"Footfalls echo in the memory
Down the passage which we did not take
Towards the door we never opened
Into the rose-garden."
- T. S. Eliot

AC 189
Victoria Academy

The loud whispers and scandalized gasps of barely suppressed excitement, rarely heard in the Academy, attracted Zechs' attention as he walked toward the crowd that had gathered in front of the posted grades for the finals. Every word was underlined by the sounds of his name and Noin's repeated over and over by tongues coated with admiration, jealousy, or anger, but always based upon the familiar breathy undertone of awe. And as he saw what was printed, his voice joined in the outrage of words, contributing one shocked syllable of disbelief.

He quickly cut through the crowd, taking a savage joy in the way the crowd shrank from his path. How dare she? So that was what that word "brother" meant to her; so that was what their friendship amounted to -- a number on a wall, a symbol to everyone in the school of her contempt and her obvious rejection. She had worked deliberately to avoid placing her name next to his in public. She had -- she had -- He hit the wall with his fist, then violently lashed out again, making an effort to scrape his knuckles against the rough surface of the concrete. As his eyes watered from the hot stinging in his hand, he realized he had stalked up to Noin's room, his feet having long since memorized the path. He ground his knuckles into the wall once more, smearing small trails of blood onto the white paint, smiling cruelly when the pain that had subsided briefly against the cool surface flared up as bright spots of blood welled up once more. He licked at one, tasting the faint saltiness of blood and feeling the unfamiliar texture of broken skin. That for trusting, and that for believing. When he at last sported fitting penance for his error in judgment, he twisted the doorknob forcefully, flinging the door open and carving his way into her room. He watched with a suppressed glee as she jumped to her feet, feeling slightly avenged as her eyes widened and as she began to edge away from him. He brushed aside the uncomfortable sensation of being in her room without her invitation, ignoring the fact that it had been quite some time since he had talked with her substantially at all. It was her fault anyway, continuously pushing him away with her words and actions, never telling him anything of consequence after that one day under the pine tree. It was her fault, tempting him into feeling sorry for her, using her tears to make him reveal parts of himself that had previously remained hidden from even himself. She had brought this upon herself by driving that word between them, even after he had offered her one of his own. Brother. . . Always. . . No.

He spotted the stapled packets of paper scattered over her desk, casually noting the plethora of red that stained her usually spotless work, realizing with a rush that those horribly marked papers were her final exams. He picked one up and threw it at her in disgust. The pages fluttered and messily sprawled at her feet when the exam landed, punctuating his accusing glare.

"What is this?" he asked as he flung another one at her. "What were you thinking?"

She winced as the exam hit her face, the sharp edge of a page cutting slightly into her skin.

Zechs picked up yet another, scrutinizing it this time, noting that the red marks were not as abundant as he had first believed. But there were still more of them than there should have been, more than he knew she deserved. The score was one to be proud of for the others, but for her. . . Zechs picked out the tiny mistakes, the carelessness that must have been, in fact, planned. Small things, but enough to lower her overall score just a tad, just enough lost to cede first place to him when in fact their names should have been together in that spot. Should have been linked. He tossed it at her feet with a sneer, picking up another and another, not stopping until they all lay in an undignified pile between them, the crisp white sheets now bent and scattered. As the sharp sound of the pages hitting air finally stopped, the silence drummed in his ears like a heartbeat, drowning out her startled intake of air. The sudden lack of noise hung between them, as substantial as the months of separation, emphasizing the awkwardness that had grown to push them apart.

"How could you?" His whispered words were almost a welcome break from the deafening quiet as they reached out toward her.

"What?" she asked, her eyebrow raised in question.

"You let me take first. Why?"

"Congratulations," she said simply.

"I don't want your congratulations," he said. "I want to know why you let it happen."

"But I thought that was what you wanted." She backed away as he advanced toward her.

"Your pity?" His lip curled as he spat out the words, the very concept a bitter taste in the back of his mouth. "You thought I had to be given this, that I was something to be placated and fed scraps? You think that little of me? Or did you not want your name by mine? Were you ashamed of me?"

"Never that." She shook her head slowly, her wide eyes never leaving his. "I could never think that."

"Really." His boots crushed the exam papers as he backed her into the wall.

"How could I ever think that when all I wanted to do was make you happy? And I could never pity you, not you, not when you're the brightest thing here, not when you're the only one who makes me anticipate yet another day. Even though you don't talk to me now."

Her words trailed off as her shoulders sagged and her gaze lowered, allowing her bangs to obscure her face.

"I don't talk to you? You don't talk to me," he said, his mind grasping desperately to make sense of her words. What was she saying about him? And how, when all the evidence pointed toward the opposite?

"What?"

"You're the one who's been avoiding me this entire time. Every time I tried to talk to you, you'd just pull back and duck, just like you're doing now. Why?" he asked pleadingly, reaching out to wipe the small drop of blood off her cheek. He tilted her chin up, willing her to tell him, to finally talk to him.

"Because," she whispered, her breath quickening, "because I was scared? Because I couldn't stand your friendship when I knew something like this would happen eventually. And because just being friends with you was -- "

"'Friends' -- is that all you feel toward me?" he quietly interrupted, almost directing the question at himself.

Her head whipped up at the words, and he thought he could detect something akin to the fear of a cornered animal in her eyes and in her stance. A different silence rose then, one fertile with various possibilities and paths to be taken, the abundance of choices almost as stifling as it was freeing. Dare he say more? But before he mustered the courage needed to embark on a new road, before any words escaped her slightly opened mouth, in burst a Specials officer, a smile beaming from beneath his rigid exterior.

"Congratulations, Cadet Noin -- Cadet Zechs? Oh, good, I have news for you too," he said as he maneuvered his way in, first grasping Noin's hand in a hearty handshake, then Zechs' in turn. Zechs gripped the officer's hand with unnecessary force and clenched his teeth beneath his smile, trying with great difficulty to maintain his polite demeanor.

"You two have graduated with top honors -- no, more than that. I am pleased -- no, honored -- to let both of you know that you both have graduated with the two highest scores -- by far! -- in the Academy's entire history!"