Egad! This is it! The final chapter! Now aren't you glad I didn't
drag this thing out over the course of three years or so? I'm glad.
I'm pretty happy with how this has turned out. I even like the
ending, which is usually a source of frustration for me. But fear
not! A sequel has its little claws sunk into my brain, so if you
aren't satisfied, be patient. (I left the yaoi out of this one...
I have to stick in there *somewhere*, ne? ^_~ )
They're still not mine...
=== "Red Threads" by Morgan Steelgrave - Chapter Five ===
Early morning guymelef inspection was routinely held before the sun rose to meet the Zaibach airships where they hovered in just above the mountains. Even in Dilandau's absence, the scheduled life of his soldiers continued. None of the Dragonslayers had any idea where their leader had gone or when he would be back, but they all agreed that letting things slack off was not an option. They were putting the final spit-polish on their suits in anticipation of Dilandau's return when a blinding column of light suddenly shattered the pre-dawn quiet. Two silhouetted forms could be discerned through the glare, and the Zaibach soldiers jumped backward several feet and drew their swords at the strange occurrence.
The two bodies slowly sank to the ground, though the sensation of floating did not cease for several long minutes even after they landed heavily on the hard steel floor. Van shook his head to loosen the dizziness that gripped him. He had not dared open his eyes, for fear of being blinded and of the nausea that would surely overtake him. Finally risking a glance at the outside world, he opened one eye and immediately froze upon catching Dilandau's warning gaze. Maroon eyes flickering rapidly from left to right, Van suddenly realized why Dilandau was on edge: they had been deposited on the _Vione_.
"It's Dilandau-sama!" a blonde boy in a Dragonslayer uniform cried happily, "He's brought back the Dragon, too!" At Chesta's herald, the other soldiers approached, all grins, though they remained ready to attack the elusive king of Fanelia.
Acutely aware of the soldiers circling them, the two young men never let their eyes stray from one another as they silently got to their feet. The tension was apparent to everyone in the room, especially the Dragonslayers, who were accustomed to being attuned to their leader's arbitrary mood swings and whims. The soldiers passed confused glances between them as their smiles faded somewhat, wondering why nothing had happened yet. The least they had expected from Dilandau was a screaming match, if not a massacre of the hated Dragon. Assuming this limbo was merely the calm before the storm, they closed in slowly, weapons trained on Van Fanel, until a sudden order shattered the heavy silence and nearly made them jump out of their skins.
"Hold your positions," Dilandau barked roughly, still not moving. The Dragonslayers froze, but did not stand down. "No one is to make a move until I say so."
"Um...Dilandau-sama?" ventured Migel, who had been in temporary command during Dilandau's sudden unexplained absence. When his leader did not reply, he tried again. "Dilandau-sama, forgive us for intruding, but what's going on, sir? Don't you want us to--"
"What did I just say?" the silver-haired boy demanded in the same controlled voice. "This is *my* battle. Anyone who lays a finger on the Dragon will eat it. Do I make myself clear?"
The soldiers remained at a respectful but cautious distance, in complete and utter bewilderment at the situation. It was only a matter of seconds before Chesta's blue eyes fell on the ribbon binding the two arch-rivals together.
"Dilandau-sama, what's that ribbon? What have they done to you?" he squealed in surprise, clapping a hand over his own mouth when he realized he had voiced the question aloud. His fellow soldiers glared at him, hissing at him to be quiet. Amazingly, Dilandau did not fly off the handle at Chesta's impertinence.
"It's crima claw metal. We need a welder to cut it." Migel took the hint and turned to one of the other Dragonslayers.
"Gatti, send for a solderknife from Equipment," he ordered. The other boy nodded once and ran over to the communications terminal at the other end of the long room. Turning his attention back to the two men at the center of the group, Migel explained to his commander with a hopeful smile, "All the welding equipment was taken in yesterday for an inventory check. We'll have a solderknife here as soon as possible to remedy the situation, Dilandau-sama."
Dilandau did not appear to be paying any attention to his squadron, however. His crimson eyes were still trained on the young king of Fanelia, who returned his stare with an intense claret one of his own. Van felt like a fly caught in a spider's web. It was only a matter of time until fate in one horrible guise or another descended upon him. The unreadable expression on Dilandau's face was not helping his nerves, either. It was impossible to tell if the connection they had made in the woods was about to be permanently severed, along with the ribbon.
The sound of echoing footfalls hailed the arrival of the solderknife, a shorter man with his long grey hair slicked back into a ponytail and thick gauntlets that made his lower arms look disproportionate to the rest of his wiry body.
"What was the emergency?" he asked in a grating nasal voice, plainly irritated that he had been drawn away from whatever work he had been doing at the time of Gatti's message. The Dragonslayers moved apart to allow the man access to their commander, when there came a beeping noise from the communications terminal.
"Dilandau-sama!" Gatti called from the terminal, "it's a priority clearance message for you from the Strategos!"
Eyeing the solderknife warily as he went to work on the ribbon, the leader of the Dragonslayers commanded coolly, "Migel, answer it. Code 957-63-Alpha. I'm a little busy at the moment."
"Yes, sir," Migel nodded in salute, ordering with a meaningful look the other Dragonslayers to stay on their guard. He jogged over to where Gatti was standing, nervously chewing on a fingernail. Migel caught him by the arm and whispered, "Did you notify Folken-sama of his arrival?"
"Of course," Gatti hissed, "he said he was on his way down here and signed off the message. Then two minutes later this message from him appeared." The terminal beeped again as second message, one with a code-red tag from General Pike, reached the system. Brows knitted together, Migel entered the authorization number and opened the code-red channel first.
The solderknife was almost finished with his task. He directed a jet of coolant gas onto the ribbon from a hand-held tank, waiting for the metal to freeze. Both Dilandau and Van watched him work, their eyes finding their way occasionally to the armed Dragonslayers surrounding them. Van suddenly decided he would rather face a land dragon any day than an entire squad of Dragonslayers in their base of operations.
"Almost ready," the welder announced in a dry whine, blatantly ignoring standard military protocol by omitting both the title and name of the officer to whom he was speaking. He inspected the ribbon, noting the layer of frost on the metal with a satisfied grunt. Reaching back behind him for a hammer and the appropriate chisel, he added, "This thing is a piece of work. It takes a real genius to work crima metal like this."
Dilandau's attention was occupied by the increasing uproar by the communications terminal, however, and it took a moment for the solderknife's words to register. Even then, the Dragonslayer did not seem bothered by the lack of respect. Glancing down at the little man only briefly, he questioned with an arched brow, "You mean a genius like Folken?"
The solderknife pursed his lips and squinted at the selection of chisels in his belt before choosing one. "Like Folken, yes. He's the only one I know of who fully understands how the stuff works."
Dilandau did not even bother to nod in reply. He was too busy watching Migel and Gatti arguing with whoever was on the other end of the viewscreen. He cast a significant look in Van's direction, silently voicing the warning that there might be trouble.
