1964-06-15 - Out On the Town
Summary: Lamont and Lindon just being a closeted couple out on date night.
Related: None
Theme Song: None
lamont lindon 


It's a cool, clear evening. And Lamont's well enough to be out and about, despite being stitched up. Just a flesh wound. But it's been a reminder to restock on certain esoteric ingredients. Though there's dinner first, so they're at a noodle place on the corner, and Lamont's explaining, softly, about his years as a criminal kingpin in Shanghai, in the twenties. Episode nine in the 'How Lamont Cranston Is A Very Bad Man' series.

*

Lindon, whose codename may as well be The Deducer, shows very little shock or dismay as Lamont regales him with the tales. He did say he would stay with Lamont no matter what, and he's had a night to think about what that might just imply. Who is he to deny a bad man's love? Besides, the twenties were someone else's lifetime. It's barely tangible. So they sit talking over noodles, and Lindon's response to a tidbit is, "That was you? Hmm, that makes more sense now." Some historical snippet put into context, another connection made.

*

That makes him smile, a little ruefully. "It was me," he says, softly. "It was….chance or fate that finally got to me. And none too soon, too. I'd've been killed, the way I was going, waging war with another tong. I crashed in the Himalayas. The real Lamont died in the crash….would've died too, but I survived the impact and was dragged from the wreck by monks from a monastery in the high mountains."

*

Lindon shakes his head slowly. "I got lost on a field trip once," Lindon says. "I was six, and I cried until the teacher found me." There it is, his dark past revealed. "So you took Lamont's identity. Smart, being as he wasn't using it anymore." He pours Lamont some tea, and then some for himself. "And you still fight crime."

*

"Not with the zeal I had in the twenties and thirties," he says, as he takes the teacup carefully in hand. That revelation about the field trip makes him smile at Lindon. Trying to suppress it, and only partially succeeding. "Some think I murdered him. I didn't," he says, softly. "But yes. It let me escape some of my past."

*

"It wouldn't be like you to murder him," Lindon says. Deduction, faith in one's lover, maybe a little bit of both. It's an effort of will not to take Lamont's hand across the table. "Not to mention the man you were would look so much older now, a new name and identity would have been necessary anyway." Another thing that doesn't seem to bother him, the fact that Lamont hasn't aged since his forties. Lindon has rationalized it, and therefore his feelings? Well, they follow in line, of course.

*

Lamont looks down into his teacup, and mutters, barely audible, "I wish I could kiss you, here. And yes, precisely. It's a matter of….esoteric side effects. I'm not immortal, i'll die eventually…..but my life's been very much extended…." He finishes the cup of tea, sets it aside, for the moment. "I've outlived a lot of my enemies."

*

Lindon lowers his gaze and tries to suppress a smile because of the mutter. "It beats the alternative," he says. He hesitates, then adds, "I'll grow old, I think. If I get the chance. Unless there is something in the magic that was done to me that takes preserving knowledge to an extreme I hadn't thought about before. I mean until…" But let's not think about that. They're not there yet. He ducks his head, then takes a drink of his tea. "We have time, either way."

*

He raises his gaze to meet Lindon's….and the Archive can see the effort it takes for him to just hide how he feels. He can't touch Lindon in public, not really. Not even look at him as he wants to. "It may be like that," he notes, mildly. And then there's noodles for both of them, and he devotes himself to that, for a bit.

*

Lindon does the same, looking away from Lamont entirely rather than betray how he feels in long glances. At least the noodles are a delicious distraction. "I think this may be the best place we've been to yet," he says, trying desperately not to sound like a fluttery old queen. Just a light tone, carefully measured.

*

That's one of the blessed reliefs of this pairing - no having to see whatever gathering places New York's gay community has. Flying under the radar entirely. "I agree. Lo Sen knows exactly what he's doing," he adds. Glad for inconsequentialities.

*

"We might have to make it one of our regular spots," Lindon says, as though he doesn't already know it's highly likely it will be. Intelligence is also learning that sometimes people don't want to be told how things are going to be, even if they really are going to be that way. "If you'd asked me a year ago if I'd have a place with someone that we could call a regular place, I wouldn't have believed it."

*

"Nor would I," he says, softly. "Not at all. I….a year ago….I was somewhere very strange indeed." And he looks around the place, out to the busy street, marvelling. Then back at Lindon. "I'm glad to now, though. Settling, maybe. In my old age."

*

Lindon grins. "The women at work think I need to settle down, myself. That I could do with a wife." He shakes his head. "I just tell them I'm fine, thank you." A stolen glance, lowered lashes, only briefly before he glances away. "I can't tell them I've already got someone to settle down with."

*

He busies himself with pouring more tea, wearing his most bland expression. But his eyes are glittering. "It's a far cry from my last attempt," he notes….and there's something sad in his voice. "I had a …a concubine in Shanghai. She was carrying a son, when she was killed. I'd been getting ready to get out of that life - to take us all away from there, money, resources, settle somewhere else no one would care. Afterwards…..I never really thought about it again. That hurt too much."

