For Once, Then, Something

by Sora G. Silverwind

He says: There is something you want to know. She says: Why did you kill me?

For Once, Then, Something
by Sora G. Silverwind

Summary: He says: "There is something you want to know." She says: "Why did you kill me?"

Rating: PG-13/T for language, suggestive jokes/situations, and unhappy things.

Author's notes: Both the Starlight chapter for Fateful Meetings and my NaNoWriMo project were pissing me off, so you get random stuff between Regulus and Zoniha. Takes place maybe a year or so after TSA? Something like that? I don't know? El oh el?

Also, present tense sucks. But it seemed like it would fit better for this fic, so neener neener, deal with my convoluted attempts to create a consistent tense and flailingly obvious subtlety. Watch out for haphazardness and those dang river-rapids-of-consciousness: I wrote the vast majority of the fic at two in the morning and continued for three hours straight before surrendering, and then ultimately went through two and half drafts adding and bahleeting stuff. Words, words, words...

Because I have way too much time on my hands, there are a number of things about Regulus and Zoniha's backstory (among other things) that get mentioned in here. They have varying levels of explanation, ranging from blatant infodumping to being left dangling in the conversation. Some stuff is also based on things from Fateful Meetings...maybe?

Disclaimer: Don't own Zoniha or Regulus. Do own their mutated human versions, whom you'll read about very soon...if you dare.

B-O-M-B

"Once, when trying with chin against a well-curb,
I discerned, as I thought, beyond the picture,
Through the picture, a something white, uncertain,
Something more of the depths—and then I lost it.
Water came to rebuke the too clear water.
One drop fell from a fern, and lo, a ripple
Shook whatever it was lay there at the bottom,
Blurred it, blotted it out. What was that whiteness?
Truth? A pebble of quartz? For once, then, something."

-Robert Frost, "For Once, Then, Something"

"I made no advances to her, but she accepted them."

-Maurice Sceve

B-O-M-B

She says: "You should go out more."

What she means, of course, is that he should go out more with her.After all, Regulus leads a busy and exciting enough life out in the world as the head of the Obsidian Phoenix crime syndicate in Cerbera, what with meeting with associates and subordinates every couple of nights and dodging the bullets, knives, or fists of rivals at every possible moment. He doesn't look like the usual image of a crime boss, preferring jeans and other informal apparel in dark blues and blacks over expensive suits in flashy patterns, and he's young in appearance—twenty-four or so. Regulus, in fact, looks like he belongs more in a gang of street punks, if anything. But underestimating his abilities on the basis of his looks alone is a large reason that he's been able to climb the ranks and keep on climbing. And for someone who casually took on the job because he had nothing better to do after killing the previous head of the syndicate in a carefully planned fit of revenge, he is diligent and impressively competent at what he does...if not necessarily enthusiastic about his work like others might be.

"And where, exactly, do you suggest I go out to?" Regulus asks, not looking up from the file folder he is perusing at the kitchen table.

Zoniha shrugs. She is seated at the granite bar counter nearby on a metal bar stool, wearing a light gray track sweater-and-pants ensemble over a pink tank top with white running shoes. "Anywhere that's not this condo?" Not that she can blame him if he wanted to stay in the condo for life. It is one of the most luxurious and expensive high-rise properties people can get their hands on in downtown Cerbera. Besides featuring a large private balcony and a view of Lake Hektaion, it is spacious and outfitted with the latest in housing developments and technology. Anyone would kill for it. Many people had tried to. All of them had been soundly defeated by Regulus—and he hadn't even had to use his elemental powers.

"That's not the most specific of directions, you realize."

"Oh, I'm sorry—I wasn't aware that real men like you ever asked for directions!"

The lighthearted joke disguises an old frustration (or overreaction) of Zoniha's. With few exceptions, she has been the one to call the shots in the relationship—whatever kind of screwed-up relationship it is that she's managed to piece together with him over the years. Under other circumstances, she might relish such potential for power-tripping. In this instance, though, it pisses her off thrice to the abyss and back with a side of resentment, because she knows that whatever it is that she's got power over here, it's superficial and petty. She feels like a child being coddled and spoiled.

She's torn between wishing she could control Regulus...and wishing Regulus would control her.

He says: "I suppose you're not inclined to go out on your own anytime soon, are you?"

