Meliora - Extricate - 50

[lady_mab]

Lysander Stavros

I think we both know what’s coming when she invites me out for coffee. It doesn't happen immediately, but I can see it on her face and I can feel it in each breath.

Ayn gives a watery smile as I sit down. She's tired, dark circles beneath her eyes, but holds herself with the same rigid lines that her mother would. "Thanks for coming."

"Why wouldn't I?"

She glances away, fingers wrapped around a still steaming mug. It's the same cafe that we met at all those months ago, after I ran into her at the university campus. Ayn keeps her head tilted against the window. "I don't know. I wonder if I would have if our roles were switched."

I study her, but nothing new comes to light. She still looks the same. "Did something happen?"

Her mouth opens, and her gaze is distant. "I don't--" she almost repeats, then cuts herself off. "I think so. I think a lot of things are wrong. There's too much for me to do."

"You know that you don't have to do anything."

When she finally fixes her eyes on me, I'm glad to see that the edge isn't completely gone from them. Despite the lines of exhaustion that drip from every other piece of her, her eyes are still ready to declare a war.

I'm glad to see she still has that spark, but I'm afraid of what it means for her.

"You mean your sage advice of sitting aside and keeping my head down?" She doesn't quite toss her hair in indignation, but she does a little roll of her head that sends the red strands cascading over her shoulder. I wonder if she realizes how her beauty could be a weapon, if only she would use it.

"Yeah. That really great idea I had. The one that made sure that this--" and I wave a hand in her direction, to which her only response is a tight-lipped frown-- "wouldn't happen."

"And what do you think has happened?"

I have no solid answer, because we haven't talked about it. But I think that is enough of an explanation, and she realizes it a second later as her gaze shutters and she drops it to the mug of tea in her grip. "Ayn."

"I'm sorry."

"No, Ayn, we have to talk about this."

A sigh rips itself free from her mouth and she ducks her head. Slender fingers rake back through her hair, covering her face in a curtain before gripping the roots and pulling it taut. "I know. I don't want to. But it's... We haven't really talked without arguing for a long time."

I allow a crooked smile to take over, and she returns it a moment later. "No. I don't think this is something either of us are cut out for."

"I thought..." The fingers of her free hand drum over the ceramic surface of the mug, revealing the logo in flashes. "I thought that I could be good enough for you this time."

Something dislodges in my heart and sinks to the pit of my stomach. "It's not like that."

She looks at me without lifting her head. "Thank you for trying to assuage my feelings of inadequacy, but that's really what it boils down to." Her shoulders lift in a graceful shrug. Every movement is a dance. "I'm still a little too naive."

This isn't the response that I expected. "You're far from that." If the last few months have proven anything, it's that she's more mature than I am. That she knows how to command herself like a woman instead of an innocent girl that I remembered her as. "A lot has changed."

"I want to apologize appropriately, but I don't really know what to apologize for." Ayn's fingers tap a more frantic rhythm before she presses them to the table surface. "Do you think what we're doing is even worth it?"

I consider her question, it's open-ended nature, and try to think just what she wants to hear from me. "What part of it?"

Her hand lifts and gestures to the shop around us -- to the rest of Eminence. "Meliora. This is beyond you and me, I think. We never... We are two different shapes that tried to fit together."

It's what I expect to hear, but it still stings. "This is bigger than both of us."

"You still think, after everything..." She swallows, and the energy that was there leaves her just as quickly. "Jonas told me about what happened to Glen. Between that, and what happened with Cade and Laney, I can't just sit idly by."

"Ayn, let this go."

Her eyes shift to mine, and she holds me captive in the severity of her gaze. "After everything you've seen. After all of it, you still think that anyone can let this breeze past?"

"Yes," I answer with certainty that I feel deep in my bones.

"Is this your professional opinion or that of my boyfriend?"

I lift an eyebrow. "I thought you asked me here for a breakup."

The laugh she gives me is short and sharp. "That hasn't happened yet, so answer the question."

I weigh the options, tossing them back and forth in my head. In the end, everything comes up the same. I can't find a difference between the two, and that is why we have reached this point. "You know me, Ayn. Slip through the cracks, don't stick around too long. I need to make sure that they don't notice me or my team so I can just get out of here safely."

