Author's Note: This story has been in the works for close to a year now. I am almost done with it, and now I am simply going back and editing the parts that need to be fixed and all the screwed up plot points. This was originally going to be a fairly short fic, but as you can probably guess, has gotten longer and longer. I want to explain a few things to you guys first -

Age wise, I originally had Richard as an eight year old kid in the first part of this story, making Logan about 14. Then I realized how wrong it was for me to.. well, you'll see when I post some of the later chapters. So, now I changed it so that Richard is 15 and Logan 17, as of now. Their ages will change over the course of the story, however.

Another thing (sort of a warning): There is MaleXMale in this story - Reaver and lots of male characters (I can't say much because that would give away the story) But, my point is - IF YOU DON'T LIKE THAT, THEN DON'T READ THIS STORY!

Other than that, I plan on posting a chapter a week, hopefully. So, enjoy!

Part One

Chapter One – Rumor Has It

"So you called me here on account of your health?" A sneering voice demanded. A few steps accompanied by a cane could be heard then, a soft sigh escaping one pair of lips.

"Yes, Reaver. As a matter of fact, there is something more important than tearing down Hero's Hill," A heroic, deep voice retorted to the first, authority dripping from each word. The first voice, now known as Reaver, snorted childishly.

"Oh, don't tell me you actually had fond memories of that dreadful place, dear king?" Reaver laughed through his words, but then stopped short. He sighed again, the reluctance in the action audible even through a wall. "Fine, fine. I'll make a little memorial in your name. Would that make you happy?" Reaver offered, amending his previous condescending statement.

"That is not why I called you here, Reaver," The King stated, his voice sounding cross. Anyone could tell in his voice that he was annoyed. Before Reaver could even respond, the King was seized by a fit of coughs. A few stumbled steps could be heard, another set leaping to help him. The coughs stopped, a sharp snap ringing out as Reaver was no doubt pushed away harshly.

"Sparrow –"

"Don't call me that," The King sneered, the sigh of a cushion signaling he had sat down. A few steps and similar sigh could be heard as Reaver sat as well. A thick silence brewed in the air then, even their silent listener able to feel the tension.

"Why am I here then, King?" Reaver finally spoke, breaking the awkwardness between them. The king coughed once before answering.

"I realize we've never seen eye to eye, Reaver," The king began, his voice deep and somber. Someone shifted in their chair, most likely Reaver. "But, now I need you at my side again, Reaver," The King delivered his comment, and anyone would have had the brains to answer immediately. However, Reaver seemed to dwell on the words, letting them swim around in his head.

"Now, after all these years apart, and after the way we parted?" Reaver finally asked, his voice more serious than it had been all night.

"I realize this is not the most convenient time to ask," The King replied before being stopped by another fit of coughs. "But as you can tell, I am limited on time," He finished in a gruff voice.

"That," Reaver began as he could be heard getting up, "would be an understatement," He hissed, his footsteps coming closer to the door. Their silent on-looker lurched away, ready to hide in the shadows at any second.

"Reaver, don't tell me you still hold feelings about that," The King shouted after him, stopping the man effectively in his tracks. He'd begun to open the door, and now their eavesdropper could see Reaver through a good sized opening he had provided.

The man was dressed in white, his trench coat matching with a rough black trim around his neck. His under-vest was a deep brown, the buttons on both the coat and vest a matching gold. In his hand was a large black top hat, his fist clenched around it angrily.

Just as soon as all silence had fallen on them, noise erupted once again. Reaver whirled on the King, a gun in his hand in the blink of an eye. The King threw his hands up, his face showing no sign of stopping his guest. Instead, he simply backed away as Reaver made to get closer.

"Have you forgotten who I am, Dear King?" Reaver sneered, waving the gun in the air madly. Looking through the crack, the scene seemed a perfect description of imagery.

Reaver, adorned in white with his heart on his cheek, pointed the master gun at the King. In turn, the King was donned in regal blue and complimenting gold. His brown hair barely scraped his shoulders, his bright hazel eyes analytical. He'd paled, and that was the first thing the on-looker noticed.

"How could I ever do that, Reaver?" The King replied, his features softening dramatically. He seemed to have a soft spot for the man that was currently pointing a gun at him.

"It seemed simple enough when you walked out all those years ago," Reaver retorted, his voice sharp and calculated. The Kings' eyes showed no emotion for a brief second, but then pity found the hazel orbs.

"You've actually begun to feel, haven't you, Reaver?" The King asked, almost taunting before he doubled over in another fit. Reaver lowered his gun, strapping it back to his hip.

"And you have grown old and weak, have you not, dear King?" Reaver replied as the King wheezed to a stop. Reaver shifted his weight to one hip as he watched the King. The Kings' eyes shifted for a second, unaware of just how much emotion he was revealing.

"But yet I live, Reaver. I am not an empty shadow, doomed for eternity. I have truly lived and have been happy. When was the last time you smiled and meant it?" The King asked, straightening to his full height that could intimidate almost anyone except Reaver, as the situation proved. Reaver straightened as well, a forced smile finding his face. The King sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Not what I meant, Reaver," The King scolded, getting Reaver to sag his shoulders and let the smile fall off his face.

