Title: Remaining Light
Pairing(s): Implied Hyuuga x Ayanami, if you squint.
Warnings: Mentions of Yukikaze, spoilers only if you haven't read the first 10-odd chapters.
Synopsis: Even the darkness finds itself to be lonely.
"Did you see yourself in him?" There is the sound of furniture being moved, as Hyuuga flops on a chair in front of his superior's desk. "And that other boy too, when you took half his soul."
The question is unexpected, a sudden break in the silence that has settled too peacefully over them. Violet looks up sharply, too sharply perhaps, only to meet a panel of darkened glass and a familiarly devious grin. The pen hovers over the paper, almost uncertain in the pause that seems to span a lifetime, before ink taints the ivory expanse and the Chief of Staff returns his attention to the work on the desk before him.
Both of them remain silent; he knows what the Major is talking about but chooses not to reply, not yet at least.
"Besides," Ayanami glances up again as his subordinate starts speaking once more, "it's not like you to have such a keen interest in a boy like that, even if he is the wielder of the Eye of Mikhail."
"If only you had as much time for your work as you did for speculation."
Hyuuga's lips merely curled into an even wider grin, leaning back on the chair he had appropriated from somewhere else and dragged in front of Ayanami's desk. All the better to watch him work, he had reasoned, until he remembered that sitting within reach of his superior also made it easier for the man to utilize that dangerous whip hanging at his belt.
"But Aya-tan, all work and no play makes life so boring~"
The silver-haired man shot him a glare, and it only served to widen his grin. They were alone; they usually were when the sun finally dipped below the horizon,
"You, on the other hand, never do any work."
The pen had returned to its previous task, neat lines scrawled over the paper, a multitude of markings and quick notes dotting the various forms and reports.
Silence as heavy as snow settled between them again, violet scrutinizing his work, and crimson the man so immersed in his job. Minutes pass in this manner, and under the brim of his cap there are moments Ayanami lifts his gaze ever the slightest, if only to see his subordinate watching him with an unreadable expression.
"Was he your light too?"
Again, another sudden question. This time Ayanami doesn't look up as he slides a folder of completed reports into the 'out' tray, never once pausing in his work. The memory of a serene man with jet black hair and clear rounded glasses comes back to him again, and his eyes narrow just the slightest in the shadow of his cap. The name no longer lingers at the edge of his lips, the sky has grieved enough and perhaps he too, has let him go.
"You're entertaining a ridiculous notion."
The tap of footsteps signals that Hyuuga had risen to his feet, stepping deftly around the desk separating them, callused hands coming to rest against Ayanami's shoulders.
This time the Chief of Staff puts his pen down and tips his head back slightly to meet the Major's gaze head on, reaching up to remove the barrier of dark glass between them. He sees crimson, so much like the blood that runs with darkness in their veins, and just for a moment his mind wanders, wanders to a time of painted snow and lingering death.
An arm against the high-backed chair braces Hyuuga's lean form over Ayanami, almost as if cornering him to prevent an escape from that question.
"Those of darkness would rather remain in the shadows." There is something in his voice, something that resonates there, something unspoken locked away in the depths of his soul where he chooses to let no-one else reach.
For the first time the expression on the swordsman's face is almost contemplative, broken only by the touch of gloved fingers brushing against his jaw and trailing down to his neck.
"It has always been a matter of solitude, Hyuuga."
There is a glint of perhaps realization in those crimson eyes, and Ayanami lets his fingers drop, tearing his gaze away from that of his subordinate. Privately, almost as if to himself, his lips curl into a semblance of a smile.
He would never tell Hyuuga this; if Yukikaze had been his 'light', Hyuuga would be his shadow, and the darkness no longer seemed so lonely.
A/N: Hello there inspiration that hit me like a brick wall and refused to let me sleep in the wee hours of the morn. This whole fic originated from a discussion about the similarities of the relationships between Ayanami, Yukikaze, and Hyuuga, and Teito, Mikage and Hakuren. I would go on about how it's a parallel of one another, (blame my literature course), but I won't, not now anyway.
Somehow now that I think about it, sense it makes some.