Page 20 of Damian & Jun, Episodes 13-16
Ellisandre flung off their coat, dropping it over the back of the closest empty chair. They gestured towards each member of the Residency by turn. “Richard, Émeric, Damian, Jun, Collin, meet Sevastyan. Sevastyan, the Residency. I know you’ve met some of them already.”
Sevastyan looked perhaps more tense and reserved than when they had faced each other in Damian’s office.
Richard held out his hand, stepping forward. “Ellisandre vouched for you. Who’s with you?”
Sevastyan didn’t look back at his shadow, standing almost directly behind him. “Mine.”
Richard nodded. He glanced at Ellisandre. “So what are we discussing?”
Ellisandre threw themselves into a seat. “Murder charges, and how to make them go away.” They looked towards Jun. “The police chief’s wife’s family are insisting on an arrest and a trial. A request for the U.S. to detain and hand you an order for extradition is in the works. It will go through, unless we stop it.”
Damian moved in front of Jun instinctively. They could try. He wasn’t going to stand by and watch Jun dragged away a second time. If they had to go on the run, so be it. There were places they could hide.
Jun
Extradition. Charges. Murder.
Just words, but they rang inside Jun’s head and flooded his veins with ice water. His hands curled into fists. A sense of unreality slid over him.
These were words that should be more frightening, and he was frightened. They just weren’t hitting like he knew they should. There was a glass wall between him and them. He stared at them the way someone stared at a lion if there was nothing else to stare at, and the lion couldn’t quite reach, but one couldn’t quite get away.
A warm hand slid into his and the world came back into focus. Damian. And Collin. They were right beside him, and he could breathe again, could see everyone’s faces. Seeing Sevastyan, having a name for the face, was odd, like waking up to a dream that had become material. The icy winds of winter blew against his skin and he could smell the scent of lacquer and wood burning the way they had that day he had first met Sevastyan
Memory. It was all memory. He was wrapped in it, could feel it in the present even though it was the past, but it wasn’t engulfing, not dragging him under, not with Damian holding his hand and Collin right there and Richard and Émeric spread out between him and Sevastyan and Ellisandre. He could live with that.
“There are more diplomatic ways of saying all that,” Sevastyan was saying, glaring at Ellisandre.
Ellisandre waved him off. “And not as direct. What, did you want to have tea, pretend we’re all friends for ten minutes and then tap dance around the subject?”
Sevastyan frowned. “You’re being casual, and callous.”
Ellisandre preened. “I’m being direct— sit —Richard prefers directness, and Damian has the head for it.”
Sevastyan cast a glance towards Jun and moved to the other empty chair across from Ellisandre. He sat and his silent, masked companion moved with him, kneeling on the floor beside the chair. He laid his hands in his lap and lowered his eyes.
“I believe you were the one who was direct on the phone,” Émeric said in his soft, dangerous way.
Sevastyan’s lips thinned. He stared at Ellisandre.
Jun ignored them. There was something there in the figure kneeling at Sevastyan’s side. They drew him. He sat forward, looking at the silent man, or at least he sensed they were male. It was the hands, the way they lay against the man’s black slacks, the lines.
“Ellisandre?” Richard said, steepling his fingers.
Jun stood. His belly trembled. Was he right? Was his life criss-crossing itself, the timelines tangling?
He went to his knees in front of the silent man. The room was still around them. His vision blurred everything out except for the person in front of him. He lifted his hand towards the mask. They raised their eyes.
That was all he needed. The mask could have stayed and he would have had his answer, but his hand was already there, unhooking the string from behind their ear.
The fabric came away in Jun’s hand. Rei stared back at him. Older. Of course he was older. It had been years. The right side of his face was a web of burns, the skin stretched and white in latticed lines. His eyes were the same, deep, soft brown, full lashes, his brows dark arched wings and his mouth a little too large for the slanted planes of his cheeks. Exquisitely alive, breathing. There.
“Rei.” Was it hope or a prayer, or both, the name that left Jun on a breath?
“Junseo.”
Jun laughed. What else could he do? This was Rei.
“You disappeared.”
