demainvient | 𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒏.

[He does make her breathe out something that sounds near enough to a laugh, throat still tight. Even now, he still can manage to make her smile. Even if it's sad around the edges.]

I do. I really, really do.

[A single tear rolls down her round cheek, falling off her chin.]

I was so desperate to see the world before my Gommage. So determined to go with you on the expedition. But, I think... no. I know, a part of me didn't want to face what the world would be like without you. If you died on the expedition, what were the chances I'd survive?

[Higher than she realized, apparently.]

I didn't want this.

[ The moment she'd decided to go on the expedition, to fight alongside him, he'd known this was a possibility. Maybe it was the only end he could have expected, giving his life in defense of hers. It's a decision he can be at peace with.

Not so Maelle, though she has to have known this would always be his choice, if they were forced into this particular corner. She's still so young; she'd only expected to say goodbye to him with the Gommage. It can be hard for the people of Lumière to remember that there are other, more abrupt ways to die. ]

I know.

[ Sciel hadn't expected to lose Pierre the way she had, either. He hadn't expected to lose Sophie, in a less final but no less complete way all those years ago. ]

If it helps, I'm not that thrilled about it, either.

Yeah. I know. I'm... it's okay. I mean, it's not okay, but... I'm not mad at you. I could never be.

[She's a teenager. Inevitably, they had their spats, her silent treatments and little acts of rebellion here and there over the years. But he died for her. She knew, always, he would never let harm come to her if he had any say in the matter.

She just never thought she'd watch him go to the slaughter before her very eyes. She can still recall the heat of his blood on her face.]

I know you'd rather be with us.

[ The unfairness of it all is the unkindest cut. Maybe he willingly went to his own doom, an engineer turned expeditioner turned warrior, with some attempt at nobility, at bravery. But none of that erases the fact that he chose that doom not on his own power, but out of desperation. He'd been stabbed in the back, killed right before Maelle's eyes. His choices were ripped away from him. ]

It would be all right, if you were mad at me. I'd understand.

[ A promise broken, a brother destroyed, the life she could almost touch with the tips of her fingers shattered in the blink of an eye. How could he blame her for being angry when she has lost so much, and so much of it at his own hands? ]

No. [She shakes her head, the reply immediate.] I can't. [There's another small, rueful smile.] Might have made all of this easier if I did, wouldn't it?

[Her love and respect and understanding of him is too great. If she hated him, she wouldn't carry so many beautiful memories in her heart that felt like handling shards of glass when she looked back on them. Afternoons at the Hanging Gardens. Peering over his shoulder at whatever he was working on in the early light of morning. Pestering him for a stroll to the harbor when the skies were clear. Making him laugh over a meal right when he took a drink. So many little moments, kept close to her heart, but all so important. Reminders of how much he loved her, and how safe he made her feel. In the end, that was his final gift.]

I'm only mad at the person that did this.

[She'll make him feel it. Her pain, her rage, her sorrow.]

[ The person who did this: the man who stole him from her, who stole the future of the whole expedition except for their small handful of battered bodies. ]

Don't let him bait you into confronting him before you're ready, [ he warns. Don't get cocky, Maelle. ]

You saw what happened. I barely touched him.

[She looks at him, grave, and nods. She'll never forget what she saw.]

The Paintress makes him immortal. Once we kill her, I'll kill him.

[Gustave would have been able to kill him if he were a normal man. But a normal man wouldn't have been able to nearly wipe them out at the beach.]

I miss you terribly, but I promise to finish this for you.

[ He nods back: another promise, forged. ]

You can do this, Maelle.

[ It's so quiet in this dream of their old home that his voice could be just barely more than a murmur and still clear enough for her to hear. ]

You can break the cycle.

[She can do this. There's no other option. She refuses to fail and see Gustave's hard work all for naught; his sacrifice, meaningless.]

When I do... I hope you'll visit me. Just like this.

[But she doesn't ask him to promise her that.]

I could stay here forever.

[ He sees the determination in her, in the set of her jaw, the look in her clear pale eyes. It's not an expression he ever hoped to see on her, not for this, but he understands, all the same. ]

Don't worry about that. I'll always find you, right?

[ And here, in this strange liminal space where he is and is not the Gustave who loved her, protected her, laughed with her, comforted her, some paths are easier to find than others. Hers will always be clearly lit for him.