The dark-haired boy, too, was straining to hear what the commotion at the other end of the room was about. He did not like the turn things were taking, especially if Dilandau of all people was worried. He could barely make out what the Dragonslayers at the terminal were saying above the loud banging the solderknife was making as he chipped away at the frozen bond.
"No, General Pike, sir, I don't understand why it's necessary. We have everything under control," Migel was saying in response to the scowling, mustachioed man on the other end of the communiqué. The officer's reply was inaudible, but the surprise and alarm were plain on the faces of the two young men's faces.
"You're sending the...the...but why?" Gatti demanded, obviously shaken by whatever the general had said. Migel seemed similarly unnerved, even on the verge of anger.
"I will not go against my commander unless you give me a damn good reason for those orders, sir," he said around gritted teeth. "I know you outrank him, but...what? They did what? How can you...?" Migel stared right at Van and Dilandau, his expression changing from one of frustration to resigned understanding. "I see. Yes, sir. We'll hold them until they arrive."
"I don't like the looks of this," Van whispered to Dilandau, who watched Migel and Gatti terminate the communications link and draw their weapons. The other Dragonslayers had taken notice of their actions, as well, and stood ready to act.
"Dilandau-sama!" Migel called as he approached, "Please stay where you are, sir."
"Is it true what they said, Dilandau-sama?" Gatti asked, the hurt and uncertainty audible in his voice.
The solderknife struck one final blow at the red ribbon, and it shattered into tiny silver splinters. Dilandau remained rooted to the spot, rubbing his right wrist absently as the little welder took his tools and scurried away. He narrowed his eyes at his soldiers, but remained in control on the surface. Van held still as well, not wanting to be the one to tip the precarious balance that hung in the air.
"I don't know, Gatti. Who is 'they' and what have they been saying?"
Gatti opened his mouth to answer, but Migel cut him off. "General Pike said he was ordered to call in special forces because you've been declared a liability, sir." The other Dragonslayers looked at each other, searching for some kind of explanation.
Dilandau's laughter had a manic edge to it. "That's nothing new, Migel. Almost everyone in Zaibach, General Pike included, thinks I'm a danger to some degree." His tone darkened as he added quietly, "They may be right."
"This is different, sir," Gatti insisted. "He said you were wanted for questioning because of your disappearance. He said they suspect you of betraying the cause."
"The Strategos is on his way. His original instructions were to notify him as soon as you returned, but General Pike is insisting we detain you here until the special forces arrive." Migel paused, as if he were trying to understand his next words. "He said any attempts to intervene could be hazardous for both you and the rest of the Dragonslayers."
"Special...forces?" Dilandau suddenly appeared even paler than usual. From his close position Van immediately noticed the sheen of nervous sweat that had broken out at his temples, despite the sneer of disgust that dominated his expression. He wondered what could cause the leader of the Dragonslayers to recoil in such a manner.
"Yes, sir," Migel replied in an edgy monotone. "General Pike called in the Madoshi per Dornkirk-sama's direct orders, though I don't know why he felt they were necessary."
Van knew the chill he felt at those words had to be tenfold for Dilandau, though the silver-haired boy would never show it beyond the tiny, momentary glint of fear that leaped into his garnet eyes. The young king of Fanelia also noted that the rest of the Dragonslayers were not very happy about the involvement of the notorious party, either.
"I see," Dilandau mused, swallowing the panic Van knew had to be there. "And the Dragon?"
"He is still to be turned over to Folken-sama's custody, sir." Migel's voice held no emotion whatsoever. It was silent for a moment, the atmosphere growing heavier and nerves more strained as the seconds skipped by.
There was a choked noise to the right, and Chesta whispered shakily, "Dilandau-sama, are you really a traitor?" His eyes shone imploringly, all but begging for some explanation for the accusations made against his beloved leader.
A tired smile crossed Dilandau's face as he lifted a hand behind his head, massaging a knotted muscle in his neck. "I don't know, Chesta. Am I a traitor to the cause? Maybe," he sighed, his brow creased deliberately. "But I can tell you this. I will never be a traitor to myself."
He shifted suddenly, his movements so rapid that no one had time to react as the leader of the Dragonslayers reached behind his back and drew the hidden dagger, sidestepping neatly behind Van and holding the blade to his throat. He pressed himself against Van's back, gripping the other boy's left arm so tightly it marked the skin.
Momentarily shocked by Dilandau's actions, Van barely had time to bring a hand up in an attempt to wrestle the knife from his grasp before the albino boy had him effectively pinned. The dark-haired boy swallowed nervously, feeling the edge of the titanium blade tease his neck slightly, drawing a fine line of red.
Yet even as he felt the blood well and trickle slowly down to his collarbone, mirroring the panic in his heart and mind, Dilandau whispered so close to his ear that it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
"Trust me."
Van could make no reply, but struggled less fiercely against his friend's iron hold. Dilandau relaxed his grip minutely. He knew Van understood.
The reality of the situation was poised a few feet away, now fanned out to cover the movements of the two young men as they backed slowly toward the rail overlooking the guymelef launching bay.
"Please, Dilandau-sama, don't make this any harder than it already is," Chesta cried. "We don't want to attack you, but we have our orders. Just give the Dragon over to Folken's custody and come with us." Dilandau smirked from behind his prey.
"I told you before, this is *my* battle, Dornkirk's fate be damned. My honor is at stake here," he called, his eyes darting to take in the movements of each and every body in the room. "It doesn't concern you. So just back down!"
At that point, the doors to the right opened and in marched the Madoshi, with Folken right at their heels. His countenance was strained, as though he were suffering an awful headache. He kept trying to speak to the black-robed men, but they ignored him and continued to approach the cornered Van and Dilandau.
Van had heard plenty about the unscrupulous magicians of Zaibach, but he had never before encountered one personally. Three of them were about Folken's height, wrapped in floor-length black cloaks, their faces hidden in shadow. Four were considerably shorter, their cloaks brushing behind their knees instead. What was visible of their legs was wrapped tightly in black, their bootless feet making no sound as they glided across the metal floor. The movements of the taller ones were eerie, but the more diminutive Madoshi moved with calculated, padding strides like animals on the hunt. The Fanelian boy shuddered involuntarily. He was almost certain he saw yellow eyes glowing in the dark recesses of their hoods.
"Dilandau Albatou, you are to come with us," one of the taller Madoshi intoned. Dilandau stiffened slightly. It was just like Dornkirk to send the Madoshi, though the Snipers were a surprise. He was not quite sure if he should be flattered or not by the presence of the elite Madoshi killers. His ruby eyes narrowed to angry slits as he nudged the dagger closer to Van's throat.
"Like hell!" he hissed. "I'm going to finish what I started here, Folken! You tell those witches to get out or so help me I'll take every one of them down after I get through with your brother, here!" To Van, he whispered, "The secondary 'melef bay is down the hall straight ahead, to the left. When I tell you to, fight me to get loose and run." The Fanelian boy was wondering what the half-crazed Zaibach soldier meant by "finish", but he kept his mouth shut.
