[Hannah Kerela]

The woman - for she could not still be called a girl when she had waited so long for her love without losing faith - straightened her skirt as she stood and checked the time for what had to be the fifth time in as many minutes, and when the clock struck six her heart leaped with joy and she lifted her eyes to the falls and hurried there to meet him. She had only waited out of duty, obligation, love, loyalty: he had requested it of her, and how would she deny him when she had waited so long to see him?

It had been days, weeks, months since she had seen him last, and newer still was the tone of the meeting. No more was this a play-date between children or a casual meeting between friends, but the reunion of two who had been apart for far, far too long. And so she ran only because she could not fly and she could not stop her heart from beating too fast and her eyes from shining with joy.

Takuma had come home, and who could stop her from being happy when the boy - now surely a man - whom she had missed so much had returned? Love is a powerful force not to be denied by statutes of normalcy and reason and her love was in the joy which shone out of her. Who would not feel the same?

Takuma had come home. And so she ran.

[A-1]
((For the lurkers that are wondering what I'm on about: This is halfway an attempt to force myself to post, halfway an exercise in blending different authors' styles. Also, yes, the title *is* a reference to John Donne.))

[Hannah Kerela]

The man who waited for her at the base of the falls lit the candles he'd set out on their picnic blanket at precisely six and placed a single red rose on the top of the basket that held their food then rose to wait a ways away, hoping to see the look on her face when she saw what he'd set out for her. His heart had longed for her during his absence as unavoidable as it had been and though he had not written often it was not for lack of trying but for lack of words to express what he had felt for her as the girl deserved infinitely more than his meager attempt at romantic poetry and prose.

It was not that he did not feel with the same passion that she had. The contrary, he had valued her words and the mere appearance of her name on the paper that proved that she had believed in him and loved him, and that had meant more to him than she could ever have known and yet she wrote anyways, in the hope that he would smile when he read her words. He had longed for her in ways he had not know he could, felt her absence in the core of his soul. And so he had trusted that she knew that it was not a breach, but an expansion, and that their love would not wither under the strain of separation.

He hoped that Amy would not look poorly on him when he told her of his failure, of the gaping emptiness that he still felt when he thought of that incident, now so long ago but the wound still so fresh. He hoped that she would understand that it was not that she was not enough, for she should have been enough and then so much more, but that was not where the emptiness was felt.

He saw her come into view. His heart leapt, sung with joy. She had come, he would see her again. She stopped just short of the blanket, looking about in confusion before her eyes lighted on the rose sitting on the basket. She bent, lifting the flower tenderly and holding it to her nose, taking in the scent and a blush rising to her cheeks, her lips, her eyes sparkling with love. He stepped forward.

"Amy, it's been so long."

The look on her face was worth the mental anguish that he'd been through, was worth many more wounds than what he bore, to see the depth of love and regard that she held for him, for him alone.

[T-1]

[Hannah Kerela]

Amy could not contain her tears of joy any longer. She ran forward, wrapping Takuma in a tight embrace, a lover's embrace, and pressed her lips to his, unable to wait. Her heart leapt, spun, sang with joy. Who could take this moment away from her, who had waited so long?

The kiss ended all too quickly, but she did not press for more just yet and rested her head against his chest, listened to the steady, even beat of his heart, felt the warmth the vital organ gave his sturdy, lean form, savored the feel of his arms around her in a protective embrace like a cloud. This was not a time for their young, shy games, the laughter of their youth, but a time for silence and appreciation. He wore the shirt she had given him all those months ago when he had left, black shirt with silver moons and stars that shimmered a darkened sunset palette in the evening light. He smelled the same as always, cinnamon and spice, but that shirt smelled still like her own perfume, white gardenia and sweet pea. Her heart swelled - he hadn't worn it, then, but kept it to preserve her scent.

His hand brushed her cheek lightly, and she looked up at his face. Her heart sank, seeing the tears that still lined those ice blue eyes. She brought her hand up, brushing the tears away as she found the words to speak.

"It's still in you. The curse."

