Chapter Text
Apo should get out of the sun.
That notion is the best one for Legundo to focus on. Something to fix. Tangible. Apo is in her weakest form, so she isn’t inhibited by the sun, but it nevertheless stings her, and Legundo should do something about it.
The easiest aid would be to get her inside, but Legundo and Apo have been standing outside an inviting two-story house for several minutes.
Legundo should be burning with her, but he is no longer a vampire. Something about that fact is too unreal to linger on.
Glancing at Apo’s red face, Legundo raises an eyebrow.
“Cherri should be home,” Apo says eventually, keeping a tight grip on the poppy in her hands.
White noise fills Apo’s hesitation. Chickens clucking. Trees with bare branches swaying. Wind hissing.
It’s getting colder.
Before they left Oakhurst, Apo sent a letter ahead to her home, at which she apparently had someone waiting for her. By all accounts, Apo’s loved one should be expecting the arrival.
Still, they pause.
“Are you going to knock?” Legundo checks. “You shouldn’t be in the sun much longer.”
Apo’s throat bobs. She still reacts as a human would, despite her undead status. Too recently turned, even if it’s been many weeks.
The systems that reignited when Legundo was cured are working too easily. Breathing feels right again, and it unsettles him. Legundo had not been a walking corpse for long, and strangely, the cure had invigorated him.
By all accounts, his body should be falling to pieces. But Legundo feels alive. He should feel worse.
“I just…” Apo tries, shaking Legundo out of his own head. “She could be in the shop upstairs. Or she could be out. Getting food, getting supplies, I don’t know.”
“Apo,” Legundo says carefully. He despises the lingering dryness in his voice. “You can go home now.”
Apo drops her chin to her chest. “Okay. Okay, fine. And you’ll… you’ll make sure I don’t..?”
Legundo mentally finishes the sentence. “I will.”
It’s what they both agreed to. Ensure that no harm is done.
With a final okay, Apo raps on the door.
It opens rather quickly after the knock.
At the door is a woman about Apo’s size, with carefully made clothes and a bow in her auburn hair. The gaze from her one visible eye snaps onto Apo and almost immediately shines with stars.
“Hi darling,” Apo greets, a full smile gracing her face for the first time Legundo’s seen since Apo was turned. “I’m home.”
When the distance between them disappears, Legundo witnesses exactly why Apo went to such lengths for this reunion.
The cry of relief that spills out of Cherri is full of unabashed tenderness. Soon, the two are embracing, folding into each other. Cherri spins Apo around with surprising strength, and there is laughter. Peppered kisses. Unfinished sentences thick with joy and lingering grief.
“There you are,” Cherri exhales. “There’s my Apo Kuna.”
The reunion lasts, and Legundo lingers. A hint of tension leaves his spine. At least there’s this. At least he could help one more patient.
When Cherri draws back to cup Apo’s face, Apo’s smile falters.
Demonstrably, Apo is changed. Legundo witnessed it firsthand.
“Um.” Apo fumbles for the poppy that has miraculously not been crushed in the reunion. “Flower for you.”
“Bribing me, huh?” Cherri takes the flower and places it in their hair. “Thought I wouldn’t want you on your own?”
“...Look at me,” Apo says to the ground, trepidation grazing her tone.
With a nimble thumb, Cherri tugs at the corner of Apo’s mouth and uncovers a fang.
“Well, that’s special,” Cherri notes. “Certainly something.”
Red eyes glance away. “I’m sorry… I didn’t want to come home like this.”
“Oh, shush. Honestly, I wanna know what these fangs could do to me.” Cherri wiggles their eyebrows.
“Oh god,” Apo pulls Cherri’s hand away. “Don’t say that in front of other people, weirdo.”
At the reminder of Legundo’s presence, Cherri finally pulls her attention away from Apo to scrutinize him.
Legundo is sure he is nothing pleasant to look at. Before leaving Oakhurst, he’d discarded the robes and washed the blood from his skin, but his clothes were still ripped and stained. His glass eye is gone, though that might not be a concern for Cherri, as he notes her own half-blindness. He had a spare monocle, but he is otherwise visibly graceless.
