Disclaimer: Star Ocean isn't mine. Short and sweet.

Chapter 20

"What is it, Sophia?" Fayt croaked as he sheltered his eyes from the fluorescent overhead light. That hard-edged glare was one thing he had not missed on Elicoor II. "I'm tired. Let me sleep."

He heard an audibly displeased sigh as Sophia perched on the edge of his bed. "Come on, Fayt, you've been out for four days!! Maria needs to speak with you. And everyone else wants to see your face, you can't just come back and hide up in your room like this!"

He grumbled weakly as she forcefully pulled his arm from his gaze and wrenched back the covers. "And take a shower and do something about your Elicoorian clothes, won't you? What, didn't Albel let you bathe when you were down there?"

"Sophia, I can't wash up if you're in the room yelling at me," he said, his patience obviously tried.

She smiled, happy that he expressed anger at her mention of Albel's name. "All right, then. I'll be waiting at the bridge. You still remember where that is, right?"

Fayt's eyes narrowed. "I'll figure it out somehow, Sophia. Just give me five minutes…"

And just when he felt sure he would have to physically evict her from his room, she willingly skipped out, leaving him at last in peace.

She was just trying to be nice, he told himself. Just trying to involve herself in your life again, now that you've returned. Probably for good.

He closed his eyes languidly as the hot water from the showerhead loosened his tight muscles. He had woken up sore, and Sophia's interruption certainly did not help.

It hurt to think of him.

He turned off the water, and toweled himself dry as he clothed himself. He missed his Elicoorian clothes. But there was nothing he could do about that, either.

Fayt wondered why he felt so confined in a ship that was open to all of the expanses of space, but he could not shake the claustrophobic suffocation of the Diplo's metal and machinery. He had felt better on Elicoor, where he could breathe air that wasn't artificially processed, and feel the sun warm his skin in rays, not the generic fog of heating.

Sophia had lied to him. She was not waiting for him at the bridge. She was sitting patiently on the cluster of seats in the open area preceding the bridge, her face hopefully cheerful.

"You weren't joking when you said five minutes," she laughed almost nervously as she stood up. "You ready? Maria says there's a lot to talk about."

He did not even protest when Sophia slipped her hand in his. And then he was ready to face Maria.

"Hey, kid! Been a while, don't you think?" a voice buffeted him before a blond man crushed him in a welcoming hug. Cliff.

Fayt looked up and faked cheer well enough to convince the Klausian. "How's it going, Cliff? Mirage?"

Cliff nodded. "Not too shabby, not too shabby. At least until we got that call from you. Maria went to pick up Mirage right away, and here we are!"

Mirage smiled. "It feels awfully empty without the rest of us, though. Amazing what difference a few people can make," she said. "Peppita won't be joining us, of course. Her guardians put their foot down, and rightfully so. And you tell us that Albel and Nel won't be coming with? It's a little disheartening, I must admit."

"Yeah, there's no one like Albel to cover your back in a brawl," Cliff commented. "Course, not that I'm saying I like the guy, but…"

Maria cleared her throat. "We need to get down to business," she said firmly, and Fayt threw her an unrecognized look of thanks. "First, we need to decide exactly what we're going to do. We can hardly comb every planet in the galaxy looking for Luther's programming team. Fayt, is there anything you'd like to say about the ones you've encountered so far?"

Fayt's eyes went wide in surprise. "Me? Oh, um, sure. Well…"

His unsteady speech's beginning was interrupted by an insistent and unfamiliar whine issuing from his communicator.

Unthinking, he picked it up and answered by reflex. "Alex?!" he stammered.

"The Metaphysicist in knowledgeable company, if you please," the young scholar said and adjusted his glasses on his nose. A frightening bandage covered half of his forehead. "Patch me through to the Diplo's larger screen—never mind, I'll do it myself…"

And the star map was replaced by the pale visage of the blond-haired Metaphysicist.

