Archive of Our Own

Months

Lucretia was not a planet but sometimes she felt like one- cold, isolated, stranded in a void. Months had passed after the Day of Story and Song, but what are months when you've already lived upwards of a full human lifespan?  Time was a compass that had lost its bearings for her. It was of no use to her anymore, apart from pointing her in the direction of her mistakes.

Plenty of people came knocking at her door, hampered with gifts and greetings and multitudes of admiration. Her door . Her house . Lucretia hadn't lived in a house for over a century; just ships and bases and bureaus and at her lowest moments, hideaways she’d ramshackled together herself. Her recollections of living in a cottage with her widowed father were foggy at best and, at worst, manifested themselves as abstract nightmares. Memories of life back on the violet - sky world were merely fragments of a childhood dream.

Moments following the battle being won, after doing her best to comfort everyone that had been through the journey of a lifetime, Lucretia stumbled away from the scene of the action (as best as she could, at least. Her legs faltered beneath her.) It struck her as odd that she wanted to be alone, especially after living in solitude for such a long time. It was so odd that she fell into peals of acidic laughter until her stomach lurched and she began to retch over the earth beneath her sweaty palms. Then she was crying without control or restraint, like someone had grabbed a disused tap and turned with all their strength. She cried like a child, or like a confused young adult that had never had to be so alone before.

Now, after what felt like a blink proceeding the events of that surely historic day, Lucretia was situated in a cozy little house perched on her moon. She was the head of the Bureau of Benevolence, after all. Lucretia couldn't bear to take too much time away from other people. If she did, she would start to lose herself.

Walls drew closer around her form like elongated shadows at the death of a day and sleep no longer frequented her. Phantom pains ravaged her leg and perspiration welled on her brow. Merle would be called to visit. If there was one person Lucretia could confide in, it was him. 

Merle arrived accompanied by the fragrance of hippie teas and goodwill. Merle felt like the first beams of sunrise gracing your skin and sounded like wind chimes. The dwarf seemed to have too much kindness in him for his stout body to contain; it leaked out and infected the people around him. Lucretia found her actions to be softened and her compassion bolstered for days after seeing her old friend. They'd talk and eat granola and laugh at stupid jokes and Lucretia would shake her head at whatever new tattoo he had recklessly added to the tapestry of his skin. Then things would stop feeling so endlessly terrible for a while.

They understood each other better in old age than they had back in the IPRE, but that wasn’t to say they hadn’t been compatible in the past. He was dealing with his own demons, Lucretia could see that pretty brazenly. His failed marriage, recommitment to his kids. John. Not saving John. Sometimes she thought that Merle’s guilt about that manifested as his dedication to her. She knew he also loved her a lot- they were best friends- but she could hardly blame the dwarf if John was part of it.

Magnus would swing by sometimes too. It was nice to see him. Nice to see his wide and mischievous smile. Nice to smell the dog on him and watch him idly pick splinters out of his calloused fingers. Nice to feel his arms wrapped around her in a swaddling hug that screamed volumes about his love, even if he didn’t speak it. It was comforting to be reminded that she would have a partner in mortality. "Don't worry, Lucy," he would say whenever his sister grew quiet as she mulled over the inevitable end. "When we're both dead we can laugh at those mortal goofuses from the afterlife! Infinite youth, baby!" She would smile, and feel grounded in reality once more.

Davenport didn't visit but he sent postcards. They always smelt like sea salt and were often delivered with a sample of wine from whatever port he'd drifted into. Lucretia cleaned and arranged the bottles on a shelf and watched the light pierce through them. He signed his name with a doodle of his boat and a smiley, moustached face.

Barry and Lup came together, a pair of novelty socks. They brought with them spices and skulls, travel and denim, fire and science. Lucretia had been invited to their wedding but had forgone it as to not “steal their thunder”, so to speak. Besides, she'd been to their dozens of others.  Despite their excellent company and bundles of stories about the rest of the world outside of the Bureau, they reminded Lucretia of two things she wanted after hopelessly and could never have.

A relationship that she couldn’t taint and 

Taako.

Because Taako did not visit.

***

Taako was happy. Taako was successful. Taako was sexy, smart, popular and he was alive . There was not a soul in the world that didn't know the shape of his name on their lips and not one that regretted the sensation of it.

He had a gorgeous boyfriend, soon to be husband, and a forest of family that surrounded him with love and comfort, and never again would he let them be uprooted. For once, he wasn't searching. Travelling was not a necessity to survive or a nameless compulsion to find a missing something , it was a luxury. All he had to do was punch a  number into his Stone of Farspeech and Lup's perpetually-on-the-edge-of-chuckling voice was directly in his ear.

Taako would never let anybody take that away from him, and if someone so much as laid a finger on a hair on the head of one of his dearly beloved, there would be Hell, Hell, Hell to pay.

In all of this, Taako did not spare a thought for Lucretia. It was a waste of anger. 

***

Years

Months were one thing, and years were another. Lucretia almost felt like an observer as she watched holidays pass by and birthdays come and go. Those had lost meaning a long time ago. There were more lines on her face now. Her eyes gained more depth and her hair grew longer. She was dressing in progressively heavier clothes. They insulated heat better.  Winter was becoming an adversary to her now, and she didn’t have the physical strength to put up a good fight.

Lucretia had endured aches and pains for a while now but these were worse. Bone deep. At least I'm already grey. Poor Magnus . She and her brother would jest back and forth, comparing the spoils of their years alive. She would tug, affectionately, at his rapidly receding, now pepper-and-salt hair. He would imitate the stoop Lucretia had been developing, whining in her voice about how his joints were a real bitch.  

