Guilty Gear, its characters and settings are property of Sammy Studios, and are being used in this fanfiction without permission. This fic is rated R for violence and sexual content, and it contains yaoi material.

Sorry for the delay! Between moving to a new place and…coughlosing my fic notescough it took me a while to get back to writing. But here it is and I hope it's not so bad :D.

Small note: keep in mind that because of the time difference this is taking place around the same time as the last two chapters .

Thunder Falling

Chapter 13

Ky was still tightening the belts on his undershirt when he heard Bridget's high laughter echoing up from the front hall. He smiled to himself as he tugged an extra blanket over the slumbering Testament and left his room. He had told his housekeepers that Bridget was always welcome, and so the young man had taken it upon himself to visit every morning. Awaking to the sound of his excited chatter reminded Ky of the short days he'd spent with the Jellyfish Pirates.

By the time Ky entered the kitchen Bridget was already chattering away with Rosaline as he helped her prepare breakfast. It had only been three days and already the pair seemed to have become good friends. Though when he saw what Bridget was wearing, he quickly changed his mind as to whether he was glad for it.

"Bridget!" Ky gaped in exasperation at the blue and white, frilly laced dress—and matching shoes. Rosaline's maid uniform. "What are you doing?"

Bridget glanced over his shoulder, and blushed with a giggle at Ky's surprised reaction. "Do you like it? Rosaline said it would look cute on me." He gave his hips a wiggle so that the thick skirt waved back and forth. "She insisted."

Ky sighed, sinking into a chair at the kitchen table as Rosaline laughed beneath her hand. "It's very…cute on you," he assured. Like when they had met at his father's party, Bridget's girlish appearance was nearly flawless when dressed like that. Ky blushed a little, mysteriously.

"Isn't it?" Rosaline stepped lightly to the table with a bowl of freshly cut fruit for him. "I think it suits him."

"Doesn't suit me that much," Bridget protested. "It's so girly. But Rosaline said if I tried it on, she'd let me borrow something for when I go out today."

Ky glanced up quickly, this time his face losing its color. "You're going outside like that?"

Bridget giggled. "No way! I'll wear something else. But I'm meeting my brother for lunch before he goes back to England." His voice tipped somewhat strangely as he buttered some toast for them. "I have to be dressed as a girl when I'm with him, so people don't suspect."

That made Ky frown, strangely distressed by Bridget's circumstances. They hadn't known each other long but he remembered the young man's constant insistence on being 'manly,' despite build and appearance and even mannerisms. He caught Rosaline's eye, who was trying to keep an expression of sympathy from her face. "If you want, Bridget," Ky suggested, "you could invite him here. No one bothers me here. Then you could dress however you want."

Bridget quickly shook his head. "No, it's all right. Brandon's already meeting me at a café, and besides, I wouldn't want to bother our friend upstairs." He smiled. "He's asleep, right? He must have been out all night."

"Well, yes, but…." Ky glanced away. He still felt guilty about that. Since losing track of Venom at the mystery healer's shack Testament had taken to helping Ky with his searches of the city. During the day Ky would comb the streets with his officers, and at night Testament took to the rooftops in an attempt to hunt down Venom, I-no, and all her accomplices, at the risk of his own safety. Ky had been wrong to mistrust him and he regretted it.

"He's been a great help to you, hasn't he, Sir Kiske?" Rosaline interrupted his thoughts, her smile faintly teasing. "It's been a long time since you've had such a long-staying visitor."

This time Ky's blush was dark, and he quickly took a bite of fresh melon to stall his response. "Yes, I suppose so. He's, well, a good friend."

Rosaline's smile deepened. He knew she had already figured out exactly how good of a friend he was, considering he and Testament had awoken the morning after their settled arguments to find their carelessly discarded clothing carefully folded, the sofa freshly cleaned. Though in the past Ky had been very careful in keeping his lovers a secret from the public, he'd never been able to hide them from his two girls.

"I think I'll go finish that laundry I started," Rosaline said, saving her employer from further embarrassment. "Bridget, I left something for you on the chair in the living room. You're welcomed to borrow it."

"Thanks Rosy," Bridget said brightly. "See you later."

