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.
Note: Since there isn't much stated in the games as to Testament's backstory, I took the liberty of making a bunch of stuff up. Please keep in mind this isn't entirely canon ^^;;
Happy Holidays, everyone!
Culmination
Chapter 13
By now the sun had fallen, sending a cool, ocean wind blowing across the curved shoreline. Ky and Testament stood there together, just beyond the reach of salty waves, both quiet as their eyes met in the growing darkness. The sway of the sea was calm, the calls of distant birds a charming lullaby, and Testament's low, worn voice seemed to dissolve into their folds of serenity. As if he himself were just as natural, just as solemn, as the coming of night.
"I'd considered telling you before," he told Ky softly, turning to cast his gaze to the water as locks of his hair danced over his shoulders with the breeze. "That I was once human. But I knew it would probably make it easier for you to accept me, and I didn't want that—not like that." His fingers curled at his sides. "I didn't want to mislead you into thinking that…any part of me could still be human. The man I was died; I've never thought of myself as a human who was turned into a Gear. I am a Gear. It's too late for me to regret that now."
Ky lowered his head, considering Testament's words with all the gravity they deserved. "I see," he replied just as quietly, though he couldn't help the pang of grief stinging his chest. To think that Testament, once human, could no longer consider himself as such…. But he didn't dare question when Testament was being so serious, and he only nodded. "I understand."
"I barely remember anything from my human life, anyway," Testament continued in the same even tone. "Brief memories of my father, the war, even the Holy Order." He tilted his head up slightly. "I remember what the uniform felt like, so I think…I must have served in the Order for a short while. I remember…Sol, fighting alongside me."
"Sol?" Ky echoed, startled, his gaze swinging back to Testament's face. "Sol was…in the Holy Order before?"
"I'm not sure. But I do remember him." Testament's lip curled in a bitter smile. "He didn't like me very much back then, either."
Not sure what to make of that, Ky only nodded again. "What happened?"
Testament's eyes thinned subtly. "That…I'm not exactly sure of," he confessed. "I died, that much I know. My father was there, crying…and when I woke up, I was in a lab." His voice deepened spitefully. "A lab belonging to the Bureau. They're the ones that made me into a Gear when I should have died—I think they were hoping the trauma of having been killed would leave a bigger imprint on my memory, making it more likely that I would retain my consciousness despite Justice's power. They wanted me to be able to reason, and…feel, the way Justice herself would."
"But why?" Ky turned slightly to face him, trying to take in everything Testament was telling him. "The Bureau was supposed to be developing anti-Gear weapons, not creating more Gears. Are you saying they intended to pit you against Justice?"
"No. No, I…." Testament shook his head, betraying his calm exterior with a look of pain. "No, I was their test subject."
"Test…subject…?"
"Their doll. Their guinea pig." A shudder ran through the Gear's flesh and tainted his eyes with agony. "They needed a Gear that was powerful, and willful, and creative—something that could accurately show how well their weapons worked. Fifteen anti-Gear weapons…I survived twelve before I was able to escape. But before then…." He lifted his palm again, and though the red lines were no longer visible his gaze sharpened as if tracing each one. "They tested their methods on me again and again, trying to find my weaknesses—anything they might be able to use against a Gear as powerful as Justice."
"That's…." Ky could only stare at him, horrified. "My God…."
"Blacktech, chemical weaponry, viruses, magic, curses—they tried just about everything they could think of." Testament chuckled without humor. "But they made me too well. Nothing they could come up with would kill me. It's…ironic, how they could easily create more Gears—I was not the only one they used—and yet they could devise nothing powerful enough to get rid of us. They couldn't even use us Gears to fight each other; not only could they not trust that Justice wouldn't find a way to control us, but by then something happened they should have thought of."
"Should…." By now Ky was beyond being able to think of reasonable questions, so he only licked his lips, waiting in tense silence for Testament to go on. Even if all this talk was starting to make him feel ill.
