Solitude and Solace

Yep, more Emma/Machias from yours truly. Same verse as Eight by Eight and Turnabout, and it takes place after the Shrines are cleared but before all the other extra quests have been taken care of, so George is still patiently waiting for Rean to help him with his new workshop so he can bust out a giant mystical robot katana – er, tachi, for Valimar to stab Ordine in the face with.

"Told you a good night's sleep would cure what ailed you," a smug voice intoned before the witch could take another sip of tea, causing Emma to peek down at the familiar curled under her chair in the Courageous' cafeteria and send her a stare made up of equal parts exasperation and affection.

"Your sage advice was greatly appreciated," came the girl's deadpan reply before she reached down to give the feline a quick scratch, much to her satisfaction. "I'll admit, having some time to rest and recover was sorely needed, especially after… well…"

"Yeah. No kidding," Celine finished, replaying yesterday's battle against Grianos in her mind's eye. It wasn't every day that a bird grew to the size of a Magic Knight, after all. "Things were... pretty hectic, to say the least."

A brief moment of silence. "So… are you feeling all right?" the cat asked cautiously, watching her charge with wary eyes. Vita's revelations hadn't exactly been received well initially, and though Emma had the support of her classmates behind her immediately… it wasn't the sort of thing that was necessarily easy to deal with even with that kind of backing.

Much to her relief, the brunette flashed her a quick grin and reached down to scratch again, eliciting a pleased purr. "I'm fine. It was certainly a shock to hear what Vita had to say – and I'm definitely going to have plenty of questions for Grandmother when I get back to the village – but I meant what I said yesterday. I proudly accept the path I have to walk and all that comes with it, and I'm not afraid to face down whatever might come in the future."

She gave the familiar another smile – this one was stronger, more confident, and it filled Celine's heart with pride. "I'll keep holding my head high. So please, don't worry about me."

That last bit immediately snapped her back to her senses and jolted her to all fours, much to Emma's amusement. "I-I wasn't worried!"

A delicately raised eyebrow.

"… Fine. I was worried. Only a little bit. Maybe," Celine finally mumbled in embarrassment – something that wasn't helped by Emma starting to scratch under her chin with a 'hehe'.

"Ah, Nicholas! I trust all is well in your culinary domain, hmm?"

The sound of the cafeteria's door opening made all the cafeteria's occupants swing their gazes to the new arrival, and upon seeing the smiling face of Instructor Thomas the head of the Thors Cooking Club gave a laugh and a nod from behind the counter, waving a hand in welcome.

"Greetings, Instructor. Extremely late breakfast, or somewhat late lunch?" the friendly boy asked, always eager to get cooking again.

"Oh, I'm feeling like breakfast if that's all right with you – I'm feeling a craving for comfort food right now. How are you doing, Emma and Celine?" the bespectacled teacher greeted the pair jovially, and both witch and familiar found themselves nodding in sync.

"Much better today, Instructor," Emma answered, smiling politely. "Completing the trials for the Zemurian Ore was as difficult as we thought it would be, but we seem to have enough for George to complete Valimar's new weapon."

"Ah yes, the trials!" Thomas nodded dreamily, clapping his hands with enthusiasm. "My word, how utterly fascinating it must have been to sojourn the depths of those ruins! Of course, I'm sure it must have been quite strenuous as they wouldn't have been called trials otherwise, but…"

Emma resisted the urge to chuckle weakly as the man's train of thought began to split off into various tangents, and out of the corner of her eye she swore she could see Nicholas suppressing a quiet snicker of his own as he worked his own form of magic in the kitchen. There was no denying the man's brilliance in his chosen field, but by the same token there was no denying his… eccentricities.

"But wait," Thomas said suddenly, regarding Emma with a curious look. "You were present for all four trials, were you not? Are you sure it's all right for you to be up so soon?"

"Quite sure," Emma assured him with a grateful nod. "The trials were indeed difficult, but since we were fortunate enough to overcome them without significant injuries a chance to recover was all that the doctor ended up ordering."

"Mm. That's good to hear, though in retrospect I suppose that was a foolish question. Why, if my memory doesn't deceive me Machias too was present for all four, but when I walked into the reference room this morning he was already there, poring over documentation like it was time for midterms! Ah, the joys of scholarly pursuit…"

That got Emma's attention. "Is that right?" she asked, more than a little surprised. "I didn't even know he was up… I assumed he'd have taken the chance to rest as well. Granted Rean didn't, but he's got the other members who were on standby out currently out in the field with him. Besides… Rean is Rean."

"Oh, I thought it was odd too, but he was quick to assure me that he was perfectly awake; stunning really, considering it was the crack of dawn and *I* was barely awake, but I digress…"

Celine looked up immediately, visibly surprised at Thomas' statement… but perhaps not as much as Emma was, judging from her immediate reaction.

"W-Wait, did you just say dawn?" the witch exclaimed, looking and sounding positively stunned, doing the math rapidly in her head and not liking the answers she was getting. "But we got back from the Aria Shrine at – so he – did he even sleep!?"

"Not a whole lot, I wager," Nicholas tossed out in the process of expertly plating a tremendously appetizing breakfast platter (much to the joy of Instructor Thomas.) "I saw him a few hours ago too. It wasn't the first time, either. His usual routine is to show up insanely early and grab a quick cup of coffee before going off to do… whatever he does," he finished with a sheepish laugh.

"Indeed! We share the reference room quite a bit, although I believe he's been helping out Stefan from time to time with inputting information into his monster database."

"I see," Emma said vaguely, mind flashing back to Class VII's time aboard the Courageous and belatedly realizing that aside from a few moments at the rest area or the leisure room she had no idea what her fellow class representative had been up to. "That's… that's not *all* he does, is it?" she asked warily.

"To be fair, he also got tied up that one time," Celine piped up 'helpfully', only to chuckle weakly when she saw Emma frown.

Thomas shrugged in apology. "I'm sorry to say I couldn't tell you. That said," he continued, walking over toward the counter to grab his meal. "He's still reviewing if you'd like to ask him yourself. I believe he was currently reading up on the ship's orbal defense systems when I stepped out."

"Orbal defense systems?" the familiar echoed, sounding a little confused. "Why would he even bother?"

"I couldn't tell you that either, but you'll never find me decrying a student who wants to expand their academic horizons!" the instructor declared as he sat down, looking at his food eagerly (and thus missing the feline roll her eyes).

"If you do go," Nicholas called to Emma, who fixed him with an inquisitive gaze. "Tell him that he's more than welcome to swing by and grab some proper food for once! I don't know what's in those vending machine drinks, but I'm pretty sure subsisting off those and coffee can't be good for him," he informed her, making a face before starting to clean the pans and utensils.

Sapphire eyes narrowed behind clear lenses, apprehension now warring with concern. "So he hasn't been eating properly either," Emma noted quietly, not sure if the feeling building in her gut was closer to annoyance or worry.

"Geez. That's no good," Celine muttered, shaking her head. With what was coming up soon the last thing they needed was for someone to be exhausted. "Are you gonna go – "

"Yes. I think I will." The declaration was quick and tight-lipped, worthy of Captain Claire at her iciest, and one would have been forgiven for expecting a crisp salute at the end of it.

"That was fast," Celine observed drolly, regarding the brunette with a gaze of appraisal – it was clear as day that she was definitely not pleased. "All right, then. In that case, I'll hang around here while you yell at him," she said airily, letting out a long yawn before she curled back under Emma's chair, looking rather comfy. "Try not to take too long."

"I'm not going to yell at him," Emma protested indignantly, only to have her brow scrunch in irritation when she saw Celine practically smirk at her. "W-What's that for? I'm not!"

"Mm-hmm. Hey, y'know what might make me believe you? Try saying it again, only this time take it back a few years; you know, pout even harder, maybe stamp your foot…?"

Emma's mouth opened and closed a few times, her complexion growing redder and redder before she managed to successfully force a neutral expression onto her face; no easy feat. "I'll… I'll be back later," she told Celine with as much gravitas as she could muster, the unspoken 'I refuse to dignify that last sentence with a legitimate response' coating every word.

Thomas waved from his table. "Go! If there's something that needs to be addressed with Class VII's Vice President, who better to do it than the one person who officially outranks him? Uh, other than Sara, of course."

