Haha summer do be busy :'D
Things start to go somewhere, even as they begin to unravel at the seams.
Also, this fic is longer than Retribution now by several thousand words (in my draft document), so yay for that :D And I was rereading some of Retribution and I feel like I have gotten at least somewhat better at writing with this story, so yay for that too :D Anyways, it's been a while, so I'll shut up now.
listen, listen, I would take a whisper if that's all you had to give, but it isn't, is it? - Echo (Jason Walker)
o0o0o
In a dark room in one of Arun's inns, Karma sits at the table, sick with longing and heartache, mindlessly flicking through the photos already burned into her memory.
All this time, Asuna has been right here.
All this time, she's been playing around in this world, stupid enough to think that it was finally nothing more than a game, selfish enough to have spared so little thought for Asuna. The sight of her surrogate sister sitting in a gilded birdcage like some prize or trophy fills her with an incandescent rage as she trembles in her seat, her hands shaking nearly too badly to hold the pictures.
That war never took prisoners and it was supposed to be over.
And yet this is where she is? In a cage, right under Karma's nose?
Slumped in her seat, she turns to look at Heathcliff, leaning on the wall by the door. Her voice, though quiet, holds more steel than she intended.
"Did you know?"
It feels like it's been longer, but it's only been about three weeks since she arrived here in Alfheim with the intent to stay. Just the other day, a party of players had tried to clear the World Tree from the outside—they certainly weren't the first, but they got the closest. She wasn't there, but with the help of a few acquaintances of acquaintances, she managed to get her hands on the pictures they took.
No one in Alfheim expected what that party found. None of them, except perhaps him.
Of all things, he has the gall to look mildly affronted. "Of course," he says plainly, not even attempting to deny it.
Taking a deep, deep breath, she asks, somehow managing to keep her tone level, "Are you the one responsible?" If he's not bothering to mince his words, neither is she.
He sounds too surprised to be faking his response (although at this point, anything she believes to be true about him is probably another lie, isn't it?). "Why would I do that?"
Lowering her hand, she stares at the pictures, barely seeing them anymore. "To gain my cooperation?"
"For?" he prompts flatly.
A lifeless sigh passes her lips. Well, she didn't think it was him anyway. If he couldn't tell that he already had her in shackles from the moment she cut her ties to the real world, then he wouldn't be smart enough to be Heathcliff. "So it's not you."
"No."
"Right."
She slams the blurry pictures of Asuna on the table, knocking her chair back with a CLATTER as she stands.
"So why didn't you tell me?!" she snarls, fire licking inside of her chest, spitting sparks and cinders. "You of all people should know how much she means to me! All this time, she's been here, trapped under our noses, and you didn't think to say a word?"
"Did you expect me to?" Heathcliff asks, calm and neutral and infuriating, and she sneers; the way the expression feels as it twists her face is ugly. Of course he thought of it. He thinks of everything.
"I shouldn't have," she spits out, words flying like fire arrows before she can even think about taking them back. "You only ever cared about yourself."
His eyes flash now, and he straightens up instantly.
"That's not true," he snaps, looking for just a split second more intense than she's perhaps ever seen him. Something heated flickers in his gaze; far from being intimidated or frightened (if she let herself fear him, what else would she have left?), she goads him on with her eyes, daring him to be honest for once in his life-
Instead, he draws back, like he always does, averting his gaze in something that almost resembles shame. So now he's ashamed?
"Accuse me of anything else, and I would never refute it," he whispers to the floor, his voice smooth and soft and sad, "but not that. Not from y-"
"Enough."
It's only one word, but it carries the force of a whip and stops him in his tracks. Wrenching her gaze away from the look on his face, she mutters, "I don't want to hear this from you right now." She knows it's not fair to him, but none of this is fair, and she's too tired to try and make it so.
When he remains silent, unmoving in her periphery, Karma breathes in deep, lifting her hands, forcing her fists to unclench; in agitation, she pulls at her braids as she paces.
"Set her free," she whispers; she doesn't need to look at him to guess what his response will be.
"I can't do that."
A sob sputters in the back of her throat; she spins to glare at him through watery vision. "Yes, you can! You protected me on New Year's, you said you had admin privileges here!"
He blinks slowly, something shadowy flickering in his gaze; his expression is otherwise impassive, as it always is, and she snarls quietly.
"You don't want to set her free." The accusation looms like gathering stormclouds.
"I don't want to," he agrees evenly, dark steel eyes effortlessly holding her gaze captive. "But I would, for you. If you would let me." If you would trust me.
Fear curls in her stomach like wisps of acrid smoke, and she struggles to hold her breathing even. That accursed timer looms in her memory of New Year's, counting down to her undoing, and she shakes her head slowly, remembering feeling so, so helpless. So vulnerable, with no one there but him.
