Think of this as Moonlight 2.0—now less clichéd and with (hopefully) better context and characterization!


Goodbye is probably Alvin's least favorite word at this point.

He's had to say way too many farewells lately. Both the Kresniks are gone, one more permanently than the other, and everyone else has scattered to the corners of the reunited earth. Alvin's not one for baseless superstition, but he can't help but think that's a bad sign. No fractured dimensions exist to play out the possibilities anymore, so if they ever meet again all at once, it'll have to be here in this future. And that future has limited opportunities.

At least Rieze Maxia finally has its king and prime minister back, so the future is almost guaranteed to be a decent foundation for that reunion. That said, if he's being honest, Alvin still has no idea how the world's newest nation survived till now without either Gaius or Rowen in the capital to hold everything together. On one hand, it's a sign that the country is already stable enough to avoid civil war in their absence. But on the other, if nothing changes even when the two heads of the government take an unforeseen vacation, there's got to be a problem somewhere.

Tragically, Elize's unexpected break from school is over, but she doesn't seem too torn up about it. In fact, that little lady is the only person Alvin knows who actually looks forward to anything academic. Except Jude, of course, already hard at work in Fennmont again with new research to include in his thesis. (The kid's what, seventeen-ish, and he's already written more of a thesis than Alvin plans on writing in his life.)

Meanwhile, Milla and Muzét have both returned to the spirit world, or wherever it is they came from. Frankly, Alvin couldn't care less about Muzét after everything she put him through last year… but Milla, on the other hand, he might start missing again. That's never good, because he tends to kill people he shouldn't when he gets lonely. Or almost kill.

And that brings him abruptly back to Leia.

She's the last one standing beside Alvin on his latest journey, taking some time off work and debating going back to school so she's a little more qualified to realize her dreams. At least she's appropriately unenthusiastic about the idea. If she was as eager to hit the books again as Jude or Elize, she and Alvin wouldn't be half as close as they've become lately. How their friendship became so strong, he isn't sure he wants to know. In fact, he's still waiting for Leia to say the word he hates most.

And, for one reason or another, she's still not doing it.

It's been a week since they landed in Drellin. That's where she calls home now, even if 'home' is just a studio apartment. It's too small for Alvin to crash with her, and even if he could, he shouldn't, so he's practically rented a room at the Auberge Trotha at this point. It's not like he has anywhere else to go, given that upholding his end of his business mostly involves timely GHS calls, and he can make those from wherever he likes. And it just so happens that he likes being where Leia is. Probably more than he should. (He even shaved his beard for her.)

Maybe he should say his farewells before it's too late, thinks Alvin, rolling onto his back with a long sigh. Maybe Leia's waiting for him to say them first, just like he's waiting for her. Maybe they'll never say goodbye, and he'll just hang around forever like cigarette smoke, making GHS calls to keep the business alive so he can spend all his money on this room at the inn.

Alvin's surprised by how okay with him that sounds. Or rather, he wishes he were surprised. He's discovered by now that it's dangerous to travel too far along this train of thought, but Leia reminds him of everything he's told himself he can never have: a stable life, a real family, a sense of duty, a conscience. Honesty. And that's exactly why it's so disarming to think that they have grown this close—to think that a girl like Leia would ever want to spend time with a guy like Alvin.

Damn it; that's exactly where he didn't want to go tonight. Crumpling up his messy thoughts and throwing them aside, he grits his teeth and wonders if anyone ever found out how to un-think things. It's too hot and stuffy in here to sleep, so Alvin's already been awake several more hours than he wanted. He's running on fumes at this point, and thinking too hard about Leia Rolando is dangerous even when he's fully rested.

Maybe if he didn't feel so achingly, tangibly alone, he wouldn't be thinking about her like this. After so long traveling with a fairly large group of companions, which some less broken people might call friends, Alvin's gotten used to sharing his room with at least one other body. Even after a week on his own, he still can't fall asleep alone, not even with the crickets chirping their spirited summer lullaby.

A soft knock on his door startles him, and he glances at the clock. Who in their right mind is out in the hall at twenty seconds to 3:01?

"Hang on a sec," calls Alvin, sitting up and switching on the bedside lamp in a hurry. Whoever this is probably doesn't need to see him in his boxers. A part of him figures they're asking for it if they're visiting at this hour, but if he's needed elsewhere for some reason, he should be ready to move. At least his pants are right where he left them, on the ground next to his bed. Alvin plucks them up and pulls them on hastily, grabs his gun off the bedside table just in case, and unlocks the door.

Whatever he expects, as he opens it warily and peers into the hall, it isn't Leia.

Her hair's tied back in a messy little ponytail that suits her oddly well, and her eyes seem dull in the dim yellow light as she stares up at him. From the looks of things, she ran across town barefoot and in her pajamas, such as they are—short shorts, as usual, with a couple layered camisoles.

Blinking at her in genuine surprise, Alvin waits for Leia to say something. When she doesn't, he just stares back. Is she in trouble? She seems nervous enough, but then he realizes he's holding the same gun that almost killed her a couple years back. Flipping the safety lock, Alvin tosses his weapon back onto his bed in a gesture of peace. Leia's eyes follow the motion, and she lets out a short breath. "You're… not wearing a shirt," is the first thing she says, hugging her arms to herself awkwardly as if cold or self-conscious, though she has no reason to be either.

"I know," says Alvin, leaning against the doorframe. This isn't about his shirt, or lack thereof. "Did you have a nightmare, or something?" Leia may not be crying, but she still wouldn't risk waking him for nothing. Hell, he's surprised she risked waking him for something. She's usually too considerate for her own damn good.

