A Solemn Truce

by Perpetual Thoughts and Meaning

Implied AlbelCliff. Let's just say that they realise that they're not so different after all. Albel and Cliff make an agreement that one of them doesn’t really like. Okay, Albel abhors it! Cliff somehow persuades him, but will he regret it later?

Better Summary: Implied Albel/Cliff, but it's nothing more than a little infatuation and teasing. We didn't want to make them that OOC! Albel and Cliff make an agreement that one of them doesn't really like. Okay, Albel abhors it! Cliff somehow persuades him, but will he regret it later? I'd give you more, but I like to have people read my work…

Why It's Rated PG-13: Some people are offended by profanity (curse-words, swearwords, etc). I considered moving this to R for the language alone, but that wasn't a very good reason, and people might've thought the summary meant something else…

Background Info: This is actually a RP that I completed on paper with my newest friend. She RPed Cliff, while I did Albel, so you can't blame me if Cliff's OOC! Don't complain to me if they're OOC, because we made 2/3s of this from our heads. Some of it's actually from Star Ocean, but I'll let you decide what's not. I'm sorry for delaying you, on to the story!

A Solemn Truce

He felt incredibly drained, as if his youth was slithering out of his blood-tainted hands… What had happened to make him feel so? He couldn't remember anything, only black… Perhaps if he opened his eyes to observe his surroundings, he might remember. He didn't feel like it, however. He didn't want to do anything right now, but try to ignore the ringing in his ears. Strange, if he trained his ears enough, he could hear hushed voices… Even stranger, he could faintly recognise one of them. The image of a blond man filled the black void, and he began to feel alive again. Now he remembered why he was a vegetable!

He didn't believe that he'd ever see them again. He'd thought that they'd returned to their "home planet." Yeah, right. He still didn't believe some of it. He had to admit, however, there was something otherworldly about a certain person in their group… That didn't mean that the other one was from a different planet. After all, he didn't have those green lines around his neck like that other one did. Waltar had semi-convinced him with his little talk, but a fraction of him wouldn't believe it -- until he saw the Vendeeni ships, that was. He'd been forced to change his opinion, but he still couldn't accept it, even now.

They'd invaded his base again, only with more people with them. He'd hid behind a pillar and had watched the intriguing member of the group warily, wondering to himself why they'd come back. His first impulse had been to draw his sword and kill them all without hesitation; however, the impulse had been suppressed by his curiosity once that 'bag-headed' geezer had appeared. He found out soon enough that they and 'bag-head' were making a trade; the blue-haired shrimp for two other strangely dressed aliens. The Vendeeni hadn't kept their end of the deal, however, and had some kind of 'jammer' thing was transported to the battle site. This transport-jammer device prevented them from transporting backup. The largest 'bag-head' Biwig was acting as if he'd done something phenomenal, and he hadn't a clue why, but once he saw their faces, he knew that it was bad news for them.

He had another impulse, but this time, it was entirely different. He wanted to stand in front of the blond and take down anything that dared to hurt him. He felt it immediately after seeing some unfamiliar members of their team be vaporised by one of the bag-head's guns. He didn't want the only person who could ever match his strength to disappear like them. He was willing to expose his hiding spot when they'd ran into his base, thoroughly taking him aback. He realized later that that strange wave that washed over him was relief, but he wasn't about to admit it if asked. He'd never felt such raw emotions outside the heat of battle, and it overwhelmed him now as he thought back upon them. He'd never felt such an irrepressible urge to kill something so badly in his life, even when facing his worst enemies. He'd felt things that he'd never felt before, and didn't want to feel them ever again. The reason why was because he couldn't control the emotions like the others, and he didn't like unfamiliar emotions.

When they'd come back out, his suspicions were aroused. They had determined expressions on their faces, and they even brought the old man and puny girl. He thought that this was considerably irrational, since the Vendeeni could have easy shots at them. In fact, the old man was shot… If he's dead, it's their fault, and he wouldn't feel any remorse. His only regret was that he let his shoulder be hit by a stray shot. He'd almost told the overly muscular blond how he felt, but had successfully held himself back. He'd said 'worms' instead of 'worm.' He remembered his worried expression perfectly, and as the shapes around him blurred, his half-lidded scarlet orbs saw recognised only the blonde's face before he let them close.

During his short reverie, he realised that the voices were becoming clearer, and how he could recognise all of them now. The blonde's voice still called to him distinctively, and he couldn't figure out why. It may have been because he was the only person to make a truly powerful impression on him. He was sure if he opened his eyes again that he'd see Cliff's face first. He wanted to see him and confirm to himself that the Vendeeni hadn't done anything to him. He, Albel Nox, was going to have the pleasure of killing him. If anyone so much as dared to even make the man bleed, he'd kill them before they made their way in front of him.

He finally regained the will to open his eyes, but now he began to feel an unbearable ache located directly on his right shoulder blade. He was used to pain, but it'd caught him off guard. In the back of his mind, he heard only the Klausian's voice now, and he sensed that wherever he was, Cliff was alone with him. He found it surprisingly hard to open his eyes in those short moments, but it was worth it once his face appeared first, and he wanted to close his eyes again. He probably looked pathetic, and he didn't want anyone to see him looking so vulnerable.

"Whoa, whoa," he said softly, lightly smacking his face, which unnerved him greatly. "You've been asleep for three days! Do you actually want to sleep some more? I have to get the guys…"

How dare… I WAS UNCONSCIOUS FOR THREE DAYS? he wondered apprehensively.

"Don't," said a low voice, surprising himself when he realised it was his. "I don't want them here."

"I get it," he said, scowling away from him.

Why did the pain seem to worsen then?

"Did I say anything about you?" he snapped, pleased that some of the bite was returning to his voice.

"No," he said, a confused expression on his face now, "but I just expected that you meant me, too."

"Don't expect anything," he growled dangerously low, glaring deep into the widening cerulean orbs. "It's a small mistake you fools make that often costs you your pathetic lives…"

"If I didn't know any better," he began, the light tone still in his voice, now only different, "I'd say that you were worried about me, but we all know that Albel the Twisted can't feel anything other than broiling hate, right?"

He knew that tone all too well. He was teasing him! If he only had his full strength, he'd tear him open with his artificial hand!

"You know nothing," he said, managing to lace the digits of his artificial hand around the flaps of his collar and pulled him close enough so that his words could be heard without any difficulty, "and don't you ever forget it, because I'll be testing you the day that I slay you. If you even so much as drop your guard for an instant, I'll take advantage of the opportunity and you'll meet your doom."

He pulled away slowly and made sure his words had their intended effect. It wasn't nearly close enough.

"I'll look forward to it," he murmured, grinning widely, exposing his hauntingly white teeth. "That must also mean that you'll be going with us and off this planet, then."

"I'll go to any lengths to make sure that I'm the one who kills you," Albel coolly drawled, recovering quickly. "This planet bores me to death. There aren't any suitable opponents here, anyway."

"And there are on other planets?" he asked, turning his face so that he could meet his vermilion eyes. "They might be weaker."

"I doubt it," he replied, feeling the blonde's breath on his face. "Any planet's creatures are stronger than the ones here."

"What makes you so sure?" he asked quietly, the grin widening somehow even more. "Give me an example of an alien who's strong."

"Kisama," he replied grudgingly, not looking at him.

He and Cliff could probably fight for days and still be tied.

"Whoa," Cliff said, pretending to be shocked, "I'm a 'worthy opponent' for the great Albel the Twisted?"

Albel bared his teeth in a snarl, meeting his stare with a vindictive one of his own.

"You're the only person in your team that can even come close to my power," his eyes glazed over as he stated lowly in his haunting drawl. "You knocked me off my arrogant stride and made me realise that I still had a lot of training to do."

Cliff's grin faltered, obviously not expecting Albel's cold reply.

"Whoa," he repeated, this time the shock not a façade.

"Is that all thatyou can say?" he shot, annoyed that he still hadn't receive the reaction he desired from him.

"I'm just surprised, that's all," he replied truthfully, his tone strangely sincere. "I really can't think of anything else to say. What did you want me to say?"

His words somehow struck a nerve.

"Nothing," he replied sharply, ignoring his stare. "That just wasn't it."

"Oh," he said, sounding disappointed, "naruhodo."

He somehow wasn't still satisfied with his response, and was becoming annoyed with himself. He was finally alone with him and he'd confessed too much. He wanted to still be unconscious and surrounded by blackness. He didn't want to be here with him anymore, because the awkward emotions were growing inside of him every second in his company. He wanted to be alone and forget that he'd confessed anything. He wanted--

"Why are you still here?" he found himself asking, his voice stony and so much unlike his thoughts. "Nanka yö? Are you waiting for something?"

