Hello! Long time no write.

This is a little something I owe Sasukeblade for her birthday. I'm kind of ashamed at how late this is. Sorry Sas, I'm a terrible person! But here you go, just as requested: a little bit of Alinor.

(For all those that don't know, the characters involved herein are all from The Caravan of Tipa RP. It mostly-kinda-usually follows the canonical storyline and then a little beyond, although I don't anticipate many of the events contained within to actually happen.)

So anyway. I wrote this for pretty much seven hours solid today and it's about 3am. It's not quite what I set out to write, but I still kind of like it. Sorry for any typos.

What If

Sometimes, when she watches them hold hands, Elinor can't help but be a little jealous that Layla met Alain first.

They're just so... happy. Anyone can see how perfect they are for each other. Lovely Layla and amazing Alain. When they're driving Papu up front together, Layla rests her head on Alain's shoulder and it fits into the crook of his neck better than if she'd been designed by the finest craftsman in Alfitaria for that very reason. When Layla hums, Alain taps his fingers to the beat without even realising he's doing it; when Alain has doubts, Layla soothes them away with subtle little kisses. And then there's that thing Alain does, when Layla is concentrating hard on something and her hair gets in her face, and he just pushes the offending strand away like so.

Elinor sees all this and doesn't know what to do with herself. All she knows is that she wants it, and that she shouldn't be feeling like this at all.

How did this happen? she thinks miserably, when did he get under my skin? She ran away from home to get away from her problems, not to find some new ones. She doesn't want to cause trouble. She doesn't want to be in love with Alain... except that she does, and she is, with every scrap of feeling she's got crammed into her diminutive frame.

Sometimes it's frustrating, the fact that if only she'd been born a few hundred miles south she might have been in with a chance. The rest of the time it's just depressing, because then she remembers that Alain is almost five years her senior and that Layla is beautiful in too many ways to count.

Much as she tries to bemoan her current situation, the fact remains that she is not at all sorry to have met Alain that day. Hope springs eternal, after all.

She plays a game with herself sometimes. Every time she has a conversation with just Alain, she scores a point. If Alain initiates the conversation, she gets two points. If Layla or anyone else joins in, she loses a point. So far she's on twenty three, give or a take a couple.

Talking to Alain gives her a simple kind of joy. She can talk about whatever she likes. She doesn't have to pretend to know things or care about things she doesn't want to. Alain always listens to what she has to say, no matter how ridiculous, and everything Alain says she finds utterly fascinating. He could wax lyrical on the weather and she'd still listen.

"Elinor," Alain begins one day, flicking the reins idly. Elinor mentally chalks two points up and swings her legs jauntily from her position by him on the driver's box.

"Mmhmm?"

Alain pauses for a moment, as if considering the best way to phrase his remark, and then says, "I was just wondering what it might have been like if you'd grown up in Tipa with the rest of us."

Elinor shrugs airily, as if this thought doesn't occur to her on almost a daily basis, and tries not to read too much into the fact that Alain has considered it too. "If I had, I might not be anything like the way I am today." Sometimes, that's the only way she can comfort herself. "If I'd grown up in Tipa, I might have ended up becoming the most annoying person in the world."

"You, the most annoying person in the world? Surely not."

She nudges him with her elbow. "Bet you were this funny as a kid too." She pauses for effect, then delivers the punchline. "Funny looking, I mean."

Alain laughs. "Let's not even go there, shall we?"

Elinor then spends an instructive few minutes trying to picture Alain as a child – gangly, awkward and impossibly kind. But mostly gangly. She giggles, and Alain rolls his eyes.

"You know what? I bet you were a really funny looking little turnip when you were young."

Elinor elbows him again. "Hey, I was plenty cute then and I'm plenty cute now."

"I don't doubt that," Alain replies, and Elinor blinks at the compliment. As if oblivious, Alain continues on, "But honestly, just imagine how different everything might have been if you had been born in Tipa. Layla might have married Dai Soo instead of Meg, you know, and that was in this lifetime, so it's hardly a stretch to say we might all have ended up with different people. "

Elinor swallows. "Imagine that. In another lifetime, you might have ended up with me instead of Layla."

Alain glances sidelong at her, almost as if he's about to say something, but then Rox sticks his head out of the cabin and asks if they can see the next town on the horizon and somehow, the topic doesn't get mentioned again.

They take a break by the roadside for dinner one day, as is usual, and while Alain gets out the plates, Jackie roasts some fish and Rox feeds Papu, Layla taps Elinor on the shoulder and indicates the soft green grass surrounding them.

"It'll be a good tumble cushion if you fancy some training?"

