author's note: This is the first of two very, very long chapters. The pace is going to pick up a bit after this, so no worries about a lack of... erm... progress, shall we say? No, I'm not going to torture you all with unresolved romantic feelings for too much longer. I also want to take a second to say thanks to everyone who's been leaving reviews on this or encouraging me on tumblr, I really appreciate it! I'm having fun writing this, even though it's quickly turning into a monster of a fic.

Annnnd away we go...

islands in the sea
chapter three - we had it all

Hubert wakes in the morning to the faint screeching of gulls and the sound of the ocean. He opens his eyes and looks at the sky above him, bright and beautiful and blue, and checks the position of the sun - it's perhaps half past eight, late for him to be getting up, all things considered - before stretching out an arm to fumble for his glasses on the edge of his bed. Considering how poor he's slept, it isn't as if he's forgotten where he is -

But, he realizes suddenly, and practically throws on his glasses as he rolls over, there's something - someone - that should be here and isn't.

He'd somehow allowed Pascal to convince him that her plan - to set up traps and then sleep outside - was sound. She'd strung together a few noisy items on long lengths of rope, sacrificing shattered pieces of the ship's sides for the purpose of making alarms that had been placed all around their camp, on the beach and by the trees. They'd then gone into the rest area at the back of the ship, which had been pitch black, and dragged two mattresses and some blankets and pillows out on the sand. She had pushed the beds together despite his protests, and had then unceremoniously thrown off everything but her shirt and shorts and flopped down to rest. Hubert had reluctantly shed his boots and uniform coat, and he hadn't wanted to lie so close to Pascal, but she'd insisted and he'd been tired, so he'd given in.

In the present time, he sits up, lifting a hand to rub his eyes beneath his glasses, and frowns at the empty bed beside his. Pascal had been snoring all night, and that combined with the unfamiliar surroundings had contributed to him jolting awake nearly every half hour. It had only been around dawn that he had finally rolled onto his back and all but passed out. He had expected to wake first, early, and to use that time to look for food, but somehow Pascal is the one gone first -

He notices something in the distance, out on the edge of the ocean, and squints. It looks like his missing companion - he'd know that shock of red and white hair anywhere, after all - but is it his imagination or is she not wearing any clothes?

Oh. Oh good god in heaven. Hubert stifles what might be a scream and immediately throws himself to the bed again, picking up a pillow and burying his head beneath it. He's ever-so-grateful for the fact that they'd made their camp far back, away from the shore, but even at the distance between him and Pascal, he'd been able to quite quickly confirm that no, she had not been wearing anything. Her back had been to him so she hadn't seen him peeping, but oh good lord, his entire body seems to be burning and why had she been naked?! He's never seen a woman even close to undressed before now, and of course he's had... thoughts... of what certain companions of his might look like unclothed, but that's just not proper, and to see what he saw -

He swallows and decides that he's going to lie here with a pillow over his face for a while. Somehow that seems like the most logical thing to do.

A few minutes later he hears off-key humming, and then there's laughter and the faint sound of bare feet crunching into sand. "Hey, sleepyhead, I see you hiding under there," Pascal greets him, because apparently "good morning" is far too passe for her. "Aren't you gonna get up?"

"No."

"The heck?" He hears her arrive beside him, and her voice comes closer, as if she's kneeling by the side of the mattress. "What's gotten into you, huh? You were totally gung-ho last night about waking up early and getting stuff done - "

"That," he interrupts her, and his voice is muffled by the pillow over his face, "was before you kept me awake with your snoring, and before I woke and saw - " Wait, no, bad idea. Pascal may be almost entirely lacking in modesty, but he'd rather not reveal the fact that he now has a general idea of what she looks like unclothed, lest she take offense and do something that hurts him. "... before I saw you had already risen," he recovers. "I thought you might take it upon yourself to find some food."

"Oh, not yet. There's a ton of fish out there in the water, though. Seems like it'd be pretty easy to catch a couple."

"Then what - what were - " Hubert's voice actually cracks, and the pillow does nothing to muffle that. " - were you actually doing - ?"

"Taking a bath," she answers cheerfully, as if it's no big deal, but it is. "Normally I hate doing that kinda thing, but I thought it might actually be fun to go for a swim in the ocean and get cleaned up. I dunno what the salt water's gonna do to my hair, but..." There's a pause, and then she grabs the pillow off his face, and his vision is suddenly filled with amber eyes and damp hair and a pair of pink lips that he would give up one or more of his limbs to kiss even once. "Okay," she says, and tosses the pillow aside, into the sand, "I'm not gonna hold a conversation with you hiding your face the whole time. That's just stupid."

"P - P - " He sucks in a breath and closes his eyes and expects his face to catch on fire, not only because she's close but because - "PUT ON SOME CLOTHING!" he shouts, and is going to pretend he didn't just have an excellent view of her cleavage, "NOW!"

"Seriously? I'm wearing a towel."

He had noticed that. "A - a towel is not enough, Pascal. Put on your clothes."

His eyes are still closed, but he can almost hear her making a face. "Don't be like that, Hu. You act like you've never seen a girl without her clothes on before."

"I HAVEN'T!"

"Oh, geez, who woulda thought..." She laughs. "Well, there's a first time for everything, yeah? But seriously, I thought you were drowning in marriage proposals, the way Captain was talking. He made it sound like there were pretty girls practically throwing themselves at you, and that you had taken a fancy to at least a couple of 'em - "

"Pascal." He's gritting his teeth now. "Your clothes. Now."

