You don't want to know how long I've been working on this chapter. I am SO weak for emotional angst and hurt/comfort, I needed this one to be just right.
And to "Guest" - I wish you had a registered account so I could reply to your comments and tell you how much I truly appreciate you, because I mean it from the bottom of my heart. Thank you for everything.
Chapter 19: Fault Line
T-MINUS 48 HOURS TIL OPENING NIGHT:
Kurda was really looking forwards to the second-last good sleep he'd get before the Festival of the Undead began. He'd finished his to-do list. All there was left to do was rest up for the main event. He got in a solid five hours, which wasn't ideal. It would have to do.
He awoke to abruptly to a tiny hand pawing at his cheek, and he smiled sleepily as he opened his eyes to see a familiar pair of beloved blues staring right back at him.
"What are you doing up, Honey Bee?" Kurda's voice was still gravelly from sleep but he was wide awake once he realized Gracie was distraught. Her eyes widened, and began to water. Her lip trembled for a second before she blurted out,
"I threw up on my pillow."
Oh. It's going to be one of those nights.
"Hey, that's okay. It happens." Said Kurda evenly, sitting upright. All thoughts of sleep were immediately forgotten. "Upset tummy?"
She responded with a forlorn little shrug-nod as the tears began to fall. Kurda winced in sympathy and wasted no time getting out of his coffin to tackle the situation.
"Don't worry about it. Here, you can lay in my bed and stay cozy while I go clean yours up for you. Does that sound good?" Kurda suggested. Gracie nodded shakily, still weeping. Kurda scooped her up into a tight hug, but when he kissed her forehead he cringed in dismay - her skin was hotter than the dying embers in the fireplace. His heart sank.
"I don'feel good." Gracie bawled into his neck. And because all that wasn't enough, then she began to cough.
"You're pretty toasty. I think you've got a little fever." Kurda affirmed, rocking her in his arms as she sniffled. Once she'd relaxed a bit, Kurda set her down in his own coffin. The space he'd left was still warm, so tucked her in and went to tidy up the unfortunate mess in her room.
Kurda was flying solo for this one. Mika's list of pre-Festival responsibilities was reaching critical levels, and Kurda had barely seen him since the surprisingly pleasant evening he'd spent watching Mika and Arra duel each other on the bars several nights ago.
He figured It was probably for the best that Mika wasn't here. Mika is a stellar dad - but someone who spends half his time covered in blood and sweat in the sporting halls, he doesn't cope with smelly bodily fluids very well. Not only did he learn to change a diaper at the speed of light, he adapted to do it with his eyes closed and holding his breath - a survival tactic. Wimp.
On the other hand, if Mika was here, at least Kurda wouldn't be alone with a sick child and heavy heart as he pinpointed why this was hitting too close to home. A home from another lifetime.
Kurda's youngest sister woke up with a fever once. She never came back from it. The girl was weak and sickly for months before he finally passed from the cruel world she'd been born into. The Smahlt parents raised their children with the purest intentions, but money was scarce and they couldn't miss work to care for one sick kid when they had eight to feed. They had few memories of their youngest daughter's last weeks on earth. It was Kurda, the eldest child at age ten, who cared for his baby sister til the bitter end.
She became another statistic of an era where little kids got sick and died all the time. No one outside the immediate family batted an eye. Even the immediate family quickly moved on, because such was the way of the world back then. It wasn't til decades later when Kurda looked back and realized how fucked up it all was. Not only to bear that burden at such a tender age, but also that not once did a single adult bother to ask if he was okay. And in almost two hundred years, Kurda had yet to speak about it to anyone. Not even Mika. Especially not Mika.
Speaking of Mika, he was currently in an emergency meeting because a couple of Generals had reported a torched way station en-route to Vampire Mountain. And if a potential security threat wasn't stressful enough, now Gracie was sick. Kurda dreaded telling Mika the latter. Mika had been moody and withdrawn all week, barely managing to slap on a passable smile when Gracie was around. Even the grittiest warriors will eventually hit a breaking point when pushed too far, and Kurda feared Mika was obliviously approaching his.
But it wasn't Kurda's job to worry about Mika. It was their job to worry about Gracie. And if Mika got back here after a gruelling night to find out Kurda had been worrying about Gracie without him… Mika would never forgive him. And had their positions been reversed, Kurda wouldn't have forgiven it either.
MEANWHILE IN CONFERENCE ROOM 6:
"I'm telling you all right now, we're fools if we think we can still expect to have undisturbed way stations on the outer edge!" General Egan McCallan bellowed emphatically, hammering the table with his fist to get his point across. "Human civilization is spreading faster than we ever anticipated, especially to the south! There'll be a city at the base of our mountain before you-"
"Hold on. General Irve's initial report stated the way station was destroyed by vampaneze, not humans. Are you two sure you're talking about the same place?" Mika interjected. He'd been awake far too long to deal with this inane back-and-forth, but there was no end in sight. His comment was met with a blank look from General McCallan on one side of the table, and a grunt of exasperation from General Irve on the other side.
"Humans, McCallan? You really think humans would've gone out of their way to do that? This was a blatant threat from the vampaneze!" Irve barked across the table, pounding his fist into the dusty wooden surface for emphasis.
"Even if the vampaneze wanted war, why would they vandalize the station after most of the council attendees had already passed through? And with how recent it was. don't you think at least one other vampire might've caught a whiff of them on their way here?" McCallan retorted, seething. "Some human must've found the coffins and blood vials and burned the place down in a panic. That's the only explanation!"
"Why would a human even be in that area? And why would they destroy the only shelter for hundreds of miles? They wouldn't even know what it was!"
"Why would the vampaneze commit an act of war right now when we outnumber them so badly? They can't afford it!"
"Whether it's an act of war or an act of madness, you can't assume there was any logical thought behind it!"
"So… did neither of you think it might've been a good idea to communicate with each other before submitting a request to meet with one of the Princes?" Mika glanced back and forth at the bickering Generals, eyebrows raised in disbelief. "Charna's fucking guts, at least get your stories straight before you start spreading rumours and -"
His voice trailed off mid-tangent as he felt Kurda mindlink with him.
KS: Hey.
MVL: In a meeting.
KS: I know. Listen. Gracie's sick. Woke up with a fever. Coughing a bit.
Mika felt his heart drop into his stomach, and he didn't immediately respond, so Kurda quickly elaborated.
KS: It's not serious. She's awake and alert, just miserable. I'm sitting with her now. I know you have a lot going on. My schedule is clear tonight, so don't worry about -
Don't worry. The words and their implication made Mika want to crawl out of his skin. As if he had the option of muting the voice in his head that was yelling at him to get the fuck out of this room and run to Gracie. It was never that simple, so he'd learned to weigh his options on the fly in difficult situations like this.
This destroyed way station was legitimately concerning. It would be unwise to dismiss it - especially with the mountain so full of council attendees. The rumour mill was a vicious beast that could easily do more harm than whatever the root cause was. These Generals could snipe back and forth til they were blue in the face, but only a Prince could decide on a legitimate next step, and that couldn't wait.
Mika thought about waking Paris up, but barely an hour ago he'd retreated to finally get some sleep after going over twenty-four hours without. Mika had been awake longer, but Paris needed the rest more than Mika did.
