Chapter Text
They set off early the next morning in hopes of gaining as much intel as possible. Graves finds himself tired but it’s tolerable if only because Fate’s body wasn’t as weighed down by it as his own tended to be. Fate on the other hand was walking sluggishly, yet still reasonably eager to get on with finding a solution.
It was always nice to walk around Piltover, even when the reason was tracking people down to cash in favours or force information out of them. So far they’d been pretty lucky, a few people held at gunpoint and several card readings on bar tables later and they’d managed to narrow their client’s residence down to a fancy little home on the outskirts of the city.
It’s not secluded but it’s a significantly less populated area- very lucky for them given it makes it less likely that the Sheriff will show up (or that they’ll have to kill anyone in the surrounding area to prevent complications- that’s usually Graves’ least favourite part). But they can’t rush in unprepared.
They’ve pulled off significantly harder feats- but obviously never when stuck in each other’s bodies. Fate couldn’t rely on his practiced agility in Graves’ lumbering form, and Graves wasn’t used to Fate’s long legs enough to trust himself not to trip over his own feet. They have to be careful, they’re still not sure how the artefact even works- let alone how to re-obtain it safely.
“You think you can do a quick reading? See how this might go?” Fate asks, loading ammo into Destiny while they hide out against the back wall of the house. Graves is already crouched and trying to lay the cards out on the neatest flat surface- which just so happens to be the ground.
“It’s coming up pretty inconclusive.” Graves whispers back, biting the inside of his cheek, brows furrowed with worry. “Is that bad?” He asks, though he knows it’s not bad just, as he said- inconclusive. It’s just also not exactly boosting his confidence.
“It’s probably just because you’re nervous.” Fate shrugs in response, intending to sound reassuring rather than dismissive. He knows Graves well enough by now to tell when he’s antsy about something- the fidgets and furrowed expressions shining through despite being on the wrong face. “Besides, we’ve halfway got a plan.”
Halfway probably isn’t enough, Graves thinks, but regardless, he responds agreeably. “Right.” He mumbles, not wanting to worsen his inner turmoil with an argument- putting away the cards save for one which he then concentrates on switching between his fingers.
The ‘halfway’ plan in question mostly relates to how they’re going to get in- Graves would Give Fate a leg-up to an open window, then shift inside by himself- hopefully not collapsing this time. He shouldn’t, given he’s only one person this time- but if he does, at least Fate has a gun. Last they saw their client he was a wiry little man, so assuming he’s alone- he won’t be too much trouble. Assuming.
Only once Graves manages to get the card to stick to blue and get to his feet does Fate ask “You ready?” He tries to sound confident but can’t keep a slight shake out of his voice- not even sure himself whether it’s nervousness or anticipation. The job should be easy but then again- the one that got them into this mess was supposed to be as well.
“Yeah.” Graves mutters, not sounding entirely convincing but after being stuck in Fate’s body for days, he’s eager to at least try to get back into his own. He pockets his blue card, and shuffles into position- hands cupped to push Fate up to the window ledge.
The other looks down at Graves’ hands then up to him, awaiting a nod of confirmation before stepping into them and letting his partner lift him. Graves is surprised that he even can- he thought himself to be much heavier than that, but regardless he’s more focused on ensuring Fate can reach the ledge.
They first ensure that Fate manages to grab the ledge, pulling himself through and then giving Graves the sign to follow. With a go-ahead given, Graves proceeds to pass Destiny up to Fate before slumping back against the wall. He pants for a moment, having exerted himself a touch already before he pulls out the card.
Once again, he finds himself feeling dragged from his body and thrown into something much more vast- he sees the interior of the building, everything within its walls, but most importantly he sees Fate, waiting for him in an empty bedroom. There- that’s where he needs to be.
He focuses, trying to repeat the steps he had the last time he’d shifted and before he knows it he feels everything around him slip away. It takes him a moment to realise he’s succeeded- clenched eyes now opening wide to the change in surroundings as he stumbles.