Folken held his arms out wide, his robe falling away to reveal both flesh and metal. "Dilandau, this is beyond my control. It was a direct order from Dornkirk-sama that the Madoshi be brought in. My hands are tied."
"Very funny, Folken. Mine aren't," Dilandau spat. Folken sighed resignedly, dropping his clockwork arm and holding the other out to the young man.
"Let Van go, Dilandau, and just turn yourself over to the Madoshi. Make things easier on us all."
Folken's words seemed to have an effect on the Dragonslayer, because the dagger lowered slightly, his grip on Van loosening. Staring directly at the Madoshi, he whispered, "Now."
Jerking his left arm free, Van elbowed his captor hard in the ribs, knocking the wind out of him. He then turned and struck upward with the same arm, catching the pale boy in the jaw and throwing him backward. Seizing the opportunity, Van grabbed Dilandau by the arm before he could lose his balance completely and tugged him into a full run, steering him forward through the confused mass of Dragonslayers and Madoshi and down the long hallway.
"You could have been a little more gentle," Dilandau chided sarcastically as he was dragged along the corridor at a breakneck pace, still holding his ribs. "The plan was for you to run, not to take me with you."
Van shook his head. "No way I'm leaving you to those monsters," he insisted between breaths. "Come on, we're almost there."
They could barely hear the swift, weightless footsteps of the Madoshi in pursuit. Van stretched his legs as far as they would go, lengthening his strides until his muscles creaked in protest. His breath tore raggedly, desperately from his lungs, in rhythm with Dilandau's as he ran alongside him. Realizing that their prey was about to get away, the four Snipers dropped to their knees, throwing their cloaks to the side. Holding their left arms out in front of them, they aimed four gleaming metal crossbows at their prey. As one mind they released the triggers, without even a signal between them, firing a volley of arrows at the backs of the retreating fugitives.
Dilandau let out a grunt of pain as an arrow found the back of his knee. He stumbled, almost falling to the floor and taking Van with him. "Damn it," he growled through gritted teeth as he tugged the arrow out of his leg. Drawing his dagger again, he adopted a ready stance. "I'll hold them off. I'll be okay, you run!"
Van refused to move as he braced himself to fight the fast-approaching Madoshi. "I won't leave you here!"
Dilandau glanced back at him over one shoulder, eyes bright with a cocktail of adrenaline and emotion. "Go, damn you! I owe you this! Let me keep my word and even the score!" His cries were frustrated, almost pleading with Van as the enemy grew ever closer.
They held their desperate gaze for one more second before Van nodded, placing a hand on Dilandau's shoulder and giving it a quick squeeze. He then turned and ran down the corridor, leaving Dilandau to fight the Madoshi.
He made it halfway before the sounds of battle reached his ears. He could hear Dilandau's shouts and the ringing of metal on metal even over his own heartbeat coursing wildly in his ears. Despite Dilandau's entreaties for him to simply leave, Van skidded to a halt, his concern for his friend too great.
What he saw at the end of the hall was breathtaking; no more complete embodiment of a true soldier existed on the planet at that moment. Dilandau was fighting like a man possessed, accepting the challenge of battling four opponents at once with a grim smile, and suddenly Van understood. There was nothing left in Dilandau's life but the opportunity to be honest with himself, the point of having any defenses long since past, the veils lifted and the walls torn down. There was no choice left *but* to attack, and it was absolutely beautiful, even as his ground dwindled, his injuries and their greater numbers soon shifting the advantage. It was not long before the silver hair was no longer visible through the savage attacks of the four Madoshi warriors.
"Dilandau!" Van cried, unable to stand any more of the brutal scene. He started to sprint forward, but a large body suddenly blocked his path as Folken stepped out of one of the side doorways. Van glared up at him, tears of helplessness and resentment threatening to fall as he struggled against his brother's impeding grasp. "Let me go! I have to help him!" he cried, trying to get around the much larger body.
"Van, there is nothing you can do for him now," Folken said firmly. He gripped his younger brother's shoulders and forced him to meet his gaze. "They've got him. He'll be alright, I promise. But you have to leave now."
Van stared at the Strategos in shocked disbelief. Folken released him, but still blocked his path toward the place where the Madoshi were hauling Dilandau upright, the Dragonslayer simply too exhausted and pained to strike back anymore, his waning cries of rage and desperation echoing in the metal corridor. The younger Fanel brought his hollow stare back to meet his brother's, still unmoving.
"Go. I won't strike you while you're down." The taller man's voice dropped to a low murmur, his countenance softening slightly. Van returned his gaze with a silent, pained expression, then turned and ran headlong for the edge of the hangar. Vaulting over the rail, he plummeted between two inert Alseides models until he was clear of the _Vione_, then unfurled his wings and glided down to the forest below.
Folken watched his brother fall until his wings caught an updraft and slowed his descent to an easy drift. So much for his plan to make their lives easier. He turned with a sigh, striding purposefully over to where Dilandau was hanging limp between two Snipers at the other end of the passageway. Folken fought the urge to grimace. The Madoshi exuded a sensation of dank, musty evil that assaulted the senses like the undead. The Strategos knew he was considered eerie to the rest of the crew of the _Vione_, but he hoped his icy indifference never brought to mind thoughts of rigor mortis. He shoved the unpleasantness to the back of his mind, coming to stand in front of the beaten and bleeding young man. Two crimson eyes still smoldered dully from behind the silver curtain of his bangs, though the left one was now nearly swollen shut with a blossoming purple bruise.
"Bad form, Folken," he croaked. Folken tilted his head slightly, finding no point in being anything but candid with his captured colleague.
"For what it's worth, Dilandau, I did not intend for things to end this way," he said.
"None of us did, I think," Dilandau agreed quietly. The Strategos sighed, waving a hand dismissively to the Snipers.
"You can release him for now. He won't run." After a second's hesitation, the Madoshi complied, though they remained alert a few feet away, yellow eyes glinting from behind their hoods. Dilandau managed to stand upright uncertainly, though his leg was beginning to really ache where the Sniper arrow had found it.
Wiping a trickle of blood from his mouth, he asked, "Why the ribbon?" He had no need to elaborate any further. Folken smiled ruefully.
"You were becoming quite reckless in your vendetta against Van, and so was he," he explained. "Dornkirk was not what one would call pleased. He wanted you hauled away to the Madoshi immediately. I suggested an alternative."
"Which was what? Tie us up in the woods, let us beat the shit out of each other, *then* turn me over to the witches?" Dilandau spat. "Was that your idea of a joke, you half-breed tin can bastard? Did you think I'd find it *funny*, Folken?"
"No," the Strategos replied patiently, "the idea was to get the two of you to work out whatever was eating away at you, away from Zaibach or the war or anything else. Unfortunately, Dornkirk apparently decided to go ahead and take this shining opportunity to put you back in your place, anyway." Glancing at the Snipers, Folken added dryly, "And I don't think it's just going to be a slap on the wrist, either."
