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caitlesshea · 4 years ago

Text

the way you showed me you care

“Shit.”

Booker jumps about a half foot in the air and almost falls off the couch at the sound of his phone ringing. It’s been months since anyone has contacted him, so long that he was beginning to wonder why he even kept it charged.

In some self sacrificial moments he thought about changing his number so they couldn’t contact him, tricking himself into thinking they would.

He fumbles forward and goes to answer when it blessedly stops ringing. Just because it takes an insane amount of alcohol for him to get drunk doesn’t mean he hasn’t spent the last couple of months trying.

Just as he lays back down on the couch it rings again and when he goes to answer it his stomach sinks.

Copley.

“What?” Booker growls into the phone and the voice on the other end just sighs.

“How soon can you get to London?”

“Why? Is Andy?”

“Everyone’s fine.”

Booker releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding and rubs his forehead until he calms down.

“Then why?”

“London. How long?”

Booker holds his phone in front of him, trying to figure out the time and what day it is.

“Give me a couple of hours.”

“Fine. You remember how to get to my place?”

“How could I forget?” Booker responds dryly and he’s only slightly disappointed when Copley doesn’t say anything back.

“Do you need anything? Money?”

Booker swallows at the softness in Copley’s voice. They’ve always had a friendly enough relationship, one doesn’t get to the point of asking someone to help you end it all without being somewhat close. They always understood each other in that regard.

“That’s the last thing I need. I’ll see you tonight.”

Booker hangs up before Copley can say anything and he smiles as his email pings with a train ticket to London and a rental car reservation.

He takes one last look at his shitty apartment and grabs the duffel bag he’s had packed since he first got to Paris.

At the last minute he picks up the copy of Don Quixote that Andy gave him and shoves it into his bag before grabbing his keys and his current passport, a French one, for once.

Something about being exiled for a hundred years makes him want to be sentimental. And drunk. But he figures he can drink on the train.

In what feels like no time at all he’s pulling up to Copley’s weirdly modern house in the outskirts of London. Booker tries not to think about what Copley could possibly want, especially considering he dragged Booker to London for it. Before he even turns off the engine Copley is outside waiting for him.

“You made it.”

“Very astute of you.”

Copley rolls his eyes and Booker follows Copley into his house, setting his bag down on the couch.

“Gonna tell me why I’m here?”

“I need your help.”

“My help?” Booker asks as Copley hands him a glass of scotch.

Booker looks around Copley’s office, weird detective board still firmly in place, and waits for Copley to answer.

When it seems like Copley isn’t going to say anything anytime soon, Booker walks over to the board, heart clenching at seeing Andy’s, Nicky’s, and Joe’s faces reflected back at him.

“None of me?”

“You told me you were immortal. I didn’t really need to do any research on you.”

“Mmm.” Booker swirls the drink in his glass and smirks.

“Couldn’t figure out my real name could you?”

Copley smiles and Booker shakes his head as he laughs.

“You’re very good.”

“Oh, I know.”

Copley smirks at him and Booker feels himself relax for the first time in months.

“So, my help?”

“There’s a job.” Copley hands him an iPad and Booker looks it over. “Andy agreed, but I need supplies and I don’t want to put them on the radar of any of my contacts.”

Booker raises an eyebrow at that and he swears he can see regret in Copley’s eyes.

“Joe and Nicky can get them. They know who we used.”

“Joe and Nicky?”

“Just because they’re super old doesn’t mean they can’t use a computer.”

“But Andy?”

“Oh, yeah, Andy’s terrible.” Booker walks over to sit in one of the chairs as Copley takes the other. “But Joe and Nicky aren’t half bad and I’m sure Nile is even better.”

“Nile. A millennial she is.”

Booker laughs and hands back the iPad. “She giving you trouble?”

“She just wants to have social media, wants to see her family, the usual.”

“Well, Nicky and Joe have an Instagram.”

“They what?” Copley looks like his eyes are going to bug out of his head and Booker rolls his eyes as he opens his phone.

“Not in their names or anything. It’s one of those couple’s accounts. They never show their faces and Nicky thinks he’s funny, posting old photos of them, making people think it’s a filter instead of a yellowed Polaroid.”

“Jesus.”

“Just give Nile some ground rules.”

“And the family part?”

“Ah, yeah, I don’t know if I’m the best person to ask.”

“Why?”

Booker looks up at Copley and realizes he’s genuinely curious. Booker takes a moment to spin his wedding ring that he stills wears and notices Copley still wears his as well. It makes something clench in his chest that he can’t really describe.

“Nothing good will come from her seeing them.” Booker ends up saying quietly and Copley nods.

Booker doesn’t know what to do with the look on Copley’s face. It’s not pity, or even understanding, but it’s something close, and that makes his heart hurt.

“Here.” Booker emails Copley the contacts and supplies he’d use for this mission and he waits for Copley to read it before getting up to leave.

“Stay.” Copley says as Booker walks past him. “For dinner I mean, and you can go back to Paris tomorrow.”

“Dinner.” Booker says, even though he packed for at least a week, and doesn’t want to look too closely at why he doesn’t want to leave.

“You cook?” Copley jokes. “You’ve had what, two hundred years to learn?”

“Nice try.” Booker walks into the kitchen with Copley behind him and takes a seat at the bar as Copley pulls out some food.

“Are you ever going to tell me how old you are?” Copley asks as he cuts up some veggies for what looks like a stir fry. “None of you have, actually.”

Booker swallows roughly at the mention of everyone else and he wishes he refilled his scotch before coming out here. One appears in front of his view and Copley gives him a wry smile.

“We don’t really talk about these things.”

“What things?”

“You know.” Booker waves in the general direction of Copley’s office. “Immortality, with anyone who’s not…”

“Ah.” Copley nods and throws the veggies and chicken he pulled out of the fridge into a wok.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Copley turns to look at Booker and Booker can’t explain it but he feels seen like he never has before. “Doesn’t that get lonely?”