"Alright, sheesh! Fine." He opens one eye and sees her rise to her feet, noting that the towel she has wrapped around her is much too small. "I'm going inside the ship, then. Do you wanna get a bath, too?"

"... I suppose." He sits up, because doing so will keep her out of his line of vision, and rubs his stiff neck, then his aching wrist - yes, there's the bruise he'd been expecting, enormous and faint purple. "But I would ask that you not come out of the ship while I am doing so - "

"Aw, are you worried I'm gonna peek at you?" She leans forward, as if on purpose, and Hubert gets another splendid view of her cleavage, one that sends him scrambling forward, off the mattress and into the sand. Behind him, Pascal laughs, merrily, as if this entire scene is amusing to her (and it probably is, he thinks, knowing her sense of humor). "It's really no big deal. We're adults, aren't we? People see each other without clothing all the time - "

"That is a lie!" He forces himself to his feet, keeping his back turned on her, and crosses his arms stiffly together. "Where I come from, people do no such thing, and I will thank you not to make such assumptions about what is acceptable among adults, because I do not find the prospect of - of bathing in front of you - "

"Alright, alright, fine. I get it. I won't watch."

"Thank you," he snaps. "I appreciate it. And - "

"But," she continues, and her voice takes on a teasing edge, "you already got a good look at me, didn't you? So it would only be fair if I got something in return."

"I DIDN'T SEE - " He sputters, yelling nearly at the top of his lungs. "I - I DID NO SUCH THING!"

"Suuuuure you didn't. Are you telling me that's not why I came back here and found you red as a tomato with a pillow over your face?"

Damn her, he thinks, and clenches his fists, damn her for being so ridiculously perceptive, out of nowhere, as if it's an ability she can turn on and off and use when she thinks it will mortify him the most. "I did not see anything," he forces out, lowering his voice, "and the pillow was over my eyes because - because the sun was bright."

"You are such a bad liar."

"I will thank you to keep such baseless accusations to yourself!"

"You are," she repeats, and suddenly there's something warm against his ear, and he whirls around to find her standing in front of him, right there, so close he would be touching her if his arms weren't pressed to his chest, "a horrible, terrible, awful liar, Hu." The warmth is because she's practically whispering into his ear, and god help him if she gets any closer while she's only wearing a towel - "Did you like what you saw?" she asks, with a wink. "Hmm?"

There is absolutely nothing he can say in response to that, so he does the only thing that seems logical, which is to spin on his heel and run the hell away, down the beach and to the ocean. Even when he hears the Amarcian cracking up behind him and calling for him to come back, that it was only a joke and she was just messing with him, he doesn't turn around, doesn't say a word. He doesn't stop running until she and the ship are completely out of sight, and it's only then that he collapses on the sand and heaves out a huge sigh, holding his head in his hands and gasping for breath.

He isn't sure he's going to be able to survive like this - not because he's stranded on an island in the middle of nowhere, but because Pascal seems to enjoy teasing him, and because she's good at it -

- and because he really is a bad liar, after all. Because he had, in fact, liked what he saw.

"If there is a god," he mutters, and looks briefly to the bright blue sky above him, "please strike me dead right now. I beg you."

He waits a few seconds, and when lightning doesn't rain down from the clouds and end his life, he begrudgingly rises to his feet, sighing again, and begins to remove his clothes. Perhaps he'll go for a swim and drown, or be stung by a monstrous jellyfish, or be eaten by a shark. He'll settle for anything to spare him the embarrassment of facing Pascal again.

Twenty minutes later, Hubert arrives back at their camp in one piece, having found no sharks or jellyfish to mercifully end his life. When he draws close to the ship, he sees that Pascal has actually done some cleaning: the mattresses are leaning against the back side of the wreckage, and she's tied two lengths of rope from a back wing to two tall shoots of bamboo, creating an impromptu clothesline on which their sheets, a towel, and her clothing is draped. He finds her sitting in the doorway of the ship, her feet in the sand, fiddling with another broken bamboo shoot. She's dressed in casual clothing, a bright yellow short-sleeved shirt and dark blue shorts, and now that her hair is dry it looks wild and unusually fluffy. "Hey," she greets him, as he trudges over, and offers a lopsided smile, "I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to upset you - "

"I know." He exhales, lifting a hand to push wet locks of blue hair away from his forehead. "I apologize. I did... I did see - "

"Not important," she cuts him off, holding up one hand. "Don't you have any other clothes you can wear, Hu? If we're gonna be running around on an island all day, you don't need to be stuck in your stupid uniform."

"A - ah..." He glances down at his shirt and pants. "I suppose I can change..."

"Yeah! C'mon, get to it. And when you're all done..." She lifts herself up off the floor of the ship with a grunt, taking the bamboo with her. "... get back out here and help me with a plan to get us some food, 'kay? And bring your dirty clothes with you so I can hang 'em up."

Hubert gapes at her and wonders when exactly she decided to be in charge, but he supposes there's no point in arguing about it. He watches her walk away from the door, and after a pause he enters the back of the ship, trying to remember where, exactly, he had chosen to store his overnight bag before the beginning of their trip. After some searching he locates it in the back of the mostly dark rest area, and - with a quick glance out the door, to ensure that his companion is not looking - strips off what remains of his dirty military uniform and changes into a far more comfortable pair of khaki pants and a short-sleeved shirt. He's uncomfortable in "normal" clothes, surprisingly, because he's used to wearing his uniform nearly every hour of every day... and he's fairly certain that Pascal has never even seen him wearing anything else, so he inevitably begins to wonder what her reaction will be. He wonders to himself, as he gathers his discarded clothing (excluding his underwear - that he will leave inside, out of her sight) and exits the ship, if she'll think that he looks as awkward as he feels.

