Chapter Text
When Ambrosius woke up from the nightmare he had the extra terror of being unable to move. He stared at his bedroom ceiling, shaking, wanting to scream, because her claws would crush him, they’d…
But he couldn’t scream because he’d wake someone. The guards would yell at him. The Director would frown even harder than normal at him, reminding him of how much he continued to disappoint her.
After a while, he remembered that the Director was dead. That he didn’t live at the Institution of Law Enforcement and Heroics anymore. There were no guards to bother him because he wasn’t living in the dormitories, and hadn’t for years. And probably a lot of the guards were dead, too.
Because the monster in his nightmare had killed them.
Nimona, Ballister would say. Her name was-is Nimona. She was just a little girl. Well… a woman, an adult, a person, who was hurting and alone. And she’d been captured and tortured. And Ambrosius himself had tried to kill her several times, and even overseen a team that successfully seemingly did.
But all he could feel were the tremors in the ground as she moved, the heat of her flames, the way his hands shook when he wasn’t aiming his weapons. The feel of her claws on his face, his chest, the way she’d tossed him like he was twig… And he couldn’t move because he was trapped in her claws again and she would crush him to death and he couldn’t get away and—
After a while he realized he was experiencing sleep paralysis. He’d had it before, a couple times as a child. He was always afraid of some of the other kids finding out and harassing him for it. But Ballister would always be there to look after him and make sure that he was okay.
Ballister wasn’t there, now, though.
As Ambrosius slowly regained control of his limbs, crying a bit at the pain of it, he was grateful that Ballister had suggested they have separate bedrooms, at least for the time being. Ambrosius had wanted to ask for it, but hadn’t known how to phrase it. Neither of them were used to sleeping with someone else again after so long. Ambrosius had his own rooms once he’d become the Hero of the Institution, away from the other knights, and Ballister had his castle. When Ambrosius was discharged from the hospital, the Institution was still a pile of rubble and he had nowhere else to go, and still needed help, and Ballister had just taken him home like Ambrosius didn’t even need to ask. While sharing a bedroom would have made things simpler, if nothing else, it was also just… a lot, for both of them. Even being under the same roof again was a lot.
So Ambrosius got his own room, near the kitchen and living room so Ambrosius wouldn’t have to walk as far if he wanted to leave it. Ambrosius was already grateful for everything Ballister had done for him, and this was just the icing on the cake.
And he’d recovered, physically. And Ballister had still been there to help as Ambrosius stumbled or struggled with his crutches.
But the mental part of recovery had been… more difficult. And Ambrosius was too embarrassed to say anything about it, and more tired of burdening Ballister with his problems. He was an adult, he could handle himself and get over it.
At least with separate rooms, Ballister wouldn’t have to deal with him like this. All teary and probably blotchy and with his hair a mess and his clothes sweat-stained, breathing loudly and sobbing occasionally while shaking. It probably would have woken Ballister up, and Ballister got little enough sleep as it was, since he was always focused on his projects and helping the city rebuild.
Ambrosius got up from the bed, then had to sit back down again, breathe loudly, then got back up, and walked into the bathroom. He took a shower, blow-dried his hair, made sure the evidence of his crying was completely gone, or at least otherwise buried beneath the ugly scars over his face.
He could remember the claws coming for him. It had been fast. But he remembered. He was afraid he’d been blinded.
He forced himself to turn away from the mirror and he stopped his hand from touching the scars. Ignored the need to claw his own face off.
“You’re just what the Kingdom needs,” the Director had practically purred at him. “Tall, golden, handsome, strong. The people need a symbol like that.” Aloud it sounded praiseworthy, enough to bolster anyone up to new heights.
But in her eyes he’d read, “Don’t screw it up.”
He went back out to his bedroom and dressed in something nice. Something bright, to bring out the color of his hair. A nice blue, today.
Before he opened the door he paused and reminded himself, as he did every day, “I’m grateful. I’m good. I’m the best.”
Then he opened the door.
Ballister wasn’t awake yet – he often slept late, given his late hours at the lab – so Ambrosius got to work on breakfast. Waffles today, and some eggs. Fresh coffee for Ballister. Maybe some French toast if he wanted some? He bustled quickly around the large kitchen, which looked far better than it had when he’d arrived. Ballister had done his best when Ambrosius was indisposed, but Ambrosius had descended upon it when he was able, organizing it and looking through everything there. He’d quickly taken over making meals, realizing it was something he could do for Ballister, who survived mostly on delivery pizza and instant noodles.
It was nice to be useful. And Ballister appeared to appreciate it.
“Morning,” Ballister’s quiet voice eventually said.
