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Entry tags:
[destiny] drift
FANDOM: Destiny
RATING: T
CHARACTERS: Tau, Rael (original characters)
CONTENT WARNING: ptsd, alcohol
NOTE: Some post-Red War OC fic. More information about Tau is HERE.
Tau meets Rael for the first time in weeks at the City’s edges, the old Tower still in shambles in the distance. He can hear the sounds of construction, see the sparks shower at key points where the Frames are rejoining the fixtures, one by one, two by two. It should be a heartening sight, and Tau takes an extra moment to stare, even as he opens his mouth to point it out.
Rael’s ghost hovers anxiously between them. It gives Tau a glance that pleads for help.
“Let’s not do the patrol,” Tau says instead, as gently as he can. He takes a step in front of Rael, hand slipping beneath Rael’s elbow. “We can try again some other day.”
Rael moves as if to take a step back, gaze slipping past Tau to focus over the mountain ranges and forests. His shoulders hunch up, mouth open to take a breath, and looks at Tau. He gives a sharp nod, arm relaxing under Tau’s loose hold.
“I am sorry,” Rael says. No smart quip, no more wicked smile. Not since he lost his electric blue Light and had it returned in the form of a starry night bow that reminds them too much of Eshan, who should have had it instead.
Tau’s grip lingers then eventually drops. “I will notify the Vanguard. They can find someone else.”
“Can they?” Rael says, bitter. “We are few enough. If Eshan were here…”
At this point, Eshan seems like a far-away memory to Tau. Rael repeats the name so often enough it’s become a mantra without meaning, echoing between them without substance. It makes Tau feel distant, and Rael more melancholy.
It has been weeks since they had seen each other, and months since the Red War has ended with Ghaul’s corpse bursting into light. Tau misses their complete fireteam in a very different way from Rael.
Guilt crawls over his skin, but it feels more real than the dull ache of grief that has been clinging to him for the last few months. He glances back at the Tower, the careful rebuilding and hopeful sight, and has the ungracious, selfish passing thought—why can’t Rael see this?
Tau crushes the line of thinking immediately, though the feeling still twists itself into a curt gesture, of him dropping his hand over Rael’s shoulder to give it a shake that may be too forceful to be encouraging.
“Let’s go grab something to eat,” Tau says. They do not need to do it, but it had been one of their favorite pastimes after a long day of Crucible rounds.
Rael gives him a look, a spark of his old sardonic self, like he knows what Tau is up to. But, this time, he is unresisting.
“Sure,” he says, “Whatever you say.”
“A Hunter is not meant to be confined,” Seven-8 says over a voicelink, days ago. “Drives them mad, I heard. And I suppose Rael wants to be driven mad, the idiot. As if it makes the grief easier to swallow. This smacks of Warlock dramatics, not a Hunter’s.”
Tau smiles, wry, though he makes his tone disapproving. “A distasteful joke, Sev. Even for you.”
“Is the truth so distasteful?” she asks.
“The joke, not the truth.”
“Of course, I apologize. And I know Rael isn’t some conflux puzzle to solve, but,” she pauses, making her worry known with a static hiccup, “I cannot figure him out. All he does is fight in the Crucible day in, day out. He’s turning out to be a fine Nightstalker, isn’t he? But you know him better than I, and I was not there when Eshan had fallen.”
Tau taps his fingers against his ship’s console. He says, thoughtful, “They were very much in love.”
This is not secret information. Everyone in their small circle had known.
Seven-8 remains undaunted, and practical; “So you’d best let Rael know that we very much love him, still.”
The little corner of the restaurant is secluded enough to give a darkened cast to hide two armored bodies, the two of them facing away from the public entrances. On the table before them sits a double order of the restaurant's most prized curry recipe, brightly spiced and incredibly rich.
Rael’s bowl goes untouched for the most part, but there is a growing number of bottles and glasses on his side of the table. After his fifth drink, he finally starts eating, if only to hide his slurring.
The bustling noise gives an illusion of privacy that works in favor of Rael’s maudlin mood and Tau’s attempts to either shore up the emotions or allow the floodgates to open. Tau cannot decide which would be better for Rael. Seven-8 had warned him of Rael’s erratic behavior, ongoing since the Red War ended; Rael had been left with nothing once the desperation and anger had drained him empty. With their immortality restored, there was simply nothing else.
Tau orders another drink for Rael. He’s getting somewhere, though the journey is unpleasant. Rael takes the bottle, glittering a dim void energy in his hand as he tries to command a simple pressure to pop the cap off.
“I miss Eshan, too,” Tau tries to say, because the void bottle trick had been Eshan’s favorite to show off at parties.
The cap pops in the middle of his statement. He catches it in mid-trajectory, bare hand stinging.
Rael’s voice goes cold and flat. “You do not miss them as I do.”
