Cicero's Journal, Volume 6

She bit her lip, walking out of the room before she found herself wandering back in. Putting her hand upon the brown leather book, held together with just a small button, she sighed heavily.

It was just held together by a button. She was much stronger than a little button. It would be no problem to rip through the seam that held the button to the leather, and it was just as easy to simply push the button through the hole and open the book.

But she couldn't read it.

That was an invasion of privacy.

You've done it before, the voice in her head told her. She mentally scolded herself. Last time she had read them on orders. She was threatened and ordered to read. It was a life or death situation.

She would surely not die if she didn't learn, even if she very well felt like she would.

The desire to know was overwhelming, but she felt guilty at the thought of invading Cicero's privacy and reading his journals. The first time, he understood because Astrid HAD ordered her to. He had forgiven her, because of the circumstances. This was not the same circumstances. It was completely different. She was sure he'd forgive her if she were to read his journals again, but she would still feel guilty, especially if she didn't find the answers she was seeking.

The Listener had even become as desperate as to ask the Night Mother. Cicero always talked to the Night Mother. He shared all his secrets, all his thoughts and feelings to her. She had heard him multiple times while passing his room. Surely she would know the answer. In response, the Night Mother told her a contract they needed to fulfill.

Thanks a lot, Mother.

They had been doing the same dance for nearly a year now. He would show a sign, and as soon as she responded to that sign, the fool ignored it. She would show a sign, he would pick up on it, and the next day he would act as if nothing had happened. Cicero would go out and do something sweet for her, from picking flowers to sharpening her weapons. She would respond to his kindness with a kiss on the cheek, a flirty thanks. The jester would just smile, clap and dance before stating that Humble Cicero lived to serve. The Listener would take him with her on contracts so that they could have completely uninterrupted alone time. No Night Mother to distract Cicero, no being bothered by the recruits for her. Just simple, peaceful alone time. Their time together could be interpreted as romantic with the many nights of star-gazing and very intimate talks of their pasts and planned future, but when the fool would recount the mission back home to the others or to Mother, he made it sound like a business trip. Nothing special. They went, and they killed.

Sometimes he made her feel like the fool.

Cicero had kept journals since becoming a Dark Brother. He had to have written down if he felt something for her. He just HAD to.

There was no other way to know without confronting the jester.

And she didn't want to for fear of his reaction.

What if he laughed? What if he got angry? What he jumped her right then and there? She had no idea on how he could even possibly react.

It was killing her that not only did she not know, but she didn't have the damnest clue on what the jester's feelings towards her were. She needed to know if he did everything he's done out of possible feelings for her, or because she was just another thing for him to Keep. Another person to obsess over, to tend ever little need and make sure everything was perfect. For the sake of his job, mind you, not because he cares.

The answers were possibly sitting right there in front of her, held back by a button. A little button.

Her fingers danced over the button. Should she? She was the Listener. She could claim rank and suspicions towards Cicero to ease her guilt on invasion of privacy, but then she would feel bad for lying to herself about how Cicero might be a traitor when she just needed to know how he felt.

Why couldn't the jester just be more obvious? Why wouldn't he just give her a sign and stick with it? Why the mixed signals? Was he doing this on purpose to frustrate her? She wouldn't put it past Cicero; it was something he would do.

One of the things she hated, but loved about the Fool of Hearts.

Biting her lip more, she grasped the journal in her hand and stared at it.

Why was she so afraid? She was the Listener! She killed thieves...bandits...by Sithis she killed the Emperor! She was dragonborn! Dovahkiin! She defeated Albuin! She was a Companion, Harbringer! How could she possibly let a button, weak button stop her!

Ripping the button off as opposed to just slipped it through the hole, it fell to the floor as she began to flip through the book for her name, or perhaps her title of Listener. The only instances of her name was just another part of his day.

Her heart thumped wildly as she came to their first contract. She read through the detailed account of their travel to Markarth together. A smile crept to her face when she noticed that he did describe everything that happened. And boy was he detailed. He described the weather, some of the flowers they picked, what the stars looked like when they watched, even how he and the Listener held hands as they watched the stars. He even made a point to say how her touch was warm and comforting. How he loved the Listener's company because he felt like she was the only one in the Sanctuary that liked him. That he was glad Mother picked such a loyal, pretty Listener for Cicero to serve. Expressed joy at how she turned things around and brought the Brotherhood a brand new, very well-respected name.

Was...that a sign?