"I can't do that," she parrots in a cracked whisper. She hates the way it sounds, as if it's her fault that Asuna remains imprisoned.
She hears a soft sigh. "Then it seems we are at an impasse."
A strangled sound escapes from her throat as she paces to the window, bracing her gloved hands against the rough wood of the windowsill. The World Tree looms in the distance, but no longer does she feel the same awe and amazement when she looks at it.
It's not, is it? It's not her fault that she can't trust him; he was the one who made her this way. It's not her fault-
He is wise enough not to reach out at this moment, but she feels him approaching next to her.
"Hypothetically," he begins softly, heavy resignation weighing down each word, "if I were to do as you asked...What would you do after Asuna was free?"
Grief burns in the back of her throat as she squeezes her eyes shut, lifting one trembling hand to her face as tears spill down her cheeks despite her best efforts. The answer is on the tip of her tongue; she bites it back, unwilling to confront the truth, because there isn't one.
If Asuna is free, she will leave the virtual world. And Karma could follow her back to the real world, with very real consequences and her very real lack of a future and the very real lack of him—somehow, she knows that the moment she logs out, he will never appear to her again, not when she has a foot in each world.
Or she could stay. With him.
Asuna will never accept that Karma won't leave the virtual world, but Karma will never accept being forced to go back by anyone—not Heathcliff, not anyone in the real world, and not Asuna either.
"This is so unfair," she laughs through her tears, her voice breaking. "I don't want to choose." Rage blisters in her lungs as she slams her fist against the window, triggering an immortal object warning as she screams, "Why should I have to choose?!"
His next words are nearly lost in the echoes of her wrath.
"This would hardly be the only difficult choice you've ever made."
At his words, spoken with his typical soft calm, she blinks. Slowly, she turns to face him, shaking. He's joking, he must be. How dare he bring them up, as if those choices are anything like the one that faces her now?
"That was different," she hisses. "Don't compare my choices to kill people for the sake of my family to this."
Something flickers in his expression. "I was merely pointing out that you are capable of making these decisions."
"That was different," she reasserts, her voice trembling; I made those choices for you.
And when he left, suddenly so did her resolve, it would seem.
"You chose to hurt some people in favor of protecting or saving others," he counters. "You have the strength, and you can-"
"I can't!" she shouts, lurching forward to grasp fistfuls of the front of his jacket. "Because no matter what I choose, someone I care about is going to get hurt!" With a furious sob, she cries, "Because no matter what I choose, I'm going to get hurt."
And she has already chosen him once, twice, a million times over. For all that she gained, for all that she might even have left, she sacrificed something each and every time—a shred of humanity here, a nightmare-less night there. It added up slow at first, but soon began to snowball into a debt she didn't know she was paying in blood until she could hardly breathe.
I'm sick of losing. Somehow, it feels like it's all she's been doing for weeks.
"I'm not ready to lose her too," she chokes out.
Moving carefully, he lifts his hands to place on top of hers, gently disentangling them from the fabric; they leave no wrinkles.
"Then don't choose right now," he murmurs, and she hiccoughs out a humorless laugh. As if it's that simple.
"That's just choosing to do nothing," she whispers, shaking her head; it's a choice she's always endeavored not to make. If she could do something, she would, because it was always better than doing nothing at all-
But hey, while they're at it, they might as well keep on shattering all the rules that kept her alive before.
This isn't living anyways.
"It's choosing to buy time," he argues quietly, "to think about it and find another way." Squeezing her hands, he whispers, "I don't want either of you to suffer any more than you do."
Pretty words. She's fairly sure they're true. He wouldn't wish for their pain. Wouldn't wish for them to be free of it either.
Pulling away, she turns away jerkily. "I need to go kill something." When he makes to follow, she jabs a finger at him without looking. "You stay."
She slams the door shut behind her.
o0o0o
He's sitting at the counter in the corner of the inn when she returns, and doesn't look up as she slides into the seat next to him. It was strange, being without him again, but they both knew she would come crawling back.
She wonders if he's angry at her, for the things she said in her rage. Then she dismisses the thought; even if he has the capacity to be angry, he deserves it. It's his fault anyways, for keeping secrets from her again. Didn't he learn anything the first time?
But you never asked, reminds a snide voice that sounds suspiciously like him, and she slams the door shut on it too and orders coffee for them both.
"I have to do something," she says while they wait for their drinks. "I can't let her stay a prisoner."
She hears a soft sigh. "I expected nothing less."
Giving him a sidelong look, she can't help but ask, "You won't get in my way?"
