A bit longer this time. I still don't own any of this.
Part three.
Caska heaved a deep sigh of utter contentment and smiled. Finally the sweet warmth had seeped all the way into the very core of her being, and she felt wonderfully melted and mellow. The cold had been so deep, so painfully oppressive, that she had almost thought she had turned into an ice statue and would shatter completely at just the slightest touch. She had been so sure that she would never be completely warm again - and yet, here she was. Safe and snug, surrounded by friendly, familiar faces in a friendly, familiar place.
Indeed, the large campfire in front of her appeared to have drawn all the Hawks together, and if the noise was any indication they seemed to be having a festive celebration of some sort. She was placed right in the middle of it, but it was not until Rickert turned to her with smiling eyes and excitement-reddened cheeks that she realised that all the fuss was actually for her:
"I'm so glad to have you back, Caska!" He beamed at her. "We were all so worried!"
She felt herself blush in surprise and couldn't keep an annoyingly girlish giggle from escaping her.
"Oh… I'm so sorry about that," she said, "but you guys… you really didn't have to go through all this trouble..."
"No trouble," said Pippin in his deep bass rumble and bestowed her with one of his rare smiles.
"Certainly not!" Paolo, one of the team leaders directly under her, animatedly protested. "Not for you, big sister! When that happened, we all thought you were going to die!"
Caska's happiness and contentment wavered for an instant in confusion. What had happened, again?
She couldn't remember – and wasn't entirely sure that she wanted to: The only thing that would come to her as she hesitantly searched her mind was the intense impression of having been cold - cold beyond any human limits - tightly coupled with a deadening feeling of complete and utter loneliness. That was such a very uncomfortable contrast to the cheerful camaraderie that now surrounded her, that she firmly decided that she didn't need to know any more. She closed her eyes with a frown and tried to push the unclear and unsettling flickers of memory from her mind.
They were instantly dispelled, however, as two arms gently tightened around her in an embrace from behind. Surprised that she wasn't surprised, she found herself leaning back against the warm chest with a genuine smile, actually savouring the pleasant sensation.
Right... That was right: The wonderful warmth that had been melting her ever since she got away from that terrible cold had not been that of the large campfire, it had been this. This gentle, comforting embrace. Someone had been holding her this whole time.
Normally, she distantly recognised, it would be highly improbable if not impossible to find her sitting in any man's lap, being cuddled like this - She would never have allowed it. But this... it was different. Not only did she not mind, but the truth was that she couldn't remember ever feeling so safe and cared for. For once, she felt that she could drop her guard and leave all her responsibilities to someone else without worries or qualms, and it was really a wonderfully relaxing experience.
None of the others seemed to think that there was anything strange about her unusual position, either. They were all just smiling and toasting and kept telling her how happy they were to have her back, and when even Griffith, sitting across the fire from her position, raised his cup at her and smiled warmly, Caska couldn't keep her emotions at bay anymore and a small sob escaped her.
Immediately the arms around her tightened in an unspoken, concerned question, and Caska shook her head, wiping some of the gathering tears away from her eyes.
"No," she whispered, knowing instinctively that he would hear her and understand, despite the noise all around. "I'm just... I'm just a bit touched, that's all."
He gave her a small, affirmative squeeze and she gladly relaxed against him, letting a few more tears of happiness spill from her eyes.
"Thank you, everyone." Some of the emotion bled through in her voice, but she didn't care. "Thank you so much."
"Aw, don't cry, Caska!" Rickert exclaimed. Caska wiped her eyes again and another little sob escaped her.
"I'm sorry, I'm just so happy... I was so... I…"
"Well, don't thank us," Guts snorted - but he was smiling too. "If he hadn't come for you, we sure wouldn't be partying right now."
Caska heaved another happy sigh and relaxed, leaning her head against the man behind her. She could feel his comfortingly warm breath against her temple.
He came for me...
"Thank you," she whispered, so that only he would hear.
Somehow, that was when the mood changed. Instead of hugging her again, as she had half expected him to, he gave a small sigh and shifted as if uncomfortable, and suddenly, a wave of inexplicable worry surged through her – something had changed, and it was not good. "What?" she whispered. "Did I say something wrong?"
At that, the festive din around her faded into an uncertain hum and she felt, rather than saw, how all present turned away from their conversations, their food and half-drunk wine, to focus all attention on the two of them. A completely irrational feeling of having done something terribly wrong threatened to bring a blush to her face, but she fought it off. She needed his affirmation, but just couldn't bring herself to turn around and look at his face. Was she afraid of what she might see? Why? What did the others see that made their faces change like that?
Then a rude laughter cut through the tension and Caska's gaze flickered over the familiar faces to land on Corkus'.
The former bandit sneered at her and languidly put his hands behind his head.
"Maybe it's something you didn't say," he drawled, his tone far more scornful than she would accept from anyone, least of all that annoying pushover of a soldier... But something had happened to the general atmosphere - it frightened Caska in a way she couldn't explain. The fire had grown fainter, the night darker, the faces harder. She felt colder. She tried to seek comfort in the warm embrace, but even that was becoming slacker – and that frightened her more than anything else: Without it, she knew that she would be completely at the mercy of the unforgiving coldness again. It was waiting for her, she could feel it - Somewhere just beyond the light of the campfire, waiting for a chance to swoop in and reclaim her, and this time for good. He couldn't be letting her go, not after he had saved her from the terrible cold before. He couldn't be.
