Note: All Suikoden elements belong to Konami.

Author's note: Alright…I'm going to admit it…I know nothing about Dominguez's ability to speak! I assume he can talk because in the Suikoden III manga Domingez Jr. talks normally, like a human…if anyone knows anything about Dominguez, feel free to tell me, cause I got no idea! And Nash's "old friend" really is an old friend, not just a relationship I made up…besides being in Suikoden III, he was in Suikogaiden II as well…

Rebirth

Chapter 4: Intricacy

by ArchFaith

The first thing she was aware of was her hand, which was at the moment shielding her eyes from the strong sunlight that seeped in through the thin curtains of the window.

Blinking, she sat up, raising her fingers to her forehead. The migraines had not returned yet; but of course they would, in due time. Her legs, though still feeling dull and heavy, did not pain her nearly as much as before. Well, another spell gone. She would make the most of the time that she was left free to her, before the tormenting pains arrived once again.

With a sigh she slowly sat up, propping herself up on her arms as she gazed in annoyance at the strong sunlight. It was a good thing she had chosen to come back to Caleria at a time when the wind was cool, and the air pleasant; she did not think she could have returned to the sweltering desert days once again. But the sunlight…the sunlight was another story. So bright, so cheerful, so opposite from her feelings. She glared at the thin curtains and wondered if her aversion to sunlight was a personal preference; after all, some of the other vampires had loved the light, even though it partially weakened them during the day.

Her mind had once again wandered back to that infernal little village. She scowled before standing up. The shirt Nash had given her reached down to the middle of her pale thighs; she gently smoothed it out before she crossed the room, the pads of her bare feet making a gentle tapping noise along the cool stony floor. She opened the door of the room and found herself standing in the large living area, with its sofa and rug laid out beneath. Looking around, she detected the vague sounds of ceramic rattling against tin; looking to a small door on the other side of the room, she went to it and pushed it open.

The blonde swordsman was on his knees in front of a rattling tin stove, carefully turning over hot coals inside the stove's grated door. Crossing her arms over her chest, she shifted her weight onto one leg and smirked. "Well, well, well," she began. "Doing a housewife's work, I see."

Slightly surprised, Nash quickly turned to give her a cocky smile. "Well, morning to you too, dearest," he greeted as he rose, slamming the iron grate, causing the red coals to shake within. "Have a good rest?"

She cocked her head and frowned. "I suppose."

He grinned again, then turned back to the steaming oven. "I'm cooking up a late breakfast," he began as he set a metal pan down onto the center of the steaming grill. "Can I interest you in anything?"

"Hmph," she whispered half-heartedly as she scanned the small space. Narrower than the other rooms of the house, the kitchen was an almost cozy place. It was a small stony room, with the squat little stove in the corner, steaming away; in another corner was a roughly-made cabinet, and next to it a small sink. In a third corner were a few sacks and barrels of what appeared to be rice, grains and dried meats. A small table was pushed up against the wall, with a chair on either side. Coupled with the sight of Nash bending down over the black woodstove, reaching for some kind of ingredient out of the cabinet, it appeared to her as an almost familiar scene.

So…normal. Perhaps too normal.

She swiftly seated herself on the straw chair by the table and propped her head in her hands, looking up at him as he continued cooking. "You wouldn't happen to have any clothes I could use?"

"Hey, what's wrong with wearing mine?" he questioned as he cracked a large egg over the pan, watching as the yolk and white dripped out of the broken shell.

"Well, you may settle for wearing rough, ugly clothing, but I require more of a selection," she answered, scowling at him.

"Heh," he chuckled, his back still turned away from her. "Right. I'll gear you up with a desert outfit right away. Let's see, you'd need a thick robe, a hat, a dust veil—"

"Oh be quiet! Honestly…" Even though she realized he was teasing her, she quickly remembered that she was considered a guest in his house. "Ah…but if that is all that is available, I shall just have to make do with my own garments."

He immediately noted the change in her demeanor. Well…she was making an effort to be polite after all. It was awfully nice of her. "I'm sure we can cook up something, old girl," he answered, emptying a bowl of diced onions into the omelet. "Hey…'cook' up something! Get it?"

The stupid joke only served to annoy her once more. She crossed her legs and watched as he picked up the pan and swerved it quickly several times. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye; his azure pupils caught hers, and he quickly looked away as she averted her own to the floor.

