Disclaimer: I own six figurines, a Guy Cecil cell phone charm, a copy of the game and the official strategy guide, but sadly I lack any and all rights to Tales of the Abyss itself. Apparently those aren't for sale on eBay. :(

Authors' Note: As I'm sure every TotA fan has noticed, Luke fon Fabre has a little monster face/gremlin face on the back of his coat. It's black and perpetually scowling. Now, it would make sense for Luke - as the son of the Duke - to have his family's crest on the back of his coat. Logical thinking, right? But even though Duke Fabre is Mr. Perma-Scowl, I have a hard time believing that the gremlin is the crest of House Fabre. It's just so . . . childish. Almost goofy despite it's supposed-to-be menacing nature. So, for the longest time I've taken to just considering it to be Luke's crest. Forget representing House Fabre; Luke is just representing himself. And then, while looking at the crest on the back of my short-haired Luke figurine, I got to thinking . . .

If it's Luke's crest, then how did it come to be?

And this idea came to me. Probably could have fit in my Bonds of Brotherhood fic, but I clearly didn't think of it back when this would have slotted in, so it gets written as a separate one-shot instead. :)

If you read, please review!

The Origins of the Gremlin

Duke Fabre didn't often do anything to influence his son's life. He didn't eat meals with Luke, he didn't tuck Luke into bed at night, he didn't attend doctor's appointments with Luke and he rarely even checked in to make sure that Luke was getting along all right. To be honest, it was somewhat frustrating, because given that all Luke had been through, most would have thought that Duke Fabre would have abandoned his cold ways of before in favor of showing more care to his son. But, no, Duke Fabre apparently couldn't have that. He couldn't bear to spend even the least bit of time with his now eleven-year-old, amnesia-ridden son.

Well, on most days, anyway.

There were some days when he called Luke to the Drawing Room solely to receive a succinct report on how Luke was doing. He'd ask if Luke had recovered his memories yet, if he was doing well in lessons, if he was making any progress on his memory, if he could demonstrate proper noble etiquette, if the amnesia was fading . . .

Duke Fabre was very hung up on the memory issue, and always rather exasperated when Luke reported - time and time again - that he didn't yet remember anything of his life before the kidnapping.

As nice as it would have been for Duke Fabre to care, Luke always hated the meetings in the Drawing Room, and usually left them in a huff. Guy was never allowed to attend the meetings - they were private meetings between father and son, and so there was no reason why a lowly servant should be allowed, even if said lowly servant spent more time with the kid than the kid's own father - but sometimes he would meander in the corridor outside of the door, ready to meet up with Luke as soon as the meeting was over to try and cheer Luke up again. Guy knew that if Duke Fabre caught him lingering outside in the corridor he'd never hear the end of it, but he also knew that Luke needed a friend after those meetings, and that was precisely why he was at the manor.

That day, Guy was lingering outside in the corridor again - not too near the door, but near enough so that when the shouting started, he could hear some of the words clearly. Guy frowned, staring at the door. The meetings didn't usually turn into actual fights, even if Luke did leave the room looking and feeling miserable, and Guy could only wonder at what had caused Luke to finally snap.

". . . my son, so you will act like it!"

Luke's next response was mumbled so that Guy couldn't hear it, even when he got a bit closer to the door (closer than he normally dared), but Duke Fabre's rumbled sounded almost like he was asking Luke what the kid had said. Well, it was either that or he was asking if the weather was nice today, but Guy highly doubted that, especially with what Luke screamed next.

"I said I don't even remember ever being your son, so it doesn't matter Besides, you're never around anyway, so it's not like I can remember you being my father if you never are-!"

The slap was so loud that Guy heard it as clearly as if he was in the actual room, and his hand went to his sword hilt in a flash, partially drawing the blade from the sheath. Guy stopped himself before fully drawing his sword, shoving it back into the sheath with grit teeth. Even if his first instinct was to defend Luke, he couldn't kill Duke Fabre.

Not yet, anyway.

Guy couldn't make out exactly what Duke Fabre said after the slap - he could make out the words "respect" and "noble" but not much else - but only a few moments passed after before the door to the room burst open and Luke came running out. Guy made to stop Luke, just reaching out one hand to grab the boy's arm, but Luke pushed past him, all but bolting down the hall. He'd been running too fast for Guy to really get a good look at him, but Guy had seen enough to see the red mark on Luke's cheek and the tears spilling over it.

Enough to make him want to march straight into the Drawing Room and make Duke Fabre feel similar pain.

