Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“He isn’t going to like this.”

Vinnie steps away from his ship as he takes in the quiet of the hangar. He answers his Ghost with a passive grunt as he looks around for his friend.

“You didn’t lie to him, you know. You said you’d ask her, and you did! You never told him he would like the answer.”

“Hm.” Vinnie spots Ales, standing at the side of Xevera’s ship. He wonders for a moment whether the Exo has already changed the colors of his eyes since he last saw him.

“Yes. Well, I don’t like the answer either, but with his Ghost—”

Vinnie cuts him off. “If he doesn’t like the answer, he shouldn’t have asked the question. I—” He sighs. Ales is already approaching him.

Ales spreads his arms wide as he greets the pair. The Ghost’s light flickers like it had something more to say, but it retreats as Ales slings his arm over Vinnie’s shoulders.

The Hunter is loud, though he’s already hanging off of him. “Vinnie! Kamo! How was it? You look awful... Ha! No, that is just your face,” he teases with a smile. He takes his arm back, but keeps his hand on Vinnie’s shoulder as he asks him in a lower voice, “Where is our Warlock?”

“She went ahead.” Vinnie tells him. When Ales doesn’t move, he leans in and tells him, “You’re waiting for an empty ship.”

Ales’ eyes widen for a moment, embarrassed. “Ah.”

Without another word, he turns on his heel and starts towards the hangar doors.

Vinnie follows his lead with his hands clasped behind his back. He scans the faces of civilian workers changing shifts, looking for no one in particular.

Ales brings his attention back. “She’s not still...?”

Vinnie braces, but answers firmly, “She is.”

“You said you would make her see reason!” Ales’ voice rises, drawing glances from a few nearby mechanics.

Vinnie catches the stares and shifts uncomfortably. He tries to keep his voice low. “I said I’d ask her to reconsider. This strike was already planned.”

“Yes, planned, without me, again! How many times now, hm?” Ales argues. “It is dull here, my friend. Let me go with you. There are Guardians out there in much worse shape than me. You know I am capable.”

Vinnie sighs. With some difficulty, he starts, “Ales... Xevera’s right, the risk is—”

“The risk?” He interrupts, turning to face him and stopping completely. “So I am a risk, now?”

“You’re...” Vinnie hesitates, then exhales. “It isn’t safe.”

“It isn’t safe,” Ales mocks. “It has never been safe. That is exactly why we fight, to make it safe. You say we are still a team, but when was the last time we fought together? I am restless, Titan.”

Vinnie opens his mouth to speak, then stares at him mournfully. He has no words for that. Instead, he glances past Ales to see Xevera’s silhouette in the doorway.

“Ales, there you are.” Xevera sounds both exasperated and relieved. “Banshee is asking for you. Asking and forgetting and asking again. Giving me a headache. Go to him, please.” She lets out an exasperated sigh and crosses her arms, then runs a hand down her face. It’s the first time she’s let herself slow down since walking into the hangar.

Ales looks confused at the mention of Banshee, then blurts out, “Ah! That must be for Ace… I will...” before the words can catch up to him. As they do, his shoulders sink, and a solemn silence falls between the group.

Ales glances between them like he’s searching for something to say, but this time he falls short. He leaves with a nod.

Xevera and Vinnie watch him go as the hum of machinery fills the silence.

Vinnie sighs. “He says he’s... Restless.”

“He...?” She looks towards the doorway again. “Oh.”

The two stare through the doorway until Vinnie starts towards it, and Xevera follows.

He says, “You or I would feel the same.”

“I know, but I would accept it. He must accept it. I can’t be responsible for him, not when he could...” Her voice falters. “No. Not again.”

Vinnie feels the ache in her tone. He nods. “I know.”

The light of the courtyard appears at the end of the hall. The two step out, spotting Ales with the gunsmith. Seeing him already in conversation, they wait.

Ales is leaning halfway over the counter, absentmindedly watching Banshee work as he rambles on about his teammates. He doesn't check if he's actually listening.

“Ah, she does not understand! You are a Hunter, yes? You know how Warlocks are, always so—”

“Hm. This piece belongs to a different gun.”

“What?” Ales snaps back to reality.

“This.” Banshee holds it up to the light. “It’s Tex Mechanica, but that receiver is aftermarket.” He eyes him suspiciously. “Did you do this?”

“The... What? No. No, it was a... Gift!" He lies. "It was a gift.”

“Hmm.” Banshee scrutinizes the weapon, then him.

“What, you cannot believe someone would be so generous to me?” Ales challenges. “I have powerful friends, you know.”

