Author's Note: I actually managed to crank out another chapter before my school caught up with me. Three cheers for that, at least. I am also fairly happy with this chapter - and I am working on the next and so far am happy with that one as well.

I hope you guys enjoy it! Reviews are always appreciated!

Chapter Eighteen - How Much Time Is Left?

Richard watched as Reaver stormed out of the room angrily. He made to move and go to the pirate's side, but in the next instant he was being beckoned into his father's room. Logan fell into step beside him, casting a disdainful look to the ring that glittered on Richard's finger. The teen stroked it absently as his brow furrowed together in worry for both his father and Reaver.

"Father, are you all right? I -" Logan rushed immediately to his father's side, getting cut off only by a gesture from his father. They had both learned long ago to read their father's body language - this action was meant for the boy to shut up, or lose his tongue.

"Richard, I'm sorry," Their father muttered in a gravelly voice Richard could only assume was painful. Richard bowed his head and moved closer to his father, taking his hand in both of his.

"Don't apologize, Father. It - there's nothing for you to apologize for," Richard tried to make right by his father - he had always tried to show his father that he was better and that he was not as useless as they all said he was. This whole situation had proved that, in its' own fucked up way. Now, he was the one who needed to apologize to his father for being such an idiot. He was the one who owed his father an apology for going behind his back and getting involved with Reaver.

"But, in a way, it is. You do not know the whole story, although some day you might. Today is not that day," Sparrow seemed to muse the words to himself, as if the teens knew what he was talking about but they had simply forgotten. With the end of his sentence, he gestured for Logan to come forward, taking the boys' hands in his free one and drawing both of his sons nearer to him. "You two are the only link the Kingdom has to Hero's, now."

"Wh- Papa!" Logan's voice cracked and his faced lined with concern as he leaned in to his father. Sparrow pushed him away, yanking his hand free in an attempt to cover his mouth from the horrible onslaught of coughs. He pulled away as his lungs seized the erratic fit, revealing blood to be splattered on his sleeve.

"As I was saying, you two are the only ones left now."

"That's not true, father," Richard interjected, his grip tightening on the once great man's hand. "Reaver is still here."

At those words, Sparrow fell silent. His facial features soon laced with the look of deep thought Richard had found him in countless times over the years. He could always tell when his father had a problem on his mind - even if he didn't say it, Richard knew. And this time, it seemed to involve Reaver, or something Richard had said.

"Do not let this kingdom down. Either of you," Sparrow warned, his eyes sternly glaring to both of his sons. Logan moved forward, attempting to say something, but lurching back in the next second as his father was seized by another round of coughing. Richard lurched back as well, and soon both boys were being pulled away. The doctor was at Sparrow's side, and the last image Richard managed to see was blood pouring from his father's pale lips.

Reaver shot three rounds into his servants' chest, shouting at the top of his lungs for someone to come clean up the bloody god damned mess. He slammed his office door behind him and he swore he could hear the wood scream at him in pain. He knew how it felt - he could relate to the urge to scream at everyone who dared to touch him wrong.

Most days, he just shot those people.

But those days had long ago vanished - they had vanished with the rising of his new sun, setting behind him as he looked ahead to his new life. His life with Richard - the perfect boy he had fallen so in love with.

But could he say that he was in love? Was that truly what he felt towards the teen? He supposed that it must be - why the hell else would he have allowed him to stay around for so long? Why the hell would he allow Richard to stay so close at night, wrapped in his arms tightly as if he was a security item? He could still remember the nights he had nightmares - almost every other night, now - and he always awoke to the concerned face of Richard. His perfect angel had been watching over him and had dared to care enough to press a hand to his chest and wake him.

Richard was always there for him, always right within grasping distance. They almost never separated from one another, and if they did, it was in forced company. He could remember days when they had stayed in bed all day, shooting at night because they had so desperately needed to get his training in. He remembered mornings where they slept until the sun was high in the sky and they had lunch - instead of breakfast - in bed. He could remember days when it had rained and they had been forced to stay inside with nothing to occupy themselves - they had found something soon enough, however. Reaver could remember almost every moment that he had spent with the teen. He could still hear the boys' every word, every moan and every breath.

So why was he being forced to give it all up?

Why was he being told to give up what he had waited hundreds of years for?

He could only think of one reason, and that was that he was cursed. The gods hated him, the Shadow Court had damned him, the flames of hell already had bits of his flesh - whatever you wanted to use to back his theory, and he knew it was correct. There was obviously something or someone out there in the world that was out to get him. They had something against him as a being, his morals or otherwise, and now he was paying the price.

