Summary: Hugo overhears Varian's weakness is blood.
"Truth or dare?" Yong squeaked over the warmth of their shared campfire. He looked excited - barely able to contain himself.
Varian grinned while absentmindedly handing Hugo a piece of cupcake. Soft chills went down the thief's spine and a smile appeared on his lips. Hugo suppressed another shiver. He turned away before anyone could see. His stupid heart started to betray the double agent faster than he wanted to admit.
"Truth," Varian replied, not wishing to end up like Nuru in her sparkling clown makeup.
"What's your greatest weakness?" Yong inquired eager.
And wasn't that something Hugo would like to know? Paying particular attention now he munched at his sweet treat. Luckily it was Yong who'd asked the question. Experience taught him there was no better way to pry any kind of information out of Varian than to use Yong as middleman. The clueless pyromaniac only had to bat his puppy-dog-eyes and voila he bypassed all of Varian's defenses and suspicions. Make no mistake Hugo tried his hardest too, but no amount of tricks worked. He would have given his right leg to figure out the engineer's secrets. He just couldn't put a label on him. However, one thing was clear Varian was hiding something.
"I guess, I am not good at handling blood," Varian shrugged his shoulder. "My turn."
Hugo went over the words many times in his mind and came to the conclusion that Varian's answer was bullshit. Well not bullshit, but rather that he wasn't sure how to use it to his advantage. 'Not good at handling blood' could mean anything, from 'I feel guilty when I stab you' till 'Don't touch that, it's gross'. He needed more data.
.
.
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12 days later a chance arrived to verify Hugo's working hypothesis about the alchemist's fatal flaw. Who would have thought that getting hit in the head could ever be that beneficial? A short scuffle with Donella's goons was all it took. Ditching princess smartypants had also been surprisingly easy. A shared glance combined with a desperate "Split up!" was enough. Nuru sprinted through the narrow alleys, enemies hot on her heels while Hugo did the same, at least until she was out of sight. In the most boring way he could muster, he gave Cyrus his weekly report, who had listened with an awfully amused glint in his eyes. Very childish, in Hugo's opinion. But if the smug bastard had seen the collision between Donella's number one spy and the nearby brick wall he had the decency to keep it to himself. For good measure, Hugo added lots and lots of complaining about the stabbing pain in the side of his head and the immense sacrifice he was forced to make for the job.
At camp, Varian and Yong were blissfully unaware of today's troubles. Together they bent over a small table that functioned as a mini outdoor-lab. Their constant chatter felt more and more familiar as he crept closer.
"You are a good kid. Don't get cocky," Varian laughed, ruffling through the younger's hair while continuing to explain something about the importance of safety gear. He was always a stickler for the rules like that.
His back faced towards him. With a sly smirk, Hugo the human admired the view. He slowed down to make the road last longer. Time for a little experiment of his own.
Ultimately, it was Yong, who saw Hugo first. The boy's small hands hovered in the air while his attention was abruptly split between the older teen and mixing two chemicals. He must have applied too much of the substance if Varian's frustrated sigh was anything to go by. Also, the now bubbling fluid slowly expanded which was never good.
"Hugo! What happened?"
In a well-practiced manner, Varian took the potential time bomb out of Yong's grip. Hugo exhaled, prematurely as things turned out.
"Where is Nu-," the alchemist pushed his goggles up and stopped mid-sentence. His eyes fixed solemnly on the criminal.
Hugo had never seen the other look at him like that. If he hadn't known any better he'd say Varian was checking him out. That sounded wrong. All of a sudden he became hyper-aware of how wet the left side of his temple really felt and just how his cloths, in general, were kinda soaked.
"Relax pipsqueak. It's not as bad as it seems."
Yong showered him with words. Unsurprisingly not many of them stuck. What stuck was the smell. Hugo noticed it immediately. Skin and acid and smoke. He would never forget. Chemicals spilling out of the beaker, gloves burning and blisters forming on delicate fingers.
"What the fuck!" Hugo smacked the glass out of Varian's hands. He was shaking with fury.
Varian didn't notice. He was pale. His gaze unblinking and far away. From one second to the next his trembling body went limp. His knees gave out under him and with a dry hit, Varian collapsed. Motionless he lay on the ground among the shards. For a terrifying moment Hugo thought…he… A wave of dizziness threatened to overwhelm him and then he didn't think at all. Scared and frantic and desperate he clung to Varian. He shook his shoulder yelling at him to open his eyes till his hand finally grabbed the other's wrist and he could breathe again.
"Varian!" Yong screamed. Hugo's own vulnerability and desperation mirrored on his face.
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.
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The campfire crackled once more in the night. Though his light was dimmed by the shadows of the earlier event.
Yong was quiet. Aside from the almost inaudible whispered, "I am sorry. I should have listened. The chemicals … I messed up," he hadn't said a single word, his posture stiff and tense. He looked unbelievingly small as he sat on the lodge next to Hugo.
Nuru on the other hand couldn't keep still. She paced back and forth, unable to find any solace whatsoever. "I shouldn't have abandoned you," she told him over and over. "If it weren't for me you never would have been hurt in the first place and Varian...," her voice broke.
It was ridiculous. Hugo didn't understand. Why was everyone so willing to take the blame? Even Varian's first instinct was to apologize as soon as he opened his eyes. Ruddiger had stayed curled up by his owner's side, providing his own warmth and comfort. In the end, the other had brushed it off. "It's nobody's fault," he'd scratched his neck and gave a sharp gasp of pain when his burned flesh reminded him that it indeed needed rest.
Except it was. Hugo shrank back, breath hitching, halfway between a sob and a hiss. His own injury twinged. It was clearly his fault. He did this on purpose.