Desidero is Latin for "to long for, wish for greatly."
Chapter Eight: Desidero
What a sight he made. Her breathe hitches within her chest as she looks down at him. Even as sweat rolls in steady lines down his face with quietly ragged breathes, uneven and pained, he was still the most gorgeous man she had ever seen. He took her breathe away now, just as he had when she had first seen him. With his head resting against the wall in such a way so that his ear is close enough to listen to any sounds from her room, she wonders just how long he has been sitting there. One knee is drawn up with an arm resting upon the top, while his other leg stretches out across the expanse of the hallway. There is no mystery of why she had been called from slumber now. He was here and she can only be thankful that she had gotten out of bed. How was it possible that all she had needed was just the assurance of his presence for her worry to ease? Yet, even as it eased, another worry followed. This new worry bringing with it the need to comfort and care for him. A different kind but more preferable. This man dominated her life as he dominated her mind and all he had to do, was simply be. Did she mean less to him that he could so easily leave her behind? Did she mean so little that he could so easily keep her away from him?
His eyes are red and the whites bloodshot as he lifts his face to stare at her. As awkward as the position must be, trust him, to only look as if he belonged just where he was. Such was the way of Noctis. It was something that she so envied in him. The ability to look so perfectly composed when she oftentimes felt as if she could pace a hole in the ground that she walked. Many times he had simply sat or stood, in quiet meditation as he watched her with striking intensity. Now, there is a glazed unfocused look in those normally sharp eyes. Was he himself or was he something else?
"But soft," he whispers in wistful contemplation. "What light through yonder doorway breaks."
Her smile is both relieved and amused as she kneels down to bring their faces level. He was himself and being so close to him again is a comfort that she has been too long without. She stares back at him and manages a real smile now that they are together again.
"Quoting poets," she teases in a soft voice. "You never fail to amaze me."
"It was not uttered to impress you," he frowns, his breathes becoming a little more labored. Well, he tries to frown, but it ends up looking more like a pout in the most adorable way. She has to refrain from leaning in to kiss the tip of his nose, knowing the gesture would not be appreciated when he seems to be so intent on being serious.
Things were serious. Yes, they truly were. Their current situation was most dire. Only now, she finds she feels lightened, unburdened now that he is here. That inviting smile that he always evokes from her returns now in the face of his attempts at gloomy madness.
"Are we dreaming then?" she offers with a tone just as wistful as his had been. What she really wants to do is embrace him. She wants to feel the solidity of his body to prove that this was not fantasy, but reality. Coddling him too much would repel him though. She has learned that too, through their travels. Something idiotically irrational about masculine dignity and such, but it is difficult to stop her hand from reaching out to him.
"I am," he answers, blinking his eyes slowly. The distant look still evident and his breathing turns shaky. A tremble runs through him. "As a sick man does."
"Why dream of being outside when you could have been within?" she asks, finally giving in to her need and reaching up to gently wipe his damp forehead. He was so feverishly hot and a stronger shiver wracks his body. She needed to persuade him to get up. The hallway was chilly with the night air and he should have been abed long ago.
"I am where I should be," he states, leaning his head back against the wall and staring at her in that intense way that made her feel warm too. "Right outside Heaven's door." His eyes follow the lines of her face to finally linger on her lips. "It is enough to simply sit here and listen to you breathing. There is nothing else to want or desire."
"Nothing else?" she asks with more breathe than voice.
"I would not rather be anywhere else."
"Noctis," she manages to say through trembling lips. She needed to stop him. "We need to get you to safety."
"I am in safety," he reassures her, grabbing hold of her while pulling his bent leg down so that she is forced to sit on his lap. Her arms wrap around his neck for balance and he lowers his sweaty brow against her shoulder and murmurs words that have her shaking as he is. "Wrapped up in the arms of grace."
The words of adoration compels her to squeeze him tightly to her in response.
"I am looking past the shadows of my mind. To what I know is truth and trying to identify all the voices in my head," he breathes heavily onto the skin of her neck and his lips tickle the sensitive tissue as they move. "God, Stella, which one is really you?"
