Wow, I can't believe I got this done so quickly. Hope it's still good. Thanks for all of you reviews, but now I feel like a bad person for killing Zero. Promise he'll be alive in my next story with him. Since this I an explanation chapter, there isn't a whole lot going on, but I hope it at least makes things make more sense for you. By the way, I'm starting out in Zero's pov here, but it switches back to Daiba. Sorry if there are any mistakes. I hope you enjoy it.


I would have bet money that the kid kept a constant scowl on his face. I'd never seen anyone look so angry in their sleep. I almost felt bad that the doctor had knocked him out again for talking to me, but I had tried to warn him. Besides, sleep wasn't harming him in any way.

My ears perked up to the sounds of talking in the adjacent room. Standing from the bed I had been sitting on, I walked to the other side of the room. Each step was a test as I waited for the inevitable snag to catch me. I managed to get to the door between the two rooms before I was forced to stop. I couldn't go any further, not because of the wall or the door being closed – I could have easily passed through those if I had wanted to – but because the kid was the anchor that held me down into reality and the chain between us only stretched so far.

I leaned back against the door and listened. Though it was muffled by the wall, it was nice to hear a conversation between two people that weren't about to be killed for the entertainment of a lunatic. It had been a long time since I had heard it.

"He was talking to himself?"

Hearing Harlock's voice brought a smile to my face. No one else could have said something like that without any emotion in his voice.

"He said he was talking to someone next to him. I scanned his brain activity again, but everything checks out fine. My assumption would be that his mind is extremely stressed from what happened. Given some time to rest, he'll probably be alright."

"But, Doctor, what did happen?"

Silence cut down like a blade.

"I'm afraid we have to wait for him to tell us that," the doctor said at length. "But don't try to pressure it out of him if it's something that it really stresses him to think about. He obviously doesn't need to be in any more distress than he already is."

"Yeah good luck getting anything that makes sense out of him," I said. I had gotten into the habit of talking to myself long ago. It made my empty world less quiet.

This time, though, a snarling voice answered me. "Hell, are you still here?" it slurred.

I glanced up. The kid was up and glaring at me through foggy eyes. The drug was still in his system, and I doubted he was thinking clearly, but he'd lowered his voice at least.

"Sorry, kid, but it looks like you're going to be stuck with me for a while," I said, offering him a smile.

"Stop that," he growled.

"What?" I asked, my smile fading.

"M'not a kid," he murmured. His eyelids were drooping again.

"What are you, sixteen?"

"Fifteen," he corrected tiredly.

"Then you are most definitely a kid." I added another mental note to my list of things to scold Harlock for if I ever get the chance.

The kid looked like he was about to send an angry retort my way, but sleep overtook him again.

I frowned as I wondered how old he might have been when I was alive. I had lost track of the years such a long time ago, and I wasn't so sure I wanted to know how long it really had been.


My eyelids felt impossibly heavy as I attempted to raise them. What the hell had the doctor given me? I registered the sound of a soft whistling to my right. The song was simple and pretty, but it was also a bit sad – haunting almost.

Finally, I managed to drag my eyelids open, but I found it difficult to not close them again. Why did the infirmary have to be so bright? The sharp white of the room stabbed at my head, and I winced against it.

The whistling beside me continued, and I rolled my head to the side to see where it was coming from.

My expression sank into a scowl. It was that same guy from before. I thought I remembered him telling me his name, but I couldn't recall it. He was lying on the bed next to me with his fingers laced behind his head. One foot rested on his other leg's bent knee and swayed to the tune of the song. He was staring off into space as he continued to whistle, seeming to not notice that I was awake.

I was considering if I should interrogate him or pretend to be asleep again so he wouldn't bother me, when I noticed something off about the side of his head. There was a small black spot on his temple about the width of my thumb. No, not a spot, I realized – a hole.

I sat up suddenly, a horrified expression etched across my face, but when I opened my mouth to speak, I found myself unable to say anything.

