Backdated | Gabriel & Kevin
Aug. 8th, 2018 09:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsTwo months after Kevin decided to cut and run, Gabriel tracks him down.
Some places worked very hard to be called dive bars, investing in consultants to try and achieve that old, slightly shabby look that hearkened back to the bars and beer halls of mid-century New York. The Wick, on the other hand, was simply old and shabby, populated by old men who'd been calling it their local for decades, and students, drawn by the cheap beer specials. There was the odd hipster trying to negotiate with a deeply unimpressed bartender for some kind of cocktail, missing the fact that all the glasses behind the bar were pints, shot glasses and tumblers.
It was, in short, the kind of place that Gabriel thought Kevin might like.
It had been a while since Kevin had vanished without a trace, and for the first few weeks, Gabriel hadn't been concerned. People sometimes needed to disappear. He'd certainly done his fair share of running away. For a while, that had been his only skill, and it had served him well.
But the days stretched on, and Kevin hadn't returned. Which the younger man found surprising; he'd expected Kevin to be a bit more resilient than Gabriel himself was. Still, he hadn't tried to send his mentor an email or a text; he'd given him space.
The space was met with silence.
And in the last two weeks, a part of Gabriel started to wonder if Kevin's disappearance was another step in his training. Yet another puzzle to be solved. It intrigued him. So he'd put on his proverbial deerstalker and applied the diligence he'd learned was oh-so-crucial to his spywork. That is what led him on a tour of Manhattan bars — even off the grid, he knew Kevin wouldn't give up drinking — and what inevitably let him to The Wick.
It was, of course, pointless to sleuth without the occasional indulgence. And so Gabriel strode to the bar, ordered whatever the darkest beer on tap was, and started to scan the room.
And there he was. Sitting at a table in the back by an open window, a stack of newspapers and a bottle in front of him.
Kevin took a sip from a tumbler and placed it back next to the pint he was working on as well. For a man who could look like anyone, he both wasn't trying to hide his appearance nor was he bothering to upkeep it. At least a week's stubble covered a face that Gabe had never seen other than clean shaven. He looked like someone who had simply stopped caring.
After taking the other man's appearance in, Gabriel sighed and frowned. This was going to be harder than he thought.
Ever the diligent bartender, Gabriel added three shots of decent whiskey to his order. He downed the first one as soon as it arrived, chased it with a swig of beer, then scooped up all of his beverages and made his way to Sydney. He didn't use his powers — there was no advantage to surprise here — but simply strode up and plopped the drinks on the table.
"Well," he said, his heart pounding for reasons he couldn't fathom, "you look like shit."
Kevin looked up slowly. "I thought you weren't allowed into a bar that didn't stock simple syrup and those little umbrellas." He said levelly, as if they were continuing a conversation from an hour ago, as opposed to after weeks.
Gabriel didn't flinch at that. "That's cute," he said in a tone that suggested he thought anything but. Ever the bartender, he set both shot glasses in front of Kevin. "Cheers." He didn't bother to clink glasses before taking a healthy sip of his stout. "So." He made very direct eye contact with Kevin and decided to skip pleasantries. "Where the hell have you been?"
“Here.” Kevin downed the shot. “And there. Everywhere once or twice but that costs more. You?”
"Me? I've been on a crawl of New York's skeeziest dives trying to find you, you unyielding fuck." The edge in his voice surprised him. "Did you know there's a 205th Street in Manhattan? Because I now fucking do, and that's knowledge I could have lived without."
"At any point during your expedition from Battery Park to the Bronx, did you consider that maybe I'm not interested in being found?" He took a sip from the second shot and waved at the opposite chair. "But, you're here now. And you look like you've been building up something you want to say to me."
Gabriel clenched his jaw and suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. "Yeah. I do." He crossed his arms. "To put it the shortest way possible: What the actual fuck is going on with you?"
"Sit down." Kevin said, pointing at the chair across the table. "What the actual fuck is going on with me is that I have decided that I have other directions to focus on with my life."
"Other directions." Gabriel raised an eyebrow as he sat. "Well. And what, pray, tell is this particular direction? The one where you look like a Nascar driver trying to do the crossword on his day off? Care to elaborate?"
"A Nascar driver doing a crossword is trying to have fun. I'm not, because you need a severe concussion to enjoy Nascar. Indy 500 is a different beast, but turning left for 200 laps inbetween occasionally screaming racial epithets at black people I can't quite understand." Kevin said, tipping back the last of his shot. He waved for more. "I was thinking about drinking a lot. Maybe catching up on my reading."
Gabriel stared at him a little blankly, waiting for the punchline of the joke he assumed Kevin was telling. "Come on," he finally said. "Seriously? You're... what, licking your fake wounds and wallowing?"
"I'm 88 years old, kid. Can't say that thinking about retirement at my age is all that odd." He replied dryly.
"You would hate retirement," Gabriel responded with flat affect. Another round of shots arrived, and Gabriel nodded at the woman who'd brought them. He reached for one, and his eyes caught a smudge on the outside of the glass. He fruitlessly tried to rub it away. "What is this really about?"
