Proximity (Khalwat)
1.
"I want you to be there when I do it."
Clare stopped. The request unnerved her. "Why?" she asked Miria.
"What do you mean why?"
"It's got nothing to do with me. This is just between you and –"
Miria interrupted with her stare: a hard, overbearing stare. But when Clare threatened to harden her face with discontent, her leader's face eased into a small smile. She put her hand on Clare's shoulder.
"I need someone to be there with me."
"Why me?"
"Because you're less likely to take this the wrong way."
Clare grimaced. She still did not understand Miria's intentions; she still could not see exactly what she wanted, even though she believed they meant nothing ill. But the question of why her still did not take away her uncertainty.
She looked past Miria to where the weak sun, hidden behind brackish clouds, was pouring a feeble shadow across the mountains south of here. In the north, the sun was never a bright burning signal; it was always an insignificant smear, a wet orb cast aside by the wind or the permanent ocean of dark clouds –
"Clare. CLARE." Miria's face replaced the mountains. "I-need-you-to-help-me."
She lowered her line of vision to take in Miria's face. She supposed there was nothing to lose.
"Fine. I'll be there then." She had trouble getting those words out. "Where?"
"Later today. After the sparring session." Miria eyed her again. Her hand tightened on her shoulder and slacked, falling away. Clare thought she did look a bit grateful, although she did not need to be. She was their leader anyway. "Come and find me."
She thought that Miria's hand had remained on her shoulder for quite some time.
2.
Clare knew what Cynthia would tell her: she was still too slow. For the entire hour, her attempts at getting that perfect angle and speed on her windcutter's draw was absent. She could feel lactic acid and a reservoir of restless yoki building up in her right arm, but she would not use the Quicksword. Later, when Yuma came in to spar with her, she accidentally angled her draw too much to the right, and drew a cut across Yuma's undefended left thigh. Yuma did not mind, but Clare still admitted it was a careless blunder.
Cynthia made a comment that she was a bit jittery today. Clare ignored it. Clare pressed her tongue in between the edges of her teeth, fighting back the urge to let her menacing streak of yoki loose. She bit down hard and forced her strength into her biceps, where the energy for drawing the windcutter would come from. The three of them repeated the routine till everyone except Clare was bent over with exhaustion, kneeling in the half-melted snow, knees damp.
Clare spat blood to the ground, reminding herself to heal her tongue. She motioned to Yuma that she needed to leave; she knew they would not bother, they were already accustomed to her not being overtly sociable.
She sheathed her Claymore. Clare wandered through down the trail from where they usually had their sparring sessions. Somewhere within the dead forest she could hear Helen's laughter, the chiming of swords and, from above her, Cynthia asking aloud to Yuma if she had seen Miria. Yuma said no.
She found Miria waiting by the still-frozen mountain stream, near the trail which led outward to the mountains. Her eyes were closed, her hands crossed at the chest, head lowered. But her eyes snapped open the minute Clare approached.
"Come on," Miria said. Then paused as if she had forgotten something.
"What?"
"You know that I really appreciate your help, Clare."
"I'm sure you do." It was an innocent statement. She had not meant anything more.
Miria led her down the slope. Clare noticed her pace was unusually un-leader-like: she was clumsily sliding down the scree slope, dislodging rocks and noisily removing leafless branches from the path. She wondered if Miria was nervous, but shook that absurd thought out of her head. She also saw that Miria was unarmed.
They came to patch of woodland when the snow had already melted, exposing sharp, black granite slices of rock. Bare clumps of straw-coloured grass were forcing its way through the soil. There were even specks of alpine flowers near the bases of some of the trees. Miria looked back at Clare first, but did not stop.
She became aware of someone else ahead. Clare slowed her steps as she saw who it was. A voice greeted Miria. Miria did not respond very wholeheartedly. Then Clare, taking the final deliberately slowed steps, caught up to her leader.
At once she saw Tabitha's face crumple.
"Miria, what is she doing here?"
