Please enjoy . . . This has a different air than Chapter 3, I think. It's also a couple pages shorter.
Chapter Four – Questions
"Look, I'm sorry for calling you up all of a sudden like this . . ." Mu's hands fiddled around inside his pockets. He took on the appearance of some sheepish kid, watching the way his foot kicked a small stone rather than looking up.
"It's okay.—I guess. . . ."
"Usually I just let fate bring us together if need-be, but now . . . with this . . ." Mu looked up, grinning with a weak chuckle. "I guess I couldn't wait."
The pair walked along the sidewalk that would eventually lead them to the center of town. Mu preferred walking over driving, for some reason. If he had the choice or chance, he would always seem to walk.—which was why he hadn't seemed to buy a car yet—in all of his time in Orb.
"To tell you the truth, Kid, I'm not here to ask for your thoughts or your help. And if you, for some reason, do give me advice . . ." He turned his view, looking straight into the younger man's eyes, crystal clear and laughingly sure as ever. ". . . I wont listen to a word of it."
"Heh, Mu. . . ."
"It's true!" He defended himself—only half-hearted. ". . . I would never trust anything this important . . . to the mind of a kid.—Even a boy like you. Understand?"
"Then why'd you call me? With something like this, maybe it would be better to talk with—"
"I would." Mu cut in, knowing exactly what the boy was saying. He sighed. "I would . . . if it wasn't about her.—That's why this is so important. That's why . . . it's my . . . "
Mu drifted, unable to piece the rest together. Kira instantly silenced—uncomfortable gaze reverting forward.
Mu's hand fumbled in his pocket during the quiet between the walking pair. His fingers never stopped with that stupid box—opening and closing—turning and feeling—It never left his touch.
". . . You never knew, did you?"
Mu laughed to himself, face laughingly wry at what he was muttering. "I wouldn't expect you to. Not that."
Kira cocked his head, ears intent on what Mu was trying to say. If there was any time to listen to the older pilot, this would be it. But Mu's voice wasn't laughing anymore—it was lost . . . in thought, in musing, in relation. . . .
". . . It isn't my story to tell.—Got that?" Mu glared threateningly. "—And to be honest, Kira, I don't know a lot of the details myself, so . . ."
Kira's silence was his promise.
Mu grinned.
"During our stay on the Archangel . . . You probably didn't know—nobody knew—but . . . Murrue was in love."
Kira smiled. Mu laughed.
"Not with me, of course."
Kira froze. Mu sighed, brow furrowing ever so slightly.
"It was a man . . . a soldier . . . an armor pilot who never made it back. She really loved him—and it was obvious that she still mourned for him. He was that big a part of her life."
Kira was silent, every attention on the man walking beside him. He had to be careful—Mu was so lost in his thoughts, the younger of the two feared the man might walk straight into something.
"But even despite all that . . . I did my best," Mu grinned. "You know, she never said anything about him . . . I never asked. He didn't matter to me, though I did wonder from time to time. . . .
"—Now, when I finally felt like I could do something really important . . ." Mu's hand painfully clenched around that tiny box in his pocket. "Kira . . ."
Mu looked over into the other's violet eyes, straining to correctly steady his voice.
"You know that man . . . ? The one who died . . . ?"
The deathly pause caught the boy, immersed in Mu's attempt to smile.
". . . He's alive."
"Whah . . . ?"
"—He never died, it seemed," Mu grinned. "He's come back. To her." His smile somehow grew brighter . . . yet emptier. "Kira, she loved him—No . . . She loves him.—And I love her. And all it's seemed to do is put Murrue in the middle." And put me on the edge . . .
Kira stared up at Mu, eyes wide as the strong wall of the man cracked—and a small sliver of how the man really felt appeared on his face, unwanted-ly ruining everything in silence.
The two kept walking, Kira trying hard to keep up with the man's long strides—though the boy was tall himself.
Mu couldn't hold in a genuine chuckle as his dark eyes mused.
"Funny thing is . . . I met him. I spoke to him. . . ." Kira's eyes flicked up to him in surprise.—Mu was smiling. "He was an interesting kid—whoops—guy, I mean. He's my age, but . . . he seemed younger when I met him."
Shrug.
"Now . . . I'm not so sure."
"Mu . . ."
"—When I first met him, we didn't know . . . you know," Mu grinned at the irony. "And he wanted me to help him pick out flowers—which I did. We spent so long there, trying to figure it out. He told me about her—that love of his—he told me everything he could say in such a short time, everything he loved . . . about her. . . ."
