My Father's Sword
Wandering Cat

My father died today. Which is why I'm writing on a Monday (If you did I'd appreciate it, but please don't tell me you're sorry; I'm not throwing myself a pity party. My dad would hate that. Just review the dang fic.) So here's the long-absent Gerik chapter. His relationship with his father is similar, but not totally like, to my own. Well actually, my father and I took part in none of the random crap I put in here, (father and son stuff, I never did because I'm a girl.) but the relationship is still the same. It won't be the best chapter (the Marisa one will always "pwn" all of them) or the longest, but still...Here's to you, daddy...

Uh...I got a crapload of suggestions just from Toki Kishitani. Also, I will now be open to characters from FE6-9, as I now own FE9 (I don't and have never played 6, but I know things.) However, I am not taking suggestions for now; you will tell me which of THESE PEOPLE you want to see if you want to dictate the future of this fic.
Suggested Characters that I will do:
-Joshua (next, by popular demand (as far as this fic goes))
-Lyn
-Matthew (no promises; I don't really consider him a swordsman)
-Legault (same as Matthew)
-Zihark (and yes, I will use Ilyana somehow, if it makes you happy)
-Mia
Characters I will do because it's my fic and I said so:
-Rutgar
-Fir (as she is Bartre and Karla's kid, thus making her automatically awesome)
I AM NOT going to do:
-Ike, because we know about his relationship with his father, even if I don't know the "secret"
-Jaffar, as his parents were killed when he was young. Unless you want me to make Nergal his father figure.
-Stefan, because he is a Branded and apparently "parentless"
-Guy, because a lot of people (except for me) like him and I'm surprised nobody suggested him.
-Lucia, because I like her.

This Chapter's Star: Gerik, with some added Gerik/Marisa because I can, and references to her chapter. Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem or any of its characters.
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Looking back, I now know just how lucky I am for two reasons. For one thing, I'm currently witnessing the eighth wonder of the world; the Crimson Flash actually crying. She's not heartless, but man, who knew she had it in her? In her hands is what used to be a very nice sheet of paper. What was written on it, well, just plain sucked. Turns out, her dad just died of a sickness, and should already be buried, because it takes so long for a letter to get to us. She looked at the paper again, and burst into another fit of tears on my shoulder. Dang.

Oh, I almost forgot. The second thing that makes me so dang lucky? My childhood, for a poor kid, rocked. I had a mom and dad, a little sister, and a bunch of friends. Sure, I had to work a lot, but still. It was great. I can't imagine what Marisa's going through. I mean, as far as I know, Pops is still kickin'. My grandpa, "Old Pops" did die when I was about twelve. My sister, who should be about Marisa's age now but was six when it happened , was bawling like a baby. Being her big brother, I let her sit in my lap and cry on my shoulder. But man, our father? I can tell you right now, if it were my dad, I'd be crying like nobody's business. Seriously, I'm twenty-something, a guy, and you can call me a sissy if you want. Pops once said, "I'd rather be a friggin' sissy than a heartless..." Well, you can guess the rest from there.

I remember when I was little, he used to let me do all kinds of things that mom would never dream of! There was this time when we went off for a whole day without telling anyone, fishing and hunting and just goofing off. My mom was hysterical when I got home and grounded me and punished pops somehow (she was smiling evilly...I don't know what she did, but it must've sucked to be pops then). But man, it was cool. We also put a dead fish out in the sun, knowing that a group of girls would eventually run past it. That would've been funnier if my sister wasn't with them...We got in trouble for that, too. Pops and me did it all: sports, cooking outside for no reason, fixed stuff...It just plain rocked.

And then the day came when I was ten, two years before Old Pops left us, when we began our training. It wasn't just me; most boys learn the way of the sword in case we're needed. A milita, if you could call it that. Of course, it was one of those things that mom didn't want me to do. She did have my best interests in mind; there were a crapload of bandits around. One of the other mysteries of my household is how in the world my father convinced her to let me go out into the desert. She really hated the desert.

The training was okay, I guess. Like everything, some parts suck and others suck worse. But I dealt with it. After a couple of days, we went back to the village and tended the crops and such. Often, the tending was the training. Plowing with just one lanky donkey...real fun. My dad did make it better, always cracking inappropriately timed jokes and other random things...like throwing cow pies at me. He did that a lot...blech. Pops also made me carry huge rocks around, hung me by my toes from trees until I did 100 crunches (AN: did I use that somewhere before...?), all kinds of crap. It was still cool, spending time with him.

I got really strong, really fast. When I was sixteen, we had our first bandit raid. Pops and me fought side by side, taking down everyone. Like most people, we were basically standing guard near our houses, and I could hear my little sister crying and my mom trying to comfort her. If there's one thing that'll drive a man to tear another to ribbons, it's love, and heck, do I love my family! I fought like a freakin' demon and so did my dad. We were a team and nobody could beat us. Finally, the action died down along with the bandits, and only one of our own died.

Apparently, a scout from the mercenary guild was there, and he was looking for talented young men to join up. And guess what? He asked me and pops. Said we'd do real well in the merc business, and with me being so young, I could go far. Pops decided to stay home, but he told me, "You got yourself a future, Ger-boy. Unless you're the idoit I think you are, you won't waste it." He handed me a steal sword, and his eyes were shining...This sword is more than just a piece of steel hammered into an unatractive shape to me.

The next week, I was taking the entrance "test" (obstacle course plus sparring match) and I passed with flying colors. I got myself onto a good team. The boss took a liking to me, and when he died as a result of combat, proclaimed me leader, changing the name to "Gerik's Mercenaries".

And two years later, I was sitting in a tent with none other than the soon-to-be-famous Crimson Flash and her daddy. "I heard there was a woman who could kill a man before he could draw his sword, and would beat him to the dust if he belittled her!" I said, and she looked at me weird. I wanted to give her father a deal, too, and I said, "I sure as heck would like another one of these,", but he declined, and again, Marisa looked like she was gonna tear my head off.

...Looks like she's done. Too bad she's so hurt, she fell asleep on my shoulder and looks really adorable...Poor thing. She always won, she doesn't' know what it's like to lose. Looking at her now, I know a third reason why I'm so freaking lucky.

I've got her.

As long as she needs it, as long as my father's blood beats in my veins, I will proudly bear his sword.
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WC:...I don't' really feel like whining about my issues with ending...I've done that at least once in each of my fics, haven't I? Yeah, I think so. I sure whine a lot...I don't even have any notes this time. Is this to be my ending note? I really DO suck at ending things...Um...Review?