Testament tilted his chin up subtly, and in his eyes burned something Ky hadn't seen in him for a long time: malice. The gleaming, unwavering bloodlust that he had seen in far too many Gears. It had been so long since he'd last seen Testament like that, and in that time he had witnessed so much of Testament's calmness and even tenderness that the reappearance of that gleaming wrath was shocking. He nearly retreated a step.
"We hated them," Testament continued, his voice having dropped to almost a growl. "All the torture we were put through, their tests and their weapons, each new invention of theirs carving new scars—we despised our captors, and the humanity they represented. Like beasts driven mad." Though the Gear's voice was still hardened Ky could see a tremor spread through his flesh, like a quiver of fear. "The Ninth was one of them. We'd fight to a standstill every time, and eventually the program continued, determining he wasn't effective enough. There were other Beasts. Other magic users, other weapons. But it was the humans that were responsible for our torment, and when we finally escaped all we had was our hatred of them. That hatred…." He shuddered again. "That insanity, which made it easy for Justice to manipulate us…."
"Testament." Though Ky was himself shaken he knew he had to say something. There had to be something. "I'm…I'm so sorry, that I never knew. The Holy Order would have never stood for such a thing."
Ky reached out, hoping that some connection of touch would calm the Gear, but as soon as their fingers brushed Testament abruptly jerked away. "Don't," he hissed, and Ky was startled to see all Testament's vehemence crumble abruptly away. "You don't understand."
"I understand hatred," Ky confessed, his eyes thinning subtly with the shame of that statement. "It…has been my greatest sin. You already know that."
The words seemed to wake Testament a little, and hesitantly his eyes swiveled to meet Ky's carefully maintained expression. "You hated Gears," he murmured, almost testing.
Ky stood a little straighter. "I did. I lost many things to the war—to Gears. But now, I regret just as many of my own actions." He smiled grimly. "If I had been able to find another way to end the war without so much bloodshed, I would have tried."
"Yes, I know." Testament looked away again. "That's how you are. You…don't hate us anymore."
The Gear closed his eyes. "But I still hate humans," he went on, his voice hushed, maybe even shameful. "I hoped—I convinced myself that it might be possible, with these children and this simple life, to be happy. To forget the past and live however I could. And even before we came here, even when I knew I could never live quite like Dizzy, I believed that, with time, I could come to terms with my hatred and let it be. When you said you didn't hate me…" his smile was crooked, but sincere, "…I thought it might be possible. If humanity's champion--with so many Gears' lives to his credit--could come to forgive a creature like me, surely my own salvation was not so far away."
"Testament…."
"But it's not that simple." Testament shook his head, letting his hair fall before his face to hide the flutter of pain across his pressed eyelids, his twisted lips. "Strange, how this place has shown me that. All it took was one reminder, and it all came back to me. I…." He lifted his hands, fingers curling stiffly. "I was afraid I would hurt them. All of them innocent children—orphans, like I was once—and all I could think was…'don't let me hurt them.' I don't want to hurt them…."
Ky bit his lip, watching the Gear beside him: his lowered head, his slack shoulders, the shiver in his hands. His chest was aching, drawn tight with too much emotion. All that grief, shame, and fear were already buried in his own heart, and to see it painted so clearly across Testament's tortured visage shook him deeply. For a long moment he could only stand there helplessly, praying that somehow God would guide his hand. This was a chance for both of them, maybe for redemption, and if only he knew what to do he would have taken all of Testament's doubt and uncertainty away. If he'd only had the words….
At long last Ky reached out, calloused fingers sliding down Testament's upper arm coaxingly. The Gear flinched, and after some hesitation opened his eyes to meet Ky's gaze. Ky almost lost his nerve, faced with all of Testament's questions and remorse, but before he could give in to his own doubts he lifted his other hand to a strong shoulder, turning him so they could face each other.
"It's all right," Ky said quietly, clinging firmly to his faith as he assured the Gear. "I know, Testament. And it's all right."
