Disclaimer: Ghost Trick belongs to the almighty Shu Takumi and his lesser minion, Capcom. Just kidding, Capcom, I love all of you to death.
Proceed with Caution: If you haven't played the game, then there are spoilers below. And oh, are they massive. So, um, be warned.
The first time they met, he had looked up from his computer screen, startled, as a shriek emanated from his right.
"You!"
A girl with blond curls gaped as she pointed directly at him, her finger jabbing dangerously close to his nose.
"Um…can I help you?"
He, calm and collected though he usually was, could not suppress the feeling of complete bewilderment welling up and threatening to overtake his features.
"A cat!" she exclaimed as she proudly thrust her hands on her hips, purse dangling precariously off her shoulder.
He blinked.
"Excuse me?"
"You. You're definitely a cat."
Now, he had been accused of being several things in the past. Stiff, stone-faced, bookworm, teacher's pet, arrogant (this last one he always felt rather indignant towards, for it was quite unfounded).
But a cat?
Still unsure as to whether this was merely a prank or whether the girl was simply deluded, he gestured towards himself.
"Er, Miss, if you'll just look for a second, you might notice that I am one hundred percent human. I am most certainly not a feline."
One of her eyebrows tugged itself down in confusion. A look of dawning comprehension, before she snapped her fingers.
"Oh!"
Please don't tell me she only just realized this fact, he thought, a wry look crossing his features.
"Hmm," the girl crossed her arms with a perturbed expression on her visage. "I guess you're right. I can't put my finger on it, but that doesn't make sense to me for some reason. I still say that you're a cat."
"Well," he patiently attempted to explain. "Things aren't the way they are simply because you deem them so."
He prided himself on his ability to remain levelheaded and emotionally pristine. Just because this girl was completely touched in the head did not mean that he could not keep the conversation amicable.
"Maybe," she chewed her lip, still appearing to be unconvinced. "Anyway, what'cha workin' on there?"
Still not ruling out the possibility that this was all an attempt to get a rise out of him, he replied.
"Just writing something."
"Ooh," she grinned. "That sounds really-"
Suddenly, she froze, before scrabbling around the inside of her purse.
"Gah! Forgot my cellphone…" she mumbled, before swiveling to face him. "Hey, d'you happen to have the time?"
He peered into her panicked blue eyes for a moment, before glancing at his watch.
"…It's a little past one."
Her eyes widened.
"Craaaap! I'm late! The Chief's gonna kill me! Nice talking to you!" She fumbled for a second longer, before sprinting to the entrance of the coffee shop. She paused at the threshold, before glancing back at him.
"You're a nice person, y'know. Not that many people are willing to put up with what they call my…um, eccentricities. It'd be good to talk to you again sometime, Mr. Kitty-man!"
She waved, before the automatic doors shut behind her.
Not certain what had just taken place, he stared after her for a few moments before picking up his mug and taking a deep draught of the soothing liquid.
He let the caffeine seep in, before continuing to type.
The second time he saw her, it had already been several months, and her disposition was not nearly as laden with the cheerful insanity he had attributed to her before.
Each raindrop pelted his umbrella like a bullet, and his plastic grocery bag was hanging limply from his fingers, damp from being partially exposed.
He, however, paid it no heed as he silently gazed at the drenched, slumped figure on the bench.
Tears, nearly indistinguishable from the rain, streamed down her cheeks, and, soaked to the bone, she flicked her gaze towards him.
"Oh," came her watery voice. "H-Hey there, Sir Feline. Haven't seen you around in a-awhile."
She tried to laugh, but it came out strangled due to the sobs wracking her frame.
He sat down next to her, grimacing a little when the layer of moisture that had already accumulated on the bench transferred to the underside of his pants. Lifting his arm up, he held the umbrella over them both, veiling them from the weather. As it wasn't quite large enough to encompass them both, his black hair became wet, sticking to his forehead.
"I thought I told you last time that I wasn't a cat."
Again, a laugh that drowned midway out of her throat.
"S-Sorry. I-" a shudder ran through her, effectively cutting her off.
He frowned, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably.
"Er," he paused. "Do you have a way to get home?"
She numbly shook her head.
"It caught me unawares," she mumbled. "I was outside-" a sudden hiccup halted her.
"I was outside when it started coming down, and wasn't really thinking too much. I'm sorta absentminded, you know?" she attempted to joke as she shakily ribbed him with her elbow.
He sighed.
"Well, this torrent's unrelenting, and I'm not the kind of guy who would leave a lady in distress. My apartment is quite close. Come with me, and you can dry up before heading home."
She looked at him in surprise.
A slight blush permeated his visage.
"I-I mean, I know we've only met once before, so it might seem a tad unbecoming, but I swear I'm not some shady person-"
He was cut off by her giggle.
"I…I couldn't. You don't have to go outta your way or anything. I-I was being stupid, wasn't even much to cry about, s-so…" she trailed off.
Lightly grabbing her forearm, he hefted her to her feet, the umbrella still hovering over the both of them.
