#we take jokes way too far sometimes living's too hard like two (seven) halves of one heart

[mystery-moose]

FIC: Angus McDonald and the Flight of the Flying V (6/?)

[AO3 link]

They’ve come a long way, but even ten years after the world was saved, they’re still not quite where they should be. A whim, a missing painting, and a handful of near-death experiences help a flip wizard and his apprentice bridge the gap.

Taako does his best. Angus takes some risks. Introductions are made, bonds are tested, and lessons are learned — better late than never.

Taako was a real asshole sometimes. (Okay, most times.) It was a part of his personality he had no intention of ever fully excising. You go for the goof, you commit to the bit, and if some people can't take a joke, that's their problem. He knew Angus was fully aware of this, so Taako wasn't bothered when he didn't speak to him for the next few blocks. He simply twirled his umbrella and followed along quietly to wherever it was they were going.

He didn't have to be a detective to figure it out; the southern edge of Neverwinter butted up against the World's Teeth, the mountains separating the northern and southern halves of Faerun. They were heading towards those mountains along the main thoroughfare, and when the train station came into view, Angus turned to him and smiled.

"Feel like a day trip to Rockport?" he asked.

Taako shouldered his umbrella and grinned. "Why not?"

Getting tickets seemed easier these days — there were two larger trains on parallel tracks, and they operated in sync with each other. By the time they finished paying and stepped out onto the platform, the Rockport Limited was pulling into the station. Angus was a little disappointed ("I hoped you'd get to see the Neverwinter Express, it's totally different.") but Taako was happy to bask in the nostalgia of one of his more memorable escapades.

The train itself was new, since the Reclaimers had trashed the last one pretty thoroughly, but it was largely the same. Fancy gilded exterior, very ornate, with lots of gold and bronze, and an equally plush interior, full of wood and silk and velvet. The train had been Rockport's baby, Angus explained — they'd been the ones to spearhead the tunneling operation, and it was the sole thing they could lord over Neverwinter — so they'd spared no expense in its reconstruction. The only difference Taako noticed was the lack of the empty archway in the dining car. Guess after Jenkins killed someone with it, they reconsidered the whole port-wand pleasure-room thing.

Their conductor was a friendly halfling, cheerful and pleasant and totally boring. No fun goofs to be had at his expense. Angus must have noticed Taako pouting after the halfling led them to their table in the dining car, because he snorted under his breath.

"Sorry you don't get to be mercilessly cruel to someone this trip," he said after the conductor was out of earshot.

"Just nostalgic, is all," Taako said, glancing out the window as the train began to move. "'Sides, not like Jenkins didn't have it coming."

"You didn't know that at the time."

"I had a hunch." Taako tapped his temple. "Elven intuition. You wouldn't understand, being human and all."

Angus smirked. "Uh-huh."

"You wanna play keep away with your notebook for old time's sake?"

"No, I'm good."

As their waiter approached with two full trays of goodies in his hands, Taako nearly did a double-take; he was an absolutely gorgeous dark elf, broad shouldered and built like a house with luscious Fabio-esque hair. He smiled and offered them their choice. Angus took a muffin and coffee, plus a newspaper. Taako took a blueberry scone and a cup of tea. The waiter poured his tea, smiled again, and then took the two trays and headed down the car to another occupied table at the far end. Taako leaned out and watched him walk away. When he settled back into his seat, Angus was shaking his head.

"What? I'm married, I'm not dead."

"Gross, sir."

"Do I have to bring up how you were looking at Silvia? Oh, I'm sorry." He leaned forward. "Lieutenant?"

Angus' grin disappeared and he turned his attention to the newspaper. Taako grinned and took a bite of his scone.

"Y'know," he said with his mouth full, "that sorta dom-sub stuff ain't really my bag, but you chase your bliss, Ango."

"I'm not listening," Angus said in a sing-song voice.

"Right. I'll leave you to your paper. I won't say another word about Silvia." Taako leaned in an stage-whispered, "Miss Hayden, if you're nasty."

Angus rolled up his newspaper and smacked Taako upside the head with it. He started laughing again, and Angus blew out the exasperated sigh he used when he wanted to stifle his own laughter.

The journey was thoroughly uneventful. After they'd taken lunch (and Taako had asked the waiter to bring him a hot towel just to watch him leave a couple more times) they'd retired to the sleeper car. Taako had dozed lazily while Angus read the paper, then they'd played a game of cards where they both cheated mercilessly, and after a few hours, they pulled into Rockport.