"I don't know," he replied slowly, a strange expression in his eyes. "I just had a hunch by your face that you were in deep thought."

"What does that have to do with anything, fool?" he spat, aggravated at Cliff's weak answer and more annoyed by the look in his eyes. "My thoughts shouldn't concern you."

Finally, Cliff had reacted the way he'd wanted. His eyes narrowed and his mouth twisted into a scowl.

"I'm your equal," he stated through gritted teeth, "so it'd be only natural for you to be planning a way to defeat me."

He was lying and Albel could tell without looking at him.

"Just tell me the truth and be done with it," he said wryly, lifting his vermilion gaze to his rival's cerulean eyes. "I don't know much about this trusting thing, but I do know that you trust everyone on your team."

"By your expression I thought you were thinking about what happened on Elicoor," he answered quietly, the scowl nonexistent. "I thought you were regretting getting shot for saving us."

"Bah," he scoffed. "You maggots could've destroyed that 'transport jamming' thing without me. I was just too fast for you to have an opportunity. It doesn't mean anything."

"You're wrong about that," Cliff replied, his expression blank. "We were cornered and no one would've been as risky as you were. It's true that none of us would've been able to do it as fast as you did, but none of us would've had the nerve or courage to do so."

"I bet that you would've," Albel sneered, his scarlet eyes peering into his, full of mirth, "if you'd come up with the plan… Your plan would've been simple: charge at the 'bag-heads' and destroy the jammer!"

Cliff chuckled, his deep baritone filling the room. Worm, Albel thought to himself, hating the clenching of his stomach at the sound.

"Uso!" he said, the laughter lingering in his voice even as he returned the heated stare. "Don't you think that you're underestimating me, just a little bit?"

"No," he replied coldly, his vermilion orbs narrowing into slits. "I've never thought of you anything more than reckless."

Cliff was laughing again, but this time it was different. Why did Albel have a faint inkling that he was hiding something?

"That's funny," he gasped, "coming from you. I mean, you're the one that risked your life for me!"

Damn, he had a point there… He wouldn't say it to his face, though.

"Who says I was protecting you?" he grumbled, only to realise his awful choice of words after he'd voiced them.

"I didn't," said Cliff, a confused expression on his face. "Were you? I know that you enjoy a good fight and all, but--"

"It was a slip of the tongue," he whispered, regretting ever deciding to open his eyes. "I only wished to keep my title of the man who's going to slay you someday, and they were challenging it. No one's going to steal my claim, no matter how ugly and weak they are, got it?"

Damn it, this was going too far, and he was afraid that if he didn't stop it that he'd confess something even worse… Why the hell was he so silent? Why was he just staring at him with that foreign expression on his face? Albel couldn't quite place it, but there was something in it that made him want to continue to stare back. Why the hell did he want to stare at him, why did it make his insides squirm? He was growing overwrought as the minutes ticked by, and cursed this man for making him feel so.

"Got it," he finally replied, his voice breaking. "Y'know, I'd probably do the same for you, but I never realised it until just now. I just felt bad after we beat you after the mine and didn't have you healed… I thought that you were dead after you were shot, so I didn't know what to do but stay by your bedside…"

What the hell did he think he was doing, saying that? He wasn't supposed to feel the same, damn it! He was supposed to be revolted! He was supposed to want to never see him again! It had to be a joke, but why would he go into so much trouble? The look in his eyes told him false, and Albel knew that he couldn't fake it. It was hard to keep his face blank, and he knew that the shock was evident in his eyes. He was caught between a natural emotion and a foreign one-- disgust and astonishment. He wasn't going to break now. He realised that he'd been quiet longer than Cliff had, and bitterly cursed himself yet again.

"Baka-jan!" he growled. "Pathetic worm, I didn't mean it like that. I only meant that I'd kill you to regain my pride, not protect you from any minor threat! I just want to have the pleasure of knowing that I killed you, that's all."

It somehow didn't convince him.

"Something tells me that that isn't all," he shot calmly, scowling down at him. "I told you the truth, so why won't you do the same?"

"Gatagata itten-ja nëyo!" he said venomously, resembling a snake before it's about to strike a persistent nuisance. "You just want to believe that I'm not telling you everything so that you don't get chagrined. I feel nothing for you or anyone I've ever met but pure, blistering hate."

"Why don't you just tell me so that I can go?" he demanded, more livid than Albel had ever seen him. "Lying really isn't your thing, and you know it."

Another nerve had been struck. He'd never lied in his life, but certainly could pull it off! He was normally a truthful person to the core, but he'd grown to believe what he'd said about others a bit too much. He believed what he'd said, and didn't care what other people said. Maybe he was a bit haughty… No, he was always right! He was the best liar around, and nobody could say that he wasn't, especially Cliff! Especially him, he added to himself.

"You're off your bloody rocker," he snarled, his shoulder aching tremendously now. "I have nothing else to tell you, so fuck off!"

He didn't budge. "I'm not leaving until you tell me," he declared in a deadpan drawl, crossing his overly muscular arms over his chest. "The sooner you tell me, the sooner I'll leave you alone."

Damn it, he should've guessed the man's tenacity. He was more stubborn, however. He could ignore him until he lost his interest. It wouldn't take long until his patience caught up with him. He was consoled with these thoughts until he attempted to roll away from his face. His shoulder felt as if it'd been hit with that flash again, only now it was ten times worse now. He bit his bottom lip without thinking, his mask broken temporarily.

"Don't do that!" Cliff's concerned voice distracted him briefly from the pain.

He felt large warm hands caress his shoulder blades before he was rolled over to face him, his thick lashes fluttering from the wave of pleasure he received from his touch. Well, that was one emotion that he knew somewhat… He tried to mask it once he realised what he'd done, but Cliff had already seen it. Besides, he'd probably felt how tense he was, and he braced himself for the comment he'd receive with icy aloofness.

"Well," he said, "that was unexpected… I suppose that you haven't had a massage in a while, ne? You're harder than petrified wood!"

He felt his muscles tighten even further at the unique choice of words. "I'm not the kind of person that has massages," he icily stated, ashamed of his slip. "I'm tense because I want you to leave, maggot."

"It'll only worsen," Cliff said, ignoring his last comment, "ne. If you didn't know, massages help loosen your muscles and get your blood flowing back to the area. You'll regret sending me away later…"

"I can endure it!" he snarled, annoyed with himself for almost considering it. "I'm used to pain!"

"You shouldn't be," Cliff said quietly, staring down at him with a serious expression on his face.

"I can be whatever I want," he growled, annoyed with anybody who told him what to do or what to be. "Have you ever considered minding your damn business?"

"I'm naturally nosy," he stated with a small grin, "Besides, how can you fight me if you can't even move? You'd be the one slain then!"

"I'd rather die than let my prey help me," he spat, aggravated with how persuasive he was being. "I'd die with honour!"

"I hardly think having someone take advantage of your inability to move by killing you would have anything to do with honour," Cliff said, his eyebrows raised high.

"There's no point in explaining it to someone who's as puerile as you," Albel drawled frigidly, avoiding his eyes. "Honour is something that can only be learnt, not taught. I'd die without regretting letting someone help me."

"I think that you're talking about pride instead of honour," Cliff said ingenuously, not really intending to piss him off, but it couldn't have been helped.

"It doesn't matter," he fumed, still ignoring his stare. "You've been here for far too long. Surely your friends are worried."

He'd say anything to make him leave him alone.

"Nah," he replied nonchalantly, "they won't. Do you remember what I told you earlier? I never left your bedside."

"Stop reminding me," Albel muttered, trying to forget what he'd told him.

"No," Cliff said, the tone of his voice attracting Albel's attention, "I want you to know. I'm not ashamed of it, either."

"Keep it to yourself," Albel muttered again, looking away from him. "I'd rather kill myself than care for a person like that."

"You're a horrible actor, too," Cliff said, his voice hinting that he was smiling.

"I'm not acting!" he screamed, turning his head to face him, his eyes widening in shock at his grin. "Stop grinning or I'll slice your body open and feast on your innards!"

"I could see you doing that," Cliff said, the grin permanent on his face, "but not to me."

"You think that I'm a cannibal?" he asked incredulously, frankly not used to being called that.

"Well," Cliff began, his expression changing to a contemplating one, "yeah. You always seem so entranced when fighting. Don't deny it, because I've watched your eyes whenever we've had a good match. They're glittering vermilion circles, dancing in the joy of duelling an opponent that you won't fall asleep while fighting. In some cultures, the people believe that if you eat a dead opponent's body parts, you receive a part of their power. I suspected that you believed it, too, and that you were thinking of the power you'd gain after killing your foe…"

"That's ridiculous!" Albel shouted, hating the idea with intense malice. "I like becoming powerful on my own, and I hate having any sort of aid! If you'd paid any attention when I'd been forced to go with your team to the Urssa Lava Caves, you would've realised that!"