"Sometimes enough is enough, Gabe. Sorry it can't be more profound than that." He shook his head. "You heard those stories about people who have a near death experience and it makes them re-examine their whole life? Well, I'll be fucked if an actual death experience doesn't do the same thing."
"I... don't have an adequate response to that," Gabriel conceded. The air felt heavier, because that was quite the thing for Kevin to have said, so Gabriel downed the shot even though it hadn't really been offered to him. "I guess I thought maybe..." he finally said after a second before shrugging. "I dunno."
"Look, kid. I've been working for what I thought was the greater good since I joined the Army at seventeen. If you discount the years of being dead or someone else, it's still over sixty years in service. And what have I achieved?" Kevin gestured broadly with his hands. "My entire life has been so wrapped up in secrets that for all intents and purposes, I don't exist."
Gabriel didn't reply, instead reaching for his beer to occupy the space created by his silence. "So you're giving up?" It was more observation than question. "And fucking, what? Finding yourself?"
"I know what I am behind the powers. Which is why it might be time to quit trying to convince people that I'm something else. You guys will do just fine without me."
"I don't doubt that." Gabriel really didn't. There'd been a time before Kevin, and people had managed. He wasn't entirely sure what to say, but he wasn't ready to cut the conversation off, so he stared blankly at his hands for a few seconds trying to figure out just what it was that had led him to track Kevin down.
"You know, you slinked away without saying anything," he finally said, the words rushing out quickly as he looked back up. "That's not retirement. That's running. And I get it," he held a finger up to stop a potential interruption. Not that he'd really expected one. "Honestly. I do. If you're a spy worth a damn, you already know that. But... I dunno." He offered another shrug. "You can at least do me the courtesy of not lying about it."
"I'm not a person, Gabe. Not like you think you know. And I've been running away from that for years now." Kevin shook his head. "And that being the case, I don't know what I am. So maybe it is better I figure that out first,:
"Well," Gabriel stood, because he knew a brush-off when he'd been given one, "good luck with that. I really do hope you find whatever it is you're looking for. Let me know when you figure out what it is. Lord knows you've got me curious enough."
"You're not the only one." Kevin said, shaking his head. "Good luck, Gabe. You're a hell of an asset to the team... and you've been a good friend. More of one than I likely deserved." He held out his hand, the first gesture he'd made that wasn't guarded and defensive since Gabe had walked in.
"Yeah." Gabriel, unsure how to respond to this unexpected earnestness, shook Kevin's hand. "Take care of yourself, kid. And just remember," he gave the other man a small smile, "if I found you once, I can probably find you again."
"I trained you, so you goddamn better well be able to."
Some places worked very hard to be called dive bars, investing in consultants to try and achieve that old, slightly shabby look that hearkened back to the bars and beer halls of mid-century New York. The Wick, on the other hand, was simply old and shabby, populated by old men who'd been calling it their local for decades, and students, drawn by the cheap beer specials. There was the odd hipster trying to negotiate with a deeply unimpressed bartender for some kind of cocktail, missing the fact that all the glasses behind the bar were pints, shot glasses and tumblers.
It was, in short, the kind of place that Gabriel thought Kevin might like.
It had been a while since Kevin had vanished without a trace, and for the first few weeks, Gabriel hadn't been concerned. People sometimes needed to disappear. He'd certainly done his fair share of running away. For a while, that had been his only skill, and it had served him well.
But the days stretched on, and Kevin hadn't returned. Which the younger man found surprising; he'd expected Kevin to be a bit more resilient than Gabriel himself was. Still, he hadn't tried to send his mentor an email or a text; he'd given him space.
The space was met with silence.
And in the last two weeks, a part of Gabriel started to wonder if Kevin's disappearance was another step in his training. Yet another puzzle to be solved. It intrigued him. So he'd put on his proverbial deerstalker and applied the diligence he'd learned was oh-so-crucial to his spywork. That is what led him on a tour of Manhattan bars — even off the grid, he knew Kevin wouldn't give up drinking — and what inevitably let him to The Wick.
It was, of course, pointless to sleuth without the occasional indulgence. And so Gabriel strode to the bar, ordered whatever the darkest beer on tap was, and started to scan the room.
And there he was. Sitting at a table in the back by an open window, a stack of newspapers and a bottle in front of him.
Kevin took a sip from a tumbler and placed it back next to the pint he was working on as well. For a man who could look like anyone, he both wasn't trying to hide his appearance nor was he bothering to upkeep it. At least a week's stubble covered a face that Gabe had never seen other than clean shaven. He looked like someone who had simply stopped caring.
After taking the other man's appearance in, Gabriel sighed and frowned. This was going to be harder than he thought.
Ever the diligent bartender, Gabriel added three shots of decent whiskey to his order. He downed the first one as soon as it arrived, chased it with a swig of beer, then scooped up all of his beverages and made his way to Sydney. He didn't use his powers — there was no advantage to surprise here — but simply strode up and plopped the drinks on the table.
"Well," he said, his heart pounding for reasons he couldn't fathom, "you look like shit."
