Okay uh . . . no excuse. At all. Feel free to kill me, but just wait until the end of the story. Truth is, I had a hard time writing this one because it was rather different to the others. I had to get in touch with characters I hadn't explored fully before this moment. But I finally managed to finish it last night, so here it is. I don't think it turned out quite the way I planned, but oh well. Better now than never. Please give feedback, I'd really appreciate it on this chapter.

Don't own Zoids.

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I'll Pity You When You're Gone

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Eight: If There Is A Hell

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Whipping on his flight jacket, Karl rushed down the hallway. He paid little attention to the soldier trailing a bit behind him; the same soldier who had woken him up. He was far more focused on the report the man had given him bare minutes before.

An Imperial-operated base attacked at midnight? By people, with no Zoids? What on Zi was the motivation? As he gave it more thought, and his sleep-addled mind moved up a gear, it became apparent only a few people would have organized such a thing. Either Hiltz or Reese was behind it. Had he been alive, Prozen would have been on the list too. But seeing as he wasn't, the options left were limited. Hiltz seemed bent on acquiring power, technology and information for some unknown purpose, judging by his previous attacks on both Helic and Gailos lands. Reese was somewhat more enigmatic. He didn't quite know what she was after. Perhaps Raven, but judging by the reports he'd received regarding the renegade, he was in no condition or position to orchestrate an invasion. Besides, he's always been a solo operator, going so far as to destroy any "backup" he received from the Empire rather than accept the help.

Suddenly he was out of the hallway and in the communications centre. Only a few people on graveyard shift were present, but they darted from place to place in that telltale manner of distressing news. He pulled himself out of his thoughts and back into business.

"Tauras!" he barked at a higher-ranking terminal operator nearby. "Tell me what's going on." The woman nodded curtly and gestured to the main screen.

"About an hour ago we received a distress signal. However, the signal was cut off almost immediately after it was activated and it was lost too quickly to determine where it had come from or the nature of its activation. We remained on alert, waiting for another, should it come."

"You received one?"

"Yes Major. Ten minutes ago at 0143 hours. It came from the Redstone base, and informed us that there had been an invasion of enemy forces, which had been sent into retreat a short while before they sent the message. They requested damage repair specialists and a Gustav team to assist in clearing the base."

Karl nodded vaguely. After the words Redstone base he had not really heard anything Tauras said. His mind had, instead, skipped over the trivialities of damage reports to something far more important.

Thomas.

"Sir?" He blinked and looked at Tauras, waiting patiently for his orders. Giving himself a mental shake he automatically fired off commands.

"Assemble the necessary pilots and repair workers for the team I assume the damage is quite large?"

"Moderate to high level."

"Yes. We'll need about fifty workers and ten Gustavs then. It's all we can spare. Brief their head of operations and inform them that they will depart as soon as possible. And," he added, having a thought. "Prepare one of the faster model Command Wolves for me. I will be heading out to Redstone as well."

"May I ask why, Major?" This woman certainly had the initiative he valued in his combat pilots. She's wasted at terminals. Should have been a Zoid pilot. He glanced over to the projected map of the Gailos Empire territory, where a red target blinked over Redstone. This base, Desert Heights, was relatively close, though still some hundred miles away.

"Apart from surveying the damage and situation for myself, Tauras, there are three members of the Guardian Force in Redstone, along with a convicted Imperial traitor." He turned to leave. "I need to discuss this with them and try to get the bigger picture."

And, he thought silently as he passed the terminal operator, my brother's out there.

~*~

Thomas stood silently in front of the bathroom mirror. His face was pallid, and expressionless. The fluorescent lighting threw cold, inhuman shadows across the room. It filled his ears with buzzing.

He studied himself, his appearance. The small arrow-head marking below his left eye was as vivid as always against his pale skin. Red on white. So out of place. Cast steely grey in the light, his eyes were blank. As always. Only he wasn't fooled by his own façade.

Eventually his gaze drifted to his uniform, tainted with blood all over. It was as thought he had bled himself, from fatal wounds he neither had nor felt. Except he was completely . . . unharmed. But the blood was still there. Even on his hands.

Tan gloves stained and spattered dark maroon. As he held them up to his eyes, he could feel the inevitable twinge of those feelings suppressed. His mood and expression darkened.

Closing his eyes, Thomas slid his fingers under his right glove and peeled it off.

~*~

Karl drummed his fingers against the control stick. Charging across the desert and apparently getting nowhere, for all his speed, was making him extremely agitated. If there had been a Redler on hand he'd have taken it in a flash, but half the Redler fleet had been called in for repairs this past week. It had seemed like a good idea at the time.