“I think you know the answer to that already, James.”

Copley nods and they sit in companionable silence while the food cooks. Booker wishes he had more to say, but the sting of losing his friends, his family, sits heavy in his throat.

There’s no Nicky to bet if Andy will guess all the flavors in the latest baklava. There’s no Joe to watch football with and cheer for any team who’s wearing the color green because ‘Nicolò’s eyes.’ There’s no Andy to…

He’s brought out of his musings by Copley’s shout.

“They have almost a million followers!”

Booker can’t help it, he throws his head back and laughs, really laughs, for the first time in months.

~~~

Booker was supposed to go home the next day. But it’s been almost three weeks and he hasn’t left.

It’s not that he wants to stay, that’s a lie, but Copley keeps asking for help on jobs or how to deal with the team and Booker, the martyr, can’t stop himself from asking for more information.

It’s not like he can’t figure out where they are. He helped them disappear in the world for almost two hundred years, he knows how they operate, but that feels a little too invasive, even for him.

“They want to take a break for a little while.” Copley sits down next to him with coffee and passes one to Booker.

That’s another thing. Booker isn’t drinking as much and his flask is in his bag. Copley brings him coffee, tea, water. Almost anytime Booker sees the man drinking something, he brings something for Booker, as well. Booker knows it’s a tactic to get him to stop drinking as much, but he finds that he doesn’t care.

“They do that.”

Copley just looks at him and Booker is reminded of the CIA Agent he met nearly nine years prior.

“When you’re as old…” Booker smiles at Copley’s look of interest. “Nice try. But breaks are good. And Nile is still new.”

“When will she stop being new?”

“When Andy thinks she’s ready.”

“For?”

“Honestly? Probably never now that Andy’s…”

“Mortal?”

Booker swallows and looks up at Copley. The storm brewing in his own eyes is met with a compassion he doesn’t deserve. He looks away before he does something ridiculous like cry but not soon enough for Copley to notice.

“Booker.” Copley breathes deeply, almost like it pains him that Booker is hurting. “How long is your exile?”

“A hundred years.”

“A hundred years?”

“Yeah.” Booker doesn’t even realize he’s saying the next part until Copley’s gasp. “A third of my life.”

“A third? So you’re two hundred?”

Booker sighs and figures if the man is letting him live in his house then he might as well be honest with him.

“I turned two hundred and fifty this past May.”

“Two hundred fifty…” Copley trails off with a look of concentration. “Seventeen seventy?”

“Got it in one.”

“Well, shit.”

Booker laughs at the look on Copley’s face. “You have a board of over a hundred and fifty years of photos of us and my actual age surprises you?”

“Well yeah, especially considering you’re the baby.”

“I am not the baby.” Booker glares at Copley without heat.

“Right. Right, it’s Nile. You’ve definitely got middle kid syndrome.”

“I resent that.”

Copley shrugs and it’s such an odd thing for him to do that Booker smiles.

“Forty two.” Booker says unprompted.

“Huh?”

“I’m forty two, give or take a few years.”

Copley turns his head to the side like he’s studying Booker and likes what he finds. “I’m forty three.”

“I know.”

Copley rolls his eyes. “So how did you die?”

“The first time?”

Copley nods and Booker thinks about telling him the glorified version of the truth or the actual truth and finds that he actually wants to tell him.

“Army deserter, fighting with Napoleon.”

“Huh?”

“What?”

“Nothing, just don’t see you as an army guy.”

“It was the thing to do.”

Copley raises an eyebrow at him and Booker sighs.

“Alright fine, I was a forger, got caught, sent to war…”

“Booker.”

Booker shakes his head. “It wasn’t the last time I saw my family, although...”

“Family?”

“Wife, three sons.” Booker spins his wedding ring, watching as Copley’s eyes follow the movement.

“I never…”

“My youngest son died at forty two, cancer. I can still remember everything he said to me, screaming that I wouldn’t share my gift with him to help him.”

Booker startles as Copley’s hand comes down on top of his own, squeezing tightly.

“I’m sorry.”

Booker turns his hand over in a moment of bravery and squeezes back.

“I’m sorry, too.”

Copley sits back for a moment, seemingly contemplating something, then shakes his head as he gets up to grab a binder on his desk.

“What are you?”

“Here.”

Copley places the binder down on the table and Booker looks at it like it might bite him.

“What’s this?”

“Open it.”

Booker opens it and sees pages of photos of himself. The photos that should be on the wall with the others.

“So you did have photos of me?”

“Just those and the few that are already on the wall. You’ve been with them a long time.”

“Not that long.”

“Longer than most people will ever get.”

Booker nods at that, thinking back to the time he had with his family, the time Copley had with his wife. It makes his heart hurt, when he thinks about everything he’s done.

“If I had your names I could find more.”

“Sébastien.”

“What?”

“My name, it’s Sébastien Le Livre.”

Copley smiles and the way it lights up his whole face is beautiful. The thought stops Booker’s heart for a moment, but then he lets it wash over him. For once, his attraction to someone else doesn’t feel like a betrayal.

“Booker makes sense now.” Copley smirks. “Although I think I like Sébastien better.”

Yeah, this man is going to be the death of him.

~~~

Booker should really admit that he’s not leaving Copley’s house. They’ve traveled to a few places and Booker’s taken a couple of solo jobs and gone to some of his safe houses to get some of his things but it’s been three months of him living with Copley and helping him with the team's jobs and he can feel himself slipping into a dangerous normalcy.

You can also cut the tension between them with a knife. Booker doesn’t think he’s ever wanted someone as badly as he wants James Copley, but here he is three months into the first solid home he’s had in over two hundred years, and all he wants is Copley.

Which is to say, he’s a little miserable. He can’t mess this up. He can’t mess up the one friendship that’s become as vital to him as breathing, he can’t mess up the chance to help his family, even if they don’t know it, and he can’t mess up the chance to spend at least some of his hundred year exile with this man.