Ambrosius looked up at him, standing near the kitchen entrance, watching him, wearing a suit that was a mix of casual and formal, and could easily be worn beneath a lab apron. His hair was a bit askew, and Ambrosius made a note to himself to try and sneak some of his hair products into Ballister’s bedroom. Of course he looked effortlessly amazing as he always did.
Ambrosius smiled brightly. Maybe he had to fake it more than usual, but he still managed it. Because he was the best. Absolutely nothing was wrong, anyway. Plenty of people had bad dreams, right? “Morning Ballister! Would you like some coffee? Or some orange juice? The waffles are nearly ready, or there’s toast…”
“I might have a muffin?” Ballister replied, sheepishly, scratching his neck awkwardly. “If that’s okay? Sorry, you went to all this trouble…”
“No, no it’s fine!” Ambrosius smiled even brighter. “It’ll keep. I made some more muffins yesterday, so they’re very fresh. We’ve got blueberry, chocolate, banana, cinnamon…”
Ballister grabbed a chocolate chip one and some coffee, and said, “Thank you, Ambrosius.”
“Thank you,” Ambrosius said, still smiling. Was it convincing enough?
It was only when Ballister walked back into the dining room that Ambrosius realized he’d been gripping a pan handle far too hard. He released it, staring at the dent in his skin. He felt distanced from the pain, somehow. It wasn’t like earlier.
He realized he was breathing too shallowly as well.
He eventually shook it off and went back to making regular toast and the eggs, for himself.
Ballister got up to check the mail when Ambrosius finally sat down.
Ambrosius buttered his toast, placed his fried egg on it, and took a bite. The yolk oozed out over his lips, and for a second he imagined giant fangs in his abdomen, blood flowing out of his armor.
He froze.
“More of that junk mailer telling us to go to that terrible new pizzeria,” Ballister grumbled, walking back in. “I like Silvio’s. And that’s not going to change.”
Ambrosius swallowed, used a napkin to wipe away the gunk on his chin, and grinned at the other man, ignoring how his hands began to shake and hoping Ballister wouldn’t notice, “We could always give the new place a shot. Maybe they make better pasta than Silvio does.”
Ballister hmphed and walked back to his seat, opening one of many science newsletters he received to check the articles. He read so many all the time that Ambrosius didn’t know how he remembered it all.
Ambrosius focused on taking completely ordinary bites of his toast and thinking about the shopping he wanted to do.
“You’re quiet today,” Ballister said as he finished his muffin.
“Pardon?” Ambrosius asked, cleaning his lips again.
“Usually you’re chatting about the local gossip, what ridiculous things happened in the news, that sort of thing…” Ballister smiled indulgently at him.
“Oh, um…” Ambrosius blanked on anything that had happened yesterday. He still had magazine subscriptions from when he was in the Institution being sent to him, and mostly he read them because he was horribly obsessed with ensuring people weren’t writing about him, and if they were he wanted to know what they were saying, but he’d still read the celebrity news and such that he found there, to lie about why he was actually getting them, as if he was still reading them for fashion tips. He didn’t think there had been articles of interest yesterday, and if there were, he couldn’t recall. What else had happened? He’d… gone walking somewhere? No, that was the day before… “Sorry, um…”
“It’s fine,” Ballister said, smiling still. “Sometimes, mornings can be quiet.”
Ambrosius swallowed and picked up his plate. “…Yeah!”
“I’ll be heading out in a minute,” Ballister said as Ambrosius walked back into Ballister’s-their kitchen. “Got any plans today?”
A long list of the chores Ambrosius wanted to complete came to mind. “I wanted go shopping. There’s a jeans sale today, and I need some more thread for darning, and…”
“Good luck with all that,” Ballister said, rising and cleaning his dishes off before Ambrosius could get to them. “I wouldn’t risk sales for the world.” Ballister leaned over to kiss Ambrosius on the cheek before heading out.
Ambrosius felt the warmth of that soft touch. Like there was a heat source in the spot Ballister’s lips had touched.
Really, he had so much to be grateful for, it was astonishing.
As Ambrosius cleaned up the rest of the dishes and wiped down the counter, he relaxed just a bit. Ballister paid a cleaning crew to come in once a week to get the entire place ship-shape – a fortress needed a cleaning crew – but Ambrosius took some solace in keeping the space somewhat clean in the meanwhile.
Perhaps, Ambrosius always thought, if he was good enough at cleaning, he could clean the muck in his head out, too.
Ambrosius had planned to check the clothing store first, which led him through a local dog park, which ordinarily had some lovely trees and flowers he could look at as he strolled along with his spare tote bag. He wasn’t that big a fan of dogs, but from a distance he found them cute, depending on the breed.
As he walked, he was surprised to hear someone yell, “Timothy! Settle!”
