Chapter Text
The walk had been long and tiring, spent climbing over roots and tripping over rocks. Vertin had always been the type of girl to run around in the dirt and mud, which meant that a majority of her time was spent waiting for Sonetto to catch up, causing the girl’s pale face to flush as red as her hair.
“I am so sorry,” Sonetto apologized, resting her hand on the bark of a thick trunk and looking down. “I only seem to be impeding your progress. If I weren’t here, we would’ve made it to the meeting place already…”
“It’s no matter. I recall that Miss Semmelweis is using a floppy disk with a teleportation ritual saved on it. We’re not keeping her waiting until the afternoon, when she first arrives.”
It was only ten, so they had three more hours until the other Foundation employee was meant to arrive; there was plenty of time to get there in.
“It should only take another hour at this rate,” Vertin continued, glancing at the navigation device and then at her assistant. “Are you alright to continue?”
“Ah- …yes.”
The redhead pushed herself up, muttering indiscriminate words of encouragement under her breath, and began to putter after Vertin again.
It didn’t take long before they came across a small cottage—not the one they were supposed to meet Semmelweis at, but another, smaller, stranger one, with the lights inside glowing through the windows.
“This house is… strangely inviting,” Sonettoo murmured, raising her glasfeder and writing a few quick words into the air. They dissipated and she nodded. “There don’t seem to be any arcane fluctuations.”
Vertin hummed in acknowledgement. “No, I sense something—I’m unsure what, but something in the house is emitting a kind of energy… It’s unlike anything I’ve felt before. How peculiar.”
“I want to go inside, but if there truly is some kind of energy compelling us to do so…”
“…Then it would be unwise to enter.”
“Yes, Timekeeper.”
“But still.” Vertin raised her hand and knocked on the door. “We ought to investigate, as Foundation agents.”
“Yes, Timekeeper.”
Sonetto quietly fell in behind her, keeping a watchful eye for any movements through the curtains. They waited for three minutes, but nobody replied. Adjusting to the circumstances, Vertin tried the handle of the front door. It creaked open.
“I’m coming in,” she announced in a slightly raised voice, pushing the boarder further and taking a tentative step inside. Then she paused. “Sonetto, wait outside.”
Even though she felt her chest pang, the loyal greyhound only spoke her consent. With a content nod, her master disappeared inside.
It was another thirty minutes of anxious hand wringing until Sonetto heard from her again. The door opened, and Vertin walked outside, quietly closing the door.
“Timekeepr! What did you see?”
“There was a dead body, and…” She cast a furtive glance back at the home, then at Sonetto’s anxious form, “some rope… Perhaps she had intended to set off on an adventure before succumbing to a paroxysm of illness. But she’s unfeeling now.”
Instinctively, Sonetto placed her closed palm over her chest. “May the peace be with her.”
Vertin only nodded, strangely repulsed by that phrase, yet in agreement with its intention. “Yes. I intend to tell Semmelweis to inform the Foundation of its location, so perhaps they can identify the body or host a funeral.”
“Would you like me to help you look for hints?”
“No.” Her reply was swift and resolute. “I don’t want you to look at a dead body for too long. It’s not good for one’s mental wellbeing.”
But what about you? Sonetto wanted to ask, yet she stayed silent. Instead, she bit her lip and turned away, obscuring her expression from her friend and stumbling deeper into the woods. “Understood. Let’s continue: we shouldn’t make Miss Semmelweis wait.”
They were nonverbal for most of the way, stumbling over everything that protruded unnaturally from the floor, until Vertin broke the tension by saying, “There are about ten minutes left.”
Sonetto intended to turn around and smile reassuringly at her, speaking words of agreement, but she only managed to do the first thing: turning around. Upon her doing so, Vertin halted in her tracks and made quite the memorable expression—not often did she look so taken aback, so confused.
However, Sonetto had no idea why. She stopped, too, and stared back, perturbed and slightly scared. “Timekeeper…?”