Mu's bright eyes darkened, narrowing silently, dangerously.
"And not once . . . not once in that entire conversation about her," he weakly growled, "did I ever stop to think: 'Oh, that's just like Murrue' or 'Hey, that's sounds like something Murrue would do. . . .' . . ."
His weak growl gained immediate strength.
"—Not once!"
Mu lashed out in a darkness Kira hadn't seen a hint of since the war. Deep within Mu's pocket, his palm could feel every letter etched into the metal emblem of the velveteen box.
Brief anger quickly subsiding, Mu finally stopped walking and turned to face Kira to not ask advice.
"Kid . . . Did she really change that much, do you think . . . ? Is she so different I couldn't . . . ? Or am I just that incompetent?"
Kira stayed silent, remembering exactly why he wasn't the best choice for a talk like this.
Mu took Kira's silence in his own way. "Yep, that's probably the one," he muttered wryly.
"No!" Kira countered quickly, 'fiercely'. "You are not that, Mu."
"Then why? Why cant I see what he sees in her?"
"Well . . .—What do you see?" At the thought alone, Mu smiled.
"I see . . . everything.—Or . . . at least . . . I thought I did. . . ."
Mu turned his head away. He wanted to have a 'he, himself' moment, wanted to wish that he hadn't asked Kira along—but that was impossible to want.
Kira stood beside him, trying to fumble with words.
"Um, Mu, I-I think—"
"Oh, Kid—Look!" Mu, suddenly giddy in the face, grabbed Kira's shoulder and pointed a bit far down the way. "We're there!"
Mu glinted a roguish grin, arm sagging its way around the teenager.
"Wanna stop and have one? My treat."
"Uh . . . Mu . . ." Kira himself sagged beneath the heavier man's weight. The boy tried to grin at the man's kiddy behavior, but it came out one exasperated smile. "I—It's too . . ."
"'It's too' what?" Mu straightened. "—It's never too early for a drink, Kid.—So, what do you say? You know they make the best ones here. I'll pay, I swear." Mu coaxed, pouting.
Kira still strained his smile.
"Um . . . I don't think . . ."
"Fine," Mu huffed, childishly over-playing the dramatics. He plopped himself down in one of the café chairs. "Fine. You go off and finish whatever you said you needed to do."
Sulk. "—Like shopping an' stuff."
Mope. "—Dresses probably."
The boy laughed, the older man's childish change easily entertaining.
"Mu . . ."
"No, go," he grinned, laughing. "Seriously, Kid. Go before I decide to tie you to the chair or something and make you have one of these drinks with me."
It was hard, but Kira slowly walked away, turning around several times with a serious softness to his violet eyes.
In that time, Mu had stopped play-brooding and had waved to the outdoor place's attendant by then. The last thing Kira saw was a genuine smile.
---
Grin gone as soon as it had appeared, Mu propped himself up straighter in his little chair. With ease the small black box was out of his pocket and centered before him. Mu stared at the way the dark velvet was oddly reflected on the blue stained glass of the table.
He went to flick it open, but stopped as soon as his thick, calloused fingertips encircled it. Mu knew what was inside. It wasn't going to change. It probably wasn't ever going to.
From the corner of his sights, Mu spotted the uniformed 'waiter' of sorts returning. Grin easily replaced, the box back in his pocket, Mu greeted his friend and his drink with joy.
"The usual, Sir—Though earlier than usual, hm?" the attendant subtly teased, presenting a tall metal glass.
"Ah . . . thanks!"
Mu licked his lips for his much needed drink of choice.
"Say . . . Where's that lady-friend of yours? I've never seen you here without her before."
Mu blinked up at the man he knew from habit and smiled.
"Is that so. . . ?—Well, I'll make sure not to come without her next time, if that makes you happy," Mu teased back; the man laughingly denying everything Mu was implying.
"N-No, no, Sir . . . !"
Mu watched as the young attendant walked away, off through the outdoor tables and back into the café-like place. With a deep sigh, Mu turned back to his drink and sipped it gratefully.
"—It's not too early," he grumbled.
------
John glanced over at Murrue. They had fallen into another bit of understood quiet after a long conversation.—It was as if nothing had changed, almost. That's the way it used to be.—comforting. He could remember a time when he loved those little silences, because . . . he'd been told once—though he couldn't remember who'd said it—but, once you've reached a place without words with someone, you've reached a place so special and dear, it becomes indescribable when you're together.
