Hikaru: I love this part to pieces, but writing it's been really difficult. Like it refuses to be written.
--
Dist's voice was a somber hiss. "A suicide mission, then."
"Sync the Tempest has completed his mission!"
"Van is at the port. Go help him."
"No, they already went to stop the core's vibration."
Luke brooded, glaring daggers at the far wall of the room. He had wanted to go to the port to make sure Van hadn't done anything to the others, but Lloyd had stopped him on the grounds that with such a wound on his sword arm, Luke wouldn't be able to do one thing to help. So it was with heavy heart that Luke allowed himself to be dragged to the inn. He had been sitting in this same spot on the bed, leaning on the headboard, staring at that same section of wall for the last five hours, the only changes he noticed those of the sun setting and the silver moonlight spilling in the room through the window.
Everything had been so chaotic lately, and nothing was certain, if the others could even get back alive from their mission, and then what they would say if they met up with Luke again. Would they welcome him back? Or would they dismiss him as useless, unable to stall the God-Generals even with the information he had obtained beforehand?
Nothing was certain anymore--the only certain thing he knew was the aching cut on his arm that made it painful to move much. That, and he was angry with Lloyd. He shouldn't be, Lloyd had done better than Luke did--to hold off Cantabile for so well, so long, and come out unscathed! But the only thing Luke had wanted was to see if his friends were all right, and Lloyd had strongly disagreed. Lloyd had probably saved Luke's life by this decision, but this irrational anger would not let go.
He had not seen Lloyd after that, spending the last five hours in this inn by himself, watching the light on the wall change from yellow, to gold, to red-orange, and then silver. The window was open as well, allowing the cool night air inside.
A soft knock on the door. Luke never moved once, sitting in the same way he had been sitting for last five hours. The door opened, and in walked Lloyd, bringing a young man dressed in the garb of an Order of Lorelei church healer. The healer had hazel eyes, short platinum blond hair sticking out from under his hat.
"This the one?" The healer asked, and Lloyd nodded, never taking his gaze from Luke.
The healer swiftly approached Luke, who didn't budge once. "Name's Segal," he said, placing a bag on the bedside table that undoubtedly contained medical supplies. "Where's the wound?"
Finally Luke moved, rolling up the sleeve that concealed his bandaged injury. The bleeding had stopped, but it could easily reopen. The gauze was heavily stained. Segal took a small penknife, slicing through the gauze. It popped off like a shell; the blood hardened the cloth when it dried. Luke winced as his freshly clot wound made contact with the open air, crusted over with dark dried blood.
Segal put on a pair of gloves, gently examining the wound. "This was a sword wound?" He asked, an index finger tracing the ragged seam where the flesh knit itself together. Luke nodded mutely.
"Katana," Lloyd supplied, watching from afar, brow knit with worry.
Segal didn't bother replying, instead placing both hands on the gash, eyes closing to concentrate. Seventh Fonons began to congregate around the healer as he emitted a soft green glow, the glow of healing artes.
"O divine embrace that fosters life," he murmured, shaping the Seventh Fonons, "Cure!"
The green light washed over Luke's arm, bathing the wound in restorative Seventh Fonons. The white line that marked where the skin had split open faded, almost vanishing completely. The crusts of dried blood flaked off, revealing newly regenerated skin underneath.
Segal finished the spell as quickly as he could as was healthy. He reached into his bag, withdrawing an apple gel. He rubbed the gel between his hands, rubbing it over the freshly healed wound on Luke's arm. The treatment was complete with a change of bandages, though they weren't as thick as the last change.
"Done," Segal said briskly, stripping his gloves. "In a while he'll be fine, just make sure he rests so his body can finish up the healing."
Lloyd nodded, digging in his bag for his wallet. He shelled out an amount of gald Luke could not see; the healer took the money, giving it only a sparing glance before he put it away. Segal gave a slight bow as he made his leave.
Lloyd made a few steps toward Luke, who resumed staring at that same piece of wall.
"Are you all right?" Lloyd broke the dead silence.
Luke sighed, rubbing at his eyes. He was stiff from not moving for so many hours straight. He slowly stood, stretching out his limbs, being careful with his newly healed arm.
"Sorry," Luke muttered to the floor, unsure if Lloyd could even hear him. "I know I couldn't have done anything ... "
Lloyd took a seat on his own bed, resting his chin in his hands.
"Your friends were in danger--I wouldn't have acted any differently."