Hearing her official designation brought her back to attention, a little bit. Vertin made a sound and then said in a very gentle tone of voice, like how she spoke to Nala Hari, “Why do you look so upset, Sonetto? Have I done something wrong?”
“N-no, not at all! I’m sorry, I don’t know how I look right now. I don’t know why I’m upset- no, why I look upset.” She suddenly regretted never carrying around a mirror, because it meant she couldn’t search her own expression for signs of agony. “Um, I’m sorry…”
“It’s alright. I’d just like to know why.”
Sonetto paused and then said in a faint, frustrated voice, “I don’t know why.”
Vertin took a deep breath in and out. It didn’t sound exasperated or upset, but it still made the redhead tense, clenching both her fists by her side before pulling her glasfeder out from where she kept it, beginning to twirl it between her fingers in a soothing pattern.
“Alright. Let’s start with the way you reacted when I came out of the house.” She looked at the trees, then the sky, then the grass and dirt, then her assistant. “I upset you. You’ve been quiet ever since.”
It was a statement, not a question. Sonetto only nodded, agreeing with the Timekeeper’s assessment. In retrospect, it seemed like she indeed had been acting weird after the house. No, wait.
“Truthfully, I believe I was already aggravated before. You were moving so fast, and I kept slowing our progress. I was… impeding you.”
On receiving this information, Vertin nodded with her regular stoic expression and declared, “I see.”
“I don’t like feeling like I’m dragging you down.”
“I value your company and cooperation. I couldn’t ask for a better assistant.”
“But I can never help with the things that actually matter!”
Vertin tilted her head ever so slightly, something she did when she was seriously considering a proposition someone brought to her. Sonetto knew, because Sonetto knew all of her quirks and subconscious gestures.
“Like what?” she finally asked, taking Sonetto’s emotional state seriously upon realizing it wasn’t a passing moment of disturbance. “I’m sorry for making you feel that way.”
The redhead recognized this as one of the phrases they taught the children of SPDM to avoid conflict when discussing professional matters, beginning to feel more aggravated. She checked to ensure the Foundation hadn’t updated them on any other changes to the plan, and then grabbed Vertin’s arm, refusing to meet her eyes.
“Please take me seriously,” she insisted, finding the tromped-on flora on the ground most interesting.
Vertin’s eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly. She looked as if she wanted to shake her hand free, but in the end, decided against it, letting Sonetto cling to that limb as if it were the solution to the problem that currently plagued them.
“Sonetto, I don’t know what you want from me. I am merely doing my job,” she tried to explain in that patient, even voice.
“I know that…”
Taking this response as a good sign, Vertin asked again, “Like what?”
“Like…” The assistant squeezed her lids shut, sighing in utter frustration and letting go of Vertin to cover her face with her hands, so embarrassed was she to face the girl across from her. She took a deep breath and then said, “I don’t like that you keep shouldering all of the hardships. I- I feel so stressed every time you hurt yourself on a mission. And you do it so often, I’m beginning to think—” she had to pause to regain her wits before continuing— “…that you don’t value yourself as much as I value you. That you don’t understand, or- or don’t care how much you mean to me- u-us! …Me. Everyone.”
She kept hiding for a few moments, waiting for something—for an apology, for derision, she wasn’t sure, but her heart was thumping as loudly as it ever had, and she felt dizzy all of a sudden. Being spontaneous and presumptive like this was most out of character for her, and after all of her passion passed, a burning sense of shame took its place.
When, after at least twenty seconds, Vertin hadn’t replied yet, Sonetto hurriedly shouldered past her, unveiling her glasfeder once again and starting faster than before. “I’m sorry! There must’ve been something… I mean, that cottage which influenced my emotions, perhaps it hasn’t completely worn off… I’m sorry, don’t pay attention to me, Timekeeper. I am your assistant; it’s not my job to fret about you like a, a…”
Like a friend, or something more.
