janie_tangerine (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
janie_tangerine) wrote2010-02-17 12:17 am
janie_tangerine) wrote2010-02-17 12:17 am
fic, heroes/lost: As Time Goes By (Adam/Richard), light R, for <user site="livejournal.com" user="au
Phew. It took me more for the title than for the revisions.
Title: As Time Goes By
Pairing: Adam/Richard (implied past Adam/Jacob and Adam/Richard/Jacob + current Richard/Jacob)
Rating: R to stay on the very safe side, but it's the least graphic sex I've ever written.
Wordcount: 4300 ca
Spoilers: to stay safe, implied the S5 finale for Lost and general S2 for Heroes.
Disclaimer: if Heroes was mine S3 wouldn't have happened. And if Lost was mine 3/4 of the killed people would be alive.
Summary: There’s something darker in Adam’s voice, something that wasn’t there when they crashed together almost a century ago; Richard lets it go, though. It’s probably the same for him, and thinking that they would stay the same is a foolish assumption even if they have denied it at least twice since they sat down.
A/N: this was written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
help_haiti. The utmost lovely ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
aurilly wanted a Richard/Adam sequel to A Touch Of Infinity, which I wrote for her for the crossover exchange, and I did my best to comply, with bonus Dumas because I can. Also, set in Casablanca because I say so, and by the way yes, I stole the title from the movie because I was desperate for one. Anyway, I really hope you like it! ♥
It happens on Richard’s twenty-fifth time away from the island.
It’s one of those times when there isn’t a specific purpose. It’s more of a leave of absence; it doesn’t happen often and it will happen seldom in the future, but sometimes Richard just leaves because he misses the world. Not in the way that makes you feel empty, like a piece of yourself has been left behind in another time or another place; it’s just that sometimes, once in a while, he’ll miss what he used to know, how he used to live, and even if usually he leaves just to check what’s happening, the new technologies, the state of things, or to do some work for Jacob, there will be a time when he goes somewhere just for the sake of going.
That’s what the twenty-fifth time is; a leave of absence. No more, no less.
--
Casablanca in March 1942 isn’t maybe the wisest choice Richard has ever made; then again, it’s not exactly dangerous either. After all, it’s not like he can die, and he’s quite sure that he isn’t going to find himself on a battlefield anytime soon. He likes the weather, it’s warm and dry as it never is on the island, and while the island is where he belongs he doesn’t mind the change, just for the sake of it.
He doesn’t worry about being noticed, it usually never happens, and if he would rather dress like a local, no one says anything. His French is good and he knows enough Arab to blend in decently, if not comfortably; he likes walking through markets, he likes smelling spices, he sometimes orders green tea and wonders if it would be such a bad idea to bring some of it back to the island.
He came here just for the sake of it; he isn’t expecting surprises or anything of the kind. He sleeps in a hotel in front of a bar which is mostly run by French, and he always is careful to discard his local clothes whenever he checks in and out.
He has a week and then he’ll go back, he has a submarine to take at the port; and maybe, considering what he reads from the newspapers, he won’t leave much behind.
It’s the fourth day when Richard’s plans change abruptly, or maybe not.
--
It’s a bump to his shoulder. It happens, in crowded markets such as this one. He usually doesn’t even pay attention. This time he does, though, and he stops dead in his tracks in the middle of the road, clutching his robe to his shoulder.
“Is... is that you?” he asks, already knowing the answer, because he’d recognize that face everywhere.
“Bloody hell,” comes the answer, and Richard now is postitive because he would recognize that voice everywhere, too. “It’s me.”
They stare at each other for maybe a minute, then someone almost shoves Adam out of the way as they walk.
“Maybe we should go… elsewhere?” Richard suggests, and receives a nod. He wonders why is it that Adam is dressed like a French soldier, but he figures that he will have time to ask questions in a short while.
“I agree with you all the way,” Adam mutters, and they get out of the market.
--
The bar is what Richard would define a well-selected place. The owner is definitely French and the clients are mostly soldiers, but there are also a couple of locals and it’s not like it’s large anyway. It’s maybe fifteen tables and purple curtains are draped over the windows while the lights are turned low. It’s quiet, people speaking in whispers and ordering with just slightly loud voices; no one asks questions when he steps in wearing his local garments.
Adam tells the owner that they’ll have his usual table and they sit at a small one in the corner, right next to a window.
They don’t talk, not until a local waiter comes for their orders. Richard has tea, Adam has wine.
“Of every place in the world I wouldn’t have ever expected to see you here,” Adam says then, and Richard can’t help shrugging and staring down at the table.
“I think that I’m not surprised. Or at least, it doesn’t really seem too strange that you’d be here. Posing after someone you strictly aren’t. Isn’t that how we met, after all?”
Adam nods, a small smile dancing on his lips. “That, I can’t deny. But being stationed here rather beats any other option at the moment, unless you have a desert island you can retire to. Not that I won’t flee as soon as my compatriots and the Americans arrive here, but by then I’m sure I will have found another option.” He winks then, and Richard can’t help smiling back, a half-smile at least. It’s strange. It’s obvious that Adam changed since they said goodbye on an island forty and something years ago; there’s something slightly darker about him, about the glint in his eyes, but Richard figures that it’s probably been the same for himself. They both changed, and he wonders exactly how much, but this isn’t the time or the place.