"Hn," Dilandau snorted, managing to take a few steps forward without too much difficulty. He slowly approached the black-cloaked man, eyes narrowed, chin held high. "I just have one thing to say to you, Folken," he murmured so only the taller man could hear. Folken raised a questioning eyebrow, but before he could say a word Dilandau threw his entire body weight forward, landing a punch square on the Strategos' jaw.
Folken staggered back with the blow, his human hand rising to cup the side of his face. He watched remorsefully as the Madoshi pounced on Dilandau within seconds, subduing him further as one Sniper signaled for the others to bring a waiting gurney over. Still holding his throbbing jaw, Folken leaned over the collapsed Dragonslayer in order to hear the words his bloodied mouth was trying to form.
"Thank you," the battered young man whispered with a trace of a lopsided smile, before his head dropped to the floor, slipping mercifully beyond awareness.
The Strategos stood to one side as the Madoshi shifted their subject to the gurney and strapped him down. "You know you probably won't remember anything when they're done with you," he murmured to the unconscious boy as he placed his cybernetic hand on the side rail of the gurney. The Madoshi ushered him out of the way as they carried Dilandau off to be "corrected". Folken remained in the corridor until the sorcerers were gone, his head pounding even more painfully as the weight of all the correcting he was going to have to do himself dawned on him.
His mind strayed back to Dilandau's last words as he walked slowly back to the guymelef bay. The guilt he felt was not due to his plan failing, he realized; rather events had run their proper course even better than he had ever expected. It was that his plan had worked *too* well. Instead of their passionate hatred for each other canceling out, Van and Dilandau had transferred that energy into a connection of jaded soldiers' souls somewhere along their journey in the woods. Van seemed to have regained some of the belief in himself that he had lost over the years in Folken's own shadow. He had genuinely believed he could help his friend in the hallway, or die trying. Folken doubted his little brother would ever hesitate to attack during a battle ever again.
And as for Dilandau, he had gained more than a soul mate who could understand the sometimes self-destructive working of his mind. For the first time in his life, he was more than an experiment called the perfect soldier. He had been human, if just for a little while.
Maybe it had been worth it. As Folken began to smooth things over with the other Dragonslayers and offer some kind of explanation for the events of the past few days, however, he knew he could not quite bring himself to say that everything would be okay.
* * *
Hitomi watched Van from the doorway leading into the small lower observation deck positioned below the bridge of the _Crusade_. True to his word, Folken had contacted them and given them the vicinity of the forest in which they would locate the Fanelian king. When questioned about Van's condition, the Strategos simply replied, "He will heal," before terminating the communications link.
After finding Van unconscious on the forest floor, bruised and cut in several places but physically whole for the most part, Allen and his crew hauled him aboard the ship and they took off for their next scheduled destination, the kingdom of Freid.
Van spent a day in the sickbay for observations with Millerna insisting on checking him for further undetectable injuries, but the young king never complained. He remained silent to the point of worrying Merle and even Allen. Van had always been a stoic, but the spoiled prince in him had never missed an opportunity to give orders or get his way. The fact that he was not ranting about their plot to leave him in the woods was disturbing. When Millerna was satisfied with his physical condition, if not his state of mind, Van retreated to the observation deck without a word to anyone and stood watching the countryside roll by far below for hours at a time.
Hitomi hoped Van just needed time to sort out all that had happened to him in the last few days, but she was concerned that it was time they did not have. They needed Van and Escaflowne in case Freid decided to ally with Zaibach, and they all knew the Hitomi was the only one who could reach Van and help him pull himself back together in time for the battle if there was one.
"Van?" she ventured hesitantly, stepping into the room and standing a few feet behind the young man. He said nothing in reply, and the girl could not read his expression behind the bandage that still covered a nasty cut over one eyebrow. Hoping she was doing the right thing, Hitomi went on, "Van, I just wanted to say I'm sorry for what we did to you. We meant well, I promise, but we still shouldn't have gone behind your back and left you out there. I'm sorry."
"Why?" Van asked quietly, still staring out through the glass. "What possessed you to do something like that?"
"It was Folken's idea initially," the girl explained, staring at her running shoes. "We all agreed that your fight with Dilandau was getting out of hand. The idea was to get you two to work out your differences and hopefully things would calm down some."
"Did it ever occur to you to just ask me to not obsess so much, maybe?" The question was soft, but it still stung the brown-haired girl.
"Would it have done any good?" she demanded. "You never do anything by halves, Van. If you hate someone, you hate every bone in their body. And if you love someone, you may not admit it, but you do it with every fiber of your being. I'm sorry it happened, I really am, but at the time it seemed like the right thing to do. I still think it was."
"I'm not the one you need to apologize to," Van said, turning to face her for the first time since the entire incident. His eyes were cradled in dark circles, betraying how deep the fatigue of his ordeal ran. "At least I'm not going to be tortured because I was sent off on some Archenemies Anonymous retreat against my will."
Hitomi brought a hand up to cover her mouth, emerald eyes wide in shock. "Oh, Van, I'm so sorry," she cried. "You mean he's--"
"Yes, by the Madoshi," Van finished the phrase for her. He approached her, walking carefully to avoid causing any more undue pain in his aching muscles. "He manages to free himself from their oppressive mind-control games for just a little while, and he gets shoved back under water before he has time to appreciate the breath of air he's just taken."
"That's horrible..." the girl from the Mystic Moon murmured. Looking back up at Van, she asked, "So I take it you two came to a truce?" Hitomi hoped with all her heart that they had. Van nodded thoughtfully.
"We understand each other," he agreed. "We found out we aren't alone. I have to at least thank you for that." His expression softened fractionally, his face partially silhouetted by the shades of deepening blue that slowly overtook the evening world on the other side of the glass.
Trying to point out the silver lining, Hitomi smiled. "Then even with all the bad things you've gone through, and the hurt you're feeling, maybe it was worth it. You found someone who can understand how you feel, someone you can trust. That's all we wanted to do, was help you find that." Van's dark brows came together slightly, and he gazed at the green-eyed girl for a long minute.
"Be careful what you wish for, Hitomi," he said quietly, placing something in her hand and closing her small fingers around it. His claret eyes pained, Van searched for the words he wanted to say. The girl met his gaze hopefully, but he simply blinked hard and set his jaw tightly. "Give it back to me when I can trust you again." With that he turned and left the observation deck, leaving Hitomi standing alone in front of the large windows. In her hand was her pendant.
Choking back the confused distress she felt at Van's words, she took a deep breath and forced herself to rationalize things before she gave in to her emotions and let the panic she felt at the utter unfairness of it all overtake her. They had accomplished what she and Folken had set out to do, and that was to cool the anger between Van and Dilandau. In the process, Van had found in his enemy a fellow soldier who could empathize with his thoughts and feelings as a warrior better than any of the rest of them could. That was a good thing, Hitomi repeated firmly to herself. Maybe Van could not trust her again quite yet because of what she did, but it was worth it. He would forgive her, she knew. That was simply the way Van was.
But even as she tried to rationalize everything in her mind, Hitomi stared blankly down at the pendant still clutched in her hand, and she knew that this time, she could not convince herself that everything would be okay.
