Sunlight on the Fortress
By Ashy
The brush hovered over the paper in anticipation. The writer chewed on his lip, thinking about the epilogue, but he hadn't yet began the first sentence. He was near the edge of a cliff, in a clearing with woodland behind him. Alone, sitting cross-legged on the grass, paper on his lap, resting on a small stack of books. The slight breeze ruffled his clothing, and tugged at the wisps of hair which had fallen lose about his forehead. He started to write, focusing all his concentration on the brush. It wasn't the best way of working. This was just the rough draft, but still, it needed his entire focus. And he'd have all the time in the world to finish.
He'd said he was leaving, he'd told Chief Une yesterday. He hadn't said why, and she had been concerned but there was little she could say or do to alter things. And little Lucrezia could say either. He had made his decision, and this was it. Chang Wufei smiled to himself.
~*~
Stalking through the shadows, her shoulders stooped a little. The world was calm in this present state, it was as if the previous wars were buried, and nothing of the sort would ever rear its ugly head again. She wasn't sure if this was the truth, but preferred not to dwell on it.
Sometimes, when her hair caught the breeze, and when she beheld the sky at the various stages in the day, she would feel a sense of relief. But never tranquility. She had a truly calm exterior, but inside, everything raced to keep things right, to keep people happy, to keep the peace. Often she felt under more pressure than during the war. It was ironic that maintaining a peaceful world was more tiring than fighting for one. She worked exceptionally hard, and perhaps this was what left her jaded.
But however diligently she worked for humanity, she'd striven ten times harder for a certain individual.
Sally Po had her own personal reasons for not wanting him to move on.
She could never properly understand the persistent pull she felt towards him. There could be many explanations, she reasoned, why she could not bear to envision ever being deprived of his presence. He inspired her, his silence spoke volumes to her. Every furrow of his brow, every glance of his dark eyes filled her with hope and assurance. He had been a Gundam pilot.
They were bonded in some way, she knew. At first, she identified it as some notion of motherly tenderness she felt towards him, though she could not exercise it. As he'd grown, she'd noticed he'd needed her direction even less, and often took to guiding her instead. It filled her with a slight discomfort. She was a woman who liked to think she was in control. She was strong-minded, witty and intelligent. These were her virtues, along with her kind and genuine heart. Friends and fellow soldiers had always been drawn to her charms; her serenity and her pleasant sense of humour. She had integrity and a solid sense of purpose.
He was her purpose, her little project- or perhaps a rather large one. Not large because it really needed to be, she just liked to do things to perfection. She wanted to see him turn out right, exactly right, how he should have been. His potential had attracted her- the first time she'd met him she'd seen the soul behind those obsidian eyes, and the sensitivity behind the arrogant exterior. His enigmatic statements gave her something to ponder on. She respected the strong spirit she saw in him. Sometimes he reminded her of herself.
She had been his helper when he'd been disillusioned during the war. She was the one who had offered him a position as her partner in the Preventer Organization. She was his fortress, and he, her focus. She wanted to be his soulmate - there was no way she could stand aside and allow him to leave her.
But of course he wouldn't! she consoled herself. Not really. He'd end up staying, she was sure. She could push the right buttons, pull the right strings, kindly manipulate him. It was a gift she had, a gift bestowed on precious few people in that young man's life. She convinced herself she'd succeed- it was a shoo-in. He may be a grown man now, but wouldn't he always see the sense in her?
Reaching the clearing she knew all too well, she found him. He was so still, just staring at the paper he was holding. He was a serious man, with serious, habitual ways. She'd always known that. He was also rather an attractive man, too, she noted. His collar was slightly loose, revealing a strong neck, and the way his jaw was clenched in concentration made him appear more chiseled and masculine than she remembered. He reminded her of a bronze sculpture in some obscure way.
Despite being partners, they didn't work so closely all the time - simple aspects of his aging had often slipped her immediate notice. Cocking her head to one side, she remained in the shadows, regarding him. The sunlight reflecting on the side of his face made his skin glow, made him appear boyish, unspoiled. Yet there was something about his intense expression, the depth of his eyes as he focused on the paper, which added many years to his face. He was a man who had seen and experienced far too much. He had never been a child.