"First off," Celine thought, "I'm pretty sure Sara's first choice would be to slap him on the back and tell him to get hammered, so that's out. I know this is normally Rean's thing, but since he's currently playing gofer for all of Erebonia, he's out too. So …"

Emma flicked a quick glance back at Instructor Thomas in perfunctory acknowledgement. "We're in full agreement on that. I'll be off now, then!"

With that, the white clad mage turned and strode out of the room, a steady cadence to her footsteps that belied the concern that Celine sensed, even as her partner's presence faded into the distance.

"He's probably okay though, right?" Nicholas mused out loud, wiping down the counter with a rag. "I may not know Machias all that well myself, but according to Stefan he's kind of a workaholic."

"That's one way of putting it," Thomas agreed. "While his marks have always reflected the effort he puts in, it still is very possible to overwork one's self to the point of diminishing returns. That's why I always make it a habit to take the edge off after a few stressful weeks with a nice drinking session! Oh, it's a shame Neithardt isn't aboard, it would be so delightful to return to those idyllic days, enjoying the taste of sweet ambrosia whilst watching him and Sara engage in the verbal warfare that defines their relationship so perfectly…"

Doing her best to put the (at least semi) insane man's flowery speech out of her head, Celine idly closer her eyes and relaxed, determined to squeeze in a nap before Emma finished… whatever she was planning.

"Let's just hope," she thought wryly, "that the alone time does them some good. Seemed to work before, anyway."

"The gunnery officer controls the trajectory and firing rate of the orbal guns directly, with incremental changes in both being immediate and dependent on the calibration of the guns. Changes in power, however, must be implemented gradually, with a corresponding delay in operation as the orbments re-route the necessary orbal energy for optimum performance depending on chosen settings…"

Setting down the reference document he was reading aloud with a weary sigh, Machias Regnitz quickly pulled his glasses off and started to give them a quick cleaning, looking over the swathes of books and paper in front of him with a bleary look. It never ceased; every time he came down to this room, it seemed like he found something new that he had missed the last time.

"Full credit to Alan," he noted, sliding the delicate lenses back onto his face. "This is quite a lot of information to commit to memory on short notice, and he's doing an excellent job of it."

Making a mental note to tell the new gunnery officer in person later, Machias stood up and turned around to scan the imposing bookshelf behind him, trying to decide what topic he should focus on next.

"Engine output…? No, George would have that covered well enough. That said, it would certainly be beneficial to have a deeper understanding of how we manage to stay up in the air…"

A knock on the door.

"Free ship," he called out, before reaching out to grab several slim volumes only to stop dead in his tracks as an all too familiar bout of lightheadedness washed over him. As the sound of the automatic door opening echoed through the room, Machias closed his eyes again and tried to steady himself against the unpleasant – but thankfully, brief – sensation of vertigo, focusing only on keeping his breathing slow and steady.

"I'll need to thank Laura and Rean for those tips on centering yourself; I may not swing a sword, but they're certainly helpful nonetheless," he told himself, resolving to do that after everything was over – after all, he didn't exactly have time now.

… Well, that wasn't exactly the truth, was it?

A pained grimace. He let out the breath that he didn't even realize he had been holding in a harsh rush, leaning his forehead against the cool metal of the shelf as he tried desperately to rein in his thoughts from going to the territory that he had declared forbidden months ago.

"Don't. Not now, not ever. Get ahold of yourself. Do what you can do, and control what you can control," he told himself like a mantra, a bitter taste in his mouth. "The situation is what it is, and no amount of mental gymnastics will change that. So meanwhile, do something halfway useful and – "

"Machias?"

The familiar voice cut through his thoughts easily, and Machias swung his head around to see Emma standing at the door, her normally friendly demeanor replaced with something that was trying to be nonchalance but wasn't quite succeeding.

"Emma," he greeted his fellow class representative with a polite nod. "Good morning."

"Afternoon, actually. As of an hour or two ago," she pointed out mildly, gesturing toward the clock on the wall. The bespectacled boy blinked twice, before following the path of her outstretched arm –

"Hmm. So it is. I hadn't noticed," Machias noted with only a slight air of surprise, taking the books and setting them down in front of him. "I tend to lose track of time when I'm occupied."

"I suppose that's fair enough," the brunette replied, the troubled expression still not leaving her face. "That said, according to Instructor Thomas, you've been… occupied since early this morning."

He blinked twice. "I… yes," came his uncertain answer, not quite sure where she was going with this. "I didn't sleep particularly well, you see," Machias continued, pulling out the half-truth that had been his go-to explanation to anyone that had come across him in the early hours. "If anything, I'd say it was just adrenaline from yesterday's battle keeping me up. An inconvenience, but nothing that's out of the ordinary from time to time."

"That's plausible," Emma noted, her brow creasing slightly into a frown as she looked over her primary combat partner. "Almost certainly true, as a matter of fact. And if Nicholas hadn't told me that he's seen you awake at obscene hours repeatedly while shying away from anything that remotely resembled real food, I'd probably be content to leave it at that."

But he had, so she wouldn't.

"You should come up and grab some lunch, at any rate," the arts specialist told the gunman, doing her best to force a smile onto her face. "You must be hungry."

Said smile dropped off when the green haired boy simply shook his head in the negative. "Not particularly, no. Thank you, though. I appreciate the sentiment." With that, he dropped his eyes back down toward the new stack of books, clearly intent on returning to his review.

If the VP had expected that to be the end of it, however, he was sorely mistaken. "You haven't eaten yet, have you," his friend interrupted flatly, the tone making it quite clear that it wasn't a question, and in what might have been a first for Machias around Emma he felt his temper slowly start to rise.

"N-No, but I've been making sure to keep my energy levels up," he informed her coolly, some annoyance leaking through in spite of his best efforts – something that wasn't helped by Emma swinging her gaze toward the bin filled with empty cans from the room's vending machine and looking back at him, clearly unimpressed.

"I'm sure you are. That's also not what I asked," Emma told him steadily, more and more convinced that she had stumbled onto something that should never have been left alone to start with.

Machias resisted the urge to roll his eyes skyward in disbelief. Goddess above, what was with her today?

"Well, as you can see, I'm still upright. Will that be all, or is there something I can help you with?" he demanded brusquely, not bothering to hide his irritation this time, and he tried very hard to ignore the twinge he felt upon seeing the brief flash of hurt cross her face.

She should have left after that. After all, he clearly didn't want to be bothered, and Emma wasn't in the habit of being where she wasn't wanted – there were far better things to do with her time, she reasoned.

(And maybe, just maybe, his cold dismissiveness was a lot more hurtful than it should have been, all things considered).

In spite of all that, however, Emma found it impossible to simply shove the image that had greeted her earlier out of her mind. The green haired boy leaning against the bookshelf looking like he was about to collapse had made her breath catch in alarm immediately, and she was determined to figure out why he was seemingly working himself to the breaking point, regardless of how little he thought of her presence at the moment.

"Just answer me this, please," she continued on as if he hadn't said anything at all, and it was a struggle for her not to feel slightly unnerved when she saw him look down uncomfortably. It was almost as if she was addressing the Machias from a year ago, the Machias that she swore that Class VII had helped banish, and she didn't much like the idea of her friend once again being weighed down by something to that extent. "Why are you doing this?"

Machias let out a slight exhale. Good, something he could respond to without shoving his foot further into his mouth.

"It never hurts to be prepared," the Class VII VP began, adopting much the same even tone as he did whenever he answered a question in lecture. "Though none of us may bear the responsibility of Towa as acting captain – or the duties of the other acting officers for that matter – it's well within our domain to know as much as we can about the vessel we're currently operating. To that end, constant review of the pertinent material only makes sense, doesn't it? Even if it does mean working a little harder than normal."

Emma had to resist the urge to chuckle in spite of herself. Wordy, elaborate, and without a doubt correct; the response she had received was Machias in a nutshell, really. But something still didn't sit right with her, no.

"I can certainly understand the logic," she began, carefully watching him the whole time, and upon seeing a cautious nod Emma continued speaking, unable to keep her hands from fidgeting nervously. "But don't you think it's counterproductive to be burning the candle at both ends like this? Everybody needs some downtime, and considering how hard we fought yesterday…"

"I-I don't know what you mean," the bespectacled boy answered haltingly after a moment, his voice faltering at first before returning with a forced haughtiness that made Emma's lips press into a thin line. "I'm perfectly fine. I know the limits of my body the best, and I also happen to subscribe to the theory that whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger, so – "

"Stop it."

