I want you to follow and find me
Howl like it's us and no one else
We could keep out the sadness
…and stand so tall
We can run like the wild things
…and lie right where we fall
Hands Like Houses
Author's Note :: I'm not really sure what inspired this; just something that came to me while I was playing Destiny.
Disclaimer :: All credit to Bungie. I'm simply borrowing for a bit the things that you recognize – but I guess the character personalities are original.
For Those Who Wait
Somewhere from beyond the eastern mountain range, thunder rumbled like the gentle echo of a jump ship's engine as it took off from Tower's Hangar. Off in the distance, the warlock could make out what was likely to be the beginnings of a late-spring storm. The final traces of sunlight had faded slowly from the valley behind delicate wisps of cloud-cover that had started off silver but quickly faded to grey; growing darker the more time she spent lingering around the outer edges of the old airfield.
She shivered for the ominous feeling that had crept around her slender figure, clinging unnoticed as though it were no more uncommon than her own shadow. Like an old friend, a familiar whisper from the obscurities of her reveries.
Another low rumble echoed through the valley and her pale green eyes narrowed against the urgency in her search. The Guardian scanned the horizon from behind the lens of a scout rifle, combing for an entrance to the archive she'd so desperately sought to find. She'd discovered the clue by accident, hidden in the margin of a book that had dated from the Golden Age. On the surface, it appeared nothing more than a detailed account for the purpose of the Cosmodrome.
But hidden within the scribbled notes left behind by a guardian that had found and lost his Light long before her own awakening, the warlock found a glimmer of hope that she might come to discover something of the mystery surrounding her own past. An old computer that had preserved decades of old census data. She might be able to find a way to understand the life that she'd lived before her Ghost had awoken her to this new existence.
Instead, there was nothing.
A flash of lightning nearer than made her comfortable brought the scout rifle to her side in defeat. She sighed, turning slightly to the east so the wind, which was slowly gaining strength, wouldn't tug so violently against the sage green jacket she wore.
"You can come out now," her voice was loud enough to carry the distance between them, though she was careful to hide any hint of the disappointment she felt for having to give up her search earlier than she'd intended.
She could hear the slight hesitation in his movements but she didn't turn to watch the hunter step out from behind a small collection of rusted metal that might have, long ago, comprised the wing of an airplane. Now, however, it was too rusted to know for sure what it might have been. His footsteps had been cautious as he approached her – he'd always been such a smart man.
She smirked, a reaction obscured behind the safety of her visor.
"How long have you known?"
"I had a feeling when I killed four Fallen in two shots," she remarked, turning to glance at him over her shoulder. "But I wasn't certain until you revealed your hiding place, Hunter."
"I'd hoped you wouldn't notice that," he spoke of the extra shots, his gaze falling to the ground where he kicked a few empty ammunition clips that had come from a Hive Shredder with the toe of his dark brown boot. He'd put his hand on the hand cannon in the holster at his waist, turning slightly into the breeze so that his cape whispered loudly behind him.
Despite how reserved he'd seemed for having been caught, the warlock could hear in the tone of his voice that same underlying sarcasm that she'd come to expect of him. She imagined he was smirking at her. The same cocky, debonair mannerism that still somehow found a way to make her heartbeat flutter pensively in her chest despite the irritation she would feel for having to admit that such a loathsome idiosyncrasy could manage to endear him to her.
She could already feel the disappointment that her day's explorations had been fruitless beginning to ebb. Likely to be replaced with exasperation to be directed at the hunter who had mustered the nerve to leave Tower and track her down…
"I wonder, Guardian," her tone was light, amusement playing in the undertones. "Will you ever trust me to explore on my own?"
Coming to stand beside her, where her shadow might have fallen had the sun not been hidden from casting it, he signed, "Someone fostered the idea of a Fireteam for a reason, woman."
The warlock scoffed, ignoring the hunter's comment to head east along the embankment that she'd been scouting from atop. She knew of a bunker that was located not far off; the pair could take shelter there and wait out the storm. The thought of materializing through rough weather to her jump ship, hovering in safety above the storm, interested the warlock only slightly less than a few hours with the hunter.
She hadn't needed to turn around to determine that he was following her. His loud footfalls gave him away.