He considered summoning Arrow to tap in. But if there was any chance of illicit vampaneze activity… well, the treaty was dry kindling, Arrow was a can of gasoline, and this rumour could be a lit match if it took off. Mika was pretty sure Arrow had evolved to the point where he could check himself and look rationally at the situation, but why risk it when the Festival was upon them?
Ultimately Mika knew his priority had to be maintaining control of the situation in front of him. Delegating just wasn't an option. There wasn't anything he could do for Gracie that Kurda wasn't already doing. And even though Mika wanted to be there so badly he could cry, it didn't work like that. Not here. Not now. Not for him.
As Mika blinked himself back to reality, he realized he was drilling the tip of his pencil aimlessly into the notepaper in front of him, creating a tiny ring of graphite dust around the tip that was no longer sharp. He also realized there were multiple people currently waiting for some sort of answer from him.
"Sire? Are you alright?" McCallan inquired quizzically as he peered across at Mika.
"Do you want me to coordinate an investigation into the matter?" Irve added, still intent on one-upping McCallan.
And finally,
KS: Hey. You good?
Mika took a deep, steadying breath, and for now it was enough to put his game face back on.
"Sorry, gentlemen. Just multitasking. You're not the only problem on my agenda tonight." Mika addressed the two Generals calmly, tapping his temple to imply the momentary lapse was simply him giving his input elsewhere by way of telepathy. It wasn't a lie, but the whole truth was none of their business. The Generals nodded understandingly, and Mika sent Kurda one closing remark before picking up where he'd left off.
MVL: I'll have the medics sent right away. Do you need me there?
KS: I've got everything under control. Already summoned the medics. I know you're managing a crisis right now. I just figured you'd want to know.
MVL: Of course I want to know. I can't step away right now, but I'm glad you told me. I'll be there as soon as I can. Tell her I love her and I'm sorry.
KS: Don't be sorry. Are you okay? You feel a little scrambled.
But Mika was already grilling McCallan over the inconsistencies between his and Irve's reports, so Kurda's question went ignored.
BACK AT HOME BASE:
As unfortunate as the situation was, at least Gracie didn't share Mika's staunch aversion to medics. In fact, she relished the attention and perked up as they fawned over her. They patiently took her temperature, checked her pulse, listened to her cough, and left Kurda with a heavily diluted version of the fever remedy they'd been using to treat the outbreak of Vampire Flu. They also reassured him that humans absolutely could not and would not contract the Vampire Flu itself; the timing was just a coincidence.
Kurda could only assume the rough-hewn crew of medical staff saw their interaction with Gracie as a pleasant break from the gruesome injuries they normally dealt with. They handled her with the tender diligence of an world-class paediatric team. There were three of them; but the chief lingered for several minutes after the other two returned to the sporting halls. His final order of business was to delicately bandage the tiny, week-old, mostly-faded bruise on Gracie's elbow where she'd bumped it on a doorframe. She'd pointed at the bruise while hitting him with the biggest puppy-dog eyes she could muster. The little ham.
"Honey, I'm not convinced your elbow is the source of the issue." Kurda sighed. He was seated in his desk chair with Gracie in his lap, flexing her newly bandaged arm with satisfaction. She was still coughing unpleasantly every few minutes, but the bandage provided a welcome distraction.
"Better safe than sorry, General Smahlt." The medic replied seriously as he re-packed his supplies into a leather bag. Kurda silently racked his brain trying to recall the man's name. They'd met several times when Mika occupied the infirmary battling the Vampire Flu, and again when Kurda himself ended up there after the tunnel collapse. But on all of those occasions, pleasantries had been the last thing on Kurda's mind. The chief was a broad-shouldered man with dark skin, kind eyes, and a warm laugh. Gracie had taken a strong liking to him.
"You'd know better than I would, I suppose." Said Kurda wryly. "Thank you for getting here so quickly. I know it's your busy season down in the infirmary. On behalf of myself and Mi- er, Sire Ver Leth, we appreciate you."
"The health and safety of our princess is not a responsibility we take lightly." The chief was still speaking in the same businesslike manner, but there was a twinkle in his eye as he winked. "At the risk of offending her pacifist father, I think she's going to be a fighter."
Kurda rolled his eyes, but couldn't keep himself from chuckling. "Who am I to argue with the expert? Were you a doctor before you joined the clan?"
The chief smiled at Kurda as he paused with his hand on the doorknob. "Not as such. I was a father, though. I raised three fierce, clever girls. She reminds me of my oldest."
"Ah. So you're more than qualified to make an assessment." Said Kurda. He blinked a couple times, trying not to look as blindsided as he felt. He hadn't been expecting that. But he retained enough awareness to add, "Wait, before you go - I don't think I caught your name."
"Aderes. Mohan Aderes."
"Pleased to properly meet you, Chief Aderes."
"Likewise, General Smahlt."
They exchanged a final smile and a quick nod before Mohan slipped out of the room, leaving Kurda alone with his pint-sized partner in crime. But it was clear Gracie didn't have much crime in her today. The novelty of the elbow bandage had worn off. She'd gone back to hiding her face defeatedly in Kurda's chest, lifting it only when she needed to cough.
"Ready for your medicine?" Kurda asked. Exactly one second later he realized how stupid that question was. At the word medicine, she gazed warily up at Kurda like he'd suggested taking a dip in a shark tank. She only had one experience with medicine prior to this - last year when she contracted a mild cold. So mild they really shouldn't have bothered with medicine at all, because it wasn't worth the hassle. Gracie was so disgusted by the taste, it was three days before she'd trust any food or drink she was offered. Evidently she held a grudge. She looked Kurda dead in the eye and said,
"No medicine."
"I know, I know." Kurda sighed ruefully. "It'll be yucky. But only for a second, then it'll make you feel better."
"No. Medicine." Gracie repeated, with the ice-cold conviction of a Supreme Court judge. On one hand, Kurda loved her natural inclination to stand up for herself and wanted to nourish that. On the other hand, she was two and a half, with minimal comprehension of her own needs. And what she needed was a shot of the strong-smelling green liquid before this cough escalated into pneumonia.
"Want to hear a secret?" Said Kurda, raising an eyebrow.
"Mmhm."
Kurda paused for dramatic effect, to pique Gracie's curiosity. As she peered expectantly at him, he added in an undertone: "Medicine is just a boring, grown-up word for magic potion."
It almost worked. She was intrigued. Kurda managed to open the vial, but he didn't get as far as pouring it into the cap. Gracie climbed out of his lap and retreated a few feet away, shaking her head decisively with her arms crossed.
"Magic potion stinky, Daddy."
"…Please?" Kurda groaned. It was worth a try.
Gracie continued to shake her head, but her energy was visibly fading. Her chin was trembling as her eyes welled up with tears. To be fair, this had been the worst day of her short life so far. At least far as she could remember.
Kurda sat in silence for a moment, at a loss for how to strategize his way through this one. She needed the medicine, that was a fact. But the situation wasn't dire enough to warrant forcing it down her throat. That would be unnecessary trauma for both of them. He decided to circle back to it later.
"Okay, Gracie." Said Kurda at last, his voice catching in his throat. "Do you want to take a nap instead?"
"No nap. Stay up."
"Why don't you go snuggle Lovely, then? I put some clean blankets on your bed. You can read him a story."