Times like these are when Elinor feels absolutely wretched about herself. She likes Layla, thinks of her as the older sister she never had, even stayed with her family in Tipa for gods' sake, and Layla is just so nice. And Elinor is repaying her by secretly crushing on her boyfriend. She didn't deserve Layla's friendship. The whole caravan ought to tie her to a tree and leave her to choke to death in the miasma.

Layla holds her hand out. "Come onnn," she teases, wiggling her fingers invitingly. "Scared I'll throw you?"

Elinor smiles despite herself and settles herself into a basic stance. "Not a chance."

"We can just practise if you like," says Layla. "In fact, I'll teach you something new. But not a throw," she adds, seeing Elinor's dubious expression.

The session is a welcome relief from long hours of sitting in the caravan and doing nothing, but Elinor's thoughts are elsewhere and more than once she finds herself glancing over at where Alain is helping Jackie remove the now cooked fish from their respective spits. She tries to tell herself she's just hungry.

"Having a problem?" Layla asks kindly, when she completely fails for the fifth time in a row to follow the Clavat's instructions.

Elinor looks at her hands sheepishly. "I… I guess."

"Well," Layla appears thoughtful for a moment. "You could always try writing it down. I write in my journal when I'm having a problem. You'd be surprised at how much it helps you sound it out."

So Elinor buys a little journal in Marr's Pass the next day. It's smaller than Rox's, and the front is much plainer than Layla's decorative yin-yang design. Elinor thinks there's maybe some irony in both those facts. Still, it's hers and she likes it. Most of the time she uses it for the reason she bought it – to record their adventures in her own words, so that on the day she finally has to leave them for Alfitaria she will have something she actually wants to read.

On the very back page, though, she uses it for something else.

Dancing

Crystal

Bessie

Wedding

To four members of the caravan that short list probably means very little at all, but she's fairly certain that if the fifth picked it up, he might understand the significance.

The inn at Shella is very nice, but Elinor can't help feeling a little disgruntled that everything in there was designed for people of Yukish height. She's trying her hardest to put her knapsack on the top shelf of her closet, but she's just not tall enough.

There's a chair in the room (also far too big, honestly) that she eventually decides to drag across the room to use as a step. Just climbing up takes far more effort than she'd like, and she feels rather vertiginous once she looks down at the floor. How did Alain stand being so tall all the time?

Speaking of Alain. The back of her neck is prickling, and she turns to see said Clavat leaning against her door post.

"What are you doing?" he asks, clearly bemused by her furniture climbing antics.

"We-ell," she begins, drawing out the word, "I was just wondering why you Clavats were so strange, and there didn't seem a better way to get into your head than to grow a few inches. And let me tell you, being a couple of feet higher off the floor brings to mind about twenty reasons to go crazy."

Alain laughs, and strides over. Taking the knapsack from her hands, he hefts it quite easily onto the shelf. "There you go. Any other experiments I can help you with while you're up here?"

It is at this point that Elinor becomes aware that for the first time, she's at eye level with Alain. All she wants to do is look down, but he's just there and she can't help herself. She likes his face. She likes his nose, which is straight and so unlike her own; she likes his eyes, which are brown like chocolate, and she likes how they always twinkle a bit like he and she are in on some kind of secret joke together. She particularly likes his forehead, and how it's always slightly creased as if he never really stops thinking. He's shaved recently, but his hair's still a mess. She prefers it that way, and she gets a sudden urge to ruffle it in much the same way he does her topknot. Her hand is halfway up to doing just that when she realises what she's doing, and she forces it back down

He's looking at her too. She wonders what he's thinking.

She half expects him to break the silence, but he doesn't. He just stares back at her expectantly, as if waiting for something, and there is something unreadable behind that twinkle in his eyes. If she really wanted to, she could lean forward and -

Stop it, Elinor.

"I, er." She clears her throat, and Alain blinks. "Could you help me down please? All this pretending to be a Clavat has given me some funny ideas."

"Sure," Alain says, and gently lifts her off the chair. "Er, Elinor – "

She's quite determinedly staring at the floor now. "Yes?"

A long pause, and then Alain says, "I, ah, came up to ask if you were coming down for supper. It's probably the last big meal we'll get before Selepation Cave, so…"

"I'll be down in two minutes," she replies in a small voice. After he leaves, she sits down heavily on her bed and tries to force her lips to stop tickling.

Layla's mood steadily worsens as the designated date for Selepation Cave draws closer, to the point where she can't actually string more than five words together at once. By the time they reach the cavernous entrance, she hasn't said a word in two whole days. Elinor huddles close to the rest of the group as they stand and take the measure of the place, trying not to notice how much the stalagmites and stalactites make it look like they're about to walk into a giant monster's mouth. She starts when Layla suddenly touches her hand.