"Now that's an improvement!" she exclaims, just as soon as he steps outside, and grins up at him from where she's sitting beside the door of the ship. "I bet you're a whole lot more comfortable now, yeah?"

He clears his throat and tugs at his collar, not sure what to make of that reaction. "I can't say that I am..."

"You'll get used to it, trust me." She springs to her feet and snatches the clothing out from between his hands, leaving him to gape at her a second time as she bounds off in the direction of the rope where she's draped her own clothes. "I'm gonna let this stuff air out," she calls over one shoulder, "so if you need to wear it again, it won't be all stinky."

He frowns slightly, following her. "If I may... at what point did you decide that cleanliness was important?"

She laughs, shaking her head at him as she tosses the garments in her arms over one of the ropes. "You sound just like Fourier right now. I dunno, maybe some of her nagging wore off on me. But y'know, if we're gonna be stuck here, I might as well make it bearable for the both of us, and I know how much you hate it when I do stuff like not take baths, so..." She turns, smiling up at him. "... I'm gonna do the best I can not to get on your nerves. Okay?"

As embarrassed as he still is from the earlier incident, Hubert is actually somewhat touched by this declaration. He manages a nod in response, and with that her smile widens and she spins away, walking back to where she'd been sitting with the piece of bamboo. "So," she begins, and again he obediently follows her as she moves, "I've got a lot to do. I need to build some kind of structure thingie to stretch across our fire and make it easier to cook, and then we need to actually find something to cook, like some fish, 'cause it doesn't sound like you're interested in eating bananas. Last night I was thinking we needed some more traps or alarms around the camp, but I dunno if the boars care about us now that our food is all gone and you gave 'em a good beating on top of it, so I might put that off. But I do want to try building a boat or a raft or something so I can try to make it over to the big island and look at those ruins - "

"Hold on." He raises a hand, and she looks over her shoulder at him, blinking. "I would also like to know when you decided to be in charge of this entire operation."

She shrugs her shoulders, folding her arms behind her head. "Well, I'm the one who crashed the ship, so I should be responsible, shouldn't I?"

"You did not crash the ship. The engine failed." He lowers his voice slightly, wondering if she is still reacting to his anger from the evening before, and again he feels guilty for speaking so harshly, for taking his frustration out on her. "Let's work together on these tasks. It isn't fair for you to burden yourself with everything."

"But..."

"I insist." He moves in the sand to stand beside her, looking out at the ocean that stretches before them, wide and vast and sparkling blue. "If you would like to build the campfire as you suggested last night, I will attempt to catch a fish or two for our breakfast. After we have a meal, we can consider our next steps."

"Aw, Hu, I'm so glad I'm stuck here with you and not somebody else. You're always so smart and rational and stuff." She flashes him a smile before bending to retrieve her abandoned piece of bamboo from the sand, and when she straightens it's passed rather easily into his hands. "Here," she says, and he notices that one of the ends has been sharpened into a dangerous looking point, presumably with her knife, "I was working on a spear for the fish. I dunno if it'll do the trick, but I figure it's worth a shot, yeah?"

He nods appreciatively at the bamboo - she's better with a knife than he remembers. "It will be far easier to try this rather than my weapon, or a fishing rod, considering we have no bait to speak of."

"Exactamundo!" she replies, whipping out what he assumes is another Pascal-ism, considering that word doesn't exist in any language he knows, and plants her hands on her hips. "So if you're gonna take care of that, I'll get to building us a sweet setup for cooking. And then we'll work together on all the other stuff, like the boat."

"You can't be serious about that."

"I totally am. We are gonna go explore those Amarcian ruins, or my name's not Pascal!" She grins. "Buuuut that all comes later. Get out there and catch us a fish!"

He sighs and wonders if it's worth arguing with her on that topic, but then his stomach rumbles and decides that can wait. He is hungry, and as much as he isn't looking forward to the task of attempting to spear wild fish with a makeshift weapon, he is not going to subsist entirely on bananas. His companion might be able to do it, but not him. So he obediently trudges down the beach to the shore, spear in hand, and prays again to whatever deity might listen for patience and good luck.

"Okay," Pascal says, hours later, bent so low over the makings of a raft that her nose nearly touches the bamboo she's currently fiddling with, "how about this one? If you had to choose between eating nothing but bananas for the rest of your life, 'cause everything else would make you really super sick, or not ever having to eat again 'cause you'd never ever get hungry..."

"Why do all of your imaginary scenarios involve bananas?" Hubert sighs from where he sits just a few feet away, looking up from a notepad balanced against one knee, his pen stopping in the middle of a word. "Every single question you have asked me for the last half hour has included them. Do you think of nothing else?"

"Not really. I looooooove bananas!" She laughs, lifting her eyes to his and winking. "Don't you?"

"You know I do not."

"Oh well, you still gotta answer my question. No food ever again or only bananas?"

He sighs a second time, shaking his head at her, and drops his pen because she's been asking him these kinds of questions for thirty minutes and he has no hope whatever of getting any kind of report written at this rate. "I would much rather suffer through the sickness caused by other food sources than I would give up the opportunity to eat entirely. I would not eat solely bananas."

"Hu!" She makes a face at him. "That's not an option! It'd be like, a totally horrible illness! Like so bad you would die!"

