Work Text:
No one leaves home unless
home is the mouth of a shark
***
Orym doesn’t relax until Gelvaan has disappeared into the distance, left in the wake of the Silver Sun as Captain Xandis pilots them back towards the Hellcatch Valley as quickly as they can manage.
He’s not sure he remembers how to relax, if he’s being honest with himself. The past weeks—days? Months?—have been a whirlwind. Sometimes Orym thinks he hasn’t truly rested since he died. Since he felt Will’s arms around him again.
He’s had some good nights, curled up with Fearne and the witches, or with Ash, when they feel like touching.
He’s had some bad nights.
So maybe relaxed isn’t the right word for what Orym feels, staring off the edge of the sky ship, watching Laudna watch Imogen keep pace beside them, laughing with the wind in her hair. But it’s relaxed-adjacent. Almost peace. A vicarious sense of a burden being lifted, if only temporarily.
It’s nice to see Imogen looking a little bit lighter. That homecoming had been painful for her. For Laudna, too. That much had been obvious. Orym knows FCG had meant well, pushing Imogen to see her father, and it had paid off, or at least Orym hopes the locket Imogen now wears will help them. But Orym can’t help but think about his own painful relationship with home.
He imagines this group will make their way to Zephrah at some point, assuming they survive long enough to get there. But he’s not ready.
He thinks about Relvin; the cold distance between him and Imogen. The way loss changed him. The way Orym refuses to let himself change.
Would it hurt less, he wonders? He doubts it. Just looking at Relvin had hurt Orym. He touches the floral band on his wrist, wonders where Relvin had been hiding that locket, all these years.
A heart can heal, he’s learning. But only if you don’t cut it off from feeling anything at all.
“You better be holding onto something.”
A small smile curls its way across Orym’s mouth at the sound of Ashton’s voice behind him. He turns to face them so they won’t have to come right up to the edge to talk; Orym knows how they get twitchy around heights.
“I think we’ve had a long enough day without someone going overboard.” Orym agrees. He studies Ashton. They have a homecoming of their own coming up, Orym guesses. Again , And the first trip to the desert hadn’t exactly been easy . “You ready to go back to the Hellcatch?”
Ashton sighs, leaning against a crate. They look tired. “Fuck, no.”
Orym nods. “Figured as much.” He runs a hand through his hair, nods backwards towards Imogen and Laudna. “Worked out ok for them, going home.” He points out. He thinks he might be trying to convince himself more than Ashton.
They huff. “I caught a lot of assholes fucking glaring at Laudna. Whatever the two of them did when they left, I figure these people deserved it.”
Orym had noticed how closely Ashton was sticking to Laudna as they made their way through the streets. How they’d convinced her to walk with her hood down. He’d definitely noticed the glare he’d returned to anyone who dared look at her wrong, the way his muscles had tensed, showing off the strength he was willing to use on anyone who got too close. Ashton’s used to walking through the world like it's full of enemies, he guesses. He wonders if anyone has ever stood behind them like that, or if they’ve always been alone against it all. “I know Laudna appreciated the backup.”
They shrug, like it’s nothing at all, the way they make this little family of theirs feel safe. “She could take them on her own, probably. But I didn’t want her to have to.” They lean their hammer against the crates and slide to the ground, back braced against the wood. “Going home fucking sucks.”
Orym smiles. “Well, the good news is, the world might end before we run into anybody else you know in the Hellcatch.”
Ashton actually laughs. The sound of it thaws some of the dread weighing Orym’s belly down. “Yeah, that’s maybe the best news I’ve heard all week.” They shift, grimacing and rubbing their right knee absently. Orym remembers the terror of turning around and seeing them trapped in the angry earth of the Feywild. The gnawing in his chest when Imogen touched them and they vanished and Orym couldn’t see if they were alright. It had taken everything in him not to throw himself at the hunting party that had been chasing them, to kick and spit in a desperate hope the others could have time to escape, even if it ruined their chances of taking out the Key. This group means more to Orym than the fate of the universe. Ashton alone means that much.
