Title: remembrance
Summary: Remembering was the only thing that kept them sane.
Notes: N/A
-X-X-X-X-X-
He walked briskly, automatically, concentrating on the erratic movement of feet in the stead of his thoughts.
With every step he brought his mind more doubt, and with it, sorrows. Sorrow at doubting her. Sorrow that she might not remember him. He called to her, many times he had called to her, but she did not hear him. She could not. She was too far away, her mind too broken.
She could not recognize him, yet she could. Calculating eyes were those she laid upon him, full of suspicion. Would he hurt her? Could he hurt her? She'd blinded herself with the pain, shutting it out. She'd deafened herself from her shouts and their speaking of her destiny. So no, she could not hear him.
He stopped, scared stiff for a second. What if... What if she would not? She cared for him, surely? She would have not stuck with him for so long if she had not. She would have not done so much for him if she had not. Or maybe she was being polite? Not quite knowing how to tell him to get lost, she lived with him and her hatred for him.
He had cared for her. Oh yes, he had cared for her. He knew nothing else, as if his love for her had made him forget everything else. This was a blessing and a curse. He'd had many good times, along with many bad. She'd been through most of them, she'd made it bearable. She'd proven he wasn't just a tool to those knights.
He didn't even realize he was at his destination till he heard her voice.
She was as beautiful as ever. Graceful, elegant... It was strange to refer to her as such, but he loved all aspects of her. Her strength, her magical capability, her patience and the way she spoke. She sounded so wise. He doubted she wanted to, but everything that came out of her mouth was so refined.
Oh yes, she was very refined. The very way she moved screamed on all volumes 'I am higher order', whether intentional or not. Whether intentional or not, she was his world.
It hadn't always been like that of course. He had other important people, people who he thought he was in love with. Like... That woman... with the brown hair. He could no longer remember her name. She had been perfectly happy to pretend that their love was full and endless. He realized - earlier than she did - that he didn't love her, and their relationship had never went further than holding hands. He realized he could never care for her in that way.
He was brought back by his love screaming. He thought briefly if she knew he felt her pain, if she remembered. He heard her scream again, agonizing for them both.
He approached her tentatively, as if unsure of whether she would remember her in her pained and maddened state.
She must. He thought. We've been through so much! He called her in his mind, reaching out his thought tendrils to coil around her now fragile mind. They were pushed back with an angry blast and with it a shout.
'Fool of a human!' She hissed. He knew at once that it was not her, but her madness speaking. Her voice was different. Her mind was different. She saw differently. I don't care for you! I care for... for him! I cannot remember who...'
It occurred to him that this reminded him of the day that Angelus and Caim had died.
He tried to shout, but no sound came out. He had been like that for a long time, now, it was nothing new, but it shocked him. So he reached out with his mind again.
I care for you, though. He thought to her. I care for you.
She emitted a throaty laugh. He'd not heard her laugh in that voice before. 'More fool for you then. I care for only one. But...'
He smiled, secretly, because he thought that this coming from her mouth was strange. It was amusing sort of, to hear her admit caring for a human, because as he found out, she was something... more. He pushed her to continue. But..?
She looked down. 'You sound nice.' She said quietly. 'That voice!' She yelled abruptly, much to his surprise. 'That voice... Whose voice... Whose voice... was it?'
Voice? He asked warily. You heard a voice?
She wailed, utterly frustrated by her lack of memories. 'It was so kind a voice... I remember the voice...' She muttered to herself. Then, as if realizing some important information, she spoke to him once again, with a glimmer in her eye. 'You have no voice.'
I gave it to you. He said. He thought. He remembered it for her, as she could not. I gave it to you... He thought again, softer this time. Remember? You must remember. It was the start of, He gestured to her and himself. This!
'This?' She asked. He knew she must remember. She was toying with him? That wasn't like her... She was serious, she joked, she was sarcastic sometimes, but she never toyed with him. She treated him with respect.
Us! This place we are in now, this is because of me giving you my voice. He remembered harder, as hard as he could. The image burnt into her mind as if by one of her spells.
'This. This place? You gave me your voice... Did you sound like him? Before I had your voice.'
Who is "him"? He asked. She screamed again, her voice strained.
'I cannot remember who! I... I care for him yet,' Her voice broke, and he felt it. 'I feel his pain! I feel your pain, too. Are you him? You sound like him. He had no sound.'
No sound... He thought. Was she mistaking him for someone else? She had to be. A graceful figure such as herself with no sound as he glided over the ground; in the sky. Though... Could she...
'He wasn't special, I mean. He wasn't definitive outside the battle. Sometimes it felt like nothing mattered but his own emotions. He hid it well...'
He smiled.
Angelus.
'Fool human.' She growled affectionately. 'I remember you now.'
Caim smiled wider, different from the crooked slit he made in the midst of battle. Different from the smile that resembled a crescent slash across his face. Fool dragon. Will you always bring about these blasted smiles?
He stopped when he heard footsteps, two pairs, as if delayed echoes of his ghostly path.
Together, Caim and Angelus watched as Nowe and Manah visited the ruined goddess castle to place the one flower on their grave. Even though there was nothing to bury except Caim's rusted sword left behind in the doomed world, Nowe and Manah had still gone to the effort of burying it. In a small way, this quiet ritual of remembrance that occurred once every year brought Caim and Angelus rest. They counted the flowers on the grave; one for each year.
There were seventeen flowers in total.