A/N:This final part takes place first at the end of Episode 22, then during Episode 24. It was greatly inspired by Simon Wilcox's Empty Sky; I really think the song fits this entire chapter to a T, especially the instrumental and guitar parts. Similar to Part 1, I sort of see the song as being in Luke's point of view.
Again, let me know if you spot any errors.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Part Two: Tear – Empty Sky
Luke is going to die.
It is all she can think about as she walks aimlessly down the quiet streets of Belkend, passing strangers and running fon machines while still holding on to Mieu. The Sorcerer's Ring is cool against her skin and the cheagle is silent by her chest, as if he himself can sense her state of mind. She finds herself absent-mindedly stroking his long ears, feeling a stubborn lump crawling up the back of her throat and something faintly but insistently prickling behind her eyes.
Luke is… going to die.
She knows she shouldn't have been hiding by the doorway when Jade and Luke were speaking just now, but something inside her—intuition, perhaps—had held her back when Anise led Guy and Natalia out to get something to eat. Hearing the words directly from Luke's mouth had been a terrible shock to her system. No amount of military training had prepared her for anything like this—this strange, suffocating void in the depth of her soul when she thinks about the red-headed replica disappearing from their world—from her reach—altogether.
Why does it have to end like this? She had been so relieved to find him standing there at the top of the Tower of Rem after the miasma was destroyed, and now, to discover that after everything, he is still unable to escape from his cruel fate…
Tear squeezes her eyes shut, choking back a stifled sob even as she feels her defences disintegrating away, somehow still hearing, in the dark corners of her mind, the Major's voice chiding her, "Don't show any weakness!"
No… She mustn't cry. She mustn't break, for Luke's sake and for hers.
But she is tired… so very tired of keeping her barriers up and having to pretend like nothing is going to happen. Like Luke isn't going to die. She had left her real self frozen behind layers of ice over the years, and yet she doesn't understand how everything can just melt away in a matter of seconds when it comes to him. She doesn't care about not understanding. All she knows is that Luke is going to disappear and there is apparently nothing any of them can do for him.
"Tear…" She hears Mieu call her faintly, wriggling in her grasp to look up at her. Inhaling deeply, she automatically replies, though rather unconvincingly, "I'm alright."
"Please don't cry. I know you're worried about Master," the cheagle timidly says. She slows down her steps and stops by a bench overlooking the lower parts of the city, setting him down gently and taking a seat beside him. He stares at her with large, expressive eyes, clearly troubled by the same reason she is.
"I'm not crying," Tear objects, shaking her head. Crying won't change anything—it is a mantra that had been drilled deep into her brain during her early teenage years.
"But… but you're suffering…"
"… Luke's suffering, too."
"Mieu…" The cheagle's ears lower and he turns to look at the ground, downcast and saddened. "I… If only I could disappear in Master's place… I would do it, Tear! I love Master... I don't want him to—"
"Don't say things like that, Mieu," Tear hastily cuts in, resting a hand on the sacred beast's head. She isn't one for superstition but she doesn't like the idea of any of them dying. "I don't want anyone to disappear," she says softly and honestly.
Mieu can't quite reach her hand with his own, so he patters over to her and jumps into her lap, where her other hand holds him close. It is strange, but having the cheagle with her is comforting.
"… I wish there was something more we could do," she says with a sigh, reaching up to rub the bridge of her nose and the area between her eyes. A nagging headache is starting to nestle between her brain and her skull. She has experienced facing her own mortality in the not so distant past, and although she had tried her best to hide it, death was—and still is—something she fears. The thought of Luke going through all this alone hurts, somehow, and then there is the imminent question of when he is actually going to…
… What if he disappears tomorrow? Her heart turns cold. What if he disappears tonight, in his room, while everyone else is asleep? The Colonel himself has said that it's impossible for Luke to still be alive now… What if he's disappearing this very moment, while she is sitting here on this bench and worrying about him?
"Tear, are you cold? Maybe we should go back," says Mieu.
She looks at him, then realises she is actually shaking slightly. Her eyebrows arch down in a frown and she suddenly clenches her fists, willing herself steady. What is she doing? She isn't the one who's going to die. She must be strong. Luke himself has accepted his fate, understanding that there is still much to be done. Lorelai is still trapped, though they do not know where and how to free it. Millions of lives are depending on their actions. This isn't the time to let her emotions get the better of her. She must not break.
"Mieu, don't tell the others about what we heard, okay?"
"Mieuuu..." The cheagle's ears flutter in dismay. "Why not? They're Master's friends, aren't they? Won't they want to know?"
