Responsibility
Summary: There were loose ends to take care of, and someone had to do it.
Arika looked at the hand that still clutched the handle of a broken sword. Her entire arm trembled, and her eyes trailed the lonely droplet of blood that gravity pulled to the ground.
Her baby, cradled to her chest with her left arm, cried incessantly, but she didn't shush him.
She felt much like crying herself.
Her hand took enormous effort to relax, to let her drop the bloodied, broken sword she still held onto, and her knees almost buckled from under her as she slowly knelt, and with great care and caution, placed a kiss that was more a simple, short peck, on her husband's lips as he lay, unconscious. "I love you, idiot," she muttered to herself, before standing up and turning around.
Hanging onto a tattered chain thrown around her waist, a tattered book suddenly sprung to life, and the form of a man, blue of hair and impish of expression, appeared before her, dressed in clothing not too dissimilar to her own, immaculate white robes that concealed all but their heads and hands, at least with the hoods pulled down as they were.
"Are you sure of this?" the blue haired man asked. "You know he'd go with you in a heartbeat, and that this will break his heart," he said.
"I am very sure, yes," the woman replied, nodding her head. "It has to be one of us. Nobody else can do it... and if it has to be anyone... it better be me," she said, her voice steeling into a perfect monotone that showed nothing but absolute and grim determination.
"What about him?" the man asked, gesturing towards the child she held in her arms, both of them, now.
"Much as I am loathe to do such a thing to a child so young I... I cannot bear the thought of being separated from him. Forgive my selfishness, but I cannot bear the thought of my child growing up, without knowing his mother. I know his father. A child would only be a distraction, a weakness... one he cannot afford. And he is not smart enough to leave him with someone responsible and trustworthy."
"That he would," the blue haired man said, chuckling. "But you're just giving him an excuse. He'll come looking for you. And, just between us, I don't believe any of us will be happy with this. I would stop you right now, if I could," he continued, smiling. "And you are certain there's no chance of finding another way?"
"There is no other way, Albireo! My ancestor is my responsibility," she snapped, her eyes narrowed. "And if need be..." she said, glancing down at the child in her arms.
"Do pardon my quoting Nagi, but... this sucks. It really does," Albireo said, frowning clearly, all pretense of his jovial cheer gone. "It doesn't have to be like this. It's not always you who needs to suffer, you know?"
"He gave me happiness, for as short as our time together was. I could ask for no more," she said, neutrally. "I have no regrets," she finished, lifting the child cradled to her chest slightly, placing a kiss on top of his forehead. "I know I have no right as a parent to ask this of you, but... be happy, Negi, that's all I ask of you," she murmured, and the child giggled, reacting to his mother's embrace, warmth and voice.
"Arika..."
The woman shook her head. "I've made my choice, Albireo. Promise me... Promise me you will protect that idiot, like a good pactio partner," she asked, offering him an apologetic and sad smile.
Years later, Albireo placed a hand, thin and paler than he'd been in his own memories, against the clear crystal that held the form of an old enemy, and yet an old friend. "I tried, my friend. I swear I did..." he said, before turning around and leaving, shaking his head as he did. "I wish I could at least say 'I told you so'..."
But there was no one to hear.