Well, here I am again. Only took about three months this time: what a record. There's something I want to note before you read this chapter.
One of the problems I've had with this story is that it's been going for a long time now. Too long. Considering that I came up with the majority of the plot at least two years ago, when I was fifteen, I've had difficulty reconciling it with myself now. The fact is, some of the ideas I liked back then are not ideas that agree with me now. This chapter contains an idea like that. However, I couldn't cut it out or change it too drastically, because it's integral to the plot. Anyway, I guess what I'm trying to say is that I found writing that particular scene very hard, because I didn't really agree with it as much as I used to. That's my lesson to you guys: finish what you start before you start questioning it, or you'll end up wanting to bang your head into the desk repeatedly. On that note…
WARNING: This chapter contains a graphic depiction and mentions of suicide. If this affects you in a bad way, please do not read it. I won't be held responsible if you do. It also has some foul language.
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I'll Pity You When You're Gone
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Ten: Fragments----------------------------------
The sun was melding into the cauldron earth of Zi. It was a relatively short distance to the Rare Hertz caves, but Van felt like they were mired in a bog, hardly making progress at all.
Try as he might, he couldn't come up with even the beginnings of a plan for when they caught up with Raven. His mind was still grappling with this sudden change in reality. He had only just begun to accept that Raven was in a state where he wouldn't cause any harm, and now he had whipped around a full 180 degrees and charged off.
Grinding his teeth, Van glared ahead at the landscape, keeping his anger restrained. He didn't want to do anything careless again, after what had happened to Thomas.
However, he was not quire sure that he wanted to keep his rage from Raven.
"He's going down this time," he growled. "I won't stand by and let him do what he wants." The rhythmic gait of the Blade Liger pounded in his ears.
"Van, please," Fiona spoke into the silence. "Please don't do anything rash."
"Rash? The only rash, stupid thing I did was save his miserable life."
"It wasn't stupid," she whispered. "It was the right thing to do. He needed help."
"And look how he's repaid us!" snapped Van. "The conniving bastard's probably planned this all along." A hand landed on his shoulder, firmly.
"Whatever you might think, Van, I don't believe that Raven has had a single malicious intent since he reappeared." There was a trace of steel in her voice, which forced Van to hold his tongue. "You're upset, and that's understandable. But please, don't charge in there with blind fury. I don't want to see you hurt like that again."
Taken aback, Van felt the bulk of his anger dissipate as he realised that she was right. He was angry about Raven's flight, but he was also scared. Scared both by what might happen, and by his complete dedication to eliminating the threat. To killing Raven. Again.
He'd almost torn himself to pieces over what he had done before, and Raven's re-emergence had broken his perceptions. What would happen if he once again destroyed Raven without a thought?
He sighed. "I'm sorry I yelled at you. I'm just … worried."
"I know," she said. "I know you don't like it, but I'm worried about Raven too." Van said nothing. "I fear that there won't be any way back to him, after what just happened."
Van had to put Fiona's odd words aside as the Liger began to climb a slight rise. They were right on top of the Rare Hertz region, and his scanners were flashing proximity warnings. Disturbingly, he could hear the screech of metal and crashes through the walls of the cockpit.
The Liger finally crested the hill, giving them a panoramic view of the rock-addled valley below. Fiona gasped. Van felt himself go rigid with shock.
It was his nightmare incarnate.
The Zabre Fang shrieked in rage, its teeth tearing a ragged hold in the other Zoid. It was barely recognisable, decimated as it was by the Fang's furious assault. Rearing back, the Zabre Fang plunged its claws into the Zoid's body, gouging out its armour and circuits.
Van watched, transfixed in horror, as the core of the ruptured Lightning Saix was exposed, crackling and fizzing. The Zabre Fang let out another unearthly roar before its jaws flashed in, ripping into the heart of the core. The death cries of the Zoid were drowned out by the rending of metal and gnashing of the Fang's teeth.
"Oh … dear God …" Van choked out, unable to stop watching the murderous display. Mangled shreds of the Saix were flying everywhere as the Zabre Fang whipped its head from side to side, trying to wrench the shattered core out.
Van spotted, to his complete astonishment, the cockpit of the attacked Zoid edge open, bit by bit. He saw an arm grope for a hold before pulling the rest of the body out. There was a flash of red hair, and then Hiltz was running across the sand like the devil himself was after him.
About to snap out of his daze and give chase, Van was startled by his communications unit shrieking into life. "You fucking bastard!" came the scream he knew only too well. "I'll kill you!"
The Zabre Fang crashed forward onto its chest, making Van jump. Its cockpit burst open and Raven shout out of it. He charged after Hiltz and was closing the distance amazingly fast. Even though Hiltz was sprinting as fast as he could, and Raven should have been physically incapable of running at all, he wasn't going to be able to escape Raven's fury.
"Quick, we've got to stop them!" Fiona cried, even as Van was hammering his own cockpit button frantically. He vaulted over the side of the cockpit and almost jumped the twelve metres down the ladder. In his haste his right arm, still in plaster, bashed against the ladder rungs. The fresh burst of pain made him cry out, but he ignored it as best he could as he started to run after Raven. He could hear Fiona falling behind, unable to keep up with the breakneck speed they were running at.
About a hundred steps ahead of Van, Raven launched himself at Hiltz and dragged him to the ground. In a heartbeat he was all over the taller man, lashing out at his head and screaming. Hiltz struggled under Raven's assault, landing a few punches of his own, but couldn't break free from the renegade's frenzy.
Van had almost closed the distance when Raven slammed a fist straight into Hiltz's temple with a sickening thud. Hiltz stopped moving all together, yet Raven did not let up at all.
Finally upon them, Van flung out his arm and wrenched the screaming Raven away by the waist. Raven fought tremendously to get back to Hiltz, and Van, unprepared, lost his grip easily. Flinging himself back on top of the unconscious Hiltz, Raven began tearing at his face with his nails. Van could now make out some of the words amongst the incoherent yelling, and it was an eerie echo of that last battle he had fought against the Geno Saurer. "I'll kill you ! Bastard! I hate you! I hate you! I'll tear you apart!"
