A/N – Well, here's the key scene of the story and it's far longer than any of the preceding parts! I liked how it turned out, hope you guys do to!
Pegasusmon – Thanks for the criticism. But I stand by my characterisation of Wil. I confess haven't read any of his support conversations (I didn't use him when I played the game and scripts of support conversations seem impossible to find on the net surprisingly) I understand he's a friendly guy even if he does lack personality. Thing is Erk's the one being mean to Serra, the other two are just following along in good humour (observe how they act in the rest of the fic, especially at the beginning of part 4). The key thing you have to remember is that you're hearing Wil say those mean words through Serra! Serra who's blowing her worries all out of proportion. I give you an example of how the conversation that she overheard might have played out:-
Wil and Matthew, lying lazily on the grass together, looked up as Erk came over, kicking a stone ahead of him. "Hey Erk, why the long face?" Matthew inquired.
Erk paused long enough to hoof the pebble into the stream next to them. "That Serra," Erk he growled. "I'm getting really tired of her attitude."
"You are? Heh, don't blame you mate," Wil chuckled. "She is a lot to take, isn't she? I have to say she's one of the most annoying people I've ever met!"
"Too right there!" Matthew added sitting up. "Sure a little chirpiness is good now and then, but seeing all her grinning like a loon all the time really starts to grate on you, you know?" He leaned back down again and smiled wryly to the sun. "Reckon I'd sooner eat a cowpat than see that smile of hers again!"
Or something along those lines. And of course Serra heard that and made it a hundred times worse in her head. Okay, maybe that wasn't clear in the story but that was how I saw it. I should probably have made that clearer. Still, you may have a point of sorts, maybe I have been taking too many liberties with certain characters. I'll be sure to take more care on that for the rest of the fic.
NOSFER – How many times? THIS...FIC…IS…NOT…SHOUJO…AI! If you want your fill of Lyn/Florina goodness, there are bound to be other fics out there which better satisfy your needs! :-)
Timmycheese – You know, I'm actually glad you said that. When I was posting it I was worried that it wasn't offensive enough!
Cheetah7071 - There's actually some debate about this. I researched it and found that some people thought it was Makar and others, Huey. I went with Makar because Huey's a boy's name and I'm pretty sure that Florina refers to it as a 'her' (unless the game script I have is mistaken)!
The canopy protected them from the worst of the rain, but unpredictable drips still dropped down around them, slipping off the leaves and branches above. The air smelt of wet soil and the ground was squelched atrociously underfoot. It all spoke of the autumn that was coming, following a summer that in Dorcas' opinion hadn't lasted long enough.
By now Serra had realised how pointless her struggles were and was lying still, seemingly resigned to whatever his plans for her were. Though Dorcas could sense her silent sulking, he was certain she was glad not to have to wade through this muddy track (not that she could have been much dirtier after that Florina incident). He carried her into a tiny clearing which, with an absent nod, he deigned suitable for their purposes. There were enough branches above to shelter them and a fallen tree on which to sit. It was damp from the drips of course, but it was better than standing in the mud.
He spotted what seemed to be the least muddy patch and set her down there as gently as he could, not wanting to add injury to the insult. The moment her feet touched the ground, she became animated again. Despite her performance earlier today and her futile struggle, she still found some energy to shout at him.
"You big, stupid fink!" she yelled at up him. "How dare you touch me!? How dare you carry me off like some cheap whore!?"
Dorcas stayed stoic. "I'm sorry if I caused offence but I did give you a fair choice. You could have chosen to walk here by your own will," he reminded her. "Now cease your babbling. I need to talk to you."
"Well I don't want to talk to you so nuts to that!" she replied tartly, sticking her tongue out at him. "I'm going back right now so don't you try and stop me."
"If you walk away now, I'll just carry you back again and as many times as it takes you to listen to what I have to say," Dorcas said gravely. "Please stay awhile, for your own dignity at least."
She glared furiously at him, but knew the score. It wasn't even worth trying – he was so much bigger than she was. Huffing crossly, she seated herself on the damp log and folded her arms, very much like the petulant child she so often resembled.
Dorcas shoved a hand into his pocket to retrieve his handkerchief. "Here," he said offering it to her. "Wipe your face."
