Alright, this is the last part. ^^ I'm very grateful for the reviews, faves and alerts this story has gotten, and I hope this last chapter doesn't disappoint. I ended up keeping about 4 pages worth of text from the original draft so this actually took less time than I thought it would...That's good I guess, since I'm eager to get back to the other story I'm writing. ^^"

Please enjoy the final chapter of "Blind."


Part 4: -Zephyr-

Blindness sucked. There was really no other word Zephyr could think of to describe his predicament. It made even the most familiar area, an unknown labyrinth, and after his third time tripping over the table in his room, Zephyr found himself unable to trust even the clearest image in his head. Had his room always consisted only of a bed and a small table and chair? He wasn't so sure anymore. He didn't dare leave his room by himself in fear of falling over the railing, through the sunroof (despite Leanne's assurance that it was closed), or down the stairs. Pain didn't scare him. If he could somehow break his wrist or ankle or something in the fall, he'd at least have a welcome distraction from the burning itch on his face, but he didn't have that kind of luck. No; the only damage Zephyr could do himself in his blind clumsiness would be bruising his pride. The repercussions of that were not worth the effort.

It made every sound louder and every smell sharper. The mechanized turning of the gears, a sound that every child in Basel learned to ignore early on, was suddenly so loud and pronounced that Zephyr began to actually really notice them. He never knew that the gears in Ebel were slower and lower in pitch than the ones in Cranktown…he never particularly cared either. The sound was rhythmic, and were it its usual background volume, Zephyr could have found it somewhat soothing. But as it were, the grinding was so loud and irritating that it gave him a headache.

A headache that wasn't helped by the pain caused by the burns around his eyes. Every now and then, Zephyr found his hand reaching for the injury, eager to sooth it even a little by rubbing against the bandages, despite the futility of the act. And every time his hand made its attempt, a soft warm hand yanked it away.

"Stop it," Leanne warned authoritatively. She was lucky. Zephyr would have snapped at anyone else at best, and twisted their arm at worst for touching him. He didn't like it when he could see it coming; he despised it when he couldn't. But he couldn't react violently to Leanne. With her, he just freed his arm and crossed his arms before retreating further into the side of the couch.

He could feel Leanne's pitying eyes on him once again, further worsening his mood. Why did it have to be her stuck in the house with him? Zephyr knew the answer to that well enough, but it didn't mean he accepted it. Vashyron would have just tied his arms behind his back and left him to rot in his room. Leanne smacked Zephyr for suggesting it. No, she insisted he come down to the living room, and get comfortable on the couch; maybe listen to the TV or radio. "Everything's a short distance away," she explained, "You wont have far to walk if you want to go to the bathroom or kitchen." He didn't have the energy to complain then. Hardly getting any sleep from the noise and the pain, and then having to endure the doctor's prodding and Pater's well meant visit left him with no desire to say or do anything. (Though he did find himself wondering how Pater knew about his injury…was there a camera in the house?)

Leanne seemed to think his reticence was sulking. She spent most of the day hovering over him, trying to keep him sufficiently entertained and distracted from the pain. The painkiller Vashyron left him wore off hours ago and Leanne didn't know where to get another. Zephyr wasn't surprised. Vashyron was a man who kept loaded guns, grenades and unstable teenagers in his house. The last thing he needed was easily accessible illegally obtained prescription drugs (courtesy of a "friend" in the black market). Zephyr wasn't even sure what Vashyron did with the cold medicine they had retrieved that one time. There had been plenty left over in the end, and it seemed to just disappear (not that Zephyr had given it any thought before either).

Maybe it was the absence of the painkiller that was making Zephyr so irritable. He knew he was never not irritable, but he never felt so close to lashing out at Leanne before. At Vashyron: sure, he was the designated punching bag; at someone who looked at him funny: if Vashyron didn't diffuse the situation in time, easily. At Leanne…Zephyr was well aware that he lacked a working brain to mouth filter. He generally said what he felt, regardless of circumstances. Some people were okay with that: Pater liked him for his honesty, brutal and thoughtless as it was. Some…weren't: Vashyron still refused to let him talk in front of clients, especially the ones in Chandelier (and he still wasn't allowed to badmouth them behind their backs either).

