Work Text:
Huffing her hair out of her face, she sits down with a thump on the edge of the bed.
“Aw, what are you pouting about now?” asks Rafayel, from where he’s sat criss-cross applesauce on the floor, helping her sort through her things. It turns out, after years as an artist gallivanting all over the place, he knows how to efficiently pack a suitcase. Although, as he was quick to joke about, he’s used to fitting in paint brushes and canvas, not claymores. “It can’t be that bad, having a job where you get to travel.”
“Travel without you,” she grumbles. “Who’s looking after you while I’m gone? Don’t tell me you’ve got a substitute.”
He sits up straighter and grins, delighted. She realises immediately that she’s walked herself into a trap. “Aww, you’re jealous? And you’re going to miss me?”
“No, I’ve changed my mind.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “I’m actually glad I’m going.”
For someone who was teasing her for pouting a moment ago, he has a pretty big bottom lip himself, but she doesn’t point it out before he says, “Well, there’s no substitute for you, Miss Bodyguard! Don’t worry your pretty head about that.”
Her stomach does a miniature somersault. “So my point stands! What are you going to do while I’m gone?”
The look Rafayel gives her is particularly pointed as he folds a yellow dress over his knee. She hasn’t had a chance to wear it since she bought it, because it’s a summer dress, and it’s been cold here. It feels wrong to take it with her even though it’ll be warmer where she’s headed, because she always pictured herself wearing it for Rafayel to compliment. Instead of noticing it, he replies to her, “Me? Stay very safely in my studio to avoid the certain doom that will befall me if I step foot outside, since I’ve never survived a day in my life without you. Oh, wait…”
All at once, it’s too much. She groans and flops back onto the bed, covering her face with her hands. A moment ago, they were bantering, but for some reason now her chest has gone tight, and her eyes burn. She suddenly wants to kick her legs and insist that she’s not going.
For a moment, it’s quiet. There’s shuffling, and she feels the mattress dip as Rafayel perches next to her.
“Hey, I’m sorry,” he says earnestly, “did I hurt your feelings? Obviously I appreciate that you worry about me. But it’s only for a couple of weeks.”
A couple of weeks. Right now, that sounds like years. Years away from her room, her desk and shelves with everything in its own spot. From the body heat emanating off Rafayel, so close she can feel it without actually touching him.
When she doesn’t answer, Rafayel tries, “Is it because Copper wouldn’t fit in your luggage? Let me take everything out and try again, I’m sure I can squeeze him in this time–”
Picturing her beloved favourite Snowy Fox all squished, crumpled between her weapons and her hunter’s uniforms, only makes her feel closer to tears. She clears her throat and wills her voice to stay steady. “Rafayel, it’s fine. The suitcase is bursting at the seams already.”
“It’s not fine . Not if I don’t know what’s up with you, that is.” There’s a hint of a whine in his voice, and despite everything else, it makes her mouth twitch with a smile. “Come onnn, you know I’m just going to pester you until you talk to me. Or I could start explaining the nuances between claret-red and burgundy again…”
“Please spare me,” she mumbles, and he nudges her side.
“Then work with me here, cutie. Or if you won’t talk to me… will you talk to Copper?”
Surely he can’t be serious.
She peeks out from between her fingers. Sure enough, there’s the fox toy, beady eyes innocent, oblivious to his current predicament as a prop in Rafayel’s production. “Hi!” says Rafayel-as-Copper, a yippy, silly voice with poor ventriloquism skills.
Even for Rafayel, this is particularly ridiculous.
“Hi, Copper,” she indulges him. “Have you seen a really annoying painter anywhere around here?”
“Hmm,” considers Copper, looking left and then right, exaggeratedly sniffing the air. “Nope! Only a very handsome one. But is there something else I can help you with?”
She looks at his fluffy little face, and reaches out to touch one of his paws, holding it delicately between her fingers. It’s so soft . She remembers the first time she held him, tight in both of her hands. She remembers how she squeezed him to her chest, as Rafayel beamed and crowed over his victory over the evil forces dominating the arcade machines (she thinks it was just practice that helped him master the claw, but she wasn’t going to correct him in that moment). Rafayel had asked so, now that he’s found a forever home, what’s his name going to be? By that point, they’d been trying for a toy for most of the afternoon. Looking at the way the setting sun caught Rafayel’s face through the window and made him glow, she’d answered, Copper .
