous - one big ugly joke. A small chat with the night-patrol was all it had taken to confirm his assumption. And if it weren't for them the frequency in which the captain suddenly visited would have been a solid indicator. Multiple times he checked in with his men about the kids well being. It was weird. Either he had a soft spot for children or he felt guilty over something. Anyhow he didn't trust him. The raccoon's angry hissing was reason enough. But that left him only with more questions. The boy himself was no help, silent and suspicious as he was.
Though, all things considered, it could have been worse. Varian proved to be a good kid and a rather nice cellmate. He didn't need much space, was mostly quiet and Andrew could have the prison food the guards brought, which Varian wouldn't touch with a ten-foot pole. All in all very polite and pleasant to be around. Course he had his 'moments', but who didn't?
Still, the criminal wasn't really sure what to do with the brat yet. The potential was there. Beneath the layers of shy kindness, he could see it. He had the perfect set of skills: cunning, ruthless, arrogant, and oh so very desperate. It was almost a crime to waste them. With the right influence, the young alchemist could have a bright future. Andrew's eyes glanced over his delicate frame. On close inspection, the child was also very pretty. Once he grew up the little dweep would be freakishly handsome and he bet he would be as oblivious to that as well.
Varian was a firestorm waiting to happen. How to strike the match was the question. Intimidation wasn't the way to go. The kid was spooked by his own shadow, so he had to be a tad more subtle, dig a little deeper into his bag of tricks.
Andrew sighed and shook his head while he continued talking with his golden tongue. He was good at it. He knew. And if he was lucky he'd find something useful. After all, he had his way to get under people's skin. It was only a matter of time till he struck gold. So he kept on poking through the ashes, waiting for a spark to ignite.
.
.
.
Think about what you have, what you can do, and ask yourself: What do you want Varian, deep down?
The question was stupid. He wasn't. There was no point in an answer that didn't matter, at least not really. He knew, had always known - not that it changed a damn thing. The words may sound nice and even a tad meaningful, nevertheless in the grand scheme they were empty. Empty and useless. Pretentious thoughts wrapped oh so prettily. He hated it. So why wouldn't they leave him be? Why did they kept him up at night and haunted his days? It wasn't fair. Dwelling on things you couldn't have, got you nowhere. But then again there was no place for him to go anyway.
He was so tired of it all, and the voices simply wouldn't stop, not just the ones in his head, but also the one surrounding him. Varian made a frustrated noise. Dealing with Andrew was a challenge even on good days but he'd reached his limits a while ago and with no energy to spare he was grinding on bare bones.
Still better than being alone, he reminded himself begrudgingly.
Though, the never-ending stream of mindless platitudes was taking its toll. Under the right leadership, Corona could be great again, they were betrayed, the royal family ruined everything, revenge would be ours, blah-blah-blah… Obviously, Andrew confused him with somebody who gave a shit. On a certain level, he probably should care, but it just struck him as weirdly boring. If he'd been in his right mind he would have found the lack of emotion more than concerning.
"What would you even do? You get arrested the second someone recognizes you?" He interrupted Andrew's tedious rant, yearning for some quiet while trying to quell his growing migraine.
"Ever heard of the Wand of Oblivium?" Andrew asked patronizingly.
Without waiting for a reply he presumptuously continued his story about a device that caused… amnesia? Varian's head tilted slightly to the left. Altering memories - was that even possible? But why not? It couldn't be such a big stretch from mood-potions or his truth serum. Already the scientist in him wondered about the hows. He entertained the thought for a fraction longer than strictly necessary. It had potential, he contemplated, scratching Ruddiger absently under the chin.
The subtle shift of his mood didn't go unnoticed. Hungry eyes started to wander and Andrew's gut feeling was telling him now or never. He suppressed a wolfish grin. Finally, something to work with!
"As chance has it, I know where to get one," the Separatist fueled the spark.
"You also need a person who can use it," Varian mused, eyes alight with attention, and his interest clearly piqued.
Over the last couple of hours, the alchemist asked more and more questions. With every sentence the boy flourished, going from lethargic reservation to a soft buzzing hint of excitement. As far as Andrew remembered this was their first interaction that could count as an actual conversation. When he finished his tale the older man could practically smell the smoke from the fire he had invoked.
Slowly Varian's wheels begun to turn, cogs interlocked and gears meshed together. Something inside him was set into motion. It wasn't anything concrete yet, just a feeble hunch, a vague idea, nothing tangible, but each word out of Andrew's mouth greased the machinery till his thoughts were racing faster and faster. Plans and schemes flew by so quickly he was barely capable to catch them. He got a little dizzy from all the possibilities. It would take a while to organize them to come up with an adequate strategy and he needed to gather more data. But he didn't mind. There was something he hadn't felt in a long time. Urgency.
