He felt like he was going to pass out with how the silence dragged, with how Fletcher started and stopped repeatedly. The laughter threw him through a loop and he felt his knees weaken further in preparation of the crushing blow. But what came was the grin he'd come to love so much. Theo nodded sadly along. Of course he thought Fletcher didn't want him. Hadn't the man made that clear? That he loved him but wouldn't have him like this?

A strangled sob broke from his throat before he could clap his hand over his mouth in a vice like grip over his own jaw. Tears soaked his hand as he lost his war with his own emotions.

"I want you," he garbled, dropping his hand away and choking on his own words. "Everything, Jack. Your best days, your worst days, whatever you will give me I am greedy for and more. I...I've already lost everything once. I'm terrified of what will happen to you. Or how much you'll resent me for all this. I don't know what will become of all this. I just know I can't...I can't live without it. I need you. And I know I'm a curse and I'll drag you down with me and it'll break us both but I've never desired to be such a selfish, greedy bastard more than now. I'm sorry and I'm not and...I want this. With all my being I want this. I don't make all the right choices or know how to keep up with you. I sting you when I don't mean to but, I want to be your shelter and strength as you are mine. I want to support you as much at your worst as your best. I want you to...want this too. And if that means all I get are scraps and am left waiting in the wings forever...so be it."

It started off as a look of utter perplexity. Had he heard right? Or rather — had he heard wrong before? Had he spent all this time torturing himself over a wall that had never really existed? And yet as he listened on, and as Theo gave explanation after explanation as to why he thought Fletch wasn't interested, it became crystal clear that he, too, had told himself a story that wasn't quite true. He blinked rapidly and tilted his head and held up a hand to speak, then retracted it. Then he held it up again and stroked his stubble. As his fingers passed over his mouth, he began to shake with what could have been sobs, only for him to drop his arm limp and shake his head and begin, finally, to laugh.

He glanced up at Theo with that crooked grin and one eyebrow cocked in exasperation. "Is that what you think?" he asked quietly. "Is this what you tell yourself? That this is something I don't want to deal with? Because I can't think of anywhere else but your vivid imagination that you'd have gotten this idea that I don't want to be here. That I'm somehow scared of a mess. What — you think I stuck around for the money? For a dog I don't visit anymore? If I didn't want to weather everything that comes along with you, I'd have left the second I saw it. 

"Theo...I've seen messes. I come from a mess. I am a mess, if you couldn't tell. And Ven was even more of one, if you can bloody believe it. This? This doesn't scare me enough to run me off. Not by a long shot. Stop telling yourself that it will. Now."

Fletcher held his hand up again, fingers shaking, and motioned for Theo to let him continue. He scowled momentarily at the reminder of that deep hole he'd dug before focusing again on Theo. He grew serious. "I'm trying to shield you from the mountain of shit that I've yet to face, let alone dig through. I'm trying to keep it under wraps. I didn't think this was anything you wanted to see, or hear about, but...if those are the lies you tell yourself, then these are mine. And if you really, truly want this — "

Fletch held his trembling hand back in view, this time to make a point.

"I'm at rock bottom, Theo. There's no way you want me. You can't possibly want me, but...if I was wrong, and you don't care about all the ways I could fuck this up, or hurt you, or how badly this could end, then...then I can't take it anymore," he finished. "And I'll be greedy, too."

The blood drained from his face and his heart seemed to freeze in his chest. His chest heaved with breath and panic. "I want this," he rushed to say so fast the words left him barely comprehensible and heavily accented by his native tongue. He surged to his feet without even realizing he was on them, his hands and tongue flying with words as if afraid the moment he was interrupted he would never get to have his words out.

"I want this. I want you and I know that you want nothing to do with all the drama and bars and chains in my life. I know you don't want to be entangled with the stupid mess that is my life and I'm trying so hard to be good, to behave, and yet I can't stop from caring. I worry about you. I'm scared for you. I hate myself every day for being this weak, for not being able to let you go, or be a good friend, for confessing right after tragedy. For saying we couldn't because of the tragedy and not wanting you to think I was confused. For not being greedy then. For still being greedy now and clinging to every little scrap of affection or glance I can get from you, positive, negative, or otherwise. And I'm so, so sorry. Everything is wrong and unsafe and it's all my fault and I keep making things your problem but please, please don't think I am judging you or ridiculing you. It's not where this comes from. It's far more than that."