Finally a victory for Kurda. She'd do anything for that damned tarantula. If only Lovely could talk, Kurda thought to himself. Gracie would probably down that entire vial of medicine if it was Lovely's idea. Kurda briefly toyed with the idea of attempting to teach himself ventriloquism. Gracie took Lovely out of his cage and settled down amidst the nest of blankets in her miniature coffin.
From the other room Kurda could hear her quietly 'reading' to Lovely, i.e. describing the pictures on the pages. He could also hear her pause to cough with increasing frequency. While Kurda knew they weren't in the realm of true crisis, that knowledge did little to ease the aching helplessness in his heart. Or to dispel the intrusive memories darkening the corner of his mind.
Kurda was aware Gracie bore a striking resemblance to him, by some cosmic coincidence. And seeing as she was racking up more of Mika's mannerisms by the day, Kurda figured it was only fair she looked like a Smahlt. But what had been a source of pride was now a painful catch twenty-two. She didn't only look like Kurda. Suddenly all Kurda could see was his little sister. Almost two centuries later Kurda could still picture her face as clearly as the night she died.
It's not like that time. It's not the same. It's not even the Vampire Flu. Things are different now. It's not happening again. It's not. The words echoed through Kurda's mind. As if they'd become true if he silently screamed them into the void enough times.
And he knew it really wasn't happening again. Back then he had nothing. No medicine, and no money with which to buy it. But he wasn't that scared, powerless kid anymore. Not only was he an accomplished, well-adjusted adult, he was equipped with more power and resources than he even knew existed as a child. He could, he would get Gracie through this bump in the road. It'd be remembered as no more than a bad day in a good life. She'd be okay. He knew that.
And he still wished Mika was here, because if nothing else at least he would've provided a distraction one way or another. But Mika wasn't here. He'd be stuck in that meeting for hours yet, undoubtedly worrying his way towards a stress ulcer or something. So for now, this was all Kurda.
To spite the pang of anxiety gnawing a hole in his stomach, Kurda redirected his energy into filling this space with as much love and softness as he possibly could. He gathered every last spare blanket and pillow he could find and piled them in Mika's room, right in front of the fireplace. Then he fetched the chairs from both their desks and carefully draped the blankets over the chairs, arranging them into a structure that resembled a tent. Once he'd stocked it with stuffed animals and story books, he kindled the fire for extra warmth. Then finally he fetched Gracie. Fortunately she didn't object when he put Lovely back in his cage.
"What the blankets do?" Gracie mumbled as she saw his creation for the first time. Morose as she was, it seemed to have caught her interest.
"I made you a tent." Kurda told her, smiling for the first time in almost an hour. "Didn't you say last week you wanted to go on a camping adventure?"
Finally, she smiled.
Kurda sat down in the cozy canopy with Gracie still clinging to his chest like a cranky koala bear. When Kurda asked her which book she wanted to read, she responded with a noncommittal shrug. Her indifference lasted until Kurda went ahead and picked the book for her. The first sentence of page one was barely out of his mouth when she lifted her head to shoot him a reproachful glare and mumble,
"Not that book, Daddy."
Kurda laughed weakly, half-relieved that she still had enough energy for sass and half-amused because it was a Mika-level glare if he'd ever seen one.
Kurda went through the available selection of books til Gracie picked one. As always he held the book at eye-level with her and followed the words with his finger as he read them. Normally her eyes would keenly track his movements as she learned to associated the letters on the page with words spoken aloud. Not tonight, though. Tonight she assumed the role of passive listener and chose to bury her face in Kurda's chest rather than look at the pages.
Three books in, she looked up and asked,
"Where Daddy?"
"Well, he's in a meeting right now. And he has to stay there until it's over."
"When?"
"Maybe an hour or two. It's hard to say."
"Why?"
Kurda sighed. Of course she wished Mika was here too. She was never happier than when the three of them were together.
"Remember when I told you about how a lot of people depend on him to help keep our home safe? He's got a very big job to do, and he's very good at it." Kurda explained gently.
"Miss him."
"I know, honey. Do you want to hear another secret?"
"Mmhm."
"Both of us love you more than anything. We don't always get to choose what our jobs need from us. But no matter where we are or what we're doing, our favourite place is you." Said Kurda. He meant it. And he knew Mika would've agreed wholeheartedly.
Gracie seemed to accept that. She nodded sleepily, closed her eyes again, and rested her head back against Kurda.
"Do you remember when I went away on that long trip?" Kurda added. "I learned a lot, and got to talk to some very interesting people. I was lucky to be part of it. But I still spent that whole time missing you, and wishing I was here. And that's what your Other Daddy is doing right now. He's wishing he was taking care of you instead. And I promise he'll be here soon."
Gracie nodded again, but didn't open her eyes.
"You hungry?" Kurda ventured hopefully.
"No hungy. Tummy yucky."
Kurda sighed. He wasn't about to force a snack down her throat when she felt this awful, but she needed something.
"Perhaps a drink, then? I know you feel yucky, but your body needs lots of water to help fight the flu away. You know, if I put your medicine in your juice, it won't taste so bad."
"No drink. No medicine. Just story."
"One more story, then medicine?"
"No."
"Two more stories, then medicine and a little snack on the side?"
Gracie opened her eyes so she could stare directly into Kurda's soul with a gaze as calculating as a hardened hostage negotiator, and presented her counteroffer:
"Three story. Then cookie. No medicine."
"A cookie?" Kurda chuckled as he ruffled her hair. "Thought your tummy felt yucky."
"Cookie make better."
"Fair point." Kurda mused as seriously as if he was in a real negotiation. "Here's my counter-offer: Three cookies. Drink. Medicine. And unlimited stories until you're ready to fall asleep."
Gracie thought long and hard. Her eyes remained shrewdly fixed on Kurda, sizing him up.
"Do you have another counter-offer you'd like to bring to the table?" Kurda added. "Or do we have a deal?"
And honestly, Kurda wouldn't have been surprised if she kept trying for a better offer. But to his relief, she managed a quiet giggle and snuggled into him again.
"I can make deal."
(TOO MANY) HOURS LATER:
Mika was numb by the time he finally made it back to his suite. Despite all the work he put in, he'd only fallen further behind in the Festival preparations. Everything that could possibly go wrong had gone wrong, or was in the process of going wrong. The stupid way station had been just the tip of the iceberg. There was still more work to be done. And on top of everything else, Gracie was sick. He knew it wasn't the end of the world, but that's what it felt like.
He didn't think to take a moment to pull himself together before opening the door to his room, so he was in no way prepared for the scene that awaited him.
The fireplace was lit, its pleasant crackle lending warmth to the room and illuminating the two figures curled up in front of it. It seemed Kurda had gathered every last blanket and pillow that existed between their three suites and arranged it into something of a fortress, complete with a canopy made of two chairs and a sheet draped over them. And beneath that canopy lay Gracie, bundled up like a tiny burrito in her favourite pink blankie. Her face was pale but she was sleeping peacefully. Kurda was beside her, wide eyes on Gracie like she'd disappear if he looked away.
And Mika wanted to die. Truly, genuinely wanted to find a cold, deep hole in the ground and lay down in it. It finally hit him. Tonight he'd done the thing he swore he'd never do - handled a situation exactly how his father would've. He couldn't remember the exact translation of the stately Latin verse on the Ver Leth family crest, but he was pretty sure it went something like Business Over Everything, Fuck Them Kids.