Booker’s trying to figure out how to at least see if Copley’s interested in maybe making their relationship something more when he hears a loud crash from the kitchen.

“Shit.”

“You okay?” Booker looks around at the mess in the kitchen, a little shocked to see any part of the house in such disarray.

“Yeah, sorry. I was looking for something.”

“What?”

“A cookbook. My wife’s.”

Booker’s heart seizes at the mention of Copley’s wife. It’s not that they haven’t talked about her, hell Booker’s seen more pictures of her than he’s ever seen of another person, but something twists in his gut, burning hot like jealousy, and he hates it.

“What were you trying to cook?”

“Huh?” Copley’s looking around frantically and not really paying attention and Booker puts his hand on his arm to stop him.

“James.”

Copley looks at him and visibly relaxes as Booker bends down to look in the cabinet Copley was cleaning out.

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

Booker finds what he thinks Copley is looking for and stands up to hand him a small book that has pretty cursive writing on the front.

“Here.”

Booker looks into Copley’s eyes as he takes the book. Their hands brush and Booker swears the butterflies he feels make him feel like a teenager again, which is honestly impressive.

“Sébastien.” Copley says in his infuriatingly elegant accent and Booker feels himself moving closer, so close that he can feel Copley’s breath against his own lips.

It only takes a second, and then Booker is surging forward and kissing Copley, who drops the book and wraps his hands around Booker’s waist.

Booker reluctantly breaks the kiss when the need to breathe becomes too much. He looks into Copley’s eyes and is pleased to see a similar look of want reflected back at him.

“What are we doing?” Copley whispers as Booker presses up against him and pushes them into the counter.

“Whatever you want.”

Copley takes that as an invitation and he surges forward, Booker grabbing onto his hips to stop the momentum as he feels Copley’s tongue seek entrance into his mouth.

Booker gets so lost in the kiss, so lost in pulling Copley’s shirt from his pants and undoing the buttons to his shirt that he’s pretty sure he’s never been kissed like this before, and that’s saying something.

Before Booker gets what he really wants, which is Copley somewhere horizontal, Copley breaks the kiss with a shout.

“Shit.”

“What happened?” Booker’s looking frantically at Copley. “James!”

“Cut myself.” Copley looks at him as he pulls his hand in front of him to show the bleeding the knife that was on the counter behind Booker caused.

Booker helps him bring his hand under the water as he grabs a towel. As soon as the blood washes away Booker turns his hand over looking for the cut and doesn’t see any.

“Where’d you cut your hand?”

“I, I don’t know.” Copley’s looking at his hand like he’s never seen it before and Booker doesn’t think, he just grabs the knife and slices Copley’s hand again and then his own.

“Sébastien!”

“Just look.” Booker wipes the blood away from his own hand and Copley’s and places them next to each other as they watch both wounds heal.

“Holy shit.”

“Does this mean?”

“I don’t know what it means. Usually a person has to die for us to figure it out.”

“Uhh, about that.”

“We can deal with this later?”

Booker leans in closer to Copley and kisses him again, magically healing immortal hands long forgotten.

~~~

Except, not so forgotten, when Copley shoots awake in the middle of the night, grabbing his head and nearly throwing Booker out of bed.

“James?”

“Sorry, nightmare.” Copley looks over at him and then turns on the light and Booker can see the worry lines on his face.

“Tell me.” Booker says as he reaches up to cup Copley’s cheek as Copley leans into him.

“It was nothing.” Copley shakes his head as he scoots closer to Booker. “The team.”

“What about the team?”

“Nothing, probably just nerves for the next job.”

“James. Tell me what you saw.”

Copley sighs as he lays back down and Booker hooks his leg over Copley’s as he waits for him to speak.

“I don’t want…”

“I’ll be fine.” Booker says as he leans in to kiss Copley. “Tell me.”

“Andy and Nile were training, Joe was sketching something and Nicky was cooking.”

“Shit.” Booker lays back down and rubs his hands over his eyes. “We dream each other.”

“We?”

“When there’s a new immortal.”

“So you think?”

“I don’t know what to think. This hasn’t happened before.”

Booker looks over at Copley and sees that his eyes have gone wide and he has a panicked expression in his face.

“Hey.” Booker turns on his side so he can pull Copley closer. “We’ll figure this out.”

Copley nods just as his phone starts ringing. They both jump at the noise as Copley shows him the caller is Andy.

Booker tries not to listen but it’s kinda hard when he’s hugging Copley and he misses the sound of Andy’s voice.

“They’ll be here tomorrow.” Copley says as he drops his phone on the nightstand.

“Alright. I can get out of your hair.”

“What? Sébastien, no.”

“I’m not supposed to see them. Hell, I’m probably not supposed to even be speaking to you.”

“Sébastien.” Copley runs his fingers through Booker’s hair. “This is your home. I want you to be here.”

Booker can’t help it, he kisses Copley like he’s never going to be able to again, as he reaches over and turns off the light.

~~~

Morning comes all too soon and Booker hates it. This sanctuary he’s built, his home, according to James, is about to be overcome with people who hate him.

“I can meet them somewhere else.” Copley says as if he can read Booker’s mind. Wouldn’t that be something.

“No. They’re probably almost here anyways.” Booker would know, as he broke his own vow and tracked them, just so he knew how much time he’d need to prepare.

“Do I even want to know?”

“No.” Booker smiles and Copley leans down to kiss him just as the doorbell rings.

Booker holds tighter to his coffee cup as Copley lets them in and for the first time in almost a year he’s looking directly at Nile, Andy, Joe, and Nicky.

“Booker!” Nile says delightedly as she practically skips over to hug him. He sinks into the hug, grateful to at least not have burned this bridge.

“Hey, Nile.”

Nile pulls back and Booker looks over to Andy, who looks the same, if not well rested, and he hugs her, too.

“Book.”

Book squeezes her again as he steps back. Booker looks at Joe and Nicky, who stand formidable and together but with their heads tilted to the side like they’re trying to figure something out.

