WARNING: If you get offended easily by language or the use of religious references, DO NOT READ. Sage torture ahead. (smile)
Their voices had reached my ears. Muffled, but clear at the same time. I could make out each one as if I were looking directly at them.
Cale's sharp tongue.
Sekhmet's flat voice.
Dais' diplomatic speech.
Kayura's soft undertones.
The exact words of their discussion remained hidden from me, but I didn't care. Having them near caused a pain in my chest that was no way related to my broken ribs, and I felt my throat grow tight.
I swallowed and strained to both block them out and hear them. It took enough of my energy to stop myself from smiling so much in Kayura's presence; took so much not to embrace her then and there. But now that the others are near, I want to become lost in the sound of their voices.
It brought so much pain to the surface that I felt I would break if this continued any longer.
I was safe. I was home. And it only reminded me of how alone I was.
I closed my eyes, and forced myself to meditate; forced myself to close my mind and find peace. I did not know if it would work. For the last few years, meditation had stopped working for me. My mind was not strong enough to block all that I have seen. And after a while, I didn't want to block them out anymore.
But now I needed to. Needed to so desperately because knowing my comrades were just beyond that door felt worse than seeing them killed. Having them torn away from my life had made me stop feeling. But now my heart pulsed with new life and bled with old pains.
I took a deep breath. I remembered shuddering under the weight of all of my emotions. And when I was calm, I opened my eyes only to see him standing in the doorway, watching me from afar.
It was too soon. I had schooled my features fast enough, but part of my surprise had shown through. As to what else he had seen, I wasn't sure. Sekhmet was always good at revealing nothing.
Sabel
Chapter 4: Snapshot
By Little Ucchan
They had stared at each other for a long time. Sekhmet didn't know what to do, which was a surprise to him. He had planned to go in, ask a few questions and leave. If he decided to be difficult, Sekhmet would simply find a way to coax the information out of him. It's how he was. It's what his fellow warlords were counting on.
But when he had walked in, what he saw left him standing in the doorframe between the antechamber and the guestroom, for once uncertain of his course of action. He couldn't classify what he saw in the man's eyes, but it was real and familiar, striking a pang in his own heart, a pain he hadn't felt for many years.
Is this what Kayura saw in him? he wondered. Is this why she cannot help but care for him?
The man coughed slightly. "I don't believe we've met," he said.
The words were polite, with the right mix of modesty to disarm anyone. But Sekhmet had heard something else; a tightness in the man's throat that immediately told him something was wrong.
"We haven't." He introduced himself. "My name is Sekhmet."
"…Sabel."
"Sabel," he repeated the name again. "Is that your first or your last name?"
"Both."
"So in other words that's not your real name."
"Is Sekhmet your real name?"
Sekhmet kept his face neutral, but mentally he frowned at the reversal question. Whoever this man was, he was sharp. Already he was onto what Sekhmet was trying to do and acting accordingly.
He decided to try a different approach. "Yes and no. My birth name is Naotoki Yamanouchi. But I haven't been called by that in over 400 years, so I don't consider it my name anymore."
Sabel didn't respond, but Sekhmet knew he had gotten to him, his sudden bout of honesty throwing off the casual façade. He sensed that the man had wanted to say something, an answer that was equivalent to his own. But something else held him back. Again, he switched tactics.
Sekhmet stepped up to the side of the bed and pulled out the photo he had kept in his sleeve. Flipping it over, he waited for Sabel's reaction.
The man's face grew stoic. Even his eyes held nothing as he gazed at the picture, knowing what game he was trying to play. But Sekhmet was quicker than that. When he removed the picture from his keikogi, before he had even shown whose photo was on the reverse side, he saw Sabel react.
It was a rush he never thought was possible to pass by so quickly on a man's face. Anger. Pride. Grief. Longing. And then, a stubbornness to hide it all away. To forget that the emotions ever existed.
The thought troubled him. "When was this picture taken?"
No answer.
Sekhmet let the photo linger, waiting till he was sure that Sabel would say nothing. He then pulled up the chair that Kayura had been sitting on, and, facing it backwards, straddled the seat. He laid his arms over the backrest, making himself relax as much as possible, and studied the picture himself.
It was a group photo. Five people in all; six if you counted the infant. The proud mother was seated off to the left in the picture, the tips of her short reddish brown hair curling around her cheeks, framing a gentle face. She wore a light blue summer dress, faded from overuse, with a rich black trench coat too big to be hers draped over her shoulders. Her eyes were a brilliant shade of green and seemed to shine, even in the still image, as she cradled the newborn in her arms.
Standing behind her was a tall, dark blonde man sporting a ponytail and a five o'clock shadow. He wore a sweater over a dark green work shirt, the collar sticking out around his neck, and slacks. His hands were resting protectively on the woman's shoulders and he had an awkward smile on his face, like he couldn't decide to be happy or confused so was both.
Next to him, in the center of the picture, was a taller, leaner man of roughly the same age. It seemed he was drawn into the photo at the last minute, for he was wearing a mechanic's work suit and had a smudge of grease on bridge of his nose and across his left cheek. He had an arm on the blonde man's shoulder and the other wrapped around a petite younger woman, who wasn't that appreciative of the grease stains on his clothes.