The alchemist was starting to see the next steps forming in his mind. He hadn't realized how badly he craved structure until he had it, and he was not about to let go. What was it? Forgiven and forgotten. Maybe he didn't need their forgiveness.
"I - let's get out."
Andrew was hardly able to hear the words he had waited so long for. And when he did he had to school his expression so he wouldn't appear like the cat that got the cream.
"I'll be gladly of assistance," a pleased smile echoed in the man's voice.
Varian looked at him for a prolonged amount of time and frowned. I bet you will, he thought.
Something dark stirred in the depth of him as he sized the other up. Evaluating and assessing his use while he stared right through his soul. He pushed the chess figures back and forth on his mental board. Merely a pawn, the alchemist concluded. If played correctly, combined with the right equipment, even the likes of Andrew could convert into a knight. And what a fine knight he would make.
.
.
.
Ultimately Varian spent two weeks coming up with a fairly adequate plan. Sure, there were some kinks to work out, but nothing he wouldn't be able to wing. All in all, it was as solid as it could get.
Slowly he rose from the harsh wood that had been his bed for the last 8 months. His mouth twitched. The time passed seemed suddenly ridiculous long. Approximately 34 weeks or 243 days or 5840 hours… In the end, he didn't really care.
Moonlight poured through the small window and lit the alchemist's path to the exit. As if in trance his fingers slid across the cold and smooth surface of the bars, steady breath, and focused mind. A soft metallic thud echoed occasionally through the dark. He didn't turn around when he felt the older man behind him.
"Nobody is going to be harmed," Varian demanded with enough intensity to melt the steel then and there.
Andrew squirmed at the tone.
"Of course not. I promise," he assured hastily. "Don't you trust me?"
For barely a second the corner of Varian's lips quirked up.
No, they thought simultaneously. Not once not ever. He won't let sweet words fool him again. They both were only scavenging for opportunities. Nothing more.
"Shall we get started?" Varian asked instead.
.
.
.
The plan, Andrew complained silently, was not as straight forward as he would have preferred. Not enough blood and too sneaky even for his taste. Yet in spite of that, he had to admit that it was freaking genius. You'd have to be blind to not see the brilliance hidden under the layers of it all. It was stunning how smart the kid could be. Though, it was still batshit crazy.
So far so good, he mused. Until now Andrew had played along and followed the nerd's plot to a T, but well where was the fun in that? Adrenalin pumped through his veins as he crept past the narrow corridors, avoiding the unwanted eyes around him. Freedom was so close. How easy it would be to ditch the brat. Leaving him behind seemed like the safest bet. The way the kid's demeanor changed over the last couple of days was kind of alarming. And while he welcomed the development in their routine, the masses of questions he was suddenly pestered with were insufferable, nearly overwhelming. He wasn't sure if he liked what he had woken. It sent chills down his spine.
He chuckled slightly in the shadows. Luckily, playing with fire was his forte. This wasn't his first rodeo. The Separatist had burned his fair share of villages and bridges. So many in fact that the only direction for him to move was forward. If you knew how to control the flames it would be worth the hassle. For Saporia.
"What took you so long?" Varian's brow knit together as the lock of the door burst open.
"Got you something." The criminal rolled his eyes and tossed the object unceremoniously in his direction.
Hopefully, that would earn him some points with the paranoid little- or lots of points? The expression on Varian's face was priceless, an exquisite mix of shock and disbelieve. The boy's eyes widened in surprise, temporarily losing focus. As if a precious treasure whose importance could not be measured, had just returned. Varian held it close to his chest and Andrew bit the inside of his lip to stifle his gleeful smirk. It was always nice to pull the rug under Mr. smartypants' feet.
Their eyes met and despite himself, Andrew recoiled. Unable to hold the gaze he looked away. The sheer amount of honest emotion in them was too much.
"Thank you," Varian said in a thick voice, and a vulnerable little smile smeared across his face.
It was aimed in his direction and Andrew couldn't stand it. Gratitude was not what he was used to - not what he wanted from the boy.
"Whatever, don't get mushy with me kid," he warned. "We don't have all night."
It was strange to him, how Varian appeared somehow more complete when he put the old pair of goggles on.
Together they stepped outside and he took the place next to him. Of course, the first thing Varian discovered were the unmoving guards slumped in the corner. Concern flashed over his features.
Before the young alchemist could say something Andrew intervened irritated. "They're only unconscious." The older man readied himself for the unavoidable argument on principles and a sharp reprimand that never came. Huh?
Varian said nothing, only nodded and continued walking.
There was no holding back Andrew's pleased grin this time. The dice were cast.