She turned to Corkus, meaning to use the strong, demanding voice she used to give orders, but it came out as only a weak whisper:
"What do you mean?"
Corkus snorted haughtily.
"I don't know. How about... his name? For fuck's sake, you don't even know who he is!"
She opened her mouth to protest, but no sound came forth.
I do know him, she wanted to say. Of course I do! I know him as well as any of you! His name is...
His name is...
His... name...
Horrified, Caska felt the arms begin to pull away from her midsection. She wanted to reach for them, hold on to them, but she was frozen in place.
Don't go! her mind screamed. Give me a minute! Just a minute to think! I know who you are! I know! Don't leave me here in the cold!
As if called by her unspoken cry, the coldness came sweeping in over the formerly festive scene like an evil whisper, malignantly smothering all remnants of happiness and celebration. The fire instantly faded into small, strange, pale blue flames and the faces around her became ghostly and distorted in the chilly light.
Who? She tried to ask them, but an icy touch of air had already sealed her lips with a thin layer of frost. Who came for me?
She desperately searched the spectral faces around her for the answer. Someone was missing, someone she knew well.
Who came for me?
Not Griffith, he was right there, staring coldly, expectantly at her with sharp raptor eyes. But would he really have come for her? She kept searching, her desperation mounting. Not Guts, he was watching her with sternly furrowed eyebrows – that infuriating look he had that always made her feel so aggravated, like he couldn't believe that she actually cared about anything.
But who's missing? Who?
Not Pippin, who was frowning as though he was disappointed with her.
Who?
Not Rickert, watching her with sad disbelief written all over his young face. Not Corkus, who was still laughing almost demonically at her. Not Paolo or Mason or Bradley or any of the other sub-commanders she knew and worked with.
Who came for me?
The faces all started to blend together, floating around and fading into each other, switching places. She felt like she couldn't breathe, as if the cold slowly seeping back into her, making all the little hairs on her body stand on end, was already paralysing her. Desperation was turning into unadulterated panic, and Corkus' face, distorted and unnaturally huge floated around, mocking her with many different voices.
"What's his name? Who is he? You don't know, do you? He saved your life, and you can't even remember who he is! You don't know who he is!"
She shivered, realising that she was naked now – completely uncovered in the face of the relentless, creeping cold. She tried to cover herself with her hands, but it didn't help any. She wanted to turn away from the ghostly visage that tormented her and look behind her, more than anything to look at the face of the man who was slowly drifting away from her, the man who had saved her before. She could still feel the warmth he was radiating, the only warmth there was in this place, but it was fading away as the distance between them grew. He was not too far away yet. If she could only turn around she would be able to grab him and hold on to him and revel in that life-giving warmth again.
And if she could only see his face, she was sure she would immediately remember who he was.
She squeezed her eyes shut to drive away the image of the mocking face, whose features had now taken a disturbing likeness to Griffith's, and put all her willpower into turning around. At first, her body was completely frozen in place and the despair made bile rise in her throat - but then, oh so slowly, she felt herself begin to move.
His warmth was almost gone, and she imagined feeling her toes and fingers slowly begin turning into ice – she could almost hear them creak. With a monumental effort that lured an unarticulated but surprisingly weak cry from her throat, she flipped over onto her other side (was she lying down now? Since when?), and almost immediately felt his warm body against her own, his arms back around her. Protective. Comforting. Forgiving. She pressed herself against him and almost wept with relief, shivering as the cold was once again expelled from her body. He was so warm, so wonderfully, unbelievably warm in this cold, cold place that she imagined for a moment a fire burning inside of him. One that would never, ever grow cold and blue, or fade to ashes.
She really wanted to see his face now, but she couldn't believe how hard it was to open her eyes – her eyelids felt like they were weighed down with lead. Finally she managed it, after a long and arduous struggle, but as her eyes sluggishly dragged themselves open and she sought his face, all she could see was bright, white light that stung her eyes and made them water.
Who are you?
She sobbed, worn out and overwhelmed by hopelessness.
Why can't I see you?
Then, as the last vestiges of dream faded into awareness, she heard a very familiar voice whispersoftly :
"Caska…"
GASP! What will happen now? ...You'll have to wait for the next chapter to find out! Oh, and in case anybody missed it, this chapter was Caska's dream as she slowly wakes up again. That's why it seems so confused and abstract.
Reviewer Responses:
Arashi: Yeah, insight into others does not always mean insight into yourself. Griff is not a sociopath, that's for sure. Hope you liked this chapter too!
Bengali: Hope it didn't take too long, and hope you like. We only wish to entertain. :)
RisuMusume: So how's about this? Double update! HaP AND this one! Ooh, I feel so prolific right now...
Pissy Abyssinian: Yes... I don't think you can be such a people-person as Judeau is, and hang around Griffith as much as he does, without noticing SOMETHING - even if it only is a vague hunch. And thank you! He's a difficult character to write.
Drachen: So glad you approve (griiin). Yup, this story is all about getting Le Fluff out of my system - as I'm sure you will notice. Thanks for the comment!