The Moonlight Tryst (II)

THE NEXT FEW days are an absolute torture after her run in with Rob; so much so, that Larry even told her she could go home. Rachel tried to refuse, but she was just too overwhelmed and too tired; she didn't even have the strength to make herself a fair case. Like a meek little sheep, she merely nodded her head and collected her jacket and purse, and went straight home, never once faltering. The only coherent thought that crept into her mind was how and why. She'd been so terrified in that moment, when he showed her the book, that she went utterly still; much to her surprise, he didn't laugh or mock her, and he didn't even threaten her. He just looked at her with that same disappointed gaze, like his prayers weren't answered… and that confused her to no end. Rob had simply left nearly as soon as he showed her the book; no goodbye, no see you later, no nothing of anything. He just pushed the door open and left.

She doesn't bother coming in to work the next day; Larry would understand.

Rachel wasn't scared, she wasn't even worried if he had written anything in it; contrary to what most believed about that seemingly simple and basic notebook, it worked in strange yet specific ways. One had to be specific, yet also not so specific, to get a desired effect. It wasn't as simple as 'and then they kissed passionately' or 'the exchanged blows'; the book is too much of a trickster and would take those much too literally. Someone who mastered the book had to be a master of writing and structure as well. Rachel is sure that Rob isn't any of those things. No, what makes her uneasy and unable to even function properly in these last few days is the sheer question of how did he know and why did he take it? She received no answer no matter how much she asked in her head. So, by the time she is able to gather herself and regain composure and control of her haywire nerves and frazzled mental state, Rachel does so with the snobbish grace that was instilled in her when she had parents.

Late evening, as she's filling out the inventory order for the hardware store, she doesn't gaze at him for even a second. Not even as she feels him coming close to her bubble. There's nobody here, save for that one kid standing in the corner waiting and she wonders if that's his doing; almost mockingly, as she imagine he'd be, he holds the book in his crooked arm like a vice, almost urging her to look at him. "So; how long are you going to pretend I'm not standing here?" Her jaw clenches at that, and she risks a flicker of eyes through wavy sherbet locks; she wills for her jaw not to clench and for him to just go away. He doesn't. Obviously.

Slowly, she eases the pen down. "Hey, Rob; why don't you go ahead and utterly su—" her mouth keeps moving on it's own accord, but the actual audio is drowned out by the bell chime, an indication that the kid left. Oh, but Rob heard her. He doesn't seem impressed.

"...Really?" He asks in a deadpan.

"Want me to say it louder for you, big boy? How about a visual, eh?" She's utterly disgusting and crude when being downright rude, and she means it with all the venom, poison and toxicity of the world. But she doesn't consider the actual implications of the words. So, frankly, his reaction is unprecedented. He starts back like he was slapped and he blinks a couple of times before clearing his throat. And is that… red static? Rachel blinks. "Wow… you really are a ki—"

"I didn't write anything in it." His words are rushed and lacking in small pauses for her to even to make sense of what he just said.

A delicate brow is raised. "Beg pardon?"

He releases a deep sigh, and rubs the back of his neck. "The book. I didn't… write anything in it."

His explanation leaves her confused and bored already. "Okay. So what do you want, a medal? Are you going to give it back to me? How did you even take it from me to begin with?"

But Rob doesn't bother with her inquiries; just the first one. "What I want, is answers."

At this, she leans back into her chair, pen forgotten, inventory order form now crumpled into her fist and casually thrown into the trash. "And what makes you so sure that I'm going to give them to you, exactly?"

"Because you want to know some things too." She wants to pretend he isn't right; but the way her jaw tenses and her gaze flickers to the left is more than enough confirmation for him. Traitorous body. Gently, almost like a truce of sorts, he places the book in between them, the gold embellishments glittering against the stark light almost brilliantly. But Rachel's narrowed eyes do not waver from his, and the silence is deafening.

She numbs it out by walking over to the front doors, flipping the sign on the door to Sorry, We're Closed. Lips are bitten and she takes her time in traveling back around and behind her counter. She's utterly a lovely, disheveled mess tonight; whatever. "Alright. Fine. What do you want to know?"