- FIN -
drag this thing out over the course of three years or so? I'm glad.
I'm pretty happy with how this has turned out. I even like the
ending, which is usually a source of frustration for me. But fear
not! A sequel has its little claws sunk into my brain, so if you
aren't satisfied, be patient. (I left the yaoi out of this one...
I have to stick in there *somewhere*, ne? ^_~ )
They're still not mine...
=== "Red Threads" by Morgan Steelgrave - Chapter Five ===
Early morning guymelef inspection was routinely held before the sun rose to meet the Zaibach airships where they hovered in just above the mountains. Even in Dilandau's absence, the scheduled life of his soldiers continued. None of the Dragonslayers had any idea where their leader had gone or when he would be back, but they all agreed that letting things slack off was not an option. They were putting the final spit-polish on their suits in anticipation of Dilandau's return when a blinding column of light suddenly shattered the pre-dawn quiet. Two silhouetted forms could be discerned through the glare, and the Zaibach soldiers jumped backward several feet and drew their swords at the strange occurrence.
The two bodies slowly sank to the ground, though the sensation of floating did not cease for several long minutes even after they landed heavily on the hard steel floor. Van shook his head to loosen the dizziness that gripped him. He had not dared open his eyes, for fear of being blinded and of the nausea that would surely overtake him. Finally risking a glance at the outside world, he opened one eye and immediately froze upon catching Dilandau's warning gaze. Maroon eyes flickering rapidly from left to right, Van suddenly realized why Dilandau was on edge: they had been deposited on the _Vione_.
"It's Dilandau-sama!" a blonde boy in a Dragonslayer uniform cried happily, "He's brought back the Dragon, too!" At Chesta's herald, the other soldiers approached, all grins, though they remained ready to attack the elusive king of Fanelia.
Acutely aware of the soldiers circling them, the two young men never let their eyes stray from one another as they silently got to their feet. The tension was apparent to everyone in the room, especially the Dragonslayers, who were accustomed to being attuned to their leader's arbitrary mood swings and whims. The soldiers passed confused glances between them as their smiles faded somewhat, wondering why nothing had happened yet. The least they had expected from Dilandau was a screaming match, if not a massacre of the hated Dragon. Assuming this limbo was merely the calm before the storm, they closed in slowly, weapons trained on Van Fanel, until a sudden order shattered the heavy silence and nearly made them jump out of their skins.
"Hold your positions," Dilandau barked roughly, still not moving. The Dragonslayers froze, but did not stand down. "No one is to make a move until I say so."
"Um...Dilandau-sama?" ventured Migel, who had been in temporary command during Dilandau's sudden unexplained absence. When his leader did not reply, he tried again. "Dilandau-sama, forgive us for intruding, but what's going on, sir? Don't you want us to--"
"What did I just say?" the silver-haired boy demanded in the same controlled voice. "This is *my* battle. Anyone who lays a finger on the Dragon will eat it. Do I make myself clear?"
The soldiers remained at a respectful but cautious distance, in complete and utter bewilderment at the situation. It was only a matter of seconds before Chesta's blue eyes fell on the ribbon binding the two arch-rivals together.
"Dilandau-sama, what's that ribbon? What have they done to you?" he squealed in surprise, clapping a hand over his own mouth when he realized he had voiced the question aloud. His fellow soldiers glared at him, hissing at him to be quiet. Amazingly, Dilandau did not fly off the handle at Chesta's impertinence.
"It's crima claw metal. We need a welder to cut it." Migel took the hint and turned to one of the other Dragonslayers.
"Gatti, send for a solderknife from Equipment," he ordered. The other boy nodded once and ran over to the communications terminal at the other end of the long room. Turning his attention back to the two men at the center of the group, Migel explained to his commander with a hopeful smile, "All the welding equipment was taken in yesterday for an inventory check. We'll have a solderknife here as soon as possible to remedy the situation, Dilandau-sama."
Dilandau did not appear to be paying any attention to his squadron, however. His crimson eyes were still trained on the young king of Fanelia, who returned his stare with an intense claret one of his own. Van felt like a fly caught in a spider's web. It was only a matter of time until fate in one horrible guise or another descended upon him. The unreadable expression on Dilandau's face was not helping his nerves, either. It was impossible to tell if the connection they had made in the woods was about to be permanently severed, along with the ribbon.
The sound of echoing footfalls hailed the arrival of the solderknife, a shorter man with his long grey hair slicked back into a ponytail and thick gauntlets that made his lower arms look disproportionate to the rest of his wiry body.
"What was the emergency?" he asked in a grating nasal voice, plainly irritated that he had been drawn away from whatever work he had been doing at the time of Gatti's message. The Dragonslayers moved apart to allow the man access to their commander, when there came a beeping noise from the communications terminal.
"Dilandau-sama!" Gatti called from the terminal, "it's a priority clearance message for you from the Strategos!"
Eyeing the solderknife warily as he went to work on the ribbon, the leader of the Dragonslayers commanded coolly, "Migel, answer it. Code 957-63-Alpha. I'm a little busy at the moment."
"Yes, sir," Migel nodded in salute, ordering with a meaningful look the other Dragonslayers to stay on their guard. He jogged over to where Gatti was standing, nervously chewing on a fingernail. Migel caught him by the arm and whispered, "Did you notify Folken-sama of his arrival?"
"Of course," Gatti hissed, "he said he was on his way down here and signed off the message. Then two minutes later this message from him appeared." The terminal beeped again as second message, one with a code-red tag from General Pike, reached the system. Brows knitted together, Migel entered the authorization number and opened the code-red channel first.
The solderknife was almost finished with his task. He directed a jet of coolant gas onto the ribbon from a hand-held tank, waiting for the metal to freeze. Both Dilandau and Van watched him work, their eyes finding their way occasionally to the armed Dragonslayers surrounding them. Van suddenly decided he would rather face a land dragon any day than an entire squad of Dragonslayers in their base of operations.
"Almost ready," the welder announced in a dry whine, blatantly ignoring standard military protocol by omitting both the title and name of the officer to whom he was speaking. He inspected the ribbon, noting the layer of frost on the metal with a satisfied grunt. Reaching back behind him for a hammer and the appropriate chisel, he added, "This thing is a piece of work. It takes a real genius to work crima metal like this."
Dilandau's attention was occupied by the increasing uproar by the communications terminal, however, and it took a moment for the solderknife's words to register. Even then, the Dragonslayer did not seem bothered by the lack of respect. Glancing down at the little man only briefly, he questioned with an arched brow, "You mean a genius like Folken?"
The solderknife pursed his lips and squinted at the selection of chisels in his belt before choosing one. "Like Folken, yes. He's the only one I know of who fully understands how the stuff works."
Dilandau did not even bother to nod in reply. He was too busy watching Migel and Gatti arguing with whoever was on the other end of the viewscreen. He cast a significant look in Van's direction, silently voicing the warning that there might be trouble.
