Fates Intertwined Chapter 05, a star ocean fanfic

Disclaimer:

Star Ocean 3: Till the End of Time is the creation and property of Tri-Ace, who created this wonderful anime/video game series, and the publishers at SquareEnix. Anything not attributed to them belongs to their respective owners, such as references to Cowboy Bebop (the Swordfish II) that is a creation of Sunrise and Shinichiro Watanabe. This story is written purely just for fun, guys; please for God's sake, don't sue me! I'm just a high school student with too much free time on his hands! On the other hand, any specific author created characters I created for this fic (despite how unoriginal they may be at times) are mine. So without further adieu, let's get on with the show!

The Surgeon General's Warning:

Read at your own risk. This might take you on a trip to some happy lovey-dovey place.

Oh, and yes, there's a very high Fayt x Maria coupling possible here, or I could completely screw everybody over and do the unexpected, ja?

Fates Intertwined

Chapter 05:

Paranoia

A Star Ocean 3 fanfic by James "Ray" Edwards

A door.

Why must it always be a door? Why couldn't it be a slide? An open archway? Some mystical portal that was about to warp him to a universe beyond his wildest dreams?

"It's a door..." Fayt deadpanned remarkably. His flat unenthusiastic gaze expounded upon volumes at the distinctive tension in the air. No more was he the determined, purposeful young man who was decided in his action, instead he had transformed back into Fayt Leingod, a college kid from Earth, standing in front of a door to a girl's room. Of course, it wasn't any girl's room either; this was Maria Traydor's room, a young woman whom he had been a jackass of sorts to since the moment he met her in the dark dungeon of a self-professed bandit king.

The resolution of coming to see her was easy enough. A "no brainer." He'd stroll on in, sit down, make some small talk if he could, cut to the chase, apologize for being a silly paranoid idiot, laugh it off, and be on his way. Alas, things were never quite that simple, and it was all thanks to one unwitting door putting the brakes on his "grand" designs. In actuality, a door commands considerable powers of etiquette, able to communicate a wide variety of words and feelings at will. One simply didn't go barging up to a door and start wailing away at it with all their might, while shouting at the top of their lungs, if they wanted to have a solemn heart-to-heart talk.

Hence, Fayt's dilemma.

"Man, what am I doing? Just knock on the door. Nothing wrong about knocking on somebody's door first before going in," the blue-haired young man murmured. Eight had already adjusted the sensors on the door to Maria's quarters so that they'd allow him passage into her abode with as simple as tap on the control panel.

He lifted up his right hand, turning it about face into a clenched fist, and drew a deep breath. It was a simple action: knock three times, let her know you were coming in, and then voila, he'd be in. Just three knocks, so he drew his hand back and...

Fayt jerked back in mid-knock, just as he was about to follow through with his light rap upon the door with his knuckles. The Earthling shook his head in dismay; he couldn't do it. He honestly didn't have the guts to face Maria right now. Whatever determination he had previously had eroded the moment he stood at this uncompromising doorway of metal in the well-lit corridor, accompanied by the constant ambient hum of the climate control systems. He didn't even understand why he was faltering now.

The young man sighed, turning his back to the door as he slouched sullenly. I'm always like this, he thought, I'd work up the courage to do something and suddenly I'd fold up right at the finish line. No wonder I could never ask any other girl, besides Sophia, to go hang out with me.

He could always try again later.

Resigned to his poor showing, Fayt moved to leave when the door promptly slid open with a hiss, expelling a blast of frosty white fog. The young Earthling yelped in surprise, leaping swiftly to the side with a hand clapped over the back of his neck. "What the?"

He stared in wonder as the white clingy mass delved onto the floor, a permeable sheet of white, before finally dissipating into thin air. The doorway to Maria's quarters was open, an inviting darkness that bid him enter at will. There was nothing to be afraid of, just a little dark. Of course, one had to wonder why all the lights were off.

Without much of a choice, Fayt stepped on in and up to the plate.

