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It was hard to believe it had been two years since the battle that scarred them both physically and emotionally. Two years since Ch’en tossed away everything she had built in the Lungmen Guard Department, and a year and a half since Swire last saw her in Dossoles.
Her memories hadn’t forgotten the old times. They couldn’t, how could they? She couldn’t pretend the person who had been there all her life, through thick and thin, didn’t exist. Her heart couldn’t erase the years of repressed feelings. The emotions she thought had lost its kindle ignited like Siesta’s erupting volcano, sparking brighter and burning hotter. Although she wouldn’t admit it out loud, she missed Ch’en.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re stalking me.”
“I’m not stalking you.”
If that was supposed to persuade Swire, then she wasn’t convinced. Ch’en was never a good liar from the beginning. They had been partners for five years and childhood friends for many before things fell apart. She knew how, when, where, what, and why Ch’en was lying, but she decided to let it slide.
Ch’en came to see her. That was all that mattered.
They were here together.
Them.
“I have business here,” Ch’en added, as if it’d help support her argument.
“In Siesta, while I’m on vacation? Mmh sure.”
Ch’en excelled in running. She’d run towards the problem and away from them when they got too personal. She was good at chasing. She hunted criminals, went after Talulah underneath their noses, but she was never good at chasing the right girl.
Even if said girl was cuddling on top of her in bed, Ch’en wouldn’t make the move. She was too much of a weenie. At least, that was what Swire told herself to make herself feel better about it.
“You’re too old for this,” Ch’en scolded but she didn’t make any effort to roll Swire off.
They hadn’t moved since Swire tackled Ch’en into the bed and forced her into a hug. The slackened arms tangled around Swire tightened imperceptibly more. Although it was only by a fraction, it brought a smile to Swire’s face. Ch’en was becoming more honest with her feelings.
“Let me have my moment. I deserve it.” Swire nestled closer because she knew Ch’en was also good at disappearing without saying goodbye. Ch’en had left Lungmen without a commotion and ditched her in Dossoles after a few days the cruise ship crashed on land. It was sad to think the person she considered home will be gone in a couple days after tonight. “Am I doing a good job?”
“You’re doing a good job, Bea.”
There was no bite or snark, Ch’en truly meant it. Laced in between each word was sincerity, and Swire felt she was on cloud nine. She hated how a simple praise from Ch’en made her feel things she wanted to avoid.
“Or should I say, Commissioner Swire.”
And Swire absolutely hated how the esteemed title danced on that tongue. Her appointment to commissioner hadn’t been announced yet, and the name already sounded like a rift between friendships.
“Address me that one more time and I will cuff you to this bed,” Swire warned.
There was a skip of a heart beat. It was so fast, so subtle, and yet, so hard to miss when her ears were right on top of Ch’en’s chest. This game they played never changed. It was so obvious, the clues were all there. She wanted to laugh at how pathetic Ch’en was, but she couldn’t. That would make her a hypocrite.
“You don’t carry handcuffs,” Ch’en retorted. She said it as if she knew Swire like the back of her hands. Like how she knew what flavor ice cream to get on a hot summer day, or what food to buy whenever she pissed Swire off.
“I’m a cop,” Swire said defensively.
“Last time I searched your bag, there was only makeup and so many shades of lipstick.”
“Last time you searched my bag was two years ago,” Swire shot back.
Then there was silence between them. Two years seemed so long ago. They were too busy building their own lives to realize how much time had passed. Well, not exactly true for Swire. She counted the days because she missed Ch’en. Not by much though. Okay, maybe just a tiny bit. But not a lot, as Swire would adamantly argue.
“How are you doing in Rhodes Island?” Swire asked after the silence went longer than she liked it to.
“Good,” Ch’en replied, adding the bare minimum to state her well-being.
Ch’en was great at getting straight to the point. Back in L.G.D, she didn’t waste daylight by beating around the bush. Time was limited. But right now, they weren’t colleagues. They were childhood friends who hadn’t seen each other for a year and a half. Although the time they had was short, Swire understood how precious every single minute was when they were together.
“Since when did we become strangers?” Swire scoffed. “Let’s try this again. How are you doing in Rhodes Island?”