Van hardened his resolve and dragged Raven off Hiltz again. It was like trying to hold thunder in his bare hands. "Stop it, Raven!" he shouted above the other's rage. Raven didn't seem to pay him any attention whatsoever, and just fought furiously to break free. "Stop it!"
Raven's head snapped around and Van felt the full white-hot glare of his eyes. "Get the fuck off me, Flyheight!"
"No," he yelled back, "I'm not letting you go!" Seething, Raven turned his fury on Van, swinging a fist into his head. Van slammed into the dirt, hard, but didn't allow himself the luxury of getting dizzy. He spun back over and belted Raven across the face. Momentarily dazed, Van seized his chance and trapped him with both arms, ignoring the stabbing pain of his right.
In a far tighter grip than before, Raven had one arm pinned to his back and was unable to escape. He tried to claw at Van with his free arm, but Van took the scratches without breaking his hold. With a howl of frustration Raven attempted to grab Hiltz's boot, mere inches away, but couldn't reach that either.
Van, on his knees now, was shocked at Raven's apparent strength. By all accounts he was weak and practically bedridden; yet Raven was fighting with a strength that was frightening.
"Let me go!" Raven was shrieking, still clawing at the air towards Hiltz. Blood ran down his hand where he had slashed open Hiltz's skin. "I'll kill him. He's a bastard. Let me go!"
"I'm not going to," Van said steadily, reigning in his own frustration. This had an adverse effect on Raven as he fought all the more desperately to get at his prey.
"I'll break him in half! He's a fucking bastard! He killed him! I'll destroy him!"
Van's eyes widened, and as he kept his grip on the writhing criminal he came to the logical, awful conclusion.
"I'll kill him for what he did," Raven was still shouting. "He'll pay for what he did to him!"
"What good will come of killing him?" Van yelled back, tightening his arms around his struggling body.
"I don't care! I was to kill him!"
"Killing him won't bring Shadow back!"
At this, Raven stilled, panting heavily. Van heard his own exhausted breathing in the momentary quiet. For the first time he became aware of Fiona and Zeke standing off to his left, not interfering.
Then Raven started to struggled again, albeit less furiously, to get at Hiltz. Van cursed and held him back. It wasn't through any sympathy towards Hiltz though; he knew that Hiltz needed to be taken alive for questioning. Otherwise, he would have happily let Raven beat him some more.
"Raven, just stop. Please," Van panted. "It won't do any good."
"And why the fuck would that matter to me?" spat Raven, turning to glare at Van. Seeing the fury in those eyes again made Van recoil slightly. "I don't care if it does not good, I just want the bastard dead." He slammed his fist into the dirt violently. "He deserves to die a painful death, and I'll be the one to do it. With my bare hands. I won't sink to his level and use a damned Zoid to do it." Face twisted with hate, Raven turned back to Hiltz's body. "He's a bastard. That's all he is. He killed Shadow. He killed him." Raven swallowed a bit. "He tore him to pieces. Ripped him apart. He deserves the same." Lapsing into silence, Raven continued to look at Hiltz's bloody and beaten face. He had stopped struggling. "It's not fair," he muttered. "It's not fair." Van now found himself holding Raven up as he slumped. "It's not fair!" he shrieked, voice breaking.
Van took his arms away, leaning away from Raven as he clapped his bloody, damaged hands against his head. "It's not fair," Raven sobbed. "Why did he die? He said he'd be there when I came back." A gasping sob shook his body. "He said he'd be there. Just like all the rest!"
Van had no words. He could only watch, in a kind of miserable haze, as the greatest tormentor in his life succumbed to grief. There had been a time when he'd pitied Raven for being dead; now it was excruciating to watch him live.
To his left, Fiona was watching with a hand over her mouth, tears glittering in her eyes. The mangled wreck of the Lightning Saix sent out spurts of smoke and electricity, completely forgotten by the four of them.
"It never ends," Raven half-growled. "It just never ends. Anything I try to hold on to disappears. They all die, all of them. Why do I even try any more? Why do they try? I should just kill them all now before they have the chance to try."
Fiona took a step forward. "Raven . . ." she started, but Raven dragged his eyes up from the ground to glare at her.
"Don't you dare come near me. Don't you dare touch me. Don't you even think you feel sorry for me." Tears still ran down his face, but the anger and pain in his eyes made them unreal. "You feel sorry for me and you'll die. Just like my parents. Just like that soldier. And just like him," Raven whispered angrily, pointing towards the wreckage of both the Lightning Saix and Shadow. "That's all I'm good for. Killing things."
Van watched Raven's back, feeling that he should say something, anything, but unable to think of what. Raven shook his head, swiping his bleeding right hand across his eyes.
"I don't want this. I don't want to remember anymore. It was better when I was dead . . ." His voice dropped to a tired murmur. "I can't take it. But at least I know I won't have to . . . once I stop thinking . . ." Wavering slightly, he stared at his scarred and bleeding palm. "All I wanted was to go home, father."
Raven teetered and fell onto his side in the sand. Fiona gasped and rushed forward. Van was already there, checking his pulse. "Van, is he-"
"No," Van said quietly, removing his fingers from Raven's neck. "He just passed out. He isn't fit enough to even be out of bed." He regarded Raven's ashen face for a long moment.
Then, he reached behind his belt and unhooked the handcuffs hanging there. Fiona watched him with wide eyes as he rose on one knee, snapping the cuffs open. "Oh, Van," she protested in despair. Ignoring her, Van got to his feet.
Walking past Raven's slumped form, he stopped next to Hiltz. He unceremoniously shoved a boot under his back and kicked him over onto his stomach. As he locked the handcuffs around Hiltz's wrists, he heard the telltale rumbling and pounding that announced a Zoid battalion's arrival.