“Generous?” Banshee scoffs. He hands it over and murmurs to himself, “Tex wouldn’t take it. Cheap modifications.”

Ales takes it back, glancing down at it, less certain, now. He straightens up from the counter, but doesn’t leave yet. Banshee watches him for a moment before returning to his work.

They stand in silence until Banshee finally asks, “Was there something else, Guardian?”

Ales shifts uncomfortably. He leans in sideways over the counter, reaches in, and taps a note on Banshee’s desk.

Banshee looks at it for a moment before saying anything. He sighs and dips below the counter, muttering to himself, “Right. Ace...”

He handles it with care, studying it, almost reluctant to hand it over. Finally, he passes it off to him. A silent goodbye.

Ales takes it with both hands, takes a slow breath, and holsters it.

Banshee watches him like he’s bearing witness to a rite.

“You look after that thing," Banshee says, only after it’s tucked away.

Ales nods agreement.

“I will, friend. I will.”

Vinnie and Xevera watch from the courtyard as Ales holsters the gun and starts towards them. Ales says nothing this time.

Xevera studies Ace where it sits at Ales’ side, and says, “I think he’s right to leave it to you.”

They both look at Vinnie.

Vinnie watches Ales move with the gun, like some buried part of him is still deciding. Though he’d pulled the trigger on Uldren Sov, the gun had never felt like his. It had weight without meaning. Ales was a closer friend to Cayde than he had ever been. He finally meets Ales’ eyes and nods, and an unspoken agreement passes between them. This time, it feels right.

Ales says nothing. He simply gestures in the direction of the bazaar, rolling his shoulders back and straightening up as they start on their way, like he’s carrying more than just a sidearm. As they step onto the catwalk, he looks to the horizon and remarks, “It's a good night for outdoor seating.”

Chapter Text

“Get your boots off the table!” Xevera swats at Ales’ feet. Under her breath, with no real heat, she mutters, “Mi cyaan tek dis man.”

Ales makes a show of swinging his legs back to the floor. Vinnie leans out of his way.

Xevera brushes off the table with her free hand, then sets down a bag of food from their usual vendor.

“Ales—” she starts.

Ales smirks, expecting annoyance.

What he gets instead is painfully gentle. Xevera changes the subject entirely, pressing gently, “How is your Ghost?”

The question makes him flinch.

Xevera tries again. “What I mean to say is—”

“She does well.” Ales lies, rummaging through the bag. “Where is my box?”

“Ales...”

“Ah.” He finds the box.

Vinnie watches as Ales stuffs his mouth with food to avoid any further questions.

Xevera looks to the Titan, silently asking for him to try.

“Sooner or later, we’ll need to know.” Vinnie nudges Ales.

Ales waves him off. “Later, then. First, we eat.”

Vinnie and Xevera exchange another glance before giving in.

As the rest of the food is passed out, Ales tilts his chair onto its back legs. Xevera shoots him a warning glance, but decides to let him be. Instead, she shifts her scrutiny to the new weapons he’s set down.

Eyeing the one with the incorrect receiver, she questions him, “You’re buying new guns, even while you can’t fight?”

Ales shakes his head. “No, no,” he swallows his bite before he continues, “That one was given to me. Beautiful, right? Well, the colors at least.”

“Given to you by who?” Xevera asks.

“Hm?” Ales refocuses from staring at the paint. “Oh, uh... Nobody you would know,” he chuckles. “You... would not approve.”

Xevera narrows her eyes, so Ales changes the subject. “So,” he starts, pointing over his shoulder, towards Ikora’s post, “Anything new with your... Favorite Vanguard?”

Xevera stiffens; shoulders square, jaw tight.

“No, no, would you—” She starts off a little too loud. Her fists clench as she catches herself. “That is unprofessional,” she hisses, “And she is right there!”

Ales laughs as he puts his hands up in false surrender. In doing so, he tips his chair back too far, and it almost slides out from under him. Xevera loses her glare to a startled expression before Vinnie catches his fall.

“Rassclaat,” she curses to herself. “You two—”

“No, no. Vin did nothing,” Ales interrupts. He claims her grievance proudly, “It is all me.”

Xevera shakes her head and rolls her eyes, but when she’s done, she smiles.

Vinnie sits back and looks around the bazaar. It’s late, but the market stalls still bustle with the activity of civilians and Guardians alike. A suspicious figure catches Vinnie’s eye, slinking past the ramen shop and ducking into an alleyway. He considers it for a moment, trying to remember if there had ever been anything of significance down that path, but all he can think of is a dusty dead end.

