Steel & Silk

“You didn’t really think you could sneak in here without telling us goodbye, did you?”

Fiora jumped, nearly knocking her head on a piece of metal dangling in front of the Biotic Regeneration Device.

“How long have you been there?” she demanded, whirling on Melia. 

The other girl’s silver hair and white wings shone in the faint light of the ether cylinders on the walls. Blue, orange, yellow, red, green. Like a dim kaleidoscope. It was almost embarrassing that it had taken Melia speaking for Fiora to notice her, when she looked as striking as that.

“Since you ‘snuck’ out the front door.” Melia crossed her arms. She wasn’t holding her staff, though it was slung over her shoulder by a strap. Beneath that, she still wore her silk nightgown.

Fiora didn’t have to wear anything. Not in this mechanical body. There was an odd sort of freedom to that, as embarrassing as it had felt at first.

Now she was just embarrassed at letting herself be tracked so easily. Why hadn’t she run one of her alerting programs? It would have only taken a few extra seconds, and she would have known if anyone was tailing her…

But maybe, deep down, she’d wanted to be tailed. She’d expected it to be Shulk or Sharla, though. Sharla because she always seemed to see when Fiora was out of sorts, and Shulk because… 

Well, it should have been Shulk. She was about to make a decision that would affect both of their lives, after all.

“It wouldn’t have been goodbye,” Fiora said, feeling small. “Just… goodnight.”

Melia seemed to soften a little, like a spool of Steel Silk that had gone damp. She took a step towards Fiora.

“And you didn’t want to tell us goodnight?” she asked. 

It was difficult to read her tone. It always was, with Melia. 

“I did. I…”

She couldn’t explain what she was doing, or why. It was foolish. More foolish even than Melia thought.

“I don’t…”

I don’t want to go in there, even now, she couldn’t bring herself to say. Especially now.

“Come.” It sounded more an order than an invitation. But the hand Melia reached out…

Fiora took it, and allowed herself to be led out of the ruins. Past the cylinder hanger proper, to the ledge that overlooked the colony. They swung their legs over the concrete overhang. There was nothing to fear; the water below would cushion their fall, even if they made a stupid mistake.

Though Fiora couldn’t swim as well as she used to. That was another thing to keep in mind for the decision she wanted to make.

“I would really like to demand answers from you right now, you know. You remember our pact. We promised to tell each other these things that weigh on our hearts.” Melia sighed, drumming her fingertips on her knee. 

Fiora swallowed, guilt pooling like oil in her stomach. Before she could apologize, though, Melia kept talking.

“However… I am not sure I deserve whatever answers you have to give.”

Fiora’s brow furrowed. 

“What right do I have to tell you what you should do with your own body?” Melia continued. “How could any of us demand you wait on our schedules, when you have been suffering under such pain?”

“I’m not,” Fiora answered, and Melia looked up sharply.

“I’m not in pain. Not anymore.” Her shoulders hunched, her wing-like drones buzzing with the weight of emotions unspoken. 

She was fine. She was better than ever. Not that anyone would believe her, when she’d spent so much time lying before.

Melia looked at her quizzically.

“But… your body…”

“I can’t explain it. I think… defeating Zanza did something? Maybe I took back the power of Meyneth’s Monado, or… Shulk’s wish for a world without gods… maybe it meant we don’t need gods. That I don’t need the Monado to survive any longer. Or maybe Alvis just fixed me, as a favor to Shulk. I don’t know.” 

Fiora sighed. She didn’t know a lot of things. She didn’t know if this change was permanent, or if she’d go back to feeling like a decaying corpse in a few months. Weeks, maybe. 

“Whatever the reason, that is wonderful news,” Melia replied, though her tone was cautious. Unless that was just her normal bridled emotions. 

If Fiora were more homs, would she be able to tell?

“It does not explain why you are here, however.” 

Of course Melia wouldn’t let it go. She was twice as stubborn as Fiora was.

