You know how it goes. Sometimes a little genocide brings out the best in people. Or at least the most pragmatic.
[ The wine isn't nearly enough to get him even close to drunk, but it'll be enough to help him sleep.
He pauses for a long, long time. ]
There's- there's shit I can't tell you yet. And it's not because we want to keep secrets from you. I just- cant. [ The fire crackles, and he squints his eyes at it. ] But have you heard of a place called Lindenfeld?
They got worse and we could have stopped them. Should have. We should have just gone in, slit up everyone who was fucking things up and the head man for good measure, and left. But we did things right. Her way. With investigating, and trying to find out the truth. The slow way.
[ He takes a gulp of the wine. ]
I'm meant to protect her from shit like this. I know better. This shit doesn't get to me anymore. But I got caught up in her thinking that we were big fucking heroes who could do everything the good way, and I let it backfire on her. On a lot of people.
[He's quiet. But he listens, and then? Then the guilt grows. The details aren't exacting, but he can understand where things ended. Too many deaths, and someone in charge related to the reason why some of that was a problem.
And Trevor lays the blame at his own feet. Because things were going well.
Eventually, he manages:]
I would have taken the slow way too. Because it was safer and would have seemingly gotten fewer people hurt.
We could have torched the place ourselves, in the end, and it would have ended better. At least the ones that didn't get off on murdering all the little children would have gone somewhere better.
[ He drains the glass. It's not enough. The entire fucking wine cellar wouldn't be enough. ]
I shouldn't be putting this on you. I shouldn't need to put it on anyone. But she's hurt. She's hurt, and I let it happen because I turned into an idiot the second a pretty girl grabbed my hand and said that things didn't have to be shit.
Doesn't feel like it, these days. [ A bitter laugh. ] Shouldn't have left, should we?
[ It's the first time he's brought that particular thing up. He puts the glass down on the table, looking up to stare at the ceiling. ]
Your hunters wouldn't have tried shit. And nobody would need to know about the little village that got condemned to hell. She'd still be happy. We could have just won once then stopped and not tried again.
[They're both miserable and barely drunk. What a shitty way to be dealing with any of this. The Belmont looking up. Him looking down. A study in contrasts, aren't they?]
Mmm.
[That's all he can say. Because Trevor's right. They did their one good deed. They don't have to do anything else ever again. Yet they did, and why?
He brings his feet up onto the sofa, if only so he can rest his chin atop his knees. Stare at the fire.]
[ He says that, but he must have managed to get a little drunk. Or maybe he's been trying to not talk honestly for so long he's lost the ability to stop himself once he starts. Because he keeps staring at the ceiling, but his attention is on Alucard. ]
Would you have wanted us here? The same way- the same way we wanted each other there?
[ Except clearly he doesn't. And- shit, that probably isn't an appropriate thing to ask Alucard after recent events. Even if he did want to be part of - whatever it is he and Sypha have nowadays - he almost certainly doesn't care for the idea anymore. ]
[ It's pointless to think about now. It's stupid to wish that things were different, that he could just reach out and pull Alucard close and make things better. He can't even make things better by pulling Sypha close, and she likes being held. ]
We- fuck. [ Even now, he can't bring himself to say it aloud. ] Both of us, I think. I know it doesn't mean shit now. Can't mean shit.
It's bullshit, isn't it? That it can all go so wrong.
Isn't that just the story. [ A sigh. ] Isn't that just every fucking story there is, sooner or later. One stupid, selfish, fearful person. Doing one stupid, selfish, fearful thing.
[ He doesn't touch Alucard, but he buries his fingers in the edge of the blanket. Just enough that it shifts slightly against him. Like a pup tugging at clothing. ]
When it's easier - it if ever gets easier - we'll be here. If we go, we'll come back. So long as we have legs to make the journey on.
I did what she would have wanted. What you gave me the Hold for.
[There's such misery in the words that squeak out. Alucard's managed to hide his misery from the other two until this, even with the matter of his mother's death. This? This is something so very different.
He doesn't even acknowledge that Trevor's tugging at the blanket. It's just happening around him.]
I know. Sometimes- sometimes you do everything right, and the world just decides to kick you in the teeth for it anyway.
