Who: Ford Harper, Cate Adler, Kent Brightstar What: Mistaken identity and what the hell is going on? When: Monday, May 13, 2019 | 5:30 pm Where: Crimson Kestrel Warnings: Some language
After going to the trouble of buying groceries, Ford had found that he was far too tired to actually use them. Which was irritating, but that had been his prevailing mood all day, so it wasn't anything new. Even his meeting at the grocery—with one Quentin Wagtail, the card had informed him—had only lifted his spirits temporarily. He knew it was a symptom of the portkey travel and the change of time zones, but his mood always followed his body when he felt shitty, and today was no exception.
He sat at the bar at the Crimson Kestrel and grabbed a menu card. He caught the bartender looking at him in his peripheral vision, which made him glance up automatically. Her eyes were wide, and he looked behind him to make sure she was actually looking at him. Yep. And she looked startled. Maybe she was a fan who'd seen him during one of his few public appearances. One of the fans who actually believed he was a vampire. That brought a hint of a smile to his face. He'd try to burst her bubble once she was done with the large group clustered at the other end of the bar, but for now he could enjoy that infamy.
The last vestiges of his latest headache were fading, but Kent's face hadn't yet cleared from the scowl it had left there as he strode into the Kestrel. His night was already planned out--quality time with the boyfriend--and he'd offered to pick up dinner to make it extra worth Tony's while. He almost growled to see the bar as busy as it was, but a single sighting of Cate put his mind a little more at ease. Even if they couldn't talk much, maybe he could get by with just a couple of words and a kiss. He walked up to wait, barely paying attention to the other man sitting close by right up until his profile registered.
He looked sharply over at Thorne, brows rising and collapsing in surprise and confusion, respectively. "What the fuck are you doing here? Shouldn't you be somewhere out East, selling your soul?"
Ford almost didn't realize that the man next to him was addressing him. The words took a moment to register, and when they did, he found his hand drifting subtly closer to his wand pocket. Obviously someone else who'd listened to his podcast, but it was difficult to tell from his tone whether it was surprise or revulsion that drove the question. "If you believe the masses, my soul was sold a long time ago, but I prefer to form my own opinions about that." He attempted a friendly smile, though he thought it was likely tinged with hesitance.
Kent rolled his eyes and sat down a couple of stools over. "Like you've ever given a fuck about the masses or what they believe. How'd you get here so fast? Portkey?"
Well, he wasn't wrong. Ford shrugged, though it still made him vaguely uncomfortable to have someone inquiring after his travel plans. If he hadn't made it perfectly clear in his podcast that he was from the east coast, and on his Wizgram that he was in this territory, he would have felt it more so. "Portkey," he confirmed. "Not as much fun as turning into a bat and flying, but sometimes you just need expediency."
Those words made it feel like Thorne had just taken his apology and thrown it right back in his face--three days later. A flash of anger went through his head, but, like thunder, pain rippled so hot and so fast on its heels that he actually winced. Kent had to shut his eyes a second just to keep the resultant nausea at bay. "Already said I'm sorry about that," he grumbled to the bartop. "Don't know what else you want from me."
He turned to the other wizard, leaning toward him. "I'm sorry, okay? If I made you feel bad. You never deserved it. I was just an asshole."
Ford frowned at his menu at the abrupt change in the stranger's demeanor. Another abrupt change. Maybe he just had issues. It was the man leaning in that really got the reaction, though, and Ford scooted back so far on his stool that he nearly tumbled off of it. Really, it was a miracle that he managed to keep his seat. "Look, whatever it was, it's fine," he said quickly. "I get trol—er, mean comments all the time. Apology accepted, all that."
That reaction was extreme, even for Thorne, and Kent felt like he was right back in that room in the library again. All frustration and anger and some weird simmering hurt. "Fuck's sake, dude. I'm not gonna touch you. You're not worth the hassle, let's be real. And there are far too many people who would wanna kick my ass if I did."
So much for their apparent truce.
Even though she was doing her best to do her job with her normal smile, Cate's eyes kept flicking over to where Kent and Thorne were talking. It was weird when she was so worried about both of them to see them sitting together, but far weirder that Thorne was here at all. Wasn't the trial supposed to last multiple days? Sure, there was magic and everything, but it seemed like it'd be too exhausting to bother coming all the way back to Montana—and especially after their discussion that afternoon.