But whatever mutinous feelings Guy had toward the Duke of Kimlasca-Lanvaldear, he couldn't act on them - not yet, especially when Luke was feeling so down. It was his job to cheer up Luke after every meeting with his father, and if there was ever a time that Luke needed him, it was now. Forcing himself to let go of his sword hilt, Guy turned and started after Luke - walking, not running, so as to give Luke at least a few minutes alone before Guy came knocking.

As Guy predicted, he found Luke in his room, curled up on his bed and crying into his pillow. Given that it had been a few years since the kidnapping, Luke didn't often cry anymore, but when he did he usually tried to do so away from prying eyes. Guy couldn't fault him for crying, either; Luke had never been slapped before, and not only was that a shock, but enough of Luke's cheek was visible so that Guy could see that a red mark still remained on it. The Duke had hit Luke hard.

Swallowing down residual anger for the Duke, Guy forced his voice to be a bit lighter. "Hey, Luke," he called softly. "Can I come in?"

Luke choked on his sobs, hiccupping as he tried to stop them, and buried his face deeper into his pillow, muttering something. Guy smiled faintly at the mumbling and stepped into the room, closing the door carefully behind him. He technically was only supposed to use the window - and even then only at Luke's bedtime - but he'd been careful, and he didn't think that anyone had spotted him using the door.

"You know, I can't hear you when your face is muffled by the pillow like that," Guy said, walking over to sit down on Luke's bed. "Mind lifting it?"

"No," Luke muttered, sniffling, but he moved his face enough away from the pillow so that he could speak clearly. "Y - You'll laugh a - at me."

"No, I won't," Guy said. "When have I ever laughed at you?"

"A - All the ti - time," Luke said. "For being short."

Now Guy did chuckle, but he did his best to keep it brief. "Well, that's because you are," he said, "but hiding your face won't change that." Luke huffed, but stayed resolutely turned away from Guy. "Come on," Guy coaxed, his voice more serious now. "I won't laugh, I promise. I just want to get a better look at your cheek."

Luke's shoulders tensed, but slowly - very slowly - he sat up, and turned to face Guy. The red mark on his cheek spread out easily into distinct fingers (though it was starting to fade, by this point), and Guy clenched one fist at his side, holding his anger at the Duke within it. If he didn't, he wasn't sure what he'd say, but whatever it was, he didn't want Luke hearing it.

"He got you bad, didn't he?" he asked instead, and though the question was rhetorical, Luke nodded furiously, a few more tears slipping out before he reached up to knock them away.

"H - He's so mean! All I t - tried to do was s - say how I didn't wa - want to play with stu - stupid Na - Natalia or go to noble c - court, and he st - started going on about how I w - wasn't the same anymore, and how I n - needed my mem - memories back, and how I w - wasn't acting like his s - son at all!" Luke took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm down. "B - But I don't get how that's pos - possible, because I'm the o - only son he has, so if I act like m - me, isn't that acting like h - his son?"

"You would think," Guy muttered, but Luke went on, his sobs finally subsiding.

"Bu - But he just got even madder, and even meaner, and yelled at me some more, so I said that he wasn't a real dad anyway and then he hit me." Luke reached one hand up to touch at the red mark, and then squinted his eyes shut to prevent straggler tears from falling. "How's that supposed to make him seem less mean and more like a dad? All he ever does is yell at me anyway, and now he hit me. He's just really mean and . . ." Luke scowled, drawing his knees up to his chest. "Really mean."

"I know. I'm sorry, Luke." Guy reached out, pulling Luke over to him in a one-armed hug. Luke wasn't a very huggy person normally, but now he accepted the hug gratefully, sniffing away the last few tears as he leaned into Guy's embrace.

"I just wish I could scare him somehow," Luke mumbled after a few minutes. "Like if I had a monster. Yeah, I wish I had a monster that I could sic on him whenever he decided to be a jerk."

"What kind of monster?" Guy asked, grabbing the new conversation topic as soon as he could. Anything to distract Luke - even partially - from the fight he'd had with his father.

"A scary one," Luke supplied, and Guy grinned.

"Not exactly what I meant. Hey, I know, why don't you draw a picture of your monster?" Guy pulled away from Luke and got up, walking over to Luke's desk to retrieve a piece of paper, a pencil, and something hard for Luke to write on. "Drawing will probably make you feel better, and this way you can have a concrete idea of what you want your monster to be like."