"We weren't even supposed to know. It's Luke's decision whether he wants to tell us or not… and we have to respect that," Tear answers, dejected. Though she knows it was wrong, she still can't bring herself to feel guilty for overhearing the conversation between Luke and the Colonel.
"… Okay," Mieu finally agrees reluctantly. She gives him a pet and gets up, heading back the way she came, gazing up at the evening sky. Grey clouds loom in the distance, the moon coming faintly into sight, and as Tear plods along to the inn, she cannot help but wonder if Yulia Jue—despite the existence of replicas now—had ever glimpsed a future like this when she read the Score.
o-o-o-o-o
Maybe it has been denial that has kept her going for this long without saying a word to him, or maybe she is just very proficient at slipping on her second skin no matter the situation. Regardless, seeing Luke in agony and clutching at his hand—his fingers had been fading, like a mirage on a hot day—is enough to chip away the walls she has carefully erected. Kneeling by him, Tear watches anxiously as he recovers from the sudden attack. He has told her that the pain was stopping, but the grimace on his face makes her wonder otherwise. His grunts of discomfort echo in the large, empty main hall of the Daath Cathedral. Mieu is hovering near them in concern.
"Are you sure you don't want the Colonel?" she asks worriedly. "If you tell him… perhaps he can—"
"No." Luke shakes his head. "Jade may have invented Fomicry, but even he can't fix this. Don't worry, I'm okay now." He proves it by raising his hand and flexing his fingers gingerly, the relief in his green eyes apparent. Then he looks at her in alarm. "But… how did you know about my condition?"
Her forehead furrows unhappily and she finds herself turning away, unable to meet his gaze. "I'm sorry. I overheard you talking with the Colonel that night," she admits. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop… but something about you just didn't seem quite right with me at that time…"
"I heard everything, too, Master. I'm sorry…" Mieu says miserably, landing on the floor and walking up to Luke, who merely gives him a thin smile.
"That's okay," he says, looking back at Tear. "It feels a little better knowing that I don't have to hide it from you, but… please, keep it away from the others, okay?"
"But Master, why?" Mieu asks, sounding almost indignant—unexpected words and emotions from such a small creature, surprising both Tear and Luke. "Aren't they your friends?"
Luke rests a hand on the impassioned cheagle's head, as if in an effort to soothe his distress, and quietly says, "Of course they are, but telling them won't change what's happening to me. If they find out, they'd start worrying and treating me differently, and… well, I don't want that."
Tear says nothing, watching as he stands up and wriggles his fingers again, like he wants to make sure everything is in tact before he continues. "I want to enjoy the time I have left with everyone," he states simply and glances at her. It is but a short, fleeting look, yet she can tell he is forcing himself to sound brave, to jump off that cliff even though the very thought of being on the edge scares him. A part of her empathises with him—after all, she knows all too well what it feels like to await your death—but the larger part of herself wants to yell at him for sounding so beaten and defeated. For resigning himself to his fate and giving up trying to change it.
"Tear, promise me you won't say anything to the others," Luke insists rather sharply, raking a hand in his hair and scratching behind his ear. His actions seem to belie his words and it is almost as if he is embarrassed by this situation.
She will make no such vow. She has kept her feelings from showing all this time and despite all her training, this is the last straw. When she opens her mouth, it is to scream in frustration and anger at his attitude, but then she suddenly stops.
He has turned his back to her and looked away, but no amount of courageous words and bravado can hide the fact that his body is beginning to quiver, his arms shaking as they hang by his sides.
"Luke, you're trembling," she says hoarsely, reaching out to him as he lets out a low, bitter chuckle. How can you laugh at a time like this? She has the urge to punch him in anguish and despair.
"… I'm such a coward." His voice is tearful and hollow. "I thought that… that at least I could pretend that everything's fine when I'm with you and the others, but I can't even pull off something like that. I guess I really am just a second-rate copy, after all…"
"You idiot! Don't say that!" Tear cries out, moving to him and laying her hands on his broad back, her emotional inhibitors breaking down in an instant. She shuts her eyes, feeling the familiar prickle of suppressed tears behind them, and says angrily to him, "If you're scared, then just say so! It doesn't make you any less of the person you are! You don't have to act like everything's normal… You don't have to go through this alone…"
Even as she speaks, she realises how hypocritical she is sounding, for isn't that what he himself had asked of her, that night in the Belkend medical facility when they all found out about the miasma in her body? And yet she cannot bring herself to care about it. Luke isn't her. He had not been brought up as she had. He is the boy who wears his heart on his sleeve, the boy who speaks his mind and fights fiercely for his own beliefs. He is the boy she never thought would be able to redeem himself for his past sins and be the man he is now today.