“So, what are you doing here?”
“Me?” Richard asks back. “Well. I believe it’s called taking a break. I asked for it.”
“And you come here of all places?”
“As you said, it beats other options, especially if you only want a break. I wouldn’t want to stay, but sometimes I just… I just miss the world,” he says, sure that Adam can understand it. After all, he was also the one who left the island when it became too small. Adam nods, sipping his wine, and then stares at Richard again in a way that has something strange to it, like he can’t believe he’s here; and Richard gets it. He really does. He can’t believe it either.
“How long?” Adam asks almost casually (almost), and Richard sips his tea before answering.
“Another three days. Then I have a submarine to catch.”
“You get back there by submarine now? Bloody hell,” Adam laughs as he shakes his head. “I doubt it’s an easy business. Not that leaving that island is an easy business anyway.”
“It’s indeed a very complicated business,” Richard answers. He’s about to apologize because it’s beyond him to explain how it works, but then Adam shakes his head.
“Since when you ever had to give me explanations, Richard?”
“Since never,” Richard agrees, warmth that he decides has to be because of the tea spreading through his frame.
“I’m not going to start now. Merde,” he mutters as some wine drops from the glass on his uniform.
Richard raises an eyebrow. Adam just shrugs. “Well, I’ve been doing this for a year, I’ve been speaking French. It’s hard to shake it off.”
“I can believe that.” Richard suddenly feels lighter for some reason, but doesn’t say or show. It’s fine like this. “Where are you staying?” Richard asks some three minutes of silence later, and he isn’t surprised when Adam answers with the name of an hotel which, as far as he knows, has been occupied by French soldiers for a while.
“What about you?” Adam asks then, and Richard answers with the name of his own hotel, which isn’t as central and as famous, not to mention as huge; it’s a small and private place where they know of his island business (he was surprised when he learnt exactly how many people outside knew of the island’s business) and he likes it well enough. Adam nods and keeps on staring at him; it doesn’t feel unnerving, though.
“You really haven’t changed that much,” Adam muses, and Richard gives out a short laugh.
“You seem surprised. And it’s not like you have either, hair notwithstanding.” It’s a slight lie, but it’s not like Adam wasn’t lying before, either. Richard just knows. He has always known.
Silence falls between them again, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s alright. It’s like the hours they’d spend on the island without talking. Richard used to like that, a lot.
“How is our very own demi-god doing, by the way?”
Richard positively almost chokes on his tea before he regains speech. “Oh, same as usual. Not a straight answer, not a change, he’s just more difficult to find unless you specifically search for him. And it’s harder also in that case. And the… the other one… well, he’s around. I think he hates my guts, but apparently he can’t or won’t do anything about it. For now.”
He thinks that Adam has muttered something under his breath, but Richard doesn’t catch it. “Anyway, that’s the state of things. Another ship crashed. And three submarines. I fear you will have much more exciting news to share.”
“If you can call this whole trap exciting, maybe I do,” Adam answers, suddenly looking more serious and a bit weary; Richard thinks it might be the first time he actually can see how much four centuries can weigh on someone. Right, Jacob is probably a lot older than four centuries, but Richard has never seen time weigh on him. It seems to do on Adam though, for three seconds during which his back is slightly curved forwards, his eyelids half-closed, his lower lip slightly trembling.
“You know,” Richard says keeping his voice low, “I heard people say that this war will end the world.”
Adam gives a short laugh, the laugh of someone who knows a lot better. “It won’t. It’ll make it a way worse place, with all probability, but it won’t.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because that guy I knew in Japan, the time traveling one? He claimed to be from 2005. And I have no reason to believe he was lying. Therefore, if he came from 2005, it means that the world is still there by then. So it definitely isn’t going to end now.”
“That’s calling having a vantage point,” Richard agrees.
“Isn’t it just what it bloody is?”
There’s something darker in Adam’s voice, something that wasn’t there when they crashed together almost a century ago; Richard lets it go, though. It’s probably the same for him, and thinking that they would stay the same is a foolish assumption even if they have denied it at least twice since they sat down. His tea is finished and Adam’s wine is too; and while no one will kick them out, Richard wonders where do they go from here. He hadn’t expected to see Adam again at all; and now that they’re here, where does it leave them?
“Can I ask you something?” Richard says, trying not to think about what happens now.
“Sure. When is it that I ever denied you an answer?”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Anyway, you didn’t really fight, did you? During this war, I mean.”
Adam laughs and shakes his head. “Damn no. I don’t really need anyone to find out that I’m rather though to kill. Also, my sodding country is stilly my sodding country and if I really felt the urge to throw myself into a massacre I wouldn’t do it pretending to be French, would I?”
“I didn’t peg you for a patriot.”
“Oh, I never was one. But there’s a limit to everything.”
Richard lets out a small laugh before deciding that they can’t really postpone the conversation anymore.
“Listen, what… I mean, I would have never imagined I’d meet you of everyone, but… it’s not like I have a plan for the next three days.”
Adam raises an eyebrow and for a second Richard wonders if he shouldn’t have talked at all. It isn’t like the thing between them wasn’t half a century ago; maybe even if he really has never forgotten, Adam just doesn’t care or mind, and it really isn’t like Richard to bring this up. Then Adam’s lips curl up in a confident, warm smile which reminds Richard of a couple of times they talked on the ship, and he pushes his elbows forward on the table.