The whistling cut of as he glanced over toward me. "Oh, kid, you're- are you alright?" he asked, sounding a bit concerned and very confused.

I tried to form a coherent sentence. It didn't work. "You- you're- how- what?"

"Uh, I'm sorry?" He looked as confused as I felt.

Finally, I gave up on talking. Instead, I lifted a hand up to point at the side of his head which was mostly turned away from me.

"Hmm?" He brought his hand up to place against his temple. As he realized what had me panicking, he laughed. "Oh, yeah. Well, when I died, the scars I got when I was alive stayed with me," he said as though it were a perfectly normal, even obvious, thing to say. "This hole goes clear through my head, actually." He smiled and turned so I could see the hole on the other side. It was slightly smaller than the other.

It was the entrance point, I realized. The first side I saw was where the bullet had exited. So, he had been shot in the head from close range, judging by the size of the wounds.

Wait, that's just absurd. There was no way I was actually talking to someone who'd died. It must have been some sort of trick.

I opened my mouth to tell him off, but he silenced me.

"Unless you feel like going back to sleep, I suggest you be quiet. It looks like you have visitors."

I turned to face the door, and it opened moments later. The captain stood in the doorway with the doctor slightly behind him. He stayed there for a moment, the doctor saying something to him that I couldn't make out.

The man at my back breathed another laugh. "The doctor doesn't want the captain stressing you out because he's afraid you're going crazy," he said. I could hear his smile in his words. My lip witched toward a scowl, but I kept myself from saying anything to him. I didn't want anyone thinking I was insane, even if I was. I was beginning to doubt myself.

The captain nodded down at the doctor, who turned and walked away as the captain strode up to the side of my bed. I tried to keep my eyes on his. I'd always found it challenging. He seemed to be able to see through me and any lie I would try to tell. His face was stoic as always, and his voice didn't betray any emotions. "How are feeling, Daiba?"

I imagined the question he was actually asking was more along the lines of "So, been hearing any voices in your head recently?"

"I'm fine," I said, hoping my voice sounded even.

"Daiba, I need to know what happened on that ship after we got separated." He always did get straight to the point.

"Uh, well." My tongue seemed to be fighting against me, and my gaze shot away from his. "I'm not too sure, actually."

"You can tell him about me," the ghost said behind me. "It would actually be alright."

Oh, yeah right. Because just straight up telling the captain I was insane was obviously what I wanted to do.

"What all can you tell me?" Harlock asked.

"Well..." My mind raced to pick out the best explanation that wouldn't sound too insane. "When the lights flickered off, you disappeared, and then the walls started seeping blood and there were these footsteps." I wasn't sure I was succeeding. A frown sank onto my face as I paused, unsure of what to tell him.

"Do you remember meeting a masked man?" he asked.

I glanced up to see his expression, but there was still no change.

"Yeah." I told him about the room, the man in white, and being told to kill him. I left out what he didn't need to hear like the nicknames and the second voice. For once, the ghost stayed quiet throughout the whole thing. When I got to the part where I had been standing next to the masked man, I stopped. Harlock's expression still hadn't changed, and I bowed my head to hide my face.

"I-I don't really remember what happened next," I said. It was sort of the truth, actually.

"You don't remember anything after that?" he asked as though he could sense my partial lie.

I shook my head.

"That man in the white mask is dead," he said with a slight frown to his voice. "You killed him."

My head shot up. "What? I-I don't…" But I couldn't think of what to say. My mouth felt dry as I tried to swallow. "How did I kill him?" I could remember the red. There had been so much red.

"You took his sword, and you stabbed him." The captain's brows were drawn together.

A voice sounded behind me. "Actually, you stabbed him about five times." I bit my tongue to keep from turning around to yell at him.

"I…I don't remember that," I whispered. My head sank back down.

A pressure settled on the top of my head. Glancing up between my bangs, I found the captain had placed his hand there. His eye was sharp with the determination he usually showed during a battle.

"It's alright, Daiba. We'll find out what happened. Let me know if you remember anything else. In the meantime, just get some rest." It was almost strange for the captain to be so nice. They must really have been worried about me getting stressed.

