Chesta (and Hitomi fans, but mostly Chesta fans) will love this chp. This was written especially for Chesta.
Dilandau sat slumping on the ground and stared at the tiny flame morosely, wishing it greater strength and power, and to overtake this damned jungle and burn the ashes to the ground. And if he had thought that the flames would spare him, he would do it too. But while he was in the forest, that would have to wait. He leaned back, exhausted, hungry, and wanting nothing more than to be back in his own quarters and in his own soft bed and to… "Ow! What the heck is it now?"
Something pinched him in his lower back. His hands scraped the ground in back of him, searching for the new annoyance in a long list of annoyances in his life. The sweep only reported the bare ground in back of him. Whatever it was…it had to be in his shirt.
'Ew, gross. What if it's something alive or scaly.' Concern for personal hygiene overpowered fatigue with a loud yelp and a scramble to tear the contaminated material off. With the unzipped jacket in one hand and a large rock in the other, Dilandau swerved to squash the slimy piece of-
-metal?
Ivory, polished metal, cylinder shaped and a little smaller than his palm, but not by much. A leather cord threaded through the thickest end. There where impressions and lines running alongside it, the pattern artificial looking. The metal itself had a burn mark the size of a fingerprint, multiple scratches flocking in one direction. Dilandau sat down cross-legged slowly wary of his ankles, his face slowly dawning into comprehension and regret. He fingered the pendant carefully, as if it were made of a substance far too fragile to be handled by mortals.
"When did he manage…"
Dilandau felt numb.
"Why?"
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Dilandau strode down the corridor of the Vione,
resolution echoing in every movement. He had just exited the infirmary; after the doctor had diagnosed
that the scar Van had placed would likely remain visible for the rest of his
life. Knuckles still aching, he rushed
through the hallway to the sanctuary of his own room.
"Dilandau-sama!" ' Good grief, not now. Bother me
now and I won't be able to stop myself from killing you'
"Dilandau-sama! Wait up! There's something I
need to show you." Dilandau didn't mind
people yelling his name, it was a good way to get a reputation around, but he
never, ever, let anybody tell him what to do.
Dilandau stopped so suddenly Chesta had to wipe himself
against the wall to keep from slamming into him, rubber boot soles screeching
against metal. Only half a foot
separating them, Chesta grinned in that naïve way he had in apology before
moving back. Dilandau-sama didn't look
happy, but then Chesta had never seen him happy except when he was burning
something down. Chesta sometimes
privately thought that Dilandau was rude to him on purpose, but that didn't
make any sense.
"Greetings, Dilandau-sama." Dilandau raised an eyebrow in a What-Do-You-Want way.
Chesta glanced briefly at the gauze on his cheek; a
glance that Dilandau caught. "We were
able to recover some of the wreckage from the last battle with the dragon. And, um, where I come from, it's sort
tradition you know, to take a memento from a really good hunt, and keep
it. Like a good luck charm. It's a bit, old-fashioned, I know, but the
stuff seems to really work. From what
I've seen anyway. And, anyway, I thought that maybe you would like it."
Chesta presented Dilandau with a small necklace, the
pendant a striking contrast to the black leather of his gloves. All the
misgivings that Chesta had had earlier came back, but it was too late to back
down now. Dilandau took the offering
without saying anything. Chesta sighed
an inward sigh of relief, his hopeful puppy expression turning to that of
satisfaction. He had been afraid that
Dilandau-sama would find the action a little too familiar, or be offended
somehow.
Dilandau examined the gift thoroughly, yet daintily, as
if afraid it carried a disease. He then
turned to Chesta, expression unreadable. "What kind of joke are you trying to pull? You find this funny, that I failed?" Dilandau's tone and face remained mild and banked. 'Oops. Guess I went too far after all.' Chesta blushed frantically. "No
Dilandau-sama. I just thought that
maybe-" "You thought wrong. It surprises me that you think at all. I don't need your trinkets to succeed in
anything. The army doesn't need
people who bring their backwards customs from whatever hell hole the Empire
found them in."
Dilandau's demeanor changed drastically from contempt to
rage. "And I certainly, do not
need a reminder of what that bitch did to me; I can see it every damned day for
the rest of my god forsaken life." Dilandau slapped Chesta harder than Chesta thought he would; Chesta
could taste blood. Dilandau resumed his
previous calm. "And this regiment certainly
doesn't need lackeys who can't stay inside their own space." Dilandau threw the charm at him, voice still
cold and restrained. "Don't overstep
your boundaries again. You're not irreplaceable. I am." And with that he left.
Chesta sat up slowly, cheek still burning and flush. Migel had warned him what would happen, but
he thought it wouldn't. 'Really thought
he wouldn't do it, didn't you. Thought
he liked you better than that, he was right. I am a fool.' Chesta crushed the
pendant with his hand. 'No, that's not
completely true. He tried to hold
himself back, or, at least it looked like he did. So maybe I am reaching him, after all.' Chesta smiled to himself. 'Or maybe I'm just too optimistic, like
Migel says I am.'
