'Valediction'

Disclaimer: I do NOT own GH. This reminder is the bane of my existence.

A/N: Crack. This is plotless blabbering on my part, awards to you if you dare proceed. I was actually trying to remove my writer's block for ATCAD when I heard The Script's song: Six Degrees Of Separation. Also, today marks the day when I have completed two absolutely wondeful years at Fanfiction! Thanks to all those supported my stories throughout these years, I've learned so much ever since I became a part of this community! Love to you all!

valediction

noun val·e·dic·tion \ˌva-lə-ˈdik-shən\

an act of bidding farewell

Stage 1 –

Contrary to popular belief and the not-so subtle gossip that was exchanged at his office, he did not return to England nursing a broken heart…

"Noll? Would you pass that blue file here?"

How the idiots at work could even conjure something as pathetic as that was truly remarkable; he had always thought they envisioned him as the heartless bastard he was, an image he'd perfected over years. It was surprising how one measly rejection had made the façade crack until it was reduced to nothing but shards.

He did not stay to collect the pieces.

Oliver had always been too impatient for that unlike his twin… he had never been the one to mourn over something damaged.

Even if it was his battered pride.

"You need to spend more time with Luella. She's lost one son – don't make her feel like she's lost you too."

He would make himself another role while he was musing in England and he would come up with something stronger, tougher, certainly not broken by the tears of temperamental assistants. Although when one thought about it, he was not sure if he would ever be moved by the tears of anyone but her. Truly, she knew all the ways to manipulate him into doing what she liked, which was often more amusing than annoying – the way she knew what went on his mind, the way she could gather and turn everyone against him with that one dynamic smile; she'd managed to put a spell on Lin as well and more than often he found Lin turning against him in favour of her.

"Noll?"

Her smile was so bright that he had blinked twice when she had turned it on to him for the first time. He'd seen women smiling in his direction ever since he turned fifteen; sly, elegant, flirtatious, charming smiles that he'd returned with his customary smirk.

Then he couldn't understand what was so special about that crooked, lopsided grin that made his thought process halt for many good seconds.

"Noll?"

Snapping out of his thoughts, he turned to Madoka who looked as if she had been calling his name for quite some time – he finally turned his attention towards her, tearing his unseeing eyes from the open file in front of him.

"Hmm?"

He watched Madoka's weary stance blossom to vibrant excitement.

"You're brooding…" Her voice held a wonderment to which he rolled his eyes. "My God. So it's true!"

"What is?"

Madoka paused in the middle of punching a number in her phone and turned to him, a wide smile on her face.

She winked. "You're heartbroken!"

Not this again.

He'd had enough of Lin's irritating, probing question which had ended rather abruptly when he had managed to frost a teacup by his PK, letting him know how irritated he was by Lin acting like his bloody therapist.

Desperate times called for desperate measures…

"Musing is a sign of intelligence." He snapped shut the file in front of him and leaned back in his chair, meeting Madoka's awed gaze with resolution. "One I would highly recommend to you."

For a moment, the woman in front of him paused, her eyes scanning his face for any emotion, he stared back as impassively and watched as a sage look made its way into Madoka's expression.

"Men only sigh, brood and grouse when a woman tramples on their fragile hearts and useless ego."

He could only try to restrain the exhausted sigh that was threatening to leave him; his mentor should have been in the theatre, her skills were sadly wasted in the paranormal department, for sure.

"Excuse me, darling." She patted his shoulder sympathetically, pushing back her chair to stand up. "But this is a development I need to inform Luella of."

He scowled at her retreating form.

He was not heartbroken.

I'm a heartless bastard, he felt like reminding Madoka who was waltzing her way down the corridor, humming to some soppy melody, that narcissist jerk who has an inflated ego. Remember me?

He needed to come up with a plan and fast, if he wanted to erase the suspicion that he had broken his heart preceding his arrival. He did not need his mother asking him presumptuous questions about a girl who, perhaps, loved his dead brother.

Though why the memory of Mai's smile haunted each day of his, each night - he did not know.

The only thing he did not doubt was the present, intact condition of his hypothetical heart.

He was obviously, definitely not heartbroken…

And that was all there was to this story.

Stage 2 –

He convinced himself that the picture on his desk was due to the infernal interference and nagging of Luella and Madoka.

Certainly not because he wanted it there.

The picture caught the light that shone through the glass windows, the metal framework on the edges glinted brightly and he convinced himself that it was the light hurting his eyes that caused him to blink and turn away from the image.

Certainly not because he caught her smiling broadly at him from her place in the photo…

All day long he worked – studiously kept himself immersed in his files, put cases together, solved the puzzles, had lunch in the name of shuffling food on his plate and managed to never, even once, look at the icon on his desk.

And then, when he did glance, almost accidentally, he found himself turning away once more. He still did not regret his return but maybe he did regret ending things the way he had, he could have found a tactful way to deal with the whole situation but he had been so obsessed with getting Gene's body back to England that he could not think outside that sphere.

