(Author's Note: Thanks for being patient with me, here's a longer chapter chalk-full of Relm and gushy yucky drama. There's more on the way, we're not as near to the end as you might think. Thanks as always for reading and reviewing!)
Clyde had been in many situations that called for nerves of steel and a complete and utter devotion to the task at hand, but this was the most uncomfortable he could ever recall being. It was his own fault, but somehow that did not make it any easier to get his feet to carry him through Thamasa and to the house he remembered so well.
Locke had said that Thamasa had changed in the past year, but Clyde did not see it. There were subtle differences such as new houses and new people, but those were not the kind that mattered. It still had the same smell of laurel and sweetgrass, the same ambience of age and peace that stirred memories with a sharp pang of emotion. Before they could venture to Strago's house, the Chocobos needed to be put up at the stables and Clyde volunteered to take the animals.
Interceptor padded alongside him, like his tangible shadow, silent and alert for the short journey to the stables. Rather than ride, Clyde opted to walk the birds, which were complacent and manageable after the long ride up the shoreline. Lifting his head, he surveyed the area with bland interest as the stables, complete with the nauseating smell of Chocobos, loomed up before him. Beside the stables there was a small shack where the caretaker lived, and there was a light on in the window. He lashed the reins of the birds to a hitching post outside of the barn door and took the narrow rock path to the caretaker's house. Grasping the crude brass knocker on the front of the door, Clyde rapped it three times in quick and firm succession.
He waited for a few moments, hearing the barking of a dog from within and a gravelly voice telling the mutt to be quiet. Heavy footsteps crossed a wooden floor and the door swung open to reveal the bear of a stable master.
Clyde had to look up at the mountain of a man, and he did not especially like having to do so. The man was middle-aged and easily two hand spans taller than the assassin, wearing a thick cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up and dark, patched overalls. Said caretaker scratched at salt and pepper stubble on his chin as he looked down at the visitor with an openly critical eye.
"Kin I 'elp yeh?"
Fuck me…I remember this guy, Clyde thought to himself. How could he forget a man that big, with the one white eye like a marble? He was not sure why he was surprised that the stable master survived the reign of Kefka. "I have two Chocobos, I was looking to board them in your stables."
Looking past Clyde, the stable master glanced at the birds hitched outside of the barn and nodded his head. "Go on, 'den. Prices're on th' barn door. Ye kin pay when ye c'lect yer mounts."
As trusting as ever, too, the assassin noted. He had robbed this man of a prized Chocobo when he had fled Thamasa those years ago. Obviously the half blind ogre did not remember who he was.
"Thank you," He replied smoothly. "I will see you again for payment when I leave." Just as he was about to turn and depart, there was a snarling from the doorway and a mass of black fur stepped to its master's side, bearing yellowed fangs at the visitor.
A shuriken seemed to materialize from nowhere to drop into Clyde's hand on instinct as he stepped back from the angry dog. The stable master's dog was a monstrous thing, almost twice the size of Interceptor, which was mind-boggling. The caretaker might not have remembered the scarred man, but the dog certainly did. Clyde had run into the beast when he had stolen the Chocobo from the stables those years ago and given it a snout full of campfire ashes and a kick to the ribs.
The hulking man seemed alarmed at the actions of his dog and he reached down to grasp it by the scruff of the neck and pull it back into the house, but he was not fast enough. The mutt lunged.
Prepared to kill the animal if he had to, Clyde was saved an ugly scene by his faithful partner stepping between himself and the charging beast with a lupine regality. Interceptor lowered his head, his fur bristling and lip curling back from his white teeth in a demonic snarl as a low and rumbling growl slid from his throat. It was more than enough to make the caretaker's beast halt in its tracks, almost nose-to-nose with the smaller Interceptor. Both men watched as the black mutt whined, all the fight draining right out of him, thick rope of a tail snaking between its legs. Interceptor did not back down until the challenger rolled onto her back and squirmed, whining pathetically.
Chuckling to himself, Clyde turned his back on the dogs and the stunned stable master, heading towards the barn and the Chocobos. "Thanks, partner. Killing the local pets isn't a great way to make a good impression."
"Commoner." Interceptor snorted in disgust, turning his back on the pair as well, loping to join Clyde. "I remember when that bitch was just a puppy. She never liked me, anyway."