Last time, Taako had killed a weird crab monster, stolen a bunch of shit he shouldn't have, thrown a serial killer off the back of a runaway train (well, that was Magnus, but he'd been present for it) and then saved hundreds of people by teleporting said train into said serial killer's private garden. It was wicked awesome.

This trip was pretty good too, though.

Rockport was a fishing and farming town, largely, and that much hadn't changed; it still smelled like fish when the wind blew from the west, and like flowers when it blew from the east. The ticket seller at this end was still the spitting image of Tom Bodett, though a fair bit older than when Taako saw him last. He probably recognized Taako, too, considering how he turned on his heel and walked away the moment he saw him.

It wasn't nearly the size of Neverwinter, but Rockport still qualified as a bona fide city — there were wagons traveling up and down the white cobblestone roads, many pulling cargo trailers full of crates. Stalls and small markets were set up all along the main road from the train station toward the city center, hawking everything Rockport was famous for, which was mostly beef pasties, fish and chips, or bouquets of lupines. Not so many souvenirs of the Rockport Limited anymore, Taako noted. Made sense; if Neverwinter had built their own, it couldn't be that special.

Angus led them off the main road into a narrower side street. Taako narrowly avoided a puddle as he stepped alongside Angus.

"So who are we visiting in Rockport?" he asked.

"There's an artist here," Angus explained, adjusting his glasses as he walked. "He's sort of a historian. Rocco, the owner of that curio shop? They introduced us."

"And this artiste will know... what?"

"Well, the curator gave me the broad strokes—"

"Nice."

Angus rolled his eyes. "—but after talking with Rocco, I'm sure this wasn't about the money. I want to learn more about this painting, and about who painted it."

"What's it even a picture of?" Taako asked, realizing he didn't know the first thing about what they were doing.

"It's a flock of birds flying above the Sword Coast. They say it's the pinnacle of the proto-naturalist movement in the art world."

"'They' being stuffy old professors and ultra-nerds."

Angus opened his mouth, then closed it and shrugged. "Yeah, basically."

"And it's worth a lot?"

He nodded enthusiastically. "Shyeah!"

"How much?"

"A lot."

"We talkin' six digits? Seven?"

Angus hesitated, like he didn't want to say it out loud. "More like eight or nine."

Taako stumbled a bit and caught himself with his umbrella. "Pumpkin?"

"Yes, sir?"

"That's a lot."

"Yes, sir."

While Taako's mind reeled at the amount given (and idly fantasized about how he'd waste it) he followed Angus down the road a few more blocks to a shabbier, dingier part of Rockport. A place where the roads had a few more potholes, the wagons were fewer and farther between, and if anyone bothered to clean the streets, they did it a lot less frequently. Not quite a slum — Taako knew slums — but certainly less well-to-do than anywhere they'd been today. Hell, he was pretty sure that shady curio shop was in a better neighborhood.

Angus stopped in front of a four-story apartment building. There were no wagons on the road, no one walking the streets. Taako suddenly felt very alone, isolated, like there was no one but him and Angus on the whole block.

"Your fancypants art historian lives here?" he asked, glancing around.

"Yep." Angus started up the stone steps. "I think he got caught up in some scandal, years ago. Kicked out of the university."

"No shit."

"Pretty sure he helps Rocco forge the occasional painting," Angus said idly, opening the door. "Or at least do some clean-up work if they're damaged. Fetches a better price that way."

The place was empty, no one in sight. There was a small foyer with doors on either side, a short hallway leading deeper into the building, and a stairway leading up. Angus led the way upstairs. Taako kept glancing around. He heard the occasional signs of life, but they all seemed distant. Nothing sounded close by. It made him nervous. Brought back memories of his time on the lam, after Glamour Springs, when it seemed like even silence and solitude were out to get him.

They walked up four more flights of stairs, and Taako was about to start complaining about it when Angus stepped in front of a door at the top.

"This guy might be a bit... nervy," Angus said diplomatically. "Try to go easy on him, okay? I really need his help."

Taako straightened his back, crossed his heart, and held up two fingers.

Angus stared at him for a moment, then shrugged and knocked on the door.

It slowly swung open.

Angus' eyes widened. He looked at Taako. Taako looked at him, then gestured at the door. Angus held his hands up like how should I know?