“Did you dream of Copley, too?” Nile asks him and before Booker or Copley can answer Andy gasps as she looks across the living room.

Everyone turns toward her and Booker instantly realizes what she’s looking at and so does Copley. It’s Booker’s copy of Don Quixote that Andy gifted him last year.

But that’s not all, no, she’s going to notice Booker’s boots by the door, his laptop on the table, his sunglasses and motorcycle helmet on the shelf. It looks like he lives here, because he does.

“You didn’t just get here today, did you?” Joe asks him as Andy looks at him smiling.

“No.” Copley answers as he comes up to Booker and places a hand on the small of his back.

Booker can’t help it, he leans into the touch and turns towards Copley to give him a small smile.

Booker chances a look back at the others and feels warm at the sight of Nile, Andy, Joe, and Nicky all smiling at him.

Nicky walks over to him and pulls both Booker and Copley into a quick hug.

“It’s destiny.”

#the old guard #booker x copley #bopley #booker accidentally on purpose moves in with copley #mentions of alcoholism

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caitlesshea · 4 years ago

Text

die for you in secret

“James? Is that you?”

Sébastien calls as he looks up from his garden and sees the lights in the house turn on.

The garden was his therapists idea after he had expressed an interest during a session. James had readily agreed and now their backyard is filled with flowers and trees.

It’s where Sébastien spends most of his time when James is working. Or when he’s on a job with Sébastien’s family, the one that Sébastien hasn’t seen in almost a decade.

Exile.

He started out alone, and then about six months in he showed up on James’ doorstep, drunk and soaked from the rain looking like a drowned rat.

That was ten years ago.

He puts down his gardening shears and takes off his gloves, eager to see James after three weeks away.

“James?” He calls again as he steps into the house from the back door. The kitchen lights are on and he can hear someone walking around. “You better not be trying to cook.”

Sébastien rounds the corner into the kitchen and he’s met, not with the sight of his husband, but with the barrel of a gun.

“What?”

“Who are you? Why are you in my house?” James asks in an eerily calm voice Sébastien’s only heard a couple of times, and never directed at him.

“James. Put that down!”

“Who are you? Why are you in my house?”

“It’s me, Sébastien.”

“I don’t know anyone named Sébastien.” James growls as he moves closer with the gun.

And okay. Not great.

“James, lower the gun.”

“No.”

Sébastien puts his hands up in an I’m not a threat gesture but James doesn’t lower his weapon.

“James, chéri. I live here. C’mon, put the gun away and we can talk about what’s wrong.”

“Don’t call me that! You don’t live here. Where’s Natasha? What have you done with her?”

The blood drains from Sébastien’s face. Something is very wrong.

“Natasha?” Sébastien croaks out.

“My wife!” James snaps and then shakes his head. “Where is she?”

“She’s...shit.” Sébastien moves a little closer to see if James will lower the gun.

He doesn’t want to have this conversation, but how do you tell your husband that doesn’t seem to remember you that the woman he does remember is gone.

“Tell me!”

Sébastien has just a moment to register that James is pulling the trigger when he staggers back, hand automatically going to his shoulder where blood is pouring out of the wound. He winces through the healing and James stands frozen like he can’t believe he just shot someone.

Sébastien reaches for the gun they keep under the cabinet and aims without thinking about the fact that he’s shooting at his husband.

He manages with great aim to knock the gun out of James hand, just barely grazing his fingers that have already started to heal.

Another perk of the last ten years. James has been immortal for nine of them, something they’ve hidden from the team, along with them being married for the last eight.

“You shot me.” James says a little bewildered and Sébastien gestures at himself.

“Look. You were just in Istanbul right?” At James’ nod of confirmation, Sébastien continues. “You remember Andy and Nile?”

James nods again and Sébastien breathes out a sigh of relief.

“Okay. So, I know you have no reason to trust me, but something must’ve happened. I want to help you figure it out but please, can you stop trying to shoot me?”

James nods again and Sébastien stands, wincing a little at the barely there twinge in his shoulder.

“It’s been a long day. Why don’t you get showered and I’ll make lunch and we can figure this out.”

Sébastien ushers James into the bathroom and grabs comfy clothes for him to wear, hoping to keep James out of their bedroom for now.

When the shower turns on Sébastien runs around their house finding every gun, knife, and weapon they have hidden and shoves them into the safe in the office and then changes the combination to his late son Jean-Pierre’s birthday for good measure.

Sébastien picks up James’ duffle by the front door and brings it back into their room to sort through the laundry.

He’s barely unzipped the bag when he sees a bookmark from Istanbul on the top. He chokes down the sob that threatens to escape at the familiar gift they buy each other.

At least James remembered who he was at some point on this trip.

Sébastien sits down on their bed and looks at James’ nightstand, the one that used to have a photo of Natasha. The same photo that now lives in the living room next to a picture of Sébastien’s late family.

In its place is a jewelry stand that keeps James’ wedding ring, a modern gold band that he’s worn for eight years, but doesn’t wear on missions. It also holds a necklace, the chain matching the one Sébastien wears. Only James’ necklace holds Sébastien’s original three band wedding ring from the eighteen hundreds. On Sébastien’s chain is James’ slimmer gold wedding band from his marriage to Natasha.

Sébastien wears a black tungsten band now, having liked the look of it when they went shopping. He grips the chain under his shirt and can’t help the sob that escapes.

If James thinks he’s still married to Natasha he’ll want his wedding band.

Sébastien takes off the chain but before he can unclasp the ring the shower shuts off.

He’s hoping James goes into the kitchen but no such luck.

“You’re in my room?”

Sébastien jumps and turns to face James as he stands.

“Sorry, I was putting your laundry away.” He gestures to the duffle bag and James nods.

“The guest room doesn’t look lived in.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“You said you live here. The guest room doesn’t look lived in.”

“Oh, uh.”