"Please," he let go, before gesturing in the direction he was originally heading. "I insist."
Shivering and sniffling, she nodded, before trudging alongside him.
"See, I knew," she began, hands on her hips, elbows jutting out triumphantly on either side. "That you were a cat."
A little amused, he looked over to see her standing, victorious, in front of his refrigerator. The sight was a little ridiculous, since his shirt was several sizes too large for her frame, and the sleeves were hanging past her wrists, engulfing her petite hands.
"May I ask what you're referring to?"
"Duh!" she exclaimed as she swept her cloth-muffled hand vaguely over the contents within. "Look at these rows of milk bottles! I bet you have a bottle handy for whenever you go out. I bet you can't stand a day without your precious dairy! This milk is your alcohol!"
Her gleeful tone only caused him to roll his eyes at her exaggeration.
"Just because I happen to enjoy milk doesn't automatically label me a cat."
She smirked, before stretching her arms out and flopping down on his couch.
"Whatever you say, Captain Pawpads.
He quietly and carefully walked over to her, before setting down a steaming bowl on the table in front of her.
He then retrieved a quilt from a corner and tossed it over her form.
"I made some soup while you were using my shower, so drink it while it's hot. Also, keep that on your shoulders. It wouldn't do if you were to catch an illness from being outside in all that rain."
Surprised, she bit her lip and idly fingered her blond tresses.
He plopped down next to her and flipped the switch for the television.
"The laundry should be done with your clothes soon, but we can wait out this rain before you go home."
Still rather fidgety, she glanced towards him.
"I..." she spoke up, causing him to look towards her. "I still haven't thanked you for all this. Here I was, bawling my eyes out, and you'd take time out of your day to help out some near-stranger. And you haven't even asked about any of it."
He shrugged.
"You don't have to share anything you're uncomfortable talking about. Besides, how can someone who accuses me of being a cat every time she sees me be a stranger?" A small smile tugged at his lips.
She laughed, bubbly and unrestrained.
"Ain't that the truth!" she grinned. "But I don't mind. Like I said, I was just being dumb, and there wasn't much to it, or anything to even cry about, really. It-It was just...y'know...a couple of things accumulating against each other. I mean, I guess the main thing was that I kind of screwed up - badly - at my job. I'm...I'm an ADA - you know, an Assistant District Attorney - and today, the case I was preparing sort of escalated 'till I couldn't really keep ahold of it any longer and it came tumbling outta my hands, and...and...I didn't really keep up during court. My boss gave me a real earful afterwards, and I felt pretty awful. O-Oh," she said, as if just recalling a detail. "and I suppose I also broke up with someone. And then suddenly it started raining, and my clothes got all drenched, and...and..."
She took a deep breath.
"Overall, I guess it was just a bad day. I honestly didn't even feel that depressed about it, but the tears just sort of spilled out of their own volition, and I couldn't really keep a lid on it..."
She blinked at his startled expression.
"I wouldn't just chalk it up to a bad day..." he slowly began, rather in awe of her nonchalance of the whole matter. "If you weren't feeling down in the dumps after all that, I would start to get worried. You...broke up with someone? That's hardly a matter you can just brush off."
She let out a hearty laugh, waving it off, her oversized sleeve flapping.
"I'm telling you, you're making it out to be more than it really is. We weren't even really...y'know. We were barely in a relationship at all; Cabe was my friend more than anything. He has been for a long time. We just recently tried going on a few dates, and today we got to talking, and realized we'd both really rather just stay friends. It was totally amicable and mutual. I mean, it was uncharacteristic of me in the first place, since I don't usually like the idea of 'dates' since it makes the whole thing feel all official and icky and shouldn't it be all like the you-don't-even-hafta-think-about-it kind of thing? And-"
She blushed, realizing that she had been rambling.
Chuckling a little, he replied.
"That's all well and good, but no matter the surrounding circumstances, it always hurts a bit to have that sort of thing occur. I'm unsurprised you felt frustrated after going through what you did. It's not like you're out to prove that you're made of stone. You, especially, from what I've gathered."
"In other words," she smiled. "Keeping things bottled up is a big no-no."
"The biggest," he affirmed.
She started breaking into tiny increments of giggles, before bursting into outright laughter.
"Look at me," she teased merrily. "having a session with my very own kitten therapist!"
"I still don't understand why you persist in calling me a cat," he said, exasperated.
"Oh, neither of us need to understand. You just are," she shrugged.
"Wonderful," he muttered.
She seemed to hesitate a second, before continuing to speak.
"Hey, um, you've done all this for me, and I'm suuuper grateful and everything, but I don't even know your name."
He blinked, before indulging.
"Oh, right. My name is, uh..."
This time it was he who hesitated, causing her to tilt her head in confusion.
"Well, er, my friends just refer to me by my last name, Ilses."
Still confused, she queried, "Why not your first name?"
Mumbling, he replied, "My...My first name is, well...it's Sartre."
She blinked.
"Y'mean...like that one philosopher guy?"
He nodded.
