Page 46 of Vanish Into Light

Somewhat mollified, Lance eased back in his chair, watching as Beck rethreaded the needle and began work on the second wound – this one the jagged, ugly tear in Gavin’s stomach, the place where a hellspawn’s tail had punched through flesh and perforated his intestine, damage healed by Morgan’s small hands and vast power. “Rose is…the bravest person I know. The bravest person I’veeverknown.” He realized it was true as he said it. He’d known many a brave Knight and commander, but no one as sure and determined as Rose Greer: throwing herself at conduits of both kinds, never retreating, always sticking it out through the awful bits.

He grinned to himself. “You should have seen her the day Gallo lost his arm. She crossed a swollen creek that would have drowned most people, killed both conduits, and was putting pressure on the wound when we showed up. She sat up for hours in the med bay until the docs gave the word that he was gonna pull through.”

Beck’s lips quirked as he stitched. “I knew she was ferocious the first moment I saw her: locked away in that cabinet. I had blood on my face, but when I offered my hand, she took it.”

“Cabinet?”

“Hm. Her foster mother was a monster, I’m afraid.” His gaze flicked up, briefly. “I killed her.”

Lance felt a quick, hot pulse of satisfaction. “Good.”

Beck nodded, and bent back to his work. “In Rose I recognized a kinship. We’re the same.”

“You keep saying that,” Lance huffed.

“Because it’s true. She won’t tell you if you ask her point blank, but Rose derives a certain – pleasure – from violence, just like I do.” Before Lance could protest again, he said, “Do you think she’d fight like she does, keep a level head like she does, if she didn’t?”

There was no answer to that, because, if he was being totally honest with himself, he’d known that all along. He’d long assumed it had been an adopted mentality, one she’d taken on in order to assimilate more fully with Beck.

But he didn’t really think that anymore.

“You, however,” Beck continued, “have trained and honed your violence as a necessity. As a tool in this war. You don’t enjoy it – although I do think you rather like the look of all that muscle in the mirror.” He smirked again. “You’re different from us,” he mused, tone going thoughtful. He paused a moment, thread half-pulled through skin, but didn’t look up. “If I’m the dark, and you’re the light, then I suppose Rose is caught somewhere in the middle.” He resumed.

Lance thought of Damien’s lips at his ear.The purest things corrupt the easiest. He shuddered, and blamed it on the wet clothes glued to his body. “You’re ridiculous. You know that, right?”

“Yes,” Beck said, simply, and kept working.

The light patter of footfalls heralded Rose’s arrival before she ducked through the doors and joined them; she usually moved silently, and Lance wondered if she’d made noise on purpose, to alert them to her approach.

Or just him, he supposed. Beck probably had superhuman hearing to go along with his blood-drinking and flying bullshit.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he said, without looking up from his work: small, neat, careful stitches that would heal cleanly.

“Hi.” Rose sounded tired, though she moved with her usual grace – as she came around to Lance’s side of the table, much to his surprise, and propped an elbow on his shoulder.

She didn’t want to bump Beck while he was stitching, he figured, pleasant surprise souring a fraction.

“I’m afraid I’m not as good at this as Kay,” Beck started, and then fell silent, lips pressing together into a thin, flat line.

After a beat, Rose said, “But at least you’re not doing it with a cigarette in your mouth.”

The smile returned, a faint one – but softer than any Lance had seen from him thus far. He glanced up at Rose a moment, a quiet, private look that left Lance feeling like he ought to turn away.

Rose said, “Lance, you ought to go get out of those wet clothes. I can feel you shivering.”

“I–” Hewasshivering, wasn’t he? He’d been too caught up to take note, but once his attention was drawn to the fact, he realized he was freezing. “…fine,” he murmured, and sneezed.

Rose huffed an amused sigh.

Beck said, “Go. Shower. You do no one any good catching cold.”

“God, you’re bossy,” he muttered, but stood, the shivers making themselves even more known, then. “Remember when I was in charge?” he asked Rose.

She shot him a sly look. “At least you thought you were.”

Beck hummed softly.

“You both suck,” he said, without heat, and turned to go.

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