by Amy Crook
"What's that?" asked Jacques, though his attention, like James', was outside rather than inside the car.
Alex mmed vaguely and sipped at the the tea he'd made to replace the long-drunk coffee. They made their way to the hospital in distracted silence, the Guardians alert and Alex's attention on his notes. If only he could figure out the identity of the mage from the hints Con had given him, he'd be well on his way to a case solved and a Courtship abandoned.
He ignored the pang he felt from that, then when it wouldn't be assuaged he tucked his notes away and pulled out Julian's note instead.
Dear Alex,
Is it strange to admit that I'll miss the excuse to visit that I had while you were in hospital? I don't want you back there, but I'll hate not seeing you until our date.
Speaking of which, will a week from Friday do? That'll make you second to last of the whole round, and Saturday's already spoken for by Willoughby and his relative-riddled schedule. I think he just likes to call the shots, maybe more than I'm comfortable with, for all I'm looking to become someone's consort.
Will your Guardians chaperone us, I wonder? They're very nice, but you snog me more when no one's looking.
I will miss your kisses each minute I do not have one.
Yours,
Julian
Alex swallowed, blushing, and folded the letter back up. "I'm going to have to re-do my wards tonight, once I figure out how the sprite got in," he said.
James nodded. "We can't help, we're not yours permanently, I'm afraid."
"You'd be out in the cold if we needed to divert that energy to another charge later," said Jacques.
"Just knowing you're keeping me safe while things are in flux is enough," said Alex quite truthfully. He tucked the letter back in his breast pocket, then started searching through his jacket for the mints he was sure he'd put back in there. What he came across instead was a crinkling paper bag with the cleaner's tag on it, stapled shut.
"What's that?" asked James, suddenly intent on the world inside rather than out.
"Stuff I left in my pockets, according to Victor," said Alex. He pulled the stapled-shut bag open, unfolding the little packet to find a single object inside that he was absolutely sure wasn't his. "Ah," he said, handing the bag carefully over to James.
James looked in at the innocuous little carnelian ladybug, fortunately carved of one piece so it was merely magical and not likely to attack. "Definitely the source of your ward breach."
"You still need to re-ward," said Jacques. "But we'll dispose of that while you're in therapy."
"Good," said Alex, wrapping his coat a little tighter and hoping his favourite cleaning lady had merely been fooled and not knowingly endangered him. He'd hate to have to find someone new who could get bloodstains out of his clothes.
~ ~ ~
After Alex's hour of torture, they stopped by the Temple, the tailor and finally a restaurant for lunch, where not Victor but Flora was waiting to check up on him. For once he was glad to see her, and after a brief reassurance on his part she happily told him all the gossip, an alarming amount of it centred around Alex himself.
"Someone even started a rumour that the Guardians were watching you because they thought that you'd set the magical construct on the priest yourself, but the Temple actually squashed that one," said Flora, sounding amused.
"We're Guardians, not jailers," said James, sounding offended at the very idea.
Alex chuckled. "People do like to talk, though," he said, finishing up his food and feeling quite a bit better for replenishing his reserves. "I don't suppose this is your treat?" asked Alex, making puppy-eyes at Flora. They were eating in a private room, which meant the Guardians could get food, too, but also that waiters were few and far between.
"Yes, go on to your busy life," teased Flora. "I'll call you if there's any new developments."
"Please do," said Alex, weirdly grateful. He kissed her cheek and let himself be ushered back out to the car, where Jones was just finishing up his own meal, courtesy of the restaurant's to-go menu. "To the Agency we go!"
~ ~ ~
"You didn't pick up or call back," said Smedley, wagging his finger.
Alex shrugged. "I needed to do my PT and get sustenance first. I'm here now, aren't I?" he said, holding the door for Smedley, who used his badge to get them all four on the elevator without much fuss. "Was there something actually urgent?"
Smedley chuckled rather wickedly. "One of the devices nearly took Armistead's eye out last night, right about the same time I was rescuing you." He schooled his face into the appropriate expression of sympathy as the elevator doors opened.
