BU - RE - SU

By Tenshi no Ai

(C) Square Enix

XI. -Shock-

-0-

The atmosphere in Goug's largest bar was festive, helped by the fact that the alcohol fumes were so heavy anyone who entered felt an immediate buzz. Of course, the buzz was light enough that everyone just had to buy a drink to strengthen it a bit, and then another one for good luck, and another one for even better luck. The average number of drinks for the various drift workers, shopkeepers, rumormongers and people who just wanted a good time on the isolated hunk of land reached four in the wintertime and an astounding seven when the cloying humidity of summer rolled by like invisible fog.

It would suffice to say that the master of the bar was quite pleased by the end of every night, as well as more than a little drunk.

"Hmm..." Beowulf started just before he took a gulp of whatever was in his mug--his taste buds hadn't been working so well since a couple drinks ago, "you okay there, love?"

Reis turned away from whatever faraway object she was trying to focus on, a rather silly smile on her face. "I'm fine," she answered in a childish tone. Maybe it was slurred; the din of the bar certainly wasn't helping his wavering senses. "I'm just feeling a bit tingly and warm."

Beowulf only nodded. Yes, he was feeling fine too. Normally he didn't drink to excess--certainly nothing like tonight--but Reis had been curious and everyone knew not to order water right off. They had been matching each other drink for drink at first, only because she had insisted on his joining in. There was that shot of tequila, then a shot of vodka, then a shot of whiskey because Meliadoul came around and she had had a bottle of rare Fovoham whiskey hidden in her surcoat, and once the pious female knight had left they switched to beer briefly before moving up the quality scale into lager, which was around the time he realized he couldn't taste anything and Reis had taken to staring at things and blinking in confusion. Oh, they were both going to pay for it in the morning, but as he finished off his glass while admiring the soft curve of her neck to her bare shoulders he thought that maybe all the associated pleasures of an evening out would be worth tomorrow's inevitable hangover.

"Beowulf, stop that," he heard Reis say urgently, and that was when he realized that his gaze had lowered from her shoulders. He glanced at her face, took a moment to puzzle out if the redness of her face was from drinking or embarrassment, and smiled.

"Is it really so bad? Everyone else is in their own world." As if to punctuate his statement, a loud roar went up from the arm-wrestling contest at one of the back tables.

She closed her eyes and shook her head, a smile appearing on her face despite herself. "At least wait until later."

"I've always liked the way you think. Shall we leave?"

Grinning now, a rare sight for her, she attempted to stand and got it right the second time. "First, I'd like a glass of water. My mouth feels like it's made out of cotton."

"Alright. Be careful," he called as she began her wobbly journey to the bar. He meant that in more of a try-to-keep-on-your-feet than anything else; his mind was too muddled to make anymore connections to his beautiful lover and the inherent dangers of bars.

"E-excuse me, can you please move?"

Her words, tinged with the hesitance that was a hallmark of being in an uncomfortable situation, had a sobering effect on him. Beowulf turned in his seat, and the sight before him made the rest of that delightful drunken haze lift from his mind.

The man was large. That was the first thing he noticed. It was also the only thing he really could notice because it was such a defining characteristic for this human being. Beowulf was reminded of a barrel, an apt description for the man's thick middle. It certainly looked like it could hold as much. In front of the barrel-esque man Reis looked like a child despite her height; she was obviously frail and delicate and tiny next to that man, a pit fire next to a roaring wildfire.

Beowulf stood, visions of a burnt-down bar dancing in his mind and making him naseous. Or perhaps that was a sign he'd had too much to drink, he wasn't sure.

Laughing belligerently, the man took a step forward, looking down at her like she was the next seven-course meal to fill his stomach. "Look at this little missy! You a dancer? Why don't you dance for me?" The man brayed goatish laughter, to which Reis responded by taking a step back. Beowulf watched with narrowed eyes, his stomach and head staging a minor rebellion for his crime of standing too quickly. Definitely too much to drink.