"And what about everyone else?" she challenges, tilting her head.

"I'd like it if I could get you out too. I think Kaito has Rhys and the twins covered, but..." I trail off and shrug. "That's it. Jun, Zoné. You. Rhys and Liala and Lionel. Keep a low profile, mitigate any damage already done to ensure that there is success, a way out... and then take it when it's presented."

Ayn snorts and her jaw works over a retort she won't let herself say. "And everyone else?"

I don't respond. Instead, I stare at her, watch her watch me, waiting for my response. Finally, I sigh and shake my head. "What do they matter to me?"

She reacts the way I expect her to -- huffing and dramatic; a roll of her eyes, her head following the motion; an exaggerated noise of frustration. "Lysander--"

"I'm honest, Ayn--"

"Yes, you're nothing if not straightforward. But have you really learned all of that history only to think that the best thing you can do is coast along?"

I mock her gesture from earlier, waving my hand to indicate us, the coffee shop, Eminence. "Yes, I do, because if the roles were switched, I don't even hesitate to think that people would leave me in the same situation."

"Need I remind you--" she starts, then lifts her voice as she sees me prepare to counter her upcoming argument. "Need I remind you! That you are an Informant. You should expect that from people."

"Even from you?"

Her eyes flash dangerously as they narrow. They're not her mother's eyes, who can glare serene daggers at you from across a room. Not like in the way that everything else about her posturing reminds me uncomfortably of Jocelyn. "You keep thinking that I should narrow my view down. You tell me to keep on the straight and narrow, to do what I'm supposed to, and yet you don't do that yourself."

"Yeah, but--"

She holds a finger aloft, and it's amazing how the severity of the gesture can make the words die in my throat. "No, alright? No. I will not keep letting people tell me how I'm supposed to think. Not you, not my mother, and not this goddamn city. You want to know why I get along so well with Fletcher? Because he doesn't do that."

And that is the moment. That is the name I had been waiting for her to use as a weapon, to justify this conversation.

"I'm glad he's so important to you, but please at least realize the fact that I do care about you." My voice is clipped, and I hate the sound of it. I hate how much frustration I have to temper down into a thin blade to use against her.

Ayn's expression doesn't waver in the slightest. "Your intentions are well-meant, I know that." She leans over the table, and I catch the briefest glance of her fingers trembling around her mug. "But I have made my decision, and I would have liked for you to support me on it instead of telling me that I'm wrong and should do the opposite of what I feel is right."

It's true. I acknowledged that long ago when we first started dating. Or whatever this relationship was that we had. I always wanted to reach out and pull her back to steady ground, because it was easier than watching her careen off on her own.

"Like I said: We're both not good at this," I say, and she closes her eyes. After a breath, she settles back in her seat.

"No, we're not," she agrees softly. "We're really not."

There's silence between us, as we sit facing each other but not looking. I study the rest of the cafe, and I catch her profile as she stares fixedly out the window.

Finally, Ayn inhales deeply and her shoulders lift with the motion. "We'll both make it through. And when we get there, we won't have a moment of 'I told you so'."

I drag my attention back to her, only to find her watching me out of the corner of her eyes. "Yeah. I think that's fair."

She pushes herself out of the booth and I rise to my feet as well. "I'm glad to have found you again, even if it had to end like this." She smiles and it's sad and makes my heart ache. She lifts up on her tiptoes and presses a kiss to my cheek. “Thank you.”

I savor the moment, but I don’t return the gesture. She doesn’t seem to expect me to, either. Ayn gathers her purse and the mug of tea, and leaves without looking back.

A few of the other patrons give me pitying glances as I watch her go. And it’s fine, I think. We both didn’t have the energy to devote to the concept of us, and right now, there are things that are far more important to us than a relationship.

We both have our teams, and our end goals. While neither of us agree with the other’s path, we understand and respect that separately of one another. I have no doubt that she’ll set out to do reckless things and be just fine, but I can’t help but worry about what might happen if I even tried.

The safety net is made out of fishing wire -- thin, barely visible, and just as likely to pull too tight to cut me than catch me. Ayn has thrown herself at it willingly, not even knowing if it will be there when she falls, and not caring.

And for that, I envy her.

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