Feather Flight: "When Even the Stars are Falling." (part 1)
A Kuja Alternate-Universe fic

// Give me a sign. Lord... just one sign.//

The small boat tossed and spun as the storm-driven waves pushed it first one way, than another. The sail was in tatters and provided little use aside to barely control the wildly swaying boom. Laying on the deck, grinning at the violent storm, a gaunt figure stared up at the dark sky. Another tall wave swept the ship causing it to tilt wildly, but still the man did nothing. Shaking the sea water from his eyes he watched the lightening fork and felt the hard rain pelt with bruising force over his exhausted body, waiting.

// Do I live? Or do I die...? I don't know anymore... I can't see the end like I used to. I don't know my purpose. So I'm leaving it to you... ok? Lord, if you mean for me to keep going... if my life is to have /any/ use to anyone... then show me. If not, then let the sea take me. At least it would be a clean death, a warrior's death. This broken shell and spirit deserve at least that small consideration I think... I have failed you... failed everyone... but I leave it in your hands. //

Laro shifted himself to lie more comfortably against the slick wooden deck. The sea had not yet managed to toss him free of the little craft. The fishing boat was sturdily built, but battered as it was, it would only be time until neglected, it took on too much water, and capsized. He felt faintly guilty at the idea, the boat was stolen after all. Tomorrow some poor fisherman would discover its wreckage scattered along the shore. Life was full of such insults, but the man would recover his loss, and Laro would be long past caring by then. With any luck, the ocean would swallow him whole.

The chill water and rain were succeeding in leaching the feverish heat from his recent wounds and newly healing bones. For the first time since his capture, he felt almost free of pain. Only the ever present throbbing of his joints reminded him of how much his weak body should've been protesting this continued abuse.

// Broken... Failure... Useless... I understand, Lord. Take your revenge, I'll accept, and gladly. //

Vague memories of his childhood rose in his mind, most full of a tender joy he could now barely comprehend. He could almost see the children running along the wide sandy beaches of his home, their parents working near by repairing the nets. He could almost hear his own light laughter; feel the sand beneath his toes; the sun, so bright and golden, beating down on his face.

Laro closed his eyes, willing the memory to stay. Those had been happy times, before the Selwe came, before the never-ending war. The thought brought out /another/ memory despite his every attempt to suppress it, the same beach, but at night. There had been no moon, the beautiful stars were hidden by smoke, but he could remember looking around and picking out the terrified faces with fearful clarity. They all were illuminated by the cherry red glow of the fires as the small town burned to ash.

The soldier remembered watching the flames, even as he shepherded the younger children to shelter, letting the memory of the town, and the dead, etch itself into his memory. He would never allow himself to forget, it was the day his childhood ended. Laro let the rain wash away the few tears he had the energy to summon, willing to wait as long as it took for the little boat to finally surrender to the elements. He would not jump, that would be cowardly.

// And simply doing nothing and letting death claim you /isn't/?! //

// It's out of my hands...//

// The Lord only helps those who helps themselves. You've told people that all your life! //

// Hardly matters /now/ does it? Besides, I doubt I can even /move/... It was hard enough to even make it to the boat, to get it in the water... /standing/... with a twice-broken leg, on a sea like /this/? Even if I managed it... I'd never have the strength to steer the thing... //

His cynical self-evaluation was slowly interrupted as reality once more made itself known, and for a moment he was confused. At first he could make out a new sound, a high pitched shrieking that made itself known even above the noise of the storm and the waves. It was accompanied by a blazing red light, one that washed over his closed eyes; uncertain if he was hallucinating he opened them, expecting to see the village burning once more. After a moment of disorientation, he comprehended that both the noise, and the light, were coming from the /sky/. Something was falling.

He stared in idle curiosity as the storm raged on, the grey sky above him turned first purple, then an angry red as whatever it was punched through. Finally, it broke through the under layer of cloud, the sound of its fall now a roar. If he squinted Laro could just barely make out the core of light from amidst the massive fiery umbra and tail. More of a meteorite than a missile, he smiled in wonder as it plummeted towards him.

// Well if death by sea is too mundane a punishment, /this/ will certainly be note worthy... //

The small falling star drew closer, forcing him to look away as the brightness became too much for his tired eyes. He shielded his face from the inevitable. With a rush of scalding air, and a tremendous splash, the large meteorite hit water not one hundred feet from his boat. The soldier sat up in disbelief, peering through the rain and steam towards the distant patch of water.