Her presence simultaneously calms and unnerves him. Perhaps it is merely in coordination with her light element, which stands in such stark opposition to the shadows he embodies an controls. The balance between the two is tenuous and ambivalent. He needs enough of the light to exist, but too much and he's blinded. Regulus wonders if Zoniha has ever considered this possibility. He figures that she has; she's intelligent and perceptive enough to have thought of something, even without him spelling things out for her.

Alternatively, maybe he's just sulking at the thought of dealing with the emotions that she's always awakened in his soul...among other places.

"What? Trying to get rid of this Zoniha already?" Zoniha asks, her eyes sparkling. "It's been barely two weeks, and I've haunted you for way longer than that."

Understatement of the century. The longest that Zoniha's ever stayed with him under the same roof is seven years to the day that he bailed her out from Madam Lo's. And she seems to have taken a liking to the arrangement, considering that even after she first got a place of her own, she frequently stayed at his place at scattered intervals throughout the year. He'd never objected.

"I'm merely saying that you should not feel you need to keep me company while I'm trying to figure out how to deal with Don Luigi," Regulus says. Though it's not like he would mind if she did.

She says: "Oh, please! All work and no play leaves quite the spiked stick up your ass."

Zoniha wants to believe that it's more than work that makes him tense. She wants to believe that he's always felt something towards her, something that might be similar to concern and fondness (or the combination of these two emotions that engenders a certain dirty four-letter word), but not quite those things because Regulus is a strange individual who seems to function on an entirely different level from even the rest of the Elemental Knights, never mind mere mortals. She wants to believe that the slight awkwardness between them (and it's there, mind you, though it's hidden well under years of experience that belie the youthful appearance of these two) is mutual, and not just a hallucination on her part.

Shemust matter to him to some degree, Zoniha thinks. Why else would he have dropped the cash to get her out of Madam Lo's, and then helped her make a life for herself without asking for compensation at all? There have been only two main exceptions to this—and interestingly enough, they are the only two times that Regulus had called on her at Madam Lo's before bailing her out.

But the hazy, pseudo-sensual world of Madam Lo's is at least seventy years dead now. Things can and do change, without care. The problem is that Zoniha isn't entirely sure what's changed or when. She is the closest living person to Regulus as far as she can tell, and yet she feels sometimes that he's a stranger to her: the true definition of a walking enigma. She can only conjecture and ponder, with little help from Regulus himself. And for all her bravado about the inferiority of anything stupid enough to keep the family jewels outside, for all the self-confidence she projects without even trying, she's been too scared to actually askRegulus for answers...particularly to a certain question that's been plaguing her ever since their time in the BHB Army.

This current visit is an attempt to rectify that last bit.

He says: "You're implying that you are to be the one to provide me with the 'play' I'm so sorely lacking in?"

Regulus knows that Zoniha's mind will have a field day with the double meanings of his question. He's much less willing to admit that of his own mind.

"Oh, sure, now you decide you want some of that," Zoniha says, hopping off the barstool. She sits next to Regulus, leaning close enough to invade his personal space without actually touching him. The sensation is more frustrating than he'd like. "For all the trouble you've caused me, I might have to charge my old rates for it! Not that it would make a dent in an of your bank accounts."

To this day, Regulus hasn't been able to articulate why he never slept with Zoniha the two times he'd called on her at Madam Lo's, even though that would have been the sole reason that anyone would have visited her there. Other patrons paid through the nose and more specifically for a chance to taste of her supposed exoticism. Regulus, on the other hand, had dropped in simply to ask Madam Lo a couple of questions about an associate's murder, but she instead presented him with the menu of luscious girls who would serve his every whim. All for a price, of course. And Zoniha's price happened to be at least ten times that of the other girls. Upon asking the madam why Zoniha's services were expensive, he'd been promptly ushered upstairs to find out for himself.

