The Summons Chapter 8 When the light gets into your heart, baby, Don't you forget about me. Will you recognize me? Call my name, Gonna walk on fire. Rain keeps falling, Rain keeps falling, Down, down, down. Don't you try and pretend It's my beginning. We'll win in the end. I won't harm you, Or touch your defenses. Vanity, insecurity, Don't you forget about me. I'll be alone, dancing -- you know it, baby. Going to take you apart, I'll build us back together a heart, baby. Don't you forget about me. Don't, don't, don't, don't Don't you forget about me. It was nearly sunrise before they both drifted off, and several lazy hours were spent in half-asleep caresses and nuzzles, slowly waking up before the need for food and craving for caffeine drove them both out of bed and padding barefooted to the kitchen. "What sounds good for breakfast?" Filia asked as she measured coffee into the machine she kept handy for Val's visits. It was a taste she never acquired, although she was known to drink more than her fair share while pulling double and triple shifts. "Hmm." He wrapped his arms around her waist. "One of those meatball pizza specialities from Mario's." Filia raised an eyebrow, looking at him. "For breakfast?" she asked. "It's two in the afternoon, Filia," he retorted, and nuzzled her neck. "Besides, I'm hungry after all that last night. You're the one who had supper, not me." "That's hardly my fault," she replied, trying unsuccessfully to fight a blush. "I'm gonna make the call. Want something lighter?" "Please," she said. "A plain cheese pizza would be fine." "Five cheese? Or just basic?" "Ah, go for five cheese. Might as well get some flavor with it too." "That's a good girl." He picked up the phone and stepped out into the den, looking on the corkboard by her desk for the phone number. While Val was making the call, she poured boiling water into her teapot, letting the rolled green tea leaves soak for a few minutes before pouring herself a cup. "Twenty to thirty, the usual," Val said, reciting the delivery time as he came back into the kitchen, returning the cordless to its cradle. "But for now, oh great love of my life, it is just the two of us." "Val!" Filia protested, blushing. "What?" He gave her a blank look. "I was talking to the coffee." Filia blinked. "Why, you..." She set the teacup down as he started laughing. "That'll cost you your shins." "It looks like it's gonna rain tonight," Filia said, looking up at what little of the unnaturally dark sky she could see past the buildings. "Excessive, oppressive humidity does not always equal rain," Val said, draping his arm over her shoulders as they cut across the street, returning to the apartment. "Maybe in our next life we could be meteorologists," Filia said, adjusting her grip on the bag of groceries. "Then we'd still be living in Atlanta." "You nut. We don't have to work for The Weather Channel." "I don't know, I'm not too keen on standing in front of a camera and saying 'things are looking bright and sunny to the west, but the east is getting soggier by the day'." "There's more to being a meteorologist than that!" "I know. So when do you want to get started learning how to chase tornadoes?" Filia blinked. "Now you're just hopping from one extreme to the other." "I've got a few ideas of my own, actually," Val said. "I'll tell you more when we get upstairs." "Out with it," Filia said once they arrived at the apartment as she headed to the kitchen. "What's your plan?" "First," Val said, locking the door behind them before following. "I need to know where you stand on something. It doesn't change the plan itself, just a few prior details. We've got eight years left before we phase out our current identities. The attack provides a good excuse; would you be up to considering transferring to an Atlanta hospital and moving down there for the duration?" "Well, we'd still have to keep up the pretense of being siblings, since too many of your co-workers know me," Filia said as she started putting the groceries away. "I know. If you think we can do it, I wouldn't mind staying out those eight years; it's good work we're doing. If you don't want to, then we'll arrange things just as if that's what we're doing, and arrange for a fatal car wreck for Cal and Fiona in the meantime." "Hmm. Let me think about it. What's your ultimate plan?" "We should probably lay low, change to a new country for a generation or two. I was thinking something small and cozy, like being natives to Tuscany, opening a little bistro in a small town, maybe outside Massa along the sea." "Val, I could hardly pass for being a native. And native usually implies somebody's who's been in the area for a long time, which you haven't." "I could still pass." He wrapped his arms around her waist, nuzzling her neck. "And you, my dear, are the lovely bride I obtained whilst living abroad in Paris. Hmm. Desiree. Yes, that name would do nicely." Filia