Leia shakes her head. "No, nothing like that. Not really. I just… can't stop thinking, that's all. I went for a jog to clear my head, but it didn't really work." She hesitates, and Alvin knows there's more to this situation than meets the eye. "It's not like my mind is racing or anything, but it's still driving me crazy."

A bitter half-smile tugs at the corner of Alvin's mouth. He knows exactly what she's talking about. He's had enough years of experience with insomnia to know that more often than not, he needs to work his mind and sometimes body to complete exhaustion before he can get any rest. Still, he never expects Leia to come to him for help, unless it's a case of misery-loves-company, and she's a little anxious for someone who just wants to hang out.

"Is that why you're at my door at three o'clock in the morning?" asks Alvin, careful to keep his tone light and non-accusatory. "I know I gave you a key, but most people are asleep at this hour." He doesn't ask why she only used it on the outside, and not on his door. It ties back into how little she likes stepping on any toes.

"But you're not most people, are you?" asks Leia, although she seems more uncertain now, searching Alvin's expression for any hint that her presence is unwanted. He knows that look, the one that means she's questioning her worth again, wondering if she's screwed up. Even if her phrasing seems rhetorical, the question is genuine.

"Yeah, you caught me," says Alvin, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "I can't turn off my mind long enough to catch any Zs, myself. Looks like we're in the same boat."

Leia gives a relieved smile, and Alvin can't help but return the gesture as they lapse into silence. He'd chalk it up to both of them zoning out if Leia wasn't fidgeting like she wants to respond. Far be it from him to interrupt her thoughts—he's been glared at for less before—but he wishes she'd either say something or go, because all the thoughts he doesn't want to think don't get any easier to chase away when she's standing right in front of him.

She's just so alive, and it's late enough that their shared humanity seems enough in common to bridge half a generation. Sometimes, it slips his mind that other people breathe and have hearts, and feel warm or cold, and think in their own voices, and have favorite smells and tastes and colors all their own. Somehow or other, Leia has become his living reminder.

Thankfully, Alvin shakes himself back to reality just as she looks up again. Determination burns in her eyes, and her hands have become fists, but her voice sounds timid and almost desperate. "While we're both up, d'you wanna go outside?"

The words are simple, but swift and deliberate, so that it sounds almost as though she's been rehearsing them, and Alvin laughs despite himself. "You had me worried for a sec there, Leia," he says, and the hurt and confusion mingling in her eyes at the sound of his chuckle gives way to sheepish understanding. "Yeah, sure. It's hotter than hell in here, and I should know."

Leia nods hesitantly as though unsure what to do, and Alvin pats his pocket. Good; he never took out the room key. Shooing Leia back, he steps out and shuts the door behind him as quietly as he can before setting off down the hall. Leia hustles after him. "W-wait, you're not even gonna put on a shirt?" Her tone is unexpectedly apprehensive.

Alvin stops to look down at her, searching her expression. "Too late now. Am I making you uncomfortable?" If so, he'll go back and throw something on, heat be damned, but he's curious about the reason she's asking. Leia may not have the same carefree attitude towards fashion as, say, Milla, but she's not exactly conservative, either. It's unlike her to kick up a fuss, unless…

No. Bad idea. He's not going there.

"That's… not the word I would use," says Leia evasively, and they both start walking again, though she doesn't so much as glance his way. "It's like, you know when someone else does something embarrassing, and you get embarrassed for them because they're not? It's like that."

Leia's blushing, realizes Alvin. Red cheeks in early morning, gentleman's warning, but he ignores it like the fool he is. "Ouch," he says, making an effort at a mischievous grin, and though Leia finally looks at him, she immediately averts her eyes again. "Cut me some slack, all right? It's gonna be a while before I let myself go. I'm not that old." At the moment, he's only eleven years older than her, like it matters. The distance between them will be twelve again before they know it.

"Th-that's not what I—!" exclaims Leia, but cuts herself off as she remembers the hour, glancing around at the doors and lowering her voice to a hiss. "Come on, don't make it sound like that."

Alvin tries to suppress a smile, but finds that he cannot. Jokingly taking his grin as mocking, Leia stalks down the stairs in an exaggerated huff, but the effect is ruined as she stumbles over a step and pitches forward.

Instincts kicking in from years of fighting by her side, Alvin lunges forward automatically to catch her wrist and pull her upright before she can tumble down the stairs. Alvin has to argue with his fingers before he can convince them to relax, and he forces himself to withdraw his hand. Insomnia may lower his inhibitions, but it's temporary, always temporary. Just like when he's drunk, he has to avoid doing anything he might regret in the morning.

Leia rubs her forearm where Alvin grabbed her, and he grimaces apologetically. His touch has always been a little rougher than it should be. "Thanks," says Leia, and though her tone is reluctant, at least this time she meets his eyes. Her faint smile stops his heart for a split second. "But really, a little fall like that wouldn't have killed me. We both know I've survived way worse before."

Though Leia's tone is far from accusatory, the words hit Alvin like a punch to the gut, and he flinches as an orchard at sunrise flashes through his head. He knows Leia sees it too, behind her widening eyes. "O-oh, no, I didn't mean to…" She shakes her head wildly, raising her hands to her lips.

Alvin opens his mouth to tell Leia he's sorry, which is just about the only thing he can tell her that isn't a lie, a secret, or an excuse—but she grasps his wrist suddenly, and his breath catches instead. "We'll finish this outside," she says quietly, and it's as much a command as a suggestion. As she starts hauling Alvin the rest of the way down the stairs as if expecting him to resist, he has no choice but to quicken his pace and hope for the best, wondering how tonight could have gone downhill so fast.