*

Lindon's fingers twitch as he restrains himself from taking Lamont's hand. "There aren't adequate words to say how sorry I am," he says quietly. "I can't hope to match a son who would've had a piece of you in him, but I can… I can be here with you. You can grieve if you need to and not be alone."

*

"That's a very great thing, and I'm glad of it," he murmurs. The yearning to touch Lindon, to take that hand….it's hard to resist. "Forgive me, I'm touching on grimmer subjects than I meant to. I just….I know you deduce a great deal, but there's much I should still tell you, you know. It seems only fair."

*

"There are things I would rather hear than guess," Lindon says with shy agreement. "No one likes a know-it-all." That prompts a wry smile, dimmed as he takes a sip of his tea. "I've thought about children," he admits. "How I'd wanted them, but now I don't know. The world we live in, the circles we move in." He laughs a little, adding, "How we would even have them." He shakes his head. "Cats seems safer."

*

"There's always adoption," he says, but without a very great deal of conviction. "And….you may yet meet a woman you fall for." The likelihood of a sweet little (witch)wife putting up with this bizarre menage…..not great. "You're very right, though. Cats are safer.

*

Lindon shakes his head as the prospect. Him married to some woman. He's still trying to wrap his head around the concept of non-monogamy as it applies to him. If his beloved wants to have an affair, well. At least there's no lying about it, and there's nothing wrong with it if everyone is in agreement. But him having a paramour? "Cats," he says, raising his tea cup to toast the notion.

*

He clinks his teacup as if it were a glass of whiskey. "To cats. And their magnificent independence," he agrees. Then he grins at Lin, and it's sly. Following that thought without telepathy, it seems.

*

Lindon echoes the grin and bows his head. "And to their warmth on cold spring nights." Whether Lindon likes it or not. The kittens are going to smother him once they become cats. They have pinpointed the sucker in the household. Who is also warm. "Isn't it strange how easily we've come to discuss the future? How natural it is?"

*

He's silent, considering. "It would be, in any ordinary pair," he allows, softly. "But we're already bound. The bond encourages that. While either end of the bond can break or relinquish it, that doesn't often happen. In my experience, magicians bond to places, people, times, strongly. We sink down roots, save for that few of us who are rootless wanderers. And then….to be that rarity that is a cognizant relic….I've been researching it. There have been very, very few like us."

*

"As far back as I can recall and research," Lindon says in a low tone, "I'm the only one with anything like this that has survived longer than a few months." He smiles a little. "And to think I could last for years. Quite a few, I hope. It's exiting, but it also means there's no road map for us. Whatever we do, we're the first to do it. For a repository of knowledge, that's…" He exhales sharply. "It's a lot to consider."

*

Lamont's lips pinch out into that grim line. He looks much older. "I hope, as well," he says, gravely. "But you're right. I'm working with Strange on defensive magic, to be more able to defend you. I need to work more on the mental abilities that'll let me bolster you versus that flood of knowledge."

*

"It's not to late to find something that might… I don't know if 'fix' is the right word, but why even have magic and knowledge if we're just slaves to fate anyway?" Yes, Lindon has been thinking about this, and maybe finally getting a little angry about it, too. "I'll continue my studies in meditation, it'll help," Lindon says.

*

"Precisely," Lamont agrees, biting the syllables off. "it's infuriating. To have you created something unique, wonderful…..and in such a way that it slowly erodes you as a person. IT's awful, and if the one who made you like that wasn't dead already, I'd beat him to death myself.

*

"I wouldn't want you to kill someone on my behalf," Lindon says, then adds, "Besides, you'd have to get in line. That's almost the worst part of it, to be honest. To be cheated of the chance to even tell him look at what you did to me." He chews his lip, then admits, "I would've made him look at my family albums, at the life he ruined, and I would have made him see the consequences of his actions. Maybe he wouldn't have cared, but at least he'd have to know."

*

Lamont nods at that. "It…..all the men I killed here in the thirties. So many of them would never admit to themselves *why*. Why I was there. What they'd done. Humans insist on defending themselves with ignorance," he sighs.

*

"Oh, for him it was just a terrible, tragic mistake," Lindon says. "He didn't mean to turn someone into a relic, he just didn't ward his sanctum properly. No one thinks they're the villain. Of course, they're the heroes of their own story. The men who've tried to take me, they all have reasons. Good ones, if you ask them."

*

Oh, there it is - the Shadow himself. No fearsome grimace, no glower or threat. But it's like another presence in their company, that dark alter ego. "Of course," he says, on a world-weary sigh. "Human nature never changes…."

*

"We can change," Lindon says. "You and I. We have, haven't we? Maybe it's not enough, but…" He smiles, shy and rather guileless as he steals a glance across the table at Lamont. Those dark eyes can be so soft and warm. "They can stuff their reasons. I've got someone to look out for me now."