"It's...a little humiliating to have people call me that. I don't know what my parents were thinking. They probably thought it up with their noses turned up, all haughty, believing it to be clever and unique when it's downright bizarre," he grumbled, face scrunched in a rare scowl.
She laughed, causing his ears to go slightly pink from embarrassment.
"I believe it's common courtesy to respond with your own name," he humphed.
"Oh, of course, monsieur Sartre," she mocked, dragging out the "truh," before dissolving into a fit of giggles.
Seeing the expression on his face, she smiled.
"Alright, alright, I'm sorry. It's nice to meet you, Ilses. The name's Nenyl. Nenyl Baubles."
She grinned, extending her hand.
Taking it, he raised an eyebrow.
"'Baubles'? And you think my name's worth ragging on?"
She gave a tinkling laugh in response.
"You can go ahead and make fun. I sometimes laugh at it myself, since it is pretty silly. But I find it endearing, to tell the truth. Don't you think it fits me?"
Smiling even as he shook his head a little in half-amused exasperation, he responded.
"I do."
"And I think you've got the whole 'philosopher ditty' down pat, so it suits you pretty well, too."
She leaned in.
"But I still think being a cat suits you more," she whispered conspiratorially.
She snickered, before retreating back to her former position.
"Well, I've told you what my job involves," she craned her head sideways inquisitively. "So what do you do for a living?"
He considered her for a moment.
"I write novels. I've always liked writing, so I guess it just stuck with me as I went on."
"Oh! So that's what you were fiddle-faddling with on your laptop back at the coffee shop!"
"Er...yes," he confirmed, still a little unsure how to comfortably take in Nenyl and her mannerisms.
She crossed her arms, her brows suddenly furrowing in thought, her expression nearly a glare as she seemed to ponder something at great length.
"Hmmm. That doesn't sit very well with me for some reason."
His own eyebrow raised itself in bewilderment.
"What doesn't?"
"Just...the thought of you and literature. Together. As a thing. Like, I dunno, it just doesn't click for me."
She looked up at him.
"Are you sure you can read and write?"
He blinked. What had brought that on?
Quite taken back, he replied tentatively.
"Um...I don't know if I'm taking this the wrong way, but are you purposely trying to insult me right now?"
He was a bit hurt by the quip, even if it seemed like she was joking.
Her eyes widened, before she vigorously oscillated her hands from side to side in an attempt to placate him.
"Oh, n-no no no! I'm sorry! Really sorry! I...I didn't mean anything by that, I-"
She cursed her own clumsiness.
Lowering her head dejectedly, she mumbled, "I don't know why that came out of my mouth, I certainly wasn't...wasn't implying any sort of...Oh gosh, I'm so sorry."
The corners of his mouth quirked up in a smile. She carried herself with such frank and refreshing honesty that he found it incredibly difficult to remain irritated at her.
"It's alright. Already forgotten. After all, what kind of cat would I be if I didn't carry myself with the utmost dignity?"
She giggled.
"Of course. You'd portray yourself in much the regal fashion. All frills and loftiness, I'm sure. A veritable little gentlecat."
He rolled his eyes once more in mock-annoyance.
"Wouldn't dream of being anything else."
"ILLLLLLLLLLSSSSEEEEEEESSSSSS!"
His eyes widened as he obtained only a moment's notice before a blond bundle careened itself into his arms.
He grunted, before straightening himself. He couldn't suppress the smile that had been threatening to creep up and overtake his countenance.
"Hi, Nenyl. How was New York?"
"Oh, Ils! I missed you sooooo much. You wouldn't believe how exhausting this trip's been! First, the case I'd been assigned to was ALL over the place. Not to mention just getting to court was hectic beyond all comparison. The taxis and honking and overcrowded streets and yeesh! It's so stressful over there like you can't even imagine, and so I guess I can't blame the people over there for being a little high-strung, but man were some of them rude! This one guy-"
She paused, panting a bit, before suddenly gesturing towards his bag.
"You wouldn't happen to have your daily dosage of creamy calcium in there, would you? I'm parched."
"What, the flight didn't have drinks on its way over?"
"I fell asleep," she replied sheepishly.
He chuckled, causing her to puff her cheeks out indignantly.
"Hey, did I not just mention how tiring this experience was?"
He held his hands up in a gesture of peace.
"Alright, point taken. I haven't opened it yet, so you can go ahead and-"
The sentence went unfinished as she ravenously dove into his bag and withdrew a bottle from its depths.
The cap twisted off with a pop, before she tilted her head back, the bottle arching with it.
She relished the feel of the smooth, silky liquid streaming down her throat as she greedily gulped her thirst out of commission.
"Pwahh!" she savored her satisfaction, before swiveling to face Ilses, wearing an impish grin.
"Do I have a milk mustache?"
He merely bent down without a word, fetching a tissue from his bag, before proceeding to wipe her ivory facial hair clean from her upper lip.
As he bunched up the fabric and tossed it into the nearest receptacle, Nenyl wrinkled her nose before lightly glaring up at the ceiling of the airport.