“This the friend you mentioned?” Cherri asks.
“Oh, good, you got my letter. This is Doc,” Apo introduces.
There is a strong doubt in Legundo’s mind that Apo actually referred to him as a friend in her letter. However he tries to make others see the truth, he will always be painted more favorably than the loathsome thing that he is.
Legundo holds out a hand for Cherri to shake. “Nice to meet you. I’m Doctor Legundo, for any of your needs.”
Cherri shakes the hand. Her grip is eager. “Wow, an educated man. Fancy. Thanks for bringing my Apo home.”
“It was no trouble,” Legundo responds.
“Really? She didn’t stop you every five minutes to look at arches?” Cherri asks with a smirk.
“Cherri!” Apo complains, but they’re smiling.
Legundo has never seen Apo smile so unashamedly as a vampire before.
“You’re staying for dinner, aren’t you?” Cherri asks Legundo.
Well, Apo asked him to ensure that she kept control of herself. Dinner would be a good assurance that she can handle herself around Cherri, and once she’s certain, she can be relieved of him.
“You would invite me?” Legundo questions, just to make sure.
“It’s the least I could do,” Cherri insists, gripping Apo’s hand. “As thanks.”
“I am not someone you should be thanking,” Legundo argues quietly.
Better to kill the idealized view of him growing in Cherri’s mind as quickly as possible.
Cherri scrunches their face. “I think I can decide that for myself. Come on inside.”
The permission doesn’t click something inside him the way it would have if Legundo was still a vampire.
When Cherri tugs Apo by the hand into the house, Legundo watches the tension gently unravel in her.
“We made it,” Apo says softly. “We made it.”
-
---
-
There is no meat on Legundo’s plate.
The knowledge that he no longer has to eat meat surprises him. The taste of Martyn’s blood lingers on his tongue.
It had tasted good.
Based on the way Apo’s grimacing through her bottle of blood, her vampirism did not adjust her taste buds in the same way.
Legundo picks through the meal on his plate, loathing every moment he has a meal that Apo should be able to eat in his stead, while Apo recounts what happened in Oakhurst to Cherri. She goes off on tangents, and Legundo has to interject to fill gaps or correct exaggerations, but the story is soon taking root in Cherri’s mind.
Apo’s willingness to share surprises Legundo. With how tight-lipped she had been in Oakhurst, about her vampirism and her past, it’s notable that she rambles to Cherri with a desperate expression on her face.
Cherri listens.
And when Apo shares what Legundo was not privy to, he listens.
“Owen went with me to the crypt,” Apo states, an edge in her voice. “He knew Scott and Pyro were there. He offered me to them as a meal, but I said we should bargain. And Scott and Pyro drank my blood. Then they all told me if I didn’t find someone else for them to turn, they’d kill me. They threatened my life with you. Owen told me I’d never see you again if I didn’t do it.”
Something stings under Legundo’s clothes. He pays it no mind, trying to give Apo his attention. Apo is only looking at Cherri.
“I couldn’t offer anyone up, and I wasn’t going to die. So I went to kill them. You know I couldn’t let them hurt anyone. Not after Fernsfield.”
Fernsfield? Legundo has heard that name before. He thinks back, and what he finds in the corners of his mind makes him scrape his fork on the plate.
Apo’s head snaps to him, and Legundo is certain that they forgot his presence.
“...Doc,” they murmur.
Legundo raises a hand in peace. “Pay me no mind. You can keep going.”
A grimace. “You know, don’t you? You know what happened in Fernsfield.”
The numbers. Not his own, but enough for his newly restored heart to tremble inside of him.
“Yes. I heard about it, but I didn’t know you were the one who…” Legundo trails off.
Cherri reaches across the table to jostle Apo’s hand. “Apple pie, you were saying?”
