Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Should we kill him?” Tristan asks, nodding to Atlas, and the boldness of the question takes Callum almost by surprise. He considers it. Atlas tried to kill him, so it’s only fair to retaliate. On the other hand, he doesn’t think Atlas would see his death as a punishment.

“Nah.”

Tristan raises an eyebrow at him. “For real?”

Callum shrugs. “I think it’d be funnier to keep him alive.”

Tristan sighs but doesn’t protest. He unfreezes the time again and Atlas blinks in surprise when he sees Callum still standing there, unharmed, with the knife uselessly lying at his feet, and Tristan by his side.

“Good to see you’re finally using your powers, Mr Caine,” Atlas says pleasantly, as if Tristan hasn’t just ruined his murder plan.

Callum almost regrets not killing him. “C’mon,” he nudges Tristan to move, and they leave Atlas’s office without another word.

“So, what now?” Tristan asks.

“I assumed you had some sort of plan?” Callum replies, but it takes only one look at Tristan’s face to know that he most definitely does not. He sighs. “Nevermind. I need to talk to Parisa.”

Tristan frowns. “Has Atlas done something to you before I came to your rescue?”

Callum smirks. “Are you implying I have brain damage?”

“I’m implying that you willingly wanting to interact with Parisa sounds crazy.”

“Fair.” He doesn’t explain himself. He doesn’t explain that Parisa is the only one besides him who cared about finding out the extent of the archive’s powers and therefore, it makes sense to talk about this situation with her, no matter how much Callum disliked her. Which, at this moment wasn’t even that much.

They find Parisa curled in an armchair in the sitting room with a book. She barely looks up to them.

Callum opens with a casual: “Atlas tried to kill me.”

Parisa does lift her eyes from the book then. “It’s starting to get a little old, doesn’t it?”

“Quite,” Callum agrees and lowers himself into the couch nearby. He’s rather pleased when Tristan follows him and sits close enough for their shoulders to touch.

Parisa follows that particular move with a sigh. “What do you want from me?”

Callum shrugs. “Nothing.”

Tristan rolls his eyes at him. “Atlas is clearly getting desperate. I think it’s time we get the fuck away from here.”

Parisa closes the book and sets it aside. “We can’t just leave. The archives are still owned a body. The farther we go, the more likely we are to die.”

That’s exactly why Callum wanted to talk to her. “Do you think it’s a proximity thing?”

She shrugs. “I just know that Atlas stayed here all these years and he’s the only one alive. And the archives are already draining us.”

Were they? Callum honestly hasn’t noticed. “Is that the reason why I’ve been feeling like shit?”

Parisa smirks. “I’d blame it more on your horrible lifestyle, but sure, the archives too.”

“Great, that’s one more reason why to get the fuck out of here,” Tristan points out helpfully.

“You’re forgetting about the curse,” Parisa reminds him.

Tristan rolls his eyes, making it clear he isn’t forgetting about it, he’s just ignoring it. “Fine, we kill someone and then get the fuck out of here.”

“Who?” Parisa asks, her eyes on Callum.

Callum frowns at her. “Don’t look at me. Y’all have already tried that, and it clearly didn’t stick. It’s someone else’s turn. I’m nominating one of the children.”

“Rhodes is still who knows where,” Parisa says.

Callum is well aware of that. It’s the only thing currently saving her ass. “So, we’re agreeing on Varona?”

“There’s also Reina,” Tristan supplies.

Callum scoffs. The thought of killing her hasn’t even occurred to him. “We’re not killing Reina.”

“Why not?”

That’s a good question. Callum would rather if they didn’t dive too deep into that. “We all feel very neutral about her, and it has to be a sacrifice, right?”

“You like her,” Parisa says with a gleeful smile.

Tristan looks at him with surprise. “Do you?”

Callum doesn’t even have time to be delighted by the taste of jealousy. “No. She’s just… not unbearable to be around.”

Parisa is still smiling obnoxiously. “That’s your definition of like.”

“Shut up. I’m not killing her.”

“Wow.”

