Note: All Suikoden elements belong to Konami.

Special note: In Nash's flashback, Sylvia is only four years old (as opposed to the present time, where she is seven).

Rebirth

Chapter 16: Revelation

by ArchFaith

With a quiet sigh he pulled back from her, his hands still gripping her slender shoulders with a tight, determined grasp. His lowered eyes slowly rose to meet her melancholy gaze; his expression held no trace of humor or lightheartedness. This was a serious matter, a wondrous and strange matter he would deal with now. What a night it had been; to think Sylvia was lost for good, to find out that his former lover had found her by chance, to sit and talk after seven years of isolation…and how he had to tell the tale. It was ironic, he mused, that he knew everything about the little girl when it had been Sierra who had carried and nourished the child in her body.

He breathed in once more before he spoke, his voice low and intimate. "I've never repeated this story to anybody," he whispered, his azure eyes locking into Sierra's ruby stare. "It happened such a long time ago…but I can remember it very clearly." At this his expression suddenly broke down; he gave her a small smile as he pulled the vampire into a light embrace. He could not risk any spies overhearing what exactly he was about to say; for, as much as he was favored and praised by the bishops, there was no telling when Sasarai would decide to check on him and his assignment.

He spoke into her ear now, his lips brushing against her hair as he absently ran a finger through the soft silvery strands. "Those first few months, Sierra…I didn't think about where she came from, or how you and I were able to conceive her. All I knew was that she was alive, and I needed to take care of her…and that she was mine. That I loved her." He closed his eyes as he remembered the first time she had been placed in his arms, a tiny, scared little bundle looking up at him with the bluest eyes he had ever seen. "It was so different from anything I had ever done before…you know me, old girl. My history…from an aristocrat to a mercenary, and anything in between. But a father? I never thought I'd see the day…" His voice trailed as Sierra gently placed a pale hand against his chest, right against his steadily beating heart.

"Yes," she whispered encouragingly. "Continue, Nash. I will be silent until you finish. But your heart…I have not heard it beat since…" She stopped, drumming her fingers against his chest as she gently rested her head against his shoulder. "But continue."

He closed his eyes as he felt the steady beating of his heart develop into a quickened, fast-paced hum. "Well…you get the picture, anyhow. I don't know how I managed to do it, but it happened. Somehow, we both survived, Sylvia and I. I took care of her, made sure she had enough to eat and clothes to wear...and everything was fine for a while. Every now and then I still wondered about her…her rune was still there, after all. It never faded; I make her wear gloves when she goes outside." The vampire gently nodded in understanding, recalling the gloves the girl had been so reluctant to remove in front of her.

"Things went well for such a long time," Nash continued, his voice wavering, "until…well, when she was four years old an old friend decided to pay us a visit."

"Old friend?" the vampire whispered inquiringly. "Who?"

"Let's just say the whole thing came as a huge revelation. A revelation of Sylvia's origin…and our story, yours and mine, as well."

-

He dreamt of the last time he had seen her face; her pale, haughty visage, the eyes that had shown no remorse as they coldly stared at the tiny bundle in his arms.

"Dad?"

For the last four years he had not been able to stop thinking about her—of running his fingers through her silvery hair; of placing his tanned hand against her pale cheek; of kissing her soft lips…

"Dad…"

And even though she had done the unthinkable—even though she had abandoned them—it was impossible to erase her memory from his thoughts. And as hard as he tried to do so…every time he glanced at the child in his arms he was always reminded of the one he had lost…

"Dad!"

With a sudden flash of azure Nash sat up in bed, half-surprised as he looked around in expectation, the warm sheets sliding against his body as he propped himself up against the mattress, his eyes straining to adjust to the dim light of the moon against the flowing curtains.

"Sylvia?" he asked cautiously, bringing a hand up to his face, rubbing his tired eyes as he glanced towards the foot of his bed, aware now of the added weight against the soft mattress.