Her face became red again, barely having recovered from their short break, only this time, it was from emotion rather than physical stress. “I apologize for my unprofessionalism.”
Before she could make three steps, Vertin grabbed her arm, calling out her name like she was the only person in the world, the way everything Vertin said to everyone felt. “Even if these are the remains of an arcane skill, all it served to do was amplify emotions budding within you. It would be unwise to leave them untouched and neglected. After all, Storm Syndrome quicker influences those who feel less stable…”
“R-right. Of course.”
Sonetto slowed her pace, but still refused to look at her companion.
“Truthfully, there is something I’ve been keeping from you all those years.”
Distracted by the feeling of the Timekeeper’s hand on her wrist, the red-cheeked girl stared miserably at the sky. It wasn’t that outlandish for someone as important as her to keep secrets, even if it made her companion a bit sad.
“Um… yes?”
“I never wanted you to be my assistant. Ms. Constantine assigned it that way against my will. I tried to file for another assistant, or preferably none, but she refused.”
That-
“…Wh… at?”
She didn’t even want me? I can’t help her, and it turns out that what little I’ve done has been against her will?
“I’m not done yet,” she reminded, snapping Sonetto out of her thoughts and dragging her horrible thoughts into the open, instead.
“Yes, of course. I’m sure that… selecting an assistant was a difficult task. A-after all, it must be restrictive having someone with you all the time, especially when that person doesn’t-”
“Sonetto, I’m not done yet.”
“S-sorry.”
“I am not equipped to lead anyone.”
That felt worse to hear than anything Vertin could’ve said about her. Instinctively, her head snapped up, leveling Vertin’s face with an astonished stare. “Timekeeper! That’s simply not true! Among the administrative figures I’ve met, there has been nobody as kind as you!”
“Kindness matters less than survival,” the Timekeeper said, offering a small, sad smile. “We learned that from a friend, didn’t we?”
“Yes, but…”
“And The Ring never got a chance to thank me for my kindness, either.”
“But-”
“Neither did Isabella.”
“Timekee-”
“Because even though I was kind to them, it didn’t matter when they were washed away.”
At a loss for words, Sonetto could only stare at her some more, faced with the insecurities of her vulnerable friend.
“It’s not that I didn’t want you, Sonetto. If I had wanted an assistant based on skill, compatibility, and friendliness, there was nobody I’d rather have than you.”
Conditioned into politeness, an automatic “thank you” slipped past the redhead’s lips.
“However, when my job is so dangerous and I’ve led so many people to their deaths… I’d much rather be assisted by nobody. Or, if I had to have someone—because the Foundation doesn’t trust me alone—then someone I didn’t care for, or grow up with. Because it would be easier to part with them.”
“Oh…”
“It’s better this way. I’m used to handling things on my own, and if you…” She fiddled with the brim of her hat, again dragging it down over her eyes. “If you got hurt… I wouldn’t like that.”
What spoke with Sonetto’s voice felt more like a ghost possessing her body than herself. It helpfully supplied, “Do you care about how I feel? Don’t you know how much it hurts watching you…?”
Vertin waited for a continuation, but Sonetto’s education was failing her, and there was nothing left in her head. The girl donned in blue sighed so softly it felt like her soul was escaping her body. “It’s better you feel upset than be endangered. Keep yourself safe; that’s an order. I don’t have the luxury of feeling. I’m only sorry you had to be stuck with me.”
But that’s so unfair.
Feeling passionate upon seeing Vertin’s sad little face, Sonetto’s zeal returned to her, and her thoughts burst through her chest. “Timekeeper, I- I’ll hold onto the feelings you can’t dwell on. I’ll feel sad for you. I’ll feel scared for you. If you ever feel nonhuman or lonely, please just remember that I…”
“Thank you, Sonetto,” Vertin said, but her expression was again impassive, the way it was when she entertained the fancies of Arcanists she’d just met. Sonetto felt her heart thump harder and louder, completely uncertain as to how to assuage the Timekeeper’s worries.