“Well, then it’s your lucky day. Because I don’t have a plan either. It’s not like I actually do what I’m supposed to.”
“I’m sure that you’re good enough at not doing it that no one really notices.”
“Touché,” Adam answers, and for the first time in decades Richard feels his heartbeat pulsing slightly faster than usual.
--
Since losing his mortality, things have obviously changed. It’s not like Richard regrets it, far from that. Right, there’s a reason why he tries never to get close to whoever crashes on the island these days, because they’ll die sooner or later, and he knows he won’t; it’s much safer to reserve that for the closest thing to God Richard ever met. After all, it’s not like Jacob is going to die. Still, sometimes he feels like there’s a huge, deep gap between him and the rest of the world; between him and the people he sort of doesn’t lead (because they’re mortal and age and change and he doesn’t) and between him and Jacob because he’s so much more that Richard doesn’t really get why he would even care, except that he does, in some way, and it’s not like he answers questions anyway.
Those are the times when he misses Adam, sort of, maybe, quite; he used to make the gap smaller and wasn’t too far from either of them. It never lasts much, he doesn’t have the time to miss people these days, the same way he never thinks about his life before a ship crashed on an island; still, sometimes it happens.
Maybe that’s why he aches to reach across the table and touch the man in front of him, even if he doesn’t. He knows control and he’s not one to lose it easily. There was a reason he was good at his job, one life ago.
--
They’re silent as they walk next to each other, and they probably make a strange sight; it’s not like French soldiers have much to do with locals, but no one seems to notice. They’re good at not being noticed, after all. And it doesn’t really matter anyway.
They spend a mostly silent afternoon just walking around; the sun has started to set when they end up at Richard’s hotel, which is quieter and more reserved and less questions asked.
The last thing Richard thinks that evening before renouncing coherent thought is that he can’t remember the last time he shared a real bed with someone.
(It’s not like Jacob has proper beds. Or like he sleeps at all.)
--
The next morning, he wakes up to an empty bed and a knock on his door. He dresses quickly and opens the door, his hair still dishevelled.
It’s Adam with a bag slung over his shoulder.
“Excuse me?” Richard asks, and Adam shakes his head.
“I can’t keep on going around with a uniform with wine stains, and I thought it’d be more practical. What’s so fun about it?”
Richard shakes his head. “I never said it was fun. Get in.”
--
“This whole French business really snuck up on you, didn’t it?”
Adam puts away his copy of Twenty Years Later before turning on his side and looking down at Richard, who isn’t sitting up on the bed but rather still lying down.
“Well? It’s entertaining, you know. And here you get bored easily, but you know, bored is better than a lot of other options right now.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Richard answers, not trying to hide his amusement. Adam’s hand which isn’t holding the book slowly reaches down until his fingertips meet Richard’s hip and Richard shivers.
“Mm. Feels as good as I remember,” Adam whispers as he drops the book on the floor; Richard doesn’t answer and waits for Adam to come closer before their lips meet.
--
The bar is small and cigarette smoke fills it up until the ceiling. Richard doesn’t really mind it, it’s not like it affects him at all; it’s probably the same thing for Adam. Richard has ditched the Arab robe for a regular suit under a dark coat and when Adam tells him that he looks like a dealer for letters of transit. Richard just shrugs and says he doesn’t mind. Adam shakes his head and tells him that he really is one of a kind. Richard buys a packet of cigarettes first, then turns towards Adam again.
“And aren’t you one, too?”
“You have a point.”
Richard orders whiskey for them both.
--
“What have you been doing all this time?” Richard asks as they stand at the corner of his hotel’s building, their back against the wall. He reaches for the cigarette packet in his coat’s pocket and tilts his head a bit. Adam nods and Richard takes two cigarettes out before reaching down again and bringing out a box of matches.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I said I was here and there doing mostly nothing, would you?”
“Actually I would. It sounds like something you’d do. If only because I gather that you have at least another twenty years of time to kill, don’t you?”
“I might,” Adam answers taking the cigarette Richard hands him. Richard lights a match and isn’t surprised when Adam’s head leans closer so that his cigarette’s tip is touching Richard’s. He lights them both and takes a drag. It tastes strange, a mix between ash and fire, but Richard doesn’t really smoke often. He indulges in it just when he’s in the real world. Adam takes a slow drag, inhaling deeply. “It’s not like I’m having much fun killing time lately, but it’s fine. Some five or six years after that other war things were generally better anywhere you’d go. Not that I mind, but still. You don’t kill time much, do you?”
“That’s a good question. It depends what you mean for killing time,” Richard says, and doesn’t add anything else because he can’t really explain it. He takes another painfully slow drag, noticing that Adam’s cigarette is already half smoked.
“I’m sure they both do, don’t they?”
Richard gives him a small laugh. “Indeed. Always sitting on that beach discussing. I wish I knew what sometimes, but most of the other times I’m really glad I don’t.”
“I can believe that,” Adam keeps on, letting ashes fall on the ground.
“He told you something I don’t know, didn’t he?”
“Jacob? Yes. He did. The day the second ship crashed. But I’m not sure you would want to know that.”