"You didn't say that," he retorts, and waits until she huffs and bends over the bamboo again before allowing a small smile to sneak onto his face. As he watches his companion work - and she's pouting now, of course - he can't help but feel some surprise at how quickly the day has passed. He had expected their first full day as shipwrecked castaways to drag on for ages, boring him to death or driving him half-mad. But he's found that he doesn't miss civilization quite as much as he thought he might, and (more importantly) that Pascal is really very helpful in survival scenarios. He'd already thought to himself that he would rather be stranded with anyone else, but her resourcefulness has made her valuable to him in ways that he knows the others simply couldn't be.

By some stroke of good luck, he'd waded into the water with Pascal's handcrafted spear and found that the fish swimming merrily around his legs were extremely easy to catch. They were flighty and nervous, like most fish, but not fast enough to best his quick reflexes. He'd speared three of a decent size, much to his companion's delight, and although they'd both expressed some concern over the way saltwater fish would taste, they had both been too hungry to complain. By somewhere around ten in the morning, by Hubert's estimation, they had managed to cut the fish into manageable fillets and cook them over Pascal's new campfire setup. While he'd been busy catching their meal, she had retrieved several branches from the wooded area and cut them down to size, fashioning a rather reliable spit over a newly built fire.

After eating, Pascal had thrown herself into a new task, claiming she could build something that would convert salt water into drinking water. Hubert had watched her for all of two minutes before declaring he would be of no use to her, which she had rather cheerfully confirmed. He'd thought over their situation for a few moments before deciding that he needed to document their whereabouts and findings: upon his return to Strahta, he was certain that he would need to present the president with a full report, and there wouldn't be any harm in starting on it early.

He'd thankfully thought to pack a pad of paper and two pens in his bag, and he'd retrieved them from the ship and wished Pascal luck on her task before setting off. He'd walked slowly around the perimeter of the island, on the sandy beach that stretched the whole way around, jotting down thorough notes and observations that he expected to later stretch into full sentences for his report. In the hour that it had taken him to walk the length of the beach, he'd written two pages worth of notes, detailing what he'd seen before the ship had crashed, the weather, the temperature, and the animal and monster populations. He'd seen a few bright red crabs scuttling through the tide that he'd stopped to observe more closely, and at one point had drawn close to the wooded area to peer up at two birds snuggled together in the top branches of a tree. Upon reaching Pascal again, he'd noticed a few boars inching silently out of the trees in the direction of their ship, as if they were planning to sneak up on the Amarcian - or attempt to raid their camp again - and Hubert had promptly chased them away, even without his weapon at his side. "With their leader dead," he'd announced aloud to his giggling companion, rather haughtily, "those creatures are nothing but pests."

The next few hours had gone by rather quickly for both of them. Pascal had set up a large bowl wrapped in some kind of plastic that she'd placed in direct sunlight, saying it would give them a source of fresh water, and while he hadn't really believed her it had actually worked. After some time had passed, thanks to some kind of process involving evaporation and condensation, they'd found themselves with a full cup of fresh (albeit warm) water, which they'd shared between them before setting the bowl back up again. But what had occupied much of their late morning and early afternoon had been a project only she was determined to finish: a boat. Or - to be more accurate - a raft with sides. "Same freakin' thing," she'd remarked, rolling her eyes at Hubert's comments regarding the difference between what she was planning to build and an actual boat. "It floats and it doesn't dump you into the big blue. That's all that matters to me!"

"Assuming it actually floats," he'd muttered, and she'd proceeded to smack him in the arm and tell him to stop being such a pessimist.

Assembling the boat (or raft) had taken up quite a bit of time. Pascal had immediately snatched away Hubert's pad of paper and a pen and sketched out two pages worth of diagrams, sitting cross-legged on the sand and narrating the entire process out loud to him. He'd sat listening to her, dumbfounded, wondering when in the world she'd had time to think this up before arriving at the inevitable conclusion that she'd probably decided how best to build a boat years before, completely on a whim. After finishing the plans, she'd marched him into the wooded area with a knife and his weapon, and they'd proceeded to collect and cut down multiple stalks of bamboo. And after that, she'd marched him right back out onto the beach and started to direct the construction process. They'd sliced down the stalks into flat pieces, and she'd cut notches into them, and then - following her confusing but somehow solid as a rock diagrams - they'd begun to piece together what now, as Hubert glances up at it, actually resembles a boat. Whether or not it will act like a boat still remains unknown.

"I'm almost done," Pascal comments, with a nod at him. "You're gonna help me test it out, right?"

"While I'm certain that your assembly is sound, I still fail to see how this - " He wrinkles his nose, searching for the right word. " - contraption of yours is going to float. The material is certainly not strong enough to hold you, much less both of us, on a trip across the ocean."

"That's what you think, bub." She grins, bending low over one side again, and he can see that she's tying knots in a length of rope. He had been glad to find so much rope stored in the ship, but she's gone and used almost all of it on this thing - and her noisemakers from the evening before, he remembers. He hopes an occasion doesn't arise that necessitates tying something to a tree, because they will be entirely helpless. "Just wait a sec and I'll make you eat those words."

He scoffs. "I would rather eat something else. You do realize that it is getting very late already - "

"Uh, yeah, I know," she interrupts, waving a hand at him. "I'm starving! But if you hadn't distracted me all afternoon, I woulda gotten this done a whole heck of a lot faster."

"I - distracted you?!" He raises both eyebrows. "I beg to differ. You were the one distracting me. I could barely concentrate on the task at hand, considering your apparent desire to talk my ear off about one nonsensical topic or another."

"Huh, yeah, but not once did you - " She points at him without looking. " - tell me to shut up, now did you?"

"T - that's not the point!" he sputters. "I was trying to be - to be polite!"

"I really don't believe you."