Fate only just manages to capture him, and Graves feels his face heat up in embarrassment. It would be a shame if he successfully shifted only to ruin their entrance by falling flat on his face, presumably with a thud that would alert the owner of the house. Now- the next matter was finding the trinket.
They would swipe it on its own and avoid their client if possible but if not- there was probably nothing stopping them from either forcing the guy to hand it over or taking it by force. Usually, robberies like this were easy, the kind of job they’d take after a long week- but now the stakes felt much higher.
First and foremost, they search the room they’d first arrived in, trying to be as quiet as possible. They can hear footsteps- one set, importantly- in other areas of the house, which they take as a sign that they have time. It’s not the most extensive search they pull off, given the room is cluttered- ridiculously cluttered.
If the artefact were in that room, it would have to be behind rows and rows of assorted houseplants and porcelain ornaments, Alongside several nonsensical metal sculptures and shelves upon shelves of rocks on display- great, their client was not only a liar but a hoarder. As if this whole thing needed to get more complicated.
With that issue becoming steadily more apparent as they open drawers and cupboards only to find more junk, Graves thinks of a suggestion, leaning over to Fate and whispering “We can’t search this place, we’ll be here for hours.” He says, already growing impatient. Worry starts to bite at him that maybe the item isn’t even here. “Why don’t we go confront the fucker directly?”
“Typical of you, wanting to rush in head first.” Fate sighs, and Graves’ brows furrow in anger- he opens his mouth to protest but the other cuts him off. “But that would definitely speed things up.” He agrees, much to the other’s surprise.
With that settled, they leave the room, stepping as lightly as possible. Fate had to admit he found it immensely difficult to do so, given Graves’ build but regardless of a few slight thuds, they don’t seem to have alerted anyone of their presence- not yet anyway. They’d inevitably have to make themselves known upon trying to threaten the guy but sneaking up on him gave them a significant advantage- this and the fact that catching him off guard meant he’d be less likely to be armed or pose any threat.
So they follow the only other sounds in the house, down the stairs, to a separate room- with the door closed. That was a touch inconvenient given opening it would likely alert the man faster- but now being closer, they could hear muffled music and humming, along with various clattering sounds suggesting he was preoccupied.
Careful to keep his voice to a whisper, Graves asks “How are we gonna go about this?” Usually he wouldn’t be so cautious- but if they’d known anything about this artefact , they wouldn’t be on this mess- better to avoid a fight so they can question the client. It’s not like they can get information out of a corpse, if worse comes to worst.
“I think we try this your way.” Fate responds, conclusively and then- much to Graves’ surprise- horror, even- he kicks the door off its hinges, raising Destiny and stepping in without a second thought. It’s so uncharacteristically impulsive, Graves finds himself shocked beyond words, Is this how Fate feels every time he barges in or blows their cover?
Their client is in a similar state of alarm. It’s not like the criminals can blame him- they’d made quite the entrance, said entrance being accompanied by Destiny’s barrels being shoved in line with his face. It’s probably not how he’d planned to spend his afternoon.
Naturally, the man freezes completely, save for his fearful trembling. Upon hearing the crash of the door slamming the wall, he’d since pressed the off button on his radio, and lifted his goggles to rest on his head, his eyes now visible and wide with fear. Graves, for the moment, decides to take in his appearance.
His eyes are pink, the scleras bloodshot and framed by smudged eyeliner and dark bags beneath them- his hair is purple and honestly an absolute mess, tied hastily into two bunches with the majority left loose and draped around his face and over his shoulders. Raised in surrender, ,are his hands, with every finger decorated with a different pattern of band aid and fucking hell- he’s practically a kid!
Graves wouldn’t have thought so given when he hired them he’d been hooded and masked- probably because he knew he was doing something shifty- or, well, generally illegal. The only giveaway that they had the right guy were the hair and general stature- he looked just as, if not more scrawny and utterly non threatening than he had when he’d hired them.