She was looking disapprovingly at the man holding her, but had a slight smirk on her face, showing she really didn't mind. She was wearing a tank top over khakis, and her long, raven black hair, her trademark feature, was cut shorter and pulled into a high ponytail.
The final man in the picture hadn't shaved for the occasion, and his hair was in a disheveled state of chaos. He wore a muscle shirt and black jeans, and the tattoo of what looked like a wolf peeked out from underneath his right sleeve. Scars from old war wounds covered his tanned skin, and the way he stood showed he was proud of them. As was expected of the former Warlord of Darkness.
Sekhmet knew the two on the right were Kayura and Cale. And he recognized the man on the far left to be Sabel. But the other two he wasn't certain. The man in the middle had briefly reminded him of Strata, but his hair was lighter and his features too old to be the man he thought it was.
Sekhmet blew out air through his nostrils, staring at the picture again. It was a modern photo, meaning it had to have been taken within the last two years. But never before had he seen Kayura's hair that short or the tattoo that was carved into Cale's right bicep. In fact, he didn't recognize anything else in the photo other than his comrades' faces.
He looked at the Sabel in the picture, noting how young he looked; how happy. He shifted his gaze to the woman Sabel was standing behind, and unwittingly smiled. "You looked less tired then."
"I think I was."
Sekhmet looked up from the photo. Sabel's head was turned away, looking down at the sheets. But there was a slight upturn of his lips. The same expression Sekhmet had, as if he were looking at the woman in the photo as well.
"Is she your…?" He held up his pinky.
Sabel nodded.
"And the child?"
Another nod.
"Ah." Sekhmet looked at the picture again. "She's beautiful. How old is she?"
He didn't answer.
Sekhmet quietly turned the photo over in his hand. The man's answers were that of a widower. He had felt it in the air, and still did. But other than that, he learned nothing else. Another dead end. But he still had one other card up his sleeve.
"Are you going to tell me anything about yourself?" he asked. "Or don't you think you owe us that much?"
"I don't owe you an explanation for anything," Sabel snapped. He hadn't recovered from the memory of the woman in the photo. It was what Sekhmet was counting on as he continued his verbal onslaught.
"Oh? Not even why you're here? Or how you know Kayura and Cale? How about how you got in that room? The one that's been sealed for how many centuries? Or why you almost died trying to reach us?"
Sabel's muscles tightened, his eyes growing cold. Sekhmet had him. Anything he said now would get him angry. Lie or truth, it'd get him angry. "Would you rather I bring Kayura back in? I'm sure the two of you have a lot of catching up to do. Like telling her how you let her best friend die!"
Sabel was out of the bed before Sekhmet was able to get out of his seat. He's fast!
The man grabbed him by the front of his keikogi, drew his fist back, and winched. His grip on Sekhmet's collar loosened.
It was enough.
Sekhmet grabbed Sabel's left arm and reached out, his fingers brushing past the man's bangs before he could realized what was going on. Sekhmet's fingertips touched his forehead, and the world around him suddenly disappeared.
He was in the middle of an empty street. His hand still outstretched, his fingers frozen in mid air. A bead of sweat fell down the side of Sekhmet's face. Shinjuku… He swallowed. THIS is Shinjuku?
There was rubble everywhere. The surrounding buildings were cracked and torn. Shattered glass. Leaking gas fluids. Debris the height of first stories cut the landscape apart. It looked the same as during the war. But the air was quieter; the silence having had settled on the city far longer than it should have.
Years. He felt years had passed.
What happened here?
Someone ran past him.
Sekhmet turned, eyes widening as the armored figure knelt down next to the edge of a pile of rubble. It can't be…
He walked towards him, watched as he got closer how the man pulled some of the stones away, quickly but carefully. His voice was a forced steadiness as he leaned over the woman he was rescuing, letting her wrap her arms around him and kiss him.
Sekhmet stood over them when they pulled away from each other, the woman slumping back onto the floor as the man lifted the slab of concrete that had fallen on her stomach. Sekhmet frowned. Her dress, the same light blue one from the picture, was wet and stained along the side of her abdomen with blood. Her legs, as more rubble was cleared away, were clearly broken. She wouldn't be able to walk.
The woman took in a shallow breath, her chest rising and falling with pained effort. "Baby, I'm sorry," she whispered. Tears were starting to form along her eyelids, sliding down her cheek and leaving a streak of wetness that curled around her face like how her hair did. "Baby, I'm so sorry. I should have listened. I should have stayed."
"Don't worry about it," he said, removing the last piece of debris and tossing it aside. "It's going to be alright. I'll take care of you. Don't worry. It's going to be alright."
She smiled at him, her head rolling to the side, more relaxed with just those words and his presence. Then she looked up past him to where Sekhmet stood and froze.
Her lips shuddered open in horror, wheezing in breath after breath, unable to speak when the man finally noticed and turned around, as did Sekhmet, to see another man standing behind them.
