"With you by my side I will fight and defend."

There were no Imperials in the halls that led up to the loading dock, which they were all extremely grateful for. But it was weird. The alarm still blared like eight million angry bees, and it should be calling every Imperial within range to stop them. Balthier was sure he wasn't the only one thinking about that; Basch and Fran had to have noticed too. Something was happening beyond the obvious.

He glanced over at their three younger members. The teenagers were running as if every wolf in the Estersand were at their heels. Ordinarily, Balthier would have found it amusing. But now, the wolves were at his heels, too. And besides that…these dogs were dangerous.

They were nearly there. If they made it to the shuttle, they were fine. But they'd wasted a lot of time already… The Imperials would not have wasted a second. It was very likely they were running into an ambush. But there was no other way; if they couldn't fight their way out through here, there would be no more chances.

"Is that it?" a young voice shouted. As they rounded a corner, Riley had caught sight of the door at the end of the hall.

"Yes," Basch answered. "That is the shuttle bay—we can escape from there."

"Only if a ship's still there!" Vaan put in.

"And I doubt those Imperials are here to christen our shuttle…" Balthier had happened to glance down an adjoining hallway they passed—which was full of soldiers. So that's where they all were. The sound of metal boots struck up a chorus as the dimwitted soldiers finally took up pursuit.

Someone squeaked fearfully, then Riley was sprinting out ahead, far faster than any of the others. She reached the door first, slamming her fist on the button that would open them. The doors swished open and Riley rushed in, the others coming soon after.

The last one in, Balthier turned back as the doors closed. The panel in between the two doors had several smaller buttons as well as the open/close one. He made quick work of it, fingers dancing across the panel. Three buttons and a switch later, the light behind the middle button changed color to red, giving off a low beep. From the other side of the thick glass doors, he smirked at the Imperials as they finally arrived and unsuccessfully pounded away at the opening button.

Grinning, he saluted the soldiers with two fingers, then stalked away to rejoin his companions. That cheap lock wouldn't hold the metal-headed oafs for long. But as he turned around, his mirth vanished. The shuttle was gone, and standing by its empty lot was a heavily armored, caped figure. Balthier rolled his eyes to glare at the ceiling. It figured. His fears of ambush had been confirmed, and by no less than Ghis himself.

Oh, blast and bugger all…

"Such a great shame." An arm draped across his sword hilt, Ghis sauntered along the thin walkway, making his way back to the platform. "I must confess: I had hoped you would be the one to restore peace to Dalmasca."

Clearly he was addressing Ashe, so the princess stepped forward in order to scowl at him properly. Balthier glanced over his shoulder upon hearing the low beeping sound—unmistakably a system override on his lock. A second later, the Imperials pounded into the room, surrounding them from behind.

"No matter. We hold the proof of your royal lineage; a maid of passing resemblance will serve our purpose now." Having finally reached the ramp to the main platform, Ghis raised his arm above his head. Swirls of red light and flying embers began to gather and swirl in the talon-like claws of his gauntlet.

Basch reacted first, stepping forward so that Ashelia was behind him. But as the spell took shape, it didn't seem to matter who was first in line. The mixture of magic and fire shot into the air and grew, forming a giant vortex overhead. Ghis was using Flare. It would wipe them all out—and those who managed to stay standing would be quickly cut down by the soldiers at their backs. Basch couldn't accept that. Maybe if he took the most of it…if Ashe stayed behind him…

Riley found herself pushed to the center of the group along with Penelo. The adults (and Vaan) were forming a wall around them. Riley barely noticed it in the back of her mind; fear took the foreground. Her wide eyes reflected the fiery maelstrom like terrified mirrors.

"As for you, my dear…" Ghis's voice rose above the mounting confusion, mounting in volume and fury. "The Empire requires you no more!"

At the motion of Ghis's arms, the spell lunged forward.

In the instant it hit, the spell, rather than its intended victims, was destroyed. It broke into a million scraps of magic, then was sucked like fiery tendrils into a single point within the center of the companions' huddle. In its place, a blue glow radiated.

All eyes turned to the source of the light—and there Penelo stood, holding in both hands a blue stone whose light faded as soon as it had come. "…What was that?" she muttered, staring in shock at Larsa's stone.