The bespectacled boy blinked twice. "I beg your pardon?"

"Stop lying. You're terrible at it," Emma murmured, her normally clear sapphire eyes now stormy with determination. "When I walked in here you looked like you were ready to collapse, Machias. In fact, you still look like you're ready to collapse," she informed him frankly, noticing (only for the first time, she acknowledged with more than a little guilt) the dark circles around his eyes. "You can say and think what you want, but you are *not* fine. How could you be?"

He opened his mouth to retort indignantly, but a glare from the witch shut him right up. "You've apparently been waking up at dawn to come here and review since our first day onboard, and when you're not here you're helping Stefan with his database or getting kidnapped by Bleublanc – "

Machias visibly flinched at that last one, the reminder of how utterly impotent he had been in the face of the Enforcer not helping his mood one bit.

" – and in addition to all that, you've been on active duty for all four of the Spirit Shrines!"

Okay, that one he wasn't going to let slide. "So were you, in case you're forgetting!"

"The situation is very different in my case and we both know it," she fired back without hesitation, any trace of her usual passivity having long since vanished. "And if Celine and I hadn't had to have been there I highly doubt we would have been present for all four!"

A question struck her, then. "Why *were* you there for all of them, come to think of it?" she wondered, the metaphorical gears rapidly turning in her head. All of Class VII's tasks in the past had the work split evenly amongst all the members, and this one should have been no different. The only reason she could think of that would supersede that approach would be if he had – if he had…

… Oh, for the love of Aidios…!

"You talked to Rean and requested it, didn't you?" Emma asked flatly, the words carrying more than a hint of disbelief, and the brunette knew she had her answer when Machias studiously averted his eyes once more, the boy apparently finding something on the floor very interesting all of a sudden. "Machias… "

"So what if I did?" he finally mumbled, his gaze still lowered and refusing to rise. "I fail to see the issue with wanting to contribute to a worthy cause – Valimar needs that weapon. Surely that's nothing to be concerned about?"

Emma didn't know what stung more; the obvious lie, the fact her friend felt it was necessary to begin with, or said friend's absolute determination to avoid her eyes at all costs.

"I don't believe you. For that matter, I don't think *you* believe you. So could you just maybe trust me a little and tell me why you're working yourself to the bone like this? This isn't healthy Machias, and if you keep going…" she trailed off, sounding uncertain and forlorn.

The rational part of her understood that for all the growth and change that Class VII had undergone, the essence that made all of them who they were remained intact and whole. His outbursts about the nobility and academics aside, Machias Regnitz had always been reserved about himself at the best of times; that was just the way he was.

With that said, she wasn't going to delude herself – it felt horrible that he supported her with Rean and the others during her lowest moments without hesitation but it didn't seem like he believed in her enough to let her return the favor in spite of everything they – that is to say, Class VII had been through together.

It hurt. It really did, she mused sadly, and it startled her a little bit to discover just how much.

"… It's not about trust."

The quiet declaration made the girl look up, and if there was any anger left within her the regretful expression on the gunman's face dissolved it instantly. "W-What?"

"I said it's not about trust," Machias repeated, his tone carrying with it a sense of remorse. "I swear that it isn't, and I sincerely apologize if I made you think for an instant that you weren't worthy of mine. You are, and you've proven that many times over."

She wanted to believe that. She wanted to believe that so badly. But actions spoke louder than words, and Machias wasn't exactly long on words to start with. "Then why…?"

The boy inhaled deeply before letting out a long, tired sigh. "It's just… it's not your problem, Emma. You have enough on your shoulders already, and so does everybody else. You have Vita to deal with, Jusis has his family situation, Fie has her family situation, Elliot and Alisa just had… well, we all have burdens to bear. You understand that, right?"

"I do," she answered, making sure that her voice reflected none of the frustration that was starting to build again. "But what I don't get is why you feel that you have to deal with yours alone. There's not a single one of our classmates – not even Jusis – who wouldn't be willing to support you the way that you've done for us. You understand *that*, right? You can talk to us, you know!"

Machias couldn't help but chuckle somberly at that, all too aware of his particular shortcoming in that area. "Oh yes, because I'm exceptionally gifted in the art of solemn, weighty conversations. I'd have given serious consideration to motivational speaking if Rean didn't have that market cornered already," he said dryly, reaching up to remove his glasses for a cleaning. "Come on, Emma. I'm just... I'm not good at sharing with others. I never have been."

A brief moment, his words hanging heavily in the air. Then…

"… I think you're wrong. About the 'not good at sharing', I mean," she clarified, a tiny smile working its way onto her face upon seeing his surprise. "You've never seemed to have that problem with me," Emma continued as she moved closer to him, precious memories of conversations over chessboards and tea lingering under every word. "Don't tell me you've forgotten, because I'll be very upset with you if you have."

"You're being ridiculous," Machias coughed, clearing his throat while somehow managing to fight off a blush when he realized what exactly she was alluding to. "That's… that's different and you know it."

"I don't see how it is," Emma chided her friend gently. "You were able to talk to me before, so talk to me now. Please? It's not as if we don't have time."

Her request was innocent, devoid of any deeper meaning, but nevertheless it kept ringing in Machias' ears, taunting him over and over again, and within the sudden din the gunman felt something that had already been hanging by a thread finally – mercifully, as he would later discover – snap like a twig in a hurricane.

There were a few moments of silence before the green haired boy's shoulders began to shake with sudden laughter, taking her by surprise. There was no mirth or joy in the sound, however; it was subdued, low, and there was a worn out bitterness to it that made Emma wonder exactly what was going on. "Machias?"

"Of course we have time," he agreed, any trace of sheepishness or embarrassment having seemingly vanished in a matter of seconds. "I've have had nothing but time since Thors fell under control of the Noble Alliance. For that matter, I've had nothing but time since Heimdallr suffered the same fate. Days, months… luckily for me, there's been no shortage of things to do. You've heard the idiom about idle hands, I'm sure?"

Emma bit her lip, forcing herself not to respond. For all the alarms that this was setting off – and there were many – she had a feeling in her gut that for better or for worse, this was exactly what he needed.

"It was simple staying occupied at the beginning; Elliot, Fie and I were engaged in reconnaissance around Celdic while trying to stay incognito, which was easier said than done… though you probably already knew that. Eventually Rean showed up, and after that the search for the rest of Class VII was underway – a hectic time, yes, but personally I wouldn't have had it any other way."

He was talking faster now, his words coming far more animatedly than they ever did, and the jarring contrast might have been almost funny if not for his obvious distress. "It seemed we didn't have a moment to spare, considering we were recruiting our Thors classmates left and right in addition to lending assistance to the people in the towns we came across, and I was only too glad to help. I wasn't doing anything else, so better to be productive, right?" he said rhetorically, turning around to gesture toward the books with an exaggerated flourish, and the brief glimpse of pain she caught in his eyes did nothing to alleviate her worries.

"You wanted to know why I'm doing all this?" he finally asked, sounding far wearier than anyone their age should have. "Volunteering for all the Shrines, the research, helping Stefan with his database? I do it because it makes me feel useful. I do it because it helps everyone else on-board the Courageous." He swallowed hard, unable to stem the tide of emotion, and some part of him distantly recognized that the blurriness that now plagued his vision had nothing to do with his eyes being poor.

"But most importantly," Machias uttered, with another forced laugh that sounded suspiciously like a strangled sob, "I do it because it lets me forget that the last of my family is in the hands of a group of people who will only keep him alive and unharmed so long as they're winning, and I haven't been able to do a damn thing about it. Not. One. Thing."

And there it was. Maybe admitting it out loud should have been cathartic in some sad way, but all the boy felt was the same poisonous mix of fear and helplessness that he had been trying to suppress relentlessly ever since Thors. Meeting Rean and the others had temporarily assuaged that, but even that only went so far. Left to his own devices, his keen mind could only ever focus on the worst case scenario: that the Alliance would decide that a treasonous Governor would be an acceptable loss in the grand scheme of things and would then render the only punishment suitable for such a crime, all while he himself could only stand and do nothing. Nothing at all.

Losing Sis had been hard enough. To lose his father too would just be…

Machias wasn't aware how hard he was biting his lip until he could taste the distinctive tang of blood. Closing his eyes, he exhaled raggedly and leaned against the bookshelf again, the vertigo from earlier having made its return with a vengeance and trying its best to lay him low. He was all too aware how this must have looked to Emma, who still hadn't said anything, but keeping silent was arguably the kindest thing she could have done under the circumstances and he was nothing if not grateful.