With Leanne though…with her, he didn't want to be his usual crude and juvenile self. He could tease her and mock her in good fun, but the thought of unleashing his temper at her terrified him. She didn't know and didn't need to know just who her savior was. Zephyr needed her to continue being the kind naïve dependent girl he saved that Christmas night. Around her he could act like the innocent boy he once might have been long, long ago. He couldn't bear to open his mouth and poison her with his venomous tongue and destroy the only light left for him.

…But if she continued to hover over him like a nurse caring for an invalid, they were really going to have a problem.

Despite his blindness, and slight clumsiness, he was still capable of taking care of himself. What he got was Leanne literally babysitting him and nervously offering to help with everything from eating to walking. The worst part was that the pitying stare. Zephyr didn't need to see to know it was there. He could feel it, making him nervous and angry.

"Stop staring at me," he hissed.

"How bad is the pain right now?" Leanne voice was dripping with concern, "If it's really that bad, I could go out and get something."

"I'm fine. Just leave me alone." Leanne made a small squeaking sound as if debating whether or not to say anything else, and ultimately choosing not to. She had been like that all day.

Now there's someone who could stand to relax her brain to mouth filter, Zephyr thought sarcastically, You want to say something. Stop stalling and say it. He tried to pry it out of her earlier, which only made her defensively deny everything. It didn't make her stop occasionally "um"ing and try starting up conversations only to change her mind.

When he was sure that her eyes were off of him at last, he found himself relaxing just a little. It wouldn't last long, since history would just repeat again when he tried to pick at his bandages, but it was still a nice reprieve. Surely there was something Leanne could occupy herself with. He wouldn't even care if she decided to watch some boring melodrama at this point.

"Vashyron's late," Leanne suddenly broke the silence. She had said it to herself with a touch of irritation, but Zephyr couldn't help interjecting,

"Clean-up takes a long time. And Le Chit-Chat Noir is on the way back."

"Don't." He heard Leanne stand up and walk towards the front door. She probably wasn't going anywhere—if she could bear to leave Zephyr alone she would have been out there helping Vashyron clean up the mess they made.

"You wanted to know why he's late; I gave you an ans—ow." She had walked up behind him and lightly smacked his head. It wasn't like the hard "Are you an idiot?"-smack she gave him in the morning. It was just her open palm gently connecting with the back of his head. It went against her principles to attack an injured man…she apologized profusely for the first smack too.

"Just stop it." There was that wistful tone that always seemed to appear when their conversation turned to Vashyron. Zephyr was pleasantly surprised when Leanne didn't nag him over his behavior the previous night. He didn't really regret his words…maybe the way he said, but he didn't say anything that wasn't true…maybe. If Vashyron was upset with him he wasn't showing it. Their brief interaction that morning didn't have a touch of tension.

"Even if he stops by the bar, it's not like he hasn't earned it. He's helping with the clean-up for free."

"He agreed to it."

"Because the alternative was a severely docked paycheck for our failure."

"And that alternative doesn't sound so bad."

"No it doesn't," Leanne agreed icily, "except doctor's fees, especially when their impromptu early morning house calls, aren't cheap." Zephyr frowned. No one told Vashyron to make it a house call. It turned out to be pointless either way. All the doctor did was praise Vashyron's bandage work, confirm that the blindness would clear up in another day or so, and bandage the unattended cut on his arm. He wasn't as rough as Vashyron had been when changing the bandages, but his touch was unfamiliar and unpleasant.

"And don't start saying we shouldn't have bothered; it was necessary and you know it." She sat down next to him again. "You didn't see how relieved Vashyron and I were."

"You mean, how relieved you were."

"No, I don't."

It was at this point that Zephyr decided that their conversation was going to head into an uncomfortable territory. "I'm going to bed," he announced, getting up and carefully making his way for the stairs. Leanne was right behind him. "I can manage by myself," he told her, but didn't protest her following him all the way to his room, flicking the light on when she entered. She mostly stood to the side as Zephyr felt his way around, wincing slightly as he somehow managed to walk into his table for the fourth time that day.

"You'd think you had a better grasp of your own room's layout," she mused innocently when he finally found his bed.

"I'm not used to such darkness," he retorted, "I have good night vision, remember."

