Disclaimer: Suikoden IV belongs to Konami.
Notes: Japanese fanartists can convert you into being a supporter of any pairing, I tell you. Anyway, this is the first of two parts. I'm hoping that posting this will actually motivate me to finish the second half.
Warnings: Spoilers for end of game. Slash pairing. Uneditted, badly written, choppy. Jumps from past to present without warning.

Haunt

The Fortress of El-Eal lay in ruins, a mountain of stone and forgotten memories. Sometimes, Helmut could see its faint outline against the distant horizon, but often he didn't bother to look. That was a very long time ago, and these days it was overwhelmingly easy to pretend it never happened.

Kooluk had recently undergone a reform in government. It was peaceful now and he had almost forgotten what blood tastes like. He spent his time watching his father grow old. This town did not know much of war. They did not recognize his name and therefore did not recognize his betrayal. They only knew of him as the polite young man who taught the boys how to handle a sword for the local militia.

"This quiet happiness is good for an old man," Colton said, sitting in the garden and watching things grow. "But isn't there something you still want to do before settling down like this?"

"Of course not, Father," said Helmut, looking in the direction of the sea, except there were clay walls and shingled roofs in the way.

"You know, I never would've imagined you becoming a housewife like this," said Hervey, when he and Sigurd occasionally dropped by. Even though Kooluk did not have an open-door policy, they visited often because last year on the first day of autumn, they sent Kika off on a small wooden boat with wildflowers tucked under her folded hands in a splendid burial at sea and there was no drink more guaranteed to send you into oblivion than Kooluk wine.

"It is only because I know you that I will not take offense to that statement," said Helmut.

"What he means to say," corrected Sigurd amiably, "is that it's surprising you can adjust to a normal life so well after all that happened. How is your father by the way?"

"He's doing very well, thank you," answered Helmut, and not talking about how, on restless nights, he pulled out the trunk from under his bed, ran shaking hands over the scuffed old armor and recalled days long ago when he was still a young soldier and believed in the wonder of the world.

Helmut was lucky in the fact that he had the uncanny ability to face circumstances with grace. He had listened to news of his father's capture with simple albeit sad acceptance, had surrendered his fleet to the opposing naval alliance with understanding calm. He withstood Hervey's violent antagonism when they fought as allies, and in an even greater feat, braved the pirate's dangerous sense of humor when they forged a surprising comradeship. (He would never forget Dario's murderous screech for the rest of his life.)

So, when he happened across a murmuring crowd in the middle of the central square and saw a face he could recognize at the center, he only needed to bite his tongue once to remind his heart to beat again. Nevertheless, it bled and he could taste iron. "Oh, you're here, Helmut!" said the baker's wife, turning and motioning him to come closer. "The fishermen said they found this man at sea. He's barely breathing. Nobody knows who he is."

It had been two years since Helmut watched, frightened and trembling, as Troy dueled and lost before cruel blue waters engulfed him. It had been nearly three since they last spoke to each other, sharing laughter over dining hall tables, because they used to be friends. Helmut remembered this and said, "I know who he is."

"Oh! Thank heavens! Then will you take him home?" the innkeeper asked hopefully.

Troy groaned, brows knitting together, and stilled. Helmut dropped to his knees, lifted Troy's wrist and found a weak but steady beat under his two fingers. The man's skin was cold and damp; his clothes, plain and coarse, were soaked and useless. Troy looked exhausted, like a man who hadn't slept well for a long time, and though the look of defeat was foreign on the familiar face, the fine and regal features were undeniable.

"Yes," said Helmut, feeling the sea breeze blow through his hair.

Colton was surprised when he answered the knocking that evening and found two people standing on the steps instead of one, but the shock died quickly. One was his son and one was like a son, so he opened the door wider and as they passed him, one dragging the other, he said in a quiet voice, "Welcome home."

"Come here, my boy," said Colton, pulling him by the elbow away from his training exercises, making the other men, with their sore and aching muscles, groan enviously.

Helmut, still a boy in shapeless and dull iron armor, stumbled and followed wordlessly as his graying father introduced him to a tall but kind-looking young man in black clothing and the insignia of the Kooluk navy sewn on to his tunic like a silver medal. "Hello, sir," said Helmut politely, and the man with the ebony hair smiled.