The small form slowly advanced, crawling towards him as it slowly came into the half-light. It was her—the girl. Sylvia. The azure eyes were his, even Sierra had admitted that; and the platinum blonde head of hair was a cross between Nash's dark blonde strands and Sierra's silvery locks. But the contours of her face—the shape of her cheeks, her forehead, her chin—this all belonged to Sierra. Bestowed upon her by a mother who never even held her…who never even desired to hold her when she was born…

It was as if the little girl could read his mind; as his eyes adjusted to the dark room, he could slowly discern a look of distress carved into her delicate features. Her azure eyes were narrowed, and her lips were set into a pout; she looked increasingly upset as she drew nearer to him, her small arms painfully white-looking against her small pink nightgown.

Within a moment she was in his lap, burying her wavy head against his chest as he brought his arms around her in confusion. "Sylvia…what's wrong, little one?" he asked, hugging the girl tight to him. Eyes still heavy with sleep, he blinked as he looked down at her blonde head. "Did you have a bad dream? You can sleep with me if you want…"

In a fashion befitting a little girl, Sylvia looked up at him and frowned, creases marring her smooth forehead. "I…I don't feel good," she whispered, snuggling deeper into Nash's warm lap. "I feel sick."

Frowning, the blonde swordsman lifted a cautious hand to the girl's forehead as she closed her eyes, leaning against him as he placed his other arm around her. "Gods," he whispered, feeling the immediate flash of hotness that had presently settled upon the child's head. "You're burning up…"

"Mmmm," the girl moaned, scrunching her tiny fingers into balls as she continued to bury her face into Nash's muscular shoulder. "I feel really bad," she repeated, in typical child's manner.

The swordsman looked down at her with a sympathetic expression upon his face. Surely this was not the first time Sylvia had come down with a fever; usually once or twice each month she would come to him in the middle of the night, groaning and complaining about some kind of slight illness. It was nothing much to worry about; he had handled things like this before. And he would handle them again.

With a sigh, he gently gathered the girl in his arms as he drew back the beige sheets from his prone form. "Don't worry kid," he whispered in soothing tones, down into her ear. "You just have a little fever, that's all."

"But I didn't do anything bad!" the child protested, her head still nestled against her father's breastbone. "I did everything you said I should, Dad…"

"It's not your fault, Sylvie," he answered, swinging his legs off the bed and down onto the floor below. "Sometimes people just get sick for no reason." The poor child, he mused, as he gently stood, pulling the little girl closer so as not to drop her. Children, it seemed, always blamed themselves for happenings that were not at all their fault. It had been his experience so far, and with Sylvia it would probably continue even when she was a bit older. Sighing, he quickly wondered if Sylvia also blamed herself for the absence of her mother; every now and then he found himself cornered by her innocent questions, her inquiries about her mother and how exactly it was that she had been born. Were you married to her? she would ask, her wavy blonde hair gently ruffled by the wind as they walked, hand in hand, through the bustling Calerian marketplace. Was she beautiful? she questioned, looking up at him across the small table set for a quick dinner. Did she love us?

Sighing, he quickly set his mind back to the matter at hand. Medicine…well, there was plenty of that in the pantry, in the storage boxes set aside for such as an event as the illness of a little girl. Though she felt some discomfort now, Sylvia would be fine in a few hours; it always came to that. Generally, she was a healthy child, athletic and intelligent; sickness only came very occasionally to her small body. She would be fine.

Giving her a comforting pat on the back, he gently rose and walked through the open doorway of the bedroom, Sylvia clutching at his loose white shirt. His bare feet padded against the cold floor of the living room, the hems of his loose brown pants trailing against the stones. He gingerly set the little girl down on the large couch, making sure to set a thick pillow under her blonde head. "Don't worry," he said, patting her head gently. "I'll make you something to eat, then we'll give you some medicine. You'll be okay in no time flat, hm?"

Sylvia sighed, pouting her lips in a gesture that suddenly caused Nash to think of Sierra's pouting, displeased expression; though, instead of complaining and acting haughty as her mother was certainly fond of doing, she merely shifted onto her side, squeezing her eyes shut. "Okay," she agreed, tucking her small hands under her head.

Nash tapped her cheek affectionately, his expression growing more serious as he looked down at the small child. His dear Sylvia…the only thing that had ever really belonged to him. She relied and depended upon him for everything—warmth, shelter. Love. The one person he would give up his life to save…the only one…

Every time I look at her I think of you, old girl.