Callum is ready to point out Parisa’s own complicated feelings about Reina when he freezes. And so does Parisa.

He’s always been aware of the emotions of the other people in the house. It’s mostly a distant thing by now, easily ignored. The only thing disrupting it was Rhodes and her constant anxiety, which Callum hadn’t felt in almost a year. Until now.

“What?” Tristan asks, looking from one to the other.

Callum exchanges looks with Parisa to confirm that he is not losing his mind. Parisa seems as shocked as him. Fuck.

“Rhodes is back,” Parisa announces.

“What? How?” Tristan asks, but he’s already getting to his feet, not quite waiting for an answer. Not that either Callum or Parisa could answer it.

“Just in time for the murder,” Callum announces happily as they walk together upstairs.

“We’re not killing Rhodes,” Tristan hisses. He’s practically jogging, taking two stairs at the time.

Callum rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” He exchanges another pointed look with Parisa at that.

They find Rhodes, hilariously, in Varona’s room with Varona standing by his bed, wearing only pants and looking properly distraught by Rhodes’s sudden presence.

Rhodes is talking, but Callum can hardly focus on the words through all the nervous energy around her. He did not miss her anxiety one bit.

When she turns to face them, Callum notes that she certainly saw better days. Her hair is a mess, there’s blood on her clothes and the dark circles under her eyes are big and almost black.

She stares at them for approximately two seconds before marching straight to them and practically throwing herself around Tristan’s neck.

The fucking audacity, Callum thinks bitterly and doesn’t miss the smirk Parisa gives him for that.

“Should we give you some alone time?” Callum suggests drily.

Rhodes pointedly lets go of Tristan and glares at him. “Nice to see you too,” she sneers.

Callum considers killing her on the spot. The only thing that prevents him from that is the thought of seeing her face when she realises that Tristan was his.

…

Rhodes catches them up on Atlas’s plan which is something that Callum tried to keep secret as long as possible because he didn’t need to give Varona any ideas. Obviously, the idiot is immediately intrigued. Callum can’t wait for the day Varona’s frontal lobe fully develops.

But what’s more concerning is Rhodes herself. There’s something wrong with her and it’s not just the way she keeps eyeing Tristan. Callum can’t put his finger on what is it precisely, but he does notice Parisa watching her with narrowed eyes too.

What’s wrong with her? He asks Parisa.

She frowns. I don’t know.

That’s helpful.

She ignores him. We should kill her.

Callum does not expect that answer. Wow, that was fast. Why? I mean besides the obvious.

She’s dangerous.

She’s always been dangerous.

Not like this.

And well, that’s not very helpful either, but he doesn’t particularly care. Fine by me.

Shocker.

They let Rhodes finish talking. Callum pointedly doesn’t kill her when she asks Tristan if they could talk in private, but it’s a close call. Instead, he seizes Reina and motions for Parisa to follow him.

“Why are we in Tristan’s room?” Parisa asks when Callum closes the door behind them.

“Because my room is a mess.” And because there was something calming about Tristan’s room even without his presence in it. Callum does his best not to think about that. “Any other stupid questions?”

“Why is Mori here? It’s not a group project.”

Reina casually gives her the finger.

“Because she’ll be on our side,” Callum says firmly.

“Will I?” Reina asks, sounding as disinterested as ever.

“We want to kill Rhodes,” Callum says.

Reina doesn’t seem surprised or concerned. “Yeah, okay,” she agrees simply. Callum does like her.

“See?” He asks Parisa smugly.

She rolls her eyes. “Whatever. I’d be more worried about convincing Tristan.”

“I’ll deal with Tristan,” Callum assures her, hoping she doesn’t call his bluff.

Of course, that’s precisely what she does. “Will you? How?”

He doesn’t exactly know that. But surely he can figure something out.

“You can always influence him,” Reina suggests without any judgment.

Callum sighs. He could do that except Tristan kind of made a big deal out of it last time and that was only about a choice of drink.

“He’s too stupidly in love with him to do that,” Parisa points out.

Callum also gives her the finger. Not that she’s wrong.

“I could influence him for you,” she offers.