"Helmut, this is Commander Troy. Troy, this is my son, Helmut," said Colton proudly.

Helmut looked up and stared, wide-eyed and awestruck in the presence of the famed man. He felt strong hands guide him up as he was about to bow. Confusedly, "Sir?"

"We are all comrades here. There is no need for formalities," said Troy, when he was a soldier, and when he was unsurprisingly promoted to be captain of his own fleet, he repeated the words, his palms warm against Helmut's shoulders. "I am not surprised you were given the position, considering your skill," he also added, "but congratulations, Helmut." They went to the local inn and Helmut drank himself under the table, intoxicated with accomplishment and success.

"I'm glad," said Troy in a low voice that Helmut barely registered in his hazy mind, "that I have someone I can count on in this navy other than Colton now." Something cool and dry brushed his hair away from his face and touched his forehead, but he forgot it the next day.

He remembered the private confession years later, surrounded by enemy ships and the illusion of youthful invincibility long stripped away. "I will surrender peacefully to you," he said while his throat tightened, "but please, do no harm to my men."

A boy, a child with suffering and determined eyes, looked across the water, searched his face and asked him, "Why don't you join us?"

With Troy's words echoing hauntingly in his head – someone I can count on – and the soldiers behind him looking hopefully at his unwavering back, he said, "Very well. I will join you." What did it matter? His father was gone, they would punish him if he returned defeated, and he had not spoken with Troy ever since they were assigned different missions at the beginning of this useless war.

Troy woke up four days later and as his fever finally passed, his skin lost its sickly pallor. It was mid-morning and he thought he was dreaming until he saw the clear blue of the sky. He had always dreamed in black and white. He saw Colton leaning worriedly over the bed, older and happier but much the same, and croaked aloud, "Did I die?"

Colton chuckled, removing the wet rag from his forehead and depositing it into the washbowl on the dresser. "Not quite yet, I'm afraid. This is a town near the coast, a little to the east of where El-Eal used to be."

"I thought you were dead."

"No," he laughed. "When I was captured, they tried to interrogate me, but I refused to answer. They were quite kind other than that, actually. You were the one closer to death, my boy. We found you when one of the fishermen reeled you in. How things change."

"We?" questioned Troy, struggling to sit, except a thin but forceful hand pushed him down.

"We. Stay in bed; you're not well yet," answered Helmut without meeting Troy's eyes, as he withdrew and helped Colton to stand. He followed his father out with the copper basin in hand before reappearing in the door. "You were unconscious in the marketplace. No one knew who you were except me and no one wanted to take you with them."

"No one?" said Troy.

Helmut swallowed the lump in his throat with strange difficulty and averted his eyes. "Well maybe some of the local girls. They really like foreigners." He crossed the room with careful, light steps, seating himself at the foot of the bed, and Troy could feel the mattress dip from the burden. "So I decided to spare you the hassle and took you home. Father was pleased."

"Why?" said Troy.

Helmut could feel his gaze, but adamantly stared out the window. "Well, because Father likes you."

"No, I mean, why did you really take me home?" asked Troy, watching as Helmut's fingers tightened into a fist, contorting the sheets with wordless ferocity. He was silent for a long time, and together they listened to quiet noise Colton made when he boiled water for tea.

"For old times' sake, I suppose," said Helmut finally. He stood and left the room.

Helmut possessed a relatively light frame, and even with the heavy metal of his breastplate and his sword weighing him down, he stumbled and fell onto the unforgiving wood floor from the sharp blow. While Sigurd held back his rampaging friend, Helmut mustered what dignity he had remaining and wiped the blood from his split lip impassively.

"The next time you want to pull your high chair act here," shouted the pirate, "just remember that you're on our side now, and you're in the same boat as we are! You can't pull your Kooluk shit anymore!" Sigurd loosened his grip and led his irate comrade away, casting a wary and unsympathetic glance over his shoulder.

Helmut braced himself against the wall, staggering to his feet and ignoring the attention they had attracted. As he inched towards his room, his sword hung and dragged like lead at his waist. Helmut locked the door behind him, shedding the heavy metal of his weaponry and armor on the flimsy table, and fell face-down on to the creaky bed with whining springs.

Folding his hands over the back of his head and drawing his knees to his chest, he wept open-mouthed into the pillow that smelled of crude soap and the salt of the sea until his shoulders stopped heaving, but the sting in his chest remained.