"Yes," Takuma admitted, looking away in shame. She placed a hand on his cheek, making him look at her.

"No," she said. "No, you have no blame in this. You only took the curse to save me, to stop Hydro, to save us all. It's not your fault."

Takuma placed a kiss on her forehead. "You really are too kind for me."

He pulled her close, then, and she let him, sensing his need to be close to her, to feel her safe and breathing against him. She still recalled the look on his face when she'd awoken, terrified that he had lost her and that it would not truly be her who looked at him, elated when he'd realized that it was her, anguished because he had lost something that seemed irreplaceable to stop Hydro. Something that he had still not recovered.

So she let him hold her, because it was all she could do to ease his pain, even just a little, and so she would let him hold her as long as he needed.

[A-2, T-2]

[Hannah Kerela]

Takuma finally caught his breath after a few moments of holding her, the nearness of her making him feel whole for a few moments, as if he'd never lost anything, as if those horrific events had never happened. But, finally, the spell broke and the wound inside him opened back up, tearing at his psyche and pushing him to the edge and trying to break him down. And succeeding. He pulled back just a fraction of an inch to look at her fully.

The way that she looked at him - hopeful, resigned, adoring, believing in him and only him as if only he existed in that moment on the edge of forever - brought a smile to his lips that was echoed in his heart. He pressed long-disused lips against hers, savored the feel of her breath mingled with his, pulled back fully and looked at her with a sad smile that was all he could muster when he was not touching her, feeling her, living for her and her alone.

"The food will get cold."

She smiled, her radiant smile that he could not do justice even in his memories though he tried to memorize ever line of her face, every curve of her lip, every sparkle of her eye. He lived for these small moments now, where her joy in his existence made that existence worthwhile when otherwise he would not find value in the breath he drew or the beat of his heart and would end his sorry excuse for living except for her.

"Do you remember what you told me before you left?"

He stopped, looked at her, studied her face and her eyes and searched for her meaning. Did she truly remember, those words that he had spoken? Had that been the meaning behind the salutation that had ended her last letter, her remembrance of the words he had whispered to her in the dead of night as he fled, the words that he had spoken to only her, because he could not face any others in light of what he had become?

"Hope guides me. It is what gets me through the day and especially the night. The hope that after you're gone from my sight it will not be the last time I look upon you."

He found his voice, finally, to realize her message, "With hope." His voice was barely more than a whisper, a pathetic noise that betrayed the weakness in his heart.

The food could grow cold, then: he would not stop her from her embrace and her kiss. His heart would not be in the attempt. Whose would be?

He did not know how long they stood there, merely holding each other and living in that moment of togetherness before they finally broke apart and sat down to eat, their meal silent but not for lack of communication: to the contrary, their gazes were locked for the duration of the meal and they said more in those minutes of silence than any words could ever convey and they could breathe easier with that sense of completion.

[A-3, T-3]

[Hannah Kerela]

Finally, they both sat back, satiated in body if not in spirit. Amy looked at Takuma for a brief moment, taking in the sight of him, then moved closer to him, leaning against his shoulder. Takuma's arms wrapped themselves around her, holding her back against his chest, his lips gently pressing against the back of her head for a long moment before he rested his chin against her head. They were silent for a long time.

Then Takuma spoke, breaching the subject both had alluded to but neither had addressed: "How much do you remember of that night?"

Amy was suddenly even more grateful for Takuma's arms around her, because those arms were all that kept her from panicking at the mere thought of that horrific night.

Nephritos had finally made a move to show where his loyalties lie: he had approached Hydro in the night, had whispered the secrets that the hydrokuhna had needed to betray them all. Hydro hadn't hesitated to use them: he'd called upon arcane powers, dark powers. Raidne had been the one to discover him, and had been the first victim, with a terrible blow that had gone through her left lung and out her back. That was one of the real tragedies; Raidne had been close to overcoming her fears, but she had regressed back to the timid, terrified girl that she had been when she'd first come. Hydro hadn't forgiven himself. When Raidne had screamed, though, Amy had come running - how could she not, when Raidne was such a friend to her? - and had taken a hit directly to the back of her skull. It hadn't punctured the skull or the brain, but it had send her brain forward into the front of her skull, resulting in contusions and a concussion on her frontal lobes. Hydro had also attacked Yin and Emily, had given them both broken bones.