His mouth relaxed as he noticed her loitering, and he smiled, almost knowingly.
He knew what she'd come for. If Une or Noin couldn't do the job, Sally would succeed.
"May I join you?" she asked, striding across the grass towards him, hand on hip.
"Yeah." He shrugged.
She sat down beside him and pointed to his calligraphy. "What are you doing?" It was a better tactic not to barrel in with her real reason for approaching him.
He moved the papers from her eyeshot, placing them gently inside one of the books he'd been resting on. "It's....uh, just something I'm writing."
"I can see that," she said, smiling warmly.
"Well it's an autobiography if you must know."
"Oh?" She was taking a liberty, she knew. "May I see?"
He shook his head. "No. Maybe some other time."
She sighed, and she could see the small trace of a blush on his cheeks. He had a fine, smooth face, she'd always thought so. He was embarrassed, she could tell. A silence settled upon the pair, and she was acutely aware that he wanted to resume his writing, and she had disturbed him. But then again, that had been the plan.
For once, she felt utterly detached from him, and she tried to figure out something to say. She had approached him expecting it would be easy to convince him to remain beside her as a Preventer, but now she'd come this far, she couldn't frame a sentence.
"An autobiography, huh?" she spoke up after a strained pause. "What gave you the idea to do one of those?"
"I felt like it," he replied blankly. "I wanted something to remember myself by."
"Remember * yourself*?" she answered, incredulous. It seemed a strange thing for him to say.
It was perfectly reasonable to him, however. "Yeah," he told her. "Remember how I was. We all change don't we?"
She twisted a finger around one of her honey-coloured braids. "Hmm. I suppose we do."
It was the perfect opportunity for her to broach the subject of his resignation.
"Can you tell me something?" she asked, and he looked at her calmly. She couldn't hold his gaze, and she wondered why. But it wasn't important.
"What do you want me to tell you?"
"What has changed for you. I mean -"
"You mean why am I leaving?"
She swallowed. "Yes. Why are you?"
He was silent for a while, and looked out across the breach between the cliff-faces. "Because I have decided to. Because I want to."
She tried to put a finger on the emotion she was feeling at that present moment. She felt cold, but guessed it was only because she was sitting on the other side of him, where the warmth of the sun's rays couldn't completely touch her. She didn't want to open her mouth in case her voice quavered. It was hurtful that he was being so flippant, and she realised that she didn't completely understand him after all.
Finally, she regained her composure. "Are you tired here, Wufei?"
"No," he responded. "It's not that I'm tired. I've had plenty of chance to heal. I feel fresh now, you see."
She gulped back the pain in her throat. 'I haven't really changed much since the war,' she thought. 'I think I'll always be this way. I'll always be like this. And he will always need me.'
*So how come you don't believe it?*
"I don't want you to go," she said sadly. "Do you really have to go?"
"Yes."
"We could...offer you a different position-"
"I told you. It's just something I have to do."
"I thought you would be happy here with me."
His brow creased as he pondered; "Forever?"
"I..didn't think that far into the future," she sighed gustily. "The future just crept up on us, I guess."
"Yeah," he nodded gently. Three whole years it had been.
"What's wrong then?" she asked, forcing herself to stay calm. "What's wrong with what you're doing now?"
"Nothing."
"...And what's wrong with...me? We're a team, right? "
He paused. She almost crumbled inside. "....Nothing."
"Well then tell me," she persisted, reluctant to plead with him. "I like you here with me. I like our partnership. I thought-"
"Do you love me?" he asked.
Her lips parted slightly, but no words came. Why would he ask that?
There was nothing she could say which would make any sense to him, or even to herself. She had wondered whether it was some kind of sisterly affection, something which would allow her not to get too close. But rather than preventing intimacy, and maintaining a sense of perspective, it settled into her a distant longing. A wistful yearning for what she couldn't have. No-one could want to hold their brother in such a way. She was stunned at how attached she had become to him, not protective of him, for there wasn't any need- but possessive. It was as if she felt she couldn't function without him, as he were her head, or her heart. Sometimes she wanted to crawl right under his skin, the way he had crept under hers.
She remained silent, and he repeated himself; "Do you love me?"
