Disclaimer: I do not own Scryed.

Special Note: This fic is inspired by Tasogare no Hime's (you are tasogarenhime, on live journal, aren't you?) mini-plot bunnies that I stumbled onto on Livejournal. #14 made me laugh out loud, and since I'm not quite emotionally healthy, I immediately thought, "But how could I make this sad?" So, special thanks to Tasogare no Hime for inspiring my very first Scryed fic!

Losing Ground

"You should not see the desert simply as some faraway place of little rain. There are many forms of thirst." – William Langeweische

The Lost Ground was a barren place, and had been long before Ryuhou joined the ranks of the careworn vagabonds that tended to inhabit the more rural areas. In contrast, city was always moving, always alive, and one never felt alone even if they were merely tuning out the white noise of sirens and car horns, and children screaming with laughter in the streets outside.

Ryuhou never thought of himself as a particularly finicky person; he never complained about what was being served in the mess hall for dinner,

The image of Cougar flashed across his mind, covered in spaghetti sauce, noodles piled on top his head like a wig, as he apologized profusely to Elian for running into him. Elian took it in stride, by now used to Cougar and his penchant for moving far too quickly in areas of limited amounts of space.

Ryuhou never told Cougar about later watching Tachibana pick up a squished banana peel off the glaring white floor, with a barely concealed mischievous smirk on his face.

Maybe he should have.

or how restricting their uniforms felt sometimes, or even why the brass insisted on gender segregated sleeping quarters, as he'd accidentally overheard one soldier ranting about. Life didn't have to be complicated, if you didn't want it to be. So Ryuhou strived to appreciate the little things, like the blinking lights of fireworks through the blinds in his darkened room on holidays, or how Commander Zigmarl's secretary made sure that every photograph on her desk was angled towards her, so that no matter where she looked, she would be able to see her family's smiling faces.

Ryuhou never had any photographs on his desk,

He would never understand her need to have pointless knickknacks scattered all over her workspace. Toys, and gadgets, and other semi-sentimental shiny things that would be more at home in a child's playpen than a place of official military business. Except he never said anything to her about it, because even though he didn't understand her affinity for rubbish, she always made space for the picture of him that sat on the corner of her desk.

He wasn't smiling in the photo.

Maybe he – no. It hurts too much.

but HOLY members who frequented the Lost Ground were rarely relegated to safe, boring desk work anyway. The people of the Lost Ground, who he had once upon a time considered animals, were on the most part, very simple, and Ryuhou appreciated that.

They were also secretive. Nothing is safe, nothing is sacred in the Lost Ground, and people have to look out for themselves. Keeping secrets is just another way of managing control over your own life, a lesson he learned well in the service of HOLY. In a place like the Lost Ground, the disparity of wealth between the rich and the poor was a critical one, and for some, secrets were the only currency they had worth trading.

Ryuhou had grown accustomed to the whispers and suspicious looks from residents whenever he approached a village, half out of his mind from the heat, and lack of sustenance. The Lost Ground was a desert,

"Sunshine all the time makes a desert." He had told her once, after she insisted for the fourth time with a bright smile that he go outside and get some sun. He learned when he was young that life's inherent suffering was what made you strong, like a blade tempered in a blazing fire. She didn't understand that, and he considered that it was because of the nature of her Alter that she refused to contemplate how pain could be a positive thing for one to experience.

Now, he thinks, as he trudges through the desert, and remembers her smile, sand fiercely beating against his face in the wind, perhaps no sunshine at all makes a grave.

and in the desert, one must use all the resources they have in order to survive. The village folk usually formed a close knit group that tried their best to help each other out. Tiny interdependent communities pooling their resources to bring some hard fought security into their lives.

Sometimes the children of the villages would approach Ryuhou, maybe even try to ask him some questions, but most of the time they were frightened of him. The spectre of HOLY dragged behind him, clutching at his heels like a desperate condemned man. Then the adults would quietly pull the children away, hushing them as they pushed them into the nearest home, or behind a clothesline, or even behind themselves, as if shielding the child from the scarred mad man who had just entered their small town.