The housemaid disappeared into the basement, and it wasn't until the door was closed behind her that Bridget spoke up again. "I'm glad you made up," he said quietly, joining Ky at the table with the toast. "With Testament, I mean."

"So am I. It was…mostly my fault, after all." Ky nibbled thoughtfully on the toast. Something seemed a little off that morning, something in Bridget's demeanor, and though he was anxious to return to his officers he couldn't rush off if there was something wrong. "What's important is that we're working together now."

Bridget nodded vaguely. "Testament's really a good person," he murmured. "He's been taking really good care of me, you know. Helping me train, catching some higher bounties than I couldn't have alone…." He shifted in his seat, and though his odd attire was distracting, Ky was easily alerted to his uneasy manner. "You're both wonderful."

"Bridget." Ky tried not to frown as he turned his attention away from his breakfast. "Is something the matter?"

"No, not really. I was just thinking…I'm happy for you." Bridget's smile looked too old for his face as he turned the bread in his fingers. "Testament says I'm going to really grow up soon," he abruptly changed subjects.

"You mentioned that before…."

"He says I should get taller, and I'll be able to build more muscle, and my voice will change…. When that happens, do you think I'll still look like a girl? I might not be able to visit my brother anymore. Or do you think…I'll just be the same Bridget?"

"Bridget…." Ky watched as the boy pushed up from his chair, suddenly speechless. It was strange, and disconcerting, to hear the usually lively boy talk with such seriousness in his tone. He licked his lips and searched for some response, some encouragement he could offer, but in truth he was having some difficulty imagining the older, more masculine "Bridget" being described to him.

Bridget stepped into the living room, picking up the garment bag Rosaline had left for him. "I guess it doesn't matter either way," he said thoughtfully. "For a while I thought I might as well keep being a girl. I make a better girl than a guy anyway, right? But then I realized that didn't matter for you and Testament, so…"

Ky stood, still frowning. "Bridget, what are you talking about?"

Bridget glanced up, and his wide, bright eyes looked almost too innocent. Something about his deep gaze made Ky's fingers curl at his sides. For a moment they only stared at each other across the short space, and then Bridget abruptly smiled, breaking the stillness.

"It's nothing," he assured easily. "Sorry, Ky. I didn't mean to bother you." Bridget hefted the bag, hopping back into the kitchen on his way toward the front hall. "I'd better get going if I'm going to change into this before meeting Brandon. I'll see you later, okay?"

Ky intercepted him before he could make it to the hall, stepping in front of him with a hand on his slender shoulder. This time he didn't let the outfit distract him as he met those blue eyes of his. "Bridget," he said softly, searching for the right words. "We're not the same, but I think we understand better than most that life isn't as free for some people as it is others. We can't always live the way we want. But just because we have limitations doesn't also mean…we don't have the right to be ourselves. Do you understand?"

He lifted his other hand, gently touching the boy's cheek with his fingertips. Bridget was watching him very closely, and he didn't want to say the wrong thing. "It doesn't matter to me, or Testament, or even your brother how you grew up or what you wear. To me, you'll always be the Bridget that fought bravely alongside me in Italy."

Bridget's lips pressed tight, his eyes thinning slightly in emotion as he returned Ky's steady gaze. Finally he leaned forward, pressing his face into the front of Ky's shirt. Ky sighed, and with a faint smile welcomed the smaller boy against him with arms around his shoulders. He didn't feel Bridget cry, but he was shivering a little, his breath slow and harsh. He couldn't help but remember himself at this age. Despite their vastly different personalities and situations, he recalled all the personal trials, the uncertainty, the search for understanding….

"Why don't you go meet your brother in your bounty hunting outfit?" Ky suggested, touching the top of Bridget's head. "I think he'd like that better, too."

Bridget nodded against his chest, letting Rosaline's garment bag slip to the floor with a dull thump of fabric. His fingers curled slightly against Ky's shirt. "Ky," he murmured, his shoulder's hunching. "Ky, I…."

"Hm?" Ky gently urged Bridget back so he could see his face again. "What is it?"