It had taken Gabriel, Takuma, and Cecilia together to stop him, the girls combining their powers and Takuma's self-energy to contain him until the drunken high of power had drained off of him. Nephritos had escaped into the shadows. The doctor had warned Takuma when he arrived that Amy might have suffered irreversible damage to the frontal lobes, that her personality or speech or emotions might never be the same - never be normal - again. She had been lucky: she had woken up with nothing worse than a headache and the bruises and cuts from where Hydro had thrown her into the fence.

Takuma hadn't been lucky; that sense of self that he'd given up to help Gabi and Cecilia had stolen his joie de vie, his ability to laugh and find pleasure in life. Cecilia had said that he could recover himself if he found the source of the powers that Nephritos had given Hydro; he'd gone, unable to bear the pressing despair that filled him where he'd once felt joy. He'd left Michael with Yin and Amy, and had kissed Amy goodbye in the dead of the night. Gabi had explained later: Takuma had given up his joy of life to stop Hydro, but his ability to love had not been affected by that - they were two different energy streams, she said. So Takuma would depend on Amy, Michael, and Yin to keep him connected to life, to joy, to the world at large.

It was a duty that Amy still took seriously, and took willingly: she loved Takuma, and loved him even more for what he'd done for them all. She knew that Yin and Michael felt the same. He deserved the whole of what she could give, and she would give him no less.

So she told him the truth of how much she remembered: "Too much."

His grip on her tightened, lips pressed back against her head, entire body strained to try and protect her from her own memories. His voice was low, his breath warm against the back of her head as he spoke, "Let's talk about something else, then?"

Amy nodded. "Alright." She could agree to that.

[A-4, T-3 (Takuma didn't really have much even in the way of dialogue, so I'm not giving him credit here)]

[Hannah Kerela]

Takuma considered for a brief second what they could discuss, then finally settled on convincing her to what he'd missed most in his absence. It would be awkward, to be sure, but he had to try.

"Do you still sing?"

Her blush was as beautiful as ever. He leaned around her to kiss her cheek. She nodded, finally.

"I do."

"Will you sing for me?"

A pause. He held his breath; he loved her music, more than he could describe, and had missed the sound of her voice, gentle despite the roughness of her parents. She leaned back against him, closing her eyes contentedly. He breathed; he knew he'd won, knew that she wouldn't deny him, knew that she wouldn't be able to relax if she planned to.

"What shall I sing, then?" Amy asked, not opening her eyes. "The Itsy-Bitsy Spider?"

"Anything, darling. I just want to hear your voice."

Amy opened one eye to gaze up at him adoringly, then opened her mouth, the words coming easily.

...Circle me, and the needle moves gracefully
Back and forth. If my heart was a compass you'd be North.
Risk it all, 'cause I'll catch you if you fall
Wherever you go. If my heart was a house, you'd be home...

Takuma couldn't resist. He stood, pulling her up with him as she sang, placing his hands on her shoulder and hip, leading her in a dance that had no form or pattern except to match the rhythm she set. He was the wanderer of the pair, the one that went out and searched, the one that would be active and protect their love so that she could enjoy the time they had together, but in this, in the realm of music where she excelled so greatly and could feel the notes so keenly, in this he would follow, would let her lead, because he loved her and her music.

And so they danced, spinning and twirling as she sung and they both laughed, happy to be with one another, even if it would have to end again very soon. Because they had tonight, and tonight was all they needed to make forever theirs.

[A-4, T-4]

[Hannah Kerela]

When they finally came to a stop, Takuma held Amy against him. He kissed her again, still laughing in vague pants of breath. She was laughing, too, kissing him back, breathless and exhilarated, her cheeks flushed. She pressed against him, listening to his heartbeat, his laugh--

His laugh. His laugh!