“I’m not sure either,” Richard admits as he looks at the bright, red sparkles falling from the tip of his cigarette and disappearing in the night as they turn into soft, gray powder. “Are you coming inside?”
“Why would I have brought a bag of clothes last day?” Adam answers, and Richard crushes the cigarette to the ground just after the last ashes fall before heading into the hotel.
--
They don’t get out of the room, on the last day. Richard asks Adam if people wouldn’t be searching for him and Adam laughs and says that it really isn’t a concern, and so Richard figures he won’t ask about it anymore. Also because they have better to do.
It’s just like Adam left yesterday. It might be that they both look the same, because they definitely are not the same, but whatever it is, it works. They grind against each other with an ease that would make someone think that the last time they shared a bed had been days before, and not years; there’s something slightly rougher about the way Adam touches him, but Richard knows enough to realize that he’s rougher taking it himself. They don’t talk about it like they never talked about it in the forty-something years they were stranded together, but it’s not like there ever was something to say.
It’s just there again and Richard welcomes it, with metaphorical open arms; he won’t ever say it, but he misses the way two bodies can touch without literal electricity sparking softly. Adam might not be mortal but he’s a man like Richard is and like Jacob and him will never be, and Richard has missed it, and he has sort of missed Adam along with it. Not like you might miss a part of yourself, it never was that, but like you miss something quietly, silently, privately; and that’s pretty much how Richard is nowadays, especially when Jacob isn’t around (and considering how things are, he isn’t around often). That’s how they describe him; quiet, silent, private. And it’s fine, because that’s just the way he is and mostly always was, but they don’t get it. And so he arches up, his skin heats whenever Adam’s hands touch him, he lets Adam bite his lips until blood draws because the wound doesn’t last much anyway; and feeling pain is an exquisite feeling when you don’t get to feel it for years at a time.
“Don’t tell anyone,” Adam whispers next to his ear as he thrusts slowly, the sun slightly filtering through the curtains, a half-smoked cigarette resting into an ashtray on the nightstand, his book still lying on the ground, “but I had missed this.”
“Me, too,” Richard answers, and his hips jerk up.
--
“You know, it wasn’t that bad. Over there, I mean,” Adam muses that night. “If you don’t count that creepy other one. And the smoke. And the polar bears.”
Richard shakes his head. “You know, I could tell you that the submarine I’m taking tomorrow has plenty of space. But it really isn’t what you want, is it?”
Adam shakes his head, even if his hand slowly reaches up, fingers tangling into Richard’s hair.
“That’s something I always liked about you. You’re fucking perceptive.”
“You didn’t swear as much back then, you know.”
“Well, I didn’t spend half of my time with soldiers with whom I can’t even swear in my language. Gets tiring, after a while.”
“Do you want another cigarette?”
“Why not. I could do with one.”
--
Richard is ready and knows that his contact who will bring him to the port has to be arrived; he needs to be down in the street, but for some reason, even if they’re both fully clothed and his bag is packed, he can’t just get out of the room.
“Well, it was good to see you again,” Richard says in the end, and Adam nods as he finishes to button up his uniform.
“Indeed it was. Listen, when you go back, could you tell Jacob that I’ve thought about it?”
“Right. It?”
“Something he told me before I left. Also tell him that he did have a point.”
“Well, I could.”
“Thanks. See you around, I guess. This war isn’t going to kill me, anyway.”
“It’d take a lot more than a war to kill you, I guess. Anyway, if you ever hear of any society named Mittelos, I might have something to do with it. In... the future. Not too near, maybe, but in the future.”
It’s just projects for now, and talk, and he doesn’t know if it’s ever going to translate into real; but if they don’t get to meet again, better say it when he can.
“Sneaky. And interesting. But since you didn’t ask me what it was, I won’t ask you about this. Only fair.”
“Right. Only fair. Then… I will…”
“Wait.”
Adam throws something at him and Richard catches the Dumas book. “I hope you know French.”
“I do, but why?”
“Told you, it’s entertaining. And long. You could do with some entertainment, I think. And I can always find another one.”
Richard’s lips curl up in a smile as Adam comes closer.
“If it’s like this. Goodbye, then. I said it last time too, but… try not to change too much, would you?”
“I’ll do my best,” Adam says, but, again, there’s something dark in his tone that was lacking last time. Richard doesn’t dwell about it too much though; he nods, turns his back on the room and goes downstairs, then out in the street. His contact is on the corner, as agreed upon; he nods and follows him to a car parked in a nearby backroad.
All the way to the port, he lights a couple of cigarettes. Then he gives what’s left of the packet to his contact along with the money he owes him.
As he boards on the submarine, he figures that since he has a pretty long journey ahead of him, he might as well follow some advice. He settles, takes out his glasses (immortality doesn’t protect you from needing them, it seems like) and opens the book, which is battered and heavy and smells of spices. It isn’t bad. It isn’t bad at all.
Dans une chambre du palais Cardinal que nous connaissons déjà, près d'une table à coins de vermeil, chargée de papiers et de livres, un homme était assis la tête appuyée dans ses deux mains.
He just hopes it is entertaining. And if it isn’t, he hopes that one of these decades he gets to give it back to its previous owner.
And even if in the end it turns out that it is entertaining after all… he hopes he gets to give it back anyway. He thinks he’d like it, if they met again another time. Maybe they will.
