Guilty Gear, its characters and settings are property of Sammy Studios, and are being used in this fanfiction without permission. This fic is rated R for violence and sexual content, and it contains yaoi material.
Culmination
Chapter 1
When Sol finally reached the place scheduled for their meeting, he couldn't help a groan. It wasn't that his supposed "mystery informant" had chosen a bar—he could use a stiff drink about now—but it appeared to be one of those fancy bars, with wine and menus with real food and, worst of all, dozens of upper class yuppies reminding each other how great they were. There were more and more places like this around, and he might have burned it to the ground if not for the effort that would involve.
In any case, he had no choice but to enter. It was both irritating and satisfying that everyone in the place seemed to glance up at his appearance, noting the unwashed state of his waist-long hair, the filth clinging to his boots and the sword fastened at his hip. A few even dared to murmur. He shot a glare at some lady in a black dress near the bar, and was a little surprised when she didn't faint dead away. It might give these peacocks something to talk about later, in any case—their brush with death at the hands of a socially inept. He chuckled to himself as he crossed the room to the far corner table.
Whatever humor Sol had built up in the short walk to the back faded immediately when he recognized the head of hair he was looking at. He groaned again. "I should have known only you would arrange something like this," he muttered as he slipped into a chair across from the man. He was tempted to put his boots on the table, but he didn't want to give the waitresses heart attacks. "Are you gonna buy me a drink, or what?"
Slayer chuckled faintly, already filling a glass of white wine for his companion. He grinned when he saw Sol eyeing it disagreeably. "My friend, you have no class," he chided gently as he urged the drink toward him.
Sol grunted, regarding the offer a long moment before downing it in one breath. Booze was booze, after all, but he still scowled at his company, as if holding him personally responsible for the taste. "Why the hell is a vampire drinking white wine, anyway?"
"I happen to have delicate tastes," Slayer replied easily, tilting his own glass in a mock toast before lifting it to his lips.
"But that's not why you called me here." Sol rolled his eyes, leaning forward so he could rest his chin on his palm. "Out with it. I don't have time to play your games."
"Very well, then."
Slayer reached into the front of his suit coat, removing a single sheet of stiff paper. He slid it across the table—slowly, like a bad movie cliché. Sol glanced, already bored, at the intricate colored markings that made up the letterhead. "It's a report from the Global Police," he said unnecessarily, shifting his gaze back to Slayer. "What's it got to do with me?"
"That," Slayer explained grandly, "is the last report submitted by Officer Kiske to his home office in Paris, France. He was in northern Italy on an extended investigation. I thought you would be interested."
"Well, you were wrong," Sol retorted, meeting Slayer glare for glare. But the man only watched him patiently, as if waiting for him to notice something, and with a resigned sigh he glanced at the paper once more. "So, he's investigating it anyway," he muttered, reading through the report. It was short, vague, and altogether incomplete. That in itself made him frown; it wasn't like Ky to be anything less than completely thorough. "Maybe he's learning," he said thoughtfully, skimming through the lines of text once more. "He's hiding his findings from his superiors." But Ky would never be a good liar—the report was too obvious, too suspicious, and it was only going to get him caught. "Damn brat. And to think I even warned him."
It was then that Sol's eyes fell on the date at the top of the finely printed report, and his already displeased expression darkened further. "You said this was his latest report?" he asked.
Slayer continued to sip elegantly from his drink. "I did."
"It was submitted almost five days ago."
"Indeed."
Sol glared at him, but not even his harsh gaze was enough to shake Slayer's pleasant demeanor. He returned his attention to the report once more. Though he knew the Global Police operated different than the Holy Knights he had once been a member of, he also knew that as the head of the organization, Ky should have been expected to report his whereabouts and activities more often than five days apart. Especially during an investigation.
"So Ky is missing. Is that what you brought me here to say?" Sol asked gruffly, leaning back in his chair. "The kid can handle himself, Slayer, and more importantly it has nothing to do with me."
"Of course it doesn't," Slayer replied smoothly. "I merely thought you would like to know, that's all. Especially since he might have been on to something, to warrant such a disappearance."