"The nethecite," Balthier muttered, eying the stone with a surprised smirk.

Ashe's eyes snapped toward Ghis. Releasing a growl, she ran out in front of the others, stopping within feet of the Judge. She placed herself directly between him and the ones behind her. This time, Basch did not stop her.

"Your majesty does not disappoint." Stepping down onto the battlefield, Ghis readied his weapons—the sword, and a half-circle lined with daggers. He used them to strike a ridiculous battle-ready pose that he'd no doubt spent hours in front of the mirror perfecting. "Ever quick to spurn an honorable surrender—as was your father…"

As if his words were thrown daggers, Ashe stepped back, holding up an arm as if in defense. Rage quickly consumed pain and she came forward with renewed fury, drawing her sword. "You know nothing of my father!"

At that, she charged forward with weapon raised, as did Judge Ghis.

That was the only cue needed for the others to erupt into battle. As Basch went ahead to help Ashe, the rest of them went for his Imperial hounds. But Riley hesitated, glancing around incredulously. What the heck was she supposed to do without a weapon!

As she turned another way, her heart jolted in terror and she squealed, ducking down right in time for a fire bolt to soar over her head. "Gah!—holy freakin…HEY!" she shouted, slapping her hands onto her head as she crouched down.

…Oh! Spells! Right, right! Riley knew black magic up to stage two, and some green…but Cure was all she knew of white. She darted around the fight so that she was close to the wall, then started firing off shots of fira and thundara, concentrating on keeping the lesser soldiers away from their leader.

The Judge was strong. He focused on Lady Ashe, but Basch was right at her side, trying as much as possible to draw Ghis's attention. But finding an opening in the Judge's armor was nearly impossible; every inch of him was sheathed in bronze. And every hit he dealt was more powerful than theirs. Basch spent as much time attacking as he did casting Cure on Ashe. But, from somewhere close behind, he kept hearing the sharp report of a gun being fired, reminding him that he wasn't entirely alone in his guardian duty.

With an unexpected burst of speed, the Judge swung his strange half-circle weapon. Ashelia's eyes widened—she barely had an instant. Somehow, she got her shield up in time. But the force behind it was powerful, and one of the points managed to slip over the top edge of her shield. Ashe staggered back, releasing a pained cry.

In an instant, Basch was in front of her. He gave a small shout as he swung his sword mightily in both hands. Judge Ghis staggered aside, having caught the blow in his ribcage because of the one instant of false triumph.

"Majesty," Basch said quickly, "heal yourself."

Safe, she crouched in the shadow of his fighting figure. As she was casting Cure, Ashe looked up at his back and saw something familiar…a kind of strength…something she had not seen for a long while. One she'd lamented for, thinking she would never see it again.

Seeing that Ghis's opposition was temporarily reduced to one, Balthier raised his gun that way once again. His shot staggered and distracted the Judge, though whether it did any real damage, he hadn't the time to find out. His attention returned immediately to his own pressing battle. He and Fran were working to keep three Imperials at bay—though spells came from the other side of the room to help them. Close to the halfbreed girl, two more soldiers were dueling individually with Penelo and Vaan.

Over the sound of clashing metal, Penelo's outcry reached Vaan's ears. Managing to glance her way, he caught a glimpse of her staggering back under the blow of a sword. Vaan started for her, but the lapse in concentration nearly cost him his life, as the sword of the soldier he was dueling came at him from the side Vaan barely got his dagger up in time to block it. There was no way he could get away from this guy without getting himself killed.

"Riley!" Vaan growled, swinging his knife like a maniac. "Help Penelo!"

Seconds after, a thunderbolt materialized from thin air, striking Penelo's attacker. Shuddering, the soldier dropped to one knee, momentarily dazed.

Penelo took the opportunity. Even as she clutched her wound, she swung her bleeding arm down with her dagger, plunging it into the soldier's neck.

One more down.

Riley grinned in triumph, feeling a new surge of terror lift her heart and thrill her with delight. Trying not to lose her focus, she immediately began a Cure spell for Penelo, who was already charging in to help with Vaan's fight. But before Riley had a chance to finish the spell, her instincts suddenly screamed inside her. Movement—danger—left, from the left! Riley dove to her right. An imperial blade slammed into the wall right where she'd been standing, spitting sparks with the blow's force.