Clare did not defend herself. It would be pointless. Instead, she waited. Like Miria, she saw Tabitha was without her Claymore.
"Is she –?"
Miria cut Tabitha off with a wave of her hand. "It's not what you think." She turned back to Clare, gesturing to a convenient patch of rock. "Why don't you sit?"
"I'll stand. Thanks."
Clare crossed her arms over her chest, watching as both Miria and Tabitha sat, facing each other. She was beginning to think that agreeing to accompany Miria here was a bad idea. The weight of her Claymore nudged her. She felt like she was a bodyguard watching over the two of them.
"Do you know why we're here?" Miria asked Tabitha.
"Why? Is there any specific reason, Miria-sama?"
"I'm asking you."
"You asked me to come. You said you wanted to talk."
Miria gave a huff. Clare thought she was acting as if one huge obstacle had just been cleared.
"How am I going to phrase this?" Miria said aloud.
"Phrase what?"
Now, Clare thought, Miria looked really uncomfortable. She was staring straight at Tabitha relentlessly; it reminded Clare of when Miria was back in Pieta, fumbling and agonizing over their situation. This time Miria was moving her fingers, tapping into the rock with a thumb. But she did not offer any suggestions; she thought if Miria needed any help, she would ask for it.
Miria looked across at the mountains. Pieta was beyond them.
"The mountains look better in the spring, don't they?" she said. "We should return to Pieta soon to pay our respects too, yes?"
Clare thought the mountains looked the same. And she did not want to return to the ruins. She loathed that place. But Tabitha silently nodded.
"Tell me, Tabitha. You've been in my company for close to several months now since Pieta. Do you think I've been a good enough leader?"
Tabitha looked horrified. "Miria-sama, why are you asking me this?" For the first time her eyes darted to Clare, then back to Miria. "I would not have it any other way. You single-handedly saved us from death, and have kept us alive since then. You've trained, fed, nursed us back to life – I mean – I – You have always been my leader. I'd go to hell and back with you."
A bird somewhere in the forest was stirred and called out.
"I see," Miria said. "Then would you listen to me if I said I would want to give you some advice?"
"You know I will, Miria-sama."
"Good. Between the two of us, Tabitha – we have a problem. Do you think we have a problem?"
"Problem?"
"Just answer the question."
The sharp edge to Miria's tone took Clare by surprise too.
"We have a problem," she repeated, "between you and me."
Tabitha's fingers unconsciously went up to her ponytail.
"You know what I'm talking about, don't you?"
The girl took her eyes off Miria, looking at the ground instead, silent.
"Your behaviour, your gestures, some of the things you say to the others."
Clare half-expected Tabitha's answer: "I never viewed it as a problem, Miria-sama."
"Honestly, neither did I until what happened the other night," Miria's strong tone was now fraying. She sounded exasperated. "Look. Really. Look – Tabitha, I don't know who taught you this. But this is certainly not the place for this kind of thing."
"But you enjoyed it, didn't you?"
Miria tensed. Clare thought the comment was a bit too bold. And quite foolish.
"You might think me old-fashioned, Tabitha, but there are words for these things."
Tabitha stayed silent this time. Her head was still lowered.
"There are words to describe this. Immoral, I believe. I think perversion would be a better word. Don't you think so, Clare?"
Clare did not like to think Miria was using her to prove a point. She resented being treated that way. So she just said tonelessly: "Whatever you say."
"Perversion. Against the natural order of things."
"No."
"Immoral. But I still prefer perversion."
"No, it isn't. Stop it, Miria-sama! Stop!"
"I told you we had a problem."
"It's not immoral. It's not perversion."
"Really?"
"Did you drag me out here just to humiliate me in front of another person?"
For the first time, Clare felt for Tabitha. She looked angry, and Clare knew she was not angry at Miria, but at her, just for being there and watching something which should have been between the two of them. But Clare chose not to say anything. She told herself she would stay silent for the rest of this meeting.