Bridget only stared at him a moment, something like quiet determination strengthening his expression. It wasn't until just before he started to move that Ky realized he knew that look, and by then it was too late; Bridget stood up on his toes, fingers tightening in Ky's shirt so he could tug himself up. His lips found Ky's easily, pressing up against them for a firm kiss. Ky was too startled by the gesture to respond, frozen beneath Bridget's soft mouth. There was an almost desperate, youthful sincerity in Bridget's kiss, the way his hands trembled against Ky's chest. He recognized it only too well.

When Bridget pulled back his face was flushed, his eyes excited and anxious. Ky was still stammering dumbly over a reaction. His brow tightened. "Bridget…."

"It's all right," Bridget quickly interrupted. He took a step back so that Ky's hands fell from his shoulders. "I gotta go." He scooped up the garment bag and draped it over Ky's arm. "Thanks for cheering me up. Will you tell Rosaline thanks anyway?" He turned, starting abruptly for the door.

"Of course…." Ky followed, his expression contorting as he forced himself to understand what he should have realized sooner. But Bridget wasn't giving him enough time to think; already he was opening the door to leave. Ky shook himself and tried again. "Wait, Bridget. I—"

"Tell Testament I said hi when he wakes up," Bridget cut him off brightly. "I'm seeing Brandon off tonight so I won't see either of you until tomorrow. Take care, okay?" With a smile Bridget slipped outside, and didn't wait for Ky to reply before skipping down the snow-sprinkled path towards the road.

Ky stood in the doorway, struggling between emotions as he watched Bridget disappear down the street. Still in Rosaline's maid outfit. He shook his head. "Now what am I going to do with you?"

"Ky."

Ky glanced over his shoulder, and was only a little surprised to see Testament watching him from the stairs. The Gear smiled faintly. "I warned you."

Ky released a heavy sigh. His lips were still warm as he turned back inside, closing the door behind him.

"Sewers," Axl muttered with irritation, shivering as he clung to the slick stone walls. The light from the magic lantern affixed to his hip swung and jostled with each step. "I should have known this was your brilliant plan. Bloody sewers."

A few feet ahead of him along the narrow ledge that ran the length of Paris' broad sewer system, Venom snorted. Axl had not stopped complaining about his chosen method of escaping the city since he'd first suggested it. At least berating him for it kept both their minds off the smell.

They had finally left Faust's underground clinic a few hours earlier, sharing a strange set of farewells. Axl had gushed with appreciation and well wishes, his companion with solemn murmurs. He was still having a difficult time understanding the doctor's motives for accepting him, and nursing him to health. Thanking him for the un-repaid service had been a humbling experience.

Even more baffling was Faust's parting words to him. Even now they echoed in Venom's mind. "You'll understand," Faust had said, hunched over and single visible eye sharp with sincerity. With no indication of what he had meant, how long it would take, Faust had declared those simple words before ushering the two men out of his clinic. Venom couldn't help the feeling that he would meet the man again someday.

"And you're certain 'bout this, right?" Axl was saying, drawing Venom's mind back to their slow progress under Paris' streets. "Don't you think Kiske would'a thought of this by now?"

"He knows we won't be able to get out of Paris like this," Venom replied, pausing at a cross section. He continued to speak as he got his bearings. "These tunnels are a maze—a normal criminal would have no chance of maneuvering them successfully. Most of them congregate at the center of the city, near the Global Police Headquarters. And even if one could trace them to the edge of the city, they would still have to surface."

"Eh? Why's that?"

Venom was quiet, and then, having decided on a path, turned them left down a slightly larger tunnel than the one they had been following. He resumed his explanation along with their travel. "Because the lines that pass under the city walls are enforced with magical seals. There is a special filter in place to prevent anything living from going in or out of the city below ground level. It dates back to the war, when Paris was under siege and they needed to keep the Gears from tunneling under the walls."

"Ah…okay," Axl replied, feigning understanding. Only then did Venom remember that the man had not grown up during the Crusades, as they all had. It was strange to imagine someone alive in their world that did not have such basic knowledge of history. "Then how're we getting out, if it's so protected?"

"The walls themselves are no longer as protected. There are places along it, between the gates, where the old magic has worn thin. They refresh the seals in sections according to a schedule, so there is always at least one area of the wall where it's at its weakest."