"So they both activated at once? Interesting," said Alex. "I wonder where the last one went."
Smedley stopped short, all signs of humour left. "What do you mean?"
"The sprite told me there had been three left after the first six went to the shop. He was meant to deliver one for my flat, and one to the Temple, which means there's one more out there," said Alex, biting his lip.
"What sprite?" asked Smedley. "No, nevermind, put it all in your statement and then I'll ask questions."
"Hm, Lapointe was right," said Alex. They went into one of the recording rooms, as they were referred to when people were being polite.
"Right about what?" asked Smedley, sitting to one side to help foster the illusion that the room's primary function was not for interrogation. James and Jacques set themselves up on either side of the door, surprisingly unobtrusive for all that they still looked like Guardians.
Alex chuckled. "You are smarter than you look."
Smedley laughed and threw a balled-up scrap of paper at him.
~ ~ ~
"You look worlds better," said Alex, sitting on Lapointe's uncomfortable couch. "I guess Dr. Tamlinson does know what he's about after all."
"I heard that," said Geoff, coming in with coffee for everyone; he'd insisted on seeing Alex for himself when he heard his former patient was well enough to show up at the Agency. "Just because you've got creamy mounds is no reason to be an arse."
They all laughed at that, and Alex introduced everyone to everyone else while they sorted who got what in their coffee and endured the requisite stick jokes about his new cane.
"You seem to be recovered from your sleepless night, anyway," said Lapointe, amused at their antics.
"Thanks," said Alex. "I actually got a lot of sleep, in between things trying to kill me."
"Technically," said Smedley, "only one thing tried to kill you. The sprite just tried to steal your jewellery, and the mantis went after Armistead."
"Ooh, he must be all right, though, I'd have heard him whinging," said Lapointe.
Alex laughed, delighted. "How is it that he's unpleasant and you all hate him, but I'm unpleasant and the waitress thinks it's charming?" he asked, only half rhetorically.
"You bribe us with good coffee, and you have a sense of humour, even if it's a bit weird," said Smedley, sipping his own cup with a blissful expression.
"That still doesn't explain the waitresses," said Lapointe. "You should see it, shop girls, too. It's like they just can't fathom that he's queer."
"Perhaps they're out to cure you," said Geoff dryly.
Smedley chuckled. "He's incurable, though fortunately it doesn't appear contagious."
"So what sort of thing tried to kill you?" asked Lapointe, her usual determined self already back.
"Scorpion," said Alex. "I smashed it with a frying pan and Smedley carted the parts back to Armistead."
"Who was holding off the mantis with the box he'd pulled it out of and a long-handled lighter," said Smedley. "I actually did get to rescue him."
Alex laughed delightedly. "I'm a terrible damsel in distress," he said, "just ask Murielle."
That got them started in on the funny stories, and the Guardians even chimed in, having determined the Agency was safe enough for conversation, at least in a room with the door closed. Jones had taken his leave after dropping them o
ff, so Alex just stayed and relaxed while they waited for the car to return and take him back home to the work waiting there.
It would be soon enough to exhaust himself all over again.
~ ~ ~
The flat was welcomingly quiet when they got back and, sensing that Alex was about done with talking after everything, James and Jacques just made tea without being asked. Once Alex was flopped on the couch and they were all in possession of a cup of tea, he said, "So, pizza first, then warding?"
The Guardians laughed, and Jacques shook his head. "I'll cook us something, your brother got actual food when they went out shopping."
"Actual food?" said Alex dubiously. "What does one do with that? Who do you tip?"
They laughed at his joke, and it was warm and friendly and good, an extension of earlier, which is just what Alex needed. He did sometimes grow tired of always feeling like an outsider, and those small things that signalled "home" were just what he needed before setting up fresh wards on his flat.