He turned his head to see a muscular woman holding back a straining, growling, large dog by the collar as a man backed up. The dog barked and growled again, snapping his jaws. He was the size of a young child.
Ambrosius froze in place, feeling the echoes of louder roars, the feel of larger teeth snapping shut…
He lost track of time, and when he regained it, the woman and her dog were settled on the grass nearby, relaxed. The man was gone.
There was no blood, no injury. No one running screaming. No flames. No monsters who were once little girls.
Ambrosius shook himself and walked quickly out of the dog park. He was fine. It was fine. He had nothing to be afraid of. His hands weren’t shaking.
In the end he only walked to the store, saw the medium-sized crowd, considered being around people and trying on clothes and… and then turned away without even going inside. There would be other sales. He went to the craft store instead, which was far emptier than other stores, so the only person he had to interact with was the clerk, and loaded up on different threads. He walked past an aisle dedicated to puzzles, toys, and coloring books, and paused, gazing thoughtfully at the books.
He'd always loved these as a child. He hadn’t had enough money for them until he’d been older and grown out of them, but Ballister had gotten him a few over the years, somehow, and he kept them in a safe place after he’d completed them. He’d always found coloring relaxing.
As he looked at them now, he thought it would be childish to get, wouldn’t it…?
He picked up one on unicorns. And a box of markers. The teenage clerk didn’t say anything or even give him an “Aren’t you too old for this, dude?” look.
Ambrosius went home.
He got to work on lunch, making a lasagna (he had Ballister’s conversation from the morning on his mind). The last time he’d tried this recipe had been something of a success, and he thought he could do better this time. He lost himself in making it all and ultimately didn’t actually feel all that hungry when the lasagna made it into the oven. He looked at the clock and saw that Ballister wouldn’t be home for hours.
He considered the coloring book and immediately felt stupid. Yes, he needed to pass time while the lasagna baked, but that was surely too childish…
But what else did he do to fill his days? He shopped, he baked. He went to sleep. Sometimes he watched TV with Ballister or they went to the movies. Sometimes they even cuddled a bit. He had no friends to call since he’d made none in his time at the Institution, and those people he knew there either hated him or were dead anyway. People were supportive of him for some reason, because they figured he’d helped Ballister defeat the “monster” and fight the dregs of the Institution system, but he’d shied away from those people as well. He’d spent his time recovering, and even after he recovered he could spend all day in Ballister’s fortress and want for nothing, really.
Ambrosius didn’t need to work as had never done much with his salary from the Institution over the years other than buy hair products and a small wardrobe (he mostly wore armor provided by the Institution, so he honestly didn’t even have that many of his own outfits), so he had a sizeable sum to live on, perhaps in perpetuity. When he’d been a knight and had free time, he worked his way through the Institution-approved library, mostly on tales of old knights and their exploits. The Kingdom’s expansionist history, which he tried not to think about much these days. Now…
He knew Ballister had a library, and he’d started a few of the books, but many of them were science textbooks and thus far too intimidating. The philosophy books were heavy, and Ballister surprisingly didn’t have much on history. And despite the fact that Ballister had said Ambrosius could go where he wished, Ambrosius felt like he was trespassing if he went there when Ballister wasn’t around.
He wondered, for the millionth time, if Ballister thought it was annoying that Ambrosius didn’t work.
The coloring book went into his room, at the back of his mostly empty bookcase, behind his box of scrunchies. He turned on a cooking show while he waited for the lasagna to finish. After that was done, he let it cool while he went to work out.
Ballister had a surprisingly robust gym with a lot of nice equipment. He hadn’t used much of it over the years, but he’d kept it stocked, noting that he liked to be prepared. There was an indoor track, a swimming pool, weights, and a holographic opponent to practice sword fighting with. Ambrosius mostly kept to his physical therapy exercises for his leg, as he was still pushing for regaining his mobility. The doctors said it was possible to go mostly back to what he’d had, but it would never be the same. Some days he still needed a cane, and he couldn’t run as fast as he used to. Walking was mostly okay, but he almost always walked alone, when he didn’t have to keep pace with anyone. When he was with Ballister, they always took their time, but Ballister was a lot busier these days.
After he was done working out and took a nap for rest, he still had more time on his hands. So he decided to make some cookies. Maybe a cake. Ballister had hardly used before Ambrosius showed up, but Ambrosius kept it fully stocked these days.
In a way it was strange and not strange that he’d fallen into cooking. He hadn’t been that into food before, but the idea of learning a new and useful skill for once had been compelling, and. He’d falling into it in his spare time, with nothing better to do than watch cooking shows and videos, and read books on techniques. When he was more able-bodied, he’d experimented. Recipes were relatively simple once you knew the mechanics, though there was an added element of perfecting them, which he came to enjoy.