Axl hummed thoughtfully as he turned that information over in his mind. Despite being allied with a known murderer, he seemed inordinately cheerful. "And you just happen to know this schedule," he surmised.

"The west section, a quarter mile north from the sixth guard station, will be refreshed tomorrow evening." Venom glanced back over his shoulder, allowing a hint of humor into his eyes. "I wouldn't be much of a guild leader, if I didn't know these things."

Axl flashed him a grin. "No wonder you were in such a rush to leave today."

Venom faced forward again, and picked up his pace a bit. "It'll be another twenty minutes."

Axl groaned, hefting his travel pack as he trotted after him.

As Venom had assured, twenty minutes later they had reached Paris's western wall. Though the sewer grates crossing the pipes appeared like ordinary metal, a faint hum came off of them, accompanied by a subtle gleam of pale light. Wisely, neither of them ventured too close. Venom turned them down one last tunnel, smaller than the last. A short walk and they were facing a circular hole cut into the underground wall. It was only a little more than a meter in diameter, and led at a sharp incline up into the wall, with thick, metal bars set into the stone as hand holds.

Axl peered into the darkened tunnel, his expression twisting doubtfully. It was pitch black inside and very narrow with no visible exit. "Um…this goes all the way through?"

"No." Venom crouched down, and grabbed Axl's belt to keep his lantern still so that he could see his weapon case as he opened it. "It goes up into the wall, so that when the engineers come to repair the seals they'll be able to do so from the inside." He pulled out his pool cue, and out of habit applied the blue chalk to its tip.

"And so you're going for a round of billiards," Axl mused, his voice thick with sarcasm. "Brilliant."

Venom's lip twisted faintly as he selected the yellow number one ball from his case, and twisted the cue into a single shaft. He motioned for Axl to kneel at the entrance to the tunnel, which he begrudgingly did. As Venom positioned the blonde's hand, pool ball balanced on his fingers, he asked, "How did you get into the city in the first place, they're so careful?"

"I came in with the crowds, coming for the festival," Venom admitted as he shifted on the balls of his feet. He leveled the pool cue expertly, calculating the angle, the surface of the rock he was aiming at. "Hidden under a wine cart. There were too many people in town for the gates to check every one."

Axl laughed, the light tone of his voice echoing in the confined space. "That's fantastic."

Venom almost smiled himself, and a sharp jerk of his arm sent the bright yellow ball shooting into the tunnel. The crack of hardened resin against old stone was clear and cold, and was quickly followed by nearly a dozen more of the same percussions as Venom's unusual projectile ricocheted back and forth inside the wall. Axl's appreciative whistle was nearly lost in the resounding clatter. Somewhere unseen rocks were giving way, and a few even tumbled back down the tunnel, rolling past their feet.

Finally the clamor subsided to a softer clang, until the yellow pool ball had rolled to the bottom of the tunnel and back into Venom's hand. There was not a blemish on it. "That ought to have loosened it up some."

"That's one hell of a bank shot you got, Venny," Axl complimented. He lifted the lantern off his waist to take a closer look at the opening. "Hope no one heard it."

Venom blinked at him. "Venny?"

"Hm? What, too kiddy?"

"…Yes." Venom shook his head as he set ball and cue back into their case and snapped the latches shut. He began to crawl up into the skinny tunnel, doing his best not to stretch his healing injuries. "Please don't call me that."

"I have to call you something," Axl protested, leaning into the tunnel with his lantern outstretched so that Venom might have a little light. "You want us to be out at a bar somewhere, drinking, having a good time, and I say, 'Hey, Venom! You buy this round!' and then someone looks up and says, 'Venom? Isn't that the name of that assassin?' And Bam! We've got police on us."

Venom shook his head again, but he was through arguing with Axl's strange logic, and the ease in which he detailed scenarios that at one time had been so foreign to him. Drinking together in a small bar like normal men…that was a lifestyle that didn't apply to people like him, and yet whenever Axl brought it up, it sounded more appealing.

"You can buy your own beer," Venom retorted instead as he continued his climb up into Paris' outer wall.