"I care about you, Miria-sama. That's why –"
"This is not a question about who cares for whom."
Tabitha got up. She looked like she was going to approach Clare. For a while, Clare thought she was going to seize the Claymore from her and do something incredibly stupid. But instead, the girl turned and walked to a nearby tree. She stared past the still leaf-less branches and out at the mountains, breathing deeply. A shaggy clump of dark raincloud was moving along the crest of the distant hills, and its shadow obscured the forests which ran around the peaks like a beard.
"Then what's this question about?"
"It's about you knowing that our situation isn't very rosy."
"I know."
"And I don't want the others to think that you are doing these kind of things with their leader. I'm their leader too."
"I know, Miria-sama."
"And I don't want them to think that you can't keep yourself under control."
"I know."
"Then do you know that you're distracting? I'm trying to keep us all alive and you're – you're – cuddling up to me like a baby at night."
When Tabitha, Clare saw she was blinking, her face unreadable.
"Come on, come back and sit down," Miria said. "Don't cry on me now, Tabitha."
"I won't, Miria-sama. I promised you. And I won't."
She returned, sniffing, but otherwise she continued to look at the ground.
"You've got to realise that there are seven, not just the two of us," Miria said to her. "I don't want the others to think of you badly."
"You don't think of me badly do you, Miria-sama?"
"What do you think?"
"I'd do anything for you not to think of me badly, Miria-sama."
"Then would you please please don't do what you did other night again. Especially with some of the others watching."
"I won't. You know I won't. I swear."
"Thank you."
Miria exhaled, the trail of her breath visible in the cold. Clare continued to wait.
"I'm sorry."
"You have nothing to be sorry about, Miria-sama."
"One last thing."
"Anything."
"Don't say, 'Miria-sama'. I'm not any better, or any more capable than you," she said, her face finally taking back some the resolve that so marked her decisions and strength. "I'm just like you. I'm only a so-called leader until the time comes for something else. Understood?"
"I understand, Miria,"
"Thank you."
"You're ever welcome."
Tabitha seemed to hesitate. But she got up again, and strode over to Miria. And she embraced her in one smooth, uninterrupted move. Whether or not Miria was surprised, she did not show it. Instead, she let Tabitha rest her head on her right shoulder, and began stroking her hair with one hand, the other firmly gripping the rock, to keep them from falling over.
"I'm sorry if you were hurt by the things I said," went Miria.
Tabitha flashed her eyes at Clare. But she knew what to do already: Clare, rolled her still-bleeding tongue in her mouth, and left the two of them alone in private. She traversed the woods, now filled with the echoing, tapping consistency of a woodpecker, and waited by the slope which led back up to their cam p.
Not long after, Miria joined her, silently moving through the woods to the slope, alone.
"Well?"
"She wanted to be alone for a little while longer."
"I can tell," Clare purposely adjusted her tone for the next statement. "Why did you want me present, Miria?"
Miria gave Clare the look she was accustomed to getting from her leader. It was a strict, no-nonsense look.
"Fine. I shouldn't have asked then."
Miria gripped Clare's arm; her fingers locked themselves over her right bicep, already sore from making all those fast draws during the sparring session. Clare felt uneasy, more so now than back in those woods. Miria had never touched her before: her cold fingers pressing against her muscles.
"Don't get me wrong, Clare," Miria said. Then she let go. "I just wanted someone present who would be mature enough to know why I did what I did back there."
She did not say any more, but started up the slope.
3.
Cynthia had made a small fire in centre of the cave. Not that they required warmth, but a fire was always something good at night.
The slow flame was dancing, throwing shadows over the walls of the cave. Clare believed that, compared to other caves, this one further up the mountain had more room. She found a corner away from the rest, and had removed the scabbard that held her Claymore. She leaned back against a finger of rock, watching the others while trying to polish her teeth with the empty iron taste of dried blood.