Most of all, he looked terrified. It didn’t take long for him to recognise the two men, but he was more scared of why they were here. “Wh-what do you want?” He stammers, thinking maybe he hadn’t paid them adequately- also thinking maybe they didn’t care about that and would kill him anyway, they’re notorious criminals for God’s sake-
Fate, on the other hand, doesn’t know where to start. Seems he got ahead of himself, the guy was so shaken up and honestly didn’t seem to pose a threat- he was beginning to think taking a page out of Graves’ book hadn’t been the best idea- not that it typically tended to be anyway. “Uh, well-“ he doesn’t know whether to explain first or simply demand the artefact now while he’s ahead, but Graves beats him to it-
The other man places his hand on the top of the barrels and pushes them down to aim at the ground, stepping forward once the purple haired man visibly relaxes, if only slightly. “Look, kid we’re not here to hurt you- we just want that trinket you sent us to steal.”
The man’s brows furrow at that. “I’m not a kid,” he says, petulantly- despite that certainly not being the most pressing of matters. “And why do you want it? I paid you didn’t I?” The questions are earnest rather than rhetorical, the confusion visible on his face- but it only seeks to frustrate Fate.
“Hey, you’re not exactly in a position to be asking questions.” He states, sternly, glancing down to Destiny, and back up at him- a silent threat. The purple haired man swallows nervously, having followed the intruder’s gaze and understanding the implications.
“Ok- I’ll warn you though I’ve been, um-“ he stammers, unsure of how to explain himself. He assumes the two men want to sell it, but it’s value must have decreased after his numerous failed experiments and attempts to study it. “Working on it.”
“Working on it?” Graves repeats in confusion. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He starts to grow nervous at that- what if it doesn’t function as intended after such tampering? What if it can’t switch them back? What if they were stuck like this-
“I wanted to understand the source of magic inside it- it’s the same material that hextech gemstones are made from.” He begins to explain, almost too eagerly as he begins to ramble “That refers to crystals that are-“
“We know what Hextech is.” Fate responds, rolling his eyes. They’d had enough encounters- encounters referring to failed robberies and occasional favours- with the man of progress to be aware of it. “Does it still work?”
That’s when the nervous blabbering stops, a look of confusion crossing his face. “Still work? What do you mean?” He asks. Fate wants to snap at that- he’s been studying the damn thing and still doesn’t know what it does?-
“Don’t play dumb, it’s not gonna help.” Graves sighs, beginning to grow frustrated alongside his worry that this isn’t the cure-all they’d hoped it would be. But despite his exasperated tone, the other man still appears lost.
“It doesn’t have a function as far as I know.” He shrugs, now looking even more befuddled as Fate and Graves’ expressions shift into something concerned- maybe even fearful. Feeling somewhat worried by the shift in atmosphere, their client tacks on “You can still have it if you want! I’m not about to get shot for that thing- in fact It’s probably worth something if you sell it-“
“We don’t care about selling it, we care about what it does!” Fate states, raising his voice and causing the others to flinch slightly from the volume. Graves knows Tobias and he knows that it’s not all anger he’s seeing- even on his own face there’s a familiar hint of fear- probably similar to his own feelings. Fate is scared of being unable to fix this, of being stuck locked out of his own body- they’re both scared.
However, the third man doesn’t know Fate or Graves beyond their initial meeting and now- so naturally, he takes the shift in tone as a threat desperately trying to explain “There are no runes or sigils anywhere on it, I swear! I don’t know what you could possibly use it for.“
Deep down the two men believe him, but really they don’t want to. No properties within the item means it’s not as simple as activating it in reverse. Magic wasn’t hard to come by but magic for a purpose as specific as their dilemma? God only knows how long that could take. Graves tries to wrack his brain for a solution. Yordles were off the table- they might find a body switching potion but permanence is unlikely- and then he remembers what Tobias had mentioned as their first initial idea of the cause.
“Tobias..” He mumbles, catching the other’s attention “That inscription on the item’s container- I think it was a warning.” He proposes, and the other raises a brow in confusion.
“What do you mean?” He asks, intrigued, but still with a slight shake to his voice. Their client watches intently as they speak, entirely unsure of where this conversation could possibly be going.
“I mean the artefact was cursed. Not the container- and it ain’t its real purpose, that must be why there aren’t any traces of this kind of spell anywhere inside it.” He continues to explain, and Fate- though inclined to believe him, doesn’t entirely understand how that’s supposed to help.