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All the emotions, all the guilt, and accusations that Dilandau had been holding back for sooo long came rushing back at him. The surprised, but unalarmed look that had been the last the Chesta ever said with his eyes the undying concern for his leader, the horrified look on Migel's face when he handed Chesta's body over to be taken back, the miserable feeling of pretending that that girl was Van, all of it came rushing up and out. Even the smell of the guymelef, like soap and leather, every bit of Chesta.
Stupid Chesta. Chesta was always doing stupid, sociable things like everything was okay. He always smiled too much. Dilandau didn't trust people too much; it made him feel like they knew something special or that they had something special that he didn't. Chesta always made him feel like that. Chesta was always happy, something Dilandau could never be, except when he was burning something down. Unless he knew he made someone's life hell, even for a few minutes. Chesta always made him feel uncomfortable, like there was large, warm earthworm squirming in his sides. Dilandau tried to chase the boy away with every method he knew, but it just didn't work. No matter how many times he slapped him, insulted him, humiliated him, the boy wouldn't go away. So Dilandau came to the conclusion that the boy was stupid.
The look on that girls face, so much like Chesta's with their plain haircuts and eyes so expressive, so eloquent. Dilandau remembered how he had felt looking at those emerald eyes, resolve shaking and melting. She seemed to understand though, she didn't seem afraid. Didn't seem angry either, that she was going to die and he was there to kill her. Took it all pretty calmly, actually. And Dilandau, felt very jealous. Van had no right to have something so beautiful if he, Dilandau, couldn't have one because Van had taken it away. So he killed, rather post haste too.
Migel's face had been by far the worst; they mirrored Dilandau's own feelings. Denial, terror, accusation. That how-could-you-allow-this-to-happen look. One country bumpkin. And you allowed him to kill the best of your men. One better than even you. What's wrong with you, how could you allow this to happen? You said you were the greatest you said you were the best and you could even protect the one person who gave a damn about your existence. You lied to them to all of them and you lied to yourself. It wasn't even his fault, that fool, it was an accident. He was trying to kill you, it was your job to die and you somehow managed to screw it up. Is there anything out there that you cannot screw up? Is there anything you can do for yourself? Chess has always being doing your dirty work and you couldn't even take upon yourself to die your own death. You had to make him do it for you, didn't you?
How could you do this?
What the hell are you?
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Van woke up with a start to a high shrieking sound and muffled sounds that reminded him much of Hitomi when she was scared. 'Geez, I wish Merle would quit picking on her.' Then he remembered Hitomi wasn't here anymore. Shuffling sounds continued below him. Van froze, trying to comprehend the statistical odds of events.
Dilandau Albatou was below him, and appeared to be engaged in some sort of toneless dance. "Get off get it off get it off get it out it out already. "Van stared, one eyebrow raised. 'What the hell? I think I'm dreaming.' Dilandau ripped off his shirt. 'Then again, maybe I'm awake. Why would I have dream about Dilandau stripping?' To Van's surprise Dilandau stopped his ballet, and was instead staring intently at something in his hand. Van couldn't see his face from his angle, he shifted a little.
Dilandau was mumbling something to himself, too low to be heard. His face was, for once, completely solemn. His features lost the constant arrogance that Van thought had been chiseled on there. His shoulders slumped, his body drooping. 'He lost his spark. Wonder why? What did I miss? He looks so vulnerable now, fragile. I could probably kill him without even getting up. But, would it be right? To attack the defenseless? Hitomi was unarmed, so it must be all right with him. But I'm not him.'
Something slid down Dilandau's cheek. Van gawked openly, looking very much like a fish. Another one slid down, mimicking a minimized scar. They looked very much like rivers seen from great heights, each one retracing a deepening the trail they all followed. Dilandau was, strangely, quiet and motionless. He apparently didn't know that he was crying, and if he did, he didn't seem to care. Van belatedly remembered to close his mouth, though he continued to stare at abandon. 'What on Gaia could make that unfeeling bastard actually…This can't be real. It can't be, it doesn't make any sense.' Dilandau rubbed one side of his face, though the tears continued to fall. His face was still open and unguarded, skin sickly pale in the cold, despite the fire. The fire threw shadows over his face, making him look far more gaunt and helpless than he really was.
His eyes were bloodshot from stress, and contained a far away look, a mixture of both understanding and sorrow shining in them. He looked defeated, lost, like whatever demon inside him had won whatever fight was going on without contest.
'He looks almost beautiful like that. Vulnerable, cold, innocent, ethereal even. Wait, what the heck am I thinking? He's my enemy! If he finds me with this leg I'm dead.' Van suddenly felt embarrassed and ashamed, like the times when he had caught himself staring at Hitomi's legs, or when he had spied a girl pixie while wandering through Fanelia's forest when he was 7. Pixies were mythical folk, and were said to be dangerous and not looked at or dealt with. He had the distinct feeling that he shouldn't be doing something, but he didn't want to stop either. 'Still, no one should have to look that way.'
