October 2008
1,800 words
Written for the Daily Prompts at the OctoberFest.
* * *
Quito, Ecuador
Part 1
Rupert's flight is delayed for three hours; when he steps out of the airport into the heat of Quito, it's closer to dinner time than lunch. The sun's low in the sky and Xander isn't waiting for him.
Not that Rupert had been fool enough to think he would; Xander hasn't answered his phone, nor his email in over a month, this is why Rupert is here after all. But Rupert had hoped his message had gotten to Xander somehow.
Rupert heaves a sigh and signals for a cab.
The room Xander has been renting is deserted. It looks lived in, not at all abandoned, but when Rupert searches the papers strewn across the desk, he finds a note; there's nothing on it except an address.
It's in Xander's handwriting, and has been torn off a page in a notebook.
Rupert checks every corner carefully. He can't find Xander's suitcase.
* * *
Paris, France
Part 2
Rupert makes it to Mexico on the second day, spends three days hunting down the address, and then one waiting for the occupant of the small house, a man Rupert doesn't know, to appear.
Xander left weeks ago. The next flight for Paris doesn't leave until the morning.
It's been a week since Rupert left England by the time he checks into a Parisian hotel. Finding a trace of Xander here is going to take more patience, Rupert thinks; the man he talked to hadn't known where or why Xander was leaving for France.
There's a message waiting on his voice mail when he comes back from breakfast two mornings later. Xander's card was used to buy a train ticket about three weeks ago, Andrew's voice says, to Calais. Maybe he's coming back?
Rupert shakes his head and shuts the phone. Whatever Xander's doing, he's not going back to England.
* * *
St-Petersburg, Russia
Part 3
Calais leads to Poland, Warsaw to Moscow, and from there Rupert makes it all the way to St-Petersburg before he can manage to give the others a call. No news; he still doesn't know why Xander is running, where he's going.
Rupert has an idea, of course, he's met more people on the way who gave him bits of information: Xander is looking for something, something important. Something he didn't bother to tell his friends about.
Despite the time of year, St-Petersburg is cold, harsh, and Rupert has to tighten his coat around him when he leaves the hotel. There's a man he knows here who is good at locator spells, better than Rupert or Willow. If Xander's hiding from his friends--even magically--Nicolai can find him.
Rupert isn't surprised to be told Xander has already left Russia, but it's been days, not weeks. Now, he dares to hope.
* * *
Singapore City, Singapore
Part 4
The phone call comes at five fifty-two am on the thirtieth day of Rupert's journey. Rupert is sitting on the uncomfortable bed, a dim lamp lit at his side, with the mismatched covers over his legs, his glasses low on his nose, and a book held in his hands.
He hasn't read a word in three hours. He also hasn't slept for the past two days.
He's forced to admit that he's lost all trace of Xander; the trail ends here, in Singapore, in this rundown hotel half an hour from the airport. Rupert's not sure what it means, but he knows he's not ready to admit defeat. Yet.
"Hello?" he says into the phone, expecting Buffy or Willow asking for news. Whoever's at the other end is breathless and it takes them a while to speak.
But when they do...
"Giles?"
...Rupert's heart skips a beat. He breathes, "Xander."
* * *
"A man travels the world over in search of what he needs and returns
home to find it."
Part 5
The flight back to England is the longest Rupert has been on since his search began. He knows what's waiting for him at his destination now. Or at least, he hopes Xander won't have run away again. Why he ran in the first place, that's what Rupert wants to know.
Or rather--
He's curious, of course, but what he truly want is for Xander to stay.
Xander does.
He's lying down on his side, on the sofa in Rupert's living room. The TV is on, but the sound is low, muffled by Xander's light snoring. Rupert leaves his suitcase next to the door and takes off his shoes as silently as he can. He kneels next to the sofa and can't resist pushing Xander's hair away from his closed eye.
Xander stirs. "Hey," he murmurs, stretching lazily and smiling, as if he has never gone.
"Hello yourself," Rupert replies. Xander's fond smile is contagious, and Rupert finds himself answering it.
Then the smile disappears. "I guess you're wondering why--"
"Not now," Rupert interrupts him. It's been a month since Rupert left, two since Xander disappeared. Rupert is nothing if not patient. The explanation can wait. Rupert isn't even sure he wants to hear it just yet. "Have you had anything to eat?"
Xander shakes his head. "Your fridge's empty, and I haven't had time to go out yet."
There are deep shadows under Xander's eyes; he looks worn out, stretched thin to the last of his strength. Rupert nods. "I'll order us something."
"Pizza?" Xander perks up.