You FOOL! You've unclear, even in your writings, she thought sorrowfully to herself, running her hands through her hair. This was the price of falling for the jester, the Fool of Hearts, Laughter Incarnate. Going mad because she couldn't figure out how the madman truly felt for her. The damn journal was no help to her either.

She read on. Every other adventure, he made detailed notes. The route they took, the flowers they picked, how her hair looked like a different shade of color in the sunlight, wondering how Mother was doing while he was away, his boasts about how his sweet and kind Listener got him Skyforge steel, the way she killed their contract. Nothing personal about the two of them. Just detailed notes on their adventures. No secret love poem, first draft of a love letter, any notes of loving her, nothing. She wasn't as surprised as she thought she would be. She should have known to not expect this of the jester. He was mad, for the love of Sithis! She read and red until she reached blank pages. Her heart sank in her chest to sit low in her stomach. The book left her with more questions than answers, the jester making her even more confused and unsure than ever before.

She wanted to cry out of frustration. Why could the jester not be more direct? Why was everything a puzzle with him, a game? Almost everything a joke. She had no idea why she thought he could possibly love her. She was just another thing for him to Keep, like the Night Mother.

There was always the possibility of just being direct. She's faced worse than a loony jester. Why was she much more afraid to ask him how he felt than she did sneaking aboard a ship to slit the throat of the Emperor? It made no sense.

But then again, what about Cicero made ever made sense?

Tapping her fingers lightly on the leather, she thought to herself. She had to confront him. She needed to know. If nothing else, she could claim she wanted to know if he loved her as a sister. No...Cicero was smarter than that.

With a scowl of annoyance and tears of frustration blocking her view, she left the jester's room and returned to her own.

"Listener?"

"Yes, Cicero?"

The Listener was lying on her stomach on her bed, reading a book. Cicero stood in the doorway. She avoided looking into his eyes when she noticed Cicero's leather journal in his hands.

"Has Listener seen what happened to the button on Cicero's journal? It must have fallen off."

She froze. She knew she should have just unbuttoned it.

"Nope," she lied smoothly, flipping the page. She felt the bed dip and looked up to see Cicero sitting next to her.

"Cicero thinks Listener does," he said, his voice a tad accusing and giving her a look. She sighed. She was caught.

"I ripped it off. I honestly don't know where it is though," she admitted.

"Why did Listener read Cicero's journal?" he asked.

"I didn't read it," she lied again, closing her book and sitting up.

"...Listener doesn't think loyal Cicero is betraying Mother or her, does she?" the jester wondered, eyes wide with hurt.

"No, it's not like that at all," she quickly assured him.

"Then why, Listener? Why would Listener read through Cicero's private journal if she was not suspicious that he was betraying our Unholy Matron?" he asked logically. She felt her face burn a hot red.

"It's not a big deal," she insisted. "I don't suspect you, and I'm really sorry I read your private journal, I will never do it again." Especially since you don't write down your personal feelings down, fool! You just record everything you see and hear.

"Listener said that last time," he muttered.

"I'm sorry!" she cried out. "And I swear by Sithis that I will never do it again!"

"Just tell poor Cicero why Listener did it, and Cicero will forgive and forget," he bargained.

"...Cicero...do you like me?"

Cicero gave her a surprised look, but smiled and nodded eagerly.

"Yes, yes, yes! Of course Cicero does! Sweet Listener spared poor, humble Cicero!"

"Noooooo. I don't mean like me as the Listener, but more of as a woman?" Seeing his blank expression, she sighed and re-explained. "Do you love me romantically?"

She immediately regretted it. He flushed a light pink, and she knew that she was a blood-red in the cheeks.

"Well...Cicero cares very deeply for the Listener," he began, staring up at the ceiling with his eyes wide as he thought. "The Listener is the only one here who cares for Cicero, who treats and spoils him so wonderfully with Skyforge steel and takes him on contracts. Listener is the first person that Cicero can remember who enjoys spending time with him, and...Cicero really loves being around Listener."

She felt a small flare of annoyance. Again, the dancing around the direct question.

"Cicero, it's a yes or no question. Do you love me?"

Cicero gave a small nod, an insane grin spreading wide on his lips.

"Yes."

A wave of relief hit her as she leaned in and gave him a brief kiss.

"Listener?"

"Yes?"

"Can Listener sew the button back on for poor Cicero?"

The Listener laughed at him, pushing him off the bed. He slipped, but landed on his feet with no problems.

"Go find the button, then get me a needle and thread, you fool."