"You were wrong," Sol repeated. He pushed heavily to his feet, glancing over the report once more to commit its contents to memory. "I've got more important things to do than chase that boy through Europe—I warned him, he didn't listen, it's his problem now."
Slayer lifted a curious eyebrow. "Even if he's called the Bureau down on him?"
He paused, brow creasing as he frowned down at the man. "For someone who doesn't want to get involved," he accused tersely, "you sure have a habit of sticking your damn nose where it doesn't belong, Nightwalker." He started past him, by now tired of Slayer's meddling.
"Then I suppose you won't be needing this, either."
Though everything in Sol's nature was instructing him not to turn, to keep walking and ignore whatever new worm the old man was dangling, he glanced back anyway. Slayer was holding a flat brown envelope over his head, moving it slightly as if in invitation. "What is it?" Sol demanded, losing patience.
"It's the starting line," Slayer replied evenly, not looking back. "The rest is up to you."
Sol scowled, but he snatched the envelope out of Slayer's hand all the same, stuffing it into his back pocket. "Drop dead old man," he muttered as he turned at last, striding purposefully for the door. He could hear Slayer chuckling behind him but he didn't glance back.
*****
The first sensation to reach Ky Kiske through the thick layers of unconsciousness was the brush of human skin against the side of his throat. It was a soft touch, accidental, but he clearly felt the course pads of the fingertips and the gentle scrape of worn nails. Following came a feeling of cold, soothing pains he hadn't noticed before, spreading gradually through his body and loosening the grip of oppressive heat from his weary limbs. He sighed quietly. Wherever those hands had come from, he was grateful, and he fell soundlessly asleep once more.
It was impossible for him to judge the amount of time that passed, but when Ky awoke again it was with much more clarity. He could feel the whisper of sheets against his cheek, and the lumpy pillow cradling his sore head--now that his senses were retuning in full he was keenly aware that every part of him was aching. His hands and back, especially, throbbed with every beat of his heart. He was stretched out on his stomach beneath thin sheets that reeked of sweat, cushioned on an old spring mattress. It wasn't like a hospital, though; above his own faint breathing he could hear the hum of machinery, like the engines of an airplane. Curious, his eyes at last fluttered open.
At first his view of the small room was smeared and dark, confirming that he hadn't used his eyes in some time; gradually they adjusted to the fresh lighting streaming through an open window. A closer look showed it was actually a porthole; several of them lined the walls. As his vision improved he was able to make out another bed across from him that was empty, a table with a bowl and some bandages, his bloodied uniform stuffed in a corner…and a black-clad pair of legs just beside him, crossed at the knees. Frowning, Ky tried to shift so that he could see whomever it was.
It was a man—a moment of squinting passed before he could be sure of that, as the stranger's face was shielded by a thick curtain of black hair which matched the color of his pants and button-down shirt. His legs were crossed, hands folded easily in his lap, head gently tilting forward. Ky tried to push himself down the mattress so that he'd be able to see the man's face, but when his shoulders rotated it sent a quiver of pain down his back, and he gasped softly, falling still again.
The man stirred. Though logic instructed that this stranger must have cared for him in his injured state and was therefore not a threat, Ky couldn't help but hold his breath. The man lifted a hand, pushing the hair from his face as he rubbed at the back of his neck. The first glance of his features proved Ky's concern to be warranted; he froze, lips parting slightly in surprise. But he didn't dare move, as if he wasn't really awake, and if he were quiet enough he could somehow remain unnoticed until he was ready to deal with this new development.
But Testament was obviously waking, even if he seemed to be taking his time; he stretched his shoulders lazily as his mouth widened in a long, ungraceful yawn. He combed his hair with his fingers, licked his lips noisily. The actions were so natural, so…human…that Ky couldn't help but stare in confusion. Someone like Testament shouldn't ball his fist like a child when rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
At last Testament's eyelids lifted, and the gleam of his red irises appeared less threatening after the brief scene Ky had just witnessed. He glanced to the side and their eyes met. "Oh," Testament said plainly, sitting up a little taller. "You're awake."
"Testament…?" By now thoroughly baffled Ky remained still, watching the man's every move. "What…?" But then Testament was pushing to his feet, and he tried again to roll onto his side with the same painful results.