Rob lets out a nod of content; this is fine, this is okay and it's how this is supposed to go. Perhaps she hallucinates it, but his mouth quivers and the way he's trying so hard not to show that leaves her a little lost on how she's supposed to react to it. His limp is too evident from the way he leans a little too dependently on the counter, or how his long arms encircle their space like he's trying to hold the weight of this whole conversation. For someone so young, he looks decades older. She feels bad for him; she was never friends with him when they were kids, but she remembers him just as she does with almost everyone else in Elmore. He used to be bright and blue, and he had a pink eye before, right? She remembers that he was almost cute in a dorky way and even had the hair of some boy-band vocalist; how time, how age changes you so drastically. How the Void changes you. Vaguely, she wonders how he would have looked like if he didn't disfigure himself. She's startled out of her reverie when his voice cuts through the air. "How… how did you escape…?"

She doesn't even think about it. "The book."

How did you get the book?"

She doesn't know why her throat closes up on the answer to that one. "It came to the Void one day." She shrugs, as if it's an answer to a simple inquiry about the time or the weather. "I… played around with it. It worked. That was that." She can tell that Rob can tell that it wasn't just that. There's more complexity to it; there always is. But he takes it, shown as he nods slowly; he accepts her answer, for now. If anyone came into the store would much too easily confused the two of a couple trying to get frisky with each other during store hours. The irony of the sudden, intrusive thought, on how ridiculous it utterly sounds, makes her want to giggle. So to stifle the possibility, she cups her mouth with her fingers, making sure no sound spills from her throat.

Rob doesn't notice. "Okay. Fine. Your turn."

Her sigh is barely audible, barely even visible from the rise of her chest. "Do you… miss it?" She doesn't even know what she means to say; a variety of things. His old body, his friends, his life; all of it, none of it. "… at all?"

He takes a second to consider that question, and instead of answering, he delivers his own. "… Do you?"

She takes a deep breath, "You have to answer my question. That was the deal." They made no such deal, but she doesn't care. Much to her surprise, he actually chortles. Not mockingly, or angrily or aggressively. A genuine prelude to what could have been a laugh. Huh. He almost looks like his old self; when he was young and wasn't afraid to smile big or ask how everyone's doing.

"Okay; fair enough," he shakes his head, entertained; relaxed for once. "Sometimes."

She expects something more elaborate; but she's left sorely disappointed. This time, it's Rachel who echoes condescending disbelief as she breathes out, "...sometimes."

There's a minute quirk at the end of his lips; is it supposed to be a smile of sorts? "Sometimes," he reaffirms. "Got a problem with it?"

Cheeky son of a baguette.

She clicks her tongue, because, well, she understands too. After all, she wouldn't be herself now if what happened… didn't happen. Is that what he's trying to make her understand. "Your turn." She says plainly, tucking a strand of messy, curly hair behind her ear.

"Are you okay with it all?"

"Do I have a choice? I kind of have to be," a pause. "I'm not… opposed to it. It is what it is." Her half-hearted shrug is delivered a little too forcefully. "Rather be here, a forgotten nobody, than in there."

"That's… true," he agrees.

"My turn," she says, a little too eager to play this childish game. "How did you get my book?"

Rob only tilts his head. "I'm afraid that information is classified."

She raises a brow, tilting her own head in defiance. "Right, and I'm the Queen of England. So how about it?"

"I… I can't exactly tell you… Else we'd really have an existential crisis on our hands; literally."

She doesn't know how she's supposed to take that answer, but surprisingly, she complies. Rachel lets out a sigh like she's exhausted. "This… this shouldn't be happening."

Rob raises an eyebrow, blinking; whatever good mood had momentarily struck him is long gone, pupil turned into a slit from confusion rather than aggressiveness as she would have initially perceived. "What exactly shouldn't be happening?"

Her hand twitches to grab the book, but she doesn't. "This. You… you shouldn't have… We shouldn't be having this conversation. We're… probably breaking some serious laws of the existing universe, or something."

"Breaking the laws of the universe is a mild offense at least."

"Perhaps in your case; not in mine. I'm not even supposed to… be here. I forced myself here."

"So did I."

"Because you were meant to," she corrects him determinedly.