Regulus had supposed (correctly) that part of it must have had to do with her looks: those rose pink eyes in a pleasing face, perfect skin the color of buttermilk, a figure to make the love goddess Istaria jealous, and tresses of gleaming, lavender-white hair. He'd also assumed that she must have had substantial bedroom skills as well, but he didn't find out firsthand until much later. For that night, he'd chosen to discourage any sort of seduction on her part (why? Don't ask why, for that goes into sensations and memories that Regulus prefers to forget), and instead requested conversation about any topic that came to mind. As the night went on, he'd soon begun to entertain the vague notion that Zoniha was not meant for life in Madam Lo's. It may have been that his old soul had unconsciously recognized the sister Elemental Knight in Zoniha. He dislikes the metaphysicality of that explanation, but he hasn't come up with any other (personally acceptable) alternative other than "it seemed like an amusing idea at the time."

Not that he's thought very deeply about it on a regular basis.

"You are, as always, free to do as you please," Regulus answers, briefly noticing the flowery scent that floats off Zoniha. It's a pleasant scent, and subtle. "But I never thought you were so badly off that you would need to return to that sort of life."

She says: "You really need to stop taking everything so seriously."

The lone exception, of course, being their ambiguous relationship. Or their ambiguous not-a-relationship. Whatever it is, Zoniha is sure that if Regulus would just take it seriously (what the hell does that even mean in this situation? she suddenly wonders), they'd both be the better for it.

Right?

"The life I've ended up in doesn't let me take things otherwise," says Regulus.

"Hmm. Do I make the joke now, or in bed?"

"...as you wish."

No, it shouldn't be "as she wishes," Zoniha thinks angrily to herself, because she knows full well what she wishes, and has known for at least the past half a century or so. She wants to know whatRegulus wishes, dammit! But he never gives her much to go on, and Zoniha can never decide if he's doing it on purpose or if he's really just that apathetic. Through the years, she's been constantly struck with the hard irony of the fact that the single man she would give nearly anything to please is the one who—for whatever reason—won't let her do anything of the sort.

Out loud, she responds, "Them's dangerous words."

"No more dangerous than the streets of Cerbera."

The only conversation now is between the air conditioner and the elevated train tracks a couple of stories below. Regulus finishes reading the last few papers in the file folder, then gets up and goes to the fridge to refrigerate the bottle of raspberry iced tea he half-finished while doing his work.

He says: "Would you like something to drink?"

Zoniha answers in the affirmative for this question, but Regulus suspects that there's something else she'd like that has nothing to do with the brief exchange of suggestive dialogue they'd had earlier, and everything to do with a certain something that happened back in their encounter of the BHB kind. It's nothing that he hasn't been expecting for a while already, but if she does choose to bring that up, well...he's in for a long night.

He calmly fetches a can of Zoniha's favorite brand of beer (which he stocks only for her and other guests he might have, for he hates the stuff with a passion) and sets it down in front of her at the kitchen table. He heads to the living room to lie down on a black leather couch, closing his eyes and crossing his arms lightly over his chest.

Zoniha opens the can and takes a long gulp, burping loudly after she does so. She goes to sit down on the ottoman positioned right in front of the couch Regulus is reclined upon; her knees are right next to his head. She gently brushes away a few strands of indigo-black hair from his face before simply resting her hand on top of his head. The tender weight of her hand is comforting. "You've been slaving away all day," she says. "Do you want me to leave you alone until tomorrow?"

No, he thinks to himself.

"I don't care," he says to her.

Zoniha's hand momentarily tenses, as though she's going to rip through his skull with her painted nails, and Regulus wonders what's got her upset all of a sudden.

She says: "Well, since you don't care, this Zoniha will bother you for a little while longer."

She's downed half of her beer already. She thinks she'll need the temporary insanity that alcohol frequently bestows upon people to do what she wants to do tonight.

Not yet, though. Right now she just wants to marvel at how astonishinglyvulnerable Regulus looks when he's sleeping. Even though he's just technically just lying down with his eyes closed. But even when deep within a true night's slumber, Zoniha's always been able to detect an aura of awareness around him that practically spells instant death for anyone who would think to sneak up upon him in sleep. Always on the edge, anytime and anywhere and about anything—a pretty good way of describing him, she thinks.

Zoniha finishes the last of her drink.

He says: "There is something you want to know."

She only laughs. "What are you, a fortune cookie?"

