Chapter Twelve

I'll Stay with Her, if . . . .

It was always the worst when she went to sleep.

It had nothing to do with impending nightmares, though it did have something to do with going to sleep without him. Still, going to sleep without him wasn't the worst part. The worst part was the thought of waking up without him, knowing that, the next day, things wouldn't be better. He'd still be gone, nowhere to be found. She'd still be alone, living in this house with her fiancé's childhood friend and an adoptive daughter that she wanted nothing to do with. The simple idea of going through another day without him was sometimes so crippling that she'd stay up all night, praying that the next morning would never come, that life would stop going on without him, that she'd never have to spend a single moment yearning for his presence again. She withered in his absence, becoming a misshapen version of what she'd been with him. Even if he were to come back now, would he recognize her? Of course he would. He was wonderful enough that he'd remember her even if she had metamorphosed into a crinkled autumn leaf. She, on the other hand, might not recognize him in a crowd even if he hadn't changed a bit. Didn't he deserve better than that?

If he came to her now, what would he say? How would he react to the horrible way she'd treated the daughter he'd left behind for her? She wanted nothing to do with girl, though. She doubted she ever would. That girl would be a constant reminder of the life she was meant to have, the life she and Len might have shared had his death not been brought in such an untimely manner. That girl would forever be a symbol of the injustice of the world, and Rin would never be able to see past it.

If Len could tell her just one thing right now, however, she feared that that one most important thing to say would no longer be 'I love you'.

. . .

"Shut up!" Rin screeched, slamming her hands so tightly against her ears that it made her head pound, but she could still hear that voice calling her name. Tears pricked her eyes as she shouted once more, "Shut up! Leave me alone! Stay away from me!"

"Rin?" It was a different voice this time, one that made Rin's heart skip a beat as hope lifted her spirits for just a moment. Her eyes opened for just a moment before she caught sight of pink hair and remembered that Len was long gone, that Iroha's voice was only reminiscent of his. Still, she needed someone right now, and, even though she hated the woman an equal amount, she loved Iroha so much.

"I can hear it," Rin said brokenly, trying to explain it to her guardian. "Make it go away, Iroha, please. I can still remember what it sounds like, that laugh. Make it go away. Len always made it go away, but he's not here anymore."

She heard a sharp sob come from a younger voice, probably Yuki's, and then the rapid footsteps of a child dashing toward her room and slamming the door shut as Iroha called after her. Rin was horrified for a moment when she realized that Iroha might run after the child and leave her here alone.

"Iroha, help me," she begged, squeezing her hands tighter against her ears as though trying to break through her skull and into her brain to rip out whatever part made sounds make sense.

She felt hands gently come around her, stroking her hair gently with one while the other came to rest on her back. The woman's body warmed against Rin's as Rin tried to ignore the voice echoing in her ears, painful memories surfacing. Iroha murmured gently, "When did it start?"

"I want gin," Rin hiccupped, forcing something to come out. She knew how to guilt Iroha, and she knew that, right now, there was only one thing that would drown both the memories and the pain of Len's absence. "It never happens when I'm wasted, Iroha. Please get me something strong." She made her voice as pitiful as she possibly could. "Please help me."

"I highly doubt Len gave you alcohol when this happened," snapped Iroha. Her impatience startled Rin so much that the blonde woman jerked backward, her hands falling to her sides as she stared at Iroha. The other woman stared sternly back, crouched before her in the kitchen when Rin had fallen earlier. "When did it start this time?"

Rin's bottom lip quivered as she stopped herself from crying, feeling so weak and powerless when Iroha refused to be manipulated. "I found a note in the cookbook."

Iroha froze, probably noticing now the scent of Rin's cooking drifting from the stovetop she'd fallen before. Iroha's brow furrowed at she wondered, "You were cooking? Why?"

Rin paused, not wishing to tell the woman of the realization she'd had earlier. Something about saying it aloud made it way too real. She stared at Iroha, a million doubts running through her head. Instead of telling the truth, she replied, "I didn't know if you'd be home today."

Iroha's eyes were yellow stones as she searched Rin's gaze for a silent moment. Rin stared back, not comprehending what Iroha wanted from her. Then, the woman remarked, "You see? You don't need alcohol to make it go away." Rin flinched, knowing her roommate was right. No artificial sounds echoed in her ears now as Iroha pulled herself up from the ground and said coldly, "Well, now I have to go be an adult since you refuse to do so."

With a vicious glare that Rin most certainly wasn't used to getting from her roommate, Iroha made her way out of the kitchen and into Yuki's room. Rin stayed still for a few moments, terrified by this change of pace, before wiping tears away and standing up once more to resume her cooking. She stared at the cookbook. A black blotch of Sharpie marker now covered the note that had been left there, scrawling also over a now incomprehensible part of the recipe. After a silent moment, Rin drew in a shuddering breath and resumed cooking.

. . .

Rin stayed home from work the next day, and Iroha remained cold even that morning. Rin felt herself shrinking back when the woman would walk by. She had no idea what had brought this change in Iroha, but it terrified her. She had no idea what she would do without Iroha, and if Iroha lost patience in her just as Aria had, what would she do?

Rin fought back the yearning to go outside, to the store, to buy a drink. She clutched her knees tightly to her chest and huddled on the couch, watching the television drone on and on. She didn't think about much all day; thinking only made things more complicated. It was easier not to think, as drinking had proven, but she had to prove that she could do it herself.

She didn't notice when Iroha and Yuki got home. She probably never would have if she hadn't felt the familiar presence of Yuki as the girl stared at her, lingering nearby but not brave enough to interrupt the thoughts she imagined running through Rin's head. At first, Rin thought to snap at her, but she felt too tired to do so, so she merely looked to the girl and wondered, "What is it?"

Yuki jumped, startled, and then jerked her arms straight out toward Rin. Rin eyed the package of papers being offered to her questioningly, looking to Yuki once more and refusing to take them without explanation. The little girl mumbled something that Rin couldn't make out, so the blonde requested, not too harshly, "Speak up. I have no idea what you're saying."

Yuki jumped, and words began tumbling out of her mouth in a rapid stream that Rin could barely keep up with. "I asked Miss Utatane to help me do some research and she let me print some things off that I thought would help you. I looked up on her computer what you're supposed to do when you start hearing voices, and I don't know if it'll actually be helpful or if you want them or anything. I-if you don't want them, I can just go throw them out, okay? I just thought that, maybe, the might help you out so I . . . ." She seemed to run out of words there, so she looked away and shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. Rin stared at the girl, stunned. Why did she care so much? All Rin had done since she'd gotten here was treat her horribly.

Yuki squeaked involuntarily as Rin snatched the papers from her hand. Rin tried not to flinch as the child did, knowing that it was her own fault that Yuki was afraid of her. She grumbled a swift thanks before looking back to the television. She knew the papers would be of no help to her. The voices she heard were memories. Still, she felt Yuki still lingering, watching her, so she turned her eyes down to the pages and began to study them, skimming over words while pretending to soak them in. She saw Yuki's smile in her peripheral vision before the girl vanished into the kitchen, where Iroha was cooking something or other.

Rin let out a long sigh and, knowing she wouldn't be heard over the popping of cooking oil on the stovetop, murmured to Len, "Okay, you win. I'll keep her. I don't want her yet, Len, but I'll try to. I still want you, though."

Author's Note: Sorry it's short, but adding filler would take away from the point of the chapter.