The places nobody knows
AN: So, we're back on the Rean and Alisa train this time around with another one of my no-dialogue runs (and boy did I miss it this time around) that takes place after the events at the Infernal Castle in CSII. In the very unlikely scenario you don't know what happens there - uh, you might wanna back up because there be SPOILERS here!
In hindsight, it was probably better that I didn't use this idea for a Valentine's gift fic like I originally thought I might, something like that deserves a lot more happy than this story has :P
"You are tired,
(I think)
Of the always puzzle of living and doing;
And so am I.
Come with me, then,
And we'll leave it far and away -
(Only you and I, understand!)
You have played,
(I think)
And broke the toys you were fondest of,
And are a little tired now;
Tired of things that break, and -
Just tired.
So am I."
The shadows keep dancing on the wall.
If Alisa tries very hard, perhaps she can pretend it's a suitable distraction; that the moonlight deluding her eyes is enough to make her forget what happened mere hours ago, even if only for a moment.
It's a fool's errand, an indulgence of the most childish kind, but she can't find it in herself to break old habits. She remembers all too well what it like to have a family shatter beyond repair, leaving nothing behind but scattered memories and aching grief.
It will get worse before it gets better. She remembers that, too.
Alisa slips out from under her covers and climbs to her feet without a word, not bothering to pocket the ARCUS that lies on her bedside table. After all, it's not like she's going to need it. Class VII's all accounted for.
She quietly makes her way out of the room, ignoring how the thought makes her stomach twist and her eyes sting.
It takes her a moment to realize that she's not alone downstairs. If anything, she's rather late to the proceedings.
Gaius blearily looks up from where he sits on one of the couches and waves a tired hand in greeting, beckoning her over. Beside him, Jusis gives her a perfunctory nod of his own but says nothing at all, his expression utterly blank as a sleeping Millium rests against him, none of her usual ebullience to be seen.
She recalls that they'd been sitting in the exact same positions a few hours earlier when Alisa had finally left to go upstairs, the memory of Instructor Sara's hand gently squeezing her own lending her the strength to make it up the endless steps (one-two, one-two). She can't help but wonder if they've moved at all since then. Normally the idea of Millium managing to stay still for that long would be unthinkable but… well.
Light peeks out from underneath the kitchen door, a splash of radiance across an expanse of inky darkness. Alisa takes a deep breath, glancing over when her ears catch the faintest hint of voices. She supposes Sara and Sharon are still talking. Not that she'd be able to hazard a guess as to what.
Her mouth opens to speak but before she can utter a word Gaius quickly draws a finger to his lips, the firm shake of his head a clear sign to remain silent. Upon seeing her questioning look, Jusis rolls his eyes and merely gestures her to come closer, to stand beside them so she can see as they see.
She closes the distance in a few steps, taking in what little she can in the room's dim light and it's Laura she catches first, slumped over on one end of the other couch and looking far wearier than she'd ever had after training. Beside her are Fie and Elliot, the smaller girl curled against Laura's back like a cat with one of her hands reaching back to rest atop Elliot's wrist, who for his part looks to be in no better shape than either of them.
Her expectant gaze turns to the right and she can't say she's particularly startled when the indistinct lump taking up what little space remains reveals itself to be Machias with a sound asleep Emma ensconced in his arms, his glasses askew and her fluttering breaths gentle against his neck.
Alisa's lips gently curl upwards in a ghost of a smile; a fragile, tiny thing. She's always wondered why they dance around each other the way they do. Between the constantly stolen glances and shy, tiny smiles (to say nothing of the time spent alone together when their duties called) it wasn't as if they were fooling anybody, especially not earlier. Not the way she had been leaning on Machias in the aftermath when she thought no one was looking, quivering from magical exhaustion and her face wet with tears. She had tried so hard to save Crow, so, so hard…
Her jaw and fists both clench tightly, muscles tensing and coiling with vicious aplomb, a defense mechanism so deeply ingrained it was now more reflex than habit. She swallows hard and tries to focus her attention on the little things instead, hoping against hope that they would deliver her a little bit of calm.
The cool air in the dorm.
The faint scent of coffee wafting over from just beyond the kitchen door.
The way Jusis' and Gaius' eyes both dim when they see her reaction, and she knows without a trace of doubt that they must be remembering too.
What can she say? She tried.
He's haunting all of them now, whether he wants to or not. She briefly ponders if he'd find it funny before deciding that no, he probably wouldn't. That would be more than a little cruel, and though his humor is many things – crass, ill-timed, boorish – it's not cruel. He's way too nice for that.