"Elli," Layla whispers stiffly, voice hoarse with disuse, and the Lilty looks up at her questioningly. Layla keeps her spine ramrod straight as they stare into the dripping gloom. "If… if anything happens to me, you'll look after Alain for me – won't you?"

The irony of it is a little much for Elinor, so she simply gives Layla's hand a quick squeeze. "You'll never need me to do that."

"Please," Layla grits out, almost inaudibly.

"I promise," Elinor says, and they head into the cave together.

It's been a good year.

Elinor watches the dancers spinning around Tipa's crystal, and thanks her lucky stars that she is here to see it for a second time. She doesn't particularly believe in gods of any kind, but she does believe in demons, and if Barbariccia had had her way… well, at least one of them wouldn't be here.

As it is, Layla is here, and Elinor is glad. Elinor can see her dancing with Alain not far from where she sits, favouring her left hand over her right where possible. It's not easy to see in the light of the crystal, but her right hand is still rather burned and scarred after her duel with the wind witch.

Not for the first time, Elinor marvels inwardly that the young woman currently laughing and tripping over her partner's feet was capable of stopping a bolt of lightning with her bare hands.

She doesn't remember much of the fight. Afterwards, Rox told her she'd been hit on the head by a piece of falling debris from the roof, and that it was amazing she hadn't been concussed on the spot. Elinor only really remembers two things. The first is that last awful moment when the lightning flashed towards Layla's failing, flickering Holy-shielded hands, only to rebound in one ecstatic arc to strike Barbariccia through the heart. The second is Alain's shield materialising above her head to take a blow from the cave worm that she was too muddled to see coming.

"You don't have to look after me," she had mumbled incoherently, trying to push him away.

He'd simply pulled her along with him. "I will always look after you, Elli."

Now the strong hands that had pulled her out of danger are holding the more delicate hands of Layla as the two Clavats waltz slowly round the crystal. They're a little out of time with the music. Elinor notes this with surprise, since Layla's usually so in tune, but then she sees the tender looks on the faces of both Clavats. Alain and Layla are dancing to their own mysterious beat, and Elinor can't hear it.

"Care to dance?" Jackie sweeps in, her face lit by her brilliant smile. "Come on, Elli, waltz with me!"

Elinor's yet to meet a person who can say no to Jackie. As they prance with exaggerated steps around Alain and Layla, pulling ridiculous faces to put the lovebirds off, she can see Alain rolling his eyes at her and trying not to grin. Eventually, Alain hands Layla over to Jackie and makes Elinor a mock bow. There is mischief in his eyes as he extends his arm to her.

"May I have this dance, milady?"

Yes, it's been a good year, except that she's still in love with Alain.

On the day Layla lets slip she and Alain are engaged, Elinor feels like the world is ending.

"What? How long for?" Megan asks excitedly, and Layla smiles shyly.

"For a while now, but we didn't want to say anything until after… well, you know." She shrugs, and all the other caravanners look at each other knowingly. Although Barbariccia is gone, Rubicante still hangs heavily over the pair of them.

Elinor stands it for as long as she can, forcing herself to smile and hugging Layla. She feels terrible for not being happy for them. The colourful fruit salad Rox had so carefully sliced and diced suddenly doesn't look appetising any more, even though she'd faithfully promised him she'd try fruit if he ever prepared it for them. She picks at a slice of striped apple, then, hoping to avoid offending Rox, tells everyone she's feeling a bit ill and retires to the caravan with their wishes of a good night sleep and vows that she'd feel better in the morning ringing in her ears.

This was it, then. No more kidding herself. Alain was well and truly out of her reach now, and no amount of silly teenage pretending would ever change that.

Gods, how stupid had she been to ever think it would be different?

She was so childish and silly. The amount of times she'd bounced on his bed, or he'd caught her playing fort with her tent made of sheets in the inn, those were innumerable. When she wanted his attention, instead of simply asking for it, she poked him. She never walked if she could run or skip. He was always rolling his eyes at her. She couldn't even use her damn sword right and that was the only grown-up thing about her.

But…

But he'd come in to play fort with her. He'd turfed her out of bed in retaliation to her jumping antics, laughing. He poked her back. He secretly gave her extra portions at dinner; she'd never seen him share that eye roll with anyone else, never seen him wear that isn't the world hilarious look with anyone but her. In battle, Alain's shield was always there to take the hit when her swordsmanship failed her.

