Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Someone else was in the library.

Not that this was an unusual occurrence. It wasn't a private library; anyone in the Union was free to use it, and plenty of them did so regularly. He had mostly resigned himself to the nature of the shared space, and to his duties as the official librarian.

The problem was that the microfiche machine had been in use for over two hours, but the patron had not touched the dials for at least twenty minutes. Whatever image was currently displayed would be burned into the screen unless something was done quickly.

Elliot mustered up his courage, straightened his glasses, and came out from behind a reference shelf (L through Q).

"Excuse me." The words came out too softly. He took a deep breath and tried again. "Excuse me!"

The esper in the high-backed chair did not seem to have heard him. With the smallest of sighs, Elliot moved closer.

"Excuse..."

The image on the screen of the microfiche reader caught him by surprise. Rather than an article, it was a photo from a newspaper—Debia Daily, going by the typeface used in the caption—featuring three smiling figures. The woman in the center looked somewhat familiar. He squinted to make out the caption text.

"Dr Laura Ramses, youngest qualified surgeon in Debia, with father Lateef (left) and brother Ollie (right)."

Elliot was not exactly close to Laura, but he was aware of her stellar reputation as an ops leader. He hadn't known the extent of her qualifications, and was duly impressed.

Belatedly, he recalled that he was supposed to be addressing the patron.

"Mr Drew–"

"Hmm?"

The jackal-headed esper stirred. His near eye opened, glowing violet.

"My lord...?"

"It– it's Elliot, Mr Drew."

"Elliot," echoed Drew tonelessly.

He turned his head towards the librarian and stared for a few seconds, until recognition seemed to dawn on him.

"Pardon me, Mr Elliot. I'm afraid my right eye is all but useless." He reached up and caught the monocle dangling from its chain to his ear-cuff, then fixed it carefully in place. "Unaided, it can only discern colors and indefinite shapes."

"It– it's– it's all right." The question slipped out before Elliot could stop himself: "Who– who di– d– did you think I was?"

Drew smiled fleetingly.

"My... former employer."

He looked back at the screen. His gloved fingers hovered millimeters from the image of Lateef Ramses.

"I... I don't see the resemblance."

"You're not very alike in detail. Only your height and coloring invoked the memory."

Elliot wasn't sure how to escape this conversation gracefully, so he opted for the emergency exit.

"I need to turn off the microfiche machine now, Mr Drew. Keeping the same image on the screen for long periods can damage the display."

"Oh. Yes, I understand."

Drew's eyes remained fixed on the screen after Elliot turned it off. The librarian quickly checked to make sure there was no lingering imprint; he breathed a sigh of relief to see it clear and pristine.

"I do apologize for leaving the machine on. I'd developed a slight headache, and I meant to rest my eyes for just a moment."

"No harm done." Unusually, Elliott felt an urge to continue the conversation. "Is your headache any better now?"

"Considerably lessened, thank you. It's a recurring sequela of the injury to my eye, but it only really troubles me when I'm... imprudent." His ears twitched. "Forgive me. This is more information than you wanted, I'm sure."

"I don't mind." Elliot was surprised that it was not merely a polite lie. Now that he was no longer concerned about the machine, he even found himself enjoying the genteel voice and vocabulary of the ops chief—and, as long as Drew didn't look directly at him, he could speak much more clearly. "There was some discussion a few months ago about installing a blue light filter on the microfiche machine to prevent eyestrain, but the general feeling was that it was used too infrequently to justify the cost. If you intend to–"

"No, no, I can't—I mustn't. This was merely a caprice. It would be unbecoming of me to take advantage of your consideration."

"Then perhaps I could locate a photograph from a more recent publication in print."

Drew shook his head. "The most recent picture would be from three years ago... from his obituary."

Elliot felt a familiar swell of social anxiety. "Oh. I– I'm sorry, I didn't–"

"You've done nothing wrong, Mr Elliot. You've been perfectly lovely."

For some reason, those words in particular gave Elliot a completely different kind of anxiety.

"I–" His face felt very warm. "I should– I should go. There are– there's reshelving to be done."

"Of course. Don't let me detain you."

As Elliot turned away, he only just heard Drew murmuring something. His shyness almost immediately gave way to curiosity.