He didn't know what to do anymore. Goddess above, he was just so tired.

"So, still think I'm good at sharing now?" he asked sardonically, still having not turned to face Emma, and whatever he was about to say next died a quick death when he felt a pair of slim arms encircle him from behind in an embrace, making his eyes fly open in surprise and stirring memories from months before. "Em – "

"Hush," the brunette murmured soothingly, resting her head in between his shoulder blades, and she couldn't help but think that he felt exactly as she remembered. His lean form was warm and solid against her slight frame, and it was moments like these when Emma found it very hard to set aside that her fellow representative happened to be rather attractive. "It's okay. Breathe, Machias. Breathe," she continued, feeling his rapid heartbeat through his thick jacket. "It's all right. Everything's going to be all right."

There was no well-intentioned deception nor empty platitudes in her words, just utter kindness and pure belief, and Machias could only wish that he shared her optimism. "Don't say that," he pleaded silently, every fiber of his being wanting to believe her without hesitation in spite of himself. "You can't possibly know what's to come, so don't pretend like your powers suddenly include clairvoyance now! That's not… you can't…"

"It will," she assured him, her kindness and comfort radiating over him in waves and with every second he found himself wanting to believe her just a little bit more. "It *will*," she repeated, more than ready to say it again and again until the sentiment finally sank in.

"Believe me. Believe me. Believemebelievemebelievemebelieveme...!"

"… How?" he finally whispered painfully, sounding as lost and confused as Emma had ever heard him, and she could only tighten her hold on him in response. Had he really been carrying this the whole time, without saying a word to anyone? Why was he bearing this all by himself?

"Because," she answered easily, letting go so she could grasp his shoulders and gently turn him around, and seeing the sadness and fear that lay in his dark eyes made her heart ache. "We're going to make sure of it. You might not have been able to do anything by yourself, but that went for the rest of us as well when we were separated, right? We're Class VII, Machias, and Rean said it himself; we're the best there is. Now that we're all together, we're going to rescue your father, we're going to rescue Elise, and then we're going to stop whatever the Noble Alliance has planned while making sure Crow comes back with us in the process."

A pause. "We've come so far already, and there's nothing that can stop us from seeing this through to the end. We can't do any less, and we won't do any less."

The confidence in her words served to lift his spirits further still, and for the first time in a long while the weight that Machias had been carrying seemed to lighten, sloughing off his shoulders and allowing him to breathe just a little bit more easily, the dark swell of doubt gradually being replaced by the bright light of hope.

"Ha. And I suppose this will be as easy as you make it sound, then?" he half-barked, but the change in his voice was impossible to miss.

"Oh heavens no," Emma answered, shaking her head while a relieved expression worked its way onto her face. He had sounded somewhat like himself again, and while exhaustion still tinged every word the witch was immensely glad to have her friend back. "But then again, that hasn't stopped us before. Why would it now? As I recall, it was supposed to be near impossible to find enough Zemurian Ore to do what Professor Schmidt requested, and lo and behold…"

"I-I suppose that's true – "

"It was also supposed to be impossible for us to put on a concert that would equal or surpass the one Towa and the others put on, but we managed to do that too, didn't we?"

"Okay," Machias began, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards almost imperceptibly. "Now you're starting to reach – "

"And," Emma went on, seemingly ignoring the green haired boy's token protests, "If I recall correctly, the word impossible was bandied around quite a bit when we both tied for the top score on the midterms."

As expected, the VP reacted as if he had been splashed with a bucket of cold water. Of course. Of course exams would be brought up at some point. "There's not going to be a tie next time, mark my words," he muttered sullenly under his breath, and Machias was surprised when her happy laughter rang throughout the room. "What? What's so funny?"

"Oh, nothing really," Emma told him easily, a warm smile on her face. "I'm just relieved to see *our* Machias again, that's all. You dizzy spell had me concerned when I first walked in."

"Yes, well, that's…" he trailed off, looking uncertain again, and Emma took matters into her own hands by grasping his lightly and tugging him towards the desk. "Hey, what – "

"Sit," she told him, her tone as friendly as it could be while leaving no room for argument, and much to his chagrin Machias found himself obeying without a second thought. Emma followed suit moments later, settling down next to him in a chair of her own with a quiet sigh, their fingers still entwined all the while. Truthfully he wasn't sure if Emma didn't notice or didn't care, but he wasn't about to start complaining.

A few moments passed, neither person saying a word. Emma chanced a quick glance in the boy's direction only to see him with his eyes closed tightly again; another bout of dizziness, she imagined. Luckily, this one seemed to pass faster than the one she had originally witnessed, and the first thing Machias saw was Emma, her delicate features creased in concern.

"Are you feeling a little better now?" she murmured.

"A little," Machias admitted, unable to avoid a pained wince. "The headaches come and go in spells, but they're generally not too bad. If anything, they hit me hardest when I'm not doing anything."

"Mm. You should probably have taken that as a sign that something was wrong, but… that's actually not what I was talking about," she finished with a chastising frown – something that looked far more appealing on her than it should have, all things considered.

Machias chuckled a little at that, surprised at how much he relished the feeling. It had been so long since he had laughed for real that he had almost forgotten how good it felt. "I gathered as much." Impulsively, he gave her hand a quick squeeze and he was more than a little relieved to feel her return the gesture immediately. "I do feel better, actually. I feel better than I have in quite some time, if I'm being perfectly honest."

"You see?" Emma said with more than a little triumphant relish, the relief evident in her voice as she scooted a little closer to him. "This is why we *talk* to our friends, Machias. Isn't a welcoming ear better than endless stacks of books, trudging through ancient temples and whatever is in those concoctions you've been relying on to keep awake?" she asked playfully, idly resting against his shoulder.

"If you're expecting a speech on how much better your approach is, then you're in for a long wait," he quipped, unable to keep a small grin from forming upon seeing her mock pout. "That said… I'm sorry," he apologized, looking down at his boots in chagrin upon replaying his initial behavior in his head. Goddess only knows he wouldn't have blamed Emma if she had simply chosen to walk out.

"Sorry for what?" she repeated, genuinely surprised. "If the next words out of his mouth are any form of apology for 'wasting my time' or something equally as ridiculous, so help me…"

"For acting like such a jerk when you initially came to check up on me," he sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "For making you worry enough to come find me in the first place, for making you think that I didn't trust you earlier… for everything I could have done better, really. You didn't deserve any of it."

"O-Oh," she murmured, her lips curling up ever so slightly. She supposed that was all right, then. "You don't have to, Machias. At the very least, I can understand where you were coming from – I may not condone your chosen method of coping in the slightest," she said archly, drawing a sheepish look from her friend, "but I do understand."

"Even so. It was still uncalled for, and I apologize." His tone was as stiff and formal as it was in class, and it took Emma quite a bit of willpower to keep a straight face. Always so serious, that one.

"Forgiven," she replied lightly, a faint touch of red on her cheeks upon realizing that she hadn't exactly been above taking a cheap shot of her own. "But while we're on the subject… I'm sorry for bringing up Bleublanc. That wasn't at all fair on my part."

He huffed a little in annoyance at that, though she knew him well enough to see that it was for show more than anything else. "Ugh. As much as I hate to admit it there was a legitimate point to be made. I'd like to think that had my faculties been all there that I wouldn't have been so careless…"

"Oh, I don't think it would have mattered. I'm sure he could have picked any of us and had just as much success – despite how he acts and looks, he's still an Enforcer. You just drew the short straw, that's all."

"Hmph. Still trying to make me feel better, I see."

"Maybe," she shrugged, schooling her expression into a poor imitation of 'Class VII Vice President Stoicism' before looking at him expectantly. "Is it working?"

"… It might if you stop looking at me like that," he cracked, and he decided a few seconds later that the light swat she gave him had been worth it. "Ow! On second thought, let me amend my answer; no."

"Mean," she muttered, shooting a glare at Machias that was somehow managing to be equal parts withering and adorable. "This is what I get for worrying about my fellow class official, is it?" Emma demanded, crossing her arms with a theatrically raised eyebrow.

Machias laughed again, longer and louder this time, and she decided that it was a sound that she really would like to hear more of. "I assure you, it's not something that you'll have to be doing on a regular basis."