Luke fell back on his bed, covering his face with his hands. His friends were, at this very moment, in the Qliphoth, in the planet's core, with Sync aboard the Tartarus. What other thing could the Oracle Knight have meant, that Sync completed his mission to stop the others in the core? He must have snuck aboard the Tartarus. Sync was a God-General, but he was on his own down there against five skilled fighters that were sure as hell not going down easily.
He knew they would come back safely. They just had to. Luke didn't know if he could accomplish anything against Van on his own. The task was just far too daunting.
-
Two days afterwards, Luke decided to try his luck with his newly healed arm. On the outskirts of town in the north Luke and Lloyd faced off, both with equal resolve.
The fighting was fierce, even if it was only mock fighting. Luke had made Lloyd promise not to hold back just because he had recovered from an ugly wound. The faster he got back into practice, the lesser chance he would end up with another injury like that one.
The fields of fonons utilized in this sparring session were intense--Luke would attack with Devil's Maw, Lloyd would counter with a Hunting Beast, and each the other found themselves rolling across the battlefield to dodge one another's hits.
Unfortunately the session ended with Lloyd's sword tip digging into Luke's throat--after such a sparring session Luke felt he simply had to ask.
"Where did you learn to fight like that?"
Lloyd lowered his sword. Just like Luke, he was huffing for breath, dirty and sweaty from the battle. He bent, offering a helping hand to Luke (who had been floored by a previous attack). Luke accepted the hand, and Lloyd hoisted him to his feet.
"I taught myself," he said, "but my dad helped me refine it."
"A helping father, huh," Luke said quietly. "I wish my father were half as nice."
An awkward silence prevailed wherein the two swordsmen just resting, watching the sea beyond Sheridan's cliffs. The sun had just climbed to high noon; the heat was picking up just a little. Days were hot, sometimes unbearably so, on Radessia.
"Hey," Lloyd said abruptly. "Why do you say you don't trust me?"
Luke gave Lloyd an annoyed glance, as if the other lad should know perfectly well the answer to that question.
"Because I don't know who you are, where you came from, and why you're helping me."
Lloyd frowned, brow furrowed. Evidently he wasn't pleased that Luke did not trust him.
"Aren't you being just a little unfair?" He omitted the fact that he had saved Luke's life not once, not twice, but thrice now--breaking him out of Daath, saving him from Legretta's bullets, and keeping Luke out of danger when he was in no condition to fight.
"No, I'm not." Luke retorted, feeling the sting of guilt that he wasn't being grateful that Lloyd saved him. "I'm being smart for once and using my own head. I'm not going to ... blindly trust people anymore. I'm not going to make another Akzeriuth." The last part was a ghost of whisper. Unlike when he was on the cargo ship en route to Sheridan, now Luke didn't care if Lloyd found out what made Akzeriuth fall.
Lloyd had already helped plenty, and if his knowing the truth behind Akzeriuth made him want to leave, then Luke was not going to be the one to stop him. Luke was prepared for such an event. From now on he was going to make his own decisions.
-
Luke never knew Lloyd could be such a stingy shopper. It was true they were low on gald, and apparently Segal the healer had asked a high price--just for healing one injury! One!
But Luke didn't know when they were going to get another chance to shop, so it was best to be prepared while they could still prepare. After a bit of persuading, Lloyd agreed on one thing--that Luke definitely needed a change of clothing, especially what they suffered through under Daath's cathedral. That wasn't exactly what Luke had in mind, but ... oh, well.
Luke turned around, looking at his reflection in the full-length mirror. The new outfit rather suited him--a navy blue coat with silver buttons and coattails, a steel grey shirt (not half of one!), pants to match and brown boots up to the knee. He kept his gloves, the one thing from his old outfit that was not utterly ruined beyond reckoning.
There was also a scarf--a light grey--for when he would ever be in a cold place. Keterburg had been a nightmare the last time he went.
Lloyd, who had been browsing capacity cores, turned around. When he laid eyes on Luke, his brow shot up and a broad grin covered his face.
"Wow! That's looks great! Better than that belly look you had going!"
Luke rolled his eyes, adjusting the cuffs of his coat at the wrist. "Yeah, well ... to each his own, right? I don't make fun of your suspenders." His eyes darted to the aforementioned accessory.
Lloyd folded his arms, pouting. "Hey, my dad made these clothes for me! D'you think I would insult his work?"
"Not insult," Luke replied, fixing his coat collar, "give fashion advice."
Lloyd scowled, turning back to the capacity cores. The ones in this store had no practical application--they were just fashion accessories. But if taken to a skilled fonist, they could be made practical, perhaps.