"Well," said Cliff, an ashamed ring in his voice, "I'd thought that at first, but I got to thinking. I got the idea from somewhere that you were power-hungry and considered that you'd do anything for more power."

"If I did," Albel began, his mouth curling into a dark scowl, "I wouldn't tell you. You have to find out on your own. Even then, you'll never be sure. So, why bother with it? There are many other people to analyse in this shit-hole of a universe, right?"

Cliff sighed and picked up a chair close to his bedside.

"You're as stubborn as usual," he grumbled, holding his face in his hands, leaning forward with hooded sapphire orbs casually peering into his. "I know that I won't find anyone as mysterious and confusing as you. I like complicated puzzles and solving them, and you're the most difficult puzzle that I've ever come across. You can be predictable and unpredictable at the same time. I can guess what everyone else in my group plans to do or how they react to something, but I'm always wrong with you."

"Is that why you were so eager in persuading me to be fully truthful?" Albel asked, returning the gaze with narrowed eyes. "Did you want me to so that you could try to understand me better? That's ridiculous. I'd rather be happy with not knowing how someone feels and ignoring them altogether. Only the weak ponder such daft trifles."

"If it isn't so important," he began in a monotone, "then why don't you tell me? You're probably like that because you're arrogant and full of yourself. Maybe you're the one who's weak for not bothering to make friends."

"I'd rather keep it to myself," he hissed, glaring at him now. "I know that I'm strong, and I don't exaggerate my skills! What the hell does having friends have to do with being strong? I like being alone, and working together hasn't ever helped me in the past, so why should I believe you?"

"I could see that," Cliff said dryly, unaffected by his piercing glare. "In the past you exaggerated them to the max, like back at your base. In case you have a short attention span, you told me earlier that I'd 'knocked you off your arrogant stride,' which I quite frankly--"

"I remember a few minutes ago," snapped Albel, angry at being treated like a child. "I just thought that you'd forgotten and was pretending that I'd never told you."

"Okay, okay," said Cliff, waving his hands at him, his thick eyebrows furrowed in thought, "I get it! I have a good memory about conversations like you, too. I think that you actually said that about an hour ago, though. Anyway, I agree with what you said then, because you're much stronger now. Anyway, on to friendship contributing to strength… Some strength isn't determined physically, rather mentally. The reason why I fight well is partly due to the relationships that I've gained. A tightly knit group of friends is more likely to kill an enemy faster than a group of quarrelling fools who can't forget their differences for one second and work together so that they don't be taken advantage of when they're arguing instead of paying attention to the monster that's preparing a finishing move to use on them! Damn, that was much too long of a sentence… Anyway, you get my point, right?"

"No," Albel answered simply, his voice gruff and low. "You only explained what would happen if a team didn't mesh properly. You didn't explain how friendship makes an individual stronger; rather you wandered away from the subject. You should never try to give people advice if you can't even stick to the point."

"Critic," Cliff grumbled, raking a large hand through his thick golden hair, hoping that Albel would've accepted his crackpot explanation, but not quite surprised for him not. "If you have friends with you, you're more likely to beat your opponent faster and more effectively than alone. Having friends helps my ego when I'm fighting, because I know that they wouldn't ever let me die. I'm consoled even when fighting a formidable foe, because I'm fighting alongside a close friend who'd be there to back me up if I'm in need of assistance. I can't explain it very well, but at least I tried."

"Not everyone's like you," Albel said composedly through his grinding teeth. "Some people are comforted by the mere fact of the upcoming fight being a good one. I like being a solitary person, and I wouldn't ever be able to fully trust someone, no matter how close I allowed them to get to me. I couldn't focus everything that I had into the duels at the Urssa Lava Caves, because I always felt you watching me. I couldn't ever lose myself like I usually did, and I hated you for doing it to me, you filthy shit-ridden maggot!"

He'd lost his cool too soon, and he knew by the sceptical look that Cliff was giving him that he was calculating a not so smart retort.

"Yeah," Cliff said with a nonchalant shrug, "I forgot about it for a second. Some people are like you-- the strong, silent loner type. It's rare, but I've met quite a few of them besides you. Most of 'em are naturally rebellious and want to be neither a leader, nor a follower. He lives his life isolated from feelings, yet surrounded by people who might've accepted him as a friend if he only paid attention to them. At first, they try to talk to him, but he merely pushes them away with his acidic behaviour. Most of them give up at that point, but the stubborn ones keep on trying. They at first try a subtle method, hoping that he'd appreciate it. When he doesn't and ignores them, the weak ones don't attempt again for a few weeks, or until they'd finally recovered, but the stronger ones aren't discouraged in the slightest. They try less subtle methods next, and the cycle continues until the loner kills himself from the frustration, or crumbles, realising that if the person's been trying for years that he'll never stop, and he has a friend he's kicking himself for not having earlier. Are you starting to understand?"

"What utter foolishness," Albel's silken, aloof drawl filled the room, the annoyance unmistakeable in his vermilion eyes, the eyes of a clever man whose main joy was watching his victims collapse from his hard blows. "If you could've been any less subtle, I'd have volunteered to join a Peace Corp just to be away from you! I'll say it for the final time; I enjoy being alone. I hate talking, unless it's to my soldiers, and even that's swift. Friends won't help me. They'll only slow my pace. I won't kill myself just because some insect's bugging me, either. I'm stronger than that, and suicide is pointless to me. Now, do you understand?"

Cliff groaned and had his head buried in his hands, his face hidden from Albel's shrewd eyes. Maybe he's finally realised that I'll never give in, Albel thought and couldn't suppress the snide grin twisting his lips. He may not give up, though, he realised as the minutes ticked by with complete silence. He might just try harder. It was possible, very possible, indeed… He had the tenacity of a goat, a determined goat that only stopped when it had what it wanted. Albel was afraid-- yes, he actually knew that emotion-- that he wanted something deeper than friendship as he thought back on his confessions. Had he really stayed by his bedside, or was he just saying it to befuddle him? There was no way that Cliff cared for him like that. For one thing, he knew that Cliff preferred women to men. He'd seen that with how he talked to Nel, not that he'd been jealous or anything. He was just watching him to make sure that he wasn't planning against him, that's all. It didn't make sense when he thought back on it. Either he liked men and women, or he was a very good actor. It was probably the latter… Well, at least he hoped that it was the latter. What the hell was he thinking? Of course it had to be the latter!

"I think you've lost someone very important to you in the past," Cliff said softly, and if Albel hadn't had superb hearing, he might've never heard him. "You're acting like this because you don't want to endure the pain again."

"I've always been alone," Albel spat too quickly, his teeth bore as his eyes narrowed further than last time. "You're completely out of line, and you're going to have a slow, painful death instead of the fast one that I planned for you the day at Bequerel Mine."

"You're behaving odd for someone who's always been on their own," Cliff said, eying him critically. "Maybe I was out of line, but I have a hunch that I was dead on from your reaction. I doubt that you could pull off either in the condition that you're in at the moment!"

Damn it, he couldn't ever mask it when he was insanely pissed off. If he continued to deny it, maybe he'd change his mind, but he doubted it. Once he believed something, he held onto it with persistence the likes of which Albel had never known. Only he had the same amount of stubbornness… Hold on a second, how could he have something in common with that blond imbecile? It just wasn't possible. He wouldn't allow it; he didn't want to be similar in any way with him! Also, he had a feeling in his gut that if they continued the way that they were going that they might discover even more startling similarities that he might actually consider committing suicide over once he'd learnt them! Hold on, was that gut feeling the same as one of Cliff's hunches? He was becoming more paranoid by the second, and he hadn't even disapproved the accusation yet! He couldn't think straight anymore. Maybe he'd never been able to think properly and Cliff had caused him to leap off the narrow cliff into the swimming black miasma known only as insanity. Hell, maybe he was insane all along and this man was only a manifestation of his warped psyche trying to tell him that everything that he was experiencing right now was a lie. Where the hell was he getting that shit, anyway? There was no way this man was a product from his mind. Even he didn't possess that much of an imagination. Besides, the pain he'd endured could never be faked, no matter how vivid his imagination was. He could accept it if everything else had been imagined, but not the aching wounds or Cliff. He'd never have such agonising self-inflicted wounds or willingly torture himself with the twisted ways that man caused him to feel.

"Do you plan on answering me?" Cliff's perplexed voice interrupted his thoughts, and for once, he was actually thankful for something he'd done. "It's a simple question, but you've been in deep thought for about twenty minutes."

"I did lose someone who was very close to me," he replied quietly, his head turned away from him in shame. "I may feel that way, but I've never really considered it. That's all you'll get from me, worm, so there's no point to continue."

