Archive of Our Own ^beta

Arcana can hardly believe what he’s seeing.

Logically, he’s heard of anything and everything bizarre, with the help of Esper powers and mythological riffraff. He was one of those weirdos after all, trickery and thievery running like liquid gold in his veins. Were it not for the fact that it was happening right in front of his very eyes, he would have scoffed and labelled it as hearsay. Ugly rumour spreading even, but not even his own sight receptors can deceive him. 

He stands in a disturbed state of disbelief and fascination, as he watches his best friend and the love of his life disregard the chaos around them completely and go head-to-head with one another.

“You’ve never been the most compassionate of people. I understand that much. But you put all of our lives in danger by your own actions, and as your fellow Commander, I need you to understand that.” 

Falken steers clear of rising sand pillars, his eyes shining with piercing irises. His all-seeing eye glides with him through the air, its presence eerie and haunting. 

“I fail to see what I’ve done wrong.” Sander spits, flicking his hand up. “Did I not come to your rescue when you needed it?”

“You did. You charged headfirst into the enemy on your own and completely disregarded your team’s safety.” 

Without batting an eye, Falken waves an arm and sends a falcon swooping down onto Sander, knocking him backwards with its pure inertia and nearly sending him to his knees. However, he stands his ground with a vengeance and dons a manic, self-satisfied grin. 

“I see. You needed me to coddle and protect you. Powerless and weak, are you not?”

Instinctively, Arcana takes a step behind the safety of their team. Careless words spoken like that were enough to hurt, but he knows Falken well, and he knows that despite the dagger lodged in his heart, his honest fury knows no bounds when it rears its head.

“You of all people should know otherwise,” Falken’s shoulders rise, then fall. “I am fully capable of destroying you.” 

“Then show me. Destroy me.” Sander squares him up, whistling at the battle stance Falken takes. He’s stoking the anger that comes off him in waves, poking and prodding at it measuredly. He almost appears excited at the prospect of having to fight him, but his face drops when Falken straightens up, the crackling air around him dying away to stillness.

He regards Sander pointedly. “How can I possibly do that to you? Have you not tasted your own power enough?”

He almost appears disappointed, as he turns his back on Sander and faces the rest of their team. He peers up at Arcana for a moment, fatigue swimming in his eyes, and he can do nothing but stay silent with empathy crawling up his throat. 

“Leave me out of your foolish desires for once.”

“Fine,” Sander grunts, dusting his suit down. "I never expected you to be this pathetic."

With a determined stride, he storms off and leaves without so much as a goodbye, as everyone except Falken gawks at his retreating figure and wonders how they’re going to explain the events that had just transpired. 

Falken instead stares at the ground in the same shock, attempting and failing to process the words and actions taken against him. 

“I’m—terribly sorry you had to witness that, everyone.” His voice shakes. “Are you all alright?”

Arcana sighs, and lays on his shoulder. “I think we should be asking you that instead.”

—

The sound of running water permeates the stark white emptiness of Falken’s surroundings, as he bores into his own reflection at the bathroom sink. 

His eyes are raw red and his hair is a tangled mess from running his hands through it, and he looks like an ornithologist’s mistake. Run over and barely put together–he’s roadkill, the result of a driver’s brashness and the culmination of bad decisions. The only saving grace for him is the mask plastered over his face, hiding his despondency from view and serving as some sort of a muffler. 

He’s alone, but the thought of letting his walls down so frivolously scares him half to death.

He’s supposed to be sitting at his desk and getting back to work, but he finds that near impossible when all of his limbs ache and burn. He feels sick, lifting a hand to his forehead, but it’s cold. He feels cold, standing by himself in the marble-tiled bathroom, and conjuring up every single thing said to him by Sander.

Powerless and weak, are you not?

I never expected you to be this pathetic.

It stings, and Falken tries to wave them away, but his taunts keep circling round his mind. He’s not weak for standing his ground and prioritizing the people under his care, and he’s definitely not pathetic. His skills and powers honed over careful and tireless practice; he’s a force to be reckoned with, and his subordinates respect him for his leadership and decision-making.

…Do they really?

Wouldn’t Sander know? He was the one who trained him on most occasions, after all. He corrected his mistakes and affirmed good performance, and was a strict yet fair mentor that reserved such intimate teaching for him only. 