"You must be the Metaphysicist," Maria said with professional poise. "As captain of the Diplo, I welcome you."

The Metaphysicist smiled. "I'm honored to meet the Alteration and Connection at least. Why didn't you tell me they were so charming, Fayt?" he teased genially.

"But I will call you by Maria and Sophia if you prefer," he amended. "And to save time. Speaking of saving time, Maria, it would do you well to look up… any current events on any place that Fayt has been. If Fayt has stepped foot there, you need to check up on that planet."

Maria motioned for her subordinate Marietta, as well as Mirage, to tap the Diplo's search engines. "Make that Moonbase, Sol III or course, and Vanguard III, and Styx. May I ask why?" she addressed to the Metaphysicist.

"Because I fear that since the Engineer is here on Elicoor II, the Kriegsbringer is here as well. And if the Kriegsbringer is here, then he will have contacted the Justice. I would know if the Justice appeared planetside—I think the entire planet would—but since she hasn't, it means she is doing her job somewhere else."

"Her job?" Maria frowned. "And what do you mean, by you 'think the entire planet' would know if she was there?"

He heaved a sigh, which made his glasses fall. He distractedly pushed them to their proper place. "Because she's head debugger of Sphere. Not Azazer or whoever else you met in 4D, but her—the company doesn't like displaying its key people. If she showed up on Elicoor, you'd see…"

"Maria, come see this now!!" Mirage's voice cut across the Metaphysicist's words.

"It's the Justice," the Metaphysicist briefed them. Cliff, already having caught sight of Mirage's findings, paced the floor of the bridge.

"Fayt, come over here and see what I'm seeing," Maria told him. Her words were hurried, her expression frantic and quick.

Fayt took in the stills of slaughter. It could have been mistaken for a scene of war. A twinge in his chest sickly reminded him of Albel. What had Fayt's sudden departure done to him? Or would it have even mattered, after all that Fayt had already inflicted on the man?

"Fayt," Maria said tersely. "Fayt, are you listening to us? Is this the planet you crashed on?"

He took in the photograph with sudden familiarity. That planet was not unfamiliar to him—he had been there before.

"Is that Vanguard III?" His voice said, higher than he'd intended.

"That's what I was referring to," the Metaphysicist sighed. "The Justice is 'cleansing' any area that has been touched by your hand, Fayt. According to her, the NPCs' behavior programs are all tainted; as are other programs. She has completely lost her mind, claims the Incantatrix."

Fayt remembered Blair's words, that the Incantatrix would help them. "You've spoken to the Incantatrix? Where is she? Blair said we needed to find her," he asked the Metaphysicist.

The Metaphysicist paused a moment. "I wouldn't call it speaking, exactly. She's not anywhere I can reach her, I'll guarantee that. She's in 'the quiet place'. Listen to me—there's nothing you can do about Vanguard III."

Fayt thought of the defenseless inhabitants of Vanguard III. He had not been able to recall the melody from that music box for months, but now it was strangely crystalline and clear in his mind's ear.

"You need to go to Styx before the Justice gets there, and open a link to 4D. You won't get to 4D of course, you'll end up in one of the links left over from when our worlds were connected. There, with luck, you'll find the Incantatrix. Listen, I have to go. The Engineer's bound to pick up something if I keep connected like this."

There was a thought unreadable on Maria's lips. "Wait, you can't leave us just yet. What are we supposed to do with the Justice if we find her?"

They could tell by his hesitant expression that he had no good answer. "If you," he began measuredly, "do happen to meet the Justice before you find the Incantatrix, then you'll have to make good use of your symbological abilities."

Sophia interjected. "But we're supposed to help all of you return to your world, not kill you!"

The Metaphysicist gave a grimacing smile. "Yes, well… I would like to use my coworker the Kriegsbringer's words and say to you, 'do or die'. And if you do not at least incapacitate her, you will assuredly die."

In the silence that followed, there was nothing for anyone to say.