Turning back to Raven, Van avoided Fiona's eyes as he picked the renegade up in both arms. He then turned to her concerned face. "I'll take him back to the base hospital. You felt something strange coming from this place, didn't you?" She nodded. "I think you should help Thomas and the soldiers figure out what to do about it then. I'll come back for you after I drop him off."
She shook her head. "That's okay. I can get a ride back with Thomas. You should get some rest." He was silent for a moment, then grunted his assent. She gave his arm a reassuring squeeze before he started back towards the Blade Liger.
The small, thirteen Zoid squad came to a halt not far away, and Van heard Thomas shout his name. He waited as the Imperial jumped down from a Dark Horn and ran over to him. "I brought the backup you wanted," he said breathlessly. "What should we do?" Van saw his eyes flit over the destroyed Lightning Saix, then over the unconscious Raven in his arms, but didn't say anything about them.
Van suppressed a sigh. "You'll need to take Hiltz into custody; he's over there with Fiona, unconscious. After that, get your men to go inside the cave, with their Zoids if possible, and scout out exactly what Hiltz was doing in there." He paused. "I have to go back to base with Raven. I'll tell Karl that you'll likely be here late into the night."
Thomas nodded, and Van started off again. After a minute of two, he heard Thomas begin to yell out orders. "Okay, I need two of you to restrain the prisoner. Install him in the Shield Liger, and make sure he's secure. It's not outfitted for prisoners, so make do. Brody, you inspect the Lightning Saix and Zaber Fang; I'll need a report on what can be salvaged. The rest of you, divide up into a foot-based scout team and . . ."
All the noise and activity behind him faded out as Van returned to the Blade Liger, along with the unconscious body of his old nemesis.
---
Fiona listened to her footsteps ringing metallically across the walkway. Hanging a good one hundred metres above the floor, it was a precarious looking structure, but proved, like most other things in the cave to be sturdy. Sturdy or not, she kept her eyes to the front rather than see the dizzying drop through the grilled path.
The inside of the Rare Hertz cave had turned out to be an impressive base of Hiltz's. Once the crew had passed through the rough-cut rock tunnel, they had emerged into the huge cavern, and found it decked out with everything a military-minded base required. Mapping computers, communication terminals, and numerous Zoid hangars littered the main area alone.
They had not truly begun to sort through the technological stockpile that Hiltz had amassed, but even so they had discovered some disturbing things already.
One of them lay below Fiona's feet.
She stopped in the middle of the walkway and leaned over the railing to look down at the massive tank set in the ground. Full of a glowing blue liquid, the tank held a behemoth of a Zoid that set Fiona's nerves on edge. She could just make out its long shape, spindly legs and coiled tail.
Even though the Imperial technicians had determined it to be in stasis, it still emanated menace to Fiona's senses. It was this Zoid, she was sure, that had been gnawing at her consciousness for days. She was glad that Hiltz had never gotten the opportunity to awaken it.
The vibrations of footsteps drew her gaze away and she looked up to see Thomas approaching.
"Unbelievable, isn't it?" he said, coming up to the railing next to her. "Hiltz had a Zoid like this hidden right in the middle of Imperial territory." He shook his head in disbelief. "You've got to give him credit for his audacity."
"It's certainly hard to believe," Fiona agreed. "I'm just glad he had no time to activate it. That must have been why he disabled all the bases in the vicinity."
"And then he used the prototype Lightning Saix to get here as soon as possible. He nearly got away with it, too." Thomas left unsaid that it was Raven's involvement that had saved them.
"So what did Harris say?" Fiona asked. Thomas turned away from the luminous tank to face her.
"He said that all the storage tank's systems check out, so we can go ahead with the freezing. It's the best thing to do, really; the Zoid may be in stasis right now but there's not predicting what a Zoid that old could do, or who might find it. If we freeze it, there's almost no chance of an easy reactivation. I already called Karl, and he's authorized the move. It's just a matter of setting up the systems."
"We should get started then, huh?" said Fiona, grinning. Thomas smiled back and they set off towards the other end of the platform, where the storage tank's diagnostic computer station was. As they walked, Thomas rattled off lists of statistics and speculations about the base that the soldiers had given him, while Fiona interjected occasionally with her own observations and queries. It seemed like there was a lot to catalogue and sort through in this underground hideout, and not all of it was pleasant. Fiona shivered inwardly when Thomas mentioned the discovery of an apparent Zoid core experimentation lab. The manipulation of Zoids always echoed uncomfortably with her.
Thomas flipped up the dust-laden sheets over the computer terminals with a derisive huff. "This stuff is so filthy that it'll be a miracle if it even works."
"I guess Hiltz wasn't into housekeeping," Fiona commented, wiping off one of the monitors with a sleeve. Punching a few buttons, Thomas dropped into a chair and squinted at the screen.
"Well, I suppose not. But even if he was planning to wage a great war, it wouldn't kill him to get his lackeys to clean up a bit." He swiped a finger across the screen and scowled. "I can hardly see anything."
Taking up another chair, Fiona scooted over to the monitor she'd cleaned and booted the system. The screen flashed green for a moment before reverting to black, with a single blipping line at the top. "He wasn't up to par with computers, either. It's a system I've never seen in use before."
"Hrm," Thomas murmured, already typing and filling his screen with prompts. "It's old, all right, but not archaic."
"You mean it's not a lost technology?" she asked, leaning over to see.
"Hardly," he replied, not taking his eyes from the screen. "The Gailos army used this system about thirty years ago when the war was escalating again after a brief lull. The Republic had managed to destroy their main three GUI server networks, rendering seventy-three percent of the army's computer systems useless. In hindsight they realized that having their equipment hinge on a centralized network was a bit of a risky move, which is why most bases these days have their own networks connected to a satellite uplink. A few technological officers dug up an old command-based system called Imperiex, tweaked it a fair bit, then put it into use. It was fairly common for the army to use both Imperiex and the normal GUI system in those days just in case the network was compromised again. Of course, they don't have that danger anymore, for a variety of reasons."
"So this is just the Imperiex system?"