Apo shakes their head to clear it. “Right. Everyone can just know what happened to me. Fine. Well, Scott was there to meet me, and I thought I took him out. But I didn’t know you had to stake vampires to kill them, so he just kept coming back. And I knew if he didn’t turn me, he’d turn someone else, so I said he could turn me.”
Scott. Scott. Legundo knew he was Apo’s sire, but he hadn’t known the details, and he’s filled with disgust at the picture being drawn. He can imagine what Scott would have said to her, like so many others who commanded others’ deaths and kept themselves clean.
“I’m sorry you were forced to endure him, Apo,” Legundo offers.
Apo looks at Legundo with something unsteady in her eyes.
“...Thank you.” They swallow. “I’m sorry about what yours did to you.”
Legundo hums in acknowledgement. The taste of blood pools in his mouth, so he chases it away with Cherri’s dinner, like a coward.
A proper meal. Nothing like Oakhurst.
With that, Apo continues. Cherri makes comments while Apo explains what happened, and once Apo is nearly done, the furrow in her brow seems permanent.
Only briefly does the conversation fully swing to Legundo.
“You were a vampire?” Cherri asks.
“I was. Briefly.” Unbelievably. “Because of Owen.”
“Fucking Owen,” Apo grumbles.
Cherri’s eye widens. “Then there’s a way to undo it?” Her gaze turns to Apo, the question obvious.
Legundo takes the inquiry. “To be cured, the one who turned you needs to be dead.”
“Oh. Okay,” Cherri’s brow furrows. “So why isn’t Scott dead? He sounds like the worst.”
“He is,” Apo adds.
“Scott made a promise to better himself in exchange for leaving Oakhurst as he is,” Legundo explains disdainfully. “Everyone was exhausted and wanted a solution with the least possible deaths.”
“I thought about killing him. I had a stake. But I didn’t know how strong he was. And they’d all kill me if I killed him. I needed to get back to you,” Apo says to Cherri.
“I don’t blame you for considering it,” Legundo sighs. “I wanted the same thing before they came up with the plan. But I think you made the safest call.”
“Could we still cure you?” Cherri asks. “If he ended up dead?”
Legundo’s plate is empty. Something feels different.
“Abolish probably knows where I live by now. We could probably get in contact with him. He’s supposed to be making sure Scott does what he promised,” Apo notes warily, as if she doubts Abolish’s ability to follow through.
Finally, Legundo pins down the strange feeling.
It’s fullness.
Legundo is done eating. He is satiated. There isn’t that gaping crevice inside of his stomach, that clawing in his mind, the demand for more, for endless bloodshed.
For the first time since Owen sank his fangs and claws into Legundo’s flesh, Legundo is not hungry.
“Legs?” someone asks. “Legs, are you good?”
“What?” Legundo snaps his head up. He recognizes the voice as Apo. “I’m fine.”
“You’re crying,” Apo points out.
Is he? Christ. Why? Out of all moments for his mental walls to crack, why now?
Legundo turns his head away. “I’m alright.”
There’s a pause, presumably while Cherri and Apo silently communicate with each other.
“You’re staying the night,” Cherri states suddenly.
Legundo straightens. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”
He was only here to facilitate Apo’s shift back into her life, keeping her head above water. Nothing more.
“We’re not gonna let you walk out of here in the dark. We’re not monsters,” Cherri says easily.
“You’re… alright with that?” Legundo asks Apo slowly.
Apo’s tense, but she’s been tense for about as long as Legundo’s known her. “Cherri’s right. It’s late. And we have room.”
There’s something in their voice that makes the argument die in Legundo’s throat. It tastes a lot like Martyn.
“Alright. I can stay the night.”
-
---
-
“You’re a guest, so you’ll get the tub first,” Apo explains as she leads Legundo through the home.
It really is a home. Not a house, like the quickly reconstructed buildings in Oakhurst had all been. Cherri and Apo’s living space was just that - a space for living.
“I’m alright to go after you. It’s your home,” Legundo tries to dissuade.
Apo scrunches their face. “Yeah, so it’s our rules. Guests bathe first. Plus, you look awful.”
