Lost and Found

Lost and Found

By: rainjewel

A/N: Ah yes, my 9th chapter! Being an avid Folken worshipper I had to get the bishie Strategos in here. *Bangs head on table* And I was doing so good at keeping him out of this! Oh well, Folken must always make an appearance and say something melodramatic and be extremely unemotional in every fanfic I write. Please R&R!

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Migel

I kissed her. I can't believe I did that! What in hell was I thinking? Was I even thinking?

"Halt, you there! What's your name?" a voice rings out through the darkness, breaking my thoughts.

Well, that does seem to be the question of the week.

"My name is Migel Labariel. I'm a soldier of Zaibach, belonging to the Dragon Slayer unit," I reply tiredly. The voice doesn't return for a moment.

I stand in a small clearing of trees outside of Freid. After leaving Hitomi I've traveled to the last coordinates given to me by Dilandau for the Vione's location. I'm actually very surprised that I managed to find it.

Damn it! Where is that guard?

Probably checking my credentialsthe ones that read about the stupid idget from the "Mystic Moon" who has fallen in love with his best friend, who by the way, is now a mortal enemy. I'm sure they'd love to have me back.

"We're sending someone down," the voice rings out suddenly, interrupting my self-chastising. Suddenly a ramp lowers from the floating fortress, making me jump back slightly so as not to get pummeled on the head. A short, pale figure descends down the ramp, its hand resting on its scabbard. I smile to myself as the figure becomes recognizable. It's the one and only Chesta. The killer with a face of a cherub.

"O serpent heart, hid with a flowering face! Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave?"Chesta was made for Shakespeare.

Unfortunately, you are the hapless Romeo. Ah, but Romeo has to have a Juliet. I'm lacking in that department.

"Migel?" Chesta's familiar voice calls out. The tone is questioning, yet authorative.

"Chesta Daliente, you haven't forgotten me?" I reply softly. Chesta's eyes brighten at the sound of his name, and his baby blue eyes clearly recognize my face.

"Thank gods you're back!" Chesta exclaims, removing his hand from his sword hilt. He tosses his blonde head over his shoulder, "Guards, it's all right. The man is who he claims to be," he yells to the unseen soldiers.

I step up to the shorter Slayer, and we both climb up the ramp, passing the guards who give us a brief salute.

Home again, home again, jiggedy jig.

"What hour is it?" I ask absently as we walk into the constant darkness of the Vione.

"About 3 in the morning, I'd say," Chesta replies, rubbing a cerulean eye slightly. "They called me to come and identify' you. Thanks for interrupting my sleep," he says good naturedly.

"Sorry, Chess. If I would of known I would of arrived at a more convenient time. Next time I get captured by enemy troops I'll remember that when I plan my escape," I say with more then a little sarcasm. Chesta grins at my remark.

"Well, it's good to have you back," Chesta says with a roll of his eyes as we walk along the corridors, "It's been tense without you here. Dilandau-sama's gone off his rocker. He hasn't slept since the battle, keeping a constant vigil—that reminds me, you are supposed to see him, I bet he's been informed of your arrival. You're also supposed to meet Folken-sama the moment you set foot on the ship." Chesta stops in front of the door to Dilandau's throne room. "I'd see Dilandau-sama first though, regardless of Folken-sama's rank."

"My, aren't we the little messenger boy?" I ask, grinning at Chesta's monologue. Chesta grins back in response, but it turns into a yawn.

"Whatever. I'm going to go back to bed now. You have fun at your meetingsone fair warning, Dilandau-sama hasn't had sleep for the better part of this week—"

"Enough said," I say, cutting the blue-eyed boy off. He raises a few fingers as a wave goodbye and turns and heads off to his room which he shares with Dalet.

Ooh, brace yourself boy, this one's gonna hurt.

I sigh resignedly and push open the doors to the throne room.

Dilandau sits alone on his throne, his legs spilling over the arms of the chair. His arms are behind his silvery head, which rests on the other arm. His eyes are open, yet unfocused in front of him. Damn, that cannot be comfortable. I bow and touch my head to the ground out of respect, then rise to my feet, feeling ill at ease. Usually Dilandau would at least look to see who had entered his precious throne room.

"I have returned, Dilandau-sama," I say, unsure on how to proceed.

My words seem to switch Dilandau on like a light. Suddenly he moves into a standing postion as fluidly as a cat. Most think his grace is beautiful; I find it disconcerting. His ruby eyes brighten as they brush over my face. His look is indecipherable. Big surprise there.

I notice that the usually brilliant garnet irises are bleary and slightly bloodshot, but that's the only sign of Dilandau's vigil. It's probably not even noticeable to the other Slayers, but I've spent the most time with our commander. Besides his eyes however, his appearance is flawless, right down to the curl of his bangs.

Typical Dilandau, perfect in everyway, no matter what happens.