"Do you take me for a liar, Pascal?"

"Considering that this is the second time today you've lied to me? Yeah. I do." She looks up at him with another grin, and a certain mental image strikes Hubert so hard that he snaps his head away fast enough to crack his neck. The Amarcian immediately begins to laugh, and he's about to clear his throat and force himself to start scolding her for referring to that when he hears a scuffling sound on the sand. "Let's just say we're both at fault, yeah?" she asks, jumping to her feet and stretching her arms out above her head. "Oof, I am soooo stiff... We really shoulda finished this a lot earlier, but it was actually nice to have a conversation with somebody for a change."

He thinks about disagreeing, but she is right, after all. Garrett Oswell doesn't make for good conversation, and he has a feeling that Fourier's short temper extends to her sister - or is reserved almost entirely for her sister, perhaps - so he knows full well that the hours they'd spent talking about inane subjects while assembling a boat were precious ones indeed. He's forgotten, he realizes, just how easy it is to just talk to her. Pascal doesn't judge, or complain, or make snide comments about marriage, so even her off-topic, occasionally nonsensical ramblings are a very welcome change of pace. "Yes," he agrees, quietly, and gets to his feet, "we are both to blame, but it was... nice."

"See?" She beams at him, lowering her arms, and then she claps her hands together. "Okay, I think this thing is finished! Ready to try it out?"

Hubert looks at the boat-slash-raft on the sand and swallows. "To be perfectly honest - "

"I know what you're gonna say, and don't." She's still grinning and he's not sure if he likes that (although he has to admit that she is positively stunning when she grins, or even when she smiles, or even when she's not making any type of facial expression whatsoever). "You just gotta have faith in me, okay? A little blind faith in good ol' Pascal never killed anybody!"

"Are you absolutely certain about that?"

"Yep! I mean, except for my pet fish, I guess."

He sighs, lifting a hand to his forehead. "This is certainly not helping your case."

"Eh, probably not. But whatever! Doesn't matter now!" She claps her hands together again before bending at the waist and lifting one end of the boat from the beach. "So here's how this is gonna go," she begins, and for the second time in only a few hours, Hubert wonders exactly who left her in charge. "I'm gonna plop this sucker down right on the edge of the water, and you're gonna push me in deeper. Once it's far enough in that the sand's not gonna try to pull it back or down, you can climb on."

"H - hold on!" She doesn't even pause long enough for him to agree, simply marches down the beach in the direction of the water, dragging the boat behind her. "Pascal!" he calls, following, "there is no possible way that this thing you've built can support you, much less both of us at once - "

"You're being a pessimist again!" she calls over her shoulder.

He clenches his hands into fists. "I am being a realist!"

"Nope, bzzt, wrong, incorrect, fail! You're being a pessimist, and a big grump on top of that." She rather casually tosses the boat down on the water's edge, straightening just long enough to look out at the ocean, one hand lifting to shade her eyes from the sun that's beginning to set in the distance. "Just trust me on this one, okay? I know what I'm doing."

"How many times have I heard you say those words?" he wonders aloud, rubbing his forehead. "And each and every time, you prove to me that you have absolutely no idea what you are doing after all. But..."

"But?" She turns to look at him, and she's smiling now, as if she knows exactly what he's going to say - and she probably does, because they've been doing this for two years, and god help him, he can't possibly bring himself to actually be angry with her. "It always works out, doesn't it?"

"But," he says again, and paces close to her, fighting back the urge to smile, "you have a spectacular way of... winging it, I suppose you could say."

"That's the spirit!" she returns, and promptly gives the boat a swift kick with one bare foot, watching it catch the very edge of the tide and pull slowly back out into the shallow water that laps at the shore. "Okay," she says, and wades into the water beside the floating contraption, "so I'm gonna get up on this, and you're gonna push me out a little bit, okay? But not too far, 'cause if you go in too deep and try to get in - "

"I have no intention of capsizing us." He's already bent to roll up the legs of his pants, grimacing just slightly at the sight of sand and dirt on the fabric. Oh well, he thinks, he'll be home before too long, and he'll worry about washing his clothes - and taking a proper bath - then. "Go ahead."

"Alrighty!" She hops onto the bamboo so easily that Hubert stops what he's doing and prepares immediately to rush to the water to drag her out - but much to his surprise, the boat doesn't sink, and doesn't even appear to budge. He doesn't realize he's staring until Pascal looks over her shoulder at him, one pale eyebrow quirked. "Well? Are you coming?"

"Y - yes, sorry." He hurries to meet her, shivering once as the chilly water meets his toes and flows around his ankles. He bends and begins to push her steadily out into the ocean, past the small waves that are crashing into the shore, and the water is up to his knees and just over the bottom of his pants when he hears a delighted giggle from his side. He stops to look, and... well, what can he say? She's right, after all, and he's actually glad for it. "You're floating," he observes, rather stupidly. "I... didn't expect this to work..."

"I noticed." She smiles, scooting back against one side of the boat, and gestures at him. "Think you can hop up here with me? You're not in too deep, so it should hold."

"Are you absolutely certain," he starts, then decides against it, because she probably isn't sure of anything at all, so why bother asking? He makes a silent wish for success before taking hold of the side of the boat in both hands and jumping off the wet sand. The bamboo rocks a little and Pascal shrieks, but the momentum is enough to get him into the boat without dumping them both into the water. He rights himself and sits completely still for a moment, and it's only when she begins to giggle again that he realizes he's holding his breath. "Well," he says, slowly, looking down at the bamboo beneath him, "this is a surprise."

