In the loft, the quiet of the night was broken only by the rustling of parchment and the soft snip of Legolas's shears as he cut the prototype fabric for Sebas's shadow army. Zero and One were sitting across from each other, their eyes closed, deep in their respective theoretical practices.
"Does it feel..." Legolas said, pausing his work. "Silent, guys?"
Zero's concentration broke. "What do you mean?"
"Like... too silent," Legolas clarified. "Soma's been downstairs for hours."
They all got up, a sudden, shared unease in the air, and headed downstairs.
The café was dark, save for a single, low-burning light over the kitchen. They found Soma, not in a trance, but slumped over the bar table, fast asleep. His headband was loose, half-fallen over his eyes. Beside his head, a single, humble bowl of stew sat, a faint wisp of steam still rising from its surface.
"Let me pick him up," Legolas said softly.
Zero and One cleared a path as Legolas easily lifted the sleeping Soma. As he carried his brother toward the stairs to the loft, One looked at the bowl. "It's still fresh."
Zero came over and looked at the simple, unassuming stew. "Is this it? The one he was chasing? The 'hearth'?"
One, ever the analyst, shrugged. He picked up the tasting spoon Soma had left beside the bowl, dipped it in, and took a small sip of the broth.
He paused. His eyes, which had been sharp with focus, widened. A single, profound shudder ran through his body. The spoon dropped from his limp hand.
"Hey, careful there," Zero said, catching it mid-air. He looked at One, who was standing perfectly still, his gaze fixed on nothing. "One? One!"
He looked at the soup, then back at One. A single, perfect tear welled up in the clone's eye and ran down his cheek.
Legolas, having put Soma to bed, came back down the stairs. "Okay, guys, I think Soma—" He stopped, taking in the bizarre, frozen tableau: Zero looking concerned, and One standing stock-still, crying silently. "What the hell happened now?"
Zero, now deeply worried, shook One by the shoulders. "One! Snap out of it!"
"I'm... I'm fully awake," One finally whispered, his voice thick with an emotion he'd never felt before. "It's just... it's just too good to be wasted by... talking."
Zero looked from the crying clone to the stew. He took the spoon, dipped it in, and took a sip.
The same reaction. A wave of indescribable, complex emotion washed over him. It wasn't just a taste. It was a feeling. It was love, it was struggle, it was imperfection, it was life. The spoon dropped from his hand.
"Careful," Legolas said, catching it this time, a note of deep exasperation in his voice. He watched as a single tear ran down Zero's cheek as well.
Legolas looked at the bowl, then at his two tear-streaked, emotionally compromised brothers. He facepalmed. "Does anyone act normal in this building?"
…
The sun shone brightly. Soma woke up with a gasp, realizing he'd fallen asleep. But... he was in his bed in the loft, not at the bar.
"You're welcome, by the way," a smooth voice said.
"Legolas?" Soma said, sitting up. He felt... amazing. Refreshed. "What happened?"
"Congrats," Legolas said, who was sipping a morning cup of tea. "You made a great food. One that, for a change, didn't require me to sew a new set of clothes for anyone. Thank you for that."
Soma looked confused.
"It seems to have eased Zero and One's tunnel vision," Legolas explained, gesturing with his cup. "Gave them a relaxed, peaceful mind for once."
Soma looked over. Zero and One were both fast asleep in their own beds, a look of profound peace on their faces.
"How long have they been sleeping?" Soma asked.
"About five hours now. Good. They needed it," Legolas said. "How about you?"
Soma stretched, a wide, confident grin spreading across his face. He felt more ready than ever. "Today's the weekend, right? I've got to go."
He jumped out of bed and headed for the bathroom.
"Where are you going?" Legolas called after him.
Soma popped his head out of the bathroom doorway, a towel already in his hand. "A masterpiece needs to be shared," he said, his eyes shining. "And I've got a nanny to thank."
He went inside to take a bath.
…
Soma, carrying a large, insulated pot, arrived at the Auch apartment building. It was early, the weekend just beginning. He pressed the button for their apartment, and a moment later, Marc himself opened the door, his eyes wide with surprise.
"Chef?" Marc said, his voice a confused squeak. "I'm so sorry, I... I thought you meant to come on a workday. I didn't think..."
Soma scratched the back of his head, a slightly sheepish grin on his face. "No, no, that's my bad. I forgot today was the weekend. Anyway," he said, his voice turning serious, "I think I cracked the meal, kid. Do you want to eat breakfast? I came early just for this."
"Of course!" Marc said, his heart pounding. He opened the door wider. "Please, come in!"
Marc led Soma into their small, tidy apartment. Mace and Annes were in the living room, and they looked up in surprise. "Oh my," Annes said. "Hello, Chef."
Soma took off his hat, his humility genuine. "I brought the thing I promised," he said. "I hope... I hope to hear the feedback from you all."
"Oh, of course," Annes said, her voice warm and welcoming. "Come, come. Let's all eat together."
Mace walked over to his mother's wheelchair and pushed her to the small, humble dinner table. Gran-gran looked around, her eyes hazy. "Where is Mace?" she asked, her voice frail.
Mace touched her shoulder gently. "It's okay, Mom. It's time for breakfast."
"Who are you calling Mom?" she huffed, looking at her adult son with no recognition. "My Mace is a little, cute boy." She then looked over at Marc and her face brightened. "Oh, Mace! Come and eat."
Marc just came to her side, his heart aching, and said, "Come on, Gran-gran. Let's eat."
Annes brought bowls for everyone, and Soma, with great care, ladled the steaming, fragrant stew into each one. The aroma was not overpowering or complex; it was simple, savory, and deeply comforting, like a warm blanket.