"Welcome back Labariel," Dilandau states simply, his voice as melodious as bells. Yeah, Hell's bells is more like it. He walks towards me until his nose almost touches mine. I smell a slap coming.

"Folken wants to see you for some reason or another. I'm pleased to note that you came to me first," Dilandau says. With that he gives me a brisk nod and walks out of the throne room.

What? That was odd.

I was expecting at least a tirade and a slap. Dilandau's lack of both is perfectly terrifying. He's never reacted that way to me before. Jeez, people are acting strange lately.

With yet another sigh I walk out of the abandoned throne room, and proceed down to where Folken's usual haunts are. He's either in his lab, his quarters (which I doubt), or Emperor Dornkirk's "reception area". I arrive at the latter first. Peeking my head in, I can tell the room is empty. The old geezer's face is nowhere to be seen. I swear the monarch's barely a year younger then God.

Making my way down through the corridors I pass Folken's chambers, but I doubt he's in there. He's never in there, especially if wanted to talk to a subordinate. I just hope whatever he has to say isn't very damned long and important because all I want to do is sleep for a millenia. It's been a very long couple of days.

The door to the lab is closed. I reach to knock on the door, and I feel apprehension course through my veins. I've never actually talked with the Strategos. I've only seen him in passing. That strikes me as quite funny, since this is Folken's ship, and a nervous giggle escapes my lips as I raise my hand and rap on the metal.

The door opens silently, sweeping open with a dramatic air. I step inside, unsure of what's going on. I peer to the left and the right, but there's no one there. Suddenly the door closes behind me without a sound yet again. Okay, this creepy. What the hell is going on?

I shiver involuntary. I still am only wearing my leather pants and black cloak/shirt/toga thing. I'm surprised Dilandau didn't say anything.

"You are Migel Labariel?" rumbles a deep voice from the somewhere in the room. My eyes search the darkness, but all I can make out are the silhouettes of many vials, beakers, and charts that are scattered on what I take to be desks. I blink my eyes rapidly, trying to get them to adjust to the gloom. How does he see in this? What does he have? X-ray vision? I bet that'd come in handy with those kitten twins of his.

"Yes Sir," I reply. Slowly Folken's tall, pale form emerges from the darkness. He looks unrumpled, despite the hour. His black Madoshi cloak blends in with the gloom, making only his sad, pale features visible. The serious, stoic Strategos—Ha! An alliteration! Dear God I'm nervous!— is here in all his darkened glory.

Probably sensing my discomfort with the dark surroundings, Folken, with a fluid move of his left arm, flips a switch on the wall, turning on the lights. I squint as the brightness flashes in my eyes. As usual, Folken stands still, no flicker of emotion on his face. Suddenly all the beakers, vials, measures and such come into view. The room is ten times bigger then I ever thought it was. Probably twice the size of the dining hall. Ah, the benefits of owning your own floating fortress. A gigantic laboratoryI could think of better things to splurge on.

"I sent a deceptant to recover you, did you meet with him?" Folken questions me after a moment, leaving me some time to recover myself.

"No, Folken-sama," I reply promptly. I wonder at his usage of "deceptant". Sounds interesting.

"How did you escape?" Folken asks, his eyes intent on my face, showing his interest. I'm thrown off by the question. Usually Folken isn't inquisitive about the tales of the lives of the Dragon Slayers. He probably thinks that I did something to cause an international incident. Great.

"I used my dogtags to pick the lock, Sir," I reply carefully, hoping he'll enjoy the indirect compliment and not question me about my evening. That could be dangerous.

"And you simply walked out of the Palace?" Folken replies, his skepticism evident.

"I had totake care' of a few guards, Sir," I reply slowly. Why any of this matters, I know not. I shift on my feet uncomfortably.

Folken nods in reply, then looks as if he's about to say something when a low hissing sound comes from somwhere in the gigantic room. To me it sounds like a dying cat.

That was poetic Migel. A real winning simile there.

"Excuse me," the Strategos rumbles grandly. He turns and walks to a large array of experiments. He stops in front of a red vial held over a blue flame. Folken takes the vial with his left hand and pours it into a large beaker that contains a pale yellow liquid. While concentrating on his "concoction", he reaces for the burner to turn it off with his right hand—which is made out of metal.

Holy Hell! What the fuck is that?

I hear a faint gasp echo through the room that I know to be my own. I stiffen and kick myself mentally. Gods, I've heard the rumors of Folken having a bionic arm (including one really weird one where he even had wings) but I never believed it.

Well, believe it now.

Folken turns around and walks back to where I stand at attention. I'm trying to make my face as emotionless as his, but it would be easier to milk a rooster.

"Shocking isn't it?" Folken asks in a bemused tone. He holds out his right hand and flexs his fingers, looking t the appendage in wonder. I feel my face fall. "However, you certainly handled it far better then I did when I saw it for the first time."