Legundo sighs. “I can’t argue there.”
Reaching the bathroom, Apo walks Legundo through all the mechanisms.
The bath is already full. It’s even warm. Great care had been taken here.
“…and Cherri’s finding clothes that fit, so they’ll be outside the door once you’re done,” Apo ends.
Legundo raises an eyebrow. “She doesn’t know my size.”
Apo’s expression is fond. “You’d be surprised. She’s a genius.”
A small huff of amusement. “Alright.”
“Um, just let me know if you need anything,” Apo offers.
“Thank you.”
Apo leaves Legundo alone. At that, Legundo lets the professionalism out of his body. He allows himself to slump, pressing a hand to his forehead. He can’t risk any noise, so it’s hard to force down the groan, but he manages.
Alright. Get to it.
When he strips his clothes, he tries to pile them so there is no blood touching the floor. It should all have dried by now, but he shouldn’t take chances.
Before the monocle comes off, Legundo catches a glimpse of himself.
He’s surprised by the force of the gasp that escapes him.
…Really, there’s no reason for him to be surprised. He knows what Owen did. This isn’t a shock.
It shouldn’t be. So…
Legundo quiets his shivering. Is it really so chilly in here?
The deep lacerations in his flesh catch his attention again.
It shouldn’t bother him.
Then why-
He sets the monocle on the sink, unfocusing his vision. That’s better.
When he lowers himself into the bath, he tries not to let any water escape. No splashing, not like all the noise from living next to Drift and Avid-
Stop. Now is not the time. He has a task to complete.
Legundo knows how to clean himself efficiently, and he does so. He scrapes dried blood and mud away from his skin, his body hair, ridding himself of grime from everywhere but his soul. It’s beyond too late for that.
There are many new scars. He knew there would be. It is no concern, he has plenty of scars.
He told him to get away. He told him no. Owen was not efficient, Owen wanted him to hurt, Owen broke his trust and ripped him apart with his claws and fangs and Legundo couldn’t stop the bleeding-
Wash as much of it as you can away. Appear clean. Be dependable.
He tries to be cautious with his use of water, though it’s murky enough that he’s forced to change the tub’s contents. Regardless, he won’t waste any time. Apo needs this room after him.
Finally, he can escape the tub and towel himself off. He avoids the mirror. The reflection will be returned to it now. Perhaps that’s the one aspect of vampirism he misses.
When Legundo opens the door a crack, he finds clothes waiting for him. Soft flannel pajamas. They fit him well.
It’s too kind, too comfortable, but it’d be worse to refuse a gift.
…Well, he retracts that statement after remembering the rhetoric of Scott Goldsmith.
Still, the clothes are his to borrow now.
Once Legundo is ready, he exits the bathroom, his old outfit tucked under one arm.
Apo is quick to reappear. “Done?”
“Yes. All yours,” Legundo answers.
A relieved exhale. Apo is clearly eager to get clean. “Okay. Cherri’s gonna show you your room.”
“Thank you for your hospitality,” Legundo says, as he ought.
“Anytime. Hey, um…” Apo struggles for words. “Just… I’m sorry. About everything that happened. Everything I did to make it worse.”
Legundo dips his head. “I’m sorry too.”
“Okay.” Apo isn’t looking at him. She tends to avoid eye contact. “Are we… good?”
“We’re fine,” Legundo replies. It won’t matter much if there’s lingering unease for either of them, anyway. He doubts Apo would want to remain in contact with him.
“Right. Thanks. See you in the morning, Doc.”
Another appointment to keep. “Have a good night, Apo.”
The door to the bathroom has hardly closed before there is an arm linking through Legundo’s.
Cherri smiles at Legundo from her place at his side. “My turn with you now, Doctor.”
“Thank you for the clothes,” Legundo states as Cherri leads him a short distance to what must be the guest room.
“Oh, you won’t be saying that once I rope you into modelling for me,” Cherri responds cheekily.