"I don't...know," she replied, head bowed, her words faltering. "I don't really know what it's supposed to feel like. I know it's supposed to feel nice."
He arched an eyebrow, and turned his head slightly towards her. "And does it?"
Her head sank lower, so that her fair hair covered her face; "No. It hurts like hell. It hurts so bad that sometimes I can't believe one person could make me feel like this. Its the worst feeling in the world."
"I'm sure I've felt worse." He snorted softly.
"Maybe. But you've not felt this, I'm sure," she answered defiantly.
"How do you know? How do you know I haven't felt that?"
"Because I know you-"
"How do you know I don't love *you*?"
She laughed softly then, a sad, bitter laugh. "That's ridiculous. You said yourself you don't know what love is. You've said that many times before to me..."
"And?"
"And you said you're leaving. You're going off somewhere all by yourself for however many years. To find yourself, I expect. That's not love. You don't love me. You're just frightened of *needing* me."
He shook his head. "I don't need you. I stayed with you because I wanted to. And now I feel called to spend some time alone. I think I'm owed that after my many years of service."
"Service?" she snapped, blue eyes suddenly flashing. "Is that all it was to you? Our friendship was just service?"
She wanted so badly to cry, but she was too stubborn even for that.
"You misunderstand me."
"I understand you perfectly."
"Really?"
"Yeah. You can stop all this talk about 'perhaps' loving me, and at least let us move on in the truth. I can handle the truth, even if I am a woman."
"I think I know the truth," he said.
"You think?" she shot back. "You either know the truth or you don't. It's as black and white as that. There's no middle ground. If you knew the truth, you wouldn't need to go away to decide it."
"I'm not going away for that. I don't need to decide it; I know it."
She was annoyed. "Stop being so cryptic, Chang Wufei! Stop talking in riddles. Never coming out with a straight answer. You'd make a very good politician you know."
"I'll tell you plainly then," he said. "I do love you..."
"Well why must-"
"... and I've been beside you for so long that I'm numb to it now. But it's there, it's there beneath everything, it'll never go away. And being numb to it is all I can do, because I couldn't be around you if I really felt it. So you see, I know the truth, but I have to go away to feel it. You know, take a step back."
She scoffed. "Absence makes the heart grow fonder! You're so full of clichés it makes me laugh."
"You might think its a cliché, but the truth often is. I need some time away."
"Well why can't I come too?" She hoped she didn't sound like a whining child, but she feared if he left she may never see him again. He was elusive.
"Because you can't. If I don't have some time alone, I'd only resent you for it."
"Resent me?" With shame, she realised she had been pushed to her limits, and tears were in danger of brimming in her eyes. She steadied herself quickly; "Resent me? When I've helped you so much, when I've done so much for you, when I've always been there for you? And you'd resent me for wanting to join you....as a ....friend."
"A friend? Is that how you really view me?" he spoke quietly. "As a friend? A colleague? A brother?"
She shook her head defeatedly; "None. I've tried all of these three. I can't love you like that. I thought it would be easy...I thought I'd never- "
He nodded, as if he understood her. "You're not my sister. You are my friend, my closest, dearest friend, Sally. But there is something else I haven't touched upon...and I don't know if I should..."
"Maybe," she whispered, "You should."
"It might ruin everything. Everything we'd ever built."
"But that's a what-if. You can't live your life wondering. You can't live your life with what-ifs," she answered.
"I always do," he said. "There's plenty of what-ifs in my past....."
Meilan, Treize, the peace of the world.
"....what's a few more?"
"You don't *need* any more!" her voice cracked. "Stop pretending to be a coward!"
"A coward?"
"Yeah. You're afraid of the truth. Like you're scared of what it'll be. But yet you said you *knew* it...."
"I do." He placed his belongings beside him on the ground, then put his hand on her shoulder.
She held her breath, begging herself not to lose her dignity in front of him. There were to be no more tears.
"Look at me," he said gently. "It's all right." She turned her face to him, and her eyes stung as she looked into his. It was as if he knew a millions secrets she did not.
His hand crept from her shoulder, up her neck, under her hair to the side of her face. It was warm against her skin. He was so close she felt frozen. His head was bent slightly, his lips very near hers. He whispered; "And you know it too."