The Bureau of Benevolence thrived. She watched Carey, Killian and Avi guide the ship she had once stood at the helm of. They were so much better than her, right from the beginning. Honest, caring, understanding of their employees. Open and transparent as water; as forgiving and pliable as clay. Her heart felt too full when she watched them at work.

Her favourite part of the job was when she went to visit children. Often medical facilities or orphanages would request a visit. Lucretia, with too much free time to know what to do with, happily agreed. She liked to tell them stories, especially ones about the IPRE. They knew them all already, of course, but she delighted in indulging them. She hoped they would go on to be everything they had ever dreamed of; hoped they’d never know hurt.

One good thing that came with old age was the scars. Lucretia, whether she knew it or not, was healing. The body is a miraculous contraption. If you leave a wound clean and sterilised it can repair itself (with a little encouragement.) Unbeknownst to Lucretia, all of this took place like a quietly growing tree.

Wounds had littered Lucretia's flesh for a very long time. Accidental, purposeful. Self-inflicted. As she grew in years and shrank in stature, Lucretia could feel it begin to hurt a little less. They stitched themself together again and left behind trails of silvery skin. Lucretia couldn't help but pick at the marks, on the worst of nights, but there would always be somebody to peel her fingers away and hold her hand, tenderly, in the morning.  

*** 

Taako had been doing his own healing. It was just that he didn't want to.  

It was like the itch to pick a scab, and then going the extra mile to pour salt in the wound. Pain was a sensation Taako knew well and greeted somewhat like a friend when it came to visit. Physical, emotional, mental. There were too many instances of the elf crumpling himself into an immovable ball, just to cope with the torrent of emotions scrambling his insides, to count on all of his fingers and toes.

As shitty as the experiences were, pain was one of the best mentors in the world.  It taught you what to fear and what to be wary of. It taught you what to hate and what to stop trusting. Grudges came to Taako as easy as breathing and sometimes they felt about as necessary. That bitter, bitter taste stopped being a nuisance, at some point, and became a comfort blanket.

Maybe it was old age making Taako soft, the way butter gets after handling, but he found himself starting to lose his iron grip on these grudges. Whilst sitting out in the park, dappled in sunlight and full of lemonade, watching Magnus playing fetch with his dogs and Angus writing at his side, he wondered if he really needed to be so angry, if maybe he could let himself watch the people that had wronged him become nothing more than stains on an apron. The thought went as soon as it had come, and he was reprimanding himself hurriedly, peace disturbed.

Everytime he baked cookies with Krav or Angus recounted his dates with a flushed face or Merle brought him a bunch of roses from his garden or Lup modeled him a new outfit, Taako felt the glacier that had taken up residence in his throat to the pit of his stomach melt just a little. A little.

Sweet aromas overwhelmed the acrid ache he'd come to know so well and whether he liked it or not, Taako was spending more time tasting vanilla than the poison he'd become immune to. 

***

Decades

Magnus was dying. It was a wakeup call. It was, fuck, it was a wake up call.

Lucretia had lived for forty happy years. Forty years had gone by where Lucretia didn't have to worry about war, or death, or losing anyone she loved. A thought, like forgetting a menial task such as watering the garden or buying a birthday present, had nibbled at the back of her mind for a long time now. It would have to end. And it ended with Magnus, apparently. The cold-but-warm eyes of death were gazing sympathetically into her own.

She arrived at his house as quickly as her weakening legs could carry her. Lucretia leant heavily on the oak staff Magnus had carved for her about a decade ago.  It was well worn from use; there were slight indentations in the flesh where her fingers had gripped hard during particularly painful episodes. Now, Lucretia's knuckles were white and she was trembling in front of the soft, crumbly house that she had visited year after year. She had watched the ivy on the walls grow. She had nurtured the flowers in the garden to life with her best friend and her brother. Who would take care of them now?

The door swung inward to reveal Angus- now as old as she was when she had first met the sweet, naive little detective- his eyes blurry and melting behind the thick lenses of his glasses. Immediately he lurched forward and sunk into her arms. Unprepared but not surprised, Lucretia held him like a baby and crooned into his ear. Words that would ultimately be forgotten but the cotton-soft tone used as a blanket in the aftermath of what was to come.

When he was done, smearing his face on his handkerchief and breathing deeply, he ushered Lucretia up a creaking staircase and into a dimly lit room. In a bed armored with quilts and guarded by pillows, with a floppy dog laying at the foot, was Magnus.

He was surrounded by love. An overabundance of love. Merle sat on a stool close by his side. He wasn't praying. Just sitting, stirring a mug of tea, his hand resting on Magnus' forearm. Davenport was leaning against a wall, his hair wild with sea air and wearing a fancy blue jacket. He heard Lucretia enter and gave her a somewhat stiff but understanding nod. They hadn't talked in who knew how long, not that Lucretia blamed him. Just postcards, back and forth, getting shorter and shorter and less and less frequent as time passed.

Barry and Lup were falling into each other, slouched on a couch close to the bed. Both smiled tiredly at her. It seemed their reaping work never ended. Of course it wouldn't,  Lucretia thought, almost laughing. People don't just stop dying.

Standing stock still in the corner of the room and looking somewhat like a frilly, fashionable lamp was Taako. Lucretia's immediate instinct was to turn her head ninety degrees and act as if she were a shadow, but for whatever reason she couldn't tear her eyes away.

Taako looked to be doing well. He wasn't wearing any makeup, unusual for him, but he still seemed to carry with him the glow of someone who was totally, one hundred percent comfortable in their skin. During the IPRE days Lucretia had craved that aloofness and had even attempted to mimic the elf's mannerisms and outward attitude just to get a taste of that happiness (albeit in private.) Even now, long after she had become an old woman, she still craved what Taako had- however fictional it was.