Alex showered again while Jacques cooked, donning what he thought of as his Ritual Pyjamas, a set of unbleached raw silk trousers and tunic that he'd have to make sure not to spill any dinner on. He belted on a perfectly ordinary dressing gown to help with that, and emerged from his rooms to an absolutely exquisite mélange of odours. "I own spices?" asked Alex, looking confused as he took a seat at the kitchen table.
"I brought my own mix," said Jacques, who was just now plating the food, chicken and vegetables in sauce over rice that seemed very exotic to Alex despite knowing intellectually it was a pretty basic sort of food to cook. "It's got some herbs in it for strength as well as flavour."
"Jacques' cooking is sought-after even among the Guardians," said James, looking very smug to be the recipient.
"If it tastes anything like it smells, I can see why," replied Alex, taking another deep inhale, eyes closed to better appreciate the scent. When he opened them, there was a plate in front of him and a Guardian sat on either side. They toasted with simple water, then dug in and ate with gusto.
It was, Alex thought as he sat back and rubbed his fully belly, rather nice to eat with people who understood about expending magical energy and needing food to replace it. "If I wasn't about to spend hours doing magic, I'd say you were going to make me fat," he teased.
They laughed, and Alex left them, sitting at his writing desk to gather his thoughts. He wrote Julian back first, purging that worry from his mind as he did, reassuring and accepting the date, asking teasingly what Julian might like for a gift this time. He gave Horace a nice long petting once the letter was locked away, just sitting there and thinking of his home and his magic, and listening to his own wards, hearing the tiny disharmonies that had formed.
Jacques cleaned up and James Guarded, but they were quiet and good at fading into the background, and so Alex had no problem cataloguing and dismissing them along with the rest of his fears. After he let Horace go out the kitchen window, Jacques watching the whole time, Alex found a nice big pair of tuning forks, choosing them for their low, soothing notes. He struck them together against the table and began walking through the flat, his watch-fob in the hand with the tuning forks and his cane in the other, listening to everything there, every little snippet of melody and otherwise that lived in his flat.
They found a tiny piece of the scorpion under the fridge that way, and James called and arranged for it to be retrieved tomorrow, producing a small strong-box of his own to hold it until it could be entered into evidence. The cold iron shackle from the sprite went into the same box, as well as the contaminated items from the curse, Alex's pocket handkerchief and keys. The jacket had lost all trace of contamination, hanging isolated in Alex's little shielded cupboard for more days than he cared to count, so it went instead to the side of the closet reserved for items going to the cleaners.
Nothing else was out of place magically, and Alex actually tucked everything away physically as well, all the detritus of Courtship put away in jewellery boxes and then, finally, he limped his way back into the living room and set up a meditation pillow. "No talking until I'm done with this bit, please," he said, getting nods in return.
He found a position that was comfortable with his leg still not fully recovered and meditated properly, letting himself dwell on all the things bothering him in order to dismiss them, the violation of the Temple, the intrusion in his flat, the cleaner and the Guardians. He let go of his worries about family and future, let go of his worries about Julian and Mandeville, the case and the danger, and finally found a place of balance inside him, that tiny bit of inner sanctuary he could call home.
He opened his eyes and sighed, then stood up, the cane grounding him, helping him hold onto that chord inside him. He nodded to the Guardians, then limped back to his work room and retrieved the fine silver flute that was one of his most expensive magical possessions, despite being utterly unmagical. Silver was neutral and conductive, holding very little magic on its own but passing things through itself pure and unaltered. He pulled it out of its case, checked for tuning and cleanliness, then limped back to his pillow.
"It won't matter if you talk during this, I won't hear you, but don't interfere unless I actually fall over, okay?"
"We know how it works, Mage," said James with that dry amusement of his, making Alex's nature into a title much like his own.
"Just making sure," Alex teased back.