He sounds afraid and unsure and she has never seen him so. She has never wanted to see him so. It rips a hole in her heart and she lets tears fall from her eyes as she feels his torment with him. Listening to the feelings that so strongly evolved around her, she wishes there was something more she could do. She wishes she could absorb the madness into herself. If only it were possible to share such agony to relieve him. She would do anything to ease his suffering.
"Is it worth fighting, I wonder?" he asks quietly a moment later, sounding far calmer than she feels.
He has her at the edge of hysterics and he still sounds so collected.
"Fighting what?" she asks, trying to keep her voice from betraying her tears. Had he really been himself, he would have already noticed them. She is almost thankful that he does not now. It would only distress him further to see her tears.
"My way back to sanity again," he answers, pulling away enough to look at her face. "I have no idea what I would do once I am there."
"Is lunacy preferable, then?" she asks unable to prevent to hurt from showing. She wipes her eyes hastily in a vain effort to hide him.
He makes a tsking sound as he rubs his thumb across her lower lip. His eyes are intent as he runs the pad over the plump flesh. It is as if he is almost envious of the stumped finger that can touch her when his own lips long for the same touch. She knows he will not kiss her and she wonders, for the first time, whether he would ever kiss her again. Would his fear for her prevent even that?
"Madness can be sweet," he reasons, looking so full of regret that he rips his finger away. For a moment he looks so pained and he turns to look away from the sight of her.
"What do you need me to do?" she pleads, grabbing hold of his face to try and regain his focus.
"Everything and nothing, Stella," is the contrary reply and his eyes have not returned to hers. For one panic stricken moment, she thinks he will push her away from him. Then, he places a hand over each of hers and presses down on them to prevent her from pulling away.
As if she would ever willingly pull away from him.
"I know you must be tired of waiting on me," he apologizes with a reassuring squeeze to each hand. He closes his eyes as he inhales a deep breathe. "I know I have never made things easy."
"No, you have not," she agrees accusingly but the pout on her voice gives away more hurt than anger. Her vision is full with him as he presses their foreheads together, but she feels as if it cannot be full enough of him. "Always off being so admirably stubborn and exasperatingly loveable all the while."
He lets out a loud breathe that sounds so regretful. She opens her eyes and sees the agony of his thoughts.
"I just wish to be here now," he breathes into her mouth as he leans in so their lips can almost touch. "Is that all right with you?"
"Here in the hallway?" she asks hesitantly. He looks so lost and vulnerable. Torn in a way that was not himself or else he would not have confessed as much he has and she needs to stop him before he does something he will hate himself for later.
"Old habits die hard," he replies with a shrug.
"'Old' habits?" she repeats.
He pulls away enough to give her a sheepish look. A feat to accomplish but she is grateful to see it instead of the pain.
"I have often spent my nights here," he confesses.
She blinks blankly at him as she lets this significant confession in.
"This, is not your first time here?" she cannot help but asking.
"I have to correct myself. I did not say that accurately," he says with a shake of his head. "There have been many nights I have stayed just outside your door. Only, not this door specifically."
"Why?" with no small amount of confusion.
He gives her a look that says the answer should be obvious.
"I do not belong anywhere but outside Heaven's door," he says softly, pulling her close again.
His body has begun to shiver violently as he holds onto her firmly. He holds her like she is his hold onto sanity. It is a desperate clinging that has her clinging back equally to keep him with her.
"I could be so angry with you," she says weakly. "I have been so worried."
She feels him still at her words until his entire body tightens, muscles straining against whatever demons were speaking within his head.
"Stella," he says and his voice is firmer, more like himself, this time. "I know now."
She pulls away to see that his eyes are back. The look of the real him. The eyes of the man she knows. Though still dangerously red, it was the sharp witted Noctis that she loves. It is all she can do to keep from giving a cry of joy at the sight of him.
"I have been talking to Joseph," he explains, in that quiet way of his and even that, threatens to break a smile from her lips.
