A/N- Here's another moment with Rei and Jad; there are many ways to be strong.
He didn't know why he'd felt like coming to the temple today, other than that the desire to see her came over him too strongly to ignore. He walked up the steps slowly, the wind playing with his hair, and tucked his hands more firmly into his pockets to keep them warm. Blue eyes scanned for movement, a clue as to where she might be. He hoped she was here…and that she wouldn't mind him dropping by.
The soft sound caught his attention as he crossed the yard; a piano? He followed it, the music a drifting current woven through the air. It hadn't occurred to him, though it should have, that she'd have a piano. After all, she composed; that would be hard to do without one. Into the temple, over to a small room he'd never noticed off the side. Jad stood in the doorway, oddly hesitant to enter. Courage gathered, he slipped in quietly, and stopped short, breath caught in his throat.
Fragile light filled the room, framed the woman at the piano. The wind still howled outside, but softer, it seemed, as if to compliment rather than disrupt the music. It was a grand piano, the stain a dark cherry, and the woman sitting at it… Her dark hair was pulled back, but messily, strands left to fall across her cheeks. She was dressed casually, obviously not expecting anyone in her jeans and oversized grey sweatshirt. Violet eyes were shut, lashes dark against the paleness of her skin. Her expression, though, was what struck him dumb. A tranquil joy radiated from her, a peace that he'd never seen in her before. The curve of her smile was a gentle delight, and it wrapped his heart in bonds as soft as owl feathers. Her normal fire wasn't gone, it was just…banked. As if she was now coal to warm himself by, rather than the conflagration that usually scorched him. He walked towards her, entranced.
Seeing her like this, it made something well up inside him, something invitingly fierce and tender. He wondered briefly at the strangeness of it, at the strength of it, but couldn't stop his steady advance. She played on, oblivious to his presence as fingers danced across the keys to produce that delicate melody, the music a falling cascade of rain, a floating leaf, the epitome of autumn in some way he couldn't understand, but felt.
He stood behind her as she brought the song to a close, the last notes a contented sigh that faded serenely away. She heaved her own sigh, then, and stretched. He caught her hands in his as they reached towards him, a vague thought of kissing them surfacing. That thought was quickly discarded when she reacted…a bit badly.
In a snaking movement she twisted herself around on the piano bench and hooked his legs out from under him; he would've appreciated her self defense response if he hadn't been the target. As it was, he fell with a yelp, releasing her hands automatically so he didn't drag her down with him.
As soon as she just who it was she'd tumbled, she sprang to her feet and looked horrified for a moment. "Jad! I'm sorry, I-!" She had one hand reaching out to him before his presence really registered. Then she frowned down at him, and put her hands on her hips. "Wait a minute…what are you doing here? And why did you sneak up on me?"
He looked up at her blankly for a moment, then snorted. "I came to see you, though I'm wondering why now, and I didn't sneak up on you, I was listening to you play!"
"Well, you could've let me know you were here or something rather than just grabbing me!" she shot back at him.
Frustrated now, he lurched to his feet so that he could face her rather than having to peer upwards. "I didn't want to interrupt your music! And I didn't grab you!"
Her eyes snapped and smoldered at him. "Yes you did!"
He reacted to her before he could help himself. "Did not!"
"Did too!"
"Did not!"
"Did too!"
He growled at the inanity of the argument and abruptly turned his back on her, shoulders hunched. The stony silence at his back didn't bode well if he kept his own much longer, and he reluctantly grated out an apology. "I'm…sorry. I didn't mean to startle you; I was caught up in the music and wasn't thinking."
The dusky glare she shot at him held notes of question in it as well as irritation, and he scowled. "Jad, really, what are you doing here?"
He sighed and ran his hands through her hair in an attempt to distract her. It didn't work. He grimaced. "I…wanted to see you."
An elegant brow relayed her (im)patience as she waited for the rest of the explanation. He felt like growling again. "I just…kinda missed you, and wanted to see you. It wasn't really planned, more random."