Suddenly, Elinor is overcome by an almost feverish desire to prove herself wrong. There must be hope somewhere, she can't possibly be imagining all the things they've done for each other, couldn't have misunderstood … surely?

She all but tears the journal out of its hiding spot and flips to the last page, staring at that list that is both far too long and far too short.

Dancing…

That smile on the first day she met him, that showed he was willing to take chance on her. That silly challenge to get her onto the caravan that had them twirling together like crazy people in the street. That thing she wanted to do with him at the end of every year, if only he wasn't doing it with Layla.

Crystal…

The day he took her aside at the Rejuvenation Ceremony, her first in Tipa. The way he tried, in his own awkward way, to explain that there was someone out there for everyone, and that they (he) would be there for her until she found that person. How she'd liked him, even then, when she'd thought it just her first silly crush, and how totally confusing and uplifting it had been to spend a whole fifteen minutes speaking to him alone.

Bessie…

Her favourite of all his cows. The long hours she had spent on the ranch, encouraged by both Alain and his father, learning to be normal and to do things just like everyone else, learning how things actually got done instead of waiting for them to turn up. The fond way she had caught him looking at her when he thought she couldn't see. Surely that meant something?

Wedding…

Simultaneously the worst and best day of her life. The day she had abandoned hope and almost been trapped in unwanted, unhappy marriage. The day Alain had broken out of Alfitaria's gaol to come and save her from it. The day he had stood up in the pews and declared to all the room that she was already married to him, and that he had come to take her away.

"Hah," she snuffles to herself. "If only."

Elinor doesn't really like crying. She prefers to get angry; it's always been the more productive of the two responses, in her experience. But as she sits and stares at the tiny list, she doesn't have the energy to be cross. Instead the sadness bubbles over like an untended pot of soup and a couple of tears squeeze out until she shuts her eyes and forces the rest to go away. When she opens her eyes again, she's a little irritated to see that the two tears that escaped have left watery blotches on her back page. She doesn't know whether to laugh or let some more tears out, and the resultant effort to do neither leave her with hiccups and a horrible tight feeling in her chest.

That's when the familiar tread of her favourite farmboy sounds on the backboard. She shoves the journal down the back of Meg's bunk, eternally grateful that Lilty complexions lent themselves rather well to covering up blotchy faces.

"How are you feeling, Elli?" Alain asks, searching absently through the provisions sacks for some item or other.

"Mm'okay."

It doesn't take Alain long to see the red rimming her eyes, and he ceases in his desultory search to give her a long look. Elinor stares right back at him, if only for lack of anything else to do. Then she sighs.

"What's wrong?" he asks immediately, shuffling onto the bunk beside her.

"There's a boy," she confesses between hiccups. She ought not to tell him that, really, but the tightness in her chest is making her feel a little punch drunk. What did it matter in the long run? She hasn't got anything to lose now. "I don't know what to do."

A little crease appears between Alain's eyebrows, but he doesn't ask the dreaded question. "Can I help?"

Elinor looks into his honest, anxious face, and the surge of affection she feels all but swamps her misery. Still, the fact remains. "No, there isn't anything you can do," she says, but at the further creasing of his brow she adds, "but it's not so bad really. Thank you."

Alain leans down so that he's looking up at her downturned face. "Hey. You're my favourite person, you know."

She's not really sure how to take that, since his fiancée is sitting outside, but she nods.

He ruffles her topknot gently before leaving her in peace, and how she hates it, how she hates that he treats her like a little sister. And how she hates herself for being happy for any kind of contact between them at all.

With Rubicante looming on the horizon, she's become so pathetic that she'll take what she can get.

The ship of Captain Tristan rolls gently over the swell, taking them away from Kilanda. Elinor never wants to go there again.

Alain lies motionless on the cot in his cabin, for all the world looking as if he is asleep. The combined magical efforts of Rox and Layla have removed all traces of his ordeal from him, but he's been comatose for almost a week. What should have been a celebration has turned into a bedside vigil. Layla sits beside him on an overturned pail, eyes trained on his dear face, still as a statue.

"Go to sleep, Layla," Elinor pleads with her for the umpteenth time. "You can't stay awake all the time, it's not good for you."

Layla turns haunted eyes on her, and Elinor understands that ever-present fear all too well. What if he wakes while I'm gone? Layla's stricken expression says, what if he doesn't wake at all? They're supposed to be getting married back in Tipa this year. Trying to keep her voice steady, Elinor reaches out and squeezes the Clavat's arm reassuringly.

"I'll watch him," she promises, as if she hasn't been doing it all the time up until this point. "If – if anything happens, I'll wake you up straight away."

