Work Text:
Gears stood with his hands behind his back, staring off into the moonlit desert where Site-19 was located. Earlier today, he was sent here for a meeting and noticing that a certain old friend of his was also on-site at the time, he sent word to meet up with them on the rooftop for a chat.
He grasped his hands as he stared on patiently. It was merely a few minutes when the door to the rooftop opened.
"It's been 7 months since we last talked and now, all of a sudden, you're here requesting me to see you."
Gears turned to the source of the voice, and watched as Abirt Kravitz, personnel director of the SCP Foundation, shut the rooftop door and walked towards him. The latter continued on with a disapproving shake of his head ina teasing manner. "You're so demanding Charles."
A smile almost ghosted Gears' lips as he finally saw his long-time friend. "It's good to see you too, Abirt."
Abirt scoffed and waved his hand dismissively. "Yea, yea. You know I don't do pleasantries." He leaned towards the railing and looked back at Gears with a sly grin. "Now what's the real reason you called me? Want new assistants? New mentees?" He inched forward with a darker, more serious look. "Or did someone piss you off and you need a reason to remove them from your site?"
Gears rolled his eyes at that. "No," he responded blankly. "Nothing like that."
That made Abirt cock their brow in his direction however they said nothing in response to allow the other man to continue.
Nervously, Gears looked down and twiddled his fingers. He tried to get himself to stop, but he was nervous and needed the stimulation to keep his agitation at bay. He looked back up at Abirt. Though his fidgeting might say otherwise, his face continued maintaining that neutral deadpan look the Foundation came to know him to.
"I'm going to become part of my father's factotum. In 24 hours, 'Dr Gears' will no longer be no more." Gears looked back at Abirt, seemingly waiting for her reaction. He couldn't read what was on her mind as she stared back. The personnel director had learned to mimic Gears' neutral face which, sometimes drives him up the wall.
It got quiet for a few seconds before Abirt broke it with a shrug and lean forward onto the railings. "Is that all?" She asked, not looking at Gears. "Seven months of silence and all you do is come and tell me you have a promotion?" She turned to Gears with a bored look. "You're just here to say goodbye?"
Gears nodded. "Yes." He took a pause before continuing in a quieter tone. "And to ask you for something."
Immediately, Abirt let out a howl of laughter. "You fucking workaholic!" Xe jabbed, but this time there was a massive grin on xer face. "Not even stepping into your new office yet and you already have orders for me. Really, Charles, that's fucking hilarious."
An exasperated sigh escaped Gears before he could stop it to which made Abirt laugh even harder.
"Okay, okay. I get it." Abirt gasped, trying to breathe in air for his lungs. "What do you want?"
Gears twiddled his thumbs again, the familiar feeling of nervousness seeping into him once again. He can do it, he reminded himself. He can tell Abirt. It's just Abirt.
He opened his mouth, and finally said the damned thing he wanted to say.
"I want you to promote Dr Iceberg."
The silence between the two was deafening. Abirt stared at Gears, face contorted with incredulity. His nose was scrunched up, almost with disgust. Staring right back at Abirt was Gears' unwavering expression.
Again, it was Abirt who spoke first.
"You want Iceberg to...," he spoke slowly, as if he was unsure of what he had just heard, "...get a promotion."
His response was only met with a curt nod. "I know he has requested it for a while."
The comment made Abirt scowl. "Of course he did," he spat distastefully at the unpleasant memory. "Every 3 months I get a printed letter from him asking me to reconsider his position."
"Then it's about time you do something about that," Gears stated to which Abirt shook their head.
"No can do, buddy. Orders to maintain Iceberg where he is comes from above," he said. "And besides, you can't just take him into factotum with yo-."
"I don't want him in factotum." Gears quickly interjected, earning an annoyed side-eye from his companion, gbefore continuing without any mind. "I want him to advance. I want him to grow in his career. He is doing well in his duties, and he is efficient. It would be beneficial if he is able to assist in higher rankings."
Abirt scowled. "His disciplinary actions says otherwise."
"His last complaint was 3 years ago. He's changed, Abirt," Gears said. He looked at Abirt unusually kindly. "Just as you and I."
The personnel director only snorted and Gears noted that there was a hint of bitterness in there. Yet, he did not say anything more and allowed Abirt to contemplate Gears' request. The to-be factotum stood by, anxiously twirling with his fingers again.
"I can put in a good word and request Overwatch Command," Abirt said softly after a while. "But there will be no promise that it will be approved."
Gears nodded. "That's good enough." He almost looked happy. Almost.
Abirt sighed and shook his head. "I'll have to put you down as reference, you know," he said. "But I guess that would be harder now that you're factotum."
The mention of factotum made Gears a bit uneasy. At least he thought it was uneasy.
"Do you remember, Charles,' Abirt smiled. "When we started here, we had a bet who would reach the top first?"
Of course Gears remembered. He remembered the two of them sat on top of their favourite stone by the riverside, close to the waterfalls that froze during the winter. The sounds of waves crashing still fresh in his ears.
"Loser has to buy the winner a pack of Busch Ice and get mud thrown on them."
Abirt looked surprised. "You remembered that?" she asked, almost in disbelief. "Man, all this time I thought you forgot."
Gears only rolled his eyes. "I have a good memory, Abirt." He continued on, voice laced with sarcasm. "Of course I would not remember the very important bet we made in our mid 20s over a hundred years ago so you can gain the upper hand and win."
The two looked at each other before bursting out with laughter. At least Abirt did. Gears only allowed a ghost of a smile on his features as usual.
"Oh man! You really got me there," Abirt said between gasps. "Fuck, I forgot how sarcastic you can be. That caught me so off-guard."
"As it was intended to be."
"You're the worst."
"I believe it takes one to know one."
Abirt laughed out once more and wiped away the tears from his eyes. When he was done, he ran a hand through his hair in the way that catches Gears' eyes every time.
Speaking of that, maybe he should...
Gears watch beeped, alerting him that his break was over. He straightened up and adjusted his jacket. "I have to go."
This time, Abirt said nothing but looked at him with an unreadable expression. Gears waited a bit, wanting to see if Abirt has anything to say but when Abirt turned away and stared out towards the vast moonlit desert, Gears took it as his cue to leave.
He turned around and walked towards the rooftop door. Just as he raised his hand onto the handle, Abirt finally spoke.
"I'll miss you."
Gears stopped in his tracks. His hand, resting on the handle before he turned back towards his long-time friend. He wasn't sure what to say, for there were many, many things he wished to bring up. When was the last time that they ever said anything like that to each other? And if he were to allow himself to say them, what would the person standing in front him think?
He really wanted to say that he'll miss Abirt too. Even if they don't meet each other for months at a time. Even if their brotherhood now has dwindled to a simple nod when they pass by. Even if old feelings that Gears had buried deep inside over a century ago started to seep into his heart.
Desperately, he wanted to tell Abirt.
But he won't. He can't.
He pushed the door open before looking at Abirt one final time.
"I know," he said.
And he shut the door behind him.