There, he'd said it. Somehow, it wasn't as hard to say it as much as fighting himself to do it. He felt the odd ache again: relief. Yes, he recognised it now, along with some of the other emotions. Everything was becoming much clearer now as the relief began to overtake him. Father… His eyes felt as if they were burning like their ablaze crimson colour. He wouldn't break down, not now, not after everything that he said… He wouldn't allow himself to go that far, no matter how much he understood.

He was startled from his realisations once he felt a large hand caress the top of his head. He turned his head slowly, not bothering to hide his bemused stare. His eyes widened as they came across Cliff's sympathetic stare. So, he'd seen that foreign expression earlier. He was more surprised by the fact that he wasn't angry like he would've been in the past. He ripped the hand that was still on his head and found that even after he released it that Cliff wouldn't let go of his hand. He was yet again surprised to find that his shoulder wasn't throbbing as he'd expected it to be. Was he imagining the pain all along, or had it been forgotten because he'd become so distracted? He frankly didn't want to know. He hated being dominated over, and he instantly overpowered Cliff's grip, smirking playfully at him, the burning sensation not plaguing him anymore.

"You understand now, huh?" he asked, though it was more of a statement with the cocky tone and similar smirk he wore. "I still can't predict anything about you, either. I probably won't, even after you slay me."

"Maybe," he replied coolly, tightening his grip as Cliff challenged him. "It might take me a while, if I can't even beat you at arm wrestling. I'll do whatever it takes to regain my pride from you, Cliff, and like I told you before, it'd be wise if you stayed on your toes."

"Be careful," taunted Cliff, loosening his grip slightly. "You might sprain something."

"I'm not as old as you," he hissed, the smirk growing. "You're in your golden years, the cannon fodder in your final raid!"

"You hit your stride once you let yourself be hit with a Vendeeni's stray shot," Cliff shot back, his smirk resembling more of a confident smile now. "You're such an arrogant bastard that you won't admit that you took that shot for me."

"I did take the shot for you, fool," Albel's glacier-tipped drawl sent blue lines to mischievously swirl down his skin. "There, I said it, you happy?"

"Hell yeah," Cliff replied, his soft sapphire eyes strangely warm to Albel, "since I won. Most of my hunches aren't right, but this time they were. Maybe I've just been using them for the wrong circumstances…"

"What different types of incorrect hunches have you had?" he drilled at him, eager to find out if he had them, too.

He felt self-abusive now.

"Huh?" Cliff asked, obviously expecting something else from him. "What do you mean? Why do you wanna know, anyway?"

"Categorise them for me," Albel said slowly, as if explaining it to a retarded child. "I'm not ready to spill everything to you, so just leave it at that."

"Well," Cliff began, totally at a loss, "I have 'em when we're wondering what direction to travel, that kind of thing… I think that I have them when I'm fighting, too. I can usually remember them until someone asks me, and then I go brain-dead for a second. I'll tell you later, okay?"

Albel twisted his hand back in such a way it would cause even the strongest man extreme pain, aggravated with his lame reply.

"That wasn't what I was really going for," he growled, thoroughly enjoying the grimace that Cliff's expression had switched to then. "Remember how you feel them now, or I'll make you."

Cliff always tended to be on the rebellious side.

"I have a hunch that I might remember if you told me why you wanted to know," he said, not even fighting back against him.

Damn, if he was going to be that submissive…

Albel managed to sit up, though it took a considerable amount of energy. He simply stared at Cliff now, carefully masking his face as he leaned toward him. Cliff twisted under his gaze, and he let a sly smirk break through his mask. If there indeed was another reason for him wanting to keep Cliff alive, what was it? What was the cause of the possessiveness that he felt for him? He released Cliff's limp hand as he leaned further, his expression changing yet again to a contemplative one. He gazed deeply into the confused sapphire eyes that had plagued him ever since he'd fatally noticed them the day that they'd first seen each other. Something about them wanted him to memorise every change, and he was determined to find out his answers from them. Up close, they weren't entirely sapphire blue as he'd thought, but had swirls of aqua blue mixed within them, and somehow it seemed to loosen Albel's jaw, but he somehow managed to keep his jaw clenched shut.

"For a worm," he said quietly, his heart's thudding resounding in his eardrums, "your eyes are remarkable."

He swore to himself that he saw Cliff blush.

"Your eyes are nice, too," he murmured, his eyebrows furrowed worriedly.

Why was he acting so weird, like a schoolgirl who was just asked out by her crush?

He was an eye-man, eh? Funny, Albel had thought that he was more of a legman… He'd supposed that was the reason why he always talked to Zephyr, because she had nice legs. He himself never cared much for legs, but he'd caught Cliff staring at Zephyr's legs more than a few times, so he'd assumed that he liked them. Maybe he likes both, he thought absentmindedly, barely able to bear himself over his pounding heart.

"That's what you notice first about a girl?" he asked before he could stop himself, instantly regretting it when the shock washed over his face.

"Yeah," he replied cautiously, "after I see she's a hottie, anyway. Not many babes have eyes that are as…" He paused, struggling for a word that wouldn't offend him, "Interesting as yours."

"I have 'interesting' eyes?" he repeated blankly, not really understanding him. "How the hell are they interesting? I thought that you only noticed the eyes of an attractive woman."

"Yeah," Cliff replied, appearing deeply embarrassed. "A person's eyes can tell numerous stories about their personality, and seeing as you're so unpredictable, that makes your eyes more entertaining than the eyes of a babe who never thought past what she was going to wear for the day. I normally don't notice guy's eyes, but, um…"

"Finish it," Albel growled, pulling at his collar again so that their foreheads were inches apart.

"I thought that you were a chick with a flat chest the first time that I saw you," he said quickly, avoiding his eyes.

"How the hell…?" he breathed, releasing his collar to be paralysed in shock before the intense anger overtook him in enormous waves. "My voice doesn't even resemble a woman's!"

"Your clothes made me wonder," Cliff said, still dodging Albel's burning glare. "I really believed that you were a chick before you spoke… I'd been stunned for a second before your insults penetrated my thick skull. I never really thought about it until now…"

"The top portion's to protect my chest," he stated acidly, having been confused as a woman in the past, and deeply hated it. "The bottom's a waist cape, and I find it more effective than pants, because they limit my mobility."

"Uh," Cliff began, slowly meeting his eyes, regaining a bit of courage, "that wasn't all, actually… You're kind of curvy like a woman, too…"

He braced himself for an attack from Albel, but it never came.

"That's what the others thought, too," he muttered, his face blank, but his eyes reflected that he was thinking pensively. "Most of my power comes from my speed, so the majority of my muscles are in my legs… I probably could beat you in arm wrestling once I recover, though."

"I thought that you were going to strangle me," he confessed in an enormous sigh of relief, raking a hand through his hair. "I doubt that you could beat me even then, because you won't let me massage your shoulders for you! Sometimes you just have to suck it in and accept a little help once in a while, because you can't depend on yourself for everything, and you'll just have to accept that someday."

"I just have to learn how to control my anger," Albel grumbled, leaning forward a bit further so that he could feel Cliff's breath on his face. "You'll never know until I'm healed, and the best that we could do right now is a tie. I don't need a massage, I already told you! I've never had to rely on anyone, because I never let myself down, whereas someone else would! I can't trust anyone to do anything for me, because whenever they do, they never do it right!"

"Take anger management classes?" he asked quietly, the corners of his mouth tempted to curl upward into a grin. "Why don't we try right now to see? If I win, you have to let me give you a massage. I'll use my left hand to be fair."

"I don't know where I could have an anger management class on Elicoor," he hissed, strangely pleased when his breath moved Cliff's hair out of his face. "I hardly think that would be fair, because I've only seen you write with your left, and I just regained consciousness."

"Got me," Cliff said, grinning widely. "I am left handed! I thought that you never paid attention to that sort of thing. You're on at least ten analeptics right now, so you shouldn't be able to feel any pain. What if I use my right?"

"Knew it," he muttered, Cliff's breath tickling his neck. "I notice things that most people don't, like how someone tends to use one hand more than the other. Maybe that's why I was able to do this… Whatever, I bet that I could beat you with my hurt hand, anyhow. Let's get this over with!"

Cliff grinned even wider, happy that Albel agreed unlike how he'd expected. He stood up and carried a small end table to place between them, and held out his hand, eager to begin. He was about to help Albel up when he turned to face him, his long legs easily making his calloused feet touch the floor. He'd almost forgotten that the man was only an inch shorter than he was, since he often hunched his back down when in battle. Now that he was sitting straight and he didn't have to look down to meet his critical gaze, he was starting to regret challenging him. He feared that he might lose control and accidentally disconnect his shoulder, because he had a hunch from Albel's dead-determined expression that he was going to give it his all. Albel slowly took his hand, and as he'd tried to expect, his grip was tighter than he'd hoped it would've been. He had to be careful and not break something…

"Don't hold back," Albel commanded icily, though his eyes were aflame. "I want to win with both of us giving our all. Don't be afraid of hurting me. I'm not a weak and frail woman, so don't treat me like one."

