Fletch wanted nothing more than to lean back against the balustrade and drop the act. Instead, he remained at a respectable distance, hands clasped behind his back again. He made certain to stand in such a way that no one indoors could see what he said or how he looked when he said it, though. "Wish you'd let me know in advance. I'd have brought some rope for you. Might seem suspicious carrying the missus' bedsheets through the party." Fletch frowned at the question. "I always have it, Theo. You know that. Why — need something stronger? Because it's punch. It'll already knock the tits off a cow."

His eye darted between the drink and Theo. His frown deepened. "We shouldn't stay out here for too long. Appearances and all. But...you're not okay, are you? It came back to you in the carriage."

Fletcher hit the end of a laundry list of unique and silent ways to convey his unhappiness, and still he couldn't find Theo. He'd passed the girl at least two times, now. As he walked by her yet again, he started at the top with a low, irritated noise grating up his throat. He supposed it was a good thing he knew where she was. If he couldn't find either of them, he'd know there was trouble. Didn't change the fact that he hated the sight of her, though.

Finally, by sheer chance, he caught a glimpse of Theo out on a balcony. "That's not a chair," he muttered as he stepped out into the chill with the man's drink. He set it on the balustrade and promptly wrapped his arms around himself, shivering in the cold. "Bottoms up. 'S fucking freezing out here. Still better than putting up with them, though."

Fletch snorted at the thought. He'd never seen Theo truly drunk. The closest the man had gotten — that he knew of, anyway — was on that awful wine he'd dug out from beneath the floorboards. And while this was hardly the venue to test him when, Fletch would never turn someone down for needing to drink their misery away. "A man can dream," he replied.

He stood there rigidly, scanning the room as he spoke, before his eye finally rested back on Theo. His ire calmed, his expression was now carefully controlled, though his clenched jaw gave away just how much he hated this, too. "Why don't you go and find yourself a seat, sir?" he suggested. "I'll find you a stiff one and be back shortly."

He nodded his curt guardsman's nod, still hoping that Theo would see past the act just as he tried to see past Theo's. Then, as if afraid to linger there, he marched off in search of wherever these horrid people kept their refreshments table.

Fletch barely followed their conversation. He didn't want to pay attention to it at all, mind, but he thought Theo was worth keeping a closer eye on. The man wasn't in a good state, and Fletch would no doubt be adding to his misery here and there as he kept up the act.

"I'll drag you into your own grave, woman," he muttered beneath his breath as the girl made her retreat to burden some other poor sod with her grating presence. He turned to Theo, his irritation lingering. "The bloody hell is missile-toe? Sounds awful. Erm. You look like hell. Do you need a drink? I can find you one."

He was in the middle of helping the Baroness down — and trying not to scowl too harshly at her — when he noticed. Theo hadn't found any relief in the fresh air outside the carriage. In fact, he seemed to have gotten even worse. Fletch glanced between the man and his parents, and it dawned on him that he couldn't be soft in this moment. He couldn't at all. He grimaced at the thought of what he had to say and shut the carriage door to buy himself some time. Then he turned to Theo.

"No, come on, now, sir. We're here, now. You might as well enjoy it. Let's head in."

At first he didn't notice Theo's rising panic. In fact, he'd been trying very hard not to look at the man at all for fear that at this close proximity, he'd slip and show how he felt, and that even if the Baroness didn't, the Baron would surely catch that glance between them. When he finally did catch his love's fist clenching and unclenching out of the corner of his eye, he wondered: was it happening to him, too? The memories of that night playing over and over?

Fletch made a show of clearing his throat and shifting, bumping momentarily into Theo's knee. He dropped his hands between his legs so that the motions were slightly less apparent to the man's parents. As slowly and carefully as he could, he signed, not what he wanted to sign — that he was there, that he loved Theo, that they'd get through this together — but enough to tell him as much. "Not alone. Safe."

An echo of the day of the debutante ball jolted him to attention. This time, though, his gaze was returned, and with no one there but the two of them, Theo could see exactly how enamored Fletcher really was. He looked the nobleman up and down slowly and appreciatively before clearing his throat and forcing himself stoic again. "That's not the word I'd use," he managed. "What. Me? With the — " He waved a hand dismissively at his own face. "Can you imagine? My luck, I'd look like I belonged in a bloody circus. Anyways, come on. Your mum's shrieked up the stairs twice now. Let's just get it all over with."

