#I BELIEVE IN THEM 😤 THEY'RE BOUND TO FIND A WAY WITH THEIR POWERS COMBINED

[howthesleeplesswander]

For the second time in as many minutes, Baizhu could only blink at his companion's response. Just as quickly, his expression smoothed back to that ever-patient smile, if not still stiff due to the nature of their conversation.

Their partnership had stood the test of time and loyalties, and was beneficial to both sides. Naturally, then, there'd be no reason for the parameters to ever change. It made perfect sense. Baizhu expected nothing less.

"You know, I'm of the belief that we control our lives and our fates for ourselves. I refuse to let an illness seal my fate any more than I would let a person, or even an Archon, make that choice for me. Maybe it's presumptuous of me, but I've always thought that to be a similarity between us."

The doctor leaned back against the shelves, arms crossed loosely over his chest, watching Kaz with attentive curiosity. "Surely you've heard the saying, 'life is like a game of cards'? But of course, men like us are not merely complacent players. If I've been dealt a hand that I know can't possibly win, what should I do? Sit idly by, pretending my hands are tied and letting myself lose? Why shouldn't I do whatever it took to give myself a chance?" Golden eyes sharpened; piercing as a snake's fangs. "What would you do?"

The analogy got his point across. But, just maybe, there was a deeper meaning lurking within: a response that Baizhu didn't dare give directly when the parameters weren't his to change.

What else would it be? Why, anything else you wanted, of course. You are not complacent. You make that choice.

After a beat during which those laden words lingered, Baizhu went on, as matter-of-fact as ever, "There's no guarantee it will work even if I do find a way. As you said: it's a last resort. When every breath you take is borrowed and brings you closer to an inevitable early grave..." His lip curled wryly, a half-formed laugh escaping in spite of himself. "I don't expect you to understand that kind of desperation. So what if my search seems mad or hopeless? If there's anything I can do that might change the ending that has been written for me, to make it an ending that I want...how can I do anything but try?"

So saccharine...My, he was getting soft, wasn't he? Or perhaps Kaz had simply found his weak point at last, just like everyone else. With a shake of his head, "At least if my time does come, I can be at rest in the knowledge that I was of some value," he chuckled. A morbid sentiment, perhaps, but sincere.

It's always straight to business with you, isn't it?

“What else would it be?” Kaz snapped before Baizhu could even finish, before his own self-control could bind his windpipes and prevent the defensiveness from bursting out as clumsily as the rest of this encounter had been. In the hindsight of less than a second later, he’d registered a few choice swears in his head, this time successfully locking them behind a clenched jaw, and something else inside continued to scream and claw for a way out—something else as desperate as Baizhu’s previously assumed silly attempts at immortality . . .

He wasn’t asking what it would be. —what it could be. —what it, if so many damned things were different, should be.

No, deep down, Kaz knew what he was really proposing was the very visceral, very upsetting, but nevertheless necessary reality: It can’t be.

And for a long silence between the two of them, he was as grateful for Baizhu turning away as Baizhu was, holding eye contact infinitely more difficult, now. In fact, on the other side of that coin, it just made it easier for Kaz to observe—resort to his norm, find that comfortable place again, simply look at a man as he struggled over an exposed secret and discern an entirely new portrait of exploits in the matter of seconds. Kaz forcibly distanced himself. He took advantage of that time—as always, no second wasted—to steel his breath, one large inhale and slow exhale, and watch . . . as opposed to being the one under watch.

As Baizhu elucidated—all with a tactful detachment that Kaz should’ve admired—a little bubble rose in Kaz’s gut . . . of the person he could no longer permit himself to be. It threatened to climb into his throat, a tiny, condensed sphere of emotion he’d packed away and buried deep, an instinctive need to again blurt what he couldn’t allow: a ready argument the instant the doctor implied Kaz’s inquiries were simply for the sake of ensuring their partnership would not be affected.

He had a right to believe that. He should believe that. Kaz . . . should have wanted him to believe that.

But by the end of it all, he swore every drop of moisture had left his mouth. Kaz ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek as if it would help, swallowed hard while he adjusted his posture another time . . . to get his cold blood flowing again. “I wouldn’t expect it to interfere,” he said, some part of him meaning it as a show of trust toward Baizhu’s loyalty, but hardly obvious in his tone. “And whether it’s short-lived doesn’t negate the value of it.”

A twitch formed the faintest stitch in his brow. Kaz looked down at the fold of his hands, intertwining his fingers as a means of occupying them when they continued to be restless. “Immortality isn’t among my expertise. Definitely not among my interests. I have a hard time seeing why anyone would wish to live eternally,” he went on, complemented by half of a shrug that pulled at tightened muscles in his shoulders. “But for you, it’s different: a last resort.” His gaze lifted to meet that brilliant gold. “Are you certain that this path would even work?”