Mace and his family, out of habit, bowed their heads. "Thank you for the food."
They all took a bite.
A stunned, absolute silence fell over the room. It was not the explosive, clothes-tearing reaction of a magical dish. It was something far deeper. It was a wave of pure, unfiltered memory.
Mace's head came down, his shoulders shaking as he tried to hold back his tears. Annes, her eyes wide, just looked at Soma, her hand over her mouth, and silently mouthed the words, 'Thank you.'
For Marc, it was a thunderbolt. He wasn't just tasting the stew; he was remembering. He was a child again, by the fireplace. He saw the dwarf, his grandfather's old friend, weeping for his lost companion. He saw his grandmother, not hiding in her room out of anger at his father, but out of a profound, private grief, the stew her own secret memorial to the husband she had lost. He finally understood his own memory.
Mace, struggling with his own rush of forgotten childhood moments, looked at his mother. She was just staring at the bowl. "Come on, Mother," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Try it. It's good. It... it's just like your stew."
"My stew?" she asked, her voice vacant. "Did I... did I cook today?"
Mace gently took a spoonful and held it to her lips. She tasted it. She chewed, slowly.
And the light came on.
The haze in her eyes, the fog of a lifetime, cleared. Her gaze, once scattered, sharpened and locked onto the face of the adult man in front of her. She reached out, her frail, trembling hand taking his.
"Did you work hard?" she asked, her voice clear and strong.
Mace's breath hitched. He couldn't speak. He just nodded, his eyes overflowing. "Always, Mom," he choked out. "Always."
"Oh, Mace," she said, her own eyes filling with tears of recognition. "I'm so sorry for the life I gave you. I... I should have worked harder for you."
"Mom?" he whispered, his heart breaking and healing all at once.
She smiled, a true, lucid smile he hadn't seen in a decade. "Yes?"
"Mom...?" he said again, a sob tearing from his chest.
She smiled through her own tears, her hand tightening on his. "Yes, my little Macey."
Mace broke. He collapsed forward, his head falling onto her shoulder as he hugged his mother, his body shaking with the force of his sobs. He wasn't a grown man at the docks, a father, a husband. He was just a child, finally, finally, home.
Soma stood up. His own face was wet with tears. He had done it. This was a private, holy moment. As Annes and Marc, also crying, moved to comfort Mace, Soma walked to the door. Annes looked up, and he put a single finger to his lips, mouthed "goodbye," and silently let himself out, leaving the family to have their joy.
Soma stepped out of the Auch's apartment building, the door clicking shut behind him. He stood on the pavement for a long moment, the morning sun on his face. He put his hat on, then wiped his sleeve across his eyes.
"Damn," he muttered to the empty street, a small, watery smile on his face. "Rain in the morning. Such an inconvenience." He took a deep, steadying breath, composed himself, and began the walk back to the monorail, his heart a little lighter, his mission complete.
…
Time passed like a river, and thirteen days flowed by. The seasons turned, and fall came to Evercrest in earnest. The air was crisp, and the leaves on the few city trees had turned a brilliant, fiery shade of orange and red.
At the Watcher's Academy, Erwin Smith stood on a high stone balcony during a break, looking out over the training grounds. He was wearing the standard-issue trainee uniform, but with one addition: a soft, expertly-knitted wool shawl, courtesy of Legolas, was draped over his shoulders.
"Erwin. Still effortlessly stylish, huh?"
Erwin turned to see Domin Jullien, a fellow cadet with a roguish smile, leaning against the archway. "What are you doing out here?"
"Ah," Erwin said, his voice calm. "Just enjoying the wind, that's all."
"Does the wind feel different here than in the Concord?" another voice, sharp and perceptive, cut in. Havisa Cahun, another classmate, came to lean on the balcony beside him.
"What's this?" Erwin asked, a neutral expression on his face.
"You better learn fast, Golden Commander," Havisa said, her eyes glinting with amusement. "Watchers gossip. It's half the job, even in the academy."
"Is that what your decorated father tells you?" Erwin countered.
Havisa shrugged. "He says it's what you do when you're bored. And we are very bored. So," she said, "got any good gossip, Concord-man?"
"A little birdie told me you were seen... observing... the women's dorm a few nights ago, Domin," Erwin said, his gaze not leaving the training ground.
"What?!" Domin sputtered, his face turning red. "That's a smear campaign! I was... I was looking for a lost textbook!"
"That's stale tea, Erwin," Havisa said, rolling her eyes. "But I've got a fresh pot." She turned her gaze to Erwin. "Rumor has it... you already have a C.I."
The playful atmosphere vanished. Domin's jaw dropped. "A Confidential Informant? Before you've even started field training?" He looked at Erwin, a new, calculating expression on his face. "At this point, your whole stay here is just a formality, isn't it?"
Erwin finally turned to look at them, his blue eyes as cold and crisp as the autumn air. He scoffed.
"Say what you will," he said, his voice low and commanding. "But I came here to lead. I don't intend to be stuck on patrol until I'm old." He pushed himself off the balcony. "I'd suggest you both start thinking about what you want, from now on."
He left them in the silence of his wake.
Domin let out a long, low whistle. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a few coins, handing them to Havisa with a sigh. "Five Sols. The rumor about him having a 'commanding aura' is true. Damn."
Havisa took the Sols, a satisfied smirk on her face. "That it is," she said, pocketing the money. "Makes you wonder... what else about the rumors is true?"
They both stood in silence for a moment, thinking about the golden-haired man who was already leagues beyond them.
"Wanna do another bet?" Havisa asked.
**A/N**
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**A/N**