// It... /missed/...? //

He began to laugh again, not caring how hysterical it sounded. He wasn't sure if he was angry, or grateful. Clinging to the rail he rode out the next wave crest, shaking the water from his eyes to attempt to keep the steaming impact point in sight. A flash of silver white caught his eye. He blinked, certain his tired eyes were lying. The distance was too great. The storm was too heavy. It /couldn't/ be. Laro stared again, it was. He watched in amazement as a slim arm broke to the surface again, its owner vainly trying to cope with the rough seas. In the middle of the still steaming area of surf, someone was trying to keep afloat, and failing. He bit off a curse as the reality of what he was seeing sank in.

The person was drowning.

The errant boom, so long ignored, swung back around with vicious force and caught him across the shoulder, sending him sprawling to the wooden deck. He shook off the pain with long experience, pushing it aside in favor of the mission plainly in front of him. He would need rope, lots of rope, and a miracle.


// Imbecile... You /are/ do you know that? You're a moron, how the hell did you ever convince anyone to /ever/ let you lead an army?! //

Gasping for air, Laro forced his tired limbs to not only tread water but to push him forward through the rough surf. The rope attaching him back to the wildly bobbing boat felt like heavy chain as it dragged in the water behind him. His stinging eyes could barely make out the destination. He was going almost entirely by feel. The water grew warmer as he drew close to where he thought he had seen the body, but he could make out nothing. He was almost at the end of his tether.

// What sort of lunatic would come out in the middle of the ocean to commit suicide, then decide to rescue a meteorological phenomena instead... for all you know, it could be one of /them/. //

He shuddered at the memory of the endless weeks in the Selwe camp; the ceaseless cycle of torture and neglect.

// Why is it so surprising... Haven't I always been the fool to risk all to save another...? I can face the thought of my own death with apathy, but I cannot bear to see someone die, not without at least /trying/... I know they were around here somewhere... //

Before another wave could swamp him, and before the little remaining portion of his sanity could object, Laro took in a deep breath and dove beneath the murky water.

// Please... Please still be here... I couldn't bear it if... //

He could make out little in the dark water save for the shimmer of bubbles below him. The soldier grimly angled his dive accordingly, and surprisingly, felt his fingers brush against /someone/. Fumbling for a better grip, he struggled his burden to the surface. Laro secured the body to his chest with one arm, and slowly, /slowly/ worked his way back towards the relative safety of the ship. His body was shaking almost uncontrollably when he finally was able to cling to the craft, fatigue causing his vision to fade in-and-out with the rocking motion of the waves.

Later on he would be unable to recall by what inhuman force he was able to get himself back into the boat, but he accomplished it, and began to rigorously force the water out of the boy's lungs. The boy -for so he seemed- at length began to cough, clearing the remaining fluid from his chest. Large blue eyes fluttered open to gaze blankly up but the darkness was now near perfect, Laro could barely make out their color and form by the light of the flickering lightening. His features were remarkably feminine. The illusion was assisted by the wild mass of shimmering hair. If he hadn't felt the smooth muscled chest under him, the soldier would have doubted his initial assumption. He flinched at the look in the wide eyes, terror. Delicate hands moved to ineffectually push him away, too weak to do more then brush against his tired arms.

"You're going to be alright!" The storm nearly swallowed Laro's hoarse shout. He wasn't certain that the boy heard him at all, but it didn't seem to matter. The pale face seemed to stare in wonder a moment then fall slack, eyes slipping closed.

// Three-quarters drowned, and probably a concussion from hitting the water, not to mention gods know what might be broken... He needs help.../now/... //

The soldier smiled grimly at the stupidity of the statement, staring at the outlines of the leaden waves all around him.

// Well, if we survive the storm, and the boat doesn't sink... well, /then/ I'll worry about getting us home... /somehow/. //

Fumbling in the tiny hold, he came up with a largish tarp, and methodically began to first wrap it around their sodden forms then lash it to the small deck. If they didn't get swept overboard, and if they didn't freeze, there was a chance.

// God? If this is your idea of a sign... you've got a sick sense of humor. But I have to admit... it worked... //

Laro wrapped his arms around the frail body, trying to impart his meager warmth to his unconscious companion. // I can hardly go and die /now/... how horribly inconvenient... //

He rested his forehead against the damp hair, feeling himself surrender to absolute exhaustion. The skin was smooth to touch, if a little cold.

// I think I inhaled too much water... I almost can swear that I smell... cinnamon... // The bemused though followed him into roaring darkness.


Every muscle in his body ached. Laro cracked an eyelid with effort. The faint sound of seagulls triggered some vital realization deep in his tired brain. A warm breath gently ruffled his hair, and he marveled at the sensation, as well as that of the lithe form pressed against his, and the too-hot sun attempting to burn his back. His throat when he swallowed forcibly reminded him that attempting to drink sea water was something he should've known better than to try.

// Then the bloody stuff should've stopped trying to shove its way down my throat... By the nine hells, I /hurt/... //

The soldier fully expected to be bruised from head to foot, bit cautiously tensing each muscle, he was glad to feel that no new bones were broken, or re-broken.