"Little too bulky for your tastes?" Although his face betrayed nothing as usual, the assassin was secretly pleased for the distraction from his thoughts. Interceptor had never expressed any interest in 'common' dogs, as he called them.
"It was the strings of slobber ever-present on her jowls that initially turned me off." Interceptor's voice was tainted with his amusement at how easily he had cowed the enraged canine, but even that was faint.
Lapsing back into a comfortable silence, Clyde set about leading the Chocobos into the stable and finding them empty stalls. With an ease and skill that may have surprised some people, he went about the mind numbing tasks of feeding and watering the birds, putting away their saddles and tackles.
Interceptor jumped up onto a bale of hay and circled a few times before he settled to lie on top of it, letting out a long canine sigh as he watched Clyde go about the tasks. His partner was not moving terribly slow, but it was painfully obvious that he was indeed stalling. Licking his muzzle a few times, Interceptor ventured to break the silence. "Relm is going to notice that you're not there, you know."
Without looking at his partner, the man murmured quietly as he draped a blanket over the back of one Chocobo, then the other. The birds warbled contentedly, and one stretched its neck to try and nibble affectionately at the Human with its sharp beak. "I need to collect my thoughts. If she's waited this long, a few more minutes won't make any difference."
With a snort, the dog-fae dropped his head onto his forepaws, eying Clyde critically. "I see. And here I thought you just wanted to spend some quality time with me."
That brought a faint grin to Clyde's features and he stepped out of the Chocobo stall. Making certain to latch the gate carefully, he crossed his arms and regarded Interceptor fully. "That's not entirely untrue."
Other things to say came to mind then. Clyde wanted to tell his partner that he would miss him, that he thought of him as a brother, and that he was going to be lost without his partner. He couldn't be Shadow without Interceptor. But, that was one of the best things about his canine friend; he didn't have to say those things.
"You should get going back." The canine pointed with his muzzle in the direction of the barn door.
With a short nod, Clyde drew his fingers through his damp hair and started towards the barn door. Apparently Interceptor was going to make him walk back alone, and although he did not like it, he understood it. He was going to have to get used to doing things without his partner from here on out.
*****
Relm was quiet, which was probably a concern to Strago. The old man did not like this arrangement one bit, but he had given in when she insisted that Clyde stay here with them. She imagined that her grandfather was still angry with her father, and she could not really blame him. But, shouldn't she be just as angry? She was the one who had grown up without parents. No one knew just what had gone through her mind when she discovered the truth after it was believed that Shadow had died in Kefka's tower.
Clenching her fists and then flexing her fingers to contain her impatience, she looked to the puppy Locke had given her and smiled a little. She had always wanted a dog of her own; the gift had made her happy. Furrowing her brow, Relm looked over her shoulder at the front door. Clyde had not come back yet; he sure was taking his sweet time.
Scowling at the rain drizzling over a windowpane, Relm folded her arms on the kitchen table and dropped her chin onto them. The clock on the wall ticked loudly, and she found herself counting the seconds. Upstairs she could hear the footsteps of Locke and Strago as her grandfather showed the treasure hunter to his room and they caught up on events since the last time Locke visited. The girl did wonder where Celes was, as Locke and the Ex Imperial were never far apart these days. She reminded herself to ask later. For the time being Strago and Locke were giving her space without her even having to ask for it.
Lifting her head abruptly, Relm turned at the sound of the front door being opened. Somehow, it did not surprise her that Clyde did not bother to knock or ask permission to enter the home as a good guest would. She was nervous, which was annoying. Why should she be nervous? This was her house; he was the one that owed her an explanation, damnit.
When he ventured past the kitchen door, Relm saw him pause and step backwards to see her sitting at the table. Wordlessly he looked for the others, but for all she could tell, he seemed bored.
"They're upstairs," She supplied, some of her gusto diminishing. That was not what she had meant to say. Was she going to have to do this all herself?
Clyde had figured as much, so he just nodded as he crossed the threshold into the kitchen, noting that it smelled strongly of aging spices. Obviously Relm meant to speak with him, and he was intending to oblige her. "You should change into some dry clothes."