From the ground, she stared up into the bucket-face of another soldier. He raised his sword. Riley's mouth dropped open and she glared, shaking her head. "Hey—no dude! Dude…no!" Dude wasn't listening. He chopped down at her and Riley screamed, rolling aside in the nick of time. She could swear the guy had cut off a piece of her shirt that time.

Riley scrambled to her feet, but the only place for her to run was back to the wall, since the battle was in all the other directions. She spun around, back pressed against the wall so tightly you couldn't fit a newspaper between the two. Freezing terror vibrated through her spine and lungs as the Imperial advanced. Invisible fingers plucked her blood vessels and played her tendons like a discordant harp. The soldier broke into a run, unleashing a passionate roar.

Behind her dilated eyes, one of the fingers seemed to pull too hard, snapping a chord. Rage joined Riley's fear.

A sound like the unearthly shriek of a demonic wolf exploded from her lips. She shot forward with such speed and force that the Imperial was blasted back, barely keeping his feet. In the next instant, she was upon him. Riley leapt—quite literally—through the air to tackle the Imperial to the ground, landing with both hands and feet on his chest. Moving on all fours like a deranged cat-monkey, she swung herself to the floor beside his head, claws digging at his neck. Her fingers latched under the lip of his helmet, tearing it off in an instant. Then she was working frantically toward an all-out mauling, as the Imperial flailed his arms out at her and in front of his face.

She barely registered the sight or feel of blood, but her claws had found it. She latched them underneath his chin, planted her feet on his shoulder. She paused there, caught between mercy and breaking his neck. Her victim shrieked, swatting his arms at her desperately. By some mixture of chance and luck, his sword struck her, slicing through the meat of her forearm.

Riley cried out and, before she knew it, pulled as hard as she could, twisting to the side. With a sickening crack and a fanning spray of blood, the soldier's neck snapped. His flailing arms fell limp and he made no more sound.

.~*~.

"I can't control myself. So many times I've tried.

But there's still rage inside.

Help me believe it's not the real me.

Somebody help me tame this animal I have become."

Slowly, as her pupils shrank little by little, Riley became aware of her surroundings. Her own ragged breathing was the first thing she heard. Beyond that, there was clashing metal—but the chaos was far less than it had been minutes before. She glanced around, wondering if she'd missed something. The others were ganging up on Ghis, who was losing badly against their numbers. Three Imperials lay in heaps on the ground. Riley glanced over just in time to see another one fall, five or six arrows sticking out from him like pins in a pincushion.

…But hadn't there been one more soldier?

For the first time, Riley felt something under her hands. Skin and...sticky moisture… It was warm, and quickly cooling… Riley looked down, and her face twisted with horror. She took in a halting gasp, trying unsuccessfully to wrench her hands away from his head. Finally, when she realized that her claws were sunk inch-deep in bloody flesh, she jerked away her hands. Riley scrambled to her feet, panting, as she stared down at the corpse she'd just mauled.

"Is it satisfied?" A cool, exotic accent asked from behind her.

Riley jumped, spinning around to see Fran standing with her arms crossed, bow slung over her shoulder.

"I-is…what?" she mumbled, barely able to raise her voice higher than a whisper.

"Your inner monster," Fran said, her voice cold and gentle. "Has is had enough to eat?"

Her eyes stung and she squinted them to keep them dry. Riley felt her throat constrict. "Who says I wanna feed it?" she muttered bitterly. "So…so what if I feed it! It saved me…it's useful…"

"At the proper times, yes."

And this wasn't! Looking down, Riley crossed her arms and hugged herself tightly, unable to bear disapproval from her, above all, for something she'd done right…

But Fran came up beside her, and she was surprised to feel the viera's hand between her shoulders. "This was a proper time."

All her turmoil vanished, Riley looked up at her in blank surprise, but Fran only looked straight ahead as she started walking, guiding the young girl back toward the rest of the group. Riley tried to avoid the awkward stared from those who had seen. Vaan was oblivious, of course, but Penelo was staring at her like Riley was gonna eat her or something. And of course Balthier had seen. He couldn't have the good grace to keep quiet about it, either.