“It’s not too busy,” Ch’en answered sheepishly, and she added more details this time around. “They’ve been sending me out for missions, but it’s nothing serious. It’s mostly gathering intel. I’ve been traveling a lot.”
“Then why haven't you written me a letter?” Swire asked, teeth gritting. It irked her. The hurt bled through her voice. She preferred phone calls, but Ch’en was too long of a distance to reach. She had mailed a few letters out to her, but now the fountain pen was thrown and slammed inside a drawer. The letters stopped once she gave up.
Ch'en struggled to respond. It was better that way. To let the silence chew and spit on their friendship while Ch'en wallowed in guilt was better than hearing another half-hearted excuse.
“Deoi mm zyu.” It was the only thing Ch'en could do — apologize in their language for not making the time.
“Do you even think about me anymore?” It was accusing. It hurt to say aloud, but Swire needed to unload all that festered hurt. Ch’en did not make an effort for her. Not even a little. Friends wrote letters to each other, but what would Swire be if she hadn’t gotten a single one?
She recently received an angry letter full of Lungmen profanities from Hoshiguma.
She got an admonishing letter from Yuhsia.
Then there was nothing from Ch'en, the person she regarded as most important in her life.
“I do think about you.”
Swire wondered about that. Did Ch’en think about her like how often she thought about Ch’en?
“I’m here, aren’t I?” Ch’en continued, as if it was supposed to make Swire feel better about it.
It did and didn’t at the same time.
“For business.”
Ch’en winced at the riposte. She tried salvaging what she could save because that was what she was best at, putting band-aids on bullet holes. “Can you keep sending letters to me? I’ll write back.”
“Liar. That’s what you said the other time.” Swire was ready to get up and leave, but Ch’en held onto her in a hurry. The chances of Swire disappearing forever scared her.
“I promise I’ll write back,” she rushed out. It was comforting, it was reassuring.
It reminded Swire randomly of the time she stormed off in the rain with Ch'en desperately chasing after her.
It was also unfair.
Swire folded like a house of cards.
“If you don’t, Hui-chieh,” she started.
“I’ll let you cuff me to a bed?” Ch’en offered, hoping to render the tension with a joke.
It was stupid, but it did the trick, kind of, when Swire lifted her head with a wry smile. “Sure, since you’re into that.”
She physically felt Ch’en’s entirety loosen with relief. Friendship saved and repaired. This game — this two-step dance they tangoed in was repetitive, but it was the only foxtrot they were good at. It was how they cared. The back and forth was how they loved without either of them admitting it.
“It’s a promise.”
They spent the rest of their time together. Swire enjoyed curling on top of Ch’en while their tails batted and played. They explored Siesta in the day and sprawled next to each other in the night, chatting until one of them fell asleep. They were inseparable.
Swire felt as if she traveled to the past because being with Ch’en was nostalgic. Last week, they called her the future commissioner. These past couple of days, she was only Beatrix, a young woman nursing an unspoken love. When it was time for Ch’en to leave, she really wished she had the power to go back in time. She wanted to repeat the days endlessly with her.
“I have to get back to work,” Ch’en said.
Swire was amused by the way Ch’en kicked the ground with a look of reluctance. She threw her a lifeline despite knowing it’d be rejected.
“Or, you can stay and keep a girl company.”
Ch’en chuckled at the temptation. “You don’t need company. Eyjafjalla and Snowsant are here.”
But they weren’t Ch’en. No one could replace her.
“Fiine. Go to your very important business.” Swire rolled her eyes. She even motioned her hands to shoo Ch’en away.
“What am I, some pest?” Ch’en found her gesture slightly offensive because Swire was quick to get rid of her.
“Yeah, you’re annoying.”
Ch’en scowled at the remark and turned to head out, going wherever the wind took her.
“Ch’en,” Swire called out. Emerald met ruby, their eyes locking. The words ‘I like you’ lingered on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t gather the courage to say it. They weren’t ready — Ch’en wasn’t ready — so Swire planned to wait. She was good at waiting. “You better write to me.”
Ch’en’s eyes softened. “I will. I’ll see you later, Swire.”
“So long, Ch’en.”