(Was, Alisa amends, her lips pressing into a thin white line. She means was).
Well, that was everyone, except for…
Alisa exhales roughly, regarding the pair with an inscrutable look before she jerks her head in the direction of the stairs, terse and short. She doesn't trust herself to speak, not when she risks smothering and drowning in a tide that's crashing dangerously close to shore. She can only hope that they understand.
They do. Of course they do.
Her racing pulse slows just a fraction when Gaius nods in affirmation, favoring her with a gentle, encouraging smile, and she's known Jusis long enough to understand that the sardonic glance he gives her is meant to be heartening in its own way. It's a tack that Machias might very well have taken had he been awake instead. She thinks better of pointing this out.
Alisa smiles back as best she can – still fragile, still tiny – before she tiptoes her way back toward the stairs, leaving behind her both the tableau of shared sorrow and a vast, yawning silence; loss's native tongue.
His door is unlocked. Her hand on the knob, she hesitates only for a second before twisting the rest of the way and pushing it open, stepping over the threshold before she can falter and turn back.
Alisa isn't at all surprised when she sees that Rean is very much awake, sitting up in his bed and staring aimlessly into space. His head slowly drifts over in her direction, dazed and confused, and she wonders if he's going to ask her to leave.
He doesn't. He doesn't do much of anything, if she's being honest.
She sits down next to him without a word, kicking off her shoes as her hands gingerly start to smooth out the wrinkled sheets. Rean's still looking at her, absentmindedly observing as she nibbles at her lip uncertainly before his lightless eyes start running their way across the trails her fingertips leave on the fabric, the desperate fire that had so briefly raged against Giliath Osborne having long since burned out.
Rean looks so distant, so small, so utterly tired, and her heart aches at the sight because he had always seemed so strong no matter the circumstances in front of him. Knowing Rean he was probably blaming himself, but what could he have possibly have done to change the course of events? What could any of them have done, for that matter?
Nothing, really, but that sort of understanding is never enough of a salve for the grieving; it surely can't be enough for Rean, just like it isn't enough for a family that had been irreparably damaged by losing one of their own.
Just like it wasn't enough for a little girl that had curled up underneath her blankets and cried for her father until there were no more tears left to shed.
Alisa doesn't even realize her fists are clenched and quivering again until she feels Rean's hands hesitantly rest atop hers, the gentle touch drawing her startled gaze towards his own, his question unspoken yet perfectly clear.
She shakes her head once, her throat tightening up and robbing her of both words and breath.
No.
No, she's not okay. But then again, neither is he.
She has no idea how she can begin to try fixing this. She doesn't know if anything even can.
She tries her best anyway.
Rean stiffens when Alisa carefully draws one of his hands upwards and tenderly cradles it against her cheek, his quiet shudder and sharp, ragged exhale telling her all she needs to know. She stays perfectly still in the face of his warmth, carefully watching for any indication that this is too much, that she needs to go away.
He moves closer instead, breathing her name like a prayer. She opens her arms in offering and they tumble down together, Rean clinging to her like she'll disappear if he lets go. She can feel him shaking again, wracked by tremors that would threaten to consume him if not for Alisa tracing delicate circles along the warm hollow between his shoulder blades, silencing the encroaching darkness with a touch that feels like home.
He's gazing at her with weighty, shadowed eyes. He does not cry. Maybe he's run out of tears. Alisa can understand that.
Her fingers are gentle against the skin of his nape.
They remain just like that, Alisa lending him every bit of strength and comfort she can muster, and it's only when the trembling has ceased and his breathing is even and peaceful does she permit her heavy eyelids to finally close, her lips brushing the side of his neck as she follows Rean into slumber's welcome embrace.
When morning comes, there will be no words of comfort exchanged, no whispers of reassurance to be found. There will be no false hope, no hollow platitudes, no talk of past or present or future. There will only be a sliver of peace found in a girl and boy holding each other close, his nose resting within her golden hair and the steady beat of her heart promising him that you are not alone.
"But I come with a dream in my eyes tonight,
And knock with a rose at the hopeless gate of your heart -
Open to me!
For I will show you the places Nobody knows,
And, if you like,
The perfect places of Sleep.
Ah, come with me!
I'll blow you that wonderful bubble, the moon,
That floats forever and a day;
I'll sing you the jacinth song
Of the probable stars;
I will attempt the unstartled steppes of dream,
Until I find the Only Flower,
Which shall keep (I think) your little heart
While the moon comes out of the sea."
- E.E Cummings