She closed her eyes.
*Are you afraid?*
He kissed her, and her heart heaved. There were pangs of hunger inside of her that she wanted him to surfeit. Her throat ached and her mind raced in ten thousand directions. He was trying to crush her from the inside, she realised. His tongue was taunting her, his heartbeat drowning out her own. He was stronger than her. Much stronger.
But she didn't really care anymore. His mouth was soft against hers, and strangely familiar, as if she'd felt it many times before. She grasped him tightly, like a kitten clawing at the branch of a tree, afraid to fall, yet not knowing it would land on its feet. It was a myth. Sometimes things didn't turn out that way. She felt that if she held him tight enough, she might regain her foothold, her own power, her own assertion. Wasn't it always she who was superior, taller, stronger? Perhaps not in terms of combat skills, but inside. In the heart, the place that remained when wars came and went. But here she was, held by a man who would surely over-power her. She had nurtured, and reaped his strength- now she was unsure of it.
But he smelt so nice. Her arms raised over the bulk of his shoulders, and she discovered herself going backwards. His lips left hers, and she felt them warm, against her throat. Her eyelids flickered, and she beheld the sinews of his neck. His hands were firm, but he didn't hurt her. She struggled with herself- others had always thought of her as mature and level-headed- but right now, she knew she was in danger of giving everything to him. Not by accident- on purpose. He wasn't a boy any more. She couldn't play mind games with him, or control him with gentle words.
He was too much for her now.
"Stop," she said, hoarsely. "Stop!"
The intensity in his eyes waned, and he let her go. He stood to his feet, offering her a hand, then stooped to pick up his books and writing tools.
He didn't say anything. He simply put his belongings back into his bag and slung it over his shoulder.
Now she knew why he had to be numb. Why he had to be numb to his love. Why he had to leave her.
Neither said a word for a long moment. The cliffside was silent, then a bird flew across the horizon. But he was standing before her, blocking the sunlight from her view. She couldn't see where the bird would land.
"Are you really going to go then?" she asked, smoothing down the creases in her uniform.
"Yeah."
"For good?"
"When I wish to return, I'll let you know."
"You mean 'if'," she said with a sigh.
She felt so weak. She should have known he'd surpass her eventually, sap her of everything and move on.
His lips curved into a placid smile and he touched her shoulder; "No. I said 'when'."
Something about this gesture filled her with a slight throb of hope. He'd survive alone. He'd be perfectly all right without her. And she'd be all right without him, in time. But she had to give it time. She'd never thought it would be this way round. *Her* needing *him*. But he'd made her see that sometimes, you had to trust in your *own* heart. Sometimes it was dangerous to depend on someone too much. To let them become an obsession.
Only when they were equal could things ever blossom between them on the level they both knew it could. One day it could. That was the truth.
She stepped forward towards him, almost timidly, and embraced him. He put his arms around her, and she realised her eyes were dry. Her voice almost inaudible, she said; "At first when you said you were leaving, I thought it was because I had failed. Because even after the war, you would never be strong enough to live. I thought you wanted to go away alone to find the strength our friendship could never give you..."
"We're more alike than you think," he murmured. "I'm all right now. I've grown up. Changed. But I have to go to give you the chance to do the same. It's not fair that you have aided me- and many others, but particularly me- for so long, and never had the chance to focus on yourself. You need to find your own strength, work out who you are."
She pressed her head against his shoulder and said, "I thought I knew who I was."
"You weren't made to be everyone's fortress," he responded. "No-one is strong enough to be simply that. All people need time to focus on *themselves* sometimes . I'm wiser now, I can see that. If I stayed with you, I'd burn you out. I want you to take care of yourself, and I am going to finish my book."
She looked at him square in the eye, and saw the sincerity and tenderness in his expression. She was defeated, but it felt right.
"Then I wish you good luck," she said. "And I ask just one question of you."
"What is that?"
"That you leave a place in that book for me."
He smiled. "Of course. I couldn't leave you out. You're part of the story."
He leaned forward, kissed her brow, then walked away from her into the hazy shadows. She found herself alone in the light, and for once, the sunlight reached her face.