“No one’s influencing him.” Jesus, he’s starting to sound just like Rhodes. Since when does he have morals? It’s disgusting and impractical.

“Do we need him to agree anyway?” Reina asks.

“Someone has to kill her,” Callum replies.

“It doesn’t have to be him.”

“Who else? Varona?” Parisa sneers.

“It could be you,” Reina says to her.

Parisa blinks in surprise and shit, how has not Callum thought about it before? Has Atlas done something with his brain for real? Since when is he this slow?

“You could,” he agrees. After all, it was Parisa who made sure Rhodes wouldn’t be killed the first time.

She looks between the two of them and sighs. “I suppose I could, sure.”

But Callum could sense the hesitation behind her reply, and he didn’t like it in the slightest. But before he can call her out on it, the door opens to reveal Tristan.

He pauses when he sees the amount of people in his room. “Are you hosting an orgy?” He asks Callum.

Callum happily notes that Tristan was catching his stupid sense of humour. “Yup. Just waiting for you.”

“Ew,” Reina says.

“We were just leaving,” Parisa assures Tristan and she and Reina slip past him out.

Tristan opens his mouth to ask again, but Callum beats him to it. “How’s Rhodes?” He asks and makes sure it doesn’t sound bitter.

“What? You saw her. She’s… fine. Mostly.”

“Yes, I’ve noticed when she threw herself at you.” He can’t keep the bitterness out of his voice no matter how much he tries this time.

Tristan smirks. “You’re jealous.”

Callum scoffs like the mere idea of him being jealous is ridiculous. “You could’ve just, you know, push her away.”

“I haven’t seen her for a year.”

“Neither have I.” Best year of his life, definitely.

“Yeah, but you don’t like her.”

Callum narrows his eyes at him. “And you do? You like her?”

Tristan sighs. “I consider her a friend.”

“We have to kill her,” Callum announces. No need to beat around the bush.

Tristan stares at him. “Because she hugged me? Don’t you think that’s a little too much?”

“No, idiot, because we have to kill someone and there’s something wrong about her.”

That finally gets Tristan’s full attention. “What do you mean? What’s wrong with her?”

“I don’t really know. I just feel it. Parisa feels it too, if that helps.”

“Since when are you and Parisa friends?” Of course, that’s the part that gets his attention.

“I wouldn’t use such explicit words. Also, who’s jealous now?”

“You’re getting side-tracked.”

He is, but can you blame him? He likes that Tristan’s jealous. “Yeah, well, the point stands.”

“I don’t want to kill Rhodes.”

He knows that. Parisa knows that. Hell, even Reina knows that. And he has no idea what to say to change his mind. “She and Varona will want to do the experiment.”

“Do you think that’s such a bad idea?”

Callum can’t believe Tristan actually asked him that. Unlike Varona, Tristan’s frontal lobe was supposed to be fully developed. “Yes. Jesus. It’s a horrible idea. Please, tell me that you see exactly how horrible idea it is.”

Tristan shrugs. Callum considers hitting him with something.

“Is that what Rhodes wanted to talk to you about? The experiment?”

Tristan falters a little. “Not exactly.”

“Oh.” That’s it, Callum is so going to kill her. The only consolation is that Rhodes had exactly zero game. On the other hand, so did Callum and yet he still somehow got Tristan, so who knows, maybe that was his type.

“I told her we’re together.”

Shit, Callum hates that he wasn’t there to see the look on her face when Tristan said that. Wait, Tristan actually said that?

“And are we? Together?” He asks, doing his best to sound casual and not like he’s literally been dreaming about this for the past two years. He’s pretty sure he’s failing miserably, based on the amused smile on Tristan’s face.

“I assumed so based on everything that happened. I’m sorry, was I wrong?”

“I… No, obviously.” Jesus, he needs to get a fucking grip but he’s too busy panicking because holy shit, he and Tristan were together. Fortunately, before he says something to embarrass himself further, Tristan kisses him and yeah, fuck the conversation.