Layla's stare bores into her own for a few moments, then she nods just once. "Thank you."

"That's alright," Elinor replies awkwardly, and helps the Clavat to her feet. Layla takes her in a brief embrace and then heads for the door and Rox's cabin across the hall where the rest are waiting. She lingers a little in the doorway as if hoping against hope that the sudden diminishment of her presence will rouse Alain.

It doesn't. Elinor releases her breath, not realising she'd been holding it.

"I've got him," she announces firmly. "Go and get some rest."

Layla nods, and vanishes into the less stuffy hallway. Elinor suspects she'll probably go and curl up with Meg or Jackie for the night so she can get to sleep, with either of the girls compensating for the lack of Alain's comforting presence at her back. At least Elinor hasn't had that problem; she's not been able to sleep.

The vigil is excruciating. Time seems to be irrelevant, and she's not sure if an hour has already sped by or she's still locked in the same never ending minute with Alain's quiet form. At some point Jackie brings her a mug of soup, and she hears the occasional clatter of one of the crew members passing by the door. She chats mindlessly to him sometimes, not even really sure what she's saying. And all the while, she's watching his chest rise and fall, praying for it to keep on going. He's had worse, she reminds herself constantly, remember that time in Tida? He's lost some weight, since they haven't been able to get any solid food down him for a few days. The lantern light flickers over his face, making his cheeks seem sunken, but the worst bit is how it tricks her into believing that his dark eyelashes are fluttering open.

Despite this, it's just so easy to look at him. She's only had a couple of chances to stare.

Now that she thinks about it, it's usually because when she glances his way, he's already looking at her. Swallowing the feelings that thought stirs up in her stomach, she holds her hand just over his mouth; his breathing is slight and shallow, but steady. She checks Megan's neat bandaging work, though she's not really sure what's she looking for, only that she'd know if something was wrong.

She feels so lonely. He's this close but she can't talk to him.

"Come on, Al," she says softly, lightly swatting his arm. "You have to wake up. For… for Layla."

It feels wrong to say, as if she's lying. She is lying. She doesn't want him to wake up for Layla. And if she can't say the truth out loud when he can't even hear her, what chance does she have? "And you really ought to wake up for me, Al," she adds quietly. "I miss you so much."

Ever so tentatively, she presses the smallest of kisses to Alain's cheek. He's stubbly in a tickly kind of way but she doesn't mind. At least, not until he opens his eyes and muzzily focuses in on her. Then she leaps back, almost upsetting Layla's makeshift stool. She can hear her heart pounding in her ears. For one brief moment she thinks she might have gotten away with it, but then Alain raises one sleep-fuddled hand and holds it to his cheek. His eyes become alert almost instantly.

Elinor doesn't know what to do. Alain is staring at her, mouth slightly open in surprise, and she doesn't know what to do. Unbidden, the necessary words spring to her lips.

"Layla! Layla! He's awake!" Her voice doesn't sound like it belongs to her, and she has to stop herself looking around for the third person who isn't there.

"Elinor – " Alain says urgently, but she backs against the opposing bunk even as he clumsily reaches out to her.

Layla comes bursting into the cabin, cheeks flushed and hair in beautiful elegant disarray. Elinor escapes onto the deck as quickly as she can and tries not to think about how she might have just thrown everything that ever mattered to her away.

They land back on the mainland a couple of days later, and Elinor has been dreading the return to the confines of the crystal chalice for days. She just doesn't want to have to talk to him, so she volunteers for every duty opposite his, walks by the caravan whenever he's taking his enforced bed rest, and pretends to be asleep whenever he's allowed to get up. Whenever she sees Alain coming towards her, she abruptly turns and walks the other way.

It doesn't take Meg long to notice what's going on. As Elinor strays rather close to the chalice boundary in her search for firewood one evening, Meg joins her.

"What's going on?" she asks, in that no-nonsense manner Elinor thinks she probably developed when telling Dai Soo that he wasn't allowed to do that, actually, so behave. Elinor realises that anything less than the truth will not wash, and she flushes red as she tries to pick up a particularly thick fallen branch.

"Meg, I really don't want to talk about it. Please."

Meg snorts. "Now I know something's up. Since when have you ever not wanted to talk?" Seeing Elinor still resolutely picking at the branch, she softens her tone a little. "I can see something's bothering you. I just want to help."

Elinor huffs out the tiniest sigh, and the look she turns on Meg is so utterly downtrodden that the Selkie instantly feels sorry for her. "Promise not to tell?"

"Cross my heart," Meg said seriously.

So Elinor tells her.