Shoving open a door, Cherri tugs Legundo into a sparsely decorated bedroom. Even with its status as a guest room, it’s far more lived in than Legundo’s previous living space in Oakhurst. Legundo’s bag is at the foot of the bed, meaning either Apo or Cherri had moved it here.
Legundo huffs. “If that’s what I can do to return the favor, then I don’t have a problem with it.”
Cherri flashes a grin. “A good sport. I like you already.”
Unfounded, but it won’t matter long enough for her to realize the miscalculation. Cherri may be fine with him for the night, but she won’t want him to ruin her life with Apo.
Just as Legundo’s about to bid Cherri goodnight, she makes a gimme motion at him.
“What is it?” he asks.
“Your clothes!” Cherri clarifies. “I saw the holes in them. Hand them over so I can fix them up!”
Legundo holds up his free hand placatingly. “Oh, it’s not a problem. I can handle it myself.”
Cherri shakes their head stubbornly. “Nuh uh. It’s my calling. I’m not gonna charge you or anything. You deserve clothes without rips in them!”
There are plenty of things Legundo deserves, one of which should have happened recently.
Regardless, this is not a difficult concession for him. He would prefer his clothes repaired. “Fine.”
“Good.”
Clothes are transferred to Cherri’s arms.
Her grin falters. “Hey, so… I really mean it. Thank you for bringing Apo home.”
“Thank you for your hospitality,” Legundo echoes the earlier sentiment he gave to Apo.
Cherri shrugs. “Least I could do. She… I mean, you know. She’s my home.”
Legundo remembers Apo’s desperation to escape Oakhurst. “I don’t doubt you’re hers too.”
A pause with a smile. Cherri taps Legundo’s arm with a fist. “Thanks. See you in the morning, okay?”
“Goodnight, Cherri. It was nice to meet you.”
Cherri returns the pleasantry before flocking off to somewhere else in the house. Legundo shuts the guestroom door and swallows back the taste of iron.
Sitting on the bed, he rubs at the space between his eyes.
He misses his tape recorder.
Well, written word is a fine enough substitute. Legundo pulls a book from his bag, one of the ones used for clandestine messages back in Oakhurst. He skims past the careful, worried scrawlings and finds a blank page.
In something of a haze, he recounts the end to Oakhurst, as well as the subsequent departure from the forsaken place. Eventually, he leaves room for his musings.
I don’t know how I deceived the others into thinking I deserved to walk out of Oakhurst. But regardless of my own disreputable state, my services are still required. Somehow.
Therefore, I will continue to do what I can. I will be useful, and then I will be gone.
To want rest now would be selfish. Even if this outcome was never meant to happen, I have a responsibility to not waste any more opportunities to repair what I have broken.
After all, I am no stranger to living when I should be food for the worms.
Exhaustion gnaws at him. With a sigh, Legundo shuts the book and flattens himself onto the bed.
It’s too comfortable.
Legundo shouldn’t be here. Something like him does not belong in such a loving space. There is not a doubt in his mind that he should have died in Oakhurst. He told Cleo as much. Hell, he should have given up the ghost even sooner.
When given the cure, why did he listen when they told him to choose life?
Because, as much as he despises it, Legundo is someone who knows how to take an order, even if he believes it to be wrong.
At his core, Legundo is a good soldier.
Well, perhaps that’s not apt for this. A good soldier would die for the cause. And Legundo had failed.
Still, he is grateful to be cured rather than remain a vampire. Even if he resents being the only human to walk out, the world would be far worse off with him remaining Owen’s tool. The cost too high to pay has been avoided. Better an aimless thing than one with the power to reign its cursed existence over others.
Through the walls of an overwhelmingly welcoming home, Legundo hears Cherri and Apo speaking to each other.
Apo is crying.
Alright. Here’s a purpose. A use. Although unexpected, it is his now. Help her be good. For them, for Oakhurst.
Legundo’s eyes slip closed, and his exhausted mind is laden with a poem he read once. Before Oakhurst, after the war. Between the periods that unraveled everything he wanted to keep away from others.
But I have promises to keep.
And miles to go before I sleep.
And miles to go…