She took it from him – the lost pride of doing so was neatly offset by the ego boost a clean face would bring. She opened it out and wiped her cheeks firmly, removing the grime and effectively ruining the handkerchief, before returning it to him with a shaking hand. By now she appeared to have calmed down and, pale, grubby and shivering as she was, looked especially fragile. Taking pity on her, Dorcas removed his cloak and placed it about her shoulders (it enveloped her almost completely – she could have used it for a tent) and then offered her his water-pouch.
"Water?"
"I'd prefer a glass of wine right now," Serra said, taking it anyway.
"I didn't realise clerics were allowed to drink."
"We're not."
"Ah."
She returned his water-pouch and he replaced it on his belt. "We have to sort this out now," he murmured. "Everyone's tired of this charade, you most of all I believe."
"That's true," Serra replied quietly. "But how? Things are just so messed up now."
Dorcas propped himself against the tree opposite her and folded his arms. His head was inclined gruffly towards the ground as he spoke. "You thought you can solve your problems by becoming someone else, by becoming this Arres," he started. "But no-one can change who they are. No-one should have to either."
"Really?" Serra asked.
"Yes, really," he replied with a simple nod. "Everyone has their own beliefs, values and personality traits which can't just be thrown away by a change of your façade. We all have them. Some good qualities, some bad ones and some which can be considered either way. They're all there and all precious, for they make up who we are. Take myself for example," he continued, thrusting a thumb his own way for emphasis. "I'm just an honest oaf with muscles for brains. I'm no great thinker, an even worse conversationalist and seemingly cold to anyone who doesn't know me well. But I take care of my wife, work hard and fight for a good cause if one comes along. It's not a world-shaking life I lead but I'm satisfied with what it is. And I won't let anyone tell me that it is anything but meaningful."
Serra sighed and smoothed out her dress. "It's different for you Dorcas," she said. "You can say that because you have a meaningful life. You've got a wife who loves you and friends who respect you. But not everyone's like you," She rested her head glumly in her hands. "Some of us are just worthless."
"No. No-one in this world is worthless. And certainly not you."
"Yes I am. Everyone hates me," she sniffed.
"We don't hate you. Not in the least," he said, facing her now. "It's Arres who we hate."
Serra looked up, but away from him to hide her face. "I hate her too. I loathe her with all my heart."
"Of course you do. She's done you no favours," he said. "So why don't you become Serra again?"
She shook her head slowly. "I don't want to be Serra either. People don't like her."
"That's a lie," he replied. "The greatest lie you'll ever tell I imagine. And I'm going to prove it."
"How?" Serra asked looking around at him. There was a spark of curiosity beyond the gloom in her eyes and just a tiny touch of hope.
With a grunt, Dorcas lugged himself off the tree and took a step towards her. "I'm going to show you that Serra is a good person who you should be honoured to be," he murmured. He heaved his axe off his shoulders and, gripping its handle firmly with both hands, rested its head on the log next to her, blade down and threatening to cut. "We're going to list your good points."
Serra's shrug was unconvinced. "Okay. But I don't think we're going to find very many."
"Stop feeling sorry for yourself and think."
"I can't think of anything," she replied instantly. It was obvious that she hadn't even tried. Dorcas forced patience and started for her.
"Let's begin with the easy ones then. To start with, you're a healer." He brought the axe back over his head before sending it thundering down into the log before him. Serra jumped off her seat with a squeak of surprise, barely avoiding the tiny splinters sent her way by the impact. Paying no attention to her astonishment, Dorcas hauled his trusty weapon out of the wood leaving a neat mark scored where his axe-blade had been. "There isn't a more noble profession than healing the wounded," he continued, replacing the axe on his shoulders.
She shrugged as she retook her seat on the log, a little further along from where he'd struck his mark. "It's no big deal," she said. "All I do is wave the staff and cast the heal spell."
"All the same, you chose to learn that spell so that you could help people," he said. "Is that not true?"
She pursed her lips, as if reluctant to take the compliment. "I guess so," she conceded finally.
"Damn right it's true," Dorcas assured her. "That's the first one. What else is there?"
"You tell me," she replied unhelpfully, sitting back on the log with one leg clutched to her. He wasn't sure whether she was being lazy from depression or merely fishing for more praise.