"Mari..." the young man stopped short as he felt an audible breaking noise, not so unlike glass, from underneath his feet. Looking down to inspect the damage, he was silently grateful he had replicated a new pair of shoes before waltzing in. Those sharp shards from a broken device, probably a communicator, would not have been pleasant to his bare feet.

From the corner of his eye, he spied his broken perpetrator none too far, lying discarded in a broken heap on the floor next to a wall, still fresh with a mark from the point of impact. Maria must've had one heck of a strong throwing arm to put a dent into the composite alloy that made up these fabricated walls. Worst yet, she must've been pretty angry to have done such a thing too.

Fayt steadied his nerves and took another measured step into the dark room. The cool air was leaving goose bumps all across his exposed as fresh condensation clung to nearly ever surface available, giving off eerie glimmers from the light streaming through the open doorway. He could even see his own warm breath coming out in white puffs of cooling moisture and gas. It was cold, much too cold to be a setting that any sane person would ask the climate in their rooms set to, not to mention the lack of any lighting at all.

What she had been up to, the blue-haired young man wondered, rubbing his arms with his hands to generate some friction to warm them up. He supposed it was a small blessing that he could make out somewhat where all the furniture and walls were in the room. "Maria? Are you..."

The door hissed to life, sealing the doorway shut before he even realized from behind him. Fayt drowned into a black pitch. His sense of direction gone, he nearly panicked, but managed to hold firm by a single desire. He was here to talk to Maria, and with the door so "conveniently" out of the way now, he wasn't going to leave until he had spoken to her. The topic of discussion was still open to debate, but he hoped he would leave on better terms with the mysterious young woman.

He gave his eyes several minutes to adjust to what meager light was available in the room. To his fortune the still glimmering condensation on surfaces and furniture, though now a faint hint, gave him a vague outline to plot a course through the dark abode. Fayt stepped gingerly about, instinctively feeling his way through the cold darkness, until he came upon a large mass. A little bit of feeling around confirmed it was a sizeable bureau, meaning...

"Maria?" Fayt called out again, hoping for a response. "Hey, are you all right?"

It was then that power restored itself (somewhat); a single light flickered awake from an extendable lamp that propped itself upright from within the bureau. The dim illumination revealed startling things indeed.Frost; it was everywhere, extending well beyond the tiny sphere of visibility available to the young man. What surprised him more was the willowy figured slumped against the chair behind the wide bureau.

Fayt was breathless, a heartless horror crushing his courage underfoot in a sudden stampede. He stumbled around the bureau towards the chair, ignoring the bitter cold that had so afflicted him previously, hoping against all odds that he was not too late. The faint light gasped and died, leaving him fumbling alone in the claustrophobic darkness.

She couldn't be... She had survived so much worse with less than a scratch. How could this have happened? What was he supposed to do?

In that stark moment, the young man realized that he would be completely lost without the guidance of his enigmatic host. Her death would've caused only more grief and sorrow, taking whatever answers she possessed straight to the grave with her. Fayt could not afford to lose Maria Traydor now; she was his only hope, the only sure chance he had of finding his parents and Sophia again, that much was certain. She could not die now. He needed her here beside him, despite whatever misgivings he had of her. Maria just had to be alive!

Fayt wrestled with the darkness, floundering helplessly until he grabbed a hold of the chair, the smooth texture of its leathery fabric cool to the touch, and turned it forcibly to face him. This close, so intimately close, he could see the outlines of a feminine figure slumped limply in the leather chair, an unmoving cadaver that breathed no more and bared no discernable scent. He seethed in dismay, shaking his head in disbelief, for this was surely some kind of perverse absurdity. The Earthling boy would not accept, and could not accept this sick insinuation as truth. He had to be certain.

