Killing Edge
By Kitchuu
Pairings: Matthew/Guy if you choose to see it that way. Otherwise, it's just friendship.
Summary: Aftermath of Leila's death, and one possible way Matthew could've dealt with it.
Rated PG-13 for violence.
After losing Leila to Jaffar, Matthew ironically began adopting the assassin's traits.
It scared people that he wouldn't, couldn't cry for her.
In the very next battle, the thief unleashed his anger and sorrow on absolutely wasting enemy units. He was fast, efficient, and nobody ever saw him coming. Guy, who was usually assigned to keep the espionage unit out of trouble, found himself with a significant lack of things to do, except trail after Matthew, because the thief was taking care of everything just fine.
And suddenly he wasn't a thief anymore.
Two days later, Guy noticed an eerie glint in the sandy-blond man's eye, and it made him feel vulnerable. The man was dangerous.
He had feared for a while, for Matthew's mental health, hoping that the thief wouldn't go off the deep end, and do something stupid. Like, commit suicide, specifically. When the thief showed no signs of going off on his own, or slitting his wrists, the myrimidon had sighed in relief. He had unknowingly relaxed too early.
The day Matthew landed an assassin's precision-perfect critical, Guy knew that he didn't know the man anymore. Matthew's movements were beautiful, cold, and deadly. It was all he could do to try and keep up with him, and not fall behind.
They fought, time to time, for practice, or to relieve stress, or because the newly changed assassin had found an amusing pastime in antagonizing his green-haired ally. Matthew always won, and it hurt Guy's pride to admit that he was weaker.
It drove him to work harder.
He filed in a request to run a special mission, without the assassin, in an attempt to catch up to the other in battle experience. Mark was confused for a minute, "But you two work so well together…", and then shrugged, and swapped his position with Eliwood's for the next few battles.
The swordmaster never saw it coming until the cold steel of his own killing edge was pressed against his neck. He couldn't see his captor's face, but he knew instinctively who it was before the man even spoke. There wasn't anyone else who could get his heart beating so fast when in near proximity in the whole camp (Jaffar had turned out to be fairly nice, albeit incredibly antisocial, and Karel, he trusted with his life and sword).
"M-Matthew, wha-what are you…", Guy stuttered, and flinched at how his voice cracked. Couldn't believe that it still would crack after so much time.
Matthew pressed himself close, so close that Guy could feel the firm muscles of the other man's stomach flex with every movement he made. He whispered, "I haven't seen you around for awhile Guy, I thought I'd say hi."
The warmth of the assassin's breath against his ear, as well as the man's proximity, made the swordmaster flush in discomfort. From fear or something else, he didn't know, and would rather not think about. In reflex, Guy tried to move away, and the sting of the blade at his throat cutting into flesh reminded him that oh yeah, he was stuck.
"I-I was training." He said, "I wanted to become stronger." The 'to be on par with you' was left unsaid.
"Do you know", Matthew toyed a bit with the sword, "what I would do", he moved it back a few inches, "if I had lost you too?" And he sliced, so quick, and so precisely, that Guy could feel the blade humming against his skin as his clothes were ripped.
Then as quickly as he had appeared, Matthew was gone again, leaving the killing edge discarded on the floor.
Guy hesitantly picked it up, both confused, and terrified, and suddenly realized that no, Matthew hadn't left him alone yet. The silence was heavy with tension, and more than abnormal. This was a fight he couldn't afford to lose, possibly at the cost of his life.
"Did you really go off to train."
Instinctively, Guy spun around, swinging his sword up in time to parry a slim sword, then using the momentum to push himself backwards, avoiding the assassin's second hit. Never breaking rhythm, Matthew struck again and again, as if aiming to kill. Every movement was precise, every shot meant to be critical. Only his own expertise in battle saved Guy from becoming yet another one of the assassin's victims.
He, in turn, managed to pull his own offensive maneuvers between strikes, meant to disable, but not kill. He didn't want to hurt the blond man, who had come to be one of his closest friends in their mismatched troupe of brigands.
They fought on equal footing for an what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only actually three hours, until finally Guy saw an advantage, and in the next moment had Matthew pinned by sword on the ground before him. The assassin wasn't built for extended battles, and so had at last, made a mistake that cost him the match. Dimly, Guy was sorry for the trouble they'd be causing the healers later, but for now, he was beyond caring.
Matthew said nothing, and only stared up at him with half lidded eyes, breathing heavily, and bleeding from a rather severe wound in his left forearm. His weapon lay discarded a few feet off. Guy stared back, dripping blood and sweat, from several minor cuts.
They stayed like that for a long moment, until Guy broke the reverie by looking away and sheathing his killing edge.
With a suddenly renewed courage, the swordsmaster looked back at the blond man he had finally bettered, and asked, "What do you want from me Matthew?"
A pair of brilliant sapphire blue eyes closed, as if at peace, but the body it belonged to was clearly still tense, and ready to kill or flee at a moments notice.
"Matthew", Guy repeated, "What do you want from me."
The assassin looked at him once more, tired, resigned, and in pain.
"Don't make me answer that." He sighed. "Please, Guy."
"No. I want an answer. For your sake, as well as mine." He paused. "What. Do you want from me." And he was proud that his voice didn't waver.
Matthew sat up, and looked at some point beyond Guy for what seemed like forever. Feeling rather awkward, but knowing that he needed to be here, needed to hear this, Guy stood his ground, and watched the assassin.
Finally, Matthew answered, emotionlessly and so quietly Guy could barely hear him.
"I wanted you to stay with me."
Then he dragged himself upright, and turned to walk away, back in the direction of camp.
"Wait!"
Matthew visibly flinched, but stopped without turning around.
Guy walked towards him until he was standing directly behind him, and hugged him. Matthew responded by going stiff instantly, but slowly relaxed into the embrace. He was crying, finally, for Leila, and for the overwhelming emotions he'd isolated since her death.
For the first time, in a long time, both of them were finally at ease with each other.
Fin.
Author's note: I seem to have problems working passion into my works, should work on that. Feedback appreciated, as always!