The scenery whipped by the Command Wolf's viewing windows, stars being the only fixed point. He glanced at them. He wasn't sure whether he hated them or not now. Ever since being freed from Reese's control he'd had mixed feelings towards them. She had used a lot of imagery as tools to break his mind; stars were one of them, one of the more powerful.

However, she had always projected a view of the stars being extinguished. The fact that these stars remained motionless and unwavering was a comfort.

He still wasn't sure though.

Suddenly he glimpsed something ahead, a faint glowing of light behind the sand hills, and confirmed it on his radar moments later. Relief flooded through him. A whole hour of thoughtless travel had given him way too much time to worry and dwell on memories.

The Command Wolf's loping run was adjusted to a slower variation as the illuminated buildings of Redstone Base came into view. He pulled up to the gate and, seeing that the registration panel on the wall was nothing but a black burn mark, popped open the cockpit shield. After descending from the Command Wolf he was hailed by three soldiers guarding the entrance. It was a simple matter to gain clearance from them; they recognised the badges of rank immediately.

Deciding to leave the Command Wolf in their hands, Karl went in through the side door meant for humans. His first view of the interior of Redstone was a rather unpleasant shock, even if he had been expecting damage. Large chunks of concrete and metal pillars were scattered around the remnants of a building, with very little past the first floor left of it. He guessed the rest of it was on the ground. Skirting the rubble, he made his way through along the dark runway to where the captain's offices where.

His talk with the captain, Wright, was fairly short and to the point; the point being that this late at night, there was no real reason to discuss anything, and there would be a more comprehensive meeting the next day. He also inquired as to where his brother was sleeping, and was directed to the residential buildings running alongside the meal hall.

A short while later, and Karl was sure, peering into the dark room that Thomas was elsewhere. He had the distinct feeling that he would be in an unused room somewhere, doing something related to machinery and technology. So he went through to another corridor, and checked in all of the rooms designated as free-use. There were quite a lot of them. He finally came upon the last one.

The door was ajar, with a bar of light flooding out through the gap. Karl felt certain he'd be in here; he could think of no other person who would be awake at 5am after a brutal invasion. Besides himself, that is. He pushed open the door and looked inside.

It was a featureless room, obviously used for unimportant work and soldiers on free time. Apart from a long rectangular bench against the far wall, there was absolutely nothing in there. Except for his brother, who was sitting in the middle of the floor with his back to Karl. He seemed to be working furiously on something that Karl couldn't see; his timeworn toolbox was open nearby with what must surely have been its entire contents strewn around the floor with no logical order. Screwdrivers, computer chips, copious amounts of wires, bits of metal and all sorts of other specialised things that he couldn't identify. As he watched, Thomas dropped a screwdriver and reached blindly for a pair of pliers he must have known were close.

"Yes, what is it," came Thomas' exasperated voice, apparently having heard the door open. Karl blinked and stared at the back of his blonde head. He still sounds like normal, at least. But he knew just how misleading appearances could be. He shifted to lean against the doorframe.

"I just thought I'd check up on you, Thomas."

Thomas' frenzied activity stilled for a moment in the ringing silence. Then he started working again, albeit not as fast. "Oh, Karl. What brings you out here?" He still didn't turn around.

"What do you think?"

"Yeah, good point," he replied blithely, seeming to twist something on whatever machine he was making. "Someone activated the alarm then, I suppose. Nice to know our defence procedures still work."

"It is." Thomas picked up a circuit board, and lifted it to see better under the light. It was then that Karl noticed he wasn't wearing his regular uniform. Or his gloves. Staring at his brother in shock, Karl immediately knew he'd have to change his approach. Something this unusual only deepened his concerns. "So, you were under siege by a force of unknown origins, with unknown purpose. They sabotaged a lot of the facilities and Zoids, before being forced into retreat by Van's organoid." He watched Thomas carefully.

"Sounds about right." No reaction. He was still using his defences. I'm sorry Thomas, but I'm going to have to break them down.

"And I heard reports that you brought the maverick Raven, severely injured, to the medical workers."

For the second time, Thomas froze in the middle of his work. This time when he began again, his movements were uncertain and tense. He didn't say anything.

"Did you?" Karl prompted.

"Well of course I did!" he snapped. Taking a breath, he went on in an indignant tone. "I did what everyone would have done in my situation. So what if I saved the life of Zi's most famous criminal? I couldn't just leave him there to . . . die . . ." He trailed off. Karl looked at him sadly.

". . . in his own blood?" he asked quietly.

Again silence pervaded the room. They could both hear the others' breathing. Thomas was still for a moment, and then he seemed to crumple a bit. His shoulders slumped and he sighed. "What do you really want, Karl?" he murmured, voice stripped of all the arrogance and confidence that he was well known for. The barriers were down, and Karl took no pleasure in it. But you knew it would have happened without you, and it would have been much more painful.