"How have you been talking to Joseph?" she asks, though not entirely surprised given that Joseph had hinted as much. She had a feeling the method had been something a bit more complicated than dialing a telephone.
There is a shift in his eyes that she is familiar with too. That shift to tell her his rapidly processing mind was working at the speed it should be. The haziness is gone now and she wonders how long it has been since he has such a clear thought. Though still dangerously feverish and shaky, that keen mind was back. She watches as he tilts his head as if listening to something that she cannot hear. Part of her worry is eased at the familiarity of that too. There had been moments where he would do the same when The Light would speak whispering words for his ears alone. Only now, it was a comfort to know that it was a person speaking back.
"This… condition is both remarkable and horrifying," he admits, his hands tightening involuntarily for a moment. "My vision has changed and the things I see are hard to differentiate between reality and illusion."
"Do you think me an illusion too?" she asks, feeling a little worried. Perhaps that had been why it had been so easy for him to say the things that he had. Things that he would never have told her so easily otherwise.
His smirk is almost enough to have her in tears again. Tears of thanks.
"You have always been my illusion, Stella," he replies, reaching to touch her face again in reverence. "A madness so sweet it is all I can do not to give in."
He dips his head as if to kiss her but stops himself just in time, denying them both the touch they need so badly.
"All those inflicted with this can communicate with each other in a sense," he continues again with a struggling voice. He leans back, leaving a small space that felt more like a deep void between them. "I can locate each of them if I concentrate hard enough and since it was Joseph's blood that infected me, I can communicate with him very easily."
"Can you see who has been infected and who is not?"
"Yes," he says and then pauses. "Though it has taken me awhile to realize that sometimes, I cannot trust my eyes to deceive me."
She frowns at his confusing statement.
"At first, it looked as if everyone was one of them," he goes on to say. "As I fight the hallucinations, I realize that if I keep a tight control of my mind, I can use the sight to my advantage for weeding them out."
"Have you come across many?"
"I just… recently figured it out," he admits sheepishly. He looks embarrassed to have taken so long to figure it out. "Since I knew for a fact that you were not one of them, it was easy to tell the difference then. As I sat here, listening to your slumberous breathes, I started to feel the difference in the Crystal's gift and this one." He gives her a look of such warmth and affection that she feels her entire self brighten under the admiration. "You give me clarity, Stella."
Suddenly feeling shy herself, she looks down at his collarbone in thought to fight against the blush that heats up her face. Looking at the bare skin of his neck, she then remembers the tattoo that had been on Joseph's hand. She pulls his right hand away from her face and turns the palm up to see what she knows is there. When it really is there, she can tell right away that it is not the same scrolling symbols as Joseph's that encircles the familiar, circular rune.
"Do you know what the words mean?" she asks, tracing them lightly with her finger.
"The evolution of two," he says quietly, flexing his fingers as he watches the smooth gliding of her finger.
"Two?"
"Joseph thinks it is the power of the Crystal combining with those of the nanos."
So they really had been talking and it had not been just the voices in his head. Not that she had, had any doubts. It was just assuring to hear proof. How many of those voices were real as well and he had only brushed them aside thinking them delusions of madness? It made her feel a touch envy that she did not possess the skill to communicate mentally with him like that. This man that already possessed so much of her mind regardless. She looks at the expression on his face then, feeling a burst of affection towards him for being so brilliant and so strong. It has her leaning in to kiss his damp forehead to express her adoration for this wonderful man. He, in turn, tightens his hold on her waist in response, not even attempting to pull away and leans an ear against her chest. She feels him slowly relax as he embraces her, with her still sitting upon his lap. A position which she knows they cannot stay in much longer.
"Noctis?" she offers hesitantly.
He mumbles an affirmative reply.
"We need to get you off the floor."
"I am perfectly content to stay here," he says stubbornly, but the shivers wracking his body say otherwise.
"Noctis," she chides with a sigh, but before she can utter anymore, something crashes through the door of her flat.