Tonight he failed. Gracie needed him and he wasn't here, because he'd been there. It wasn't a choice he made lightly; the clan needed him too. But he'd scraped by with half his usual focus and attention to detail because even though he'd been there, he wasn't truly there because his mind was here with Gracie. It was all he could manage, yet not nearly enough. Mika had channelled his own father's ruthlessly efficient work ethic just enough to let his kid down, but not enough to do his job to the full extent of his capabilities.
"Hi." Kurda murmured. He glanced up with weary eyes as Mika approached and managed a smile, but it was strained. Mika didn't reciprocate.
"How is she?" Mika asked, the words barely more than a hoarse whisper.
"About the same. The cough started getting really bad, but the medicine helped."
"So what do we do now? What else does she need?"
"Best thing we can do is let her sleep. She's exhausted."
"What about food for when she wakes up? I can get her some food."
"I finally convinced her to eat and drink just before she fell asleep, about half an hour ago. She's almost as stubborn as you were when you got sick." Said Kurda calmly, as Mika felt his face and limbs start to go numb. How are you so calm? Can't you feel the walls closing in around us?
"We should take her to a hospital." Mika heard himself blurt out, and he barely recognized his own voice as it shuddered and cracked. "There's one in that outpost town where we get supplies, it's only a half-hour flit-"
"Mika, think about what you're saying." Kurda groaned, seeming to loosen his grip on his serenity for a moment. About fucking time. "It's the middle of the day, the sun'll be out for at least eight hours yet. We're not much use to her if we fry to death."
Kurda really wasn't getting this. Deep in the darkest crevices of his own mind, Mika felt something break.
"Then what am I supposed to do?!"
It took all of his remaining composure to keep from shouting. Suddenly he was gripped by the same manic restlessness he'd felt on her first night here, almost two years ago now. The night he paced around in search of something tangible he could do to make this better for her. Something within his control. Because if he couldn't control something, anything when the world was spinning off its axis, then…. then what?
"There's nothing you can do right now." Kurda sighed, running one hand through his hair. "We have to wait it out. I know how much you hate that. I'm so sorry."
"I have to do something. Fuck, I can't just… I can't…" Mika's voice trailed off as he felt his throat begin to close. The wheels were coming off now. Palms sweating, intense pressure-pain shooting through his chest. He'd been to this place enough times to know it was all in his head and he wasn't actually dying. But no matter how many times he told himself, he wouldn't believe it til it was over. Even the most enduring rock cracks under the right pressure on the wrong fault line.
"Come sit with us - that's what you can do to help. She was asking for you before she fell asleep." Kurda countered evenly.
"Yeah… I'll be there in a minute. Just need a drink." Truthfully Mika had no intention of drinking anything. He didn't think he could've swallowed and kept it down if his life depended on it. But he had no business disturbing Gracie and Kurda's peace until he'd pulled himself together. He laid his palms on the desk and leaned on it. Closed his eyes. Forced himself to take deep breaths. Focused on the smooth mahogany surface against his fingertips. Fought the urge to dig his nails into it, to gouge jagged imperfections into that flawless finish til it looked how he felt inside. Wrecked.
His vision flickered as blood rushed to his head. A reminder that on top of all the other ways he'd failed tonight, he'd also forgotten to eat or drink. Couldn't even look after himself, and yet he was expected to keep a small child and few thousand vampires safe? Who's fucking idea was -
"Charna's guts, are you alright?" Kurda's steady voice was suddenly sharp with concern and Mika felt a wave of guilt. Kurda had been dealing with a sick toddler alone all night. He didn't need an adult-sized burden too. Kurda deserved better. Gracie deserved better. Fuck, every vampire currently anticipating the Festival deserved better than the autopilot zombie that had been walking around in Mika's clothes.
"I'm fine. It's fine." Mika heard himself mutter.
That response evidently wasn't good enough. A patter of footsteps, and Kurda materialised at Mika's side. Mika automatically jerked away from the reassuring hand on his back while his last, desperate shred of dignity screamed don't touch me, don't look at me, get out.
But deep in the rawest, most fragile part of his soul there was a quieter voice crying out can't breathe, can't do this, help me. Mika himself could barely hear that voice over all the noise in his head and he sure didn't want to acknowledge it. But Kurda heard it loud and clear.
"You don't look fine. Mika, look at me. What's going on?"
"Nothing. Headache. I'm tired. Go back to Gracie."
"She's asleep. I'm worried about you right now. Gods, you're shaking! When's the last time you ate something? Or slept?"
"I'm fine. I swear. Just leave me alone. I'll be there in a second." Mika could hear the thinly-veiled plaintiveness in his own voice, and he didn't think he'd ever heard a worse sound in his life.
"I'm not going anywhere! Talk to me, Mika. Please, give me something. Anyth-"
"I wasn't there." Mika cut him off, words flying out of his mouth unfiltered as he stared wild-eyed at Kurda. "The one time she really needed me, I couldn't even… I wasn't there. I could've left the meeting. Who would've stopped me? How can I go sit with her and tell her everything's going to be okay when I chose to stay in a fucking meeting?"
The words burned like he was vomiting up acid. The only thing keeping him from shouting was the fact that Gracie was slumbering on the other side of the room. Mika kept his eyes on Kurda as his confession hung heavy in the air like smoke. Not only did Kurda met Mika's gaze unflinchingly, he held it.
"That's not fair. We both know it's never that simple. You're here now and that's enough." Kurda whispered. "You didn't fail. You don't fail."
The consolation landed like a sucker punch. Mika shook his head back at Kurda, but didn't attempt to respond. His throat felt swollen shut, breath coming in ragged gasps, heart racing so hard it surely had to be on the verge of giving out completely. Logic and rational thought were no longer on the table. Nor was coherent speech. Kurda picked up on that, and adjusted his approach.
"Mika, listen to me. You need to breathe, or you're going to make yourself pass out." Kurda murmured as his palm moved in slow circles around Mika's back. "Just close your eyes. It's going to be okay."
"You don't… you don't know that!" Mika croaked, fighting to get the words out. "Gods, Kurda, if anything happens to her… I'm gonna… I can't-"
"Stop. Don't do that to yourself. Nothing will happen to her."
"But what if-"
"Shh. If the fever hasn't broken by the time the sun sets, I promise you I'll flit her to the city, like you said. Whatever she needs, she'll have it. Yeah?"
Eyes still closed, Mika nodded. Kurda kept talking. "We'd never let anything happen to her. You know that, don't you? Remember when you said there's no one on earth who can protect her like we can?"
"…Yeah."
"And aren't you always right?" Kurda added, as his slender fingertips massaged Mika's spine. More than a tickle but not quite a scratch. The touch was soothing, familiar. Mika's heart rate was slowing down. Not enough, but he no longer felt like he was dying.
"If… it gets worse… if we have to go to the city… I'm coming with you." Mika heard himself say. He didn't even have to think about it. He heard Kurda sigh.
"Come on, Mika. The Festival of the Undead is about to start. They don't need me for that. But you can't miss the opening ceremony."
Something in Mika's scrambled brain clicked back into place at that.
Fucking watch me.
He raised his head enough to look Kurda dead in the eye so there'd be no uncertainty as to whether or not he meant it with every fibre of his being:
"The ceremony doesn't matter. Nothing else matters. Nothing but her."