"Ky…." Testament's eyes thinned as if in pain, and without warning he sagged wearily against Ky's shoulder. The officer stumbled a bit, trying to keep his balance, but the sand was giving way beneath his feet. By the time he'd slung an arm around his shoulders it was too late; Testament's legs were already folding, and with the added weight Ky couldn't keep himself upright. With a tiny gasp he sank to his knees in the sand. The pair landed with a jolt, causing Ky's arms to tighten around the weakened Gear.
"Ky…." Testament, leaning on his side and nearly in Ky's lap, rested his weight against a firm chest. His breath hissed shallowly as he hid his face beneath waves of ebony hair. "I'm so tired," he whispered, a harsh tremor running through him. "I'm tired…I was looking for you."
"Testament…." Ky felt his eyes begin to burn as he tightened his arms around Testament's broad shoulders, holding him close. It was then that he realized that he, too, was shaking. "I'm sorry," he replied in kind, his voice thick with sympathy and regret. "I'm sorry, Testament. I'm so sorry…."
*****
It was getting late—everyone was already settling down to go to sleep, and neither Ky nor Testament had returned. Bridget knew better than to worry, but he was anyway. He hid it, for Dizzy's sake, but when the girls started to tug him down toward the mattresses for sleep he slipped away from them. "I'm gonna go look around one more time," he said brightly, adjusting the T-shirt that served as half his pajamas. "You guys go ahead and go to sleep."
"We won't save a spot for you," Noverre informed him smartly.
"Well fine, be that way," Bridget retorted, sticking his tongue out.
"Fine, I will."
"Fine."
Bridget scampered away before Noverre could retort again, flashing Dizzy a bright smile on his way out of the sleeping room. He knew she was probably worrying just as much as him, but hopefully Johnny would look after her, and soon enough he would have brought the two delinquents back. It wasn't like there was anything dangerous on this island, after all. Nothing could have happened to them.
It wasn't easy to spot them in the dark, but after much squinting Bridget decided that the lump of shadow against the shore could be nothing other than one of their two missing companions. He skipped lightly across the cooling sand to the water's edge. "K~y?" he sang questioningly, "Or is that Testament?" When he got closer, however, he was startled to see it was actually both. He hesitated a moment. "Ky?"
"Oh. Hello." Ky raised his head. "You weren't worried about us, were you?"
They were situated together on the beach; Ky on his knees, cradling the limp form of a slumbering Testament against his chest. The latter was curled on his side like a young child. It was both adorable and sobering—Ky's face was haggard, as if having endured some battle. "Are you all right?" Bridget asked seriously.
"Yes, we're fine," Ky assured. "Testament…fell asleep. He seemed like he really needed it, so I didn't have the heart to wake him." He frowned at the ocean creeping up towards them. "Will you help me move him, though? I don't want disturb him, but I'm not sure if the tide is coming in or out."
"Shouldn't we take him inside?" Bridget suggested as he moved around to support Testament's legs.
Ky's frown deepened as he hooked his arms under Testament's, and together they carefully carried Testament a safe distance away from the shoreline. Thankfully, he was so deeply asleep by now that he didn't even stir. "I don't think so. This might be the best thing for him right now. Away from everyone."
"…Okay. If you say so."
They carried Testament several meters up the beach, and when Ky deemed it far enough he started to lower Testament to the sand. It really would have made more sense to take Testament inside, to give him a bed and a blanket, but…it might be best if Testament were able to avoid the children for now, given his earlier concerns, and a trip that long risked waking him up.
Bridget helped them settle once more; Ky sitting down with his legs crossed, Testament lying on his back with his head pillowed in Ky's lap. It would most likely render his legs asleep in no time, but when the Gear sighed contentedly in his sleep he gave up any protests. Instead he reached down, drawing ebony locks away from Testament's face as Bridget darted back to the House to gather a pair of blankets and assure Dizzy that the pair was well.
"Are you going to stay out here with him?" Bridget asked as he returned to drape the first of the blankets over Testament.
"Yes. I want to be here when he wakes up—I think it's important." He paused as he watched the Gear. "He…looks all right for now, though, doesn't he?" Ky asked quietly.
