Chapter Text
“Thought I might find you up here,” Pike says.
G’raha makes a soft noise of affirmation, not turning. The platform that looks over Lakeland has slowly become their spot in his mind, and he wonders how Pike can still have this effect on him. He knows Pike isn’t even trying; it’s just the sheer magnetism of his presence.
Pike settles next to him, so close their arms brush. “Are you...is it a good time to talk?”
G’raha will never be ready for this conversation, but there’s no sense in putting it off. Rip the bandage off, he’s learned. “As good as any, I suppose.”
“I’m mad,” Pike says, words in a rush, like he’s been holding them back. “No, I’m furious. Absolutely incandescent with rage. I can’t believe, G’raha, that you would do that to me. You knew what that would do to me, right?”
“I thought the emotional cost was worth your life.”
“It isn’t. Do you think this is something I would want?” Pike shakes his head, the front braids and their charms catching the fading light of day with the movement. “It nearly broke me when it was Haurchefant, and it took everything I had to recover.”
G’raha feels lost, suddenly. “But—he was your husband.”
“And you are my friend!” Pike whirls on him. “Do you think that, because I’m not in love with you, that I love you any less? Just because our feelings differ, G’raha, doesn’t mean I don’t care.” His voice breaks on the last word, and he swipes furiously at his face. “It was cruel of you to do that to me. It’s going to take me a long time to forgive you for it.”
“I’m sorry,” G’raha replies. “You shouldn’t forgive me.”
“No, you don’t get to have a pity party over this,” Pike declares. “You get to be better, got it? If I have to watch you die I’ll find a way to bring you back just to kill you myself. So promise me: never again. Got it?”
“I—” G’raha blinks, holding back the tears. “I promise.”
“Good,” Pike says. He nudges G’raha. “It’s good to have you back, Raha. I did miss you.”
And G’raha smiles, something settling in his chest. It’s not what he wanted but—it’s more than he could have ever expected. “And I you, Pike.”
G’raha wakes again, a familiar crick in his neck. Sleeping in Xande’s throne had not, in fact, been a great idea. Pike would appreciate the dramatics of it, though.
Speaking of, he looks up.
“Good morning,” Pike says, sweetly. “Since you didn’t really die, you get a free pass on murder from yours truly.”
G’raha remembers their last conversation, how Pike was near to tears over his crystal corpse. It feels strange, going from that to this cheerful, grinning Pike. He looks...lighter, than he has since he first came to the First. And how G’raha missed this easy smile—no, not missed, because Pike’s smiles have never been this carefree, not in G’raha’s memory.
“Good morning,” he says, own smile coming to his face unbidden. “You shall forgive me if I’m not disappointed—as much as an honor it would be to be killed by the Cat’s Eye, I find I enjoy life much, much more.”
Pike’s smile grows. “No arguments here.”
A week after Thancred returns to the Source, Pike decides it’s time, and removes the bracelet from its hiding place.
Maybe he’s moving too fast. Maybe it’s too much to ask for. But Pike has recently learned impatience, and every moment that bracelet isn’t on Thancred’s wrist, Pike’s heart hurts just a little more.
He asks Thancred to meet him in his room that night. Truthfully, he doesn’t really need to, because he and Thancred haven’t spent a night apart since he returned to the Source, but Pike wants to be clear that this is going to be a thing, and he wants Thancred to be prepared for that.
Then Pike goes on a patrol around Mor Dhona and kills a few dozen monsters to settle his nerves. It works, and he even manages not to get injured. He feels pretty proud of that, actually. Against simple monsters, he has a tendency to get lazy and let them smack him around a few times, before he puts them down.
He cleans the blood and sap off himself before dressing in nice, soft clothes, and waits for Thancred to show up.
It doesn’t take long; and Pike’s thankful for it. Thancred knocks lightly on the door, like he hasn’t walked in without announcing himself a thousand times before, and Pike opens to find him with a bottle of wine.
“You spoil me,” Pike says, taking it. There is a momentary temptation to pull the cork out with his teeth and down the whole thing, that he ignores in favor of retrieving up a couple of wine glasses that he’s purloined from the bar.
“I would never, ” Thancred replies.
