Disclaimer: My so-called ownership of Xenosaga is limited to a few shiny DVDs on my shelf, and hey, I'm pretty content with that. It's not like I can't write a totally random fic every time I want to pick at the original storyline. ;)

Author's Notes: As much as I love reading humorous, light-hearted stories, I admit I've never felt comfortable writing them. Sooner or later, I knew I would try to pollute this fandom with some gloomy, depressing stuff. I hope you don't mind. :)

Half-Drained

by Lucrecia LeVrai

"Mary, do you know if the Little Master is still in the main office?"

"Huh?" Mary blinked and looked up at the sound of her name, turning around to face her older sister a moment later. "I've got no idea," she replied truthfully. It was already half past nine in the evening, and even though Jr. wouldn't be going to bed any time soon, he was probably done with his work for today. "Why?"

"I've just remembered I need him to have a look at something, preferably right now."

"What, more paperwork?" Shelley nodded, which caused Mary to grimace and shake her head a moment later. "I know this must be important for you to bring it up so all of a sudden, but… don't you think we should, like, give him a break or somethin'? It's only been two days since things calmed down a bit…"

Mary's voice trailed off; she didn't even have to finish her sentence. Both sisters could hardly forget the look on Jr.'s face when he had returned from his final fight with Albedo, the way the corners of his mouth had kept tugging down even after that beautiful 'welcome back' hug from MOMO. Several dozen hours had passed since then, and yet the boy didn't seem much better. He would smile from time to time, talk to the other crewmembers as if nothing had ever happened, but something in his expression struck his closest friends as artificial.

Shelley looked away at last, producing a small disc from one of her blouse pockets, for the younger woman to see. "This data was delivered by a Vector Industries' employee about three hours ago. From what I understand it's quite urgent, and unfortunately beyond our competences." She sighed. "I'll better hand it over to the Little Master, even if he doesn't feel like dealing with it now."

"I bet he doesn't," Mary grumbled under her breath.

As a matter of fact, for the past two days she and her sister had been doing everything in their power to divide the majority of duties among themselves, to relieve Jr. of the most wearisome tasks. Of course, he still worked quite hard, firstly because there was always a lot to do in the Main Director's absence, and secondly, because he would go mad otherwise—or so he claimed. Mary agreed that he wouldn't get better simply by staring at the ceiling the whole time, but then again, she doubted if tons of paperwork and business calls from the Foundation were able to really improve his mood.

Shelley turned to leave. Before she could reach the door, however, a loud noise behind her back made her pause. It was Mary. The younger woman stood up as well, closing the holo-display she had been browsing only a moment ago, kicking the metal chair back into its place, and then stretching her spine a bit.

"I'll go with you," she announced. Shelley didn't say a word, nor did her expression change, but the younger woman still felt compelled to explain, "I need a break, my back's killin' me."

Shelley nodded, sparing them both obvious, unnecessary comments, and once again started to head towards the exit, with the blonde second-in-command following swiftly behind her, catching up a few seconds later. The two sisters walked down the corridor in silence, each lost in her own thoughts, although it seemed they were both thinking about the same person.

"I'm worried, ya know," Mary spoke as they came to a halt in front of the main office door, and the mechanism began to slide aside. "Everythin' looks fine on the surface, but he hasn't been himself recently."

"No, he hasn't," Shelley agreed quietly. She let out a barely audible sigh, taking a step into the darkish room. "Little Master–"

She had probably meant to apologize for the sudden intrusion and get straight to the point of their visit, but the rest of her sentence died on her lips the moment her gaze fell on the small silhouette behind the desk.

"…Oh, shit." It was the first, most adequate comment that came to Mary's mind; it cut through the awkward silence, snapping both sisters out of their surprise. Without another word, they strode forward, Vector's important disc completely forgotten for the time being.

Jr. lay slouched against the desk, one step short of sliding off his chair. His left hand hang limply by his side, the other one was tucked under his forehead. There was an unhealthy flush to his cheeks, and yet his breathing sounded deep and regular, much to Mary's relief. Next to him stood a half-drained bottle of whisky and an empty glass.

Shelley put her hand on Jr.'s shoulder and shook it, gently at first, harder when the boy didn't even stir. "Little Master!"

"It's no use," Mary interrupted with a grimace. "He's out cold."