The dark-haired boy, too, was straining to hear what the commotion at the other end of the room was about. He did not like the turn things were taking, especially if Dilandau of all people was worried. He could barely make out what the Dragonslayers at the terminal were saying above the loud banging the solderknife was making as he chipped away at the frozen bond.
"No, General Pike, sir, I don't understand why it's necessary. We have everything under control," Migel was saying in response to the scowling, mustachioed man on the other end of the communiqué. The officer's reply was inaudible, but the surprise and alarm were plain on the faces of the two young men's faces.
"You're sending the...the...but why?" Gatti demanded, obviously shaken by whatever the general had said. Migel seemed similarly unnerved, even on the verge of anger.
"I will not go against my commander unless you give me a damn good reason for those orders, sir," he said around gritted teeth. "I know you outrank him, but...what? They did what? How can you...?" Migel stared right at Van and Dilandau, his expression changing from one of frustration to resigned understanding. "I see. Yes, sir. We'll hold them until they arrive."
"I don't like the looks of this," Van whispered to Dilandau, who watched Migel and Gatti terminate the communications link and draw their weapons. The other Dragonslayers had taken notice of their actions, as well, and stood ready to act.
"Dilandau-sama!" Migel called as he approached, "Please stay where you are, sir."
"Is it true what they said, Dilandau-sama?" Gatti asked, the hurt and uncertainty audible in his voice.
The solderknife struck one final blow at the red ribbon, and it shattered into tiny silver splinters. Dilandau remained rooted to the spot, rubbing his right wrist absently as the little welder took his tools and scurried away. He narrowed his eyes at his soldiers, but remained in control on the surface. Van held still as well, not wanting to be the one to tip the precarious balance that hung in the air.
"I don't know, Gatti. Who is 'they' and what have they been saying?"
Gatti opened his mouth to answer, but Migel cut him off. "General Pike said he was ordered to call in special forces because you've been declared a liability, sir." The other Dragonslayers looked at each other, searching for some kind of explanation.
Dilandau's laughter had a manic edge to it. "That's nothing new, Migel. Almost everyone in Zaibach, General Pike included, thinks I'm a danger to some degree." His tone darkened as he added quietly, "They may be right."
"This is different, sir," Gatti insisted. "He said you were wanted for questioning because of your disappearance. He said they suspect you of betraying the cause."
"The Strategos is on his way. His original instructions were to notify him as soon as you returned, but General Pike is insisting we detain you here until the special forces arrive." Migel paused, as if he were trying to understand his next words. "He said any attempts to intervene could be hazardous for both you and the rest of the Dragonslayers."
"Special...forces?" Dilandau suddenly appeared even paler than usual. From his close position Van immediately noticed the sheen of nervous sweat that had broken out at his temples, despite the sneer of disgust that dominated his expression. He wondered what could cause the leader of the Dragonslayers to recoil in such a manner.
"Yes, sir," Migel replied in an edgy monotone. "General Pike called in the Madoshi per Dornkirk-sama's direct orders, though I don't know why he felt they were necessary."
Van knew the chill he felt at those words had to be tenfold for Dilandau, though the silver-haired boy would never show it beyond the tiny, momentary glint of fear that leaped into his garnet eyes. The young king of Fanelia also noted that the rest of the Dragonslayers were not very happy about the involvement of the notorious party, either.
"I see," Dilandau mused, swallowing the panic Van knew had to be there. "And the Dragon?"
"He is still to be turned over to Folken-sama's custody, sir." Migel's voice held no emotion whatsoever. It was silent for a moment, the atmosphere growing heavier and nerves more strained as the seconds skipped by.
There was a choked noise to the right, and Chesta whispered shakily, "Dilandau-sama, are you really a traitor?" His eyes shone imploringly, all but begging for some explanation for the accusations made against his beloved leader.
A tired smile crossed Dilandau's face as he lifted a hand behind his head, massaging a knotted muscle in his neck. "I don't know, Chesta. Am I a traitor to the cause? Maybe," he sighed, his brow creased deliberately. "But I can tell you this. I will never be a traitor to myself."
He shifted suddenly, his movements so rapid that no one had time to react as the leader of the Dragonslayers reached behind his back and drew the hidden dagger, sidestepping neatly behind Van and holding the blade to his throat. He pressed himself against Van's back, gripping the other boy's left arm so tightly it marked the skin.
Momentarily shocked by Dilandau's actions, Van barely had time to bring a hand up in an attempt to wrestle the knife from his grasp before the albino boy had him effectively pinned. The dark-haired boy swallowed nervously, feeling the edge of the titanium blade tease his neck slightly, drawing a fine line of red.
Yet even as he felt the blood well and trickle slowly down to his collarbone, mirroring the panic in his heart and mind, Dilandau whispered so close to his ear that it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
"Trust me."
Van could make no reply, but struggled less fiercely against his friend's iron hold. Dilandau relaxed his grip minutely. He knew Van understood.
The reality of the situation was poised a few feet away, now fanned out to cover the movements of the two young men as they backed slowly toward the rail overlooking the guymelef launching bay.
"Please, Dilandau-sama, don't make this any harder than it already is," Chesta cried. "We don't want to attack you, but we have our orders. Just give the Dragon over to Folken's custody and come with us." Dilandau smirked from behind his prey.
"I told you before, this is *my* battle, Dornkirk's fate be damned. My honor is at stake here," he called, his eyes darting to take in the movements of each and every body in the room. "It doesn't concern you. So just back down!"
At that point, the doors to the right opened and in marched the Madoshi, with Folken right at their heels. His countenance was strained, as though he were suffering an awful headache. He kept trying to speak to the black-robed men, but they ignored him and continued to approach the cornered Van and Dilandau.
Van had heard plenty about the unscrupulous magicians of Zaibach, but he had never before encountered one personally. Three of them were about Folken's height, wrapped in floor-length black cloaks, their faces hidden in shadow. Four were considerably shorter, their cloaks brushing behind their knees instead. What was visible of their legs was wrapped tightly in black, their bootless feet making no sound as they glided across the metal floor. The movements of the taller ones were eerie, but the more diminutive Madoshi moved with calculated, padding strides like animals on the hunt. The Fanelian boy shuddered involuntarily. He was almost certain he saw yellow eyes glowing in the dark recesses of their hoods.
"Dilandau Albatou, you are to come with us," one of the taller Madoshi intoned. Dilandau stiffened slightly. It was just like Dornkirk to send the Madoshi, though the Snipers were a surprise. He was not quite sure if he should be flattered or not by the presence of the elite Madoshi killers. His ruby eyes narrowed to angry slits as he nudged the dagger closer to Van's throat.
"Like hell!" he hissed. "I'm going to finish what I started here, Folken! You tell those witches to get out or so help me I'll take every one of them down after I get through with your brother, here!" To Van, he whispered, "The secondary 'melef bay is down the hall straight ahead, to the left. When I tell you to, fight me to get loose and run." The Fanelian boy was wondering what the half-crazed Zaibach soldier meant by "finish", but he kept his mouth shut.