The shadows twist in his eyes again, his microexpressions flickering; once, she used to be able to read them all like a book (or maybe she just thought she could?).
"I'd like to think that I would know better than that," he rebuts softly, "and I'd like to think that you know that too."
Karma would also like to think that she knows anything for sure anymore, but it certainly doesn't feel like it—except for one thing.
You'll be home soon, Asuna.
Making promises is not something she does lightly. But the few that she has made, she's been good about keeping.
"If you believe in me, I'll follow you anywhere."
Whether or not that's a good thing is something she doesn't want to think about.
o0o0o
He thinks the scariest part about Karma has always been her pragmatism. No matter what the situation, she always finds a way to make the choice that yields the most practical net gain, regardless of what must be sacrificed for it.
Of course, it doesn't make her infallible. She makes mistakes and forgets things sometimes and she can't forsee every outcome, but she's still the most level-headed person that he knows. Seeing her break down on New Year's was sobering on an entirely different level. Living in the real world was never easy for him, but he never realized how hard it was on her either until the mere idea of going back had her paralyzed in his arms, shattered.
Her pragmatism is why she was such a good leader in SAO, and also not particularly suited to the role either. She could be trusted to make all the rational decisions—sacrifice one to save a whole party, sacrifice one party to save a dozen parties, sacrifice the weak to save the strong. And before she stepped down, she made several of those decisions when others couldn't and her heart bled for each one, but she always kept it behind closed doors. Sometimes it helped the troops to hear her calmly logic her way through those problems. Sometimes it hurt more than it helped.
He never had to worry about being unable to see past that facade. He supposes that he had the privilege of seeing her for who she truly was, instead of the mask she wore day in and day out (and by the gods, did he take that privilege for granted).
There were times when she pushed too hard. Driven by guilt and grief and the paranoia that wouldn't let her rest, it was often him or Asuna who had to remind her to stop and breathe. But he thinks right now, she knows that there's no one there to catch her. He's here, but he knows that he doesn't count, not really, not anymore.
The fact that she's pacing herself, thinking instead of mindlessly running herself into the ground, is scary. It scares him; he doesn't like it. Maybe the reason why this is gnawing at her so much is that she isn't doing everything she could be doing—he would be her answer if only she could bring herself to ask. This problem is new; giving one hundred percent (and often then some) was never an issue for her like it is now.
But it doesn't change her obsession, or the fact that he can see her psyche crumbling even faster at the edges than it was before. This isn't normal or healthy; he knows this because this is what he was like once too.
Silently, he trails after her through the inn, bypassing the people drinking and laughing and playing card games and music. He watches her sleep; it's not like he has much else to do.
Once, he would scoop her out of the chair in front of his desk and she would hardly stir, boneless and at ease. It doesn't work now, not anymore. He's seen her smile, heard her laugh, but when was the last time she was at peace? It's hardly tangible, or maybe at this point he's just so used to the paranoia constantly ebbing from her like a wound that won't close, but the absence of her contentment sets him on edge—and also makes him realize just how much he relied on her.
Imitation, mimicry, learning by example—whatever it was, one thing was certain. So many times, the moments he felt more than indifference the most were in her company. He could finally begin to understand why humans were always classified as social animals, why laughter was supposedly so contagious, why her cries drew him to her in an effort to comfort because her grief felt like a dissonant chord.
She taught him the basics of what people call empathy and he's pretty sure she has no idea. And right now, the lack of life in her, the very thing that made her so vibrant and that drew him to her, hurts in a way that makes him viscerally uncomfortable. He longs for the times when she was simply choosing what to do in the day based on her own whims, because at least she looked like she was happy. She barely talks to him nowadays; it's slowly killing them both.
And after about a week of it, even he can't stand it anymore.
"You need to take a break."
Amid a sea of light shards, Karma sheathes her sword with a well-practiced motion. She looks so lonely.
"I do take breaks," she answers robotically, hands moving through her menu; said breaks are carefully planned, exactly two hours of sleep after every ten hours of grinding, every day. It's exhausting to watch.
"You need to take a break and do something else," he corrects, drawing on the advice (read: commands) that Rinko gave him when he was feverishly working on the steel castle from his dreams. She was right in the end, though.
Funny thing—at first glance, when they were in Aincrad, Karma reminded him very much of Rinko, getting him to take care of himself, caring about him when he wouldn't or couldn't, and never taking no for an answer on either of those things.
Now, he sees himself in her more than he sees Rinko, and it's all his fault, intentionally or not. In his resentment and apathy and jealousy, he broke her the same way that he was shattered, desperate to find some way to cure his loneliness, and apparently, the best solution he could come up with was to drag her down with him.