"Don't you got a real name, Ven-man?" Axl pressed. "One from before you were an assassin?"

Venom sighed. "No, I don't. And don't call me 'Ven-man,' either."

"Spoil sport."

Venom stopped climbing, drawing his hand experimentally over the cold surface in front of him. He could feel the cracks in the wall that his bank shot had deepened, spreading in jagged spider webs beneath his fingertips. He braced himself and pushed, the stone shifting under the pressure, scraping quietly. But in the narrow space he couldn't get as much leverage as he would have liked, and it was slow going.

Venom braced his feet, propping himself up against his back so that his hands were free. "Pass me up my case."

"'Kay." He could hear Axl fumble with the case, the lantern swinging so that what little light he had twisted and slanted. After a moment he felt the corner bump into his ankle, and he reached down, trying to get his hands around it.

Venom had just managed to get his hands around the case's blunt corner, enough to pull it up, when the support beneath the case was wrenched abruptly away with Axl's startled yelp. Venom clutched after the slipping vinyl, and managed to keep it from falling, distracting him momentarily from the sudden commotion beneath him. Once he was sure it wasn't about to tumble back down the incline, he turned his attention back below. "Axl? This isn't the time for fooling around."

He couldn't see the lantern anymore. His eyes were trying to adjust to the sudden dark but there wasn't any light for them to draw in, only the barest shapes to make out. There were voices below, more than just Axl's cheerful banter. It was a man he didn't recognize, speaking in low tones.

Venom shifted. "Axl?" Though concerned, it wasn't until he heard a familiar tap of false flesh against the sewer floor that a chill of panic spread up his spine.

The shadows twisted, revealing to him a pair of gleaming read eyes as they rushed at him up the tunnel.

The attack had caught Axl completely off guard. All his focus had been on handing the heavy case up to his partner, keeping him from noticing the stealthy approach of footsteps. A blow that might have been from a kick sent him reeling away from the opening and onto his back. "Who the hell—" Fearing the police he tried to clamor back to his feet. "Kiske, is that—"

A man's heel dug into his stomach, knocking the wind from him. Axl managed to keep from being thrown again by clinging to the wall as he gasped after the lost air. As his attacker came closer he reached into his travel bag, groping for his pair of short scythes. The police would have named themselves by now, would have given surrender as an option. Axl's gaze was still swimming but he managed to raise it, taking in the unfamiliar figure.

The young man's face was lit from below from Axl's fallen lamp, casting eerie shadows across his eyes. The youthful countenance was not one Axl recognized, especially when taking into account the prison jumper and small heart tied to his forehead. Finally he had his breath enough under control to mutter, "Looks like everyone wants outta Paris. You must be Kiske's escapee."

Zappa tilted his head to the side, the bones of his neck giving a sickening crack. "You don't recognize me."

Axl froze, his fingers curled tightly around the handle of his first sickle, as the man's voice sunk into him. It was low and rasping, but at the same time had a strange, and unearthly, feminine quality to it that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He squinted at Zappa through the dark in confusion. "Who are you…?"

More footsteps echoed toward him, and Axl had just enough time to recognize the second almost-human man before it drove into the wall tunnel that Venom was still wedged up inside. He jerked his weapons free from the bag. "Venom--!"

He started forward, but the boy was faster than he looked. Zappa's muscled limbs whipped with the turning of his body, as if boneless, driving Axl back. "It was you that caused all the trouble with the cops," Axl muttered, feeling his palms heat with the building force of his magic. "Which means—"

The Musician in Red slid into view behind Zappa, confirming Axl's suspicions. She was still wearing Ky's thick blue mantle, and a thick satchel off her shoulder. "There, we found him," she said, sounding bored. "Take care of your little lover's quarrel and let's get out of here already."

Axl glared, baffled, at the pair. "Lover's…?"

Zappa tilted his head again, with the same grotesque snap, and as Axl watched, could almost see a face taking shape over his left shoulder. It could have been a trick of the light, but his eyes widened in shock nonetheless as a familiar woman's face became clearer through the mist.

"I've missed you," the cold voice hissed through Zappa's slack lips. "Darling."