"Alright?" he asked, and there was a mocking undertone that made her blood boil. But then he happened to glance at Fran, and was surprised to see her glaring at him. Balthier went silent, turning back to the source of everyone else's attention: The Judge.

Ghis had collapsed against the wall, his helmet falling to the ground. He staggered forward, gasping for breath, as one hand covered his face in an attempt to hide from the defeat.

Before anyone could do anything, the doors behind them opened once more. Already heading back inside, Vossler called, "We've secured an Atomos. Come!"

"An Atomos?" Balthier complained as the others ran past him. "All skiff, no ship…hardly fit for the leading man." He finally ran after them, and behind him came Vaan.

"So—can I fly it then?" he piped up hopefully.

"Are you mad?" Fran scoffed as she ran past.

Vaan glowered, defeated. With a sigh, he moved to follow them.

A hand whacked the back of his head. Shouting protests, he looked around and saw Riley, already running away.

"Dumb blonde…"she murmured quietly.

.~*~.

"Can't we go faster?" Penelo asked desperately, searching the control console over Fran's shoulder. The ship had only just powered up; it seemed like it was taking forever.

"Uh—I'm all for that!" Riley's voice came from the corridor, where she looked out the still-open door of the Atomos.

"Not yet." Fran answered shortly. The viera's graceful hands danced over the console and never once seemed to slip up or hit the wrong button. Penelo couldn't see how she knew the controls so intricately. It was like she was completely familiar with the system, even though it was an Imperial ship.

"Aw geeze…" Riley groaned desperately at the sight of Imperials flooding into the hangar. She bit her lip as she watched them from the open door. "Seriously checking this off the Never-Do-Again list…."

"Clear off," a grumpy voice muttered. With a short yelp, Riley was pulled away from the door by the collar of her shirt and spun against the wall. Balthier pulled the door closed and shoved the lock into place. "We're set! Go!" he called to the cockpit. Not two seconds later, the giant claw-like braces surrounding the ship fell away, and the Atomos lifted from its hangar—and not a moment too soon, as the Imperial soldiers in the hangar had reached the ship, right as it took off. Inside, the cockpit was flooded with noonday light as the doors opened and the ship emerged into sunlight and sky.

Penelo felt her heart jump; there were Imperial airships and shuttles everywhere, flying in all directions, and surrounding them. Her eyes locked on a group of Tonberries flying in a V-formation, heading right toward them. She gasped, clutching the back of Fran's chair.

"Everyone down!" Vossler warned, already following his own directions. He and Basch knelt down immediately, making sure Ashe was hidden completely.

Fran's hand grabbed her by the shoulder and Penelo was pushed into a crouch. Glancing back, she saw that Vaan—the big moron—was still standing around gazing out the window. She grabbed his wrist and pulled him down behind the chair.

"H-hey!"

"Vaan, you idiot…"

"Ack—!" Riley had picked that unfortunate moment to enter the cockpit, and in the same second, a boot kicked the back of her knee. She collapsed as her leg buckled, falling sideways to the ground. "Ay! Easy on the merch!" she growled, twisted around to glower at Balthier, who was crouched on one knee.

"You're welcome."

The enemy ships flew right on by, not even slowing. They were home-free. Fran was the first to get up, climbing back into the pilot's chair.

"They've passed," Ashe remarked in wonder. The others were all standing back up as well.

Over her shoulder, Fran told Penelo, "If we'd have gone too fast, they'd have noticed."

Penelo sighed in relief, silently thanking the viera.

As the ship picked up speed, zooming away from the Imperial fleet, Penelo wondered what they'd ever do without the pirates—especially Fran. It always seemed that she was the cool-headed one. Fran never panicked and always knew what to do. Penelo secretly glanced at the viera's face. How did she stay so calm and focused? However she managed it, they were lucky to have Fran with them.

"Grah!" Riley growled, staggering to her feet. She thrust a finger at Balthier. "You!—you...I dunno about you. I don't understand you." She threw up her hands and went to stand by Fran's chair—but stopped short, as someone already had the spot occupied: Penelo. Riley's brow furrowed not-so-slightly. She elbowed her way past Vaan and stood at Fran's other side, glancing secretly at Penelo.