Kurda held Mika's gaze, taking that in. If Mika's response surprised him, he didn't show it.
"Deal. If we have to go, we'll go together." Kurda murmured eventually. Mika closed his eyes again, and Kurda had no other comments. But he stayed, and Mika let him. As awful as it was having someone bearing witness to his darkest moment, being alone was worse. Despite their significant difference in stature, standing by Kurda's side felt like the safest place he'd ever been. And only with that realization did the noise in his head begin to quiet.
By the time his pulse settled, Mika felt like he'd been pushed from the top of the mountain and hit every rock on the way down. All he wanted to do was lie down and either sleep or die. Eventually he felt a smaller, less battle-scarred hand settle on top of his, fingers interlacing with his own. Only then did Mika relax the death grip he had on his desk. When he finally opened his eyes, Kurda's blues were waiting for him.
"Hey, sunshine. You still in there?" Kurda murmured with an unmistakable hitch as his thumb stroked the back of Mika's hand. For one surreal second, Mika almost laughed. Sunshine. Poetic in its irony. Comedic gold.
"Sorry. Yeah."
"You okay?"
"…Sure."
"Do you want to talk? About anything?" Kurda ventured. But his grimace suggested he already knew what Mika was going to say.
"Pass."
"I think you should try anyway."
"Kurda… not now. Probably never, but definitely not now."
"I worry about you. This has been a long time coming." Kurda pressed with cautious determination. "You haven't been sleeping or eating. I know you thrive under pressure, but even you have to -"
The return of clarity brought with it a stark self-awareness. Mika had never felt more exposed than he did right now, open and raw like a nerve. As if Kurda could see everything. All of Mika's darkest fears and deepest insecurities. Everything he hated about himself, everything that contradicted the flawlessly curated image he projected. The thought of being seen terrified him, but it was a different kind of fear than any he'd ever known.
"Don't worry about me. Worry about Gracie." He cut Kurda off roughly as he took his hands off his desk and straightened his back.
"Those two trains of thought aren't mutually exclusive, Mika." Kurda sighed in exasperation. Mika had heard that exact sigh so many times it was almost comforting at this point. But Kurda was intuitive enough to pick up on the fact that Mika wasn't going to open up to him any further. So Kurda dropped the matter and poured a cup of water from the pitcher on the desk. He pushed it into Mika's hand, gently but firmly.
Mika slowly drained the cup dry and returned it to its place. There was a moment where it looked as though Kurda was about to hug him, but seemed to decide against it at the last second. Mika didn't exactly blame him. Kurda lightly touched his shoulder instead.
"Come on. Get some rest now. It's about three days past your bedtime."
Mika nodded, beyond the point of surrender. Kurda gently steered him back towards the tent, like he was expecting Mika to make a break for the door. Yeah right.
Gracie stirred as Mika carefully lay down in the blanket tent beside her, and he winced when her eyelids fluttered open. The last thing he'd wanted to do was wake her up. But then she grinned when she saw him, and that turned his world right-side-up again. He reached out and stroked her forehead.
"Daddy back?"
"Hey, Princess. I'm back."
"Good meeting?" She mumbled, repeating the exact line she'd heard Kurda say a thousand times.
"No. I missed you the whole time. How are you feeling?"
"I sick." Gracie furrowed her brow as if she felt Mika was wasting her time with rhetorical questions.
"I know. I'm so sorry I didn't get here sooner." Mika's voice broke, and he hoped she was still too young to pick up on it. But he kind of always got the impression she understood more than she let on. "Go back to sleep. I'll be here when you wake up. I love you so much, Gracie."
"Love you." Gracie echoed, managing a tired little smile. She inched closer to Mika, rested her head on his outstretched arm and closed her eyes. Within seconds she was fast asleep. Mika knew he wouldn't be far behind. He reached over with his unoccupied arm and readjusted Gracie's blanket around her even more snugly. Finally he pulled his own blanket up over himself. His worn-out body rejoiced at the warmth.
He glanced up at Kurda one last time; Kurda was tucking himself into his own blanket nest on the other side of the tent, just a few feet away. Mika opened his mouth to say the only thing he still cared about getting off his chest at this point in the night: Thank you. You did amazing. You're my hero. And I'm so sorry.
But it was too late. He blinked, and the whole world finally went dark.
ONE SLEEP LATER:
For a moment Kurda lay there wondering why he wasn't in his coffin, then he sat bolt upright as he remembered the events leading up to this. Gracie and Mika were still fast asleep. Neither had moved once they'd dozed off. Gracie was still using Mika's arm as a pillow. The arm was bent at an awkward angle to accommodate her, and Kurda was certain the limb would be sore when Mika woke up. He was also certain Mika wouldn't mind at all.
Kurda laid his palm on Gracie's forehead, and felt an overwhelming rush of relief. The fever had broken. He didn't mean to wake her up, but her eyes fluttered open as he withdrew his hand.
"What, Daddy?" Gracie mumbled rather crossly, raising her head to glare at Kurda. And he couldn't do anything but chuckle at her pint-sized attitude. She was out of the woods.
"Sorry I woke you, Honey Bee." Kurda whispered. "How are you feeling?"
"M'good."
"That's good. Go back to sleep, okay? It's too early for you."
Gracie had no objections, but her slight movement was enough to cause Mika to surface from the vast ocean of slumber.
"What's going on? Is she okay?" He rasped as he sat up, blinking in confusion as he, like Kurda, presumably tried to remember how he ended up in a tent. He looked so endearingly dazed, Kurda couldn't help but reach over and squeeze his shoulder.
"Better than okay. The fever broke. You should get some more sleep too. You still need it."
"Fine. Just don't let me sleep too late. I have a few more things I need to take care of before the festival." Said Mika. But his eyes were alight with relief as he sat there watching Gracie with reverence.
"As you wish, Sire." Kurda sighed.
"Only you could make that sound so offensive." Mika huffed as he closed his eyes and lay back down, contentedly pulling his blanket up to his chin. Fortunately Mika went back to sleep as quickly as Gracie had, but Kurda stayed up. He went to his desk to edit some notes he'd prepared for upcoming council meetings, planning to wake Mika up once those were finished.
By the time Kurda ran out of paperwork, Mika was still out cold. Kurda rarely witnessed Mika sleep, and he felt like he was intruding on something private. Maybe it was the way Mika was lying on his side in almost a fetal position, arms curled up around his face as if prepared to shield himself from danger at a moment's notice. Or the way he was buried beneath not one, but two thick blankets. Even at the best of times, Mika never got more than the bare minimum amount of sleep he needed to function. But after a gruelling week at the end of a gruelling year, he was finally sleeping in. And he was so cozy.
Kurda couldn't do it. It seemed cruel to disturb such peace. And hey, Kurda's all about peace. He slowly extracted himself from the blanket fort, taking extra care not to disturb them. He had errands to run. But first, he tiptoed off to Mika's desk where he immediately found what he was looking for - the almighty schedule.
The mountain was buzzing as he made his way down the Hall of Princes, where Kurda tried not to be offended by Arrow's blatant disappointment when he realized Mika wasn't with him.
"I know you don't like me. But as a Prince, shouldn't you be able to fake a bit of diplomacy?" Kurda greeted Arrow unabashedly as he approached the throne platform. Arrow made a wry face.
"Why would I do that?"