"You don't act like you're happy to see me at all," she pouted, before adding. "Y'know it's been like nearly a month without us seeing each other?"
He blinked in surprise, before insisting earnestly, "I am."
"Then prove it," she implored childishly, tacking on a whimper for effect.
He rolled his eyes (he's noticed that he's been doing a a lot more frequently nowadays due to her presence) before smiling and enclosing her in an embrace.
"I missed you, too. Really, I did," he finished with a dramatic sigh.
Nenyl squeezed him, giggling.
"Ahhh! There really is no comparison for cuddling you, Mittens! All warm and soft; you're just a little bundle o' joy, aren't you?"
Ilses let a pretend grimace grace his visage.
"I still haven't forgotten you actually buying a ball of yarn and giving it to me as a present."
"Aww, no need to get your tail all bristly, Sartie-kins! I know you're just a soft widdle ball of fur on the inside," she cooed.
"Keep this up," he crossed his arms, setting his mouth in a line. "And I'm not going to hold to our promise of dinner tonight."
She laughed, giving him one last squeeze before parting and turning to leave through the sliding doors.
The pleasant atmosphere was suddenly jarred out of place as a shrill jingle emanated from her cellphone.
"O-Oh, sorry, Sart, I'll be with you in a sec. Hello?"
"Nenyl?"
"Mia! How're you doing? I just got back from my trip. What's up?"
"Mr. Anella wants to speak to you regarding some matters on the latest case he's investigating."
"O-Oh," she bit her lip. "Well, um, I kind of just got back and all..."
The secretary's tone was apologetic as she replied.
"He says it's of the utmost importance. Shall I put you through to him?"
"A-Alright. Go ahead."
Nenyl waited for a few moments before a click sounded.
"Hey, baaaaby. Doin' alright?"
"Hi, Cabe."
"I'm reaallyyy sorry, but could you dooo me favor and drop in tonight? We could really use an extra pair for this mess we've got ourselves."
"Um," she glanced nervously back at Ilses before replying. "C-Can it wait a day, maybe...? I've kind of got, um...plans with Ilses tonight."
She could hear the genuine sincerity and remorse as her coworker responded, but it didn't lessen the blow any.
"I'm sorry, baby, but our hands are tied on this one. It's a real dooooozy, and we've got to keep you in the loop at all times."
She sighed morosely before nodding glumly to herself.
"Okay. I'll be there."
"Greaaaaat! With you here, I'm sure we'll wrap it up in nooooo time!"
She heard to the dial tone, then snapped her phone shut.
Hesitantly, she turned towards Ilses and tugged on his sleeve.
"I-Ils, it looks like we really won't be able to hold to that promise..."
He smiled his understanding, hoisting his bag up on his shoulder as he did so.
"No worries, I know how busy your job gets."
Her eyes watering, tears threatening to spill over the threshold, Nenyl gripped his arm tighter.
"No, I-I can't just keep bailing out on you like this! I know you said it was okay, but...but Ils, you know I don't actually think my job holds precedence over you, right?" Her lip quivered feebly.
A gentle expression smoothed out his visage.
"Of course I don't see it like that, Nenyl. You explained to me once that you became a prosecutor because the law was the best way for you to help people. To let there be more good in the world. I of all people know best how steadfast and stubborn you are, how the sky's the limit when it comes to your determination. You take on the stress and the work because you genuinely desire to save lives, to do as much as it is possible within your power to right the wrongs that have gripped people. Your passion for your job is immutable, and," he grinned. "Frankly, your sense of justice is frightening to behold."
She gave him a watery smile in return for a brief moment. It, however, sagged immediately, conveying her dejection.
"I'll...I'll make it up to you, Ils. I swear! I'll get you a scratching post made entirely of gold!"
He laughed, choosing not to remark upon the tired trend of regarding to him as a cat.
"Wouldn't that defeat the purpose of a scratching post, Nen?"
"O-Oh, right."
She perked up, however, when she realized that his usage of her nickname meant that he was in one of his rare cheeky moods.
He smiled, gesturing for her to depart.
"Go, Nen. I don't know how I'll manage it, but I'll live without your company for a day. I've made do for more than three weeks already, after all."
She stuck her tongue out at him in response to the quip.
"Jerk! I don't know how I put up with you sometimes."
"Because you love me," he joked.
This time, she rolled her eyes.
"Yeah, yeah, ya big fuzzball. I promise, Ilses, I'll call you tomorrow!"
"Get going, already. You wouldn't want to make Mr. Lankytrousers wait."
She waved at him as he gazed at her retreating back.
Once she had gone, he sighed, before pulling his coat tighter around himself.
If he was honest with himself, he did feel lonely whenever Nenyl was not around, now that he had grown so accustomed to her presence. She was a daily ray of sunshine intruding upon his previously calm, placid life.
But he knew he could not keep her from her love of pursuing justice, even if he tried. Not that he would. Her ineffable, enduring nature and passion was what drew him to be friends with her in the first place.
