A/N: Usually I'm not a fan of the whole "Oh let's pair off those two units of the same class, yay!" thing. But this pairing really grabbed me, though not in the least because Haar is, what, 10+ years older than Jill? You could say I have a thing for older guys. I also really liked the idea of Haar and Jill because they're so incredibly different, and that makes them match so perfectly. As different as they are, they have one thing in common - respect and love for Shiharam - and that really brings them close.
Anyway, this fic will be two chapters, each divided into two parts. In the first chapter, it will be one scene during the Mad King's War (Path of Radiance) and once scene after it. In the second chapter, it will be one scene during the Radiant Dawn war and one scene after it. Make sense? Good!They are canon, but I don't use direct game dialogue - I make most of it up, just basing it off the conversations. In this chapter, the first part takes place in that base convo where Haar talks to Jill before he's actually a member of the party. Or sort of in the convo when you recruit him. But not really - it's not QUITE canon, but it's something I imagine could have happened all the same.
Please, please, please leave a review. I know I get hits and readers, and I know this is a popular pairing... so please let me know what you think. The next chapter will be up soon, and so far it's turning out better than this one.
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Nintendo, not me.
"You heard about Shiharam, then?"
"Heard about it? I was part of the army that did it," Jill growled, refusing to look at him.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Haar shake his head wearily. "Jill, why are you here? They killed your father. They're fighting against your country."
"It's not that simple!"
"Seems simple to me. You could come with me, Jill - you're my soldier, aren't you?"
"But - don't you realize, Captain?" she said, stepping closer to him and glowering. She could barely think through the flames of anger coursing through her mind, but she knew that Haar, of all people, had to understand. "Everything we were taught as kids, as soldiers… it's all wrong. Ashnard is mad! The laguz… they're not sub-humans. They're just as much people as we are. I never thought… I never thought I could feel this way until I joined this army… I trust these people, Haar! My father… I knew he never wanted this. He never wanted to slaughter innocents on Ashnard's orders. And neither do you! I know you, Haar! You know I'm right – your king is mad, and if you continue to fight for him, you'll be killing for nothing!"
A long silence followed her words. She had worked herself up into a fury; all she could hear was the sound of her own blood pounding in her ears, she was so incensed with him, perhaps even with herself. Haar, on the other hand, watched her, unperturbed, as indolent as ever. He raised an eyebrow and tried to stare her down, but she did not falter in her fury. For a second, she thought she saw him smile.
"You've forgotten one little thing in your flawless argument there," Haar said coolly. But heat was building behind his idle words. "I'm older than you, Jill. I remember what it was like before Ashnard. I remember what it was like to fight for the honor of Daein, under command of your father. I remember Begnion's corruption, and Ashnard is nothing – nothing – compared to backhanded slime that lives in the palaces of Sienna. So I can't leave just yet. There's something that I have to do, and when it's done, I'll get back to you. I promise. But until then, keep your pretty little mouth shut, you hear?"
His temper had emerged as he continued to speak, and Jill gaped at him, for she didn't think she had ever seen him actually angry before, about anything. Not even when she had been little and constantly pulled his hair, or tried to trip him while he was training, or when she had grown older and demanded that he spend hours into the night coaching her, or when she interrupted him loudly from one of his many naps. Even Haar looked mildly surprised at himself.
"What in Ashera's name do you mean by all that?" Jill breathed.
He shook his head, already calm and collected again. "I'm proud of you, Jill. You're making your own decisions, you're shaping your own life now. It almost makes me miss the days when you were just a wee little trainee and would follow any order from even the most lowly of official soldiers. Look at you now! Friends with the laguz and a proud member of the Crimean army. Jill, I know you're right about Ashnard. But Daein as a whole? It's not all so black and white, and you should know that better than anyone. I can't just go running off as easily as you did."
"Why not?"
"I told you. There's something I have to do."
He met her gaze squarely, his one good eye completely unreadable. As her rage subsided a little bit into mere frustration, Jill crossed her arms and frowned at him. "You could tell me what it is. I could help and get you out of there sooner."
Haar considered her for a moment. Then he shook his head. "I don't want you involved."
"I'm not a child anymore, Captain! I can take care of myself!"
"I know you're not a child," he yawned, though he was still watching her out of the corner of his eye. "Doesn't change the fact that I don't want you involved."
"You – you – fleabitten, lazy, gods-cursed pile of - "
"Mind your language," Haar said, tapping her on the nose.