It was at that moment that Lucretia's throat stopped up with oxygen-turned-molasses and she choked helplessly. Barb-laced tears pricked at the back of her eyes, grew around her tear ducts and bloomed on her cheeks. She almost collapsed then and there.

Sunburnt by Taako's glare of pity and disgust, suffering heat stroke from the sweltering sun of mortality that melted the windows of the small, hot, dark room, Lucretia hardly felt Lup embrace her. She hardly felt the gentle paperweight of Davenport 's hand on the small of her back or Barry pressing the heel of his own into her shoulder.

The only thing that snapped Lucretia out of her dazzled state was a raspy, old-but-tough voice that was calling her name.

"Luc," Magnus said, turning his head toward her. His eyes were milky in the way they get when you are old, but still bright enough to glisten. "Luc, come sit with me. Hold my hand. I want to be close to you."

So she did.

***

Taako and Death were in a committed relationship. At night when he lay in bed, breathing in the smell of his own hair peppered with spice, a cold presence would slip between the sheets. Kravitz would rub his hands together briskly (it didn’t do too much to warm them up but Taako wouldn't tell him that) before cupping his husband’s face and smiling at him tiredly, his eyes glowing red in the darkness. Their jobs didn't align too well and it left little time for their love life, but they made the best of what they had.

Being so close to Death - cooking dinner for Death, sleeping with Death, taking bubble baths with Death- it meant that Taako really couldn't be afraid of it, even if he tried, because he was too busy envisioning Kravitz mumbling in his sleep or making calls to the Raven Queen just to check in on how she was doing or how he practiced his Cockney in front of the mirror. It wasn't dying that Taako was afraid of, no, that was just eternal life with his beautiful husband

It was losing people.

Elf lifespans, they were, well, they were something. Hundreds of years of life. So much life it was almost too much. What did you spend it on? In some ways, Taako envied humans. They had so little time to worry about. Ninety, eighty years, give or take. If someone you loved died, not to fear: you're close behind! For Taako, this was not so simple. Loss was something you had to spend decades dwelling on because there was nothing fucking else to do.

Losing Lup all the way back then...the absence of her was worse than anything he could imagine. Taako would have gladly burnt the world to cinders with her stupid gauntlet just to see her. That had been a dangerous time. Taako hadn't trusted himself. He knew he was inches from going supernova.

He'd had to spend so long alone. Alone, alone, missing something, always. Forever incomplete, forever losing at a biased game that was insistent on grinding his face into his own blood in the dirt. No open arms to turn to, no familiar faces. There were nights in that dark, empty stagecoach that left Taako at his lowest - a ragged mess with too much magic and not enough will to carry on.

Finding out that Taako had a family and that he had been deprived of them for so long was like an emotional tornado. Relief, joy, enough catharsis to strangle tears out of the elf. And then fury. Ire so intense that it made him tremble, his feet threatening to give way. His heart felt like it was going to punch it's way out of his chest.

That was why Taako couldn't forgive Lucretia. It was her fault that he had been alone. She had almost killed him with loneliness.

They had shared a family, but only she had been allowed that comfort for the whole time Taako had been languishing in his own crippling isolation. She had been surrounded by community every time Taako had come just that close to destroying himself. She had murdered the memory of his sister. He hated her for that.

When he saw her in Magnus' house, the sensation was similar to being doused in cold water. Lucretia looked tired. She looked exhausted, in fact. She was so old now. Despite the brewing ichor of disgust bubbling in his esophagus, Taako felt a pang of compassion. Deep down in the coils of Taako’s conscience was the memory of Lucretia as a young woman that had marveled at the world through the eyes of an awed child.

She cried, and Taako remembered what he once may have considered his sister.

They gathered around Magnus in a tightly knit circle. It was like they were trying to protect him from the inevitable. It was Kravitz coming to escort him, and everyone loved Kravitz. Later that evening, he would hold Taako's hands tight and they would cry together.

"I'm sorry, Taako, I'm so sorry. You can come visit. He'll always be there for you to drop in on."

In the meantime, they held Magnus' hands instead. His skin was like crumpled paper now, inked with life and laughter and so damn fragile . Even after his chest had stopped rising, he was still warm to the touch. Even after he had become stiller than the night, his family held on.

As the group (eventually) left, peeling off in their individual directions, knowing there was a funeral to prepare, Taako met Lucretia's gaze. They were both blurry and laden with headaches from the tears. They stood opposite in the darkness outside Magnus' house.

Taako nodded at her, wordlessly, and left. Back into Death’s arms.

***

The Beginning of the End  

Lucretia knew she was dying long before Merle told her she was. She could feel it.

Sometimes she'd be overcome with dizzy spells so intense she'd crumple to her knees.  Her leg was often numb to the touch now, with a constant low buzz. Static. Karma, in some small and almost humorous way. She would laugh if it didn't make her lungs ache. She knew, but she didn't know . So she called up Merle.

Merle had told her with a gentle and almost casual tone. He wasn't a particularly artful person, but the dwarf sculpted compassion with the skill of a master. Lucretia watched him choke up briefly before continuing on. He blinked away the tears rapidly. She wanted to tell him that it was OK if he had to take a break, but couldn't find the words.

"I'm sorry Luc. It's old age, y'know? I got spells that can ease the pain and help you out, plenty a' herbs and teas and shit, but...I mean, I can't reverse time. Couldn't do anything for Magnus,  can't do anything for you - not permanent anyways." He smiled wearily. "If I could, I'd look not a day over fifty."

She wasn't scared. She wasn't. In fact, it was good to know. Now she could plan.