And he believed what they'd said to be true.
But, now, at this moment, there with Murrue, John couldn't think about the comfort the silence brought . . . he could only think about her . . . and her thoughts.
Murrue, on the other hand, busied her fogged mind with a meaningless list of things needed to buy. John cleared his throat needlessly; Murrue looked up to him, but instead of catching his gaze, she saw him looking ahead, face sharp and focused.
Very familiar.
For some reason she couldn't hide a smile.
"Um, Murrue . . . ?" He started, voice edging.
"Hm?"
"Yesterday . . . when I saw you . . . There was something . . . in your hand." She skipped a breath, swallowing down his topic. He turned towards her . . . dark eyes flashing, almost accusing, in curiosity. ". . . What was it?"
"Oh . . ." She swallowed, hands finding each other through the straps of her purse. "That. . . ." It was odd. Even though the source of all that earlier pain was no longer there—he, instead, standing beside her—it seemed just the memory alone could wrought her heart.
"It was a locket, John. . . . One made so . . . so I wouldn't . . . 'forget'. Same with what's inside. . . ."
"'Forget'?" He cocked his head. "Forget what?"
She could only look back.
Though he tried, the man could not hold that spreading smile of surprise when his mind made the connection. He pointed to his chest—a wordless gesture—and Murrue nodded, solemnly reserved.
John cleared his throat needlessly, again—eyes once more traveling the buildings in the other direction.
His voice came quiet, but Murrue could only hear his muttered words—even with the crowds bustling around them.
"I . . . I'd like to see it someday."
"You will," she answered, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. In fact . . . at that moment, it probably was the simplest thing.
Suddenly, Murrue reached out and grabbed at his arm, pulling him closer. "Oh!—Stop here," she ordered. He would have stopped anyway.
Besides that one contact earlier, the two lovers hadn't even allowed a brush of clothing between them. John's heart fluttered childishly.
Though she grasped only to break his walking, that thought didn't matter as all he could feel was her touch through his jacket sleeves. If only he'd taken off his coat earlier, she'd have gripped bare skin.
"This is it," Murrue said, as the pair stared out into a shopping pedestrian square.
"Hm?" He stared back—as she slowly let her hand slide away.
"We have a lot of places to go today. I haven't had much time lately, so . . . that's why." She swallowed, cheeks invariably pinking, "There are a few . . . personal items I need to buy—and you are not accompanying me for those."
John grinned at her 'comfort.'
"T-This is the center square—it's nice, but there isn't much here that we need. Just that one stop of mine. So . . . if you want, you can stay around here and I'll return to get you when I'm done. Then we can get everything else. 'Kay?"
She smiled nicely at him, sweet but somehow oddly indifferent, before turning to leave his alone in the mass.
John ruffled at his short hair.
"Hmph. . . . Maybe you really were a Captain," he mumbled, grinning as she walked off. He followed her leave through the crowd. The body of the woman that he loved was still stunning.
Soon, though, she was lost from all view. He sighed, wondering exactly how long this 'personal shopping' was going to take . . .
John's sharp eyes darted over the busy square. It was the same as it was the day before, when he'd wandered through it. It was the same shopping square that held the flower shop . . .
He quickly ignored the thought . . . where it was leading. He didn't want to think that.
His focus turned back onto the people, scurrying back and forth before him, lost in their own midday-morning lives.
Occasionally the crowds would thin, and he could catch glimpses across the way, but all it took was one flash of hauntingly familiar gold to have John force his way through the people.
"Highly observant" was a term used to describe him—quite frequently. He decided it to be a curse . . . how much he saw and filed away, but there were some things he was glad to notice.
John made it to the café, amber eyes narrowing on his casual target. Storming over, without invitation, he slammed his hand down on the table to get the man's attention.
"You . . ." John muttered, stern, "—Are you really who they say you are?"
Glancing up from his drink, Mu's eyes caught with John's . . . and he smiled.
"Why, good morning. Care to sit, have a drink?" The blond motioned to the empty seat across from him—the one Kira would have sat in, if the boy had had the nerve.
John was caught off balance by the sudden kind treatment. Mu chuckled. "Oh, now don't you say it too . . ." he pouted childishly, eyes turning back to his tall, metal glass as he stirred its contents. "It's never too early for one of these. . . ."
Unable to stop himself, John slipped down into the café chair.
Mu took a sip, azure eyes flickering dark to the gentleman across from him.
". . . Just who do they say I am, John?"