“We’re sitting ducks either way, Mal.” He grumbles, growing progressively frustrated with the complexities of this situation. He feels stupid- it was meant to be an easy job, get in get out get paid, but no- maybe, if Graves was right, this was down to him- if he’d just taken the time to read the carvings maybe they wouldn’t be stuck in this mess. Maybe that wasn’t it- he hopes it isn’t. “Are you sure this guy didn’t miss something? I mean look at him- he’s not exactly what you think of when you hear ‘Hextech researcher’- who even are you, kid?.”
“Hey,” The ‘kid’ whines, offended by the implications of that statement. “First of all, my name is Zinc.” He states, folding his arms defiantly.
Graves finds himself trying to stifle a laugh- Zinc. Not very Piltovan, and no surname stated he notes- Graves looks him up and down- a Zaunite then? The defensiveness over his work made sense, in that case- he’s probably had enough of having his research dismissed.
“Second of all,” Zinc continues, snapping Graves out of his thoughts. “I was taught by the man of progress himself, which is way more than you can say! You have little to gain by doubting me-“ He demands, prompting the two men to glance at each other in surprise at the sudden emergence of confidence from him. The purple haired man then continues, regardless “Besides, you had a gun to my face seconds ago, why the hell would I lie?”
Fate shrugs, looking to Graves for answers but receiving a similarly blank expression, they then look to Zinc before Graves pipes up “Maybe you wanted to deter us from taking it? I don’t know-
“I already said you could have it- you know- when I was fearing for my life.” The other reiterates, beginning to sound utterly exasperated. Graves couldn’t blame him really, getting your house broken into, then getting held at gunpoint, then getting interrogated by two strangers- probably not pleasant. Graves doesn’t care enough to stop, however, he thinks he’s earned the right to inconvenience this guy after the mess he got them into, intentionally or not. you know, when I was fearing for my life.”
“Right.” Fate replies, knowing he can’t really argue with that. He may be well versed in magic but the functions of artefacts, Hextech or otherwise weren’t his strong suit. He thinks the one they need is shuriman, but the fact he isn’t sure only emphasises his lack of knowledge in the area. Due to this, he relents. “And we can have it anyway?”
“If I give it to you, will you leave?” He asks, and in all honesty- that sounds like a fair enough deal. Graves looks to Fate to see if he agrees, and the two of them silently nod to each other before turning their attention back to Zinc.
“Yeah, hand it over, and we’ll be on our way.” Graves agrees, and Zinc takes that as permission to rummage through the drawer of his desk. It appears to be just as cluttered and crowded as every other part of his home- so it takes him almost far too long to even find the damn thing. Regardless, he eventually catches sight of it and brings it out, reaching over to hand it to either of the two men.
Almost hesitantly, Graves takes it from him. He knows it apparently doesn’t have any inherent properties but he’s still somehow worried something is going to go wrong with it- probably better to be safe and sorry after last time. He carefully places it into one of the pouches of his belt, before mumbling “Thank you.”
It seemed a bit redundant to try to be polite given they’d broken in and held him at gunpoint but his mother didn’t raise him without manners. As promised, they take their leave after that- though this time they allow the scientist to lead them to the door instead, which is definitely more convenient than trying to clamber back through the window.
The walk back to their apartment is mostly silent. Graves gives up on conversation around halfway through- Fate is eerily quiet and Graves himself doesn’t exactly feel overjoyed either. There’s a tension in the air between them, the two men each avoiding even glancing at each other. Fate’s mind is running at a million miles an hour trying to think of another solution meanwhile Graves is too dejected to think about anything other than the sinking dread in his stomach.
Having the artefact in their possession probably meant nothing at that point. They couldn’t use it to fix this- they’d have to find another way, but who knows how long that could take. Graves gnaws at the inside of his cheek, briefly forgetting his self imposed rules about not damaging Fate’s body. Well, it was as good as his for the moment, given there was no solution in sight.