It occurs to Orym that Ashton probably doesn’t know that.
“You know we wouldn’t have left you behind, back there, right?”
Ashton blinks, frowning up at Orym, and at first he thinks he’ll have to be more specific, but then Ashton looks away, and he can tell they know exactly what he’s talking about. Can tell Ashton had been thinking they might. Maybe even they should have.
“Even if Imogen hadn’t been able to hide you. Or if you hadn’t been able to pull yourself out. Even if we had to fight the entire compound, even if Otohan showed up. We wouldn’t have left you behind.” Maybe Orym should only speak for himself, but he doesn’t have to. He’d seen the faces of the rest of the Hells. He knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, they would have died before they let themselves lose Ashton. He needs Ashton to know that too.
They’re silent for a long moment. “It was a stupid mistake. Not worth all of you dying.” Orym hears the unspoken I’m not worth that. It sets something deep inside of him on fire.
“It would have been worth it.” You would have been worth it.
Ashton meets their eyes. Orym can feel understanding pass between them. He can tell Ashton doesn’t agree, but he also doesn’t argue. It’s a start.
Ashton speaks first. Orym lets him change the subject. “Anyway,” they start, like they’d been having a conversation about the best breakfast food, not Ashton’s fundamental worth as a person, “I just wanted to come thank you for checking in on Letters the other night. They’ve been…I can tell they’re off.”
Orym nods. “Of course.” A part of him wants to argue that Ashton doesn’t need to thank him for that, it’s something he’d do for any of them. But he can tell how much it means to them, so he keeps his mouth shut. Hopes that if he’s quiet, Ashton will keep talking.
His patience is rewarded. “Nobodies used to have people go off the rails all the fucking time, cause no one ever checked in.” They shrug. “None of us ever really had anybody holding our hands and kissing our knees, or whatever, so I guess it makes sense. I started trying to…” They shake their head. Orym frowns, a question on his face. “It’s nice to know I’m not the only one trying to hold shit together, especially since I’m fucking bad at it.”
“You’re really not.” Orym can’t keep his thoughts to himself this time. “I wish you wouldn’t say things like that.”
Ashton looks away. “Yeah, well. I came over here to check in on you, and it’s ended up with you checking on me.”
Orym shrugs. “That’s how it goes sometimes.” He leans a little closer. “It’s just as much my issues as it is yours, you know. I told Grass the same thing, but I have a tendency to…focus more on what other people are feeling than on my own stuff. It’s easier.” He sighs. “I put on a good show of having it all together, but I…” His voice cracks. “I’m a mess inside.”
It’s Ashton’s turn to be patient. This is what makes him so damn good at this, Orym thinks. They never push or prod. They just sit there, steady as a stone, making Orym believe for once that someone else might be able to bear the weight he’s been carrying on his own for so long.
“Relvin was sort of…my worst fear. I think I was him, for a while. When Will first died, I…” He shakes his head. “I was messed up. I was… cruel, to my mother. My sisters. Nell, who was grieving just like I was, but I couldn’t…” He wipes at his eyes. “My mother was so sure that I’d get through it. That it was possible for me to ever be okay again. And I was so sure she was wrong. That’s why I left. I couldn’t be around any of them. It was selfish, too. It was too hard. But there was a part of me that thought I was protecting them from myself.” He takes a deep breath. “I’ve been back once, with Fearne and Dorian. But that was…it was so fast. The Tempest called, and I came. And then I left again.” He looks up at Ashton. “I guess seeing how badly Imogen didn’t want to go home made me realize I’m still running, too. More than I thought I was.”
“I don’t think running’s always a bad thing.” Ashton points out. “Sure, there’s shit to be said for…having people. And I can’t believe I’m saying that out loud. But there’s also some shit that you just gotta figure out on your own.” He leans in. “You’re figuring it out.”