And it wasn't exactly in his nature to be selfish.
Sometimes, however, he mulled as he absentmindedly touched the warmth she left behind on his sleeve, he wished that he could be a just a tad more fervent in his desires.
"If only to keep up with that loon," he murmured fondly as he took his first steps into the brisk night air.
"Is this your new book, Ilses?!" Nenyl exclaimed, her legs thumping against the bottom of his couch as she swung them repeatedly.
She was holding, at arms length, a bound volume, the cover of it a dark green.
"Yes," he replied, amused. "I brought it back for you, since I thought you might like it."
"Oh, Ilses, I love all of your books. You're a fantastic writer, you know. Ooh," she said as she flipped back the front cover. "A law drama?! This is so right up my alley-" her breath hitched in her throat.
His finger tapped nervously against the wood of his desk as he awaited her reaction.
"'D-Dedicated to Nenyl Baubles,'" she whispered. "'The one closest to me, who has lifted my world from the bottom up.'"
She slowly turned to gaze at him as he blushed.
"Before...Before I met you, I was usually on my own for most things. Not to say I was completely alone, and in fact, I was at ease with the quiet contentedness that was my life."
He avoided looking at her directly. Besides his family, he had never really gotten close enough to anyone to share his personal insights and insecurities. Nenyl was the first friend that had successfully wormed her way in, stringing along the affection that had since then littered his emotional landscapes. So he was not used to dealing with this situation of laying one's feelings bare.
"But because of you, Nenyl, I've...recently felt motivated as I never had before. You've opened up my horizons, and left me wanting more. You constantly slip your way in and flip all these switches I never knew existed in the first place. It's not been lost on me, how much you've influenced me, Nenyl. Er, I mean, it's not like I've really changed all that much, but," he took a deep breath. "You've become my inspiration. And not just in writing, either."
Fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, he hesitantly glanced at her.
Seeing that she had gone still, and not knowing if that was exactly a good thing or not, he tentatively called out to her.
"Nenyl?"
Without a word, she slowly got up from her perch, and strode silently over to him.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder.
It was a moment before he realized that she was crying.
"Nenyl! Um, don't cry, I-"
"You are..." she sniffled, before continuing. "The most important person in my life, Sartre Ilses."
She didn't say another word, and only continued to grip him with all she had.
He smiled, stroking her golden curls in the soft glow of the lamplight.
The Pomeranian yapped up a storm then slumped as the Firecracker whipped up its own petulant cyclone, nose dribbling, eyes squinting and watering, and then the Dance, oh, the Panic Dance, the robotic churning of the excitable officer, and the dead of night, the darkness of sunglasses, of the walls on every side, closing in on him, impenetrable, all-consuming, he was suffocating, enclosed, trapped, before the air went still as the shot rang out, and then pain, torture, the utter anguish spiking up from where it impaled, but then the shooter, the one who shot, she was also being torn into, the bullet always never ceasing, going around, an eye for an eye? always ricocheting, never halting in its relentless path, ripping into her again and again, and yet again, crushed underneath, the poultry ominously dangling before the crash, the ceaseless revolving door of death but she, SHE wasn't, yet she WAS, but the shock of crimson on her head, it was wrong, all wrong, but how could it, how could it, when he knew it was her, she WAS her and still IS with him, but he couldn't recognize a thing, oh the darkness, it was always, always night and mortality gripped tight with its claws, never relenting, yet always defied- he helped, stood with her - he stood? but was that also wrong? - except was it her? - except was he, HE, he there?
His torso sprang up from the mattress, his eyes wide and throat hoarse. Blearily, Ilses wiped away the sleep still hovering about him.
The images were coming in rapidly now, and he was troubled, to say the least. He didn't have a clue as to what they meant or indicated, and that only rendered him more afraid.
Confusion had taken its toll on him in the recent days, and it was growing difficult. Much more difficult. Because whatever held him bloomed from something or somewhere he could hardly fathom, had no idea about, but still infringing upon him, lacing his memories and experiences, tugging at his consciousness. His stance, his stake, his claim, was now unclear. He was unable to take a stand on who he was anymore. Whatever it was had seized him, gripped him like a vice.
As he exhaled and stood to get ready for the day, he could only hope it wouldn't throttle him in the meantime.
"Hey," Nenyl cast him a concerned glance. "Is there something wrong?"
Walking beside her, Ilses turned towards her at her query, but upon seeing a flash of red in place of the usual yellow, he visibly flinched and immediately faced away.
"W-What makes you say that?" he tried to laugh off.
She frowned.
"I can tell something's up. What is it? You know you can tell me anything, right, Ils? If there's something bothering you, just lay it on me!" she grinned, pounding the side of her fist into her chest. "That's what friends are for, y'know?"
"I-I'm fine," he attempted to smile in response. "Really, Nenyl. I'm okay. O-Oh, by the way! Ms. Koldjaw called your cellphone last night when you were out cold on my couch from that movie marathon. She said to tell you to call her back to help tidy up some last minute matters regarding that murder case from a few weeks ago."