He'd been afraid of that… Albel's ego was inflating itself again. I guess if I break something, he thought grimly, then it's Albel's fault and not mine. He'd never treat Albel as if he was weak, because he respected him too much. Yeah, he respected him. He just got on his nerves whenever he lost sight of the big picture.

"I wasn't," he said coolly, splitting the control by applying pressure on his arm.

Albel instantly pushed him back, easily making his arm lower.

"Then what are you doing right now?" he shot, his eyes narrowing into slits. "You aren't even trying!"

"Fine," he grumbled and began fighting back, pushing against Albel's hand, surprised when he felt something sticky trail down from their interlocked hands to dance down his jugular vein.

Was that Albel's sweat? It had to have been, because when he glanced at Albel's hand, he saw that his knuckles were white. Albel's grip was slowly loosening, but he hadn't given up yet. He leaned forward against the table, his teeth exposed as he struggled. Cliff would've felt sorry for him if he hadn't had his skinny legs wrapped around one of his. He doubted if Albel even knew he was doing it. He just wished that he'd stop, because it was incredibly distracting… He had his hand around Albel's in a death-grip similar to the one around his leg, and applied everything he had into it now, and he sent down Albel's hand with a loud thump. Albel's legs remained around his, only now the grip was gentle, which made it even worse.

"Legs," he said quietly, feeling the heat now on his cheeks. "It's kind of… awkward."

"Oh," Albel said distractedly, running his bare feet up and down his leg, frankly enjoying the flames on Cliff's face, but at the same time cautious of the sparks running up and down his legs at the touch. "Is it still awkward?"

The feet were worse than the legs, especially with all the power applied to them. The most appealing thing about Albel was that he lived up to everything he said. Now, however, Cliff wished that he wasn't so truthful. It was sending flares all up and down his leg, and he was afraid that he actually liked it. Albel probably liked to see him flustered, and he sure as hell was…

"Stop it!" he said, trying to fight against his grip, but since Albel's legs hadn't been damaged by the Vendeeni, he was overpowered. "I thought that you hated physical contact!"

Albel grinned at him and he felt his stomach clench. Guys like Albel should never smile; it was just downright creepy. He had a bad feeling about this…

"You're right," Albel's silken drawl crept down his spine, "I do despise physical contact. It's worth it, however, when you make that face. I like watching you squirm."

Why were all his hunches involving Albel right? It was like a slap to the face.

"You like to see me weak?" he asked, recoiling when Albel's toes brushed against a sensitive area. "You're such a sore loser."

Albel continued to grin and he leaned forward to blow Cliff's hair out of his face.

"You're never weak," he replied nonchalantly, "and I frankly enjoy seeing this side of you. I don't like losing, and whenever it happens, I vow revenge."

Somebody's listening… Cliff silently realised as the hairs on the back of his neck jolted upwards. He felt as if the reaper was slithering down his spine. Even though he was an atheist, he used terms like that. He didn't really believe in such things, however. It was just the only thing he could think of to describe how he felt. His suspicions were confirmed when the automatic door slid open, and he craned his head to see whom he last expected to be eavesdropping on them: Sophia.

"We were worried when we heard shouting," she explained quietly, her eyebrows furrowed as she refused to look at them, "so I volunteered to go and check. I didn't mean to listen in, but the others were very curious, so I did it for them…"

The nerve of that fool, Albel thought maliciously, releasing Cliff's leg. He hated girls who were as feeble and obedient as her. He did like women, but he was very meticulous. He liked ones who were just as bold and honest as him. This eliminated almost every woman that he'd ever met, and he'd never consider the only one left: Maria. He liked women with spunk and personality who can be logical and blunt at the same time. He'd never considered going to bed with a man with his life, but he hadn't with a woman, either. He believed that this was due to his unappealing personality, and the fact that he didn't care about having an intimate relationship with someone. He dedicated everything to the blood-spewing battles, and he hardly had anything left outside of them. He liked the feeling of blood against his skin, and he hated to take showers after a fight, because it washed the blood off him.

"How much did you hear?" Cliff's weary voice broke his thoughts, and he switched his piercing glare from Sophia to him.

Had he affected him that much? It somehow was enormously satisfying.

"I could barely hear anything at all," she replied quickly, frowning as she persistently avoided Cliff's eyes.

"You're lying," Albel spat, standing up to observe her through his suspicious narrowed eyes, noticing her body shiver either at his harsh tone, or at being accused of lying in such a demeaning manner.

"It takes one to know one," Sophia retorted, stunning everyone in the room, including herself. "I didn't mean that!"

Sophia moved to the door, but Albel's blade blocked the way. Cliff's eyes widened as he stood up to stop him, but he calmed once he realised that Albel didn't intend to kill her. Albel had simply taken advantage of his leg muscles and wanted to scare her. He succeeded easily enough, but he hadn't sheathed his sword yet, and his artificial hand was resting beside Sophia's head as he trapped her to the wall. Cliff didn't care what he said anymore; the man was hungry with power. The murderous glint in Albel's eyes both terrified and angered him. Just what was that diabolical man scheming right now?

"Tell me everything that you heard, maggot," he threatened with a confident smirk as he watched her tremble through his glazed over eyes, "or I won't hesitate to kill you. You heard Cliff; I'm on ten analeptics, so I have the will-power to do it."

He wouldn't, Cliff thought incredulously, but he wasn't so sure. Albel glanced over at him, obviously guessing what he was thinking. He nodded his head slowly, his rat-tails moving up and down with the action. He was grinning again, and he was creepier than ever. The guy really did belong in an insane asylum… He broke their gaze and turned his head back to stare Sophia down into the gaping black hole known emotionally wise as fear. Albel had said his first name two times that day, and it still made his skin crawl. It didn't seem natural flowing off that sabre-tipped tongue of his.

"Fine!" she cried, her voice shaking as she stared at Albel's metal digits to her left. "I heard everything! I didn't exactly leave when the others did. I always wondered what Cliff was doing in your room, but I never expected it to go this far, believe me! I was just a bit too curious for my own good!"

"Quit your babbling," Albel said in disgust, sheathing his sword after giving Cliff a hard look. "I'll spare you, if you promise to never pry into things better left to the adults, or ever speak of this to anyone. Just forget that this ever happened, but try to manage that obscene curiosity of yours."

At least now one of his questions had been answered. The guy had been watching him like he'd said. It didn't make him feel any better, but at least now he knew. Cliff, on the other hand, couldn't believe what he was watching. Albel was actually being nice to someone? Had his mental medication finally kicked in after 24 long years of hibernation? Well, that was as nice as Cliff had ever seen him anyway. Perhaps he was rubbing off on him? Albel was indeed a difficult man to comprehend.

Sophia practically ran out of the room after whispering a low reply that Cliff wasn't able to catch.

Albel walked over to his bed and sat quietly on the rumpled sheets, watching Cliff with a blank stare.

"Give me the goddamned massage so that we can get it over with," he frostily ordered, the only emotion on his face his pursed lips and tense glare. "I don't want any unexpected interruptions like that again."

"She disturbs you that much?" Cliff asked quizzically, moving the end table and chair back to their original places. "I thought that you were trying your best to disturb her."

Albel growled deeply, "She doesn't disturb me, she sickens me. Girls like her want me to never consider women, because the majority of them are weak and spineless like her."

"You returned it ten-fold," Cliff joked, though he was completely serious. "There are rebellious chicks out there, though, you just have to look thoroughly. Nel and Maria are courageous, but I suppose that they're not your type."

"I don't want to talk to you anymore," Albel said tersely, glaring over Cliff's shoulder at the door, "because another person may be listening."

He's just avoiding the question, Cliff thought to himself, tempted to say it, but he didn't feel like being victim to Albel's venomous temper like Sophia. He was still flustered from Albel's leg hold on him, and he didn't feel like provoking him anymore. He climbed up on the bed and sat behind Albel, sensing the tenseness overflowing from him. At least he wasn't the only one who wasn't comfortable with this. He was only doing it because Albel really needed it.

Albel wasn't very keen on Cliff being the one who would be giving him the massage, but he believed in keeping his word. He twitched once two unbelievably warm hands began to press into his back, but began to loosen up a bit. It at first hurt, but soon after, he felt similar to jelly. He found it easier to think once he squeezed his eyes shut, and he felt himself drifting off the island of reality. He forgot who he was and who was inducing the vague ecstasy, and for the first time, he could think clearly. Why the fuck had he been so reluctant to have it? His only connection to reality was that he felt warm breath caressing the back of his neck. It was over much too soon, and he cursed himself ten-times over for being affected by him at all.

