Repair

"Wait one damn second," Mirage snapped, cutting in between Smith and Victor. "We don't have any payment, as you so marvelously demonstrated."

To punctuate his point, he flapped his hand at the rocks littering the ground. Smith rocked on her heels and let out another one of her hyena giggles. "Oh, but you did just pay me."

Mirage felt like he had completely lost track of the plot, if he'd ever had it in the first place. "What do you mean? You're going to accept the rocks after all?"

"Not the rocks, you silly boy." When Smith jabbed him in the stomach, Mirage lurched backward. It rather felt like getting poked by a twig. "It's your reason for wearing the armor."

She addressed this to Victor, who blinked. "To protect someone. There aren't many who'd endure what you're willing to for such a reason. Well, hup hup! Time to set up the forge...oh, it'll be a busy day indeed."

As she bustled toward the forge, Mirage could only stare at her. "That's it? Seriously?"

"Well, if you insist…." Her neck creaking, Smith turned to cast him a cheeky smirk. "You can help me operate the bellows. Consider it making up for your attempt to trick a poor old lady."

Damn it all! Why couldn't Mirage have just kept his mouth shut?

"Hold on." Victor stepped forward. "If you don't mind, I'd like to do it."

"Excuse me?" Mirage burst out before he could just quietly accept this out Victor had given him.

"Oh?" Smith cocked a bushy eyebrow. "Quite the considerate boyfriend, aren't you?"

While rage reduced Mirage to hissing and shaking his fists, Victor remained stoic as ever. "It's my armor. So I ought to do it."

"Such a responsible boy!" Of all things, Smith cupped her face in her hands and sighed like a lovestruck maiden. "Now if only some of that would rub off on your beau!"

"That is enough, you ridiculous old hag!" Mirage exploded, but Smith had already started ambling off toward the forge.

Victor glanced at Mirage, nodded, and headed off after Smith. But before he could stop himself, Mirage blurted, "Wait."

"Yes, Captain?" As Victor blinked at him, Mirage felt heat flood his face. What had he even wanted to say anyway? He ought to let Victor go and finish up their business. It was what they had intended to do in the first place, after all.

Even so…. "Are you sure about this?"

"It was your idea to repair it, as I recall."

"That – " Mirage opened his mouth, then shut it. He couldn't argue back, not when it was true. Still, at the time he hadn't known...no, he knew all along what the armor did to Victor. But perhaps he'd never considered what it truly meant.

'It has already drained many years off your lifespan, years you'll never get back.'

So what? Why did it matter to Mirage if Victor got to live to a ripe old age or not? Victor was his soldier, just a tool to help Mirage accomplish his goals. Once he served no more use, Mirage would discard him without so much as a glance back.

Yet...if Mirage was truly being honest with himself, he would have to admit the thought of potentially no longer having Victor around stabbed at his heart like a poisoned blade. Without even realizing it, he'd come to rely on Victor to a truly pathetic extent.

What a fool he was. He had clawed his way to a captain's rank all on his own, escaped slavery just the same. How far had he fallen that he now needed to depend on some brother-obsessed human?

'You are truly a failure of a demon,' a voice whispered in his head, one that sounded like an unholy blend of the Infernal Lord, his father, and his former master. He clenched his teeth, willing down the black rage boiling inside him.

"Captain." The sound of Victor's voice made him start. The human was looking right at him, his gaze strangely soft. "I...I'll be back soon."

With that, he turned back around and headed toward the forge. Mirage watched him go, feeling every breath burn in his chest.

"About time!" Smith chortled, waving at Victor. "Though I'd hardly want to interrupt such a tender moment."

That did it, Mirage was going to illusion all these rocks into razors and stuff them down her throat. But before he could calm down enough to gather the Levia, Smith was shouting at him.

"By the way, young man, you still aren't off the hook for your trickery earlier! If you're not going to help with the bellows, then be a dear and weed my garden, will you? It is getting rather frightfully overgrown, and I just haven't had the time to deal with it. Ask Lenny if you have any questions. Toodles!"

"Hey, wait – Lenny?" Mirage got the answer to that question when a noisy flutter filled the air and a gigantic vulture landed in front of him. It puffed out its lank, greasy feathers and tilted its bald red head, fixing him with an expectant eye.

Victor and Smith were already bent over the forge. The vulture would not stop glaring at him. Sighing, Mirage slumped his shoulders. Well, since he didn't have anything better to do….

So he obediently trotted after the vulture to the garden behind the hut. If you could call that sad patch of herbs baking under the sun a garden, anyhow.

~*~

"Those also weren't weeds," Lenny croaked. "Oh dear, the arugula on top of the parsley? Keep this up and the poor miss will have nothing to eat but weeds."

"How am I supposed to tell?" Mirage raged back. "They all look like weeds to me! Maybe the 'miss' ought to take better care of her plants!"

Mirage couldn't ever remember being so crabby. With the full force of the noon sun pouring over his head – the straw hat Lenny had given him hardly provided any protection – and his muscles sore and hands covered in dirt, Mirage was just about ready to never look at another garden in his life.