"Never mind. Sorry to bother you, this'll be quick. Do you know where the guard captains' meeting is supposed to take place today?"
"Guard captains' meeting?" Arrow echoed, cocking his head in a way that reminded Kurda of Gracie when she got confused.
"That's what I said."
"Why would you go to the guard captain's meeting? Thought Barclay was the General overseeing that."
"He is. I'm just filling in for Mika."
"Why are you filling in for Mika? The Princes don't need to be there. That's why we have Generals."
"I'm aware of Vampire Mountain's policies and procedures, thank you." Kurda sighed. This was already getting old. "All I know is it's on Mika's schedule for today, so clearly he planned on attending."
Kurda held up the leather-bound notebook so Arrow could see it, and pointed to where "Guard Captain's Meeting w/ Gen. Barclay - pre-Festival loose ends. Time: 11. Location: TBD." was written.
"Why do you have Mika's schedule?" Arrow demanded, eyes narrowing as though the only logical conclusion had to be that Kurda murdered Mika and stole his schedule. Kurda sighed again, accepting the reality that Arrow would keep answering his questions with more questions until provided with sufficient context.
"I'm just helping him out with a few things so he can take a break. Gracie got sick last night." Said Kurda frankly.
"Is she okay?! Mika didn't tell me!" Arrow's entire demeanour changed from impassive to anxious in the blink of an eye, and Kurda suddenly felt a little less impatient.
"She's going to be fine. Her fever went down overnight. I spent all yesterday with her, and Mika's with her now." Kurda explained, this time without the bite of impatience to his words.
"Fair enough. I'm surprised Mika set you loose with his schedule, though. He loves that thing like the Pope loves the Bible. Probably more." Said Arrow, complete with a smug little chuckle at his own joke. He's here all week, folks.
"He didn't exactly set me loose with it. He's asleep, so-"
"Wait, let me see that again." Arrow interjected out of nowhere. He didn't wait for an invitation, he snatched the notebook out of Kurda's hand and stared down at it as he thumbed slowly through the pages. And Kurda watched as Arrow's face morphed into a kind of awestruck horror - and Kurda could honestly say he didn't see that one coming.
"Fuck me, he's always been a control freak but I thought he was just helping Seba temporarily. I didn't think he was planning the entire event from start to finish. What the hell is he trying to prove?" Arrow muttered at last, eyes still glued to the page.
"I take it yours and Paris's schedules don't look like this?" Kurda ventured, arching an eyebrow.
"We keep plenty busy, but this is insane. There's maybe three things on this page that fall under our jurisdiction. Everything else is Quartermaster or staff supervisor stuff." Arrow seemed to be talking more to himself than Kurda. And when he finally looked up, there was guilt lining his face. "Gods, I knew he'd taken on extra work, but I didn't know how much. He never told me he was drowning."
"If your positions were reversed, would you have told him?" Kurda sighed. It was a rhetorical question because he was still kind of in a rush. But Arrow answered it, and there was a profoundly forlorn look in his eyes as he said:
"I wouldn't have to. He'd just know."
"Well, he's going to burn himself out if he hasn't already. He was a nervous wreck by the time he made it back to the room last night. I've never seen him like that." Kurda spoke with stiff hesitancy, unsure whether or not it was his place to broach the topic of Mika's well-being with Mika's best friend, with whom Kurda infamously didn't get along with.
Arrow stared back at Kurda for a few moments, as though skeptical about Kurda's intentions. Kurda immediately felt like an idiot - he should've known better than to come to Arrow about this.
"Forget I mentioned it. I'll let you get back to work." Kurda turned to leave -
"Wait, Smahlt."
Kurda glanced over his shoulder in time to see Arrow tear today's schedule out of Mika's notebook and proceed to rip the page in half. He held one half of the list out to Kurda, warlike determination blazing in his dark hazel eyes as he said:
"You take that half, I'll take this one."
When Mika eventually opened his eyes, he experienced a moment of alarm because he had no idea how long he'd been asleep. It was intermingled with spite because Kurda had evidently fucked off and allowed Mika to sleep half the day away like a degenerate freeloader when there was so much shit to do. But that moment was fleeting, because his wake-up call was Gracie patting his shoulder and demanding he get up and entertain her. And how could Mika feel anything but overwhelming joy now that she was well on her way back to being her sparkly, impetuous self?
He let himself wake up slowly, revelling in the calm after the storm and savouring the unfamiliar tranquillity that existed here in Kurda's blanket tent. Mika figured Kurda must've enhanced it with some kind of secret pacifist brainwash voodoo shit, because the Festival of the Undead was literally tomorrow and Mika simply didn't care anymore.
There was a note for him on the desk, pencilled in the familiar script-like calligraphy Mika always found so impressive. He had tidy writing himself, but Kurda's was on another level.
Good morning, Princess(es) -
Mika: You've probably realized I didn't wake you up. Sorry, not sorry. By the time you read this I'll be at least halfway through your final checklist. Don't fight it. Just take it easy and enjoy your night off so you can be fresh and functional for the Festival. Maybe give Gracie another dose of medicine just in case, but I think she's in the clear.
Gracie: You can have ONE cookie AFTER you take your medicine. Please don't try to guilt your other dad into giving you extra. We both know he's weak. Be the bigger person. See you later. I love you!
K.S.
"Wow." Mika chuckled incredulously as he finished the note with Gracie wrapped around his leg like the world's most opinionated ankle monitor. He bent down to pick her up, kissed her forehead and added, "What would we do without him, Gracie?"
"Don't know." Gracie answered with a carefree little shrug, as she often did when posed with a query beyond her scope of comprehension at age two and a half.
Mika sighed contemplatively as Gracie wrapped her arms around his neck and nestled her head into his shoulder. Knowing her, she probably didn't even remember how awful she felt yesterday. Much less have the slightest idea how stressful the ordeal had been for her dads. Such things weren't for her to know.
"Yeah. Me neither."
While Gracie was feeling considerably better, she wasn't back at a hundred percent. She vehemently rejected Mika's suggestion of heading to the Hall of Khledon Lurt to find some breakfast. Mika decided not to press the issue. He still felt dazed and sore. If Gracie wanted to lay low for a few hours, Mika was all about it.
So he rekindled the fire. Gracie fetched Lovely the tarantula. Then they retreated to the blanket tent and resumed the indoor camping simulation. Gracie picked up one of the storybooks left over from the night before and pushed it into Mika's hands. He dutifully took his cue and began to read.
In the early days, Mika never really enjoyed reading storybooks out loud. He did it without complaint, because what was he if not Gracie's personal concierge? But as time passed, he found himself looking forward to those moments. For Gracie, the books were like tiny adventures. Windows into a world she barely knew. For Mika, it was an escape. As long as he was reading words off a page for his one-woman audience, he didn't have to think. About anything.
Just for now, he was free.
T-MINUS 24 HOURS TIL OPENING NIGHT:
Kurda learned two things from taking Mika's list of commitments and running with it.
One: he had too many fucking commitments and it was a miracle that he still looked as young as he did.
Two: all it takes for people to shut up and take you seriously is to hold up a sheet of paper and say, "Listen. I'm running Mika's meetings tonight so if you don't sit down and cooperate for me, you'll be hearing from him." Of course it helped that everyone was already in a good mood. The Festival of the Undead was so close, no one seemed to mind taking their cue from Kurda.
