"Thank you for all you've done," he said quietly, the prize he'd been waiting for already in his arms. The woman smiled bowing her head a little.
"Of course," she replied, with the ease her years afforded, "Some things are just too precious."
"Again?" she asked skeptically, "Shouldn't you be spending time with her yourself?"
"Well... there are things," he said, shifting uncomfortably, "They need my help."
"Know that I do this only for her sake," she said with an edge, "Don't be surprised if you miss it."
"Don't you ever feel worn thin?" she asked, stirring her cup of hot tea, "Like the years have faded you away?" He nodded, staring absently out the window.
"I think we did what was right. That's the only that keeps me goin," he muttered. She noisily let go of the spoon.
"Right? Is that all that bothers you?" she asked, a quiet sort of fury, "What about life? The lives you may have destroyed for your actions..." She hissed out the last part slowly, letting it sink in with him. He grimaced.
"You don't think I feel it?" he asked, a vein pulsing in his forehead, "The voices of the children, the silent eyes of their mothers, the anger of their fathers?" He turned his eyes downward. He breathed in.
"I don't want to talk about this," he said and gave her a quick nod as he got up, "Thank you for the tea."
"She was crying her eyes out! Where were you!" she whispered harshly, trying not to alert the ears of ones that shouldn't hear. He averted his eyes.
"You were out with them again, weren't you?" she said, crossing her arms, "Thinking of the good old days, most certainly." He couldn't hold back his reaction as he pounded his fist into the doorframe.
"You can't keep substituting." He stalked off, too angry to continue speaking with her. She blinked, a shell shocked look on her face.
"You were right, you know," her whisper came from the side of the room, as he snuck in to see that which he cared the most about. He grimaced.
"I didn't mean it like that."
"No, I was being presumptuous," she whispered and closed her mouth tightly.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, turning around and hiding something quickly behind her back. He frowned.
"What is that?" he reached for her slightly, and she shut her eyes tightly.
"Don't. Don't." He let his hand drop.
"You need to go outside," he sighed, offering his hand again, "C'mon... the sunshine won't bite."
"I missed things like this," she spoke absently, "Air. Sky. Grass. Simple things."
"Good to see our children will able to experience this," he said dreamily, and then noticed the hurt look on her face.
"Look," he whispered, pointing off in the distance, "Can you see it?"
"You again?" she asked wryly, doing all sorts of mischief in her kitchen. He grinned.
"I had some free time," he replied, plopping down in a seat next to the table.
"If you're here beggin for food..." she began, hands on her hips. He chuckled.
"Wouldn't dream of it," he said and then peered at her oven, "...Unless..." She let out a "tch" and opened the door.
"Fine fine..." she said, pulling the delicious confection out of the oven, "...If you eat me out of house and home..."
"She over there again?" she nearly sighed, eyes still focused on the book. He nodded, knowing that she was watching somehow.
"Ya, wanted some more lessons," he replied, posture unsure.
"That's a rather mannish activity you've gotten her into," she said, eyebrows raised. He let out his breath slowly, trying to humor her.
"She likes that. Especially considering Tifa's giving lessons for free," he scanned her carefully. She sighed.
"Times have really changed, haven't they?" she said, with an amused grin.
"I don't mean to," she whispered quietly. He looked up from his plate.
"Don't mean what?" he replied, letting some more food meet his mouth.
"To expect her to be..." she continued shakily, "...her." He put down his fork and placed his hand on top of hers.
"Do you even remember what it was like?" he said, staring at the horizon line. She looked down.
"Sometimes," she replied, fiddling with her hands, "Little things. Like objects and certain types of days remind me." He chuckled.
"Chocolate cake," he said simply. She gave him a funny look.
"Do I even want to know what that was about?" she said, letting a little of her sarcasm slip. He laughed harder.
"Not the way you talk about it!"
"Please, just go away," she said quietly, that politeness never wearing down. He put a little more pressure on the door.
"What are you doing?" he said, checking out the state of disarray her house was in.
"Please, just go away," she repeated, putting her full weight on the door. But he was stronger and managed to get inside.
"You don't have to hide all the time," he said, face etched with worry. She shook her head frantically.
"This isn't my house!" she cried, sinking to her knees, "I'm so alone so alone..." He leaned down and grabbed her shoulder.
"You're not alone. You've got her... and me."
"You can't replace them."
"Why are you still here?" she asked, blinking from an uneasy sleep. He sat upright from his position on the couch.
"I worry about you," he stated plainly, "A woman like you should be out more. With people. With children." She shivered.
"How old do you think I am?" she asked forcefully. He blinked in the darkened light.
"Can't be much older than forty..." he said truthfully, but unsure of the intent.
"Try fifty-two," she spat out, like it was a curse. He stood up an walked closer to her.
"What's so bad about that, Elmyra?" he said gently, pushing back some of her grayed hair. She sobbed.
"I'm a childless widow," she stated plainly, "Isn't that reason enough?"
"We're going outside," he said, with a gentle forcefulness. She continued to stare away from him. Then his face lit up.
"Alright, if you're not going to respond..." He walked over and hoisted her over his shoulder without a second thought. She gasped.
"What are you doing!"
"Getting you outside. The sunshine misses ya."
"No, not here..." she whimpered, trying to pull away from the careful hold he had on her arm. He shook his head.
"You're worse than Tifa..." he said good naturedly, but stopped smiling when she shot him an angry green glare.
"Why do you insist I go through so much pain?" she whispered intensely. He looked her directly in the eye.
"Because, from what I know of your daughter," he said with as much delicacy as a man of his demeanor coutld, "She wouldn't like what you've been doing." Elmyra hung her head.
"Thanks..." she murmured, barely audible. He nodded.
"Stay... for dinner?" she asked, beckoning him inside.
"Marlene looked so pretty today!" she said gaily, arms spread out, "I think she's met a boy." He nearly dropped his fork.
"A what?" he said, like someone had told him that Sephiroth was standing outside the door and was looking for Marlene.
"Oh, she's getting to be that age you know..." she teased. He made a small "hmph" sound.
"That's what I'm afraid of," he replied, giving her a wary eye. She clucked, and smiled back at him.
"You can't hold onto her forever Barret," she said, with a tinge of seriousness amongst the teasing. He sighed.
"We've gotta be careful of that, don't we?"
"Have you ever considered getting married again?" he asked idly, while they sat on the porch.
"No, why?"
"I dunno, I'm not getting any younger, and Marlene could sure use the influence and..." he trailed off at her frown. Then she started laughing.
"What?"
"Th-that's the worst..." she sputtered out between giggles, "...marriage proposal..." He got a strange grin on his face, proceeding to pin her arms.
"Well, you love me, don't ya?" She smirked.
"Perhaps..." she began and saw his face fall, "Of course, you old bear."
AN: Note, I didn't use Barret's ebonics, so that you could guess more for what he was saying not the words he used. And I always saw Elymra as speaking with a more proper sort of tone. This one inspired by writing Chorophobia. Weird, I inspired myself. Heh.
And I know it's been awhile. Other stories and school happen.