…

The sex is obviously great. Callum never expected anything else. What he didn’t expect was just how much he’d enjoy the aftermath. He does his absolute best to stay cool and casual about the whole ordeal, but then Tristan wraps his arms around him, and he melts into a puddle of useless mush. It’s horrifying, really. He’d rather let Atlas kill him over and over again than admit out loud that he’s the little spoon.

It's late and Tristan’s already asleep. Callum has been trying to fall asleep for the past hour but it’s a little difficult when his brain won’t stop thinking about the fact that Tristan is holding him. He’s truly pathetic.

There’s a sudden knock on the door. Tristan doesn’t move a muscle. Callum sighs and carefully disentangles himself from Tristan’s arms. It’s late but not that late and he knows precisely who’s behind the door.

He pulls on a pair of boxers and a sweater – Tristan’s, because he can – and opens the door to see Rhodes, standing there, awkwardly twirling with a loose strand from her cardigan.

“Yes?” He asks and leans against the doorframe.

Rhodes eyes his outfit with obvious distaste as if she wasn’t currently dressed like an old librarian. “I wanted to talk to Tristan.”

“He’s asleep.”

She frowns at him and his outfit again. Callum is properly enjoying this interaction. “Are you manipulating him?”

“Yes, obviously. There’s no way he’d be with me otherwise,” he sneers.

Rhodes ignores him. “It doesn’t make any sense. You’re a horrible person.”

“Oh, no, have you tried telling that shocking new information to Tristan? Surely once he finds out, he’ll dump me to be with you, who’s never done anything wrong. Except maybe that one time you set off a nuclear bomb. But you’re feeling real sorry about that, so it shouldn’t count.”

Her eyes go comically wide. “That’s not the same. I didn’t have a choice!”

Callum tilts his head and considers her. “Didn’t you, though?”

She looks like she’s on a good way to punch him. Callum supposes that would be funny. “I don’t get what Tristan sees in you.”

Callum smirks. “I thought we’ve already established it’s the manipulation.”

She rolls his eyes. “He should’ve killed you when he had a chance,” she mumbles and turns to leave.

Callum only laughs. He could’ve asked her if the only reason why she wanted to do the experiment, was to see if there was a universe where her sister was still alive, but he didn’t need to have the last word. After all, he had Tristan.

He closes the door and shrugs off the sweater, before climbing back into the bed. Tristan doesn’t wake up, not fully anyway, just enough to wrap him in his embrace again and Callum sighs in content. Rhodes can suck it.

…

“Can you stop thinking about Tristan’s eyes and focus?” Parisa snaps at him.

Callum gives her an annoyed look. “I’m not thinking about Tristan’s eyes.” He’s kind of thinking about Tristan’s eyes. “And it’s not like we’re getting anywhere with this.” He motions to the books and notes on the table between the two of them. They were trying to pile the evidence that doing the experiment – or Atlas’s sinister plan, as Varona called it – was a bad idea, because apparently the irony of the name seemed to escape the children.

Tristan didn’t explicitly say so, but Callum knew that he wanted to try it too. To prove something to himself, probably. Callum also knew that no matter what he’d say to him would change his mind, so he focused on doing the math. Which was stupid, because this was literally about creating a door into another universe, so where the hell was Callum supposed to get the math for that? He tried, obviously, the library and along with Parisa, who was the only sane person here apparently, they managed to get together something that resembled math. He wasn’t sure it was enough to convince anyone.

Also, Parisa is right that he isn’t fully focused and yes, it is Tristan’s fault. In Callum’s defence, he’s never been in a happy relationship before and he’s allowed to be head over heels for his boyfriend, fuck off, Parisa.

“This is stupid,” Callum says for what feels like the millionth time.

“It’s your fault. If you stopped caring about Tristan’s feelings, we could’ve killed Rhodes ages ago,” Parisa says, matter-of-factly. “This relationship is making you soft.”

Callum hates that she’s right. “He’s going to hate me if we kill her,” he points out. He’s fully aware he’s whining.

Parisa rolls her eyes. “It’s either that or death. You choose.”

“Honestly? I’d take the death.”