"Stay still," Testament muttered somewhere above him. "The burns on your back are still healing." Ky felt something damp slide across the back of his neck; a cloth he hadn't noticed before, reminding him suddenly of the feeling of fingertips he had thought was a dream. As Testament moved away he stared up at him questioningly.
"You're on the ship of the Jellyfish Pirates," Testament explained as he crossed to the bowl Ky had noted earlier. "You're lucky they came along when they did."
"Pirates?" Ky echoed blankly. He relaxed a little into the mattress, if only because the tension in his shoulders made his back ache. "Why would pirates rescue a police officer?"
Testament dipped the cloth into the bowl, and a few remaining ice cubes clattered around as he wet it and then squeezed out the excess water. "You can ask them yourself, I suppose." He returned, spreading the cloth over Ky's neck.
The cold shot immediately down his spine, and Ky shivered a little. It felt good, though; he sighed as his eyes closed for a moment. When they opened again Testament was moving away from him. There was something about the way his hair swayed that reminded him of the rain which had chased him into this state…and he frowned. "Were you taking care of me?"
Testament paused a few steps from the room's only door. "You were feverish last night," he replied somewhat hesitantly, as if having been caught in a wrongdoing. "Someone had to look after you, but the girls needed to sleep."
Ky's brow furrowed. "The girls?"
Before Testament could respond the door to the cabin opened slowly, and a woman's face peered through. Ky hadn't thought his situation could become any more complicated until he recognized who was watching him; Dizzy, dressed in one of the pirates' sailor outfits and accompanied by another member of the crew. She slipped inside with a relieved smile, her companion just behind. "Oh, Mr. Kiske, you're awake." She turned to the other girl. "April, could you go get May and Johnny? They wanted to know as soon as he was up."
The girl nodded brightly. "Sure thing, Dizzy. I'll be right back." She flashed Ky a youthful smile. "Glad to see you're doing better, Mr. Kiske," she chirped before disappearing through the door once more.
Dizzy bustled into the room, relieving her arms of the bundle she'd been carrying. "I brought fresh water," she said as she arranged her supplies around the room's small table. "And some more linens, just in case. It's a good thing—now that you're awake, we can get you properly changed. I'm sure you're not very comfortable right now."
Ky started to speak, but his brain was intending too many questions, and none of them found their way to his lips. He closed his mouth once more as he watched Dizzy bustle about with mixed awe and confusion. Gradually, he pieced together his situation, and what must have happened to find him in such a state. His memory was foggy at best; he could recall the pounding of the rain against his shoulders, Thunderseal's handle clenched tightly in his fist, and above all else the explosion of blinding light. But when he tried to recall after that he could conjure nothing but cold, seeping all through him, and his eyes leapt unconsciously to Testament. The Gear was standing out of Dizzy's way, arms folded and face calm. Again he had to pause at the sight of him; had he been asked before to imagine Testament at ease, he wouldn't have been able to do it. Now, the expression looked as natural on him as the motherly tenderness Dizzy displayed in refilling the water basin.
He didn't realize he'd been spoken to until Testament's gaze flickered to him curiously. "Excuse me?"
"How are you feeling?" Dizzy repeated, moving closer to sit in the chair Testament had abandoned earlier. She reached out to touch his forehead, and at the time it didn't occur to him to flinch away. "Ah, that's good. At least your fever hasn't come back."
"He was feverish last night," Testament interrupted.
"Really?" Dizzy turned on him with a concerned frown. "You were supposed to wake me if he got worse."
Testament's gaze escaped hers in favor of the porthole. "It wasn't serious."
Dizzy's lips tilted in a pout, but she turned back to Ky without admonishing him further. "At least you're all right," she told Ky, smiling shyly. "We were worried."
Ky found his voice at last. "Dizzy…you've been looking after me, also?" he asked quietly. He dropped his gaze. "I don't understand."
"May and Johnny will be here in a second," Dizzy assured, misinterpreting his remarks. "They'll explain everything. Now, are you feeling all right?"
"I…" Ky sighed; it didn't seem worth it to argue. "Yes, thank you."
