Part 1: missed
Some nights, you have dreams so beautiful they ruin your entire day.
Today, you wake up in one.
Everything from last night hits you all at once: Rue's arrival; Rue's story; Rue's birthday cake; Rue's eyes fluttering closed before she takes her last bite; carrying Rue upstairs; tucking Rue in; Rue; Rue; Rue, Rue, Rue. She's a shot of adrenaline, a warm hug, and a kick in the ass all rolled into one, and she's in each and every one of your thoughts as you climb your way back to consciousness.
She's also in your bed. Next to you. Sleeping.
That thought finally gets your attention. You bolt upright, look over at her, and—seems like you were wrong. She's awake and staring at you with a dopey, happy look on her face.
"Mmm... g'morn, Leth," she groggily—adorably—mumbles.
"Morning, Rue," you greet her in response, and you're halfway to giving her a good morning kiss when you stop in your tracks. "Wait... what did you call me?"
Her brow furrows. "Leth... your name is Elleth, right?" She gazes up at you like you're a canopy, or maybe the firmament itself.
"Y-yeah," you answer when you finally realize you've been staring back. "Yeah, that's my name. Elleth."
"Elleth," she sighs dreamily.
Your pulse quickens. She's so vulnerable there underneath you, waiting for answers, but it's not the same kind of vulnerability she showed last night. She chose this. She woke up, saw you, and stayed. That must mean something, right?
It doesn't mean she wants that good morning kiss you instinctively leaned in for, though, so you reluctantly pull back.
...and she follows, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling herself up until your faces almost touch, and she whispers like rain and thunder:
"Elleth."
So you whisper back like the first drop into a bucket, like scrambling for shelter:
"Rue."
It means everything.
After your lips part, you're both flushed—her like a winning hand, and you like old plumbing. The silence in the aftermath is almost as comfortable as your bed with her in it, but the question on the tip of your tongue can't be put off any longer.
"Are your memories back?"
"...no," she admits. "Just your name. And... well, we were obviously lovers, yeah?" She smirks.
"U-um, well... n-no, actually," you stammer. "We were... friends, I think. Probably friends? We at least had a friendly working relationship. But we were never... I mean, I don't even know if you—"
"I definitely did," she cuts in. Even she looks a little shocked at how confidently she said it. "I mean... I came all the way here, didn't I? I knew there was someone here who could help me. Someone I..." She clears her throat, then clears it again. "Someone I feel strongly about."
You nod, not trusting your words. You want to kiss her again, and judging from the way her eyes flick down to your lips for a moment, she does, too.
Instead, you look away and ask, "What happened to you?"
"You know as much as I do." She shrugs. "Everything was hazy, like a fever dream. I couldn't even remember my own damn name, and some people don't seem to like it when an amnesiac comes up and starts asking questions. I don't know how long it took before I left Saint-Germain, or how long I followed that... feeling in my chest before I got here. But this morning felt like waking up for the first time in weeks. It's a lot to take in, y'know?"
Only a slight tremor in her hand betrays her nerves, but you recognize the mask she's wearing. You've seen her hurt before, listened to her turn the mountain of her pain into a molehill, felt her tremble under its full weight.
So you're not prepared for the tears that start to trickle down her cheeks, nor for her to whisper, in a voice so fragile you don't know how it made it out of her mouth without first shattering into a million jagged shards:
"Who did this to me, Leth?"
The mountain is a mountain. You accept your share as freely as she offers it.
"I don't know yet. But we'll find out."
The finger she brushes against your cheek doesn't tremble at all.