With a quick sigh, he stood up from his kneeling position on the floor. She needed to eat something; the herbal medicine would not cure her as well if she did not have any nourishment in her body. Something light would do…maybe some hot Harmonian soup would serve to calm her insides and help the medicine go down more easily. He briskly walked into the kitchen, turning on one of the old oil lamps perched on a low shelf. Mentally recalling the memory from his early childhood, he recited the recipe in his mind as he opened a large wooden drawer. Reaching his hand inside, he quickly felt around for the vegetables buried underneath the rough bags of grain and millet…they should have been somewhere in there…

"Dad…" Sylvia called again faintly, from her comatose spot on the couch. "Nashie…"

"Hold on, Sylvie," he called back as he triumphantly pulled out an orange handful of carrots. "The soup should be ready in about twenty minutes…"

She coughed minutely. "No, that's not it," she sighed. "Didn't you hear it?"

"Hear what?"

"There's someone at the door."

Paying her no heed, he continued digging around for the necessary ingredients inside the drawer. "Don't be silly, kid. Why would there be anyone at the door at this hour?"

He expected the conversation to end at that, but Sylvia apparently thought otherwise; she stubbornly sat up from her place on the couch, azure eyes gleaming with determination as she eyed the busy figure of her father in the kitchen. "Dad…there really is somebody."

"I told you, Sylvie…there's no one there. Who would come looking for us so late at night?" Nash answered, finally locating the tall green stalks he had been searching for. Reaching into the shallow darkness, he pulled out the vegetables as Sylvia narrowed her eyes.

"She really wants to speak to you, Nashie."

"She?" At this the blonde swordsman spun around, still gripping the handful of greens between his fingers. "What are you talking about?"

"The woman at the door," Sylvia answered, crossing her arms over her chest as she sank back down into the soft cushions. Sick as she was, she would not be unheard; the attitudes and strategies of her mother were apparent in her behavior as she looked him straight in the eye. "She says she really wants to talk to you."

A rapidly building sense of anticipation had settled itself in Nash's stomach as he slowly laid the greens down on the small wooden kitchen table. A woman…at the door? Impossible…he quickly ran through the list of women who visited him often; there was Sylvia's caretaker, the old woman Joker knew as a child who looked after Sylvia when Nash was away—no. Why would she call on them in the middle of the night? Old as she was, she was amazingly healthy for her age…if she were ill, she was sure to call Joker first, before him. Mio, the kind-hearted nurse who now and then came with her doctor friend to check up on Sylvia? But a night visit…that idea was just stupid. The blonde swordsman sighed as he walked swiftly out of the kitchen, reviewing the list of people it could have been. Lena and Yulie? But they only visited once a year…and their last visit had been only two months before. There had been a few women from the unit whom he had briefly been involved with, but those relationships meant nothing, really; they were just girls who were looking to have fun.

As he crossed the room he suddenly felt his stomach flutter uncontrollably; the sudden hope burst through his system, making his heart beat faster as he reached for the doorknob. She would not dare to come back; would she? Impossible, he kept reminding himself as he turned the metal knob in his hand, hearing the mechanical click of the lock. In the split second before he flung open the door, he found himself praying that it was indeed the familiar silver-haired vampire he had known so long ago; even if she had abandoned them, he would be so relieved to see her that he would allow her to explain before pointing an accusatory finger. Yet…at the same time he found himself hoping that it was anyone but her waiting at the door; relieved as he would be to see her, he was sure the anger would well up inside him before she could say a single word…

He opened the door.

-

A glint of silver.

One little glimpse of the grayish color and he flung open the door in expectation. What greeted him, however, was a person very different than the one he had anticipated.

Silver hair, yes. It was long, tied up in a high ponytail, and reached down to the tall woman's shapely hips. She was clad entirely in black, in a serpentine dress that was held onto her voluptuous body with thin black straps. A high slit starting at her thigh gave him an ample glimpse of her slender legs, and her arms were swathed in long, dramatic opera gloves. Her blue eyes gleamed with an almost seductive edge as he placed one hand on her hip, smooth lips stretched into a knowing smile.

"Jeane!"