He doesn’t admit to himself that for a second, yesterday evening, when he said there was space on the submarine, he had hoped that Adam would say yes.
End.
Title: As Time Goes By
Pairing: Adam/Richard (implied past Adam/Jacob and Adam/Richard/Jacob + current Richard/Jacob)
Rating: R to stay on the very safe side, but it's the least graphic sex I've ever written.
Wordcount: 4300 ca
Spoilers: to stay safe, implied the S5 finale for Lost and general S2 for Heroes.
Disclaimer: if Heroes was mine S3 wouldn't have happened. And if Lost was mine 3/4 of the killed people would be alive.
Summary: There’s something darker in Adam’s voice, something that wasn’t there when they crashed together almost a century ago; Richard lets it go, though. It’s probably the same for him, and thinking that they would stay the same is a foolish assumption even if they have denied it at least twice since they sat down.
A/N: this was written for
help_haiti. The utmost lovely aurilly wanted a Richard/Adam sequel to A Touch Of Infinity, which I wrote for her for the crossover exchange, and I did my best to comply, with bonus Dumas because I can. Also, set in Casablanca because I say so, and by the way yes, I stole the title from the movie because I was desperate for one. Anyway, I really hope you like it! ♥It happens on Richard’s twenty-fifth time away from the island.
It’s one of those times when there isn’t a specific purpose. It’s more of a leave of absence; it doesn’t happen often and it will happen seldom in the future, but sometimes Richard just leaves because he misses the world. Not in the way that makes you feel empty, like a piece of yourself has been left behind in another time or another place; it’s just that sometimes, once in a while, he’ll miss what he used to know, how he used to live, and even if usually he leaves just to check what’s happening, the new technologies, the state of things, or to do some work for Jacob, there will be a time when he goes somewhere just for the sake of going.
That’s what the twenty-fifth time is; a leave of absence. No more, no less.
--
Casablanca in March 1942 isn’t maybe the wisest choice Richard has ever made; then again, it’s not exactly dangerous either. After all, it’s not like he can die, and he’s quite sure that he isn’t going to find himself on a battlefield anytime soon. He likes the weather, it’s warm and dry as it never is on the island, and while the island is where he belongs he doesn’t mind the change, just for the sake of it.
He doesn’t worry about being noticed, it usually never happens, and if he would rather dress like a local, no one says anything. His French is good and he knows enough Arab to blend in decently, if not comfortably; he likes walking through markets, he likes smelling spices, he sometimes orders green tea and wonders if it would be such a bad idea to bring some of it back to the island.
He came here just for the sake of it; he isn’t expecting surprises or anything of the kind. He sleeps in a hotel in front of a bar which is mostly run by French, and he always is careful to discard his local clothes whenever he checks in and out.
He has a week and then he’ll go back, he has a submarine to take at the port; and maybe, considering what he reads from the newspapers, he won’t leave much behind.
It’s the fourth day when Richard’s plans change abruptly, or maybe not.
--
It’s a bump to his shoulder. It happens, in crowded markets such as this one. He usually doesn’t even pay attention. This time he does, though, and he stops dead in his tracks in the middle of the road, clutching his robe to his shoulder.
“Is... is that you?” he asks, already knowing the answer, because he’d recognize that face everywhere.
“Bloody hell,” comes the answer, and Richard now is postitive because he would recognize that voice everywhere, too. “It’s me.”
They stare at each other for maybe a minute, then someone almost shoves Adam out of the way as they walk.
“Maybe we should go… elsewhere?” Richard suggests, and receives a nod. He wonders why is it that Adam is dressed like a French soldier, but he figures that he will have time to ask questions in a short while.
“I agree with you all the way,” Adam mutters, and they get out of the market.
--
The bar is what Richard would define a well-selected place. The owner is definitely French and the clients are mostly soldiers, but there are also a couple of locals and it’s not like it’s large anyway. It’s maybe fifteen tables and purple curtains are draped over the windows while the lights are turned low. It’s quiet, people speaking in whispers and ordering with just slightly loud voices; no one asks questions when he steps in wearing his local garments.
Adam tells the owner that they’ll have his usual table and they sit at a small one in the corner, right next to a window.
They don’t talk, not until a local waiter comes for their orders. Richard has tea, Adam has wine.
“Of every place in the world I wouldn’t have ever expected to see you here,” Adam says then, and Richard can’t help shrugging and staring down at the table.
“I think that I’m not surprised. Or at least, it doesn’t really seem too strange that you’d be here. Posing after someone you strictly aren’t. Isn’t that how we met, after all?”
Adam nods, a small smile dancing on his lips. “That, I can’t deny. But being stationed here rather beats any other option at the moment, unless you have a desert island you can retire to. Not that I won’t flee as soon as my compatriots and the Americans arrive here, but by then I’m sure I will have found another option.” He winks then, and Richard can’t help smiling back, a half-smile at least. It’s strange. It’s obvious that Adam changed since they said goodbye on an island forty and something years ago; there’s something slightly darker about him, about the glint in his eyes, but Richard figures that it’s probably been the same for himself. They both changed, and he wonders exactly how much, but this isn’t the time or the place.
“So, what are you doing here?”
“Me?” Richard asks back. “Well. I believe it’s called taking a break. I asked for it.”