With a gentle push, Angus opened the door. "Uh, Mr. Wendell? Sir?"

The apartment was a mess. It was hard for Taako to tell how much of it was always like that. There were paintings propped up along every wall, four or five deep in some places, and paint cans and palettes strewn everywhere. Drop cloths lay in a haphazard pattern on the floor, though paint had still spattered onto some exposed hardwood. A number of easels, one folded up and tipped onto its side, lined the near wall, opposite the windows. There were old takeout boxes on the small kitchen counter to the left, dirty plates on a tiny table to the right, and in the corner, a large trash bag filled with what looked like stale popcorn. It really made Taako feel a lot better about the state of his own home.

Angus walked in, examining the place intensely. Taako took the time to check himself out in a stand-up mirror on the far wall. As he stepped towards it, his nose wrinkled.

"You smell that?" he asked, sniffing the air.

Angus didn't answer. Taako sniffed again. It smelled like something burning. Or... not burning. Charring? Like meat seared too long.

"Taako."

He turned around. Angus was staring at a space beyond the kitchen counter. Taako stepped closer and followed his gaze. An old human man, bald with a grey beard and spots on his forehead, lay face down on the floor. A pool of red surrounded his head.

Oh, good.

"That's not paint, is it."

Angus reached into his jacket and drew his wand. A new one, Taako noticed — fine grained wood, with a longer handle built for a duelist's grip. Nice.

Wait. He sniffed again. Is it wood? Charcoal? Or... is it even a smell?

Taako looked down. Something wasn't right. He was definitely picking up something, and if it wasn't a smell... he reached up, tapped his temple, and cast True Sight.

The ring appeared immediately, a series of invisible, glowing runes stretching from the door to the far wall and back again. Like a summoning circle, or a—

Angus stepped forward, towards the body. Taako's eyes widened as Angus stepped onto the runes.

"Don't!"

Too late. Taako threw himself forward, tackled Angus to the floor next to the corpse, and popped his umbrella. The space behind him flashed and flared as the air itself caught fire. There was a sudden breeze, like an inhale, as the oxygen in the room fed the blaze.

Taako rolled over. His boots were on fire. He kicked at the flames angrily — he loved those fucking boots, god damn it — before Angus cast a light ice spell over them. The boy pushed himself to his feet, eyes wide and hand up to shield them from the waves of heat.

That incantation must have been some serious shit, because the fire wasn't going out. It was getting bigger, growing hotter with every passing second. The drop cloths were already ash, the hardwood floor was charring to black, flames were licking up the walls and flowing across the ceiling, and everything in the apartment that was combustible (which was everything) was catching fast.

Taako held up his umbrella and fired a Ray of Frost at the inferno. It did about as much as good as spitting into it. He swung it from side to side and tried Ice Storm. It melted before it even fully formed.

"We gotta go!" Angus shouted, glancing around. "Gotta go, gotta go, gotta go—"

"Go where?!" Taako shouted back, waving his hand towards the fiery expanse between them and the door.

Angus didn't answer. He had already found their exit. He ran past the kitchen counter, stumbled over an empty paint can, and made it to a window. He tried to open it, straining against the jam, then looked down.

"It's painted shut!" he exclaimed.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Taako cursed, shoving him aside. He raised his umbrella and fired a spell which blew out the window and most of the wall with it. He turned to Angus and grabbed his hand, and he didn't have to say a word — they both jumped.

Taako popped his umbrella again, and the Featherfall enchantment kicked in immediately. He and Angus floated gently to the ground. The air cleared and the heat faded as they fell, but Taako could still feel it like a forest fire at his back.

As soon as they touched down, Angus turned around and looked up. The fire was spreading fast, already licking past the top of the hole Taako had created.

"Is anyone else in there?" he asked.

"Nah, don't think so," Taako said, shaking his head. Then he looked at Angus, who was starting for the steps. "If you think you're going back in there—"

Angus spun on his heel. "We can't just leave!"

"So call the fucking fire brigade, dingus!" Taako yelled, throwing his arms up.

Angus clenched his jaw. He held his wand straight up and, with a fairly intense use of Prestidigitation, fired a bright, screaming flare high into the sky. Taako stared up at the fire, at the holes it was burning into the roof, at the pillar of heavy black smoke rising into the sky, and scowled.

It had been such a nice day, too.