Despite looking more than just a little exhausted and a smidge delusional, Noctis reacts much more quickly than she does. He pushes her behind him as he gains his feet to face whatever enemy has dared encroach on their moment together. Two Amalgams walk steadily into the room, one different from the other but that they were drones was still obvious. This time she got the distinct impression that one was definitely female and the other a male. The images of the hospital feeds come back to her like crash. Images that she had tried very fervently to take away from her mind since she had seen them. To think that she had contributed to killing the dignitaries without the knowledge that they had been the very Amalgams that she was trying to defend them from. The truth still made her feel sick. She had watched, along with the rest of the guys, how they had screamed as they had transformed and completely gave into the madness of the virus. One had even bellowed his confusion and terror as he mistook who was the infected and who had still been human. Those poor doctors and staff that had been on duty had been slaughtered needlessly by people who had been too caught up in illusion to realize it was they that had turned into monsters.
These two were soon joined with three more, heedless to the damage they wrought as they entered the confines of her flat. It was not something that had crashed through her door but her door that had been blown away. As one the Mutatios all turn to watch Noctis and herself in the hallway. Having gained her feet by then, she caught the damp skin on Noctis' elbow and notices the trickles of sweat that were still running along his face and the back of his neck. When his hand starts to tremble just a little, he shakes it off with that determined stubbornness of his. He takes a step forward, keeping her out of harm's way. One, more unique looking Mutatio, steps forward to meet him.
"Noctis," she calls out to him in a small voice, too afraid for his sake to say it too loud.
"Just the princess," hisses the Lead Mutatio, as they all continue to stare at Noctis. This one seems strangely familiar somehow. The shape and design of his features seen before.
That they have not attacked already worries her even more as the statement makes Noctis pause. It does not occur to her to be afraid for her own sake. Not when Noctis was so close to transforming and outmatched right now. Her fear for him was too consuming to have any left over for herself. She wants to let them take her if only to buy him more recovery time. Only, she knows him too well to make the offer.
"You will not have her," Noctis rumbles in a low growl, before she can even try. She can imagine the cold, aloof expression that must be on his face when he says this. His eyes had already been red, so she knows that they are gleaming dangerously now. Though not standing as straight as he usually was, his entire body was ready to fight. "You will have to face me first."
"Not yet, Lord Noctis," comes the hollowed response of the Mutatio in the lead. "You're not ready to face the master yet."
With a motion of its head, the four drones come forward to try, in a formation, to pass Noctis.
It is a very badly judged assessment to assume that since Noctis was unwell, that he would easily be pushed aside. These individuals really did not know Noctis very well. Which was proven a moment later, when the unfortunate Mutatio that made a pass at him first, found itself turning swiftly to ash before it could have even anticipated Noctis' move.
"I am be under the weather," comments Noctis. "But that does not mean I am incapacitated enough to stop you."
It should have sounded more sure than it did. She knew that he was struggling and he might fool these ones here but he did not fool her. The crystals currently floating around his form were not as brightly lit and though his favorite broadsword was just as sharp, his arm was not as steady as it always is. His voice sounded just as confident and just as arrogant but she catches the unsteady breathes.
Joseph, what can we do?
"You don't have much time, Lord Noctis," says the Mutatio, strangely courteous and respectful, considering the tense situation in which they found themselves. "You won't be able to fight us properly until you're ready."
There is a snide glint within that lidless gaze and her mind finally registers the familiarity of this one.
"You were the sniper on the roof," she hisses with disdain. She is not far behind Noctis and she was not going to cower to them. In a few steps, she is now beside him instead of behind. Finding their reason for wanting her was not important at the moment, compared to the knowledge of who had done this to Noctis in the first place. She knew the Mutatio was right. Noctis is vulnerable now. She had learned that much from Joseph. From her peripheral vision she can see Noctis' profile and catches the slight shake as it became more pronounced. His forehead and neck are drenched now as he perspires at an alarming rate. The chilling effects of the fever were made him look even more pale, even as his cheeks reddened.
The stern set of his jaw tells her that he was still focused enough to be angry and that gives her more confidence.
"I am," the answer is simply stated and not as boastful as she would have thought.