"How long do I have?" Lucretia asked. Merle sighed, heavy. Pushed his glasses up his nose.

"Maybe a year. Maybe two."

For a long time, a year had seemed miniscule to Lucretia- now it was as valuable as her heart or her brain. It was then that Lucretia began her endless task of tying the bow on the parcel of her life.

She told everybody, of course. The nausea and headache of keeping secrets and dealing with things alone was overwhelming. It made her weak and tired and she couldn't afford that. She told Carey and Killian, who were old enough themselves with their own grown up children (Lucretia was sad that she'd never had kids) and both promised they'd take good care of the Bureau of Benevolence. They'd find someone with a good heart to take on the job once they were gone too. She trusted them unendingly, of course.

Lucretia made sure her money went to places well spent. The Bureau of Benevolence was self sufficient but she still donated a large portion of her inheritance. The rest went to many more charities and organizations in Faerun, to struggling individuals, to anyone who looked like they needed a pick-me-up. Money wasn’t something she gave much of a damn about but she knew it was a staple in the world of the living. May as well spend excessively, like she never had before.

She decided to leave her house to Carey and Killian’s kids, her possessions to the shocking amount of friends she found she’d made. At first, Lucretia thought she’d struggle to find enough people to take the many trinkets and books she owned but now she was having difficulty finding something for everyone. Children, teens, soul searching young adults who were like her once, and elderly people who were like her now. Poor and wealthy, in the prime of their lives or struggling to wake up in the morning. Even people from other planes were finding ways to make contact. That was how she ended up sobbing all over her will, surrounded by reams of paper, perched on her couch next to Lup.

The elf had offered to help with the monumental task, which Lucretia had been grateful for. Now Lup was pressing tissues into the other woman’s trembling hands and rubbing circles into her back. Once Lucretia had sniffled herself into calmness, she smiled, despite herself.

“We’re gonna miss you, Lucy,” Lup said. She was grinning fondly at Lucretia, like she had always done, but sadder now. God, that took her back.

“I’ll miss you more.”

Lup stared off into middle distance and her expression fell a little. “You... have any regrets?” she asked.

“I suppose so.” Lucretia puffed her cheeks out and sighed. “Over two hundred years alive and I never actually dated anyone. No legacy to hand down to my kids or anything.” She paused and shook her head. “Maybe that’s a good thing.”

The two laughed lightly and Lup ribbed her (delicately). “Not true. You’re great, and you know it Lucy. Don’t sweat it, I’m sure you’ll find some cute ghost grandma in the astral plane.”

There was hardly anything for Lucretia to lose-after all, she’d be dead and buried in a matter of months. She didn’t want to die just thinking about how much she’d loved a girl and how much she’d wished she could’ve told her. So she said it.

“I had a huge crush on you.”

Lup looked a little caught off by her coming out with it so suddenly, but certainly not shocked (Lucretia had known she wouldn’t be.)

“Oh, well, I knew that, Luc. C’mon, you gotta try harder to surprise me than that.” Lup leaned in to her and trailed a thumb across the cut of Lucretia’s jaw. “It was really cute. Two nerds fawning over me.” Her voice was soft. “I’m sorry I didn’t acknowledge that. I mean, I really loved you and I do now, even more so, but I also really love Barry. And I felt..guilty. You were so young and I figured you’d find someone closer to your age.” If Lucretia didn’t know better, she’d think she’d spotted a tear. Lup bit her lip. “But that never happened. And that fucking sucks. You deserved more.”

“I don’t mind, really. I’m over it. Mostly, anyways.” Lucretia giggled a little nervously. (Giggling, at her age? She cursed herself. Foolish.) “I’m just glad you’re happy. That’s all I can ask for.”

“I want you to be happy Lucy. Wherever you are. After everything, happiness is what we deserve. And that includes you.” Lup brushed her thumb against Lucretia’s cheek and despite everything, she found herself blushing. Lup pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of the human’s mouth.

“Barry,” Lucretia said instantly, disbelieved. Her head was spinning, and the insides of her chest pounded. Even after all this time, Lup could give her a heart attack (notably easier at her current age.)

“I don’t think he’d mind, Lucy. It’s a gift after all-your first kiss.”

“And my last,” she added, tremoring.

They both ended up crying, clutching each other, and eventually it melted into a slurry of laughter. They came to a stop, running out of air, tangled up in one another. Lup was stroking Lucretia’s hair and the human was curled up like a cat in her lap.

“Thank you.”

“It’s a pleasure, Lucy. You are a pleasure,” the elf replied. “No more regrets.”

Lucretia frowned. “There is one, actually.” She knew it had to be acknowledged.

“Hm?”

“Taako.”

Lup blinked. “I can’t solve that one-but I could nudge him toward you.”

“I don’t want to hurt him anymore than I have, Lup,” Lucretia said.

“Yeah, but I think he needs it, Lucretia. And you do too. I think he’s tired of hurting.” She breathed out slowly. “Right behind all of that bitterness is way too much love for him to even bear. You can’t look at the sun without shades.”

And with that, Lucretia’s aching for her friend and her companion and her family multiplied in strength. And knowing she had so little time left, Lucretia figured: well, what the shit ! And decided to be brave.

***

Taako’s Stone of Farspeech was ringing. It was just out of reach from where he was slouched back in his pool chair. The sunlight spilled across his torso, his face protected by the shade of the brim of his hat. He had a drink balanced lazily in his left hand, the right one skimming the surface of the pool water. It was a perfect day.

These perfect days had been remarkably consistent over the past few weeks. Beautiful weather and little to no work. For Taako, the high life was less like a rollercoaster and more like a ride on a raft. Preferably with a glass of champagne. And now he was disturbed from one of his many afternoon naps by a shrieking stone. Ugh .