The pressure left my head, and the captain turned to leave.

"Hang on," I said. He stopped and turned back toward me. "You said back on that ship you would tell me what was going on when we were back on the Arcadia." I felt almost nervous about asking, but I figured I deserved to know.

"I had a run-in with that man before, years ago. He used a different tactic to lure us in that time, so I didn't realize this was him until it was too late. He killed a good comrade of mine then." A rare moment of genuine sorrow filled his face before he regained his usual mask.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I said, looking away again.

Harlock gave a curt nod before turning back to leave. I kept quiet until the door had closed behind him; then I whipped around to face what seemed to be becoming the source of all my problems.

He had been staring off in the direction of the door, smiling, but when he noticed my angered expression, his smile sobered and his brows shot up.

"Start explaining," I hissed.

He gave a sigh. "Where do you want me to start?"

"Why – no – how did I kill that guy?"

He sighed again. "Alright, I'm going to do the best I can here because I'm actually not too sure myself. Do you remember when I grabbed your wrist?"

I gave a curt nod. "And then I started seeing all those images." I frowned. I could still remember how much it had hurt.

"Images?" he echoed, eyes widening. "What did you see?"

"No, you have to finish your explanation first," I demanded.

"Fine then. After I grabbed your wrist, I don't know how, but suddenly I was looking through your eyes and controlling your movements. I guess I sort of took advantage of the situation. I suppose you could say you weren't really the one that killed that man, but it was your body that did it. You've got to understand, kid. I've been stuck with this guy for a long time, and I've wanted to kill him the entire time. I just didn't have any power to do anything."

"You've been stuck with him?"

"It's like I am with you now, but I suppose you wouldn't have noticed." He paused for a moment, thinking. "It's like there's a chain between us that holds us together. We can't get too far apart. If you tried to leave this room and I tried to stay here, I would end up being dragged along with you."

"Ugh, really? We're stuck together like that?"

"Unfortunately. Hey, I feel the same way, kid."

I ignored his statement. "So how far apart can we get?"

"I can get to the door," he said, gesturing toward it.

So, about twenty feet. Wonderful.

"But if you were connected with him the same way, why couldn't he hear you?"

He gave a deep sigh. "I don't know, kid. It's one of the many things I just don't know. You're actually the only person who's ever been able to hear me, so you're the anomaly here. I wonder if maybe it's because you're connected to Harlock, but then not even he can hear me…" He trailed off and shook his head as though it would help everything make sense.

"Did you know the captain?" I asked, registering the last part of what he had said.

He gave a tired, reminiscent smile. "Yeah, we knew each other. I sailed with him a long time ago. I guess you could have called us friends," he said, though he sounded unsure of himself. "He was there… when I died."

Something clicked in my head. "Wait, were you the comrade the captain was talking about? The one who was killed by the man in white?"

He nodded slowly, the pained smile still on his face.

"So, you were a pirate?"

His eyes flashed with something I couldn't place before his expression grew serious, almost angry.

"No. I was never a pirate, and you'd better remember that. I flew the flag of the Independent Fleet. I joined Harlock on his ship only as a means to find revenge. Don't you ever call me a pirate." It was the first time I had heard him sound so threatening since the moment I'd been sent to kill Harlock. His odd determination was so much like the captain's.

"What did you want revenge for?" I asked. While I didn't want to offend him again, I deserved some answers if I was going to put up with him.

"My crew," he said each word as though it hurt, and he stared at his hands balled tightly into fists. "My ship. Everything that was taken away from me."

I threw a hand to my head as one of the images flashed before me again, sending out fresh waves of pain. It was that explosion. It towered up like a skyscraper, and I could see it as though it were in front of me. I could almost feel the heat from it as its fire sped toward me-

"Kid? Are you alright?"

I gasped for breath and blinked a few times. The image and the pain were fading, but I still kept a hand to my head.

"I'm alright," I said as I tried to regain control of my breathing. "You aren't planning on doing that whole taking over my head thing again, are you?"