"Please," Reis said, and this time there was no hesitation in her voice. "I already have someone, so--"

"Y'hear that boys? Little missy's got someone!" Loud guffaws returned from the back table with the arm-wrestling contest, and the barrel-man grinned like a whole pack of goblins who've surrounded a young chocobo. He grabbed her arm, trying to pull her close. "No need to put yer money together for one, I'll be taking this one for my prize!"

Reis held fast. "Let me go." Beowulf could hear the desperation and lingering threat behind those words and was afraid his vision hadn't been too off after all. This fear caused him to quash his body's rebellion with the ruthlessness of a knight of the Church and move forward, reaching Reis and, with a little jolt of electricity to the man's wrist, pulling her away to safety.

"What do you think you're doing to my wife?" he asked evenly, staring up at the man. He couldn't remember the last time he had had to look up at someone, and having to do it to now bothered him. Reis, displaying a burst of common sense, moved away from the protective circle of his arms, instead choosing to stand behind him.

"More like what was I gonna do to yer wife," the barrel-esque man grumbled, rubbing his sore wrist with a degree of resentment, "and it don't matter to you. Right boys?" The resulting pop of agreement was less than before, but it still cheered the man up. Beowulf could feel Reis leaning against him, whispering something that sounded like a plea to get out of here before it was too late, and any other time he would've heeded her words.

This time, though, he was having the sudden realization that he was a man.

Oh, he already knew in the logical sense that he was male, what with the substantial evidence that pointed towards that conclusion. But there was a difference between having the body and having the mind of a man. Here he was in a bar at night, protecting a woman--his woman--from a thug who was larger and brawnier than he could ever be. It was not insurmountable odds, not even much of a challenge at all to him, but it was the viewpoint that mattered.

He had promised to protect her. He couldn't drink enough to ever forget that.

It was the viewpoint--as well as all the liquid courage he had imbibed earlier--that caused him to say, "Normally, I wouldn't care to draw this out. However, the moment you touched Reis you left me no choice."

"Beowulf!" Reis gasped, clutching handfuls of his cape as if that would restrain him. "You don't need to do this..." It was kind of her to say so, but the fact that she needed to, whether out of fear of his safety or his opponent's, bothered him. Didn't she believe that he would protect her? He would now. He'd make up for every doubt she had, every failure of his that made her doubt.

After all, that was a man's duty.

"Yeah? Is that so?" the scoundrel asked in disbelief. Beowulf noticed, with some distaste, that the man was dressed in the garb of a thief. He wasn't sure why so many of the petty thugs of Ivalice wore green squire and thief outfits like it connected them in their mediocrity, but the thought of all those people getting their clothes from the same place was amusing. Knowing Wiegraf as a comrade from the last war and not the incarnation Ramza had described, he knew that honorable soul would've been insulted to see someone like the man before him dressed as a member of the Death Knights/Corps. It was funny in a sad way how drastically things could change, and Beowulf chuckled over it because someone had to.

However, he neglected to realize that laughing is strictly prohibited when one is seconds away from getting into a fight.

With a roar, the barrel-like man threw a heavily telegraphed punch. Instinctively, Beowulf held a hand out, as if he were going to hold the man's meaty fist at bay. Just before the fist collided into his open hand, he called up a charge of lightning magic through his arm, repelling the punch and sending the man flying through the air. Like a heap of trash, the large man slammed into a table, sending glasses of various liquors, people, and the end of an exciting poker game--certainly more exciting than a bar fight, at least--crashing onto the floor.

For a moment, there was only silence.

Beowulf could feel Reis slowly moving away from him in what seemed like relief. Feeling more than a little proud of himself, he turned around to ask her how she was doing and was struck by the sight of her face. She was staring at him like she didn't know who he was, and there was something odd creeping into her wide eyes and pursed lips.

It looked like sadness.

"Beowulf, that's...you used magic? Don't you think..." A sidelong glance was thrown to the unconscious man on the floor before she spoke again. "Don't you think you went too far?"

He was shaking his head before he realized it, a tentative smile on his face as his mind worked to understand the present moment. Shouldn't she be...happy? Appreciative, maybe? Everything was going perfectly just a few minutes ago... "Ah, well, that's just the way these things turn out. You don't have to look so shocked."