Without any real effort, Taako groped the space beside him, lifting his arm like it was a sack of flour. He couldn’t identify the number from behind his sunglasses.

“Y’ello?” he drawled, his gaze resting on the glinting contents of the pool.

“Um...hello, Taako.” At that voice, Taako’s eyes widened, and he shot up straight so fast that his sunglasses slipped down his nose.

“Lucretia?”

“Yeah, that’s me.”

Taako was teetering on the edge of his chair. All of a sudden, he was acutely aware of minor sensations affecting him. Hair tickling his neck, the wet of the codensation on his drinking glass, the way the poolside made his soles itch and burn after being baked in the sun. He licked his lips. “What do you want?”

“I’m sorry to intrude. Really, I am. I- well, I mean, I hope you and Kravitz aren’t doing anything important.”

“No. I’m good. But let’s try and speed this up, please?”

“Yes, yes of course.” She was silent for a moment and Taako thought he could hear her swallow. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

“That is what we’re doing, hon.” Maybe it was the heat but a bead of sweat trickled down Taako’s temple.

“I meant in person, Taako.”

“Oh.” That sure was a concept. Taako going to Lucretia’s house. Or, even wilder, Lucretia coming over to Taako’s.

The elf expected rage to leap up his throat, but truth be told he just felt nervous. Way, way back, he used to get stage fright when he first started Sizzle It Up With Taako. Hard to believe that it had ever happened, but Taako could remember the feeling like a lyric. It had grasped him, a spectral hand, and made his guts turn into a sloshing knot of nerves and ice. He felt the ghost of that now. He was a little afraid, but his heart fluttered and he started to think about what a relief it would be to see Lucretia’s face again.

“We don’t have to,” she blurted, after a considerable pause. “I don’t expect anything from you; I know I don’t deserve it. But I think pretty soon I’m not gonna be a part of this plane, like, a matter of months and, well...I figured it’d be healthy to clear the air, y’know? I mean, this is corny as hell, but...I do miss you, Taako.”

A burning flared in the corners of Taako’s eyes and he blinked it away. “Um, well. I hadn’t been expecting this, but. Ok. Yeah, why not?”

There was an unconcealed exhalation from Lucretia’s end. “Oh, that’s wonderful. Thank you. So so much, Taako.” When she next spoke, he could hear the smile in her voice. “When’s good for you?”

“Tomorrow. Tomorrow evening. I’ll make dinner.”

“What, really?” Lucretia sounded surprised.

“Yeah. How does pulled pork sound?” Taako hadn’t actually cooked for other people in a long time. At his assorted restaurants he usually had chefs following his and Ren’s command and recipes. Lup and Barry were busy reaping, Angus was often too caught up in research and work and family to come and eat with Taako. Kravitz came home late and got up early. He hoped he wouldn’t be out of practice.

“Fantastic.”

When Lucretia hung up, Taako stayed holding the phone, staring toward his house. He eventually snapped out of his stupor and leapt up from his chair. He was meeting someone important tomorrow, and he had preparations to be concerned about. No time for moping around.

Taako was back in action.

***

Interlude

Fashion had never really been a strong suite for Lucretia, but she’d tried to make an effort tonight. During her time as the director, she’d just sort of tried to look as grandiose and elegant as she could but appearing as the person that likely manifested in Taako’s nightmares didn’t seem like a smart idea when she was aiming to earn his trust. She was trying for something more friendly and casual, less “person who stole all your memories, whoops!” It ended up being a business casual outfit that made it look more like she was attending a meeting than a dinner with a centuries old friend. Well, this was as good as it would get. Lucretia grabbed a purse and began her journey.

***

Taako had been more than a little manic over the past 24 hours. It really wasn’t like him, at all. He’d kind of been surprising himself. The wizard loved sleeping, especially now that he wasn’t plagued by night terrors and he never passed up a chance to nap. However, the night of Lucretia’s call, Taako had spent the hours pacing the kitchen instead of curled up in his bed. Kravitz had raised his eyebrows at the sight of Taako muttering to himself and tracing circles on the floor, but had simply kissed his husband on the forehead and went upstairs.

He’d started work at the crack of dawn, looking for one of the many recipes he’d scribbled with Lup when he was younger, buying ingredients and prepping the kitchen. As he shredded the pork and concocted the sauces, he caught himself wondering why he was so frantic about all this. He thought, maybe, he was a little scared. More than a little. That was natural, right? It was normal to be afraid of a person who’d stolen your life and your sister. Taako shook his head and put his attention back the task at hand.

While the meat was cooking, Taako was making the journey into the back of his closet. It was a forest of clashing colours, a carpet of sequins and glitter with fronds of light fabric and scarves floating above. Occasionally he’d unearth a pair of long forgotten sunglasses or a piece of jewelry he’d stolen with Lup dozens of years ago. He’d turn them over in his hands before tossing them behind him. Possessions were possessions. Ever since the Day of Story and Song, Taako had been learning how fleeting they could be.

Eventually, after much deliberation, Taako selected a cropped jacket, a linen shirt, light pants and heeled sandals. He was definitely going for a chilled out vibe. He hoped it would distract Lucretia from the bags under his eyes and how he would inevitably be drumming his varnished nails against the tabletop. He wasn’t all that eager to wear makeup. He was sure he’d sweat it off.

As he waited for the meal to cook, he fidgeted incessantly. Every time Taako picked up a book or tried to watch something on TV, he’d get distracted in a matter of minutes and would end up rolling onto his back and staring at the ceiling. It was a relief when the timer finally trilled and Taako was busying himself with plating and cutlery and other fanciful bullshit that didn’t really need doing.