“Who are you and what have you done with the selfish narcissistic Callum we all hate?”

Callum sighs. This is going nowhere, and he knows it. Sooner or later, they’d have to make a decision and he knows that too. He’s mostly just trying to stall a little to enjoy this for at least a while and he thinks Parisa’s aware of that.

…

In the end, it’s not such a hard decision. All Parisa has to do is point out that if they fail to kill anyone, maybe Tristan would be the first to die spontaneously and Callum isn’t going to risk that, is he?

Okay, so maybe he’s just looking for excuses. It doesn’t matter. He’s been allowed to have a few weeks with Tristan and it’s more than what he hoped for.

It’s nothing theatrical. They ambush Rhodes in her room.

“Don’t,” Callum tells her the moment she tries to raise her hand to defend herself and her whole body freezes under the weight of his influence. He wants to feel smug about this but in reality, he doesn’t feel much of anything besides the beginning of a headache.

Parisa’s hand in which she’s holding the knife is trembling slightly, but she doesn’t hesitate. She stabs Rhodes once cleanly through the heart.

Rhodes screams in pain as she crumples to the ground.

Callum blames Tristan entirely for what he does next. He kneels to her, ignores all the blood and forces himself to meet her eyes. “Relax. It doesn’t hurt at all, does it?” He asks as he takes away all the pain. Parisa is right, this relationship was making him soft.

Unsurprisingly, it’s Varona who hears the screaming and comes running to save her. When he gets there, he finds Callum covered in blood, still kneeling next to Rhodes’s body.

Callum tastes surprise and grief first before it’s all washed away with anger. Varona’s so fucking angry that he doesn’t even bother with his magic, he hauls Callum up and wraps his hands around his neck. He’s surprisingly strong.

If Callum wasn’t busy being choked, he’d find this all rather funny.

It takes stupidly long for Parisa to get him off Callum and when Callum blinks back into full consciousness to point it out, he’s met not with Parisa but with Tristan, who’s holding Varona back with one hand while holding Callum up with the other.

“He killed her!” Varona’s screaming, but Tristan doesn’t seem to care. At least for now.

“Are you okay?” He asks Callum and it’s concerned and genuine and Callum wants to crawl into a hole in the ground and die.

He gingerly touches his neck. That’s going to bruise. He wants to make a joke about unsafe sex, but he only manages a weak: “Yeah.”

“He killed her!” Varona screams again, as if they haven’t heard him the previous ten times.

“Actually, I did that,” Parisa says quietly.

Both Tristan and Varona turn to stare at her, as if they only just realised she’s there too. Callum appreciates the effort, but he doesn’t think it’s going to make much difference.

…

“I told you I didn’t want to kill Rhodes.” Tristan’s not shouting and it’s somehow worse. He’s not even posing it as a question. It’s just a statement he already knows the answer to.

Callum still indulges him. “Yes.”

“You knew Parisa was going to do it.”

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t try to stop her.”

“No.”

“You were there when she did it.”

“Yes.”

“You helped her.”

“Yes.”

“Why her?”

“Because she was going to destroy the fucking universe!” Callum snaps.

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do. She was fucking unstable and I’m pretty sure both you and Varona knew it and did nothing about it. You’d try to do the experiment and it would blow up in your faces! I’m sorry, okay, but –”

“Are you?” Tristan cuts in, his voice cool.

“What?”

“Are you sorry? That you killed her?”

“I’m sorry I hurt you.” Which is true. Callum doesn’t regret Rhodes is dead. He doesn’t give a shit about her. But he never wanted to do anything to hurt Tristan.

“That’s not the same,” Tristan points out bitterly.

“No,” Callum agrees.

Tristan sighs. “Please leave me alone.”

The least Callum can do now is obey.

…

Tristan isn’t happy to see Parisa standing at his door but somehow it’s better than to see Callum. Yes, he’s fully aware of the irony in that. So what that Parisa was the one who held the knife? He never expected anything different from her. But he was foolish enough to hope that Callum wouldn’t do it and now it feels like the first year all over again.

“I know you’re sulking, but I figured I should tell you something,” she tells him.