"Oh, Elli," Meg breathes, more than a little shocked at the revelation. Elinor in love with Alain? Elinor kissing Alain? Of course, the pair had been close ever since the day they met – Meg and Jackie had quite frequently teased Alain about his fondness for the little Lilty when Layla wasn't listening, but that had been in jest! This was… mind blowing. She isn't sure whether or not to feel disappointed in her friend or endlessly sympathetic. Suddenly, Elinor's furious response to Esther of Belstone's throwaway comment the year before makes a little more sense to her.

"I know I haven't handled it very well," Elinor says defiantly, as if reading her mind. "That's why I need your help."

"You need my help?" Megan repeats, confused. She was busy thinking back, and hard. Had there been any clues? Anything she missed? Now she thought about it, maybe there had been. The whole thing was a sorry affair.

Elinor is plunging on with her request, so Meg drags herself back to the present. "We did Kilanda first this year, so we still have two dungeons to go. Could… could you try and fix so that we miss Tipa and do the dungeons first? I don't think I could be around for the wedding." She's pleading now, and Meg makes up her mind.

"Of course you couldn't."

Elinor looks up at her hopefully. "Do you think you could persuade them to have the wedding at the end of the year? That way you can drop me back off at Alfitaria when we head up to Moschet Manor and I won't have to be there."

"I can try," Meg agrees, and Elinor goes back to picking up odd twigs. "Elli… are you planning on staying in Alfitaria after that?"

"Maybe," Elinor replies softly. Meg places a hand briefly on her shoulder, then heads back to where Rox and the others are discussing their next move. It doesn't take her much effort to persuade them that remaining on the road is the better option, and within the week they're heading away from Tipa and up towards Alfitaria.

She does her very best to distance herself from the rest of them in the time it takes them to reach her home city. They all notice her distraction with varying degrees of puzzlement, but no one says anything. After all, each of them has had their weird phases over the last couple of years; Elinor is more than entitled to one. By the time they reach the walls of the city, most of them have come to the conclusion that she's merely unhappy to be back in the city that almost stole her freedom, and leave it at that.

They sign in at an inn on the outskirts of the residential district, and Elinor tells Rox she'll share a room with Meg rather than get one to herself. There's no point in them paying for a room that she won't be using, after all.

She feigns illness again that afternoon, and one by one her companions all leave to make visits on various craftsmen and perhaps Brellin Saro and Anadreia. Once she's sure that she's alone, Elinor sneaks down into the adjoining stables and clambers aboard the caravan.

Once on board, she almost has a heart attack. Alain is sat on one of the too-narrow bunks as if he's been waiting for her for a while. He looks stricken.

"Are you leaving us?" he asks.

Elinor seizes the nearest item she recognises as her own, a shirt, and carries it out onto the backboard. Back and forth she goes, piling up her belongings, and all the while Alain tries to get her to talk.

"Elli," he says, pained, "Elli, please don't go."

"What can I do, Al?" she asks, and is surprised at how calm her voice is. "I don't want to get in your way. I don't want to be that person."

Gathering complete, she climbs off the backboard and out into the late afternoon sun. He follows. She doesn't have that many items all her own, so she knows it won't take long to pack them away and then she can get back to her uncle and everything will be normal. In go the four changes of clothes, in goes her breastplate and her gold pin, in goes the pendant they all bought her for her birthday only last year. That last one makes her want to cry, until she shifts one of her shirts over the top of the box. Even as she stuffs things haphazardly in her knapsack, she both wishes he would stop watching her and is secretly pleased that at least he came to say goodbye. Finally the packing is done, and she turns to face him properly. There is something odd in his expression.

It's strange. Alain's face is inscrutable; she's never not been able to read him before.

"Bye, Al," Elinor says quietly. "I really enjoyed travelling with you."

He doesn't reply, still watching her, so she tips him an awkward bow and makes to walk past him. He catches hold of her so fast she didn't even see his hand move, but there it is, resting on her arm.

"I want you to know something," Alain says slowly, uncertainly, but there the words end. Elinor stares fixedly at his fingers. She's not really sure what she's waiting for.

Ten seconds pass, and then thirty, and still she waits. Eventually, Alain clears his throat.

"I want you to know," he says, and this time his voice is steady, "that in another lifetime, it would have been you."

As he says it, his hand tightens almost reflexively around her arm for a second. Elinor barely feels it; something solid and hot and far too big has formed in her throat and she can't breathe or swallow. She shakes her head to try and dislodge it, only for the feeling to spread down her arms and into her stomach so she feels hot and numb and prickly and too tight everywhere.

"Oh," is all she can choke out. "Okay."

