xx. but you're bringing me down
She didn't remember how she arrived here.
Presumably, Reno pushed her here, guiding. Or maybe, he carried her. Be it piggy back or bridled style.
But she woke up; saw Reno leaning against the wall, familiar smirk playing at his lips.
"Hey."
"Hey yourself." Sitting up from the bed, shoulders hunched, blearily blinking; words tumbled out of her mouth.
Pieces were coming together, though not all of them were there just there yet.
Waking up, she felt different.
Stranger.
Older, newer.
Not entirely sure if it's a good or a bad thing.
She bit her lip, trying to digest her thoughts. Swallowed, felt slight discomfort.
And Reno kept looking at her with intensity.
Wondered if she should tell him to stop, but instead, asked him something different.
"What do you think of forever?"
Tried to gauge his reaction, find the features that triggered a memory, be it sensuous or one that put her in a trance.
But no, he was still the stranger that tried to annoy her, yet there was affection too. No, it wasn't that. He was more than a stranger and less than a friend. More than a friend and less than a lover. He… he was Reno.
Simply Reno.
"Doesn't exist. Why?"
A slight smile tipped her lips.
"No reason." She shook her hair, flaxen locks falling into her face. "Just curious."
"Elena." Flinching slightly, she still didn't say anything – didn't correct him. Before, she was sure she was 'Helena', despite being curious about her past. Now, 'Helena' and 'Elena' were two sides of her, and she could not find the middle ground. "How much do you remember?"
"I remember you." Elena admitted. "The funeral. Standing besides you. The beach. I remember Rosalind – the sister I looked up to, who sat so perfectly in her pedestal. Cold, yet warm. The beach. The sun. The holidays. Bits and bobs."
Helena looked away, hand brushing locks. Cheeks flushed. It was nothing to be embarrassed about. The beach. That time. People did it all the time.
"… but not your father?" Reno gently probed, quiet.
"… nor my mom." She shook her head. "I just… I wish I could. I saw her gravestone there – right beside my sister and… and… there's nothing." Her voice died away, disheartened. Not a memory, not a memento, not a memoir. Nothing.
"I'm sorry." She nearly didn't hear it, too immersed in her thoughts.
But she didn't know how to respond to him either.
And couldn't find the words to tell him that she didn't hate him, that she was petty before, that she was… different.
Not quite Elena. But not quite Helena either.
"Rude," Reno sighed, leaning outside in the corridor, voice hushed. "Talk to her."
Hands curl inside his pockets.
He himself had talked enough to Elena.
"Okay." Beginning to move, Reno stopped him, ineffectively hitting his shoulder.
The action got his attention, but also gave the redhead pain, and most likely, bruises.
"Damn you and your hard skin. What are you, metal?" Reno complained, shaking his injured hand.
Rude rolled his eyes, mute, glad of his shades.
"… you could have just said 'wait'."
"Well I didn't, did I?" Scowling, the Turk with hair, cradled his damaged hand. Sighing, his shoulders sank and his eyes darkened. "She's beginning to remember."
There was a 'but'. Rude knew, because there always was.
"… but she can't remember Professor Morton."
"Okay." He nodded. That was alright. Perhaps he could try a different tact, triggering for other memories. "We can adapt. We can work on this."
It felt ironic.
Elena. Helena. Subjected to tests to remember whatever cracks of her past to aid them.
All in order to find her father.
The rain never stopped.
Helena stood beside the window, staring straight ahead. Beyond the window was the city of Junon, and beyond the city of Junon was the sea.
Breath marks were almost as visible as her hand print on the window.
"Helena."
Turning, eyes wide, Helena looked at him. Trust, fear, confusion – her emotions were so clear. So unlike Rosalind, who compartmentalized her thoughts and feelings.
"Rude." She tried to smile, and failed. "Is that your name? Or just what people like to call you, when you're anything but?"
He ignored that.
"Reno told me that you're starting to remember your past." Are you alright?
"Yes." Nodding, Helena gave a bitter smile, contemptuous. "My memories. And they don't feel like they're mine."
Remaining silent, she took it as her cue to continue.
Rude always was a good listener.
"I don't feel like me, anymore. And I miss me. But—who, exactly am I? Am I 'Helena', the cheerful girl who like polka dots dresses – and still do, as a matter of fact. Or, am I 'Elena', the…" Her eyes lowered, trying to think of how describe her former self. "… the girl how was hard-working and competitive?"
"Was she cheerful? That Elena?"
"… sometimes." Helena stared at her hands, shaking slightly. "Most of the time. Not always."
Personally, they sounded almost the same to Rude. But perhaps, it was merely two sides of the same coin, and in the eye of the holder, though they weren't as different as night and day, the differences about them bothered her.
He paused, taking care to phrase his response carefully. "You are whoever you want to be. Don't let your past define you, don't believe that your future is predetermined. Believe what you want, and start from there."
Let her reflect on that, while the rain began to end.
"… short talk." Reno noted once Rude returned. He had moved to the lobby of the hotel.
"A long talk was unnecessary." He shook his head. "She needed to take it easy. Helena is… someone who requires careful steps."
"Baby steps." The redhead shrugged, displeasure leaving a bad taste on his mouth. "Fine."
He didn't like it, but it was necessary.
She pulled her hair into a ponytail. Grabbed her PHS. Umbrella. Raincoat. Threw her bags outside the window – nobody would go out in this weather.
She needed to think, without feeling under pressure.
She wanted fresh air and to sneak out without the two Turks following her.
When the time called for it, Elena could be discreet.
(Helena… less so.)
Something was wrong.
Reno knew it. Rude knew it.
And as the door came crashing down… both knew why.
Professor Morton's daughter.
Gone.