Work Text:
Smoke itched in the back of her throat as her eyes adjusted to the light.
She shifted the weight of her backpack, adjusted the brim of her hood, and wrapped her wool cloak closer around herself. Weaving her way through the bustling tavern with an ethereal deftness, she made her way for the far off bar. She neatly sidestepped the drunken man who nearly walked into her, and the serving girl who darted across her path a mere moment later.
All the while, Terra tried to ignore the stares, subtle and not, that were cast her way.
It wasn’t easy.
At the bar, she got the attention of the tavern-mistress. The woman took her order and hurried off brusquely.
More so, Terra felt, than perhaps warranted.
An icy itch crawled up her spine. A hand fell on her shoulder. Shrugging it off, she spun around.
Her mouth opened in shock, and the uneasy tension in her shoulders evaporated.
He didn’t look quite the same – he had a week's worth of beard grown in and, like her, he was clothed for Narshe’s harsh winter; he even carried a sword – but somehow he didn’t look any different, either.
She smiled.
Despite everything else, she smiled.
“How did you guess it was me?” she asked, pushing back her hood. The tavern was warm enough, and she didn’t feel as exposed with an old familiar friend standing in front of her.
“You still move like a pixie. And-...” His gaze flicked over her shoulder. She wasn’t sure what he was looking at first, not until...
The sword in his hand...
She grabbed for the hilt above her shoulder; her hand found empty air.
“This is a very unique sword you’re carrying,” Locke said, referring to the blade that had been... and should still have been strapped to her backpack harness. “And if it was anyone other than you carrying it, we’d’ve had a score to settle.”
He offered it back to her.
She reclaimed it, too glad for his company – and indeed, pleasantly surprised – to even feign being offended.
Locke nodded towards a mostly empty table. One of only two in the place, and this one against a wall. She followed him to it, shrugging out of her backpack and sitting herself across from him as he draped himself likewise in a chair.
“What’re you doing here?”
Shrugging at the question, he answered, “Following a star, see where it leads me.”
“I wasn’t expecting to see you...”
“To be honest,” he chuckled, “I wouldn’t have expected you to.”
“How’ve you been?”
“I’ve had easier treasure hunts,” he admitted. “But then again, if it’s not challenging I’d get bored.”
She had propped her chin onto one hand as they spoke, and her sleeve slid down her arm. She swiftly rolled it down again, dropping both hands into her lap.
“What brings you this far north?”
Terra’s expression fell. Avoiding his easy stare, she regarded the candle on the table, flickering in the dark and bringing light between them.
Locke shifted in his seat to sit up straight, and propped an elbow on the table.
The serving girl arrived with Terra’s meal. Terra dug for her purse, but Locke was quicker on the draw and had money on the table before she could even open it.
He watched the girl vanish into the crowd, before rolling his gaze back to Terra.
“So... you just got into town, right? You got a place to stay for the night? ‘Cause I got a room across the way...” He flashed her a smile. “There’s only one bed, but... you know me; I’m always down for sleeping on the floor.”
***
They crossed the snow-covered street, to a Inn the type that made its money on cheap beds rented to those itinerants who traveled to the mining town seeking their fortune, whether they found it or not. The room Locke had rented on the third floor was small and served its purpose. A small stove for heat, an end table with an oil lamp, and a single bed against the wall.
It barely seemed fair to her – it was his room – but Locke settled down, back to his backpack that he’d tucked into the corner between the fireplace and the wall.
Terra set her own gear down at the foot of the bed, before finding a seat on it. It was a little wobbly, as though the mattress didn’t quite fit the frame, but it seemed solid enough.
“So what happened?” Locke asked.
Because he’d noticed.
Because of course he’d notice.
Terra bit her lip.
“It started... about a year ago. We’ve been rebuilding, there are so many new people now I don’t know even half of them, but...” That part didn’t matter, she supposed. “A man came to town. Not to settle, he... challenged me. He... wanted to fight. To prove himself, I guess.”
Locke’s expression soured.