"Yes, yes, Mister Good-in-the-Dark, who could forget," she paused, "But there's hardly anything in here for you to trip over in the first place. Don't you own anything besides your scriptures?" He immediately thought of her room with its large wardrobe and colorful posters along the wall. Her room actually looked lived in.

"I like it this way." Zephyr leaned again the wall. The gears were louder now, further thinning his patience. Leanne didn't press the subject any more, fortunately.

"If you're going to sleep, I should probably change your bandages first."

Zephyr cringed. "Do you even know how?"

"Yes! Vashyron gave me a crash course last night" she insisted, despite not sounding too confident herself, "He told me to change them for you if he wasn't around. I practiced on him, so I should be fine." Well there was a "fun" mental image; Vashyron on a chair, and Leanne blinding him. There was a word that Vashyron liked to use for these situations…I think it starts with "k".

While Leanne went downstairs for the first aid kit, Zephyr began unwinding the bandages around his head. He bit his lip to avoid groaning as his injury was exposed to the air, and slowly opened his eyes. He… had to check.

Darkness. Not even shadows. Zephyr should have expected it, but disappointment still set in. It must have really showed on his face, for Leanne's first word upon re-entering was a sad quiet, "Sorry." She knew right away.

"Just hurry up," he grumbled. Leanne placed the first aid kit down on the bed and set to work.

Zephyr did trust Leanne to know what she was doing; she was a fast learner after all. However, her touch sent him recoiling. She tried to be gentle; her hand barely touched him as she covered the burns with cooling salve, but the area was too sensitive to take much abuse. Zephyr suddenly wished it were Vashyron doing it instead. When he did it, he knew exactly what he was doing. He was a lot more forceful, but he knew just how much cream to put on so that he only had to trace the area once and have it all evened out (and considering he could do it while seething, was really impressive). Leanne…didn't. It took her a while to smooth out the cooling salve, and that required her to continuously trace certain areas. Zephyr kept flinching, and she kept apologizing and jumping back. But Leanne's soft touch was still preferable to the doctor's cold unfamiliar hands.

She was much better at wrapping the bandage. It sat a little looser than the previous one; loose enough to be unintentionally shifted in sleep, but Zephyr decided it was better not to complain. She'd probably have to start over, if he did.

"There," she let out a deep breath when she finally finished, "Now make sure you don't touch it."

"I won't."

"I mean it."

"Me too. Thanks."

"Oh uh, you're welcome, I guess." Leanne was probably blushing and smiling at him. Zephyr made a note to thank her again after his sight returned, so that he could witness it. It was funny how much he missed it, even though he didn't dedicate poetry to it the way Pater did.

"I guess, I'll leave you to sleep then. Good night."

"Night Leanne," he replied, carefully sliding under his blanket.

"Good night," she repeated and walked a few steps before stopping, "Listen, Zephyr, Vashyron told me not to say anything to you but, he really is hurt." Huh? Zephyr looked up. "What you said last night…he knows you didn't mean it, but it's not easy for him to just pretend it didn't happen." She paused, as if she were unsure if she should continue, but Zephyr wasn't letting her off anymore.

"What? Just go ahead and say it already."

"F-fine. You and Vashyron may have some sort of bond that transcends ordinary friendship, but you can't just expect it to shine forever. It's…like Basel. It's built to last, but it still needs to be maintained or it'll break down. So make sure you do that." She didn't wait to hear Zephyr's response. She just shut the door quietly and ran off, leaving Zephyr with a lot to think about.

She had her point, strange as her metaphor was, but there was one thing she got wrong. He and Vashyron weren't "friends." They were partners, linked by a crime against God. They stuck together because there was no one else who understood or accepted what they witnessed.

And yet, Zephyr couldn't remember at what point he started thinking of Vashyron as more than his parole officer. At some point he had grown used to being in the ex-soldier's company and had begun to care about his opinion. It was just him getting used to the man's presence either; he actually cared. Their fights did bother him. He didn't regret most of his more reckless actions, but he did hate the disappointment in Vashyron's eyes every time he messed up. Was that why he let himself lose it yesterday? He only heard anger, so he reacted with anger. He just wanted Vashyron to shut up and feel bad, and he succeeded.