"Were you mistreated as a child?" Cliff asked him in a low whisper, still in his previous position. "I noticed that you writhed under my hands."

"That's none of your fucking business," he growled back, turning his head to glare angrily at him. "Didn't I specifically tell you that I didn't want to do any unnecessary talking?"

"I was just curious," Cliff said, hurt. "I know that you said that you didn't want to talk, but I just wanted to know."

"That doesn't mean shit to me," Albel snarled, managing to control his voice so that if anyone had been listening in, they would've thought that it was something else. "I twitched because I don't entirely trust you, and the well-known fact that I hate to be touched."

"What a total surprise," said Cliff, his tone brutally sarcastic, "how could I have ever guessed that miraculous thing? I don't entirely believe that you hated the massage, and I have a hunch that you haven't given me every reason."

"Fuck you and your goddamned hunches!" Albel shouted, too angry to bother about something as trivial as control. "My reasons are mine, and no one, especially you, deserves to know them!"

"Then why were you so interested in my hunches earlier if they weren't so important?" Cliff asked in an arctic snarl, growing annoyed at his stubbornness. "If we're going to be a part of a team, we should at least know about each other!"

"I wanted to see if you actually did some thinking in that thick skull of yours!" Albel replied acidly, poised and ready to strike. "I don't know shit about your past, so why should you know mine? You already know enough about me to write a book."

"For your information, I do think!" Cliff said coldly, his eyes narrowed. "I would've told you if you'd only asked!"

"Can't prove it," Albel muttered, making sure that Cliff heard him. "Besides, I don't want to know my victim's life story."

"Are you afraid that we might have some similarities?" Cliff shot at him, returning Albel's heated stare. "Think you're so high-and-mighty that if you have even the slightest thing in common with your foe that you wouldn't be so 'twisted' anymore? Well, I have news for you; we're both incredibly stubborn. I bet you that we have even more similarities than that! You might decide that killing me is a big mistake, because you'd be killing the only person in the universe that has so many things in common with you!"

"I've known forever that we're stubborn," he hissed, turning his body around so that he didn't have to crane his neck to face him. "It doesn't change the fact that we always butt heads. I don't like you because of your stubbornness, and in case you didn't know, just because we have one miniscule thing in common, doesn't mean that we'll have anything else! Also, I don't give a shit if we have anything in common, because you have an annoying attitude!"

"You'll never know until I tell you," Cliff said defiantly, his eyes narrowed into slits. "Most friends don't have everything--"

"That's what this is all about?" Albel interrupted viciously, catching Cliff by surprise with his ferocious glare. "I don't want to be your friend, okay? I don't need any friends, either! I've never had any friends, and I've turned out all right. I don't make friends easily, in case you haven't noticed, and even if I did want to be your friend, it wouldn't be easy. I'd get pissed off at something you say, and it'd be finished. Friendship is worthless to me, because I'm a firm believer of the fact that everything ends. I don't bother into such trivial matters, especially ones that I know will end bitterly. If it isn't going to last, why even try? That's why I dedicate everything in battle, because I'm confident in my ability. I've already said too much…"

"I never thought that you'd be afraid of something like friendship," Cliff said softly, his glare replaced with a sympathetic stare. "You're a really messed-up guy if that's what you think. Haven't you ever considered taking a leap, y'know, to see what would happen, if perhaps you were wrong? No one's right about everything and you're arrogant if you think that you're never wrong. I'm not trying to piss you off, but merely steer you in the right direction. You've been off course for a while now."

"I'm not afraid of anything!" he screeched, outraged at his statement. "I don't need your filthy sympathy, either! Maybe I'm not the kind of person that you are! Maybe I don't like rushing into things without a plan! Have you ever thought about that, hmm? I trust myself because in the end, the only person that you can trust is yourself. That may make me arrogant, but I don't want you telling me. I'm not a hopeless little boy! I can make my own decisions, and I don't want your worthless aid!"

Cliff sighed and raked a large hand through his golden locks, eyebrows furrowed in deep thought. He had a hunch that was how Albel would react. He hadn't, however, been able to predict what he'd said, which frankly didn't surprise him. He wanted to help that stony young man so terribly, but no matter how hard he tried, it was like climbing up a steep, treacherous mountain; it seemed as if he'd never reach the top, which in this case was having the frigid man befriend him. He knew that he couldn't ever give up, however, because it would be worth it in the end. He'd melt the icy man's heart eventually; all it would take was some time.

"Everyone needs to let loose once in a while," he finally said, meeting Albel's fierce glare with a serious one. "You didn't seem to care about that earlier when you were shot by the Vendeeni. I don't know why you believe that I'm trying to force you, because that couldn't be further from the truth. Friendship isn't like fighting an unstoppable monster! Sure, it has its lows, but doesn't everything? In the end, friendship is what most people cherish the most. You can be the strongest fighter of all time, but you won't be anywhere without friends! Now, I know that other people's opinions are as important as shit is to you, but could you forget your pompous feelings and actually listen to what I'm saying for a minute? Even the most popular person in the world has people who hate him or her. You can't get along with everyone that you meet, but you're really the one who makes that choice. Nothing's easy, even being the strongest. You should know that as well as me. Even the best of friends fight, but they eventually make-up. Most friends don't have everything in common, but they mesh just fine. It's just an unpleasant fact that everyone has to face, even you. Friends consider each other's opinions, and if their friend doesn't like something, they won't talk about it. I think I've already said enough…"

"Just because I made one mistake," Albel began acidly, staring critically into Cliff's eyes, "doesn't mean that I want to make it again. It seems to me that you're trying your best to persuade me to be your friend. You're giving me all these reasons, when you could be making them up just to confuse me! Why should I trust you? Why do you persistently bug me about it? Either you're incredibly stupid, or you have a damn good reason, which I highly doubt. I listened to you, but it merely confused me. I doubt that I could be friends with you for even a day, because you're annoying me so damn much!"

"I was just telling you what friendship really was," he explained calmly, becoming more frustrated with him by the minute. "I don't know what you've gone through, but you can trust me. Friends are people that you can trust, Albel. You can't be happy with never trusting anyone. I'm not the kind of person who'd lie with a straight face, and I wouldn't lie to you. I do have a good reason for wanting to be your friend; you fascinate me. I just want to know what really makes you tick, that's all."

Albel broke their stare by bowing his head down as he was overwhelmed with bewildering thoughts. He hadn't lied when he said that he'd never left his bedside, but was he lying now? Something told him that he wasn't, but how could he be sure? So, he fascinated him? He remembered him saying something similar to that earlier, but why did it suddenly affect him? So, what if he was right? What then? He'd also said his first name… His stomach was in knots and he couldn't think properly anymore…

"If you are being truthful," he began slowly, regaining the ability to form coherent words, "then what am I supposed to do? Do you expect me just to spill everything just because of that? You said it yourself that you 'may never be able to understand me,' so your efforts will amount to nothing. Why do you even try?"

Cliff stared down at Albel's bent head, his mouth abruptly dry. Had he finally gotten through to Albel? What exactly was going through his mind right now?

"I never expected you to spill it all at once," he replied, his voice low. "I try because it's better than doing nothing. If there were even the slightest chance of it helping me understand you, I'd take it. I don't quit something just because it might fail, because there's always a chance that it won't. I tend to look at the positive side of a situation, unlike most people."

"What if you're wrong?" he asked quietly, feeling his stare. "What if all the odds are against you? Would you still do it?"

"If I were wrong," he said easily, "I'd be disappointed, but it would be better than not trying when I would've learnt something. It depends on what it is if everything was against me. If I were certain that it would fail and it had absolutely no possibility of success, I wouldn't do it, unless something very important was at stake. Why did you want to know, anyway?"

"It seems kind of pointless," Albel admitted, raising his head to meet his stare with blank, glazed over scarlet orbs. "I was just a bit curious as to why you were so damn obstinate, that's all."

"So, are we friends?" Cliff asked hesitantly, not hoping for a 'yes,' but certainly not a 'no.'

It seemed like a hard decision at first, but after a minute of thought, the answer was simple. He couldn't be friends with a person who he was going to kill. He had to regain his pride (damn Cliff for pointing that out) from him. He couldn't let one stupid conversation distract him from his goal.

"We can't be friends if I am to attain my goal," he answered truthfully, his stony tone finalising the conversation. "I have to kill you sooner or later, Cliff Fittir."

He wasn't one for seething, but he felt close to having one. It just wasn't fair! After all of that, he still stuck with his pride? It took quite a while for him to recover, and when he finally did, he was still very shaken. Hadn't he gotten through to him at all?