He is the boy she…
Luke still shakes underneath her touch and she finds herself gripping his coat firmly, breathing hard. "No one wants to die," she whispers very quietly—hadn't that been his very own words?—suddenly drained of all her energy. I… don't want you to die. "I'm here for you, Luke..." I don't want you to die. "I'm here with you…" She leans into him, into his welcoming heat.
He relaxes, somehow, his head bowed down, and she finds herself biting back a sob threatening to overwhelm her. Crying won't change anything, she says vehemently to herself. Crying won't change anything.
The words echo thunderously in her mind, and she doesn't know how much time has passed as they continue to stand there like that. When Luke turns around and catches hold of her hand, she remembers looking into his warm, emerald eyes and wondering how exactly he is able to strip her of all her defences and armour by simply being him. When he draws her in and kisses her, she remembers not being surprised at all, but thinking, admitting, finally—somewhere in the deep, faraway depths of her hazy head—that maybe, just maybe, he is the boy she has come to love.
His lips are warm and pleasant, like the feeling of seventh fonons when she heals herself. She has never done anything like this with anyone else before, but it is unexpectedly easy to let instinct take over and guide her as she reaches up to touch his hair, his neck, his chest. She has never touched him in those places before, and she longs to feel more.
As sudden as it began, they break off and she is left light-headed with short, quick breaths, her cheeks hot. Luke himself is panting softly. If he is taken aback by the fact that she did not resist him, he does not show it, but he looks at her with sad, yearning eyes, as if he is fighting an inner battle—wanting to resume where they had left off, or wondering if what they are intending to do will only lead to more pain. He murmurs hesitantly, "Tear… I…"
For the first time in the past five and a half years, Tear surrenders herself readily to her emotions. She lifts a finger to his mouth and he stops. Glancing around—thank Yulia the Cathedral is mostly deserted at this time of the day and that the others have not stumbled upon them—she takes his hand and tugs him towards one of the corners of the hall, where a door and hallway leading to the many prayer rooms on the west wings are located. Her heartbeat booms deafeningly in her ears and her head is haywire with a million thoughts spinning around in an endless vortex.
"Mieu… Master, where are you going?" Mieu asks in puzzlement as he hovers after them and Tear privately reprimands herself for forgetting his presence. No doubt the cheagle had watched their exchange and is confused by their behaviour—he is, after all, unfamiliar with a lot of human conduct and manners.
"Stay here," Luke orders, albeit absently, and Mieu slows down to a halt, clearly disappointed but compliant.
With her cloudy mind, Tear doesn't know how she is still able to recall the layout of the Cathedral and navigate through the hallways to finally find a small, empty room used to store choir stands, musical books and prayer books and scrolls. They enter silently and when Luke presses her back against the door and claims her lips ardently, his fingers tangling in her brown hair, she submits willingly because this is what she wants and she lets herself submerge and sink into that whirlpool of contentment and desire in her heart. Stupidly, in the back of her mind, she remembers faintly wondering if—in the presence of so many holy symbols and objects around them—what they are doing would be considered blasphemy.
Luke holds her delicately, like he is afraid she will break under him if he is not careful. As their mouths slip away to take in much-needed gulps of air, she buries her head into his chest, her hands clenching his ivory coat tightly, his own arms wrapping gently around her and his chin resting on the top of her head. The last block of the dam in her heart crumbles into pieces, washed away by both his and her emotions and their passion. If this is the only moment they will have, then so be it. For once in her life, she wants to just let go and not care about their responsibilities and their duties, their mission and their futures. Her façade, and his death.
Crying will not change anything, but standing there in that dim, musty room in the heart of Daath's Cathedral, in the arms of a dying replica, Tear Grants cannot help but shut her eyes and cry her heart out.
o-o-o-o-o
You see the skies are empty tonight,
But I'll surround you when you're lonely,
And you'll believe in things that you can't see,
Like air and faith, and sometimes me.
-'Empty Sky' by Simon Wilcox-
A/N: LUKE X TEAR FOREVER!
I will be completely honest, I actually considered writing a sex scene in this chapter, but I remember reading somewhere that Tear is actually not even sixteen at this point of time, and... well, I'd rather avoid statutory rape (though I heard the age of consent in Japan is 13?). Anyway, I left the ending ambiguous on purpose.