And now the weight of the whole world was on his shoulders. He had to decide whether or not to go along with his happiness and risk the world, or save the world and risk his happiness. He knew that the morally correct decision said he should save the world - but was it so wrong for him to want more? Was it so wrong for him to want to damn the whole rotten globe to hell and live out what happiness he could with Richard? Was it so wrong for a man like him to put his happiness before that of countless others?

You say yes? Fuck you.

Reaver cursed loudly, whirling on his heel as he shot five more rounds into the window. Glass shattered loudly and exploded in the room and outside onto the forest path. He cursed again and again, shooting out the now broken window until his gun clicked emptily with blanks. Then, he fell to his knees in front of his desk, rolling helplessly around so that his back rest against the wood and he was facing the door. Tears slipped down his cheeks and for the first time in years, the pirate king felt helpless.

The pirate king - the Hero of Skill - felt as helpless as a newborn babe. He felt as though he could do nothing - as if all his power had been stripped from him and he was left stark naked standing before thousands of powerful overlords. He felt as though he could begin to feel the lies and sins of all his years eating away at his skin, chewing it in their mouth as the pondered, and spitting it back out with a look of disgust on their faces.

He could feel the disgust and the immorality he had been building up for hundreds of years finally come seeping over the edge. He could taste the evil and darkness on his tongue - god, Avos pleas no - not the darkness. Anything but the Darkness.

He could feel sobs wracking through his body and he could taste the tears on his lips. They parted through and landed on his tongue, sending chills through his spine. He knew what was next - he had suffered through enough panic attacks to know that the shaking and the fear came next.

The thought always led and more often than not, it led to the fear and the shaking.

"Reaver?" A small voice sounded from outside his door. It was a voice he knew all too well and a voice that he almost dared to say he wanted nothing to do with at the current moment. Then, however, he remembered the golden ring that decorated Richard's finger and guilt spread through his whole body. He didn't answer - silence was the best reply, was it not? - and he waited for the inevitable moment when Richard would open the door and come in anyway.

It never came.

Reaver waited as his shoulder shook and his mind whirled and ran about crazily with thought. He waited as tears streamed down his face and he began to taste almost nothing but salt between his lips. And then, he waited still. Soon, he picked himself up on trembling, flimsy legs and forced himself to walk to the door and open it himself. When he did, he wished he hadn't.

Richard sat before him in the hallway, knees drawn to his chest as god awful sobs wracked through his body. The teen's body trembled violently, and each breath he took seemed to be a struggle. His tears fell twice as hard as Reaver's even dared, and soon the Pirate found himself on the floor next to the prince, holding the boy tight against his chest.

Richard wrapped his arms instinctively around the pirate - as natural as breathing - and he curled into a ball around Reaver as the pirate seemed to want to do much the same around him. They ended up tangled together in one way or another, enough so that every part of them was aligned and perfectly coordinated - enough so that they both could feel the sobs tremble through their bodies. Richard's face was against Reaver's neck, Reaver's buried in Richard's brown hair.

"What happened?"

"Father - father is dead," Richard's voice shattered and his arms tightened around his pirate in a desperate attempt to rid himself of the nightmarish thoughts that filled his head. He could still see every last drop of blood spilling from his father's mouth as he had been forced to leave the room. Every last drop of red haunted him and dug deep into his consciousness, pulling at his demons and forcing them to come out.

"Wh-What?" Reaver pushed away, his teary eyes meeting Richard's as he cupped the boys' face gingerly. Richard nodded, watching as a piece of Reaver shattered and the pirate pulled him close once more. They didn't say anything after that - what could be said for a grief so large? - and soon nothing but their sobs filled the small section of hallway. Richard began to think that he was sick of sobbing - that he wished he could have ended up more like his father - but then that had only spurred his tears further along.

"Where's Logan?" Reaver finally muttered, his curiosity and general - shocking - concern for the other teen proving to be enough to get him out of his otherwise depressing thoughts. He pushed away from Richard, running his fingers under the teen's eyes gently, wiping away the tears that still fell. Richard reached up and did the same, leaning in to plant a kiss under each of the pirate's eyes.

"They took him away as soon as papa stopped breathing - they said that he was to begin his reign immediately," Richard snarled the words, as if he suddenly cared what they did to his brother. He never had before, but grief changed a person, that was for sure. Grief ate at your heart until you clung to whatever you had left - no matter what or who that was.

"Where... When -" Reaver stumbled over his words, but Richard only silenced him with a small kiss.

"They took papa away and said that his... his body would be ready within the week," Richard mumbled the words as he rest their foreheads together, waiting for the pirate to say something. Instead, the pirate reached up and knotted his hand in the back of Richard's hair, staying silent as his thoughts ran wild once more.

He couldn't leave the boy - not now. But how much longer could he wait? How much longer before the Seeress showed up at his door and demanded he pack his things and go?

How much time did he really have left?