aldhani | saltburnt

[ shortly after her conversation with alia, max looks up from her phone, her expression and tone carefully neutral. for the time being. ]

Hey. You busy?

[it's so careful, in fact, that cassian, still looking at his own phone, doesn't suspect that anything's amiss.]

No.

[— says the man who's still typing. he doesn't even look up. yet.]

What's going on?

No?

[ the syllable perks up at the end, and if he were paying attention, he might catch onto it. but whether he does she gets up, walking over to here he's standing, moving slow enough to stand behind him that he'll have time to hide whoever he may be having a conversation with.

closer now, she cards her fingertips through his hair, bending to kiss the top of his head. ]

Thank you, by the way. For holding onto my phone earlier.

[ the neutrality is back. she may even sound sweet and plying.

he should be very, very worried. ]

[that, the tiny perk of the syllable, gets his attention. his fingers freeze while typing, mid-sentence, and, back straightening, his whole body stills; his eyes glance up from the screen, watching her walk closer. he darkens the screen, shoving the phone into his pocket.

otherwise, he remains just like that, frozen, as she approaches, as she kisses the top of his head; in fact, he holds the breath that he inhales, and takes his time on letting it go.

a moment after that:]

Of course. [it's his turn for a careful tone.] I just wanted to help however I could.

I appreciate it.

[ she leans down, draping an arm over his shoulders as she pulls her phone from behind her back. ]

Wouldn't have wanted to do something stupid and reckless. Or dangerous.

[ and here, she holds the screen of it in front of him, letting him see a screencap of where her conversation had left off. ]

[

]

[he looks at the screen of her phone, to her, and then back again, gears turning in his mind, evaluating his options. from where he's sitting, there are two, potentially, that are available to him, now that this has been uncovered. one, he can agree with her, and admit that he messed up, or —

had he, though? actually messed up? of course she's angry (and he'd known she would be), but this is for the best: call angelus out in public, sway opinion their way, have an entire network of people that would notice if he escalated.

he takes option two. his expression flattens, his jaw tenses, and he says, carefully (deliberately so):]

This is different.

Yeah?

[ she comes to stand in front of him now, turning to toss her phone onto the bed and crossing her arms over her chest as she glares at him. ]

Explain it, Cassian. Explain exactly how this is any different from the last time you deliberately tried to get the attention of someone you knew was dangerous and had already made threats against us. Explain how it's different than any other time I've asked that you not pull this dangerous kind of shit because I don't want to see you get hurt. Explain why you'd do this after what he's just done, not even twenty four hours ago.

[he's careful to keep sitting, rather than rising to his own feet, because he knows that's not going to help him; he's also careful to swallow down the scoff he almost breathes out. she wants an explanation? she'll have one.]

I'll tell you how this is different. [on the edge of the bed, he shifts, leaning forward.] This time, it's in public. Everyone can see it and know about it. Which means that if he makes another threat, he's running out of places to hide afterward. He knows that, too.

[she can see that herself — the comments flung his way that had become increasingly desperate. before he'd been interrupted, he'd gotten to angelus. no question.]

We want this to end, right? This is how it ends. Not by hiding from him.

Great, okay. And what stops him from coming after us in private in the meantime? What stops him from doing worse than leaving a portrait of somebody next time, what if he gets creative and decides to leave a lock of hair, or a finger, or a head?

[ she can't will the fear out of her voice in the last part of that, in spite of how angry she is and how hard she's trying to will it out. there's a swell of nausea when she thinks of that happening to grace, but she pushes past it. he needs to understand this. ]

Everyone can see it. That doesn't mean they'll be able to stop it if he decides he wants to go after one of us. Maybe it just means he has an audience when he gets us.

[the fear in her voice is noticeable — and it does stop his train of thought for a second. it has him looking to her again, something softer in his eyes, swallowing down a tightness in his throat. for a second, he's almost back to the place he was a week ago: head in his hands in the library, hopeless.

nothing that she's saying is out of the realm of possibility.

he exhales a long breath, briefly dropping his eyes away. when he lifts them again, they're harder.]