“Copper,” she says softly, rolling onto her side so she can face him properly, “I don’t want to leave.”
She had sort of planned to be joking when she said it. But she’s not, and Rafayel doesn’t tease her. Neither does Copper. He just watches her. With his unjudgemental, pointy nose. It’s like he wants her to keep going, somehow.
“What if something bad happens here while I’m gone? Or what if something bad happens while I’m there? Besides, it’s so hard to sleep anywhere that isn’t home, or … or the studio.” Her stomach aches just imagining it, homesickness rising in her like the tide as she pictures an unfamiliar room and the quiet of somebody else’s ticking clock, late into the night. “I’m going to miss you,” she admits, tiny.
“I’m going to miss you too, cutie,” says Copper. He sounds significantly more like Rafayel now. “But it’ll be alright. And when you get back, you can tell me all about your amazing adventures.”
The fear that’s always sitting at the back of her throat, lodged right where she can’t swallow it, finally escapes. “What if I have a flare so far from the doctors? I feel okay right now, but that doesn’t mean anything, really. It’s happened before.”
Her Protocore Syndrome has always been unpredictable, erratic. It’s so poorly studied, and Dr. Zayne is practically the only expert in it. It’s hard to separate out which symptoms are just from the stress of life and the pressure of her job, and which ones are warnings to take a pause and preserve her strength before something snowballs to be much, much worse. At least here at home, if one day she wakes up and her body won’t work with her, she can curl up in her bed and pretend the world outside doesn’t exist.
Copper tucks himself under her chin, nuzzling up to her collarbone. Instinctively she wraps her arms around him, and buries her face in his round, plush tummy. Then, Rafayel is hugging her, too, hand cupping the back of her head. “Xavier and the Hunters won’t let anything happen to you,” he reminds her, “you’re too valuable to them. If they need to fly Dr. Zayne out on some supersonic helicopter, they’ll do it.” His other arm wraps around her waist, snug and warm. “I know you always say work comes first, but just say the word if you really, really don’t want to go, and I’ll find a reason to stop them from sending you.”
“I do want to go,” she says wetly. This would all be a lot easier if she didn’t want to, but she does. She’s so honoured that Captain Jenna even chose her, and she’s certainly not going to shirk responsibility in the face of missing home. Despite it all, she clings to her fox more tightly, and feels Rafayel squeeze her in return, like he knows. “I just…what about Copper?”
“I’ll take care of him,” promises Rafayel. “He can come stay with me, and get all acquainted with the claret-red-versus-burgundy distinction. I’ll call you every night to help you sleep, if that’s what it takes. We’ll both be here waiting for you when you come home, no matter how good or bad you feel when you get here.”
She sniffles and wipes her eyes on Copper’s coat. “Yeah? You’re sure?”
“Yep!” pipes up Rafayel-as-Copper’s squeaky voice, “I can’t wait to become a master of color theory, and see you when you get home!”
She can’t help but laugh, even choked up as she is. Everything feels much more bearable than a few moments ago. She certainly doesn't feel so alone in her anxiety now. “Okay. Okay, alright.”
“You just have to remember your promise,” Copper continues, a little more quietly, “that you really will come back when you say you will. So that I’m not waiting for you for too long.”
Of course. She hadn’t even thought. She lifts her head to kiss Rafayel’s cheek. “I remember my promise. I promise I’ll do everything I can to stay safe, and come back.” It feels easier to say it when it’s for him, and feels more true than when she was trying to comfort herself.
He holds her for a moment longer, silent. Like breaking a spell, he sits up and pulls her up with him, Copper still snugly held between them. His energy is as contagious as usual. “Alright! I always work better under a tight deadline. Let’s get your packing finished so you’re all ready to go.”
–
As she’s strapping in next to Xavier and preparing to leave the port, the suitcase Rafayel helped her pack stowed safely in the compartment above her, she checks her phone one more time before putting it into takeoff mode.
Rafayel: have a safe trip miss bodyguard! well see you soon!
Attached is a picture of Copper by the studio windowsill, facing out to the sea and sky. His little arm is held up like he’s waving to her on a ship somewhere in the distance. She can barely see the corners of Rafayel’s fingers holding him in place.
Two weeks still feels like a long time. Now, imagining Copper curled up for bed with Rafayel tonight, waiting for her when she gets home at the end of the mission, she thinks maybe she can handle it after all.