In Silence by Amberina

Their relationship started how most relationships in their lives do, in the midst of a life-or-death situation. They worked together to do what they had to do to stay alive, and after the battle was over, and the smoke cleared, they had a bond.

It was an uneasy bond, a slightly shakey bond, but a bond nonetheless. They trusted each other -- trust being something neither had received from many places lately -- and that was good. As good as things could be, really. It was more than they could hope for.

They sit together in an all-night coffee shop, and there's a silence between them that isn't comfortable, or uncomfortable, but just is. They sip their coffee, and watch the people pass around them, and they're both reminded how close all of this, all of these people, came to being gone. To being destroyed. And they're proud.

The corner of Wesley's mouth twitches slightly, not quite a smile -- no, not a smile -- but it's something. Lindsey's grateful for it, and he can't restrain the grin that spreads across his own face.

The waitress approaches their table, and asks, as waitresses tend to do, whether they want to order on separate checks. Lindsey is about to tell her that, yes, they would like separate checks when Wesley says, "No. No, one bill will do."

They place their orders, and after the waitress leaves, Lindsey gives Wesley a questioning look.

"I figured I might as well pay. You can always foot the bill next time." And now there is a smile, a geniune smile from Wesley.

And now more silence. But it's okay, because they don't really feel the need to say anything. It's just quiet, and Lindsey can't help but think it's a good thing.

A woman walks past them, holding the hand of her little boy. The boy is probably about five. Dark hair and bright blue eyes, innocent and sweet and everything Lindsey is glad still exists in the world.

The little boy looks at him. Stares at him, in fact, and Lindsey realizes he must look slightly scary. He knows he at least looks dirty. But it's okay, because the little boy doesn't seem to mind; the little boy smiles at him and is about to say something when his mother drags him away, muttering something Lindsey can't quite hear.

Lindsey's been up for weeks, it seems, but he isn't tired. And it's been forever since he could actually sit down and just think, but he doesn't really feel he has much to think about. Lindsey feels better than he's felt in years, and Wesley's sitting across from him, they're only separated by the cracked formica of their table, and Lindsey is suddenly hopeful.

Hopeful for what, he's not sure. Instances of hope have been few and far between in his life, and he can't help but be grateful for it.

Their food comes quickly, and it isn't the best food Lindsey has ever had, but it's not horrible, and he can't remember the last time he ate anything.

After their plates are clean, Wesley goes to pay the bill, and Lindsey wonders if perhaps Wesley shares his hope.

When Wesley returns, he doesn't sit back down, but instead starts to put his jacket on. "Do you have anywhere to stay?" he asks him suddenly, and Lindsey is taken aback.

"Actually, I don't," Lindsey says carefully.

Wesley nods, and seems to be thinking for a moment, before he finally says, "You could stay at my flat, if you wanted." A pause and then he added, "Just until you find somewhere else."

Lindsey smiles slightly, though he tries not to. "Sure. Yeah, that'd be great."

And they leave the all-night coffee shop, in silence. But Lindsey isn't bothered by the silence. No, he's not bothered one bit.

.End