Log: Future Laurence and Past Lan Xichen WHO: Future Laurence and Past Lan Xichen WHAT: A reunion of sorts WHEN: Shortly after everybody gets to the Outpost WHERE: Some quiet space at the Outpost WARNINGS: References to tragic demise
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Lan Xichen was dead.
He had been dead for quite some time, in fact. He had perished when the old resistance hideout at Cloud Recesses was betrayed, because no amount of bravery or skill was able to overcome overwhelming numbers and the element of surprise. His body had been tossed over the wall like trash along with a dozen others after Interitus seized his home, then buried at the little graveyard near the resistance’s last proper outpost. His family and friends had held a funeral for him.
And yet, here he was, alive and whole, wearing the same pristine pale blue robes he had before Vallo’s fall. His flute and sword were both at his side, not trophies on the enemy’s wall. Lan Xichen was really here, and looking at Laurence like his heart was breaking. Like he knew the truth of it all.
Laurence had dealt with Lan Xichen’s death in the only way he knew how: he had retreated to his duty.
As far as Laurence was concerned, that was all that was left. He’d dedicated himself to becoming the perfect soldier. He’d had to step away from command, of course. He could no longer trust himself to issue orders that were in the best interest of the Rebellion. Could no longer trust himself to be cool-headed, to take into account everyone’s best interest and not just revenge for what was taken from him. But he’d followed his orders loyally and diligently.
Things had changed once Interitus had unlocked whatever secret he’d found to enthrall the Outlanders. No longer could Laurence take Temeraire out into the field, not unless the situation was dire. If Interitus was to gain control of Temeraire and his Divine Wind, then things would have become even more grim. But Laurence had continued to venture out into the field whenever it was called of him, and often times when it wasn’t.
Because, if he gave himself time to think about how Lan Xichen had been taken from him, if he let himself talk about it, then he would be lost. If he had allowed himself a reprieve from his duty, then he’d never leave his bed in the morning, the bed that he and Lan Xichen had shared in the six years of their marriage.
He’d thought he’d been prepared for Lan Xichen’s return. Had been prepared for Lan Xichen to not come back with the Outlanders of the past, and had been prepared to see him again as he had been.
It turned out that that wasn’t something that Laurence could prepare for.
If he had to name what he was feeling, he wouldn’t be able to. It was like his grief had come upon him all over again, like the rebuilt hull of his heart had been smashed on the shoals again, and the floodwaters were rushing in again. It was as if he’d been swept overboard, and was drowning.
And it was, still, the happiest moment he’d had in years. The same breath-taking feeling of flying too high and too fast, the wind bringing tears to the eyes and snatching the air from his lungs.
“A-Huan,” he breathed, and then he closed the distance between them and enveloped him in his arms, burying his face in his shoulder. He was real, and he was solid, and he smelled, as he always had, of magnolia and bamboo. His hair was soft under Laurence’s fingers. Laurence could not be ashamed for how he wept: there was no room for it amongst everything else he felt. “A-Huan, you’re here. It’s you.”
“It is I, my heart,” Lan Xichen said softly. He embraced Laurence in turn, knowing that it was something his love needed. Lan Xichen needed it himself, seeing Laurence as he was in this terrible future. He had to offer what comfort he could to ease the ache in his own heart, no matter how unreal this world seemed to him.
“I am here with you, and I am so sorry for what you have suffered.”
Laurence clung to Lan Xichen as though he were clinging to a life raft, drinking in the sound of his voice and the feel of him, until, finally, he thought that he could breathe and stand on his own two feet again. This was only temporary, he had to remind himself. Lan Xichen was not back in truth. This was a temporary visit, one that Laurence must not let himself get too used to.
He pulled away and scrubbed his eyes with his palms. “My apologies… weeping like a child…” He was grateful, at least, for the beard to hide what were doubtless splotchy cheeks, even as he silently admonished himself for not shaving, or making an effort to look more presentable. He was sure he had clothing in better condition back at the Covert that he could have worn.