He feels lost when it comes to anything like this, he doesn’t know how magic works- let alone curses. Was there any way to trace the source? Was it a spell on the item, or in the place it was held in- they’d previously ruled that out but maybe it’d been slow acting? After all, it wasn’t put into effect until they woke up the next morning- maybe if they go back to that place they can-
“Malcolm- we’re here.” Fate states, snapping Graves out of his thoughts. The other man breaking his silence startles him enough for him to realise he’d almost walked right past their building yet again. Typical of him to get distracted, but who can blame him? He had a lot to worry about.
“Sorry,” he mumbles, shrugging as he pushes open the door. “Got a lot going on.” That prompts a hum of acknowledgment from Fate, but no further response. The silence continues and hangs heavily over them as they enter the elevator up to their floor. Ordinarily, they’d take the stairs- but they’d had a long day, it could be justified. In the compact space of the lift- the tension in the air only seems thicker.
Fate can practically hear Graves’ overthinking, which doesn’t help much when he’s trying to narrow down his own. He doesn’t want to dwell on his worry, (it’s more than worry, he’s scared, he can’t imagine spending the rest of his life without his body, his identity, his magic- hell he doesn’t know if he can stand another second-) he’d rather find a solution, as soon as possible.
He doesn’t hold anything against Graves but he can admit he’s absolutely sick of this body. He misses when his knees wouldn’t ache and when he didn’t have to slouch to avoid sharp pains in his spine. Sure, his own body isn’t in the best shape- he’s not young anymore- but he takes better care of himself than Graves does, at least- not that that’s particularly hard. He can tell that his frustration must be evident given the concerned and slightly fearful expression the other sends his way.
It’s still odd seeing his face contorted in such unfamiliar ways. He knows exactly what that feeling would look like on Graves, slightly upturned brows and wide glassy blue eyes, lips slightly parted as if about to speak but too afraid- on Fate’s features it looks all wrong. He can’t imagine pulling a face like that after so many years of deliberate steeliness, seeing it outright is off putting- uncanny, really.
“Stop looking at me like that.” He grits out, careful to keep his voice level to avoid upsetting Graves. Given the circumstances, being purposely mean wasn’t going to help either of them. Graves still flinches regardless, causing Fate’s chest to tighten with guilt. “Sorry, I’m just…” He trails off, not sure how to describe it. It’s not like he’s felt anything like this before, anything so helpless.
“It’s ok,” which it isn’t at all, really, but an attempt to be reassuring can’t hurt can it? It’s weak anyway, he doesn’t really believe it himself. “We’ll figure something out, okay?”
Fate gives no response, simply unlocking the door to their apartment and marching in without a word. He, quite carelessly, dumps Destiny by his bedside, almost eliciting chastisement from Graves. The other man bites back his disapproval once Fate practically flops onto the bed, with his back to the room. He sighs heavily and curls in on himself and Graves is worried by how out of character the display is.
He sits on his own bed and tries to think, careful to be quiet as he fishes the artefact from his pouch so as to not tip off Fate to what he’s doing. The other is clearly upset and he isn’t going to worsen it by forcing him to confront the issue yet again- not when he’s lying on his bed seeming to be trying to make himself appear as small as possible.
The visible distress from Fate is what motivates Graves to examine the object, praying naively that maybe Zinc missed something- maybe this is the solution they were hoping for. It’s not a smart idea at all given he’d already had his hopes shattered, and Fate had too. Both of them were eerily familiar with the feeling, any excitement or anticipation practically shriveling and twisting within them to create a clawing, sinking sensation of dread.
Graves knows by now that if he isn’t careful it’s going to swallow him whole, so he decides to try to be productive. Emphasis on try, given it doesn’t seem like there’s any hope of success. He sits cross legged on his bed and sets the object in front of him and simply stares. He’s not sure what he hopes to gain, maybe he’ll notice something useful? Maybe if he focuses hard enough, it’ll react with his magic or something?