Stepping away from the doorframe he crossed into the room and sat down next to his brother. He merely looked at the wall for a while, as he was sure Thomas was looking at whatever he'd been making. "What I really wanted," he said, "was to make sure you were okay." There was no answer, but he hadn't expected one. Eventually he glanced over to Thomas, who was still gazing at his creation. His expression was blank, as was his custom, but Karl had learnt long ago how to read a person's emotions without relying on their face. Even so, he sometimes missed the signs when it came to Thomas. He could see the forlorn darkness behind his eyes; a sight he'd hoped was gone. Things had been going so well, since Thomas had joined the Guardian Force. He'd been foolish thought to imagine that Thomas would be unaffected by his near fatal attack on him, and by finding Raven in such a way.

"And are you?" Karl asked, putting a hand on Thomas' shoulder. The younger Schubaltz blinked and tilted his head down a bit.

"I guess . . ." Feeling the rough cotton under his hand, Karl again noted how strange it was for Thomas to be wearing other clothes. A dark blue, long-sleeved shirt and grey military issue pants would be by no means extraordinary to anyone else, but for him it was. But then, he thought as he finally looked at what was in Thomas' hands, the sleeves are long, past his wrists even . . .

As far as he could make out, Thomas had been making a miniature satellite dish. It was circular like a bowl, and filled with complex circuits and wiring. Clearly it wasn't finished, seeing as the layers within were still half completed, but it was certainly a very advanced piece of technology. Thomas held it loosely in his pale, slender hands, never once taking his eyes off it.

"What is it?" ventured Karl, more to keep talking than anything, and try to illicit a response from Thomas.

His brother stared at it a while longer, then lifted his head to meet Karl's eyes for the first time that night. "I don't really know." They looked at each other, before Thomas sighed and started picking up his tools.

"Just leave them, you can clean up tomorrow," Karl said. Thomas glanced up at him. "It's been a really long night. It can wait." He picked up the dish and laid it aside on the floor, standing up as he did so. "You need some rest, I can see it."

Thomas obligingly got to his feet, rubbing his eyes with a fist. "When was the last time you got any sleep anyway?" Karl asked, suspicious. His brother looked vaguely at the ceiling.

"Um . . . after the battle with Hiltz, I think. I was knocked out at least."

"Oh, 'Mas*," he groaned, steering Thomas by the shoulder towards the door. "That's something like forty hours."

"It's forty-two," Thomas said mechanically. "I counted." Karl stared at him.

"Uh . . . of course you did." Karl finished, bemused, as they walked down the empty corridor. His brother had always been a numerical thinker, which had always been slightly out of his league. In the midst of battle, Thomas would be able to tell you that there were three hundred and seventy-two Zoids on the field. Karl, on the other hand, would be able to tell you that there were a hell of a lot of enemies to blow up. But Thomas had never been able to acknowledge that he was indeed smarter than his brother. Karl supposed he took the fact that Karl was higher in rank as a measure of his intelligence compared to his own. It was a completely skewed viewpoint, but that was how Thomas saw things. Always.

"I had a fight with Van," Thomas said suddenly. Karl looked up in surprise but Thomas was keeping his attention on the end of the hall. He'd said it flatly, in the way that he did when he was severing his emotions from his logic.

In other words, in his most-used voice.

Karl frowned a bit, deciding not to interfere too much with his brothers' admission. He rarely told anyone anything related to himself that wasn't bravado. But he knew his brother, and knew that if he wanted to learn anything else he'd have to ask.

"What about?" Thomas pushed his hands into his pockets as he walked.

"The battle with Hiltz." The memory of his video call to the two Guardians resurfaced in Karl's mind. He remembered how Van had looked exhausted, but also how he kept looking at Thomas as though he wanted to say something, then getting a guilty look and turning away. Thomas had just been his usual self, except for the bandage. He hadn't thought much of it at the time, being rather busy, but now he was able to see it in a different light.

"Did something go wrong?" he asked, curious as to whether the argument was real of just taken out of context by Thomas. He did that often. He also knew that Van regarded Thomas as a friend, even if he didn't always act like it.

"Not really," Thomas muttered. "We were fighting, and Van left to pursue another opening, which left me compromised. His motives weren't clear to me until later so afterwards I questioned his tactics. He . . . wasn't pleased."

By the sounds of it, he went off his rocker, Karl mused. He had been unlucky enough to see Van lose it before, and even though he hadn't been on the receiving end it had been pretty spectacular. He'd known Van for a long time now, and so he knew more about him than Thomas was likely to. For the most part, Van was one of the nicest and most sincere people he had ever met. But when put under pressure, stressed and frustrated, he could turn truly vicious. It wasn't really his fault; Van had a tendency to divert his anger and ignore it, which was why he was so well known for his 'shake it off and smile' attitude. That habit lead to his frustrations building up and eventually reaching explosion point, and heaven help the poor man who was provoking him at the time.