That didn't stop her from serving the required drinks and immediately circling around the bar to throw her arms around his neck. She knew he mostly didn't like the physical contact, but she couldn't help it just now. "You came back."
Ford entirely blamed the man next to him rattling him for the way he shrieked when the bartender—who, in that first moment, could have been any crazy person—hugged him. He pulled away, and attempted to leap back, but he was all at once so lightheaded that he had to hold onto the bar to keep his balance. Maybe his mom was right and he shouldn't have come, but they had asked him to come and given him plenty of personal incentive, too. Could anyone really blame him?
"Ohmygod, Thorne, are you okay?" The redhead hovered with arms out, but didn't touch him again.
"Yeah, I'm—" And then it hit him. For fuck's sake, brain! he chastised himself as he looked up at her, and then over at the man to his left. "I'm fine." Or as fine as he could be, anyway. "But I'm not who you apparently think I am."
There was that bizarre reaction again--except maybe the one in his head was even more disconcerting, because if he had to name it, it would have to be jealousy. But the emotion itself wasn't the problem; it was the split focus of the feeling. Pain lanced through his head again, instinctive alarm bells that were screeching abort abort abort at him. Kent dug the heel of his hand into his brow bone before he dropped it. And stared. Tilted his head as the world went wobbly. "What the fuck, Thorne?"
Ford took a deep breath and managed by sheer force of will to get himself upright again, holding up a hand in some vague attempt to hold off any further such questions. "I'm not Thorne." He sank down onto the barstool out of necessity and ran a hand over his face. He looked between them. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize that people would—I mean, I knew it was a small town, but I thought the town was mostly No-Maj, so I figured I could take my time trying to—" He breathed out heavily again. "Sorry, I'm doing this all wrong. I'm Ford Harper. And apparently Thorne Proudfoot is my twin brother."
Cate gaped at him, but her glance over at Kent's pained expression was at least enough to keep her from stiffening up entirely in her shock. She crossed the few feet over to her boyfriend casually laid a hand on the back of his neck, massaging it lightly. "Thorne's...twin. I've known him since we were children. He doesn't—" But obviously he did. He was adopted, of course, so it was entirely possible, and other than some small details she was starting to notice now—lack of glasses, length of hair, style of dress—he looked just like Thorne.
Not that he could have known it, of course, but Kent's thoughts were mirror images of Cate's. The minute (and not so minute) differences in appearance, the inflection of his speech. The way that cruel spike of desire turned sour in his gut. He wasn't Thorne. And what the fuck did that profound disappointment mean? What the fuck in general? His brain was throbbing, even with Cate's touch trying to feed calm into his fracturing nerves. "This is some soap opera bullshit. Where the hell did you come from?"
"Uh...Virginia?" Ford said, unsure how else to answer.
Cate gave a short laugh at that, and at Kent's mention of soap operas. It really was something like one of Tony's shows would have dreamed up. "Are you here looking for Thorne?"
Ford bit his lip, debating how much of an answer to give to that. Given the way the redhead had hugged him, he was assuming the two were at least friendly. Maybe this was what he needed. "Yes and no. I mean, yes, I am looking for him, but I'm also here for a project, too. I'm a...well, a public speaker of sorts. On the internet, anyway. I have a podcast." God, maybe he wasn't as good at this whole talking to people thing as he'd thought when talking to Quentin. "And there have been things going on here that interest me."
After a brief glance at Cate, Kent went a little tense, and his eyes narrowed at this interloper that looked like pain-in-his-ass Thorne. He was more than aware of how defensive he sounded. He could even admit that maybe he was acting a little weird. Try as he might, just just couldn't fucking stop himself. "What things?"
Ford pressed his lips together, aware now that he'd probably said more than he'd intended. This was why podcasts weren't live! But while they'd told him to be cautious while he was digging around, it wasn't exactly secret, was it? After all, the intention was to create broadcasts talking about the things he managed to glean. "Things relevant to my platform. Which happens to be Being rights, in case you didn't know. Which, of course you don't, but that's my thing. I'm a half-vampire, you know."