She looked up at him, her laughter stopping abruptly. "You're laughing."

He stopped, looking at her. "That's-- Wait. I... I was." He couldn't make heads or tails of it. He hadn't laughed since the incident, hadn't been able to even muster a chuckle. It simply hadn't been in him anymore. But now...

He stared at her. "But Cecilia said... So how..?"

Amy shrugged. "I... I don't know," she admitted, smiling. "But I'm happy for you. Maybe it'll stick."

[A-5, T-4]

[Hannah Kerela]

Takuma was silent for a moment, focusing on how he felt. And it was true; he did feel better, less empty, more complete. Felt whole. He couldn't help but smile, pressing his lips against hers again.

"Maybe this... Maybe this is the source of that power," Amy said, shyly, once the kiss ended. "Maybe Nephritos' power plays on emotion. And maybe all you needed was a positive emotion to counter the negative ones that Nephritos played off of."

"Maybe," Takuma agreed. It made sense... After all, Nephritos had used Hydro's underlying negative emotions to trick him into accessing that power. Maybe emotion had been more than the trigger, but the gunpowder in that revolver as well.

Takuma smiled. "So... I think we should go swimming," he suggested with a small smile.

"It's past sundown!"

"So? I bought you a swimsuit."

Amy laughed. "You win. Swimming it is."

[A-5, T-5]

[Hannah Kerela]

Amy slipped behind a cluster of trees to change, giggling at the absurdity of it - a twilight swim, really? Takuma was back. Which was nice. She looked at the swimsuit he'd brought, and smiled. Black, with red trim. Her favorite combination of colors. The black was a silky, smooth material, and the red was thin threads to break up the smooth material in twisting abstract patterns, swirls and dots sparse across the expanse of black silk, like thin lines of blood against a dark ground. Like her mother had told her that her father would cause if she ever met him.

She slipped the swimsuit on. It was a two-piece, but conservative, a halter-style top and a pair of swimshorts. She pulled her hair back, tying it with a red elastic. She left her shoes with her other clothes, walking on her toes back over to him. He wore a pair of brown trunks with a silver moon on the bottom of the left side of the left leg and a silver star on the bottom of the right side of the right leg. He'd also left his shoes with his clothes. She walked to him, placing a hand on his chest - pale from a lack of sun that worried her now with its proof of existence - and leaned up to kiss his chin.

"Are you ready?" she asked, wrapping her arms around his neck and staring up at his smile - a real smile, a genuinely happy smile of someone who had just seen a glimpse of sunlight after an eternity of night with no moon, happy to see the world around him. Happy to see her. He nodded, and her hands moved down to grasp his, and he led her to the edge of the water and stepped in first, tested the temperature of the water, pulled her in after a moment.

It was cold, but not too cold. She laughed, and then dove headlong into the deeper part of the pool, releasing his hand since she could not very well pull him in after her. She couldn't help but laugh as she surfaced, bangs sticking to the sides of her face.

[A-6, T-5]

[Hannah Kerela]

Takuma laid back in the water, letting himself merely float on the surface. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Amy do the same, and smiled. He felt relaxed, simple. It was bliss. He swung an arm out, taking her hand in his and rubbing the back of that hand with his thumb.

Bliss.

They stayed like that for a while, perhaps an hour or so, before they both exited the water, dressed, and began to head home - together. Finally, at long last, he was back, he was home, and it was bliss.

Our two souls therefore, which are one,
Though I must go, endure not yet
A breach, but an expansion,
Like gold to aery thinness beat.

If they be two, they are two so
As stiff twin compasses are two ;
Thy soul, the fix'd foot, makes no show
To move, but doth, if th' other do.

And though it in the centre sit,
Yet, when the other far doth roam,
It leans, and hearkens after it,
And grows erect, as that comes home.

Such wilt thou be to me, who must,
Like th' other foot, obliquely run ;
Thy firmness makes my circle just,
And makes me end where I begun."
-John Donne, from A Valediction Forbidding Mourning

[A-6, T-6]