With a trembling hand, he reached out, brushing past the curtain of silken hair that left cold shivers against him, to touch the base of her throat. His brain instantly recognized the warmth of Maria's skin in contrast to his frigid limbs, an incomprehensible event that shouldn't have been possible, but here it was, happening right in front of him. Curious, Fayt traced his fingers across delicate skin and pressed gently down against an artery, feeling for a pulse.

It was a miracle, a revelation, all of his previous fears and doubts washed away in a cleansing flood of relief, the grave weight upon his shoulders lifting. The young man sighed, his lips curling into a warm grateful smile, for thank goodness that Maria Traydor was alive and well. He didn't know what heart rending act had transpired in her quarters and would've certainly liked to know the answers to the many questions that bubbled freshly in his thought, but for now, it was enough that everything was going to be just fine.

The presence of lit glow, drawing his shadow against the wall, piqued Fayt's interest as he abruptly heard a door hissing open from behind him. Glancing around, he saw the dimly glowing panel above an open doorway that lead to another room. Power must've been fluctuating again through the grid, a keen reminder of his strange, eerie surroundings and another simple fact:

He was freezing!

As prudently as he could, the blue-haired Earthling bent down at the knees and hefted the apparently unconscious young woman into his arms (making a note not to grab anything "important"). He was surprised by how light she was, a feather that reminded very much of the few times he had carried Sophia. Old nostalgic memories of day gone by that had only seemed like yesterday threatened to overwhelm him, but he remained steadfast, reminded in part by the subtle nuances of touch and substance that Maria was not the same girl who he had grown up together with. Lithe and strong, it was not so much that he was carrying a person, more so a slumbering jungle cat that made the amiable brown-haired girl pale in comparison.

Fayt moved in careful measured steps, trying his best not to disturb his companion in the slightest, as he entered into the adjoining room. He didn't know if it was just his imagination or not, but he could've sworn that the unconscious young woman in his arms curled closer against him, sending a wave of ecstatic ambivalence all at once up his spine. Again, it reminded him of similar feelings he had around Sophia, memories that he tried his best to bottle up for now. He could think about them more, later.

A lamp on Maria's bed stand flicked faintly to life, guiding Fayt's course explicably towards it. The hiss of her bedroom's door closing shut was the furthest thing from the young man's mind, as he aptly set about tucking his companion into bed, a familiar process that had been done many times for Sophia. How strange it was that no matter how things changed, he always ended up taking care of someone else, inevitably so.

There, that ought to keep her a little warmer than me at least, Fayt affirmed to himself with a nod at his handiwork.

Having cleared the dual-layers of blankets and comforters out of the way, the enigmatic young woman appeared to him a princess from a fairy tale, a Sleeping Beauty or Snow White perhaps. With her graceful silken locks arrayed about her, Fayt couldn't help but idly wonder if he was perhaps some kind of wandering knight in shining armor, as he redrew the bundle of blankets and comforters over her slumbering form into a fine sheet. Suddenly he froze with a disturbing jerk, the taut muscles in his exposed limbs flexing tensely, green eyes wide with shock.

Did he just insinuate what he thought he had insinuated? Maria Traydor, a princess from some fantasy kingdom, and he, Fayt Leingod, youthful knight extraordinaire, with a master's degree in trouble, who has come to spring her ladyship from her enthralling prison with none other than a suitor...err, lover's kiss? If a certain Rezerbian were still alive, who would've howled with mirth, and promptly declared in the snidest voice he could muster:

"Get the frack out of here!"

Great, now he was having delusions about a dead murderer and a currently incapacitated young woman. How noble of me... Fayt thought disgustedly with shake his head. He quickly resumed settling in Maria for the probable night and would've left suitably so, if something else - unexpected - hadn't happened.

His eyes piqued with curiosity, perceiving a detail upon that lovely face that seemed out of place, gleaming faintly in the light. The young Earthling bent down on his knees to take better advantage of the limited illumination, and the sight that greeted his eyes neatly took his breath away.

Fayt murmured in a voice no more than the whisper of zephyrs in the fall, "Why? Why are you crying, Maria?"