Pike snorts, and pours them each a glass before sitting down. They drink in companionable silence for a few moments, cuddled up on the edge of Pike’s bed. It’s probably a bad place to drink, but Pike likes the closeness and the chair at his desk nearly broke with the both of them sitting in it last time they tried.
“So,” Thancred says, after a time. “I know you didn’t just invite me to your bedroom to get me to bring you wine.”
“If I wanted that, I’d just ask,” Pike agrees. “No, I have a gift for you.” He sets his glass down and heads over to where he’d placed the bracelet. “Close your eyes and hold out your hand.”
Thancred closes his eyes, a bemused look on his face. Pike bites his lip, and carefully ties the bracelet around Thancred’s wrist.
“You can open them now,” he says.
Thancred opens his eyes, and immediately looks at the bracelet. After a moment, realization dawns, and his eyes go soft. “Oh, Pike. This is…”
“I want to be clear about something,” Pike says, cutting off whatever Thancred was about to say. “This isn’t a marriage proposal. I won’t ever marry again. Husband was a title reserved for Haurchefant, and I want to keep it that way. But that doesn’t mean that I care about you any less, and I wanted to reflect that. I want you to be sure...you get to keep me, as much as I can be kept. Okay? I’m yours, until you decide you don’t want me.”
“Never,” Thancred says, and he stands. “Pike, it’s not as if I’ve been dreaming of marriage since I was young. I was happy just having you love me. This is more than enough, darling. Whatever you want.”
“I want,” Pike says, tone light, “you to kiss me.”
“I can do that.”
And he does. And it’s perfection.
Time marches on.
The Scions settle back into the rhythm of life on the Source. Not one of them is perfectly happy—too many friends and family gained over the time they were there, people they’ll miss forever. But there’s a calm that settles over the whole of them, and even the war that licks at their borders can’t break through the ease of getting a small but earned break.
The party is a little bit everyone’s idea, but mostly Pike’s. It starts with him just wanting to cook for everyone—they all handle their own meals, for the most part, but Pike likes to cook for other people, when he can. It reminds him of his parent’s house and cooking for Elphina, small hands learning how to make edible food. He still has a few recipes he’d stolen from neighbors and fellow soldiers.
It turns into a party when Valliant goes out on her first solo mission since coming back to the Source and comes back bearing an entire crate of wine, and Y’shtola and Urianger are dragged out from their various projects to eat with them. G’raha is designated sous chef when Pike remembers that someone other than him in this group knows how to make food, and Thancred gets bullied into playing a few songs for them because Pike’s too busy.
The last time Pike had this, he remembers, was Saturnalia the year before his father died. They used to go to a small gathering with the rest of their little neighborhood, and his parents would play and sing while he and the other children would receive gifts. He remembers, that year, being so proud of his baby sister who’d just learned how to talk in full sentences. He’d taught her how to say “thank you” whenever she was handed a present, small soft things suitable for a one year old, and felt warmth curl in his chest when the adults would coo over her intelligence.
There’d been no Saturnalia the next year, as his father was already dead and his mother was following right behind him.
“You alright?” Valliant asks him, having realized he wasn’t eating.
“Ah, yeah,” Pike answers. “Just...caught up in memories for a second.”
She nods and gives him a quick hug, and Pike lets himself get swept into the conversation around him.
Later, when all of them (save the twins, not that they haven’t tried—Pike’s lost count of the drinks that Valliant has plucked out of their hands and downed) are a bit in their cups, well-fed and joking and generally enjoying each other’s company, Pike allows himself to pull back from the party and quietly observe. The memory of that last Saturnalia and the hardship that followed are still close at hand, but the sting of it eases when he looks out at his friends, at peace and at home.
The Pike of a few years ago would be upset about how many people he’s let into his heart; the opportunities to be hurt or betrayed or scared are too numerous to be counted. But, as Pike looks at Valliant dancing a jig with the twins, mirth in her eyes; at Y’shtola and Urianger debating something about magic; at G’raha, beset upon by Krile and Tataru, looking utterly off-gait; at Thancred, swanning over, laying a kiss on Pike’s brow…
“You look happy,” Thancred says, tucking an arm around his waist.
“I am,” Pike says. “You’re home.”
Yes, Pike thinks; all this is worth any hurt that could come. All the hurt he’s endured up until now.
Because he has a family again, and they’re home with him.