So what would you suggest? [his own voice takes on more of a snap than he means it to. and he almost winces, almost, but —] Because going to confront him on your own wasn't going to solve any of this.

Yeah, and I knew that. And I gave you my phone so I wouldn't do something stupid that would escalate things and make them worse. So imagine my surprise when she told me you decided to do that yourself, especially after what we talked about a week ago.

[ how many times are they going to have to have this argument before he gets why she doesn't like watching him be so reckless with his life and safety?

it would be bad enough if if was just him or the two of them. but now grace is in danger, too. ]

[there are, again, two options before him. one involves taking time and consideration.

he chooses the other.]

I haven't heard a better plan.

[the same hard eyes, the same hard tone.]

[ jesus christ ]

I never said I had one, but you clearly don't either. You didn't start baiting him because you did, you did it because you saw someone you thought was him and, instead of leaving well enough alone, you decided to keep poking at him. You don't get to talk me down because you're afraid I'll do something that'll get me killed, and then do the same exact thing behind my back.

[ she wants to stay angry, but she feels drained. she sighs, bringing her hands up to rub at her eyes, trying to push back the tears she can feel forming. she’s too angry to want to cry. ]

Edited 2026-01-07 16:08 (UTC)

[he may have tried to blow right past them, but time and consideration are on the table, forced the moment he notices that she's covering up being on the verge of tears. the hardness in his face fades off, leaving only the exhausted shell of him underneath. it hurts, profoundly, to watch her like that — and it's his fault that it's happening. all his fault.

sighing, he drops his eyes away and focuses on the floor, folding his hands in front of him, because he doesn't dare reach for her. it's his fault, and she's not wrong, but —]

Better me than you, or anyone else. [his voice is just quiet this time.] If it started with me, it can end with me.

[she's not wrong, but he won't say this wasn't the move, either.]

I don’t want this for you either!

[ she explodes with it, eyes welling, but still furious. ]

I don’t really like the idea of this asshole torturing and killing you, and I hate that you keep trying to bait him into it. I hate that you keep finding reasons to toy with getting yourself killed, you think it’s any easier to see it or think about it happening just because it doesn’t last?

[ there’s also no saying that next time won’t be the time it does last, or if it works the same way here that it had in duplicity. ]

You told me we’re in this together and that you wanted to live, with me. So why do you keep doing this?

[the explosion comes, and he lets it. he lets it hit him for as long as she needs it to, not interrupting and not even looking up. just from her voice, the tears are obvious; she sounds like she's about to crack.

he hates that. hates himself for putting her in that position, and it's a gnawing thing, that feeling, twisting in his stomach, clawing through his chest, and creeping up into his throat. something stings in his eyes and he blinks it back, sniffling into the silence she leaves behind.

there isn't a good answer, either, but he lands on one.]

I don't see another way.

[he stands, then, as if to stand on that. his eyes lift, finally, searching for hers.]

Getting his attention back on me. That's the plan.

[ at this point, she’s had it. they can’t be having this argument, again, barely a week after coming to a resolution with the last one. he can’t be so stubborn that he doesn’t see how him putting himself in danger not only puts people they care about in danger, but would still hurt her even if the attention was just on him.

she glares, eyes still flaring in spite of the tears she refuses to let fall in front of him still welling. ]

Funny, I’m still not hearing you deny that this is still you toying with death in spite of knowing it hurts me.