As she snapped at him, Balthier ignored her mostly and just stalked over to take the seat beside Fran. But as he settled into the cool leather of a pilot's chair, hands on the controls and a hundred Imperial search parties falling behind him, the pirate couldn't suppress a wry grin.

"Never a man has, Pet," he murmured, gazing out at sunlight and open sky. "Not a person alive."

.~*~.

When you are with me, I'm free.

I'm careless, I believe.

Above all the others, we'll fly.

This brings tears to my eyes.

Balthier had been right about the Atomos. It was gimp. It was really slow. They had only been aboard the Leviathan for about half a day, but it had been moving that entire time, and now they were hours away from Bhujerba. As the trip dragged on, Riley could only think of the fleet they were leaving behind. In particular, one soldier. Sitting in one of the four seats that lined the cockpit's control panel, she propped her chin in her hand and stared out the window, with Jonathan in her mind's eye.

Ah, geeze…Jon... The last time she'd seen him, he was a thin and muscular teenager with stringy, jet-black hair that fell into his rugged face, which was always covered with dirt. He was the oldest of her mother's litter. He was like the leader. And he was best friends with her full brother. Jon had been right up front with Allan in every battle. The one they were all sure would never give in. Never break. But now look what he was.

"And look at you…"

Riley's breath left her in a sharp exhale.

"If you'd only stayed—!"

She felt tears sting her eyes. Agony was in his voice…for her. Agony for her betrayal, and even longing…for what she would have been if she'd stayed. Despicable. She was disgusting. Did all the others feel that way? Through all the crap he went through, Jon was angry not just at her, but for her. She wanted to think that…hidden somewhere behind Jon's eyes…he was angry because she was in chains again. She had to think so. That would mean he didn't hate her. That would mean he hadn't changed and he was still her kin…and the others could be, too.

Allen could be, too.

"Hey," Balthier's voice drew her away from her inner tempest.

"Huh—what? ...What?" she muttered.

"The controls," Balthier clarified. The way he said it implied that he'd been repeating the order for a few times already.

"Oh." She glanced down at the console and hit the buttons in the sequence he had shown her. The control panel was designed in a half-circle that spanned from one side of the cockpit to the other. It was supposed to be flown by five people. There was him and Fran in the two middle seats, and Riley beside Balthier. Some of the controls they needed to fly the thing were on her portion of the console, and earlier he'd given her the job of pushing buttons and flipping switches as he ordered. On the other side of Fran sat Penelo, and in the seat beside Riley was Vaan. They'd both been given similar tasks. At first Riley had liked the idea, but then she realized that they weren't doing any work of real consequence—that it was only to keep the kids from screwing anything up.

But still…there was something in it she was grateful for. The distraction, maybe, or the simple feeling of sitting in a cockpit chair in front of (somewhat) vital controls. Riley could look out at the skyscape, the sun reflecting off ever-shifting clouds, and with the very tips of her fingers she could just barely brush against that feeling she imagined freedom to be like.

"Riley!"

Someone punched her in the arm. She hissed angrily at Vaan, but then looked over at Balthier, who was again nagging at her to maintain her controls.

"Sorry," she mumbled, glancing down at the console. She was supposed to make sure the two green buttons always stayed green, and if they weren't, to flick the third switch down from the top. One of her buttons had turned red. She flipped the switch and it went back to green, no prob.

"Really, Pet, you ought to focus on getting your head out of the clouds." Balthier muttered, going back to his own controls.

It took Riley a moment to decide that she liked her new nickname. Her piratey, jargoned, degrading nickname. She grinned slightly and put her chin in her hand again. "Said the man who flies for a living," she muttered.

"There's the difference," Balthier answered lightly, for the first time with no aggravation in his tone. "I make a living."

Basch, who had been quiet until now, interjected, "I should think the civilian workforce everywhere would disagree with that."

Balthier chuckled and didn't disagree. "Why Captain, you've wounded me. I daresay I can't go on flying in this condition."

Riley glanced back just in time to see a grin split Basch's lips. She loved the sight; it was rare.

"I can take over!" Vaan's voice piped up, a devilish smile on his face.

Balthier snorted a laugh. "Oh—would you look at that! I'm healed; it must be a miracle."