"Didn't the Vanguard teach you to be light on your feet, Hunter?"
"Relax, Warlock! There's nothing out here but you and me," he mocked her familiarity, putting the same emphasis on 'Warlock' as she had lent to her 'Hunter'. He patted her back reassuringly, "The Hive have all gone back to their burrowing and the Fallen never did take to this part of the Cosmodrome."
She hesitated in her footsteps at the feeling of sparks flying from the place his hand had brushed between her shoulder blades, marveling at the way it felt like a molten inferno was rushing past her nerve endings. Turning her head to the side, she stutter stepped so that he'd fallen one stride ahead of her. And she looked at him; actually looked at him – until the wind, whipping her coat wildly about her lithe frame, brought her attention back to the present moment.
The warlock was thankful, then, for the helmet that shielded the flush that had risen to her cheeks.
Before he'd had the chance to question her wavering, she sighed and continued after him; their footsteps eventually falling into unison once more.
"What's it you look for when you're out here all on your own, anyway?" he'd asked the question like he really cared about what she had to say; like he hadn't grown bored with the companionable silence that had fallen over them.
"That's hardly your concern."
The hunter laughed, nodding his head like he was accepting a challenge that the warlock beside him hadn't intended to issue. As he let his hand fall to the small of her back, leading her towards an entrance to a bunker that had just become visible in the side of a concrete wall, his voice was all confidence, "It's either very valuable or very personal; I've never known you to be a woman who keeps secrets."
"Why do you presume those are mutually exclusive possibilities?" she challenged, stepping over a rusted door, long ago fallen off of its hinges. As she came to stand inquisitively in the center of the small room, she held her scout rifle resting over her right shoulder.
The hunter followed her inside, removing his helmet as he crossed the room to stand before the far wall. He ran a hand through the shaggy chestnut brown locks of his hair, removing a few strands away from brilliant hazel eyes which shined down at her.
"You're being intentionally vague, Evalynne," he paused after using her given name, scanning her form for any indication that he'd elicited an encouraging reaction from her. But he could discern nothing of her expression when she was hidden behind the safety of her helmet. When she made no movement at all, the young man reasoned, "I'll assume, then, the value of what you're out here searching for is significant because of the personal nature it conveys."
"Assume whatever it is you like, Erik, but don't expect me to confirm your suppositions."
She pulled her ebony helmet over her head, shaking loose the silky strands of her sandy brown hair so that the locks fell around her face and shoulders. The pigtails she normally wore had mostly fallen out as a result of removing the tightly fitting helmet. The warlock took a seat at the back of the bunker, letting her scout rifle and helmet rest at her side.
He smiled, taking a seat next to the warlock so that they were both facing the entrance of the bunker, their backs against the cement wall. The hunter admired her, hazel eyes taking in all of the graceful curves of her gentle face. She was all nimble limbs and lithe frame – but she screamed of femininity. If he hadn't already measured for himself exactly of what she was capable, he might have considered her frail – though, he supposed, some clandestine part of his subconscious must have believed her fragile.
It was easier to believe so than admit the truth behind his desire to always protect her; to look after her.
"What are you looking at?" she accused.
He changed the subject, "You never said my assumption was wrong."
"I didn't say anything at all."
The rain had begun, falling in heavy sheets outside the safety of their shelter, and as the thunder rumbled on the bunker grew silent.
Erik leaned closer so that their shoulders were touching. His hazel eyes focused brazenly on hers of pale sea green, "Why won't you let me in, Eva?"
She shivered, unsure if it was a result of the intensity of his gaze or the brisk chill that had carried in on the breeze. The young brunette felt her chest constrict for the sea of emotions she could see raging just below the surface. Would it matter to him at all if she confessed her secret explorations? Would he even come close to understanding that nagging desire in the pit of her soul to know from where she'd come?
"Why do you pry, Hunter? Isn't it enough that you already consider me weak without knowing the secrets that comprise me? That's all this is – isn't it? You think me incapable of handling my own out here."
It was the tone of her voice – the apprehension meshed with hesitation. Her tone told him so much more than her words ever could. Because she did want to open up to him; maybe not about everything, not all at once. But she wanted to confess her secrets. So what was it left that was still holding her back?