Scowling, Relm straightened in her chair, pushing her bangs out of her eyes with a puff of breath. "A little water never hurt anyone. Knock it off; you've been avoiding me since you got here. Are you going to explain yourself or what?"
With a shrug, Clyde pulled out a chair for himself and dropped into it wearily but not without his natural grace. He, for one, would have liked to change into some dry clothes and have something to eat, but she wanted to talk. "Anything I had to explain to you seems to have been covered when I was 'dead'. What exactly is it that you want to know?"
Relm felt herself stiffen and she leaned across the table, her voice raising an octave but she had refrained from snapping just yet. "I want to know why you didn't tell me! Okay, so maybe I buy that you didn't know about me until last year, but when you did find out, why did you ignore me? How could you just do that?!"
As mature as she tried to be, Relm was just a child, and one with hurt and angry feelings. Clyde did not have many dealings with children at all, and on some level it had not sunk in yet that this one was really his. He was much more careful in picking his words than he would be if it were anyone else.
"I didn't see a reason to. What difference would it have made? Would you have been any happier?" He kept his voice low and even, not daring to speak down to the girl.
Relm leaned back in her chair, glaring balefully at him. "If you don't care, why are you even here? Why bother now?"
"Look," Propping his elbows on the table, he steepled his hands and regarded her steadily, unflinching. "I know I wasn't here for you, and that's a shitty deal. I'm not about to try and be some kind of a father to you now, but I do want to clear the air at least."
"I don't want to clear the air!" Now she was shouting, not caring if her grandfather and Locke or all the neighbors heard her. "I want you to tell me how you could just leave! What about my mother, what about her, huh??"
It would have been stupid for him to think that this was not going to be about her mother. Clyde had to lean back in his chair as well, his resolve and collectedness cracking bit by tiny bit. "I had to leave."
The girl was sniffling now, even though her expression was still furious and the hurt made her soft brown eyes bright with tears she was struggling to hold back. "She died! You left and she died and you weren't even here! Did you even come back for her? Did you even care??"
The legs of the chair thumped on the floor as the man stood abruptly at the child's accusations. He could feel himself being wound up and caught with the sudden urge to walk out. "Relm…I'm sorry she died. I am. I didn't want that to happen."
"I don't want an apology! Answer me! Answer me!!" Pale face flushed red with anger; Relm's fingers closed around the closest thing in reach; a sugar pot, and she used both hands to hurl it at the object of her sudden fury.
Turning quickly on his heel, he avoided the projectile and it sailed past to break against the edge of the kitchen counter, coating it and most of the floor with sugar. That did not stop Relm. Already she had picked up a shaker of salt and drew back her arm to launch it as well. This time he was more prepared and his arm shot out to snatch the missile before she did any more damage.
Before Clyde could say anything in his defense, or to calm the girl down, Strago had joined them in the kitchen with Locke trying to hold him back. The old magi's face was drawn in concern and anger, frail fist shaking in Clyde's general direction. "What are you doing to her?! I knew I should not have agreed to-"
Relm bolted towards the door, squeezing between Strago and Locke to escape from the house and into the night. Her grandfather tried to stop her by grasping her sleeve, but it was not enough and he fell back against Locke.
In truth, Clyde did not really want to go after her, but he did not want to stay here and suffer Strago's wrath. The man had lost a daughter to him already; there was no way Clyde could hold it against Strago for being so disagreeable. Assassin looked to thief for help, and Locke just nodded faintly in understanding. Why Locke was so understanding was something he would have to figure out later.
"Strago… calm down. It's okay, she's just a little upset, that's all…she's fine." The treasure hunter steadied the elderly mage, half-wondering if he was going to try and hurl some awful spell at Clyde. He was pulling Strago out of the kitchen doorway so that Clyde could walk by quickly and purposefully.
"I will not calm down!" Strago pulled his robed arm out of Locke's grasp and started after Clyde, only to have the front door slammed in his face. A gnarled hand tugged it back open, but all he could see was blackness and shadow in the starless night. He was full well prepared to find Relm and bring her home, cursing himself for letting that murderous bastard anywhere near her.
"Strago!" Locke stood in the doorway, trying to reason with him. "Let them have at it, she'll be fine! Clyde will bring her home, you're just going to get yourself lost and catch your death of cold if you go out there."
