10. Spirits

A blade of grass spun between Flynn's fingers as he lay on his back, shirtsleeves pushed to his elbows in a place that felt more like the early summer of just about any other city. He had left Yuri and Judith to inform the rest of their guild of all that had occurred, but there was really no reason for him to be there. For the moment, he did not want to be there. And so Flynn had started walking, ducking his head to avoid recognition, until he found a small park—an oasis of green among all the stone and metal. Stretching out on the cool grass, he resolved to think of nothing.

This should have been easy. After all, he could relax now, couldn't he? No one was making any demands on his time. For once, no tasks following each other until they blurred together, the days long and indistinguishable. He could close his eyes and focus on nothing more than the way the warm sunlight fell in patches through the clouds, how the air smelled like rain and damp soil.

It was only after the pieces dropped onto his chest that Flynn realized he had been tearing the grass—and, apparently, several leaves—to shreds. He stilled his fingers, brushed the mess off absently. Some children ran by and their laughter sounded louder than it should, jarring somehow. The scene took on a macabre tone in Flynn's mind as dark thoughts clashed with the cheerful atmosphere. Pitiful, really—the amount of time it had taken to break his promise to himself. He was stronger than this.

Abandoning restful solitude as a lost cause, Flynn pulled himself to his feet and began walking down the path that led out of the park. He was nearly to the entrance when his shoulder collided with something solid, staggering him back a step. The next moment was a flurry of apologies, until the young woman he had carelessly stumbled into interrupted him.

"I know who you are!" She shook a finger at him, sounding almost triumphant.

"I'm sorry, I do not believe we've met—"

"Don't be coy. The Imperial Commandant, alone—out of armor, even. Ha! I can't believe my luck." Her shoulders shook with laughter, but intense brown eyes glared into his. "Well, then. This is for everyone who suffered while your precious little Empire sat back and watched."

Flynn blinked as she dipped a hand toward her belt to retrieve a jagged-edged knife. Working through his options, he silently cursed himself for letting his guard down, for letting his mind become so distracted. It would be best if he could convince her to refrain from violence, of course. Barring that, he could pull his sword—Flynn thought he had time, judging the distance between them. Perhaps he could distract her, and then…

A blur of motion from behind a tree halted his thoughts. Fingers closed around the woman's wrist, pulling her hand up and twisting it around until the knife clattered on the stone-paved walkway. She cried out, struggling, but the hand—Yuri's hand—only tightened its grip.

"What do you think this is going to accomplish? Flynn isn't your enemy."

"I'll scream and say you attacked me," she said, twisting in his arms.

Yuri didn't respond to her threat; he did not need to. Even the woman would have to know that no one in Dahngrest would believe that story. He pushed her away, kicking the knife down the path so that she would have to scramble to pick it up.

"Disgusting," Yuri spat, voice cold and authoritative. "Get out of my sight, Anya."

As soon as she had scooped up her knife and returned it to its sheath, the woman fled from the park without looking back.

"Harry's gonna hear about that one," he said grimly, watching her hasty retreat. "It's not the first time we've had problems with her. You alright?"

Flynn nodded, grateful but also somewhat embarrassed that Yuri had felt he needed to come to his rescue. With a little more time, he was certain he could have accomplished a similar effect—if without the added leverage of apparently knowing the girl.

"Thanks, Yuri. I'm fine. Besides, it's not as if some woman could just walk up and stab me."

Yuri looked at him sideways, then shook his head.

"Yeah, well…you might be surprised."

"What is that supposed to—"

Turning to face his friend, Yuri's expression brightened.

"Hey, Flynn. Want to get a drink?"

Somehow, Flynn didn't feel like complaining that the man had changed the subject on him once again.

Yuri stood at the bar, lifting fingers to indicate 'two' and sliding gald across the counter. The lean lines of his body were slightly obscured as his dark clothing blended with the shadows of the smoky, dimly lit room. Flynn tore his eyes away from him, instead examining the piano beside their table; he had always wanted to learn how to play, but had never had time. He plinked a key experimentally, flinching a little when it was louder than he expected. No one seemed to have noticed, though, deep as they were in their boisterous, drunken revelry.

When he looked up again, Yuri was weaving through the tables, a mug in each hand. He set Flynn's in front of him before settling into his chair, one corner of his mouth quirked into a smile.

"To the Crimson Stars," he said, raising his own drink. "A real tavern, none of that waiting tables crap like at the Sagittarius. That place is more like a restaurant that also has a bar in it."

Flynn shook his head, amused. "Are you still bitter about that?" He had heard how Yuri and his friends had been pressed into service at the tavern on the other end of the street. While none of them had been forced to help out, Yuri's friends had enthusiastically volunteered and pestered him when he opted to sit it out.

"I'm not a damn waiter," he muttered, lifting his mug to his lips. Flynn chuckled. Sitting across from his friend like this felt incredibly normal and comfortable—he had wished for it countless times while mired in his duties. At the time it had seemed a distant fantasy, especially when things had been so tense between them.

"Flynn?"

He looked up from where he had been gazing out-of-focus into the amber liquid. Yuri was watching him carefully, one brow slightly lifted.

"What's on your mind?" he asked, crossing his arms on the table.

Flynn took a breath. There were too many things he couldn't even begin to tell him about. But Yuri was reaching out and he deserved some honesty, if only for trying.

"I've been having these dreams. Dreams where I'm still Commandant." He frowned, gripping the mug tightly. "It doesn't feel right that I'm not, Yuri. I keep thinking that I should be reporting somewhere, doing something."