"Are you asking why I'm here?" he kept his tone neutral; afraid to let on that he'd read between the lines of her careful denunciation. He was afraid that if he left the exasperation he felt for her implied accusations seep into the deep tenor of his response it would be too much emotion for her to process in the moment, as it was. Erik hadn't found himself this close to her in a long time. He barely breathed, "No, Eva. That's not why I'm here; it's nothing to do with it."
"Then why are you here?"
He sighed, shoulders slouching as he leaned forward to stare at the ground. His forearms rested on top of his knees, fusion rifle forgotten at his side.
A thousand reasons rushed in and out of his mind; a tide pulling and ebbing from rocky shores.
Because I know who you are, Eva…
Because I've retained the memories you're still fighting to find…
Somehow you've written your name across my heart – and Fate found a way to bring us back together again. Because I love you; I love you now as I loved you then… even though you don't remember who I am. I'm here because you are mine and I am yours.
Because I'm afraid of what it means if you never remember; if you die out here chasing questions I already know how to answer…
How to describe with words what even his soul was still too confused to catalogue?
"You don't even have a guess, woman?" he hesitated, unable to hide his disappointment. And for the shame of the emotion, he settled to counter with biting sarcasm, "Or has your Order dampened all aptitude for deductive reasoning?"
She glared at him, her delicate features sharpening under the flash of lightning from the storm. The warlock parted her lips like she was about to speak but, instead, turned away from where he sat, her eyes focused on the door and the rain that fell in heavy sheets outside.
He'd struck her ego. Of course she would have been ashamed to have to admit to something she didn't know. Eva was a scholar; one of the smartest in her Order.
The hunter sighed again, bringing his hand to wring his frustration from the shaggy bangs that framed his chiseled features. He studied her carefully, eyes narrowing as he swallowed his pride to test the words of an apology out on his tongue, "Look, Eva – I'm sorry I snapped at you. And I'm sorry I've been keeping secrets."
She inhaled sharply, all attention once again returned to the handsome hunter at her side.
He took her hand, lowering his gaze to where her grey gloved fingertips laced with his own.
"I already know what you're searching for, Eva. And I follow you because I don't want you to get hurt looking for it."
"Erik?" she hesitated, her body tensing.
"I want you to find your answers," he looked at her again, offering her a tentative smile. "I wish – I mean, I understand that you want to figure out where you came from. Maybe in some involuntary way all Guardians do."
She was silent for a long while before she whispered, "Can I ask you something?"
As she leaned closer to him, he smiled, "Sure. Ask me anything you want."
"Did you – you know – search for answers?"
Erik nodded, leaning back against the wall again. This time, his legs were stretched out in front of him, left ankle crossed over right. He was gently running his thumb back and forth over hers.
"Did you find what you were looking for?"
He smiled, squeezing her hand reassuringly, "Yeah, eventually I figured it out. Well, enough that I was able to fill in the missing pieces on my own."
She smiled, obviously happy with his answer. Her eyes narrowed as she gazed towards the entrance of the bunker and her voice was barely a whisper, "If I tell you my secret, do you promise to keep it safe?"
He nodded, not hesitating to let go of her hand when she pulled it out of his grasp. She looked utterly vulnerable and, for the first time in a long time, Erik was selfish enough to hope that she'd remembered some little piece of her past that he might use to help trigger the rest of her memories…
As he watched her tug at the fingertips of the glove on her left hand, he felt his heartrate quicken against his chest. The normally even-toned beat raced, rising and falling in rhythm until it was wildly off pace. And he held his breath when she held out her wrist to him.
"What do you make of this?"
He inhaled slowly, reading the roman numerals .MMXII tattooed gracefully in even black lines stretching across her pale skin.
"Oh, Eva, I don't know if you should ask me about this," he tried to caution.
"You promised, Erik," she reminded him, shivering when his gloved fingertips brushed over the letters. Their eyes met, hers gleaming up at him with the faintest beginnings of tears starting to form around the edges.
"Ten, fourteen, two thousand twelve," he whispered, leaning closer to her, his eyes expectant. "Can you think of anything it might mean?"
"T-there are so many other memories," she bit her lower lip and shook her head as a single tear escaped to fall down her cheek. "It's like I can't grab hold of just that one."
"Try, Eva," he leaned closer still, brushing the tear away with his thumb. "Close your eyes and tell me what you see."