Until she'd confessed.

And he'd been rejected.

"Oliver." A baritone voice cut into the dense mass of his thought. He looked up to see Lin entering the office, briefcase in one hand and coat in the other. The Chinese looked around the mess on his desk until his eyes caught the photo, unsmiling, he picked it up and his mouth kicked up into something like a smirk.

"Nice."

Naru snorted as he collected his coat, choosing not to comment as Lin's eyes raked over the frame.

"They're already betting that you've got a girlfriend." Lin gestured to the office outside the glass doors, setting the frame back on his table. "And that she's left you for someone more expressive."

"Really?" He tried to make his voice sound as disinterested as possible, Lin had an uncanny penchant for extracting wanted information from people by just a single clue. "Who's winning?"

He looked up after tossing his files into his briefcase and found that Lin was smiling wolfishly.

"I am."

"I don't understand why all of you are bent on making me look like a sappy idiot." Naru walked out, the Chinese in his wake listening as he explained the predicament. "I am hardly rhapsodizing over anything, am I?"

"Your type of mooning includes barking at every poor employee in the building." His companion said matter-of-factly as they rounded a corner. "And throwing silent tantrums, glaring at everything in sight. You know – the usual…"

He scoffed.

"Please."

The next day when he came to the office, he put the frame down on its face – if he blocked it from his sight he might be able to cope better with the situation.

Though he never once removed it entirely.

He needed her to test himself, every damned day, reassure himself that he wasn't turning into some kind of Romeo, that whatever affection he held for her had nothing to do with her and everything to do with her tea.

And he spent another long, tedious month torn between instinct and denial.

The picture remained face-down on his desk…

Stage 3 –

"You're going to starve to death, Noll."

"Mother."

"Don't 'mother' me! You've been ignoring meals and that is definitely unhealthy, young man."

"Mother."

"Martin! Say something to him, he's not eating properly! I fear for his health."

"Noll, please eat."

"Father…"

"I told him. He refused. Anything else, dear?"

"Why do both of you behave like that?! Do you know how exceedingly frustrating it is to watch you like this, Noll?!"

"Luella… dear…"

"I lost Gene. I don't want you to act like you're in the realm of the dead!"

"Mother. Please…"

"Just don't Noll. Please just don't give me your monosyllabic answers. Every day I watch you function on almost nothing. Do you know what that does to me? I suffocate in this silence!"

. . . .

"Mother."

"What?"

. . .

"I apologize…"

Stage 4 –

After that one month, he almost stormed into the office one day and set the picture back up.

For a moment, he glared at her smile rather harshly – he needed to know his own mind when it came down to this before he went barrelling into foolhardy decisions or worse, raw instinct.

Oliver glanced at her face, mapping the small details at the back of his mind, the twin red splotches in her cheeks, a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose and a scar near her ear. Her lips upturned into the most enthusiastic, vibrant smile he had ever seen.

He felt nothing.

Absolutely nothing occurred as he stared deep into her wide, deep grin; he managed to blink approximately once and he knew that it had nothing to do with her blinding smile. He felt like rejoicing, claiming that he still remained invincible to everyone in the world, that Mai was a mere wisp of a long forgotten memory. He could not remember anything about Japan anymore and for the first time since he had come to England, did he sense triumph surging through him.

He was finally forgetting…

The triumph felt stale.

He found himself wondering if he wanted to lose but then again he was the Oliver Davis, no woman was capable of taking his walls down or trampling upon his non-existent heart and ego.

At the end of the day, he was so contented with forgetting that he forgot to put the frame down.

And when he did remember the next day and the days to follow; he couldn't bring himself to put it face-down – he had forgotten after all… what was the point of removing it if he was hardly distracted by its presence. Really.

He only stared at her every once in a while…

Or more.

By the next month, he'd honestly lost count of those covert glances.

Stage 5 –

"They're dating." He muttered the acrid words, hardly taking his eyes off the picture. "She's dating this… weakling?"

If Masako Hara had anything to say to his rather covetous statement, she showed no sign and chose to shrug carelessly, sipping her tea.

He felt a turbulence inside him, uncurling in his veins, spreading to his whole system, rupturing all possible thought.

"Are you quite sure Mai's taste has not disintegrated during my absence?"

"Oliver." Hara-san put the cup back in its saucer and folded her hands in her lap. "She is extremely happy with her boyfriend. He is very caring and they both balance each other well."

Bloody. Hell.

"Balance?" His words dripped with barely-hidden sarcasm. "Of course."

Hara-san skewered him with her typically shrewd gaze, eyes narrowed to grey slits.

"Sarcasm will hardly help your cause, Davis-san." She smiled mirthlessly. "You are no one to comment upon the way Mai chooses to spend her private life."

He rolled his eyes.