Kurda had just dismissed a group of staff supervisors after what had been an arduous but satisfyingly productive final preparation session. He thanked them sincerely for their hard work, but didn't watch them leave. He pulled Mika's schedule from his bag so he could flip to today's page and eagerly stroke out the very last line on the bottom. And the second his pencil touched the paper, he heard a very loud and very familiar voice greet him from across the room.
"Daddy!"
Kurda looked up, and there they were in the doorway. Mika was leaning casually against the frame with Gracie in his arms. He appeared well-rested and content; a completely different person than the one who broke down in front of Kurda last night.
He was smiling, too. With light exasperation but more amusement than anything else.
"Don't you say a word. I tried to wake you up before I wrote the note." Said Kurda as he got up and approached, grinning as Gracie waved him over. Mika arched an eyebrow skeptically as he looked Kurda up and down.
"…Did you? How hard did you try, exactly?"
"You needed the sleep! Don't you dare try to tell me otherwise." Kurda protested vehemently.
"Gross. If I didn't know better, I'd think you cared about me." Mika rolled his eyes out of obligation, but his smile didn't falter.
Kurda knew Mika's disparaging words were perfunctory. Force of habit. Kurda also knew Mika was deploying casual callousness to overcompensate for last night. Kurda figured that was a little redundant considering they both knew gods damn well how much they cared about each other. But if Mika wanted to keep sticking his head back in the sand and live in denial, Kurda could only pull it out so many times before he'd eventually have to give up and leave it there. So he responded to Mika in kind, waving his hand dismissively.
"Please. You know when you're tired and grumpy that becomes my problem, right? You're not the only one who wants to enjoy the Festival." He snorted, arching an eyebrow at Mika. But Kurda being Kurda, he couldn't restrain himself from adding more seriously, "How do you feel today?"
He figured Mika would have another sardonic retort for that one. But to his surprise, Mika's aloof expression softened as he looked Kurda in the eye.
"I feel better than I have in a long time." Said Mika. There was a quiet sincerity in his voice, and Kurda smiled.
"I'm glad."
"I'm sorry you had to be the one to keep it together for both of us." Mika added, after a loaded pause.
"I could tell you're too hard on yourself and you've got nothing to be sorry for." Kurda replied, a little stiffly. "But it'll probably save us both a lot of time if I just accept your apology and move on."
"There's those famous General Smahlt critical thinking skills." Said Mika with a brittle smile.
"Daddy say we get breakfast." Gracie interjected, glancing reproachfully at Mika from her perch in Kurda's arms. It seemed she hadn't approved this detour.
"You're right, I did say that." Mika replied seriously. "Apologies for wasting your time. I'll pick up the pace."
"Want pancakes. I'm hungy."
"Me too, Princess. Let's get some pancakes."
"Glad to see your appetite has returned." Kurda remarked as he set Gracie down.
"Are you coming, or would you rather stay here and impersonate me some more?" Said Mika, arching an eyebrow at Kurda before he turned to leave.
"Even five minutes of being Sire Ver Leth was too much. I don't see the appeal." Kurda chuckled, rolling his eyes when Mika smirked.
Mika and Kurda fell into step beside each other. Gracie walked in the middle, holding both their hands. The golden thread that tied them together without even knowing it.
The rest of the night passed slowly. But it was a comfortable slowness. Kurda and Arrow had finished off Mika's daunting list of loose ends with such efficiency, Mika quite literally had nothing left to worry about. That was unusual. What was more unusual was that he didn't try to find anything new to worry about.
He enjoyed a leisurely meal in the Hall of Khledon Lurt with Kurda and Gracie. Vanez and Seba were there too, and Arra stopped to chat for a few minutes as well. It was nice. For the first time in what felt like months, Mika ate dessert at the table rather than taking it to go.
Then Arrow came in and invited him to go spar in the sporting halls for an hour, a last-minute refresher before the Festival. Mika didn't even have time to say "I'd love to, but I should probably take it easy tonight" before Kurda snatched Gracie out of his arms and practically shoved him towards Arrow who ushered him out the door. As if they'd planned it.
Mika spent the entire session bracing himself for the inevitable "I can't believe you overworked yourself to a mental breakdown right under my nose and I had to hear about it from Kurda Fucking Smahlt". But Arrow didn't say a word. Mika wanted to thank him for helping Kurda take care of all that unfinished business, but that would've meant talking about it. He wasn't ready for that. But he got the sense Arrow knew. Before parting ways for the night, Arrow abruptly pulled Mika into the tightest hug of his life. It was more than enough to convey all the words left unsaid.
As Mika walked back to his room alone, it dawned on him he was exactly where he'd been twenty-four hours ago. Same halls, same route, same destination. But nothing else was the same. Everything was different now. Mika couldn't exactly pinpoint how or why. It felt like stepping out of a shelter after a destructive storm to realize the world had become quiet and still once more.
When he opened the door, Kurda and Gracie were also precisely where they'd been twenty-four hours ago. And yet the scene couldn't have looked more different. Gracie was awake this time, happy and rosy-cheeked as they sat there in the blanket tent. She was focused on a colouring book and Kurda was watching with adoration in his eyes as she scribbled roughly within the lines.
Like last night, Kurda looked up and smiled as Mika walked into the room. But unlike last night the smile wasn't forced or strained. And unlike last night, Mika smiled back at him. They didn't get a chance to exchange any words before Gracie made a big production of showing Mika all of the colouring she'd accomplished in the past hour. She let him choose one to hang up on his wall, and he gave careful consideration before making a decision. Then Gracie wandered off to play with Lovely, leaving Mika and Kurda alone together for the first time in weeks.
"Did you have a nice time with Arrow?" Kurda asked with an unassuming little smile that fully confirmed Mika's suspicion it had been premeditated by the two of them. It was hard for Mika to suppress the knee-jerk instinct to deflect the question with sarcasm, but he did it. Kurda deserved un-tainted honesty at the very least.
"Yeah. It was just what I needed. Really cleared my head."
"That's good."
"Mmhm."
Kurda was still smiling, but there was something off about it. Mika surveyed him for a moment. Kurda looked content, but he was without his usual glow. As if his soul was growing tired, the way Mika's did before finally breaking down.
"We can disassemble the tent now." Kurda remarked. "It served us well, but we should probably get a good night's sleep in our own coffins before the Festival starts."
"Personally I had the best sleep of my life in here. I wouldn't mind another one." Said Mika, gesturing up at the draped blanket ceiling above them. The torchlight from the wall lent the illusion of a distant sunset.
"I think you would've slept just as well on a bed of nails with how tired you were. But we can leave it up til the Festival's over." Kurda chuckled. Mika nodded in assent, yawned, and stretched comfortably.
"I wouldn't have thought of this in a million years. I didn't even know we had this many blankets. How'd you think of it?" Mika asked. He glanced over at Kurda, just in time to see his smile falter. Kurda paused before he replied.
"When I was about ten, my little sister got sick. Really sick. We couldn't afford medicine, so all I could do was keep her comfortable and distracted. I built her a pretend tent like this, right in front of the fireplace. It was the only place in our house I could keep her warm. There was never much food, so we pretended we were camping in the wilderness."