Folken held his arms out wide, his robe falling away to reveal both flesh and metal. "Dilandau, this is beyond my control. It was a direct order from Dornkirk-sama that the Madoshi be brought in. My hands are tied."
"Very funny, Folken. Mine aren't," Dilandau spat. Folken sighed resignedly, dropping his clockwork arm and holding the other out to the young man.
"Let Van go, Dilandau, and just turn yourself over to the Madoshi. Make things easier on us all."
Folken's words seemed to have an effect on the Dragonslayer, because the dagger lowered slightly, his grip on Van loosening. Staring directly at the Madoshi, he whispered, "Now."
Jerking his left arm free, Van elbowed his captor hard in the ribs, knocking the wind out of him. He then turned and struck upward with the same arm, catching the pale boy in the jaw and throwing him backward. Seizing the opportunity, Van grabbed Dilandau by the arm before he could lose his balance completely and tugged him into a full run, steering him forward through the confused mass of Dragonslayers and Madoshi and down the long hallway.
"You could have been a little more gentle," Dilandau chided sarcastically as he was dragged along the corridor at a breakneck pace, still holding his ribs. "The plan was for you to run, not to take me with you."
Van shook his head. "No way I'm leaving you to those monsters," he insisted between breaths. "Come on, we're almost there."
They could barely hear the swift, weightless footsteps of the Madoshi in pursuit. Van stretched his legs as far as they would go, lengthening his strides until his muscles creaked in protest. His breath tore raggedly, desperately from his lungs, in rhythm with Dilandau's as he ran alongside him. Realizing that their prey was about to get away, the four Snipers dropped to their knees, throwing their cloaks to the side. Holding their left arms out in front of them, they aimed four gleaming metal crossbows at their prey. As one mind they released the triggers, without even a signal between them, firing a volley of arrows at the backs of the retreating fugitives.
Dilandau let out a grunt of pain as an arrow found the back of his knee. He stumbled, almost falling to the floor and taking Van with him. "Damn it," he growled through gritted teeth as he tugged the arrow out of his leg. Drawing his dagger again, he adopted a ready stance. "I'll hold them off. I'll be okay, you run!"
Van refused to move as he braced himself to fight the fast-approaching Madoshi. "I won't leave you here!"
Dilandau glanced back at him over one shoulder, eyes bright with a cocktail of adrenaline and emotion. "Go, damn you! I owe you this! Let me keep my word and even the score!" His cries were frustrated, almost pleading with Van as the enemy grew ever closer.
They held their desperate gaze for one more second before Van nodded, placing a hand on Dilandau's shoulder and giving it a quick squeeze. He then turned and ran down the corridor, leaving Dilandau to fight the Madoshi.
He made it halfway before the sounds of battle reached his ears. He could hear Dilandau's shouts and the ringing of metal on metal even over his own heartbeat coursing wildly in his ears. Despite Dilandau's entreaties for him to simply leave, Van skidded to a halt, his concern for his friend too great.
What he saw at the end of the hall was breathtaking; no more complete embodiment of a true soldier existed on the planet at that moment. Dilandau was fighting like a man possessed, accepting the challenge of battling four opponents at once with a grim smile, and suddenly Van understood. There was nothing left in Dilandau's life but the opportunity to be honest with himself, the point of having any defenses long since past, the veils lifted and the walls torn down. There was no choice left *but* to attack, and it was absolutely beautiful, even as his ground dwindled, his injuries and their greater numbers soon shifting the advantage. It was not long before the silver hair was no longer visible through the savage attacks of the four Madoshi warriors.
"Dilandau!" Van cried, unable to stand any more of the brutal scene. He started to sprint forward, but a large body suddenly blocked his path as Folken stepped out of one of the side doorways. Van glared up at him, tears of helplessness and resentment threatening to fall as he struggled against his brother's impeding grasp. "Let me go! I have to help him!" he cried, trying to get around the much larger body.
"Van, there is nothing you can do for him now," Folken said firmly. He gripped his younger brother's shoulders and forced him to meet his gaze. "They've got him. He'll be alright, I promise. But you have to leave now."
Van stared at the Strategos in shocked disbelief. Folken released him, but still blocked his path toward the place where the Madoshi were hauling Dilandau upright, the Dragonslayer simply too exhausted and pained to strike back anymore, his waning cries of rage and desperation echoing in the metal corridor. The younger Fanel brought his hollow stare back to meet his brother's, still unmoving.
"Go. I won't strike you while you're down." The taller man's voice dropped to a low murmur, his countenance softening slightly. Van returned his gaze with a silent, pained expression, then turned and ran headlong for the edge of the hangar. Vaulting over the rail, he plummeted between two inert Alseides models until he was clear of the _Vione_, then unfurled his wings and glided down to the forest below.
Folken watched his brother fall until his wings caught an updraft and slowed his descent to an easy drift. So much for his plan to make their lives easier. He turned with a sigh, striding purposefully over to where Dilandau was hanging limp between two Snipers at the other end of the passageway. Folken fought the urge to grimace. The Madoshi exuded a sensation of dank, musty evil that assaulted the senses like the undead. The Strategos knew he was considered eerie to the rest of the crew of the _Vione_, but he hoped his icy indifference never brought to mind thoughts of rigor mortis. He shoved the unpleasantness to the back of his mind, coming to stand in front of the beaten and bleeding young man. Two crimson eyes still smoldered dully from behind the silver curtain of his bangs, though the left one was now nearly swollen shut with a blossoming purple bruise.
"Bad form, Folken," he croaked. Folken tilted his head slightly, finding no point in being anything but candid with his captured colleague.
"For what it's worth, Dilandau, I did not intend for things to end this way," he said.
"None of us did, I think," Dilandau agreed quietly. The Strategos sighed, waving a hand dismissively to the Snipers.
"You can release him for now. He won't run." After a second's hesitation, the Madoshi complied, though they remained alert a few feet away, yellow eyes glinting from behind their hoods. Dilandau managed to stand upright uncertainly, though his leg was beginning to really ache where the Sniper arrow had found it.
Wiping a trickle of blood from his mouth, he asked, "Why the ribbon?" He had no need to elaborate any further. Folken smiled ruefully.
"You were becoming quite reckless in your vendetta against Van, and so was he," he explained. "Dornkirk was not what one would call pleased. He wanted you hauled away to the Madoshi immediately. I suggested an alternative."
"Which was what? Tie us up in the woods, let us beat the shit out of each other, *then* turn me over to the witches?" Dilandau spat. "Was that your idea of a joke, you half-breed tin can bastard? Did you think I'd find it *funny*, Folken?"
"No," the Strategos replied patiently, "the idea was to get the two of you to work out whatever was eating away at you, away from Zaibach or the war or anything else. Unfortunately, Dornkirk apparently decided to go ahead and take this shining opportunity to put you back in your place, anyway." Glancing at the Snipers, Folken added dryly, "And I don't think it's just going to be a slap on the wrist, either."