Even Van knew this, and obviously felt terrible afterwards. Whatever he said when he flew into a rage, he didn't really mean. And he always made it up to people afterwards. It was just an unfortunate character flaw.

It seemed that Thomas had been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"I'm sure he wasn't really mad at you," he sighed. "He was probably tired from the battle. And he did say he'd made some bad judgement calls when we had that briefing. That would have upset him."

"No, no . . . I shouldn't have implied his actions were wrong. He'd just saved me and he's a far better pilot than I am. I had no right to accuse him."

Karl was about to protest this manner of thinking when Thomas stopped abruptly. Belatedly he realized that they were in the residential areas, and this must have been Thomas' room. Thomas opened the door and made to go in, but stopped. He looked at Karl.

"Thanks for coming," he said softly. "I mean, I know it's part of your job-"

"I would have come even if it wasn't." Karl smiled faintly. "You're my brother." Thomas' didn't appear to react, but his eyes warmed a little.

"Yeah." He shut the door behind him.

~*~

Redstone Base hardly looked better in the cold light of dawn. But then Fiona hadn't exactly been thinking all the rubble would be magically cleaned away in the four hours she'd been asleep. Wandering around a corner, she gazed across the tarmac towards the medical tents with no real plans of what she was going to do. She'd had a bit of sleep, but she'd woken up and been unable to fall back into the blissful nothingness and gotten up instead.

She sighed and dragged her fingers through her hair. Not many people were up yet, and she didn't blame them at all. She actually wished she could join them. It would be a while before the soldiers woke, and set about the arduous task of repairing the wreckage. Or, at least clearing it up. There was enough broken stone here to practically fill the valley of the Rare Hertz.

The faint orange rays of sunlight from over the horizon were just beginning to stroke the ground here, brushing away the last vestiges of lingering night. A night that had almost seemed to have no end.

Still, things could have been much, much worse than they were. Indeed Fiona wondered why they weren't all dead. The invaders had been murderous, yes, but they hadn't appeared to be focused on killing them. Had they had another goal? One they hadn't had the time nor wits to think of during the attack? Perhaps they'd stolen confidential files, or equipment, or even kidnapped someone whom hadn't been noticed missing yet.

Oh, it's all too confusing at this hour, she thought. She had a lot of other things on her mind, on top of the concerns about Hiltz's motives. Just a few minutes ago she had come out of the medical tents after inquiring about how people were doing. Namely, how Raven was doing. The doctor she'd been able to get the attention of had been decent enough to look it up for her. As it turned out, Raven had been near the top of the list for the critically wounded, and so had priority for use of the accelerated healing machines** that had survived the wreckage. There were only three operational, so the most seriously wounded were first in line. When she'd arrived, he'd been in the operating theatre for about twenty minutes.

Fiona reflected on how strange it was to even be thinking about that sort of thing. A bare two weeks ago she hadn't even known Raven was still alive, and now here she was, glad that he was getting medical treatment and going to pull through.

"It's a funny world we live in," she murmured under her breath.

Listening to the distant hum of some machine being started up, Fiona wished that Van or Thomas were around. Before she'd left the sleeping barracks she'd checked in on Van, who had been, for once, dead to the world. It seemed the sleeping pills had worked. As long as he doesn't get addicted, fine by me. He deserves a break anyway. Not that she'd ever tell him she approved of drugs.

As for Thomas, she hadn't seen him since the night before. She hadn't expected to though. Thomas was sometimes notoriously difficult to track down, especially when he was in one of his technological modes. Even if she could find him, it would be hopeless talking to him if he was programming computers or building radars.

It was a shame though; she enjoyed his company in a way she couldn't with Van. She loved Van, that was true, but she felt closer to Thomas intellectually, and in some other way she couldn't quite pinpoint yet. This was one of those times when she wanted to have a conversation with him, and he wasn't around. He never seemed to be at times like this.

A sudden dark flash at the edge of her vision jolted Fiona out of her reverie. She looked back towards the tents and was shocked to see Shadow alight on the ground next to them, howling in rage. Frozen for a moment, she then started sprinting towards the obsidian organoid, who was now gnashing his teeth at the frightened guards near the entrance.

Closer to the ruckus she could hear Shadow's frustrated snarling and the guards' calls of "Stay back! Back!" The organoid snapped his head back and unleashed a furious roar, then darted his head at one of the men, clamping his jaws shut on the thin air in front of his chest. The guard, surprised, brandished his gun at him and looked to be on the verge of firing it. But something was wrong here. Why isn't Shadow just tearing through? He's not even touching them.

