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There was music coming from the house.
Tyler halted in his tracks and recalled the routes he’d taken to get here. Yes, this was the correct address that Nik had sent him an hour prior, but the place didn’t have the air of a safe house. A small cottage in a sleepy countryside could conceivably be a hideout some retired operative might use, but there were several open entry points, no solid security measure in the perimeters, and the porch was warmly lit in the dark, unsuspecting and inviting.
And the music.
The faint notes of the piano coming from inside did not exactly hint at a safe hideout for the night.
When the mission had gone predictably sideways in the middle of nowhere, Nik had informed him via comms: I might know a place you could use to lay low. Tyler had picked up a slight note of hesitation in her voice, which led him to ask: You trust this contact? Nick’s answer, on the other hand, had been immediate and clear: Without reservations.
It had been a surprising response, when the memory of Gasper’s betrayal still had a hold over them—when there was no one left in this world that they could truly trust except for each other. But his breaths were starting to catch, his legs weighing heavier with each step. He badly needed a place to get patched up while Nik arranged for his extraction before Kaine’s men caught up with him.
Without much of a choice, Tyler took a chance: he lifted his leaden arm and knocked on the door.
The quiet melody of the piano trailed off to an off-key note. A few hurried steps, and then the door was creaking open, revealing a young face.
A familiar young face.
Something that resembled relief slammed into Tyler’s chest, weakening his knees. An arm immediately came around his chest to shoulder some of his weight.
Tyler let out, voice croaking, "Ovi."
"Easy," the kid said, carefully leading him inside and double-barring the door behind them. "Easy, I’ve got you."
The cottage, when he stumbled inside, looked just as it seemed from outside: small, warm and unassumingly lived-in, with a tiny kitchen and a living room taken up mostly by a small piano and shelves full of books. And a couch, where Tyler now was seated, dazedly looking up at the kid’s worried face, the very same one from Tyler's indelible memory.
—You trust this contact?
—Without reservations.
Nik’s answer made more sense, now.
Before Tyler managed to breathe out pertinent questions like how are you here, Ovi asked urgently, "Where were you shot? Nik said you were shot."
"’s just a scratch," Tyler gritted out, and winced when Ovid helped him out of his jacket, sleeves already slick with blood. "Nothin’ to worry over."
"Sure, nothing to worry over," Ovi agreed distractedly and put a hand on Tyler’s forehead. "You’re burning up. Blood loss, and possible infection."
Sounds about right, Tyler tried to quip lightly, but his thoughts were turning sluggish, words slow to form.
He must’ve lost a moment, then, because in a blink, Ovi was kneeling at his side with a med kit.
"I’ve got you," Ovi said, quiet and sure, and squeezed Tyler’s hand gently. "You’ll be fine."
Tyler watched Ovi’s hands, quick and daft, as they were laying out syringes and bandages. The very same hands, Tyler remembered, that had held his, on that burning bridge as the world had grown dim around him. Not so unlike right now.
It was just—these hands had been much smaller, then.
A shift in the air woke him. Tyler heaved himself halfway up from the couch, fingers already on the trigger.
"It’s just me." Ovi came to his side, voice and steps both soft.
Tyler sank back and shut his eyes, willing himself to loosen his grip around the handgun. The effort was made easier when he felt a glass of water at his lips, and a cool hand on his forehead.
"How long was I out?" Tyler asked. His chest still felt rough, but the water helped.
"Five hours," Ovi said, taking the glass from him. "Nik will make contact soon. Fever seems to have subsided—let’s see to your bandages."
Ovi redressed his wounds and tightened the bandages, careful and methodical with each move. "Looks like infection hasn’t taken hold. How does that feel?"
"Not bad." Tyler flexed his arm and tested the give. He could move his arm again without much trouble. "You’re rather good at this."
There was a small, tentative smile on the kid’s face. "I’ll never be as brave, but I’ve tried to learn. To take care of myself, and others when I can."
Tyler took in the sight of him in the morning light. Certainly not a kid anymore. Ovi was taller, more filled out in the frame, though his face still hadn’t entirely shed the look of the wide-eyed boy on the bloody streets of Dhaka.
"C’mere," Tyler said, clearing his throat and getting up on his feet. The kid was still lanky, but he no longer felt wispy, like one wrong move from Tyler could crush him. When Tyler pulled him into a hug, the dark mop of hair now came up to his chin. "It’s good seeing you, mate."
Tyler felt Ovi take a breath and sink into his embrace. "You, too."
Tyler let him go, but only after ruffling the kid’s hair thoroughly and sharing a smile.
"So," Tyler started, looking around the cottage with one eyebrow raised. "How did this happen, huh?"
"Ah." Ovi’s smile faded a little. His hands were suddenly busy, collecting the used-up pieces of the med kit back together. "Nik got me out of India a couple of years ago."
Tyler paused. Mahajan Sr. would’ve never have allowed that happen, unless—
"My father died in prison," Ovi said, once he put everything back into the kit. "She thought it best for me to disappear and not be seen as a contender for my father’s empire. Just to make sure it’s clearly established that I no longer represented a threat to them."
Which meant that he had been once considered a threat, a danger so great that people wanted to eliminate him, while Tyler had thought him safe at home. At home, if not loved and truly cared for, but at least safe under his father’s iron-fist protection.
And Nik hadn’t—
"I asked her not to tell you," Ovi added in a hurry, apparently well aware where Tyler’s thoughts had gone. "I was never in any immediate danger, and I’ve been safe here. And I didn’t want you distracted from saving people who deserve to be saved."
None as deserving as you, Tyler almost said, despite how ludicrous it would’ve sounded. As if what people deserved could be measured onto a plate to be weighed and judged—as if anyone would be ever given what they truly deserved. But Tyler couldn’t ever unsee the boy Ovi had been once, someone who had never deserved any of the deadly mess he’d been dealt.