Vinnie watches for another moment. The figure doesn’t come back out. He’s ready to disregard it when he realizes that he’s drawn Xevera and Ales’ attention.

Ales tips his seat back to get a better view, having learned nothing at all.

“What is it?” Xevera asks.

“Nothing,” Vinnie shakes his head. “Maintenance crew.”

“Hm.” The front legs of Ales’ chair hit the ground with a thud as he grows disinterested and returns to poking at his food.

Xevera isn’t convinced. She watches him another second, then lets it go. “Okay.”

As they finish their meal, Xevera disappears toward Ikora’s post. Ales shoulders the mysterious weapon, and Vinnie’s eyes follow it.

“Ah...” Ales says, catching the glance. “You’re curious too, no?”

He says it like he’s been waiting.

“Xevera would not approve,” he adds. “But you?”

A beat.

“Come with me.”

To Vinnie’s surprise, Ales leads him down the same alley he dismissed before. The market falls to a hum behind them as they slip into shadow. Ahead, they’re blocked by a halfway-closed grate.

Ales ducks under. His back grazes the metal, which responds with a jarring creak.

Vinnie follows cautiously. Even for Ales, this is shady.

As Vinnie leans through, Ales turns to the right. Vinnie doesn’t recognize the man who approaches them, but the stranger’s greeting is friendly. Too friendly.

“Ah, you’re back!” The man grins at Ales, then looks at Vinnie, sizing him up. With unsettling warmth, he adds, “And you’ve brought a friend.”

“Well, I said I would return, no? A Hunter keeps his word! You know I cannot take your offer, but I bring someone who can.” He gestures, offering Vinnie.

It feels too smooth. Rehearsed. Vinnie looks back at Ales. Ales just shrugs.

“Well ain’t that nice!” The man grins. “Your friend got a name?” He asks, locking eyes with the Titan.

Ales starts, “Yes! Vinnie—”

“Yacovin.” Vinnie interrupts.

“Ah, the Titan speaks!” the stranger laughs. “Well then, Vinnie,” he smirks at Vinnie’s flinch. “Have I got a deal for you.” He smiles. “Though, it’s a shame your Hunter friend can’t take it, I like him.” He nods to Ales, and Ales nods back.

Something is exchanged in that moment, and it reeks of debt.

The man says, “Oh, and, uh... Call me Drifter.”

Vinnie weighs his tone carefully. “Drifter it is, then.”

Drifter’s smile sharpens, and he slips into a shpiel he could probably give in his sleep.

Vinnie scoffs. After about a minute, he interrupts.

“Alright,” the Titan says, exasperated. “Enough with the sales pitch. Clearly, you want something. Spit it out.”

Drifter looks surprised, but his grin spreads, shark-like. “Straight to the point,” He says with an appreciative nod. “I can work with that. But, one more thing...” He scans the floor behind him. “Can I offer you a drink?”

Ales raises an eyebrow when Vinnie answers, “You may.”

Drifter nods and turns around. He pours three glasses without asking Ales, then extends the first to Vinnie, who tells him, “No, thanks.”

Drifter blinks. “But you said—”

“Aha!” Ales’ laughter echoes off the walls. He takes the glass from Drifter instead. “No, my friend. He said you could offer.”

Drifter pauses, recalibrating. He looks at Vinnie again, who smirks.

“Huh.” Drifter nods slowly, reassessing. There’s a flicker of respect.

“Well, then...” Drifter picks up his own drink, and leaves the last on the crate.

“I guess you want your answers.” His voice drops to a more serious tone.

He explains, “I think Gambit could benefit from hostin’ some... Classier... killers. Like you. Your friend here would do, but, uh... On account of his Ghost—”

Drifter gets a warning look from Ales.

“What I mean to say is: There’s a spot for you, so long as you can keep it quiet. Don’t need the Vanguard sniffin’ around in m’ business— They know I’m here. They just don’t like it.”

Vinnie narrows his eyes, “And why is that?”

Drifter laughs, thin and uneasy. “Oh, c’mon, now. I’m sure a big man like you has bigger fish to fry. Ol’ Drifter can take care of himself.” He leads them back towards the grate.

Vinnie waits. He moves with Ales.

“Just stop by tomorrow, while it’s still daylight. You know where to find me.” He waits for Vinnie’s back to turn before adding, “And, Ales?”

“Hm?”

Silently, he mouths: Thank you.

He makes sure Vinnie doesn’t see.