"I guess so." Bridget flopped down at Ky's right, folding his legs beneath him as he leaned forward to see Testament's face. He didn't look peaceful as much as deeply asleep. "Did something happen?"
Ky sighed. "Sort of. He told me about his past." He struggled a moment with how much to disclose to the younger boy. "It's...awful, Bridget, the things that were done to him. I couldn't even say anything."
Bridget sobered a little as he sat up. He didn't know what Ky had done to earn Testament's trust like that, but he was a little envious; it must have really been something, to open up the usually stoic Gear. "He looks all right now," he offered.
"Yes, but…when he wakes up…." Ky had no idea what he might say then, and already he had gone over in his mind several times the possible assurances he could offer. None of them seemed like they would help much. "I don't know. He's trying so hard to be happy here, but it's not going to be easy for him."
Bridget nodded vaguely, remembering how Testament had been avoiding everyone that day. He still didn't really understand what was going on, and though it was a little frustrating he knew Ky would be able to handle it better than him. "He was looking for you earlier," he reported.
"Was he?" Ky returned his hand to soft hair, idly twisting a few of the thick strands between his fingers. "I wish I could help him better than this. I…." He trailed off abruptly.
Bridget cocked his head to the side. "Hm?"
"That is…I'm not sure what to think of him," Ky admitted, his eyes growing a little vague as he watched the movements of his hand. "This sudden…affection I feel towards him." He smiled ruefully. "I can't be sure if I'm honestly growing fond of him, or if it's only my sympathy."
Bridget considered this for a long, silent moment, and Ky was a little concerned he'd said something strange. But then Bridget was sliding closer, settling his chin on Ky's slender shoulder as he draped the second blanket over them both. He frowned slightly, trying to see the boy, but with his head so close he could only make out a few strands of shadowed blonde. "Bridget?"
"It's all right either way, isn't it?" Bridget asked lightly, though there was something hidden in his tone that Ky hadn't expected. It sounded like regret—something he never would have thought to hear in Bridget's cheerful voice. "If you don't wanna get close to someone just because you feel sorry for them…you might not find anyone to care for." He pressed a little closer against Ky's back. "Everyone could use a little sympathy."
Ky's eyes opened a little wider, and he turned his head slightly, wishing he could see the boy's face, but all he could manage was a faint brushing of their cheeks. "Bridget…?"
"Right?"
"I…." Ky glanced back towards the ocean, considering those words and their unlikely source. "Bridget." He lifted a hand; even if he couldn't see the boy he pressed his palm gently against the side of his face. "You've been taking care of both of us all along, haven't you. Thank you."
Bridget was almost unnaturally still, and then he wriggled a little like the youth he was, turning his face briefly against Ky's wide palm. "Can I stay with you two? Just for a while?"
"Of course." Ky smiled quietly, patting Bridget lightly on the head before lowering his arm once more. He wasn't sure how well he'd be able to sleep like this, with one weight against his back and another in his lap, but…he was warm, and content, here. These two had taken such care of him in the past week, and it was a welcomed comfort to have the both of them so close to him. Maybe he was even looking after them this time. And before he knew it his eyes were slipping shut, carrying him, also, into deep dreams.
*****
Anji was still humming a cheerful tune as he stepped out of the motel bathroom, one towel wrapped around his waist and the other draped over his head. "Shower's free," he called, scrubbing at his hair to dry it. He paused when he spotted Baiken.
She was seated on the bed closest to the window, dressed in a simple, pale sleeping robe that had parted around her bent knee. Her hair was down for once; it shielded the scar running down the side of her face so that her visage now appeared without blemish. She would have even been beautiful, her eyes calm and manner relaxed, if not for the blade held between her teeth. The handle of her sword was wedged between her toes, holding it in place so she could polish its sharpened metal surface with her one good hand.
Anji paused, his lip curling in a smile as he watched her. "You're something," he chuckled, shaking his head. "You know that?"
"Hm?" Baiken's gaze flickered to him, and when she caught the look on his face she scowled, ruining the image of almost serenity she'd displayed a moment ago. "Whatever," she muttered around the sword's tip.