They were also very focusing, and if he was focusing on the food, he wasn’t focusing on other things. So the time passed more quickly.
When Ballister showed up, Ambrosius was deep cleaning the fryer. He’d made some fries and had to try a few times with different recipes to get them just right. It was only when he paused to look in Ballister’s direction that he realized with a wince that he might have overdone things today, given a soft radiating pain from his leg.
Ambrosius still smiled when Ballister walked in.
The other man froze as he looked over the kitchen. “Good grief, Ambrosius, are we having a party?”
Ambrosius followed his line of sight to see that the table was filled with a fresh batch of muffins, cookies, a small cake, the fries, the lasagna, and a chicken curry.
“Oh, I… I guess I got a little carried away.” He realized after a moment that he’d started clutching his cleaning rag. He tried to relax his fingers unobtrusively.
“It looks great,” Ballister said. Then he yawned. “But I’m kind of tired. Might just turn in for the night.”
“Oh. Was your day okay?”
“Yeah. It was great.” Ballister looked kind of nervous. “I think I might go with Meredith’s proposal of going after my engineering doctorate. It could do a lot of good for the lab.”
“That’s amazing! You’d be so good at it!” Ambrosius felt his smile widening. Ballister was so smart. And he deserved all the accolades for it.
“Yeah. It’d be nice to have the degree, too. But it’ll be a lot of work. But Meredith is busy working on that electrical grid for Nextlandia, so that’ll be bringing in a lot of money for the lab in the meanwhile. And I can still work on projects while I’m studying.”
“That’s so amazing…” Ambrosius said, truly awed. He’d met Dr. Blitzmeyer a few times now, and the different projects she worked on were incredible, even if he didn’t fully understand the point of all of them. He was so happy Ballister had her as a friend, since Ballister always seemed so jubilant after spending time with her, working on the things he’d always dreamed of doing. Sure, he liked being a knight well enough, but science had always been his passion, and he was flourishing.
And Ambrosius was so happy for him. It was more than he ever could have had at the Institution. Knights weren’t encouraged to be scientists. They were just meant to hit people with weapons or look handsome.
Ballister looked at Ambrosius and smiled back. “Have you considered that? Going to college for something?”
Ambrosius blinked and laughed awkwardly. “Wha-me? I’m not… smart enough for that…”
Ballister smiled. “You’re brilliant, Ambrosius. With cooking, if nothing else. And combat. And you may not have a closet interest in the sciences, but you were good with every subject we were trained on at the academy.”
“I passed my tests,” Ambrosius said quietly, flushing. “You didn’t have to be brilliant to pass…” Mostly just do your homework, turn it in, and attend classes regularly. Ambrosius’ specialty had always been following orders, and that’s all school ever was.
“Tell that to the people who didn’t.”
Ambrosius smiled softly, feeling something warm in his chest at Ballister’s encouragement. “Still, I don’t… I don’t have anything I could study… I don’t think there are degrees in sword-fighting…” He couldn’t imagine being a chef. He liked cooking, sure, but… the idea of studying it professionally to do… what? Prepare special desserts in his spare time to eat on his own, since Ballister didn’t eat much at the best of times? What a great use of his time.
Stop being ungrateful, he chided himself.
“Maybe history?” Ballister replied, picking up a fry from the bowl and eating it. He grinned and looked back at Ambrosius. “Or you could go to cooking school. I’m sure they’d have all kinds of equipment you could try. Or… maybe botany? I’m sure you’d love a greenhouse. I know you always watch the gardeners when they’re working on the grounds.”
Though the entire conversation was flattering, Ambrosius realized with a lurch of his stomach that Ballister might be… hinting at something. “Do you want me to go?” Ambrosius asked, trying to keep the fear out of his voice. What if Ballister actually found him annoying? Always sitting around the house, begging for attention… All the trips to the hospital for physical therapy after his injury…
“I want you to do what makes you happy,” Ballister replied. “I think you’d have a lot of fun at college. It’s lively and there’s so much to learn. You’d meet lots of people, too.”
Ambrosius looked down at his dirty towel. Was Ballister annoyed at the way Ambrosius was always clinging to him? Moving in to the fortress, always hanging around, always there at mealtimes, when Ballister clearly preferred to read…
“Sometimes I wonder what Nimona would have been like if she’d gone to college…”
Ambrosius froze.
“I mean it’s quite possible she was ancient, so maybe she’s too old for that. But I think it would have served her better than working with me. A lot better.” Ballister sighed. “Anyway, think on it? I’m gonna head off for the night.” Ballister waved and walked down the hall.
It was only in the silence after his door shut that Ambrosius realized that Ballister hadn’t even asked how Ambrosius’ day was.
Well, I don’t do anything, so what’s there to ask about?
Ambrosius finished cleaning, put the food away, and went to bed.