The bottle cap folds in Tau’s grip, flimsy aluminum biting into his thumb. He sets the piece down and says nothing for a long while, trying to wrestle away the hurt and frustration. He had a different kind of love for Eshan, but it had been no less real. Rael ought to have known, and maybe he did and was only lashing out, but it was such an odd disconnection, when Tau had always associated Rael’s temper with that of a calm sea.
And Tau finds himself thinking, I miss the old Rael, as if the one sitting in front of him was a separate being.
“Let’s not talk about them, then,” Tau says with a small prickle of suspicion.
“Tau…”
“When should we try to patrol again? I miss those,” he continues, watching Rael stiffen. He nudges the nervously shaking boot beneath the table with his own. “Seven says it’ll do you some good, going back out there.”
Rael takes a drink from the bottle, long dutiful gulps to drown himself.
“I hear you’re doing well in the new Crucible. The bow seems to favor you as much as the blades did. It’ll be helpful in the EDZ. Rael? Please. Stop drinking a moment.”
Rael stops, setting the bottle down with an unsteady clatter. His leg doesn’t stop bouncing from nervousness.
“It’s not really about Eshan, is it?” Tau says, realization twisting in his chest.
Because Eshan had given Rael their glittering bow of dark stars, and Rael isn’t the type to shame a gift so intimate. Rael had been a willing Nightstalker, a flourishing one with the calm and drive in a fight. It shows in the Crucible how well he does, but never once outside on the field.
Rael sees Tau’s understanding. He draws back, turning away, but it’s still not fast enough. His eyes well up bright with anger and shame, tears threatening to spill before Rael’s ghost springs up before them to put his helmet back on. Even still, Rael looks down at the table, fists clenched in his lap.
“What use is a Hunter who is too afraid to leave home?” he says, voice brittle and cracking.
There is no immediate answer. Tau knows there isn’t one that will reassure Rael, whose whole meaning has revolved around exploring outwards into the unknown. He can only watch, a pang of loneliness washing over him like a slow wave.
“I’m terrified,” Rael confesses, voice unwavering with a clarity that sings the simple truth.
They will never be the same as they once were—and Tau has known this from the start, just not so sharp as this. His expression must have given him away, another realization about himself that Rael can see, that Rael might have known since the Red War.
And Rael goes still, so still in his seat, when he finally cries from inside his helmet, and no one in the room can see it.
There isn’t anymore to do, later that night when Tau pours Rael into bed. The hunter goes down, body a dead weight until his armor flickers away as he settles over the blankets. Rael’s eyes are glassy and tinged purple, his skin a waning blue in the dark. He groans, likely sick to his stomach, and Tau kneels next to the bed.
“I will take your patrols. I will scout the EDZ for you. The Vanguard won’t have to worry,” Tau says, his own armor disappearing to ease the weight off his body. His bare hand reaches for the pistol at Rael’s belt; Rael trusts him enough to not fuss about it.
“You’ll do it alone?”
Tau doesn’t think he’ll want to join another fireteam, even if temporarily. “I have my Ghost.”
Rael gives him a look, surprisingly still thoughtful in his drunken state. At least, until he rolls to his side and his body shudders enough to suggest he might need a bucket at his bedside soon.
Tau sighs. He attempts to push the pistol into Rael’s hand. “Better get this over with, or else you’ll wake with a hangover.”
Rael mumbles, grip on the gun flimsy, “Do it for me.”
“Do it yourself,” Tau says.
But he helps Rael anyway, waiting for Rael to drag the pistol upwards, muzzle resting against his forehead. Tau takes Rael’s hand, making sure the finger is on the trigger, and helps pull one last shot for the night.
That way, he knows Rael will sleep, without nightmares until he wakes up again in the morning.
Theta tells him, “I think Rael had wanted for you to stay with him.”
The night air is warm, the streets quiet as Tau walks back to his own ship, just outside the City. They are quite far now from Rael’s living quarters, and Tau wonders if Theta had made the deliberate decision to stay quiet until it was too late to turn back.
“Sev is more suited to these things, I think,” he says, glancing at his shoulder. “And why did you not tell me?”
“My first priority is you, not Rael,” Theta says, the remark so sure and true that Tau knows not to argue. “What is it that you want?”
Tau doesn’t stop walking. He turns the question over in his mind. He knows what he has to do, forever duty-bound to the Traveler as he is, but the answer has become skewed ever since the Red War. Maybe it’s the reason for Rael’s thoughtful stare at him, the reason why Tau looks at the old Tower, feeling nothing, and the sharp loneliness earlier that night, watching Rael crumble before him.
Rael had probably known ever since Tau tried convincing him to take on patrols, always wanting to travel away as much as Rael wanted to stay in.
“What use is a Titan who no longer wants to protect their City?” Tau says, finally stopping to look at his ship, restocked and refitted. Ready to leave for months now.
When Theta transmats him back inside, Tau doesn’t look back.
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okay, but, like, we were COOKING with s/d. no regrets. i miss those two bastards.
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