****
By Ashy
The brush hovered over the paper in anticipation. The writer chewed on his lip, thinking about the epilogue, but he hadn't yet began the first sentence. He was near the edge of a cliff, in a clearing with woodland behind him. Alone, sitting cross-legged on the grass, paper on his lap, resting on a small stack of books. The slight breeze ruffled his clothing, and tugged at the wisps of hair which had fallen lose about his forehead. He started to write, focusing all his concentration on the brush. It wasn't the best way of working. This was just the rough draft, but still, it needed his entire focus. And he'd have all the time in the world to finish.
He'd said he was leaving, he'd told Chief Une yesterday. He hadn't said why, and she had been concerned but there was little she could say or do to alter things. And little Lucrezia could say either. He had made his decision, and this was it. Chang Wufei smiled to himself.
~*~
Stalking through the shadows, her shoulders stooped a little. The world was calm in this present state, it was as if the previous wars were buried, and nothing of the sort would ever rear its ugly head again. She wasn't sure if this was the truth, but preferred not to dwell on it.
Sometimes, when her hair caught the breeze, and when she beheld the sky at the various stages in the day, she would feel a sense of relief. But never tranquility. She had a truly calm exterior, but inside, everything raced to keep things right, to keep people happy, to keep the peace. Often she felt under more pressure than during the war. It was ironic that maintaining a peaceful world was more tiring than fighting for one. She worked exceptionally hard, and perhaps this was what left her jaded.
But however diligently she worked for humanity, she'd striven ten times harder for a certain individual.
Sally Po had her own personal reasons for not wanting him to move on.
She could never properly understand the persistent pull she felt towards him. There could be many explanations, she reasoned, why she could not bear to envision ever being deprived of his presence. He inspired her, his silence spoke volumes to her. Every furrow of his brow, every glance of his dark eyes filled her with hope and assurance. He had been a Gundam pilot.
They were bonded in some way, she knew. At first, she identified it as some notion of motherly tenderness she felt towards him, though she could not exercise it. As he'd grown, she'd noticed he'd needed her direction even less, and often took to guiding her instead. It filled her with a slight discomfort. She was a woman who liked to think she was in control. She was strong-minded, witty and intelligent. These were her virtues, along with her kind and genuine heart. Friends and fellow soldiers had always been drawn to her charms; her serenity and her pleasant sense of humour. She had integrity and a solid sense of purpose.
He was her purpose, her little project- or perhaps a rather large one. Not large because it really needed to be, she just liked to do things to perfection. She wanted to see him turn out right, exactly right, how he should have been. His potential had attracted her- the first time she'd met him she'd seen the soul behind those obsidian eyes, and the sensitivity behind the arrogant exterior. His enigmatic statements gave her something to ponder on. She respected the strong spirit she saw in him. Sometimes he reminded her of herself.
She had been his helper when he'd been disillusioned during the war. She was the one who had offered him a position as her partner in the Preventer Organization. She was his fortress, and he, her focus. She wanted to be his soulmate - there was no way she could stand aside and allow him to leave her.
But of course he wouldn't! she consoled herself. Not really. He'd end up staying, she was sure. She could push the right buttons, pull the right strings, kindly manipulate him. It was a gift she had, a gift bestowed on precious few people in that young man's life. She convinced herself she'd succeed- it was a shoo-in. He may be a grown man now, but wouldn't he always see the sense in her?
Reaching the clearing she knew all too well, she found him. He was so still, just staring at the paper he was holding. He was a serious man, with serious, habitual ways. She'd always known that. He was also rather an attractive man, too, she noted. His collar was slightly loose, revealing a strong neck, and the way his jaw was clenched in concentration made him appear more chiseled and masculine than she remembered. He reminded her of a bronze sculpture in some obscure way.
Despite being partners, they didn't work so closely all the time - simple aspects of his aging had often slipped her immediate notice. Cocking her head to one side, she remained in the shadows, regarding him. The sunlight reflecting on the side of his face made his skin glow, made him appear boyish, unspoiled. Yet there was something about his intense expression, the depth of his eyes as he focused on the paper, which added many years to his face. He was a man who had seen and experienced far too much. He had never been a child.