[ There's nothing more he can do, is there? Other than just be here on a sofa too soft for his bones with wine that isn't going to get him drunk. ]
Then we're here anyway. We're here, and you can be part of- whatever the fuck it is that we are, if you want to be. We just figure out how to make it work.
What would you have done differently, if you did expect something? Would you have turned them away when they needed help?
[ He shakes his head. ]
It will. We'll just- need to figure out what it working looks like. Maybe nothing ever changes, but we all know you're welcome if you're ever ready, and that alone is different.
[He could've chased them away. Or sent them elsewhere. Denied who he was or any number of things.
But he didn't. He didn't because he wanted to be the son his mother would want, and the custodian of the Hold that Trevor might appreciate. He didn't because he was so fucking lonely and that part hasn't changed.
There's something to how convinced Trevor is that this can change. That's what breaks him, finally. What gets a tiny, strangled sob out of Alucard's throat, hardly caring that Trevor's hearing the noise.]
I don't believe you. I think you'd have fallen for the whole thing, even knowing. Maybe not the last part, but everything else. I think you'd have given them a chance to be better. The two of you aren't like me. You're not the sorts to sit in a nice tall tree and laugh while people suffer.
[ He talks over Alucard's sobs, because what else is he supposed to do? When Sypha cries, he holds her. He can't do that for Alucard. And he can't just ignore him and leave the room like he would for anyone else. He can just listen, and then awkwardly keep talking. ]
[He tries to mute the next noise that wants to come out. Alucard....more or less manages, but it's still an awful little thing that tears at his inside. Trevor doesn't need this. He doesn't need this Sypha is already leaning on him so much.]
I don't think you've been that person for a bit.
[He does manage that much. But then shame just swallows the rest of his words. Makes a response impossible for the next few minutes, as hot tears stream down his face.
And I should have been. One of us has to be a selfish fuck, or things like this happen. And the two of you? Shitty at being selfish.
[ He waits. He waits and he listens. It'd be easier, to know for sure what's denied to them now so he can figure out the next best thing. Instead, he just has to guess. ]
I'll talk to her about it, in the morning. And then after breakfast we move one of the big chairs from here up next to the bed. Then you sleep in it, on nights you feel up to it. All the joys of hearing my snoring all night with none of the touching.
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[ The wine isn't nearly enough to get him even close to drunk, but it'll be enough to help him sleep.
He pauses for a long, long time. ]
There's- there's shit I can't tell you yet. And it's not because we want to keep secrets from you. I just- cant. [ The fire crackles, and he squints his eyes at it. ] But have you heard of a place called Lindenfeld?
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[He's feeling far more cynical about humanity these days. Uses that pause to drain the rest of his wine and pour himself a second glass.]
No. That sounds closer to Germanic though rather than Wallachian.
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[ Was. ]
We fucked up.
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[ It doesn't feel like it does. ]
They got worse and we could have stopped them. Should have. We should have just gone in, slit up everyone who was fucking things up and the head man for good measure, and left. But we did things right. Her way. With investigating, and trying to find out the truth. The slow way.
[ He takes a gulp of the wine. ]
I'm meant to protect her from shit like this. I know better. This shit doesn't get to me anymore. But I got caught up in her thinking that we were big fucking heroes who could do everything the good way, and I let it backfire on her. On a lot of people.
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And Trevor lays the blame at his own feet. Because things were going well.
Eventually, he manages:]
I would have taken the slow way too. Because it was safer and would have seemingly gotten fewer people hurt.
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[ He drains the glass. It's not enough. The entire fucking wine cellar wouldn't be enough. ]
I shouldn't be putting this on you. I shouldn't need to put it on anyone. But she's hurt. She's hurt, and I let it happen because I turned into an idiot the second a pretty girl grabbed my hand and said that things didn't have to be shit.
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[Child murdering. Fuck. No wonder. No wonder.
His shoulders almost cave in.]
You were happy. That's allowed to happen.
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[ It's the first time he's brought that particular thing up. He puts the glass down on the table, looking up to stare at the ceiling. ]
Your hunters wouldn't have tried shit. And nobody would need to know about the little village that got condemned to hell. She'd still be happy. We could have just won once then stopped and not tried again.