// Another day... another scar. //

He forced his body to move, and muzzily untangled himself first from the sticky strands of silver hair that seemed to be /everywhere/, and then from the remains of the shredded sail. It took some time. The day was brilliant. In the nature of sudden squalls, the incredibly violent weather had blown itself out in a little over twelve hour; a single night transforming the deadly sea into a picturesque blue paradise. Rubbing the salt from his eyes, he was amazed to see that they had been carried /towards/ land by the massive waves, floating calmly within the sedate waters of the large bay. If he concentrated he could almost make out the tiny city on the shore. His parched lips cracked with his smile but he didn't care, turning his face into the warm sunlight like a child.

// So I guess, the answer is "Live." Right...? /Right/. //

Laro stared undaunted at the distance to the shore, now that his choice was made he felt nothing but an overwhelming sense of calm.



Somehow the ragged man managed to avoid carefully studying his sleeping passenger for several energetic minutes. There were scraps of rope to be knotted and strung, a small sail to jury rig, and water to bail; all were activities that happily consumed most of his limited resources. It wasn't until he felt the first gust of wind fill the crude sail, and settled back to the deck to man the tiller that he really took the time to /look/ at what the ocean had brought him. What he saw took his breath away. The boy was simply /beautiful/.

Laro felt himself staring at the sleeping form, but barely glanced away long enough to check that his heading was true before his eyes were riveted once more. The long strands of hair, definitely silver, glistened in the morning sun, spilled over the deck in a loose tumult. He blinked a moment, but his eyes proved true, tangled amongst the strands, as if they belonged there, silver feathers curled and fluttered in the breeze. His brain accepted the information, but was still too punch-drunk to decipher the meaning. Eyes did not need conscious thought to guide them however as they admiringly traced over the smooth lines of the body. The sheltering tarp had been claimed as sail, and with his clothes in rags, there was little to be left to the imagination.

// You're almost drooling, /stop it/! This is /juvenile/ and you're more than old enough to know better. He's injured for heaven's sake, to even /think/ that he could... that you'd want... It's just not fair... //

Still, it was easy to imagine how the figure would look without the many bruises marring the pale skin. The graceful sweep of the arm as it curled under his body, the slender calf and leg -almost entirely exposed by the shredded boot- as were intensely desirable. Even the feline tail, its silver fur ruffling in the sea breeze as it dried, seemed to curl seductively. Its gentle twitching seeming to reflect its owner's dreaming state.

// Wait... /Tail/?! //

Laro stared at the additional appendage in silence for several minutes, attempting to fathom the cause for his distress. Then, finally, it hit him.

// This... he's... He's not human. //

Cold dread raced through his veins along with a heady shot of adrenaline. It couldn't last though; the sleeping form just wasn't a big enough threat for the soldier's tired body to take seriously. The burst of energy did serve to fully awaken the dark man, and he began his study again, this time more serious. The sum and total was a small but telling list.

// Well, he's not Selwe, at least not of any kind I've ever seen, and I've seen them /all/... they'd never stoop to such a 'human' shape... to them 'insect' reigns supreme, even for their constructs. But he's not human either... feathers, tail, and is it just me or does his bone structure look just plain /wrong/. He's just too delicate, but I know there's muscle there too. He's built more like a man than a boy, but he looks no more than seventeen... and a /young/ seventeen at that... //

Laro looked at the fast-approaching shore with a sigh.

// Who are you little one... and where did you come from? // His subconscious was more than happy to give the answer. // From the /sky/ of course... you saw him. Remember? Like a shooting star come to earth, he all but dropped into your lap... like some sort of present... /a present/? //

Eyes wide, the tired man looked at his burden in wonder. // Sort of like... a /sign/... Hmmm? //

He glared at the inoffensive blue sky.

// What the hell does this mean?! //

The fleecy clouds showed no interest in answering.


"May all Saints uphold and preserve us! Nazer Kai! What /happened/! What were you doing in that boat? In the Storm?! We've been looking /everywhere/ for you... I've turned out half the town to comb the beaches... "

The small man's long mustache trembled as he practically bounced up and down with joy. Several fishermen were more than happy to wade into the warm water to guide the little wreck to a safe spot on the beach. Laro grinned sheepishly at the respectfully worried looks that surrounded him, and foolishly attempted to stand. His legs, still but newly mended and then abused by his previous-night's activities, plainly refused to hold his weight and would have sent him down into a heap if not for several strong pairs of hands that bodily held him upright and began to support him towards the clinic.

"Wait!... The boy... Someone grab the boy... He's far worse than I am... I had to pump half the bay out of him... and he's pretty badly beaten up... "

The short doctor had turned back even before Laro had finished his protest, leaning curiously over the still unmoving form in the boat. The mustache twitched again in obvious amazement.