A moment later the door was opening again, and the familiar faces of Jellyfish Pirates May and Johnny entered, followed by yet another crewmember—this one a bit older than the last, her mouse-brown hair pulled back, her cheeks helplessly freckled. Dizzy stepped back next to Testament as the trio moved further inside.
"So, Sleepy Beauty finally awakens," Johnny chuckled, tilting his sunglasses down as he leaned easily against the wall. "You're damn lucky, kid."
Ky tried to reply, but by then the brown-haired crewmate was beside him, checking his forehead and pulse. With a calm, serious demeanor she tugged his hand free to examine the thick bandages there, as well as those crossing his back and shoulders. He did his best not to wince, even though he wasn't encouraged much but the young age of his apparent doctor. "Can someone please explain to me what's going on?" he asked, growing a bit frustrated.
"You got beat," May said, far too exuberantly for Ky's tastes. "We just happened to be on our way south when we got word from Testament here." She jerked her thumb at him, and he snorted and glanced away. "So we dragged you aboard—you've been out for about four days now."
"Four days?" Ky repeated in alarm. When he tried to shift once more onto his side, however, his back flared again, reminding him that his injuries may indeed have been that serious. The 'doctor' urged him back onto his stomach, and he had no choice but to comply. "I still don't understand. All of you…." He shook his head slightly. "I am grateful. However, if you think this entitles you to lenient treatment from the law, I'm afraid you're mistaken."
May and Johnny exchanged glances, and then burst out laughing. The other two girls giggled as well; Ky stared at them all blankly, unaware that he had said anything warranting such mirth. In confusion his gaze leapt to Testament, the only one of them seemingly unaffected. The Gear's eyes met his only briefly before slipping away, his posture growing stiff. And suddenly he was moving towards the door, ignoring the laughter from their company.
Ky watched him, something inside him recalling the events of that night, the rain and the lightning. His eyes widened slightly as they took in the subtle curl of Testament's fingers. "It was you," he murmured, and the room quieted as Testament slowed to a halt. "In the rain…"
Testament turned his head just slightly to glance at Ky over his shoulder. "It was a coincidence," he said evenly, his tone betraying neither approval nor disgust. "I saw the explosion and I investigated."
"Then you…" Despite his best efforts Ky could only conjure up fleeting images of the event, one of which being a flash of crimson eyes against the dark. He licked his suddenly dry lips. "You saved my life."
Testament was silent for a moment as all eyes in the room fell on him. He shrugged his shoulders as if to rid himself of them. "Thank Dizzy," he replied dryly. "I did it for her." Before Ky could have a chance to respond he continued on, closing the door softly behind him.
Ky dropped his gaze. His mind was spinning now, trying to remember, or to at least make sense of all of this. It was then that Dizzy returned to his side to take the place of the doctor. She seemed a little nervous, as if unsure of whether or not to speak her mind. "He asked Johnny to take you in as a personal favor," she explained quietly. "Because…you spared my life once. I think he wanted to repay a debt to you."
"But that's…" Somehow, her explanation only made Ky's stomach sink further. There should have been no debt attached to the sparing of an innocent life. If Dizzy had been a danger to herself and their world he would have killed her—she had committed no crimes, and therefore deserved no punishment. It should have been as simple as that; Ky's decision was one of logic and reason, and warranted no return favors. He found it all vaguely troubling, though he could not determine exactly why.
"Geez, do you have to think so hard on it?" Johnny said abruptly, interrupting his thoughts. "The man saved your life, kid. Just be thankful and get over it." He lifted an eyebrow. "Or are you that upset about having your life saved by a Gear?"
"It's not that," Ky quickly responded, though Johnny's words did nothing to calm his already unsettled mind. "I merely…." He had no words to justify himself, so instead he lifted his eyes to Dizzy once more. "Thank you," he said sincerely. "I am grateful for your compassion. All of you."
Dizzy blushed in embarrassment, and Ky couldn't help but smile a little at the expression on her face. It was innocent and human—he suddenly found it easy to assure himself that he had made the right decision in judging her.