Not once had the thought ever crossed his mind, kneeling then in the soft solemn ambience of her bedroom, did the idea that Maria Traydor could cry, much less in her sleep. In her waking moments, she had seemed constant, a resolute seamark that hardly paid heed to the change in tide and time, her path decided long ago. She was, well, strong. Fayt didn't know anybody else who could compare to her, even his mother and father didn't carry that same mantle of strength that she bore on her shoulder, but here she was, nonetheless, crying in her sleep.

He felt his heart twinge, an emotive twist that curled his complexion into a concern frown. Compelled by a sudden surge of empathy, the young man reached out with a tentative hand, a shadow trembling visibly over the slumbering young woman. The silvery trails glistened in the dim light, vivid tears of stardust, beautiful and sad at once. Did he dare brush those tears away from her face? Truly now he felt something strange building between them, a palpable tension in the wicked air that electrified flesh and blood unto life. That shimmering thread of fateful crimson, to which the heart turned a blind eye, interwove itself into a binding perpetual weave of infinity, ordaining of a bond which shall be, will be, and always be, ever more.

Fool.

Blind as a cat.

Deaf as a rat.

Trapped!

Can you not see?

Do not trust.

Remember!

Trust: Kills.

The din was overwhelming, a raging hurricane of voices crying out all at once that spoke of ill tidings and things that punished the barriers around his mind savagely. The wanted in, and they wanted in now. He didn't understand them at all. What were they, who were they, so many questions to which Fayt had no answers. Vainly, he tried to ignore them, tried to move his body in some way to shake him out of this "hallucinogenic trance" that he had slipped into without knowing. What was happening to him?

The young man gritted his teeth, a glistening sheen of sweat building itself upon his grim visage, as he fought for control of his trembling body. He could see smoky trails of vapor rising from his own skin, simmer with a raging inner fire that evaporating any moisture that came into contact with him. Fayt seethed visibly with a viper's hiss from his lips, green eyes shadowed with outrage:

"Damn it! Get. Out. Of. My head!"

Abruptly, the cacophony of voices stopped. Fayt found himself released from his inner struggle with a barely contained gasp, his body jerking violently aside of its own accord and onto the floor with a muffled thud. He was hyperventilating horribly, breaths in stilted gasps, and pupils dilating uncontrollably, as his brain hurriedly fired off a series of "kill signals" and calming hormones to stabilize the sudden trauma. A faint white glow enveloped the helpless Earthling briefly as a haze of steaming white vapors rose off his still form, immobile and uncomprehending.

When sensation returned, Fayt felt a tug at the edge of his mind, a persistent tug that grew more insistent by the second. He rose eerily to his knees in a single fluid action, as if he were a puppet being pulled along by invisible strings, hovering silently over Maria's undisturbed form. Green eyes studied her beautiful face intently, drinking in every last detail and committing them to memory, right down to the trail of glistening tears that still flowed without fail. Her cool, serene expression was clear of a person well beyond anything in this world, drifting away in the tides of dreams.

The corners of Fayt's lips twitched, the contours of his face twisting into a grotesque sneer. His mad eyes gleamed in the dim light as his hands quivered by side in anticipation, waiting only for a singular thought.

Kill her.

Quick hands throttled Maria by the throat, nails digging sharply inwards to flesh and drawing crimson life, a lion's suffocating kill. The young woman reared back upon the mattress, forcefully shoved down by Fayt's full weight on, her mouth agape in a silent scream. Hands and limbs flailed about wildly in a frenzy as Maria struggled vainly against her invisible attacker, she was falling deeper into her dark slumber that would soon be eternal, her blood cut off by the immense grip of vice-like hands. Raw liberated emotions flashed upon her tear streaked face: Rage. Loathing. Determination. Frustration. Disbelief. Fear. Hate. Despair. Hysteria.

Peace.