blushed. "It sounds like a lovely plan." "Then it's settled. The only thing left to determine is whether or not we remain in the States for another eight years." "I'm not sure. I could always transfer down, and just get that out of the way, and we can make up our minds afterward?" "That sounds reasonable." Filia jumped as the first crack of thunder became audible. "I told you we'd get rain." "Maybe our next life after that we can be a couple of meteorologists. I still say we ought to chase tornadoes, like that pair on Twister." "And I still say you're nuts." Filia left the kitchen, walking into the living room to draw back the curtains. "Oh, crap." "What is it?" Val called out. "I need to bring my plants in," she replied, opening the door to the balcony. "Last time I left them out in a thunderstorm, one decided to experiment with unassisted flight." "Ouch." Filia quickly started moving her potted plants indoors, and as she stooped over to lift the last one, her eyes caught a familiar figure across the way down below. He still appeared to be dressed in the same suit from the night before, only now in addition to his attire he sported a cane and a fedora, creating a style which Filia hadn't seen outside the movies since the 1940s. He didn't wear glasses as he normally did, and there was no doubt to his identity as their eyes met. She hurried back inside and shut the door. "I'm going back out. Xellos is down there, I want to talk to him." "Filia, wait!" But she was already out in the hall, and decided not to bother with waiting for the elevator. She could likely beat it by taking the stairs, and raced down them, almost tripping twice before skidding out into the lobby. Please be there... She ran past the startled doorman and almost collided with a pedestrian as she left the building and looked around. "You seem to be in a rather big hurry." Filia spun around, seeing Xellos leaning against the wall casually, holding the cane up, against his shoulder. The fedora was settled at a rakish angle, slightly over to the left. He let the cane swing down to the ground as he pushed away from the wall, strolling over to her. "I didn't want you to go." "And once upon a time, you couldn't wait to get rid of me." "I told you, Xellos, those days have passed. You didn't even let me say good-bye last night." Val caught up with them, but remained under the awning, watching. "There were more important things at hand." He looked up at the sky. "The wind's changed, wouldn't you say?" "Um..." Filia frowned. "I suppose it has? Why?" "No matter. Remember what I said, Miss Filia. Nature abhors a vacuum. I do believe that nature has taken things well in hand, don't you?" "I'm sorry." Xellos blinked. "Whyever for? You're in good hands now. I do believe I can count on you being taken care of from here on out." "But still, I told you..." Filia trailed off and tried again, resting her hand on his arm. "Xellos, I meant what I said, you know. About being able to be content, happy, with you." Xellos smiled slightly and patted her hand. "I know you meant it," he said. "I also know you never would have been able to do it. We both said a lot of things last night. But one thing hasn't changed: I'm not the one you need." "Don't talk like that, how am I to be able to remember all the old days without you? Who'll be there in there in shadows when I need someone the most?" "You're going to be fine. I do believe that Mister Val is more than capable of seeing to matters now." "But what about us?" "We'll always have those old days, when everything was at the height of its glory." "We didn't, not until you helped me remember! It was lost, I'd forgotten it, all of it, until you gave it back to me." "And now that you have it again, I know you won't let it slip through your fingers so readily this time." "I said I wanted to stay with you," Filia protested. "Stay with me. I do care about you, I do." Xellos smiled. "I know. But it's better this way, Miss Filia." "No, no, it's not! We're all we have! Isn't that what you said?" "It is. And you have all you need now." "But what about you?" "I have what I need...now," he said. "Is this because of Val and I...?" Overhead, thunder cracked loudly, threatening to break the oppressive humidity. Xellos chuckled. "Miss Filia, have you not yet figured it out? When was the last time anything which I was involved in did not unfold in a manner I did not expect, or even create?" "Xellos, I meant what I said, that I wouldn't leave or turn you away, we need each other. We all do. No one else in this world understands." "And you're keeping that promise, Miss Filia," Xellos said, then smirked. "Whoever would have thought that someday I'd be acting all magnanimous and noble, hmm? Think about what Miss Lina would have said to that. Or better yet, Miss Amelia." He closed his eyes and gave his head a little shake. "I can just hear the justice speech now." Filia chuckled, but her