"More or less. There are a few odd program names and structures, but it's pretty much the same."
"I see," Fiona said, drifting away to look at the terminals again, and maybe try to find out without the Imperiex system on it. She heard Thomas laugh a bit.
"That's what everyone says, but I know they don't mean it. It's better to pretend you understand that you know what the hell I'm talking about."
"No, well, I," Fiona stammered, caught in a trap. True, she didn't understand half of what Thomas had explained, but she also didn't want to embarrass him. Before she could frame a response in the happy middle ground, Thomas just waved a hand at her whilst continuing to type.
"No, no, don't lie for my benefit. It's fine." Fiona was left feeling guilty as the younger Schubaltz barrelled through line after line of commands at an admirable speed. To occupy herself she started testing all of the terminals. Just as she was about to give up on ever finding a computer with a usable interface, the terminal she was booting up loaded a familiar panel embossed with the Imperial seal.
"I found a normal one!" she exclaimed gleefully. Finally able to work on a system she knew, Fiona felt useful again. "This terminal has a lot of the base's primary systems listed. And … the storage tank diagnostics."
"That's good," Thomas replied, somewhat vaguely. Fiona was about to start altering the controls for the tank when she realized that the program was already moving. Windows flashed up and down, each with rapidly changing statistics. Down in the left hand corner, a smaller window had appeared. It was black with copious amounts of green text scaling past.
Oh, it's Thomas, she realized, glancing over at him. I never knew he could program that fast. She watched the busy screen with renewed respect for Thomas's skills with technology. It was easy to forget sometimes, what with his bragging and bravado that he really did have the ability to back up his claims.
"Okay then," the Imperial announced. "I've set up the majority of the tank's controlling programs to begin the freezing process. I think the rest needs to be done on your terminal." He got up from his chair and crossed to the far side of the platform as Fiona began priming the system for ignition. She glanced over her shoulder at him.
"You're not just letting me do this out of pity, are you? Poor, silly Fiona can't work on the Imperiex system, so we'll let her press the big red 'start' button?" Thomas looked mortified by the very idea.
"Of course not, Miss Fiona!" He'd already started to blush. "You really do need to start the system from that terminal. I wouldn't make fun of you like that."
She smiled at the obviously flustered man. "Don't worry, I know that. I didn't mean it." She turned back to her work, leaving him to gather his wits. After a few minutes, she peered over at him again, to find that he was gazing over the railing at the storage tank. She bit her lower lip, staring unseeing at the computer monitor.
Despite all the work that had been occupying her mind and her own attempts not to think about it, the events of the day were beginning to eat at her. She needed to talk to someone about it, and for once, she didn't think Van was the right person to go to. He was too entangled in the mess with Raven and just mentioning him to Van could lead to bad things. She had seen how he'd reacted to Raven today, but even so, it was too early to gauge how he felt. Fiona wasn't even sure how she felt. Somewhere along the line, she'd grown to care about what happened to Raven, but she was not ready to accept him as he really was. As he had been. The blankness and inability to notice what was around him had given her cause to pity him, and there was a certain safety in knowing that he couldn't recognise her. But now…
"Um, Thomas?" she said, keeping her gaze firmly on the monitor.
"Yes?"
"What do you think about what happened today?" Silence. "I mean, I don't know how much of it you saw, but-"
"I picked up a lot of it on my scanners," Thomas said quietly. "Enough to know that Raven is … well, is Raven again."
"In a way," Fiona agreed. She sighed, still fiddling with the controls. "I don't really know what to think about it. I feel like it's a tragedy, though. Raven was awful to everyone who met him, but … all he ever had was Shadow. Now Shadow's gone. It's sad."
Somewhere below them, a series of rhythmic thuds echoed as a Zoid was brought into the main cavern. It all seemed very far away to Fiona, as though the world consisted of this computer-filled platform, Thomas and her.
"I think … I might know how he feels," came Thomas's voice. Fiona swivelled her chair to look at his back. "I mean, I can't pretend I know what it feels like to lose a loved one. But … I can sort of understand how he feels about himself. Some of the pain."
Fiona felt like saying anything, even asking a question, would be the wrong move at a time like this. So she remained silent and waited for Thomas to go on. If he was going to. Even though she couldn't see his face, he was clearly not comfortable with what he was saying. Abruptly, Thomas turned around to face her. The odd luminescence of the Zoid tank below gave him an eerie look, casting half of him into darkness.
"I almost died, once."
A long moment of hesitation passed, where Fiona was unsure whether to respond or not. Finally, she murmured, "How?" Thomas sighed, leaning back on the railing. He looked desperately unhappy.
"Well, it's kind of a convoluted story. I don't know where to even start. I could start where everything began, but that would be unnecessarily long, and I doubt you'd want to hear about it. But it's either that or just the specifics of the event in question, and that needs explaining on its own even if it seems the logical conclusion to me. But you wouldn't understand it on its own, and I just ..." Thomas trailed off, burying his face in his hands in frustration at his own incoherency. "Did Van ever tell you what we talked about that day when Reese took control of Karl's contingent?"
She had to think for a moment, but then Fiona remembered. "He did, sort of. He mentioned that you had fought hard to find something to succeed at. Van didn't talk about it much … I don't think he wanted to betray your trust."
"Oh. I would have thought Van would tell you everything," he said, sounding vaguely surprised.
"Of course not. You're his friend. He didn't feel it was his place to tell me what you had said in confidence." Thomas made a non committal noise, the flicker of surprise drifting away.
"Well, basically what I told him was that, as a kid, I had to live in Karl's shadow. Karl is naturally good at most everything he tries, and he was exceptionally good at physical things like sport and martial arts. Me, on the other hand … I can't do those things.
"I have some ability with technology and machines, but it's hardly anything compared with what other people can do. I've known that for a long time. My parents told me every day.