How many times back in the IPRE had Taako slopped soup into a metal mug and served it, just like that? How many times had he and his family ate a rice and meat mess out of pot like barnyard animals just ‘cause they were so damn hungry, so damn tired of fighting, and things were so damn hard? Maybe someone had gone missing or died, and then they were either eating all the time or they stopped eating for weeks. And they all knew it just didn’t matter, ‘cause it would all be back to normal by next cycle? Like Luc cared about presentation. Hah.

His thoughts were overwhelming him as he blustered and clattered and garnished and darted around and it all crescendoed in his mind with a sharp sob, and then a plate was shattered on the floor and Taako was on his knees.  

He spent a couple minutes there, listening to the clock ticking and the faint buzz of the lights overhead. Taako’s eyes were trained on the shards of plate under him. His hand hovered over them, trembling a little. Then the doorbell rang.

Taako’s head perked up. Oh, Gods, was it time already? His gaze darted to the clock. Shit. It was time already. The elf stumbled to his feet and preened in the mirror, smoothing his frazzled hair into submission and dabbing at the wet on his cheeks. He flashed a clumsy grin at himself. Suck it up, you emotionally-unstable bastard. He sucked a breath into his cheeks and shook himself down a little. Go time.

The walk to the door felt like a mile. His heart was fluttering the entire time and as he lay a hand on the knob, it leaped and bumped itself on the roof of his mouth. He swallowed it. The metal was cold to the touch and jolted Taako to his senses. He shook his head and pulled backwards.

And there she was.

Standing in the doorway, a somehow even more shrunken figure from the last time Taako had seen her. Compressed by age and sadness and other things- smaller now, more understanding, less excitable and idealistic. She was so old. Still sharp, despite it all. Her eyes, brown and deep, lighted on Taako’s face and he shivered. Oh, Gods. Lucretia.

From behind a mask of fear she smiled, nervous now, the initial surprise having dissipated. “Hello, Taako,” she said, a purse clutched in one hand. From the way the fabric collapsed under her grip, the elf could judge the intensity of her force. Good to know she was scared just as shitless as he was.

“Lucretia,” Taako said, hand still glued to the door. For a moment, they stayed there, looking at one another. Cicadas, crickets and a cacophony of other bugs struck up a chorus in the night outside. It filled the empty space between them. Taako blinked once, twice, and then laughed. “Ok, fuck, sorry. Sorry. I must look crazy. I just can’t believe this is happening.”

With a hint of reluctance, Lucretia laughed too. “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. I kept rehearsing this in my head but now that I’m here I…” She sniffed the air and her eyes widened. “Oh wow, that smells amazing, Taako. It’s been so long since I’ve eaten your cooking, I’m practically salivating.”

Taako grinned. “Oh, really? Huh, glad to know someone appreciates it. I can’t remember the last time I actually cooked for someone else, not really.” He beckoned her in airily, moving back into the hallway leading to the front door. “C’mon. I’m hungry and I wanna know if I still have the magic touch.” As he turned away, he inhaled and closed his eyes. This was ok. It was going to be ok.

***

Taako’s place was nice. Taako’s place was real nice. It was all him, Lucretia could tell that. Rich colours and weird art pieces and lots of iridescent, shining, glowing light. It was big too, with high ceilings and ballroom-esque floors. As strange and expansive and complicated as the owner.  

As she trailed after the elf, Lucretia drank in the sights. “Wow, Taako,” she said. “This is amazing.”

“Well, having a sweet fuckin’ pad is one of the perks of being a celebrity, I guess.” In the kitchen, Taako was tending to the food. Lucretia pulled a chair out of the table. She inspected the cutlery. It was delicate, pretty and looked old. Kravitz’s, maybe. She’d been picking up on quaint little touches throughout the home that she suspected were down to him, so different to his husband. They complimented each other, inexplicably.

She sat, drumming her fingertips on the table top. A part of Lucretia, small and nagging, almost couldn’t really believe that this was even happening. She’d dreamt of it, sure, but everything had been abstracted and splintered. She’d been a beast in the skin of a human being, intruding in Taako’s safe haven. That or Taako had baked her into a pie. Something along those lines. Always frightening, curdling her stomach and leaving a sour taste in her mouth for the rest of the day. Now, in reality, she was sitting on one of her nightmare’s fancy chairs and breathing in the smell of pulled pork he’d made ‘specially for the occasion.

Taako tottered into the room, gloved hands heaving a pot of pulled pork to his chest and somehow managing to levitate a perspiring pitcher of lemonade, a wine bottle, several glasses, and a set of cutlery and plates.

“Have to make a return trip for the rest,” Taako said, voice strained. In one fluid sweep, the various items were laid across the never-ending expanse of the table. Lucretia’s plate and glasses rattled to a stop in front of her. She jumped a little, regarding her startled expression in their glossy surfaces.

True to his word, Taako brought out another couple platters, each smelling equally as good. The various spices and herbs baked into the food was driving Lucretia nuts. Her stomach growled and Taako snickered.

“That’s what I like to hear!” He clapped his hands and the wine and lemonade were pouring themselves out, carmine red and cloudy froth respectively. The pork and assorted sides got to work on themselves with a successive snap from their creator. Lucretia noticed a distinct lack of carrot on her plate.

“You...remembered I don’t like carrots?

Her friend scoffed, idly flipping hair from his face and reaching for his wine glass. “Uh, yeah, dummy. I had to cook for you for one hundred years. Whaddaya take me for?”

Lucretia smiled, picking up her fork and trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall into her rice.

“I missed you, Taako."

“Yeah.” Taako swallowed. “Yeah, I missed you too.”