“What’s this?” James crosses the room and grabs the necklace with Sébastien’s first wedding ring on it. His heart clenches as James rubs his fingers over the ring almost reverently.

“It’s yours.” Sébastien whispers. It was something they gave to each other when they got married, weird as it may seem, but to them it symbolizes that they have each other’s whole heart and the memories from their mortal lives live within each other.

“And this?” James picks up his wedding ring and Sébastien has to put the palms of his hands to his eyes to stop the tears.

“It’s your wedding ring.”

“But I thought?”

Sébastien holds up the necklace with James’ first wedding ring on it and James takes it from him. It’s the first time Sébastien’s been without it in almost eight years.

James turns it over in his hand and then hands it back to Sébastien as he grabs the gold band from his nightstand and puts it on instead.

“You don’t want?” Sébastien can barely get the words out, afraid of what James might say.

“I think I want to wear this one.”

“Okay.” Sébastien whispers. “Lemme get this laundry in the wash and I’ll make lunch.” He grabs the clothes, eager to get out of their room and into the bigger open space of the house.

He puts the clothes in the wash and gets started on lunch, watching as James walks through their living room, taking in the changes from whatever time period James thinks it is.

He’s just finishing the quick sandwiches when he decides to bite the bullet and call Andy for the first time in ten years.

He passes James his food while he waits for Andy to answer.

“Thanks.” James nods as he looks at the blood on the floor and grimaces.

“I’ll clean it after you eat.” James looks like he’s going to protest but Sébastien turns away from him. “C’mon, pick up. Pick up.”

“Booker?” Andy answers hesitantly and Sébastien nearly sobs.

“Andy.”

“Is something wrong?”

Oh, nothing much. Just my hundred year exile. Just my husband having no clue who I am. Just my husband thinking his late wife is still alive. Just my husband being immortal so this shouldn't be happening. Oh yeah, and he shot me. What isn’t wrong?

“It’s Copley.” The name tastes weird in his mouth after James took Le Livre as his last name when they got married.

“What about him?”

“Something’s wrong.”

“What are you talking about? You’re in contact with him?”

“Look, I can explain everything but I just need to know if something happened in Istanbul?”

Andy sucks in a breath. “How did you?”

“Andy! Please, he doesn’t…” Sébastien swallows the sob. “He thinks Natasha is alive.” Sébastien whispers the last part.

“Who?”

“His wife.��

Andy sucks in a breath. “Where are you?”

“We’re in Surrey.”

“We’ll be there tonight.”

“Andy, please just tell me if something happened?”

“I don’t know, Book. He seemed fine when we parted ways at the airport.”

“Okay. I’ll see you later.”

“Bye.”

Sébastien puts the phone down and looks over at James who’s staring intently at him.

“Natasha’s gone isn’t she?”

Sébastien sucks in a breath. “Yeah.”

James nods and gestures for Sébastien to join him at the counter.

Sébastien grabs James’ hand and squeezes, letting the buzzing that he’s felt since James has been home settle with contact. James' breath catches and Sébastien can tell James can feel it, too.

“I’m sorry.” Sébastien whispers.

“You’ve lost people, too?” James gestures to the living room where the photos of their mortal families are.

“We both have.”

James nods and Sébastien grabs his tablet to pull up his mission notes.

“I want to figure out what happened from you leaving Istanbul to now.”

“You think something happened?”

“Well, you don’t remember me and you think it’s at least twelve years ago.”

“No, I know it’s twenty thirty one.” James rubs his hands over his face. “I know why I was in Istanbul with Andy, Nile, Joe, and Nicky. I just don’t know why I can’t remember you or why I forgot Natasha’s gone.”

“I…”

“It’s like you’ve been swapped in my mind.”

Sébastien sucks in a breath and can’t quite stop the tears from falling.

“Shit. I’m sorry…” James looks apologetic and then he winces. “I’m sorry, what is your name again?”

“It’s Sébastien Le Livre, my family calls me Booker.”

“But I don’t?” At Sébastien’s confused face James continues. “What do I call you?”

“Oh. Sébastien or Bastien.”

“And you live here?”

“I do.”

“Huh.”

“Look, I’m sure you’re tired. And if the team is coming here tonight you might as well rest.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll be fine.” Sébastien shrugs as he starts clearing the plates from their lunch away.

James eventually nods and shuffles toward their bedroom and Sébastien sits down heavily on one of the bar stools.

He pulls up James’ mission notes, thankful he’s as thorough as he is. Everything looks to be in order, even his notes from the airport look normal. James even made a note to stop at the store to pick up Sébastien’s favorite bread for the chili Sébastien was planning on making.

Sébastien watches the tears fall onto the tablet as he leans his head down on the table.

At least he knows something happened on the plane which is a good place to start.

He spends the next several hours on the computer looking up passenger manifests, passenger accounts, cell phone photos, and videos. He’s barely made a dent when James knocks on the office door.

“Have you been in here this whole time?”

Sébastien looks at the clock and winces. It’s been four hours since he started and if his old team is going to be here soon he needs to start dinner.

“Yeah. Sorry. Let me start dinner and we can go over what I found.”

“I can - ”

Sébastien chuckles. “No. You really can’t.”

James huffs a laugh. “Well, I guess that memory is correct.”

“Mmm.”

Sébastien starts on dinner, a quick stir fry the team and James both love, as James grabs the tablet.

“I was supposed to go to the store?”

“Hmm? Oh, uh yeah. No worries though. Stir fry instead, if that’s okay?”

“Yeah, as long as there’s - ”

“Cashews, yeah.” Sébastien points to the jar on the counter and James smiles.

“How long?” James clears his throat. “How long have we known each other?”

Sébastien pauses his chopping and leans against the counter to look at James. There’s bags under his eyes that weren’t there when he got home and his normal house clothes, loose jeans, a shirt, and cardigan, are rumpled, like he didn’t actually sleep during those four hours.

It hurts his heart to think that James is just as affected by this amnesia as Sébastien is.