"How about your positive influence on the group?" he suggested. The axe came down again with another deafening crunch to add another mark next to the first one. "We rely on you to brighten our spirits when the day is gloomy," he continued "You're always so cheerful whatever happens and seeing you that way spurs us on. Your optimistic nature inspires us, helping us to put our problems in perspective and see the rays of light that remain whenever darkness comes,"
"Well…" Serra murmured, tipping her head back as she considered this.
"It's true," Dorcas added. "See how we've suffered without it this past day? We need your cheerfulness as much as we need Lyn's leadership, Kent's blade and Davidos's tactical know-how."
A nod from her convinced him that he was making progress. "Now," he said, sensing the time was right. "It's your turn to suggest one."
She sat up and stared thoughtfully to the boughs above them, a fingertip resting on her soft pink lower-lip. She was playing the game now, was actually putting some effort into this brainstorming session. "Well," she said eventually. "I do have incredible fashion sense. Only an utter fool would deny that."
"Hard to believe when you're covered in mud," Dorcas remarked, before realising how unhelpful that comment was.
Fortunately she saw the funny side, her chuckle becoming a gasp. "Why, I didn't realise you had a sense of humour Dorcas," she murmured. "But mud or no, I have better taste in clothing than any girl in the group. And you can print that!" She was wearing a smile of sorts now.
"Okay, it goes on the list." Dorcas marked it down with another notch on the log. Personally, he didn't care much for fashion but if it was important to her, then it counted. After all, everyone had their priorities.
She was brightening up by now, he noticed. The edges of her mouth had turned upwards a tiny fraction, just enough to turn her frown into a weak smirk. It was progress for sure. Dorcas decided it was time to go for jugular.
"Let me get a few quick ones down to speed things along," he said, readying his axe again. "To start with, you're a pretty girl,"
Chop.
"You love to travel."
Chop.
"You have a fantastic sense of humour,"
Chop.
"You're always willing to talk with people,"
Chop
"Yet despite your sociable nature, you have a kind of charming mysteriousness to you."
Chop.
"We're running out of log,"
He was right. The whole length of the log was scored now, there was no room for any more notches. Serra gaped at them in wonder, clearly wondering how she'd racked up so many.
"Quite a few of them, aren't there?" Dorcas said, "Each one of those marks is one of your good points. I would have trouble cutting more for anyone else I know," He let the head of the axe fall into the ground and fisted his hip. "Now can you really tell me that Serra is a bad person?"
She leaned her head to one side as she considered this, absently twisting a pink ponytail around her finger. He had broken through to her stubborn mind, that much was clear. But there was still a loose strand that was bothering her, he could tell, and she revealed it to him emphatically. "But Erk doesn't like me when I'm Serra!" she wailed, dramatically casting her hands up in the air.
Dorcas paused. "His opinion means a lot to you doesn't it?" he murmured wryly.
Serra's cheeks reddened and she hid them with her hands. "Well…yes. I like him a lot."
"I thought as much. After all, it was his harsh words which began this whole mess," he said. "But all the same, as much as they matter to you, you can't live you life for someone else's opinions. If Erk can't like you for what you are, then he is not a friend worth having," He stepped towards her and crouched down, levelling his eyes with hers. "Always remember that while other people's opinions matter, they only matter insofar as they affect your happiness. You decide how much they affect you. But no matter what, they are never as important as your own self-esteem."
"Really?" Serra asked with uncharacteristic meekness.
Dorcas nodded. "You never have to apologise for being yourself. For yourself is the only person you know how to be. You should never change who you are to get people to like you. Instead, you should choose the people you like based on who you really are," He straightened again and took a step away from her. "And you're lucky for there are plenty of people here who like you because you're Serra."
"Like who?" Serra asked, her eyes really curious.
"Everyone likes you," Dorcas replied simply. "Lady Lyndis of course. Nils and Ninian too, especially after you were kind enough to tend Ninian's leg the other night. Kent and Sain both like you…"
"But Sain likes all the girls," Serra pointed out.
"It still counts," Dorcas insisted. "Davidos sees you as a vital part of our team, one of the few members that can't be replaced by someone else. Lucius adores you like a sister. And Florina has a lot of admiration for you too, I've heard her say as much. So never believe that people don't like…."
"What about you Dorcas?" she asked, interrupting him before he could finish. "What do you think of me?"