He had the same nightmare that night, and woke up exhausted, his eyes wet, his clothing soaked with sweat. But thankfully, no sleep paralysis.
He pulled the blankets around himself tightly, watching the outline of sunshine around the closed blackout curtains, and didn’t want to leave the bed. He felt rung out, like a dishcloth. He was so out of it the previous even that he’d forgotten to plan what he’d do today, so he couldn’t even imagine anything to tempt him out.
He decided, well… what if he just stayed in bed, then? Who would mind? It’s not like Ballister kept tabs on his spending or how much time he kept in the kitchen.
He felt a bit bad he wouldn’t make Ballister breakfast, but it felt like a distant problem, for some reason.
He felt a thrill of fear at the idea that Ballister would be disappointed in him, lazing about like this.
But… Ballister wanted him to go to school anyway. Make something of himself. Be around other people.
To leave.
Because he wasn’t Nimona. He wasn’t interesting or special on his own. He was just… Ambrosius Goldenloin. Ex-knight. Current nobody.
No, Ballister’s not like that… he thought. He burrowed under the covers. “I’m grateful,” he said quietly, into the sheets. “I’m… I’m good. I’m the… the… b...”
Ambrosius hated that he was crying again. He fell into a fitful sleep. Thankfully, he didn’t dream.
He woke to knocking on his door.
“Ambrosius? Are you there?”
Ambrosius grumbled, but pushed himself up to reply, “Yes, Ballister.” His voice was raw from crying.
“Everything okay? You weren’t at breakfast.”
“I’m fine. Just… headache. I have a headache.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Do you need anything?”
“No, I’m fine, thank you.”
“Okay. I hope you feel better soon! I’m heading to work.”
“Okay. Have a good day!”
“You too!”
Ambrosius lowered his bed back to the pillows. He didn’t like lying to Ballister. He never had. Worse, they’d promised: no more lies. No more of Ambrosius’ silly stories.
Ambrosius didn’t realize he started crying again.
He woke again to more knocking. It was dark outside his windows. He’d slept fitfully through the day, and again, no more dreams.
Perhaps he was too tired to dream. He hoped things stayed that way.
“Ambrosius? You in there?”
It took longer for Ambrosius to push himself up. “Yes, Ballister.”
“You feeling any better?”
Ambrosius considered, then replied, “Not really.”
“You sure I can’t get you anything? Did you eat today?”
“I’m fine. I’m not hungry.” At least that wasn’t a lie. The idea of food made him nauseous.
“…If you’re sure… I can always make you something.” There was an awkward chuckle, “And there’s plenty of leftovers if you don’t want to suffer through my cooking.”
“I’m sure. Thank you for offering.” I’m grateful. I’m…
“All right… Sleep well!”
“You too,” Ambrosius called.
In the early morning, perhaps around 4 AM, he got up and went to the bathroom, then took a shower. He changed out of his pajamas and put on fresh clothes, then sat on his bed and stared at the window, watching the sunrise.
What did he think he was doing? Taking up space in Ballister’s home, using up his kitchen supplies, filling up his fridge, wasting Ballister’s time… Now here he couldn’t even be grateful for all that Ballister had done for him. Couldn’t even make breakfast. Couldn’t do anything. He bought coloring books because he didn’t do anything…
What was left of the Institution, reorganized in a less martial branch of the government, wanted nothing to do with him. A useless knight who hadn’t accomplished much in his recent tenure and was bad for publicity because of the gossip about how much he’d helped the Institution mixed with people saying he’d been pro-Ballister all along. And it was the only place that had ever wanted him, all his life, in any capacity. The only people who had ever wanted him.
Why would Ballister be any different? They weren’t children anymore, and Ballister’s only limitation back then had been the Institution walls. Now he was free to meet whoever he wanted, and clearly they were more fulfilling than Ambrosius could ever be. Like it was even hard.
He wasn’t unhappy Ballister was finally happy in the life he made for himself, particularly without the Institution standing over him, blackening his name and making things worse. But it was hard to understand why Ballister wasted his time on Ambrosius, when there were so many other people to spend time with, like a college full of academics or other scientists like Dr. Blitzmeyer. Or politicians seeking his advice. Other Nimonas, probably, who didn’t transform into monsters, though perhaps Ballister would be happy to meet more monster people who needed him.
Ambrosius knew Ballister loved him. Ballister had said as much. But perhaps things had changed since they started living together again. Perhaps Ballister was reconsidering a lot of things.
There was a knock on his door. “Ambrosius? You up?”
After a moment, Ambrosius replied, trying to make his voice as clear as possible around his tears, “Yes, Ballister, I’m up.”
“You feel any better?”
“Yes. I’ll… be down in a bit. You don’t have to wait up.”