Regulus can sense, though, that he's hit a mark. Not that it had been necessarily difficult to do so given the stark obviousness of what had transpired way back when. But he's startled at his own initiative to openly acknowledge the...thing...that's been bobbing between them like a corpse in water. For a fleeting moment, he has the notion that he wants to rinse himself of something unclean and sinful. Then he decides that he had simply wanted to ensure that Zoniha would cease dancing around the issue longer than necessary...never mind that he himself had flat out run away from it. (Regulus does more running than he would first have you believe, you see.)

"You're right, though," Zoniha continues in a more solemn tone. "There are...many things...that this Zoniha wants to know." She sets her empty beer can on the white coffee table.

Still reclined, still with closed eyes, Regulus mentally prepares himself.

"For example..." With a slap faster than her element, Zoniha crushes the beer can beneath her hand—KA-SMACK!—and Regulus is startled into a sitting position, nearly falling off the couch. "Will Zhael ever get it on with that adorable little Bomberman? She was quite taken with him once she got over Rukifellth, you understand."

As a matter of fact, Regulus doesn't. He blinks at Zoniha, making sure he had heard her correctly. "You...expect me to know something about this?" he asks slowly.

"Of course not!" Zoniha takes the flattened can and flips it in the air like a coin, then tosses it carelessly into a decorative bowl on the coffee table. "You said that there's something I want to know. This Zoniha simply confirmed that statement for you."

"Is that all you want to know?"

"Not at all! I'm a curious little kitty, as you might already be aware. Another thing I'd like to know is..."

Regulus readies himself again.

"...if I'm the only one who thinks that Behemos' overprotectiveness of darling Moira borders on romantic jealousy."

Well,that's an image Regulus doesn't need. "I've no thoughts on that, nor do I care to offer any," he intones, leaning back on the couch and crossing his arms.

"Spoilsport. Then you wouldn't happen to have any thoughts on who's going to win the regional tag team fighting tournament this season, would you? My bet's on the Elysinia Furies, but the Bulldogs seem to be putting on a better show than last year..."

"Styx City Skulls."

"And you would know this because...?"

"Basrick's going to fix the match," Regulus says, referring to one of his subordinates.

"Of course." Zoniha rolls her eyes and shrugs in surrender. "Thanks a lot. You just lost this Zoniha fifty galactic gold."

"Do you disapprove of such a motion?"

"I 'disapprove' of losing my money, you jackass!"

Regulus smiles ever, ever so slightly.

Zoniha follows up with a much brighter smile.

She says: "Why did you kill me?"

"You were in the way," he replies immediately.

Her smile fades. "Of what?"

"Bomberman."

"Our orders were to kill him on sight. I was doing my job."

"Of course. It was simply that I saw him first—far before any of you."

This is not new information to Zoniha. She has, in fact, heard it all before—in her last moments before death on Epikyur. The implications of the revelation were, and are, devastating to her. For it meant that everything Regulus had done within the BHB Army—including her death by black hole—had been done in full possession of his reasoning capabilities. And by virtue of him repeating the information he had imparted to her on Epikyur, there seems to truly be nothing more to it than that.

Is that all I am to you—an obstacle? Zoniha thinks in despair. Is that why you've never let me come close to you, and pushed me away whenever I tried to do so? It doesn't make sense to her, considering the exteme leniency with which he has always allowed her to accompany him. And yet it does make sense, because Regulus is pragmatic to a fault, and it must be true, because how else could he have answered her question so quickly, with all the authority in the heavens and with all the finality of death? It doesn't occur to her in her distressed state that perhaps he has been anticipating the question for a while already, and has formulated a standard response (read: recycling his words) should the question ever be asked.

Zoniha feels silly for being upset. For all that she admires him and cares about him, she enthusiastically informs others of the irrefutable fact that Regulus is an arrogant, self-serving, cold-hearted son-of-a-bitch. She's had enough opportunities to be familiar with his callousness, or to be a victim of it as the circumstances sometimes were. Yet she's been (mostly) convinced that those qualities didn't really apply to her, not in the same way that they did for other people that he knew or knows. Not because Regulus has ever told her such, but because she's been forced to put together the little emotional puzzle pieces that he drops every once in a blue moon, and that has been the part of the whole picture that's revealed itself to her in the process. Zoniha's always known that she's been missing something...but now she's wondering just how much of the picture she's missing.

"You could have talked to me, you know," she says tightly, trying her best not to show how crushed she is in front of this proud, incorrigible man. "Or at least killed me with something more humane than Searing Night!"