That brought a look of surprise to her face. "You missed me? But we just saw each other the day before yesterday, at the studio session for the guys."
Another scowl settled onto his face before he could stop it. "A studio session doesn't count as seeing you; I haven't seen you since the week before last. Why didn't you return my calls?"
She looked slightly exasperated, and he supposed he couldn't blame her; he knew he was being obtuse and stubborn, but it couldn't be helped. Really.
"I'm sorry, I've been busy, and I didn't think it was too urgent," She gestured at the piano, and continued, "This has basically been my first free moments in, well…two weeks; I needed to relax a little."
The undertones of honest exhaustion caught his attention, and he looked at her more closely. She did look tired, he conceded, worried at the shadows under her eyes, several shades darker than her irises. "What's wrong?" He tried for gentle, he did, but it came out more as a sharp demand.
She slanted him an equally sharp glance, but the pique melted off her as she ran a hand over her face, which left her looking strained and strangely vulnerable. "Things have been harder here since…since Grandfather got sick." She shook her head at his involuntary twitch of concern, "No, he's still stable, but him being in the hospital wasn't something I ever planned for." The muted misery in her unfocused gaze was visible for a mere moment before she replaced it with a cool, collected expression he knew was a lie. "The shrine is as busy as ever; perhaps even more so with well-wishers sending up prayers for him." She shrugged, her veneer firmly back in place now, the shell of aloofness hurting him more than her throwing him. "I can manage; I'm just impatient for him to get back so he can take his share of the work again."
He stepped forward and drew her into an embrace before she could move away, and simply held her, wishing he knew what to say to make it better. "I'm not very good with words," he confessed as he pulled away enough to look down at her. Her disbelief was apparent, and wrung a wry grin from him. "At least, not when it really counts. The band, parties, the social set, those words come easy." Frustrated by the doubt in her eyes, he kept trying. "But these, the words to make this better for you, the ones that would help…I don't have those. I wish I did, but…I don't." He gently tugged her against his chest again, and buried his face in her hair. "I'm sorry."
He felt her tense, knew what the whispered words would be before they came. "I'm fine."
He held her closer, his chest tight. "No," he told her, "you're not."
"Yes," she asserted, and pulled away from him, "I am." The words had strength behind them, but it was a brittle strength. The cold steel she laid over herself was cracking, and they both knew it; but if it broke, neither of them was sure what would happen. She wavered towards him for a brief second, and he saw, he knew that if he said the words that were chasing themselves around his head she would let him brace her up, keep her from crumbling. He wanted to say them, needed to say them…and couldn't. The moment passed, and she turned away. Helplessly he reached out, only to drop his hand again.
"I'll be here. If you need me, I'll be here. I…that's all I can say." He looked at the stiff line of her back and tried to speak around the ball of knives that was suddenly in his throat. "Rei…" He was barely a breath away; close enough to kiss the back of her neck if he just leaned forward, just a little…but he didn't. Instead, he murmured, "You don't even have to ask. Just…call. Even if you can't say anything, just call, and I'll be here the moment your number shows up on my screen. Okay?"
He waited, horribly afraid that she would rant at him, or smack him, or, worst of all, not respond at all. It felt like a lifetime before her head dipped slightly in acknowledgment; it wasn't much, but it was enough to let him breath again. "Okay." He took a trembling step back. "Okay. You just…you just call. I'll be waiting."
Every step he took away from her burned. He wanted to whip around, run back to her, sweep her into his arms and wipe every bad thought she'd ever had away with every ounce of passion he had within him, wanted to scream and rave and gnash his teeth over this, but…but. If he did any of those things, she was lost to him. He didn't know how he knew, or why it was so, but he did, and it was.
If he let loose the rage and hurt and fire that was churning inside him right now she would meet it with her own, and while normally that would be a good thing, he had the feeling that this time it would be too much. He would lose her. He couldn't lose her. So he made the only decision he could possibly live with.
He walked away, and prayed that she would be strong enough to be weak.