[attr="class","beck"]he nods.

"i needed the money."

liquor washes over mint and he isn't sure what burns more. he takes a moment to pause, to consider, but he soon decides to continue.

"but it didn't matter in the end."

[attr="class","noodles"]Cillian Quinn

He'd needed money, too, he recalls... but it had been the power to draw him in, like a moth to flame. Let him be associated with the name that caused unease at a simple mention. Let them fear him.

How naive he'd been. He'd been the one to learn fear.

Gavin shifts the bottle between them, a silent invitation to refill should Beckett wish.

"No way out." His tone is grim. "Unless... the money?"

Had there come a time, perhaps, when his motivations had changed? Rocket had a nasty habit of draining you dry. Beckett had been broken, like all the rest, but how?

[attr="class","beck"]again, he nods.

"i used it to clear our debt."

his finger taps idly against the glass as he forces himself to remember.

"but i failed one mission too many."

[attr="class","noodles"]Cillian Quinn

He has suspected, during all these years, that it was something like this.

Marcel had never been the same after the mysterious break-up with his wife. They'd never spoken of it, but Gavin wasn't stupid.

Gavin doesn't know what to say. He opts for a somber silence, clearly listening with forest-green eyes fixed on Beckett. The hard lines around his eyes, the sharpness of expression. History, age, masked pain written in his face.

His paranoia was not unprecedented.

[attr="class","beck"]the absence of remorse is what allows him to continue.

"they told me to kill one. kill one, and they'll spare the rest."

words burned deep within him — he almost recites it. his grip tightens around the glass.

"they killed them all anyways."

[attr="class","noodles"]Cillian Quinn

It's like a scene out of one of his nightmares.

Only for Beckett, it had been real. Gavin would wake, sweating and shivering, to find that his demons were safely tucked in the recesses of his dreams.

He doesn't ask which one Beckett had chosen.
When Gavin chooses, it's never him.

Slowly, Gavin shifts to rest his scarred palm against Beckett's forearm. His touch is gentle, unobtrusive.

You matter to me.

[attr="class","beck"]the touch pulls him back, grounds him in what is real, what matters, and his eyes find merlino's. though no words are said, he understands.

he shares a genuine smile, appreciating.

[attr="class","noodles"]Cillian Quinn

Beckett's smile is returned, soft.

"I believe you." A pause. "About Walsh."

Theo had been through so much, lost so much, and yet still he'd found a place for Gavin when he'd needed it most. Stay with me and you'll be safe.

How hard it must've been to make such a promise.

He leans his weight against Beckett's shoulder, a silent apology.

[attr="class","beck"]he leans in return, accepting the apology. he looks at the alcremie and finds appreciation in its kindness.

"i need you alive."

[attr="class","noodles"]Cillian Quinn

Whether it understands the gravity of emotion or is simply pleased that the two have humoured it, Alcremie beams at them.

Her innocence is enviable.

"It's not just myself I'm fighting for," he vows.

The first failure was rarely the last. First, Rocket would punish. Death could only come after there was nothing left for them to take. There are still people that matter to Gavin.

Lulu, Emma, Beckett.

He drains his glass, tucks an ice cube against his cheek.

"Did you really come to Hoenn for me?"

[attr="class","beck"]he follows suit and drains his glass, too. when questioned, he only chuckles.

"for the most part, yes."

[attr="class","noodles"]Cillian Quinn

Warmth persists in his gut after the burn of the alcohol fades.

"How'd you know I was alive?" A beat. "Did you know?"

[attr="class","beck"]"i knew you would be."

he nudges his shoulder against merlino's.

"i trained you, after all."

[attr="class","noodles"]Cillian Quinn