Both suddenly felt embarrassed at their own disregard of the various situations that lay ahead of them; but it was only when Nash had finished cooking the meal, had set the plate of eggs and fried vegetables down in front of her that they spoke again.

He gently pushed the plate towards her. "I know you don't eat…but you should try having something. Maybe it will help you get better."

She shook her head. "I seriously doubt eating mortal food with heal me, Nash." She sighed, slowly blinking her ruby eyes in frustration. "Well…it is morning. And I did promise to explain to you my condition, and my reasons for returning…would you still care to hear it?"

He nodded. "Of course."

"Very well…you see…when I left you, I traveled far and wide for many weeks—how many, I cannot say. But I only knew that I traveled back to my so-called hometown—the Blue Moon Village. I stayed there for a while, in peace; perhaps only partial peace. For you see, a few weeks after I returned, strange pains seemed to overcome me as I lay down each day. Migraines mostly; and then my legs would give out under me as I walked. I dismissed these as momentary annoyances, thought they would abate with time; however, I soon discovered it was not the case. The pains only deepened, and began to affect me at all odd hours of the day—it soon became clear that I could not escape this illness, or whatever it was…"

It was, perhaps, the most she had ever said in one sitting during the whole time he had ever known her. Realizing this, she stopped to look him in the eye. He was staring at her intently, one arm resting on the table, the other propping his head up. Between them the plate of hot food was slowly beginning to lose its warmth.

"And so…I decided to return back here. As I explained before; I knew that I could depend on you, that I could count on you to assist me should I require your help."

"Mmmm," he mumbled, steadying his eyes on her. "You came to me because you trusted me."

"Yes," she nodded, brushing the wispy hair out of her eyes.

He leaned back, folded his arms protectively over his chest as a frown crossed his lips. "You couldn't have gone to anyone else?"

She could hardly believe her ears. "What?"

"I—I'm sorry," he said quickly. "It's just…to tell you the truth, Sierra…I don't know if your coming here was such a good idea…for both of us."

Her face turned sharp as she eyed him. "What do you mean?"

"It's just…" he leaned forward, knocked absently on the surface of the table as he continued. "It's not that I'm not happy to see you, old girl…I am. Don't get me wrong. But…all this coming and going is a lot for me to handle. I'll admit it—it is."

"…explain what you mean."

"Alright," he said, his voice taking on a challenging tone as he sat up in the straw chair. "When you left six months ago, I tried to forget about you. I tried to forget you existed, I tried to forget the sight of you, the feel of you, everything about you. And for a while it didn't work. In fact, I failed miserably at first." A scowl, so characteristic to her own face yet alien to his, had formed on his lips. "Time passed…I learned to move on. I knew there was always going to be some part of me that missed you, but I suppressed it. I put it away. And up until last night, I was fine. Or almost fine, anyway." He hesitated for a moment, than continued. "And then you collapse at the foot of my doorway, sick and feverish—well, what was I supposed to do? Help you, of course…and now, now that you're back here with me, I learn the only reason you came was because you needed some help." His tone was dark now; angry as his azure eyes seemed to light on fire as he glared at her. "Not because you needed me…but because you felt sick."

"What…what are you getting at?" she asked, her heart genuinely touched by this sudden show of confused affection.

He sighed, the sound of his breathing sending a glimmer of weariness into her soul. "I'm sorry if I'm being harsh to you, old girl...you are kind of ill, after all…but can I ask you just one question?" She nodded, her ruby eyes confused as his resigned face settled upon her gaze.

"Did you ever—"

He hadn't even finished the sentence when a quick spasm suddenly erupted inside of her; her eyes flew upon in shock as she brought her hand to her stomach, a gasp escaping her lips as she nearly doubled over the pain. "Ah!" she whispered as the searing aches engulfed her stomach, filling her trembling body with ripples of intense soreness, quickly spreading from her stomach up through her chest, down to her legs, and filling every space in between with a kind of parasitic hurt; she fell forward, and in a moment she was lying in his arms once again, his troubled face bending over hers as he hugged her close to his body.

"Sierra! What's wrong? What's happening?"

It was as if ten thousand swords had pierced their way into her abdomen, bending and turning their rusted blades every which way into the soft flesh. Her hands trembled as she brought her fingers down to her stomach, her face twisted into an expression of pure agony.

"Oh god…Nash…it has never been this…this…"

She closed her eyes, her silvery head writhing on his shoulder as he quickly brought his hand to her stomach, laid it down upon her middle as he had the night before. "Here? Is it coming from here?" he asked her breathlessly.