Lloyd chose a capacity core, a silver ear cuff. He suggested that Luke get one, too, but the noble politely declined. They were already running up quite the bill with Luke's new clothes and all; they shouldn't spend any more gald until they came by more. They could probably do odd jobs before they left town.
Just as Lloyd was dishing out the bills to the clerk, a flash of platinum blond hair caught Luke's eye. His throat hitched, a strange noise escaping.
"Hunh?" Lloyd looked over his shoulder, in the midst of his transaction.
But Luke was not there.
-
Luke dashed out of the store, cold sweat on his brow, heart pounding, mouth dry. He was positive he had just seen Guy walk on the street outside the store just now. If Guy was here, that meant the others were too, and the operation must be finished! With urgency he pushed past people congesting the streets, worried he would lose Guy's trail. Suddenly it came to him--the only place they'd go was the meeting room in the central plaza.
Luke ran as quickly as he could without downright bowling over the innocent passers-by. He panted for breath as he went, not used to running around so much after his captivity.
Within minutes he reached the plaza, the meeting room standing out like a sore thumb. Luke slowed down, trying to calm himself. He didn't want to look all flustered when he met the others. Maybe just this once he could play it cool ...
He walked up to the door, smiling ear to ear, a hand already on the knob. And stopped, completely petrified. He heard voices inside, along with the familiar--hauntingly familiar voice. One that he had heard only in his head.
Quietly, Luke put an ear to the door.
"Van was at port?" the hauntingly familiar voice asked. "Good thing I stayed in town."
"Yes," Jade's voice replied. It was oddly monotonous--either ridiculously lighthearted or gravely serious, Jade never had an emotionless voice. "Now that the core is stabilized, we must plan our next move."
"The Sephiroth at Tataroo Valley must be activated." Natalia said from within. "Asch, will you command it for us?"
Luke stood, frozen, mouth dry, throat tight, and blood coming to a standstill.
"I said I'd consider it." Asch replied, but as he was addressing Natalia, his tone was remarkably warmer and softer than usual.
"But with Luke held captive by the God-Generals in Yulia knows where," Tear said next, "we have no alternative. Please, Asch."
Were they daft? Had they so little faith in him that the moment something happened, they went trotting back to Asch for help? Did they not think of the most obvious place possible Van would keep him? Natalia Luke could understand, but Tear? Tear was pleading for Asch's help over waiting for Luke or even believing he would eventually come back?
What Luke felt now was best described as betrayal--but no, they hadn't betrayed him, he had betrayed them by getting himself caught in the first place. He had failed them, and as a fitting consequence--he had been replaced.
He had been replaced.
-
Lloyd had hurriedly finished his transaction with the store clerk, clumsily gathering everything in his arms when he raced out into the streets to find Luke running like hell down to the central plaza. It seemed he was headed toward the meeting room for whatever reason. As long as Lloyd knew where the redhead was going, there was no need to hurry if he wasn't in danger.
So he took time to carry all his belongings comfortably before proceeding the streets to look for his companion. This kind of thing was beginning to bug him, his allies running off on their own without so much as telling him anything beforehand! Granted, they never ran outside whatever town they happened to be in, so danger was minimal, but mindlessly parting company in such a fashion was never a good idea.
Especially for Luke, who had just spent a day and a half bedridden from an injury caused by a God-General. The title obviously reeked of importance of some kind, but Lloyd didn't have the meaning distilled into his mindset. It certainly sounded more frightening than Grand Cardinal, but still.
Wading his way through the sea of people Lloyd found himself in the plaza he was looking for. Even though it wasn't especially crowded, of Luke there was no sign. He turned another three-sixty degrees just to make sure, and stopped.
People filed out of the meeting room, people Lloyd had never seen before and frankly at the moment did not care to. There were three young women, one with honey blonde hair, another with bronze silver, and the last with jet black hair tied into pigtails. The men of the group also numbered three--one had strawberry brunette hair with glasses perched on his nose, another with platinum blond hair, and the third--Lloyd stood rooted to the spot, jaw slack.
The last of the young men wore the black tabard and mantle of a God-General, had jade green eyes, and--here Lloyd had a bit of trouble breathing--a long mane of rich red hair.
He looked exactly identical to Luke.
Lloyd stepped forward, considering asking after this mysterious look alike but stopped himself. Luke wore a different manner of dress, now more than ever, plus had short hair besides. Hair didn't grow that long within a mere five minutes.
The group of people disappeared out of the city gates, and Lloyd pushed them to the back of his mind, dashing through the streets to resume his search for Luke.