“And you come here of all places?”
“As you said, it beats other options, especially if you only want a break. I wouldn’t want to stay, but sometimes I just… I just miss the world,” he says, sure that Adam can understand it. After all, he was also the one who left the island when it became too small. Adam nods, sipping his wine, and then stares at Richard again in a way that has something strange to it, like he can’t believe he’s here; and Richard gets it. He really does. He can’t believe it either.
“How long?” Adam asks almost casually (almost), and Richard sips his tea before answering.
“Another three days. Then I have a submarine to catch.”
“You get back there by submarine now? Bloody hell,” Adam laughs as he shakes his head. “I doubt it’s an easy business. Not that leaving that island is an easy business anyway.”
“It’s indeed a very complicated business,” Richard answers. He’s about to apologize because it’s beyond him to explain how it works, but then Adam shakes his head.
“Since when you ever had to give me explanations, Richard?”
“Since never,” Richard agrees, warmth that he decides has to be because of the tea spreading through his frame.
“I’m not going to start now. Merde,” he mutters as some wine drops from the glass on his uniform.
Richard raises an eyebrow. Adam just shrugs. “Well, I’ve been doing this for a year, I’ve been speaking French. It’s hard to shake it off.”
“I can believe that.” Richard suddenly feels lighter for some reason, but doesn’t say or show. It’s fine like this. “Where are you staying?” Richard asks some three minutes of silence later, and he isn’t surprised when Adam answers with the name of an hotel which, as far as he knows, has been occupied by French soldiers for a while.
“What about you?” Adam asks then, and Richard answers with the name of his own hotel, which isn’t as central and as famous, not to mention as huge; it’s a small and private place where they know of his island business (he was surprised when he learnt exactly how many people outside knew of the island’s business) and he likes it well enough. Adam nods and keeps on staring at him; it doesn’t feel unnerving, though.
“You really haven’t changed that much,” Adam muses, and Richard gives out a short laugh.
“You seem surprised. And it’s not like you have either, hair notwithstanding.” It’s a slight lie, but it’s not like Adam wasn’t lying before, either. Richard just knows. He has always known.
Silence falls between them again, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s alright. It’s like the hours they’d spend on the island without talking. Richard used to like that, a lot.
“How is our very own demi-god doing, by the way?”
Richard positively almost chokes on his tea before he regains speech. “Oh, same as usual. Not a straight answer, not a change, he’s just more difficult to find unless you specifically search for him. And it’s harder also in that case. And the… the other one… well, he’s around. I think he hates my guts, but apparently he can’t or won’t do anything about it. For now.”
He thinks that Adam has muttered something under his breath, but Richard doesn’t catch it. “Anyway, that’s the state of things. Another ship crashed. And three submarines. I fear you will have much more exciting news to share.”
“If you can call this whole trap exciting, maybe I do,” Adam answers, suddenly looking more serious and a bit weary; Richard thinks it might be the first time he actually can see how much four centuries can weigh on someone. Right, Jacob is probably a lot older than four centuries, but Richard has never seen time weigh on him. It seems to do on Adam though, for three seconds during which his back is slightly curved forwards, his eyelids half-closed, his lower lip slightly trembling.
“You know,” Richard says keeping his voice low, “I heard people say that this war will end the world.”
Adam gives a short laugh, the laugh of someone who knows a lot better. “It won’t. It’ll make it a way worse place, with all probability, but it won’t.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because that guy I knew in Japan, the time traveling one? He claimed to be from 2005. And I have no reason to believe he was lying. Therefore, if he came from 2005, it means that the world is still there by then. So it definitely isn’t going to end now.”
“That’s calling having a vantage point,” Richard agrees.
“Isn’t it just what it bloody is?”
There’s something darker in Adam’s voice, something that wasn’t there when they crashed together almost a century ago; Richard lets it go, though. It’s probably the same for him, and thinking that they would stay the same is a foolish assumption even if they have denied it at least twice since they sat down. His tea is finished and Adam’s wine is too; and while no one will kick them out, Richard wonders where do they go from here. He hadn’t expected to see Adam again at all; and now that they’re here, where does it leave them?
“Can I ask you something?” Richard says, trying not to think about what happens now.
“Sure. When is it that I ever denied you an answer?”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Anyway, you didn’t really fight, did you? During this war, I mean.”
Adam laughs and shakes his head. “Damn no. I don’t really need anyone to find out that I’m rather though to kill. Also, my sodding country is stilly my sodding country and if I really felt the urge to throw myself into a massacre I wouldn’t do it pretending to be French, would I?”
“I didn’t peg you for a patriot.”
“Oh, I never was one. But there’s a limit to everything.”
Richard lets out a small laugh before deciding that they can’t really postpone the conversation anymore.
“Listen, what… I mean, I would have never imagined I’d meet you of everyone, but… it’s not like I have a plan for the next three days.”
Adam raises an eyebrow and for a second Richard wonders if he shouldn’t have talked at all. It isn’t like the thing between them wasn’t half a century ago; maybe even if he really has never forgotten, Adam just doesn’t care or mind, and it really isn’t like Richard to bring this up. Then Adam’s lips curl up in a confident, warm smile which reminds Richard of a couple of times they talked on the ship, and he pushes his elbows forward on the table.