His mouth relaxed as he noticed her loitering, and he smiled, almost knowingly.
He knew what she'd come for. If Une or Noin couldn't do the job, Sally would succeed.
"May I join you?" she asked, striding across the grass towards him, hand on hip.
"Yeah." He shrugged.
She sat down beside him and pointed to his calligraphy. "What are you doing?" It was a better tactic not to barrel in with her real reason for approaching him.
He moved the papers from her eyeshot, placing them gently inside one of the books he'd been resting on. "It's....uh, just something I'm writing."
"I can see that," she said, smiling warmly.
"Well it's an autobiography if you must know."
"Oh?" She was taking a liberty, she knew. "May I see?"
He shook his head. "No. Maybe some other time."
She sighed, and she could see the small trace of a blush on his cheeks. He had a fine, smooth face, she'd always thought so. He was embarrassed, she could tell. A silence settled upon the pair, and she was acutely aware that he wanted to resume his writing, and she had disturbed him. But then again, that had been the plan.
For once, she felt utterly detached from him, and she tried to figure out something to say. She had approached him expecting it would be easy to convince him to remain beside her as a Preventer, but now she'd come this far, she couldn't frame a sentence.
"An autobiography, huh?" she spoke up after a strained pause. "What gave you the idea to do one of those?"
"I felt like it," he replied blankly. "I wanted something to remember myself by."
"Remember * yourself*?" she answered, incredulous. It seemed a strange thing for him to say.
It was perfectly reasonable to him, however. "Yeah," he told her. "Remember how I was. We all change don't we?"
She twisted a finger around one of her honey-coloured braids. "Hmm. I suppose we do."
It was the perfect opportunity for her to broach the subject of his resignation.
"Can you tell me something?" she asked, and he looked at her calmly. She couldn't hold his gaze, and she wondered why. But it wasn't important.
"What do you want me to tell you?"
"What has changed for you. I mean -"
"You mean why am I leaving?"
She swallowed. "Yes. Why are you?"
He was silent for a while, and looked out across the breach between the cliff-faces. "Because I have decided to. Because I want to."
She tried to put a finger on the emotion she was feeling at that present moment. She felt cold, but guessed it was only because she was sitting on the other side of him, where the warmth of the sun's rays couldn't completely touch her. She didn't want to open her mouth in case her voice quavered. It was hurtful that he was being so flippant, and she realised that she didn't completely understand him after all.
Finally, she regained her composure. "Are you tired here, Wufei?"
"No," he responded. "It's not that I'm tired. I've had plenty of chance to heal. I feel fresh now, you see."
She gulped back the pain in her throat. 'I haven't really changed much since the war,' she thought. 'I think I'll always be this way. I'll always be like this. And he will always need me.'
*So how come you don't believe it?*
"I don't want you to go," she said sadly. "Do you really have to go?"
"Yes."
"We could...offer you a different position-"
"I told you. It's just something I have to do."
"I thought you would be happy here with me."
His brow creased as he pondered; "Forever?"
"I..didn't think that far into the future," she sighed gustily. "The future just crept up on us, I guess."
"Yeah," he nodded gently. Three whole years it had been.
"What's wrong then?" she asked, forcing herself to stay calm. "What's wrong with what you're doing now?"
"Nothing."
"...And what's wrong with...me? We're a team, right? "
He paused. She almost crumbled inside. "....Nothing."
"Well then tell me," she persisted, reluctant to plead with him. "I like you here with me. I like our partnership. I thought-"
"Do you love me?" he asked.
Her lips parted slightly, but no words came. Why would he ask that?
There was nothing she could say which would make any sense to him, or even to herself. She had wondered whether it was some kind of sisterly affection, something which would allow her not to get too close. But rather than preventing intimacy, and maintaining a sense of perspective, it settled into her a distant longing. A wistful yearning for what she couldn't have. No-one could want to hold their brother in such a way. She was stunned at how attached she had become to him, not protective of him, for there wasn't any need- but possessive. It was as if she felt she couldn't function without him, as he were her head, or her heart. Sometimes she wanted to crawl right under his skin, the way he had crept under hers.
She remained silent, and he repeated himself; "Do you love me?"
