Chapter Text
It was really late at night in Argentum, and Mikhail wasn’t going to pretend that he was even trying to get to sleep anymore. So he’d got out of bed and left the inn and now...he was alone. And it was pretty quiet, seeing as it was Argentum and it was always bustling in some way. At this time of night, at least, no stranger would come up and talk to him about selling their wares.
After a little while, he made his way over to the fish shop outside the inn, because it wasn’t like he had anything better to do, and he grabbed some tempura because...it was a habit, he supposed. It had always eased the frown on Jin’s face when he brought some back.
Architect, he wasn’t in the best of moods tonight. Battered fish in hand, he ascended the set of steps in front of him and made his way out onto the flight deck. It was almost completely deserted, but he made his way out to the furthest point anyway. Tonight was definitely a ‘watching the stars and the sea and trying not to be crushed by despair’ kind of night.
The slight chill of the night air was...good, he supposed. It meant he couldn’t fall asleep, at least. But he did feel a bit numb, sitting out here, and at some point he’d finished the fish but he didn’t remember when. He gently tore the paper it had been held in into pieces and let the breeze pull them away.
“Mind if I join you?” A familiar voice asked, and he very nearly jumped out of his skin. Mythra. So she’d followed him up here, or maybe- he’d definitely been out here too long for her to have followed him. So she couldn’t sleep, either.
“Sure,” he said, shuffling a little to the side so she could sit at the end of the deck without being too close to him. “I must say, it’s not a bad night for insomnia.”
“Could be worse,” she agreed, and then they lapsed into silence. Uncomfortable silence. Deeply, infuriatingly uncomfortable silence. The last time they’d been alone together, he’d- he’d been pretty angry at her, really. He’d said all those things that he didn’t exactly regret, but...who was he kidding? He regretted all of it.
It had been stupid, and emotional, and maybe he did feel that way. But there was nothing worse when you were suffering than to inflict that pain on someone else. Pyra and Mythra had found a life that was a lot better for them, here, a lot happier, and they’d taken him in to that life and he’d just insulted them. Attempted to spurn that gift for the sake of protecting his shattered pride.
“I’m sorry,” he said. Because he was sorry that he’d upset her. He didn’t like hurting people, no matter what he said to others about his words or his nature or whatever. And it was grating on him, knowing that Pyra and Mythra were there all the damn time and he just never said anything.
“You’re what?” Mythra asked, turning to face him. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t listening.”
“Oh Architect, don’t make me say it again,” he said. “I said I’m sorry. About before, when I yelled at you. It was sort of a dick move.”
“Well you meant it,” she said with a shrug. “Didn’t you? That you couldn’t forgive what I did so long ago.”
“Well, yes-” he said.
“Then you don’t have to apologise,” she said immediately, not even letting him finish. “You’re allowed to hold hard feelings. The same way that you shouldn’t expect Rex to forgive you for when you attacked us.”
“Sure,” he said, even though Rex had already said he’d forgiven him. He wasn’t really looking for forgiveness, anyway, because he’d been doing the right thing, in his eyes. They’d needed that information to achieve their goals and that was fine. “I’m apologising anyway. Not for feeling like that, but for hurting you with the words.”
“So does it still hurt, after five hundred years?” She asked. And under any other circumstance, with anyone else, Mikhail wouldn’t answer that question. It was too personal. But with Mythra…
“Not every day,” he said. “Well, not that specific thing. Five hundred years is a lot of missed opportunities, a lot of things gone wrong. Sometimes I’m sad about the boy I didn’t kiss before he went off to serve in the Ardainian army. But sometimes…”
“Sometimes it’s Milton,” she said, her voice low. Mikhail nodded.
“You probably knew him better than I did,” he admitted, almost managing to get a sheepish smile to creep onto his face. “I only knew him for a short while, compared to you. But he was-”
“He was bright, and always cheerful, and people hung off his every word because he was so playful and genuine,” she said. “He understood people, and what made them tick, and he always knew exactly what to do to get them to feel better, or at least more human, without you ever telling him.”
“Yeah,” he managed. Just hearing someone talk about him again after so long hurt. It hurt so much, remembering that he was gone, and when he and Mythra were gone...by that point, no one else would really remember him. Maybe Brighid’s diary held a couple of words, but he wouldn’t be important to her.
“I really am sorry for what happened,” she said. “I don’t know how I knew, when that blast hit, but-”
“I know,” he said. “And I- I don’t know if I forgive you, or anything, it’s a bit early for saying all that, but...I know you didn’t mean to do it. That if you’d been able to prevent it, you would have. I don’t- I don’t blame you for what happened.”
“I’m not looking for forgiveness, honestly,” she said. “I just want to be able to move on, some day. To be able to live a happier life without the regret holding me down.”
“Sure as hell would be nice,” he mused. He’d spent...he’d spent a long time letting the past dictate his future. Amalthus had done this, Amalthus had done that, he had to pay for what he’d done...it had consumed his life for a long time, when really, at the time, he’d just been a kid. And he’d had a full life ahead of him that he squandered on trying to destroy it rather than just live it.
Furiously, he scrubbed at the tears that were forming on his face. He shouldn’t let this get to him, damn it. Heartfelt conversations in the middle of the night just weren’t his style. “It’s okay to be sad,” Mythra said. “Hey, at least it means we still feel something for this world.”
Mythra put an arm around his shoulders, and after a moment of hesitation, Mikhail returned the hug. He felt like it was about four hundred and ninety four years overdue, but...it was good. A step forward. Maybe he wouldn’t be so angry anymore, now they could work on putting those events behind them.
A few minutes later, Mythra pulled away. “So, we’re agreeing never to speak of this to anyone else ever again?”
“You read my mind.” And yeah, he still had a long way to go before he could feel happy again. But with all these lovable idiots around, he finally felt like he was heading in the right direction.