Line of Succession [Dylan Faden & Alice Wake]
“I’m not sure this is where I should be,” Dylan admits as he picks two cups, one of coffee and another for hot cocoa. Caffeine suits the Prime Candidate better and sweeter beverages are Dylan’s preferable choice. The small curve of lips she has in return is not for his kindness. “Why did you choose this? You could’ve been…”
“Free?” Alice asks. “You don’t feel free in your position?”
Dylan looks around in signs of the Director, the brief thought of him soaring on his left shoulder. Sometimes he still feels the burning palm over where only a mark persists. It hurts when an eye wants to open or a fang grows upwards from scarred skin.
“No,” he says. “But I don’t think I have another choice.”
“So you have your answer.”
He focuses on Alice. She is far older than him, perhaps twenty years ahead or so, and seems worn of something other than just age. There are no peculiarities on her face as Dylan has with the countless shifts and growths, yet she has a look of someone with many plans under the sleeve, all with the Bureau being only a way through.
Dylan only knows that because he is no different from her.
“And how did you get through Northmoor?” He has some easiness to ask that. It is an uncomfortable topic wherein rage makes it slip through his teeth quite effortlessly.
“Patience. I have dealt with men like him before.” She gives her head a little tilt. “Not exactly this powerful, but his temper is not unfamiliar.”
Dylan looks down. Alice follows his gaze and adds: “I see you struggle more with him than I do.”
“Being the next in line is terrifying,” he whispers, rubbing his forearm. No longer he wears the sweaters with “P6” written behind—now it’s all suits without a tie and a FBC pin for the incoming future. Alice, as P8, hasn’t reached this phase yet; and the image he has is quickly chained to his sister’s, making his stomach twist. “I’m scared of not doing the right thing… of taking too long to do what I’m supposed to do.”
Alice places a hand over his scarred shoulder. He flinches. Immediately she finds herself warily away from the apparent teeth and gets lightweight on her hold. Dylan breathes in relief at her caution.
“If you don’t know your next step, then come to me for aid,” she says softly. “After all, you’re not the only one who wants to save someone you love.”
Dylan has never said that before in all his conversations with Alice.
And, for this exact reason, he feels himself more and more like a piece unsuitable for a puzzle, struggling to fit in a place which will be always his.