“…Okay.”
Ambrosius willed himself to get up and go downstairs. Instead he stared at the window for a while, then lay down and fell asleep.
His stomach grumbling woke him up this time, and he got up, straightened his hair, and shuffled out of his room towards the kitchen. From the clocks, he could see it was early afternoon. He found the lasagna in the fridge and reheated some before sitting at the dining table with it. He somehow managed to eat it all, though he wasn’t all that interested in it. It made his stomach stop grumbling, anyway. Then he cleaned his dishes and went to work out, wondering if that would trigger something in him.
He was back on his bed, staring at the ceiling, when Ballister knocked on his bedroom door again. It was early evening.
“Ambrosius? Are you awake?”
“Yes Ballister,” Ambrosius replied. I’m… I…
“Can I come in?”
I’d rather you didn’t, Ambrosius thought. But this was Ballister’s home, not Ambrosius’. He had no right to refuse. So he got up and walked to the door, then unlocked it, pulling it back a little.
Ballister stared at him, clearly worried.
“Is something wrong?” Ambrosius asked, unable to muster up a smile.
“Are you all right?” Ballister asked.
“I’m fine, Ballister. How was your day?”
Ballister blinked. “You’ve been crying.”
Ambrosius blinked and reached up slowly to his eyes. They did feel sore. He supposed he had cried a little. And he hadn’t cleaned himself up before seeing Ballister. “…Oh.” He felt the tears well up anew. “I’m sorry, I should have freshened up, I… just hold on a moment, I can…” He backed up and Ballister caught his arm.
“Ambrosius, it’s fine, did…? Why were you crying?”
Ambrosius didn’t know how to answer that question, and just stared at him.
“Ambrosius, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” Ambrosius said, quietly. “Everything is fine.” His voice broke on the last word, as if in mockery.
“Ambrosius, talk to me.” Ballister’s grip tightened slightly, but not painfully so. “We used to talk, didn’t we?”
“…You don’t like it when I tell stories.”
Ballister frowned. “I don’t mind if they’re true. Or at least not meant to cover up lies.”
So what could Ambrosius say then? He couldn’t be afraid of Nimona because he had no reason to be afraid. He couldn’t be upset about his life with Ballister because he had no reason to be upset. Saying otherwise would be a lie.
“Do you want to come sit on the couch with me?” Ballister finally asked.
“…Okay.”
Ballister tugged him out of the room and to the living room, where they sat together.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” Ballister said, staring at him with worry. “Please.”
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“You’re upset. Clearly something’s wrong.”
“I’m just being over-dramatic. You know me.” He tried to smile and couldn’t get it to work, so he gave up.
“I can’t remember ever seeing you like this,” Ballister said.
Ambrosius blinked, initially confused, because he could remember…
“Shape up.” The Director had told him when she’d cornered him in his office, crying again. “You’re starting to weird out the recruits.”
Ambrosius smiled bitterly. “You weren’t with me after… after the joust.”
Ballister stiffened.
“And I get it, I get… That was my fault. I’m sorry I brought that up. Sorry.” He moved away slightly from Ballister, pulling his legs up so that he could hug them and stare at the blank television. “I’m sorry.”
“…It’s okay, Ambrosius. You missed me, then?”
Ambrosius shut his eyes. “Yes. But I knew… I knew we were done, so...”
Ballister didn’t say anything to that.
Ambrosius knew he shouldn’t have said anything. It was dumb.
“I didn’t know,” Ballister said, quietly. “That you were upset about that.”
Ambrosius grimaced.
Ballister frowned. “But what… what brought this on now? Is this because of something I did?”
“No, you’re… you’re fine. You’re doing everything right.”
Ballister grimaced, clearly unsatisfied and his brain likely thinking at a million miles a second, “…Was it the college thing? I thought you were kind of oddly quiet and… But I didn’t know what to say. I thought you were just thinking it over.”
Ambrosius didn’t reply.
“You don’t have to go. It’s okay.”
“You want me to go. To leave.”
“To…? No, Ambrosius, I don’t want you to leave!” His eyes were wide in shock. “This is your home. I want you here.” He put a hand out on the couch near Ambrosius, without touching him, and there was concern on his face.
“Why?” Ambrosius asked. And he was crying again, damn it. His throat was getting tighter. “What good am I? I bake food you don’t eat, I don’t work, I’m not interesting, I’m not creative… I tried to kill your friend multiple times…”
“Ambrosius…” Ballister reached out and cupped his cheek, wiping away the tears. His own expression was sad. “Is this what you’ve been thinking all the time?”
“…Maybe. I don’t know.” Ambrosius swallowed thickly. “I can’t sleep, really. I had nightmares and then I wake up and all I see is… All I see is her…”
“Nightmares?” Ballister frowned. “Her? Her who?”