Tristan doesn’t really care. “Go ahead.”

“Do you know what Callum did when I went to kill her?”

He doesn’t want to talk about what Callum did. He doesn’t want to think about what Callum did. He doesn’t want to think about Callum. “He influenced her so she wouldn’t kill you first.”

Parisa smirks. “Sure, that too. But afterwards, when she was dying, he made sure she wasn’t in any pain.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“C’mon. Callum hated her. He could’ve made her death slow and agonizing and horrible, but instead, he took away all her pain, because he knew you wouldn’t want her to suffer. Doesn’t that say something about him?”

“Since when do you care about Callum?” Tristan asks instead.

Parisa shrugs. “I don’t. I care about you. And you love him.”

Tristan doesn’t deny that. Not to her, not to himself. “So, you’re saying I should just forgive him?”

“He forgave you for trying to kill him,” she reminds him.

“That’s different.”

“Is it?”

Maybe it isn’t. Maybe she’s right.

“Do you regret killing her?” He asks.

There’s no hesitation in her answer. “No. And neither does he, if you’re wondering.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Yes, you were. Come on, he’s never been a good person and never claimed to be. You knew that from the start, so I don’t get why you’re surprised now.”

And well, Tristan doesn’t know that either. “Thanks, you’ve been a great help as always,” he says bitterly.

Parisa acknowledges that with only a smirk.

…

They were leaving the house tomorrow and Tristan had no idea where he was supposed to go. London was out of the question, but it was the only city where he had some sort of life before. He supposes he could stay here, but the mere idea of that made his stomach turn.

Instead of wallowing in self-pity, he goes and knocks on Callum’s door. He guesses it’s been long enough. They haven’t really talked since Tristan told him to leave him alone. They still saw each other around the house but Callum followed Tristan’s wish and didn’t try to strike up a conversation with him. Tristan almost wished he would.

Now, he opens the door looking like he just got out of bed despite the fact it was 7 pm. But this was Callum, so who knows?

He has some sort of speech prepared, or at least he kind of knows what he wants to say to him, but when he sees him, he asks: “Have you started drinking again?”

Callum snorts. “What do you mean started, I never stopped.” Which isn’t technically true. When they were together, Callum’s drinking habits got a lot better. “And besides, I’m celebrating.”

Tristan raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“We’re finally getting out. Aren’t you excited?”

Tristan doesn’t answer, because he isn’t and despite all the alcohol, Callum still notices that. “Come on, don’t pretend you can’t just start a fun new life somewhere,” Callum sneers.

Tristan ignores that. “What are you gonna do?”

Callum shrugs. “I’m rich and pretty, I don’t have to do anything.”

Tristan sighs. “I talked to Parisa.”

“Good for you.”

“She thinks I should forgive you.”

Callum rolls his eyes. “She clearly doesn’t know that holding grudges is your favourite hobby.”

Tristan chuckles despite himself. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re an asshole?”

“At this point, I take it as a compliment.”

Tristan hates that Parisa was right. Again. He loves him. Callum is a horrible person, but so is Tristan and he’s so in love with him it hurts.

Callum blinks at him in surprise and Tristan hates that he can feel it. “Really?”

Tristan rolls his eyes. “Don’t sound so surprised,” he says and kisses him.

…

“So, am I forgiven?” Callum asks later when they’re curled around each other in Callum’s bed. Callum hates how much he’s missed the domesticity of this.

“You’re getting there,” Tristan assures him.

Callum supposes he can work with that. Hopefully, once they get out of this hell of a house it’ll feel better. He’s not quite sure where he’s going to go either. He doesn’t particularly feel like going back to his family, especially not with Tristan. The last thing he needs is to explain to his father that he got a boyfriend.

“Have you ever been to Greece?” He asks Tristan instead. He went to college there and it wasn’t the worst experience. At least it’s warm there.

“No.”

“Do you want to go?”

“And start a fun new life there with you?”

Callum doesn’t blush at the idea of starting a life with Tristan. He doesn’t. At all. “Sure.”

“Okay.”