Disclaimer: I do not own Megami Kohousei.
Warnings: Your usual angst. A little horror?
Notes: This chapter went through a lot of rewrites. A HUGE thank you to Yele, and ALL my reviewers and readers. Without your kind support I might have given up.
Chapter 11 - Mistake
Ernest winced as the nurse applied some rubbing alcohol onto his scrapped knee. From across the room, Dr. Rill Crawford watched the familiar scene. She was beginning to get tired of 39's excuses. He was stumbling way too often in GOA's hallways, or getting a door slammed in his face too many times. It was obvious the poor boy was being picked upon.
"Thank you."
"No problem," the green-haired nurse smiled at her patient before going over to Dr. Crawford to help log in some new medical data.
"39," Dr. Crawford spoke.
"Yes?"
"I don't want to see you here again. Our bandage supply is getting very low thanks to your accidents," she pursed her lips.
"I'm sorry."
Dr. Crawford sighed, "Ernest Cuore. It's time you faced facts. Life here at GOA is a competition. I don't like seeing boys coming in bruised because they held themselves back in fear. You're a telepath, and as much as I hate to agree with Azuma, we'll need you."
Ernest blinked, "You know the instructor?"
"A long time ago, we were partnered together as repairer and pilot," the woman brushed a few strands of uncooperative hair from her shoulder. "You're hurting no one but yourself…and that girl who stands behind the door waiting for you."
Ernest bowed before he left the infirmary. The door slid open and he knew who would be behind it.
"Ernest-san!"
"Hello, Tune," he gave his partner a small smile as the azure-haired girl began some light-hearted chatter. A flash of green from the corner of his eyes suddenly had Ernest paying less than full attention.
Garu.
Candidate 37 was leaning idly against one of the corridor's walls. Perhaps he was waiting for a friend or Leena-san. The infirmary was as good a place as any other to meet someone. But, something seemed off. Gareas' laidback attitude was incongruous with his refusal to meet Ernest's eyes, despite the fact that Ernest and Tune's conversation should have made their presence known. Gareas yawned with a roll of his head, but Ernest caught the movement he was trying to mask. The emerald eyes roamed briefly over the numerous cuts on 39's body. Gareas' mouth tightened ever so slightly. A frown.
Why did Garu look like he was about to commit murder?
Ernest watched as the boy strolled away, but there was nothing nonchalant in the way Gareas' hand trembled, tightened in an angry fist.
Tune continued in the almost one-sided banter with Ernest as they made their way to the well-known battlefield for practice pro-ing matches. She still blushed occasionally and could only cast occasional glances at her partner, but Tune was making a valiant effort at getting to know Ernest better. Ernest felt horrible; all he wanted to do was push her away. Since the last spat with Gareas, he had been longing for some solitude, a little peace. Ernest got none of it these days, with 34's harassments, his strained relationship with 37, and the utter darkness of his dreams. As they walked, Tune's voice melted away like a distant murmur. And the familiar nightmare descended.
Flutter.
"Where are you?"
Flutter.
In the darkness, Ernest knew it was futile to call out. The white bird sometimes cried out to him, but the sounds echoed in the shadowy world, reverberated as if they had been trapped in GOA's metallic corridors. When had the white world become such a dark cage?
The bird could not tell him where it was. It would not arch its delicate neck toward him again in the dreamy sunlight. It was lost in the darkness, and it was Ernest who had to find it. He tried his best, and stumbled, groped in the dark. But whenever 39 thought he had finally discovered the frightened winged being, he would hear its distressed call in another direction. Every time Ernest thought he had maneuvered closer, he had in fact, gotten farther.
He had misjudged the distance.
"Yu Hikura, I am sorry to have misjudged you."
The bird cried out, begging for assistance.
"You don't need me Gareas. You're strong enough on your own. Leave me alone."
At the call, Ernest rose.and fell in his haste.
Maybe…39 had read someone else wrong too.
Ernest couldn't recall what it was, but as he lay breathing heavily on the stone-cold floor instead of familiar soft grass, he knew somewhere along the line, he had made a mistake.
"Ernest-san?" Tune looked concerned at her partner's glazed expression. Ernest remained frozen for a moment, before he came to himself, and cast her a reassuring smile.
"It's nothing, Tune. It's nothing."
With Ernest's head bowed, Tune could not read the blue eyes behind the blond fortress.
It was later that afternoon. Most pro-ing practices were over, and exhausted candidates met up in the cafeteria with old friends, chatting animatedly. The room was filled with an easy atmosphere, full of light laughter – except for one certain table by the south corner.
Gareas was in a foul mood. Even Rio did not dare take a jab at him during mealtime. It was Ernest who finally decided to say something in order to break the tense silence.
"Garu…is everything okay?"
37 blinked and looked over to his friend. It had been months since they had talked directly to each other.
