"It astounds me that the OSS is this desperate - I would never have imagined that they'd pull a translator for a stunt like this. Your assignment, it seems, was designed after excruciating scrutiny of how you live, work, love, look - everything."
"This erroneous breach in privacy means only one thing - there is something very important that the OSS is in dire need of, and it can only be retrieved after diving head-first into the heart of political intricacies."
Two undercover identities.
It was as simple as that. Right?
Haruhi slumped into her desk, stunned. The papers in her file were scattered across the wood, with words jumping out at her at increasingly dizzying speed. Undercover. Mission. Tojo. Soldier. Hideaki. Security. Protocol. Breach. Disguise. Handler. Information.
Sure. It was simple - pretend to be two people - but it was also everything but. The slightest wrong move would jeopardize not only her safety, but outcome of the Pacific Theatre as she knew it. Haruhi wasn't sure what crackpot drew up this ridiculously dangerous plan - but either they weren't taking her seriously, or they'd plumb run out of ideas after sustaining the European Theatre for so long.
Three Weeks, Six Days Later
Perched on the edge of the bed she shared with René-Tamaki, Haruhi froze with a strong sense of anticipation and premonition. This was her last night on the island - tomorrow, she would leave for her absurd mission. She'd spent the last month in actor's training, perfecting the two personas with a vocal coach, body-language expert, and makeup instructor - to think that three weeks would be sufficient in training yourself to be someone else was ridiculous, but by the end of it, Haruhi felt that the two personas were familiar friends.
Still - she'd barely seen René-Tamaki since receiving her dossier, and she knew that their precious hours together were both not enough and running short.
The Frenchman himself returned from his daily shaving ritual and sat flush with Haruhi, engulfing her in his arms. Perfect teeth nibbled gently on her ear as the blond man eased his way into a lying position, smiling up at her with his hands under his head. There was something in his eyes - something telling her that he knew they would be separated soon. A sadness, she thought, that he felt even if he had no idea what was going on.
Haruhi gazed down at him and his perfect, chiseled body over her shoulder, tears welling up in her eyes. Then she stopped, blinked them back, and attempted to rid herself of emotive thought.
I can't, she thought. I can't pretend everything is easy and relaxed. But I can't let him define my emotions, my real self - my mission is now who I am.
But brave thoughts would not save her. Tonight was her last night in René-Tamaki's embrace; surely she could afford herself one last bittersweet memory before she left her real self in Catalina?
He was her lover, protector, and friend. To her, he was her comfort zone. If he was more devoted to her than she to him, then so be it - but he was still someone she cherished and was affected by.
The moistness in her eyes returned and threatened to seep out the corners, so Haruhi simply let the tears fall.
"Hush. Please don't cry." René-Tamaki sat up and scooted closer. "I will always be here for you. We will find each other someday after all this is done, I promise." Enveloping her in his arms, his scent, his embrace, René held Haruhi tightly. One soft kiss to her forehead was rewarded by a desperate squeeze, then soft, intentional lips on his neck.
They let themselves succumb to the softness of the bed and each other, knowing that each second together brought them sooner to the last.
The Next Morning
Soft Californian sunlight woke Haruhi with rays filtered in through a bedside window. She lay on the bed in exhaustion, covered by sheets alone. Turning her head to peer at Tamaki, she reached out a tentative hand to grope for some type of clothing - to no avail. She finally decided to yank the sheets off the bed and use that to cover herself on the short trek to Tamaki's bathroom.
Haruhi turned the shower faucet to inspire the hot water boiler to turn on, then waited outside to allow it ample time to reach her ideal temperature. The toilet cover went down, and it became her thinking chair.
The butterflies in Haruhi's stomach didn't seem to let her know whether they were from fear, worry, heartbreak, or whatnot - the bottom line was that now, facing reality, Haruhi wasn't sure if she was ready to take up the mission.
A glance to the mirror found it covered in steam, so the sheet dropped to the floor and Haruhi was allowed to cleanse herself. Stepping out after the process was done, she stood in front of the mirror again and looked at herself through the fogged glass.
A disappointed breath left her lips, and a heaviness settled over Haruhi's heart. She made a half-hearted attempt to fiddle with her hair in the manner the stylist had shown her, but eventually it came time to give it up and simply dry off. Her hair was now shorn, worn to be Hideaki's hair - not hers.
I'm a male soldier in the Japanese Army. Hideaki Fujioka, cryptologist and operative.
But when a pair of warm arms wrapped themselves around her waist, all thoughts of being Hideaki vanished, and Haruhi returned. René-Tamaki nestled his face in Haruhi's neck, cherishing the last few fleeting moments he had left with her.
Haruhi closed her eyes and attempted to commit this feeling to memory.
Good-bye, Haruhi Fujioka.
Author's Note:
This update contains half the content of the original Chapter 2! So you could call this 2.1, I suppose. I divided it to retain the emotional impact of saying goodbye not only to the life you knew and the people you loved, but to yourself.
I hope you enjoyed this rather angsty chapter and the focus it had on Haruhi/Tamaki's previous relationship. As always, I cherish your reviews - so please let me know your thoughts!