They talked over dinner, Lucretia stopping every five minutes to dole out another compliment. Gods, she had missed this. The way Taako knew just how long to cook something- burn it just right, tenderize it, stew it and marinate it so perfectly. She couldn’t stop eating! Wholesome, heavy meals had become almost unbearable to Lucretia as she’d grown older. All bets were off when it came to Taako. She felt not only full in her stomach, but all over. Warm, fuzzy and pleasant- maybe the wine helped.

“So,” she began, holding her wine glass loosely. “What’s it like? Being a world famous chef?”

“Oh, you know.” Taako waved his fork like he was conducting an orchestra. “I got fans, money, whatever.” He jabbed it at her. “Cats! I have cats. I literally don’t give a- a flying shit about any of that other stuff. But now I have enough space and money to have and feed as many cats as I want.” As if on cue, a fluffy white feline, more fat that muscle, slunk past Lucretia’s chair. It tangled itself in her legs and she reached down to scratch its head. “And Kravitz just has to deal.”

Lucretia chuckled. “Mm. I did consider going down the route of just succumbing to being a crazy old cat lady but I felt I would be betraying my character. Plus the dander makes me sneeze.”

Taako snorted. “Shut uppp, Lucretia! There’s no way you could ever be a ‘crazy old cat lady’ or whatever the shit. You’re...what…” He squinted blearily at his fingers and mouthed a few numbers. “Sorry. I’ve legit forgot what math is. Like...Gods alive, in your hundreds or something? You’re like the sharpest cookie ever.”

“Oh, you truly flatter me Taako.” Lucretia sipped her wine.

“No, I’m serious. I...well, listen. I get seriously freaked the fuck out by old people.” He lowered his voice like he was confessing a secret. “They’re weird.”

“Hm.” She quirked an eyebrow, teasing.

“No, no, not like- not like you. I mean, like, those people that are off their fuckin’ rockers and all grey and weak and paper-skinned? Eurgh.” Taako shuddered and took a gulp of his wine. “I kept getting worried that you’d be like that and I prob’ly woulda had a panic attack when you showed up if you were.”

Lucretia had tilted her head. “What? Like...Magnus?”

The elf blanched. Considered; winced. “Uh, well. Yeah. I guess so.” He looked down into his plate, then back up at Lucretia. “You miss him too, right?”

She smiled a little, sadly, eyes creasing. “Yeah. Yeah I really do. Sometimes I feel like he’s going to come knocking on my door, but he never does. I feel him in my cane, I remember him when I look at myself in the mirror.” Lucretia sighed. “I drew him plenty when we were in the IPRE- so many sketches. He was such a challenge to capture. Always running or swimming or fighting or- whatever. But I do have this one of him where he’s sleeping on the grass. It’s my favourite.” She paused. “I never knew who to give these to- it always felt weird to even write them down in my will. Do...you want them, Taako?”

Taako had been leaning towards Lucretia as she spoke, his pointed ears twitching and swivelling. It took all she had not to reach out and pinch them, as she and the other IPRE members had done so many times to the twins. It got on their nerves, but it was funny. Didn’t matter that they’d refuse to feed everyone for about a week. It made all of them laugh. One of the many distractions they shared.

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

“Thank you, Taako.” Lucretia watched as her wine refilled itself. “I want them to be safe when I’m not here.”

Clearing his throat, Taako rose from the table and carried the empty plates along with him. Lucretia heard the sound of them levitating into the kitchen basin, a soft displacement of water. Taako padded back into the room, straps of his sandals looped around his fingers. He sunk into his chair, slumped. Before, he’d been maintaining a posture. Now, he just looked tired. Vulnerable. Open like a cracked egg.

“So you really weren’t kidding about the whole dying business, huh?”

Lucretia licked her lips, searching for an expression she could wear on her face. Nada. “Yeah, I am. I- Sorry.”

He rubbed his face. Rolled his shoulders. Slid even further down into his seat, so his chin was resting on the table. His lower lip pouted outward, and all of a sudden Lucretia was struck with the feeling that she’d just had dinner with a scared little kid.

“Fuck. Don’t be.”

She wanted to reach out. Stroke his long, puffy light hair and tell him that it was going to be ok. Hug him, even. Let him cry into the crook of her neck. There had been one cycle where it had only been the two of them left. A cold, hungry, silent cycle. They didn’t talk about it after it was done but now Lucretia was doing everything she could not to scream about it.

“That’s the thing Taako- sometimes I - I think I don’t really deserve to die.”

“What?”

Lucretia rubbed the bridge of her nose, frustrated and grappling for words. “It’s eternal peace, right? Well, what did I do to deserve that? I’m meant to be a hero, with a just end, but the truth is I just feel like an old woman more than anything. An old woman who was foolish and selfish. And still, today , I am, by virtue of saying this. It’s painful, Taako, being mortal. I want to do so much more and yet I’m too tired to try.”

Over and over, before coming to Taako’s, Lucretia had promised herself she wouldn’t cry. You won’t, you won’t, you won’t- But here she was, her throat tight and clenched, eyes prickling. Taako was scanning her, his own eyes almost pleading her not to, but still-

“I’m afraid. What right do I have to be? Always- I always think about how much I hurt you. Lup. Fuck, maybe the entire world. We braved monsters and starvation and sickness and the fucking apocalypse but I’m afraid of what- going to sleep? Meeting you? Being alone with myself?” She put her head in her hands, as if to shield herself. “I’m sorry. Shit. I’m sorry. This is so embarrassing but I’m sick of putting on a brave face for everyone. ”

There was silence and hot darkness as Lucretia sobbed into her palms. The the tap tap tap of Taako’s feet on the floor. And then- two arms, around her shoulders. Soft, smells of perfume and cooking and something weird and elven. Oh, it smelt of home.