Reis twitched in what seemed like disgust. He wasn't sure why, but he was sure his eyes weren't tricking him, especially when her expression turned completely blank. "I'm going to Mustadio's house. You should be able to make it to the inn by yourself if you can make jokes about this." Shaking her head in the way only women mired in complete disappointment can, she turned and left the bar. Beowulf watched her go, confused and acutely aware of the fact that he probably did something wrong.

Suddenly, he needed a drink.

-End of Shock-

Eh...not sure what kind of mood this inspires, but I just felt like writing something ridiculous. Out of character, perhaps, but in my experience alcohol can open up the hidden crevasses of our personality that we don't like or don't even want to admit we have. Underneath the silliness of the story, there is a question: Beowulf wants to protect Reis, but Reis wants him to acknowledge that she's suited to stand right by his side. With these conflicting desires, who is held back more?

Reviewers!

Yo, Trueborn Chaos. Nah, Bahamut's definitely in his own class, considering his non-elemental Mega Flare, but he's always been the type to show more of an interest in the matters of humans than other summons (well, maybe except for Ramuh, according to VI and IX). An oddity like Reis would encourage him to test out what a dragoner is really supposed to be. And if I were the queen of dragons, I'd make aspiring heroes do ridiculous things just for the amusement factor.

Hey, TobyKikami. You're just saying that because I'm leaving. :) But I thank you anyway. Your to-the-point comments have always been a joy.

Hello, raitei. Personally, I don't think it's possible to ever master writing. Maybe that's why it's so fun.
Nah, male pride is this story. In 'Blaze', Beowulf didn't even know the tree spirit monsters existed before one of them hit him. Being hit by what should be inanimate would make anyone dwell on it. God knows if one of my bamboo plants smacked me I'd be freaked out.
In my opinion, Bahamut did exactly what Beowulf can't: accept Reis for exactly what she is, even if she doesn't know it herself. Beowulf, as a normal human being and therefore with his own ideals and beliefs constantly affecting how he sees things, can't be nearly as impartial. That's not to demean him at all, that's just human nature.
Have you played FE:TSS? It's a fun game, but compared to FE7 it's a step back. It's a little hard to get inspired from it, but I still managed.

Nice to meet you, Ilvinaeda (that looks very Celtic/Gaelic/Welsh to me). I'm not nearly as professional in writing as you are in your review, trust me. I find that my writing style is very basic compared to a lot of other writers on but I want the stories to connect with everyone, not impress them. Anyway, someone's got to write about the minor characters. It's really affirming to read that you were especially affected by 'Cool'...it was the genesis of this series, more or less. Your description of Reis is very poetic, something I couldn't hope to achieve. In 'Chill', what I thought was interesting was how everyone seemed to judge Reis as a human, including yourself. In a way, that shows just how alone Reis truly is. Then again, the story is colored by Beowulf's viewpoint; Reis' would definitely be interesting.
Anyway, thank you for your review; it really made me examine the meaning behind the stories I've written. Self-reflection is good, isn't it?

Evil Mina, you are so lucky I was playing FE:TSS until nine Tuesday night and therefore started my proofreading and internet time much later than usual. Well, maybe you're not lucky since you have to deal with my reply :P
Thanks for the mini-reviews for the last three chapters. I was starting to think that my writing was scaring everyone away. As for your question, the names of the titles are derived from the order of Reis' breaths, hence the title. I'll list the actual chronological order of the stories as they relate to the game in the next story.
FE7, to me, is very good. I'm not much for SRPGs, but the gameplay is engaging and the tactical aspects of it far outweigh FFT, especially since you can't revive dead units. The story's alright, but the main draw is the characters due to the support system, where two people stand around each other for a number of turns until they have a conversation. The talks can get really indepth into a character, and not only does it give bonuses in battle but it also affects endings. So yeah, a character writer like me can really appreciate that.
In regards to the giftfic, I'm instead modifying a story I started, the original angsty, angry BU-RE-SU. I'm planning to attach it as one of the side stories, since WHW also had three side stories at the end of it all. So, I can only hope you'll like it.