May laughed, slapping Dizzy lightly on the shoulder. "She's been waiting to hear that all week, you know," she teased Ky, fixing him with a grin. "And don't worry about us—we helped ya 'cause Dizzy asked us to. We don't expect you to go easy on us." She looked to Johnny. "Right?"
He nodded easily. "Damn straight. He's welcomed to stay as long as he needs to recover." When he looked to Ky, however, his manner became abruptly serious. "But you're still an officer among pirates, and if you try anything on this ship, I'll easily put you back in your coma."
Ky smiled tensely. "I have no intention of pushing the limits of your generosity."
"Good! Then it's settled." Johnny stood, pushing his sunglasses higher up his nose. "April went down to the galley to get you a proper meal served up--it'll help you get your strength back. We'll let you rest a while longer." He glanced at May, who nodded and fell back to his side. "I'm sure June's going to want to change your bandages and get you cleaned up, then you can tell us all about what happened to you."
Though Ky wasn't looking forward to relating his story, he nodded, greatly relieved at the thought of a meal; he could feel the proof that he hadn't eaten in days nearly branded on his stomach. "Thank you."
Johnny offered him a lopsided grin and headed to the door with May just behind. "Take it easy, Blondie!" the latter sang as they departed. Dizzy remained, offering to help June in redressing Ky's wounds. As they went to work Ky settled himself more comfortably. Now that he at least had an idea of what was going on, he found it much easier to relax. For now, his investigation and the events following it could wait.
*****
Testament kept his head titled slightly down as he moved through the ship. These past four days had been extremely strange to him, living here on the pirate ship. There were children everywhere of all ages, bustling about continuously. There wasn't a room on the ship you couldn't hear them laughing or yelling, and their footsteps echoed endlessly through the corridors. It was distracting, and Testament had found himself listening to them for long periods at a time, as if trying to determine some pattern from the commotion. So far his attempts had proved ineffective.
He had only seen Dizzy infrequently during his time here, due to her devoting her attention to Ky's well being. But when he did her, her face alight with laughter and her eyes shining as she joined the rest of the crew, he was nearly shocked. He had been accustomed to seeing her at ease, perhaps even content, but the blatant happiness in her manner—the almost reckless enjoyment—was something entirely foreign to him. It was both encouraging and sobering. During the day the ache behinds his ribs would subside a little bit every time he saw her, but in her absence it grew a little deeper, nestling into his stomach and spine.
He had to admit, though, that his state of living had greatly improved since coming to the ship. He had been granted a room near the back of the ship for himself and one other, both being males among the female crew—and May had insisted that Johnny be allowed to keep his own room to himself. Though his clothing had been damaged in the rain he'd been assured that it would soon be replaced, and in the meantime he'd been given a few articles of Johnny's to wear. The soft leather was too tight against his thighs, and the shirt too large—the cuffs, which he refused to roll, crept down to his knuckles, and the material swept uncomfortably against his stomach when he moved. But at least he had something clean, and a bed to return to at night. He was even beginning to appreciate the calm and the stability, with a room for himself and three prepared meals a day. Most of the girls were too afraid to approach him, but those that did were awed; and though it seemed ridiculous to admit, he'd been pleased beyond words when a few of the younger girls volunteered to brush his hair for him every morning after breakfast.
Testament knocked twice on the door to his room before entering. It was a mild courtesy to his roommate, even if the other never bothered to do the same. Presently Bridget was seated on the top of the bunk they shared, his feet kicking lightly so that the fabric spread across his legs rustled. He was joined by two of the pirates, as usual, who were watching him with great interest. All three glanced up as Testament entered.
"Oh, hey," Bridget greeted, the girls giggling next to him. Testament had to wonder if it was all right for anyone to look that happy all the time. "You were with Ky last night, weren't you? How is he?"
"He woke up a while ago," Testament reported, slipping into his bunk under the boy and his companions.
"Really? That's great news." Bridget leapt lightly to the floor, taking the mass of fabric with him to display. "And so's this—ta-da!" He spread out the leather, his grin wide with prideful accomplishment. "All finished. How does it look?"