*

Lamont says, serenely, "They won't know what hit 'em, I promise you." He sounds ….well, smug about it, truth be told.

*

Lindon's brow arches, and he adds, "But heaven forbid such a thing should happen because it would be tragic to have to take a life regardless of the reason." You can take the man out of Catholicism, but… "I feel like I'm in good hands." He then glances toward the stitches, despite him not being able to see them from here. "How are you feeling? I didn't see any sign of infection or poison."

*

"I heal quickly. I'm not proofed against such things, but I am…resistant," Lamont's voice is careful. "It was merely a physical wound and a clean one atthat, it seems. I'm sore, it hurts, but…..really, I'm fine."

*

Lindon purses his lips, but he has no reason not to believe Lamont, so he nods and says, "All right. If it was me, I'd be laid up and helpless." He is a bit of a princess when it comes to getting injured, and those headaches lay him flat. "Did you see? I kicked one and stomped it in half."

*

His expression softens. "I did. I was impressed. Those beasts were frightening."

*

"I had nightmares most of the night," Lindon admits with a little laugh. I didn't know what I was doing, just that there was a point right where I stomped that was weak and that separating the segments would kill it, and it was going to lunge, and… did I mention I don't really like spiders to begin with?"

*

There's that sense of motion restrained - wanting to comfort Lindon, not daring. There are days when being a man with a male lover is just awful. "I don't much care for them, either. And now even less so."

*

Lindon looks to Lamont at that sense of restraint, and he smiles softly, meant to reassure or be reassured, perhaps. "Maybe I shouldn't sleep alone tonight," he says in a low tone. "The cats weren't that much help, anyway. Except yours kept waking me up."

*

"She's a troublemaker, as befits a familiar in training," he notes, drily. "But….I'll see about that." He's finished his noodles, and now he rises. He's paid ahead of time - no need to wait on their server.

*

Lindon rises as well, his own done and his tea dwindled. "Yes, well, she keeps attacking my feet. She should learn to pick on someone her own size." The tall man's feet are rather long, it's got to be said. The kitten would have to scale down to take his advice. He touches Lamont's elbow, briefly and lightly. "Shall we walk home or call a cab?"

*

Lamont looks tempted. "We've one more errand to do," he says, gently. "But it won't take long. We're around the corner from a shop I need to visit." He nods towards the pavement and heads off that way. Only a little bit slower than is his wont.

*

Lindon falls into step with Lamont, his hands in his pockets. "It's all right," he says, "I just don't want you to strain your stitches to much being out and about." He changed the bandages this morning, and before they went out. Doctor Mills is no nonsense about that injury. "Where are we going?"

*

"Lucky Tiger Apothecary," he explains, leading the way. And indeed, it's just around the block. A little shop with a smiling stylized tiger sign over the door. It's full of cubbyholes and cabinets and glass jars. It smells sharply, pleasantly herbal. They're greeted by a shopgirl in a brocade gown. It might be groomed to play to tourists, this place…but when Lamont greets her in flawless Cantonese and places a few requests, a more genuine interest kindles there. They're engaged in what seems to be ordering - she darts from little drawer to little drawer. Herbs to help with healing, strengthen the blood….ointments to ease joints or soothe the mind. Lindon's knowledge supplies their names and uses, of course.

*

Lindon watches avidly. It's times like this where experience cements knowledge. Hearing the names, the words in Cantonese spoken, seeing the herbs, smelling them. He keeps an eye on the conversation as well as giving the shop a little once-over. Facts and figures race up to meet him, and he locks them in. This is that, that is this. Next time he thinks of all these little things, they will be as if they happened to him, because they have.

*

The last is tea and herbal blends. It doesn't take long before Lamont has a couple of paperbags full. One of which he hands off to Lindon to carry. Polite farewells, and then they're stepping out on to the street. "I think we will call a cab," he says. A little weary, by his expression. "Rather than deal with the subway." Surprisingly thrifty, for a guy with means like his.

*

Lindon gives a polite farewell in Cantonese. That much he's picked up at the very least. Holding the bag, he gives it a tentative sniff. He's quite interested in teas, as Lamont has no doubt figured out by now. Lindon says, "Whatever you like." Though there's a glint of relief in his eyes. The cab means fewer strangers between him and home.

*

In they get - apparently not one of the guys who's secretly working for Monty. The bag smells of jasmine and herbs. Pleasant, complex. "Some of that's for your headaches," he notes, idly. "I know the proprietor, and he's an expert in herbal medicine."

*

"I appreciate it," Lindon says. "Thank goodness I haven't had any since the last time." Which, when one thinks about it, is a painfully obvious thing to say. "How about a pot of something nice and relaxing when we get home?"

*

"Agreed," he says. And then he's grinning, almost vulpine. How domesticated he is, and so quickly. The pair of them in the great roaring sea of people that is New York City.

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