"Karl and I, we're from a long line of well-respected, illustrious Imperials. The Schubaltz name used to be quite synonymous with high society, from what I've been told. Not so much any more, owing to the decline of the whole idea of 'high society' and the lack of Schubaltzes left. We're traditionally a war family, you see," he added, talking as though he wasn't a part of the story he was telling. "Every Schubaltz man has gone to war to fight against the Helic Republic. It's a matter of family pride. That's partly why there aren't many Schubaltzes left … a lot of the ones in my generation, my cousins and such, they were all killed fighting either the Republicans or the Death Saurer. As of now, there's only Karl, me and two others left from the latest group of military recruits.
"Our parents were particularly … fervent believers in the might of Gailos and the family name. Their drive to keep up the family tradition of military service took up all of their time. And ours.
"They'd always been proud of Karl. He was the model son. Unfortunately, they then had me. I don't know if they actually planned to have me to begin with, or if it just happened. Nevertheless I was there. And," he said, voice despondent, "I didn't live up to their expectations.
"I wouldn't say that my parents were the loving sort, but the difference between the attention they gave Karl and the attention they gave me was quite big. It was a matter of pros and cons; with Karl, it was always the pros. With me, always the cons. And there were a lot of them.
"Karl's told me that the way our parents treated me gave me some kind of … inferiority complex." He shrugged half-heartedly, seemingly not too fond of the idea. "I can see why he'd think that, but I don't know. Inferiority complexes generally do come as a result of being inferior."
Fiona couldn't, in all decency, let this pass. "But you're not inferior, Thomas. You're so skilled with mechanics, and Zoid repairs, and computer systems. I've met scientists who dream of doing some of the things you've done."
"Those sorts of things don't really measure up in the real world, though. Not really." Before she could protest, Thomas began speaking again. "Anyway … around the time I was fifteen, the war was at a real pressure point. The Republican forces had made some drastic advances with their frontline. The town I lived in was pretty close to an Imperial base, so they'd often come through looking for new recruits. A lot of the people I went to school with had parents like mine; patriotic zealots who told their children to join up, or face the consequences. Being disowned, basically. I got the same threat a couple of times," he stated blandly. "Quite a few of the kids couldn't hack it in the army and they were either discharged, or reassigned to something menial like kitchen duty. That was a real blow to the family's reputation.
"I guess that some just … couldn't take the pressure. Couldn't handle the stress of trying to please.
"One day at school, when I was fifteen, I found a boy dead in the bathrooms." Now Thomas wouldn't look at Fiona. "He'd … slashed his wrists." He twisted at his gloves.
Fiona couldn't imagine the horror of something like that.
"The boy, Nathaniel Davies, he was in Karl's year," Thomas said, sounding uneasy and desperate to fill the silence. "One of the recruitment stations had turned him down. Karl was cut by his death. He was upset for weeks." Thomas's expression turned cold. "Father said that the Empire would not suffer for the loss of a failure like him
"People forgot about it fairly soon … the war demanded everyone's attention. But I didn't forget it. Until that day I hadn't even thought about that concept; people taking their own lives. My parents drilled me endlessly about sacrificing for the country, but this was different. I knew that much. I couldn't stop thinking about it. I don't think I even wanted to.
"My parents decided about three months later that they were going on vacation." A flicker of resentment crossed Thomas's impassive face. "Despite the war, they wanted to take a trip to the mountains. This came just days after I'd received poor grades in combat training. Again. They gave me an ultimatum as they left: shape up, or you're gone."
He heaved a sigh. "I knew I wasn't able to do as good as Karl, and I certainly wasn't capable of doing any better in military classes. My best wasn't good enough. That was the thought they left me with.
"They were gone for just over a month. It was during that time that I nearly died ……"
---
The clock ticked over into another hour: four pm.
Normally he would only now be leaving school, but Thomas had come home earlier. He'd had physical education last, thought it would have been more appropriate to call it drill practice. His instructor, already frustrated with some of the more obnoxious and arrogant boys in the class, had lost his patience with Thomas's performance in the shuttle run. Thomas had fallen behind yet again, and had fallen out of the shuttle run ten minutes before anyone else. He'd been ordered out of the class until he was on par with the other students.
Gritting his teeth against the memory, Thomas struggled to find the logic in it. He understood the instructor's lack of patience with him, but how could he hope to improve without being allowed into the class?
It was just one more humiliating failure to add to the list. At least he wouldn't have to face the scorn of his parents for almost a month yet.
Thomas was overwrought with dark despair. Nothing he tried could get him into the good graces of his parents or his teachers. Only his systems and electronics teacher seemed pleased with him, but Thomas knew that that was a non-point with his parents. Unless he succeeded in the military, he would never be worth anything.
He sighed, flicking a strip of potato skin into the bin. Being home early, he'd decided that he should make dinner for later. Ever since their parents had left a few days ago, he and Karl had simply gotten take out food. Neither of them was good at cooking, but Thomas thought there could hardly be a better time to learn than now, when there was no one to instruct him on all the mistakes he was sure to make. He'd started with peeling the potatoes, because he hadn't yet thought about how to cook the meat. He had a fair bit of time before Karl came home, anyway.
Like most nights, Karl was busy with extraneous clubs and sports. It was a rarity to see him home before five, and often he was out far later. Karl, of course, was given free reign by his parents as reward for his hard work and success in the areas they deemed becoming of a Schubaltz.
Thomas felt marginally better when Karl was around, because it was easier to escape to his room. Karl seemed to notice when his brother was getting worn to the point of breakdown by his parent's berating, and would divert their attention long enough for Thomas to slip away.
"Don't be so hard on yourself," Karl had said once when Thomas had admitted that he felt like he was useless. "You're not useless; you just haven't found what you're good at yet."
Wiping the slippery knife handle on his shirt, Thomas picked up another potato. He appreciated Karl's faith in him, misplaced though it was, but he didn't think his older brother really understood just how hopeless he was.
His parents could recognise his uselessness. So could his classmates; not that he'd ever gotten close enough to any of them to find out for sure. He focused so hard on his school work that he had no time to connect with people. Besides, no one would want to be friends with someone like him anyway.