"Honestly? I thought we'd spring a leak or twelve right away, but this thing's holding pretty tight." There's genuine delight in her voice, the same kind of breathless, excited happiness he can't get enough of, and he thinks for just a second that he would let her build bamboo rafts all day if it meant he'd hear her talk like this. "Do you know how lucky we were to get stranded on an island with so much bamboo? It's like, the lightest material in the world, but it's super strong and it floats. Once I figured out how to connect it all together so the seams were solid and there were no cracks, I knew we were gonna be golden."

He lifts his eyes to hers, chuckling quietly. "You knew, did you?"

"Well, I guessed, but - close enough!" She laughs, looking around them at the ocean, her amber eyes practically sparkling in the golden light of the setting sun. "Now all we need is a pair of paddles and we are all set to go to that island and explore those ruins!"

"I should have known that you would find a way to get there."

"Nothing's going to stop me from exploring Amarcian ruins!" She leaps to her feet, apparently forgetting where she is, and the boat responds by rocking dangerously. "What kind of Amarcian would I be if I didn't go poking around in the labs of my ancestors, huh?"

"P - Pascal - " He leans forward, grabbing at the sides of their boat with both hands. "Sit down!"

"Noooo way! This thing is solid enough even to hold me standing up! And I built it this way, 'cause I'm the pride of the Amarcians!" She jabs a thumb at her chest, grinning broadly. "There's nothing in this entire freakin' world that can hold me down, Hu! I'm gonna get over to that island, and I'm gonna explore the heck out of it! And then - "

A wave causes the boat to rock from back to front, and the movement is just enough to knock Pascal off of her feet. She tumbles backwards into the water with a yelp and a splash, and Hubert groans, getting up on his knees and carefully inching over to the place where she had been sitting. "And then," he says, as she comes to the surface spitting water, a mess of red and white hair plastered to her face, "you are hopefully going to think long and hard about why standing up on even the most stable surface in the middle of the ocean is a very bad idea."

"Very funny." She lifts a dripping hand from the water with a groan, pushing her bangs out of her eyes. "I just lost my balance, is all."

"Perhaps if you hadn't gone leaping to your feet proclaiming you were the pride of Amarcia, I would not be the only one sitting here completely dry." He can't help but smirk as he leans over the side of the boat, offering her both hands. "Come on. Unless you'd like to swim ashore - "

She begins to grin rather devilishly. "What was that you said about being completely dry?"

He immediately tries to back away. "Don't you dare - !"

"I think you need to come swimming with me!" she announces gleefully, and throws her weight against the end of the boat. He's tossed immediately over the side into the water, and narrowly avoids colliding with her as he goes headfirst into the ocean. He comes up coughing and shivering, forcing his glasses back up on his nose with one hand, and is thankful that the water isn't quite deep enough to keep him from getting his footing on the bottom. "Pascal," he starts, between coughs, "that was not funny!"

"Wasn't it? 'cause I thought it was hilarious!" She confirms this fact by throwing her head back and laughing, reaching out with one hand to clap him hard on the shoulder. "You're all wet!"

"S - so are you!"

"Yeah, but it's way funnier with you. Your hair's all crazy and your glasses are dripping and you look like a drowned rat!" She hoots, and then she actually snorts mid-laugh, and the sound makes her dissolve into uncontrollable giggles. "Hu - oh my gosh - "

He plants his hands on his hips, forgetting for a moment that she can't see them, considering that most of his body is underwater. "And you," he starts, "look no better. You look like - like - like a drowned Amarcian!"

"Good one!" she says, giggling harder, and Hubert flushes with embarrassment. He's about to open his mouth and tell her off properly when she squeezes his shoulder, swimming closer to him. Before he can even think about moving, she has both arms wound loosely around his neck, and he realizes immediately that those soft pink lips of hers are only a few precious inches away. "Sorry," she apologizes, "I probably shouldn't have done that. I mean, any of that. But especially the whole dumping you into the water part."

"... it's fine." He glances away, swallowing with some difficulty, his heart beginning to race. She's so close to him, and her clothing is clinging to her like a second skin, and if he looks too long he's going to be in serious trouble - "We should get to shore," he says, and tries to pretend that his love interest isn't holding on to him, that her amber eyes aren't fixed right on his, "before you catch a cold."

"You don't wanna go for a swim, huh?"

"No, I do not want to go for a swim." He sighs. "Have you no common sense?"

"Hmmm... nope. Not really." Suddenly she's even closer to him, her arms tightening around his neck, and the absolute shock that accompanies the feeling of her body against his makes it nearly impossible for him to realize that she's hugging him. "Thanks, Hu," she murmurs, and laughs quietly. "Really."

"W - w - why are you - thanking me - ?"

"Because I'm having fun." She draws back and presses her lips to his cheek, and Hubert isn't sure how he manages to stay standing upright when her mouth is so close to his, when he wants to kiss her more than he even wants to breathe or sleep or get out of this water. "And because you went along with me, even thought you thought I was wrong."

He wonders if she can tell that he's trembling. "Y - you don't have to thank me for that - "

"But I do," she interrupts, and leans back a little more, and when her eyes meet his Hubert is certain that he is going to kiss her, that he has to kiss her, because she's right there and smiling at him like she wants it, like she wants him, and his heart is afraid of breaking but he has never been this insufferably close to the girl -

- and then the boat smacks rather suddenly into the side of his head, and Pascal begins to howl with laughter again, and the moment is completely and irrevocably ruined.