“Almost twenty years.”

“So you knew?”

Sébastien’s heart clenches. “I met her once, briefly.”

“Why do I look the same?”

“Oh.” Sébastien laughs quietly. “We’re immortal.”

“Like Nile, Joe, and Nicky?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s why we both healed from the gunshots?”

“Yeah. Sorry about that.” Sébastien twists his wedding ring, trying to block out the memory of being shot by his husband and shooting his husband.

“Me, too.”

“And your wife?” Sébastien looks up sharply at that. “Did I ever meet her?”

“No.” Sébastien swallows back the sob that wants to escape. “She passed long before you were born.”

“And your boys?”

Sébastien really can’t help the tears that fall this time.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Sébastien waves him off. “It was a long time ago.”

“How long?”

Sébastien kinda hates these invasive questions. They’re all things that James knows, but they were whispered to each other at night while cuddled together. James kissing the tears off of Sébastien’s cheeks. This is different.

“I was born in seventeen seventy so they all passed in the eighteen hundreds.”

“Damn.”

That startles a laugh out of Sébastien. “Yeah.”

“Did you find anything?” James holds up the tablet and Sébastien nods.

“Nothing concrete, but two other passengers have been admitted to the hospital since arriving home.”

“You think we were drugged?”

“It’s possible. Do you remember eating or drinking anything?”

“No. I usually don’t.”

Sébastien nods, they’re all paranoid about pretty much everything.

“I’m wondering if whatever is wrong with those other two is also wrong with you, but your body is healing quicker than there’s.”

“Have the doctors found anything?”

“Not yet. And it’s not exactly easy to hack into medical files.” Sébastien raises an eyebrow and James smirks back at him and for a moment Sébastien forgets that his husband doesn’t remember him.

“Something I taught you?”

“Yeah.” Sébastien whispers as he starts cooking the veggies and chicken since Andy texted saying they were thirty minutes out.

James must realize that the mood has changed as he starts setting the table, the familiarity of them moving effortlessly around the kitchen makes Sébastien’s heart clench.

“They said they’re about thirty minutes out.”

James nods as he starts getting out drinks for everyone.

“No alcohol?” James asks as he heads over to the fridge and bar area they have.

“No. Uhh, I’ve been sober for almost ten years. We have some wine we use to cook, if you want.”

“No. That’s fine. That’s, well, it’s wonderful Sébastien.”

Sébastien blushes at the familiar praise, James being the biggest supporter of his sobriety, even if he doesn’t remember.

James ends up choosing water for everyone and as he passes Sébastien in the kitchen Sébastien wants to reach out and kiss him, the move as ingrained in him as fighting, but much more pleasant. He stops himself at the last moment and lets his hand fall.

Sébastien finishes cooking and has just placed the last of the food on the table when there’s a knock at the door. He exhales loudly, his fingers tapping anxiously against his thigh. James notices.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Sébastien shakes his head.

“Sébastien.” The worrying lilt to James’ voice makes Sébastien’s heart break.

“I uh...I haven’t seen them in ten years.”

“Why?”

Sébastien looks at James and sees he’s genuinely curious but he doesn’t have it in him to explain to James all that happened ten years ago.

“Just needed some time apart. Go let them in.” Sébastien waves him away and James looks like he’s going to argue but thankfully he doesn’t.

James opens the door and Sébastien hears them all first. Andy’s low voice, Nile’s cheerful one, Nicky and Joe’s perfectly timed hey.

Then he sees them. For the first time in ten years.

He knows Andy got her immortality back, but it’s still shocking to see her looking the same as she did that day by the Thames. Her hair is a little shorter, less in her eyes, but she’s still Andy.

Nile looks just as young as she did that first night in France and Sébastien smiles when he realizes she is clearly the most fashionable besides Joe.

Joe. His brother. Who looks good in his leather jacket and black jeans. His hair is a little shorter but his beard is the same.

Then there’s Nicky. Looking like he just stepped out of a magazine. His hair is longer, he has a beard, and Sébastien can see he’s wearing earrings and rings. It suits him. Just as jeans and t-shirts do.

Sébastien’s still tapping his fingers against his thighs as he stands and accepts Nile’s hug.

“Hey, Book.”

“Hey, kid.”

She scrunches her nose and he laughs as he goes to hug Andy.

“Andromache.”

“None of that Book. Tell us what’s going on.” She grabs the back of his neck as she steps away and he gestures to the table.

“I made stir fry.” Sébastien says a little helplessly as everyone sits around the table.

They all sit in the same seats that they’ve sat in previously, when Sébastien had made them dinner and then made himself scarce, much to James’ annoyance.

The seat next to James is empty, like it normally is when his family’s here for dinner and they had all assumed it was for his late wife but Sébastien sits in his normal chair when it’s just the two of them and everyone stares at him.

“What?”

“Didn’t Copley make this?” Nile says around a mouthful.

Sébastien can’t help it, he laughs, loudly. So loud there are tears in his eyes. James is trying not to laugh as well, hiding his face behind a napkin. Sébastien wants to reach out and squeeze James’ hand, but he resists.

“Uh, no. James can’t even boil water.”

“We’ve had this before.” Nicky says as he eats and hums a little with each bite, a sure sign that he likes the meal.

“You have.”

“Care to share?” Joe asks as he takes a bite and smiles approvingly.

“Not really?” Sébastien knows he’s going to have to start talking. He knows he’s going to have to start sharing about what the last ten years have looked like for him, for them, but he’s not ready.

“Let me guess.” Nile starts. “You always cooked and then made yourself scarce so we wouldn’t see you?”

“Pretty much yeah.” Sébastien whispers and James looks over at him like he’s trying to work something out but can’t yet.

“Why?” Nicky asks as he looks around at what he can see of their house.

“Umm. I was exiled.” Sébastien shrugs and then turns to look at James when he gasps.

James’ fingers are twitching, a sure sign he’s either anxious or annoyed and Sébastien would put money on it being both.