"Hello Nash," she said softly, cocking her head. "It's been such a long time." Peering sideways into the living room behind him, she quickly caught sight of the curious Sylvia, who was craning her neck to see who it was at the door. "Quickly," the mage whispered. "You should act like you know me…it's in her best interest."

"What the hell are you doing here!" Nash shot back, unable to restrain his emotion. He had been building up his thoughts for the wrong person, indeed; he could not lie to himself now.

Sierra.

"What are you doing here?" he asked again, in a softer tone of voice. No matter how surprising this visit was, Jeane was right; if Sylvia suspected that Nash had been waiting for someone else, it would only further arouse her childish interest. He could not have that.

Jeane cocked her head and smiled, crossing her arms over her ample chest as she leaned against the doorframe. "I'm here in Caleria on business, Nash…why, is there a rule stating that a simple little rune mage can't come by to see her old friend?"

She turned away from the swordsman's quizzical expression to eye the little girl sitting up on the couch. "And I think I know who this is," she said, grinning, as she slithered past Nash into the living room. "What a sweet little girl," she cooed, kneeling down next to the couch. She looked straight into the girl's azure eyes and smiled sweetly. "What's your name, darling?"

"Sylvia," the girl answered without hesitation.

"Sylvia, hm? You look so much like your mother, dear."

"My mother? Did you know her?"

"Jeane," Nash said warningly, finally gaining a grip on himself. He had been so expectant to find Sierra at the door that Jeane's presence had sent him into a temporary shock; shaking himself out of it, he quickly reminded himself that even though Jeane could be considered an old ally, her sudden appearance might not be a friendly gesture. He crossed the room swiftly and placed a hand on the mage's shoulder. "What are you doing here?" he repeated, his voice low, his tone slightly more harsh than he would have liked it to be.

The mage had placed a gloved hand against the girl's hot forehead. "Tsk tsk tsk," she mumbled deprecatingly. "What are you doing to this child, Nash? She needs a mix of Karayan spider herb and Outland redgrass. That's the best way to cure a fever."

"I was going to give her an old Harmonian recipe," the swordsman replied, scowling. He noted that the mage had dodged his question yet again; but he couldn't display overt anger or confusion in front of Sylvia. "You haven't answered my question."

Shaking her head, the rune mage gracefully rose, placing her hands on her hips. "I just need to speak with you, that's all," she said simply, turning to face him. "I have some important information I think you might want to know about."

"Information about what?" Nash asked, his voice rising. "Is this about…?"

"Sort of," Jeane replied, cocking her head. "Look…is there somewhere we can speak alone?"

"Hey…what's going on?" Sylvia asked, looking up at them in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

Dammit, Nash thought as he looked down at her. Whatever Jeane had to say, Sylvia could not possibly be exposed to it…

"Technical things, Sylvie," he said, giving her a pat on the forehead. "Jeane here is an old friend of mine…she came to talk to me about some papers concerning the recent uprising in Le Buque. Interesting, isn't it?"

Reverse psychology did have its advantages; the child's face dropped as a seemingly exotic new playmate turned into just another one of her father's colleagues. "Oh…alright," she answered indifferently, falling back down against the soft cushions. She crossed her arms in disappointment as Jeane gave her a smile.

"Sorry, darling," she said, giving Sylvia a pat on the head. "I'm afraid I'm not much fun for you."

"It's okay," Sylvia said faintly, frowning. "Dad," she moaned, "I still feel sick…"

Apparently the sight of a new, exciting presence had caused her to momentarily forget her fever; now that her illusions of fun had been destroyed, she quickly slipped back into her illness. Shaking his head matter-of-factly, Nash went to her and lightly touched her warm cheek. "Yeah, yeah," he whispered. "Just wait a few minutes, kid. Try to get some sleep while I make something for you."

He turned back to the mage, who stood there with her arms positioned innocently on her hips. "Would you like me to help you make something for her?" she offered, smiling. "I'd be delighted, you know."

Raising a suspicious brow, he nodded; soon he found himself leading her into the small kitchen, her high-heeled shoes scraping against the stone floor of the pantry as he led her over to the small stove, bare except for a single cooking pot. The silver-haired woman looked around inquisitively; folding her arms behind her back, she gave Nash a demure look before leaning up against the wall by the stove.