He stood there shaking, pale, and voice cracking as his throat closes with held back tears. Theodore looked on the verge of collapsing or breaking if so much as a gentle breeze blew through the room. Fletcher could crush him like a bug with a single word and he would accept it as it sent him to his proverbial death. He had brought this all shattering down upon his shoulders and he knew it was a mistake. The timing was all wrong. But the impulse was there and he'd let the panic control him and now it had all come spilling out and there was no retracting that.

Theodore Ransom Archer had just signed his own death warrant and left it at Fletcher's feet. 

That hurting, pleading gaze shattered in an instant, and his knuckles tightened on the back of the chair as the color left his face. Had Theo known all along? How long had he kept quiet about this? Before he could even think to stop it, sick rage hit him like a brick and sent him down the path he'd hidden from all this time. Fletcher scoffed. "You think I'm drinking to feel?" he hissed. "You think I want to feel more? Fuck off, Theo." He gripped the chair harder and harder like he meant to tear a chunk from it and throw it at the man. "Ven and Ash dying over and over in my head, and I'm living every day in hell with my husband haunting me while I want a man I can't have, and he thinks I want to feel more of it? Fuck."

Fletch pushed away from the chair and turned his back on Theo, leaning back and gripping his head in his hands. Well. That had just come out. "Fuck," he mumbled up at the ceiling. He ran his hands over his face and took a deep breath and let it out in a long, slow exhale before he was brave enough to face the man again. When he did, the anger had left him. "I'm sorry. That shouldn't have come out. You don't want this. I know it's a bad idea. I know it's... I'm respecting it. I'm...I'm respecting it. But don't you judge me for what I have to do to hold it together."

Theo watched, his own face twisted in concern and longing. He wanted nothing more than to leap from his chair and drag Fletcher into his arms, to crush him close and beg him to wait until they found another way. But that wasn't what they had agreed on doing. And so Theodore Archer was glued to his chair in anguish as the man he adored paces in self-torment before him. 

"Jack," he breathed, his voice filled with gentle compassion. "You can't tell me off for trying to shoulder everything alone and expect me to let you do the same. All these things small and big are adding up and it's crushing you. Can you even live with yourself when everything is over? That is what I'm trying to ask you. Or will you just be a shell drowning himself in alcohol every night to feel something again?"

Tears welled in his eyes that he quickly squeezed away but his brows remained furrowed tightly with his concern. "I worry...," Theo sighed and shook his head. "Do what you think best. I know it's not my place to ask the impossible of you," he swallowed thickly his eyes glassy and vision blurred again. "I am trying very hard to not make decisions for you and smother you. But is this really what you want to do? Or is this what you've decided you must do?"

Jelani took the time Pyla slept to examine their surroundings and prepare for their departure. It should only take them a day to travel back home with a decent pace, and their camels were well rested, fed, and ready for the journey. Pyla, however...

But that didn't matter. They had to leave. Pyla's condition wasn't going to get better anytime soon and they couldn't just stay to wait for her to get stronger. Jelani would just have to hope she wouldn't get worse on the way.

The women had taken great care of them and the tiny village had done so much for two strangers. She would make sure to compensate them once she was able to work it out with the elders. They wouldn't deny her, of that she was sure, and the Mtetezi always paid their debts.

She returned to Pyla's side when informed her sister had woken and nodded when she declared herself ready.

"Good." She replied, making sure to contain all of her doubts and fears. She needed to be strong. She always needed to present herself with strength and competence, "We're off, then."

They were doted over by the villagers as they left and had a good amount of food and trinkets that could help with survival that were already loaded into their saddle bags. Jelani had told them they had a ways to go to reach their home, not wanting them to know where they actually lived, and the people had come through.

