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To say the journey was taking a toll on them, would be sugar-coating the endeavor.
The chase is never-ending. Nights without sleep, walks without rest, fighting, getting wounded and then healed — without time to properly scar. It’s hard, saving the Planet. Definitely not for the weak of heart.
He glanced at her, like he always does from time to time, checking if she was keeping up. He stalled back to her pace knowing that her stubbornness kept her from warning him if she was too tired or too sore to continue.
It’s something he finds both surprising and annoying in the florist, her endurance, she could be at the brink of collapse but still she would push on, surpassing boundaries just to prove she wasn’t going to lag. Sometimes, it was just too much and he just couldn’t stand looking at her straining herself to that point.
So he often offered her his hand. Under the sole purpose of helping her as a bodyguard of course — at first, that’s what he told himself, even though it wasn’t just that.
“Well, aren’t you the sweetest.” She’d remark in a lilt. Voice smooth under her sharp panting, eyes full of intrepid recreation.
And she always accepted it.
The first time she did, she was grateful and he was relieved he hadn’t been turned down. His encouragement boosted her stamina (as much as hers did his) and something about her widening smile as she squeezed it made his insides jolt - a feeling spreading through his veins like liquid fire coming out of his heart.
Don’t fall in love with me, she had said. Well, could have warned him a little earlier then. Maybe before he did, maybe as soon as they met. Probably would have worked… but then again… probably not.
He often offered her his shoulder. That had been a little harder to do, too much contact, too much proximity, intimacy, whatever closeness he wasn’t comfortable with if not her — actually, he thinks he didn’t offer her his shoulder at all, she just… took it for her own delight.
But in return — because bodyguards must always get paid — sometimes in the dark of camp, she’d offer to stay with him… keeping guard even though he’d tell her to rest instead. Her answer wasn’t surprising, not anymore: one hand washes the other right? And they were made of the same dust.
Sometimes she did rest, leaning against him, her stubbornness wining once again, she’d close her eyes and stay with him until the morning light filtered through the trees to reach them. He didn’t mind, he came to like it, in the end. The earthly smell of flowers lulled him in the dark.
Other nights she’d keep her eyes open and smiling while she talked to him about stars and galaxies she had drawn on the walls of her room. Not Elmyra’s… the other room she’d spent most of her childhood in. And she’d tell him he was the first person she had ever watched them with in the night sky, the real night sky. And his bodyguard nature would lure him in closer to her, drawn by how safe he’d want her to feel next to him.
With him, there were no white cloaks, no unwanted presences, no intrusive hands, no claustrophobic rooms he had to break her out of.
And then somehow in between their many walks and many nights and many fights and many stars, he began to miss her smile.
Odd… he’d think.
So he ventured to ask.
“Something wrong?” And he waited for her gaze to meet his own.
She smiled instead, as if reading his thoughts, but her eyes remained anchored on the small village looming at the foot of the mountain. An oasis in the middle of the hauling desert.
“Not really, just tired I guess.” They hadn’t had more than four hours of sleep last night, which was probably an acceptable excuse to someone else but him. Her dismissive answer didn’t really hearten him. He knows her enough to know, seen enough visions to know.
“If you want to talk, you can come to my door.”
She pauses on her feet at last, abruptly, yet thankfully. And when finally her green eyes barely betray a flicker towards him, it hits him hard and clear.
Did he really just offer?
Too late. Her smile brightens her face as quickly as his ears burn a blazing flame.
“I- I didn’t mean it like—“
She giggles.
Damn it.
He glances away.
Shit.
She sighs, laughter dimming into a warm, fond smile, like sunshine on powdered sand.
“Thank you Cloud.” She says lightheartedly. “I will.”
The corner of his lips — just one side is enough — lifts and they linger their eyes on each other a moment. And when he offers her his hand like he got used to, they climb down the sloping path towards the village, together, with no haste in their feet. He’s a bodyguard after all… her safety and health are his priorities. And he will live up to that.
The window of his room overlooks the ocean waves behind the hills. The air smells of salt and earth and cold sunlight, an immense intoxicating mixture that reminds him of the nights in Nibelheim when his world wasn’t yet corrupted by the mako that courses in his blood. The clock on the wall ticks in a rhythmic sound that syncs to the beating of his heart, it muffles all sound in his ears as it vibrates through his chest and spices the tense atmosphere of the room.
He hears a knock on his door, at last. Slow and faint, with a flicker of hesitation. Shocking, he almost didn’t really expect her to do so.
And yet…
His hand, steady and determinately rests upon the doorknob. His heart stutters in expectation as he pulls it open.
Pink dress, rose lips, fluttering tendrils of braided hair and green eyes — wait — green eyes brimming with tears. And blue eyes smoldering her direction.
He doesn’t think as he pulls her to him on impulse. He doesn’t notice the door closing and shutting the world outside. But he does feel the cold fire taking over his senses at the sight of her tears. He does feel her hands gripping at his shirt behind his back and her shaking body under the protection of his arms.
Something was wrong after all.
And he is her bodyguard…
… and by Gaia if he won’t fucking fix it all.