He says: "Perhaps, like you, I was simply caught up in the thrill of the hunt."

Regulus will be the first to say, with pride, that he had resisted Sthertoth's brainwashing. What he will be much less willing to confess is that, although he had fended off direct mind control, he had still been negatively influenced just by Sthertoth's mere presence, possibly even more so as a result of his darkness element resonating with the demon god's poisonous aura. Sthertoth's presence had lowered his inhibitions to more destructive, impulsive tendencies...which had culminated in the act of carelessly killing a woman he cared about in some (not so?) vague, amorphous degree.

But he can't bring himself to say any of this to Zoniha, even if it would mean getting her to stop staring at him like that. (Like what, you ask? Like heartbroken Eurydice when she realizes that her beloved Orpheus has disobeyed a command from above, giving into his deepest desires and thus—with a glance—condemning her forever to the darkness of the underworld. Or so it would be if the Prince of Shadows knew of the myth.) He rarely admits weakness even to her; especially to her, it seems. For whatever reason, Regulus sometimes feels that it is for Zoniha's sake above anything else that he must always be strong. It's nonsense, of course: Zoniha is too spirited and powerful to require such chivalry.

Most of the time.

"And that's all you can say to me?" Zoniha demands. Her words ring clear as a bell, her posture is confrontational in a beautifully understated way, and she wears an expression of defiance—standard fare for the Purifying Light. But now there's a delicateness to the way she's clasping her hands that suggests an overall fragility, like paper-thin glass. The effect is only furthered by her pale silhouette. It's a disturbing vision of her.

"It is the truth." What else can he say? He doesn't necessarily like it either, but after multiple periods of reflection over mugs of hot mint chocolate or in the midst of training, Regulus has concluded that such is the complete, total picture of his motivations behind his actions that fateful day. Let it never be said—BHB times aside—that Regulus Solaris is a liar. (Although he is quite well-versed in the art of half-truth-fu.)

Zoniha hisses, "You murdered me."

"I'd be more inclined to define it under a type of manslaughter, since I'd had no intentions of your death initially."

His words, meant as an oblique sort of comfort, seem to absolutely shatter her. The effect is startling. Her shoulders slump with an exhaled sigh, and the mask of defiance falls from her features to reveal a weary ghost of a soul. For the first time ever, Regulus is acutely aware of the full century of life experience that they both share, filled with strife and denied feelings and uncertainties of every sort.

And now he feels old and jaded as well.

She says: "And if I killed you right now, would that classify as self-defense of my remaining dignity?"

She really should kill the bastard, Zoniha thinks, already feeling her elemental aura beginning to sparkle around her in tiny flashes. Had any other man done what Regulus had just done, never mind doing it on a predictable basis without any apparent remorse for the past hundred years, he would have already been strangled with a Photon Lash, if not completely annihilated with Supernova. She has forgiven Regulus his trespasses far too many times already. What has been keeping her from giving him his due all these years?

"I have no answer for that," Regulus says, his shadow aura resonating with her light element. "But I won't begrudge you if you desire to find the answer for yourself right now."

There is something that she remembers, now, something that had broken free of her once she'd fallen into the abyss of despair and pain upon realizing the full reality of her death at his hands. It is the primary thing that has kept her tethered to Regulus all these years, keeps her wanting to be with him and to attempt to make him happy. It is the single point of irrationality that allows her to fully forgive him, time and again, for all of his flaws, drawn even sharper and harsher in him than in most other people.

He had killed her on Epikyur...but Zoniha owes him for her life anyway.

"Forget it," she says quietly, closing her eyes to keep the tears in.

He says: "Whatever for?"

"You'd just kill me again," she answers.

Regulus dislikes this intensely. He dislikes seeing the inner fire of Zoniha's soul in mere embers by this point, hearing the tissue-thin quality of her once proud voice. He is—dare he say it—frightened by this change in Zoniha. He can't recall ever seeing her so broken, even in previous uncomfortable conversations like this one.

Then again, his most heinous offenses against her previously had been mere sins of omission and pretended ignorance of her distress and feelings.

He says, "It would be self-defense if I did."

"Is that all you can say?" Zoniha repeats, startling him with the sudden return of her usual forcefulness.