"Let me explain myself," she said calmly, a smile still upon her face. "I know you're confused. And I know that it wasn't me you were expecting to see when you opened that door."

"You're damn right," he spat out, unable to contain his anger any longer. "Why the hell are you here, Jeane?"

She sighed; it was a long, whispered sigh that seemed to bounce against the walls of the small abode, seemingly preparing the atmosphere for her words. Whatever was to follow would certainly be something of great interest; as much as he doubted the mage's intentions, he could not help but feel that she was somehow on his side.

"I heard the rumors," she whispered, momentarily looking back into the living room to make sure the little girl was not listening. "That the pale, silver-haired woman was gone…and that she left you with a child."

He nodded. "So what? What business is that of yours?"

"Surely she told you about my interest in her and the child's well-being."

He crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes as he looked to her. "She told me about your affair during the war…and your proposition to her when she was pregnant."

A look of surprise momentarily crossed Jeane's face; in an instant it was gone, replaced by a suddenly nervous-looking smile. "Then that means she left us, both, doesn't it?" she asked, her tone remaining even. "But I haven't come here to waste your time, Nash Latkje….I came here because I want to tell you about the child."

"Sylvia?" the swordsman asked incredulously. "What do you mean, to tell me about her? What could you possibly know about her that I don't? She's lived with me all these years...the first time you even met her was a few minutes ago..."

Jeane chuckled, delicately bringing a white gloved hand to her lips. "I've never been one to arouse a father's scorn," she whispered. "But it is true…you know her better than I do, in terms of her temperament, her behavior, her likes and dislikes…you are, after all, her father." At this she leaned forward slowly, her heavy lashes dark against her light-colored eyes. "But you don't know her secrets, Nash…she's a very special little girl, you know. It's a good thing you decided to keep her after Sierra took off…"

"What are you trying to say, Jeane?" he asked, his voice low. "Are you trying to tell me…?"

She nodded. "Yes. I know more about Sylvia's origins that you have ever dared to research."

He felt a dull surprise, swirling inside him like a nervous gust of wind, wishing to be free yet refusing to break away. "How did you find this out?"

"A mage has plenty of resources available to her," she answered, smoothing a strand of silver out of her eyes. "Now," she continued, coming closer to him, her gloved hands clutching his shoulders as she pulled him into a half-embrace. "Will you listen to what I have to say?"

"Yes," he whispered, before reason could tell him to stop. "Go ahead."

She placed her mouth against his ear, his lips brushing against his earlobe as she whispered, slowly and clearly, her voice low as the gentle sound seemed to flow into his brain.

"When Sierra came to me and told me that she was pregnant, I myself couldn't believe it. Now, I've seen many things, Nash, unimaginable things…improbable events, great mysteries, all sorts of strange things. But a pregnant vampire? Impossible…of course, you were probably thinking the same thing when you learned about it." He felt her lips smooth against the bridge of his ear; she was smiling. "Oh, my Sierra…I never did know what exactly she saw in you, past your pretty boy looks. But nevertheless, she did see something in you; and so naturally, you became lovers. And out of your union came a child.

"I know all this because, of course, she told me about it when you two happened upon my shop four years ago. But after all was said and done…after she chose you over me….I knew that I wouldn't be able to rest until I knew why she was pregnant, and what sort of magic brought it about. So I researched…mountains upon mountains of scrolls, texts, ancient manuscripts…I must have read thousands. After a few months I closed up shop in Caleria and moved eastward, determined to find what I was looking for. I needed to know; I'm a very old woman, Nash, and I probably know more than all the libraries and archives of the world combined. But this was something I didn't know, and something I ached to find out...why my former lover had been impregnated when such a feat is impossible by the laws of nature…

"And I found it…there, buried under rotting piles of paper in an old cavern, so encased in grime that I had to soak it in cleaning acid before I could properly interpret it. But I found it…and you'll want to know it. I'm sure."

"What is it?" he asked breathlessly, suddenly grasping her shoulders; her narrative had drawn him into a deep reverie, and he broke out of it with an astonishing grasp about what he was about to hear: the truth about his own daughter, facts long awaited and wondered about, a story he had never been able to find. He suddenly pulled her nearer, eyes widened in curiosity, his hands tightening around her gloved arms. "Tell me. Go on."