After maybe a minute of staring he, probably rightfully, gives up, and moves onto another tactic- picking it up and checking it over repeatedly to find nothing new. It’s hard to tell what it’s even meant to be- some kind of pendant or decorative piece, it seems. He grasps at it, running his fingers along the edges and for the moment he’s thankful for T.F’s body if only because he knows his own fingers would fumble. In the midst of his desperation he hopes he’ll find a button or latch or something- that it’ll open up or reveal some mechanism. But it doesn’t- of course it doesn’t.
He sighs, heavily, and Fate shuffles, mumbling in response. “Just give it up, Malcolm.” Ordinarily, Graves would probably chide Fate for being pessimistic, but he’s beginning to feel it himself.
“Can’t hurt to try, can it?” He asks, sounding unsure of it. It doesn’t hurt more than it disappoints. It only worsens his dismay. Fate’s body is certainly a nicer experience all things considered, but it’s not his. At this point he’s getting sick of seeing his own face- in fact he already was.
Unlike Fate, Graves wouldn’t say he’s particularly fond of his reflection- too many little nicks and scars and wrinkles- he looks angry too much, and he looks old- weary and damaged. Before, he could avoid it by avoiding mirrors but now he’d have to avoid Fate- something he’s never been able to do.
And alongside that- he misses seeing Fate. It’s odd to think of it that way given the other man hadn’t left, but it felt like he wasn’t quite there thanks to the incorrect visage. In Graves’ body, he didn’t have the same slightly crooked smile or the reserved laugh, not even the steely expressions reserved for when he’s purposefully trying to hide how he’s feeling- and Graves wants to witness them again so badly.
He can’t take much more of this, he thinks. It could be weeks, months, years before they fix this and he just can’t do it. He’d tried so hard to manage the last few days but now he felt like a prisoner, he’d had enough of that in his lifetime- and worse was that he truly couldn’t do anything about it this time. There’s no breaking out of a body.
“You’re overthinking again. I can tell.” Fate mutters, voice muffled as he still faces the wall. Graves quietly scoffs in response, shrugging to himself despite the other not looking.
“I think it’s probably the right amount of thinking, given the circumstances.” Not that it’s helping, at this point he’s just mindlessly fidgeting with the trinket and praying it’ll do something- anything-
“Well stop, you’re not gonna get anywhere.” Fate grumbles, rolling over and sitting upright, legs hanging over the side of the bed. He leans forward and rests his arms on his thighs as he watches Graves. His nonchalance thinly tinged with irritation prompts Graves to frown.
“What, you think lying around moping is somehow better?” He bites back, voice laced with irritation. Ordinarily he can handle Fate’s bluntness, but right now it’s probably the last thing he needs.
“Well first of all,” Fate starts off, gesturing to himself. “I’m sitting and moping, right now.” He states, and Graves rolls his eyes “Second of all- at least it’s not a waste of energy.”
“Oh excuse me, for wanting to try and fix this problem.” Graves retorts, sarcastically. He’s willing to understand Fate’s dejection but not when he starts pushing it onto him. “But if you want to keep being all huffy then fine.”
“I’m just being realistic!” Fate complains, gesturing to the pendant in Graves’ hands. “It’s useless! Not like you’d be able to figure it out anyway.” He mumbles the last part but Malcolm hears it loud and clear, his prior annoyance quickly making way for anger.
“The hell is that supposed to mean?” He snaps, putting down the pendant and looking over to the other man with a deep scowl. Fate only scoffs,
“C’mon- I know you think you’re special cos you can use my cards but you don’t know shit about magic.” The statement comes out of nowhere, surprising Graves by how vitriolic it seems. Sure he was proud of himself for figuring out the cards but he didn’t let it go to his head- either attached to something he expected only to have for a few days at most?
“Yeah? Well you try then- since you’re so smart.” He spits, tossing the pendant to Fate who only just manages to catch it, face reddening at how he fumbled. “Though if you were as smart as you think you are, maybe you wouldn’t have gotten us into this mess in the first place.”