Fletch gestured for Theo to go ahead of him, then followed behind the man. With every step, he sank further into that fateful day: Theo's engagement, the attack, Ash's death. There was a pit in his gut at the thought of reliving parts of it. He'd be in the carriage with the three of them, the whole time focusing on keeping his cards to his chest. Theo and Edwina would play the same stupid game. His only consolation now was that neither of them meant it. Well, that and the fact that every time he met the Baron's eye, a triumphant thought bubbled up to the surface:

I'm sleeping with your son, and you don't even know it. How's that for homosexuals and deviants?

"Sure, sure. I've got it. Go rest. I'll be here."

True to his word, Fletcher stayed and tended to the fire, keeping the two of them warm despite the distance that had grown between them. And that same distance lingered. Days passed, and yet that raw feeling didn't abate. Instead it twisted back into rage at what he'd never known, never heard, never been given. He spent much of his off time beating the practice dummies to shreds as he tried desperately to channel that vitriol into something that wasn't Theo. And it worked. It did. But it didn't change the fact that their nights were lonely ones, now.

By the end of the week, an altogether different kind of despair had befallen them: a Yule party. The good was that it was at some other noble arsewipe's manor, and so the Baroness wasn't running around screaming at the staff for five days prior. The bad was that Fletcher couldn't even escape back to his room if he wanted to. He'd be trapped with these awful people until Theo's parents decided it was time to make their exit. No smoking, no drinking. Just standing with that signature expression like there was a stick up him.

The worse was that Edwina would be there, and Neal wouldn't be.

Fletch waited in the hall outside of Theo's room, already plenty sour at the thought of wasting a night at this stupid thing. But at least, he thought, he wouldn't be alone this time.

Fletch grimaced, not at the questions, but at the answer to them. "If I leave to be alone, I'll just keep drinking. Best I stay. You do what you want, though, you just...look very tired, love, that's all."

It sounded so much more right than Theo using Ven's old name for him. Like he could start to let that era of his life ebb away. Theo had talked of them both trying to heal, and maybe that was already what this was. Maybe it was just the part where the cut hurts worse than when it was first made — before the wound finally begins to close.

"With a D, same as Daw." Fletch signed the letter as he spoke it. "And anything. Just not Mr. Fletcher."

He looked Theo over, noting the man's dark circles and weighted brow. He looked exhausted. Like he truly hadn't slept at all over this. Fletch motioned to the bed with a slight jerk of the head. "If you need to sleep, I can stay here. Make sure you aren't disturbed."

Fletch didn't smile. He didn't reply to Theo's quip. Nevertheless, the weight visibly eased from his face and shoulders. He hadn't realized how much of a relief it would be. How warm it would sound coming from Theo, even as his father's name rolled off the man's tongue. "You know...I haven't heard that from someone else in so long. But I think I like it when you say it."

"Theo, there's nothing to forgive," Fletch said aloud. "There never is. You don't need to fix anything or make anything right. You've done nothing wrong. He's just haunting me. That's all. Stubborn bastard that he is. I..."

Fletch brushed his fingers over the bracelet without even thinking. He looked down at it: that weightless manacle. How long would he wear it? How long would he hold onto this? He hated it more and more each day, but it still didn't feel like it was time to let it go. Not quite yet. But there was something else that he could be free from. Something to reclaim.

"There is one thing," he said as his eye returned to Theo. "Call me my name. My real name."

"And it's not forced now," Fletch said. "I'm saying it because I need you to know it after what I've done today. I need you to see it."

He leaned forward, burying his creased face in his hands and rubbing away the anguish. He ran his fingers back across his head. "I don't know what to do anymore," he said to the floor. "I don't know where to go from here." Theo's words echoed in his mind: that Fletch was hurting him. That he needed to stop. Could he stop? Was this enough, or would he just keep making the same mistake?

He straightened and then fell back and slumped against the chair. His signing came slowly and haltingly. "Am I still hurting you? I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to make it right. Tell me how to make it right."

Fletch let his hand slide from his face and fall to his lap. He gazed mournfully over at his friend. His love. "Thank you," he choked through a throat tight with grief. "I'm sorry too. I am. You see what you're getting yourself into, now, don't you? The full of it. Why I wasn't ready. It's not good, Theo. You're a decent man. You deserve better. No — don't...don't argue with me on that. It's true."

He shut his eye tight as another wave washed over him and threatened to pull him under. When he opened it again, he'd clawed some of his calm back. He tried to say something else and stopped. Hurt flashed across his features again. But he pushed past it and signed it nonetheless. "I love you. I really do."

Fletch glanced back at Theo, still very much a hurting mess. He shook his head sadly and slowly. "No. If you do me one kindness, please. Just. Let me breathe. I can't take this right now. I'll...I'll stop being such a colossal arse, but...I can't have you pulling me in and then digging the way that you do. And the closer we get, the more I have to...to face that this is what it's supposed to be. And that he never..."