"Look at you," his father's voice echoed in his head, "you don't even look like a Schubaltz. Scrawny and pale, like some awful alley cat. We can only help you so much, Thomas, but you've yet to put in the hard yards yourself."
The kitchen felt like it was compressing around him, dark slate tabletops and white paint all unsettlingly close. Why couldn't he do better? Because he was some kind of mistake. A Schubaltz was supposed to be good at physical tasks. A Schubaltz was supposed to serve his country. But Thomas wasn't able to do those things. There was something wrong with him.
Unbidden came the image of Nathaniel Davies as he'd found him in the bathrooms. He tried to push it away, but he couldn't. Open doors, sprawled limbs, blood seeping into the wet floor, horrified crying, blood, oh God the blood get me out of here help me help me help me –
Thomas yelped in pain. He looked at his hand. He'd been shaking so badly that, still clutching the knife, he'd cut too far and sliced into his palm. Hurriedly slamming the potato and knife onto the bench, he grabbed for some paper towels, then stopped. He watched the shallow cut begin to bleed.
He had wondered, ever since that day, just why Nathaniel would have done that to himself. He'd circled the answer so often in his mind, but had never been able to figure it out.
Maybe … he had been like Thomas.
Picking up the knife from the table, he studied the edge.
After all, he'd been rejected from the army. The Davies family were renowned for being great military pilots. Just like the Schubaltz family.
The clock ticked dimly in the background.
This respite wouldn't last. His parents would be home sooner or later. And then, then they would find out about his expulsion from physical education for incompetence. Another black mark on his record. He would have used his last chance. And what then?
He made a mistake at first. A horizontal cut would not work well. Further proof that he was incompetent. Changing the knife's position, he went the other way. Better. More efficient. It was harder to do his other wrist. He found it difficult, and painful, to hold the knife properly. But he managed it, though it wasn't as clean as the first.
Shakily, he placed the knife down on the counter. He wasn't sure what to do now. He didn't know how long it would take, or whether it would happen at all. So he just watched his hands, watched as the blood spread over his fingers, fell to the floor, went down his arms.
It might have been a minute. It might have been an hour. He couldn't tell. He realized, belatedly, that he was on the floor, looking up at the ceiling. When did that happen?
He heard a noise from somewhere. Unable to tell what it was, he just let it drift past. The next sound, though, he thought was familiar. Footsteps. And a voice. Someone's … someone he knew.
"Thomas!" it shouted, coming closer. Coming down a hall? "I'm back early from practice, because I really need your help with something. I've got this science assignment due in soon and-" Sudden silence. A loud thump, like a bag being dropped to the floor. "Oh my … God …"
Thomas heard the person, Karl, run away again, feet thundering loudly through the floor. Clattering, clicking … a pause. "Pick up the damned phone!" came a yell. "Thank God! I need an ambulance right away! It's my brother, he's … yes, right now … he could die! … number thirty-two Dynasty Parade. And please hurry." A slam. More running.
Thomas was suddenly aware of his brother hauling him up into a sitting position. And then Karl was hugging him desperately. "'Mas, why did you do it? Dear God, I don't understand!" Despite the haziness surrounding him, Thomas realized that his brother was crying. It disturbed him. Karl never cried. A dizzying, awful sensation set in; it was because of him.
"I'm sorry, Karl," he mumbled, finding the act of talking strange. Karl pulled back to look at him, tears running down his face.
"You should have told me. 'Mas, you should have told me if something was wrong," he sobbed. He dragged Thomas back into his arms again and buried his head in his shoulder. Thomas felt distantly mortified at hurting Karl this way. It was all he could do to bring his burning arms up and cling onto his brother.
"I'm sorry," he whispered again.
---
Fiona could feel tears running down her face. She couldn't tear her eyes away from Thomas, now seeing him laid bare for her. He stared at the ground.
"The ambulance did come in time, of course," he murmured. "And I was fine, eventually. In the physical sense at least." He raised a hand and gazed at his wrist, invisible beneath his shirt and glove. "I've tried not to think about it since. But … recent events, they brought it back to me. I found it difficult to keep my mind on the task at hand. I guess, after hearing Raven today, I just couldn't handle having this all inside anymore." He smiled bleakly. "You know, you're the first person I've ever told this to, Fiona …"
"Oh, Thomas, I'm so sorry," Fiona whispered, getting up from her chair at last and moving closer. He looked up at her.
"It's not your fault. Don't be sorry. It's the price I pay for being me."
"Don't say that. Please don't say that. You're such a good person. I … I can't believe you've kept this all to yourself for so long. Why didn't you ever tell us?"
"I don't think Van would understand. He's too … happy. I was afraid that he would dislike me even more if he knew what I'd done. And I didn't tell you because-" He stopped abruptly, colour draining from his face. She stepped up until she was right in front of him.
"Thomas?"
"Well," he said, swallowing. "Because I … sort of … love you." He winced in anguish and turned away. "And I know that you love Van, I can see it. And I couldn't bear the thought of you knowing something like that about me. No one who knows what I'm really like could ever stand having me around anyway." His voice broke. "Why else do you think I act like such an idiot all the time? But it doesn't matter."
Fiona gently reached up and turned his face back towards her. "Thomas," she said, "I don't love you." Thomas's expression twisted, and he managed a nod. Moving her hands to his shoulders, she held his gaze. "But that doesn't mean that I couldn't, given time." He blinked, stunned.
She hugged him then. After a moment, he hugged her back, and she could hear him sobbing quietly. She felt so bad for him, this man who thought that no one could conceivably like him, let alone love him. And what she had said was entirely true; she felt that she could grow to love him, more than she loved Van, and in a different way.
But for now, they just held each other.
---
The clanging of footsteps up the side staircase broke them apart more effectively than a crowbar. "Someone's coming," Thomas whispered hoarsely. Fiona was suddenly all too aware of the dishevelled and tear-stained state they were both in. She raked her fingers back through her hair, trying to bring back a semblance of normality.