"I'd better not," the witch told him fiercely, her expression turning serious. "I really was worried when I saw you ready to black out, you know." She stopped speaking for a moment, her eyes softening upon seeing the guilt creep back into onto his face. "Just… just don't scare me like that again, okay?" she said quietly, the girl not once wondering why she had chosen to say 'me' instead of 'us' and the boy not once thinking it was odd or out of place.

"I won't," he promised, and before he could stop himself it he reached out and slipped an arm around her shoulders to pull her against his side, with Emma relaxing into his touch like it was the most natural thing in the world.

This was nice, she decided, slumping bonelessly against Machias with nary a hint of an embarrassed blush. It felt cozy, like curling up with a blanket and a good book after a long, hard day… all they needed was some tea, really, and then -

"Emma," Machias began thoughtfully, snapping her out of it and causing the mage to fix him with a questioning look. "I should have asked this earlier, but better late than never – are *you* doing all right after yesterday?" he continued, his tone a little cautious. "The battle was taxing enough, but Mis – er, Vita seemed to be taking a little bit too much relish in dispensing her… information," he finished, a look of distaste reflecting just how he felt about that.

"Hehe," Emma laughed, and the surprise on Machias' face made her laugh more. She couldn't stop herself; he had sounded so much like Celine had earlier, it was beyond uncanny (though she wasn't sure which of the two would be more offended by the comparison). "Oh, very much so. It was certainly difficult to hear what she had to say, but ultimately I do feel that it was something I needed to acknowledge and understand, even if she was being very… let's be charitable and say 'petty', shall we?"

Machias snorted. "You would be forgiven if you wanted to pick a stronger adjective, I think."

"I suppose," she said mildly. "Don't get me wrong, I'm not at all happy with the way she went about it, or with anything else she's done in the past year or so," Emma continued, "but the fact remains she wasn't wrong about my duty as a Hexen Clan witch… and it didn't matter that she wasn't wrong, because I knew that I had Class VII's support behind me all the way. Amazing what that can do, hmm?"

"Well, I'm just glad to hear that you're okay," he told her, hand coming up to reflexively adjust his glasses. "Nice tug at the heartstrings at the end there, shameless as it was. Has the Literature Club taught you nothing about the virtue of subtlety?"

"Believe me, there's nothing subtle about the Literature Club's work," Emma intoned amusedly, very thankful that Dorothee hadn't crossed paths with either Jusis or Machias since she had boarded the Courageous. "But speaking of Vita… I did have something I was curious about."

He sent her an inquisitive sideways glance. "Hmm? What is it?"

"I noticed that you seem to have a habit of calling her Misty. I was just wondering why – I mean, I know that she ran some kind of radio show in Trista, but beyond that I know very little about her tenure there thanks to the geass she cast to keep me from listening to it."

"Oh, that. I guess it did help that until recently I had only known them as two separate people," he answered, pushing up his glasses as he spoke. "To be honest, I think it's because I feel like Misty was more of a real person than Vita was for a long time; surprising, considering that the former was the disguise. I had known of Vita for a while before Thors, but having never met her… "

That was news. "Wait, you did?" Emma asked, clearly surprised. "How?"

"I'm surprised you didn't hear about it during our field study in Heimdallr, but then again maybe she engineered it that way. Vita Clotilde was quite a renowned opera singer in the capital – she burst onto the scene as something of an unknown prodigy a few years ago, possessing talent that those with two or three decades of experience simply couldn't match. Suffice to say she started headlining quite quickly, not only because of her ability, but her personality and… um…"

"Oh, I understand completely. The voice and the charisma would be enough of a draw on their own, but when you add her looks into the equation…" Emma finished, a grin on her face that she didn't quite feel.

"… Yes. That's quite an apt summary." The boy coughed, his cheeks reddening in embarrassment with no attempt at a denial, and as irrational as it was Emma could feel her good mood rapidly eroding. "But more than that… she seemed to go out of her way to help the city. She did charity work, hospital visits, and you would never hear any fan speak ill of her had they the fortune to meet her face to face. She conducted herself as well off the stage as she did on it, and she seemed to genuinely love Heimdallr. Make no mistake, Heimdallr loved her right back, Elliot and myself included."

He sighed wistfully again. "With the benefit of hindsight, the nicest thing I can probably say is that there were more diabolical ways of getting in close with the capital's elite she could have gone with and I'll leave it at that. It sounds a little pathetic, I know, but…"

"Not at all," Emma conceded, the annoyance she felt disappearing even as an all too familiar envy reared its ugly head. "When you put it that way, it does make sense. I… I didn't know she was that popular, though I guess it doesn't surprise me. She was very always talented."

"Mm. Anyway, that was Vita in a nutshell. Beloved as she was to the city, she always seemed like someone that you admired from afar because you'd never even dreamed that you'd meet her up close. Probably a good thing for most of the citizens, because they'd almost certainly do what Elliot and I did and make total fools of themselves. As for Vita-as-Misty," he continued hastily upon feeling the witch stiffen against him, "that's a simpler case. Hearing her talk to all of Trista week after week made her listeners feel like she was part of their lives, and there's no doubt that kind of connection really resonates with people. Plus in my case, there was more than a little nostalgia involved."

Emma blinked. "Nostalgia?"

"Sis and I used to listen to shows like Misty's all the time," Machias admitted easily, a fond smile of remembrance on his face. "When I first got to Thors and I was still having trouble adjusting to being part of Class VII, Abend Time reminded me a lot of home. Again, with hindsight being what it is I can safely say that it was because I already knew what the host sounded like… though that's not something I would have known back then. It also helped that she ran an amazing show behind her microphone."

"She did?" Emma asked dully, already knowing what the answer was going to be. "She did. Of course she did. What kind of question is that?"

"Oh, there's no doubting that it was stellar radio. But to be fair, that arguably had just as much to do with the production team as it did with Misty."

"I… I see," she mumbled, dropping her gaze toward the floor. "It sounds like you looked up to her almost as much as I did, then!" Emma laughed, the sound coming out as tinny and forced, and she could only pray that Machias didn't notice and think that he had done anything to upset her. After all, she had been the one to ask, and it wasn't his fault that Vita turned heads...

"No. That's not the case at all, Emma."

The toneless, flat reply took Emma by surprise, and she found herself staring at the bespectacled boy wondering if she had heard him correctly. "I'm sorry?"

"Vita was someone I admired, that's for certain, but she's your sister in all but blood, right? There's no comparison to be made, and that's actually why I was so concerned earlier. To hear the things she said would be bad enough coming from a neutral party, but from an older sibling that you admire…" he trailed off, not quite sure what to say next, and Emma, despite everything, found herself sighing affectionately. It was a sweet sentiment, and it wasn't as if she was unaware of the large gap between her and Vita in pretty much anything they did.

"Actually, it's almost funny in a way. In spite of everything she's said and done, it's still hard not to think of her as my big sister. The sister that I played with, the sister I was taught by… the sister that I tried so hard to keep up with and never could," she finished with a self-deprecating sigh. "It can't even be called sibling rivalry considering the differences between us. I'd be lying if I said that it wasn't frustrating – "

" – most of the time – "

" – on occasion," she finished distantly.

Celine would have sniffed disdainfully and say that she should have been above self-pity parties by now, but Emma could only ever call it as she saw it. Vita was Vita, and it seemed like no matter what Emma did it seemed like she would always be watching her back and trying mightily not to let it get too far out of reach.

So deep in thought was Emma that she had to be jolted out of her brief reverie by the disbelieving voice of Machias, who sounded like the brunette had just uttered the heresy to end all heresies. "You can't actually think that," he protested, the indignance practically radiating off him. How could someone so talented and hard-working think so little of their abilities? It simply didn't make sense, and Machias was no fan of the nonsensical.

Emma shrugged helplessly, not entirely sure what he wanted to hear. "I-I mean, I'd love to say it's not true, and I'll certainly admit that I've come a long way, but she's still an Anguis of Ouroboros, someone that ranks even above their Enforcers. I'm just not on her level – "

"Yet," he finished quietly, pinning her gaze with his own and there was no doubting the steel in his voice. "Maybe you're not on her level *yet*. But take it from someone who's fought beside you against the woman you're talking about, okay? You're going to catch up to her eventually, and what's more? After you've done that, you're going to forge ahead with the rest of us and she's going to be left in your dust."