"Don't touch me!"
Again, a tense silence fell between them. At least, to Jill it felt tense; her heart was pounding so fast, and she was sure her face had gone bright red like it always did when she worked herself up too much. Haar, on the other hand, grinned lazily and gave her another shrug and a yawn.
"You're cute when you're angry," he said. Before Jill could say anything in protest, he held up his hand, glancing around to make sure the Crimean army hadn't caught sight of them. "But we've got no place hating each other, not when Shiharam is dead. I have to stay in the Daein army just a little bit longer. Try to understand, won't you?"
Miserable all of a sudden, Jill shook her head. Determinedly she looked at the ground, so Haar wouldn't see the brightness in her eyes. "I can't understand, Captain… you know they're wrong. What if – what if the next time we meet is in battle? What then?"
She felt her head tilt upwards, Haar's fingers beneath her chin. His touch was gentle, and she didn't flinch away this time; rather, she looked up – for he was so much taller, and they were standing so close – and met his gaze, studying his face, his expression. Small scars crisscrossed the right side of his face, the pale lines mostly hidden by his black eyepatch. His appearance revealed nothing of his emotions or thoughts.
"I made a promise to your father," he said calmly, "that I'd take care of you. I won't fight you, Jill - I couldn't hurt you. But listen to me – perhaps the next time we meet, I'll have done what I needed to do. So who knows? Try not to kill me before talking to me, you know? Promise?"
"I promise," said Jill, rather quietly. Her tears over her father's death had long since dried, but the mention of a promise - her father's last words, last hope, entrusted to Haar, the one other person she trusted as much as she had trusted Shiharam; Haar, who swore to keep her safe - the idea of that promise struck some kind of chord deep in her heart. She caught her breath, confused.
"Good. See you around, Jill."
Haar nodded and stepped away from her. The sudden lack of his imposing presence next to her made her feel quite vulnerable. What if the whole army had seen their exchange?
"Captain! Captain Haar, wait!" said Jill, chasing after him. She caught his arm and forced him to turn and look at her again. "Don't… don't get yourself killed, Captain. For me."
With a flash of his familiar grin, he reached out and ruffled her hair affectionately, just like he had always done when they were younger. But this time his hand lingered on her cheek before he pulled it away, rough fingers cool against her flushed skin. "I'll do my best," he said, with a nonchalant shrug.
Which, Jill realized, was the most she could hope for. As she watched him leave, mentally preparing herself for returning to the main army, straight-faced, Jill searched desperately for the only hopes still lingering in heart – Crimean victory, peace with the laguz, Haar's safety. It'll all be all right, she told herself, closing her eyes. Father would be proud of me, wouldn't he?
In the distance, a lone black wyvern glided farther and farther away towards the horizon. Haar rode upon its back, staring at nothing, thinking of Jill and her words, hoping that they would meet again before it was too late.
They departed Ike's merry little band together, for truly, they were all each other had. Sure, they had made friends; they had bonded with many other comrades, for friendship and trust is often unavoidable in such a closely knit army. But every so often, Haar would notice Jill pull her long hair in front of her and thread her fingers though it, a nervous habit she'd developed as soon as she had hair long enough to reach her shoulders. True to his word to Shiharam, Haar stayed close beside her, and always placed a comforting hand on her shoulder whenever she grew anxious.
And finally, after every farewell, when even Haar realized he'd miss some of these soldiers, they took their leave, just the pair of them. And their loyal wyverns, of course. After the horrors of the recent war, the skies seemed warm and friendly, though they often had to avert their gaze from the ravaged ground below. If they passed a struggling village, Jill always convinced Haar to stop and help, especially once they passed into Daein. He didn't mind, really. Lazy as he was, he liked to see Jill smile, and somehow she always managed to smile wearily at the end of a long day as long as they had made even one person's life just a little bit easier. So he helped her. He did whatever she asked, and kept his napping to a bare minimum, for he only slept when he was out of her range of vision.
But as they grew nearer and nearer to Talrega, the only "home" they had left, Jill grew quieter and quieter. The land here was near deserted, regardless. When the roar of the recently flooded river met their ears, she stopped talking altogether, and Haar soon gave up trying to force conversation. They landed in silence, the loud squelching of their boots in the mud the only noise outside of nature's typical rhythm. Jill managed her saddle, her bags, and her wyvern in silence. Eventually, Haar could not take it any longer.