She nodded weakly as the dull pain shot through her body once again, bringing forth a fresh surge of painful energy as she squeezed her eyes shut, her fingers leaving her stomach to pull on the collar of his white shirt. "You must help me, boy…I know I have greatly wronged you…but…even you hate me, loathe my presence…just…you must…"

Her last thought was a silent self-curse for her weakened spirit as her fingers gently loosened their grip on his shirt, her eyes fluttering and then closing, her body immediately going limp in his arms. The bloody tears had begun to form beneath her closed eyelids, and traced a small stream of anguish down her cheek; he quickly brushed it away, smoothing her pale, sweaty cheek with his hand.

Gently he stood, swinging her slender legs over his arms, her head limply swaying on his shoulder. "My old girl," he whispered, as he gingerly carried her across the room, towards the doorway leading to the living room, "I could never really hate you."

(-)

Dominguez was already awake as Nash grimly exited the bedroom, a weary look spread on his tanned face. She had collapsed again—and at such a convenient time, too. But it was not her fault; he knew this deep within him, but silently cursed the fact that she had to fall ill at the very moment he had been stating his convictions. One more look at her pale, suffering face and he was not sure he would able to continue down that line of thought.

The red bird, sensing its master's consternation, quickly hopped up onto his shoulder and gave him an affectionate bite on the ear. Nash's eyes danced over to the bird, and he forced out a smile.

"That woman is back," Dominguez began, without any display of politeness.

He nodded. "Yeah. Sure is."

"She seemed sick."

"She is. Very sick."

Dominguez cocked his head. "Will she stay for a long time?"

"Why you asking, boy?" Nash answered, grinning genuinely now. "Bet you just want to annoy her again." He would never forget how tormented Sierra had been whenever Dominguez had been around; the world-weary vampire had never compatible with Dominguez's often snappy nature, and had more than once given the bird a not so gentle push off the table. Luckily, the bird had been away most of the time Sierra had stayed with him; this time around, though, he wasn't sure the bird would so be so busy…

Dominguez did not reply; he merely swooped off Nash's shoulder and landed on the windowsill, ruffling his feathers as if in mischievous contemplation.

Their little talk was interrupted by a swift knock on the door. Nash's cerulean eyes immediately darted to this new source of distraction. "Who the hell could that be?" he murmured to no one in particular, his face troubled as he slowly advanced towards the wooden frame. Another disturbance…as if he hadn't had enough in one day. It couldn't be his mission commander, waiting with another assignment for him to complete; it was too early to be put out into the field again, and even if he had the option he could not go, not with Sierra in this condition…

The knocking suddenly stopped, and was replaced by a gruff, familiar voice calling through the door. "Hey kid! Gonna let me in or what?"

A rush of relief flooded his system as he hurried to the door and flung it open, grinning at the figure who stood staring back at him in the doorway, framed by a strong arch of Calerian sunshine. "Wang, you old scoundrel!"

The man standing in the doorway smiled warmly. He looked to be perhaps ten or so years older than Nash, with long black hair tied in a ponytail reaching halfway down his back, and a bushy mustache gracing his upper lip. He had a portly stature, and his muscled body was clothed in a flashy purple suit which was lined in gold thread. A series of feathered and beaded necklaces were hung about his neck, and when he smiled, it was obvious he had some gold teeth.

The man stepped inside and proceeded to give the blonde swordsman a generous slap on the back. "There you are, kid! Haven't seen you for ages!"

"Heh…would've been better if it stayed that way. Last time you were around, you gambled my nice little bonus down the drain!" Nash answered good-naturedly, closing the door behind him. "You should've told me you were going to be in town!"

"I did," the man answered back. "You didn't get my note?"

"Note?" Ah…the note. The same note Dominguez had slipped into his hand last night—the one he had let drift to the floor, and had promptly forgotten about once Sierra arrived. "Ah…guess I forgot to read it, Wang."

The man creased his eyebrows in slight annoyance. "Hey hey hey," he chided, giving Nash a mocking glare. "Stop with all this 'Wang' business. My name's Joker now—remember how I got reassigned to Unit Twelve? We've all been given code names…that's mine. Can't have you calling me 'Wang' when everyone else calls me Joker, now."

Joker—Joker. Hmm, the name was fitting for him. Nash quickly recalled the first time they had ever laid eyes on each other; when the swordsman was little more than a lucky spy, trying to escape from a mistaken situation, and the older man was an experienced mercenary, ready to inflict a good amount of pain on those who tried to run away; nonetheless, the young man had impressed him with his fighting prowess, and had earned his way out of confinement.