"Sorry, wh– what was that?"

"Hmm? –Oh. I just said that... it might have been your voice that initially reminded me of Mr Ramses. There's a very pleasant lyrical quality to it."

Elliot stammered something almost coherent before rushing behind the nearest shelf. He stood out of sight, both hands pressed to his mouth, until he was quite sure that Drew was gone.

When he ventured out again, he found the microfiche card back in its envelope and placed with pleasing preciseness into the correct drawer. The chair was pushed in and perfectly aligned with the desk.

It was almost as if no one had been there at all.

Elliot wondered why that thought made him feel ever-so-slightly sad.

Chapter Text

[text conversation between Ye Suhua and Arcana]

Ye Suhua: lmk when you have a sec

Arcana: free now
Arcana: what's up

Ye Suhua: this might seem random

Arcana: I love random =D

Ye Suhua: Elliot wants to meet you

Arcana: who??

Ye Suhua: the librarian

Arcana: we have a librarian?
Arcana: I never see anyone in there

Ye Suhua: he's just shy
Ye Suhua: neway he asked me to ask you to come to the library when you're free

Arcana: sure but y

Ye Suhua: it's a secret apparently
Ye Suhua: he's excited tho

Arcana: maybe he's got a crush on me

Ye Suhua: lol
Ye Suhua: no offense
Ye Suhua: but no chance

Arcana: y u gotta break my heart </3
Arcana: jk
Arcana: tell him I'll swing by later today

Ye Suhua: tysm!

Chapter Text

Elliot was almost certain that he was going to die in the next ten minutes.

There were two (2) persons in the library with him (with! him!!) and they were both looking at him (at HIM!!!) because they didn't know why he'd asked them to come here (WHY DID HE ASK THAT???).

"I... I..." His mouth was dry as dust. "I w– I– I wanted t– to ask... ask you..."

To their credit, Arcana and Laura were being very patient. It wasn't helping his anxiety at all, but he appreciated it, down in the depths of his racing heart.

"I n– I need your– your hel– help–"

Laura raised her hand. Elliot stopped trying to talk and focused on getting air into his lungs.

"Hold that thought, honey." She turned to Arcana. "I think I left my bag in the lab. Would you mind getting it for me?"

"Only if I can try to sneak past Dr Heng."

"Sure! Let me know if she catches you."

Arcana waved goodbye to Elliot and quite literally vanished. Elliot didn't have the bandwidth to be surprised.

"Elliot, honey... let's sit down, okay?"

He let Laura lead him to a chair and sank into it gratefully. Laura brought over another chair (a very large and heavy one) and sat beside him.

"Let's start over." Her voice was low, soothing. "You had Suhua invite us here because you need help, right?"

Elliot nodded. He was still struggling a little to breathe properly, but, with the number of intruders halved, the pressure was significantly reduced.

"If you need Arcana's help, then it must involve magic or art. Is it magic?"

He shook his head.

"Art, then. Is it something you could show me?"

By now, he was calm enough to ease out of the chair and totter to the front desk. He retrieved a manila folder from the top drawer and brought it back to Laura.

Her lips pursed as she opened the folder. "This... Where did you get this?"

"Microfiche."

It would have been a waste of time to explain how he had used his esper abilities to transfer the tiny image onto the highest quality paper he could find. Nobody would be interested in that sort of technical detail.

"What do you plan to do with it?"

"I want..." He reached up and adjusted his glasses. "I want to do something for Drew."

After a short astonished pause, Laura smiled. "Really? That's so nice of you! I didn't realize you two were friends."

"Oh... I don't think we're... I mean, I'd like to be his friend."

"That's very sweet. He's a good friend to have." Laura looked down at the picture in her hands. "Now, what is it you want to do for him with this?"

"He likes this photo. I want to give him a colored copy."

"I see."

"But... it's your picture. I would like your permission to use it."

"Absolutely! In fact, I might be able to help. Let me get something from my room. When Arcana comes back, tell him..."

She paused, eyeing Elliot thoughtfully.

"...Actually, let me write him a note."

Chapter Text

[text conversation between Heng Yue and Laura]

Heng Yue: Why did Arcana pick the lock on the infirmary door?

Laura: it was locked?