Dorcas paused. While talking about this deep stuff was no problem, he wasn't so comfortable when it came to dealing with his own feelings, especially around someone who wasn't his Natalie. He took a deep, reassuring breath before answering and chose his words carefully.
"I haven't known you for very long," he said, exhaling. "But you're a wonderful person from what I've seen of you."
Her hands flew to her mouth in delight. "Why Dorcas I…"
That's when the twig snapped.
"Hush!" Dorcas hissed, spreading a palm in her direction. She complied in surprise (was this the first time she'd shut up on demand?) but her curious eyes rested fearfully on him. 'What is it?' she mouthed.
He ignored her, cocking his head to listen. There was something unwelcome amongst the background noise of the wood. Yes. Footsteps muffled by wet leaves. Someone was coming there way. And not from the direction of camp. He smelt danger in the air.
Serra's patience wore out. "Dorcas, what is the matter?"
"Damn!" he shouted, suddenly diving forward, left arm snaking around to grab her. A second later they hit the muddy ground, and a second after that, an arrow thudded into the very space she'd been sitting. Her eyes widened in terror as she watched it quiver in the log, inches above her face.
"Dorcas!" she shrieked. "We're…"
"Under attack! Yes!" Dorcas cried, as he scrambled desperately to his feet. Seizing her unceremoniously around the waist, he sprinted for cover. A barrage of fireballs exploded around him as he ran, but miraculously none hit before he dove into a ditch.
"The stragglers from today. They must have followed us," he thought. "Damn! An archer and a mage! With them working in tandem, it will be a fight hard to win."
An archer, a mage and someone else too he realised a moment later – there was definitely a third pair of footsteps creeping closer. He could hear them all shuffling around, could tell their relative positions with his keen huntsman senses. They were moving to surround them, one each at nine, one and four o'clock. He couldn't let them catch them in this ditch – they would have to move now.
"I can't fight them," he murmured. "They're long-ranged attackers and well-concealed. We're going to have to make a break for camp Serra. Make sure you hold on tight." He reached out to take hold of her again.
To his surprise, she stepped back defiantly. Then he heard a voice. A voice which he hadn't heard for a while.
"Oh get up Dorcas, you big baby! You're not scared of those three losers are you?"
It was Serra's voice. Arres was gone.
Dorcas exhaled with satisfaction and exasperation in equal measure. While it was nice to hear Serra's optimism again, it was no match for reason.
"If I attack them, I'll be in the open and take a lot of punishment," he grunted. "I'll fall before I can take all three down."
Serra hefted her healing staff, clutching it proudly with both hands. "Oh no you won't," she said. "Not with me by your side."
Dorcas gave this a split-second consideration, before realising there was no more time for choice. By his ears, the enemy was nearly on top of them. It was too late to run now. He gave her a grim nod and a grimmer smile.
"Stay close to me then. Don't let yourself get hurt,"
With that, he surged up out of the trench with a blood-curdling battle-roar.
He was instantly confronted with the enemy archer, who'd been bravely venturing towards the lip of the ditch hoping to find sitting duck trapped there. There was no such luck – he hadn't expected such an abrupt resistance and Dorcas's sudden attack caught him flat-footed and left his skull split. Even before the first drops of blood had hit the ground, Dorcas had twisted and was sprinting for his other two opponents. However they were at a safer distance, shielded by foliage and, to his chagrin, both mages. Powerful ones too, for they were sending a furious firestorm his way. But he ran towards it unfazed, as though defiantly challenging the gates of hell. He could break through this storm, for he had noble Serra supporting him.
The flames scorched him as he plunged through them. He couldn't help but yell as they seared his skin to blackness. But the pain lasted for just a moment, before he was bathed in white light and Serra's magical talents healed his injuries. His body was fighting-fit again in an instant, and he hadn't even had to break his run.
He bore down on his opponent with a roar. The mage gaped stupidly at him, horrified that his powerful attack hadn't downed, or even slowed down, the advancing brute. His panicky hands fumbled to conjure up another spell, but he was cut off as Dorcas's deadly axe cleaved his head right off and sent it toppling into the undergrowth.