Still grinning, Anji hopped onto his own bed, continuing to dry his hair. "So, we're stuck here a while longer, huh?" he asked idly. They'd stayed the last two days here, spending their money sparingly and wandering around the city. "What's this business you have in Rome anyway?"
"Nothing much," Baiken replied carefully, her teeth tapping lightly against the metal. "It'll be another day."
"And here I thought we were catching a flight." Anji was silent a moment, wondering if now might be the best time to bring up his earlier concerns. "Hey. Where are we going, after this?"
Baiken didn't glance up from her work. "Does it matter?"
"Yeah." Anji took a deep breath. "We're going to the colony, aren't we."
This time Baiken did pause, then gave her sword one last stroke of the cloth before taking it out of her mouth. She set it aside and began to put her polishes away. "Yeah. You gotta problem with that?"
"Not really," Anji admitted. "Just…you could have told me, you know."
Baiken shrugged her one shoulder stiffly. "Didn't want to hurt your feelings, big guy."
Anji snorted, pushing off the bed as he hunted up a T-shirt. It wasn't that he was upset about it; merely put out that she hadn't thought to tell him. "It's not like I have any problem going back for now, anyway," he muttered, tossing his towel aside as he slipped the white shirt over his head.
"Listen, Anji," Baiken started to say, sheathing her sword.
"No, it's all right. It's probably best." Anji stepped behind the bathroom door to switch his second towel for his long pants—didn't exactly match the shirt, but it would be good enough. "Hey, I think I'm gonna go down to the motel bar for a drink."
"Anji," Baiken tried again. "Don't take it personally. We could both use a break."
"Yeah, yeah." Anji waved vaguely as he dug a few bills out of his travel pack and headed for the door. "Don't wait up, alright?"
"Anji—"
By then Anji had closed the door behind him, a tiny sigh slipping past his lips. He wasn't upset. It was just difficult to deal with Baiken sometimes, because she always found a way to be right about everything. He didn't want her to be right about this; she hadn't been there, hadn't heard that man speak so calmly and reasonably and…innocently…about everything. She shouldn't have had any idea what he was feeling.
For a moment those concerns were forgotten when he entered the small motel bar, his eyes alighting on a familiar head of wild, pale hair among the people at the bar. "Hey!" A grin broke across his features as he trotted across the room. "Chipp!"
"Oh, there you are," said the bartender with a nod. "Mr. Mito—this man's been looking for you."
Anji chuckled as he came up behind the man in question. "Hey there, Chipp," he laughed, slapping his shoulder. "You're just in time—I could use a drinking partner right about now."
Perched on the barstool, Chipp turned slowly to meet Anji's friendly gaze. It was immediately apparent to the Japanese man that something was wrong. Chipp's usually excitable features looked weighted and dull, his eyes oddly dilated in the well-lit room. Anji frowned. "Chipp…?" He gave the man's shoulder a shake. "You okay, man?"
Chipp blinked slowly, unspeaking, and Anji was about to question him again when a thick hand wrapped suddenly around his throat. He barely had time to realize who it was; he was being dragged away from the bar, unable to quite get his legs beneath him in time. "Chipp—"
He hadn't thought Chipp capable of it. Without warning he was being lifted off his feet—thrown, bodily, through the bar's glass door. Shards scraped along his back and arms as he was sent flying into Rome's darkened streets. He landed hard, catching the brunt of the impact with his right shoulder. It didn't seem real; the scrape of asphalt against his back, the crazed swirl of dark buildings overhead.—the indifference in Chipp's face as he strode out of the bar after him. Cursing, Anji pushed himself up on his knees. But he hadn't brought his Zessen with him, and his fists curled as he started to stand. "Chipp! What the hell are you—"
"Mr. Mito."
Anji froze, realizing that unfamiliar voice had come from behind him. Slowly he turned, and gasped sharply as his gaze slid over more than a dozen pairs of gleaming neon eyes—and the man at their forefront.
"You're a lot taller than I'd imagined," the stranger declared icily as Chipp moved to stand beside him. "Mito Anji."