"Hn," Dilandau snorted, managing to take a few steps forward without too much difficulty. He slowly approached the black-cloaked man, eyes narrowed, chin held high. "I just have one thing to say to you, Folken," he murmured so only the taller man could hear. Folken raised a questioning eyebrow, but before he could say a word Dilandau threw his entire body weight forward, landing a punch square on the Strategos' jaw.
Folken staggered back with the blow, his human hand rising to cup the side of his face. He watched remorsefully as the Madoshi pounced on Dilandau within seconds, subduing him further as one Sniper signaled for the others to bring a waiting gurney over. Still holding his throbbing jaw, Folken leaned over the collapsed Dragonslayer in order to hear the words his bloodied mouth was trying to form.
"Thank you," the battered young man whispered with a trace of a lopsided smile, before his head dropped to the floor, slipping mercifully beyond awareness.
The Strategos stood to one side as the Madoshi shifted their subject to the gurney and strapped him down. "You know you probably won't remember anything when they're done with you," he murmured to the unconscious boy as he placed his cybernetic hand on the side rail of the gurney. The Madoshi ushered him out of the way as they carried Dilandau off to be "corrected". Folken remained in the corridor until the sorcerers were gone, his head pounding even more painfully as the weight of all the correcting he was going to have to do himself dawned on him.
His mind strayed back to Dilandau's last words as he walked slowly back to the guymelef bay. The guilt he felt was not due to his plan failing, he realized; rather events had run their proper course even better than he had ever expected. It was that his plan had worked *too* well. Instead of their passionate hatred for each other canceling out, Van and Dilandau had transferred that energy into a connection of jaded soldiers' souls somewhere along their journey in the woods. Van seemed to have regained some of the belief in himself that he had lost over the years in Folken's own shadow. He had genuinely believed he could help his friend in the hallway, or die trying. Folken doubted his little brother would ever hesitate to attack during a battle ever again.
And as for Dilandau, he had gained more than a soul mate who could understand the sometimes self-destructive working of his mind. For the first time in his life, he was more than an experiment called the perfect soldier. He had been human, if just for a little while.
Maybe it had been worth it. As Folken began to smooth things over with the other Dragonslayers and offer some kind of explanation for the events of the past few days, however, he knew he could not quite bring himself to say that everything would be okay.
* * *
Hitomi watched Van from the doorway leading into the small lower observation deck positioned below the bridge of the _Crusade_. True to his word, Folken had contacted them and given them the vicinity of the forest in which they would locate the Fanelian king. When questioned about Van's condition, the Strategos simply replied, "He will heal," before terminating the communications link.
After finding Van unconscious on the forest floor, bruised and cut in several places but physically whole for the most part, Allen and his crew hauled him aboard the ship and they took off for their next scheduled destination, the kingdom of Freid.
Van spent a day in the sickbay for observations with Millerna insisting on checking him for further undetectable injuries, but the young king never complained. He remained silent to the point of worrying Merle and even Allen. Van had always been a stoic, but the spoiled prince in him had never missed an opportunity to give orders or get his way. The fact that he was not ranting about their plot to leave him in the woods was disturbing. When Millerna was satisfied with his physical condition, if not his state of mind, Van retreated to the observation deck without a word to anyone and stood watching the countryside roll by far below for hours at a time.
Hitomi hoped Van just needed time to sort out all that had happened to him in the last few days, but she was concerned that it was time they did not have. They needed Van and Escaflowne in case Freid decided to ally with Zaibach, and they all knew the Hitomi was the only one who could reach Van and help him pull himself back together in time for the battle if there was one.
"Van?" she ventured hesitantly, stepping into the room and standing a few feet behind the young man. He said nothing in reply, and the girl could not read his expression behind the bandage that still covered a nasty cut over one eyebrow. Hoping she was doing the right thing, Hitomi went on, "Van, I just wanted to say I'm sorry for what we did to you. We meant well, I promise, but we still shouldn't have gone behind your back and left you out there. I'm sorry."
"Why?" Van asked quietly, still staring out through the glass. "What possessed you to do something like that?"
"It was Folken's idea initially," the girl explained, staring at her running shoes. "We all agreed that your fight with Dilandau was getting out of hand. The idea was to get you two to work out your differences and hopefully things would calm down some."
"Did it ever occur to you to just ask me to not obsess so much, maybe?" The question was soft, but it still stung the brown-haired girl.
"Would it have done any good?" she demanded. "You never do anything by halves, Van. If you hate someone, you hate every bone in their body. And if you love someone, you may not admit it, but you do it with every fiber of your being. I'm sorry it happened, I really am, but at the time it seemed like the right thing to do. I still think it was."
"I'm not the one you need to apologize to," Van said, turning to face her for the first time since the entire incident. His eyes were cradled in dark circles, betraying how deep the fatigue of his ordeal ran. "At least I'm not going to be tortured because I was sent off on some Archenemies Anonymous retreat against my will."
Hitomi brought a hand up to cover her mouth, emerald eyes wide in shock. "Oh, Van, I'm so sorry," she cried. "You mean he's--"
"Yes, by the Madoshi," Van finished the phrase for her. He approached her, walking carefully to avoid causing any more undue pain in his aching muscles. "He manages to free himself from their oppressive mind-control games for just a little while, and he gets shoved back under water before he has time to appreciate the breath of air he's just taken."
"That's horrible..." the girl from the Mystic Moon murmured. Looking back up at Van, she asked, "So I take it you two came to a truce?" Hitomi hoped with all her heart that they had. Van nodded thoughtfully.
"We understand each other," he agreed. "We found out we aren't alone. I have to at least thank you for that." His expression softened fractionally, his face partially silhouetted by the shades of deepening blue that slowly overtook the evening world on the other side of the glass.
Trying to point out the silver lining, Hitomi smiled. "Then even with all the bad things you've gone through, and the hurt you're feeling, maybe it was worth it. You found someone who can understand how you feel, someone you can trust. That's all we wanted to do, was help you find that." Van's dark brows came together slightly, and he gazed at the green-eyed girl for a long minute.
"Be careful what you wish for, Hitomi," he said quietly, placing something in her hand and closing her small fingers around it. His claret eyes pained, Van searched for the words he wanted to say. The girl met his gaze hopefully, but he simply blinked hard and set his jaw tightly. "Give it back to me when I can trust you again." With that he turned and left the observation deck, leaving Hitomi standing alone in front of the large windows. In her hand was her pendant.
Choking back the confused distress she felt at Van's words, she took a deep breath and forced herself to rationalize things before she gave in to her emotions and let the panic she felt at the utter unfairness of it all overtake her. They had accomplished what she and Folken had set out to do, and that was to cool the anger between Van and Dilandau. In the process, Van had found in his enemy a fellow soldier who could empathize with his thoughts and feelings as a warrior better than any of the rest of them could. That was a good thing, Hitomi repeated firmly to herself. Maybe Van could not trust her again quite yet because of what she did, but it was worth it. He would forgive her, she knew. That was simply the way Van was.
But even as she tried to rationalize everything in her mind, Hitomi stared blankly down at the pendant still clutched in her hand, and she knew that this time, she could not convince herself that everything would be okay.
- FIN -