He’d not allowed himself to fully believe that Lan Xichen would be back, he realized, and felt a scrub for it.
He resisted the urge to lay his hand on Lan Xichen’s face, curled his fingers into a fist instead. “I’ve missed you, my love. And Temeraire will be happy to see you too, I should think.”
“I will be glad to see him as well,” Lan Xichen gently replied. “And please, there is no need to apologize. What you have been through, what all of you have survived here, I cannot imagine. Were it I in your position, I too would weep.”
The Lan were well-trained in suppressing any expression of emotion, but Lan Xichen didn’t abide by those rules anymore, not with Laurence. There was no feeling he was unwilling to share with the man he was to marry–the man he had married, in this place. Ten years had passed, and the Laurence who now stood before him had been married to him for six of those years before watching him fall. It was a strange idea to wrap his mind around, and Lan Xichen was not entirely sure that he had successfully done so.
Laurence tried a smile. It had been a long time since the last time he’d managed one, and it felt strange on his face. He thought back to 2023, of what all of them were pulling Lan Xichen away from, and then started.
“Oh good Lord, you’ll be getting married in just a few weeks, won’t you?” He felt suddenly wretched for being so grateful that Lan Xichen had been included. Planning their wedding together had been among Laurence’s fondest memories, and if Lan Xichen were to die, here, again…
“I will.” Lan Xichen confirmed it with perfect calm and a soft smile. “The fifteenth of April is two and a half weeks away, and I am afraid the Will of ten years ago will be left to handle the final arrangements on his own. You were understanding as always of the importance of doing one’s duty, but I think you were not entirely confident that you would manage the flowers properly without me. I will be certain to reassure you that all is well when I return.”
Because of course he would return. They would succeed here, this timeline would be changed forever, and his Will would not be alone in the future. They would be together, and that mattered more than any flower arrangement. Lan Xichen was still enough of an optimist to believe that, even seeing what his trusting nature had wrought here.
Laurence’s smile was more natural this time, and accompanied by a quite huff of air that might have been taken for a laugh. “I’m sorry to say that if you’ve left the flower arrangements to me, you’ll have your work cut out for you when you return.”
When. He was suddenly sure that, even if they failed here, Laurence would make sure that Lan Xichen would be able to return home at the end of it, even if it cost him his life.
He reached for Lan Xichen’s hand, and ran his thumb over his knuckles. It fascinated him still how smooth Lan Xichen’s hands could look when he worked so hard at his swordcraft and his art. He resisted the urge to bring that hand to his lips. “Lan Huan.” He groped after the words, and once he found them, he raised his gaze from Lan Xichen’s hand to his face. “I promise you that I’ll see you home to be wed.”
“I know that you will,” Lan Xichen quietly replied, steadily meeting his gaze. His love was an honorable man, one who never made a promise he did not fully intend to keep; Lan Xichen had no doubt that Laurence would do whatever was necessary to be certain that he returned safely home to the Laurence who awaited him there. “And I know better than to stand between you and what you will call your duty. But please, keep yourself safe as you do so.”
“As much as I am able,” Laurence assured him. He lowered his hand, but didn’t let go of Lan Xichen’s. He should, he knew. It was inappropriate, would have been, even if this Lan Xichen were his husband. But Lan Xichen’s hand was still familiar, still filled a space that had been empty these last four years, and try as he might, Laurence couldn’t bring himself to let go.
“I heard talk that Sabrina was able to bring back a harvest of strawberries yesterday,” Laurence said. “There should be enough for all of us, but we should still try to get there early if you’d like some.”
“Lead the way,” Lan Xichen said with a small bow. He did not let go of Laurence’s hand, either. This man was in too many ways still his Will for him to find anything inappropriate about holding his hand, not when this man so clearly needed the comfort of a friend. He could not see that face looking so worn and not offer what small solace he could.