Maria stopped struggling to live, the embroiled muscles ceased in a single shocking motion, her body sighing, relaxing beneath the deathly embrace of death. A curtain of azure tresses, her own silken hair, became unto the likeness of a shroud for the dead, but it did not hide anything at all, bearing the serene face of the young woman openly, tears and all. She was smiling, a rare joyful smile that seldom graced her features, as if to thank Fayt for releasing her from this mortal coil. It was a world that she would soon depart into eternal night.

Her heart warmed, and for a single moment, she lifted her right hand to his face, a tender, gentle caress that spoke of a loving fondness that went beyond all known convention.

I want to see them.

I want to see them, so much.

Mommy.

Daddy.

Kill me, please kill me...

...Fayt.

Suddenly, the young man lurched back, a shrill violated scream at the tops of his lungs. He flailed about erratically on the floor, clawing at his face with bloodied finger tips, like a wounded animal stricken with some unholy poison. To be touched by the soul of another, to know their deepest, darkest desires, even for an ephemeral moment was not a pleasant experience free of consequences. His sense of self fading fast, Fayt continued his pained convulsions on the floor, all the while Maria slept blissfully unawares of his feverish screaming that grew louder with each passing moment.

And it went on, and on, and on...

When Fayt came to his senses, he felt - tired, although that was likely too fair an euphemism for propriety's sake. He was laid out on the metal floor, cool to the touch against his lukewarm cheek, in a heap of limbs, face down. All that was missing was the pool of blood intended to mark the scene of a murder, but instead he was actually quite well, ignoring the numbing stings he felt all over his face and arms.

"What the hell happened?" the young man mumbled crudely, struggling to keep his eyes opened.

He wanted to fall asleep right there, but his logic demanded "bloody satisfaction," that is to know the root of the cause to his current condition. Slowly, Fayt reached out with his will, trying to cajole his lethargic muscles to action. An eerie convulsion rippled through his from, misfiring nerves and all no doubt, that earned a look of displeasure. Repeatedly he tried to coax his body to no avail for several harsh minutes until at last a he felt a connection with right leg, his ankle twisting aside some. Fayt grinned and promptly set about regaining mastery over his other limbs.

It wasn't well until half an hour later that he finally managed to crawl up against the opposing wall in the empty corridor, propping himself upright. He wasn't exhausted anymore, but he wasn't exactly fit to "go take on the world," so to speak, either. Now that he was more or less comfortable as is, it was time to take stock of his situation.

First, a quick look of his surroundings...

The Door.

Fayt blanched visibly, pupils widening in recognition. The gears in his memories turned in an effort to recall what would spark such a fearful reaction when a shrill cry burst from his agape lips. He clutched sharply at his face and temple with his hands as an insane shriek of horror tore through his skull. Desperately, the young wished to tear his own face out, fingers pressing alarmingly against the protests of his reddening flesh, so he could reach at his brain and mash it into a gory pulp. The pain, it was coming from an ugly scar that carved a black abyss across mind where nothing existed then, empty shots in roll of film, memories purged forcibly from consciousness.

What secrets that held, Fayt would never know, but perhaps, it was better not to have thought of such things. There were far more terrible things right in front of his eyes.

Blood.

Fresh blood that hadn't even fully dried out into a hard, caked mass was all over his hands. With a yelp, he thrust them away from his person, and he could scarcely contain his dark terror as he stared at his bloodied arms that ran slick with primal crimson. Hardly did he even notice the bleeding gouges in his face. There were brand new lacerations and scrapes all over his once fair skin in increasing severity, the wounds far different from anything he had ever seen. Was it wild animal that had done this to him with its claws?

Fayt gasped when he realized the source of it all, Wait, these are fingernails! Human fingernails! Which means...

A trail of smeared blood spanned the cold unfeeling floor between him and Maria's door, horrified green eyes riveted to the spot. He couldn't believe it so he shut his eyes closed, denying the grim memories of their power as best as he could manage, balling his bloodied hands into shaking fists.

No.

It wasn't real.

