http://clampfix.fanworks.net/others/silent.txt </head><body><pre>Here's my little contribution to the recent rash of seasonal fics--a holiday vignette of a slightly different color. Mild shounen ai included. ^^ Hope y'all enjoy. Thanks go to Jonna and Nat-san for spotting glitches and saying it wasn't dreadfully dull. Characters are copyright CLAMP and Kodansha. This is a fanwork for entertainment purposes only. Comments are welcome! - Kristin kolson00@yahoo.com * * * * * * * Silent Night * * * * * * * A mug sat forgotten on the coffee table. Winter and time had stolen all heat from the liquid remaining within, but the faint fragrance of cocoa remained in the air and sweetened the darkness. A little distance away, Ran sat on the floor with his back to the sofa, his legs folded beneath him, elbows resting on his knees, chin in his hands. In front of him hummed a glowing monitor. It was the only source of light in the living room, although from the windows glimmered the faint silver shine of the city outside. "Is it nice there?" He leaned forward as though to press against the screen for warmth. Reflecting the image of the figure on the display, his eyes shone like the glistening sidewalks bathed in streetlight outside. "The weather report said it is. But you're supposed to have rain tomorrow." The blond man on the screen nodded slightly, sunglasses flashing. "Today was warm." Of course, Gingetsu hadn't had time to check the forecast. He rarely did on trips like this one. "It's snowing here," Ran told him. Beyond the window glass, flakes glinted as they drifted earthward, reflecting the myriad lights and illuminated signs of the city. Ran wondered, as he had many times that night, what it would be like to feel those weightless crystals melt on skin. The touch of rain he remembered clearly, although he had felt it only once, like a thousand tiny, cold kisses with no tenderness in them. His wet clothes had clung heavily to his body, slowing his limbs as he moved. Passersby on the street, safe under their umbrellas, had glanced with concern at the solitary boy being soaked by the rain, but none had stopped to question why or offer help. He shivered, and fled from memory into the arms of the present. "Ah?" Gingetsu looked mildly surprised; there'd been no threat of snow before his departure. "Yeah, it's been snowing all night." A frown appeared on Gingetsu's face, and Ran blinked. "What's the matter?" "Is it cold in the house?" "No, it's fine." The near-invisible crease of worry on the man's brow made Ran smile and hunker down towards the screen. "I wish you could see the snow," he said softly. "It's really pretty. I sat and watched it for maybe an hour...." "It's the first, isn't it?" "Hm?" "The first snow since you came." The boy sat up straighter, startled, and thought back over the months since then. "I guess so," he agreed, with a little wonder. "It doesn't seem like it's been such a long time." "It hasn't." "No, I guess not." He reached for the mug on the table and took a sip, only to make a face at how cold the contents had grown. On the screen, Gingetsu's eyebrows lifted a fraction higher above the top of his visor in the way that meant he was amused. "Something in your tea?" Ran shook his head with the sidelong smile of one who knows he is behaving contrary to expectation, and lifted up the mug. "Hot chocolate," he said. "Well, it's not so hot anymore. But it was good." No, it had been better than good--it had been delicious, filling his belly and making his blood run slow and sweet. "I'll make you some when you get home." "Have you been eating?" The question was a little stern. When Gingetsu had, not so long ago, discovered his housemate's habit of subsisting on packaged ramen and junk food when not cooking for two, Ran had received a lecture comprised of multiple complete sentences (and that alone had made the scolding memorable). Instant ramen was fine for a snack, but its nutritional value was negligible. Was it that he was too busy to fix a decent meal? No, no, not too busy. Busy was not the problem. So he had promised to be diligent and feed himself, even when he was eating alone. "Yes, sir. I made curry tonight. There's tons left over. I might finish it by the time you get back. Maybe. It's two more days, right?" Ran was proud of himself--the question had come out sounding reasonably neutral. Reasonably. Gingetsu merely nodded. "I may not be able to call again." "Oh, that's okay...only if you have time..." he trailed off, and looked down to find that he was clutching at his mug as though it were a hand offering rescue. Swiftly he returned it to its place on the table. On the monitor, Gingetsu had tilted his head and was gazing off to one side. Ran could hear another voice talking, but the words remained an indistinct murmur. Gingetsu replied