"Yeah," Gareas grated his knife so hard into the mystery meat that it sawed into the tray beneath it, "It's nothing, Ernest. It's nothing." The green eyes were downcast, and they could not be read. Ernest shifted a little uncomfortably. Despite Gareas' words, Ernest could feel Gareas' frustration. It was strong enough to permeate through Ernest's mental shields like the smoky scent of gunpowder. But there was something else besides that overwhelming feeling, something hidden beneath it. Ernest hesitated a little before he leaned in further to invade Gareas' personal space, hoping to catch more of his subtle emotions. A shadow was suddenly cast over them.
"Don't mind him, he's just hitting himself over the head because of his stupidity." The rest of the group made room at the table for Leena, Gareas' repairer. As Leena sat down by Gareas' left side, Ernest withdrew with a bit of embarrassment. "He really messed up on the last match," Leena sighed before she leaned against Gareas' shoulder. Ernest noticed Gareas stiffen before he leaned back, seeming to grudgingly accept Leena's support. Gareas seemed to need it. "Really, this is the fifth match with EX! Why are you always so reckless? And this time you got hurt!" Leena looked concerned. Ernest followed her gaze to Gareas' other shoulder, where part of a nasty cut was peeking out from under the black of his candidate uniform. Gareas moved away from Leena to pull the fabric over it.
"Just got carried away by a little battlelust, that's all," Gareas mumbled.
"It's not just that, Garu, I – Hello, Tune-chan."
"Hello," Tune's smile wavered a little at the large group before her. She had decided to keep Ernest company during mealtime, but most of the group at the table were strangers to her.
"Come on, everyone make room for her," Leena said in a tone that held no argument. Rio grumbled bad-naturedly at having to pause in his gorging in order to shift his tray. But he also gave the new acquaintance a friendly wave, which Tune shyly returned. "Garu, I'm sorry that I didn't get that circuit in time. But about your EX, shouldn't we get Dr. Crawford to at least check it out?" Leena reached out toward her partner.
"It's fine babe! I'm fine!" Gareas countered with a grin before she could touch him.
"GAREAS ELIDD! MY NAME IS NOT 'BABE'! HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU?!" Leena's face reddened in sudden anger, and embarrassment. Gareas laughed and teased her, saying how cute she looked. Ernest frowned. He had not been fooled by the grin. He had felt the falsity in Gareas' statement. Something was very wrong with his friend.
"Ernest-san, may I sit by you?" Tune watched the half-bickering, half-laughing couple with wide eyes.
"Of course," Ernest shifted a little more on the bench to give his repairer some room. She sat down graciously, and began to try the "peach-cobbler" made from some genetically enhanced fruit that was supposed to taste like peach. Tune's nose wrinkled in disgust at the acrid taste. "I guess you don't find GOA food that appetizing either."
"No, not really," Tune seemed happy that her partner had finally reciprocated her attempt at conversation. Ernest paid half attention to her reply; Gareas was wincing again.
"Garu?"
"It's okay, Leena."
"I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to smack your shoulder."
"It's okay," Gareas repeated before he sat down again. He frowned as he caught Ernest's hand. There was a small tender bruise there from his latest fight with 34 and his lackeys. "I'm sure Ernest is feeling worse."
Ernest blinked in surprise at the feeling of Gareas' fingers grazing over his bruise.
"It's nothing."
"It's. Not. Nothing." Ernest almost reeled as Gareas' thoughts pounded into his head along with his spoken words; they were biting, and accusing.
liar. Liar. Liar! Liar!! Liar!!! LIAR!!!!
"You're the one who's lying!"
The group hushed at Ernest's uncharacteristic outburst. Gareas's eyes widened before he snatched his hand away. But it was too late, underneath all the frustration, and anger, and even the concern over Ernest's well-being, there was a gnawing, creeping, cold emotion that numbed one to the bones…fear?
"Garu. I didn't mean too." Ernest's face crumpled like a piece of paper when his friend dumped his tray and left the room without a word. It was unforgivable; Ernest had pried into Gareas' deepest feelings…into things Gareas had even wanted to keep away from himself.
Fear.
Garu. Why do you fear? What do you fear?
Ernest's heart nearly broke at his next thought.
Will it now be me?
Ernest walked in a daze for the rest of the day, searching for his friend. He searched and searched until the relaxation room's sky was aglow with man-made stars.
He did not find Gareas.
That night, 39 lay himself down to sleep, and the black dream returned, no longer merely content to remain an insubstantial thing of memory or musings. Ernest took a deep breath to calm himself. In the ever-growing shadows, the bird called and called in a twisted game of hot and cold. Ernest dropped down to his hands and knees, and began to pat the ground. The bird was in horrible health, and shedding feathers as it flew in the dark trying to find the light again. The trail of brittle feathers was Ernest's only clue to finding it. The process would be slow, but Ernest knew he could do it. He just had to try….he had to believe, just a little.
Ernest's hands stilled.
There was something else along the trail besides soft down. Wet and sticky.
It was not water.
TBC…
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