She worried her lip, recognizing that he was merely attempting to divert her attention from the topic at hand, but relented with a sigh. She figured that he would tell her when he was ready.
Realizing what he just uttered, however, she groaned.
"Mia called? Great, I bet it's just to snare me back into the office to tackle that maelstrom of paperwork, probably having to do Tearson's upcoming prison transferal. Hey," she chewed her lip in thought. "Having to deal with a whole bunch of scattered, strewn papers and files is kinda like doing a puzzle, isn't it?" Her eyes twinkled in mischief. "And I know how you like your puzzles, Sart. I know, I know, I'm such a generous soul for even allowing this, but I suppose you can come with."
She exhaled daintily, in feigned exasperation.
Half-heartedly, he chuckled. He indeed, enjoyed puzzles more than the average man, even having integrated some in a few of his novels, (no doubt that was how Nenyl first found out about this interest of his) and it was just like her to employ it to her advantage like this.
"I've come along before, if you'll recall. And if I remember correctly, your paperwork was less of a puzzle and more of an utterly unsalvageable mayhem. Puzzles aren't meant to be impossible, after all."
She clasped her hands together in front of him as she jutted her lower lip in a pout.
"Pleeeeeeeeaaaaase, Ilses? I don't know if I can live to the end of the day if I had to do it all by my lonesome. I might just perish of exhaustion, and you wouldn't want that on your conscience, now would you?"
"I suppose not," he remarked, a genuine smile finally tugging at his lips. "If you so stubbornly insist, I guess I'll have to accompany you, loath as I am to do so."
He knew that it was not a question of if, but when he would cave. He always did, when it came to her.
She snickered as she swiveled around to face him on the sidewalk, curling her hands into fists and placing them at either hip.
"I knew you'd come around! Come on, I'll let ya nibble on some cat treats in the office- hey, are you sure you're okay?!" she practically demanded near the end.
For Ilses had paled considerably, his eyes wide, his fingers outstretched and trembling at his side.
That posture. The confidence it exuded. A phantom police emblem emblazoned on her front, blue spilling around to complete the image. And then that inevitable, unceasing shock of red.
His innards rumbled with it, his mind wracked with it. She - but who, why did she stand in place of - and the notions she brought and wrought cascading around him, all-encompassing.
"I'm fine," he rasped, a bead sweat trickling down to his jaw. "Let's hurry. We've probably got a lot to get through."
He hastily brushed past her, clenching his teeth all the while.
"Ilse-" she breathed, reaching a futile hand towards his retreating back.
Biting her lip, she could only furrow her brows in confusion and worry before chasing after him.
"Ilses!" she hollered, slamming her fist repeatedly into his apartment door. "Open up! Let me in! Please!"
When no response came, she slumped against the doorframe, her open palm sliding uselessly against it all the way towards the ground.
Sobs began to wrack her body as she whispered, "Please, Ilses. I just...I just want to talk to you. Please, just tell me what's wrong. Don't be like this."
She leapt to her feet, her expression pinpointed into a fierce glare.
"I know you're in there! If it's something that I've done wrong, just tell me and I'll fix it! I beg you! I...I can't take this anymore. We're best friends, Ilses!"
She gulped in heavy breaths, the intensity slowly draining out of her, until she simply dropped clumsily to the floor and began crying.
"Ilses..."
On the other side, back slumped against the door, his form hunched over, Ilses gripped his head in his hands so firmly that his knuckles turned white.
"Why are you avoiding me?" Nenyl desperately asked, knowing that he could hear her. "I can't stand it if you're in pain and I'm not there to help you."
She waited an eternity a second, nearly giving up hope, before he finally deigned to answer.
"Everything is...so confusing. I don't know who I am anymore. I'm being...assaulted by all these sensations. I can't reconcile our own existences with what I see in front of me anymore. There are...people I've never met...deaths I've never known, but still haunt me. I see...you dying...over and over again. But it's not you at the same time. The worst part of all of this is...I can't even seem to grasp who you are to me anymore."
She shook her head furiously.
"I'm Nenyl. I've always been Nenyl," she muttered. "No matter what happens."
The cacophony of images ramming against the interior of his cranium was nearly too much to bear.
"I'm sorry..." he mumbled. "I can't...it's too much..."
His identity, her identity, where they stood, what they stood for - it was all in shambles.
"Please..." he implored. "Please, just leave."
Crestfallen, Nenyl lowered her head in grief.
Devoid of any lingering spirit, she slowly stood up and made her way to the stairwell.
Still slouched against his door, Ilses felt as if he were made of a patchwork quilt. Nothing within him matched or fitted with anything else; it was all crudely fashioned together, and he had no bearings, no starting point. Forced into some mish-mash of ideals that he weren't sure were his own, actions he never remembered, - but he could - so unlike the perfect, flawless puzzles he delighted in.
Unfamiliar friends, far-fetched interactions; they all became a blur, they all clawed at his innards, never ceasing, never letting his own identity leak out.