Ryuhou had made a reputation for himself as someone to be feared, and respected, and never, ever disregarded. He dedicated himself to enforcing his beliefs and the foundation of his organization onto the populace of the Lost Ground, and was the best in the recorded history of HOLY at what he did.

None of that mattered now. He wandered the desert searching for something he couldn't be sure existed anymore. Not for him, at least. A part of him, a part of him that he hated, a part of him that he knew that she would hate, whispered to him on the cold lonely nights in the wilderness - that maybe he didn't deserve to find it anyway. What a waste.

The city was a place of noise, and color, and life. Out here, in the desert of the Lost Ground, nothing warm, or soft, or vulnerable could survive. The harsh conditions of the environment saw to it that only things as hard and sharp and mean as the climate could prosper. The plant life was sparse, and it was rare to ever find any living animal, though quite common to find bones, bleached white under the unrelenting sun. Except one time, he had come upon, of all things, a cat,

"It's a kitten." She said, nuzzling her face against its tiny grey body.

"I know what it is. What is it doing here?" Ryuhou asked, standing in her bedroom doorway, his posture ramrod straight and making sure he didn't come into contact with anything.

"I found it when we were hunting that Alter the other day on the mountainside." She replied while gently moving to cradle the cat in her arms.

Ryuhou inspected the tiny being with his eyes as he watched her softly pet its little head with one hand and hold it to her chest with the other. It couldn't be very old, he observed, since its eyes were still a milky blue whenever it turned its trembling head his way. The mother was probably killed when that Alter used his ability to cause a landslide, leveling a small village at the base of the mountain. Native Alters were equal opportunity murderers, he surmised.

"Oh my gosh!" She suddenly squealed, "He's purring!" She exclaimed, looking up at Ryuhou and grinning with delight.

"You know that we aren't permitted to have pets on premises." He stated, quietly.

"Good thing you won't tell, huh?" She shot back, her eyes dancing with amusement.

"I thought cats that age were too young to purr." He said, disregarding her teasing, and instead choosing to take a step towards her and peer closer at the kitten.

"Do you wanna hold him?" She asked excitedly, stepping up to him and standing on her tip toes to put the cat in his arms.

"No, I don't think so." Ryuhou answered, too late. She painstakingly moved the kitten from her arms to his, and he quickly and carefully scooped up the cat, anxious about dropping him.

"Isn't he purring?" She asked eagerly, bending down slightly to watch the grey kitten at eye-level.

He felt a tiny rumbling vibration against his forearm emanating from the cat, but felt too awkward to pet it. "It appears so."

"Don't be afraid of him. You won't hurt him." She encouraged cheerily. "Pet him."

Ryuhou slowly moved one of his hands, and delicately shifted the kitten so that he had one hand free. With a tenderness that he wasn't aware he still possessed, he lightly stroked the kitten from his head to his tail, and swore that he felt the rumbling get stronger.

"See? He loves you!" She cooed, her face slightly flushed as she smiled blindingly up at him. "Awww!"

Slightly embarrassed, but even more nervous about the odd emotions trying to escape the pit of his gut, Ryuhou swiftly but carefully handed the kitten back to her, and cleared his throat.

He watched her snuggle the little thing with a fondness that he had come to associate with her generally affectionate personality for a few moments, before stepping back into the doorway.

"Are you going to keep it?" He asked, struggling to keep an authoritative tone out of his voice at the question.

She hesitated, and looked for a moment down at the purring ball of fur with a small, bittersweet smile.

"Probably not."

He didn't know why, but despite his knowledge of the rules, it made Ryuhou feel a pang of sadness.

all the way out here, in the middle of nowhere, with no shelter, no food, and no home to call its own. It was grey, and for a crazy moment, he considered that he had found a kindred spirit, lost, just like him, and aching for the same thing that he was.

He had tried to call out to it, but when it saw him it turned and ran away, and Ryuhou was alone again.

So he kept walking.

Author's Note: This is the saddest thing I've ever written, so please excuse any incohesiveness you may have read; this ain't my usual style. Blame Virginia Wolfe. It takes place after the series, when Ryuhou appears to be wandering around the Lost Ground with long hair. I'm not sure what else to say. Well, thanks for reading, and please review!