"Why do you have to kill me to regain your pride?" asked he, his voice eerily calm. "Once you're back in your prime, we could fight, but not to the death. Whoever is knocked down on their back loses. That way, you'd have back your pride without having to kill me!"

"I don't know how long it would take for me to properly heal," Albel replied frostily, his eyes half-lidded as he bore his gleaming white fangs, "and I suspect that you'd go easy on me. I want it to be more of a dramatic and humiliating fight than that. The only way I'd be satisfied is to have to pin you down and have my blade to your neck if I couldn't kill you, and everyone would have to watch me do it. It would be brutal, involve many bruises, but that's the only way that I could regain my pride without it being a hollow victory."

"I could help you everyday," Cliff said, confident in this idea. "I could change your bandages, massage your back to get your blood flowing, etc. I wouldn't dare go easy on you for something like that. I only held back during the arm wrestle because I didn't want to wreck your arm. I wouldn't hold back on you when you're at your best, because it'd have my ass kicked. I'm okay with those rules, but the same thing applies for me. I can pin you down, too. What if I have you pinned and you have your claw or sword to my throat? Would it be a tie, or what? I'd have to do tons of persuading to make them do that, and I may need your help. They may not take kindly to watching us in a bloody battle, but once they learn what's at stake, they might agree with it."

"I don't know if I could stand you constantly helping me," Albel drawled truthfully, his mouth curled into a contemplative scowl. "I might be able to somehow tell myself that it's for the fight, but it would be difficult. You shouldn't hold back on anyone, regardless of how weak they are. You should show the worm who's boss instead of sympathising with them. That's true, I could kick your ass, especially if you didn't give it your all, but I thought that you'd take the pain and let me have a false victory. Yes, you can pin me down, too, I wasn't just making them for me. If you had me pinned and that were to occur, it wouldn't be a tie. We'd keep on going until one of us gave up, or if the other ran out of strength. One of us has to win, that's the whole point of the fight. You talk to them first, and if they don't want to or understand after you explain it, bring them to my room. I'll talk some sense into them."

"You can deal with it," Cliff teased with a mischievous smile curling his lips. "After a while, you won't even know that I'm there. I can tell that you've had to endure much worse punishments than me caring for you. Besides, I heard from a valuable source that you Elicoorians heal much faster than any other race, especially when given proper treatment. I'm supposing that you want me to do it now by the look in your eyes…"

"Whatever," he said gruffly, "what you do is of no concern of mine. I don't know who told you that, but I can't say if they're right, either. I've been wondering this: how do you know how to properly dress someone's wounds? I doubt that you were once a nurse."

"Every Klausian was taught how to do that once they reached a certain age," Cliff explained patiently, not surprised at the blunt question. "It's just one of those things that I considered to be important, because in the past, many of our men died due to mistreated wounds."

"Oh," Albel replied, his eyebrows raised, his face blank, "I see…"

Cliff nodded silently, rolling off the bed in a slightly humorous manner; his foot got caught in the tangled covers. He was motionless for a moment as he dangled upside-down, his face about an inch from touching the floor. A deep blush coloured his cheeks before he untangled his foot and fell on the floor, his head hitting first and his body making a small thump immediately after his embarrassing action. He sat up quickly, covering his completely flushed face. He could feel Albel's piercing gaze on him, and he didn't feel like meeting it.

It was eerily silent until an unexpected sound broke it. A deep, strange laughter filled his ears, and he raised his head to stare vacantly at the rare occurrence before him. He hadn't ever heard the man laugh before, and he didn't know whether to be embarrassed or just brush it off with minor difficulty. Hell, he'd never seen Albel smile. He'd grown to believe that Albel wasn't capable of showing any emotions similar to happiness. Now it seemed completely ludicrous to him, but at the time, he would've sworn by it.

"I didn't think that you knew how to laugh," he snapped, standing up, trying to manage his brilliant red blush.

"I didn't think that you could be that red!" he sputtered between the disjointed laughter before it eventually died. "I haven't ever been in a situation that was suitable for laughter."

"Damn it!" he cursed, hiding his face with his left arm. "So, you've had a hard life, ne? Maybe we're not so different--"

"Don't you dare finish it," Albel snarled, standing up to glare at him acidly, one of his claws casually grazing against Cliff's raised arm. "Just leave me the hell alone and tell your little friends about my arrangement."

"You're still unwilling to admit it?" Cliff exclaimed exasperatedly, staring incredulously into the slightly shorter man's narrowed, intense scarlet eyes. "I can't believe that that still bugs you! No, I'll tell them after you start making a little sense! I can't believe that you still loathe me after all of that!"

"You're so damn persistent!" Albel groaned and his glare intensified. "You're the one who isn't making any sense! You're not being realistic at all! Of course I don't like you! I don't warm up to people as easily as you, and I doubt if I would after one simple conversation! Think realistically for once, Fittir!"

"My persistence is my best quality," Cliff drawled with a small smirk. "I suppose that it was stupid of me to believe that, but I'd really expected--"

"I told you to never expect anything," he hissed, pulling his face down by tugging on his collar viciously, their foreheads barely touching. "Time by time, you've convinced me how unbelievably stupid you are. You've protested that you're not, but I haven't witnessed any signs of intelligence from you. Now, before I start again, I want you to hear me. I've been giving you too much credit lately. I thought that it was obvious after all that I said that I'm not a caring creature, but you still haven't understood that, so I have no choice but to explain it to you in such a manner that even you would comprehend.

"I wasn't always this unattached from the world. True, I still was a vicious fighter who was dedicated to his dream, but I was somewhat… loose back then. I was only a mere soldier at the time, but my rank was constantly increasing. I know that it was only a matter of time before I'd be captain of one of my nation's powerful brigades. The thought made me in a since surrounded by a vague sort of happiness, though to this day I'm convinced that it was merely weakening me for the brutal challenge ahead. It shielded me from the truth with lies that brought on idiotic arrogance, which still affects me, as you could tell. I was a fool to be blinded by my feelings…

"Everyone had to face it sometime, and though I'd only been a soldier for a couple pf years, everyone, including myself, thought that I was ready. I was far from it, however. You don't know how difficult this is for me to open up like this… My spirit had been crushed that day, and I never prejudged my opponents anymore. I never expected anything, only that it'd be a fight, nothing more."

Cliff searched for Albel's eyes under his hair, but it was difficult. He had to risk leaning closer to be overwhelmed by the pain in those eyes. They were the eyes of a man who'd seen everything and had pushed his emotions aside to forget the pain. It was no wonder that he'd wanted to hide them! Albel stepped back in an attempt to conceal his weakness again, but his legs hit the side of the bed. He cursed silently, breaking their eye contact.

"What happened?" he asked hesitantly, not wanting to cross an unmarked line again. "You wanted to tell me everything, but you left stuff out of it. Just continue. I swear that no one will ever know."

Albel met his gaze, his teeth bared in a snarl before it washed away with either frustration or acceptance. He couldn't really tell which.

"Fine," he said quietly, his expression truly grim, "but this is the only time I'm giving in. Got it?

"It was called the Flame Ceremony. At some time or another, every soldier has to bond with an air dragon. These aren't like the ones that we fought before entering the Urssa Lave Caves. They're incredibly strong, and the success rate was barely in the double digits. You have to fight your selected dragon and win in order to be bonded with it. Often the soldiers who tried were burned alive or died in a similar fashion. I was close to becoming one of them, if not for my father's selfless sacrifice…

"I realised then that I couldn't underestimate anything, especially dragons. I vowed to myself to always be wary for my father's sake. I didn't want his death to be in vain. I matured ten years in that brief moment. I wasn't able to speak for days, because I hated how weak my voice sounded. I focused on training and often skipped meals. Food wasn't that important to me, but I grew tired of my dizzy stomach after a while and ate.

"Since I'd lost part of my left arm to the dragon, it took a while for me to adapt to it. Once the king saw how dedicated I was, he ordered a professional blacksmith to construct me a metal hand; the same one that I have now, of course. I'd also been forcing myself how to learn how to write with my right hand, because our soldiers had to at least know how to write legibly or they couldn't be in the army. I was hesitant to… Why the fuck am I telling you this? I've never told anyone…"

"I guess after a decade of keeping it locked up, it wanted to be set free," Cliff joked, not really having an explanation for it, either. "I guessed that your claw was fake a long time ago, and that you had Elicoor's runology to help you move it. Ha! What's the change of us both being left-handed? I know how to write with both, because I've broken my left arm too many times to count in the past. I won't deny that I'm reckless, but at least I live life to its fullest. I know that you probably won't answer me, but how can you write with your left hand, anyway? I can't imagine it being too good, because of your claws…"

"We stole the Aquarian's runology years prior to the incident," Albel replied dryly, his face carefully masked, "so it wasn't new to combine it in that manner… It doesn't matter if we're both left handed. Give me a pen and some parchment if you really want to know."