Heng Yue: No. He opened the door a crack, locked it, then closed it again.

Laura: did you ask him about it?

Heng Yue: I thought he was trying to get my attention, so I ignored him.

Laura: probably just amusing himself

Heng Yue: He swiped your medical bag.

Laura: yeah, I asked him to get it

Heng Yue: He had full authorization, and yet...
Heng Yue: Why are men.

Laura: beats me
Laura: thanks for keeping an eye on things

Heng Yue: It's no trouble.
Heng Yue: Mostly.

Chapter Text

Laura returned to find Arcana and Elliot at a table together, poring over the enlarged photograph. Elliot was completely absorbed and hardly seemed aware of the steady stream of chatter coming from Arcana.

"...and I think it turned out beautifully, if I do say so myself, especially given how little reference material I had to work with. I might have taken the slightest artistic liberty with–"

"Hey, maestro!" Laura held up a digital camera. "You want reference material?"

Arcana perked up like a rabbit's ears. "I would LOVE some reference material, my wisest and most esteemed colleague! However did you guess?"

There was a snarky answer to that question, but Laura decided not to deploy it at this juncture. Instead, she showed Arcana an image on the camera display.

"This is the only color photo I have of the four... I mean, the three of us. The other person is my mother."

Arcana stared intently for a few seconds before conjuring a piece of paper and a pencil. He started taking notes, glancing from time to time at Laura with an artist's focused eye.

"Allowing for the light... Was it sunny the day the newspaper photograph was taken?"

"It's always sunny in midtown Debia."

"Mmhmm. Your father's eyes were... brown?"

"Hazel. It's always hard to tell in photos."

"Ah. And yours?"

"Gray. You'll have to take my word for it."

Arcana's laugh startled Elliot from his reverie. He had the look of a man waking up to find himself in a tiger enclosure.

"Don't worry. I've got this." She clapped Arcana on the shoulder. "I'll send you the file so you have more to work with."

"Wait!"

They both looked at Elliot. Laura quickly looked away to take the pressure off him.

"Don't g– don't go yet. I can help."

He scurried away and disappeared among the stacks.

"Huh." Arcana tilted his head back just enough to see Laura without displacing his hat. "Think he's okay?"

"Pretty sure. What did he tell you?"

"He just said 'color' and clammed up, but I understood. I actually did this for Drew before, with his graduation photo."

"Yeah, he showed me. It's amazing."

The artist grinned. "This will be even better. With a bigger canvas and color references, I can really strut my stuff."

With a rustle of pages and a creak of leather, Elliot reappeared with a large envelope clasped to his chest. He set it on the table and carefully pulled out a single pristine piece of paper—of the same high quality as that of the reproduced photo.

"Mm– may I–" He gestured to Laura, somewhat helplessly. "The ca– the c– camera."

Mystified, Laura handed him the device. He placed it on the table next to the blank paper.

There was a faint electrical crackle. One of Elliot's hands hovered over the camera, while the other pressed down on the paper. His eyes, Laura noted in alarm, were rolled back so all she could see was white.

"Quite a show," muttered Arcana. Laura nudged him to silence.

With a gasp of effort, Elliot pulled his hands away, clasping his arms to his chest.

The paper, which had been completely blank, now contained a perfect enlargement of the photo from Laura's camera. There was her family: together, happy, in living color.

"That–" She swallowed the lump in her throat and forced a smile. "That's incredible, hon!"

Elliot's shy response was interrupted by a huff from Arcana.

"If you can just make color copies, then why bother consulting an artist? Can't you just wiggle your fingers and make it the way you want?"

Laura understood his indignation. As an artist, Arcana prided himself on being able to replicate paintings, sculptures, and even the occasional potted plant so well that only an expert could distinguish them from the genuine article. The ability to create an exact copy with esper power would certainly seem like an affront to his finely-honed skills.

"No." Elliot's voice was hushed, reverent. "I can only copy what someone else has created. This photograph is a work of art, and art should be preserved. That's all this is, really: preservation."

His nervous stutter resurfaced when he looked towards his guests. "It– it n– nn– needs a real ar– artist to– to– to g– to give it a so– ss– a soul."

This was the right answer to placate Arcana, whose ears were pink with pride.

