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“You know I’d do anything for you, right?” James asks. “Anything at all.”
Alistair ignores him. Or rather, he doesn’t ignore him, he never ignores James, but he makes no sign he heard. His husband isn’t about to get out of this so easily.
“I mean it,” James says earnestly. “Say the word. Want me to turn in my title, retire, be a stay-at-home dad for Roxy? I’ll do it.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” Alistair says. “For one thing, Roxy’s an adult now. For another, you love this job too much to give it up. Nor,” he adds, “would I ask you to.” There are times he wants to, don’t get him wrong, but he’d never suggest James actually do it, any more than he himself could step down from his position.
“I’d die for you.”
Alistair shudders, “Don’t even joke about that.”
“I would,” James insists. “They could torture me, for hours, for years, and I’d never give you up. I’d throw myself on a grenade, step in front of gun, whatever it took to keep you safe.”
“Shut up,” Alistair growls. He turns his back on his partner. “That’s exactly my point, James. We’re spies, yes, but there is a line between being effective and being just plain reckless. You’re going to get yourself killed one of these days, and then I’m going to be left alone, and for what?”
James, for once in his life, falls silent. Finally, he says, “My plane leaves in an hour, Alistair. Please don’t make me go to Argentina without hearing you tell me you love me.”
Alistair can’t look at him. His throat feels tight when he says, “I’ll see you when you get back, James.”
“Alistair-“
“I’ll see you when you get back.”
Alistair fights back a sob at the memory. He wrenches his wedding ring off and throws it across the room. It pings off the wall and clatters to the floor. The one hanging around his neck, James’s, feels like an anchor dragging him down. He chokes on a lungful of air and wishes he really were drowning. He knows from experience that it hurts less than this.He thinks about Merlin’s face, giving him them the news. He thinks about stepping off the plane from his own, much shorter mission and being greeted by Harry, pushing past him because he couldn’t bear to see his friend’s face. He thinks about walking through the front door of their flat and collapsing because his legs couldn’t hold him up any longer. He thinks about dragging himself to the living room, where he’s sitting on the floor right now, looking at all the smiling photos of James watching him, mocking him.“You stupid, selfish prick,” he whispers, but he’s not sure if he’s talking to James or to himself. Then, in one sweeping motion, he stands and swipes every photo of them off the mantlepiece. They crash to the floor in a shower of glass, and Alistair cries harder.Three hours later, when he has no more tears left, only dry red eyes and a lump in his throat, he calmly picks up his mobile and dials a number.It picks up after the second ring. “Uncle Alistair?”“I’m afraid I have some bad news, Roxy. It’s about your Uncle James.”