Sailormoon is not mine.
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Twilight Bastille: Chapter #10 – Interlude
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"Grandfather," Rei breathed reverently, smiling down into his ancient face, he looks beautiful, doesn't he? "Oh, God, you're…" Shock and joy battled for sway over her voice, and she trailed off, letting her silence speak for her.
Grandfather tilted his head almost imperceptibly, wrinkling the tightly folded white sheets beneath him. The smile glowing from those filmy, aged eyes struck Rei as something almost divine in its happiness. His hand beneath hers flexed just enough to feebly grasp her fingers, and she understood immediately that he was too weak to move much more than that. He murmured something quietly that she couldn't quite catch, and she leaned close to hear his words.
"Rei."
"Yes," she said softly, tremulously.
"Rei…I…headache…" he gave her a faint grin, a spark of his old humor shining through.
She laughed huskily, wild joy settling like snowflakes in her breast, melting into the sweetest contentment she'd ever felt. "I'll bet, Grandfather. Don't worry about a thing. From now on, everything will be all right. You'll see…" Rei continued.
Unnoticed by her, Grandfather's face grew somber again. He watched her face, made young again by her rapture, and quietly loathed himself for what he was about to do.
"Rei…child, listen…carefully – " He coughed, a parched, hollow sound rising from the dried recess of his chest.
Her brow furrowed at his words. She realized that he had something of some serious import to say, probably several things, questions that needed to be answered after his prolonged sleep, but couldn't this wait until he was better?
"Grandfather, shhh, you need your rest…"
He laughed harshly, compressing her hand for silence. "Rest is exactly what I've had enough of, child." His voice seemed to gain in strength with use. "The things I want to tell you…take time that I don't have."
"What?" Rei whispered, that familiar fear constricting her chest again, a vise crushing further every moment. Time that I don't have. She felt her fleeting happiness receding, evaporating in the lazy afternoon's heat.
His gaze sharpened, focusing on her bruised-petal eyes. His Rei was much changed. She looked so broken by his side, so much like the hurt child he'd scooped from the mud and held to his heart years ago. There were shadows beneath her lashes that spoke of more sorrows than just exhaustion. Her girlish beauty had faded, something subtly changing before his eyes, a refinement.
Grandfather's tone was gentle. "These are borrowed moments, Rei. They are not mine to live."
"No –" the cry was ripped from her before she could seize it back, and he interrupted his granddaughter sternly.
"At my age, child, not all the medicines in the world could help me. You should know this. Hasn't the future always whispered its secrets into your ears? When did you stop listening?"
Rei didn't answer, her head bowed. She didn't want to believe him, wanted to bury herself in his long, loose clothes like she'd done as a child and beg him to take back his words, but she knew. What she'd refused to see when he woke was now written plainly on his pensive face. That glow of the divine was just that – the mark of a dying man.
She was dimly aware of the fact that she should have been weeping, but somehow the betrayal of all her hopes these last few weeks seemed too great for that. Some tightly wound duct within her didn't allow for tears before others. Rei had never cried where anybody could see her since as far back as she could remember. It was too late to start now, wasn't it? Grandfather watched her silently for a moment before speaking.
"You cannot run from the truth, Rei, no matter how unpleasant. Sometimes it is a demon you must face."
She looked up then, startled by how closely his words echoed her introspective thoughts. Despite his gentleness and good humor, she knew, Grandfather would rather die than give up his dignity by running from his fears. He expected the same from her. Rei straightened her spine. She would make him proud now, when it mattered the most.
"I'm sorry, Grandfather," she said quietly. "You're right – I've been a coward. I didn't want to see what was happening right before me – I just thought – " Rei broke off, trying as always to compose herself.
Grandfather shook his head, smiling slightly at the wall she'd tried to slam over her too-expressive features. "You hoped, I know. You hoped and worked, and you stayed here and spoke to me while I slept. I heard you in here," he attempted to touch his temple, but succeeded only in a frail gesture, "sometimes. You and Dr. Amos have given so much. And I am grateful – " he coughed again, a loud, startling sound. " – but Rei, it is my time. And there is no need for you to sit there with your stone-face," he added teasingly. "I know you well. I see the tears you won't shed before me. Even a samurai has his weaknesses. Just because you must confront your demons, child, it does not mean you must always keep a brave face."
There was a brief silence as Rei relaxed slightly, her distress still barely held at bay, visible in the tremble of her lips.
"I don't know what else to do," she admitted quietly, contemplating some unfixed point beyond her grandfather's face. "I've lost myself."
"At least," he continued, seemingly ignoring her confession, "I've lasted long enough to see this. You've grown, child, so much stronger than your mother. But you have her beauty," he smiled, "it's in the eyes, that same wildness. I've lasted long enough to see you become a woman, cherished by another. To see you love."
Her gaze snapped back to his. "I – "
"What did I tell you about my headache?" he admonished sternly, his black eyes sparkling. His voice seemed frailer than ever to Rei's panicked ears. "Your voice is like a hammer against my poor skull! I won't have it, Rei. Out with you. I need my rest, like you said."
"G-Grandfather?"
"A bit closer, before you leave," he said quietly. Rei leaned in, her cheek nearly pressed to his. His hand pressing against the nape of her neck, he pulled her just a little nearer, pressing his dry lips to her cheek. "Go. Good night, my child."
"Good night, Grandfather," she whispered helplessly into his ear. Rei didn't want to move, didn't want to leave and come back and find him gone. His hand, entwined in her hair, relaxed. For one agonizing moment, she thought she had lost him; her breath seemed to be a whistling knife in her chest. Then, she felt his rising and falling chest, steady against her arm, and the fear subsided.
Not wanting to disturb his rest, she painstakingly removed herself from his loose embrace, taking care not to make any noise or move overmuch and wake him from his sleep. Finally, Rei stood, her dry eyes on her grandfather's still form.
She never knew afterward how long she stood there, feasting her eyes on him. When the nurse quietly informed the girl that she needed to make some adjustments, Rei turned and walked woodenly from the room, shutting the door as gently as possible behind her. Her walk to her barracks seemed to last an age to her, but finally, Rei was undressed and in bed. She left the sheets crumpled beneath her, window wide open to allow the moonlight in. She did not move, did not fall asleep. She waited. The hours passed slowly.
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It was very late when she knew. Without hesitation, Rei swung her legs over the edge of the bed, pulling on a dressing gown over her shift. She left her shoes by the door, quietly gliding out into the still night. There was no sound of crickets or coyotes; only the murmur of her gown past her bare feet. Had anybody seen her, she might have been thought a ghost, but the desert was seemingly spellbound. All were asleep.
This time, her walk back to the hospital seemed to take no time at all.
The doors were never locked at night; such security precautions had long ago been forgotten by the lazy. Rei made her way down the hallway, no longer needing to count the doors in her head. She stopped at his door, pushed it open.
Grandfather lay inside, just as she'd left him. No stirring of breath lifted his chest. His skin was deceptively warm.
She took two steps forward, then two more, then three. When Rei reached the edge of the cot, she sat down in her chair, exactly where she'd left it. She leaned forward, just as she had hours before, and rested her head on his still chest. Her arms pillowed her face, long black hair falling over the edge of the bed to brush the floor.
Good night, my child.
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