"If you'd just pay attention, it wouldn't be so difficult," Lenny sniffed.

"It's your fault! Do a better job of telling me where to weed instead of flapping your wings and expecting me to decipher it!" Though he supposed there was no helping it when the vulture didn't have hands.

Then again, wasn't he a were? So why couldn't he just take on his human form? No, he must be deliberately going out of his way to make Mirage's life miserable.

"Hmph." The vulture tossed his head, causing his precariously perched hat to tumble off. A hat that most certainly had been made for a human, Mirage thought with a scowl as he watched Lenny kick at the dirt in an attempt to retrieve it.

The worst thing about weeding – aside from the heat, sweat, dirt, and unhelpful vulture – had to be having no idea how the repair was proceeding. From the garden, he couldn't so much as catch a glimpse of the forge. The clangs, thuds, and shouts that drifted over did little to illuminate things.

Almost as if Smith didn't want him learning her secrets or something. A most pointless effort, considering Mirage had no intention to get into the trade himself. This gardening experience had only cemented his resolve to stay far, far away from any kind of manual labor.

While Lenny glared at him, Mirage futilely tried to replant the uprooted arugula. As he finished patting the mound of earth around the roots, he dimly realized he hadn't heard anything from the forge for a while.

Footsteps crunched nearby, and a familiar Levia leaped inside his veins. Icy purple flames – weak and faint, yet thrumming with triumph. Mirage looked up to meet Victor's gaze.

Victor tilted his head, blinking, and heat seared in Mirage's face when he realized what a ridiculous picture he must be presenting. A captain of the Infernal Legion squatting in a garden. Not that Victor looked much better; his face was red and slick with sweat, his hair a wild mess, his chest heaving.

Coughing officiously, Mirage straightened and removed the hideous hat. Too bad he couldn't do anything about the straw bits it left in his hair. "So you're finished?"

"Yes, Captain." Victor nodded. His voice was wan, subdued.

Which made concern spike inside Mirage, despite himself. "How are you feeling?"

When Victor blinked, Mirage mentally slapped himself. Why, oh why, couldn't he just keep his mouth shut?

Victor cleared his throat, then said, "I'm fine. Just had to use some of my own Levia."

'How much?' But this time Mirage successfully stuffed the question down. Instead, he tried to keep his tone crisp, business-like. "Well then, let's see it."

Victor obliged, pulling a black crystal out of his pouch. Mirage's heart flipped. The crystal was still jagged at the edges, but not a trace remained of the giant crack down its middle.

Now he could feel the Levia pulsing from it as well, much stronger than it had been these past few days. Something seemed different about it, as if its overwhelming presence had gained a razor-sharp, ice-cold edge.

Because, Mirage realized with a shudder, he was sensing Victor's Levia. It was already difficult to tell apart Victor's Levia from the armor's when he wore it so often, but now his Levia had truly entered the crystal and melded with it.

What did it mean? Would the armor resonate better with Victor, and therefore drain him less? Or...or had Victor only given up more years of his life?

When the Levia deepened, Mirage blinked. Before he could say or do anything, purple light erupted from the crystal and engulfed Victor's body.

The light faded, revealing Victor once more. Except now, spiky black armor covered him from head to toe.

Mirage breathed in. It felt like years since he'd last seen Victor in full armor, though in reality only a few days had passed. The armor seemed subtly different from what he remembered – its shapes less angular perhaps, more curving and organic.

With a click of metal, Victor drew the sword at his waist. Just like the armor it was fully intact again, its serrated edges glinting in the light. He nodded as if satisfied, though Mirage couldn't see his expression behind the helm's mask.

Not that he would even have an expression, Mirage reminded himself. This was Victor they were talking about.

"Oh me, oh my!" A burst of applause made Mirage jump. Smith came striding over, grinning from ear to ear. "You wear it so well, my boy. Such a handsome figure!"

Victor sheathed his sword, then nodded. "Thank you," he said quietly.

"Think nothing of it," Smith tittered. "If I could help you protect your precious one, even just a little, that's repayment enough."

Smith bustled off along with Lenny, heading for the hut and babbling something about treating the boys to lunch. The prospect hardly appealed to Mirage, but he already knew the futility of saying no to her.

For a while he gazed at Victor, and Victor gazed back. The air felt strange, uncomfortable.

So Mirage strove to lighten the mood. "Well, isn't this nice. Your brother ought to be touched by your devotion."

Even behind the mask, Mirage felt Victor's eyes piercing into him. And he more than sensed the intention sharpening Victor's Levia.

But the sensation vanished as soon as it came. Victor turned away abruptly, muttering something that Mirage almost didn't hear.

Almost.

"Maybe...I wasn't talking about Theo."

"What?" Mirage blurted. He...he hadn't misheard, had he?

Victor was already striding away. "Let's go, Captain. We shouldn't keep Smith waiting."

That damn bastard sounded calm as ever. So maybe Mirage had imagined those words after all? Yes, he must have. Never in a million years would such a thing come from the mouth of the biggest brother-lover in both worlds.

Yet Mirage's heart just wouldn't stop pounding.