'But he killed Hitomi. Doesn't that mean anything to you?'
'Of course it does. I didn't say that I wasn't going to kill him.'
'No, but you're definitely thinking it'
'I am not, his life is still mine.'
'Who do you think you're lying to? You never could hurt anything defenseless.'
Van's expression hardened.
'He's not defenseless. Even if he does look it.'
'Just don't fail this one up this time.'
Van continued to watch Dilandau as cried himself to sleep. He had nightmares, Van judged, from all the mumbling that went on. He couldn't see Dilandau that well as the fire was going down. He spent time by picking roll bugs out of the bark and eating them. They tasted better cooked, but Van didn't see how he could get to the fire without placing himself in danger. He was in no condition to fight, as his body but mainly his leg continued to remind him. Through all Dilandau's ranting, Van was able to pick out three distinct things. His name, usually said in fear or anger, someone named Chesta, and a great general protest about something happening.
By studying his twitching and jerking, Van came to the conclusion that Dilandau's left arm was injured, and something was wrong with his feet. Van considered the fire, which would go out quickly if not taken care of. Van studied the Dragonslayer, flinching for no apparent reason and looking less than threatening. Van considered his leg. Van made his decision.
Dilandau stared resolutely at the fire, pausing occasionally to dart a scornful glance at Van along with some caustic comment. Van took the abuse silently, not even breaking gaze from the fire. His left leg was folded under him, crimson shirt spotless. "Shut up Dilandau. I do wash behind my ears. And at least I," Here Van leaned forward and smiled, the first expression he had displayed since he was there, "don't weep like a girl."
Dilandau sprung up from his seat sword drawn and nudging the spot where Van's head connected to his throat, the movement meant to force him to stand up. Since he refused to cooperate, Dilandau dragged him up by his shirt. "How long were you up there? How long have you been watching me?" Van didn't answer, and chose instead to stare balefully into Dilandau's eyes. Dilandau's sword moved, quite of it's own volition and without Dilandau really realizing it, to side of Van face, pressed vertically.
Van blinked. "Well, this is an interesting turnabout." Dilandau blinked uncomprehendingly. Van scowled. "Do it if you're going to do it, but stop being so damn melodramatic about it." Mostly from shock and déjà vu, Dilandau slapped Van and dropped him to ground. To his surprise, Van snapped quickly into a sitting position, grinning sardonically. "You can't treat me like this, you know? I'm not one of your subordinates. Van shook his head disappointedly, before his lips changed drastically from a smile to a snarl, eyes filled with more contempt than Dilandau would have thought possible. "You're pathetic." Van advanced on Dilandau, who, despite the fact that he was armed and Van was not, backpedaled. "You know it too. I knew since I met you. He knew it too. That's why you hated him so much. That's why he went back. That's why he did everything. Because you couldn't cut it. Because he," Van paused, and grinned broadly. "Pitied…You."
Rising like a lion from the grass, Van strode over to Dilandau, who, despite the fact that he was armed, backpedaled quickly. "Don't you get it yet? It's happening all over again. But this time there's no one to save you. Not him, not Folken, no one. You're all alone out here. It's just me." Van caught up to Dilandau to slap him hard enough to the ground. Dilandau flipped over, trying to shout protest, tried to raise his sword, tried to call up the familiar anger and fire that had come before…and found himself stiff and frozen in cold sweat. Van stood above him before sitting down on Dilandau's stomach. "You don't deserve that uniform. Look how crappy you've made it. You didn't deserve him either. You left him behind, to die. You abandoned your own. Coward, weakling, lost."
Van moved closer, till his lips were mere inches away from Dilandau's and his breath brushed against Dilandau's face. Dilandau wriggled beneath and tried to say something, anything, but his voice was gone. "And now that's all over, isn't it? But you still don't deserve me. You never can…and you never did. I'm way out of league kiddo, that scratch was your only warning. And now I've come to collect." Van's bangs shortened and lightened, his eyes turning from red to blue. "Because that's the only thing left to do, isn't it, Dilandau-sama. I can't help you anymore, I'm not there." Chesta looked at Dilandau regretfully. "I'm sorry that there's nothing I can do. Just hold onto to your necklace, it's good luck." Chesta smiled brightly. "Anyway, your already dead."
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Dilandau awoke with a scream that echoed and reechoed through the woods, striped with the rising sun. Muffled and multiplied flapping noises of a startled flock pierced his terror stricken mind for a minute, long enough for him to sweep in his surroundings by his miniscule but still active fire. Heart still racing, breath hyperventilating, he screamed again, this time longer, louder, and much higher pitched.
"Do you ever shut up?"
TBC….
I going to do it ^____^ I think I can put Dilly and Van together in the next one, but that's gonna be iffy work. Next Chap might take a while.