"I'm her boss." He reminded the medium rather forcefully. "I have to see that her mind is free from personal distractions so that her professional ability does not decline."

She pursed her lips and tilted her way to the other side as if deep in thought.

"You were her boss."

Ah, that…

Sweeping herself gracefully off the sofa, the medium turned to him, smirking.

"You are always welcome back at Japan." Her head cocked to one side, she nodded at him. "It was pleasant to see a familiar face after the filming finished. Thank you for having me over, Naru."

Unsure whether it was an invitation or nothing but a mere courtesy, he only shook hands with her and stood to show her the way out. Of course, the only reason he had truly invited her over to his place had been to get an inside scope on Mai's life and all the conversation had gotten him was an ill temper, one that would continue for days until it froze into a part of his icy composure.

She was alright with life – laughing, enjoying it like it was meant to be.

He should be happy for her, he should be relieved that she was alright with him going away.

Yet here he was, fighting wars with himself over nothing as he tried to work, tried to sleep, he needed to be away from all this, needed to regain his scattered sanity and come up with a final decision.

For the moment all he could do was rage silently at her.

And perhaps at himself too…

Stage 6 –

"Yasuhara, speaking…"

Oliver paused for a moment, considering what he was about to say to perhaps the most obnoxious person on the face of this planet, but well, he needed the collegiate for this plan to work right.

"Yasu. It's me –" He paused for a second, uncertain of how to address himself, the curse of the fact that he was too many people at the same time – he settled for the most familiar epithet. "- Naru."

A few seconds passed in deep silence, stretched by the crackling static until the researcher almost whooped in delight on the other side of the phone.

"Big Boss!" Yasu's welcoming, ebullient voice was a welcome distraction from his current situation. "I'm shocked that you called me!"

He was shocked too. He was just trying to make himself believe that it had been his fingers that had dialled Yasu's number.

"Wait!?" Naru listened as the cheerful voice turned eerily mischievous. "Are you calling to tell me that you've fallen for me?! Whaaaa - !"

Oliver thumped his forehead against the wall in mild frustration.

"Yasu." His voice sounded ominous, crucial - chilling. "I would appreciate if you remained quiet and listened to me for some time."

There was another pause on the line.

"Spill it Boss-man." One of the main reasons that had led him to calling the bespectacled researcher included the fact that he considered Yasu a good friend. It was not every day that people had the nerve to scare even him. "I know you're dying to come back."

"Shut up."

"Well, considering the fact that you did call me. I'll acquiesce for once."

"I appreciate that."

"Don't. As I said – my silence is reserved for special occasions."

Oliver released a breath he did not know he'd been holding and began talking; short snippets of explanations, memories of the days he'd spent with his inner conflict. To his utter shock, Yasu made no sound while he talked, only making sounds that assured him that he was listening.

"I believe I've mishandled the whole situation."

Yasu snorted in disbelief. "Mishandled? More like royally messed up. Behaved like an ass."

He felt acute pangs in his gut.

Guilt.

"Nevertheless, I am planning to reopen the SPR branch in Japan. I won't return until some months but Madoka will lead all investigations in my absence; her flight lands tomorrow at four in the evening."

Another pregnant pause followed his statement until Yasu released a deep sigh.

"Why are you doing this?"

His hold on the phone tightened as he gave the perfunctory answer he had so specifically produced for this situation.

"The rate of paranormal activity is much higher in Japan than – "

He heard another snort interrupt his carefully-worded proclamation.

"Boss. Do save it for someone else – I hardly buy it."

"Fine."

Yasu actually had the nerve to laugh sardonically.

"Hmph. I thought you'd call with something more interesting than that."

He had his questions but he knew that his colleagues were already trying to sniff out a connection between him and Mai.

Damn. He'd ask anyway.

"Actually…" He paused warily, mentally weighing his words. "I do have an inquiry."

"Yeah?"

Oliver waited patiently, closing his eyes for a moment to ask one question that stung him whenever it was bought up around him.

"Is Mai dating that idiot from her school?"

He waited, anticipation thick in his veins until he finally heard Yasu's dry laughter over the telephone line.

"Oh Boss-man…" His voice turned wry until the laughter transformed into nothing but a chortle. "You're in for it bad. Very, very bad."

"Shut up."

"Your love for her is so goddamn territorial, isn't it?"

"What do you mean - ?"

A sigh escaped the youth.

"Yasu? Yasuhara – ?"

An abrupt click let him know that the call had ended and as he put down the receiver, sighing, musing over Yasu's words.

In for it…

Very, very bad…

Feeling just a bit of contentment, he ran his hand through his hair and leaned back in his seat, musing deeply. His glance wandered to the damned photo frame; the image of Mai smiling so brightly at the camera, the other members of the SPR busy in the background.

He blinked again. In surprise. In wonderment.

It happened to him again. The same reactions as before, washing over him like a wave of revelation.

He was not heartbroken.

Truly. He was not.

Or… was he – ?

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