“Well, then it’s your lucky day. Because I don’t have a plan either. It’s not like I actually do what I’m supposed to.”
“I’m sure that you’re good enough at not doing it that no one really notices.”
“Touché,” Adam answers, and for the first time in decades Richard feels his heartbeat pulsing slightly faster than usual.
--
Since losing his mortality, things have obviously changed. It’s not like Richard regrets it, far from that. Right, there’s a reason why he tries never to get close to whoever crashes on the island these days, because they’ll die sooner or later, and he knows he won’t; it’s much safer to reserve that for the closest thing to God Richard ever met. After all, it’s not like Jacob is going to die. Still, sometimes he feels like there’s a huge, deep gap between him and the rest of the world; between him and the people he sort of doesn’t lead (because they’re mortal and age and change and he doesn’t) and between him and Jacob because he’s so much more that Richard doesn’t really get why he would even care, except that he does, in some way, and it’s not like he answers questions anyway.
Those are the times when he misses Adam, sort of, maybe, quite; he used to make the gap smaller and wasn’t too far from either of them. It never lasts much, he doesn’t have the time to miss people these days, the same way he never thinks about his life before a ship crashed on an island; still, sometimes it happens.
Maybe that’s why he aches to reach across the table and touch the man in front of him, even if he doesn’t. He knows control and he’s not one to lose it easily. There was a reason he was good at his job, one life ago.
--
They’re silent as they walk next to each other, and they probably make a strange sight; it’s not like French soldiers have much to do with locals, but no one seems to notice. They’re good at not being noticed, after all. And it doesn’t really matter anyway.
They spend a mostly silent afternoon just walking around; the sun has started to set when they end up at Richard’s hotel, which is quieter and more reserved and less questions asked.
The last thing Richard thinks that evening before renouncing coherent thought is that he can’t remember the last time he shared a real bed with someone.
(It’s not like Jacob has proper beds. Or like he sleeps at all.)
--
The next morning, he wakes up to an empty bed and a knock on his door. He dresses quickly and opens the door, his hair still dishevelled.
It’s Adam with a bag slung over his shoulder.
“Excuse me?” Richard asks, and Adam shakes his head.
“I can’t keep on going around with a uniform with wine stains, and I thought it’d be more practical. What’s so fun about it?”
Richard shakes his head. “I never said it was fun. Get in.”
--
“This whole French business really snuck up on you, didn’t it?”
Adam puts away his copy of Twenty Years Later before turning on his side and looking down at Richard, who isn’t sitting up on the bed but rather still lying down.
“Well? It’s entertaining, you know. And here you get bored easily, but you know, bored is better than a lot of other options right now.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Richard answers, not trying to hide his amusement. Adam’s hand which isn’t holding the book slowly reaches down until his fingertips meet Richard’s hip and Richard shivers.
“Mm. Feels as good as I remember,” Adam whispers as he drops the book on the floor; Richard doesn’t answer and waits for Adam to come closer before their lips meet.
--
The bar is small and cigarette smoke fills it up until the ceiling. Richard doesn’t really mind it, it’s not like it affects him at all; it’s probably the same thing for Adam. Richard has ditched the Arab robe for a regular suit under a dark coat and when Adam tells him that he looks like a dealer for letters of transit. Richard just shrugs and says he doesn’t mind. Adam shakes his head and tells him that he really is one of a kind. Richard buys a packet of cigarettes first, then turns towards Adam again.
“And aren’t you one, too?”
“You have a point.”
Richard orders whiskey for them both.
--
“What have you been doing all this time?” Richard asks as they stand at the corner of his hotel’s building, their back against the wall. He reaches for the cigarette packet in his coat’s pocket and tilts his head a bit. Adam nods and Richard takes two cigarettes out before reaching down again and bringing out a box of matches.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I said I was here and there doing mostly nothing, would you?”
“Actually I would. It sounds like something you’d do. If only because I gather that you have at least another twenty years of time to kill, don’t you?”
“I might,” Adam answers taking the cigarette Richard hands him. Richard lights a match and isn’t surprised when Adam’s head leans closer so that his cigarette’s tip is touching Richard’s. He lights them both and takes a drag. It tastes strange, a mix between ash and fire, but Richard doesn’t really smoke often. He indulges in it just when he’s in the real world. Adam takes a slow drag, inhaling deeply. “It’s not like I’m having much fun killing time lately, but it’s fine. Some five or six years after that other war things were generally better anywhere you’d go. Not that I mind, but still. You don’t kill time much, do you?”
“That’s a good question. It depends what you mean for killing time,” Richard says, and doesn’t add anything else because he can’t really explain it. He takes another painfully slow drag, noticing that Adam’s cigarette is already half smoked.
“I’m sure they both do, don’t they?”
Richard gives him a small laugh. “Indeed. Always sitting on that beach discussing. I wish I knew what sometimes, but most of the other times I’m really glad I don’t.”
“I can believe that,” Adam keeps on, letting ashes fall on the ground.
“He told you something I don’t know, didn’t he?”
“Jacob? Yes. He did. The day the second ship crashed. But I’m not sure you would want to know that.”
“I’m not sure either,” Richard admits as he looks at the bright, red sparkles falling from the tip of his cigarette and disappearing in the night as they turn into soft, gray powder. “Are you coming inside?”
