Six sit around a table, enjoying a meal together. They're laughing, smiling, though their eyes are far away when they look at the two empty spaces of their gathering. She sits by her friends, and smiles and laughs with the rest of them, but she is watching him. Watching him, and seeing what the others do not.
We protect our own, don't we? To everyone outside, we say you're fine; that you've recovered, moving forward like the rest of us. We only say the truth when it's just us. She watched as he tells some ridiculous story from his youth, no doubt where he bumbles his way into mischief. Those stories always make them laugh, and he smiles the whole time. But she can see what the others do not, or will not. Those smiles never reach his eyes.
When it's just the two of us, my partner says how worried she gets when you train alone. You watch the video over and over, drinking the words like a man fresh from the desert. She tells me you never seem lost the morning after, that you're in control. It's not healthy, she'll say, but it hasn't gotten to you.
Your teammates will mention, discreetly if asked, that you don't sleep well anymore. You toss and turn, you cry out. They worries that your dreams are plagued by things you could have done. They say you show that same confidence as always when you're awake, though. They'll say you're dealing with guilt, but it hasn't gotten to you.
They will all go on and on about your brief adventure, smiles on their faces. Everyone laughs when they hear about you dodging and weaving against the Geist.
I hear you went to fight a powerful Grimm without arms or armor, not even asking for a loan.
They clap you on the back and applaud your growing as a fighter for finally getting an upgrade on your blade.
I hear you don't use a shield anymore, that you rush your enemies with a weakened defense and an untrained style.
She watches his smiles and laughs that don't reach his eyes, as he wears a face to placate those around him. She knows what that is like. She watches as the young couple go off to have a private moment together, and her own team gathers her up for something ridiculous, and they leave him behind. No one but her knows where he will go.
You visit her grave every day. An empty grave strewn with accolades, and isn't that overly symbolic?
We tell the world you're alright, and to us you're doing better, but you're in pain, aren't you? My family would tell the world I was well, and only my sister knew I struggled. Not even she knew how much pain I was in, though.
She watches him, and she sees him for what he truly is, while the others see what he wishes them too. She isn't surprised, and she admits he's quite good. For her, it was haughty words, but for him it is a goofy smile. Different masks for different people, but a mask nonetheless.
You weren't much back then, really. A shallow pool I could see the bottom of without even turning my head. Now, though? Now there's something hidden inside you, now no one can see inside your depths. You've... frozen over, and we see what we wish to on the surface. That was me, once.
She slips away, one evening, when their six are only five, and she goes to where she knows he will be. It's a beautiful day: the sun is out, the sky is clear, and the birds sing quietly between the graves. The sarcophagus is covered in already forgotten gifts, but he bears only memories when he sits at its feet. She does not hear him come, despite the click of heel on stone, he is not truly here. She sits silently beside him on cool grass, and waits for him to return.
When he does, she can see it happen: a small smile is put forward, bowed back becomes a slouch, clenched fists release. He makes to speak, but she stops him with a hand.
"You don't need to hide from me." He takes on a confused frown, but she can see the worry in his eyes. "You're lying. Lying to them, lying to the world, and I've done that too." She gestures softly towards their lost friend. "But you wouldn't lie to her, would you? You don't lie to her. She would help you, if she could, but she can't. So I will. If it's you and me, you don't need to wear the mask you show the others. Let it out, or it will destroy you from the inside."
As she speaks, the mask slips away, she sees beneath the ice. Pain, despair, grief and guilt and doubt and hatred. A roiling mass as black as night, eating at his soul. "What if that's what I deserve?" His quiet voice an accusation.
"Would she accept that?" He makes to reply and she cuts him off: "Would she accept that?" He turns to stare at the emblem cared in the rock, and shakes his head.
"Then neither will you. You'll live, if not for yourself then for her. And you will let me help you."
They sit in silence again; she is staring at him and he is staring at the name in the stone.
"Why?" She knew the question would come eventually.
"I was told once I 'had some good friends looking out' for me; I don't know if I've ever felt more guilty than at those words. Well you have friends looking out for you too, and I will do right by you this time, and by her."
Silence again. Silence for an age.
His back bends, his head falls into his hands, and he begins to weep. Slowly, tentatively, she reaches out a hand, letting it rest on his shoulder. His tears do not stop.
"I failed her." The words are choked between the sobs, "God, I failed her; she's alone again because of me."
There are no more words that evening, he could not make them and she would not. As the sun begins to set, he is still distraught, her shoulder the only thing even keeping him upright. The light begins to fade, as do his tears. Eventually, he stops altogether, and she helps him to his feet. She starts to lead him down the path, but he pulls away. He staggers towards the stone figure. A song returns to her from long ago, but she will not sing it aloud.
...And in it's place there's nothing, just an endless empty hole. The light that showed the way is gone, and darkness takes control.
He rests a hand on the sculpted face, and speaks softly, too quiet to hear. She sees the tears begin anew.
Bitterness and anger, are quick to fill the void. The path to isolation is littered with dreams that lay destroyed.
He lurches back beside her, and the two begin their walk, to once again become six. She hopes they will be seven again, but it will never be eight. They will never again have Pyrrha.