Zephyr decided he preferred messing up instead.

Sleep did not come easily to Zephyr, despite his exhaustion. The gears were turning, his eyes were itching, and Leanne's strange analogy crammed his brain with more thought than he was used to dealing with on a good day. It all made his head hurt. Was this how Vashyron felt yesterday?

Zephyr sighed. Leanne's right. I really went too far last night.

If Vashyron really was that upset with him, he probably wouldn't willingly check in on him if he was awake. They both knew each other well enough to stay away during their fights. But if Zephyr was asleep, and Leanne played her cards right (as Zephyr suspected she would)…

Zephyr had long ago mastered the art of fake sleep, well enough to fool Vashyron, who was trained to catch that sort of thing. His injury ironically made things easier since the slow even breaths required to fool the professional were actually helpful in keeping Zephyr's mind off the itching. Eventually he heard the front door open. Leanne, who had turned on the TV after leaving him to sleep, had instantly engaged Vashyron in some conversation though Zephyr could only make out some muffled words. They were purposely keeping their voices low.

He perked up when he heard heavy steps make their way up the stairs and into his room. So Leanne did act as he'd predicted. He heard Vashyron walk in and stop in front of him for a few moments. Zephyr didn't drop his act though until after he heard Vashyron start walking away.

"Vashyron." He said simply, causing the man to stop.

"Still awake? What's wrong?" Vashyron sounded nervous, like a kid at the seminary who had been caught outside the sleeproom after hours.

"Can you fix the bandage? It's loose." That hadn't been what he wanted to say at all, but it kept Vashyron from leaving. Vashyron approached as Zephyr sat up. He sat down at the edge of the bed and traced the side of the bandage, shifting it slightly.

"Damn, I really thought Leanne had gotten the hang of it. She was much better in our practice session."

"Her test subject didn't flinch at every touch."

"Fair enough," Vashyron sighed, "I can't just fix it though; I'm going to need to redo it, and that means reapplying the cream."

"Do it." Inwardly Zephyr cringed at the idea of going through that again, but he wasn't going to complain. "Please?"

"Did you just…yeah, sure. Hang tight; I'll go get the stuff." Vashyron practically tripped over himself as he got up, but his gait was even. Vashyron didn't loose his composure that easily…when not around buxom women anyway.

He came back fairly quickly, turning on the light as he re-entered, in time for Zephyr to slide the old bandage right off. "Way too loose," Vashyron observed. He didn't start right away though. Instead he pinned down both of Zephyr's wrists to the bed with one hand.

"What are you doing?" Zephyr exclaimed alarmed. This was a bad idea. Where was Leanne?

"I'll need to check your eyes before we start."

"Didn't Leanne tell you? I still can't see anything."

"Just open your eyes and let me see."

Zephyr reluctantly did so, biting his lip at the wave of pain that shot off his face when he did. To his surprise, the blackness around him briefly turned to a very dark grey for a moment. When it went back to black though, he closed his eyes, fighting against Vashyron's grip as he tried to press his hands against the pain. He was met with a cold wet cloth for his trouble, though that arguably felt even better. Vashyron let go his wrists shortly after.

"Good news, there was some dilation just now. Did anything look different to you?"

"Yeah, I think I saw a shadow," Zephyr tried to hold back the excitement in his voice, "No I'm sure I saw it." He removed the cloth and forced his eyes open again. Yes there was a shadow...Zephyr was sure it was supposed to be Vashyron he was seeing but it was just a dark blob against a darker background. But it was still something!

Vashyron quickly burst his bubble though. "Alright, don't strain yourself, now. I'm going to apply the cooling salve so I'll need both hands and some cooperation. Clutch your pillow if you want, but keep your limbs out of my way."

"I can handle it. Just hurry up." Vashyron cupped Zephyr's chin with one hand to keep his head steady, while the other hand quickly rubbed on the balm. Like Zephyr thought, it was much faster when Vashyron did it. His right hand kept Zephyr from ducking while his left ran across Zephyr's eyes leaving a cold sting in its wake. "You're a lot more cooperative tonight," Vashyron remarked when he was done.