"Miss Fiona, don't come any closer!" the other guard, a man named Braidee, shouted as she came within hearing distance. "This thing's insane, we've got to kill it!"

"No, wait!" she cried, darting up next to him and grabbing his gun arm. "Don't shoot him!" They both ducked as the enraged organoid's tail whipped through the air above them. The other man snarled and cocked his handgun.

"I'm afraid we haven't got much chance ma'am. The devil's could really hurt someone."

"I know, but something's not right! Let me . . ." she paused, frantically thinking for a solution. "Let me try to calm him down."

"Calm him down?!" Braidee said, flabbergasted. "With all due respect, Miss Fiona –" Whatever he had been about to say was drowned out by Shadow's roaring as he tossed his head back and danced from foot to foot.

"Just let me try! If it doesn't work, you can kill him." Fiona winced, not having intended to sign Shadow's death warrant in case she failed. Looking extremely unwilling, Braidee and his partner nodded and dropped their guns, stepping back with hands up in a gesture of surrender to Shadow.

Shadow stopped flaring his wings at this and stared hard at the men, not seeming to notice Fiona at all. Teeth bared, he continued to growl and sway back and forth in a manner that was very disconcerting. Trying not to think about what those teeth could do to her, Fiona stepped forward a bit. Shadow saw the movement and snapped his head around to glare at her, snarling loudly and opening his mouth again.

"Shadow," she started, then stopped, not really knowing what to say. How exactly do you calm down an enraged organoid that has no qualms about killing? She had his attention though, she could see that. The organoid's sky blue eyes were solidly fixed on her. She took a larger step towards him.

An invisible line was crossed. Shadow began thrashing about again, shaking his spiked head and attempting to push past her towards the tents. Suddenly she understood. Quickly she put herself in front of the entrance to the tents, between Shadow and his goal. He shrieked and flung his head out towards her. At the last second she whipped her hands up and grabbed his snout.

"Shadow, what do you want!" she shouted clearly, even though she knew. Until she could get him to calm down there was no point getting down to business. She could feel the vibrations of his cries as he attempted to wrench away from her. She kept hold.

"Shadow!" Fiona called again, this time opening her mind and adding its mental voice to her own. "Shadow, what do you want?" After a few moments, she felt Shadow stop moving so violently. "Shadow-Sar***, I cannot help you unless you tell me what you are doing here."

She looked into the organoid's eyes, still for the second. Focusing hard, she projected acceptance and a willingness to help. Having never done this with anyone but Zeke, she worried that it might not work, that Shadow wouldn't let her in or be able to.

"Please Shadow-Sar . . . tell me."

Shadow was silent, and then he keened a long, low note. At the same time, a dizzying array of images and sounds assaulted her mind. Rocking back on her feet, she screwed her eyes shut and tried to make sense of them. Most flew by far too fast to see anything more than a brief glimpse, but she was beginning to see a pattern. Just as she began to feel sick, a final image flickered through her mind, staying for longer than the others, long enough to see . . .

Raven, younger, face streaked with blood and tears, reached up with one hand. His hazy purple eyes were full of sorrow and distress.

"I'm sorry, Shadow. . ."

And then the clumsy mindlink Shadow had forged with her fell silent. Gasping, she opened her eyes again and met his. Now she could see. She stroked the organoid's snout with one hand.

"I understand now. You want to see him." Shadow rumbled softly, nudging her hand expectantly. "He's here, you know that. I'll get you in there." Fiona turned to Braidee, who was staring at her as though she'd just performed a miracle. "Braidee, could you go inside the medical tents and ask Doctor Grey if Raven is out of the operating room yet?"

"Uh, yes, sure," he stammered, hurrying inside. His partner merely looked at her in wonder. She flushed slightly and smiled.

"That's a pretty useful skill . . . whatever it is." Fiona was saved from answering by the return of Braidee.

"He said that Raven just got out of the accelerated healing machine. He's in one of the beds, in a separate tent."

"Good. Now, I'm going to take Shadow here in with me. Could you walk along with us to make sure nobody gets upset or frightened?"

"Yes, of course." She turned to Shadow.

"Okay, let's go. But don't do anything stupid. I can't save you if the army decides you're a threat." Shadow growled and pushed at her back, indicating he wanted her to move and show him the way.

A number of patients stared at the unlikely party with wide eyes as they passed, Shadow not very quietly or inconspicuously. Thankfully, Raven's tent wasn't that far away and they got there in no time. Braidee remained outside the room, shutting the door behind them when they went in.