"You really do know how to negotiate with someone," Reaver taunted in a sarcastic tone of voice. He walked back towards the seating area, sitting with a bit of attitude. The King eyed him warily, neither noticing the door was still open. Their spy crept closer, looking in and finally being able to put a picture to their words.

"Do you even want to know what I wanted anymore?" The King asked, sitting across from Reaver casually. Their body language had softened, not angry with each other any longer. Some hidden past had come back to them, the thought softening both.

"If it involves anymore of this pointless arguing, I believe I will shoot you," Reaver mumbled in a light tone of voice. The Kings' shoulder shook with a short bout of laughter. That changed to coughing in the next instant, causing him to politely turn away from Reaver.

"And I should think I would let you," The King grumbled gruffly. Reaver's eyes flickered with concern for the briefest of seconds before professionalism took over again.

"Never say that," Reaver mumbled, shocking the King into looking at him with wide eyes. "As much joy as the action would give me, I'd rather not live behind bars," Reaver ended what began as a sweet statement with an almost vulgar one. The King let a loud chuckle escape his lips briefly, before he got back on subject.

"As you can tell, I am not at my fittest anymore," The King said in a dreadful tone of voice. The observer felt their heart leap into their throat at his words. Reaver's head dropped at his words, but the man said nothing. "So, I need you to watch over my children, help Logan run the Kingdom when it comes his time to do so," The King watched in silence as everything froze.

Time seemed to stop at the weight of his words. Reaver's breath hitched in his chest, mimicking the unseen action of the watcher. Before any more could be said, Reaver was standing again.

"Why me? Why not your precious Hammer or that odd man, Garth?" Reaver asked, pacing towards the door and allowing the watcher a glimpse of well masked worry lacing his perfect features.

"We both know Hammer hates giving advice, and Garth is just too distant. Reaver," The King stood and grabbed the man's arm as he stopped pacing. Their eyes met in a million emotions, the gaze intense. "I chose you because I trust you the most. We had something all those years ago, and now I wish to see you get what you've always wanted," His hand fell from Reaver's shoulder, instead hovering by his clenched fist.

"And what would that be, dear Sparrow?" Reaver questioned, and this time the King did not correct his name. He said nothing of the fact that he had long ago given up the childhood name. All he did was let the words ring into the air as he stared down into Reaver's eyes with his hand mere inches away from the other mans'.

"I think we both know the answer to that question, Pirate King," The words came out whispered, as if a hushed reminder of what used to be. It seemed to be a sad remembrance of the past they had long lost.

"I already have everything, what more could I want?" Reaver replied, his hands unclenching. Their fingers brushed, sending electric signals down their bodies and through the air. Both men felt it, averting their eyes to their hands for the briefest of seconds. Then, the gaze resumed and raw emotion was in the air once again.

The observer gasped lightly, seeing the scene unfold before him. Quickly, his mind rambled with ways he could help. This was bad, this was really, really –

"How long have you been there, Richard?" The King asked as a slight creak emanated from the door. The teen gasped and tried to duck back into the shadows. The King chuckled while Reaver shot him a look that seemed to say "This is what you raised?" The teen poked his head out at the sound of his father's laughter, then being beckoned into the room.

He walked in sheepishly, hiding behind a thick head of brown hair. He scurried to his father's side, looking to him in silent apology.

"How long were you there?" He questioned again, looking to the sheepish fifteen year old with a hidden disappointment in his eyes. The boy mumbled something, to which the King eyed him meaningfully.

"The whole time, Papa," The boy whispered, his body beginning to tremble with fear. The King patted him on the shoulder in an attempt to comfort, watching as Reaver eyed the child warily.

"You would willingly have such a timid, sniveling beast?" Reaver sneered, ducking from the smack the King attempted to give.

"Do not talk about my son that way," The King's voice boomed, the threat evident in all that the king was worth. The boy buried closer to his father, so scared he could no longer shake it. The fear at his fathers' words had him petrified.

"Right, well, I'll be going then," Reaver murmured, backing slowly away. With a flip of his wrist, the top hat was on his head and his back was turned to the both of them.

"No, stay," The King demanded, moving away from the boy as he grabbed for Reaver's arm again. The boy prince shifted away, moving away until he could scurry down the hall. The King looked after him for a moment before turning his attention back to Reaver.

"We'll talk about this later," The King stated, his eyes burning. Reaver shrugged free of his grasp, his brown eyes showing no emotion. He was back to his old self.

"No, No Little Bird, we're finishing this now," Reaver deliver arrogantly, stepping in front of the king as he made to go after the boy. He met the Skill Hero's eyes vehemently.

"Will you take the offer or not, Reaver?" The King asked, pulling free in a harsh action. Reaver smirked at the action. His eyebrows arching under his top hat.

"Show me this 'boy' you speak so highly of, and I'll see what doom you have bestowed on your kingdom," Reaver sneered, his words shooting right to the king. The man looked away, once again looking down the regally decorated hallway. Richard was long gone, probably still shaking from Reaver's comment.

"You lay one wrong hand on either of them, Reaver, and you will not have to worry about me being dead. I will come back and haunt you," The king growled, his eyes burning with the threat and promise of his words.

"Yes, and we all know that Hollow Men have fared so well against me," Reaver chuckled, twirling on his heel and almost gliding towards the door. "Come along, don't want your dear boy to spread horrible rumors about me."