She wanted to do something. Anything. Yet Vertin’s back was as straight as ever, nary even buckling under the weight of the world. The redhead’s lips pursed, and she felt her eyes begin to ache with prospective tears.
Vertin saw this, but she kept her lips soundless, looking to the side and banishing the image from her mind. If she saw Sonetto cry, she’d be forced to release the weight she had been trying to keep pressed deep into the depths of her mind.
However, if there was one thing her assistant was, it was tenacious and stubborn.
“Um,” she started, stumbling over the sound as if she was preemptively awkward about the words she’d say next, “then, about Sch…neider.”
Vertin’s eyes narrowed as if questioning Sonetto’s motive in mentioning what they’d tacitly forbidden, but Sonetto refused to answer.
“I-it’s just that!… I’ve never asked you what you thought about her… Timekeeper.”
“I’ve been through Somnambulism already. The Saint Pavlov’s Foundation has-”
Uncharacteristically, Sonetto interrupted her, causing her eyes to widen back to their regular size. “But I know you! I know that you’re the only one who can be the Timekeeper, which means you try to stay strong, and… But I saw her kiss you, I… I’ve never seen you look at anyone else that way.”
An unspoken sentence hung in the air: You loved her.
Vertin stayed silent, hanging her head in that way she often did to obscure her expression, so the brim of her hat hid half her face again. Finally, she opened her mouth, the noise coming out of it mechanical and unfeeling. “Sonetto, this isn’t relevant to the mission.”
“But it’s relevant to you…”
“Sonetto.”
They stared at each other for a few moments.
Sonetto did something uncharacteristically brave.
She gritted her teeth and said, “You’re very adept at reading people’s emotions, Timekeeper, so my feelings probably do not come as a surprise, but I-”
Always a kind soul, Vertin held her hand up and interjected, giving her one more chance to shut her mouth before she did something she’d regret. “Sonetto, please don’t. I like you and our current relationship.”
“But I love you.”
Somewhere far away, a bird was chirping. The rushing sound of the breeze almost resembled a bubbling stream. Sounds of all kinds surrounded them, and yet it seemed utterly silent.
“Okay,” the Timekeeper replied. “I won’t tell anyone, so you won’t have to be reassigned.”
Perhaps that response was cruel. If the Foundation knew their loyal greyhound had a new master in her heart, she’d be replaced by someone else in a blink. Her job was to monitor and restrict Vertin, not love her. But was it possible to be with that marvel of a girl, that fine, patient, giving specimen of a human, without falling a little? Sonetto didn’t miss the looks that Vertin received: how Druvis stared at her like she was home; how Lilya would stumble blind into the line of fire if she ordered; how Schneider stole that kiss; how Nala Hari’s eyes seemed full of sunshine when she was around her; how even Nautika wrapped her arms and talons around Vertin possessively and with great deference and care whenever the Foundation operative found the time to speak with her.
The Timekeeper was simply so lovely, so charismatic. Nobody could fully resist her staid allure, soft and hard all at once like a statue of Buddha, least of all Sonetto, who’d been afflicted with a horrible case of affection since the day she laid eyes on that slimy green frog as a little girl.
Only, this feeling had been a poorly-kept secret behind the two, a present swaddled in Saran wrap and translucent for its beholders. Neither of them had whispered its existence towards each other, and Sonetto would’ve gladder died for her duty than force Vertin, already so burdened, to handle the guilt of Sonetto’s one-sided infatuation on top of everything. Even so, right now, it seemed like Vertin had to be loved by someone.
And Schneider, the one single person who’d shattered all of her careful defenses, was gone.
So that leaves the rest of Timekeeper’s squad.
It leaves me.
“Thank you,” Sonetto said out loud, tears welling in her eyes. “I-I’m sorry, I think the arcane energy must still be…”
“That’s alright.”