Being a tent hastily thrown up after the battle, there was hardly anything in there besides the bed. The only other object in the room was an IV drip, filtering blood down into Raven's left arm. Raven himself lay still and silent on the bed, white as the sheets around him and looking as terrible as the day they found him. Fiona crossed over to the side of his bed quietly, with Shadow clanking his way to the opposite side. The dark organoid keened a little, resting his head on Raven's palm. Of course Raven didn't respond, but it seemed to Fiona that the air in the room changed slightly; some hidden tension dissipated. She looked at Shadow, resolute by his master's side. It had seemed rather hopeless for Raven since they'd found him, near death so many times since. But she couldn't help but feel that if he had Shadow with him, he just might make it.

Peering at his slash-and-circle marking, she thought she saw his eyelids flicker.

"I wonder if you're dreaming," she whispered. "And I wonder what about . . ."

Shadow merely looked at Raven, and never took his eyes away . . . . . .

~*~

. . . . . . "There's no way I can lose!" Raven howled, twisting the machine guns around and bombarding the fallen Blade Liger. The Zoid jerked and snapped as the hail of bullets ate into it. He bared his teeth in a feral snarl and pressed harder on the button. "Not to a bastard like you," he vowed in rage, delighting in the brutal erosion of his opponent.

Van's time on this planet was over. He was going to suffer for all the times he'd beaten Raven, beaten his organoid, beaten his Zoids. He would suffer for being forever on his tail, screwing with his plans, Prozen's plans; he didn't care either way whether the lunatic became emperor or not, it was the fact that losing was not in his vocabulary. Watching the orange cockpit crack and spawn millions of shattered snowflake-holes, he seethed. Van had done this to him, to the Zaber Fang. He'd vaporised it, shredded it into tiny pieces, eaten it alive. The useless thing hadn't stood a chance against the powerful vibrations of the Liger's shield. He hadn't cared, he'd wanted to kill Van, reach deep inside that damned Zoid of his and tear his heart out. But the Zaber Fang had been too weak.

This time, he wouldn't feel the humiliation of defeat at the hands of a wannabe hero. He blew out his breath in a hiss and grinned fiendishly, aware of the shake of the machine guns.

Then something happened.

The Blade Liger started to pulse with light. Raven snapped his head around quickly and saw with fury that that pathetic silver organoid was gone. The machine guns grated to a halt as the light around Van shone brighter and brighter, completely hiding it from view.

"What are you doing?!" he screamed, slamming a fist into the console. "Stop it!" But of course Van didn't stop what he was doing: regenerating. That foul, cheating, son of a bitch! Suddenly the flaring glow fell away from the Liger, leaving it pristine, with both blades intact.

Chest heaving in anger Raven flung himself forwards at the windows, restrained at the last second by the safety belt. "You stupid little boy!" he screeched. "Do you think that regenerating will save you?" Unseeing he snatched at the charged particle lever and pushed it right up. Two thuds reverberated through his body as the foot locks bit into the earth. Blue light flooded in, dripping off the mass of energy forming in the Geno Saurer's mouth above. He could hardly see the Blade Liger through the buzzing light, igniting its shield. Raven snarled and pushed harder at the controls, though they would go no further. The Geno Saurer levelled out and became a straight ramrod of power, ready to ignite at the head. His line of sight was almost the same as his Zoids'. "I've had enough," he shouted. "Time to die Flyheight!" Before he had even finished speaking his hand was on the firing button.

Foolishly, Van started to run towards him, blades levelled forwards at their tips. And then the Liger jumed. "Shadow!" Raven ordered the dark organoid, deep in the Zoid's core. "Give it more power! All of it, into the particle gun. He will not survive this time!" Whatever answer the organoid might have made was drowned out in a pulse of ferocious energy, expanding the seething mass of the particle gun, before it exploded forwards at a breakneck speed.

The sheer brilliance of the weapon nearly blinded him, but Raven could still make out the Blade Liger for a second before the beam smashed into it. There was a massive lurch of kickback from the impact, and he could feel the very air growing warm from the snapping electricity around him, but Raven didn't care. Flyheight would finally be gone, out of his way; nevermore would he remain as a mockery of his defeat. He would be free.

But the Blade Liger's outline re-emerged. In shock he watched the infuriating machine surge forwards again, coming ever closer. He distantly heard Van yell through his comm. Unit. No! Not again! He won't beat me again, I won't let him!

"That's impossible!" he screamed. But it wasn't. He slammed on the particle gun lever again, to no avail. The Liger continued to advance. His hand wrenched at the lever over and over again; up, down, up, down, up, down. The heat became unbearable as the particle energy began to reverse on itself and started hitting the Geno Saurer, fanned towards him by the Liger's shield. "I can't lose to you!" But he was.

All the fury, hatred and bloodlust in him responded to the situation and he lost all sense of self.

"I hate you!"