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Mmm.
[That's all he can say. Because Trevor's right. They did their one good deed. They don't have to do anything else ever again. Yet they did, and why?
He brings his feet up onto the sofa, if only so he can rest his chin atop his knees. Stare at the fire.]
Yet here we are.
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[ He says that, but he must have managed to get a little drunk. Or maybe he's been trying to not talk honestly for so long he's lost the ability to stop himself once he starts. Because he keeps staring at the ceiling, but his attention is on Alucard. ]
Would you have wanted us here? The same way- the same way we wanted each other there?
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[He wants to close his eyes, but it doesn't happen. He can't. He isn't safe if he does.]
How do you mean?
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[ Except clearly he doesn't. And- shit, that probably isn't an appropriate thing to ask Alucard after recent events. Even if he did want to be part of - whatever it is he and Sypha have nowadays - he almost certainly doesn't care for the idea anymore. ]
-nevermind. Sorry, asshole question to ask you.
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Fuck.
He does close his eyes at this point. Shifts, so it's forehead resting on his knees and his face buried. There's no clearer I would have he can say.
Everything's been burnt to ashes. Again.]
You have your answer.
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[ It's pointless to think about now. It's stupid to wish that things were different, that he could just reach out and pull Alucard close and make things better. He can't even make things better by pulling Sypha close, and she likes being held. ]
We- fuck. [ Even now, he can't bring himself to say it aloud. ] Both of us, I think. I know it doesn't mean shit now. Can't mean shit.
It's bullshit, isn't it? That it can all go so wrong.
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[And so horrifying.]
One action changes a person's entire world. Yet the rest of the world around us moves on and doesn't care.
[He understands his father so much better now.]
Better to shut the world out and avoid that.
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[ He doesn't touch Alucard, but he buries his fingers in the edge of the blanket. Just enough that it shifts slightly against him. Like a pup tugging at clothing. ]
When it's easier - it if ever gets easier - we'll be here. If we go, we'll come back. So long as we have legs to make the journey on.
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[There's such misery in the words that squeak out. Alucard's managed to hide his misery from the other two until this, even with the matter of his mother's death. This? This is something so very different.
He doesn't even acknowledge that Trevor's tugging at the blanket. It's just happening around him.]
What if it doesn't get easier, Belmont?
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[ There's nothing more he can do, is there? Other than just be here on a sofa too soft for his bones with wine that isn't going to get him drunk. ]
Then we're here anyway. We're here, and you can be part of- whatever the fuck it is that we are, if you want to be. We just figure out how to make it work.
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[Been a soft thing. Who trusted people. When the fuck did that ever work out from him?]
If it doesn't work though, Belmont. What then?
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[ He shakes his head. ]
It will. We'll just- need to figure out what it working looks like. Maybe nothing ever changes, but we all know you're welcome if you're ever ready, and that alone is different.
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[He could've chased them away. Or sent them elsewhere. Denied who he was or any number of things.
But he didn't. He didn't because he wanted to be the son his mother would want, and the custodian of the Hold that Trevor might appreciate. He didn't because he was so fucking lonely and that part hasn't changed.
There's something to how convinced Trevor is that this can change. That's what breaks him, finally. What gets a tiny, strangled sob out of Alucard's throat, hardly caring that Trevor's hearing the noise.]
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[ He talks over Alucard's sobs, because what else is he supposed to do? When Sypha cries, he holds her. He can't do that for Alucard. And he can't just ignore him and leave the room like he would for anyone else. He can just listen, and then awkwardly keep talking. ]
What would you want, if you weren't afraid?
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I don't think you've been that person for a bit.
[He does manage that much. But then shame just swallows the rest of his words. Makes a response impossible for the next few minutes, as hot tears stream down his face.
Eventually though...]
I don't know. I might've had an answer once.
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[ He waits. He waits and he listens. It'd be easier, to know for sure what's denied to them now so he can figure out the next best thing. Instead, he just has to guess. ]
I'll talk to her about it, in the morning. And then after breakfast we move one of the big chairs from here up next to the bed. Then you sleep in it, on nights you feel up to it. All the joys of hearing my snoring all night with none of the touching.
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