It wasn't real!

This wasn't happening, could not happen to him! He couldn't have... He couldn't have done... The blood. The blood! It had to be fake, wasn't it? Yes, it had to be some kind of practical joke. The gaping lapse in his memory was nothing serious at all. Everybody forgets stuff, just like him too, right? ...Why, this was nothing more but a silly dream! All he had to do was count back from ten, open his eyes and he'd wake right up.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

Seven.

Six.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

Fayt's eyes flew wide open on command to witness the blood-stained testament of Truth.

It was real, all real.

Author's Notes:

A'ight, I'd like to thank all of you folks for the reviews out there, helps a joe remember he needs to get things done so he doesn't get run out of town by an angry mob waving pitch forks and burning torches, if you know what I mean. I take my feedback with both the good and the bad, so don't hesitate to holler up. Also, yes; it does get better than this; and yes, if there's a screw up somewhere I humbly apologize for the inconvenience. (I'm technically running a one-man show here, after all.)

Peace out, and look forward to the future. (The Great CLIFF! FITTIR! makes his return at last! Huzzah!)

Now onto the omake! We're way over my angst quota for the day.

Omake:

Kill her.

Just then the door to Maria's bedroom busted down with a shriek of metal, flooding the room with blinding light. The blue-haired villain hissed in aggravation, shielding his sensitive eyes from the glare. Alas, for his chance to do great villainy had been dashed, but who dares to interrupt? Who has the balls of iron fortitude (or shear El Presidente-grade oftestosterone-induced stupidity) to challenge his fiendish scheming?

"CAN IT BE?" Fayt cackled in a rousing voice, rising to his feet.

"Pimp Jedi Master Artiste of All Ye Hatez," Level 35 Soldijah, Cliff Fitter waltzed through the door and dropped kick "Baron Arch-Nerdy Protagonist Nemesis" Fayt straight on his roodie pooh you-know-what.

"Aie!"

"Hold 'dat! Da Cliff iz in da house, forrizzle schizzle, Baron Arch-Nerdy!" Cliff declared heroically with all the pomp and flair he could muster, flashing his million dollar baby smile that literally flashed with a tangible lens flare.

Ting!

"Argh, me eyes! Curse thee, Pimp Jedi Master Artiste of All Ye Hatez; if thee hath not meddle where the meddle did not meddle, the wench would chucketh wood in Seven-Eleven!"

"Say wha-at?"

"I resent thee!"

The self-proclaimed Ebonics hero laughed mightily, his teeth flashing even brighter as he struck a manly pose, pumping his chest outwards proudly. "Yo that's ill but it ain't no big deal in da bling-bling, boomshakala, up da heasey! Now step aside, we gotta battle for da shorty, Arch-Nerdy."

"Avast! Have at thee!" Fayt shouted indignantly, striking a villainous pose with his fly unzipped, hands fanning out into a broad delta, as a dramatic wind rustled through his super shiny helicopter-whipping hair.

"On the count of 'Let's Rock!'"

"First Duel..."

"...HEAVEN! or HELL..."

"...LET'S RAWK DA HIZZ-OUSE!"

The following section has been removed as per for the sake of the sanity of the above readership due to potential shounen-ai luvluv-titude that might result in extreme blood loss or a sudden disastrous brain aneurism. Please, do not pass go and collect a hormone crazed fanboy or fangirl. Instead, enjoy this relaxing scene of beautiful fields of flowers with your magical soldier of LOVE (TM) Nel Zelpher fighting the good fight and defending all that is RUV-RY desu with her MOE-E! sidekick Keroberos las Clair. (I'm...too cute, I'm too cute for the drive-thruuuu!) Oh, and let's not forget about Albel "The Wicked" dancing the Macarena with Lord Luther, hand in hand, hip to hip, skirt to pants, in the PASSIONATE Sunset (TM)!

Youth! POWAA! (And thank God, I missed that team building meeting!) EXPLOSION!