No, Falken thinks, it isn’t entirely fair. How could it be? There would be no way of knowing things would turn out this volatile, having gone to bed with him and then rising in the morning together under the cover of gold, spilling in through the window and being greeted with an equally luminous visage to behold. 

In retrospect, they were bound to reach a boiling point eventually. Relationships were hardly ever peaceful for a long while, and arguments were commonplace, especially between two people with differing interests and motivations. Being of equal standing in the same organization certainly didn’t help either. 

But—it hurts all the same. Words and expressions, solitude and actions; they made for a silent killer that twists the insides of his heart and leaves him breathless, and pricks the corners of his eyes to tears. 

When he yearned for Sander before, it was out of a desire for them to be more, to share in each other, and to be irrevocably connected like never before. Now, cursed with the knowledge of having that, it makes Falken that much miserable, reaching out for something he knows he possesses, but cannot have due to circumstance.

He believes he did the right thing, getting him to stand down before the damage done turned into something unsalvageable. For sure, Sander had barreled into the Miramon and saved their lives at the critical moment, but he saw red when such powerful attacks served to put them in danger as well.

The last thing he wants is to create unnecessary risk for the people he cares about. 

The last thing he wants is for Sander to endanger himself. 

(Perhaps lashing out wasn’t the best decision.)

“Falken?” A firm tap on the door beside him startles him suddenly. “Are you alright?”

He recognizes the unmistakable benign sound of Raven’s voice. Overcome with panic, Falken does his best to straighten himself out and wash the residue from his face, before he puts on a strong front and opens the door to greet her. As always, he towers above her at a staggering 1.85 metres, but her commanding presence with her animal familiars by her side makes for respect and authority. 

Wait, animal familiars? 

He does a double take as the unassuming faces of Geri and Hugin peer up at him, their coal black eyes seeking warmth in him. 

“Raven.” He replies slowly. “I’m alright, thank you.” 

“I see. That’s what I feared.” She runs a hand over Geri’s silky coat and motions for him to go to Falken. Though odd, he’s pleasantly surprised, and can’t help but smile a little under his mask as the intrepid wolf brushes up against his legs and offers him some comfort. Hugin, on the other hand, perches on Falken’s shoulder and curls up against him, making a call like dripping water that intrigues and calms him at the same time.

“…What do you mean?”

She steps into the bathroom, unperturbed, and waves him over to her so that they both sit on the floor. Curious, he sits beside her, summoning one of his falcons to perch beside Hugin. The two birds dance together in birdsong and merriment, and the delight of their play creates a joyful scene.

“Arcana told me what happened.” She mutters softly, her heels clicking against the floor as she taps her feet. “About how you and Sander got into an argument over his rash actions during a mission earlier today. I wanted to check on you and how you were doing.”

Falken coughs. “I assure you I’m doing alright.”

“Are you sure? You spent a total of 20 minutes in the bathroom.” Raven asks. 

“Well…” 

What was he supposed to say? That he spent all of those 20 minutes crying his heart out? It was unbecoming of him, both as a Commander and a person, and it made him think the worst of himself. He respected Raven too much to dump his sorrows on her all too freely, but yet—something about the gravitas of the situation somehow made his tongue loose, and it was also the fact that he hated lying to her as well.

Raven was never this serious, except during missions and emergencies. Perhaps this was an emergency as well.

He prays his emotions don’t come barraging out like a broken dam. 

“…No.” The falcon on his shoulder bows in embarrassment and he does the same, unable to face her. “You’re right. I…I’m not doing too well at the moment, I’m afraid.”

“That’s alright, you know.” She sighs, turning to face him head-on. “I would be concerned if you were alright. But this matters a lot to you, doesn’t it?”

There’s a swell of something rising up in him, something warm and inexplicable and baseless, and he tries to force it down with all his might, but it cannot be stopped. It rushes and rages like an agitated river during a rainstorm, and it pushes the waterworks right out of him all over again. 

“He matters a lot to you.”

Falken brings a hand up to his mouth to stifle the choked sob from him, but at this point, Geri has clambered into his lap and lets him bury his face into his flawless fur, and Raven’s arm wraps around him to hold him, as he cries like a child all over again, with a dog-like wolf in his arms and a motherly comfort to soothe the never-ending pain he feels from having his heart ripped out of his chest from just a few words.