Testament crooked and eye, glancing over Bridget's work. Though he had resigned himself to the reality that he was going to have to buy himself a new wardrobe, looking now he had to admit the boy's sewing at least appeared sound. He reached out, tugging on a few of the straps. "I'll have to try it on to know," he said after a pause, hiding his approval.
But Bridget saw right through him, and his cheeks reddened as if having received a great compliment. "Good! You do that, while I go visit Ky."
He tossed the leather bundle haphazardly onto Testament's stomach and reached up to help the two girls down. Once on the ground each of them snatched one of Bridget's arms. Testament glanced away, frowning slightly to himself; he would never understand how a boy impersonating a woman could be so popular with girls. "Don't stay too long," he advised. "He's going to need his rest."
"Of course—I just want to say hello." With another bright smile Bridget started toward the door, his friends in tow. "Don't forget to try it on!"
Testament grunted his reply, glancing back only once the door had closed behind them. He sighed and held the leather up in front of his face. Bridget had done a good job despite his original reservations. He wasn't, however, quite motivated enough to try it on yet, and he took just enough time to fold the outfit and set it aside before returning to the mattress. He wasn't exactly tired—as a Gear it would take more than a sleepless night to exhaust him—but he was weary, and a little confused. Four days was not a long time, and yet he hadn't yet been able to prepare himself for when Ky awoke. He knew how to rationalize his actions in saving the man's life; it was simple to say it was for Dizzy's sake, not only for the life of hers that was spared but also because of the compassion she herself had tried to show towards humans. He had imagined that she might even be proud of him for it, and he was right. She had greeted him with greater spirit than she had in a long time, and that alone might have been worth the effort.
What he had a more difficult time explaining away was the flutter behind his ribs when he'd awoken to find Ky's eyes on him. He had been relieved, not only because it meant the end of the others' concerns, but merely the knowledge that his charge was recovering. It reminded him of when he'd discovered Dizzy after her meeting with Ky several months ago, and again after her ordeal with the musician in red.
No, it had started before that morning. Testament would never forget the sweep of elation he'd felt when Ky first sputtered back to life in his arms, that night in the rain. He should not have taken satisfaction in saving the life of a single human, especially one such as Ky Kiske. But even if he denied it, he could still remember how small the man had seemed, huddled and trembling, his burned and bloodied hands groping the air for assistance. It might have been what compassion felt like, caring for him, and he was both pleased and disgusted with himself for his sentimentality.
He had done the right thing—that was what Dizzy told him. For now his only choice was to believe that.
*****
Bridget was all too pleased with himself as he trotted happily down the hallway leading to where Ky was staying. The fact that he himself had done very little to aid in the man's progress was far from his mind and had no effect on his enthusiasm. Ky was better, Testament's outfit was complete, and as far as he was concerned nothing could be better with the world for now. Living with pirates was just as fun as he'd thought—he'd never been part of a crew before, and was thrilled by how easily he had made friends with nearly everyone on the ship. He was even pleased with his new outfit; a blue and white sailor shirt with matching shorts, sandals that clasped at the ankles, and a sailor's cap that was a little too big for him and tilted constantly to one side. Though he kind of missed his old attire, he reasoned that his new clothing was much more manly.
Bridget had almost reached the room when he came across Johnny and Lucy, stopped in the middle of the hall. He blinked curiously and trotted up to them. Johnny was reading from a sheet of paper—his face was grim. "What is it?" Bridget asked brightly, rising up on his toes to see.
"An official statement the Global Police are spreading around," Johnny replied. He thanked Lucy, who nodded and scurried off, before folding the paper and sliding it into his coat. "We've got some bad news."
"Oh? About Mr. Kiske?" Bridget frowned thoughtfully. "That's a shame, now that he's getting better."
"We'll give him a little more time to rest before telling him," Johnny decided, offering Bridget a slight smile. "Do me a favor, and in about an hour fetch Testament for me. He should hear this, too."
Bridget saluted. "You can count on me," he declared. "In the meantime, I'm going to see how Mr. Kiske's doing."
"All right." Johnny started off the other way, adjusting his hat. "Just don't worry him yet—he's recovering, you know."
"Gotcha." And with that Bridget continued lightly down the hall.
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