Van had thwarted him again.

"I hate you!"

The rough handle of the lever began tearing at his palm as he worked it up and down.

"I hate you!"

It was all because of this one – little – boy!

"I HATE YOU!"

He screamed it pure rage as his inevitable defeat came within killing range. It was aiming for the Geno Saurer's mouth, suspended above him. Madness coursed through him along with burning images.

Destruction, hate, murder, torture, training, defeat, fear, pain, longing, stars, claws, blades, Prozen, fear, Flyheight, Zaber Fang, fear, burning, fear, particle cannon, fear, fear, fear, death, fear . . .

He was going to die.

The realisation hit him hard, knocking the scream right out of his lungs. For the first time, Raven could truly feel the pain of the boiling cockpit, the particle energy lancing through him. He could truly feel it. He could feel his death approaching, seconds away. And it was terrifying.

Fear overwhelmed him, and Raven screamed again, unable to tear his eyes away from the Blade Liger. The blade swept out of view, and he knew that was it.

A great rending shriek crashed through the Geno Saurer as the blade ripped through it, destroying the particle cannon. Flames exploded all around him, and he thought he heard a Zoid roar above his own screaming. The Liger? The Geno Saurer? Shadow?

The world went black.

~*~

Pain returned first. Even before he knew he was awake, he could feel the pain. Everywhere, it was everywhere, all over.

Crying out, Raven tried to twist away from it, but found himself pinned under something. The movement sent fresh agony along his skin. He couldn't get away. Opening his eyes he could only see jagged pieces of charred metal above, with a single sliver of blue sky behind them.

It was the Geno Saurer, or what was left of it. He could hear and feel fires burning close by, the heat suffocating the air. His body burned as well; recoiling and reacting to the numerous scars and wounds on it.

Hideous anger flared in him and he screamed in rage. He writhed and twisted, raving incoherently at the Zoid, at Shadow, at Flyheight. The pain only got worse as he struggled, and hot tears began to run down his face. Raven couldn't control them, a natural response to agony, and this only infuriated him more.

The heat from both the fires and his body grew too much, and Raven fell limp once more in the burning wreckage of the Geno Saurer.

~*~

Splash.

Wincing, Raven turned his head onto the side. His eyes fluttered open, presenting him only with haphazard blurs. He blinked a few times and could finally see what was around him. A dense forest surrounded the area, yet stopped at the edge of a dirty sand strip. Faint whistles and clicks reverberated through the trees.

Shifting slightly he became aware of a peculiar feeling from his stomach down. Raven pulled his arms back a bit, and painfully pushed himself up slightly. He hurt all over, except below the chest, where he was curiously numb and cold. Lifting his head he looked through his ragged hair.

A lake. It stretched out in front of him to the other side of the sandy bank. Hardly a couple hundred metres wide, it was more like a large pond. The surface was utterly still, mirroring the dusky sky above.

Raven could see now that he was half-submerged in the shallows, which explained why he couldn't feel much of his lower body. The cool water was deadening whatever wounds might be there. Wounds . . .

With a flash he remembered the burning and screaming. Choking back a sob, he fell limply onto the sand again. Things he couldn't explain, feelings, were surfacing after being dead for so long. He'd thought they were all gone. Dissolved, vanished, driven out of him by the harsh life he led.

He had been wrong.

It all came crashing down. All the lies he'd told himself, the barriers, the false persona; they all cracked and broke apart. The pain and reality was too much for him anymore. And he started to cry. Not from the outer hurt, but from the inner.

Lying on the shore of an unknown lake, Raven cried. He cried for his parents: a memory hated, loved and forgotten until this moment. Their deaths had achieved nothing, had gained nothing. Had happened for no reason at all. He cried for the Republican soldiers killed by Prozen, killed after he'd been found. The other soldier; the one who'd wanted to take him back to his home . . . the one who had died first. He cried for Van, dragged into a war with him that had become all too personal and vicious. Countless others he cried for, murdered and tortured by his own hands, destroyed without question or conscience.

And lastly, he cried for himself. The horrible things he'd done. The thousands of people he'd hurt. The terrible life he'd led. He had become an utter monster of hatred and vengeance, never caring about anything. Not even himself. For the longest time, in all of his memory, there had been no 'self'. Only winning and conquering. He had locked himself away. But now he wished he hadn't remembered. The pain was terrible, and there was nothing for him here.

There was a creak from next to him, and a cold metal snout nudged his chest. Raven only cried harder. Shadow had suffered so much, condemned to be his partner, and yet he was still here. He had saved him from the Geno Saurer – there was no doubt – and brought him to this place. After everything he'd done, the organoid remained by his side. The only constant. Raven didn't deserve Shadow, and Shadow didn't deserve to be his slave.