[ with that, she grabs her jacket from the chair and storms out the door, letting it slam behind her. ]

[

from the moment max slams the door and he doesn't attempt to follow her, cassian has a lot to think about. he begins to, in earnest, after the anger, frustration, and hurt all have a chance to cool down, after he's put distance between himself and their room, wandering the grounds outside; it isn't warm by any means (as the sun sinks lower in the sky, his hands, even inside his coat pockets, start to numb), but it's just too suffocating right now to be inside the house, inside the prison that's doing its best to try to break them.

as he looks out over the lake, he replays the conversation over in his mind, and her last words to him are what tend to echo: this is still you toying with death in spite of knowing it hurts me. denial is the kneejerk reaction that sticks with him for several hours, but as the sky darkens, that, too, goes the way of the anger, frustration, and hurt.

it's a heavy feeling, inhabiting the realization that she's right, and it drags his steps as he heads back for the front doors of the house. once inside, he bypasses the dining hall completely, instead walking in the direction of the spare kitchen below that he's come to frequent. there, elbows propped on the counter, he pulls his phone out of his pocket for the first time since he'd hidden it from her, and chances a text:]

Can we talk?

[ she, predictably, finds her way back to the roof, notably in a different spot than they'd spent the night before new years. there's not really an escape from this place or her anger and hurt, but looking out at the grounds helps her feel closer to numb. which is what she wants after that. between waking up to the threat against grace and her guilt and anger about that, the answers she'd gotten from alia, and everything that's gone down between them, she's just...exhausted. wrung out. she doesn't even feel like crying by the time she gets to the roof.

it's a few hours by the time he reaches out. in the hours between she scrolls through her messages. she listens to music that doesn't make her think of him. she pretends not to see him when he stands out by the lake. she stares down at her phone when she receives his message, still not really ready to forgive him, but after a few minutes she decides she'd rather hear him out than not. ]

where?

[he wonders if she'll respond at all — and wouldn't blame her if she didn't; it would hurt, but he'd deserve that. this is what he keeps repeating to himself as he watches the screen, waiting for any sign of life.

one word appears. he breathes out slowly, takes that time to consider the next best move; he could tell her to come here, to the lowest floor of the house, and while maybe that had been half a thought in his mind it doesn't seem like the right one now. fingers drum on the counter.

then:]

You pick the place. I'll come to you.

[the least he can do is let her choose the neutral ground.]

[ she debates for a few moments, running through the options in her mind. there's not really a shortage of rooms in this place, or a lack of space when it comes to outside. but eventually, she comes to the conclusion that she wants them to not only feel private, but safe. ]

our room.
i can be there in 15.

[not neutral at all, as it turns out — but private. that's better, probably.]

I'll be there.

[after that, he doesn't waste any time; he tucks his phone away, and he's on the move.

the route is easy, nearly automatic, so it only takes him about ten minutes. ten minutes of having nothing he needs to focus on except for collecting his thoughts, before he's at their door and turning the knob to pull it open.

he lets out a breath, long and slow.]

[ not neutral, but it's pretty clear that part of this is stemming from being unsure what or who they can trust in this new environment. so maybe it's better to do this somewhere where they're familiar and where things will be as close to private as they can be.

and, in truth, she's exhausted. she'd rather not have this discussion somewhere and not know how to get back if the house decides to switch things up on them.

within the promised time, she's there, the night's chill still coloring her cheeks and clinging to her clothes and hair. she sees him in the room and turns to pull off her jacket and hang it up before turning to him, arms folded over chest. ]

So. You wanted to talk.

[she's there not long after he is, and everything about her, from her posture to her voice, is guarded. it's fair, and he wouldn't expect anything else right now. in turn, he keeps a distance, showing that it's clear that he intends to keep standing on his side of an invisible line.

from there, all he has to do is say what he'd mentally rehearsed all the way up here; this is the chance she's giving him to do just that, the one she didn't have to give him.

his hands are shoved into the pockets of the jacket that he still hasn't taken off, and his eyes are on the floor.]

For a long time, I didn't care what happened to me. Not really. [a halting start, one he almost loses the thread on, in spite of the rehearsing.] Sometimes, I thought that maybe it would be better for people if something did. They'd have peace if they didn't have to worry about me anymore.

[it's after another long exhale that he finally looks up, at her.]

I know that's not true for you, but I acted like it was, because when I didn't know anything else, I knew how to do that. I went behind your back, and made decisions for both of us. I hurt you.

And I'm sorry for all of that.

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