“Why would I have brought a bag of clothes last day?” Adam answers, and Richard crushes the cigarette to the ground just after the last ashes fall before heading into the hotel.
--
They don’t get out of the room, on the last day. Richard asks Adam if people wouldn’t be searching for him and Adam laughs and says that it really isn’t a concern, and so Richard figures he won’t ask about it anymore. Also because they have better to do.
It’s just like Adam left yesterday. It might be that they both look the same, because they definitely are not the same, but whatever it is, it works. They grind against each other with an ease that would make someone think that the last time they shared a bed had been days before, and not years; there’s something slightly rougher about the way Adam touches him, but Richard knows enough to realize that he’s rougher taking it himself. They don’t talk about it like they never talked about it in the forty-something years they were stranded together, but it’s not like there ever was something to say.
It’s just there again and Richard welcomes it, with metaphorical open arms; he won’t ever say it, but he misses the way two bodies can touch without literal electricity sparking softly. Adam might not be mortal but he’s a man like Richard is and like Jacob and him will never be, and Richard has missed it, and he has sort of missed Adam along with it. Not like you might miss a part of yourself, it never was that, but like you miss something quietly, silently, privately; and that’s pretty much how Richard is nowadays, especially when Jacob isn’t around (and considering how things are, he isn’t around often). That’s how they describe him; quiet, silent, private. And it’s fine, because that’s just the way he is and mostly always was, but they don’t get it. And so he arches up, his skin heats whenever Adam’s hands touch him, he lets Adam bite his lips until blood draws because the wound doesn’t last much anyway; and feeling pain is an exquisite feeling when you don’t get to feel it for years at a time.
“Don’t tell anyone,” Adam whispers next to his ear as he thrusts slowly, the sun slightly filtering through the curtains, a half-smoked cigarette resting into an ashtray on the nightstand, his book still lying on the ground, “but I had missed this.”
“Me, too,” Richard answers, and his hips jerk up.
--
“You know, it wasn’t that bad. Over there, I mean,” Adam muses that night. “If you don’t count that creepy other one. And the smoke. And the polar bears.”
Richard shakes his head. “You know, I could tell you that the submarine I’m taking tomorrow has plenty of space. But it really isn’t what you want, is it?”
Adam shakes his head, even if his hand slowly reaches up, fingers tangling into Richard’s hair.
“That’s something I always liked about you. You’re fucking perceptive.”
“You didn’t swear as much back then, you know.”
“Well, I didn’t spend half of my time with soldiers with whom I can’t even swear in my language. Gets tiring, after a while.”
“Do you want another cigarette?”
“Why not. I could do with one.”
--
Richard is ready and knows that his contact who will bring him to the port has to be arrived; he needs to be down in the street, but for some reason, even if they’re both fully clothed and his bag is packed, he can’t just get out of the room.
“Well, it was good to see you again,” Richard says in the end, and Adam nods as he finishes to button up his uniform.
“Indeed it was. Listen, when you go back, could you tell Jacob that I’ve thought about it?”
“Right. It?”
“Something he told me before I left. Also tell him that he did have a point.”
“Well, I could.”
“Thanks. See you around, I guess. This war isn’t going to kill me, anyway.”
“It’d take a lot more than a war to kill you, I guess. Anyway, if you ever hear of any society named Mittelos, I might have something to do with it. In... the future. Not too near, maybe, but in the future.”
It’s just projects for now, and talk, and he doesn’t know if it’s ever going to translate into real; but if they don’t get to meet again, better say it when he can.
“Sneaky. And interesting. But since you didn’t ask me what it was, I won’t ask you about this. Only fair.”
“Right. Only fair. Then… I will…”
“Wait.”
Adam throws something at him and Richard catches the Dumas book. “I hope you know French.”
“I do, but why?”
“Told you, it’s entertaining. And long. You could do with some entertainment, I think. And I can always find another one.”
Richard’s lips curl up in a smile as Adam comes closer.
“If it’s like this. Goodbye, then. I said it last time too, but… try not to change too much, would you?”
“I’ll do my best,” Adam says, but, again, there’s something dark in his tone that was lacking last time. Richard doesn’t dwell about it too much though; he nods, turns his back on the room and goes downstairs, then out in the street. His contact is on the corner, as agreed upon; he nods and follows him to a car parked in a nearby backroad.
All the way to the port, he lights a couple of cigarettes. Then he gives what’s left of the packet to his contact along with the money he owes him.
As he boards on the submarine, he figures that since he has a pretty long journey ahead of him, he might as well follow some advice. He settles, takes out his glasses (immortality doesn’t protect you from needing them, it seems like) and opens the book, which is battered and heavy and smells of spices. It isn’t bad. It isn’t bad at all.
Dans une chambre du palais Cardinal que nous connaissons déjà, près d'une table à coins de vermeil, chargée de papiers et de livres, un homme était assis la tête appuyée dans ses deux mains.
He just hopes it is entertaining. And if it isn’t, he hopes that one of these decades he gets to give it back to its previous owner.
And even if in the end it turns out that it is entertaining after all… he hopes he gets to give it back anyway. He thinks he’d like it, if they met again another time. Maybe they will.
He doesn’t admit to himself that for a second, yesterday evening, when he said there was space on the submarine, he had hoped that Adam would say yes.
End.