Mika immediately felt a sting of guilt. His own childhood hadn't exactly been blissful, but he never knew cold or hunger until he joined the vampire clan. It also wasn't lost on Mika that Kurda said I, not we. Mika didn't know a whole lot about Kurda's childhood, but he knew enough to piece together that "I" translated to "I, a ten year old child, bore the responsibility of caring for my sick sibling". As opposed to "my parents took care of her and I happened to be there".
"If you took care of her even half as well as you took care of Gracie, or me when I got sick… she was in good hands." Mika offered tentatively. The silence that followed said it all, and Mika wished desperately he'd never brought it up. Suddenly Kurda seemed unable to look Mika in the eye.
"She didn't make it. She fought hard, though. And she was never alone. I was with her til the end." Said Kurda. His voice was steady, but grief had darkened his bright eyes. No doubt yesterday's ordeal had torn open some old wounds all over again.
Mika exhaled slowly. He didn't know what to say, or if he should say anything.
"Fuck. I didn't know. I'm sorry." was what he eventually went with. Blunt as it was, he meant it with all his heart.
"How would you know? I've never told you. It was a long time ago, Mika. I'm fine. Yesterday was just…" Kurda's voice trailed off and he blinked several times. He still wasn't looking at Mika. "…It wasn't a good day. But you already knew that." Mika nodded mutely. After a heavy silence, Kurda caught his eye and added, "You know how Gracie kind of looks like me?"
Mika was caught off-guard by the sharp change of subject, but he rolled with it.
"What do you mean kind of? I was there when we found her, and I still forget she's adopted."
"Yeah, well… she actually looks more like my sister. I know it's not the same… but I felt like I was living it again." Said Kurda. He was speaking with incredible eloquence but Mika could see him slipping.
So the entire time you were putting me back together when I broke down due to my own choices, you were carrying that burden… on your own. And I was so stuck in my own head I didn't even notice you were hurting too. Was what Mika wanted to say. What he would've said if his tongue hadn't turned to lead in his mouth. The guilt hit him like a landslide, and it must've shown on his face.
"It's okay. Honestly." Kurda added quickly, rearranging his features into a weary smile. "I've had two hundred years to come to terms with it. Yesterday was just more déjà-vu than I was ready for. That's all."
"I should've been there, Kurda. At the very least I should've asked if you were okay. If I could go back and do it differently, I would." Mika managed to force out eventually. The words felt like gravel in his mouth. Suddenly his hard-won inner peace vanished into thin air.
"Would you quit beating yourself up?" Kurda groaned. "You were stuck between a rock and a hard place. I get it! I know you wanted to be there for Gracie, but -"
"Not just Gracie." Mika cut him off. Gods knew after all that, Kurda deserved some indication that he wasn't as alone in this terrifying world as he thought he was.
They lapsed into silence. The room felt colder than usual, and Mika belatedly realized the fire had burned away to embers. But getting up to rekindle it was the last thing on his mind. Kurda was sitting with his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms around them. There was an uncharacteristically brooding look to him. The silence hung in the air for what felt like an eternity. Then out of nowhere, Kurda exhaled a shuddering sigh. His shoulders sagged and he buried his face in his hands. And Mika could barely hear him croak out,
"I wanted you there too."
Mika took a deep breath, hoping by the time he exhaled he'd have found some words to say to that. Gods, why couldn't that come to him as naturally as it did to Kurda? Last night Kurda would've had every right to tell Mika, either pull yourself together or go hyperventilate somewhere else. But of course he'd never say that, because he was Kurda. Kurda was a thousand times the man, the vampire, the person that Mika was. Mika knew that. He'd always known that. It was partially why Kurda used to get on his nerves so successfully. And for some reason that used to make Mika strive to be as different from Kurda as he possibly could. And for what?
Wordlessly, Mika left the tent and made his way over to the fireplace where he knelt down and stoked it as carefully as though he was sculpting a masterpiece. Then he made his way over to his desk. He hadn't had time to replenish his snacks that week, but he still had a full jar of cashews. You may recall Mika's indifferent to cashews. Kurda loves cashews. Mika picked up the jar. Paused, then reached for a bottle of wine on the shelf. Paused again. Nah, not a wine occasion. Fuck, what would Kurda do? Oh, right. We went through this last night. He changed track and went for the pitcher of cold water. He poured one full glass - because he was holding the cashew jar in one hand, one glass of water was all he could carry. But he only needed one.
He slipped back into the tent. Kurda hadn't moved, but he glanced up quizzically as Mika settled back in.
"Kurda, we both know I'm not as good at this as you are. But I'm never going to stop trying. And I'm here now. Whatever you need, I got you." Said Mika quietly. He carefully set the cashew jar on the blanket-covered floor in front of Kurda, and held out the glass of water.
"Where's yours?" Kurda asked as he accepted the glass. There was an air of stunned disbelief about him.
"I had one last night, remember? You gave it to me." Said Mika. Then he immediately realized how dumb that sounded. Whatever.
"Of course. Silly me. You know, most people have several of these a day." Kurda began to sip from the glass, still eyeing Mika with a mixture of skepticism and amusement.
"Good for them." Mika replied sardonically. He rolled his eyes, but couldn't help but smile.
"Yes. That's the idea." Kurda snorted.
Mika picked up the jar of cashews again, this time holding it out to Kurda. (Even though the jar had been easily within his reach before that).
"Have a cashew." Said Mika.
Kurda quirked an eyebrow rather skeptically. "Are they stale?"
"Why would they be stale?"
"Why don't you want them?"
"I don't not want them."
"Then why are you offering?"
"Because I want you to have one!" Mika groaned with gentle exasperation. "Gods, why do you look so suspicious?"
To his relief, Kurda smiled. Then he reached into the jar and scooped out a handful of cashews.
"I'm not suspicious. I promise. You're just funny when you try to be kind." Said Kurda, chuckling earnestly.
"I wasn't going for funny." Mika mumbled, trying not to sound too reproachful. "Gods, Kurda… you kept me on solid ground last night when I thought I was losing my mind. And if I can't even convince you to have a snack… I'm doing something seriously wrong. I just have no idea what it is."
And for whatever reason, that made Kurda laugh. And the sound was enough for Mika to feel at ease again. As long as Kurda could still laugh like that, like a summer evening symphony, the world couldn't possibly be that bad.
"Mika, you're kinder than you give yourself credit for. You just don't realize you're doing it because you go about it in your own way. So when you make a conscious effort… it's funny, because you don't actually know how to be anyone but yourself." Kurda explained. Gods, how was he so patient?
Mika exhaled slowly, not breaking eye contact. Then he set the jar back on the blanket, plucked out a singular cashew, and flicked it (very lightly) at Kurda's forehead. And at the last minute, Kurda moved to smoothly catch it in his mouth. The familiar glint had returned to his bright blue eyes
"Ah. There he is." Kurda smirked across at Mika as he ate the cashew. Kurda had no way of knowing, but Mika had been thinking the exact same thing.
Thanks for reading! If you like angst, you're welcome. If not, I'm impressed you're still here because this was the type of 12k word monster chapter I told myself I was going to stop doing, and honestly that's a lot to get through at the best of times. Either way, thank you for being here. I appreciate it.
I don't like to make promises, but I think the next update coming down the pipes is going to be chapter 29 of Bloodline. It's been a long time coming but I think I've finally worked through all the roadblocks and I'm relieved to go on record saying things are starting to come together.
Til next time!
- roxy