with a low monosyllable, and then turned back. "Ryuu says hello." "Kazuhiko's there?" "He just came in. This is our lunch break." "Oh. I say hi, too. You can tell him later," he added, a little too quickly. But that shielded gaze was already drifting away from him, as though to follow the motions of some wandering star that Ran could not see. Ran bit his lip; the lingering flavor of cocoa in his mouth lost its sweetness. How long had they been talking? Maybe ten minutes, maybe less. The lieutenant colonel was busy. He knew that. This was an important diplomatic mission, and although it kept Gingetsu away, at least it was relatively low-risk. Ran knew he ought to be grateful for that, and he was, he was, but-- "I should go. We have to run security at the next conference." "Okay," Ran said, and wondered at the calmness of his own voice. This voice and this heart, he thought, can they really belong to the same person? "Turn the heat up if you're cold." "Mm. I will." Somehow he was smiling, as if to reassure, and Gingetsu was nodding. The lieutenant colonel lifted a hand to cut the connection. Ran caught his breath. "Bye...." The image on the monitor dissolved into a blizzard of static, and then darkness. For a few heartbeats Ran pressed his forehead against the screen, his long messy bangs clinging to it. He listened to the silence. "I'm glad you called," he murmured. He had meant to say that. Why hadn't he? It seemed there were always things he forgot to say. As he had learned in the time since he had come here, silence was of two kinds. There was the full kind, when that gentle, brooding presence was near, not speaking, neither of them speaking, because there was no need for speech. And then there was the silence of tonight, of midwinter, of falling snow, of companionless cold. The empty kind. Slowly he lifted his head and straightened. His gaze flickered to the stereo, the mug on the table. There was music for silence and warmth for the chill inside him, if he wanted them, but the thing he wanted most was far away under snowless skies. It was too early to go to bed. Then again, he had no will to do anything else, and he was dressed in his sleepwear already. He rose, picked up the mug on the table, and took it into the kitchen. Might as well wash it in the morning, he thought. Abandoning it on the counter, he went back out into the hallway and towards his room. When he reached the doorway he stopped, staring through the open door at the bed he had so neatly made that morning, the frigid white sheets, the pale pillows rising from them like untouched drifts. Looking at it, one might never know he'd slept there at all. With a sudden, violent shudder, he entered the room and walked straight past the bed to the window, finding his way by the gleam from beyond the glass. From the window ledge he took the small winged oil lamp that served as his nightlight, lit it, and carried it out of the room. His slippered feet whispered on the tile floor as he turned and went down the hallway, careful to hold the lamp steady as he walked. When he reached the end of the corridor, he put out his hand to grasp the handle of the door to Gingetsu's room. It opened without a sound. Closing his eyes briefly, banishing all thought from his mind, he slipped inside and swiftly shut the door behind him. Once inside, he leaned his back against the door and opened his eyes. The flame of the oil lamp cast wavering light and shadow on the dresser, the doors to the closet and bathroom, the nightstand, the vast bed. He stared at them all, wide-eyed, as though he had never seen them before in his life. The last time he had come into this room had been during a terrible storm, which had woken him from strange, disturbing dreams and sent him racing for reassurance, just like any child frightened out of its wits by thunder. Gingetsu had let him sleep the night here, and despite shame he exhaled with pleasure at the memory. Neither of them had mentioned it the next day, although Ran had thought for a long time after that his own bed seemed strangely cold. Feeling like a thief, he sneaked over to the dresser and began opening drawers one after another--pausing to blink dazedly at the pristinely folded underwear--until he found a long-sleeved t-shirt that looked appropriately old and worn. Pulling it from the drawer, he drew it to his face and pressed his nose against it. Gingetsu. He shivered, although not from cold, and pulled the shirt on over his pajama top. It was much too big, of course. Satisfied, he closed the drawer and returned to the bed. Setting the lamp on the nightstand, he pulled back the covers. They were as thick and soft as he remembered. Really, the bed itself wasn't so different from his own. The sheets were just as cool. And this kind of behavior was ridiculous. If