“Sounds like an idiot.”
Terra shrugged. “It’s not like I’m what I used to be.”
“Doesn’t have anything to do with it.” Locke admitted, “I have met very few people better with a sword. Cyan. Celes. Edgar, if you were having a bad day and he was having a good one, but don’t tell him I told you so.”
He cocked his head, and prodded her on, “So this guy...?”
“I... killed him.” Terra swallowed. Her gaze dropped to her palms. “I wasn’t... trying, it just happened to unfold that way.”
Following along, Locke nodded.
“And then?”
“And then,” Terra smoothed her the lines of cloak over her knee, “there was another. And another. And-...” Her hands moved up, across her chest. Resting on her arms. “Something about being a hero, I guess. And people wanting to show they’re stronger than a hero. In the end... it seemed the best thing to do was to leave. If I wasn’t... If I’m not there, nobody else gets hurt because of me....”
Locke hissed in a sharp breath. He glanced towards the window, but didn’t comment.
“If anybody else got hurt because of me, I-... I can’t heal. Myself or anyone else.”
After a long moment, he pushed up off the floor, and crossed the short distance to ease down onto the bed beside her. Taking her arm gently, he rolled up the sleeve of her shirt, and examined the defensive wounds that marred her arms.
They were long into healing, but...
Magic was gone.
Potions and tonics had stopped working right along with it. Medicine had come a long way since the War of the Magi, but evidently some of it had straddled a line no one had known about until the Esper War.
“I ran into one of these guys myself, I think. Didn’t think much of it at the time, but I can see where it’d get old.” Locke’s expression had grown dark. He rolled her sleeve back down, but didn’t let go of her hand. “Figaro would send help, if you needed it. A standing guard. Something.”
Terra shook her head.
“I don’t want to be a burden, any more than I already have.”
“You’re not...” Locke bit back whatever he’d been about to say, and sighed. “Yeah. Okay.”
He squeezed her hand, and let go.
Understanding, even if he didn’t agree.
“...I thought leaving would be harder,” Terra admitted softly. “I thought it would be easier, once we restored the balance.... I always thought... I thought, if we won, then I would know what to do. That it would be clear, somehow.”
“...why Narshe?”
Why come here, of all places?
Terra pressed her lips together tightly.
“I thought if I came back to where it all began, I might find something. Insight, I don’t know.”
Locke scoffed.
Not unkindly.
“You found me, so... That’s gotta be good enough, I guess.”
“I guess,” Terra agreed, smiling faintly.
“So where do we go from here?”
“...we... go?”
“I’ll go with you wherever you want to go. Unless you don’t want me to.”
She hadn’t been expecting that.
“...thank you.”
Locke scratched his jaw. “And you know, Celes is in Figaro. I’m sure she’d love to see you.”
That did sound nice, didn’t it?
Terra’s smile returned, a little brighter.
“I think I’d like that...”
“Great,” Locke squeezed her shoulder, before standing. “Get some sleep – we can figure it all out in the morning.”
It wasn’t a bad idea.
She wasn’t quite tired, but she was exhausted. She stooped to remove her shoes and her heavy outerwear, and crawled into bed.
Locke dimmed the lantern, leaving enough of a wick alight to barely see by. He rummaged his own travel blanket out of his bag, using the latter as a pillow as he settled in for the night.
Terra watched as he did. Then her gaze drifted to the lamp.
Minutes ticked by, quietly.
Licking her lip, she roused from the bed. Pulling the blanket with her, she slipped under his, doubling up on the warmth and wool. Pressed against his back, she slid an arm over his chest. Locke’s hand drifted to cover hers, and she sighed deeply. More at ease on the floor beside him, by magnitudes, than alone in the bed.
They’d shared close enough quarters over the years she thought nothing of it.
It was a warm feeling, having friends.
When she awoke, she was back in the bed, with its heavy blanket tucked over her. Locke was gone, but his backpack was still there. And there was a tray of rolls and sweet butter on the end table, and a note promising he’d be back soon.