Two Months Later

7:49 PM

Sinbad sat at his desk, papers for once not scattered haphazardly but neatly ordered in careful piles amidst the various other memorabilia. A half-full inkwell sat at easy distance to his right hand, next to a highly polished bronze badge. For most of the day he'd been generally busy, keeping his hands and mind occupied as had been his mission for the past days - focusing not on treaties and other generic paperwork but on a recollection, a roving kind of musing narrowed to the point of inner mediation.

For the last couple of minutes, however, his gaze had been elsewhere, and the smoky-plumed quill in his hand rested lax against the arch of his fingers. Sinbad gazed out abstractly toward the window, head turned in that direction but not quite looking, ruminating as he was on the slow trundle of his thoughts after a long day. The clap of wings heralded a few dusky shadows darting across his vision, a few lone seagulls crying as they winged their way back to the harbor, and the sounds emanating around the palace were not quiet but steady, the shift of people murmuring and preparing for the evening repast as the last few clangs of training soldiers echoed from a distance.

He came back to himself slowly, tapping the tip of his quill against the desk before slowly setting it down, hands gliding into the familiar movements of gathering parchment together and setting it in order. Sin stared down at the page on the top, bold ink halting about halfway down the page as his ability to coherently string words together had dissolved, ending in ellipses as they had in much the same way he had tried to describe events before. The raw idea sat at the tip of his tongue, but every time...

With a final sigh he set the sheaf of parchment aside, leaning back in his chain and folding his hands against his stomach. "You guys can go," he raised his voice, projecting it to the doorway. "I promise I won't stayed holed up in here all evening like before."

The shuffle of footsteps, and several sheepish faces peered around the door - a guard, closely followed by Yamu and Hinahoho, the latter's scarred face creased in a concerned expression that Sinbad was well acquainted with. "Is that a promise, or are we going to have to bodily drag you down to the dining hall?" Yamuraiha queried, tapping her staff against the doorframe. "You've said the same before, you do realize."

"When the time is right, we'll know, Sinbad," Hinahoho added, gentle in a manner he rarely showed. "I know you are a man used to pushing forward by his own will, but this... some things, you just have to wait. Believe me," his voice softer yet, "I understand."

Sinbad offered a smile. "I know, I know. Good thing I have you guys to kick me into shape, yeah?" He braced his hands against the polished wood of his desk, thumb grazing a scratch left by carelessness. "I just..." He'd said the same before, several times, but one again he voiced, "Why have the assassins not contacted us at all?"

"We didn't even know they existed before." Yamu crossed her staff over her left shoulder. "If they want to remain disconnected..." She left the unspoken thought hang in the air.

And it was true. After the battle a month and a half prior, Sinbad had busied himself with rebuilding the damage and hunting down the surviving culprits - all with the hope that, in time, the assassins would send some kind of word, even if only to tell him that Ja'far was alive. Hope crept into doubt and fear, then to impatience, and now to a slow kind of worry... One of the worst outcomes in retrospect, Sinbad thought, was that he might never know.

They had done what they could - magicians tracking through the badge, search parties through the city, but - nothing.

Sinbad rolled his shoulders, as one might shrug off a heavy backpack, and finally rose, gesturing. "Never you mind - I'll be down in a few." He made a shooing motion. "Give me a few moments to clean up."

Yamuraiha and Hinahoho exchanged glances, but both knew him well enough not to argue - at least, not now. With murmurs of farewell, they both left, and Sinbad strode around his desk, taking a moment to be grateful that his most precious people had stayed with him for so much.

Instead of following, however, he moved to the window, crossing his arms and tilting his head back to enjoy the warmth of the sun plummeting down to the sea. Summer days and the taste of salt against his lips, and tomorrow was the festival for the solstice... And time shifted forward. He leaned his hip against the sill as he stared out, arms crossed, eyes sketching the familiar contours of the city. Far above, a single hawk glided, lazily making its way across the skyline. Watching it, Sinbad's skin tingled, and he touched the sash around his waist, fingers tracing the covered outlines of Ja'far's pocket watch. Ever since that day, he'd kept it on him, waiting.

Waiting.

And something fluttered behind him, like the rustle of feathers.

Sinbad started slightly and turned, but all that he saw was a single page of parchment, winding lazily towards the floor. He stilled, watching it settle several feet from the desk, then looked around carefully. The room was silent and otherwise unchanged... and he felt no malicious intent, and indeed, no other presence.

Sin gazed around the room, cautious but not frightened, then sidled over towards his desk, kneeling down and reaching out for the errant page. He picked it up, turning it over, and blinked at the last page he'd been writing before he quit for the day. The paper was unscathed save for a slight nick at the top and he frowned slightly - that pile had been near the center of the desk, nowhere near the edge.