Ambrosius was quiet for a while. Then he said, “Nimona.”
Ballister stiffened.
“I’m sorry,” Ambrosius said. “I know it’s… I shouldn’t. I’m sorry.”
“You’re having nightmares of the battle?”
Ambrosius hugged himself.
“How long has this been happening?”
“…Almost since I woke up in the hospital. …The last few nights haven’t been so bad. I think I’m too tired to dream.”
“Why didn’t you tell the doctors? They could have done a psych eval or—”
“Nightmares aren’t… it doesn’t matter.”
“You could get help, Ambrosius,” Ballister said, frowning. Oh joy, Ambrosius had made him angry. “Trauma like this is… It’s normal in this situation. A lot of terrifying things happened, and you nearly died, and were still badly injured, and your mind is struggling to process it. That's why there are psychiatrists and psychologists and therapists and…” He swallowed. “Admittedly it’s not my field of expertise, but…”
Ambrosius grimaced. “…Sorry.”
Ballister sighed. “It’s fine. It’s not like we were really encouraged to talk about our feelings in the Institution, eh?” He smiled sadly. “And I remember you hated doctors.”
Ambrosius wanted to laugh at that, but couldn’t muster it. He remembered when he’d been younger and the doctors had checked him over when the Institution took him in. He’d asked where his parents were, and they’d told him to be quiet. Drugged him when he’d started crying.
He’d gotten over it as he got older, but he still disliked them.
“Ambrosius, we’ll figure this out,” Ballister said, squeezing his shoulder lightly. “But why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“You’re hurting, Ambrosius. I don’t want you to be in pain.”
“But I deserve it, don’t I?” Ambrosius stood up and walked away. “I hurt your friend. Tried to kill her. I deserve it.”
“Ambrosius, that’s not…” Ballister sighed. “Yes, you hurt her. And she hurt you right back. You don’t have to… pay a penance by having nightmares and being miserable. What does that accomplish?” He frowned. "Do you think I want you to suffer? I didn't want you in that fight, but I know why you did it, and you bought us time. And you paid for it, Ambrosius. You still are paying for it. Suffering when you could get help isn't the answer."
Ambrosius laughed. It was a broken sound and hurt his throat. “Of course, I can’t even get fucking… penance right…”
“Ambrosius…” Ballister got up and walked over to him, then pulled him into a hug. “It’s okay, Ambrosius. It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay,” Ambrosius glared at the carpet over Ballister’s shoulder, and his eyes burned. He hated himself for not pulling away, and for clinging to Ballister’s shirt. “Nothing is okay.” His leg twinged. He hadn’t been exercising properly and it was getting mad at him. He ignored it.
Ballister pulled him back to the couch and cradled him. “Ambrosius, I’m so sorry, I should have noticed.”
“You’re busy, and it’s not your problem,” Ambrosius said, quietly, hating himself for this. For being this useless.
“I love you,” Ballister said, quietly. “I want you to be happy. So it is my problem.”
Ambrosius started crying harder, burying his head in Ballister’s chest. “You shouldn’t. You do so much for me already. I’m sorry…”
“You don’t have to keep apologizing,” Ballister said, lightly carding his hand through Ambrosius’ hair. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“But you’ll make me go away…” Ambrosius smiled. “People always do that, when I screw up.”
“Make you…?” Ballister froze. “Who made you go away?”
“…”
“Is that what the Director threatened you with? Getting rid of you?”
“…Sometimes.”
“What did she threaten you with the rest of the time?”
“…Killing you.”
Ballister’s eyes widened. “Fuck.” Then he scowled. "I'm glad she's dead."
“Heh, yeah.” After a moment Ambrosius grimaced and pulled away. “Ballister, I need to… I need to stretch, I’m sorry…”
Ballister’s eyes widened again and he let go.
Ambrosius grunted as he moved back, carefully moving his leg back and forth to ease the pain.
“Do you need to go to a doctor?” Ballister asked, watching him. “Is it worse?”
“No, I just… staying in the room wasn’t good.” He knew and he’d done it anyway.
Ballister grimaced. “Ambrosius…”
Ambrosius didn’t say anything. He was ready for a lecture, or forty, perhaps.
“We need to talk more, I think,” Ballister said, looking at him with a steady expression. “I mean that’s obvious. If you’re hurting, you need to let me know so I can help. Suffering in silence doesn’t help anyone. It just makes me feel bad.”
Ambrosius grimaced.
“And then I feel bad because you’re already miserable. And I don’t want to make it worse.” He reached out and rubbed Ambrosius’ left shoulder comfortingly.
Ambrosius sagged back on the couch, letting his leg down.
