these are the themes of the way that we love
these are the hearts of lonely people ripped in front of us

the hearts of lonely people
piece 02 - hills like white elephants

They buried Claves in the evening, under a tree at the edge of Lake Reverb. As night settled and the deed was done, dark clouds began rolling in from the east, accompanied by the sounds of booming thunder in the distance. They'd all noticed, murmured comments about the oncoming rain, but the truth was that they were all simply too dumbstruck by their companion's death to do much about it. And it was then that Falsetto had disappeared, slipping away when no one was watching.

The rain began the next morning, early, alternating between periods of torrential downpour and violent, noisy thunderstorms. Allegretto had volunteered himself to go looking for Falsetto, quietly urging Jitterbug to get some rest before rushing out into the storm, sword in hand. Viola had started in her chair, wanting to go with him, but if she had...

The blonde turned her head, slowly, looking to the dark-haired swordsman seated across from her. The room had been silent since Allegretto had left nearly an hour ago, with both of its remaining occupants lost in their own thoughts. She had wanted to go, but then Jitterbug would have been alone. And the idea of leaving him by himself, after losing a member of his group, a member he seemed to have had strong feelings for... she knew full well that he was not the type of man to do anything foolish, but she certainly wouldn't trust him to be on his own, right now.

Jitterbug sat on a cushioned chair by the window, hunched over, his hands folded across his eyes. He wasn't crying - he hadn't cried once in the last few hours, not even when they'd discovered Claves' bloody body or laid her to rest in her roughly dug grave - but was perhaps mourning to himself, silently. His forehead was creased, and from time to time he would tap his foot or move his hands, but he wasn't speaking, was barely even breathing.

Viola sighed, softly, watching him. Her heart ached for him - and for all the wrong reasons.

There was a low rumble somewhere nearby, signaling the beginning of another thunderstorm. The archer tilted her head back and closed her eyes, listening to the sound of the rain on the roof of Andantino's hideout. The evening prior had been painful, stressed and strained by the recent events, and none of them had slept more than a few restless hours. Allegretto had stood watch for most of the night, sword in hand, waiting either for Falsetto or Claves' killer to reappear. Jitterbug had paced the floor, alternating between periods of furious ranting and utter silence, gradually becoming still, watching the rain through the open window without saying a word. And Viola had watched him, her heart aching, wondering what had happened and what would become of them.

She clutched at her chest, absently, squeezing her eyes shut tight. Claves...

"She was the spy."

Her eyes opened. Jitterbug had spoken for what seemed the first time in ages, his normally booming voice soft and subdued. He hadn't moved from his position in the chair across from hers, his hands still linked together tightly across his tired eyes, but he had certainly said something. Something that was difficult to admit, surely.

Viola looked at him sadly, hesitating before responding to him. "Jiruba... are you sure?"

"Ah." The sound of thunder was closer, now, and he waited until it passed to continue. "I shouldn't have doubted Falsetto. It was Claves all along."

"But how can you be sure - "

"I know," he interrupted, lifting his head. "I feel as if... I always knew."

The archer examined him briefly, taking note of the dark circles under his eyes, until it became too painful to stare into his face any longer. She looked down at her lap instead, where she'd folded her hands, and at the small figure of Arco curled up asleep beside her thigh. "I see," she said, quietly, and lightning flashed outside the window, illuminating the room for a moment. "A spy sent from Forte, then..."

"A spy sent from Forte to infiltrate Andantino and assassinate its leader." His voice did not waver, but even so, Viola thought she detected a hint of pain behind those words. "Falsetto even claimed to have heard rumors of such a thing. But she was so - " There was the sound of something hard impacting a cushion, and Viola looked up to see his clenched first resting atop the arm of his chair. "... she was convincing. She was real, to me."

The blonde drew her lips together in a hard line, waiting for another clap of thunder to pass. "You loved her," she said, softly, and although she'd meant to simply state it as a matter of fact, the words that escaped sounded like an accusation. "And she..."

"I don't doubt that what she felt for me was true. I never once detected a lie in any of the words she spoke to me." He paused. "It was only for a short while that we... were together. I hadn't even been able to admit to myself how strongly I felt about her."

"If she truly was a spy, then..."

"If she truly was a spy," he repeated, and the floorboards creaked beneath his feet as he stood, "she was killed for failing her mission."

Viola lifted her head, slowly, and watched him move to the window. The rain was picking up, pouring down hard on the roof of the small house. Lightning crackled across the sky again, closer this time, brightening the dark-haired man's face. He placed his hands on the windowsill and looked out into the gloomy morning, eyebrows drawn together in a frown, and something in his face seemed to hint at the intensity of his thoughts. "Surely," he continued, "Waltz would have known what was happening. Because she allowed herself to grow close to me, to betray him... he would have shown her no mercy."

"Jiruba..."

"I couldn't do anything to save her." His gaze dropped to his hands, resting on the damp sill, and his eyes closed. "My own weakness is what led to her death. Ultimately... it is my fault."

The blonde stood, sparing a glance at Arco, who barely stirred as she moved away from the chair they'd occupied together. "You can't blame yourself," she murmured, wanting to walk closer to him but feeling unsure. "Claves must have known what would happen..."

"Perhaps." He bowed his head. "But there is not much I can do for her, now."

