This is a sad one hehe :)

Happy New Year, by the way :D

It's the first time it's rained—first time it's been warm enough to rain—since she came here.

Speaking of which, it's a good thing that she doesn't have to go anywhere on the weekends, she thinks to herself, watching the droplets cascading out the window while taking a break from her book. She hasn't yet had to drive down the mountain in rain, on a road that would potentially be mud, but she can't imagine it would be better than doing it in snow, if not worse.

Honestly, she should just get an apartment in town at this point, since she's obviously here for the long haul. Every time she gets on the road back down the mountain is pushing her luck. But however reluctantly, she's grown into life up here, in the quiet isolation.

And if she were to find a place in town, away from the mountains, she would be well and truly alone and so would he.

Despite the dangers, rainy days are still wonderful. The blank background sound is soothing and repetitive, and back then, working together with him felt the most seamless on those days. The white noise filled in the gaps, enhancing the quiet, and the light from outside was dull, but still bright enough during the day to work or read comfortably by the window—for that matter, sunshowers are the absolute best. They'd spent many a rainy afternoon together on opposite ends of the couch with a book or their laptops, notes and papers on the low coffee table next to them within easy reach, legs intertwined comfortably in the middle.

And normally, it took effort to get him to go outside if it wasn't necessary, but he was often the one who cajoled her to put on her rainboots and take walks with him when the rain wasn't too heavy. He said he liked the scent of it, and that the weather would dissuade most other people from leaving the house on foot, making the sidewalks quieter, and she came to agree.

She remembers one time with particular vividity when they'd just arrived back at his house from one such walk. When he tapped her shoulder, she turned just in time for him to open the umbrella in her face, showering her with little droplets. For a solid few seconds, she'd stood there, staring at him and the smallest hint of a smug little smirk on his face in utter disbelief, before she proceeded to tickle him until she could see tears in his eyes. Hearing his startled yelp and the following laughter, however involuntary it was, was well worth his prank.

Rinko lets out a sigh and puts her book down to roll her neck and shoulders, sinking further down in her hard wooden table chair and wriggling a bit in a fruitless attempt to get more comfortable. There's no couch here, and if she were to read in bed, she knows she would never actually get up to be productive.

Of course, she has no real inclination to put down Wuthering Heights and actually go be productive right now anyways, but she can set up her laptop nearby with all her notes organized around her and pretend.

One could say that her copy of this book was the only gift he'd ever given her, but the truth is that he didn't so much as give it to her; she borrowed it and just never gave it back. In her defense, he never asked. They hadn't even been dating at that point, just...well, she's not sure if he was even a friend either, more of a workplace acquaintance to whom she spoke often.

She's not even sure how it came up, but one day, he asked if she'd read it, and she said no, and he just—randomly, out of absolutely nowhere, he just pulled out a copy of the book and handed it to her, as if he always carried one with him for moments like these (she never did figure that out), and told her to tell him what she thought about it later. Looking back at it, it was a very Akihiko thing to do.

The glaring flaws of all these characters captivated him, he told her. And she had to admit that it was fascinating in its own way, like watching a train wreck—unable to do anything about it nor look away—in slow motion as these people made mistakes and wounded the ones around them, caught in the grips of their pettiness and self indulgence and grief.

With a sigh, she lets her face rest on her hands and props her elbows up; the slight adjustment of position knocks one of her notebooks to the floor. Wincing at the sight of some of the pages crinkled on the floor, she picks it up and delicately straightens the thin sheets before noticing one lying forgotten on the floorboards—Akihiko's NerveGear plans that he gave her as a reference for the Medicuboid.

Absentmindedly, she picks up and unfolds the pieces of paper, laying them flat on the table with one hand and picking up lukewarm coffee with the other. She browses through it, idly leafing through the pages, and stares absently at his little notes scrawled in the margin next to the words 'high output microwave transceivers', reading the words but not really.

Then she reads them again. And again.

And when the pieces begin to fall into place, all she can think is, I never had a chance.

o0o0o

When he walks in and finds her sitting at the table, staring blankly into space with a cold cup of coffee, she can see him tilt his head in the periphery like a curious dog.

"What are you doing?"

Rinko turns to look at him; he meets her bloodshot eyes evenly as her breath escapes her in a single word: "Nothing."

She'd almost left, actually, when she realized she really was doing nothing here.

Because from the start, it was written into the code of his connection to the virtual world; the day he left, he left for good, and it'll only be a matter of time before whatever this is standing in front of her is gone too.

Her lungs draw in another breath involuntarily. "Were you ever going to tell me you were planning to perform a high density scan on your own brain?"

He smiles almost fondly at that. "I knew you'd figure it out from the blueprints."

If it doesn't work—and it almost certainly won't—he'll be gone forever. She doesn't bother mentioning this aloud; he already knows anyways.

This whole time, what was she doing here? Why did she stay? From the very first day, she knew she would never be able to kill him or turn him in. She should've known the knife was just a pretense that she used to fool even herself, one that he saw through in an instant.

Rinko never wanted to be a hero.

I just thought I could get you to come back.

What arrogance. What did she think was going to happen?

She should've cut her losses and ran a long time ago. Right from the start, there was no point. When he sees this through to the bitter end, it will be the end of him in this world, and the end of whatever little is left of them.

In a grief-stricken daze, she'd had her things packed up and ready to leave before she could realize it. Realistically, she knew she was being unreasonable right from the start; what more could she have possibly hoped for? It was only ever her inner idealist speaking, dreaming up things that could never be, and when confronted with the existence of this insurmountable dead end, that little hope crumbled.

She'd almost done it. She'd almost left, just like Heathcliff did in the book, before he could truly leave her.

When she saw the knife on the nightstand, one more reminder of her failures, she couldn't do it.

It didn't feel right to leave it. Taking it with her just felt like an obligation; there was no other choice. The thought of leaving it behind, of turning her back on and abandoning her failures fully to run away from them, put a bitter taste in her mouth. People are dying because of her.

She can't remember how long she sat there, trying to will herself to just pick up the damn thing, and sobbing when she couldn't.

Maybe she just doesn't want the responsibility it represents, the duty it would thrust upon her, to do the right thing and put an end to this nightmare. Maybe she just doesn't want to let him go; there is so little time left for them, and as selfish as it is, she can't bear to end it sooner than it has to.

Y'all knew the book had to come up somewhere XD In case this is new, my headcanon is that Heathcliff got his name from the character named Heathcliff in the book Wuthering Heights. It's an older work, and not exactly a cheerful fairy tale, but the characters are so shattered. It's great :D