He smiled softly, tilting his head to the side, his long, white hair swaying with the movement. "Hello, Sage," he greeted, and before anyone knew it, he had backhanded the Ronin in the face and sent him flying into the nearest building. The woman screamed.
A cold weight settled in Sekhmet's stomach. He backed away from the man and the power that had suddenly radiated off of him. What in God's name is he?
"Gabriel!"
Sekhmet turned at the outcry. Sage was pinned against one of the building walls by two other beings like the one called Gabriel. But both had wings on their backs, pure white wings that flapped with the effort to restrain the man. Both had a hand on either one of the Ronin's wrists and shoulders, and when he charged forward, in unison they slammed him back against the wall. He gave a grunt and blew out air through his nostrils.
Gabriel smirked, then turned to the woman on the floor.
Sage stopped moving. "No…"
Gabriel's smile broadened he crouched down in front of her, his arms resting casually on his bended knees. "I'm sorry," he said. "Does it hurt?"
The woman reared back, her eyes wide as she pushed back with her arms, trying to move away. "G-get back…"
"You fucking son of a bitch!" Sage struggled to break free. "Don't touch her!"
"Don't worry." Gabriel extended his hand out to her, and looked at her the same way Sage had. The same goddamn way. "It's going to be alright. I'll take care of you."
"N-no…" She shook her head from side to side, dragging the lower half of her dead body across the ground. "S-stay away!"
"Leave her alone!"
"Come, my dear…"
"Stay away from me!"
"GABRIEL!"
Sabel shoved Sekhmet away, the connection broken as both men staggered back. Sekhmet tried to keep to his feet, taking a few steps back into the middle of the room before he felt himself grounded once again. Sabel had stumbled to the floor.
His back slammed against the side of the bed, and for a second he cried out in surprise before slumping down against it. He was breathing hard. The bandages on his right arm and torso were newly stained with blood. And tears fell down his face and dripped onto the floor.
The man pulled his legs up and rested his arms on top of his knees. He leaned his head against his folded hands and cried.
Sekhmet breathed in heavily, watching as the tears didn't stop, remembering with each sob what he had witnessed only seconds before.
That man made him watch…
He gritted his teeth.
That man made him watch him kill her.
"Sekhmet!" The door in the other room swung open. Kayura, Dais, and Cale rushed in.
"Sekhmet, what the hell's going on?" Cale demanded.
"We felt your power and—" Dais stopped mid sentence upon seeing the state of the two men in the room. Kayura gasped.
"My God! What happened? He's bleeding again!" She stepped forward towards Sabel, but Sekhmet raised his hand to block her.
"Sekhmet?" Kayura asked. The man was extremely pale.
"I know you won't understand," he said. The three of them exchanged looks. "But please leave."
"You gotta be joking!"
"He's injured! I have to—!"
Dais grabbed both Cale and Kayura by the shoulder, stopping them for saying anything further. "Let's do what he says."
"But Dais!"
"Kayura."
She looked up at the man, seeing how he didn't look at her at all. Instead he gazed at Sekhmet with the kind of disturbed expression that she rarely saw on the Master of Illusions' face. She didn't argue anymore.
"We'll be outside if you need us," Kayura said as the three headed towards the door, she being the last of leave.
Sekhmet turned his head back, caught the worried look in her eyes, and offered her a slight smiled. "Thanks."
She nodded once and departed the guestroom, closing the door softly behind her. The two of them were left alone again.
Sekhmet slowly walked over to Sabel, careful to keep his actions unthreatening and his aura low. He hadn't meant to open a wound that deep. He hadn't thought he'd be right about letting his lover die. He hadn't thought he'd be right about a lot of things.
Sekhmet knelt down in front of him and reached his hand out. Sabel grabbed his hand and pulled it away. He reached out with the other hand and the same thing happened.
"Wait. It's okay."
He extended his hand again and was batted away.
"I'm not going to—"
Sabel pushed him away, and in a moment of frustration Sekhmet grabbed both of his wrists and pulled them away from his face.
"Sage!"
His head snapped up at the sound of his name, and Sekhmet finally saw his eyes. The same eyes he remembered staring into during countless battles past were raw and open. He saw years of war and death and suffering in those violet eyes. And he saw a piece of himself in them as well. And for the first time in 400 years, his heart softened.
Sekhmet pulled him into an embrace. Sage stiffened against him, but the warlord held him firm, lending him his strength and letting him know it was okay to mourn. That it was okay to cry and scream and get angry and feel helpless. He understood. He understood greatly, because he lost someone similar a long time ago.
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Well, that was depressing. Everyone that hates Gabriel, raise their hands. … Yeah. I thought as much.
I was tight lipped when I wrote this. Really, I was, particularly during the flashback. I wanted to get it right and played it over and over in my head before finally getting it down on paper. Hope the Sekhmet/Sage interaction was okay. I had fun, to be honest. (smile) And I love Sekhmet, btw. Cale is my favorite warlord, but I love writing Sekhmet. Tis fun.
Two different updates in one day! Now, Panthera, should I update RWU or should I update Sabel. I'll let you pick since I followed your instructions in the first place.