The darkness and the death were so prevalent. People taking their last breaths right in front of his eyes, their very lives whisked away, until he stepped in - stepped in? Stepped in how? - but one stood prominent against all the others.
The strands of red, the proud guffaw, the familiar posture, the hands on the hips.
The eternity of night would never, ever end, and she, she would always succumb. That meant he failed, right? He failed to save her. But then how-
A shuddering breath convulsed his body.
The swirling confusion, the mass hysteria reigning war in his mind.
Where did it end? What did any of it come to?
And where, just where, did they stand?
It was agony.
Hell had no anesthetic, it seemed.
Nenyl sniffed, trudging her way slowly from Ilses' apartment lobby.
Never before had Ilses shut her out so thoroughly. They had had fights, but they weren't anything like this. This wasn't an altercation, and they couldn't merely resolve things with apologies, no matter how heartfelt and sincere they were. Something was seriously, seriously wrong.
Her heart clenched. She was tortured by the fact that he was dealing with pain that she knew nothing about. She wanted to be there to help him, damn him!
She picked up on the signs ages ago. His inner turmoil was evident to her even back then, but she did nothing.
Seething, furious with herself, she squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her teeth as she neared her home. A few stray tears dribbled free from their confines.
Understandably, she was too preoccupied to notice the steady clack of leather shoes behind her, inching ever closer.
Blearily, almost unable to form a coherent thought, Ilses blinked and glanced up at the chatter of the television when he heard a familiar name uttered.
"...Jeig Hedge Tearson, who was found guilty of murder several weeks prior, in the midst of being transported, has escaped from the prisoner transfer vehicle and is considered armed and extremely dangerous. We highly advise citizens to halt any and all business outside immediately, and remain at home until the situation has settled. We will update you on the progress of the ongoing pursuit, and-"
Even through his torment, Ilses could feel the gears churning in his head.
Unless he was sorely mistaken, Tearson was the criminal that Nenyl had prosecuted. He even remembered the day he tagged along to help her with the paperwork regarding his transferal. If Tearson had indeed escaped, Ilses could only imagine his utmost priority having something to do with taking revenge on those who had wronged him. The image of a blithe and cheerful face arrived, first and foremost, in the front of his distressed mind, dulling out the pain for a brief moment.
"Nenyl," he whispered, before stumbling to his feet.
Gritting his teeth, steeling himself against the inner discord, he lurched towards his door and swung it open.
Unable to think straight among the turbulent recesses of his consciousness, Ilses repeated the one name dearest to him.
"Nenyl."
The frosty clamp of fear seized her heart even as she glared defiantly at the man who had backed her into the wall of her own home.
She cursed herself for her own carelessness. How she could miss this haggard ruffian stalking her the entire way back was beyond her.
Said ruffian merely sneered in greeting, a jagged grin splitting his countenance. His skin was a sickly pale, to the extent that it appeared nearly blue.
"How're you getting along, sister? Things going well f'r you, I hope?" he conversed casually as his blistered thumb played nonchalantly with slide of his pistol.
"Jeig Tearson..." she growled.
"Now," he continued as if she had said nothing. "I'm a relatively straightforward man. The kind of guy who likes things done clean and crisp, you get my drift? Naturally, this won't be any different. Just stay still and don't squirm around, and it'll be over in a second. I don't have the best vision, so you can understand if it'll get a bit messy if you choose to be difficult."
Done fiddling with the weapon, he gripped it and brought it level with Nenyl's forehead. Standing a few away, he chuckled.
"Should've thought twice before landin' me in jail, sister."
"You should have thought twice before murdering someone in cold blood," she replied, hardening her gaze. "You really believed you would get off with the astronomical amount of evidence against you?"
"Ah well," he shrugged. "Guess none of us are perfect. It's been pleasant chattin', but a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do, hm?"
Tearson steadied his aim, his terrible grin still in place.
Nenyl urged and pulled at and willed her muscles to obey her. Sprint, charge, duck, anything would do. But it was futile. Her feet were rooted to the ground.
"So long, sister."
His icy finger curled around the trigger, the tension prepared, his notions of revenge about to be sated.
A deafening crunch of metal on flesh resounded, Nenyl winced in pain as a shot rang out, and Tearson toppled to the ground, unconscious, the tip of his handgun scalding to the touch. A trickle of blood seeped from the back of his head where he had been struck.
Behind where he fell, the heavy table lamp, the bottom of which was now marred with crimson, tumbled from Ilses' fingers. He himself was breathing heavily.
Nenyl collapsed to her knees, finding that her legs suddenly weren't working properly.
"Ilses..." she whispered, hardly daring to believe her eyes.
He stared at her, clumsily kicking aside Tearson's weapon, before slumping to the ground himself.
"Ilses!"
Nenyl scrambled to her feet, this time demanding her limbs to move, her own physical condition be damned, and hurried over to him.
Ilses scrabbled fiercely at his own head, paralyzed by his internal bedlam.
"Are you...hurt...?" he barely managed to wheeze despite himself.