"You should get back on the computer," she said, wiping her face. He nodded, looking at her a moment before throwing himself into the computer chair, scrubbing furiously at his eyes with a fist. Fiona knew it was hopeless to look entirely natural, but they had to at least try, or there would be questions.
She turned back to the stairs in time to see Major Schubaltz appear. "I was told you two were up here," he explained, stepping off the stairs onto the landing.
Wondering just how many more odd situations she was going to land in before the night was over, Fiona managed a smile. "That's right. Thomas and I were just seeing to the activation of the tank's freezing mode."
"We had to mess around with some pretty dated systems, but everything's working now," Thomas added, spinning around in his chair and flashing a pretty convincing grin. "No one told us you'd be coming out to personally inspect this place, Karl."
Karl was giving them both strange looks, but apparently decided not to pry. "Well, I only made the decision about two hours ago. I would have waited until the morning, but I wanted to see the Zoid before the freezing process began. I'm glad we were able to apprehend Hiltz before he tried anything with it."
An awkward silence hung in the air. "Well then," Thomas said, perhaps a bit too loudly. "If no one objects, I might head back to Redstone. I want to talk to Van before he goes to bed." He jumped off the chair and crossed to the stairs that Karl had just come up. He looked back. "Fiona, you'll be able to get a ride with one of the others, right?" She could see that he didn't feel comfortable leaving like this, but she knew that if he wanted to leave that he should.
"Yes, sure. I was thinking of spending the night here anyway. I'm not tired at all."
"Good. I'll see you later at the base, Karl?"
"Most likely," the older Schubaltz said, eyes fixed on Thomas.
"Okay then. Good night!" And with that, Thomas was gone, his footsteps banging loudly on the metal stairs.
Karl stared after him a moment before turning to Fiona. The look he gave her made her feel like he could see right into the back of her head. She'd never been the recipient of that kind of penetrating look from him before. It made her want to find a hole to crawl into. He tapped the railing with a finger. "He's a good actor, isn't he?" he said.
"I, uh," she stammered, not expecting that kind of comment. "Yeah," she acquiesced, relieved to not have to keep up the pretence of normalcy anymore. "I never knew how good until tonight." Karl pulled up one of the chairs to the small table in the middle of the platform, and gestured for her to do the same.
"I'm actually rather surprised," he said as she sat down next to him, "that Thomas decided to tell you about that."
"How – how did you know that's what we were talking about?" she asked. A nasty thought occurred to her. "Oh goodness, it wasn't echoing all over the cave, was it?" He smiled a little, and shook his head.
"No. I could just tell from a number of things. Your strained attempt at being normal, for one." Fiona had to grin sheepishly at that. "Also, it was pretty obvious that you'd both been crying. And," he sighed, "there is only one thing that Thomas could tell you that would upset you both like that." They were both quiet for a while.
"I've been worried about him for a while now," she said. "He didn't seem happy."
"I think that's come about accidentally." Fiona looked questioningly at him. "Well, had you ever suspected beforehand that Thomas might not be quite as arrogant and confident as he appeared?" She thought about it.
"Only once … that time when Reese was controlling you. He was definitely different then. But I thought that was understandable."
"Yes, but other than that, he seemed absolutely fine. I think what's happened here is that, after an escalating series of damaging events, Thomas reached the point of breakdown again. I felt like that might happen, after hearing about the business with finding Raven in the storeroom. That situation was far too similar to what happened with Davies, and also the … other one.
"I'm certainly glad that this time, Thomas decided to open up to someone instead of keeping it locked up. He's not the type to tell anyone what he's feeling. It took me years to figure out what was going on with him, and I'm his brother." He glared at the tabletop. "I felt like such an idiot after that day when he nearly killed himself. After that, it seemed obvious that he was depressed. But hindsight doesn't bring people back to life. It was an extremely unpleasant wake-up call."
"We've all made that mistake though," Fiona said. "You couldn't have known if he wouldn't let anyone know." Karl didn't seem any less disgusted with himself.
"Family are meant to be able to spot these things. That's what families are for." He laced his fingers together on the table. "If I'd just been around more, I could have done something earlier. Fact is, when I was a kid I would do anything to stay away from home. I hated that place. I might have had a better relationship with my parents than Thomas did, but it definitely wasn't the loving sort. All I got was detached pride and, if I was exceptionally good, a 'You've done well, Karl'." He stared off across the dark cave walls, caught up in memories.
Fiona felt, and had been feeling ever since Thomas had begun his story, that she was intruding on this family's inner strife. But she was also now re-evaluating her thoughts about the brothers, and finding that things made more sense to her now.
"In any case," Karl said, "I hadn't been there for Thomas. It was sheer luck that I was there in time to save him that day to begin with. I only came home early because I needed his help with science." He shut his eyes. "That first night in the hospital was one of the worst things I've ever experienced ……"
---
Karl was finding it difficult to keep from panicking and barging into Thomas's room before he was allowed. The atmosphere of the hospital was not one of calmness or healing. It catered more towards the military than anything, and as such it was near full of wounded soldiers. He could hear agonized screaming coming from somewhere, and nurses, doctors and emergency trolleys were blitzing past constantly.
All he wanted was to find out if Thomas was okay. Evil, morbid thoughts kept crossing his mind about being too late, about being the last one to see his brother alive, but he was desperately keeping them at bay. He couldn't give in to pessimism. "Do not dwell on the worst case scenario," the teacher of military strategy had told them. "If you do, victory will never be yours."
Victory in battle was the last thing on his mind right now. It was a definite change from the past few months, which, since his eighteenth birthday, had been of nothing but the military. Now that he was of age, it was expected that he would head out to fight against the Helic Republic.
He didn't care about that. What he cared about was the nurse who had just come out of the emergency room Thomas was in.
Reminding himself at the last second not to latch onto the woman's collar and shake the information out of her, Karl skidded to a halt in front of her and asked, "Well? Is he okay? Can I see him?" The nurse's eyes swept him up and down, no doubt looking at his dirty and slightly bloody sporting clothes.