Helen was bragging that she had beaten Deneve today in a fight to anyone who might be listening, which meant just Cynthia and Yuma. She was making animated impressions with her hands about how clumsy Deneve was, or how much skill went into her triumphant swordplay. She said in the same breath Deneve was "like a drunken chicken" today, which made her audience laugh themselves hoarse. Her partner, however, was nowhere in sight, unable to defend herself.
Miria was near the entrance of the cave, slouched by the wall. She had volunteered to keep watch first. She was chuckling at Helen's words.
And Tabitha was sitting alone, on the outer rim of Helen's group, quietly observing them.
Sometimes she would catch Clare's vision, and eye her blankly. Clare, already tired at all the staring games played before this evening, ignored her.
For a while Clare thought of nothing. She wanted to empty her mind of everything that had gone on through the day: an eventful day, no doubt, but too eventful for her. She also wanted Tabitha to stop staring at her.
When she next turned her eyes to the others, Cynthia was talking now, and the others listening. Tabitha was now sitting close beside Miria, who did not seem to mind that their legs were almost touching. Or at least that was what Clare could see from where she was. Once in a while, Tabitha would lean in and speak something to Miria, who would smile weakly, but who was otherwise too preoccupied with watching the fire.
Clare felt she had seen enough. She rose, moved past everyone to the exit of the cave without a word. Miria, who had both her hands where Clare could see them, cast a questioning look at her, her eyes glowing brightly with the reflection from the fire. Tabitha avoided eye contact completely.
It was snowing gently outside. As expected, Clare saw Deneve standing alone at the entrance, eyes closed, back resting on the rock.
"You are a sore loser," Clare said to her.
"I reserve the right not to be the present subject of Helen's bragging once in a while."
Clare joined Deneve. In front of them was an absolute swath of the thickest darkness, spoiled only by insignificant, miserably distant stars.
"I see you and Miria did some talking with Tabitha today."
Clare did not want to give Deneve the satisfaction of catching her off guard. She merely replied, "So we did."
"How did Miria's pet take it?"
"Why don't you ask Miria or Tabitha yourself?"
"I don't intrude into things that are none of my business."
"Are you implying something, Deneve?"
Deneve gave Clare a small smile. Which was rare. Clare could tell she was enjoying their conversation, although to her it felt more like rumour-mongering. But she continued anyway.
"I didn't say that," she said slowly. "I'm just saying Miria doesn't pick me to help her do her dirty work."
"Whatever you say."
"Do you honestly think Miria dragged you all the way down there just so you could watch her tell Tabitha off?" Deneve said. "And do you honestly think Miria isn't enjoying herself with all that attention?"
Clare did not want to think of it now. She was actually feeling a bit tired.
"Do you honestly think Miria doesn't like –"
"Yes, I do." Clare cut her off. "And you?"
"Seeing is believing," Deneve grinned.
"You and your anecdotes."
Deneve laughed out. Clare could tell she enjoyed talking about Miria, and Tabitha, and the others. She believed it was the consequence of being with them together so often, too close to say anything that might offend them. This short conversation actually gave her time to say what she really thought.
The two of them did not exchange another word until Clare went back in to relieve Miria of her watch. Instead they stared out at the blank, black canopy of mountain and sky. The lofty, proud mountain crags were not visible in the dark. Only one or two obvious stars remained, not shut out by cloud.
She returned inside when it was time. Only Yuma and Helen were awake, talking quietly. Near the entrance, with her arms crossed at her chest, Miria had fallen asleep on Tabitha's shoulder. One of Tabitha's arms remained strung across Miria's shoulders, as if it had intended to pull her leader closer to her.
Clare believed that if Miria was afraid of setting the wrong impression, she would have said something. But she didn't. So Clare took the watch, sitting silently at the opposite wall of the entrance.
She did not want to wake them.
Edited: 01/11/2008 with help from T35.
As the title story, this one-shot is supposed to be the crux of the entire collection. Whether it is or not, I'll leave that up to everyone else to decide.