“Shhh. Don’t cry, Lucy. Please.” Taako’s voice cracked a little. His breath was warm and smelt of alcohol and Lucretia could feel him sway a little. “I don’t wanna start.”

He did anyways.

When they’d finished crying- Gods knew how long that took- Taako sniffed, loud and ugly, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

“How do I look?” he asked, stickily, voice congested. He smiled through trembling lips and red eyes.

“Gorgeous, Taako.”

He nodded quickly, scooped hair away from his face. “Good, right. As always, my dear. And you.”

Lucretia picked up a napkin and dabbed at herself while Taako fixed them both a hot drink. “Sorry for that.”

“No, don’t. It was good. Haven’t cried like that in front of another person in years,” Taako said from the kitchen. “But not a word to anyone alright? I can’t let them know I feel things. Ew.”

She managed a weak laugh. They sat together again, this time on the couch. Taako had put something on TV. Cooking show; typical. “This is, um. Not the way I wanted to say this, and I kind of feel like I just ruined the moment, but…”

“Yeah?”

Lucretia took a deep breath. “I came here to say sorry. And I guess that might sound like a hopeful dying wish of a person who doesn’t want to feel guilty about their shitty actions, and, well I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t a part of it somewhere in me. But I guess I just needed to let you know that I never wanted you to hurt- it was the last thing on my mind when I erased everyone’s memories.” She held tighter to her mug.

“Intentions don’t always matter though, I know that. I did hurt you-irreparably- anyways. I’ve never even known how to begin making that up to you. I really don’t think I can? So, I don’t expect you to say you forgive me and I can...die in peace and you can be a saint because that’s bullshit. What I do want is for you to know that I love you and I want you to be happy for as long as you can and that you made me a better person. So.”

They were quiet. The TV burbled, they sipped their drinks.

Finally:

“Thank you.” Taako leant his head into Lucretia’s form. He looked small and sad and soft. “I dunno what to say, but I don’t think I’m the same person I was fifty years ago. I kept trying to figure out the best way to deal with all of this, the way I felt but eventually I gave up and just tried to start living my life again. I’m not that smart or great, honestly, either. Certainly not a fuckin’ hero. Not brave, even. But I’m trying to be.” He paused. “I love you too, Lucy.”

They fell asleep like that, on the couch together- holding one another, into that gentle night.

***

The End

Taako went to Lucretia’s house for the first and last time ever. He hadn’t been to the Bureau since the Day of Story and Song. Too much new, frightening context he didn’t want to think about. He supposed now wasn’t all that different- maybe worse somehow.

Fuck. He couldn’t keep thinking like this. It was going to kill him one day.

Forcing himself not to hesitate, Taako knocked on the door. Merle answered it. Cracked him a smile. “Hey, man.” Quiet, gravelly and older. Older than he had been. He’d lost some of that obnoxious edge he used to have. Taako managed a smile and followed him in.

Lucretia’s house was all packaged up as if she were moving away. Well, she was. It was just that all her stuff wasn’t following her. Everyone that was still in the mortal plane had come. Killian and Carey, Angus, Merle, Davenport, Lup and Barry and Kravitz all there to escort her. Fucking shit. All so old now. Taako could cry. He really could.

“Hey bro.” Lup touched Taako’s cheek. He reached forward and squeezed her. She fisted a hand in his hair and made a little squeaky noise into his shirt that Taako knew meant she was really, really sad.

“Hey, Lup. It’s gonna be alright. All good. You’re the one who gets to visit her all the time anyways.”

She sniffled, smiling a wobbly smile. “Yeah. I got a damn cool boss.” Her face became faux-serious. “I’m tellin’ you. Lich life is bangin’ Taako. When you die, I’m fuckin’ recruiting you whether you like it or not.”

They laughed and it ached a little less.

Lucretia was in her bedroom, like Magnus had been. It was all softly lit and empty apart from some worn out furniture and people. She was breathing raspy, soft. Laboured. Her eyes were shut on her cheeks but when Taako entered she blinked awake. Smiled.

When she spoke, her voice was made of hardly any sound at all. “Was starting to think you wouldn’t show up, Taako.”

“Wouldn’t miss this for the world, Lucy.”

“Got a gift for you.” Lucretia struggled upwards, brow furrowed. She felt calcified; heavy. Getting ready to leave this body behind. She reached shakily to her side and retrieved a beaten up old sketchbook. She handed it to Taako, pressing it into his hands. “This is it. All of it. All of my pictures, our pictures. This is us.”

He stared at it wordlessly, licking his lips and trying to find something to say. Gods, anything. What do you say to that? Taako said nothing. Instead, he just sat beside Lucretia and held the book to his chest and with the other hand he took hers.

She was cool and thin and tired. Smiling, though, waiting for the end like she was meeting a friend. Lucretia was fading now, fading so fast. She was slipping like running watercolour right through Taako’s fingers. Suddenly he had thousands of things he needed to say to her, the things he couldn’t, wouldn’t find in all those countless decades.

“Lucy? Lucy. Lucy, don’t go.” He stuttered, stumbled.

“Hey, now, Taako. Not dead yet. But…” She sighed, heavy like that. “Soon.” She opened one eye to him. Grinned. “Brave. We’re being brave right now, aren’t we? Isn’t too scary when we’re doing this together.” She squeezed his hand. “Love you.”

Through his tears, Taako managed a: “Yeah. Not too scary. Not at all.” Choked. “You know how much I care about you, right?”

Lucretia laughed. “Oh, I can only guess.”

And with that, it really wasn’t all that scary.

It wasn’t.

Just her stepping out and away and waving goodbye.

Taako waved back.