Orym nods. “M’trying. I keep thinking about what happened, the last time we tangled with Otohan.” Orym’s not sure, but he thinks he sees Ashton tense. They haven’t talked about Orym dying, not really. He suddenly wonders if Ashton understands because he got a glimpse into Orym’s own pain. He knows grief well enough to know that even a minute of that separation can feel like a lifetime. “I don’t want to leave my family behind without making amends, for how I left things. I want to go home.” He takes a shaky breath. “Even though I’m terrified of it.”
“You wouldn’t be alone.” Ashton points out, and Orym could hug him. He considers it, but they’ve got that hunch to their shoulders that usually means they need at least a foot of space. Orym tries to respect that. “I mean, I’m kind of shit at the whole…reconciliation piece, but m’good for glaring down assholes.”
Orym softens. “You’re good for more than that, Ash.”
They look away.
Orym hesitates. Moves a little closer, still not touching. “Are you good?”
Ashton takes a deep breath. “I was thinking…Imogen said the Key we’re headed too has more fucking guards than the last one. We might need…we might need help.” They shift, bending their knees to their chest, like they’ve just noticed the wooden floor of the airship isn’t the most comfortable place to sit. “I dunno if they’re around, and I’ve got…my own shit. But. Nobodies might be…m’not saying they’re the best, but we were pretty good at breaking into shit. Until we weren’t.” They roll their left shoulder and wince. Orym doesn’t need to ask to know they’re hurting.
“You’d be good with that?” He remembers what Ashton said before, when Letters asked him if he’s angry at the Nobodies for leaving him behind. As much as he denied it, Orym can’t imagine seeing them again would be easy. And even if Ash doesn’t have a problem with them, Orym sure as hells does.
Ashton sighs. “This is end of the world shit. Doesn’t matter if I’m comfortable with it or not, right?”
Orym frowns. That’s hard to argue with; there’s not a lot he wouldn’t do if it meant stopping these assholes before they can hurt anyone else. But it’s harder to feel the same way when it means asking Ash to face the people who left them for dead. “Well. I’m not gonna say we couldn’t use the help. But I’ll leave that decision to you. And either way, you won’t be alone, either.”
Ashton meets his eyes. Orym would like to reach out and cover their hand with his, give the warm solid stone of their skin a comforting squeeze. But he knows that wouldn’t be welcome. So instead he just sits down next to Ashton, enough space between them that they’ll know Orym doesn’t plan to touch them.
“For what it’s worth, you’re not Relvin.” Ashton murmurs.
Orym looks away. “You didn’t see me, after…”
Ashton shakes their head. “Didn’t need to. Doesn’t fucking matter. Everybody’s an asshole when they’re hurting. You think I didn’t take shit out on Milo for weeks after the Nobodies left?” It’s hard for Orym to imagine Ashton being mean to Milo. Cranky? Sure. But he’s seen how much the two of them mean to each other. “I said some bad shit to them. Told them I wished they’d left, too. And I didn’t mean it. They knew that.” Ashton pauses, then slides their foot across the wooden ship towards Orym, an invitation. Orym slides his own foot closer, the leather of his boots pressing against Ashton’s shoe. “Family forgives you for that shit. Seems like yours’ll forgive you.”
Orym smiles. “If we live that long.” He points out.
Ashton chuckles. “If we live that long.” They agree.
They’re silent for a moment, and Orym considers getting up, going to try to find some rest. But he pauses. “I’d like you to meet my family. They’ll like you.”
Ashton’s voice is fond. “Yeah? This group’s done okay with parents so far.” He’s watching Imogen fly down to Laudna, laughing when Pâté rises up to meet her in the air.
Orym nods, but catches Ashton’s eyes. “I was actually talking about you. ” He points out. “You’re gonna kinda prove their point.”
“What point is that?” Ashton asks, looking torn between feeling touched and wary.
Orym really smiles now. “That things can be okay again.” Ashton’s face goes so soft it almost looks pained. Orym backs off. “Later. We might not live that long anyway.” He presses solidly against Ashton’s foot, and then stands and wanders off towards the witches, feeling Ashton’s eyes on him the whole way.