Chapter Text
It was Clara who ended the peace this time, pulling Daniil up to stand at the edge of his bed. A war of ego and gratitude battled behind his eyes. His face couldn’t fully decide which side to take.
She waited as patiently as she could before the awkward silence began to get to her. It was odd being the one needing to ask something of him.
“Artemy’s downstairs.”
Daniil stiffened at the name, his eyes now locked to hers and wide with panic.
“In the- no, he can’t be here, does he not have other- oh, but of course he’d turn up here, and with you…”
Realisation dawned on his face as his expression soured into cynicism.
“Ah, he put you up to talking to me, correct?”
Clara shrugged and sat herself atop a bare part of the desk, her back to the window, her legs swinging back and forth. “He’s worried about you.”
Daniil’s laugh was cold. “Yeah, right. The man’s no doubt about to throw me into the Ghorkon, get me out of his beloved little cesspool.”
And yet, his gaze slid over to the portrait of Eva. He covered his face with his hands for a moment before breathing out exasperatedly. His voice was quiet. “Fine, I’ll talk to him. Just…let me make myself presentable.”
Clara made her way to the stairs before turning around once more. Here was the Daniil she’d know, frantically trying to tuck his slightly oversized dress shirt into a somewhat clean pair of black pants. She smiled a little to herself.
Perhaps healing could still take place, even without miracles.
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Clara chose to wait patiently outside his door, slouching comfortably on the curved wooden walls that made up the Stillwater. She breathed in the homely air, a scent of worn books, peeling paint and dust flooding her senses. This was a building that had been lived in, cared for. A home full of relics of a life now lost, and one that seemed to be beginning anew.
It was nice to feel sentimental again, she thought. As though Eva’s lingering presence was lifting her mood.
After a worryingly long time, Daniil finally exited the room and began to make his way downstairs. Clara made sure to walk two steps in front, just in case the twyrine decided to reassert itself. He was dressed almost identically to when he first arrived: polished black shoes, immaculate shirt and neatly buttoned red waistcoat. He’d even fixed his cravat with the same silver pin. His footsteps were slow and uncertain, like he couldn’t quite remember how his feet were supposed to fit on each stair.
Artemy had moved to the Stillwater’s eye, his body hunched over slightly as he gazed into the small pool of water at the centre of the room. His expression was unreadable, though a rare nervousness made him shake, ever so slightly.
Clara entered the room first, before theatrically gesturing towards the doorway.
“And I present to you, the one and only Bachelor of Medicine, chief fighter against Death itself, Daniil Dankovsky.”
Might as well have some fun with it, before any tension began.
Daniil gingerly stepped into the small room, stopping about a metre away from Artemy. His arms were folded tightly. Neither man seemed willing to say the first word.
Clara sighed.
“Okay, who wants to go first?” She moved in between them, like a referee about to start a boxing match.
Artemy inhaled, his breath steady as though stealing himself. Then his mouth curved into a slight smile.
“Imperare sibi maximum imperium est. To command oneself is the greatest command.”
Daniil began to smile a little as well, though his body language was still guarded. “You looked it up?”
“I got curious.”
“And you’re here now just to tell me?”
“I got curious. And Sticky was asking about you.”
“The boy, one of those you’re looking after? What did he want a disgraced doctor for?”
Artemy paused, making sure to look Daniil directly into Daniil’s eyes. His face was now serious, though still surprisingly gentle.
“I think the children miss you, oynon. Murky would love another one of your stories.”
“Just the children?” He looked oddly offended, almost sounding annoyed at Artemy’s attempts at reassurance.
Artemy sighed and rubbed the bridge of his noise. He looked once again into Danii’s eyes. “I’m… also worried about you, Daniil.”
A painful silence hung in the air as Daniil seemed to struggle within himself.
“I’m fine. I just… need some time.”
Artemy moved forwards tentatively. “Oynon, whatever you-”
“I’m leaving town. Today, if the train gets here.”
Daniil glanced at Clara, who did her best to give him a reassuring smile. She could see Artemy begin to frown, gaze flitting around the room, no doubt dozens of thoughts swirling across his mind. Clara walked over and whispered into his ear.
“Let him go.”
His hands balled into fists for a moment before unclenching. He breathed out heavily before looking Daniil square in the eyes. It was as though an electric current shot between the two of them.
“And what will you do?”
“I… want to find more miracles. The Polyhedron can’t just be a one off, there’s got to be dozens of towns just like this one. I saw inside it- the spectres, the impossible drawings…”
He swallowed. “Miracles exist. I know that now. And I don’t think I can live with myself if I don’t try and find more, and… understand peoples role in them.”
Clara could see his gloved fingers delicately moving across the drawing of Eva.
“How humanity might learn to fly.”
Artemy sounded almost pained when he finally responded.
“At least let us walk you to the station.”
Daniil nodded gratefully.
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They walked slowly through the streets of the Town on the Ghorkon, Clara enjoying the silence of the empty streets. She could feel Daniil’s restlessness, stepping that little bit faster than the other healers though never breaking apart from the line they’d formed. Artemy was like a smouldering fire; silent, but brimming with unspoken yet intense emotion.
Eventually they reached the station platform, though Artemy stayed silent. Daniil moved to look at the both of them and started to speak, before Clara instantly cut him off. She wrapped herself around him again, pinning his arms to his sides and pressing her head into his chest. He laughed a little as Clara slowly began to release him, his own hand softly stroking the top of her beanie.
It took her a minute to make herself let him go, returning her hands to her pockets and looking him firmly in the eye. This time, he spoke first.
“Goodbye, Clara.”
“Goodbye, Daniil.”
She waited until the conductor began signalling for the train to leave, letting the bittersweet smell of its' steam wash over her. Artemy remained stoic beside her until Daniil was halfway into the carriage. The words were overflowing with emotions neither man had seemed willing to name.
“Promise you’ll return, one day.”
A solitary leaf twirled lazily through the air between them.
“I’ll write to you.”
Clara swore she could see the Daniil brushing something out of his eye as the carriage left the station. Artemy stared softly into the empty space where the carriage had been just a few moments ago.
Finally, he spoke again, his voice whispering like the breeze.
“Now, what do we do?”
Delicately, Clara rested a hand on his shoulder. She looked out into the vast Steppe, watching as the train carriage slowly disappeared into the horizon.
“We learn how to live.”
To her left, the Cemetery sat, peaceful. The only sound was the soft rustling of grass and twyre. Her grave’s call had gone silent.