Nenyl shook her head, tears glistening in the corners of her eyes.
"I've only got a scratch, thanks to you. He missed; the bullet hardly grazed my shoulder. I-I'll call Cabe to come take this louse back to prison."
Even in the midst of the crisis she had only just barely averted as well as Ilses' obvious dilemma, she smiled, so relieved as she was to finally see him.
"That makes it, what, the sixth time you've saved my life?"
Her tone was lighthearted, but as soon as the words left her lips, both of them froze.
Ilses slowly tilted his head to look at her.
"What...did you just say?"
"I...I don't-" Suddenly breathing just as heavily as he was, Nenyl grasped his hand in her own.
"For-For the life of me, I can't..." she trailed off, still in the throes of some jumbled vagueness.
He licked his dry lips, hardly daring, scarcely believing; it was inconceivable, it was nonsensical, it was out of place, out of touch, the implications swirling, the ramifications leaving him reeling.
And then, the memories blared at them, at long last, full force, akin to a meteor shower.
"Lynne," came his whisper.
Her sapphire depths widened.
"I- Oh my God. Oh my God, Sissel."
And she tackled him to the ground without another word.
"I told you! I freaking TOLD you! I told you told you told you! I knew it. I knew it all along. I kept saying it from the beginning! You are a cat! You are!" she exclaimed, extraordinarily gleeful.
"I was a cat. There's a difference, Ms. Red-Headed Detective."
"I don't care. I was right the entire time. Score one for Nenyl!" she pumped her fist in triumph.
"If I'm the cat, shouldn't I be the one on your lap?" he quipped, raising an eyebrow.
"Oh, hush," she replied, snuggling her head under his chin from her place on his haunches.
He adjusted his position on the couch, before hesitating.
"Nenyl," he began. "Are we...is this okay? We've lived entire lives before arriving to where we are now. I'm glad we've straightened some things out about who we are, but we were completely separate people once. Er, in my case, a completely separate feline. Once upon a time, we were Lynne and Sissel."
"You worry too much, Ils," she said, swinging her legs idly from her perch on top of him. "What matters is that you and me, we're both here and kicking. You're Ilses, and I'm Nenyl, first and foremost. We are them, in a way, but it shouldn't make a spit bit of difference. We've made peace with the memories of our past lives. They aren't here, but they can continue through us. And we can live for ourselves."
"I still can't believe you died because of a giant chicken. Of all the things."
She craned her neck to glare at him, before blowing him a raspberry.
"You are so not as adorable as you used to be," she pouted.
As he smiled complacently, Ilses pondered the strength of a bond that outlasted time itself.
"Hey, Nenyl," he paused sheepishly. "Is it cheating if I use that night from when I was a ghost as material for my next novel? Because I sort of forgot, what with all the recent excitement, that my deadline is approaching."
She laughed.
"I've never met a guy with so many self-confidence issues!"
"Er-"
"I mean, first you thought you had pointy-hair, then you ditch the red suit when you realize you aren't even human-"
"Uh, Nenyl-"
"And now that you are a human, you get confused about why you have memories of being a cat! Talk about an identity crisis!"
"Your milk is spilling."
"Gah!"
Encounters were fleeting, but souls were enduring.
It was because of this that Sartre Ilses had already long since learned the lesson that it was no use crying over spilt milk.
And he was all too pleased to point that out.
Author's Note:
There! *Gasp* *Wheeze* What a doozy. I had to drag this one out of me by the gosh-darned entrails. But I've finally done it. Gawd. This is the longest oneshot I've ever written, period, standing at a whopping near-eight thousand words. Anyone who's familiar with the fics I've written so far can probably tell I'm way too obsessed with plots having to do with reincarnation. I mean, just...the potential, y'know? It's so tantalizing. Yum. Er, yeah, I realize that Sissel ended up technically immortal, what with the Temsik fragment lodged in his little kitty body, but it's too sad for me to think that he would live forever, right? So just roll with it.
For those wanting a list of the various anagrams and butchered mutilations of all the characters' names, here it is:
Nenyl = Lynne - I mean...duh.
Sartre Ilses = Sissel - If you rearrange Ilses, it becomes Issel, so S. Issel. Sissel. LOLDON'TKILLMEPLEASE.
Cabe Anella = Cabanela - Okay, really? If you didn't get this one, then I honestly have nothing to say.
Mia Koldjaw = Kamila Jowd - Rearrange the letters. Go on! And to those of you coming from a Phoenix Wright background and thought it was a reference to Mia Fey, I say HA! Because it totally wasn't.
Jeig Hedge Tearson = Near-Sighted Jeego - Er, I was trying to be subtle about the references to his skin and eyesight in the fic, but really, I think I was about as subtle as a brick.
And that about wraps it up. I had a ton of fun-stress writing this absolute roller-coaster, so I hope you enjoyed it! Leave some feedback and tell me what you thought!
Random quotation of the day:
"You can't milk those!" -Alistar, League of Legends
I giggled when I put this in as the quotation for this fic.