Regulus turns his palms out to her. "What do you wantme to say?""

She scowls. "Why is it always about what I want?"

Not that he necessarily has extensive personal experience in the matter, but Regulus is almost certain that it's the opposite complaint that enjoys such a good run with wronged women. "I was always under the impression that if anyone tried to cage you in, you would...be very displeased."

Zoniha blinks up at him, startled and confused. (Are those tears he sees? Damn her. Damn everything. What the hell should he do now?)

"You are a woman who knows what she wants, right?" he continues with the barest hitch of hesitation in his voice. "I simply let you have the freedom to satisfy your wants."

She says: "Then why won't you let me have you?"

She vomits the words before she even feels the urge to heave them up.

Zoniha claps both hands to her mouth, horrified. She watches Regulus' face for a change in his expression, any sort of acknowledgment of her words, something that might tell her if she can fix the damage she has done.

He merely turns his head to the side ever so slightly, his gaze fixed on her.

Slowly, as though she is endeavoring not to provoke a wild animal, Zoniha turns away from Regulus, hands still pressed to her mouth lest she hurl out another potentially more humiliating sentiment. It's not that her attraction to him is anything new to either of them: even she knows how obnoxiously loud her body language is. No, the problem now is that she's explicitly acknowledged it to him...and in such plainly pathetic terms. Surely a demigoddess like her should had have a much more graceful expression of complete devotion?

The tears fall freely for the first time in years. She keeps quiet.

Regulus lets out a laugh; Zoniha wants to shove it back down his throat. "I must admit," he says in a more subdued tone, "I have never been able to fully fathom why you've attached yourself to me for so long."

"I..." She can't answer him. She's fully clothed, but she feels so naked with absolutely nothing covering her true feelings for him. Words whirl through her mind, numerous rebukes and smart-ass remarks and trips of logic she's rehearsed and played out in her mind for years, decades. But she can't bring herself to say any of them now.

"Whatever I have done for you, it requires no repayment. We've talked about this before, have we not? You owe me nothing."

She snaps her body around to glare at him. "I owe you everything, you bastard!"

Regulus only regards her with his trademark expression of indifference.

Zoniha really can't figure him out. She just can't. Why isn't he understanding that without that single gesture of buying her freedom, she wouldn't be where she is now? Why can't he seem to accept or understand her gratitude? It doesn't matter why he did it or what he thought it entailed—it just matters that he had done it, and by the Angel she owed him the damn Aethyric Citadel for it! Teeth clenched, breaths heavy, Zoniha is determined to choke the truth out of his lungs.

Instead she gets up and moves to the floor-length window to stare out at Lake Hektaion.

"You don't believe that my murder of you for my personal convenience is enough perceived repayment?" Regulus asks calmly, suddenly right behind her. "Or, perhaps, reason enough for you to forget the silly notion of compensation for a random whim some seventy something years ago?"

Zoniha flinches, because Regulus has a painfully obvious point. (So damn pragmatic, she growls to herself.) Why has she been worrying about returning a favor done so long ago, and not even followed up with other consequent favors over time? Why did he deserve her continual devotion, her kindness in overlooking his mistakes and shortcomings? Oh, but now she remembers the time he spent helping her find an affordable apartment, and the energy he spent teaching her different forms of physical self-defense because the streets of Cerbera were no place for someone that was becoming widely perceived as his mafia mistress, and anyway she seemed to be a natural at such things, and the mysterious bouts of sudden empathy that compelled him to stay with her whenever she had been upset, and all the times that he accepted her into his home for her to stay without explanation, without compensation, and the little thank-you gifts she sometimes received without a card or explanation, but then again she hadn't needed the explanation because she had just known, and...

"I would think that you of all people would have been quite relieved at the idea that I don't require anything from you," he says.

Zoniha bows her head. "I would think so too," she whispers.

But perhaps it's the complete freedom that Regulus gives her in their whatever-it-is that makes Zoniha want to devote herself to him, and to him alone. Enslaved in her freedom, for all the pain, for all the misery, Zoniha remembers the little joys in her time with Regulus, the wonder that he inspires in her...and she knows that she will stay by his side no matter the cost.

He says: "If I ever truly expected anything from you, it's been long since fulfilled."

She stares at him with a tear-streaked face, completely caught off guard. "...what?"