Flynn exhaled, frustrated. "Perhaps I was overconfident. Rising so quickly and accomplishing as much as I have in twenty-two years, becoming one of the youngest Commandants in the Empire's history. How foolish of me to think that I could hold on to that."

"Twenty-two," Yuri muttered. "Huh, that's right. I guess that means I missed your birthday."

Flynn blinked at him, wavering between feeling touched that Yuri had even thought of that—it had been years since they had celebrated it together, after all—and wondering if the man was really listening.

"I just never would have thought that the influence I have worked for since childhood could be so…fragile," he finished.

Yuri leaned into his chair, hooking an elbow casually over the back.

"You know I think you work too hard, Flynn." He smirked. "But that's why it's you in that ridiculous armor, and not me. These things have their way of working themselves out—Noran's an idiot, and you sure as hell earned that rank. It's an obstacle, yeah, but you're the great Flynn Scifo." He gestured in the air, as if that said it all.

Flynn smiled stiffly. He wanted to believe Yuri's words, especially when he was directing that lop-sided, lazy smile at him. But the fact that his friend was making an earnest attempt to drag him out of his depressed state was enough to lift his spirits at least a little.

"What shall we toast next?" Flynn lifted his mug, which was still mostly full.

"Hmm. How about to—woah, watch out," said Yuri, under his breath. Flynn whipped his head around just in time to see a woman sidling up to their table.

"Well, hey there, gorgeous," she purred. "You must be new here, because I know I'd recognize a face like yours." The woman settled on the corner of the table nearest Flynn and leaned forward as she spoke, putting her plunging neckline on full display. She was apparently either a bit out of touch on the who's who of the Empire or just inebriated enough not to recognize him.

Flynn blinked and looked away, hoping that ignoring the woman would be the most effective way of staving off her advances. Fortunately, it seemed to work—she withdrew quickly, a pout on her dark red lips as she sauntered back across the tavern. Yuri, once Flynn dared to look back at him, was wearing an expression of utter amusement.

"Flynn, my friend. That women all over the Empire fall over themselves for you is one of life's greatest ironies." He chuckled. Flynn ventured a smile, but his breath caught in his throat a little. This topic could easily move into dangerous territory, and he wasn't sure at this point if he trusted himself to be nonchalant.

Yuri shrugged, then. "Meh, but she wasn't that attractive. I'm sure the old man would've been all over that, though. I still don't know what women see in the guy."

"You didn't see him as Captain Schwann," said Flynn, before he could stop himself. "As hard as it may be to believe, he cleans up well."

Yuri, who had just taken a drink, coughed and sputtered. "I'm sorry. I thought that you just implied that Raven can be attractive."

"Schwann," he corrected.

"They're the same person!"

"Hm. If you say so," Flynn said, reaching for his own mug.

"Whatever. And I did see him like that, once. But I was a little distracted at the time." Yuri smiled wryly, shaking his head. "Man, I can't believe we're even discussing this."

"You started it, though."

"Ohh, no," he said, stabbing a finger across the table at Flynn. "You're the one who went and said things like 'you should see him as Captain Schwann.'" He broke into an attempt to imitate the cadence of Flynn's voice, which was rather hilarious in itself. "The old man is not sexy. Not even a little bit."

"I never said sexy. Interesting."

"Just…shut up, Flynn." Yuri groaned, though he still seemed to be in a better humor than his words would suggest. "I'm gonna have nightmares now."

Looking at him, Flynn thought he could detect the slightest of flushes spreading across his cheeks. He had seen enough people destroy themselves with alcohol that he could never approve of outright drunkenness, but had to admit that slightly-tipsy Yuri was, well…kind of adorable. He bit his lip and moved to take another drink, partly to hide the kind of smile that his friend would ask questions about. Although the thoughts that had been troubling him certainly had not disappeared, Flynn couldn't help thinking: this is how things ought to be.

A heavy knock on the door broke Judith's concentration—she had been poring over a request they had just received from a potential client. Brave Vesperia business could hardly stop, regardless of the news they received about the recent troubles in Zaphias. As the knocking became more insistent, she rose from the desk with a soft sigh. Karol got to the door before her.

"Is there something we can help you with?" he asked, his voice cracking slightly before he cleared his throat. Ah, youth. Peering over Karol's comparatively short stature, Judith took in the men standing at the entrance to their headquarters. She recognized them from the Union, as some of the members of highest standing in the master guilds. They did not look pleased.

"Where is the leader of this guild?" asked the man closest to the door, frowning deeply. "There are matters of great importance that we must discuss with them."

Judith clasped Karol's shoulders from where she stood behind him. "Why, you're talking to our boss already." The boy's bright smile was just a touch embarrassed, but he recovered quickly.

"There's Yuri, too," he said. "But he's out right now. Brave Vesperia Captain Karol Capel, at your service! What can I do for you, sir?" He straightened his shoulders, trying to pull himself up as tall as he could. The boy had gone through a small growth spurt in the last few months, but he was still far from imposing.

The man sneered down at Karol, relaxing a bit when one of the other Union members touched his arm and whispered something.

"Very well," he said. "Then both of you will accompany me to Union HQ. Harry is waiting for us there."

A/N: Apparently the theme of this chapter is "Flynn gets accosted by strange women." Pfft. Anyway, sorry that this took a while to post—I have been trying to get at least one chapter out per week, sometimes two, but things have been moving a bit slower lately. Just know that I am actively working on it. *smiles*