(A/N) Thanks for everyone who is still reading. I appreciate it.

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And the conclusion to Sickness:


Sickness (Part 2 of 2)


For 'The Great Kharlan War' context and preface, see Part 1.


"Let go of me," Kratos' voice was soft and hoarse, but Yuan felt a little relieved. At least the human was back down to-

"Typhon, let go." The halfling froze.

.

.

Kratos thought he was his dead brother.

.

.

It took a moment for the Sylvaranti to compose himself.

.

"You're sick, it's Yuan." He felt as if he was talking to a child, but Kratos was unseeing and stuck somewhere between his past and the present. His usually sharp eyes were glazed over and unfocused. So many memories that Yuan burned to know about, were flashing behind those orbs, but the halfling swallowed his inquiries. He didn't want to learn about them like this.

It was wrong.

So while Kratos mumbled apologies to his dead father and his dead brothers and his sister, Yuan did his best not to listen. He remembered what seemed like ages ago, how furious he had been when the Cruxis Crystal incident first came to light. Their fight had taught him much about privacy, and he wasn't about to cross the line this time. This was not the moment to wonder why Kratos connected him with a deceased sibling, or why Kratos' guilt extended to even them. This was the moment to bring the sanity back and allow his friend to build his front back up and save face.

Kratos wouldn't want sympathy, but Yuan couldn't help it. The part of Kratos that would want to save face was a mess right now, and would he even remember if Yuan were to express it? It was only because he respected the swordsman so that he even hesitated—but the contortion of the human's face into one of pain destroyed that hesitation in a flash. The halfling cradled the Tethe'allan's shoulders, gently lowering him to lie flat in the grass.

At the cool touch, Kratos hissed and his eyes cleared a little. His brow creased in confusion.

"Typhon?" He asked again. And Yuan tried not to look as if the hope-veiled guardedness in the name broke his heart.

"No, it's Yuan."

Kratos' breath hitched and a slow exhale brought an even deeper furrow to his expression. There was a small spark of recognition behind the glassy look and the swordsman mumbled something incoherent. Disappointment shuddered through his frame and the Sylvaranti could only grimace in empathy.

"—'orry." He slurred faintly, "It's the eyes." He continued on as if it made perfect sense, "You have the same eyes."

And despite the dash of clarity in a sea of haze, Kratos averted his gaze and tried to pull himself back to his feet. Yuan kept him down with less force than the task should have required.

"Just stay here." He murmured, the sense of being tender completely foreign. But Kratos still twisted into a sitting position once more, using Yuan's shoulder to pull himself up. He was mumbling nonsense again and there was darkness in his eyes.

"What did you mean?" Yuan said, hoping that his friend was lucid enough to be distracted by the question. It was as if Kratos' confusion was only intensified with this (but gratefully, Yuan noticed the guilt abate).

"By what?"

"Did Typhon have blue eyes?" Admittedly, he should have picked a better distraction than one that could stir up traumatic memories. Kratos gave him a strange look, (as if of all the ridiculous things that had come up, Yuan was the one speaking gibberish).

"No."

And Yuan was so thoroughly befuddled by this that he let the matter drop.


Kratos' journey back to full health was a painstaking one, but he gradually gained coherency as Martel was able to bring the fever down. Yuan did what he could to get the swordsman back on his feet, and as soon as Kratos was actually capable of standing, he was hell-bent on resuming their travel plans.

And thus, three days later, a slightly-less-sickly human and slightly-more-at-ease half-elf trailed Martel and Mithos on the road again. Yuan had kept a careful watch on his companion, and though there were signs of exhaustion, there were none of imminent collapse.

Yuan's relief was spoiled with the itch of curiosity.

"There was a moment—," He did his best to approach the frustrating matter tentatively, "—back there, where you…"

Would it be like rubbing salt in the wound? He let the sentence trail off into nothing instead, watching Kratos carefully to see how he might tread.

"I take back whatever I may have said." Kratos' reply was swift.

The mere mention of the sickness had him stiffening his posture and swiping a hand through his hair (the closest thing to sheepish the man might ever be).

"I don't believe I was in my right mind."

.