Gingetsu found out--but how would he find out? The washer and dryer weren't going to tell any tales. Ran imagined himself standing in front of his guardian, hands folded, head bowed, confessing: "I slept in your bed while you were gone. And, um, actually, I'd really like to sleep there with you in it. If that's all right. And if you feel like doing something besides just sleeping, that's even better..." With a puff of breath that was almost a laugh, he blew out the lamp and climbed into bed. Oh, the pillow was even better than the shirt. He buried his face in it, wrapped his arms around it and squeezed, a kitten rolling in catnip, too intoxicated by the scent to bother with being ashamed of himself any longer. Why hadn't he thought of sleeping in here before? He might have had a whole twelve days of it. Well, there was always the next mission. And the mission after that. And the one after that, for as long as they both should live. Slowly he opened his eyes, then shifted to look towards the window. The shades were open; outside, snow was still falling. Wind was swirling and flinging the white powder against the panes, and carrying with it a sound he could almost make out. Voices? "What can I give him, poor as I..." He lifted his head from the pillow. It was, he thought. Voices, singing. "If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb..." Carolers, he thought, recalling that there was a church in the neighborhood, not far away. The words of the song were strange to him. He listened, intent, and suddenly it came to him that perhaps all words were like this for Gingetsu. Maybe for him it was as if words themselves were a foreign tongue. When silence was filled with presence, there was no need for words. Ran understood that, but on a night like this--a night as empty as this--what else was there to brace his heart against? I need them, he thought. Even if you don't, I do. The single earphone and tiny communicator materialized almost before he wished them to. Propelled by the same recklessness that had carried him down the hallway, he reached out with his mind and his power to find the connection from before, to trace across hours and distant seas until he touched its source, and from there to seek the gleaming lodestar that outshone all the other lights around it: Two-Leaf Clover. The receiver in the visor's earpiece delivered his voice with perfect, digital clarity. "Gingetsu?" >From his own earphone, Ran heard a sharply drawn breath. He hoped, a bit belatedly, that his selfishness hadn't interrupted Gingetsu at a significant moment, and thereby compromised international security or something equally awful. He had never made contact quite like this before. "I'm sorry," he whispered, "sorry to bother you again." Alarm tightened the low voice. "Are you all right?" "Yeah. I just--I forgot to say," he gulped for air and courage. "I miss you." His heart clenched like a fist. "That's all." The pause on the other end was very long. Then, softly, his name, the name he loved, because Gingetsu had given it to him. Only that, murmured as though to melt drifting snow. Ran curled in on himself, clinging to the pillow, feeling that warmth as though it were fingers in his hair, arms around his waist, breath on his nape. Things he had never felt but oh, he wanted to.... There was another pause, not quite as long as the first. Then, a little haltingly, "I'll see if I can finish early here." Ran's eyes snapped open. "Really?" "I'll try." That was a warning: no promises. The work might not allow it. Nevertheless, Ran smiled, and closed his eyes again. "Okay," he murmured. The sound was a bit muffled under the covers. "Are you in bed?" "Yeah." Ran buried his flush in the pillow, and did not mention which one. "Warm enough?" "Yeah." "Then hurry up and go to sleep." "Okay," he mumbled, and could not resist adding, "I'll try." A huff. "Good night." "'Night." The connection closed, and the device he had created melted away. Ran heaved a great sigh and snuggled again into the pillow. Outside, the voices of the carolers were fading into the distance, singing a song that was familiar this time, one that spoke of rest and peace. Soon nothing reached his ears but the hiss of the wind, unless he imagined that he could hear the minute patter of the flakes that were blown against the glass in their flight. Well, he thought, beginning to drift like the snow, I guess I'm glad I called. Probably international security will be all right, somehow. Hurry up and go to sleep, and then it'll be tomorrow, and one day closer to the other kind of silence. The best kind. * * * * * * *</pre><p><a href="./">Back</a></p><p><a href=http://www.dreamhost.com/donate.cgi?id=216><img border=0 alt="Donate towards our web hosting bill!" src=https://secure.newdream.net/donate1.gif></a></p></body></html>