It takes a change of clothes, a blanket around her shoulders, a lit campfire, and nearly an hour before Pascal stops shivering and complaining about being cold. Hubert somehow manages to keep himself from commenting each time she whines - save the first time, when he matter-of-factly tells her it is her fault and that he is cold, too. The two of them had both rather quickly changed clothes and tossed their dripping garments over the makeshift clotheslines attached to the back of the ship, and as Pascal had curled into a ball beneath a blanket in front of a newly lit campfire, Hubert had gone out in search of some more fish for dinner.

He'd been successful again, and they'd roasted the caught fish over the fire and eaten them together; Hubert had been glad for the supplies left in the kitchen, because it'd meant that they were able to eat with silverware and use plates like somewhat dignified people. Pascal had complained a little about the lack of seasoning - and the expectation that they'd be eating wild fish for three meals a day - until he'd suggested trying some of the crabs he'd seen on the beach, to which she'd perked right up. He hadn't known her to be a fan of seafood, and he'd been certain to stash that tidbit of knowledge away somewhere safe to rely on again in the future... or so he hoped, anyway.

As the sun dips below sea level and shades of blue begin to creep into the sky overhead, they sit side-by-side in front of the fire, their plates placed aside in the sand. Hubert's mind is wandering, but he keeps coming back to the same thing, the same memory, still fresh enough to make his heart beat a little faster. He'd wanted so badly to kiss her, he thinks, despite all his rationality and the way he's convinced himself that showing any sign of affection for her is simply wrong. He remembers how she'd looked at him, right at him, those bright eyes of hers fixed on his, and it had been as if she was waiting for something - but no, it just isn't possible that she would have wanted that, of all things. Pascal's kisses on the cheek aren't romantic, they're friendly, and even her warmest hugs aren't delivered with any kind of expectation -

"Hu?" she pipes up, and he sees her shrug the blanket off her shoulders, leaning forward slightly. "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing," he answers; then, because he knows full well that she's going to pry until he says something, "fishing."

"Fishing, huh?"

"Yes."

"You were making an awfully funny face just now." She laughs, reaching for a small, broken branch that rests on the very edge of the fire in front of them. "Like you were thinking about something totally complex."

"I was making a face?"

"Yeah. Haven't you noticed? Whenever you get deep in thought, you start frowning, and your eyebrows get all close together, and your nose kinda scrunches up, and sometimes your eyes even sorta glaze over." She nods, confidently, and he stares at her for a moment. He hadn't noticed that at all. "You used to pull those faces all the time when we were traveling. Like Asbel or Captain would start talking to you about something, or you'd be coming up with weird battle strategies, and you'd get just like that."

"I see." He rubs his chin with one hand. "I hadn't realized you were watching me... think."

"Oh, yeah! I used to watch everybody, actually. People watching is totally fun when you're bored." She smiles. "You know what Cheria used to do when she was thinking hard about something? And by something I mean Asbel?" She laughs, and even he has to smile at that added comment. "She'd start sorta staring sideways at the ground, and bite her lip, and then she'd usually start to blush. It was the same every time. And Richard would close his eyes, and sorta move his mouth like he was talking, but not out loud, and nod a whole bunch."

"I never noticed any of this."

"Well, duh, cause you weren't looking! But I was." She beams at him. "Whether you realize it or not, I got to know everybody pretty well over the course of those trips. I could tell you things about your own brother that you probably don't even know."

"I would ask you to share, but I am really not that curious." He folds his hands together. "It's been quite a while since I have seen everyone, though. The last time the entire group was together was at Asbel and Cheria's wedding, and even that was over a year ago."

"I know. This might be weird, but not seeing everyone is kinda like being away from my own family. I mean, I don't have much family to speak of, just Fourier and my grandpa, I guess, but..." She starts to poke at the fire with the branch in her hand, and in the soft orange glow Hubert can see her shoulders sink, as if she's sighing silently. "I've at least seen you, and Captain, but I haven't even had a chance to visit Richard or Sophie. Everybody's so busy now..."

He chuckles softly, probably not loud enough for her to hear. "You miss traveling with everyone, don't you?"

"Is it really that obvious?" She looks over at him, and when he nods, she exhales loudly. "Yeah... I do. I can't help it, y'know? It's probably the greatest thing that ever happened to me. I thought I was happy running around Fendel and Windor on my own and stuff, and helping people out every now and then, but when I bumped into Asbel and Richard and Sophie, it was like... it kind of felt like it was meant to be. Even when it was crazy stressful and we were fighting really tough monsters, I still had fun." She smiles again, this time at him. "And I know you're gonna deny it, but I'm pretty sure you had fun too, Hu."

"I did," he admits, easily, watching her expression shift into one of surprise. "... somehow. It would be an exaggeration to say that I miss it, but I did appreciate the opportunity to travel the world freely."

"Oh, yeah, 'cause now you're stuck in Strahta, huh?"

"... "stuck" would be an altogether accurate way to describe my feelings, yes." He isn't quite sure why he's telling her this - he hasn't told anyone this - but it's Pascal, not his brother or Cheria or Captain Malik, so somehow it seems acceptable. She's never been one to go broadcasting his secrets to the world, and he doesn't expect her to start now. "At times, I wish I had an excuse to leave my post in the military and explore Ephinea again. I am tied to my desk each and every day, filling out mountains of paperwork to approve the most minor actions of my troops. I am glad for the peace that has come to our three nations, but..."

"I getcha. You really aren't the type of guy who wants to be sitting still."