Silence settled between them, broken only by the sounds of raindrops pounding on the roof. Viola stood still, watching Jitterbug, her expression sad. She wanted to go to him, to take him in her arms and assure him he would be fine, that he could cry and sob and scream here, that she wouldn't judge him... but these desires were selfish, so selfish that she wouldn't dare act on them. In the midst of her sadness, she felt the brief stirrings of love in her heart, love that she had for him alone. She had been envious of Claves, even of Falsetto to some extent, but she hadn't wished them gone. And to even so much as think of approaching him now would be an act of betrayal against these women - because she would be comforting him out of love, as a means to be closer to him. And she knew full well that this would be wrong.

"What can I do?"

She flinched at these words, at the helpless tone of his voice. She could do nothing for him. And yet...

"Viola." He spoke her name then, turning his head toward her. "... sorry. You don't need to listen to this."

"No." She shook her head, clasping her hands together. "It's fine. If I left you alone, I... I would worry."

"There is no reason to worry." He breathed in, then exhaled in time with a loud clap of thunder. "There's no point in dwelling on the past. What has happened can't be changed. We all did what we felt we had to do." Lightning came again and brightened his face, and he reached out of the window to pull closed the heavy shutters. "Including Claves."

"Mm..." The sounds of the storm outside became muffled as the window was closed, and the archer looked down at her hands, feeling that hollow aching within her chest again. "What will you do now?" she asked.

"Go to Baroque," he answered. "I need to speak with Prince Crescendo. He must be persuaded to act against Forte. Otherwise..." He stepped away from the window and crossed the room, moving past where Viola stood to the corner where he'd deposited his sword and bag of supplies. "Otherwise, there will be more causalities. More deaths, all as a result of Waltz's grip on the people of his country."

"If you're going to Baroque, I'll go find Allegretto and we'll - "

"No." He cut her off, firmly, stooping to retrieve his bag. "This is something I must do alone."

"Wait..." She took a step toward him, her eyes widening. "You're going now? In this storm? Jiruba, it's not safe, and if you go on your own - "

"Viola." He stood, shouldering the sack in his hands, turning his head in her direction. "Sorry. But I have to do this alone." He looked away again, reaching for his sword. "If you would like to help... please search for Falsetto. She couldn't have gone far. She is a strong woman, and able to fend for herself, but at this time..." He sheathed his weapon at his hip, his voice lowering. "... she's likely to be at her most vulnerable."

Viola bit her lip, conflicted, her forehead creased. She wanted to scream at him to stay, to wait at least a little while longer... but she couldn't stop him, not now. There was nothing she could do but stand here, watching him walk away. She felt helpless and sad... and she realized, then, that he surely felt the very same way.

"Meet up with the others," he said, suddenly, "and find me in Baroque. It will take a few days to reach the castle from here. By the time you arrive, I'll have already spoken with Crescendo." He started to walk to the door without looking back. "Be careful until then."

"Wa - wait!"

He stopped, turning halfway around, his eyes wide. The archer hesitated for a moment, unable to believe she'd called out to him the way she had - she hadn't wanted to speak that word aloud, but it had slipped out - but then she pulled herself together and began to move. She hurried to her own bag of supplies, placed on the floor beside the chair she'd occupied, and reached inside. "Take this," she said, and removed a bundle of folded fabric. "Please."

His eyes followed her as she came to him with the item in her hands. "What is it?"

"It's a cloak, with a hood." She faced him, extending her arms, offering it to him. "For the rain. If you need to leave now, you'll get wet. It's too small for you, but maybe you can just cover your head with it, and..." She realized she was beginning to ramble and her cheeks flushed, her eyes darting away from his inquisitive gaze. "I don't have a need for it, so please take it. You can return it to me in Baroque."

There was a pause, then his voice came softly to her ears. "Viola."

She didn't dare look at him. "... yes?"

"Thank you." He lifted the cloak from her arms, and she carefully raised her gaze to watch him pack it into the bag at his shoulder. "You are too kind. I appreciate your thoughtfulness immensely."

"It's nothing," she replied, but her attempts to speak with her normal cheerfulness failed entirely. Instead, she sounded sad, reluctant to see him go - and she was, truly, sad. She wanted nothing but to go with him, to be by his side...

"I'll be leaving now." Jitterbug lifted one hand and gently placed it on Viola's shoulder, against her bare skin. The warmth of his skin against her own made her shiver all over, and the feel of his callused fingertips against her arm was almost electric, startling her into becoming fully awake for the first time in days. "Take care of the others for me," he said softly, nodding once as their eyes met. "I trust you to keep them safe."

"Ah..." She returned the nod, hoping he couldn't tell how much she was shaking, or how hard her heart had begun to beat in her chest. She swallowed, and this time when she spoke, her voice was more like normal. "Be careful... ne?"

"Of course." He lifted his hand, and then before she could speak another word he turned away and rushed out the door. She stood and looked after him for a long time, her gaze softened, at one point reaching up to touch the place he'd rested his hand. All she could do was hope that he would be safe, out in the storm, and that it wouldn't be long until she made it to Baroque. At that moment, whether or not it was for selfish reasons, the only thing she wanted was to be by his side. That was all. And perhaps someday soon...

"Arco," she said suddenly, looking over her shoulder as her pet woke, squeaking with surprise. "Come on. Let's go find Allegretto. We have business to take care of."

next chapter: clush