Huh? What kind of response is that?

"Itcaught meby surprise Folken-sama" I reply, struggling for a tactful answer.

"Well, it surprised me that you would lie to high-ranking officer in the Zaibach army," Folken says coolly, not missing a beat.

I feel my face fall again. Suddenly all of my remaining strength seems to dissipate.

"I" I begin, but falter. For the first time I realize that his eyes are the same intimidating garnet as Dilandau's, and they're staring right at my face. This is not looking good.

"You're holding something back, soldier. I can tell by your eyes. What is it?" Folken asks patiently, "I feel it concerns that Mystic Moon girl. I noticed that she saved your life at the water battle. Why?"

Yep. This man is definitely a genius.

I almost begin to deny the allegation, but it's obviously pointless. My goose is cooked and I know it. Arguing with a higher-ranking officer would be suicide.

Though after what I'm going to say, suicide might not look so bad. At this thought I feel my knees go weak.

"Can I sit down, Sir? I'll tell you everything you want, but I really need to sit down," I say tremulously. Yes, I know it's a rather brash statement, but I'm too exhausted (not to mention scared) to care. And I'm shaking so badly I'm going to fall down in a few moments.

In other words Labariel, you're chickenshit. You can battle heavily armed guymelefs, switch planets, and kill with ease, but your afraid to talk to Folken, who's talks so often he's almost a mute. Yep, you're chickenshit.

With a small flourish Folken whisks two chairs from behind a mess of papers and vials. He seats himself in one and I in the other.

"Proceed," he says simply, facing me with those intense red eyes. That's an order and I know it. Still, I'm somewhat bewildered by the strange turn of events, and I merely gape stupidly at Folken until he repeats the command.

And so I begin my tale, the entire confusing story. My old relationship with Hitomi, my arrival from the Mystic Moon, up until tonight (excusing the embarrassing "singing episode" and my new feelings for Hitomi, though I think Folken picks up on them anyway). When my tale is finished, I sit quietly in front of the Strategos, unsure of how he'll react to my oral biography. So far he hasn't even blinked.

"You're relations with Miss Kanzaki might prove very useful," Folken muses in a quiet voice after a short hiatus. I feel my heart drop into my stomach, and black, burning anger replace it's spot.

"I won't decieve her, Sir," I reply forcefully, letting Folken catch my anger. Screw being respectful to authority.

"I'm not planning on it. Of course, it could help our cause immensely, but I'm sick of twisting people's emotions for my own gain," Folken says tiredly. I feel a rush of hope surge through my blood. This certainly wasn't the reaction I had expected. Surprised as I am by Folken's decision, I'm grateful nonetheless.

"However, I suggest you cut all ties with Miss Kanzaki. She is your enemy now. If you keep up your relationship' with your past, it'll only lead to your heart's destruction," Folken says, his eyes bright with a pain I've never seen, "I should know."

Vanoh god, he's warring against his own brother. I never even realized that. And I thought I had problems.

"You have a hard choice to make soldier. You have to choose between your heart and your country," Folken says, his eyes undoubtly reading my expression perfectly. The words hit me like a rock. I suck in a large gulp of air.

"What would you choose, Sir?" I ask dumbly, my voice sounding like a lost child. Hell, I am a lost child. Lost on a foreign planet.

"I made the wrong choice," Folken responds quietly. The rock hits me again. His violet teardrop is glaring in the pale light.

I don't know how to respond to a comment such as that. Folken doesn't seem to want a response anyway, He stands up from his chair and I rise to my feet as well.

"You should return to your quarters and reassure Dilandau. He's been a littleedgy since your capture," Folken says.

Ah, such tact. Translation: If you thought Dilandau was crazy before, now he's completely gone insane. It was a short trip.

"Thank you Folken-sama," I say. I know what I've been given, but still I have to ask—"Why are you doing this?"

Folken, for what must be the first time ever, smiles at my insolence.

"Because you're too young to be so jaded," he says amusedly. If he was a laughing man he would probably chuckle.

That's not funny. I don't see how that's even a reason

"Yes Sir," I reply, then smartly turn on my heel and exit the room. Before I'm even through the door the lights flicker off behind me. Soon a slow, somber whistling starts from behind the closed door. I grin. As sorrowful as the tune sounds, it usually means that Folken's happy. I walk to my room.

Pushing through the door to my chambers, I look to Dilandau's bed. The commander is lying on the mattress, curled in a loose fetal position. His armor is still on, and his bed is still made. I smile to myself. Ah, the sweet innocence of slumber.

Gently I remove the fiery armor from Dilandau's sleeping form and slip him under the covers. He mumbles in his sleep, saying something that sounds suspiciously like "rabid purple cow". I smile again as I pull the covers over his pale frame. It's good to be home.

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