"Yeah, we know that much," Cate said, and she couldn't help that there was a trace of amusement alongside the shock and awe in her voice. Even if the physical differences weren't apparent, the rest was definitely not Thorne. Her hand slid from Kent's neck to wrap around his waist instead. A quick glance confirmed that no one from the big group at the other end currently needed her. "I'm Cate. This is Kent."
The slight weight of Cate's arm was a desperately needed anchor. He could breathe a little easier, maybe even muster some semblance of manners. Kent extended his hand. "Dr. Brightstar, healer over at the reserve. Keenly interested in Being rights."
Ford hesitated for a moment, not because he didn't want to shake, but because the gesture surprised him after the weird intermittent vibes he'd been getting from the man. He reached out and gave his hand a firm squeeze, the sort he would have handed out during his infrequent attendance at various podcasting networking events. At least Dad had taught him something useful. "That's great. Really great. I've loads of questions I want to ask." He sighed, because this was one of those times when, in the past, he'd ploughed through, and ultimately he always regretted it. "But I'm afraid my brain is entirely wiped at the moment. Too much portkeying, time zone change, all that jazz. Can I ask for a rain check?"
"Oh god, you must be hungry, then. Sorry, forgot that you were sitting here waiting to order while I was gaping at you." Cate smiled at him, even as seeing that face tugged at the tendrils of worry in the back of her head. "Can you I get you something? This is my family's bar. I'm usually the one you'll see here at night."
She took orders for both of them, then excused herself with a little smile at both of them—albeit a rather more significant one at Kent, more than a little tinged with worry.
There was just the barest hint of a smile that lingered after Cate left, but faded into something slightly more wary as he regarded this Ford-not-Thorne-wtf guy again. "Office hours are 8 to 5, Monday through Friday with alternating on-call weekends and staggered lunch hours to ensure coverage. I'm not the overnight person this week, so I should be around Medical during normal human hours if you want to message the department. Or me directly. Whichever is easier."
Ford blinked at the formal nature of the invitation. Sure, the guy had introduced himself as a doctor, a healer at the reserve, but Ford wasn't here to ask those sorts of questions. There was the slightest hint of a frown and a furrowed brow as he asked, "What sort of doctor are you? Or healer? Are you both?"
"Both. Board certified veterinarian doctor and trained creature healer. I specialized in Emergency Medicine and Cardiology." He wasn't bragging. It was just a fact of his life. "I've been considering picking up something in Being physiology, with an emphasis on studying the generational effects in cross-species, and the dispersion of abilities or detriments along bloodlines." Kent shrugged a shoulder. "Haven't really decided for sure. It's just something that recently blipped my radar."
"Oh, creatures, okay." Ford relaxed a little at the knowledge that he wouldn't be walking into a healer's office geared toward humans. He saw plenty enough of those already. "I guess that makes sense, because Reserve."
It was really the other topic that caught his attention. The way the man said "picking up" gave Ford the impression that it was just that, an easy thing done in passing. A part of him wanted to be annoyed at the idea, but the fact was that there were so few healers who specialized in anything to do with Beings that he couldn't help but be rather awed instead. "It's not an area with a lot of material available. I mean, as far as I know." He glanced away, pretending to check on the status of the food by looking the direction Cate had gone. "But it's a timely topic. Did you know there's been a rise in half and quarter-blood births over the last two decades? Up nearly nearly 50% from the years prior to that. Still not a high number, of course, but comparatively? Baby boom." He looked back with a bit of a grin, both at his own knowledge of the subject and for having shifted the topic slightly.
It was safe to say that Kent's eyes lit up at Ford's figures. "No kidding! I've been helping a colleague with her research for the past few days, and you're right, the amount of documented research is as frustratingly spare as it is laughable. Don't get me wrong, I get the necessitated and insular nature of the different communities. No one wants to be exploited for what they can or can't do just because of who they are. But it's… You hit a wall, and suddenly you're at a dead stop with nothing to show for it but some old wives' tales and apocrypha."
Ford found himself nodding enthusiastically. "It's all about protection, which yeah, totally understandable. But my theory is that those communities aren't aware of just how many children have come of unions with Beings and humans. So many times the relationships are short-lived, for various reasons both despicable and sad, but I know there are plenty of full-blooded Beings who care about the cross-blooded progeny, even if they aren't the blooded parents." His face shifted to something with a hint of bitterness. "Problem is that it's a small percentage, and the same goes for the human side of things. There's too much animosity between the groups, some earned and some not. Until we can open up those boundaries, it's going to continue to be laughably spare."