The boy's eyes were smoldering now as he closed the gap, the fierce intensity only bolstering the force behind his words and Emma found herself unable to speak for a moment, all too aware of how red her complexion was turning and unable to stop it. "B-But – " she stammered weakly, fumbling to find something to say but finding it difficult to protest that he was giving her far too much credit when he was so, so close…

"Your dust, Emma, and there are no 'buts' about it. You will," Machias promised, only riges away now, and she felt her breath catch for a moment or two as she had the ridiculous (suddenscaryappealing) notion that he was about to kiss her and she was about to let him -

And she wasn't sure if she should have been relieved or disappointed when he instead drew her into a hug. It was a proper one this time, their first, and Emma had to hold back a soft gasp and shiver at the foreign sensation of his fingertips ghosting over the exposed skin of her nape. Far from being unwelcome, she felt herself relax at his touch and decided right then that she was very comfortable right where she was.

And she was comfortable, of that there was no doubt. Remarkably so, as a matter of fact.

"For someone who's as stiff and prickly as you make yourself look sometimes," Emma thought drolly, letting her arms ease around his waist with a sound that was a cross between an amused giggle and a content purr, "you give amazing hugs."

Meanwhile, Machias found himself suffering from a mild case of overload; as if deciding (for some ostensibly insane reason that he would try and fail to figure out later) that hugging the Class VII President was the wisest course of action wasn't bad enough, he hadn't been remotely prepared for the utter onslaught upon his senses that came with it. Suddenly, he was acutely aware that her heart was beating as fast as his, her hair smelled absolutely amazing, and she just felt…

"Soft," he thought, resisting the urge to push his luck to the breaking point and run his fingers through the chestnut sea just below him. "She's so soft…"

A rumbling sensation near his chest caught his attention before his brain could take that train of thought down tracks that were as dangerous as they were tempting, and it took him a second to realize that Emma was chuckling.

"You might have been onto something with that motivational speech remark," she teased, rather enjoying the view she had of the blush slowly working its way onto his face. "While yours aren't quite as flowery, they're very effective in their own way."

"… I-I suppose it would be rude to not accept the compliment in the spirit that it was given," Machias replied, trying as hard as he could to sound solemn, and the impish grin she gave him hardly helped matters. "… You can stop laughing at me now."

"I'm sorry," she 'apologized', her left hand drawing random patterns on the stiff fabric of his military jacket while a small smile played over her lips.

His eyebrow twitched at the obvious lie. "No, you're not."

Emma let out a pleasant sigh. "No, I'm not."

His eyebrow twitched harder at the shameless admission. "Oh for the love of – you aren't even capable of mustering up even a token effort? Really?"

"Too comfy," she shrugged, eyes glinting with amusement.

"Hmph. Lovely."

There was a lull in the conversation for a few moments, both teenagers lost in their own thoughts. Machias, for his part, was trying hard to keep exhaustion from settling in even more than it already had; while the physical symptoms were bad enough, there was something that was oddly tiring about emotional catharsis that was only making matters worse.

In a matter of minutes, he had stared down everything that had been haunting him since the fall of Thors, leaving him feeling raw, exposed, and utterly vulnerable in a way that he suspected he would never get used to. Machias supposed that was the price of cowardice, for burying his head in the sand and choosing denial over reality for so long…

… And he couldn't help but swallow hard when he realized just how effectively the girl in his arms soothed that pain. The gunman was many things, but he was neither ignorant nor a fool and Machias would have to have been both to not to grasp that over the course of their friendship something had changed fundamentally in how he viewed the brunette.

Oh, he had no problem admitting – only to himself, of course, because there was no way he could have said it out loud without coming off like a hormonal wreck – that Emma was beautiful in every sense of the word, though he would also vigorously argue that anyone who wasn't literally blind would share that same opinion. So long as that wasn't the sole criteria through which someone was evaluated, surely there wasn't anything wrong with acknowledging a person's physical attributes, right? Certainly not, and furthermore he was absolutely sure that the warm joy he had felt when she had rejoined the group was only appropriate for a returning comrade.

Except unfortunately for his sanity, it didn't end there. It had started with acquaintanceship before they became classmates, and over the days and months that had become a genuine friendship, a bond between trusted partners in combat and rivals in academia. That connection had naturally led to fondness and trust, which had led to affection, which led to… whatever it was now, and damned if Machias knew what to label it.

He talked to her when he might not have talked to anyone else, and she had been more than worth the pain. That very well may have said it all.

"You're attracted to her," his traitorous brain ever so 'helpfully' pointed out, thus putting Machias in the odd position of telling himself to shut the hell up. "You're attracted to her, and from what you've seen today there's at least a possibility that she's attracted to you too for whatever reason, so why don't you just – "

"Machias?" Emma called, breaking his trance, and he wasn't entirely sure if he was grateful for the interruption or not.

"What is it?" he asked, detecting in her voice a note of… shyness?

"You…" she started, pulling back to look at him head on. She felt more than a little silly, but at the same time, this was something she truly needed to hear. "You really… you really meant everything you said about Vita and I, right?"

He nodded firmly. "Every word, Emma," he replied truthfully, unable to do anything less upon hearing the hope in her voice. "I've competed with you, fought beside you, and lest I forget; performed on the same stage as you." He cringed involuntarily at the last one, summoning up all his willpower to avoid an inopportune flashback; at the moment, thinking of Emma in an outfit that flattered and accentuated her everything could in no way end well for him, appealing as the image was. "Believe me when I say that you're poised to catch Vita in every way that matters. How could you not? You're amazing."

The green haired boy immediately wanted to bang his head against the table seconds after the words left his mouth – talk about letting your inner voice run away with you – but he was relieved to see that it didn't look as though Emma minded in the slightest.

"… Did you have to bring up the concert?" Emma protested meekly, reacting to straightforward praise about as well as Machias himself did and belatedly wondering which one of them would end up blushing more today. "Amazing," she repeated internally, suddenly feeling very warm. "Hmm."

"I see no reason why I shouldn't in your case. Your performance was excellent, and you should enjoy remembering it. I, on the other hand, sang with Jusis Albarea, something I only wish I could forget."

The memory of how poorly the two boys had taken that particular announcement from Elliot brought up a snicker from Emma, though in all fairness she herself had only been marginally better upon being told about her solo. "Hehe. You can hold a note quite splendidly too, if I do say so myself. And between you and Jusis, the matching outfits were a fine – "

Machias cleared his throat loudly. "Ahem. Anyway," he continued, stealing a quick glance at Emma and regretting it immediately, the fading redness and her mischievous expression making for an alluring sight. "I've… I've said my piece on the matter, and I'm sure Rean and the others would agree with me. You can lay any worries to rest; she'll be the one having to play catch up when all is said and done."

"It'll have to be after we rescue your father and Elise then, won't it?" Emma told him, a tender smile alighting upon her face. "Things haven't swung so far against the Alliance that they would turn to their last resort, and with Captain Claire and everyone else helping us, it's only going to be a matter of time. We'll save them, Machias. I'm sure of it."

"And then we move on to stopping whatever Vita has planned and dragging Crow back with us – kicking and screaming, if need be," Machias finished determinedly. "Maybe you'll be able to kill two birds with one stone and make Vita go home with you, too."

"I wouldn't bet on it," Emma chuckled, shrugging her shoulders in resignation. "My guess is that she's already got contingencies with Ouroboros ready to be deployed if necessary. It's a shame; my grandmother wouldn't mind having a word with her, along with the rest of the village elders."

That was the epitome of understatement if he had ever heard it. "A stern word, I imagine."

"Very stern," she laughed. "It would make for an interesting day if Class VII suddenly showed up with her in tow, that's for sure."

"If nothing else, it would give us an excuse to see your village. We haven't exactly heard too much about it… er, not that there's anything wrong with that," he amended hastily, trying to backpedal when he heard how suspicious his words sounded out loud. "I-I mean, your reasons are perfectly rational and we all understand that keeping the true nature of your duty under wraps was a key part of – "

A sudden finger on his lips was enough to stem the tide before he dug himself any deeper. "Stop talking, Machias," she said flatly, the sparkle of mirth in her eyes serving to tell him that no harm was done. "I'd… I'd like very much for all of you to see my home someday, if possible. While the Hexen *are* very secretive by necessity, I could easily see an exception being made for Class VII. Plus, it would only be fair; I've seen all of your hometowns through field studies or via this ship. I'd certainly like to return the favor."