There was a shuffle behind him, a soft exhale of breath, and Sinbad turned - only to fling his hand up as the sunbeams of the falling sun hit his face, blinding him momentarily with their radiance, and even after the white starburst cleared from his vision all he could make out was a figure silhouetted darkly against the molten sunshine outside.

His heart thudded in his chest.

He cast his eyes down, hand reaching out to steady his suddenly wobbly center of balance and curling against cool dusty stone. He shifted onto one knee, trailing his eyes forward until he encountered a shadow definitely not cast from an inanimate object, but before he could continue this motion there was a soft high-pitched - twitter, he'd call it - as a weight settled into his shoulders. Sinbad reached his shaking hands up, letting them shake across soft feathers, and the hawk leaned down to gently nibble at his wrist.

Sinbad swallowed, then brought his gaze fully up -

And his eyes met twinkling grey ones, and a name was on his lips -

There was an indignant clatter of wings as Sinbad swept from motionlessness into movement, crossing the space with heartbeats to spare as another pair of feet hit the floor by the sill -

And that familiar presence was nestled within his arms and he swept the other up in a bark of bittersweet, wondering laughter, feeling arms wrap around his back with every bit as much ferocity. Sinbad laughed and his partner laughed with him, and then lips touched his cheek as Ja'far's warm voice whispered, "Sin."

And Sinbad wept.

xx

Many minutes later still found them by that sill in the darkening room, arms still twined around one another, and Sinbad finally found it in him to pull away somewhat so he could study Ja'far's face. It felt good, damn good, to be able to see that amused, I-may-be-hiding-something smile lingering across Ja'far's face, even though there were also the mostly dried tracts of tears that Sinbad raised a hand to carefully thumb away. Ja'far sniffled slightly, then batted Sinbad's hand away. "And here, I had a cool entrance planned out and everything, and this is what I get? Some big bad king you are."

"I'm only human," Sinbad defended, semi-indignant, catching the hand swatted at his face in his own as he leaned forward for a kiss. "And I missed you. I thought - Well, I don't even want to voice it. Thank the gods you are safe."

"I'm sorry, Sinbad." Ja'far pulled away slightly and Sinbad was only slightly distracted by the freckles that spilled across the bridge of Ja'far's nose like constellations. "I was laid up for a while - don't look at me like that, I'm better now, we have decent healers, thank you - and I didn't know that the assassins were in hiding until... two days ago, I think. I didn't know they hadn't contacted you, or I would have tried to send you some sign earlier."

"Hiding? Why are they -"

"That's a story for another time, but - " Here Ja'far rubbed his nose and Sinbad finally focused on what Ja'far had dropped behind him when Sinbad had bolted up earlier. He put his hand out and traced soft fabric, then pulled the parcel open and realized what it was: Ja'far's old attire.

When he then studied Ja'far closer, it wasn't without a bit of delight that he inquired, "So, my dear, care to explain your outfit?"

Ja'far pushed away and stood up, but Sinbad stayed seated, watching - when he saw Ja'far again, he had never expected him to be clad in the robes of a Sindrian official, much like those he had borrowed before but this time better-fitting, with his feet bare of those heavy boots and gauntlets missing. The only thing Ja'far had kept were the red wires looped around his arms (and, Sinbad reflected wryly, there was probably still and abundance of knives on his person). In the dim light it was hard to tell, but it looked like... Ja'far was blushing. "I, um..."

"Yes, my love?"

Ja'far looked at him for a long moment, but just when Sinbad thought he was going to scowl or chide, he closed his eyes and dropped to one knee in front of Sinbad, clasping his hands together. Sinbad jumped, but then caught his breath as Ja'far looked up at him, grey eyes as steady as he'd ever seen. "Sinbad - my king. With your permission, I would like to stay here, as an ambassador between my order and any other threat in the future." His throat bobbed as he swallowed. "I already have approval from my former commander, and..." He slowed, and continued, softer, "I think I would dearly like it... if I could stay by your side."

Sinbad exhaled.

Then he reached out to brush a lock of pale hair away from Ja'far's face, and when startled eyes looked up at him he smiled warmly and said, "I think you'd look good wearing the red jewel of my generals on your brow." He reached out and took clasped hands into his own. "So," and the warm of Ja'far's skin and hopeful smile gave him courage, "Does that mean... this time you're staying?"

"Let's see what realizations lie ahead, Sinbad. From now... to always."

END

When I started this, I never intended it to be more than three or four pages. That it would become a 35 chapter story was beyond any of my expectations, and I have learned so much in the process... Thank you to those who followed me on this journey. This is for all of you, and here's to many more stories to come.

2/16/2016