Twenty-six – 06

[This post is from Phelan’s point of view.]

“Then that’s something we need to fix, and fast.” Matt shook his head, watching the blade in the forge. “Will talking it out help?”

“When has it ever?”

Matt snorted and shifted the blade around among the embers. “Don’t get like that, Phelan. Just because you’ve got some kind of existential dread about Atlantis doesn’t mean that you’re not going to have answers and doesn’t mean it’s something that we shouldn’t talk about. Let’s be honest here—there was some good that came out of Atlantis back then, wasn’t there?”

Phelan flinched, staring at his hands. Matt was right, of course, but admitting it almost made him ill at ease. “You’re right,” he grated, still staring at his hands. “But that doesn’t make it any easier, considering the hell we all went through because of it—you included.”

Matt grimaced and pulled the blade out of the heat again, starting to hammer once more. He didn’t bother to look at Phelan. “That’s a long time ago and far away.”

“The tightness in your voice says otherwise.”

He shrugged, intent on his work. “It’s further than other things.” He glanced sidelong at Phelan, his brow furrowing slightly. “Don’t let this eat you alive, Phelan,” he murmured. “It’s not worth it. There’s too much at stake for you to just let that happen.”

Phelan shook his head hard and exhaled a sigh, leaning back against the wall of the forge. The brick was cool against his back and he tilted his head to stare at the ceiling. “You’re right,” he said. “You’re absolutely right.”

“But?”

“But fucking Atlantis,” Phelan said, then smiled crookedly.

“Honestly, in that past life, he suspected it never really died.”

“He might have been right,” Phelan murmured, staring at something neither of them could actually see. “Maybe he was right.”

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