The Stranger

A/N: During a long overdue playthrough I fell in love with these two. Thanks for reading!

"But I'm still your friend..."

The brisk air of an early autumn night chilled him as Celes rebuffed him.

She was never a spy, despite the rumors and stray accusations among the Returners, and he, in a moment of weakness failed to believe in her.

Celes stiffened at his words and turned from him. Locke wasn't even granted the icy glare she was undoubtedly wearing for him; instead he only saw the cascading pale blonde tendrils that flowed about her waist as she walked away, her form disappearing into the night.

It stung when he saw her earlier that day as she pretended to be a stranger to him. Mayeb it was the fact that she looked the healthiest he'd ever seen her; her cheeks were filled in with color and she appeared broader, stronger. Her eyes no longer carried dark circles and her hair even looked shinier, glinting like gold in the moonlight, rather than the gnarled braid she'd sport after several days on the road without a bath.

She was surely getting fed by the Empire better than she had been during her time with the Returners, and resuming her former trainer regimen. It showed.

He called her name.

Celes continued to walk faster now, her feet quick and light down the stairs until she disappeared from him completely.

He wanted to follow her, to grab her by the arm and spin her around and demand that she look at him and acknowledge him. If he were a different man, then perhaps he would.

Instead he only watched what remained of her form and cursed under his breath, the night breeze stirring goosebumps on his flesh.

Locke missed her. Traitor or not, he wanted her company again. Her low and firm voice that commanded attention also bore her dry sense of humor that could make him erupt in laughter, or describe subtle observations about people that even he didn't notice at first.

He inhaled deeply, slowly releasing the air in his lungs. He had a long ship ride ahead of him in the morning, but he knew the night wouldn't let him sleep. Not yet.

Locke walked to the pub instead, hands shakily moving to his pockets, chin dipped to his chest.

The memory of the siege on Narshe swirled in his mind.

He an Celes had been paired off together, as they'd spent quite a bit of battles on the road fighting back to back. The snow had cast a fierce glare in the sunlight, causing his eyes to burn and squint. Celes moved around him like a whirlwind, her hair swinging in the opposite the direction of her sword. Ice emerged from the ground at her command, causing their foes to shriek and their machinery to malfunction.

She'd looked back at him then, blue eyes serene in the midst of battle, lips parted. She was quick, though not faster than him.

A beast overcame her from behind, pinning her to the ground before she could react. Locke dove, and using his body as leverage as he wrapped his arms around the creature to knock it sideways, sinking a knife into it's chest as it clenched his arms with it's teeth amidst a shrill howl.

"Hold still."

They sat afterwards in a house offered to them by a sympathizer. They were in the kitchen alone, Celes hovering over him on a stool as he sat at the kitchen table, arm outstretched and she worked at him with a pair of tweezers.

He grimaced, squeezing his eyes shut, being as obedient as he could.

"I don't think there's anything there." He seethed through clenched teeth.

"There's a reason your wound isn't closing after I cast cure on it multiple times." She replied matter of factly.

Her eyes narrowed. She braced his forearm with one hand, almost numbing him with her icy palm. Her other arm controlled the tweezers tediously, raising and lowering her elbow to adjust to the angle she needed.

There was something in his arm that Celes was palpating. And he could feel every inch of it through a gritted jaw.

"A ha."

She pulled the tweezers from him, revealing the troublesome tooth that had lodged in his arm after he pulled the beast from her.

He exhaled in relief. If she continued much longer he wasn't sure how he could bare it without tears.

"You want to keep it?" She asked him teasingly, one eyebrow raised.

Locke chuckled. "Keep it? For what?"

Celes shrugged, dropping the tooth into the table. "Sometimes my men kept trophies like this."

He mustered a witty response that he could no longer recall, but he did remember how a rare small crept upon her lips and she cast a healing spell upon him.

Warm light resonated from her hands, overpowering his pain until it was nothing more than a tingle. More than anything, Locke was relieved it was over with without him forming tears as a result.

Her hair was still wet from her bath after the battle, neatly combed strands clinging together over her shoulders. Her eyelashes stuck together in a similar fashion.

The only sound was the ticking of the clock on the wall.

He wished he knew what was going through her mind as she looked at him then.

Her expression was peaceful and relaxed: no furrowed brows and stern grimaces.

He only looked back to her. A hand steadily trailed up his bare arm.

"Celes-"

He started to speak her name before she leaned down from her stool and kissed him. He froze for a moment, almost withdrawing his lips from hers in shock. Her fingertips were all along his jawline now, and he felt her close her lips and swallow, whether it was out of hesitation or nerves he didn't know, but looking back he wanted to.

He wanted to know if she hesitated.

Locke snaked his fingers to the back of her head, tangling his long, nimble fingers in the strands of her damp hair as he pressed his lips to hers again. She responded eagerly and moved a hand to his neck, hovering over a harsh pulse there.

The air was still and the clock continued ticking.

She was bold and he was willing, and when they parted she looked at him for a moment, before pushing the stool back with her toes and leaving him in the kitchen alone with a tray on the table baring the tweezers and the tooth.

Sitting at the bar, he contemplated the kiss.

Dawn would come in a few hours, and tomorrow he would likely face Celes again as a stranger.

The ice in his glass clinked as he finished the last of his drink, waving the bartender over for a refill.

The heartache was all too familiar to him; he'd seen the rejection in Rachel's amnesiac eyes when she sent him away. He obeyed then, and the girl was now a corpse in suspended animation; a ghost that haunted him in the flesh.

Locke betrayed Celes with his doubt, and the result fed a physical pain in his chest.

He loved her.