For a brief moment, the two sisters could only stare down at the rare picture of carelessness and misery. True, they had seen their commander drunk before, but the circumstances had usually been different. It wasn't uncommon for the four of them—Mary, Shelley and the Kukai brothers—to relax in each others' company after a particularly stressful day. Sometimes they would just sit together and talk about all kinds of pleasant, business-unrelated things, sipping expensive wine as they laughed out loud, or lapsed into comfortable silence. Since they were alone, they could drop all pretense, and yes, Jr. would drink too, occasionally even smoke, though the latter was not a habit easily tolerated by the rest, especially Shelley. In any case, he hardly ever failed to keep himself in check. And the last time he had drunk at least one glass too many, he had ended up asleep in Mary's lap, with a very mischievous smile on his face. It had been a highly amusing sight. Nothing like the one Mary was currently staring at.

"This sucks," she said at last, addressing nobody in particular.

Shelley didn't nod at the pointless comment. Her fingers had already slid off the boy's shoulder; she was now standing next to the chair, stiff as a statue. "I wonder," she spoke quietly, "…is there anything we can do? Anything at all?"

"You mean… right now, or in general?" The older sister didn't reply, but it was the answer Mary had expected. She knew what Shelley meant, anyway—and frankly speaking, she had no idea how to deal with it. Jr. was a very outgoing person—but only on the surface. He tended to keep his real, most intimate problems to himself. Sure, it was always easy to tell when there was something troubling him, because he would swear more often, snap at people for no particular reason, directing his anger at everyone within his voice range. Still, at the same time, he would avoid personal questions and rarely talk of his own free will. He preferred to uphold a perfect image of strength and carefreeness, and whether it was real or pretended, didn't really matter. Having known the boy for more than ten years, Mary was indeed familiar with the routine.

"I suppose we just do the usual," she spoke after a while, folding her arms across her chest. "Stick with him and cheer him up. I doubt that's gonna help much, but that's the least we can do, and hey," she frowned pointedly at the remaining alcohol, "looks like solitude isn't doin' him any good, either."

"He should know better than to drink himself into a stupor."

"Yeah… He's in for a rough spankin' when he wakes up."

"I think I understand him, though," Shelley's voice was still calm, but her words betrayed no small amount of unease. "At least to some extent, because it's hard to imagine how it feels to be in his shoes. I don't even want to try."

Mary didn't feel like commenting on her sister's statement; the unspoken implication frightened her all the more. She ran a hand through her golden hair, instead. "So, what are we gonna do now?"

Shelley shook her head. "We can't leave him like this."

"'Course not… Though maybe we should," she added under her breath. "Might teach him a lesson or two, about stupidity and whatnot."

Shelley merely took a deep breath in reply. Leaning forward, she scooped up the twelve-year-old form into her arms, and then straightened up with some visible effort. Jr. was a dead weight against her frame; she held him like a mother might hold her slumbering child, chest to chest, one hand wrapped around the boy's thighs, his head resting against her shoulder.

"He's heavy for such a small person," she observed with an annoyed sigh. "It really makes me wish Master Gaignun was here."

"Yeah, doesn't it?" Mary's eyes darkened for a moment. "Need some help, Shelley?"

"No," she replied, though her voice was slightly strained. "I think I'll manage."

"If he becomes too heavy, just say a word, I'll take him from you. Alright, then. Let's use the cargo elevator, it's gonna be a little faster this way."

Less than five minutes later they were already two decks above the office level, walking down the corridor to their captain's quarters. Shelley had to move a bit slower than usual, but she didn't fall far behind the younger woman.

"Honestly, what was Master Gaignun thinking!" Mary fumed, sliding her gaze over the mop of crimson hair resting on her sister's shoulder. "Flying off to Fifth Jerusalem at a time like this, leaving the Little Master all alone to deal with everything!"

"He's not alone as long as we are here," Shelley reminded her quietly, still putting a considerable effort into simply carrying the boy. "But I agree with you. Master Gaignun shouldn't have left us in the middle of this crisis, and I'm certain he saw it coming. On top of that, we haven't received a single message from him for a whole week. I'm starting to feel worried."

"Something's definitely wrong here, yeah," Mary agreed with a noiseless sigh. "I know he's been very busy, but it's about his brother, of all people—the two of them, actually! He should've been here. I'm so gonna strangle him when he comes back!" She fell silent after these words, because they had just reached the door to their captain's bedroom.

It was locked, of course, but all they had to do was to press the boy's limp hand against the scanner. He still hadn't opened his eyes in spite of Mary's loud talking, and it seemed that he wouldn't wake up for at least several hours.