"And how do you know you weren't?" His tone is raising to be more defensive, and though she doesn't blame him, she doesn't exactly like it.

The whole world tipped on it's axis, and Rachel doesn't know why it's taken this long for her to truly feel the weight of it. This isn't right; what if she's sent back to the Void for even bringing it up? He's no God or supernatural being, at least, not powerful enough to stop the will of the Void; why does he seem so casual about the whole issue? Under different circumstances, perhaps she would have felt something akin to in curiosity with Rob, maybe it would justify the fluttery feeling in her stomach as infatuation and being smitten as opposed to defense and aggressiveness. Whatever this conversation is leading.. This… this potential amicable mutual acquaintance needs to be severed in the bud. "Because I was hated; kind of a different territory than being a world's mistake." She's getting more defensive now, legs and arms crossed over like she's trying to shield away any shred of logic and reason. "You became a villain. I'm…. I'm nothing." The word echoes hollowly in mid-air, both parties hung up from it, both drawing different experiences from the implication. Rachel closes her eyes, for a moment, leaving herself vulnerable to the Void; just deciding to let whatever is going to happen, just happen. When she opens her eyes, her vision lands on Rob staring at her like he's analyzing her. Like he's genuinely curious about her and ready to hurl forward should she break. He doesn't give her enough credit, does he? "I'm nothing," she repeats; a hard fact, a simple truth. She's a big girl; a woman, she doesn't need coddling. "It's just a simple fact of this life, Rob. Some of us, we just aren't meant to be more than what we are." If anything, Rachel expects another disappointed gaze, or even a petty tantrum and for him to leave again. She doesn't expect him to nod in agreement; her chest breaks at that, because she'd been hoping—

"You're right," he bites his lips, as if trying to physically hold back his own words, eye somewhere else, gaze distant and far away and just beyond her and everything she's ever known. "Absolutely… Which is a good thing, if you think about it, because we get to choose who we are." And that's the moment the world of Rachel Wilson, Cloud Lass and abandoned slash hated creation deemed so by their universe, shatters into a million pieces. Rob is looking at her, not with disappointment or anger or frustrations. He just lets his words sink in for a moment or so. Wordlessly, he slides the book to her; not an invitation to write in the book, or even an insult to her person. But a challenge. "Tell me this, then; who are you? And where are you going?"

For once in her strange, sad little life, she has no witty comeback. "I… I don't… I don't know," she barely manages to breathe out.

The insufferable 3D monstrosity that is Rob actually smirks cheekily, and she'd be tempted to sock him if the situation wasn't so unprecedented. "You should get to it then."

She wants to find fault in this, and briefly she considers if he wrote in the book; she's tempted to flip through the pages, to really break the man if he's so willing to play with fire like he just did. Her manicured hands are itching for the sensation of solidified pages, but her mind isn't quite on the same panel. What does he gain from pretending to be a good and noble guy right now? What is the possible angle? What is she missing? So naturally, she throws it back to him like a hot potato. "And what of you? Decided you're the good and noble protagonist of this little venture? Just stopped by to turn my world upside down? What's your angle here?"

He nearly staggers back, holding on to the counter for support as he almost falls over. A-ha! The guilt on his face is unmistakable! She's got him. "M-my angle?"

"Yes," she hisses out in gleeful victory, wanting nothing more than to savor the fruit of her confrontational nature. "Your end game. Your plan. I dare say you even planned this, didn't you? The candy bar, the book! Didn't you? It's all so clear now… Dr. Wrecker, at the end of it all is just that, no? A villain." She crosses her arms, proud of her ingenious thinking, and contrary to what, according to her, she should be feeling, she's emboldened, and leans forward as she slams a hand against the counter lessening the space between them, with a growing triumphant smirk at the sight of his widening expression. "So tell me, then. Plans to send me back to the Void? Another plan to try and destroy Gumball? Take over Elmore? C'mon, give a girl a clue here, buddy! What was your plan, all along?"

Caught. Discovered. His face says it all, and the small sigh and slump of his shoulders is enough to confirm that. Defeated, he bites his lips, gazing at the space around them in case there's intrusion. "… To… to take you out."

Wait, say what now.

A/N: Alright! Smut should come up in the next chapter! Whoop-whoop!