"I'm a lot saner too." Zephyr never joked about his sanity, but they were both treading on thin lines around each other tonight weren't they?

"Good to know; I'll sleep with both eyes closed then." He started wrapping the bandage, tighter than Leanne's work, but not too tight, to avoid applying pressure to the eye. "How this?" he asked after two wraps around.

"Better."

"Okay." He continued wrapping in silence. When he was done he tested it by trying to shift it. It didn't move. "That should do for the night. Will that be all then?" He was eager to leave.

"Wait, no, can I get another painkiller?"

"Oh yeah, sure," Vashyron pressed a small round tablet into Zephyr's palm which he quickly swallowed.

"It feels different than the one from last night." The only last night was larger and heavier.

"It is different. The stuff I gave you yesterday was heavy-duty prescription stuff. I picked this one up at the Chemist's Closet during clean-up. It's a little weaker but you won't get addicted to it." But would it provide the same relief as the other pill? No, Zephyr was going to argue now. He still had to apologize!

"How is the clean-up anyway?" And he still couldn't find the right words for the job.

"Nice and dull, as expected," Vashyron grumbled, "And free."

"You didn't have to volunteer."

"Believe me, I didn't. I volunteered you…but until your sight returns I'm stuck covering for you. You're welcome."

"What? Don't volunteer me for free jobs!"

"Then don't screw up paying ones. You should thank Theresa we even got anything resolved with Barbarella. Apparently, she mediated on your behalf." Zephyr scowled.

"Does everyone in Chandelier know I'm blind now?"

"Just Theresa, Barbarella and Pater…though I'm not really sure how he knows. I'm seriously starting to think he has a camera in here."

"I'll have to ask him next time. I have my own suspicions." Vashyron laughed at this and Zephyr couldn't help but smile too. They were starting to joke around like old times. But there was still a wall between them; he could feel it. No more stalling…He had to say it.

"Hey Vashyron…"

"Yeah?"

"Um…about last night…" This was…difficult. "Thanks."

"Huh?" Now Vashyron was really thrown off. He probably had some sort of over the top comical reaction and everything.

"I mean it," Leanne's strange metaphor echoed inside him, "Thanks for taking care of me, even though I'm such an ass."

"Okay, that's it. No more drugs for you. They're messing with your head."

"They're not!" They probably were. Zephyr never felt so meek when he was off of them. "Can't I just be grateful to you?"

"Not really. You're going to make me paranoid."

"Vashyron!"

"Relax, that was a joke," Vashyron sighed, "Look Zephyr, you really should get some sleep. You don't need to voice your gratitude. That wasn't the first night I've dealt with your attitude and I can tell you now, it wasn't the last. Believe it or not, I did know what I getting into when I took you in. I do miss the old days when it was just me, but I think I prefer the consistency you and Leanne provide. It's actually kinda fun with you kids around. Sometimes." Zephyr considered this. Every hateful thing he said was being cut to ribbons with those words.

"Now if you don't mind, I have another long free day tomorrow, so I'm going to turn in. You can call me if you need me though. Our walls are thin apparently, so I'll hear you." Vashyron was just about to close the door behind him, when Zephyr suddenly said,

"Can you change my bandages in the morning? And nighttime? And whenever else?"

"Are you sure? Leanne needs the practice." Was that a joke?

"I'm sure."

"I don't know, Zephyr. Every time we do this, there's a chance you'll open your eyes and find that you could see clearly. You might just end up seeing my face."

"In that case," Zephyr tucked himself in and faced the wall. His face was heating up, and not from the burns, "I hope my sight returns soon."

For a moment there was silence. Then Vashyron's rigid posture softened.

"Yeah, me too Kid."

There was no tension in his voice.


The End.

Fun Fact: Vashyron's black market contact is apparently canon(ish). He shows up in the Secret Hours manga...while I highly doubt that story's canonity it does have some interesting ideas (and who knows, maybe I'll use Nero's family in a future fic).

I hope this story is okay the way it is. I'm sorry its not really an action story, but maybe next fic...If I haven't gushed about my love for RoF enough, I definitely want to add that it makes me want to step out of my writing comfort zone. I'm already experimenting with framing devices for my next story. That one will (probably) have more action.

Anyway, thank you all for reading. Until next fic.