Gently: ]

You have to wake up sometime. Don't waste your life in a dream.

Yeah. [She knows she must wake, sometime, to do the things she promised. She blinks rapidly, eyes perpetually threatening to overflow with tears.] I only have a life at all because of you. You made me who I am.

[For better or for worse--a thing she would joke about, normally, but they haven't had normal in a very long time. Sniffling, she rallies, taking a deep breath. She can be strong in hopes of seeing him smile at her. That's what she wants to remember and carry with her.]

I think you did pretty good.

[ She wins her smile, warm and sweet and fond, layers of love and wistfulness in his dark eyes as he looks at her. ]

You made it easy. I only wish I could get to see the person you'll become.

[ They've been robbed of so much: his future, theirs together. But he hopes she can still live hers. ]

Yeah. Me too. That hurts more than I ever thought it would. Even knowing...

[Their chances of him seeing her grow into adulthood were always slim. Just as she would never see him actually become an old man. He would be ageless, stuck frozen in time for her. They didn't talk about it as much as they should have, hopes and dreams put into the expedition, but maybe they should have.]

I wish you'd taken me in sooner.

[The only way they would have had more time together is from the start. She smiles, amused by the idea of a Gustave in his early twenties, trying to manage her.]

Hey, hey.

[ They could spend hours, days mourning the what-ifs and the could-have-beens. It's a distraction she can't afford, not now. She'll have to carry her grief along with her in a pocket for a while; her focus needs to be on other things.

He sets one arm on the table, leaning toward her. ]

I wish we had longer, too. But nothing can ever take away the time we did have. Nothing. You will always have that.

[It comes with a beat of hesitation, but she nods, knowing he's right. A hundred years would have never been enough--how could their handful come close? He loved her as much as she loves him. It's only difficult, being the one left behind, with nowhere for that love to go.]

I'll tell you my favorite thing we would do together if you tell me yours.

[She thinks she knows. The smile comes with a sniffle. Maybe she shouldn't let herself sink into the past. Maybe she should only look forward, at least until their expedition is finished. But she tells herself she needs this. This will keep her going when the despair tries to choke her.]

So when we meet again, some day, we can do them right away.

Alright.

[ She steadies herself, his brave Maelle, and he knows she'll find a way to push forward, whether it's rage or pain or love or determination driving her. At that sniff, he reaches gently for the crumpled handkerchief, shaking it out to find a dry spot, then refolds it and offers it back to her. ]

You go first.

[Maelle watches him do such a simple thing that manages to squeeze her heart so tightly it hurts. She takes the handkefchief and wipes under her nose folding it over and setting it back down on the table.

She misses when he would take care of her, be it scraped knees or wiping away tears after a nightmare, but that was never her favorite thing.]

The Hanging Gardens. We could see so much of the city. Be nosy. We would just... talk. About everything. I loved spending time with you, but there, especially.

[Deep talks about that year's Gommage. But more often, just about themselves. Their lives. Silly things, too. They would so often go home smiling.]

I would do anything to sit up there with you one more time. To listen to you talk about how your apprentices are doing, or the weather. Or anything at all.

[Her eyes wander to their home, still and warm and familiar. This is as close as they can get, for now.]

[ He'd loved it up there, with her, surrounded by green and growing things, all the troubles of the city so far away that it seemed as though the wind would whip them away before they could come anywhere near. He'd been able to think up there, to breathe... to plan, as he looked out toward the Monolith as the numbers crept lower each year.

And Maelle had loved it. Though the Gardens were open to everyone, it had become their special place; had been that way since the first time he brought her there, hiked up on his back, her too-young legs not quite strong enough to make the climb. He'd brushed over her cheeks and eyes and lips with soft flowers until she giggled, and showered her with petals. They'd stuck in her hair, lending her a sweet scent all the way home, until Emma washed them out again ]

That was my favorite, too.

[ He reaches to gently brush her wet and straggling bangs back, fingers warm and solid against her forehead here in this dream. ]

So that will be our pact. The next time we meet... it'll be in the Hanging Gardens. All right?

Maybe I'll even let you challenge me again. But you'll be stronger than me by then... I'm sure you'll learn a few new tricks to take me down.

All right.