Then they were off, the sun still slowly rising from the east.

Fletcher's gaze turned pained again. He unfolded his arms, clenching and unclenching his fists as he began to pace slowly, eye tracking the grooves in the floorboards. Fear and hurt and longing all roiled within him and threatened to burst forth as...what? A declaration? An act he'd regret? He still didn't know what he wanted, and that scared him for Theo's sake. He just knew that he badly wanted it, whatever it was.

He stopped and set a hand to the back of the chair that he still hadn't settled into. A finger absently picked at the upholstery. "There aren't any other ways from where I'm standing," he rasped through a tight, dry throat. "I'm getting you out of this. Even if I can't get you out of it all, this I can do." He looked away for a moment, and his fingers moved to the bracelet that peeked out from under his coat sleeve, as it so often did. He swallowed again, fortifying himself for what he was about to say. "What's coming up. The thing I told you about. It's...when he died. It's just that. It's nothing to do with anything else. So...if I do what I need to do to make this work, it won't affect what I told you. They're separate. Mostly."

"A most marvelous selection!!" Rian clapped giddily as her finger extended to a gold gown covered in tiny intricate crystals that would go stunningly with his own bedazzled attire. On the surface it looked the plainest of the lot, but as the servants moved it towards his guest it caught the light and simply shown.

"We have just the tiara for the occasion as well. CONSTANCE!" He shouted causing his butler to jump for she was standing right next to him, "The wildflower tiara, please. You'll need the special key - but you already knew that, of course. Make sure to undo the enchantments lest you lose your head." He gaffawed as if saying the most hilarious joke and, as servants are wont to do, they chuckled with him when he began laughing.

Constance bowed deeply and disappeared from the room. Lord Wissilworth grinned down at Abby and leaned close again.

"She doesn't like you." He murmured, "Probably because she knows you're not a servant, but that's perfect for our little scheme isn't it just?" He drew back and his grin widened and he didn't look the least bit upset at her at all, nor did he give any indication that he planned to do anything with the information he just murmured in her ear.

"For you are the Lady of the Evening! The Enchantress of Night!" He bellowed again with a laugh and just like that it was unclear if he actually knew about Abby's identity or not. Was he a fool or a scholar? But Gods it made him giddy when the servants just laughed with him, as they continued to do now. He could say the most ridiculous things, and he did mostly because it was his personality, and people would just go along with it because he was rich and influential. They all probably thought he was an idiot and...well...they were mostly wrong.

"Now, get dressed, my servants will assist and Constance will be back with your crown. I'll see you when you're presentable!"

And he turned on one glittering, jewel encrusted foot and left the teal room behind.

"No, it is not done out of station I know. I just don't wish your efforts to be so drastic as to...," he trailed off as he tried to find the appropriate words. He didn't want Fletcher to end up destroying himself for Theo. He didn't want to lose the man he loved in his pursuit to set the nobleman free.

"There are other ways. I know you already have much on your plate and I am adding to it with this. But, I would still have your happier self return with the ice melt, and if this would prevent that, then don't do it. I meant what I said to him. I take my role very seriously and I hope you know the depths of my care for you...all."

Fletcher's lips pressed tighter together as he ground his teeth. His eye, intense and flickering in the firelight, never left Theo. His fingers trembled. He shoved them quickly beneath his arm and out of view. "I want to get you out of this," he said. "I'll do what it takes to get you out of this. It's got nothing to do with your station, and it's not a sacrifice when I was the one who suggested it and set it up in the first place. I just...wanted to be clear...because of how we argued before." He swallowed something thick down his throat. Even that was a lie. It was very much a sacrifice. It was very much not a thing he wanted to do.

"I think he's like her," he added. "I think they're so alike that if they don't fall for each other, I'll eat my boots. And maybe that's dangerous, too. He might see her as a meal ticket. He might try to turn on us and the plan. So we need leverage, like you said, just...from a couple angles, to be sure. And if him being a whore isn't enough to discredit him to her, then I'll find that leverage...or I'll forge it."