Machias sent an amused glance Emma's way. "I should point out that if we're being technical, you only saw half of Heimdallr. You missed out on where Elliot and I grew up, though the full tour of the Ost District would be best put on hold until the city's been liberated. Not that there's much to see and do other than patronize the neighborhood businesses and play with the never-ending supply of cats that hang around there."

"I was a little curious about the side of the city that my group didn't get the chance to see," she admitted, her ears perking up at the mention of cats. "Are they friendly?"

"Generally. Unless you happen to be a rat, in which case you'd be quaking in your little furry boots and praying that the rodent scourge of the Ost District would decide to be kind and let you escape unscathed."

… Okay, Emma was relatively sure that she heard that last part right, but she really, really wanted to be sure. "I'm sorry; did you just say the 'rodent scourge of the Ost District'?" she repeated, trying very hard not to grin.

"The only and only," Machias informed her with no small amount of pride in his voice. "Mr. Tiddles has been the virtual king of the neighborhood cats for as long as I can remember, and not a single house or business has complained about vermin infestations during his reign!"

She would not laugh. She would *not* laugh.

"Let me see if I understand this correctly. The Ost District has a rodent scourge," she began in a small voice, for fear that if she spoke any louder she'd break down into a fit of giggles. "And his name is Mr. Tiddles?"

"Yes… I think. Truth be told, he's been around for so long that Dad says that it could be a title instead of a name," Machias admitted, looking somewhat perplexed.

Emma couldn't resist. "Was it inherited from a predecessor, or did he earn it via conquest of Heimdallr's feline population?"

"And now that I think about it, maybe you don't need to see the other part of Heimdallr after all," came a haughty sniff that was vintage Machias. "You seem to be doing an excellent job of mocking it without firsthand knowledge."

"I am not mocking anything," she protested, unable to keep a straight face in spite of her best efforts. "I just feel that if I were to see… him," Emma managed to get out, knowing that any attempt at uttering the cat's name/title/whatever was going to be a lost cause from the get go, "it would be best for me to know how to address him respectfully, seeing as Celine probably won't. Even though she should, seeing as how rodent scourge sounds like quite the illustrious occupation. And he's a king on top of that?"

"… After hearing that tripe, I can't believe you had the temerity to call me a terrible liar."

"Oh, I only did that because you are. But I already forgave you for lying anyway."

"You did, didn't you? What a magnanimous President you are," he retorted in a manner that would have been quite snarky if not for the sudden yawn that rudely interrupted him.

Emma didn't bother hiding her smile this time. "Someone sounds tired."

"T-That's not it!" he snapped reflexively, and there was enough conviction in his words that if he hadn't yawned again immediately after he might have been halfway convincing.

"Mm hmm. You'll forgive me if I don't believe you."

"… Fine. Maybe a little," he grudgingly conceded, his willful mind finally permitting his body to admit defeat. "Perhaps the last couple of weeks have taken a greater toll than I thought."

"Maybe, he says. Perhaps, he says," Emma grumbled, turning her palms upwards in a 'what can you do?' gesture. "Boys. I can only wonder how Alisa dealt with Rean's decision to take care of all those requests today instead of recovering…"

"Very thoroughly, if I had to hazard a guess," Machias quipped, knowing that the blonde, while having come a long way, still wasn't averse to being a little more forceful than necessary if it got her point across.

"One can only hope," she sighed, before rising to her feet and extending her hand. "Come on."

Machias blinked, curious. "Come on to… where, exactly?" he asked, allowing himself to be pulled upright.

"Here's what's going to happen. First, we're going to go to the cafeteria, where you're going to eat a proper meal that's been cooked by Nicholas instead of drinking one that's been manufactured and canned by Reinford – no offense meant to Alisa. After that, you're going to go to a bunk and go to sleep or fall unconscious, whichever comes first."

The boy had to admit to being torn. On the one hand, both those things sounded beyond heavenly right now. On the other hand… his work ethic died hard, and there were at least a few more volumes he had to get through before he was willing to call it a day.

When in doubt, compromise. "That sounds fine to me. Just give me a few minutes to finish these off and we can – "

"No," Emma said firmly, tugging on the gunman so hard he nearly stumbled forward before he caught himself. "Consider this an executive decision as Class VII's President."

"An executive – "

"You heard me. I'm pulling rank, Machias." She put her hands on her hips, practically daring the VP to refuse.

Machias being Machias, did not disappoint. "Excuse me!?" he demanded indignantly, appearing as displeased as Emma had ever seen him. "On what grounds could you possibly get away with such a ludicrous assertion?"

"It's quite simple. We tied on the midterms, and our finals are yet to come, meaning that the two percent I outscored you by on the entrance exams still puts me ahead," she informed him primly, trying very hard not to enjoy the sight of his jaw dropping. Normally it took Jusis to get him this riled up, so she felt a certain sense of accomplishment was called for. "So there."

Had Celine been there, she undoubtedly would have described the young man's borderline implosion as magical. "Y-You – that's utterly – I can't believe –" he sputtered ineffectually, the brunette's keen ears catching 'tyrant' and 'abuse of power' among his many ramblings – ramblings that stopped momentarily when she reached out to give his shoulder a quick pat.

"I'll gladly hear any complaints you have on the way to the mess hall," Emma sing-songed triumphantly, turning to lead their way out and half-wondering how she was going to explain to her familiar why she had been gone for so long. Knowing her, she was expecting pointed questions at first before she segued into borderline obscene innuendo that would probably make Dorothee herself nod in manic approval.

"This is ridiculous," Machias groused, thankfully (in theory) having recovered enough to form complete sentences. "Words cannot describe my disdain for you right now, I hope you know." He fixed her with an imperious stare that would have had any Thors student who wasn't part of Class VII suddenly remember that they had better things to do than remain in the VP's intimidating presence. She, of course, was not among that group.

"Liar," came the amused sigh, Emma favoring the gunman with a playful smile all the while. "You still like me just fine and we both know it."

The color that his face turned was remarkably close to that of the Class VII uniform jacket, she observed with no small amount of interest.

"First off, it's in exceedingly poor taste be so flagrantly presumptuous. Second, I fail to see how my being fond of you personally has *anything* to do with my refusal to condone your sudden totalitarian streak!" he snapped unthinkingly.

You could have heard a pin drop.

There was a pregnant pause as his words sank in for both of them, and Machias found himself slowly – almost mechanically – turning toward Emma again, and the wide eyes and rose tinted cheeks that greeted him said all that needed to be said. "… Um."

Emma tried in vain to speak, to put voice to her suddenly scrambled thoughts, but all she managed after a few incoherent squeaks she wasn't even sure were supposed to be words or not was a weak sounding "… Fond?"

He was blushing even harder now, it seemed like. Goddess above, how was that even possible? Maybe Albarea had a point, as much as he loathed to admit it; he really did have to learn when to shut up. "W-Well, I mean you're a very valued comrade," Machias stuttered, trying in vain to see if he could yank the foot out of his mouth before he did any more damage. "And over the time we've known each other, I, uh… you… you're…"

"Machias?" Emma said, her heart racing as she cursed her – and his, for that matter – sudden inability to speak in anything that resembled complete sentences. This wasn't any easier for her to try and hear than it was for him to try and say, and it really, really didn't help that she wasn't even sure what she was hoping for.

"I said it earlier, didn't I? You're amazing, Emma. You're amazing, you're intelligent, you're gorgeous, I trust you unconditionally and for the life of me I have no idea what I'm supposed to do with any of this."

And maybe, he grasped with a sudden and welcome burst of clarity, that was okay. Maybe with all the insanity going on in the Empire, it was fine that neither of them had the answer to… whatever this was. And if neither of them had the answer, then they would just have to seek out and find it. They were the top two members of Class VII, after all. Finding answers was what they excelled at.

"… It's just changed, I think," Machias finally admitted quietly, a slow smile forming that made the witch's breath catch.

"What has?" she asked, stepping closer to him now, her voice reasonably steady and strong compared to before, the shakiness disappearing in the face of his warmth.

"This," he replied, waving a hand between the two of them. "You. Me. Everything."

In spite of the weighty topic, Emma couldn't stop from giggling at least a little. "I don't suppose you'd mind being a little more specific."