“…Why does it hurt so much, Raven? This was only an argument we had.”

“Because you love him.” She whispers in the serenity of the bathroom, speaking delicately. “I’ve heard many love stories, but not one as devoted as the one between you and Sander. No amount of sound scolding from me to him can ease the pain you feel.” 

“You scolded him…?” He stops crying for a second to look at her. 

“Of course I did. What he did was brash and irresponsible. Though—not without good intentions.”

“What were his intentions?” 

Raven smiles defeatedly, albeit the ache she feels for Falken. “He said he saw you in danger and his body acted on its own. He’s not sorry for protecting you, but his ‘protection’ could use some work. Especially in how he responds afterwards.”

She looks towards him, fully expecting the shock that manifests itself on Falken’s face. Geri howls low in the midst of it all, an approving cry that erupts itself from within, and Hugin, annoyed, takes flight to peck him on the head.

“Of course, he needs to mind his words and use kinder language. Can you imagine the shock I felt when I heard about it? I had half a mind to punch him in the head, taking advantage of your insecurities like that.” 

To her surprise, Falken laughs, and even though it barely amounts to anything in terms of volume, Raven catches wind of it and notes the uncomfortable relief in his laughter. 

“I…I never expected that to be the reason.”

“Yeah, well—” Raven looks to the ceiling, wistfulness in her voice. “Love makes you do silly things.”

Falken wipes the remainder of tears from his eyes, his line of sight following her. “…Have you had a similar experience before, Raven?”

“Me? No. I’d much rather stay out of all romantic affairs. They’re too contrived for me. Though I’ve had to mediate a few in my time.”

She laughs, and Falken can’t help but conjure up the familiar feeling of wonder and respect for her. Even without her death machine of a motorcycle accompanying her, she still roars as brilliantly and majestically as her patron god, and he feels a kinship with her.

He pats Geri a few times, before letting him retreat back to his master. “Thank you, Raven.”

“What for?”

“I feel much better now. You brought light to the situation and I finally understand everything.”

She scoffs. “I’m sure you would have figured it out on your own anyway. I find Sander quite easy to understand after all: if it’s not power with him, it’s you.”

“Well, I think it’s more complicated than that…”

Falken’s forehead burns to life once again, as opposed to the ice previously running through his insides. He doesn’t have an answer to that; he’s helpless as he settles back into his seat, forced to face his own conflicting feelings of heartbreak, flattery and disappointment. 

“…Nevermind.”

Raven grins, patting Falken’s shoulder. “I’ve sent Sander on another mission to hopefully get his mind in order. He seemed regretful, so there might be hope yet. Will you tell me if he refuses to apologize? I’ve still got a few tricks up my sleeve.”

“Please don’t use Geri and Hugin for such nefarious purposes.” He shudders, shifting his gaze towards her wolf and raven, who remained serene despite the ideas their master had for them. “Anything but that.”

She merely shrugs and leaps off from her haunches to stand on her feet. “That’s just a last resort.” 

Right as Falken is about to retort back, Raven’s communicator buzzes to life with a call and she receives it immediately, the garbled holographic blue image of her teacher standing in the middle of the bathroom, detached and outlandish. 

“Dr Pritzker.” “Teacher.” They address him, but Falken finds his panicked expression to be a sign that something is wrong.

Terribly wrong. 

“Raven, Falken. Good, you’re both here. Listen to me carefully.” He splutters, measured yet urgent. “It’s about the latest reconnaissance mission.”

“The one I sent Commander Sander on, correct?”

“Yes,” Pritzker vouches, and at once, all of the warning sirens blare in Falken’s ears. He looks towards him pleadingly, desperate and anxious, and praying fervently that his worries are unfounded. 

(He can’t lose Sander. Not before they’ve had a chance to make peace with each other.)

“What’s the matter?”

“Commander Sander is requesting emergency medical support. They’re out of harm’s way for now, but they need support as soon as possible.”

As if it weren’t already broken enough, Falken’s heart drops and shatters to the floor, its impact deafening and wounding. He can feel his hands trembling and Raven’s concerned gaze on him, but the only thing on his mind is Sander, Sander, Sander.

“What…?”