His tears had run out. Continuing to sob dryly, Raven reached up with his right hand, bleeding slowly down his arm. His fingers came into contact with Shadow's jaw, and he stroked him once, heedless of the stabbing pain in his palm.

"I'm sorry, Shadow," he rasped, looking straight into the organoid's blue eyes. "I'm so sorry." Shadow rumbled softly, and dropped his head lower. Bereft of any comfort, Raven was desperate to make the organoid understand. Again he forced himself into a sitting position, and tentatively placed both hands under the organoid's jaw. When he didn't pull away, Raven rested his head against Shadow's and clung to him. He was afraid. Everyone he'd ever reached out to had disappeared. If Shadow left too, he'd be lost.

Please don't leave, he begged silently. Please . . .

'I will never leave your side, Bittersong.' Raven's eyes snapped open, breathing shallow. He didn't move. Hearing nothing else, it dawned on him that the voice hadn't been heard; it had gone directly to his mind.

"Shadow?" he whispered.

'Yes.' His grip tightened in shock.

"Is – is that you . . . talking?"

'It is I. Do not be alarmed.'

"How? You've never . . . I . . ." Raven trailed off, coughing a bit.

'I have long wished to speak with you Bittersong. But I could not. The walls of your mind would allow no entrance. You were closed off. Yet now you have at last opened yourself to me.'

He hadn't opened. He had broken. Despair surged in him again. "Shadow," he breathed. "I can never . . . never apologise enough . . . for what I did. For what I am. I am . . . worthless. A ruined fighter without a soul." He felt Shadow stir a bit.

'It is not so. No being is without an ethenai.' The strange word echoed in Raven's mind. He sensed on a deeper level that it meant something like the soul and mind, together. This method of speech seemed vague and less structured. But then, he realised, it's not really speaking. It's thinking.

Maybe . . . but I'm not sure, ShadowDuskwing. His attempt at speaking with Shadow the same way induced the dual name; one going with the other as though inseperable. There is something else. Something that destroys me whenever I find myself.

'I have seensensed it,' Shadow replied. Dimly Raven noticed he was starting to feel tired. An odd sensation brushed his consciousness.

"Shadow . . ." he started, feeling the tears slide down his face again. "I don't think . . . I won't be here much longer."

'Your wounds will heal. The deathsleep is not claiming you.'

"I know." He tried to shake off the creeping blankness but failed. "I just know that . . . when I go to sleep . . . I'll be gone. I won't remember . . . anything . . . it's always this way," he finished in anguish. Shadow moved, and with Raven still holding on, lowered the boy back to the ground. Against his will his arms fell away, and he struggled to stay awake. He could see Shadow looking at him solemnly from above.

'Bittersong, you may leave, but I will not. I shall stay with you until you return. For you will. Your ethenai will not stay hidden forever, damaged though it is. You will remember again. And I will be there.'

He tried to hang onto consciousness, but felt it sliding away. Instead, he focused on Shadow's words, repeating them like a mantra in his waning thoughts. His eyes closed.

"Goodbye Shadow," he sighed.

'Until we meet again . . .'

And when he woke, he was gone.

--------------------------

Notes: * 'Mas. Karl's childhood name for Thomas. Thomas doesn't really seem the type to accept "Tommy" as a nickname, and I think 'Mas sounds better anyway. It's pronounced "maas", with a long A sound. Sorta like . . . mars, but without the R.

** Accelerated healing machines. The way I figure it, the people of Zi must have had some kind of medical equipment that healed wounds way faster than what ours do. I mean, a number of Zoid pilots sustained some pretty bad injuries during the show, and then seemed right as rain by the next episode. Of course, that could be time difference, but oh well. We're going to assume they have accelerated healing, and Raven is getting his gunshot wounds fixed by them.

** Shadow-Sar. The –Sar attachment is an Ancient Zoidian mindspeak term to indicate friendship or good will. Fiona was trying to communicate with Shadow the only way she knew how, and mindspeak involves a lot of vague terms that don't appear in spoken or written language. She wanted to show him that she didn't mean him any harm.

So, here we have the tragic past explained. Quite a hard scene to write that was. Especially all of the mindspeak. I read way too much Obernewtyn for my own good. That's what I was drawing on with the whole mindspeech business.

We're within striking distance of the end now. There are three chapters left, and it's going to heat up a bit. Karl knows something we don't know (though you might have figured out the deal with Thomas by now), and Hiltz is certainly not going to fade away into obscurity. I'll try to start on the next chapter real soon, but I have a lot of assessment tasks at the moment, so I can't promise anything. Thanks for staying with me though, especially those who keep returning to review. I heart you all.

And we'll see if Van comes out of his drug-induced coma.

- Vappa