"It isn't that." He shakes his head. "I enjoy combat, yes, but it isn't as if it's necessary. I just - I feel useless." He clenches his hands together, swallowing. "I would be content with spending my time in my office if it meant that I was doing something worthwhile, or contributing to the improvement of our nation, but all I am able to do is approve monster eradication actions and sign off on reassignments and - and review things as mundane as new uniform suggestions for the military - " He scoffs, his eyebrows drawing together. "That is why I miss traveling. I was directly influencing the development of the world, and able to assist my men, rather than watch over them from the sidelines. Right now, it's as if I am merely frozen in place, while everyone else..." At this he pauses, because he's about to go too far, and there's no reason for this rant of his to get any more personal than it already has -

"Everybody else is moving forward while you're stuck in the same spot, right?"

He lifts his eyes to hers, surprised. "What - how - "

She laughs quietly. "I know exactly how you feel. It's the same way for me."

"It - it is?"

"Yeah." She nods. "Don't get me wrong, it's not like I'm unhappy, but... It seems like everybody I know has grown up and moved on in the last couple years, and I'm just standing still. Asbel and Cheria got married and had their kid, Sophie and Richard are spending a bunch of time together... heck, even Captain's talking about settling down, and my sister's been getting marriage proposals from random guys in Fendel who think she's a "catch." If they only knew." Hubert can't help but smile at the way she snorts after making this comment. "I've been doing everything I can to keep myself busy," she continues, "and it's really great to see how much my work has helped change things all around the world, you know? But sometimes I..."

He leans forward. "What is it?"

"It's nothing..."

"Pascal... please. You know you can tell me anything." Okay, that has to be the most desperate-sounding thing he has ever said in his life. "I mean to say," he tries to recover, "that I will - listen to you, and I will not judge you. If - if you feel the need to share..."

"... it's lonely, sometimes," she says, apparently without paying any mind to his verbal fumble, and Hubert is left to gape at her, surprised. He would have never expected those words to come out of her mouth - out of Pascal's mouth, the lively young woman who has done nothing but throw herself into projects and come bouncing into his office with one wild scheme after another... but it makes sense, doesn't it? It makes so much sense that he shouldn't even be surprised. Of course she would be lonely; she'd even said as much herself, before, told him that no one else ever wanted to go with her - "Sorry," she murmurs, suddenly, and turns her head away. "That was a dumb thing to say. It really isn't that bad."

"Don't lie." He wants to pull her into his arms and hold her and kiss the top of her head and tell her that everything will be fine, that he will stay by her side, that he will be the one to keep her from being lonely, but he can't, he won't do such a thing, not when his heart is at stake. He settles for reaching out and taking hold of one of her hands, winding his fingers around her slender wrist even though the warmth of her skin against his own makes him tremble almost instantly. "Please don't lie," he urges her. "There is no need for you to keep your feelings inside."

Her voice is unsteady and he doesn't like the sound of it. "Hu, it's not like you have to be concerned or anything - "

"I am concerned. I don't want you to be alone. I don't want you to feel this way."

"But what..."

"If," he starts, and as afraid as he is, he has to say this, has to tell her something, "if you ever feel alone, I will be here for you. If you would like someone to listen, or someone to give you advice, or someone to - to - for any purpose, Pascal, I will be here until you don't need me any longer."

There's silence between them for a moment so long that it's borderline uncomfortable, and Hubert swallows hard, thinking he should move his hand - but then Pascal lifts her head and laughs, and the sound is so clear and beautiful that his heart stops and doesn't seem like it's going to start again. She turns to face him, scooting closer on the sand, and when she leans forward and stretches her arms up around his shoulders and hugs him for the second time that day, he's pretty sure he's seconds from going into cardiac arrest. "You really are good at cheering me up," she says into his ear, laughing again. "Especially when I'm being stupid."

"Y - you aren't being stupid - "

"I kind of am." He feels her chin fall to rest against one of his shoulders, and he thinks he should probably hug her back but he's unable to move. "I'm not alone. Not at all. I've got you, don't I?" He stutters and tries to come up with something to say, but she continues, tightening her arms around him. "Thanks. I mean, again. I always feel like I'm bothering you when I drop by, especially because it seems like I'm constantly getting you in hot water with the prez, but... honestly, Hu, we have so much fun when we're together. I'm starting to think being with you is even better than traveling with everyone else."

Hubert's pretty sure he's going to die here on this island and that Pascal will have to bury him in the sand and make a gravestone out of branches. Here lies Hubert Oswell, dead of heart failure after his love interest of three years said something nice to him. "I'm glad," he manages, "you feel that way. But I - " What the hell is he supposed to say now? "I - I can't be better than the others - "

She cuts him off easily. "Shut up and let me be nice to you."

He clenches his teeth together. "... yes, ma'am."

She laughs again at this, practically howls, and the sound is so endearing that he finally finds the courage to move, carefully raising a hand to pat her softly on the back. She smiles at him, and then she moves, shifting so she's sitting right beside him. "You know," she begins as she settles down in the sand, leaning close, and her head drops onto his shoulder and he has to literally bite down on his tongue so he doesn't make any kind of embarrassing noise, "this isn't so bad, being on this island with you."

"It - is - it isn't - ?"

"Nope."

"B - but - "

"Honestly," she continues, and he can hear the smile in her voice, "I'm really glad it's you. I know I said that already, but I mean it."

A wave of guilt sweeps over Hubert at this declaration, because all he's been able to think since arriving on the island is that he'd rather be here with someone, anyone else. And as he moves his eyes to look at Pascal, just for a moment, he thinks that now might be a good time to change his mind on that subject.

"I'm glad it's you, too," he says, softly, and when one of her hands reaches for his and their fingers twine tight together, he feels sure that he actually means it.