She was silent for a long while before, "Tiger Lilies, maybe."
"Anything else?"
"Umm, I see myself," she paused, furrowing her brow as she tried to concentrate on following whatever memory she had managed to surface. "Everything is white and – and coral?"
She laughed at her own surprise but Erik could hardly breathe, afraid any sound or movement from him and she would lose forever this moment she'd managed to find…
"It's autumn, I think. The trees are yellow and gold – I'm alone."
"You weren't alone."
She opened her eyes.
He stared down at her expectantly, tenderly.
"Oh," her eyes widened.
"Oh?" he raised an eyebrow, turning so that his shoulders were squared off in front of her slender form. She had leaned forward, away from the wall, keeping her back straight where she sat beside him.
"Y-you were there, too, weren't you?"
He smiled, tearing off his glove to show her the markings on his own wrist that matched hers.
"Then – this was a date – October fourteenth of the year two thousand and twelve?"
"Yes, Eva. That was our date."
"Our date?"
"Our wedding date."
Her eyes widened and she looked up at the hunter like she was seeing him for the first time. He could read surprise, first, which quickly faded to delight – and she'd tempered that emotion as quickly as it had come behind hesitation, disbelief…
"I was-? And you!" she brought the palm of her hand to her forehead, shocked but not entirely upset that she seemed to be temporarily incapable of stringing together words that might voice a coherent thought. "How long have you known?"
Erik bit back every desire he had to pull her into his arms, hold her tightly that an embrace might serve to communicate to her everything he felt about her finally remembering him… remembering them.
"From the moment I saw you, I knew exactly who you were," he caught her gaze and held it. "You were sitting alone in the Commons, reading like you always do. I don't think you even noticed me, but I watched you for a while. I needed to be sure it was really you – I had remembered of you before then. But when I saw you… I guess my heart could never forget."
Her voice trembled as she reached out to touch his cheek, "Were you ever going to tell me?"
The hunter leaned in to her caress, closing his eyes and letting the palm of his hand rest gently over hers. His voice was soft to match hers, "I wanted to, Eva, so badly. But I didn't know where to begin – what would you have thought of a stranger saying these things to you? Would you have resented me for not letting you figure it out on your own?"
"Oh, Erik," she frowned, pressing her forehead against his as she shook her head sadly.
He caught her waist, wrapping her small frame protectively in his arms. As he pulled her into his lap, he smiled that she hadn't tensed or pulled away from him. Instead, she had relaxed, burying her face in the place where his shoulder met his neck. Her left hand was still touching his cheek and her right was balled into a fist, resting over her heart and between their chests. The hunter held her tightly, afraid to let her go.
"I think I was afraid to let myself believe it might be true," she murmured, her lips fluttering over the warm skin of his neck. "It's – there are still so many feelings there."
"I know," he closed his eyes, smiling as he buried his face in her soft brown hair.
She didn't need to find the words to explain anything to him. He couldn't have described his feelings for her – unless to say that they burned through his soul like solar magic.
"Still, I have so many questions."
"I can only imagine."
"Why us? How were we brought back together again?"
"Shh," he pressed his lips to her temple. "Don't question fate, woman. And don't waste another moment of the time we have right now thinking about the past."
The warlock shivered, her lips parting slightly as she pulled away so she could look at him. Her hands had come to rest on his shoulders, the left one dropping down to press against the smooth surface of his chest plate and her right wrapping around his neck, tangling in the shaggy locks of hair that that brushed against the skin there. Her gaze caught his through sandy eyelashes as she asked, "Then what of our future, Erik Weiss?"
"We don't have to figure it out right now. But I promise we'll face it together."
And when she laughed, a wonderful and hypnotizing sound that the hunter knew he'd never tire of hearing for all the days the Traveler lent him its Light, he pressed his lips over hers.
He had almost regretted silencing her.
Almost.
Because he'd become lost quickly to her taste and the sensation of her fingertips lacing through his hair. She'd kissed him back as ardently as he'd only ever dreamed she might. The hunter felt himself lose track of time and space, forgetting entirely that there were still, had ever been, parts of him that were separate from her – that they hadn't always been of the same soul.
In that moment it felt like nothing had ever divided them.