“It’s fine.” Sébastien says quietly just for James and it’s enough to calm the twitching fingers.

“And how long have you been doing that?” Nicky asks, looking between James and Sébastien like he’s trying to figure something out.

“Pretty much since the beginning.” Sébastien taps his fingers against the table this time.

Sébastien tunes out the questions that everyone seems to have for James after that, trying to figure out what happened to him. Thankfully they let Sébastien’s comments slide, although that reprieve is short lived.

“I do remember my wedding.” Sébastien looks over at James and thinks that he’s going to start waxing poetic about his wedding to Natasha, at a grand cathedral that her parents paid for when James was just starting at the Agency.

What he doesn’t expect is for James to start talking about their wedding. What he also doesn’t expect is for James to think it was also with Natasha.

“Well, second wedding, I suppose.” James continues and Sébastien’s heart breaks. “It was here in our backyard, the garden was just beginning to bloom, there were café lights everywhere. It was small, with just some of my family. But it was perfect.”

Sébastien makes a high pitched wounded sound and everyone looks over at him with questions in their eyes.

“Were you there?” James asks him and Sébastien’s pretty sure he dies and revives a moment later. “You said you met her.”

Sébastien clears his throat and it feels like he’s choking on glass. “I was there.”

Sébastien can’t help it, he turns his wedding ring around on his finger, a nervous habit that everyone at the table has zeroed in on.

“Well, it was beautiful right? Natasha, even though I can’t remember, I’m sure looked beautiful.”

“She wasn’t there.” Sébastien whispers brokenly.

“What?”

“She wasn’t there.” Sébastien scrubs his hands over his face and he finally lifts his left hand enough for everyone to notice the different wedding band.

“She wasn’t there because it’s our wedding you’re remembering. Eight years ago, last month. Your parents, brother and sister in law, and nieces were there. And I was there. Because I’m your husband. And I’ve lived here for ten years, been sober for most of it, about as long as you’ve been immortal.”

Sébastien doesn’t wait for anyone to respond, takes one look at James’ face, gets up from the table, and practically runs outside.

He can vaguely hear Andy’s what the fuck? But he doesn’t care.

He gets outside to his garden and breathes in as deep as he can as he bends over, hands on his knees, and then sinks to the ground.

He vaguely hears the door open and then familiar footsteps as Joe steps into his line of vision.

Sébastien looks up into the face of his oldest friend, his brother, someone he has missed desperately these last ten years, and cries.

Joe lowers himself to the ground and pulls Sébastien into this chest. Sébastien puts his hands around Joe’s middle, shoulders shaking with sobs he can’t control.

Joe lets him cry, lets him get snot and tears all over his shirt before Sébastien calms himself enough to sit back on his heels.

Joe lets him go, although he looks like he doesn’t want to.

“I’m sorry.” Sébastien croaks out.

“No, Sébastien.” Joe tsks at him. “We’re sorry.”

“For what?”

“For not being here for you, for not knowing where you were, or that you’re sober, or that Copley’s immortal, or that you got married.”

Sébastien waves him away. “I still have ninety years of my exile left. You would’ve found out eventually.”

“That’s.” Joe shakes his head like he wants to say more, but stops himself. “We’ll revisit this, once we figure out what’s wrong with Copley.”

“Le Livre.” Sébastien murmurs because he can’t help himself.

“What?”

“James. He uhh...took my last name, so Le Livre.”

Joe smirks at him and Sébastien smiles ruefully.

“We didn’t dream him.”

“We actually think you did. I mean, he did, but when none of you called we assumed you all just thought it was a normal dream.”

“And he died?”

Sébastien sucks in a breath as he remembers getting a call from emergency services of an accident shortly after James had listed Sébastien as his emergency contact.

Before Sébastien even made it to the hospital he got a splitting headache and then images of James in the hospital bed, fighting with nurses that he was okay.

“Yeah, car accident. He was alive by the time I got to the hospital.”

Joe sucks in a breath. “He was arguing with nurses?”

“Yeah.” Sébastien chuckles.

“We did dream about him.”

Sébastien shrugs and gets up to sit down on one of the benches he built for the garden. Joe sits down next to him and bumps Sébastien’s shoulder with his own.

“It’s beautiful out here.”

“Merci.”

“So, you got married out here?”

“Oui. Over there, in the gazebo.” Sébastien smiles at the fond memories.

“I’m sorry we weren’t here.”

“I know why you weren’t.” Sébastien pushes himself closer to Joe, soaking up his warmth before they all leave again. “There’s photos.”

“Really?”

“Yes, his brother in law insisted.”

“I’d love to see them.”

Sébastien pulls out his phone and shows Joe his lock screen photo. It’s James and Sébastien during their first kiss, huge smiles on their faces as confetti rains down around them.

Joe discreetly wipes at his eyes and Sébastien chuckles.

“Beautiful.” Joe grips his hand. “We’ll figure out what’s wrong with James.”

“Honestly, I think whatever drug the other passengers were given he also got, but his immortality is fighting it, so he now has amnesia, and not a hospitalization.”

“I think you’re probably right.”

“I also don’t think it was connected to the job in Turkey. I think he just got caught in something else.”

The back door opens again and Sébastien sees James’ head pop out. Joe stands and grabs Sébastien’s shoulder as James makes his way over.

“We’ll keep looking at everything to make sure. But I think he’ll be fine.” Joe whispers. “It’s all set up in the office?”

Sébastien nods as James sits down next to him and Joe goes back inside.

“I’m sorry.” James whispers as he looks out at the garden.

“What?” Sébastien looks at James incredulously. “Why are you sorry?”

“For forgetting. For not remembering you, our life.”

“You have amnesia. I’m not mad. You don’t need to be sorry.”

“I’m hurting you.”

“You aren’t.”

“Okay, then I did.”

“You didn’t do anything James. It was just… overwhelming.” Sébastien settles on instead of saying things like soul crushing or devastating.