Shaking with rage and fear for Relm, the old magi had to admit that his chances of finding either Relm or Shadow out there were slim. He was more likely to catch a cold than do any good. He hated feeling helpless as much as the next person, but Locke was a friend, and he was right.
*****
So things had gone better than he had thought. Clyde still had no clue what the hell he was doing out here, or what he was going to do to make everything better, but he had not fallen apart. That had to be a good sign, right? There was something about using his honed talents to track down an eleven-year-old girl that was morbid, but he was thankful that she wasn't making it too difficult for him.
Strange or no, but he knew exactly where she was going before he even arrived there. The path that lead to the Thamasa cemetery was old blocks of stone that was well kept but nothing could make it look anything but ancient. He trusted his instincts to guide him in the darkness, picking his way with uncanny capability. The wind rustled the branches of the tress that ringed the graveyard and rattled the wrought iron fence that protected it from unknown forces.
Once he was past the gate Clyde drew to a halt, scanning the rows of headstones and blocks of tombs for any sign of Relm. There was no real need to, he started walking slowly towards a lonely corner of the cemetery where a well cared for headstone jutted out of the earth, and a distinctive form huddled against it as the rain continued its weeping drizzle.
"Relm…" Reaching out, his rough hand grasped the edge of the stone and Clyde crouched beside her, hesitant to touch her and clueless on how to comfort her. "Relm, come on, you can't stay out here all night."
The anger had died on the mad dash here, and now the girl was weeping quietly with her knees drawn up to her chest, her face hidden by her arms. She offered no stinging words of rage and pain this now, now she was just a confused little girl.
"Fuck."
If he considered that using that kind of language in front of a child was improper, he gave no sign as he looked around the cemetery. It was just the two of them, the forest, the night and the dead.
"Why did you leave her…?" Relm lifted her head a little; turning it towards the dark man crouched at her side, speaking in a thin and soft voice between her sniffles.
The sigh that escaped him was a heartsick one as he eased out of his crouch to sit on the soggy grass with his back against the headstone as well. Leaning his head back, he banged it purposefully and rather solidly on the stone, as if that might jolt the words out. "I had gotten myself into trouble with the Empire. They knew who I was, it was only a matter of time before the soldiers caught up to me here."
Relm was silent for what felt like an eternity before she hiccupped softly and wiped at her nose with the back of her hand. She swallowed hard and drew a shivering breath. "Why didn't you take her with you?"
Regarding her quietly for a moment, Clyde let the rain pull his gaze towards the sky. "She would have come with me, too, you know…had I asked her. I didn't. She deserved so much better than the life I had to offer."
Although she tried to retain her composure, the child's face crumpled and her voice warbled thinly with her weeping. "I wish you had never come here…then she never would have had me, and she'd still be alive."
That hurt. It had been said quietly without venom, and perhaps that made it all the worse. Relm had said that because she meant it, not because she was trying to take cheap shots at Clyde Arrowny. The man swallowed hard to get past the uncomfortable tightness in his throat, feeling his fists clench involuntarily.
"I used to wish that. Before I knew about you. In a perfect world I could have had you both, I suppose." His rough voice was uncommonly hoarse with emotion; it had been like a sickness these days. "Relm, life deals out a lot of miserable shit, I won't kid you about that. Sometimes just one day can make all of the shit seem worth it, though. We can play the 'what if' game until we want to hang ourselves, but it won't change what's happened."
She thought about that, secretly pleased that Clyde did not talk down to her, or try and sugar coat things. "No, I guess it won't."
Clearing his throat, he did reach out to rest a hand on her slight shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I'm not trying to shut you up. If you want to know something, ask. I'll do my best to answer. I owe you a lot."
"Were you just coming to Thamasa because Locke was?" Unmoving, but not turning him a deaf ear, Relm could not help but wonder just what this man wanted with her now, if things could not be changed.
Finally, he was able to answer something without feeling bad. He shook his head slowly, opening his mouth and letting the rainwater wet his tongue before he answered her. "No. I was on my way to see you long before I met up with him again. After Celes died, he wanted to get away. My journey was a fine distraction, and I didn't mind the company as much as I thought I would."
"Celes…died?" Relm's eyes widened and she sat up, slicking back her wet blonde hair. "That's…that's terrible! How? When?"