“…What’s something you need right now?” Ballister asked. “If you could have anything?”
Ambrosius blinked. “I don’t…”
“Just think for a bit. It doesn’t have to be immediate.”
Ambrosius grimaced, then said, “I’d like to sleep well for once. Even now when I’m not having nightmares, I’m not resting.”
Ballister nodded, then smiled ruefully. “You remember when we were boys you said you always slept better when I was around? Is that still true you think?”
Ambrosius flushed. “I mean… it’s been a while.” And Ballister would see, he’d…
“If it makes you uncomfortable we don’t have to.”
“I just… don’t want to make more work for you…”
Ballister smiled sadly. “Ambrosius, not sleeping alone is hardly effort on my part. Maybe taking you to more doctor’s appointments isn’t an issue. Talking more, spending more time with you… that’s what being in a relationship is about. That’s not work. And if it is, it’s work I’d gladly do. Because I love you.”
Ambrosius flushed.
“Do you want to spend more time with me?” Ballister asked, cautiously.
“Of course I do!” Ambrosius said, then grimaced and looked away.
Ballister squeezed his shoulder. “Then we’re of agreement on that.” There was warmth in his voice.
Ambrosius shut his eyes.
“I almost lost you once… twice, maybe more times than that,” Ballister said, quietly. “Not just in the fight with Nimona. But the joust, too. And all the times over the years we've fought, almost to our deaths, and I had to walk away and..." He shook his head. "I won’t lose you again, Ambrosius.”
Ambrosius blinked his eyes open and looked at Ballister, who was watching him with a sad smile.
“I know what it’s like to get lost in yourself. Tangled in your own misery, thinking people are better off without you. If I can make things even a little lighter for you, I want to. But you have to let me in. You have to work with me.” His smile widened. “All right?”
Ambrosius swallowed, feeling more tears on his cheeks, and nodded.
Ballister nodded and sighed. “I wish I’d seen this sooner. I think I was too caught up in everything else to even notice… and I’m sorry for that, Ambrosius. You deserve better.”
Ambrosius swallowed, not quite agreeing with that. But he liked that Ballister seemed to think so. Still, he pointed out, “You have important work.”
“You’re more important to me than my work, Ambrosius,” Ballister said, moving closer so he could pull Ambrosius down to lean on his chest.
Ambrosius felt his face warm, and was surprised when Ballister started carding fingers through his hair.
It reminded him of when they’d been younger. Sometimes Ballister would brush his hair for him. Ballister always said he’d liked Ambrosius’ hair. So Ambrosius kept it long, to give Ballister more excuses to brush it.
Ambrosius smiled sadly. “I really screwed up, huh?”
“We both did,” Ballister said. “What matters is that we’re here, talking about it. And things are going to change.”
Ambrosius laughed. “You always have the right answers, Ballister. And plans for everything.”
“It’s because I have you at my side,” Ballister said. “Supporting me and encouraging me. You don’t know what it’s like to go back to being just some scientist again, feeling woefully out of your depth sometimes. Whenever I come home and you encourage me, I feel like I can face whatever’s out there in the world. And knowing it’s a world where I get to be with you, at long last? Where we can try to build the lives we always wanted, together? Well that makes me try all the harder to make it better.”
Ambrosius swallowed and clutched at Ballister’s pants-leg. “You… Stop it! You’re just making me cry more!” He wasn’t that important, was he? He’d only ever been a burden to people.
But Ballister wouldn’t lie to him. Even at the worst parts of their lives, Ballister never lied, not about the important things, anyway. And even Ambrosius could tell this was an important thing.
Ballister chuckled and leaned down to kiss Ambrosius’ forehead. “All right, I’ll stop.”
But they also just sat there for a while, not saying anything. Ambrosius knew they’d probably talk some more, and he’d probably be incredibly dramatic about it. But… it was nice, to know how much he meant to Ballister.
After a time, Ambrosius said, “Do you want to order out tonight? I’m kind of hungry.”
“We have a lot of leftovers…”
“I’d rather just splurge on something, for a change of pace.”
Ballister laughed. “All right. At least if it’s bad we have options, I suppose.”
Ambrosius pushed himself up and smiled at Ballister, who smiled back at him.
“…I love you, too,” Ambrosius said, albeit a bit quietly. He leaned forward and kiss Ballister on the lips. It wasn’t a particularly good kiss, but it was okay enough, as things went.
When he pulled back, they were both breathing a little quickly.
Ambrosius leaned his forehead against Ballister’s and said, “You get me through everything, too. I’m so grateful you’re back in my life.” He swallowed. “I’m so grateful.”
Ballister pulled him close for another kiss, cupping his cheek with the metal hand. When they broke apart, Ballister said with a warm, teary smile, “Me too, Ambrosius. Me too.”