When dawn came, and the rain stopped pouring down, Magus awoke to find himself lying on the floor, the furniture of his home surronding him, thrashed to pieces after his fit last night

Disclaimer: Chrono Trigger doesn't belong to me. If it did, Flea would be a main character. It belongs to Square and their creative minds. I'm not making any money of this. Don't sue, please?

Author's notes: This is Yaoi! Male/male relationships that is. Also contains some graphic violence and sexual acts. Hints at non-con sex as well. This isn't betaed. Oh yeah, Magus might seem a bit OOC. I was trying to portray his inner despair over loosing Schala.

A Trial of Hearts

By Shaded Mazoku

Part 2: Of Mystics and memories…

When dawn came, and the rain stopped pouring down, Magus awoke to find himself lying on the floor, the furniture of his home surrounding him, thrashed to pieces after his fit last night. He got up and stretched, feeling a bit stiff. "Not very surprising, considering where I slept," he thought, yawning. He tried to remember what had caused the massive outburst he'd had last night.

"Oh…" he whispered as he remembered. He kicked something that might have been a table once out of the way. Walking over to the window, he looked out at the clear sky. "Strange," he noted, "I could have sworn it was raining." He closed his eyes, and let his head drop. "I suppose I have to fix this mess, huh?" he said to no one in particular. Channeling his magic, he focused on fixing the furniture, putting them back together. "That's better…"

He sat down at his desk and tried to cheer himself up by reading about magic. It didn't work. He kept thinking of the past. Not only of Schala, but also of other things in his past. His mother was one of these memories, telling him to let Schala work in peace. Another memory was Ozzie, hovering in the air and yelling. The amphibian's voice with its odd dialect told him what a cold-hearted cretin he was. Magus closed his eyes and let his head drop onto the book on his desk. He had so many bad memories, and not one single good one. "It's like nobody ever cared about me. Except Schala, of course," he thought.

Uninvited, another voice slipped into his memory. "You're an ice-cube, Magus." Flea's words, uttered when he last talked to the pink-haired magician. "All you see is what you're frozen onto, your sister's memory. Maybe if you took the time to see how other people felt about you, you'd be happier." Magus had glared at Flea and told the Mystic to go away, because the only thing that mattered was Schala.

He opened his eyes again and slowly looked out the window. "Was Flea right? Should I try to see what other people feel? Damn it, Schala, why did you have to leave me alone? I need you with me…" He sighed, and got up. He knew that he was running out of food. "Might as well go to buy some food. Starving myself to death won't help Schala." He got his scythe from the corner where he'd left it, and left the house, using magic to lock the door.

In the nearest village, children were playing with their pets in the market-square. Their mothers were chatting about the events of the last week. Magus didn't feel like he belonged there. He shook his head slowly and walked over to one of the stands, preparing to tell the merchant what he needed. However, the merchant, a plump, middle-aged woman who smelled like cabbage, had other plans. As soon as she looked up and saw Magus, she gasped in horror. Magus, snapping out of his daze, got ready for an attack. It never came.

Instead, the woman looked at Magus, her large eyes filled with tears. "You poor dear!" she said. "You look so pale and malnutritious. Don't you have a wife to cook for you?" Magus blinked, feeling rather dumbfounded. He was not used to people mothering him. The plump woman smiled at him. "Oh, don't you worry dear. I've got just the thing to fix you up!" She started piling things into a basket. Magus knew that he should tell her to mind her own business, but he couldn't muster the strength.

He accepted the basket from her and paid for the goods. Looking over the supplies, he realized that the woman had taken way to little money for all this. He turned to confront her about it, but she just smiled at him and waved. Magus shrugged and smiled slightly before leaving. The woman had managed to cheer him up a little. "Malnutritious…" He wasn't even sure that was a word.

On his way back, he dropped by Fiona's shrine. He didn't know why, but the shrine always made him feel more calm and serene. He sat down at one of the benches and closed his eyes, ignoring the odd looks the nuns gave him. One of them had squeaked as he entered. Still, Magus thought, he did look somewhat frightening. He sighed and opened his eyes again, giving the nuns an apologetic look. One of them, who seemed quite young, smiled back. He just leaned back and closed his eyes again.

Sitting there like that, with his eyes closed and just listening to the chanting of the nuns, he felt relaxed. It was nice, he mused, to just relax and not think of anything. All his troubles were washed away, leaving him serene and calm.

It also left him with a nagging feeling of having forgotten something. Opening his eyes yet again, he tried to remember what it was. "Something about a book…" Suddenly, his head snapped up. "Of course!" Startling the nuns, he got up and left, flying in direction of Guardia Castle.

"How could I forget that?" he asked himself. The book he had thrown into the wall yesterday held not only the secret of controlling time, but also a very strong offensive spell he was researching. "Damn. I need that book…"

Suddenly, a beam of what appeared to be brilliant, liquid light knocked him out of the air. He reacted immediately, and twisted in the air, using his magic to soften the impact. Sitting up, he looked around to localize his attacker. A movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he twirled around to look. He had some slight problems seeing, though, because the attack had opened a cut over his left eye and blood was trickling into his eye.

A shape darted out of sight as he turned, diving into the trees. Magus cursed and followed, scythe ready for battle. Whoever his attacker was, the person in question was very fast. Even Magus, with his ability to fly, had problems following. He started preparing to cast Dark Matter, but another blast of liquid light made him lose his concentration. Hissing, he came to a halt, listening carefully.

A very soft sound, so weak that most people wouldn't have noticed it, told him that his attacker was behind him. Tightening his grip on his scythe, he yet again prepared to cast Dark Matter. The familiar feeling of energy flowing through him was welcomed. He could feel the magic web that all things were a part of. Just out of curiosity, he reached carefully out with his mind, trying to find his opponent's magic structure. When he found it, he blinked. His mysterious attacker was a Mystic. Magus couldn't remember when he'd last had fought a Mystic with this much power.

Shaking his head to rid himself of memories, he cast Dark Matter in the direction of his opponent, only to find that the Mystic was no longer there. A blast of what appeared to be daggers of energy flew towards him, giving away the attacker's position. Magus dodged and answered with a Dark Bomb.

A small hiss from the direction of his opponent told Magus that his spell had hit. He strode towards the bushes where he was pretty sure that the Mystic was hiding. Even though Dark Bomb was a fairly weak spell, it could still kill a Mystic. Therefore, Magus felt safe.

That was a big mistake. As soon as he touched the bushes, a blast of dazzling light hit him, blinding him and leaving him vulnerable. Suddenly, something sharp was being held against his throat. Magus stiffened and stood as still as possible, waiting for his vision to return.

When it did, he waited for the right moment, and grabbed his opponent, throwing the Mystic to the ground. Magus smiled maliciously, and held his scythe to his attacker's neck. "Move, and I'll decapitate you!" he warned.

Magus looked as his opponent and hissed in shock. The Mystic looked up at him with hate shining from deep, pink eyes (1), set in a face framed by long pink hair.

"Flea?"

~TBC

So, What do you think? Review, please? I'm actually quite satisfied with this. And I have a very good idea where I want this story to go. Oh, and the chapter is going to get gradually darker from here…

(1): I have no idea what color Flea's eyes are. I actually think they are dark blue, but pink's so much more exotic…