Vertin was acting more curt than usual, cutting off Sonetto’s sentences before she could finish them and staring at the sun to avoid the warmth of another human next to her.
“Um, Timekeeper, I know you’re adverse to this kind of thing. Not because you hate friends, just…” This time, the assistant trailed off organically, and Vertin picked up the pieces of her sentence.
“Yes, it seems like everyone I care for ends up falling for a tragic fate. If so, I’d rather do my duty and wait for my service to end.” She spoke with a light voice, but her words were heavy. She stared into the distance for a while longer, then sighed again, then shifted on her feet, her suitcase (presently, Argus was inside, for security, and Barbara was accompanying her—the more diplomatic way of saying “surveil”) riding up a few centimeters then down again with the movement of her shoulders. Her overcoat stayed crisp and unwrinkled, no matter how much she fidgeted, which Sonetto knew was quite a bit.
“I think that… Perhaps if I hadn’t been the Timekeeper, or known of the Storm, we would’ve been rather domestic.”
Sonetto couldn’t contain the product of her emotions as they dribbled down her cheeks, the snail trails of saline glimmering in the patchy sun like the words she wrote with her glasfeder. What detached reciprocity; what cruel hope. She dared not open her mouth, or the only thing escaping her white teeth would be sobs, miserable and understanding.
She was only a dog, after all—it was Vertin’s prerogative to use her, both professionally and emotionally, and she had no right to complain. Tooth Fairy would listen to her childish complaints, worried about how the higher-ups would interpret her breakdowns, and Constantine would threaten her with a reassignment if she were deemed too unstable to bear a fraction of her friend’s burden. She knew nobody who was solely on her side (Matilda would jump at the chance to sabotage this, that naive child, Mesmer Jr. found her repulsive, Madam Z was too busy to possibly handle Sonetto’s emotions…), and the one friend she’d come to trust, affiliations and all, someone from where her heritage lay (even if she knew close to nothing about Italian Italians), had, well…
Vertin sighed for the nth time and steepled her fingers below her waist. “I was lost before going through Artificial Somnambulism, and resigned, after. Then there was Paulina and Mr. Duncan, and I’m uncertain again, swept up by something I’d rather not think about. But… Laplace will enjoy these insinuations. I am meant to record the era.”
Record the era, not become part of it.
Sonetto’s tears refused to stop; only now, they fell for a girl with hair the color of seafoam and eyes like cloudy tourmaline. She had the urge to apologize again, but forced it back down, knowing that even her “sorry” could make Vertin feel worse.
“Is there really n-nothing I can do?” she managed to choke out.
Vertin’s eyes scanned her for a moment, and an expression of hesitance shadowed her features as she opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again.
“If you’d like, Sonetto, I wouldn’t mind a hug. It’s been a while since I’ve hugged anyone.”
Sonetto wondered if Vertin remembered Dr. Dores’ gentle touch in São Paulo, then expelled the thought, not hesitating even a second as she slouched her spine and raised her arms, taking the few steps it took to get closer to the Timekeeper and wrapping her shaking arms around her waist, burying her face in the crook of Vertin’s neck.
It was far too late to be ashamed. Sonetto was willing to throw her caution to the wind if it meant experiencing just one nice hug with the person she’d fallen so wholly in love with. After all, the closest they got was when Sonetto held an umbrella out to shield her from the rain, and Vertin tacitly bumped shoulders with her so Sonetto would be completely within its umbrage. (Sonetto knew Vertin could walk through the rain just fine, but seeing her alone in the deluge was too lonely.)
She used Vertin's shoulder as a pillar of support, soaking in these precious seconds of vulnerability that would likely never happen again. The world was too cruel to she who deserved everything.
They stood holding each other in the middle of the hot jungle until Sonetto's sniffles subsided, and Vertin released her, mumbling an apology and starting towards the meeting location without another word. Sonetto only hoped that Semmelweis wouldn't be able to see the misery in her heart.