No regrets, he swore when he first launched his steel castle into the sky, so full of brazen confidence that surely, there would be no reason to doubt that vow.
But every rule exists to be broken, and this might be the one thing that he really, truly wishes he could turn back time for, no matter how pointless it would be.
Not meeting her, no. Not forming this bond that can't be put into words. He wouldn't trade either for the world.
It's not really a question of whether or not she deserved it—she didn't, but life isn't fair, and neither of them are ones to waste time complaining about that; they're both too pessimistic at this point to believe that things can get better anyways. It's not a question of right or wrong either; they're far past that point, no use in biting their nails over that now.
No, it's just that he had it in the palms of his hands, the very thing he spent so long searching for. He wanted control over his life, so he made a world of his own, thereby taking the weight of every consequence onto his own shoulders as its god. Fine—he didn't care anyways about those consequences, until he did.
He wanted control; now he's left with the fact that his hands, however unwilling, had crushed the hope he'd done all of this for, and nothing good has come from it. Being with her in Aincrad was something good, something to be truly treasured and remembered, no matter how many lies were weaved into it.
But this? This isn't living.
If only he'd been better, maybe he could've found a way to avoid that train wreck; he had two years, yet realized far too late that he wanted more.
(If only he'd been better, maybe she would've stayed, but that's neither here nor there)
When he takes her hand, she digs her heels in, jaw set stubbornly; without meaning to, the word slips out: "Please."
Her gaze snaps up, half suspicious, half disbelieving. He's not sure he's ever said that word to her with that particular inflection in all the time they've known each other; there's never been anything that he wanted or needed from her that she wouldn't give him.
Slowly, her resistance melts, and she silently follows him towards the closest civilization.
Hand in hand, they walk through the dark, quiet streets, fireflies and lanterns and foreign constellations granting a small modicum of light. It's getting late, and he strains his virtual hearing, hoping that there are still some parts of this town that are awake.
Finally, at the edge of the town is a small tavern, with faint strains of violin music threading the air delicately, and he pushes open the door.
The inside of the tavern is practically deserted. An NPC bartender is polishing a glass behind the counter, looking as bored as an NPC can look. Sitting in the corner is a player passed out drunk at the table. Other than them, the place is deserted, only an old, tarnished gold phonograph eking out soft string music.
He quickly rearranges some tables and chairs to make a sizeable space in the middle of the tavern while Karma watches silently from near the door. When finished, he grasps both her hands in his and pulls her gently towards the open space.
"Dance with me?" he requests.
She inhales sharply, shoulders stiff, and her hands twitch, fingers curling hesitantly around his. Slowly, she shakes her head, and his heart drops for a strangely weightless moment until he sees the way her back straightens a fraction of a centimeter.
"Lead on," she agrees wearily.
Tonight, the tables are turned. Tonight, they dance the night away with no one to witness but the NPC mindlessly polishing glasses, just a bunch of code, insentient, harmless, incapable of hurting them like real people can and did and do.
Tonight, they are safe and secure and lonely in the knowledge that, really, this changes nothing.
o0o0o
I hate that I love you; don't want to, but I can't put nobody else above you - i hate u i love u (Gnash)
smashing my heart should've set you free, but you're leeching the blood from me - Nothing Without You (Dominik A. Hecker ft. Talia Georgie)
"But hey, while we're at it, let's just keep making bad choices!" :D
Funny thing: a friend of mine (you know who you are XD) said to me that Karma has two moods, paranoid and angry. And I was like, you know what, that is Facts. And in this chapter, we got to see both :D
For the little dance scene, I had the OST 'Last Sunset' from The Dragon Prince (brilliant show, by the way, please go watch it, or at least listen to the OST :)) playing in the background. When you hear it, it's like the feeling of walking towards a fight you know you won't walk back out of, and you're doing it voluntarily anyways because you know you have no other choice and wow, that applies here better than I first thought it would O.o
And to clarify, to some degree, Heathcliff is here because Karma wanted him here. He does as she wishes, but only to an extent. Up until now, all of her desires, from her day-to-day whims to her adamant fear of returning to the real world, have not conflicted with his. He still has all his admin privileges, so he could easily free Asuna without them ever having to go near the World Tree. But deep, deep down inside, part of Karma doesn't want that, because then she would be forced to choose between the two people she cares for most. And Heathcliff knows that too. There's a fair chance that she wouldn't choose him, which means she would leave him. And he doesn't care about Asuna but maybe he would free her for Karma's sake, but we'll never know because Karma doesn't trust him with the power he wields; after all, if she trusted him, it would mean a greater chance of her staying. What's stopping him is that neither Heathcliff nor Karma, at their cores, actually want him to do it.
So as you can see, everything is fine! We are doing great :)