Riley laughed aloud, not even trying to hold it back. At that moment, she suddenly became aware of how sunny it was throughout the whole cockpit. The gently shadows across her companion's faces only highlighted the pale bronze light of the sun. She glanced to Vaan, staring out into the sky with a content kind of awe that surpassed the amazement of children. Then to Basch, leaning against the wall with his boot heel jammed against the wall behind him. Ashe and Vossler were of smaller consequence, and she noted Penelo with a measure of mixed feelings. But then she saw Fran, and finally, the leading man himself.

She was stunned. Because right now she figured there was no place on this planet she'd rather be than here and now, not even with Jon or Allan…well, maybe she wished Allan was here too. Anyway it didn't matter. She was happier than she'd ever been. Everything was okay here. She didn't know who to thank except…except the new and foreign feeling of friendship, not to mention freedom—and, as always, sweet serendipity.

"Riley!" Balthier snapped again. "For heaven's sake, urchin, flip your bloody switch."

"Yeah, yeah, flippin the switch, I'm on it…"

.~*~.

"I'm still in shock—what have you done?

My head is pounding; vision's blurred. Your mouth is moving—I don't hear the words.

I'm blacking out, I'm shutting down. You left a hole when you walked out.

I'm falling through the doors of the emergency room.

And I'm dyin, dyin, from these exit wounds."

His armor clashed with his every heated stride, grinding awfully in his sensitive ears. Here in the military, they were always laid flat—halfbreed ears—flat against heads so they couldn't hear. Always hurt by the grating sounds of their own armor. The young man who now walked the corridors of the Dreadnought Leviathan was no different. His jet black ears hurt just as much—more, probably, than those of all the other halfbreeds.

All but his brother. Allan's ears were always so pained that they bled at least once every day. And when Allan heard the news he bore today, those bright red ears of his would be bleeding rivers.

Jonathan turned a corner, ignoring the soldiers that were walking down this corridor. As he passed them with his quickened pace, the hume Imperials seemed to scatter away, making plenty of room for his tall and imposing form. They reacted to all the halfbreeds like that. Jon was ordinarily pleased by that. Today, his mind was on other things.

Riley. The runt, the most useless sibling, the infamous coward. Alive. Escaped…again. She'd run away again.

Jonathan's armored fingers curled into a very literal iron fist and his arm swung forward, connecting with an unfortunate fellow soldier who just so happened to be walking past. The half-viera kept walking as if nothing had happened, his pace quickened with fury.

Why did she insist on abandoning them? Now, he understood. The life he now embraced was a horrible prison worse than their first home. But she wouldn't even try to help? How could one so weak and flighty ever be the full-blood sister of Allan?

He reached the shuttle bay and stormed aboard the nearest Atomos, striding right up to the cockpit. He snatched the back of some random soldier's collar and threw him out of the chair, replacing the man in the pilot seat. "Infantry quarters," he ordered his four nervous co-pilots. The man he'd thrown aside quickly got to his feet and, daring to growl in protest, backed against the wall behind them.

The ship took off. Soon Jonathan was taken to a separate, medium-sized ship which housed his brother's contingent of soldiers. Allan was in a position of authority, just like all the halfbreeds, so his quarters were closest to the docking bay. It took not two minutes for Jon to reach the door to Allan's room. He knew he'd be there. He was always holed up here when he was off-duty. Jon thumbed the ringer button and waited; it always took Allan a while to answer.

After a few moments, he figured he hadn't heard the ring or was ignoring it. He mashed the button again. "S'me, Al," he called.

His sharp ears detected the rustling of papers and the scooting of a desk chair. Long seconds later, the door swished open, and there stood the weariest, oldest-looking nineteen-year-old Jon had ever seen.

"Jon," Allan murmured, his voice breathy and tired. He shuffled aside to let his half-brother in.

"Just wake up?" Jonathan asked with a hollow chuckle, closing the door and crossing the rom to half-sit on Allan's desk, which was littered with random military paperwork.

"Yeah." He had crossed the room and flopped down onto the bed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. His head was still killing him; the nap hadn't helped at all.

Jonathan saw a flash of red out of the corner of his eye. "Sleeping on your desk?"

"Hadn't meant to."

Jon's voice was quiet. He jerked a thumb towards the red-stained papers. "…You'll need new report forms, Al."