I'm glad that I have someone I can count on.

"It was for my men! They were afraid!" shouted Helmut into his bed while his voice cracked with exertion and on the floor below him, Colton heard the familiar voice. Helmut imagined, with terrifying clearness, Troy's reaction after receiving letter after another of disappointing news. Colton's been defeated and captured, one said. Helmut has defected to the other side, said the following one.

When he did receive those letters, Troy ran a weary hand through his dark hair and set the pieces of yellowing parchment down on the table as if they each weighed tons. "Leave me," he said slowly, dismissing the messenger with a curt nod. He turned and looked out the window at the round and mutely mocking moon, now both alone and abandoned.

Colton and his son survived on a modest income. They had neither the resources nor the space to accommodate a bedridden guest. Thankfully, Troy hadn't the appetite to eat most of the time, and he was only an inch or two taller than Helmut. He spent the next two weeks confined to bed and woke every morning to the sight of disheveled blankets and Helmut's sleeping clothes strewn messily across the room's floor.

"He leaves early," explained Colton when asked, setting the thin vegetable stew beside the man and wafting the steam away with his hand. "The boys help their fathers later in the day; they only have time to practice fighting before noon. Helmut usually returns around three."

"Does he always avoid his room after returning?" asked Troy off-handedly, but the slight edge of bitterness tasted rancid in his mouth. He took the hot bowl and set it on his lap, stirring it occasionally with the metal spoon. He winced after burning his tongue on the first sip.

"I think," Colton admitted somberly while handing him a glass of water, "that he is ashamed to face you. I doubt he regrets his choice, but in theory, he is a traitor. To Kooluk, if not to himself."

Troy looked intently at the wall. "I am not Kooluk," he said.

"Ah," nodded Colton. "But in his mind, you are one and the same. When he left Kooluk, he believed he left you. I think that perhaps he needs you to tell him that it's not true. When I was aboard the enemy ship, he needed a month to muster enough courage to face me, even though he knew I was there long before then and bullied the cooks into giving me more rations during meals." Colton smiled fondly. "Helmut, at times, is awfully slow."

Troy spent the entire morning urging his numb legs back into cooperation. By the time Helmut returned, Troy had borrowed some of his larger clothing and stood waiting in the hall while Colton tutored a neighboring nobleman's son in literature on the kitchen table. Helmut, about to bolt, stood with his hand on the rusting doorknob and shoulders tensed, the sun scorching his back.

Troy leaned forward and laid a gentle hand on his arm. "Let's take a walk," he said softly, while Helmut gaped, bewildered, at the point of contact.

Bracing himself on the wooden railing, Helmut let the wind buffet his face as he leaned forward as far as he could without forfeiting balance. Troy watched, amused, with his arms crossed over his chest and his cape whipping like a flag over the endless sea. He reached out and grabbed the other man's wrist when a particularly strong gust threatened to blow Helmut into the water. "Be careful."

"Your ship is beautiful," said Helmut, undeterred. "If I ever become a captain, I want a ship like this too," he said appreciatively, craning his neck to look at the towering mast and the drawn black sails of their nation. The sun was above them in the cloudless sky and the water glittered. "It must be really nice, to be captain of such a lovely ship and reliable crew."

"You'll be a captain soon enough," reassured Troy while Helmut flushed. "They'd be fools not to promote you, considering your experience and adeptness."

"And then we will fight together," said Helmut.

Troy smiled. "And then we will fight together," he repeated.

When the war with the Southern Island Nations started, Helmut had become a captain, but while he was assigned a defensive position to guard the fortress, Troy was sent out to further the imperialistic ideals of a fat and slovenly governor who sat on a golden chair and knew nothing of the sea. For days and weeks, Helmut waited by the coastline, alertly, attentively, and then apathetically for a sign of enemy ships that would not come.

Then news of Troy's fleet struggling reached him, and a strange mismatched set of ships under different flags approached from the blue horizon before he had time to think. They overpowered him with a wide array of rune cannons and strange tactical maneuvers he had never seen while his men began to panic. Kooluk, he realized, was surely doomed, but for now, he was one who was done for.

"I will surrender peacefully to you, but please, do not harm my men," he said.

"Why don't you join us?" asked the boy with a True Rune.