“Shut up- it should’ve been an easy job and you know it. It’s not my fault the damn thing was cursed.” The other argues, utterly scandalised. As per usual, Graves is pushing the blame onto him as if he doesn’t know he should have read the enscryption- as if he doesn’t feel bad enough already-
“Well it is your fault you didn’t take a second to look at the writing- and you call me impulsive…” Malcolm complains, arms folded and rolling his eyes- but that seems to be Fate’s last straw. With the trinket on hand, he near yells
“You wanna see impulsive? Fine!” Graves’ eyes widen at the sudden rise in volume, unable to react before Fate suddenly raises his arm back and throws the pendant to the wall. The sound of it hitting the surface causes both of the men to flinch- and something ricochets out of sight while the rest of it falls to the floor.
Graves’ eyes follow them down, seeing it cracked, the hex gem inside it rolling off to the side and hitting the opposite wall. A heavy silence hangs between the two men, before Graves slowly turns to look at Fate, expression laced with infuriation and shock. “You fucking broke it?!”
“Well-“ Fate begins, having thrown it more as an expression of anger than anything- he didn’t expect it to just.. shatter like that- “I didn’t mean to-“ he tries to plead.
“Oh you threw it but yeah sure you didn’t mean to.” The other man mocks, walking over to examine what remains of it. Sure- they expected to need another solution but maybe they could’ve figured it out- “Fucking hell.”
“It was useless anyway, Malcolm.” Fate tries to justify, avoiding looking at the other and fidgeting with his fingers awkwardly.
“Oh so this was the best solution. Sure.” Graves grumbles, getting back to his feet. Much to his surprise, however, as soon as he’s upright, he feels..lightheaded. He assumes at first he simply stood up too fast, but as he tries to walk it only gets worse, and so he stops, hoping it’ll go away.
“Malcolm? What’s…” Fate trails off in the midst of his question, bringing a hand to his head and squeezing his eyes shut as he sways a bit, stumbling forward. “Wh…” he’s cut off as he notices black spots flickering in the edges of his vision, and before he knows it- he falls forward, consciousness slipping from him in an instant.
Graves hears the thud as the other collapses to the floor, but he can’t muster up the strength to say anything, his own body feeling heavy, jaw too weak to move. It’s like something is pulling at his mind, weighing him down until eventually, the darkness closes in on him too.
The last thing he feels before he completely passes out, is the feeling of his knees slamming into the floor before the rest of his body follows.
★
When Graves comes to, everything in him is aching. His knees, his back, his head all pound and throb with pain. Something in his mind urges him to get up, to open his eyes- but his brain is swimming with fog, body feeling weighed down- as if he could melt into the floor right then and there.
He can’t remember what happened, or why he feels this way, fear beginning to grasp at him at his helplessness, intertwined with his confusion. It’s only once he groans that he has a realisation- that’s his voice. His own voice.
His eyes shoot open and he looks around the room to the best of his ability from where his face is still pressed to the floor- and catches a glimpse of Fate- Fate’s body, lying in a heap across from him on the other side of the room. It’s a struggle, but Graves eventually finds the energy to move. Though his body aches in protest- it’s a familiar pain- almost comforting in that respect.
He first gets to his knees, and then, pushing himself up using the edge of the bed. Thanks to how much time he’s spent in Fate’s body it’s almost odd to stand up and find himself at a different height- and yet he still finds himself almost sobbing with relief. Immediately once he regains his bearings, his hands fly to grasp up at his face- he brushes over his mustache and feels a wide grin spreads across his face- he’d missed it, god he’d missed his body-
He doesn’t care how this happened more than he’s thankful that it did- and then he remembers- if he’s back in his body, Fate must be as well. He whips around to look at the other, still unconscious. “Tobias?” He calls, the other not stirring. Worry begins to taint his excitement- he rushes over, getting to his knees. He quickly grabs Fate’s shoulders, shaking him in hopes to wake him.
He immediately sighs with relief when the black haired man groans, shuffling and reaching up to swat his hands away. “Tobias-“ Graves repeats, smiling widely, his joy audible.