Allan looked down at the desk and scowled, reaching for his ear. Dried blood encrusted the fur. "Black powder," he cursed. "Those were the third copies…"

Jonathan breathed deeply, unable to put up a fake smile. He couldn't keep up any kind of smile; not with this news. He couldn't smile anyway when he heard the hollow wind that had become Allan's voice. "Hey Al," he muttered, but Allan cut him short.

"Bad news again."

Jonathan looked down and away: perfect confirmation.

There had always been a gap between Al and the others after he had set up his sister's escape. But it was a smaller gap with Jon and some of the more reasonable siblings. Over their time in the military, though, the half-viera drew close to each other as much as possible. It was a sheer miraculous coincidence that Allan and Jon were together. The rest of them were jealous that they weren't picked, but anyone smart—like Jon—knew that Allan wouldn't pick anyone but his darling sister. He kinda tried to understand it. But he'd always thought Allan did way too much for the kid.

"Hurry up Jon, I hate suspense."

He looked up at Al's ragged face. The young man was still ruggedly handsome, the best-looking one outta them all, Jon thought. Lucky jerk stole all the good looks from the gene pool. Bright green eyes and muscles. Tannest, strongest chin, broadest shoulders. Thinnest. Now look what the army did to him. His face was pale and sallow all the time, his eyes always rimmed with black circles. Jon's eyes fixed on his brother's hair, bright vibrant red, trimmed into a crew cut like everyone else's. His matching ears were, for once, upright on his head. Just as red as his sister's.

Jonathan looked at the ground, covering his eyes with his finger and thumb, so he wouldn't have to see the look ok Allan's face. "Riley's alive."

The words seemed to echo like he'd spoken into an oil drum.

"And…so…" Al had to stop, clearing his throat as he ran the back of his hand across his forehead. He could barely whisper the next words. "And you saw her? Where? When?"

"…Here. Today."

For a minute, Jon was able to resist the urge to look at him…but he succumbed, and immediately he wished he hadn't looked. He may as well have punched Al in the face. With a dagger.

"She was with the prisoners they brought in, the pirate ones," Jon muttered, looking away again. "Got free this morning."

Allan rose shakily to his feet, swaying for a moment until he regained his balance. He staggered across the room to the window, slumping against the wall with one arm propped on the wall over his head. He tried to reply, but his tongue was dry and numb in his mouth. His throat was closing up…it was hard to breathe…

"She…she got free, Al." Jon said, staring hard at his brother's back.

The clouds outside his window were blurring and darting about in a way that made him nauseous. Allan ran a hand over his pale face, covering his eyes. Something thick and liquid trickled down the side of his head; he didn't notice. His head felt light, like it was evaporating—like it wasn't even there.

"You didn't…" He stopped and had to clear his throat. "Didn't tell me while she was here?"

Jonathan gritted his teeth, turning his gaze back to the floor. "…I dunno why you care so much. It's what you wanted, Al, for her to run away. Leave us."

His ears hurt. It'd never been so bad. Allan's face began to twist into a grimace. He lifted a hand to his head, squeezing his right ear in a painful fist. Blood seeped between his fingers.

"And she did it quick, too, left without a second thought. I…I talked to her…she didn't know me, I don't think. She was just scared of me."

"Y…talked to her…"

"Not for long, then she was gone... So she got away too fast for me to tell y—Al!"

A dull thud had stopped him. Jonathan bolted to Allan's crumpled form, dropping to his knees beside him. He'd collapsed on his side, his back turned on Jon. "Allan!" he shouted, clutching his brother's arm. He didn't answer. Jon put a hand to Allan's head, trying to stop the blood…his ears were bleeding far more than could possibly be normal…

"Allan!"

.~*~.

A/N: Short chapter, I know. I got lazy and impatient . I really did intend to make it longer. The next one will be, I promise. Also, whatcha think about Jon and Allan? XD I only thought of that scene after I published it, but I'm totally in love with it. I can has reviews? =3 pweez?

Lyric headings: "Keep Holding On" by Avril Lavigne, "Animal I Have Become" by Three Day's Grace, aaaand finally introducing another Riley theme song: "My Sacrifice" by Creed. And the last one is "Exit Wounds" by The Script.