What else am I supposed to say?

Alain's grip slackens on her arm and she isn't sure whether to be relieved or not. It's confusing to touch him but she's fairly certain now that if she tries to move without his support she'll just collapse right there into a puddle of stupid, tangled up emotions.

"Elinor…" She can hear the catch in his voice.

"Bye, Alain," she manages, and staggers away from the caravan and him and into the suddenly hazy streets of Alfitaria.

She spends the rest of the day at her uncle's house in a daze, wandering to and fro and forgetting things, dropping drinks and knocking over priceless vases. Knocfelna merely sighs and tidies up after her, knowing a broken heart when he sees one, and doesn't ask too many questions. Only when his niece has gone to bed does he allow himself to wonder where her friends are.

The next morning she watches the clock intently until it strikes nine, and then all the tension seems to leave her tautly-wound little body. It takes Knocfelna a while to work out the connection, but then he remembers that the gates open at nine to allows caravans in or out. Her friends have left her. For some reason that fact seems to have lifted a great weight from her shoulders.

He feels like he's missed a step somewhere, but Knocfelna has enough of the pieces to work it out.

Later that evening, he peers into the guest bedroom and finds her staring at a little leather bound journal. She shuts it with a snap and smiles wanly up at him.

"Hello, Uncle. Did you need something?"

"I was just going to go to that little restaurant on the corner, the one that does those lemon cakes you like. D'you want to come with me?"

She looks back at the journal, then gets up. "Yes, I'd like that."

Elinor moves through the next two months of her life in a sort of forlorn, lost way, although she seems to take some genuine pleasure in the distractions her uncle sets for her; learning to bake, proper fencing classes with a real instructor, even just letting her walk his beloved dog anywhere she wants to go. Knocfelna wonders if it will ever be enough to get her back to the excitable, adventure-hungry, sweet little thing she used to be. He decides it might, if only she had one last push that he couldn't provide for her.

The push is a long time in coming.

It takes just over ten weeks, but early one morning a mailmoogle finally arrives. Knocfelna takes the letters and tips the little creature generously, because he's fairly certain at least two of the letters are not for him. When he hands them to Elinor she looks startled for a moment. Then she looks for the letter opener to avoid his knowing gaze, so he leaves her to it.

Hello Elli,

Hope this finds you in good health. I'm not really sure what's going on, but Alain said there was something you had to take care of. I guess it had to be quite serious for you to leave like that! But I understand. Some things can't be put off. We all really miss you. Meg keeps putting out six servings every night because she forgets you aren't there. We'll see you soon, won't we?

Chin up!

Love from Jackie

Elinor,

I'm not very good at writing letters but Jackie said I should send you one and then she told me not to write that she'd told me to do it, so just ignore that. I hope your business is all sorted out now, whatever it was, because the next time we come by Alfitaria we were hoping we might be able to pick you up again. Not that you have to come with us, if you're busy I understand, but you know.

Best wishes,

Rox

To Elli,

How are you? I hope that you're not getting into any street brawls! If you picked anything up from us, it was how to attract a bit of danger – just kidding. Everyone is asking Alain why you left. I think he really misses you, even more than the rest of us.

*some crossings out, as if Megan couldn't decide how to begin her next sentence*

You know that you can write to me about anything, don't you? The mailmoogle will find us wherever we are. It doesn't matter that you're far away, you're still our friend.

Take care,

Meg

Elinor,

It's so strange to write to you when I feel like I was talking to you only yesterday! I can't believe it's been over a month since you left us. I didn't know what to think when I found out you weren't coming. But as I'm sure Rox has mentioned, we'll be coming back past the big city in a couple of months so if you feel up to it, please come back to us. It isn't as fun in an evening without you to juggle magicite and throw apples at us.

Love Layla

She is smiling by the time she reads the fourth, but the smile fades a little when she realises it is not the last. A fifth one nestles snugly behind the others, bearing only the address, Elinor Baum, Alfitaria, in Alain's painfully familiar script. She waits a long time before opening it, and when she finally does she has to fight back a surge of disappointment.

The page folded within the envelope is blank.

Gently, she sets the parchment down on the table and closes her eyes. She understands it, of course; Alain must have pretended to write along with everyone else. But he couldn't think of anything to say to me!

When she opens her eyes again, the page looks back insistently.

She can't stand it glaring at her like that, so she gathers it up and begins to fold back into the envelope. Just as she is about to slot it back into place though, she spots what looks like an ink smudge on one of the corners. Carefully, Elinor draws the page back out, unfolds it… and turns it over.