Luke looked dubious, but he nonetheless nodded, taking the materials from Guy and sprawling out on his bed. Guy took a seat in the chair by the bed, watching as Luke lost himself in his work. Instead of holding the pencil properly, Luke wrapped all of his fingers around it, holding it in a tight fist as he scratched it across the paper, his green eyes narrowed in concentration and his tongue sticking out of one corner of his mouth. Despite the intense concentration he gave it, however, and the few times he erased something only to draw it again, it didn't take Luke very long to finish. Setting his pencil down on his bed, Luke sat up and proclaimed, "There. Done."

"Let me see." Guy walked over, and very nearly laughed at what he saw. It was a crude drawing, really, of a little angry black face with horns and sharp teeth. The face wasn't even together; instead, it looked as if the lower jaw was disconnected from the top completely, so instead of giving the image of an open mouth, it just gave the image of a disembodied jaw floating beneath the horned head. Guy stopped himself from laughing, but he was still grinning when he said, "Looks good, Luke."

"Thanks." If Luke heard the laughter in Guy's tone, he didn't react to it. "I gave it horns because demons have horns, right? So scary monsters that will eat Father can have horns, too."

"Sounds good to me."

"And fangs. The fangs were necessary, so he can crunch his victims." Now Luke was grinning too, a devilish little smile that made the little bit of red remaining on Luke's cheek barely visible.

Guy opened his mouth to reply, but a knock at the door and a maid's voice from the other side beat him to the punch. "Master Luke?" the maid called. "The Duchess Fabre wishes to see you in her chambers." The grin faded from Luke's face, and he hung his head.

"Do I have to?" he whined at the door. The maid on the other side seemed to hesitate before replying:

"The Duchess said specifically that she wanted to see you right away."

Luke looked to Guy next, his green eyes wide and pleading, but Guy shook his head. While he'd ordinarily give into that puppy dog look, there were some things that even he couldn't waver on. "You better go, Luke," he said quietly, standing up. "You don't want to keep your mother waiting."

Luke sighed morosely, nodding before standing up. "She's probably just going to yell at me, too," he muttered. "Probably because I fought with Father."

Guy shook his head. "I doubt that, Luke. Susanne always seemed pretty reasonable. I doubt she's going to yell at you for that." Reaching out, he ruffled Luke's hair, the corners of his lips quirking up when Luke knocked his hand away with a scowl. "By the way, do you mind if I borrow your monster for a little while?"

"Huh?" Luke looked down at the drawing, shrugged, and then looked up at Guy with a quizzical expression. "Sure, but why do you want it?"

"That's my secret - at least, for now." Guy folded up the drawing before pocketing it, heading over to Luke's window. "I'll see you later, okay? Make sure you go straight to your mother's room."

Luke rolled his eyes, scowling petulantly, but turned toward his door nonetheless. "Okay, okay, I'm going, already. Bye, Guy."

"See you." Guy dropped out of the window, landing in a crouch, and then stood to head off toward his own room. There was no way he'd finish what he had in mind before he saw Luke later, but at the very least he could get started.

Guy's project took him months to complete, but given that he worked on it a little every night before bed - and given that he had Pere helping him out along the way - he managed to get it done by Luke's twelfth birthday. Just as he had on Luke's eleventh birthday, Guy waited until after the festivities were over to give Luke his present, visiting Luke in the kid's room just before Luke was going to go to bed.

"Here," he said, handing Luke a soft gift wrapped in brown paper. Luke took it, staring at it curiously before looking up to Guy.

"This doesn't feel like fontech."

"That's because it's not," Guy said. "I still made it, though. Well, I made the design on the back of it, anyway. The rest came from Baticul."

"The rest?"

"Just open it and see, would you?"

Obediently, Luke ripped off the paper, tossing it carelessly onto his floor. What fell onto his lap was a white coat, the sleeves short and the back split into two strips of fabric that fell to his ankles. And on the back was . . .

"My monster?" Luke asked, raising his eyebrows. Large and bold, stitched in with black thread, the monster Luke had designed threatened everyone from the back of the coat, scowling at all who dared to come near. Guy laughed, rubbing at the back of his neck.

"I got the idea when you drew it months ago," he said. "You'll probably grow out of the coat in a couple years or so, but I can always get you another one then - if you like this one, anyway. I just figured that since you can't have a real monster, this way you could always have yours with you, at least in a sense. A monster to watch your back, keep you safe." Guy paused, and then shrugged. "If you like it, anyway."

"Like it?" Luke looked up from the coat then, a bit of a grin starting to form on his lips. "It's awesome. Let's see Father try to yell at me now. The monster will scare him off for sure."

Luke's approval of the gift made Guy smile, especially as Luke stood up to pull the coat on. "I'm glad you like it," Guy said, reaching out to muss Luke's hair. "Happy birthday."