Two down, one to go. He changed direction again to head for his final target with brutal battle-rage flaring in his eyes, alive as they only were in the heat of battle. Desperation had taken his last opponent whose arms were flailing madly to bombard him with powerful fireballs. They were terribly accurate, each one striking their mark rigorously, engulfing him in turbulent flames. But all those severe wounds vanished as soon as they were sustained, for Serra was a pace behind him waving her staff like a conductor's baton. Such a mighty warrior with such a gifted healer to support him could not have been stopped by a line of cavalry, let alone a mere mage's magic. Of course, the poor mage knew this and spent the last few seconds of his life screaming in terror. Dorcas's deadly axe slammed down into his head, smashing his skull to smithereens and granting him a mercifully quick death.
And then the fight was over, finished in mere seconds. Dorcas had eliminated the entire enemy without a scratch, thanks to Serra. It was a resounding victory for the good guys.
"Sorry I had to kill you three," he murmured to the corpses as he shouldered his axe again. "But you forfeited your lives when you sought to take ours."
He couldn't spare too much sympathy for his fallen foes (doing so could bring a killer to madness) for his attention now belonged with a certain young woman who'd been brought back to life. Serra was panting with exhilaration and, blissfully, her long-lost smile had reappeared on her face.
"We did it Dorcas! We did it!" she squealed in delight. "What a great team we are!"
He turned to her, then noticed something. "Serra…your staff."
"Huh?" Serra looked down to see that her trusty staff had been reduced to a charred stump with purple wisps of smoke drifting off it. She smiled and tossed it over her shoulder. "Whoopsie-daisy!" she giggled. "Guess I overdid it a bit!"
"Not at all. You kept me alive just as you said you would. I appreciate it," he said. "I'll replace that staff for you the next chance we get," he assured her, wanting to do the honourable thing even though it pained him to take money out of Natalie's pocket.
"Nah, that's all right," Serra said. "I'll get Lyn to buy one for me. She said she would, you heard her say she would, didn't you? And besides," she murmured with a lop-sided grin, "I can't exactly take money off you after what you've just done for me."
"What do you mean?"
"Why Dorcas, you've reminded me of who I am!," she exclaimed, thrusting a triumphant fist into the air with a glorious smile. "I am Serra! Noble cleric of Lycia! Divine flower of Lyndis' band! Most gracious healer whose remarkable talents are surpassed only by her breathtaking beauty! Yes! I am Serra"
"Well...I'm glad to see you're feeling better," Dorcas muttered, scratching his head in astonishment. "Maybe I overdid it. She's more like herself than ever," He gave himself a secret smirk. "Erk won't thank me for this."
Serra was grinning at him, baring her mischievous white teeth. "Oh Dorcas! You're so sweet!" she chirped, jumping up at him with outstretched arms. She caught him around the neck and hugged him there, so that she was hanging off, and effectively strangling, him. She looked him up and down without letting go. "You know," she mused. "If you were younger and just a little less rugged I'd seriously consider seducing you!"
Dorcas smirked despite the weight on his neck. "I'll take that as a compliment," he murmured. "But you forget I'm a happily married man."
"Oh pooh! You are, aren't you?" she exclaimed, thrusting her lower-lip out in a mock pout. "Oh well, never mind! But all the same, you do deserve a little reward for your efforts."
With that, she pulled herself up and gave him a quick, forceful kiss right on the lips.
He staggered back as if struck, his tiny eyes doubling in size. The spunky healer was still hanging off his neck, giggling like a playful imp. "Miss Serra!" he gasped in disbelief. "What…do…you…?"
She daintily dropped down and silenced him with a pointed finger. "Hey, don't complain! You've just been kissed by a gorgeous girl! And besides, it's like you say," she added, with a mischievous spark in her eye. "I can't be anyone but myself, can I?"
Despite himself Dorcas smiled. "You're right. I guess I reaped what I sowed now, didn't I?"
She laughed. "Don't worry, I won't tell Natalie," she assured him with a coy wink and a wagging finger. "So long as you're nice to me, that is! And become my vassal for life of course!"
"Not a chance," he replied folding his arms.
"Oh you're no fun!" Serra pouted with petulant hands on her hips. But then her expression softened affectionately on him. "Well I'll let you off this time, Dorky my dear. But only if you do one last thing for me tonight."
"What's that?" he asked hesitantly. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.
She giggled like a little girl. "Come with me!" she said, insistently taking his hand and leading him in the opposite direction to the camp, out into the night.
A/N – Last part coming soon!