"Flattery will get you everywhere, my lamb-like librarian. I'd be honored to bring life to this lifeless picture—and its lifeless companion will help, too!"

"When you're done, may I have the reference photo?" Laura hadn't meant to ask that just yet, but the words slipped out so easily that she had no time to reel them back in. "–Never mind. I can just–"

"Of course you can have it! It's yours! –Would you mind giving me another page to test colors on? If Laura wants this back, I'd better not make a mess of it."

Elliot slid a blank sheet of paper across the table without meeting anyone's eyes.

"Thank you—for the materials AND for the opportunity." Arcana hopped up and took off his hat to perform an elaborate sweeping bow. "I promise to deliver unto you a masterpiece."

He collected the papers, winked, and vanished into thin air.

"What a ham!" Laura glanced at Elliot, then fully shifted her attention to him. "Hey, hon, you better sit back down. You're looking a little gray."

Elliot just about managed to get into a chair. He seemed utterly drained.

"Sorry," he mumbled, slurring rather than stuttering. "Crossing media is harder than like to like."

Laura teased out the sentence in her head until it started to make sense.

"It's harder for you to transfer something from one medium to another than to make a copy in the same medium?"

Elliot nodded so profoundly that his hat tilted precariously forward. Laura tipped it gently back into place.

"I suggest that you take a nap. I can close the library for you."

"Thank you, Dr Ramses."

"My goodness—no one's called me that in ages! You can just call me Laura."

"Dr Laura?"

"If you like."

Elliot took off his hat, set it on the table, and made sure it was just so. He did the same with his glasses, neatly coiling their long chain. Evidently satisfied, he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

"You don't have to answer this, but... what happened with Drew that made you want to befriend him?"

"His voice..." murmured Elliot dreamily. "Gentle and warm and... longing..."

With a fond smile, Laura padded quietly out, stopping just long enough to put up the 'Out to Lunch' sign.

Chapter Text

Arcana turned up the next day, bleary but triumphant, to hand Elliot the colorized picture. It was really a work of art in and of itself, brimming with energy, perfectly capturing its subjects in true-to-life tones.

"Beautiful," breathed Elliot.

"Thank you. One tries."

"I c– I can send you s– some– some mon– some money for–"

"Absolutely not!" Arcana put on an expression of comical outrage. "Out of the question! This artiste is no sellout!"

"But–"

"I can't hear you! There's something in my ear!" His nimble fingers seemed to pull a coin directly from his own ear canal. Even knowing it was a magic trick, Elliot was still impressed.

"Thank you, M– Mr Arc– Arcana."

"You're most welcome. I've signed the back, but you needn't mention my name to Drew when you give it to him. –Unless you want to, of course."

Fear bloomed like a frost flower in the pit of Elliot's stomach. He had focused so intently on the process of creating the gift for Drew that he had not once considered that he would need to actually give him the gift. As much as he wanted to see Drew again, the idea of going directly to him filled Elliot with nebulous dread.

"Oh, is this meant to be an anonymous gift?"

"Y– you're ver– you're very clever, Mr Arcana."

Arcana grinned. "Indeed I am. We're brothers in haberdashery, after all." He tipped his hat cheekily. "Would you like me to slip this into his inbox?"

"I c– I can't– can't ask any m– mm– more."

"Then I'll just 'steal' it and do it of my own volition."

Elliot found his hands were empty, and Arcana now held the folder that protected the picture.

"The Phantom Thief strikes again!"

This time, a puff of purple smoke obscured Arcana's disappearance. Elliot coughed and fanned the fragrant smoke away from the bookshelves.

"Thank you," he said to the empty air. He realized he was smiling. "You're a good friend, Mr Arcana."

He hoped that Arcana had actually left and was not merely invisible, or else he would be mortified.

Chapter Text

"Hey, Elliot, I brought lunch!" Ye Suhua wafted gracefully into the library, bearing a picnic hamper nearly half her size. "Are you ready, or should I come back later?"

"I'm ready." Elliot emerged from behind the reshelving cart. "I hope you didn't go to any trouble."

"Of course I didn't, silly. Go wash your hands while I set up."

Lunch in the library was a whole ceremony for the two of them. There was always a little tablecloth, an LED tealight (no open flame in the library!), and a small floral arrangement. Suhua liked everything to be just so, just as he did.