He laughed a little self-consciously and ran a hand through his hair. "Sorry, soapbox."
As caught up as he was with what Ford was preaching, Kent found the sudden break and apology a harshly dissonant note in an otherwise gorgeous symphony of ideas. Still, he managed to cling to a couple of his own, despite the disconnect. "Protection and perception. And that goes all the way back to combating ignorance and fear with education and information. If we fear something we actually know, chances are it's actually, actively trying to kiss--kill us."
What in the ass was that.
Ford raised an eyebrow at the doctor's little slip, not quite knowing what to think about it. Still, the man had continued in the same vain of Ford's thoughts, and that was reassuring. There weren't as many people as he liked to think who could keep up with this particular train of thought when he got going. "Exactly! It's what I've been doing with my podcast. Well, I mean, it was a good bit of fun to start, sort of a 'screw you' to classmates who were scared of me, but it ended up driving curiosity in a way that can be really positive. Pushing information and perception through entertainment, really."
He opened his mouth to keep going, to give Kent the entire spiel of his proposed project, but Cate returned with bags of food for them both. His stomach growled at the smell, and considering that he'd ordered fried fish, that was a true sign of just how hungry and desperate he was. "Thanks," he said as he took the bag and stood, testing his legs for just a second to make sure he wasn't shaky any more. "I should probably get back to my little apartment. Did I mention that? That I'm going to be in town for awhile? So, probably I'll see you both around. And we can talk more about things." The last was directed a the doctor.
Ford didn't give them much time to respond, because he really was tired, and also a little afraid that he'd start talking again and then suddenly find that three hours had passed. He gave them a smile and an awkward wave before heading back out onto Main Street to attempt to remember where his apartment was located.
"Well. That was a thing." Cate placed the remaining bags on the bar and wasted no time in cupping Kent's cheek in one hand. "You're still going to Tony's to rest, right?"
"Yeah," he said, eyes still on the door and obviously distracted. It took the slight pressure on his face to make him refocus. Kent smiled to find Cate looking at him, though the worry writ large in her face gave him pause. He took the hand that was on his face and pulled it away so he could kiss her palm and then the inside of her wrist. "Yeah. Yes. Straight to Tony's."
He shut his eyes briefly, squeezed them shut. His head still felt floaty with little stabs of pain to try to remind him that this was still a thing that was occuring inside his skull. "So, that was weird, right? I didn't just vividly hallucinate that entire scenario, did I?"
"No, you didn't hallucinate it. Unless I did, too." Cate brushed his temple with the fingers of her free hand and let them drift down his opposite cheek. "I think I'm going to need some time to assimilate that information, honestly. I've been so worried about Thorne, that—" Her voice broke a little, and she shook it off. It could wait. Kent had enough worries of his own right now. She raised up on her toes and kissed him softly on the lips. "Go to Tony's and rest. We need you in one piece, Dr. Brightstar. You are far, far too essential to not be, got it?"
That same tug she'd felt earlier, interacting with him in the journals, came back even harder, but she pushed that down, too. It could wait. It could all wait. Now was no time to start making declarations, no matter how much her conversation with Thorne had made her feel like she needed to try harder to make sure the people she loved knew just how much. It could wait, at least until he was feeling better. "Maybe get in a little actual rest, at least?" The corner of her mouth tugged up just a little.
That teasing little smile brought back a flood of very, very pleasant memories, and Kent was a little tempted to see if she might be able to arrange for someone else to watch the bar for the night. The thoughts went a long way in giving him an odd kind of clarity, and to realize, belatedly, that twist in his stomach at the hitch in her voice was equal parts sympathy for his girlfriend's hurt and his own concern about the man who--up until a week or so ago--the thought he hated. But he'd never hated Thorne. And he actually kind of liked Ford-not-Thorne for all of the two seconds they'd interacted. He leaned in and kissed her, slow, deep, saying so much more. "Actual rest. Promise. I don't have any plans to go anywhere for a good long time."