"Well... Well Well... This is most irregular. Nazer Kai...? Might I... "

"Later, Doctor Ing, let it wait till later... He needs help /now/."

"Yes, yes... Of course..."

Another resident of the town, ready with a blanket, gently scooped up the body. The young man moved very carefully, aware of the war-hero's eyes watching his every step, and headed towards the tidy little hospital.


When the orderlies had finished re-bandaging his sore and swollen joints, spread the salves, and watched him drink far more water than he was sure was good for him, Laro was finally given the satisfaction of hobbling quietly into the room next door where the doctor was working. The small man was putting the finishing touches on his newest patient. Turning to see his visitor, he quickly waved the dark man into a chair.

"Please, please... /sit/. You know you shouldn't be putting undue stress on your bones yet... Your little adventure may have caused you irreparable harm!"

"You cluck like a mother-hen. I'm fine, but how is /he/?"

The doctor studied each of his patients in turn, seriously considering the question. "Physically? Aside from certain noted abnormalities... he's fine. Nothing that a week or two in bed won't set a right and plenty of fluids... the same as you..." The older man stared down the guilty soldier.

"...But...?"

"Well, that's the physical problems. He also has a fairly severe concussion... that is what I'm really worried about. Was he conscious at all when you found him?"

The dark man grimaced in distress. "Yeah, barely... He was able to look at me for a second, and then he just sort of passed out. I ... damn it! I should've made sure to try to wake him, but there just wasn't the time. I was too weak..."

"No one blames you Nazer Kai..."

"And how many times have I told you to stop calling me that..."

The doctor combed his mustache in amusement. "You can tell us all you like Great Kai, it won't change who you are. Injured or not, you're still the people's hero. The greatest warlord of the century simply doesn't become an average citizen again, no matter how he may wish to."

"I'm not the greatest /anything/ Dr. Ing, I /lost/, I was /captured/... beaten like a dog, and only after they were /tired/ of me, after I was worthless, only then did they allow me to crawl away... My magnificent 'escape'... what a joke."

"Ah, but you /did/ escape... and it was /how/ you lost... Have you ever considered that you're more popular /now/ than ever before? The people..."

"The people are idiots... enough of that, what about /him/... what happens now?"

Dark eyes watched the steady rise and fall of the chest with worry.

"We must wait. He'll either wake up, or he'll die. There is nothing we can do."

The soldier flinched at the simple prognosis, "If you don't mind, I'd like to sit with him a while."

The small man nodded serenely and shut the door leaving the two patients in silence. Laro watched a moment longer, and then slid his chair along side the narrow bed.

The boy's bruises were liberally coated with an herbal salve, and bandages were apparent around the arm peeking out from under the blanket, but neither of these things made him cringe as much as the most shocking alteration. The mane of silvery hair, that had captivated him even in its tangled state, was gone. Drastically shortened and pushed into odd locks by the variety of bandages swathing the boy's skull, his hair hung forlornly above his delicate ears. The feathers, a seemingly natural part of his appearance, were the solitary reminders of the length that should have been. Their weather beaten plumes lay dejectedly against the pillow. The knight grimaced in sympathy.

// Damn... I suppose it was the only way to clean the wounds quickly... but I bet he really was proud of his hair... it must have taken a long time to get that to that length... //

A silky touch brushed against his barefoot and nearly caused him to jump. The silvery tail, now sporting a small bandage of its own, continued its mindless twitching.

// Just like a cat... it never stops, not really... //

On a whim he reach down and gently caught the curling appendage. The dense fur was softer than any pelt he had encountered, and delighted he allowed it to slip through his fingers, only to catch it again. He watched it as it instinctively responded to his grip, alternately trying to free itself and caressing his arm.

// I wonder what it must be like to have a tail... //

He let it go at last, and returned to studying the sleeping features, no longer upset by the erratic barbering.

// You'll have to tell me when you wake up... along with a name... and everything /else/... //

"Wake up soon, ok?"

Laro smiled at the humor of having an infatuation with a person he'd yet to actually /meet/.

// Well, that can be corrected... and once he forgives us for lopping off his hair... Maybe... maybe I can start to figure out why you came, and why it seems that you were meant... for me.//

notes: What is the best way to make Kuja likable in a fic? Don't give him any lines! Muahahaha.... No seriously, I know what I'm doing.... I think... And Laro's really quite central to this silly little Shonen-ai bit of fluff so he might as well get some quality screen time as Kuja's angst will take over pretty soon. I like Laro... he's... a doof. But a well meaning one! Stay tuned for more decadent thought provoking WAFF. In CH2. "I want to see your smile."

Lunar

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