"Look at you. You're stiff as a dead man," he said brusquely. Her back was so straight and tense that he was surprised that she could even move. "Come over here, Jill. You've got to relax a little bit."
Wordlessly she followed his first instruction: she patted her loyal mount in thanks, then walked over to Haar, her gaze fixed determinedly upon her feet. Haar sighed and stepped behind her. Before she could glare at him in silent protest, he began to rub her shoulders and back to try and force her to relax; her muscles were so tight under his fingers that they felt almost as hard as her shoulderblades. For a while, it seemed as though he might as well be massaging a rock for all the good it would do, but eventually her posture loosened, and she exhaled in a deep, long sigh. Haar heard her breath tremble.
"That's better, isn't it?" he said. "Don't scare me like that, Jill. You can't go dying on me now, you know? We've got that courier service to start."
"I didn't know you cared that much," she said quietly.
"Praise the goddess, she speaks!"
Now Jill did glare at him, her eyes burning through his jovial façade. Haar sighed, cowed into solemnity. "Jill, we're all we have, now. Traitors to our army, and even though we joined the right side, the winning side, it doesn't matter. We're birds of a feather."
"So we will fly together?"
"We will," said Haar. "After a good night's rest here, of course. We could leave after tomorrow's midmorning nap. And then we could find someplace nice and quiet - "
"Haar…" interrupted Jill, her voice very soft, her eyes staring into the distance at something that Haar couldn't see. "Do you know where my father is buried?"
He stopped talking at once. Immediately he steadied his breathing, closed his eyes, carefully examined the memories he so often tried to forget. Oh, he knew; he knew all too well… Sometimes he imagined he could still feel the mud between his fingers, the ache in his muscles, the sting of tears on his cheeks. He realized that Jill was watching him, her expression fearful. She looked, for the first time since the beginning of the war, like a child again, a girl lost in the world without her proud, loving father.
"I know," Haar said. "I buried him. I had to make sure he was honored. The other soldiers, Petrine's guard… they didn't treat any of the fallen with respect, Daein or Crimea. It's… not far from here."
Resolutely she nodded. Haar understood, and now silent himself, he led the way, feeling her presence very close at his back. They worked their way around Fort Talrega, slow due to the mud, until they reached the line where forest met open plain. But the plain was no more than damp mounds of dirt, shallow and terrible graves for honorable men. Directly in front of him was the only grave that had any kind of mark at all – a broad, white stone rested at the head of the grave, once so clear of dirt that it sparkled in the sunlight, though now time had worn its sparkle down to a dull glimmer. Haar heard Jill catch her breath sharply.
"Which one…?"
"Here," Haar said. "Right here. This stone… it was all I could find."
For a moment, she didn't speak, and Haar turned around, lost for words but nevertheless wanting to speak, to offer her some minimal comfort. Her eyes were bright, and her lips quivered. On impulse, Haar pulled her into his arms, and it was only then that she cried, her whole body trembling as salty tears fell from her cheeks to his chest. Neither of them said a word. They didn't need to speak. He simply held her, knowing exactly how she was feeling, as all the grief she had pushed away to a frozen corner of her mind finally melted into her heart and soul, the pain more real and piercing than any battle wound. Jill's tears soon subsided, and she and Haar were silent again.
Haar did not cry – he couldn't, not in front of her, not when she was clinging to him and relying on him to be her strength, her guardian – but his mind filled with memories of Shiharam, both as a surrogate father and a commander. Everything he knew of battle and honor, of courage, chivalry, and right and wrong, of children's tales and love and faith, he had learned from Shiharam.
"Let's stay here," Jill said. "Let's start that delivery service, with our base here, in Talrega."
Surprised, Haar looked down at her. She was still leaning against his chest, but despite the redness of her eyes, she was no longer crying. Her voice didn't waver. He realized, rather offhandedly, that he couldn't refuse her, even if he had wanted to.
"As long as there's a bed for me to sleep in, I can be happy anywhere," Haar said, catching Jill's tiny smile.
"You don't need a bed. You can sleep anywhere just fine."
"All the better, isn't it? I can be happy anywhere. But nevertheless, I'd rather be here, running a delivery service, than sleeping all the time. As long as I can still sleep most of the time."
"You're hopeless," Jill said, pulling away from him. She glanced once more at her father's grave, and Haar noticed her hand move strangely, as if she were reaching out to touch a hand that wasn't there. Then, briskly, she wiped her eyes and turned. "Let's go. We've a lot of work to do, then."