"Extra pepperoni?"
"Hold the sauce!" Xander replies. "Oh, and--"
"Double order of cheese, I know," Rupert says fondly.
"There was this guy," Xander starts while they wait for the delivery man. "I--" He gulps. "I guess I liked him. A lot." His voice his barely above a murmur, and Rupert has to lean forward to hear him. "You know my luck, though, right? He turned out to be a demon. Put a tracking--" He waves his hand. "--thing on me. A scent or something. Supposed to ward off other suitors or something, I don't know. Then he says if I like him I have to do this other thing which sounded like permanent to me, and I couldn't--"
Rupert reaches out, takes Xander's hand in his and squeezes. "I know." Xander's commitment issues weren't a secret after all.
"No, you don't. I'm not--I'm okay with commitment, now anyway. I'm just not okay with a guy I've known for two weeks telling me I'm as good as married for all eternity to him, and I can't even look at anyone else, let alone think, and oh, yeah, I have to bond with him or he'll cut my head off."
Rupert blinks. He's come across more than one reference to this humanoid species before. "That sounds like a Cor--"
"A Cornailis, yeah," Xander says. "So I tell him I will, even though I know I won't but I need time and this is the easiest way to get it. He doesn't know what I do for a living yet, and he's got to tell his whole family about me, and so he leaves, tells me he'll be back in a week and I should be ready." Xander falls silent, looking at the empty fireplace with a look of reminiscence on his face. "It took me five days to figure out how to get out of this, and I couldn't risk using my phone or my computer or anything, because he could track me down with them; I'm pretty sure he hacked into my email account at least four times in the sixteen days I knew him."
"They're a very determined species," Rupert mutters, his fingers now rubbing the skin of Xander's wrist.
"Yeah."
"Is that why you traveled?"
Xander nods and for the first time squeezes his own fingers over Rupert's. "I thought it was him following me. If I'd known it was you, I would have... I don't know, waited for you somewhere, I guess, but while I thought it was him, I had to keep going. Always be a step ahead."
"I understand."
"So I went to meet this guy in Mexico who apparently knew a way to get me out of this, but it turns out he moved away, and didn't leave a forwarding address; the guy who lives there now let me crash on his couch for a couple of days while I figured out where to go next." It had been the same in Paris, but finally in Calais he'd found someone who knew what to do. There were ingredients to find, and Xander had to find them himself, and he had to always go forward, never back.
Warsaw, Moscow, St-Petersburg, everywhere along the way; he'd found what he'd needed. He'd met the woman from Calais in Singapore City. The next day he'd flown back to Ecuador, exhausted, but free, to find the whole Cornailis family had come and gone, and his ex-boyfriend had died in the aftermath of the freeing spell. Xander hadn't been sorry for him.
Then there'd been Rupert's voice mail, the girls' repeated emails, Andrew's incessant text messaging.
"So here I am," Xander says just as the door bells rings.
They eat in comfortable silence.
"How did you know I'd followed you?" Rupert asks when they're back in the living room, dishes cleared and leftovers in the fridge. "Have you talked to Andrew?"
Xander nods. "That first night in Quito, I gave him a call. He said you'd gone off after me, lost my trail in Asia."
Rupert stares thoughtfully at the rug suddenly feeling tired. "Yes, quite."
"That's when I decided to come back here. Didn't even sleep there, you know, just grabbed my stuff again, and back to the airport."
Why here?, Rupert wants to ask. Why here, and not Singapore? Why not ask Rupert to meet him in Ecuador?
"I had to--" Xander starts, runs a hand through his hair and continues, "I had to come home." The last word is croaked, muffled, as if it's hard for Xander to pronounce, to voice a thought that hasn't completely formed yet in his mind.
Rupert glances at him, sees the tired eye, the defeated figure, the slump of Xander's shoulders, and he puts his hand on Xander's knee, squeezes gently. "Home," he says, just a murmur, his voice not all that different from Xander's. "You've come home."
Xander's eye looks up from the floor; he catches Rupert's gaze and gives him a crooked deprecating smile. "I didn't know... I didn't realize--" he stops and puts his hand over Rupert's.
Rupert rubs the pad of his thumb against Xander's finger, feels him shivering. He hears Xander's deep breath and shifts closer.
"I don't have to go back to Quito, do I? It's not that I don't like it there, I just... it's not Africa, and it's not, you know, here."
"No," Rupert says, turning to face Xander and cupping his cheek. When he bends to press their lips together, Xander doesn't pull back, he closes his eye. Rupert smiles. "No. I'd rather you stay."
The end.