"I'll contact you as soon as it is safe," he said by way of farewell, and the screen was more a breadcrumb map of stars in the black night.

"Wait," Fayt called out too late, only to realize that the question he wanted to ask had nothing to do with the crisis of Luther's lingering presence. It was a question he could never voice in front of everyone.

On the reverse side of Fayt's unasked question, Albel looked dazedly up at the stars. It had been four days. Four days since Fayt had disappeared into the night, four days since Albel had been able to lose himself in the oblivion of darkness.

He did not sleep because he dared not dream. Trapped inside the haunting ghost that clung to him like a net, he was afraid. Deathly, deathly afraid. His gauntlet did not obey him, did not listen to his protesting cries as it slit Fayt's throat. But as he held the weakening boy in his tight arms, there was the sickly sensation that his own throat bled.

After ten years, he had finally done it; he had committed suicide.

But it was Fayt with a bitter expression, Fayt who looked as if he had been wronged as he mouthed, "I hate you."

Dark shadows overwhelmed his dimmed ember eyes. At the break of dawn, he would face the day that would finally claim his as a son of Aquaria.

And then he jumped, startled by the sight in the doorway. For a moment, reality had slipped sideways and he had envisioned himself in Airyglyph castle, the cold winter night that the mysterious engineers from Greeton had crashed into the middle of the square. A blue-haired boy, bloodied and weary-eyed, fatigued from torturous pain, looked up at him pleading from behind iron bars.

No doubt the boy did not even remember their first encounter. But Albel recalled enough for the memory to haunt him.

He had done nothing for the crumpled figure; not a calming word, not even a comforting gaze. He had barely even stopped, so jaded he was to the rigors of torture.

"Albel?"

As Albel flipped over his wrist, he caught sight of the pearly rivulets that coursed down his skin to the soft scarring on his palm. He had not considered it in years, but those filigree scars were the most tempting for him to open up again.

This time, he doubted that Helgrave would come for him.

"Albel! Do you hear me?"

He looked up, and the world slipped back into focus. It seemed that Helgrave had the most impeccable timing, and not even the past few days of forced silence towards Albel could thwart that. "Helgrave," he said in subdued surprise. "I thought you were… someone else…"

Helgrave's eyes narrowed. "Like who?"

Albel turned back to his introspection. "For a moment, I thought you were Fayt."

Helgrave sighed impatiently. "Albel, for Apris' sake, go to sleep. You're hallucinating."

"What did you really come here for?"

Helgrave was caught off guard. "What are you talking about? You think I've got some ulterior motive or something?"

"You actually, genuinely care?" Albel laughed. "You're fooling yourself more than me," he commented. "I'm fine. I've been fine, I will be fine. You should hold your own sleep in higher regard than mine. Go back to bed, Helgrave."

"But…"

"Let me take my rightful place as your older brother, Helgrave," Albel said in a way that ended the conversation.

Helgrave, feeling a little chastised, nodded in acceptance. "All right. Good night, then."

But the threshold that Helgrave crossed next was not his private room. Like the tide, his hate for Albel had ebbed away, and sadness for him remained. His heavy steps echoed against the immaculate tile, his features caressed only by the occasional lit candle. It had been a long time since he had properly prayed.

He wet his fingers with the Holy Water of Apris, bubbling clear from a fountain near the mouth of the cathedral. Drawing the circle on his chest that was the cycle of water and his faith, he did not even enter one of the pews as he simply dropped to his knees in the middle of the aisle.

"Apris," he said, but found he could not continue. The words would not come, no matter his belief that the words to pray would stay ingrained into him forever as if a river had etched them to his soul. Had he lost his faith that easily?

"Why would you be so hurtful to one of your own children?" he then said without the peaceful tone of prayer. "What did Albel do? I know it was not because he lost faith, because he believed in you still when you took our father away and ascribed the blame on his shoulders. What kind of god would," he choked.

Then he came to his feet with a sigh. He could not continue. Perhaps rest would give him the answers that Apris refused.