The electricity in the room blazed to its full power as soon as the two women stepped inside. Her breathing noticeably faster from exertion, Shelley walked up to a large bed by one of the walls, dropping her forty kilo burden onto the mattress. Mary went to a nearby console to dim the lights a bit.

"Get some pajamas from the closet," she heard her sister speak up behind her back. There was a hint of resignation to her tone.

"You sure?" Mary snorted in surprise. "He's never gonna forgive us if we do that."

"Well, you were right earlier, when you mentioned teaching him a lesson," Shelley replied flatly, without taking her eyes of Jr.'s flushed face. "He should've thought about his dignity before he drank so much. There's only a certain amount of alcohol a body like his can handle."

Mary considered this for a brief while. "Sis, you're evil… but I like your thinkin'." Suppressing another chuckle, the blonde woman went to rummage through her friend's clothes.

Shelley was left to deal with the lifeless boy. She fumbled with his coat, shirt and eventually his belt. It didn't help much that Jr. kept falling through her hands, heavy, unresponsive and about as cumbersome as a mannequin. Nevertheless, as soon as Mary came to her aid, she had somehow managed to change his clothes—and he still hadn't woken up in the process, if you didn't count an occasional moan or two.

"Mhm, that's better," Mary spoke at last, for the both of them, as she watched her tired sister draw a blanket up to the boy's chin.

"If he ever does that again, I'm leaving him under the desk," Shelley stated with utmost seriousness, and then stood up. "I think I will try to contact Master Gaignun now."

"Are you sure? It's kinda late, already…"

The lavender-haired woman pressed her lips together. "I know. Are you coming, Mary?"

"In a moment."

Shelley's eyes were unreadable, but her voice sounded much softer than just a while ago, "Do you want to stay here for the night…?"

"Nah, maybe just a little longer." Mary shook her head. "In case he wakes up and, uh, ya know, gets totally sick or somethin'."

Shelley didn't ask further questions. "Alright, then." She nodded, and then hesitated. "If you… If any of you needs me, I'll be in my office."

"Sure. Try not to stay up late."

Mary watched the older woman leave. When the door finally closed, she sat down on the edge of the bed, resting her elbows on her knees and fixing her gaze on the opposite wall. She suddenly felt like pouring herself a glass of something strong as well, yet quickly dismissed the thought. It wouldn't be fair to give in to her weakness right now, no matter how bad the whole situation was making her feel.

She sat like this for a while, listening to the barely noticeable humming of the air conditioner and thinking about many things—friends, her schedule, the news she had seen earlier that day, fashion magazines, politics—purposely trying not to think about Jr.'s behavior. She knew she would never understand how it must feel to be forced to kill your own flesh and blood, a person you had once used to love unconditionally, ages ago or not. She didn't even want to imagine loosing Shelley in a similar manner. It was just too incomprehensible. Too unfair.

She straightened her back at last, turning around to look at her friend's face. It didn't seem like he would be waking up any time soon, and so she decided to leave him alone for the rest of the night. There was nothing she could do for him at the moment, which made checking on Shelley seem like a much more constructive idea. Just as she was about to stand up and leave the room, however, the boy on the bed stirred, and his eyelids fluttered.

Mary remained still, waiting for him to focus.

"Ga-Gaignun…?"

She rolled her eyes. He must have been really out of it, if he could mistake her for his dark-haired brother.

"Not quite," she replied, somewhat amused in spite of the circumstances. "You'd better get back to sleep, Little Master, 'cause hung-over or not, tomorrow I'm gonna kick your ass out of bed long before midday."

She wasn't even sure if Jr. heard, let alone understood her words—his expression clearly suggested otherwise. "I, ah, had this horrible dream…" The rest of his sentence was just a nonsensical mumble, and his lids fell down a moment later.

Mary didn't say anything for a long, long while. And when she finally spoke, her voice was a bit strained.

"…Yeah. I wish it was only a dream for you."

Author's Notes: Well, to be honest with you, I hate the way this fic turned out, but apparently it was the best I could do, since all my previous attempts to rewrite this piece ended in a failure. Perhaps I shouldn't have even posted it, but then again, this fandom definitely lacks fics with Mary and Shelley, so I swallowed my pride (what pride?) and just uploaded this sad excuse for a one-shot. Feel free to kick my butt if you must. :)

Just please, don't flame my grammar, punctuation and such, 'cause English's not my first language. :)

Thanks for reading!