On the very bottom right of the sheet, in font so squashed up and tiny she can hardly read it, are the words missing you.

Four months later, Elinor kisses Knocfelna goodbye and then takes her bag to the gate.

She's almost twitching with nerves by the time she gets there. It's a merchant caravan day, so it's busier than usual even at ten to nine. A small crowd mills around the huge archway, comprised mostly of merchants and shopkeepers eager to get their hands on the best of the morning's delivery. A couple of people bump into her, and one woman gives her a steadying smile. Elinor has no idea who she is, but the smile gives her the courage to not bolt as the gate creaks open.

It takes a while for the convoy queuing outside the gate to trundle in, and Elinor desperately scans each one for the familiar Tipan sigil on the side, for Meg's characteristic flash of blue hair, for anything that might identify them to her. As the caravans go by, no such sign appears. Elinor's heart begins to sink in her chest. She had feared this almost daily in the weeks following Rox's confirmation letter.

She'd left without so much as an explanation, hadn't said a proper goodbye to anyone, and had left it ten weeks without attempting to communicate any further. Why had she thought they had forgiven her? She probably wouldn't have turned up to collect her either, and she was her.

Elinor takes a deep breath, hefts her heavy bag and her even heavier sadness and turns back towards her uncle's house.

Two hands settle on her shoulders from behind.

Elinor stops dead. There is something achingly familiar about those hands. The mere sight of them makes her stomach do backflips. She wants to do nothing more than turn and bury her face in the midriff of the man behind her, but she's too scared to look at him.

"Hello, Elinor," Alain offers gingerly. "How are you?"

"I'm okay," Elinor tries to say, but then some kind of giant damn bursts inside her and she's flooded with all the feelings she's been suppressing for the last half year.

"I thought you weren't coming back!" she bursts out to the empty space before her. "I thought you must all hate me!"

He takes a step back and rotates her to face him. For a moment they look at each other solemnly, and all the things they've never said string across the gap like paper lanterns.

"Sorry," Elinor says finally. "I shouldn't have… I didn't mean to…"

"You've got nothing to be sorry for," Alain says, rubbing his hand awkwardly across his neck. "I, on the other hand…"

"Also have nothing to be sorry for," she says, quite firm in this opinion.

He gives her a wry look, and her heart leaps to see it. "Well, then why are we both standing here apologizing to each other?"

"I don't know," Elinor whispers. Alain leans down quite deliberately and seizes her in a hug; she's had hugs from him before, but this one is different. It's also probably the only one like this she will ever get from him again, so she takes full advantage of it, gripping the shoulders of his shirt in her fingers and burying her face in his neck. With a little rush she realises he's holding her far too tightly for this to be entirely platonic. For one marvellous moment she pretends she's allowed to do this all the time, and is happy.

"I missed you," Alain says, voice muffled. "I really missed you."

Elinor takes a deep breath and steps back a little, so that their foreheads are almost but not quite pressed together. "Friends?"

Alain looks hard at her, and she gets the feeling that he's being faced with the same decision she is. It makes it more bearable, somehow. Finally, he says, "Friends."

Later, when Jackie finds them, followed immediately by Layla, she is enveloped in a double hug of such intensity that she almost cracks a rib; Meg crashes into her from behind in her enthusiasm to greet her; even Rox is smiling as he offers to shake her hand.

"Glad to have you back," he remarks. "Did you manage to get your business all sorted out?"

Elinor seeks Alain's face, and sees an expression of utmost contrition there. For a second she doesn't know what to say, doesn't know how to tell the truth or even if she should lie, but then she remembers that this whole adventure began with a lie anyway.

"Yes," she says. "Everything is fine now."

Years later, a long time after the birth of Alain and Layla's first child, Elinor pulls out her old journal and stares at the list at the back. It's significantly longer now, not that she would ever tell Alain that.

It could have been her, she knows this to be true. Only it wasn't, and she's okay with that now.

But sometimes, when she watches them hold hands, Elinor can't help but be a little jealous that Layla met Alain first.

Fin.

There you are, Sas. I'm sorry it wasn't the epic romance you hinted at, but that was the way it spelled out in my head. So, er... how's your version coming, hmm? *hint hint*

Alain Cavalier is played by my fabulous buddy SasukeBlade, Megan Fei Soo by the charming AngelicSword, Jackie Rei by the lovely Oh Nathalie, Layla Kinneas by the ever excellent Sennick, and Roxy~ is played by the mysterious FinalFyler. Oh, and Elinor Baum is played by me!

If anyone would like to leave a review, constructive criticism is greatly appreciated. But this fic hits pretty close to home for me, so try and be as nice as possible ;)