"Your brother is going to be fine," she said at last. Karl sagged with relief. "It was a close call though. He'll have to stay in the hospital for at least a week." She gave him a stern look. "Now, we've tried to contact your parents, but haven't been able to get through to them. Do you know where they are and how they can be contacted?"
Karl went pale. He hadn't even thought about his parents. What on Zi were they going to think? But wait …
"My parents … um, my parents went away to the mountains a couple of days ago. It's one of those really remote areas. They can't actually be contacted up there, because of the altitude." It was the truth; the lack of communications up there had been one of the reasons they'd gone. He was thankful for this small blessing. "They won't even be back for a few weeks."
The nurse looked extremely displeased with this information. "Protocol demands that we contact your brother's parents, Mr. Schubaltz. However," she added, "we've had literally hundreds of injured soldiers come in this week, and they're still coming in. The frontline is close, as you must know. So we can't spare the time to track them down."
Karl nodded, not particularly caring right now whether his parents were reachable. "So can I see him yet?" The nurse's expression hardened.
"No. Not yet. We will tell you when you can see him. Now, if you'll excuse me," she said, brushing past him and striding down the crowded corridor. Karl stared after her in frustration, then threw himself back into the waiting chairs. He hated inaction.
It was four hours later when he was finally told he could go into the room. In that time, the cacophony of cries and shouting had increased tenfold as the latest group of wounded Imperials were rushed in. Karl had been almost at the point of clamping his hands over his ears to block out the awful noise, and was immensely glad to get out of that corridor.
The din from outside was mercifully cut off once he shut the door of Thomas's room. He stood next to the bed and looked down at his brother. Thomas looked sick and pale, even compared with the bleached white sheets. His wrists were tightly bandaged and an intravenous tube burrowed into his left arm.
Karl dragged over a chair from the corner and sat down next to the bed. He buried his face in his hands, forcing himself not to cry again. Crying never solved anything. He was the older brother, and he had to be the strong one. Especially now.
He looked up at a noise, and saw Thomas squinting up at the lights. He blinked a couple of times, taking in the room around him. Then he noticed Karl. His eyes snapped open all the way, and then trailed down to his wrist.
"Oh God," he whimpered. "Oh, God…" He turned away from Karl and started crying into the pillow. Karl felt hopelessly inadequate at knowing what to do. All he could think of was to hold his brother's hand as he suffered.
---
"Karl?" Fiona asked softly, dragging the Imperial out of his long reverie. "I hate to ask, but what did you ending up telling your parents?" He blinked, then smiled humourlessly.
"Nothing at all."
"Really? Didn't they notice that anything was wrong when they got back?"
"No, they didn't notice a thing. Thomas was discharged after seven days to make room for other patients, seeing as he was stable. Normal procedure states that he should have been sent to psychiatrist sessions, but what with the insanity of the war at the time, it must have not gotten through all the paperwork. So we came home, both pulled out of school for a while, and waited for them to come back. We both agreed that we didn't want our parents to know about this, so we simply didn't tell them." He shrugged at her expression. "I know. Normally, a parent would find out. I paid for the hospital bills out of my own savings, and I also handled a telephone call a week after they came back. I passed myself off as my father, so the hospital assumed that they knew after that.
"Before I was recruited into the army, I made some highly stupid, highly illegal arrangements, and managed to make myself Thomas's next of kin." He frowned at her, lifting a finger. "But don't you tell anyone that, or I'll be busted down to Private faster than Van can decapitate a Command Wolf."
"I won't tell," she laughed, glad to relieve some of the tension.
"Now," he said, getting up from his chair, "how about you show me around Hiltz's stronghold, and tell me what you know about it?"
"Sounds good to me."
---
Van wondered bleakly whether he would ever see the end of this scene, as he gazed into Raven's hospital room. How many more times would Raven end up in here, and how many more times would he be forced to chase him down? He sighed. He had a feeling that after today, he wouldn't be chasing Raven for a while yet.
Raven was stable, though he'd certainly done himself some damage in his wild attack on Hiltz. The doctor on duty had scolded him, yes, him, on letting Raven do things like this to himself. Van had been highly affronted: since when was he Raven's keeper?
Well, Raven was unconscious for now. Rather than worry about what kind of person he'd be this time when he woke up, Van decided that it was probably time for bed. It was almost one in the morning. Once again he'd been up for far too long, and done far too much. He was exhausted.
Turning to leave, he came face to face with Thomas. "Gah!" he yelped, falling back into the door in surprise. "Don't do that!" Thomas looked equally surprised.
"What, you didn't hear me?"
"Of course not! Don't sneak around so much, Thomas, you'll scare me to death one day."
"I wasn't sneaking," Thomas said irritably. "You were just so absorbed in that window that you didn't hear me." Van made a nothing sort of noise and glanced back in the window. "How is he?" asked Thomas, dropping his aggravated tone.
"He's fine," Van replied. "For the moment, that is." He sighed again. "Look, Thomas, I'm really beat. This day's been way too insane for my liking. I'm gonna hit the sack." He spun on his heel and started off down the hallway. "I'll go over Hiltz's base and stuff with you tomorrow, okay?" he called back, lifting an arm in goodbye.
He only got about seven steps down the corridor before he heard Thomas call out, "Van." Van stopped and looked back. Thomas fiddled with his glove for a moment before looking back up. "Would you mind if … we could talk now? There's something I want to tell you."
---
Zeke stood outside of the Rare Hertz caves. Strewn around his feet were the scraps of metal and wiring that had once been parts of two Zoids, and one organoid. He looked at the stars silently.
----------------------------------
Coming up soon, the last chapter of I'll Pity You When You're Gone. I'm going away until the 9th of January, so hopefully I'll be able to come back with most of chapter eleven completed in my notebook. I might also come back with the beginnings of a new Zoids fanfic, which will certainly not be as angst-ridden as this one.
Merry Christmas all, and have a good New Year too while you're at it.
- Vappa