“It was silly.” Fiora’s face heated, fans on the back of her neck whirring to vent it. “I thought I could…”

What? Close off the Regeneration Device? Damage it? Make it so somehow, no one would ask her to retake the form she’d left behind—but in so doing, spit on all the sweat and tears that Shulk had poured into this discovery?

It was beyond selfish. She never would have actually gone through with it; there were too many other applications for the Device. Maybe it could even heal Dunban’s arm. No, she’d never break it.

But she’d needed to come here anyway.

“I guess I just wanted answers.”

Fiora laid back, drones obediently moving to her sides to allow her to stare up at the sky. There were so many stars out tonight. Had there always been so many stars?

“I see.” Melia nodded, as if what Fiora had said had made any sense at all. “Did you find them?”

Not quite. But not… not-quite.

“Do you have any for me?” she asked instead, more desperately than she meant to.

To her surprise, Melia let out a startled laugh.

“I thought you were tired of people trying to tell you what to do.” Melia raised an eyebrow.

She looked just as striking in the starlight as she had in the cylinder-light. It wasn't fair.

(Could the Device make Fiora look like that? Maybe it would be worth it, then.)

(Something about that didn't feel right, though.)

“I was. I am. But it's… easier, that way.”

It was what she was used to. Even if she didn't listen, there was always someone trying to give her advice. Shulk. Dunban. Sharla. Even Reyn, sometimes.

Melia never did. As blunt and direct as she was, as much regal authority as she held, she never gave orders to Fiora.

“I've never known you to choose something simply because it is easy,” Melia commented.

“You give me too much credit,” Fiora mumbled.

“Do I? I would like to see you procure even one example of such a choice.”

“Shulk.”

Melia’s head tilted, wings fluttering. “Come again?”

Fiora took a deep breath, even though she didn’t need to.

“Loving Shulk was easy.”

“I… hardly think that counts.” Melia’s throat bobbed as she swallowed. She turned away, one wing hiding her expression.

It did count. It was a choice Fiora had made since they were kids. He had always been there. She’d always seen it as inevitable. Everyone had.

Was it a choice, if it was inevitable? 

If it was inevitable, could she choose?

Did she want that responsibility? 

Her hand inched closer to Melia’s, curled into a fist against the concrete between them.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Fiora barely dared to breathe.

“You can tell me anything, Fiora. You know this.” Melia sounded like she was steeling herself for the worst.

Fiora couldn’t pray to the Bionis anymore. Maybe the remnant of Meyneth could send she didn’t screw this up.

“It… isn’t quite so easy, anymore.”

Melia looked at her sharply.

“What? Has he done something foolish? I can knock some sense into him. Just say the word.”

Fiora almost laughed.

“No, he didn’t do anything wrong. He’s the same as ever. I’m the one who’s changed.”

“Because your body is no longer that of a Homs?” Melia guessed.

Fiora shook her head and sat up, curling her arms around her knees.

“Well, partially? But mostly, it’s… I’ve seen the rest of the world, Melia.” She bit her lip and glanced up at the stars, so brilliant. So distant, despite the brief moment she’d walked among them. “And I know Shulk is the reason I was able to. I’ll always be grateful to him for that. But now that I know what all else is out there… who all else is out there… I can’t go back to the girl I was. The girl who had silly daydreams of marrying Shulk.”

The thoughts hadn’t quite come together until she said them out loud. But they were true. And they explained why she felt so apprehensive of getting into that Device.

She didn’t want to go back.

And… there was something else she wanted to move towards, instead.

“…I see,” Melia said, finally. “No, perhaps that’s presumptuous of me, to assume I understand. I know we have each changed quite a bit. And I know I didn’t know you before. But somehow… you have always felt so—so solid.”

“Because I’m made of metal?” Fiora couldn’t help joking.

“Because you’re you, Fiora.”