“God- whaddya want-“ Fate grumbles back, words somewhat slurred with his grogginess before his eyes snap open. Graves moves back as Fate scrambles to his feet, staring in shock at Graves, then at himself. He wraps his arms around himself, gasping in shock. He’s buzzing- absolutely buzzing, the magic feels new and acquainted all at once. He’s whole- he’s himself- “How did…” he’s too astonished to even think in the moment. He can’t even remember what happened before-
“I think breaking it did the trick.” Graves answers nonchalantly, standing up before looking down at the shattered pendant still scattered below the little scratch where it hit the wall. “Lucky, I guess.”
“When aren’t I?” Fate laughs in disbelief, adjusting his hat and dusting off his clothes. God- it feels good to be back. Like second nature- something he’s been itching to do for days, he fishes a card out of his pocket. He sends it dancing across his fingers and lets a smile pull at his lips as he watches the colours shift and glow, feeling immediately relaxed.
He doesn’t even notice Graves staring at him, almost entranced until he catches a glimpse out of the corner of his eye and stops in his tracks. “Something wrong?” He asks, curious, and Graves looks startled for a moment before shaking his head.
“No, I’m just-“ he pauses, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “I’m happy to see you.” He says, not caring in the moment his stupid it may sound. How could he not have.
Fate pauses, eyes widening with surprise at the soft tone of Graves’ voice. Now that he thinks about it, it’s nice being faced with Malcolm’s soft blue eyes- an uncharacteristically shy smile on his face- it’s a sight for sore eyes. “Yeah,” Fate agrees, feeling his own grin widen, “I’m happy to see you too.”
Graves sighs with relief, stretching and seeming surprised when his spine clicks from the motion. “I didn’t miss that, though.” He grumbles, wincing and rubbing at his lower back. Fate shoots him a look of sympathy.
“I don’t blame you, I gotta admit I didn’t love that.” He states, slipping his card back into his pocket. “Why didn’t you tell me about any of that, you know- before everything.”
Graves simply shrugs. “We’re both old, figured it was pretty normal.” Which makes sense, but Fate finds himself laughing nervously.
“I wouldn’t say old- not young, maybe.” He replies, “But really, I’m just surprised how much I didn’t know.”
“I could say the same for you.” Graves says, nonchalantly. “Besides, it’s not like we ever just talk about ourselves.” He says with a touch of finality, walking over to his bed and hauling Destiny into his lap. He smiles again, patting her barrels and fishing out a cloth to polish her with as he whispers. “God I can’t wait til our next job- I missed you.”
Fate doesn’t comment on seeing Graves talk to his gun, instead saying “Maybe we should talk more- I… I wouldn’t mind.” It’s rich coming from him- renowned for his mystique and silver tongue, able to twist the truth left and right. Honesty isn’t his thing, but now it doesn’t seem so difficult given what they’d been through the past few days.
“Doesn’t that go against your entire..thing?” Graves asks, twisting his wrist as he struggles (and eventually fails) to find the right word. Fate chuckles at that, shaking his head fondly and prompting Graves to tilt his head in confusion. “What? It’s not like I’m wrong, is it?”
“No, no..” Fate trails off, shrugging “But it’s not like it’s ever worked on you anyway,” he states, matter of factly. “So no harm in it, right?”
“Guess not.” Graves agrees, looking over to Fate, who by now- has resumed fidgeting with a card. The sight of the cards dancing along Fate’s fingers is yet another thing that Graves is happy to watch again- having been unable to do it quite so gracefully. “Nice as this epiphany has been- I never want to repeat that.”
Fate laughs at that. “Trust me, I don’t plan to pick up any more potentially cursed items anytime soon.” He affirms, before looking down to the floor, chewing the inside of his cheek. “I’m.. sorry I wasn’t more careful.”
Graves looks startled at the apology- that’s rare from Fate. It immediately has him trying to reassure the other, stating “I ain’t exactly the picture of careful, I won’t hold it against you. Making me shower though- that’s a different matter.”
The black haired man chuckles at that, feeling slightly better about the whole situation. It’s comforting to have normality back, even if that includes their petty banter. “I suppose that’s fair.”
“When aren’t I?” Graves states, repeating Fate’s phrasing from earlier with a smirk. The other man smiles back, simply grateful to have the weight of it all off his shoulders.