However, the conversation was much less strained than the halfling expected it to be, so he braved on.

"Actually, you confused me a bit."

Kratos raised an eyebrow to elicit elaboration.

.

"You called me Typhon."

.

.

The human actually stopped walking for a few seconds, eyes a little wider than usual, but otherwise nothing amiss.

"I did what?"

"You said we had 'the same eyes' or something like that." Now that did strike some kind of chord in the swordsman, because his face tipped down and a fringe of auburn shadowed his eyes.

"Hn. I see." He deadpanned, "I apologize for confusing you."

And he started walking again.

.

Now, ignoring that that was almost the second apology he had received from the man just today, Yuan was flustered. He snagged the sleeve of Kratos' tunic as he passed to keep him in place.

"You don't get to walk off like that! I don't want an apology—I just want to know why."

Though reluctant, the Tethe'allan didn't have the stubborn look about him that he usually did. He sighed (as did more and more often lately) and pinched the bridge of his nose.

.

"It's stupid, Yuan. Leave it be."

.

Ah. So Kratos may not remember this circumstance, but thoughts like them had crossed his mind before.

And it was private. Now, Yuan could not leave it be.

"C'mon. Out with it." He checked his smile, because having a reticent Kratos was so much more fun than a sick one.

.

"It's nothing."

"Kratos."

.

.

"They're the same color." Kratos tried, and Yuan simply smiled and inclined his head.

"Bullshit."

Burnet met cerulean as their gazes locked. Perhaps Kratos was still recovering, because Yuan thought that he actually won this staring contest.

.

"You just… remind me of him."

.

Apparently, Yuan's pestering had done the trick, because Kratos continued slowly.

"Aether was charismatic. He was always doing the right thing—the noble thing, and he was always smiling about it. I think," the words were coming quicker and more naturally now, "—out of all of us, he would have made the best King." The touch of nostalgia made Yuan feel instantly guilty for pushing the human so hard. The teasing struck a sour note that nearly hurt to hear.

"Thetis was more like me. He kept to himself. He didn't look for attention, and he didn't share much—but I always got the impression that he knew what he was doing. He was confident."

And when Kratos spoke, his voice was softer and sadder, and fond with their memory.

"But Typhon—he was the oldest. He was always up to something, laughing at what wasn't funny and pestering Nyx at every waking moment. He'd take the time to practice swordsmanship with the younger kids and I can't remember a single moment when he was ever angry with us."

.

"We were very—"

The flow of words staggered to a halt.

"—different."

.

"But we got on really well."

.

And damn, if Yuan didn't feel like a terrible friend for forcing that out of the human.

.

"Oh."

.

(And it wasn't enough, but Yuan knew there was nothing he could say to make it right.)

.

What that had to do with his eyes, though, Yuan couldn't be sure. And it was as if Kratos could tell exactly what he was thinking because he completely averted his gaze and muttered lowly,

.

"You look at me the same way he did."

.

He could definitely tell that Kratos was feeling discomfort—embarrassment even—from sharing so much (because touchy-feeling emotions evidently were not things he knew how to handle). Yuan couldn't keep the smile from his face then, either, because truly—the sentiment was saccharine in a way Kratos just wasn't.

But the swordsman had been thinking it all along.

So Yuan didn't tease (or else the Tethe'allan would never share again), but instead put a hand on the younger man's shoulder.

Kratos didn't shake it off for once (though he never acknowledged it either), and Yuan's grin widened.

.

Because, really, there were worse things than reminding your best friend of his older brother.

.

But Yuan was Yuan and thus the urge to tease was simply overwhelming.

"You know, I've always wanted a kid-brother." He stated matter-of-factly.

Kratos wasted no time roughly shoving Yuan's arm off his shoulder.

.

"Hn." The disgruntled response.

.

.

"It's good to have you back."

.

It was quietly spoken, but that was enough.


(A/N) Hope you all enjoyed the short piece. Apologies for the grotesque amount of feels in a simple H/C excerpt.

Next up: The Hima Incident - a short story staged during the five year gap in Sylvarant, and alluded to in Chapter 23 of TGKW. Essentially, an excuse to take Kratos out of his element again.

Thanks for reading. Toss me a review!