Jeane sighed, slowly opening and closing her eyes as she looked up to him once again. "The scrolls were runic legends…ancient manuscripts that foretell the future of the world, and the future of the true rune bearers. There was a legend I discovered that exactly fit Sierra's condition…I have no doubt that the prophecy has been fulfilled in Sylvia's birth.

"The legend says that there will come a time when a true rune bearer will be selected among the multitudes, a young soul whose life will be cruelly taken from her, and her duty to the rune will begin in a torrent of death and grief.

"For hundreds of years, she will wander the lands, forlorn but still determined, gaining power and mystery as many come to know of her existence. Still, her time will be spent in loneliness and longing…longing for the mortal life that she could have once had.

"This longing will manifest itself inside her…it will take form and develop into a being almost separate from her, a new soul created from the distress and misery within her, kindled into being by the power of her true rune.

"The rune-created soul will stay within her for hundreds of years more, attached to her body until she meets someone who will show her kindness, someone who will give her the peace and solitude she has wished for for so many years….you, Nash."

A sudden tear traced its way down Nash's tanned cheek; his throat grew tight, and he felt as if his lungs would collapse at any second with the weight of these new revelations being imparted upon him. Gathering his strength, he took a deep breath as Jeane watched him, her expression grave and serious. "Go on," he whispered with a deep sigh. "Go on."

"And when she comes into union with him—when their bodies know the peace of unity—this other soul inside her will come into flesh form, guided by the wishes of the rune-bearer and the hope of the one who loves her. This rune-created soul is itself a rune—it is the only time in history a child will be born with a rune.

"This child—your child—is a rune bearer, Nash. A bearer of the rune of—"

-

"Ah!"

The horrified gasp escaped her lips; the shaking vampire almost fell into the swordsman's arms, her trembling hands gripping his arms for support as the bloody tears quickly formed around her ruby eyes, pooling against her lashes as she felt her stomach wrench, her mouth forming into a terrified expression as Nash gently pressed her against him.

"Be strong, old girl," he whispered, stroking her silvery hair as she let the tears flow, staining the shoulder of his green cloak as she squeezed his arms in alarm. "You don't need to suffer any longer."

"Which rune does she bear, Nash?" the vampire asked, her voice a tiny whisper as she forced herself to look at him. "Which rune?"

He looked into Sierra's pained ruby eyes; gently, he leaned forward, giving her a kiss on the forehead as he embraced her, tucking her head under his neck.

"Sylvia bears the True Rune of—"

She felt her dead heart pounding, her legs shaking as the sentence filtered through her troubled heart.

"Rebirth."

To be continued…

End notes: Can you believe it? I haven't updated since September…man, college ate up so much of my time since then. I've been doing soo many things…when it's not school work it's working in my little office job, when it's not my office job it's fencing or exercising, and when it's none of those, I'm handling the affairs of my anime club, to whom I was elected vice president!

I've also debuted my Sierra costume at Katsucon, and I'm planning to wear it at Anime Boston and Otakon this year. Pictures can be found at the link to my cosplay site in my profile….I'd appreciate it if you all told me what you think of me dressed up as everyone's favorite sarcastic vampire, Sierra.

I've also gotten a new boyfriend since school started…we fight a fair bit, but we can't go without each other. So here's to my new Nashie :) And here's to summer, and more time to write and finish this story!

Eni Li'Nave: Yup, Nash's "insider knowledge" really helps out when he hits the stock market in Caleria…Sylvia sure is a little lady luck!

by.ur.side :Thanks so much for all your kind words! I hope I've reached my goal—my goal being to write a story that I think properly satisfies the definitive Nash/Sierra story. Glad my writing keeps you awake.

PsychoLeopard: Suspense and melodrama…what every good story needs to survive!

celeste9: Hehe, you were right…college is a lot of fun once everything settles down. It's good to know that I have a second home to go to.

Atriedes: Well, here's the chappie…hope it satisfied you!

Next chapter: Now that Sierra knows why Sylvia was born to her and Nash, will she leave them once again? And can Nash—and Sylvia—forgive her for the pain she caused them? Stay tuned!