What, indeed. Regulus himself can't believe what he's going to say. He also can't quite believe that it's taken him this long to finally verbalize to himself—never mind to her!—why he's never thought to formally ask her for compensation for anything he might do for her, why he's never thought such a thing was necessary, why he's never, ever tried to (officially) claim her. (He can believe, however, that maybe he's just gotten tired of running from something now, and that he's stopped running because he can finally admit that he...actually...lov—)

His expression doesn't change as he starts to speak the most intimate words he can ever force himself to utter. "Why do you think I bought you your freedom from Madam Lo's? That was no place for someone of your caliber. You are different, and not just by virtue of being an Elemental Knight. You are...worthy."

A pause that Zoniha tries to figure out what he means. "Of you?" she asks, a touch of her usual sarcasm starting to creep back into her words.

Regulus sidesteps directly answering that question. "You are strong, you are powerful, you are intelligent and independent. When I first met you, I felt that you deserved a chance to excel even more so in all of those things." He glances away and back as casually as possible. "I expected great things from you; you gave me great things, and I believe you shall continue to do so. Thus, I would kindly ask—insofar as much that I may ask something of you—that you not martyr yourself over 'owing' me something, because I do not require anything except for you to live your life as you see fit, whatever that may include of your...fancies. Quod est demonstrandum."

Zoniha raises a skeptical eyebrow. She crosses her arms in a deliberate fashion. "Has anyone ever told you that you're damn good with general specifics?"

"No, but I believe you once told me that I was quite the cunning linguist."

(Regulus notices with a twinge of irritation that she still hasn't wiped away the tears on her face. Such a pitiful expression really doesn't become her, he thinks, and he makes a note to himself to never be the one to cause them ever again. How well he'll remember this note...he doesn't know.)

"So, let me get this straight," she begins after sniffling. "You expect me to believe that all of this is because...because you were 'magically' able to foresee my future all those years ago, or something?" She finally laughs, and it's a relief to Regulus to hear that contemptuous vocal harmony once again. "Maybe you are a fortune cookie! A damn hard one to crack open, though. You'd need to be subjected to a sledgehammer. Repeatedly. With great gusto."

A thin smile on Regulus' lips. "Very good. You have enough of your wits about you to mock me. You're not as upset as you would have me believe."

As if suddenly remembering that, yes, she is supposed to be quite the damsel in distress right now, Zoniha drops the cheer, and it shatters loudly in Regulus' mind. She turns back towards the window.

Regulus frowns and runs a hand through his hair. One step forward, three steps back, and a sweep-kick off one's feet onto a board of nails. It is time to go for broke, it seems. He supposes it's truly not much of a leap to do so. And anyway...this is Zoniha. He would never dare to even think to use such a hackneyed phrase like "the literal light of his life" to describe what she is to him...but the sentiment expressed is one that has become rooted very deeply in him, more than he can ever consciously fathom.

Besides, he owes her something, too.

"There are not many things I regret in my life, and you know that full well," he says, not bothering with any sort of transition. "I do not regret getting on Mihaele's bad side, nor do I regret getting into this dangerous life, nor do I regret the number of people I've hurt or killed to keep myself alive.

"But...for whatever use this may be to you...I do regret what I did to you on Epikyur."

Silence dances between them and giggles.

A late-night elevated train rumbles somewhere below.

The air conditioner shuts itself off.

She says: "I suppose this is as good of an answer as I'm ever going to get from you."

In truth, it's far more than she had anticipated—which would sound quite pitiful in any other situation, and maybe it has a touch of the pathetic in this situation as well. But life is a yoga exercise in absolute relativity, and none more so than the life that consists of her existence entwined with his. He hasn't specifically declared undying passion for her, but for someone like him it comes fairly close. His words—awkward and restrained as they are—warm her heart.

"Well, what were you expecting?" Regulus asks.

She turns to him and smiles. "Not a single damn thing."

He says absolutely nothing as he takes her hand and brings her close to him, holding her tightly and without reservation for the first time in a long time.

B-O-M-B

Wow, what a headache. All that solipsizing and drama and you don't even get a lousy T-shirt!

Review if you will, flame if you must.

-Sora G. Silverwind
I'm honest to myself that the truth is, I lied