Kevin looked up slowly. "I thought you weren't allowed into a bar that didn't stock simple syrup and those little umbrellas." He said levelly, as if they were continuing a conversation from an hour ago, as opposed to after weeks.
Gabriel didn't flinch at that. "That's cute," he said in a tone that suggested he thought anything but. Ever the bartender, he set both shot glasses in front of Kevin. "Cheers." He didn't bother to clink glasses before taking a healthy sip of his stout. "So." He made very direct eye contact with Kevin and decided to skip pleasantries. "Where the hell have you been?"
“Here.” Kevin downed the shot. “And there. Everywhere once or twice but that costs more. You?”
"Me? I've been on a crawl of New York's skeeziest dives trying to find you, you unyielding fuck." The edge in his voice surprised him. "Did you know there's a 205th Street in Manhattan? Because I now fucking do, and that's knowledge I could have lived without."
"At any point during your expedition from Battery Park to the Bronx, did you consider that maybe I'm not interested in being found?" He took a sip from the second shot and waved at the opposite chair. "But, you're here now. And you look like you've been building up something you want to say to me."
Gabriel clenched his jaw and suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. "Yeah. I do." He crossed his arms. "To put it the shortest way possible: What the actual fuck is going on with you?"
"Sit down." Kevin said, pointing at the chair across the table. "What the actual fuck is going on with me is that I have decided that I have other directions to focus on with my life."
"Other directions." Gabriel raised an eyebrow as he sat. "Well. And what, pray, tell is this particular direction? The one where you look like a Nascar driver trying to do the crossword on his day off? Care to elaborate?"
"A Nascar driver doing a crossword is trying to have fun. I'm not, because you need a severe concussion to enjoy Nascar. Indy 500 is a different beast, but turning left for 200 laps inbetween occasionally screaming racial epithets at black people I can't quite understand." Kevin said, tipping back the last of his shot. He waved for more. "I was thinking about drinking a lot. Maybe catching up on my reading."
Gabriel stared at him a little blankly, waiting for the punchline of the joke he assumed Kevin was telling. "Come on," he finally said. "Seriously? You're... what, licking your fake wounds and wallowing?"
"I'm 88 years old, kid. Can't say that thinking about retirement at my age is all that odd." He replied dryly.
"You would hate retirement," Gabriel responded with flat affect. Another round of shots arrived, and Gabriel nodded at the woman who'd brought them. He reached for one, and his eyes caught a smudge on the outside of the glass. He fruitlessly tried to rub it away. "What is this really about?"
"Sometimes enough is enough, Gabe. Sorry it can't be more profound than that." He shook his head. "You heard those stories about people who have a near death experience and it makes them re-examine their whole life? Well, I'll be fucked if an actual death experience doesn't do the same thing."
"I... don't have an adequate response to that," Gabriel conceded. The air felt heavier, because that was quite the thing for Kevin to have said, so Gabriel downed the shot even though it hadn't really been offered to him. "I guess I thought maybe..." he finally said after a second before shrugging. "I dunno."
"Look, kid. I've been working for what I thought was the greater good since I joined the Army at seventeen. If you discount the years of being dead or someone else, it's still over sixty years in service. And what have I achieved?" Kevin gestured broadly with his hands. "My entire life has been so wrapped up in secrets that for all intents and purposes, I don't exist."
Gabriel didn't reply, instead reaching for his beer to occupy the space created by his silence. "So you're giving up?" It was more observation than question. "And fucking, what? Finding yourself?"
"I know what I am behind the powers. Which is why it might be time to quit trying to convince people that I'm something else. You guys will do just fine without me."
"I don't doubt that." Gabriel really didn't. There'd been a time before Kevin, and people had managed. He wasn't entirely sure what to say, but he wasn't ready to cut the conversation off, so he stared blankly at his hands for a few seconds trying to figure out just what it was that had led him to track Kevin down.
"You know, you slinked away without saying anything," he finally said, the words rushing out quickly as he looked back up. "That's not retirement. That's running. And I get it," he held a finger up to stop a potential interruption. Not that he'd really expected one. "Honestly. I do. If you're a spy worth a damn, you already know that. But... I dunno." He offered another shrug. "You can at least do me the courtesy of not lying about it."
"I'm not a person, Gabe. Not like you think you know. And I've been running away from that for years now." Kevin shook his head. "And that being the case, I don't know what I am. So maybe it is better I figure that out first,:
"Well," Gabriel stood, because he knew a brush-off when he'd been given one, "good luck with that. I really do hope you find whatever it is you're looking for. Let me know when you figure out what it is. Lord knows you've got me curious enough."
"You're not the only one." Kevin said, shaking his head. "Good luck, Gabe. You're a hell of an asset to the team... and you've been a good friend. More of one than I likely deserved." He held out his hand, the first gesture he'd made that wasn't guarded and defensive since Gabe had walked in.
"Yeah." Gabriel, unsure how to respond to this unexpected earnestness, shook Kevin's hand. "Take care of yourself, kid. And just remember," he gave the other man a small smile, "if I found you once, I can probably find you again."
"I trained you, so you goddamn better well be able to."