eyes burned with tears. "Xellos, please. Don't go. See? I need you, I still need you." Wet droplets began to fall, tentatively at first, trying out the routine before progressing with gusto. "No, you don't," he replied. "You only think you do. That Dragon over there, he's the one you need now. And as for me..." He trailed off, and gave her a lopsided grin before stepping back, adjusting his fedora. "As for me, I've got a job to do. Where I'm going, you can't follow. What I've got to do, you can't be any part of. I'm no good at being noble, but it doesn't take much to see that the problems of three little people don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world. Someday you'll understand that." "This isn't Casablanca," Filia murmured, choking on her own words through the tears. "And I'm not Ilsa, and you're certainly not Rick, so stop it." "Now, now," Xellos said quietly, ducking his head to kiss her cheek. She closed her eyes, hot tears spilling out, mingling with the rain. "Here's looking at you, kid." He stepped back again, smirking down at her, and tipped his hat, even as he turned away. "Adieu, Miss Filia, Mister Val." "Xellos!" Filia called after him. He stopped, but didn't turn around. "Yes, Miss Filia?" She hugged herself tightly, feeling chilled for reasons that went beyond the rain soaking her clothes. "When will we see you again?" He didn't reply, nor move, for several heartbeats. She was about to speak again when he turned a bit more, looking back at her over his shoulder. His eyes met hers, and a small smirk tugged the corner of his mouth. "Do take care of her, Mister Val." Filia jumped as she felt two hands rest on her shoulders. "I will," Val said. She stared at Xellos, shocked into silence for a moment. "What kind of an answer is that?" she retorted as he turned, continuing to walk away. This time, he didn't reply nor acknowledge her question. "Xellos!" "Filia, wait." Val grabbed her arm, but she shrugged him off, looking down the sidewalk in time to see Xellos duck around a corner. "Xellos! Answer my question, dammit!" she shouted, tearing after him and skidded to a halt, blinking in shock. The corner led to a blind alley, and he was nowhere in sight. "I know you're here! Get back here and answer me!" Val caught up with her, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind, holding her close. "Filia." His voice was firm but soft against her ear. "Quit making a scene." "I hate that. I hate how everything's a secret with him. Why can't he ever answer me just once?" "He did," Val said quietly, looking around. Filia felt colder, and turned to hug him back. "No, he didn't," she insisted stubbornly. "That was good-bye." He nuzzled her hair, and brushed the wet locks out of her eyes. "No." The words felt like they were choking her, and she shook her head, pushing against him, trying to push him away, push away what he was saying. "That stupid Mazoku used it wrong. It's not adieu, it's au revoir, it's--" "Filia!" Val held her head between his hands, looking in her eyes. "Stop." She stared at him until her eyes stung and her vision blurred. A sob choked its way past her lips as he pulled her into a tight hug. "Not good-bye. I don't want to say it..." Filia whimpered sharply, clinging to him. "Why? What's happening? He didn't tell me. He didn't give me a chance, I could have--" "It'll be okay," he whispered, cutting her off. "We'll be okay. He knew. Filia, how much of all this do you think was an accident? It had to come sooner or later. He's survived without magic for longer than any other. Shh. Don't cry. That's one thing I'll admit to having in common with him -- neither of us ever liked it when you cry." "Is he..." She choked down a low moan. "Gone now?" "I don't know. It depends on how close he wanted to cut it, I assume." "I wanted to tell him..." The words caught in her throat. "I want to tell him he's... I'll miss him, I won't forget him." "He knows." So shalt thou rest -- and what if thou withdraw In silence from the living, and no friend Take note of thy departure? All that breathe Will share thy destiny. The gay will laugh When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care Plod on, and each one as before will chase His favorite phantom; yet all these shall leave Their mirth and their employments, and shall come And make their bed with thee. As the long train Of ages glides away, the sons of men-- The youth in life's fresh spring, and he who goes In the full strength of years, matron and maid, The speechless babe, and the gray-headed man-- Shall one by one be gathered to thy side, By those, who in their turn, shall follow them. So live, that when thy summons comes to join The innumerable caravan, which moves To that mysterious realm, where each shall take His chamber in the silent halls of death, Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night, Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.