James raises an eyebrow at him and the move is so familiar that Sébastien chuckles wetly.

“Good to know I still got it.” James quips and Sébastien snorts.

“You’ve still got it, old man.”

“You can’t just steal my nickname, Sébastien.”

Sébastien’s breath catches. “What did you say?”

“I...I call you old man.”

“You remember?”

“It’s...I’m not sure, everything’s foggy.”

“Hey, it’s okay chéri. We’ll figure this out.” Sébastien grabs James’ hand without thinking and notices a slight blush high on James’ cheeks.

“James?” Sébastien’s trying to figure out what happened to cause James to blush and then he let’s go of James’ hand. “Sorry.”

“No, I...I remember the first time you called me that.”

“Called you what?”

“Chéri.”

“Oh.” Sébastien grabs the back of his neck as he remembers the first time he called James sweetheart.

They were in bed and it was late, James had woken up from a nightmare, Natasha’s name on his lips, when Sébastien had wrapped his large arms around him, whispered sweet nothings in his ear as he kissed his head. James had settled almost immediately and then told Sébastien he loved him for the first time.

“I don’t remember anything, but I can hear your voice saying it in the dark.”

“It was dark.”

“You’re not telling me something.”

“I think we should let the memories rest until we figure out what happened to you.”

“Nile’s on the computer and Nicky helped me clean up dinner.”

“Sorry I just walked out.”

This time James waves him away and Sébastien gives him a wry smile.

“C’mon. Let’s keep looking at the passengers. Somebody drugged people on your plane, we need to figure out why.”

When Sébastien walks inside he stops short at the absolute hurricane his family has turned the office into.

“Uh?

“We figured it out!” Nile shouts and waves some papers in the air.

The breath leaves Sébastien at once and he puts his hands on his knees.

“Tell me.”

“Okay, so it looks like all of the men on the plane were drugged. Some kind of memory erasing serum, only they messed up the dosage. So some people got extremely sick, like the passengers Booker found, some didn’t get sick at all, and some are experiencing temporary amnesia. We think Copley’s immortality is fighting the effects of a larger dose.”

“So it’s temporary?”

“Looks that way. Interpol has the assholes in custody, someone squealed.”

“So we just what? Wait it out?” Sébastien looks over at James, who’s looking at the papers Nile printed.

There’s a look of concentration on James’ face that Sébastien knows means nothing good.

“We think so. Some of the hospitalized passengers are already showing improvement.”

Sébastien nods.

“Hey.” He slowly grabs James’ hands and pulls the papers from them. James looks at him and Sébastien’s heart breaks at the look in his eyes.

“How did they drug us?” James asks after squeezing Sébastien’s hands and stepping closer to Nile.

“Needles in the seats, would’ve happened when you sat down.”

“Merde.”

“Yeah, I fucking hate this century.” Andy snorts from her spot on the couch and everyone around the room except Nile and James nod their heads.

“Interpol called, I told them Mr. Le Livre had a migraine and was resting and we’d let them know if anything changed.” Nicky smirks. “I had to pretend to be Booker, got to dust off my French accent.”

Sébastien laughs at Nicky but turns toward James who’s looking at him oddly.

“James?”

“Le Livre?”

“Uh.” Sébastien looks around the room and he really doesn’t want to have this conversation in front of everyone but he takes a deep breath and tells James. “It’s our last name.”

James looks surprised but must sense Sébastien’s hesitation because he just nods once.

All of a sudden Sébastien’s exhausted. It’s barely been twelve hours since James came home but it feels like they’ve been dealing with this for days.

“I think we’ve done all we can for now.” Sébastien whispers. “Joe and Nicky, you can have the guest room. Nile and Andy, if you don’t mind the couch in here pulls out.”

“That’s fine.” Andy nods.

Sébastien looks at the clock and winces at the late or early morning hour depending on how you look at it.

“I’m going to bed. The guest bath has extras of anything you forgot.”

At that he turns and heads toward their bedroom, grabs pajamas out of their dresser and his pillow before seeing James standing in the doorway.

“Where are you going?”

“The couch.” Sébastien grabs another blanket from the closet before he feels James touch his arm.

“Do you usually sleep on the couch?”

“Only when I’ve been bad.” Sébastien quips without thinking about it.

James huffs a laugh and Sébastien smiles.

“Sleep in here.”

“James.”

“Please. I...I would feel more comfortable if you were close.”

Sébastien looks at James and sees the truth in his eyes. He nods once and sets the pillows and blankets back on the bed and crawls into it to get comfortable.

James chuckles and scoots in next to him. Sébastien wants to roll into James’ side and tuck his face into James’ neck like he usually does but instead he stays on his back.

James turns the light off. “Goodnight Sébastien.”

“Night.” Sébastien whispers, knowing sleep will be a long time coming.

~~~

Sébastien wakes up to James poking him. He swats at James’ hands.

“Stop it.” Sébastien grumbles in a sleep rough voice. He snuggles closer into James’ neck, content when he finally gets comfortable.

He can feel and hear James’ chuckle in response.

“Is this any way to greet me after being away for three weeks, mon amour?”

At the French endearment Sébastien shoots up and stares at James.

“James?” Sébastien croaks and James nods his head and pulls Sébastien against him.

“It’s me. I’m here.”

“You’re here.” Sébastien winds his arms around his husband and cries when James kisses him on his forehead.

“I’m so sorry, darling.”

Sébastien just squeezes James tighter and puts his face into James’ neck.

“I thought I lost you.” Sébastien whispers after a moment, calm enough now to move back and look into James’ eyes.

The recognition in them makes him cry again.

“Never. You’ll never lose me.”

“You can’t promise that.”

“No. But I’ll always be here.” James puts his hand over Sébastien’s heart.

“I love you.” Sébastien leans forward and kisses James for the first time in three weeks.

It feels like home.

“Je t'aime.”

#the old guard #booker x copley #bopley #temporary amnesia #canon typical mentions of violence and injuries

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