"You missed intentionally," states Noctis, narrowing his eyes at him.
"I might just be a terrible shot," responds the Mutatio with that knowing glint in his glowing eyes. They all knew that he had not exactly missed. "Now, please step aside, Lord Noctis."
"No," growls Noctis, shaking his arm out to stay the tremors and the hovering Crystals flash dangerously. As they begin to whirl around him in a tornado of destruction, his swords appear in a circle around the both of them as a shield of protection.
When he takes a step in front of her, her eyes stray to the veins along his forearm and bites her lip to stifle her gasp. They have started to streak black instead of green and her breathe catches. A guttural groan comes from Noctis, in front of her that does not sound like Noctis at all as she watches, in a sort of awe, as flesh turns into a hardened shell of black. A dark black, with a glossy glean like the freshly polished body of Acerbus. The crackling sound of his outer frame amplifies in the room and she takes a step back as his body lengthens. It was much the same way as when Joseph morphed into his Blue form but the mechanical groans announce the pain of first transformation. Noctis' hair of midnight spikes hardens, even as two of them elongate on either side of his face, more so than the rest to give him the look of a warrior with streaks of light running across his changed body. The colors of his light is much like the illuminating ones that shine through the Crystals that still surround him. A reflective blend of bright white, hints of blue and dashes of red all mixed together to give him a dark brilliance that lit up the darkness surrounding them.
What she saw standing in front of her was not a monster. Just as Joseph as Blue had never truly looked like one to her before, Noctis did not now. Even in another form, she can still see the man that she loves inside. No matter that he did not look human any longer. It was still him and that was all she needed to know. That strong personality and unique demeanor were etched into every curve of his Amalgam form as it was in human. In her eyes, he was as equally striking. He moves his head to look at her as she stares and the narrowing of his eyes show his misinterpretation of her expression. How did he know her so well and yet not know her at all?
Noctis lets out a shaky, hollowed sigh as he straights his spine. The fingers of his right hand stretch out and the glow of his rune beams out before a slash of white whips out to reveal his favored broadsword. A rumbled growl escapes his lips while a protective hand eases her further back away from the danger. The swirling weapons make a gap for her as she is eased further away. She lets him do this, knowing by the shaking of his hands and his heaving breathes, that an argument would only distract him. It is more apparent just how difficult his breathing was becoming. He sounds just as feverish as he had before the change and she feels a strong sense of danger. Taking another step back, she looks at the five other bodies in the room.
Though they look surprised, they do not look at all deterred from their goal of capturing her. If anything, their resolve seems to be strengthened as they each glare at Noctis in return, seeing him as a better challenge now. Then, curiously, the four behind the leader, look confused after a moment and then unsure. They look at each other as if wondering what to do while the one that had spoken continued to glare at Noctis. The puzzlement in their body language has her recalling what Joseph had told them about control. The stronger Amalgam could control the drones. The recollection has her eyes widen. That must mean that of the two here, Noctis was the stronger and his will could overpower the will of the one he was facing off against now. The four soon start to shift their feet in indecision until, like a snap, they circled around the one they had previously followed.
Yet, instead of looking alarmed or even angry, the long Mutatio tilts his head to regard Noctis. The move looks almost thoughtful.
"You're strong, young prince," he compliments. "But not strong enough for the master."
Like a signal, a vibrating burst of power flows through the room from somewhere outside. Another presence just out of reach of her consciousness is there, somewhere within the vicinity. One unseen, yet all seeing. The drones snap to attention again and return to their former positions behind the Mutatio. The tension within the room rises when two suddenly make a leaping attack. It forces her further back and into the hallway as they crash into Noctis, using their combined weight to sandwich him against the wall to her side. Noctis lets out a menacing growl as he frees his right arm and cleaves into the one closest to him. The agonized cry of pain is cut off as the body turns to ash, but nobody pays it much heed when the two other drones rush into the fight. A loud crunching sound fills her ears before cracks race across her walls with. They needed to take their fight outside before the building collapsed around them.