"I don't...know," she replied, head bowed, her words faltering. "I don't really know what it's supposed to feel like. I know it's supposed to feel nice."
He arched an eyebrow, and turned his head slightly towards her. "And does it?"
Her head sank lower, so that her fair hair covered her face; "No. It hurts like hell. It hurts so bad that sometimes I can't believe one person could make me feel like this. Its the worst feeling in the world."
"I'm sure I've felt worse." He snorted softly.
"Maybe. But you've not felt this, I'm sure," she answered defiantly.
"How do you know? How do you know I haven't felt that?"
"Because I know you-"
"How do you know I don't love *you*?"
She laughed softly then, a sad, bitter laugh. "That's ridiculous. You said yourself you don't know what love is. You've said that many times before to me..."
"And?"
"And you said you're leaving. You're going off somewhere all by yourself for however many years. To find yourself, I expect. That's not love. You don't love me. You're just frightened of *needing* me."
He shook his head. "I don't need you. I stayed with you because I wanted to. And now I feel called to spend some time alone. I think I'm owed that after my many years of service."
"Service?" she snapped, blue eyes suddenly flashing. "Is that all it was to you? Our friendship was just service?"
She wanted so badly to cry, but she was too stubborn even for that.
"You misunderstand me."
"I understand you perfectly."
"Really?"
"Yeah. You can stop all this talk about 'perhaps' loving me, and at least let us move on in the truth. I can handle the truth, even if I am a woman."
"I think I know the truth," he said.
"You think?" she shot back. "You either know the truth or you don't. It's as black and white as that. There's no middle ground. If you knew the truth, you wouldn't need to go away to decide it."
"I'm not going away for that. I don't need to decide it; I know it."
She was annoyed. "Stop being so cryptic, Chang Wufei! Stop talking in riddles. Never coming out with a straight answer. You'd make a very good politician you know."
"I'll tell you plainly then," he said. "I do love you..."
"Well why must-"
"... and I've been beside you for so long that I'm numb to it now. But it's there, it's there beneath everything, it'll never go away. And being numb to it is all I can do, because I couldn't be around you if I really felt it. So you see, I know the truth, but I have to go away to feel it. You know, take a step back."
She scoffed. "Absence makes the heart grow fonder! You're so full of clichés it makes me laugh."
"You might think its a cliché, but the truth often is. I need some time away."
"Well why can't I come too?" She hoped she didn't sound like a whining child, but she feared if he left she may never see him again. He was elusive.
"Because you can't. If I don't have some time alone, I'd only resent you for it."
"Resent me?" With shame, she realised she had been pushed to her limits, and tears were in danger of brimming in her eyes. She steadied herself quickly; "Resent me? When I've helped you so much, when I've done so much for you, when I've always been there for you? And you'd resent me for wanting to join you....as a ....friend."
"A friend? Is that how you really view me?" he spoke quietly. "As a friend? A colleague? A brother?"
She shook her head defeatedly; "None. I've tried all of these three. I can't love you like that. I thought it would be easy...I thought I'd never- "
He nodded, as if he understood her. "You're not my sister. You are my friend, my closest, dearest friend, Sally. But there is something else I haven't touched upon...and I don't know if I should..."
"Maybe," she whispered, "You should."
"It might ruin everything. Everything we'd ever built."
"But that's a what-if. You can't live your life wondering. You can't live your life with what-ifs," she answered.
"I always do," he said. "There's plenty of what-ifs in my past....."
Meilan, Treize, the peace of the world.
"....what's a few more?"
"You don't *need* any more!" her voice cracked. "Stop pretending to be a coward!"
"A coward?"
"Yeah. You're afraid of the truth. Like you're scared of what it'll be. But yet you said you *knew* it...."
"I do." He placed his belongings beside him on the ground, then put his hand on her shoulder.
She held her breath, begging herself not to lose her dignity in front of him. There were to be no more tears.
"Look at me," he said gently. "It's all right." She turned her face to him, and her eyes stung as she looked into his. It was as if he knew a millions secrets she did not.
His hand crept from her shoulder, up her neck, under her hair to the side of her face. It was warm against her skin. He was so close she felt frozen. His head was bent slightly, his lips very near hers. He whispered; "And you know it too."