He swallowed, face contorting, and bent to hold a hand over his eye. It was as much as he could bear to say aloud.

Fletch looked horrified as it finally sunk in exactly what he'd done to Theo. "No. No no no. That's not — that's not what I was doing — I wouldn't. We're past that. I respect you too much. But you left me, and all I could see was you trying to start another fight when I still needed air from the last one. That was all, Theo. I'm not like that. You know I'm not."

Fletch looked away for a moment and took a deep breath, blinking away the burning in his eye. "I'm sorry. I was awful earlier. Dragging you in like that. I...really don't want to relive this shit right now, but I think you deserve to know. I think I erm...I think I need to sit."

He returned to his chair, head hung, and slumped into it. He closed his eye for a moment, willing himself to focus on the very thing he avoided day after day. When he thought he had a tenuous hold on it, he returned his gaze to Theo. "You need to know where this is coming from, love. I think it's the only way I'll make any sort of sense to you. Ven and I were together for over ten years. That part you know. Here's what you don't.

"He was a healer from the start. He...got into his own supply when he was younger. Poppy. It was what he used to keep from feeling, I think. Like me and drinking. And maybe he quit back then, but once you've started something like that, you never really quit for good. And then when we finally had some peace, it was like everything caught back up to him and he couldn't handle it. And he started in on it again. And he pulled away from me. Started having tantrums when I took his poppy or asked anything of him. So I took care of him through it. Made decisions for him. Made sure he ate, you know. Washed him. Kept him safe. And then he just...finally...left. Left me. Left everyone. By his own hand."

Fletcher ground his teeth and clenched his jaw and looked away again with such fierce and bitter agony. Only when he'd controlled it did he look back. "When you act like him, I do what I know. And that's making the decisions and keeping you safe and holding everything else in. I didn't know you were sleeping. I thought you were trying to...I thought you wanted me to watch you hurt yourself. To hurt me. I'm so sorry, Theo. I didn't think. I wasn't thinking."

Home?

Was home supposed to hurt like this? He supposed it always had, in some way or another. If there was ever a place he had to watch his own back, it was home. As he passed over Theo's threshold, he braced himself for what he knew he was too raw to face. But he had to do this. He wouldn't drag this man down with him.

He put some distance between them, opting to stand beside the fire, hands still clasped behind his back like anyone else could see him. He stumbled over what to say, but with no armor left, everything was a jumbled mess, and no one part of it was clear enough to focus on. "Theo, I'm sorry," he blurted out instead. "I didn't know. I didn't mean to. I thought you..."

He stopped and thought on what the man had told him by the window and tried again. "You said you're not him. Good. I wouldn't want you if you were. But you went and did something that was so like him that it..."

There was another pause as he wrested control of that sick anger. "You dig in like you're trying to tear my damned skin off to see me. And I say stop, and you say you will while you dig in deeper. And then you go and say a thing like that. Something — no one's ever — and I say it back, and then you leave? And then you just leave me with it? Like you got what you wanted and damn what you do to me? Don't do that. Don't be him. I can't do this again. I can't have another man just — just pull me apart and break me like this."

Fletch shook his head. "Doesn't matter. Now. I'm hurting you. I don't want to be."

From the first words out of Theo's mouth, the wall fell, revealing anguish and fear and worry. He'd hurt Theo. He'd been mistaken and he'd genuinely hurt the man. Somewhere along the way, their accounts of the other night had diverged, and both had clearly left with a very different picture of how it had all gone down, and now they both were bleeding. He listened intently, and by the end of it, he looked close to tears.

"I'm sorry," he rasped. "That wasn't..." He stopped himself. Hesitantly, he lifted his hands and signed instead. "Not here. Could be heard. Your room."

Begrudgingly, he followed the nobleman down the hall and about his day. He hadn't missed the tears. Theo had been crying in the time between when Fletch had left and when the man had reappeared. The sight only irritated him further. "Playing lost puppy now? Really?" he muttered behind Theo's back. He felt sick the moment he said it. With that invisible jab, he'd stepped over the line from self-defense to cruelty. Regardless of Theo's maturity, Fletch had to be better than this. He couldn't stoop to who he used to be. 

They stopped by a window, and Theo stared out to the horizon like a caged animal that had long ago accepted its fate. And then, without so much as a warning, he dug again. Fletcher's expression turned dark and warning as he faced the man. What a thing to hold over him right now. What a weighty thing. And if the wrong person overheard them, what a threat to his place here. "As much as needed to do my job, sir," he murmured.