Heads on a science apart

Inadvertently Remi had been clenching nearly all the muscles in his body, and as Ludo's own smile seemed to shine through Ianto's lips Remi actually found release. The pantomime was over and he could see clearly that it was not his friend before him. It was no less difficult to stare into Ianto's eyes—not after all that Remi had been through—but at least the pretense was over. And then, blissfully, it really was over, and Ianto was gone. Gasping slightly and recoiling without really meaning to, Remi spun around at the sound of Ludo's voice. Tendrils of black caressed the snow forming a sphere, and Remi's first horrified thought was that he meant to play catch with it. "I do not think—" The alchemist began before biting down on the words. Did he think Ianto was dead? He didn't ... he didn't think he did. But truthfully, he had no evidence to think he hadn't. There was no way beyond the barrier, no way to know who went and who stayed or even what had happened. The sort of finality of information seemed much the same as death, at the heart of it. At the mention of his magic, Remi's eyes narrowed suspiciously and worriedly. He hadn't been lying to Isla when he said sometimes he felt as though his magic was cheating and that he favoured doing things the old fashioned way with his hands, but nor did he want to lose the magic and the opportunities it provided him. Swallowing, Remi watched the impossibly dark robes as if mesmerized, before glancing back up. "I...I am not sure whether it suits me. But I do think that I have done some good with them. They have allowed me to do things I was not previously able—"—things for which I relied on Loren—"—that I can now do myself. For that I am grateful. After all that had happened, the words that came next felt so strange. First his mother, then Ianto? And yet humbleness and servitude had been ingrained into the fabric of Remi's being. He felt helpless to say otherwise. "Thank you." REMI I forgot what it was like, to think I found you finding me