Now that's the way to make the kid feel better. You stupid fuck…Clyde mentally cursed himself, wincing and pressing his palm to his forehead. "A while ago. She was very sick…sorry, I assumed that Locke would have told you about it in his letter."
"No, he didn't. Poor Locke…I feel so stupid now…having a temper tantrum when he's just lost Celes." Sighing deeply, she felt tears threatening again.
Grasping the back of her neck now, fingers that could have just as easily snapped it kneaded in a soothing manner that the child did not protest to. As tough as she was, the comfort was not unwelcome. "You had a right to be upset."
"I'm sorry I threw the sugar bowl and salt shaker at you," She whispered softly, all the fight gone out of her now.
"Don't be. You have a good arm." Spoken lightly but not untruthfully, Clyde inclined his head towards her, waiting for some sign that she was ready to leave the wet graveyard. If they escaped coming down with fever, he would be amazed.
It was not enough to bring her up completely, but a ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of Relm's mouth momentarily. "Thanks. Painting requires precision, too, I guess."
Withdrawing his hand, Clyde stood and stretched, seemingly oblivious to the way his dark clothing clung to him wetly, chafing his skin. After he was appropriately stretched, he extended his arm to Relm, offering her a hand up. "I'll take you home."
Nodding miserably, the girl accepted the help up; faintly amused to note that the pocket of her overalls had filled with water that seeped out when she stood up. Hugging herself when Clyde released her hand, she started walking with him out of the cemetery with a final look over her shoulder at her mother's grave.
Waiting for her at the gate, Clyde took a lean up against it, noticing that the rain had let up and the moon was breaking through the thick clouds overhead. That would make the way back a little easier, not that the path was a treacherous one. "Ever hear of an artist calling herself Teegan?"
"Of course." It was a stupid question to ask anyone who truly admired the art of the paintbrush. Relm supposed Clyde was trying to make small talk with her by bringing up something in her sphere of interest.
"You think you could learn anything from her?" Pushing off of the fence when Relm brushed past with a suspicious glance, he walked with her to the outskirts of the small town.
"What kind of a question is that? She's the best. She's also stuck up. Everyone worth their salt knows she doesn't take students." The girl was slowly regaining some sense of her usual self, offended that her knowledge was being tested by someone she was certain couldn't paint to save his life.
"So now I'm not worth my salt? Is there some joke about pitching a salt shaker at me coming up next?" Clyde was not smiling, but there was a hint of his dark humor there.
Relm snorted, her feet scuffling at the rough stones of the walkways through Thamasa. After a moment she just shrugged, not about to dignify that with an answer.
"I convinced her to take a student. She'll be expecting you when you're ready to go. If you're interested, that is." There was very real apprehension as he waited her reaction and response. It was posed as nonchalantly as possible, just in case she vehemently refused his offer.
Halting so abruptly she almost tripped in the street, Relm turned to face the man, tilting her head to look up at his face, which was now slightly more visible as the clouds parted above them. Her brown eyes were wide for a moment before her expression grew suspicious again. "Are you teasing me?"
"No."
Sucking in a deep breath, a thought toppled over what she had been about to say and Relm uncrossed her arms. "What did you do, threaten to kill her or something?"
Clyde smirked. "No. I offered her a lot of money…and before you say it, none of it is blood money. Locke can back me up on that one."
Wordlessly, Relm turned away and started walking again. Her eyes were wide and her heart was pounding in her chest. A part of her wondered if Clyde had done this just to win her over. If he did, it was working remarkably well. This was an opportunity no one else had ever received before… she could see other parts of the world, study under one of the most renowned artists of her time. Then a thought began to dampen her excitement. "Gramps would never let me go alone…he's getting too old to travel, even though he won't admit it."
"You won't be going alone," Clyde's voice drifted to her over her shoulder as they made their way towards the house where Locke, Strago and Interceptor were waiting for them. "Interceptor and Locke are going with you."
"R-really…?" Despite her attempts to keep her cool, Relm felt herself gasp, looking up at the assassin again. "But what about you…?"
Smiling ruefully, he just shrugged as he stepped past her, resting his hand on her head momentarily as he did so. "There is someone I have to get back to."