-

"FIGHT!"

This fight started off like any of the dozen others before it. Guile hunted his opponent straightforwardly, getting in a few good kicks, and generally looking for a better opening. Nash observed Guile's fighting style, and decided that to fight like that, Guile had to be a thousand miles away. Nash hadn't really been surprised when Guile hadn't recognized him, since many things about him had changed, but it was still strange to be given a look at Guile from a stranger's perspective. Guile was fighting him as if he was an obstacle course. Not an opponent, exactly, but more like a wall that had to be knocked down so that Guile could get to wherever he was going.

Nash disliked it.

He didn't want Guile to know who he was... not yet, anyway... but being regarded as a demolition job was eerily impersonal, especially coming from Guile.

Nash loved him.

Nash hadn't wanted to come back into Guile's life, but it seemed that Guile wasn't going to give up searching for Nash, and was bound and determined to tear his OWN life apart until he succeeded.

Nash loved him, so he came back.

It was that simple.

Yeah. Right.

Nash could never come back, never.

He couldn't let Guile destroy himself though, and that was why Nash had come. He had to talk to Guile, to show Guile why he could never return, because only then would Guile be able to get some closure and go home.

Nash felt he owed Guile that.

No, he knew he owed Guile a lot more, but closure was the best he could do at this point.

Too much had been done, that could not be un-done.

Guile was giving him the fight of his life.

Nash no longer had time to think.

Moving, moving, block, punch. Left and flip, kick to the head. Running, jump, backhand. Interrupt Guile's windup for a sonic boom (where DID he learn that trick?) and uppercut him. Pound him, and kick him, and make him stop moving long enough to sit still and listen.

...Or just knock him out.

Wow, that actually worked.

Stunned silence from the watching crowd, then cheers.

Nash bent down and lifted Guile in his arms.

No easy task, for anyone but exactly the kind of people at this tournament.

Nobody so much as blinked. A few people started yelling for Nash to 'put him down, he's unconscious already!'

Guile opened his eyes.

"You don't recognize me, do you?" Nash said, gently.

Guile frowned for a moment, trying to place the voice, then looked up at Nash's face, and his eyes widened.

Guile started, flailed for a moment as Nash lost his grip, and fell to the hard-packed dirt with a thump.

Guile looked up, awestruck.

"Charlie? ...You're alive?"

"Yes, I am."

Guile scrambled to his feet, and grabbed Nash in a hug that made his shoulders hurt.

"Ah Charlie Jesus you really are alive."

"..." Nash didn't know what to say. He had known Guile would be happy to see him, but knowing and feeling first-hand are two different things, and he wished he didn't have to let Guile know why he couldn't come back and be his partner again.

From the sidelines, somebody wolf-whistled, and the crowd started cheering again.

"The winner is: Charlie Nash!" the announcer called out, authoritatively.

Guile was in heaven. He didn't know why Nash had stayed away all this time, but he did know NASH, and the man in his arms was Nash. Not a hoax, hot a near-match, not a clone, but the real Charlie Nash. And he felt just wonderful.

"I've found you," Guile said, into Nash's shoulder.

Sometime later, Guile and Charlie made their way down to the waterfront in search of some peace and quiet. Gulls wheeled back and forth overhead, and several small boats rocked lazily in the water in front of them. The sun was that perfect shade of bright that makes you squint your eyes, and washes out all but the darker colors.

Leaning lightly against the heavy railing chain, Nash waited for Guile to speak. He had imagined this moment many times, but he was smart enough to know that it could never go exactly the way he thought it would.

Guile did not disappoint him.

"You scared me."

Nash said nothing, but tilted his head down a little.

"I thought you were dead. I thought..." Guile trailed off. Guile came up behind Nash, and put his arms around him. "-Don't do that again."

Nash took one of Guile's hands in his own, and kissed his knuckles. Then he turned around, and pushed Guile away from him.

Guile looked confused.

"Guile, I can't do this. I came back to talk with you, and to tell you that I was okay so you could stop looking for my killer. Nothing more."

Guile shook his head no. -He wanted more of an explanation than that.

"I'm serious, Guile. Some of the places I've been, I can't come back from. Find somebody with less baggage."

"Nash, if you're trying to pull the same crap you pulled after we escaped from Shadowlaw's lock up, it's not gonna work," Guile folded his arms sternly.

"You really don't get it, do you? I've moved on since you saw me last. I have a whole other life now, and I don't see where I could fit you into it. I'm not WITH the air force any more, so I can't be your partner in special forces. -Hell, half the time I'm not even on the right side of the law."

Guile saw through Nash like glass, and smiled sadly.

"You'll have to do better than that, Charlie. I've been looking for you for far too long to give up now."

"It's your time to waste," agreed Nash, secretly relieved.

"Thought so," Guile flicked the end of the long strip of hair that curved out from one side of Nash's bangs.

Nash looked at Guile sidelong, and sighed.

-

-end-

Got the idea for this one after comparing the way Nash looks in the 'Street Fighter II' anime to his blonde-and-blue look in some of the games. Continuity's a little dubious on this one, but I wrote it almost a decade ago (shrugs). The original title was 'Finding Charlie Nash'.