"I found something on the returns desk today." He pulled it from his pocket and set it on the table, just shy of the linen cloth Ye Suhua had just laid out. "It doesn't say who it's from. I didn't want to open it without talking to you first."

Ye Suhua leaned over and looked at the little parcel, wrapped in brown paper and tied up with string. There was a small label affixed to the top bearing the legend "TO THE LIBRARIAN" in neat capital letters.

"Do you think it's dangerous?"

"No. I just wanted you to be here when I opened it if it was from you."

"It isn't. I would've used prettier wrapping paper." She nudged it toward him. "Just open it already! No point in waiting!"

Elliot untied the string and spooled it around one finger. He unfolded the crisp corners of the parcel to reveal a small box.

"Museum-grade glass cleaner," he read aloud from the label. "Suitable for use in archival conditions."

"Huh. Did you talk to anybody about needing glass cleaner lately?"

"No. I don't really talk to anyone but you."

Ye Suhua picked up the box and scrutinized it with the practiced eye of a wealthy woman. "Looks expensive. I think someone must have wanted to give you a nice present. Maybe it's for your glasses?"

An idea stirred in the back of Elliot's mind. He ignored it as best he could.

"Did you do a big favor for someone recently?"

The idea sauntered to the forefront of his mind and struck a pose. He pretended it wasn't there.

"N– no, I– I haven't done enough to merit a really n– nn– nice gift."

"You might have a secret admirer, then!"

Elliot felt warmth creep up under his collar. "No– nn– nobody would like– would like me that m– much."

"Am I making you nervous?" She patted his arm comfortingly. "We don't have to talk about this if it upsets you."

"It's okay. I'm– I'll– I'd better wash my hands."

He had rather hoped that cold water would help, but it didn't—neither on his hands, nor on his face, nor on the blushing nape of his neck. His heart was racing alongside his thoughts.

What if it was from Drew?

What if it wasn't?

He came back to find the meal laid out in splendor: porcelain bowls of gazpacho, china plates piled with miniature sandwiches, and glass tumblers filled with sparkling water.

"You ought to try the egg and watercress. It's peppery, but lighter than the beef and mustard."

"I'll try both, then."

As he went to take a sip of gazpacho, Ye Suhua leaned in with a conspiratorial look and whispered:

"Speaking of secret admirers: I think Drew has one now."

Elliot was half a second away from peril, but fortunately had not yet begun to sip. He set the bowl back down with great care.

"Oh...? What gave you that impression?"

"A few days ago, we were going over some reports in his office, and we found a picture tucked inside one of them. He got very emotional about it."

"Really?"

"Yeah. He asked me to come back later so he could pull himself together—then, when we finally finished, he asked me if I knew a good place to have the picture framed."

Elliot felt a little dizzy.

"Oh, that reminds me: did you get that secret project of yours sorted out with Arcana? I meant to ask last week, but I've hardly had time to think of anything but missions lately."

"Y– yes, I di– I did."

He picked up the bowl and quickly drank his gazpacho before she could ask him anything else. Ye Suhua must have picked up on his anxiety, as she held back any further questions she may have had on the subject; the rest of their lunchtime conversation was light, friendly, and safe.

It was only afterwards, as she was hugging him goodbye, that she whispered:

"Whoever you've been thinking about, they must be pretty special. Be brave and tell them so."

She skipped out before he had a chance to fully process the words, much less articulate a response to them.

Be brave...

Chapter Text

He decided to be brave and visit Drew's office.

Well... semi-brave. He chose a time when the corridors would be largely empty—and when Drew was out on an assignment.

All he wanted was to see if the picture had been framed. He was just going to look in, then go straight back to the library. There was nothing suspicious about what he was doing, and there was nothing to be nervous about.

He had to stop a few times along the way to remind himself of these things. Mercifully, he managed not to encounter anyone who might have questioned his motives—or anyone at all, in fact.

At the office door, he listened intently to make absolutely certain there was no one inside. He knocked very softly for the same purpose. Hearing nothing but his own staccato heartbeat, he eased the door open, slipped inside, and pulled it closed without a sound.