Noctis was a very proficient fighter. He interchanged weapons as quickly as he took breathes and he moved so swiftly that it was almost impossible to keep track of where he would appear next. The one time she had been on the receiving end of his blade had ended in a very defining moment. If is fortunate for her that he had held back with her, because she knew that her life would have ended if he had not. She has had ample opportunity to study just how well he danced within a battle. So, she could tell right away that his skill and strength was not up to par at the moment. He was weakening further with the kick of adrenaline and it was only a matter of whether the building or he, would collapse first.
Noctis, please call to Joseph for aid.
Being thrown into a sword fight was, quite obviously, not how she had planned to spend the evening. She was still in her nightgown and therefore had no proper undergarments by which to keep any modesty, if she were forced to do any of the moves that she usually had to when in the midst of a fight. Never, had it bothered her as much as it did now, to be a woman. Were she a more tomboyish woman, she would have thrown modesty to the wind and started slashing regardless of any lack of clothing. She is inclined to do it anyway, if not for the fact that there was also the danger of becoming exposed if any of these fighting bodies started to bleed and bleed they eventually would. Her involvement would only distract Noctis more and she had vowed long ago that she would not ever endanger him that way. He was far too reckless about his own safety as it was. He was downright suicidal when it came to guarding hers.
Almost as if sensing this important factor at the same time as she did, Noctis bends at the waist and tackles the three Mutatio in front of him. He drives them towards the wall overlooking the street, to keep them as far away from her as possible. Leaving only the leader to look at her as if she were easy prey, as he seems more keen on watching her than watching the fight. Bits of plaster have begun to rain on her head and she knows that they need to get out of there. The Mutatio must have read her mind, for it dove for her with a long outreaching hand then. She instantly immobilizes, twisting out of its grip with a tearing sound. Then, makes a dash back to her bedroom, not even bothering to lock her door. Not that it would have made much difference considering it is blown off its hinges a moment after she closes it. From her living room, she hears the wall explode and from her vantage point, has a split second image of four falling bodies before she turns to stare at her own opponent.
"Come Lady Stella," urges the Mutatio as the loud crashes shake the foundation of the building. "We're not here to harm you."
"Then what do you want?" she demands, inching closer to the windows. The sounds of a blasting engine catches her attention from outside and can almost smile as she sees the darkened silhouette of Joseph on Elea. Noctis would have his aid and she could breathe a sigh of relief, knowing that he was going to be all right.
"The master wants you," the Mutatio reminds her sternly, but he does not make a move to approach her.
"For leverage?"
"He'd find the notion distasteful."
Not exactly the answer she had been expecting and she did not want to think about what that means for her. It almost looks like the thought of using her in such a way were offensive, even to the Mutatio standing before her. Villains with scruples? How very…different.
"And I suppose I am to just hand myself without a fight?" she asks, moving to press her back against the window. "Because it is not in my nature to give up easily."
"He didn't think you'd react any other way," is the knowing response.
She frowns, not sure how to respond. The quick shift of the Mutatio's eyes to look at something behind her awakens her awareness to the powerful presence that she realizes she has felt all along. Behind her now, was the something unnamed that had pierced her senses since all this had begun.
"Stella!" she hears Noctis' deepened voice shout from outside.
It is one of those moments where time slows to a crawling pace and sound becomes distant. Then the hollow sounds of her own heavy breathing sounds within her as she slowly turns around to see what has frightened Noctis enough to shout her name. She sees the face, not for the first time, of the one called Master. No, she has seen this face before, only it does not look exactly the same. The indescribable something is no longer undefined now as recognition sinks in.
"Come Stella."
Deceptively gentle eyes regard her kindly, before there is a stinging sensation in her mind and the whole world goes black.
A "thank you very much" to Lifehouse for their song, Breathing, which contributed a lot to the dialogue. Another special thank you to iamTherru for helping me snag my motivation. :D
Who didn't think that was Noctis sitting outside her bedroom? As always, Author's Notes are posted in my Profile and even more indepth thoughts posted on LJ.