She closed her eyes.
*Are you afraid?*
He kissed her, and her heart heaved. There were pangs of hunger inside of her that she wanted him to surfeit. Her throat ached and her mind raced in ten thousand directions. He was trying to crush her from the inside, she realised. His tongue was taunting her, his heartbeat drowning out her own. He was stronger than her. Much stronger.
But she didn't really care anymore. His mouth was soft against hers, and strangely familiar, as if she'd felt it many times before. She grasped him tightly, like a kitten clawing at the branch of a tree, afraid to fall, yet not knowing it would land on its feet. It was a myth. Sometimes things didn't turn out that way. She felt that if she held him tight enough, she might regain her foothold, her own power, her own assertion. Wasn't it always she who was superior, taller, stronger? Perhaps not in terms of combat skills, but inside. In the heart, the place that remained when wars came and went. But here she was, held by a man who would surely over-power her. She had nurtured, and reaped his strength- now she was unsure of it.
But he smelt so nice. Her arms raised over the bulk of his shoulders, and she discovered herself going backwards. His lips left hers, and she felt them warm, against her throat. Her eyelids flickered, and she beheld the sinews of his neck. His hands were firm, but he didn't hurt her. She struggled with herself- others had always thought of her as mature and level-headed- but right now, she knew she was in danger of giving everything to him. Not by accident- on purpose. He wasn't a boy any more. She couldn't play mind games with him, or control him with gentle words.
He was too much for her now.
"Stop," she said, hoarsely. "Stop!"
The intensity in his eyes waned, and he let her go. He stood to his feet, offering her a hand, then stooped to pick up his books and writing tools.
He didn't say anything. He simply put his belongings back into his bag and slung it over his shoulder.
Now she knew why he had to be numb. Why he had to be numb to his love. Why he had to leave her.
Neither said a word for a long moment. The cliffside was silent, then a bird flew across the horizon. But he was standing before her, blocking the sunlight from her view. She couldn't see where the bird would land.
"Are you really going to go then?" she asked, smoothing down the creases in her uniform.
"Yeah."
"For good?"
"When I wish to return, I'll let you know."
"You mean 'if'," she said with a sigh.
She felt so weak. She should have known he'd surpass her eventually, sap her of everything and move on.
His lips curved into a placid smile and he touched her shoulder; "No. I said 'when'."
Something about this gesture filled her with a slight throb of hope. He'd survive alone. He'd be perfectly all right without her. And she'd be all right without him, in time. But she had to give it time. She'd never thought it would be this way round. *Her* needing *him*. But he'd made her see that sometimes, you had to trust in your *own* heart. Sometimes it was dangerous to depend on someone too much. To let them become an obsession.
Only when they were equal could things ever blossom between them on the level they both knew it could. One day it could. That was the truth.
She stepped forward towards him, almost timidly, and embraced him. He put his arms around her, and she realised her eyes were dry. Her voice almost inaudible, she said; "At first when you said you were leaving, I thought it was because I had failed. Because even after the war, you would never be strong enough to live. I thought you wanted to go away alone to find the strength our friendship could never give you..."
"We're more alike than you think," he murmured. "I'm all right now. I've grown up. Changed. But I have to go to give you the chance to do the same. It's not fair that you have aided me- and many others, but particularly me- for so long, and never had the chance to focus on yourself. You need to find your own strength, work out who you are."
She pressed her head against his shoulder and said, "I thought I knew who I was."
"You weren't made to be everyone's fortress," he responded. "No-one is strong enough to be simply that. All people need time to focus on *themselves* sometimes . I'm wiser now, I can see that. If I stayed with you, I'd burn you out. I want you to take care of yourself, and I am going to finish my book."
She looked at him square in the eye, and saw the sincerity and tenderness in his expression. She was defeated, but it felt right.
"Then I wish you good luck," she said. "And I ask just one question of you."
"What is that?"
"That you leave a place in that book for me."
He smiled. "Of course. I couldn't leave you out. You're part of the story."
He leaned forward, kissed her brow, then walked away from her into the hazy shadows. She found herself alone in the light, and for once, the sunlight reached her face.
****