Hi everyone! Finally, a chapter that isn't too angsty! It has some fluff and everything, and the best part is that Fang is really real (I heard some people were scared it might be a dream or something, I swear it isn't!)

As of today, I still don't know how many chapters I'll write for this story, but I'm hoping it to be at least 6 or 7 chapters long. The next chapter should be posted in two or three weeks from now because of all the exams that are coming, so I won't have much time to write!

Also, thank you for the reviews, they're really sweet and much appreciated!

Enjoy your reading, and don't forget to let me know what you think! :)

Chapter 4

Within seconds, the emptiness I've felt for weeks is filled. I think I might burst because of all the joy, the relief, the love that flow through my veins. It's a rebirth. It's breathtaking. It's like I've never known how to feel, and suddenly, she's there, and all those emotions are opening like flowers in the dew of a spring morning. I realize the love I've felt for her does not even compare to what I feel right now. For the first time, I enjoy her presence as a lover. For the first time, I'm not scared about the future. She's with me and I'll do everything I can to keep her there. I don't want to live that dark period that lasted for only a few weeks, and yet felt like an eternity, all over again.

She rests her chin on my shoulder and she pulls me closer to her, and for long minutes, we hug each other in a comfortable silence. I think I'm going to cry, I think I'm going to laugh. My thoughts, my feelings, everything is twirling around madly in a crazy dance. Because she's goddamned here with me and it's fucking good. If I had known that this felt this thrilling and intoxicating, I think I'd be dead by now. I can't imagine myself deprived of this overwhelming, almost sinful pleasure for more than a few days. I realize that we have never been this close before. I was attracted to her when we were l'Cies, but never got to really touch her. My eyes often roamed over her body, but I never wanted to touch her. Probably because I was scared I would enjoy it too much. She would touch me sometimes, however. A pat on my back, or a slight punch on my shoulder. And I always despised it. Because I felt guilty for wanting more, embarrassed to feel my cheeks flush and angry at her because she just didn't see how that was affecting me. Now it's different. No shame, no guilt. It just feels right.

She eventually releases her hold and draws back a little, looking at me. Her face looks even more painful now that I can see it in plain daylight. I bite my lip and push a strand of her raven hair away. My fingers hover over the bump on her forehead that is tinted with shades of dark blue and green. The deep cut on her cheekbone looks awful. And her nose is definitely broken. I want to say I'm sorry, but I find myself unable to utter a single word. I know it's stupid, but I feel like if one if us talks, it's going to break the magic of the whole atmosphere. And we don't need words anyways. It's like we can understand each other just with a look or a gesture. Of course, later, we'll have to talk. There are so many things that I want to say, and she probably has a lot of thoughts to share too. But now is not the time. I guess we need some time to get used to each other's presence. We haven't had a conversation for weeks, and now that we've put feelings into that relationship, things have been taken to a whole new level. I don't quite know the limits. I'm scared to do something that might embarrass or upset her. I don't even know what she thinks about all of this. I don't even know if we can declare this an official relationship or something.

Oh, Etro, I'm losing it…The poor woman has just come back and I'm already harassing her with those stupid feelings. I didn't even bother to ask her how she felt, how she got out of the pillar, how she got to my house. No. I just beat her, insulted her, spat on her. What a warm welcome… I can be such an idiot. I'm wondering why she still hasn't run away – because honestly, she should have. It seems that all I can do is hurting her. I shake my head to chase those thoughts away. We'll see where this is going to get us, but hopefully we should be fine now. I'll make up for all of the trouble I put her into, that's a promise. My hand grabs her by the arm, and I feel the scars that had so often intrigued me during our journey under my fingertips. I realize I don't know what caused these scars. I realize I don't know anything about her. I have so many questions, I want to learn all there is to learn about her. My feelings for her are raw, based on who she was when we were l'Cies. I want to know more so I can love her more. But now is not the time. I need to take care of her.

I take her hand in mine, and when I think about it, I feel a warm wave of affection rise in me. I'm holding her hand. Her fingers feel warm, and though I always imagined her palms would be rather calloused because of the spear she always carries around, they are incredibly soft. I love the way her hand fit in mine, as if they were supposed to hold each other. I love the cold bracelets brushing against the skin of my wrist. I love how she strokes her thumb against the back of my hand. I shake the thoughts out of my head and lead her to the bathroom. I freeze when we stop in front of the mirror above the sink. I stare at our reflection. Our reflection. I let out a shaky sigh and squeeze her hand as I smile at her through the mirror. It's not the first time I see her in my bathroom, but it's definitely the first time she doesn't disappear when I look into that mirror. It's weird to see us like this, side by side. I look awfully tired and she looks, well, not that good either. But it doesn't matter. At least, we're both here, together, appearing in the same frame. It's reassuring, somehow.