Melia placed her hand on Fiora’s knee, gently turning her towards her. Fiora leaned into the touch like it was a new center of gravity.

“You’re so determined. You always press on, and on, and on.” Melia smiled a little. “You have the strength to seize any opportunity you wish to. I suppose it’s simply difficult to believe you don’t wish to, in this scenario. I never considered it.”

“Because if you were me, you never would have let Shulk go?” 

This question was more jab than joke, though she didn’t intend it that way. It was hard to tell what she intended right now. Maybe she was taking a page from Melia’s book—speaking her mind a little too freely. 

She should have just appreciated the compliment. She never knew how to keep from spoiling a good thing.

“Clearly not.” Melia sniffed quietly. “I’ll have you know I stepped aside gracefully once you reentered Shulk’s life, thank you very much.”

Fiora was grateful she had, but, unfortunately, not for the reason Melia assumed.

“Do you think… he’ll be upset?” Fiora shrank a little. 

Maybe she didn’t love him in the way she’d thought she did, but he was still her best friend. She didn’t want him to be hurt because of her. Again.

“I think he respects you enough to trust your decisions. Whatever they may be.” Melia squeezed her arm. 

“Mmm… you’re probably right.”

It was hard to worry with Melia’s warm hand on her. The soft breeze wove around the two of them, an invisible ribbon wrapping this moment like a gift. 

Fiora treasured it. But did she dare risk untying it to see what could lay inside?

“Melia—”

“Fiora—”

They spoke at once, then blinked in unison, giggling at the surprise on each other’s faces. Fiora had leaned closer without realizing, her shoulder brushing Melia’s. 

“You go first,” Fiora said. “You’ve listened to me ramble enough.”

“I could never.” Melia shook her head with a smile. “But very well. I… I’m grateful you could trust me with this. When you came here alone, I worried that I had failed to be there for you.”

“I’m glad you came. I feel much better already.”

Her chest ached a little, wishing for whispers she couldn’t ask for. She didn’t have the courage to say them herself— 

“What were you going to say, Fiora?” 

—for all that Melia gave her the perfect opportunity.

“Just… thank you,” Fiora said instead.

Thank you. I love you.

“There is nothing to thank me for.” 

“Shh.” Fiora bumped her with her shoulder. “I’m thanking you anyway.”

Melia chuckled, resting her cheek against that shoulder, one of her wings bushing Fiora’s back. Fiora held herself still, afraid to jostle Melia and ruin the rare moment. Then she realized she was being too still, and before Melia could assume she’d made Fiora uncomfortable and pull away, Fiora wrapped an arm around her waist, beneath the strap holding her staff.

Melia’s wing fluttered at that, tickling the plates of Fiora’s spine. She couldn’t help a giggle.

“I suppose I can allow it,” Melia acquiesced. 

Fiora smiled and settled more comfortably against her—then remembered how uncomfortable her metal body must be to relax against.

“Stop that.” Melia’s wing gently rapped the back of Fiora’s head. “You’re fine. We Entia are strong enough to shoulder a bit of steel.”

“How did you…?”

“Lucky guess. One you just confirmed for me.” Melia smirked, but the expression softened quickly. “Any of the others would say the same, you know. You aren’t the burden you believe yourself to be. We love you for you, Fiora. No matter what body you choose for yourself.”

Fiora’s fans whirred and whirred, pushing hot air out her neck. Was that what had given her away? The mechanical equivalent of a beet-red blush? 

Well, she had more than embarrassment to heat her, now. Even if it was preceded by “we” instead of “I”—Melia loved her.

Melia loved her. No matter what form that love took, Fiora would treasure it for the gift it was.

“Th-thank you,” she said again, not trusting herself with any more words. 

Thankfully, Melia didn’t ask for any. She seemed content to accept those two words this time, to return to leaning against each other—steel against silk—as they gazed up at the stars.

They didn’t feel so far away, now.