Someone who clearly didn’t deserve this now.
And Nik’s hesitation before telling him to come here now made more sense, too. "We should’ve left you out of this." Tyler scrubbed his face with one hand. "Shit, if they’d tracked me here—" To this place where Ovi had been safe all along—
"If anyone had," Ovi reminded him gently, "that door would’ve been kicked in by now, and in turn you would’ve kicked in their faces."
Well, yes, he certainly would have, with extreme prejudice, but one day, when some men kicked the door in, he wouldn’t be here, or he would’t be enough. That was the given condition they always operated under: one day, he wouldn’t be here, or else he wouldn’t be enough.
Tyler sank back on the couch and wondered why that given was no longer acceptable. "Look mate, this—this shouldn’t ever be your life."
After studying Tyler for a moment, Ovi asked, voice mild, "But it should be yours?"
Tyler remembered the kid who could look at you straight and ask you incisive questions, with the eyes so open and guileless that you had no choice but to grant them honest answers, even those that could only be extracted from the most tightly-locked boxes.
That hadn’t changed at all.
"I owe some people my freedom," Tyler admitted, at length. "Dangerous people."
And there was always just one more. One more supposedly righteous mission. One more day of kicking in some faces that truly deserved to be pummelled.
One more day of scraping by and prolonging the inevitable.
"Nik told me some men got you two out of prison," Ovi said, after another quiet moment. "That you weren’t truly given a choice in the matter. But you still chose the side of saving people. You both lost so much from saving me and many others from danger. And I don’t—I still don’t know how to ever give it all back to you."
The kid lifted his eyes and looked up at Tyler. "At least this time, I could do this. Something little, but still helping rather than being a burden." A small rueful smile was back on his face. "So, I’m glad. To do at least this much."
Tyler let the tightness in his chest expand and let a breath escape. He swallowed a lump at the base of his throat before he spoke again.
"If there ever was one right thing I did in life, kid, it was making sure you crossed that bridge alive."
Tyler couldn’t make himself look away from the startled look on Ovi’s face, so he didn’t, even when the kid’s eyes started to fill up with tears. If anything could ever been worth the loss, this had to be it. That the kid was still alive and breathing, and unreservedly good.
"Hey," Tyler said, and tilted his head at the piano. "Play something for me from that thing, would ya? Sounded good last night."
Ovi wiped his face with both his hands, nodded, and then went to the piano.
Tyler watched him play, watched the kid’s hands move across the keyboard. Those fingers had held a gun once, to save Tyler. That had felt wrong, then, if inevitable.
The black and white keyboard under those fingertips now—this was better. Right. A proof that something right could still happen in the world.
"What was that?" Tyler asked, when the music came to a stop. "This piece."
"Chopin," Ovi answered, returning to the couch.
Chopin. Right. Mia used to—
Mia used to.
His last image of you wasn’t you walking out on him.
He ran a hand down his face to stop hearing the words still echoing in his ears. Just in time, too; his phone, when he dug it out, vibrated with a new message from Nik.
—Extraction point, twenty blocks southwest from the AO. 30 mikes.
Soon followed by another:
—Sorry I didn’t tell you.
Tyler held the phone against his forehead for a moment. Then he sent: No, I get why.
—Solid copy. See you in 30.
When Tyler looked up from the screen, Ovi was watching him carefully. "Time to go?"
"Yup," he said lightly, though the word suddenly felt heavy on his lips.
Ovi nodded, seemingly to himself, and went to the kitchen, while Tyler did a quick round of perimeter checks. It was clear outside. All was quiet. He felt better, could move better. His weapons worked. There was nothing preventing him from leaving the place.
Ovi returned to hand Tyler a small package. "Here."
Tyler unfolded it to find a couple of energy bars and some fresh bandages, carefully wrapped tight. When he looked up, Ovi was holding up Tyler’s jacket, somehow mostly clean from bloodstains.
There were no words Tyler trusted himself to say, so he shrugged back into the jacket and reached out his hand to ruffle the kid’s hair.
It was clear outside. All was quiet. Ovi should be safe, and there was nothing stopping Tyler from leaving the place and stepping outside. This should be easy.
Tyler stood at the doorway for another moment and tried to find the words for goodbye that he’d never been good at giving.
"Stay safe," he told Ovi instead.
Ovi tried to return a reassuring smile. It was mostly successful. "You, too."
Just as Tyler reached for the doorknob, Ovi said, abruptly, "Tyler, when this is over, would you—" The kid stopped just as abruptly, visibly clamping down on himself. "I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—never mind. Just, take care of yourself and Nik."
The kid tried to smile again; this time, it wasn’t as successful.
There were things Tyler could say, should say.
You don’t—shouldn’t—want me in your life, mate.
You deserve so much more than your father.
More than me.
But—
His last image of you wasn’t you walking out on him. It was you going off to save people.
Tyler closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, his hand was moving of its own volition.
"Yes," Tyler said, with a quick squeeze over the kid’s shoulder. "I’ll come back."
Ovi’s head snapped up, eyes wide.
"What," Tyler said, at the look on his face, and grinned a little. "Still don’t trust me, huh?"
"No," said Ovi, with a real smile this time, even as the tears were starting up again, "but I believe you."
"’s that so, huh?”
"Yes, because you keep your words."
Ovi looked at him straight, nothing but solemn honesty in his eyes, and Tyler didn’t dare to contradict him. Instead, he wrapped his arms around the kid one more time and felt Ovi press his head to his shoulder.
This time, the last image of him wasn’t going to be another one of him going off to save more people who were not his kids.
This time, he would remain. And stay.
"See you soon," Tyler promised, and stepped out into the light.
END