Sharp eyes flicked over me for a moment before he answered. "No, I'd prefer not to. After I killed that man, I could feel you sort of like you were behind me. I knew you were in pain somehow. It was like I had to let go of you. Then, I was like this again. I really am sorry about that, kid. I had no idea that would happen."

"I'll accept your apology on the grounds that you stop calling me kid."

"Nah, I'm used to it."

I practically growled in annoyance. "So I should call you Ghost then?

"No, you'll call me Zero." Oh, right Zero, that was what it was.

"And why should I?"

"Because, Kid, you may not have noticed yet, but I can come into contact with you." To prove his point he placed his pointer finger against my chest. I found myself surprised to feel pressure there. "And that means I can make things very difficult for you. I'm not asking much, so I suggest you do as I say on this."

"Fine," I hissed, "Zero. You know, you aren't matching up to the whole ghost profile so well here."

"You think so?" he asked, his eyes dulling. "Here, how's this?"

My mind went blank as it attempted to register the arm sticking through my chest. Something in my brain finally clicked that this was very, very wrong, and I scrambled backward. I watched as each piece of his arm moved back through my chest. Just as his hand was retracted, the hand I had placed behind me met empty air instead of the bed.

I was falling for just a moment when a hand caught my wrist and jerked me back up. I blinked a few times before my vision was able to swim back to normal. Zero was grinning at me, and at that moment I didn't care if he was dead – I was going to kill him somehow.

"So, what's the deal with getting rid of you?" I asked, trying to see if a glare would be enough to kill him permanently.

"So far, the only proven method has been death. Not my death obviously. Your death."

"Oh, come on," I groaned. "What's the whole deal with ghosts, again? You have something you didn't get done when you were alive that's keeping you from passing on, right? So, what is it?"

His eyes shot wide with shock. Slowly, he opened his mouth to speak, but I never gave him the chance.

"Wait, it was the whole revenge thing, right?" He just continued to stare at me, surprise written across his face. "Alright, so I'll just find out who blew up your ship and all that, and then you can pass on and leave me alone." I wasn't sure how I was planning on getting that done, but hey, it was worth a shot.

His expression wavered into a frown as he brought a hand up to the burn scar across his cheek. "I never told you that my ship blew up. How did you know that?"

It was my turn to look stunned. I had known because… because of that image. That was it. I wasn't sure how I had connected the two things, but I wasn't sure of a lot of things anymore.

"I think," I muttered, "that I saw some of your memories."

"What do you mean? What did you see?" I couldn't read his expression.

"When you were in control of my movements, it was like our minds were being crushed together. I think those images I saw were flashes of your memories."

"What did you see?" he repeated.

I frowned and placed my hand against my head again. Though I was afraid that trying to remember them again would bring back the pain, I clenched my eyes shut and tried to recall. "There's… a woman."

"What does she look like?"

"I'm not sure." It seemed the more I reached for the memories, the more they pulled away from my grasp. "She's holding a baby."

"Oh." His voice sounded sad, distant.

"Um… I can only get glimpses of everything else. There's snow and... and…" But it was all fading away. "There's the explosion. I can see that just fine," I told him as I lifted my eyes to meet his. The moment I looked at him, his firm stare broke from mine. He turned away, nodding slowly.

All at once, exhaustion hit me. I wasn't sure why, but I guessed it had something to do with all the memories crowding in my head. As I lay back down onto the bed, I felt like I had been in the room, on that bed for such a long time. I needed to get up, move around, do something, but not then. All I needed then was sleep.

"You feeling alright, kid?"

"Yeah, just tired."

He gave me a quick, worried glance. "Alright, then get some rest."

I had closed my eyes, but a thought struck me and I fought them open again. "Hey, Zero."

"What is it, kid?"

"Did the captain ever have his other eye when you knew him?"

He laughed. "Yeah, actually, he did. He was pretty cocky when he had depth perception too."

I felt myself smiling before I drifted back off to sleep.


So, how bad was it?