A/N: I still don't know if this is a one-shot or not. What do you guys think?
What do you want?
Regal awoke, shivering uncontrollably, his sheets sticking to his bare skin. Peeling them off with a look of mild distaste, he hopped out of his bed and pulled on a shirt, feeling unusual stirrings of unease from somewhere deep inside him. Striking a match and lighting a candle, the ex-convict inched his door open and silently padded out of his room, looking down the hallways of his Altamira mansion.
He didn't know what he was looking for. But something was there, waiting for him in the darkness and supposed safety of his own house. Raine and Genis were visiting at the moment, still on their own personal journey. He casually glanced down and wasn't surprised to see a dim light shining from the crack underneath the door. No time was too late for reading.
He knocked, softly. "Come in," came the muffled voice from inside. Inching the door open, he peeked through, smiling.
"You didn't happen to hear anything odd, did you Raine?" he asked, keeping his voice low when he noticed Genis sprawled out on the bed, snoring softly.
"Odd?" she said, echoing him.
"I don't know.. Voices, maybe?"
She pondered that for a moment, leaning back on the back feet of her chair. She shook her head. "No, nothing odd like that. Presea came by here just a moment ago. I saw her when I went to get a glass of water; Maybe that's what you heard?"
Regal nodded. "I'll just check up on her quickly. Something feels wrong. Try to get some rest, Raine."
He stepped back outside, closing the door, letting the darkness of the hallway envelop him again. For some reason, he broke out into a cold sweat again. His heart was beginning to pound, faster, faster. Tribal drums sounding for the inevitable war. Blowing out the meager light of the candle and dropping it on the floor, Regal rushed as quietly as he could through the hallways to Presea's room. Why did he have to have such an obnoxiously big house? When he reached the doorway, panting slightly, he hesitated. What if she wasn't there? What would he do? How could he save her when he didn't even know what was wrong, or why his eyes were dilated and his breathing was so ragged and fast and his heart might collapse into the pit of his stomach at any moment?
What do you want?
"Presea!" He said in a harsh whisper, opening the door.
He saw the small form of someone under the blankets, and immediately calmed down. Taking the hem of his shirt, he dabbed at his forehead, feeling foolish. Sneaking up closer to the sleeping figure of his charge, he pulled down the blankets to talk to her, to get tangible proof, and to ask her if she felt this same, illogical panic he was feeling right now.
"Presea?"
He pulled down the blankets. Down-stuffed pillows lumped up, shaped to look as though someone was there. The blanket fell to the floor, forgotten as the footsteps pounded down the staircase, getting farther from the empty room as he called out.
"Presea!"
He could hear it now; her voice. It was small and frightened, and hard and demanding at the same time. Conflicting emotions.
"What do you want from me!"
I want…
He barreled into the room where the voices were coming from, the room where he stored all of the weapons that Presea and himself had accumulated over the time the Journey took. Presea was standing there, Diablos in her hand as she turned to see who this intruder could be, tears streaming down her preternaturally pale face.
"M.." she choked on her words, afraid that she was right. "…Me?"
…Yes.
She vanished, Diablos clattering to the tile floor loudly as Regal skidded to a halt, looking about the room. The only sound in the room was the steady, dull throbbing of his heart, his pulse pounding out the rythm in his ears.