Drew's office was tidy, well-ordered, without any sense of an underlying pathology. It was clean but not clinical, spotless but not sterile. Elliot had never felt so at home outside of the library as he did in this pleasant room.

It was a little warmer than the library, though. Warmer and... more humid? That seemed strange to him, but he supposed that an office would not have a bank of dehumidifiers like the archives did.

The properties of the air only held his attention for the space of a breath. What really caught his eye was the picture frame carefully centered on the wall to the left of the desk.

The frame was an inch thick all the way around, matte black, inlaid with a thin continuous line of (as far as he could tell) real gold. Its elegant simplicity perfectly suited the colorized photograph it held.

"Beautiful."

His own voice had an unfamiliar quality in this unfamiliar place. He repeated the word experimentally.

"Beautiful..."

The door opened. Elliot froze in place, petrified.

"Mr Elliot?"

His terror took on a different hue.

"M– Mr Drew." His mouth had gone dry. "Pa– par– pardon m– pardon me–"

"There is no cause for concern, Mr Elliot. You're very welcome here." The corners of Drew's eyes crinkled. "I had intended to visit you in the library, but you've saved me a trip."

"Tha– thank you."

"Please, take a seat."

"Oh... All right."

His legs felt weak. He had to lower himself down with his arms braced. Drew waited for Elliot to be fully seated before taking his own chair on the far side of the desk.

"Now, what can I do for you?"

"N– nothing." He regretted the words immediately. "I mean– I– I j– I jus– just–"

At a loss, he fished the box of glass cleaner out of his coat pocket and set it on the desk.

Drew's expression was inscrutable, but his ears were much easier to read, pricking up in recognition.

"Is– is this from you?"

"Yes." There was a hint of shyness in his tone. "Forgive me for not addressing it to you by name. I was uncertain of the most appropriate form of address."

"Then... thank you."

"After the kindness you did for me, it was the least I could do."

Drew turned his head. Elliot followed his line of sight to the framed picture.

"You knew I was involved?"

"You were the only other person in the library the day I found the microfiche copy. I recognized Mr Arcana's artistry in this version, but only you could have known that I..."

His voice had grown softer, each word as fragile as a glass ornament, until he seemed no longer able to speak at all. His near eye glimmered.

Elliot feigned great interest in the texture of the desk while he waited for Drew to regain his composure.

He didn't have long to wait. Drew shook off his melancholy with a practiced grace that Elliot could not help envying.

"That gift holds such deep significance for me and was so thoughtfully prepared..." He picked up the box of glass cleaner and offered it to Elliot. "This is merely a token of my gratitude. I'm afraid our acquaintance has been fairly superficial, so I could only make an educated guess as to what you might want or need. If it's of no use to you–"

"Nn– no, it's– it's perfect." Elliot took the box, clumsily and with great haste. "I– I j– I just wan– w– wanted to see–"

He cut himself off abruptly as his mind caught up with his mouth and he realized that he was about to blurt out 'I just wanted to see you'.

"You wanted to see the picture in situ? I understand." Drew's smile was so full of warmth that Elliot's face felt hot. "You're always welcome to visit my office, even when I'm not here. After all, we're..." He tilted his head introspectively. "I hope you don't think it presumptuous of me to say that you and I are friends."

Elliot's heart swelled. "N– not at all. I'd lo– I'd like to be friends."

"The feeling is mutual, Mr Elliot." Drew stood up and straightened his tailcoat. "I'm afraid I must leave now, but you needn't hurry out."

Never before had Elliot felt so giddy. When he rose from his seat, he half expected to float up to the ceiling.

"I'd best return to the library, then." His nervousness had fled and taken his vocal tremor with it. "Stop by anytime you like."

"Gladly."

Elliot followed Drew out, and nearly kept following, only just catching himself where the corridor split off in opposite directions.

"Goodbye, Mr Drew."

"Farewell, Mr Elliot."

He had hardly gone ten feet when Drew's voice stopped him.

"Mr Elliot, are you on duty this weekend?"

"Nn– no."

"Neither am I. There's a new exhibit on ancient writing systems at the Debia Museum. Might you be interested in accompanying me there?"

Elliot pinched himself. The pain was clear and sweet.

"I'd be delighted, Mr Drew."