If You Must

All That We Are Is Changed

Baz

I'm marrying a fucking god.

Where the hell is he getting all this magic from? How is he not creating another evil, Simon-shaped hole in the Magickal Atmosphere? Is there no limit to what he can do?

I guess there's no time like the present to find out.

"Simon..." I still don't know what to say. Those blue eyes swivel over to me, a little too big and a little too scared. It's like we're back in the forest by my house, all those years ago. Standing in the biggest dead spot in England, watching my family march towards us, ready to murder Simon in cold blood. He looks eighteen again, young and scared. My heart lurches.

"Baz...?" He asks. Even his voice is trembling slightly. Out of habit, I reach out to grab his hand.

"Look, Si... I don't know what's happening, or why you're able to do all of these things, but... I think we maybe need to keep trying-- to keep testing you on what you can and cannot do. But only if you're okay to keep going today. We can always try again later." Simon shakes his head, looking back at the watch resting on the pine needles.

"No... I think I'm okay to keep going for a while longer..." his voice is still softer than normal, and not in a good way. His worry only worries me further.

"Has your magic gone thin at all?" I ask. Those bronze curls bounce ridiculously as he shakes his head again. Aleister Crowley... he's still not looking at me and it's scaring me shitless.

"No, it's all there. And it doesn't feel like..." white teeth dig into his rosy lower lip, "It doesn't feel like last time. Like I'm taking all the magic from the Atmosphere or whatever. It's more like... I dunno, like I'm made of the Magickal Atmosphere itself." I squeeze his hand reassuringly. Pulling myself closer to him. I'm not sure which one of us I'm reassuring-- maybe more myself than Simon.

"If it makes you feel any better, your magic doesn't smell like it used to. It smells... like gold. And maybe a little like cinnamon. And it doesn't burn like your magic used to. It's like your entire Magickal Chemical Makeup has changed, somehow." Simon pushes his free hand through his hair, bunching his fingers in the back. Closing his eyes, his chest rises and falls as he pulls in a deep breath.

The funny thing about Simon is he's really good at not showing when something's really bothering him. I mean, any other time he wears his heart on his sleeve, but with really, really bad emotions, he's good at hiding. I can always tell-- I think Bunce can, too. He goes uncharacteristically still, and his eyes get a little too bright.

He's doing that now. Staring at that goddamned watch like it's a ticking time bomb.

"Simon," I murmur, tugging him against me. He doesn't try to pull away, just falls against my chest. I wrap my arms tightly around his waist, still not entirely sure which of us I'm comforting. Simon smells like cinnamon and sunrise and a little like the forest we're standing in.

"Simon," I say again, "We could just go home." My fiancé just shakes his head, resting his cheek against mine.

"No, Baz... I want to do this. We have to figure this out." I nod, briefly closing my eyes.

"Alright. Then let's do it."