Ah, damn it… He didn't even know if they had-- oh yeah, the writing materials! Fayt had them, though. Well, it wouldn't hurt to ask… Fayt probably wouldn't ask him about it, but what if, by chance, he used his brain? Cliff knew that he gave off the immediate impression that he'd traded his brains for muscle, when in fact, he was highly intelligent. How else could he have formed an anti-Federation group and been it's leader for almost two decades? He shrugged off the thoughts and nodded quietly, exiting Albel's room.

He was glad to find that Albel had been wrong and that no one was even roaming the halls. He tapped on the door lightly with his knuckles before entering; it was the only way that he could inform Fayt of his presence without triggering the door. He found that Fayt was on the computer, but he didn't stare at it to find out what it was, because it wasn't his business. That seemed ironic now that he thought about his previous 'conversation' with Albel, if you could really call it that. All that they really did was argue!

"Could I use some of the writing materials?" he asked innocently, avoiding looking at the computer screen.

"Huh?" Fayt asked, obviously deep in whatever he was doing. "Oh, yeah, sure. They're in my backpack somewhere."

He was thankful that Fayt hadn't had his full attention on him. He wondered silently why the damn green backpack had so many pockets. He didn't know why he wanted to see Albel write so much. It was just one of the questions that he always wondered. He finally found them in the front pocket of the backpack, jammed between some war god bracelets and a light stone. He normally didn't give a shit about organisation, but Fayt had succeeded in making him blow a fuse. Even he was more organised than that! Honestly, it wanted to make him ram the teenager's head into the wall!

He muttered a garbled, "Thanks" as he practically ran out of Fayt's room. He'd wasted far too much time.

He entered Albel's room without knocking and dumped the materials on the table that they'd used when they'd arm-wrestled earlier. Albel glanced over at him coolly, sitting crossed-legged on his bed. His facial expression indicated that he was insanely bored, and he could only blame Fayt for it. He sighed and returned Albel's stare, his frown more persistent than impatient.

"Well?" he asked, his arms crossed over his chest. "What are you waiting for?"

"It took you way too long to get the parchment," he stated in a droll monotone, though thick sarcasm dripped within it. "Did you deliberately take your time, or did you get lost?"

He ignored Albel's insult because he knew that the commander didn't know any better.

"Fayt had it in his backpack," he explained patiently, lounging in one of the chairs, his actions revealing how fatigued he was, "and the damn thing was a mess. If you want to blame anyone, blame him, not me."

"It doesn't matter," Albel said, standing and walking over to the table, his shifty eyes examining him with burning scorn. "Let's get this over with, before we're caught in small talk again."

"Hold on," Cliff said as a metallic hand reached for the pen. "Let's make this count. We've made an agreement, ne? Well, I only consider it straight once it's on paper. You can write it out and seal the deal, right?"

"Whatever," Albel spat, "I'll do it, but only in your blood. You're not afraid of a little pin-prick, are you, Fittir?"

He knew the exact vial to pour his blood into after Albel pricked him. Without a word, he went to the trashcan placed to the right of Albel's bed and searched for an empty vial that had once held analeptic. Once he found one after a few moments of searching, he used a tissue from the bed stand to clean out the drops of remaining green fluid. He turned his head toward Albel once he felt his burning stare and sighed. He'd worn the man's already short patience to the point where even simple movement annoyed him.

"Pour the blood in this," he commanded after he sat back down in the comfortable chair.

"I hate being told what to do," Albel muttered before grabbing Cliff's forearm with his steely hand and holding the vial underneath it with his other.

Okay, maybe this wasn't such a great idea, now that he thought about it. The murderous gleam in those already frightening hues gave him an ominous warning. Albel might take advantage of the moment and puncture his skin directly on a vein, causing him to bleed to death. His breath was caught in his throat as Albel's claws dug into his arm, his pallid face mercilessly blank. Oh, yeah, he was going to take it all out on him, and there was no way he'd break out of his death hold on him. He felt his face turning blue as a warm, sticky liquid trailed down his arm. Why wasn't his blood coming out in uneven spurts? He opened his mouth and inhaled deeply, his face returning to its normal colour. It was silly, now that he thought about it! Hadn't he been the one earlier talking about trusting one another? He could tell from Albel's critical stare that he was thinking about the same.

"Seems like I'm not the only one being confused by their emotions," he drawled in a pompous, triumphant tone. "Did I scare the little maggot?"

How the hell had he been demoted from Fittir to maggot in a matter of seconds? It infuriated him. He'll admit that his panic was more than a bit irrational, but Albel was just plain creepy. Men who weren't Scottish and wore skirts always crept him out. The guy could frighten even the boldest of men with those pitiless eyes of his. Hold on, why did he have the feeling that Albel had been acting?

"Were you faking that the whole time?" he roared, his cheeks burning a violent crimson.

"Maybe I was," he replied slyly, releasing his arm, his grin reminding Cliff instantly of the Cheshire cat, "but if you're as smart as you say, then why don't you decide for yourself?"

He seriously expected the man to fade away like the Cheshire cat had in Alice In Wonderland, but then he reminded himself that he wasn't in a book. This was life. This was real, not someone's sick fantasy novel. (No offence to fans of the author, I loved his work, too!) He found himself wishing that in fact it was a dream like the one little old Alice had. Perhaps Albel had been right; maybe they were too different to be friends… He'd been so lost in thought that only now his ears recognised the sound of Albel's foot impatiently tapping on the floor.

"Sorry," he apologised sheepishly. "Do you want me to say it and you write?"

Albel gave him a dark glare, ripped a small piece of the bottom of his 'waist-cloak' and tied it tightly around his arm, succeeding in bewildering Cliff immensely. He didn't think that Albel knew anything involving care. It warmed him inside even though it was a simple gesture. It said to him that Albel was beginning to start taking down his glacier defences and warm up to him. Albel was right about something; he shouldn't let some uncertain emotions control him.

"I'm the scribe and you're the ink's voice," he drawled acidly, his entire face blank.

Albel truly was walking art, like a geisha. It amazed Cliff how a man could scare someone just by his silken voice. His blank face only intensified it and convinced you that he was serious. It was no wonder that this ruthless young man was the captain of a great army.

"On this day, two stubborn men have made a truce. One has agreed to curse the other back to full strength and tell his crewmates that they have to watch them fight. The other has agreed to forget his undying hated for the previous man by allowing him to tend to his wounds, not snap at him, and write out this document. The agreement the two made is only until the man writing this is at his best, and then they're to fight. There aren't many rules tying down this fight, but they're oddly specific. The only way that one of them can win is to pin the other down. There can't be a tie; if the one that's pinned has his weapon pointed at him, the fight has to continue until one of them gives up, or they run out of energy. If any of these agreements aren't kept, then the man who didn't keep his word automatically loses. The stakes are high; if Albel 'the Twisted' Nox wins, then he doesn't have to be Cliff Fittir's friend and can act as if nothing happened, but if Cliff wins, Albel has to do the opposite."

"Now we have to sign it in each other's blood," Albel said, setting down the quill.

Cliff stared over Albel's shoulder, the precise cursive taking him aback. It was so neat that it appeared as if it'd been typed. Damn, he wouldn't even try to imagine how dedicated Albel was to his incredible handwriting or how long he had to practice to have it that beautiful. Then he remembered what Albel had said earlier. 'Our soldiers had to at least know how to write legibly or they couldn't be in the army…' It was no wonder that he'd pushed himself so hard. He met Albel's impatient stare and felt his cheeks burning again. He could admire his handwriting later. Right now he had an important document to sign.

THE END…

Or is it only the beginning?

Hey! Thank you for reading the cut version of this story! Yeah, we were carried away, as you can tell. The truth is, neither of us knows how to end a story. (In case you missed my notes before the story, this one-shot is a RP.) I shortened it, because after it wasn't that important.

Disclaimer: In case you haven't noticed, this is a non-profit organisation, which means that I'm not paid for my writing! Besides, I wouldn't do so well if money were involved. (I crumble under pressure, damn it.) My friend and I just like to write and we happened to like these two together, so we collaborated, that's all. We don't own anything but the stacks of blank paper and boxes full of mechanical pencils, so you won't win anything good if you sue us!

Additional Info: I put so much work into sewing our parts together to make it appear that one person wrote it. Please appreciate all the damn effort I put into this little baby and submit a constructive review, okay? It's not everyday that I team up with a friend, especially one who can write as proficient as her, so consider that too, please… If you find anything inaccurate, please tell me!