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!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
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.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~