I let her sit on the edge of the bathtub and I find the bottle of surgical spirit in the box of medical supplies I keep in my cupboard. I pour some on a cotton ball and turn to face her. Given the size of the cut, it's most likely to sting. I wait for her to let me know she's ready, and press the cotton against her cheekbone. She bites her lip with a stifled moan and I rub the solution on her skin, cleaning away the dried blood that had settled in the wound. I can see it hurts, but we can't risk an infection. I also clean a few superficial cuts and throw the blood stained cotton away. I take a few seconds to observe her nose, and I realize with a pang that it's badly broken, and awfully slanted. I'm going to need to straighten it up if she doesn't want to be disfigured later. If it heals that way, there will be nothing we can do about it in the future. She grabs my wrist as I lock her nose between my thumb and index, as if she wants to stop me. I find her eyes and try to let her know that it's going to be okay – though I know this will be painful. I know how to do it properly and rapidly, but talking from experience, I also know this is not pleasant. She takes a deep breath, closes her eyes tightly and then she nods. I immediately twist her nose, quickly, but as delicately as could be. She hisses and her fingers clench around my arm forcefully, blood running down her lips and chin. I hurry to press a towel on her face to stop the bleeding and sigh in relief. At least it's done. It's not pretty, but it's done.

I keep the towel against her face, checking from time to time how it's doing. I caress her hair gently, hearing her moans getting softer and softer, until silence surrounds us once again. After a few minutes, I'm finally able to wash all the blood with a humid cloth. Her nose still looks bad, but it's already a bit better. In two or three weeks it should be completely fine. I take a cream and put some on my fingers. She shivers when I start rubbing it on the bruises, probably because it's cold. I massage the skin slowly, tenderly, focused on my task. I'm the cause of all those injuries, the least I can do is treat them properly. I smile when I realize she leans in the touch, her hands on my waist. I can feel her relax, the muscles of her shoulder loosening under my fingers. The pain seems to ease at last, and when I'm done, I kiss her softly on the forehead. She sighs and rests her head against my chest. Her ear is pressed on my skin, just above my left breast, and I suddenly become aware of my heart beating loudly against my ribcage. And she's obviously hearing it too – I can feel her finger tapping my hip, following the rhythm. I feel her eyelashes brush against my skin as she closes her eyes, followed by a tear running down, disappearing between my breasts.

'I'm so happy you didn't do it', she mumbles weakly against me, drawing me closer to her.

Now, she's probably heard my heart stop. I know what she's talking about. And I wish that wasn't the first thing she'd have thought about bringing up. A bit sooner, she told me that when she was in crystal stasis, she could hear me, and my thoughts. So of course she knows. She knows that at some point, I was so desperate I almost committed the irreparable. Almost. I don't know why, or even what, but something prevented me from doing it. It felt as if someone – and in the back of my mind, I'm convinced it was her – blocked my arms and held me still until I came back on my decision. At that point, I really thought death was my only way out. Everything was running out of control and I just wanted it to stop. Life had become too hard on me to keep on living it. I had a moment of weakness, but if I want to be entirely honest, I don't think I would have done it. I don't think I've ever considered that option seriously. Of course, I thought about it, more than once even – and it's probably why Fang got scared when I played with the butcher knife that night, after I had seen her ghost lurking on me for the hundredth time. She got scared and she stopped me; but really, I wouldn't have done it anyways. I'm too much of a coward to do something like that. I'm not strong enough to take my own life. She couldn't have known, though. And I have to admit, it touches me that she cared enough about me to try and stop me from her crystal cocoon – which she did, without knowing it was unnecessary.

Yet. Actually, I think she saved me. Even if she wasn't there, she was what kept me going. She was the only thing that gave my life a purpose. It's true. Without her, even if I had been alive, I wouldn't have lived. I would have spent the rest of my life wandering without a goal. Even if she was trapped in the damn pillar, even if I felt more desperate every day, I still had something to hope for. I was waiting for her. And eventually, in spite of all the pain and the sadness, it paid off.

I lift her chin to meet her eyes – full of tears, but surprisingly bright – and smile to her, doing my best to contain my own tears, that threaten to fall.

'Thank you', I whisper softly, brushing a tear away from her cheek with a stroke of my thumb.

She smiles back and plants a kiss on the inside of my wrist. This has to be one of the most adorable things I've ever seen. Her lips linger there for a moment, and finally she gets on her feet.

'Can I have a shower?' she asks, her voice not above a whisper.

'Of course,' I answer, keeping my voice down too. 'I'll get you some clothes.'

It's like the both of us are afraid of talking aloud, as if we're afraid to voice what we want to say. Still, it's a conversation. Sort of. She asked, I answered. This may look boringly casual, but it's not. That conversation is the first I've had in weeks. It marks the beginning of something new. If anything, it's solemn, not casual. I leave her a moment to rummage through my wardrobe and find something that could fit her. I go back to her and hand her a tee-shirt I got when I joined the CG and a pair of shorts.

'I'm sorry,' I apologize shyly. 'Those are the only ones I could find. '

'It's cool,' she shakes her head, taking the clothes. 'Perfect.'

'Okay', I say, fiddling nervously with the hem of my tank top. 'You can give me your sari, I'll wash it while you shower.'

She nods with a light smile and expertly removes the garment, which falls at her feet. I try to hide my flushed cheeks as I pick it up , and quickly close the door behind me. I sigh heavily and slide down the door. At least, I know it wasn't a figment of my imagination. I'm really attracted to her. I hold the soft fabric against me and take my time to enjoy her warmth that can still be felt. I drape the sari around my shoulders, and I'm instantly surrounded by her scent and perfume. I bring a hem to my nose and inhale deeply, a smile spreading on my face. That thing is a part of Fang, washing it would be such a crime, I don't have the heart to do it. So I just keep the blue silk close to me and rest my chin on my knees, listening to the quiet sound of water running. I can't believe it, and yet I know it's true. My Fang is back.