"Hah. Joker…right. Maybe the name will rub off on you and we can earn us some money up at the bar."

"Right, just what I was thinking!" the purple-clad man answered, a sly look now appearing on his face. "Not busy, are you? As my father always said, you can never start drinking too early in the day…"

"Ah…now hold on," Nash answered, the grin slowly fading from his face. "I can't leave just yet."

"Why not? Waiting for something?"

"No…it's just…I'm looking after somebody right now. Somebody's who hasn't been doing too well lately."

Joker whistled. "Oh, is that right? Who's this mysterious somebody?"

Nash averted his eyes. As much as he would have liked to keep his relationship with Sierra, and her mysterious illness, on the quiet side, he knew Joker would probably press the issue until he learned the cause of Nash's sudden discomfort.

"Well? C'mon, you can tell good ol' Joker," the purple-clad man prodded, putting a hand on his hip. Dominguez squawked in amusement, prompting a glare from his master. Should he? One side of him told him that his whole situation should be kept secret, that he could handle it by himself; but another part of him, confused and slightly unnerved, protested. It was bad enough that Sierra had just shown up, without any warning, ill and feverish one night; it became even worse as he realized he had no medical training, and would not be able to discern her sickness unless he brought her to a real doctor…and well, that was out of the question, since any doctor he brought her to would surely sell them out to Harmonia in no time flat—imagine, a vampire in captivity! Oh, he could just see the headlines…

"You have some experience with healing people, don't you, old pal?" he asked, his voice sounding slightly more calculating than he had intended it to sound as his eyes shifted to his portly friend.

Joker cocked his head. "Well, I did study to become a field doctor for two years before I quit and took up this line of work. Forget about that?"

Nash shook his head. "Not at all. Which is why…could you do me a favor?"

"What kind of favor?"

"Look…my friend here is pretty sick. I don't know what's wrong with her…well, I have a hunch, but—"

"Her?" Joker repeated, letting his tongue roll over the single syllable. His mouth slowly creased into a wide grin under his bushy mustache as he gave Nash a sly grin. "Uh oh, I knew there was trouble. What'd you do to her, eh? Give it to her too hard last night?"

Nash sighed. Ahh, beloved crudeness. In any other case he would have loved to kid around, but this was definitely not the time. "Remember that woman I told you about? The one who left me a few months ago?"

"Yeah…she the same one?"

"You got it."

"Ah, she come crawling back to ya? Begging you to take her back?"

The corners of his mouth almost twitched as he imagined Sierra crawling on her hands and knees. "No, not exactly. But the bottom line is…she's in a really bad condition. She tells me she always has headaches, and her legs hurt…and she's been having fainting spells."

Joker silently stroked his chin for a few moments, giving Nash a thoughtful look as he considered the possibilities. "You should take her to a doctor then. Sounds serious."

"That's the thing…I can't. My friend is…unique, I guess you could say. One of a kind. She's a little different than an ordinary woman."

Joker raised his eyebrows. "Well…you told me she was one hell of a woman, but I didn't expect her to be that special!" He sighed matter-of-factly and gave Nash a gentle grin. "Tell you what, kid. They didn't train me in a hospital for two years for nothing. If you let me have a look at her maybe we can figure out what's wrong."

The blonde boy's azure eyes glinted in the sunshine as he gave his old friend a grateful smile.

To be continued…

Note: Alright, Sierra's illness still hasn't been revealed…but no we're at least a little bit closer to finding out what it is, right? Ol' Joker's gonna find out for us! While you're waiting, please review…I need comments and critiques (and chocolate) to survive!

GreatLight432: Thanks for reviewing…perhaps you've guessed the true cause of the illness…

Pipp-ORK: Well, some people claim to be vampire experts…or vampires themselves…

musank: My belief is that curiosity never killed the cat!

Aoi-butterfly: Thanks for the luv!

BlUe-BoI: uh…you really think so?

Virtue: Might be right, might be wrong…

On an interesting note…this is the first I've ever included a full-fledged third character into my Nash/Sierra fics. If you'll recall, my other N/S fics were strictly just the two of them…and Joker being "Wang" is canon, by the way. He and Nash met each other in Suikogaiden II.

In the next chapter: Joker and Nash examine Sierra, and come to some surprising results…