He shrugged helplessly. "If I could, I would," Machias told her, honesty coating every word as his hands rose up to rest on her shoulders. "All I know is that if anyone else had tried to do what you did today, even Rean… I don't think they would have succeeded."

"Is that a fact?" the girl murmured, her lips curling upwards even more. Sometimes it was what people didn't say that made all the difference, she found. "Why, though? Why would it be different with the others?"

"Ugh. You really have no designs on making this easier for me, do you?" came a pained groan, followed by an eye roll when upon seeing her sympathetic look. "It's different because… well, *you're* different. I know that hardly explains anything at all," he admitted, "but it's the best I can do for now."

A few beats. "I'm sorry," he apologized, still feeling a little foolish in spite of his epiphany. Regardless if he was confused or not, the girl in front of him deserved better than rambling non-sequiturs. "I'm… I'm still trying to figure out this sort of thing."

Understatement of his life.

"Don't worry," Emma assured him, tenderly cupping the side of his face with one hand before she leaned up on her tip-toes to press a feather light kiss to his cheek, perhaps lingering a touch longer than was strictly necessary. If at any point she had noticed how close her lips came to the corner of his mouth, she certainly didn't show it. "Y-You're doing fine. I'm not exactly an old hand at this either, Machias," she finished, blushing ferociously at her own daring. "But if it helps any… I've become rather fond of you, myself."

The boy couldn't help but laugh then, letting go of the breath that he didn't know that he'd been holding. "That's a relief," he uttered softly, his already deep voice sounding even lower in the intimate space, and Emma found herself closing her eyes as he leaned forward to rest his forehead against hers gently, the contact sending shivers down her spine. "Okay?" he breathed.

"Okay," Emma whispered back, her palms resting against his broad chest and the pulse of his steady heartbeat ghosting across her skin, filling her with a sense of calm and peace. It was almost like she belonged there, and maybe she did. "Okay."

(He still felt the soft tingle on his cheek, she briefly wondered what would have happened if she had drifted a few riges to the left, and for a few beats in time the world that was outside that tiny room lay utterly forgotten by them both).

The pair stood there for a few more moments, more than content to stay right where they were, and finally it was Machias who resignedly broke the spell in spite of his entire being screaming at him to stay silent, as if holding onto her would hold reality at bay for at least a little while longer. "What now?" he uttered, the uncertainty audible.

"Now," Emma began, moving back to fix him with a thoughtful look, her blush not quite gone. "I think it's best we go get you that meal we discussed."

Machias scoffed reflexively. "Discussed? Hah. Ordered, more like," he fired back, but there was no heat in the rebuttal and they both knew it.

Another pause, both understanding that whatever lay between them was yet to be resolved, though they would both admit that today had certainly been a pleasant start. "We're… we're going to need to talk about this again at some point, aren't we?" Machias asked hesitantly, frowning a little when her response was an affectionate giggle.

"That goes without saying, I think," Emma replied, the expression she was currently wearing being best described as 'obviously'. "But until then, we have people to rescue, delinquents to bring back and erstwhile siblings to deal with first, don't we?

That's right. Before they could handle anything else, they had things to do and debts to pay, and no one would ever say that Class VII didn't follow through on what they promised.

"Yeah," Machias agreed, his emerald eyes bright and focused and alive, the determination to save his father burning brilliantly enough to outshine the sun, and Emma relished the sight of her friend being well and truly back to being himself. "We certainly do. Shall we, then?"

"Let's," the girl agreed, and the boy started toward the door, only stopping when Emma's voice rang out again as it slid open.

"Actually, before we go… there *is* one more thing I wanted to ask you."

"Enough's enough," Celine decided, pawing her way out into the hallway. "Try not to take too long. She had to do one thing, just one! But does she? Nooooo…"

Resolving to give Emma a piece of her mind when she got down there, the cat's excellent hearing picked up familiar voices from the ventilation shaft below; it looked as if she had caught them right as they were leaving. Good timing for her.

"So," she heard Emma 'innocently' begin, the feline recognizing the false pretense immediately. "When you mentioned you were a big fan of Vita's radio show, it made me think of Munk and I couldn't help but wonder… did you ever get one of those stickers that he valued so highly?"

If cats could snort, she certainly would have. That was a set-up line if she had ever heard one.

Celine couldn't see the two of them, of course, but judging from his agitated response it seemed like she had hit a nerve or he was hiding something. Possibly both.

"D-Don't be ridiculous! Of course I didn't!" Machias declared, obviously thinking that would be enough to settle the matter.

That dumb, dumb boy.

"I see," Emma said, sounding as calm and placid as she normally did. "Now, was that because you didn't want one or because you couldn't get one?" she continued drolly, prolonging her assault with almost casual ease.

"Wow, Emma. Twist that knife, why don't you?"

"Uh… that's something… you see…" Celine heard him stammer nervously, before he let out an 'Oh!' so painfully fake it made her fur stand on end. "My apologies! I need to take this. Hello, Machias speaking - ah, Nicholas! What a coincidence, we were just coming to see you…"

Celine bit back a laugh, honestly a little impressed. "Huh. Not quite what I expected coming from you, but this just might be shameless enough to work."

"… You're not serious," Emma's voice floated up again, her thinly disguised amusement having been replaced with stunned indignation. "That can't actually be what you're going with, can it?"

"Correct, we're on our way now! Why yes, that sounds absolutely delicious…"

Question answered.

"You are. You really are," Emma said faintly, sounding utterly scandalized. "Of all the asinine – I can't believe you're resorting to – give me a little credit please, your ARCUS didn't even ring…!"

The sound of rapid footsteps hurrying away was the only answer Celine needed, and the familiar couldn't hold back anymore, letting out peals of laughter as Emma's outraged voice once more came through the metal grate.

"W-Where do you think you're going!? We're not done yet, Machias! Get back here!"

She could imagine the recipe for Emma's face right now; a little pinch of stunned, a small dash of pole-axed, and a massive dollop of try not to burst out laughing. "Oh yeah," Celine decided. "She has it bad."

Well, there were definitely worse choices. At the very least, he would forever be an endless source of entertainment if he remained that easy to set off, not to mention he wouldn't be pulling out corny speeches for every occasion under the sun.

"Their kids are going to be blind as bats, aren't they?" the familiar sighed amusedly, turning back to walk into the cafeteria; after all, they sounded like were going to be there soon, and Celine wasn't going to miss the show for the world.

AN: Whew. These are gonna be a read in themselves, so bear with me.

This fic originally started out as a character study piece, but then the shipping goggles came on and I worked the fluff in there… but that's self-explanatory, really. Originally, this was written to address an issue I had with Mr. Regnitz's characterization in CSII. While on the whole he was more agreeable, not nearly as prickly, and in general less cantankerous about Nobles than his CSI self, I couldn't help but feel this came at the cost of a lot of what made him interesting, something that I believed was exemplified by his overly calm (to me) reaction to having his father kidnapped and held hostage by the Noble Alliance. Yes, they probably wouldn't have hurt him unless things really went bad, but keep in mind that this is Machias, easily the highest strung Class VII member by some margin. The dude nearly has an aneurysm over a bad fortune pull at the festival if you pick him to hang at Miyabi with Rean, and the game wants me to believe that he's going to be as poised as he is when his dad's life is in the hands of group of Nobles that represent everything he despises about their class? Not a chance IMO, especially when you consider that the ending of CSI wasn't exactly likely to help him mellow out to his CSII levels. How he's not a raging ball of pent up stress by the time you meet him in the windmill is beyond me. Even in his early bonding events, there's not a lot of overt concern; he studies and plays chess, not coincidentally encompassing the two main character traits of his that get pushed hard in CSII. But then that got me thinking; possible coping mechanisms for a difficult situation that's been going on for months? Maybe.

As for Emma, I wanted to take a quick peek at how she viewed Vita through her lens as the little sister; it's brought up a tad in game with Rean, but not a whole lot. She clearly respects Vita immensely, but there are also some feelings of inferiority there, and those aren't something that are easy to just banish out of your psyche, especially when they've been around for years. Sometimes people just need some reinforcement, y'know?

(And yes, my main party for all four Spirit Shrines was Rean, Alisa, Machias, and Emma. It's nice when actual gameplay can serve as inspiration. Also, given the amount of people onboard that Celine doesn't mind speaking in front of I'm assuming they all know that she can talk – but that's all).

Got at least one more fic planned for this 'verse – dunno when it'll happen, but it will! They gotta have that talk sometime, right?