Alex tucked his little watch-fob into the waistband of his trousers so it would rest against his skin, then got comfortable again, with the cane across his lap, the steel tip against the floor for grounding. Then he focused on the wards he already had, humming softly to tune into them, before picking up his flute and using it to rebuild them into the wards he needed. He played his will and his magic into the tune, the flute itself capable of a very simple two-note chord which he used to his advantage, first drawing in the magic he'd already put there and then replacing it with newer, stronger, tighter melodies, adding to the magic and building with it. He played for over two hours, not even stopping when it came time to do the bedroom wards, though the ones on the work room he left alone.
Those had taken days and a lot more power than he currently had at his disposal, and were still as strong and impenetrable as they day he'd cast them, as far as he'd been able to tell on his walk-through.
When he was done, Alex sagged on the pillow but didn't fall over, using one hand to brace himself while the other held the flute in a cramping grip.
"Drink this," said Jacques, who had apparently been hovering nearby. The tea he offered had cooled a bit from brewing, but that meant Alex could readily gulp down the herb-laden brew, one he recognised from his own cupboards as a mild restorative. "Do you have any potions?"
Alex chuckled, handing back the empty cup. "Sleep will do me better, and some sweets. Another cup of that tea and a slice of cake would be wonderful."
"Will do," said Jacques, looking impressed, though by what Alex wasn't sure.
Feeling restored enough to be going on with, Alex levered himself up with the cane and took the flute back to his work room, giving it a quick purifying clean before nestling it into its case with a soft murmur of thanks.
The tea and cake were consumed with single-minded intensity, and it was all Alex could do to switch to more normal -- and comfortable -- pyjamas before falling into bed, exhausted all over again.
~ ~ ~
In the morning, Alex was lured out of bed by the lovely smells of breakfast cooking, and he shuffled out with his hair a mess, wearing his robe and slippers. "Some of that for me?" he asked, the start of the sentence mostly lost in a big yawn.
Jacques grinned. "Oh, yes, you need the calories, we're having omelettes today, and James went out for pastries."
"You two are saints, are you sure I can't keep you?" said Alex, mostly teasing, though really, he was starting to feel very spoiled. He sat, leaning heavily on the cane on the way down, and gave his new wards a little probe, whistling softly to activa
te the status-spells he'd built in this time around. "Quiet night, anyway."
Jacques grinned. "Your new wards are very good, even James was impressed."
Alex looked sleepily pleased. "It was worth the expenditure of energy, then, though this means I'm definitely not going to be conjuring another magical gift for Julian."
The door opened, and Alex felt the whisper of wards as James came in, the key-spell letting him in but the new wards keeping an impression of his entry. "Cinnamon rolls for everyone, and double for our busy mage," said James cheerfully, opening the box and putting two on a plate, then handing it to Alex along with the cup of tea Jacques was just done pouring.
"What am I doing today again?" asked Alex around a mouthful of sweet. He washed it down with tea, then answered his own question. "Back to the Temple to finish being purified, then the tailor, then shopping. Ugh, and we have to take your little box of ickies back to the Agency."
"Jones texted me directly, the Sharpish boy will be taking over for Victor so he's ours for the day," said James.
Alex chuckled. "You're all managing me now, how will I stay infamously unpleasant if you keep me happy in my little cocoon?"
"Somehow," said Jacques, delivering a plate with a steaming-hot omelette to James, "I think you'll manage. Finish your rolls, you can have the second one."
Alex chuckled and ate obediently, feeling life return as the caffeine and sugar hit his bloodstream. Maybe today wouldn't be too awful after all.
~ ~ ~
They actually let him start at the Temple this time, breakfasted and showered and dressed, he felt about a thousand times better, and he was both embarrassed and relieved to see Guardians at the Temple entrance, who greeted his pair with warm familiarity.
"You've managed to get him out of the hospital," said one with a grin.
"Just as long as we keep him from going back in while he's here," replied Jacques flippantly.
Alex felt, if anything, even more jumbled than when he'd gone in the last time, but even so he was weirdly grateful when James and Jacques stripped off into their own lockers. "I'll go first," said James quietly, his voice full of reverence for their surroundings, "then you, then Jacques."
