Chapter Text
“We did it!”
They did. As crazy as it was to think, they really did. Angus was up on Magnus’ shoulders, yelling it to everyone, anyone who could hear. We made it. We did it. We lived.
It wasn’t really his fault. The sheer relief was dizzying. It wasn’t as though he suddenly felt faint. Blood loss was funny thing, in a way. It didn’t hurt so much as… just happen. An after thought for a fight that everyone else had moved beyond. He removed the arrow from the back of his left shoulder mid battle, struggling to disentangle the bolt from his thick tweed cape: his proper detective’s cape now shredded beyond saving. It hadn’t hurt. Well, no, that wasn’t quite honest, it hadn’t hurt as much as it was probably supposed to. There had been so much else that needed doing Angus didn’t think about it.
He had been watching Lup in the center of the crowd, floating high above the bonfire that had been piled in the center of town. Dozens of people, of every race and kind, were sat around it with rapt enjoyment on their faces. She was telling stories of the Bureau of Balance, Taako floating beside her in a casual pose. The Voidfish had shared a lot about their lives, more than anybody even thought they had in their lives, but it hadn’t shared everything. Not Lucas’ lab, or the Rockport Limited, or Goldcliff races or anything that the Reclaimers had done in the past year. She had seen a surprising amount from inside Taako’s umbrella, and told the story well. Taako would interrupt and criticise and correct her often, but it wasn’t harsh. Not like he’d been before today, there was something softer in his needling.
Angus thought this was what it must be like to have a sibling.
Angus had sat away from the group, not wanting to intrude. There was a lot to talk about, to reminisce, to mourn. Angus couldn’t hope to understand it. Seeing people talk about rebuilding, and funerals, and weddings, and reuniting families. Angus had nothing to do with these. No home to rebuild, no family to lose or gain. He knew when he wasn’t needed.
He sat back and leaned against a wall half crumbled from the battle. He put pressure against the ache in his shoulder that was growing from a dull growl to a large roar. The warm glow of the bon fire, streaked with white and blue and pink as the silhouette floating above gestured with her wild stories. The silhouette grew blurred and warped against the bright lights of the fire, as Angus let his mind wander over what Lup must have looked like when she was alive. He bet she was transcendent even then.
“Hey Ango, you been partying too hard?”
“Ango?”
“Angus. Look at me.”
“Merle! I need help over here!”
Angus woke looking into the feathered armour of Magnus Burnsides, the quills tickling at his face uncomfortably. Angus tried to push himself up, but wilted as pain flourished from his left side. He instinctively grabbed at the injury, meeting crisp and clean bandages with his right hand. Magnus’ arms wrapped tighter around Angus at the movement, Magnus burying his face into Angus’ shoulder as he hugged the boy.
“Don’t. Don’t do that again.”
“S-sir?” Angus’ voice was heavily muffled by Magnus’ hug.
“Why didn’t you say you were hurt, dummy? You’re supposed to be the smart one.”
“I-I-I didn’t, I wasn’t-”
“That wall was red.” Magnus said, in a quiet voice.
“Sir?”
“It was supposed to be brown. You made the wall red.” Magnus was whispering.
“Oh…” Angus said, running his fingers along Magnus’ arm. The scars felt like stitches in a well worn overcoat, with a familiar story behind every one.
“Merle took the rest of the crossbow bolt out. Said there were a buncha pieces that broke off when you pulled a goddamn weapon out of your shoulder, Angus, just what the hell were you thinking?”
Angus pulled out of the hug, still held up Magnus’ arms as he tried to defend himself. “I didn’t want to get in trouble! We needed the healers for people who were really hurt, and there weren’t enough spell slots for a silly little little-”
“Severe impalings? Ango, if I hadn’t come over to talk to you, there wouldn’t be… you!”
“Please don’t exaggerate Sir.” Angus said, seriously.
“You could have died.” Magnus replied just as seriously.
“No, I-”
“Yes. A lot of people died today Ango. We lost a lot. And it could’ve been you.” Magnus’ voice wavered. “You still got my grandpa’s knife?”
“Oh yes, Sir, it’s right here.” Angus patted around in his pockets quickly, but Magnus placed a hand over Angus’.
“Keep it.”
“B-but it’s yours sir! It’s got your name on it.” Angus said, holding the thick wooden handle up to Magnus’ eye. Magnus stared at it with squinted eyes.
“Hmmm… That’s interesting.”
“What? What? I didn’t break it did I?” Angus said, looking at it closely.
“Pretty sure this doesn’t say ‘Magnus’. It says ‘Burnsides’ right here, see?” Magnus said.
“I don’t understand Sir?”
“You’re a Burnsides, aren’t ya?” Magnus said, with a goofy smile.
“No, I’m a McDonald.” Angus said, in a dour tone. There was a long, long pause as Magnus waggled his eyebrows at Angus. “Oh. Oh! Sir, do you mean it?!”
“Of course I mean it. Have I ever lied to you?”
“Well-” Angus raised an eyebrow.
“Being a Burnsides is pretty great!” Magnus spoke over Angus, shaking him side to side in a rapturous hug. “It’ll be even better now you’re one. You even have a scar like one.”
Angus ran a finger a long Angus’ shoulder where the scar was. It tickled, and it made Angus giggle. Even wrapped tight in Magnus’ arms, Angus could swear he felt Magnus smile.
It was the first wake up call Angus had after the world had ended, in more ways than one.