[The Hanging Gardens it is. She can't tease him for copying her answer when it only makes her heart swell with affection for him. He cherished their time together there as much as she did. She knew. She's always known.

Maelle catches his hand before she can drop it to bring it to her cheek, pressing into his palm.

She doesn't want to ever fight him, even in her dreams, even if it's a playful spar. Not after watching him fall before her very eyes.]

I think I'd just want to sit with you. If that's okay.

[ He curves his fingers carefully against her cheek, running the pad of his thumb lightly over her freckled skin. Just like always, his hand fits perfectly here, the motion so familiar, so bone-deep it's almost not a choice he makes at all. ]

More than okay, [ he promises, voice soft. ]

We'll sit as long as you want. You'll have an awful lot to tell me by then.

[ He hopes— he hopes. He'd spend an eternity waiting there among those flowers, if it meant she had a lifetime to live and love, with all the tears and joy and wonder that comes with it.

If he is a dream, he wonders how it is he can feel his heart breaking. He wets his lips with the tip of his tongue; swallows. This whole time, his voice has stayed steady, gentle, but now it cracks, just a little, as a sore, sorrowful expression shifts over his face in the flickers of eyebrows pulling together, lips pressing together. ]

I have loved you so much, Maelle. Never forget that.

[Oh, she knows that look on his face. It threatens to make her break, but she simply rests her hand on his wrist, keeping his hand against her face.]

Never. I could never forget. That's... what you left me. So many memories of what it is to be loved. [And loved unconditionally. She wasn't his blood, but he never cared. She was his daughter. She was his sister. How fortunate she was to be that for him, and to have known someone so painfully good.

She is less good, she thinks, because of the hatred in her heart towards Renoir. It's a stain. The Paintress is now simply an obstacle between the old man's throat and her blade. She'll take his life as he took Gustave's.]

I'll love you forever. In this life and the ones that follow.

[ It's all he can do to keep from pressing his hand too painfully against her cheek. It's his duty, his role as her brother, her father, her guardian, her protector, to keep her from getting hurt. To keep the world from hurting her, however he can. He'd stood between her and death with nothing but a sword in his hand, her last line of defense, and now she's hurting, her heart is breaking, and not only can he not stop it, he's the reason for it. ]

In the next life, huh?

[ His voice feels thick, and his lips tug into a quick, heartbroken smile. ]

We didn't get to say goodbye, before.

[ He'd been calm, then, in the face of her despair and his own doom. A small shake of his head, slow. He'd been dying then already, his lifeblood spilling down the front of the uniform on which Sophie and the boys had worked so diligently. This, too, is a legacy. He huffs a small, sad breath that's nothing really like a laugh. ]

I still don't want to say it, even now. But I'm glad we got the chance.

Edited 2025-05-14 03:09 (UTC)

[In another life, they never went with Expedition 33. Instead, they went with everyone else to the harbor, and said their slow, painful goodbyes, just as he did with Sophie. Maelle doesn't think she could do that. The days leading up to his last day would be agony. A death march. She would be sick with grief and he wouldn't even be gone yet and she would cry and cry and never stop despite knowing for so long that the Gommage was coming.

It would hurt like this does. Losing him would always shatter her heart in a way that could never be put right. Like the Gestrals, she thinks--they can return, but not completely. Not as they were before.

They never had enough time. He could be like Verso, immortal, and a century would never be enough for her.]

Then we don't say it, because we'll see each other again.

[ Maybe he should insist on it, a farewell. How can she move forward when she's still looking for him everywhere she goes? When she's waiting to see him again? He should tell her she needs to let go.

He's always been just a little bit too selfish for that. ]

Okay.

[ He runs his thumb lightly over her cheek again, nodding. ]

We won't say goodbye.

[ His smile tugs, almost into a real curve, before it trun rueful once more. ]

Tell the others I say hi, okay?

They'll think I've gone mad with grief.

[It's said with her own wry smile. She's very much still sane, fueled by a desire to avenge the person she loves most. If she starts telling the girls she's been visited by him in her dreams, they'll look at her with those sorrowful looks that make her want to break down and weep.]

Lune and Sciel miss you, too.

[Yet they were quicker to move on. The mission still remained, and they had less time to waste. She understands. Gustave was her father, her brother. The cut is deeper for her.]

You're the reason why we have a chance. A real chance.

the crying never stops.... this game!!!!!!

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