Hi!
Okay, it has been over a year since my last update on this. I honestly had no desire to leave it on the shelf for that long, and I really must apologize. But here's the next part. Please enjoy it! Feel free to bombard me with questions, comments, concerns, et cetera. Please no flaming though.
Big thanks go out to SVR and Nate for sticking with my lazy/busy self and kicking me repeatedly in the interest of getting updates. Also, all reviewers are loved and appreciated, and I hope you still enjoy my little baby fic!
Warning: Anyone who may be offended or distressed by a character non-graphically contemplating suicide may want to be careful reading this part.
*
"Where could he be?" Old Maison asked, agitated. Bart hadn't been late to a meeting all week. Was he sick of being good, now? Had he decided to revert to his old ways? Maison paced back and forth, hoping the Young Master would still show up.
Citan was no less upset. He was still trying to figure out what had initially triggered the transformation into a responsible adult over night, and now he turns around and gets irresponsible, again! It was so inconsiderate of him, so typical, that Citan was seriously frustrated.
Sigurd, however, felt remarkably unconcerned. He wished Bart had told someone where he was going, but he was fully of the opinion that Bart needed a break. He was going to insist he take one, here in a bit, but it looked like the young King had taken the initiative. Sigurd had found himself worried over the heaviness that seemed to have settled into his little brother, the resignation, the darkness that had taken the place of the light in his eye. Whatever had caused this 'reform,' it surely wasn't worth robbing him of all his joy, was it?
Suddenly, Fei burst into the room, ponytail flying behind him, and nearly getting stuck in the door as it banged shut. His brown eyes were wide with alarm. "Doc!" he cried, sounding on the brink of tears. "Bart's gone!"
Citan stood up, seeing Fei's fear and urgency, but not fully comprehending, yet. "Easy, Fei. How do you know? Maybe he just went off into some quiet corner of the palace…"
Fei shook his head impatiently. "No! He's nowhere to be found…and neither is Andvari!"
Sigurd lunged to his feet. "What?!?!" he roared, his blue eye sparking with rage. "How did he get Andvari out without anyone noticing? Who the hell was on guard duty? I'll wring his neck, I swear I will! Just let me get my hands on him." Citan had to physically restrain the taller man from charging off to do just that. Fei's dark face had paled almost to Id's shade as he tried to appear unthreatening; he'd never seen Sigurd in a full rage, before, even when he flattened Ramsus with one hit. Consequently, he was more than a little frightened. But he had more news, so he had to speak up again.
"Um…Ramsus says he thinks he can find out what happened. He said he wanted your input, Sigurd and Maison, since you knew him so much longer than the rest of us."
Sigurd stilled in Citan's grip. "Is he in the Gear Dock?" At Fei's mute nod, Sigurd sighed. He turned to the man restraining him. "You can let me go now, Hyu. I promise I won't kill anyone this morning, unless they're really askin' for it."
Citan quirked a brow at the qualifier and the slip of Sigurd's mostly-Proper Ignas, but let go. Sigurd was out the door in a flash, boots clicking on the stone floors with remarkable rapidity. Citan, Maison, and Fei followed a moment later.
Upon reaching the hangar, they found Sigurd already gazing attentively at Ramsus, who was seated on one of Vendetta's large feet. Emeralda was near Ramsus, and Billy was standing by Sigurd, equally attentive. They moved to stand beside Sigurd, also.
Fei piped up first. "Well? Are you gonna do this, or not?" Ramsus shot him a glare just shy of murderous, then looked up at Vendetta's face. His lips moved as if he was talking to the machine, and Fei was convinced the artificial man had finally flipped (or maybe, flipped worse). Then he turned back to them, and his face was grim.
"Vendetta says that last night, just prior to midnight, Fatima came in here dressed like a Gear tech. At that time, he apparently entered his Gear, where he remained for several minutes. Approximately an hour later, Vendetta's sensor's picked up an electromagnetic pulse from inside Andvari. He says Dan told them that he was taking Bart away for a while, and left. He says, also, that Andvari explained no further."
Fei rolled his eyes, openly skeptical, but Citan frowned and assumed thinking posture. "Who's Dan?"
"Dan is…the person inside Andvari. The Relic, the Anima that matches Bart's Animus."
Citan began to tap his foot. "So we know that Bart did not take the Gear on his own, but how are we going to find them, when we don't even know what this 'Dan' is like?"
Emeralda spoke up. "He is very like Bart. He is passionate, violent, intelligent, and brave. He loves Bart, and would do anything in his power to protect him from hurt. He talks with Xenogears and Joseph a lot."
Citan frowned again, but Ramsus beat him to it. "Joseph is to Renmazuo as Dan is to Andvari."
Fei glared suspiciously at Ramsus. He'd been attacked a few times too often by this man to trust him completely in any matter. "How do we know that you're telling the truth? I've never heard the Gears talking; how can you?"
Unexpectedly, Emeralda stepped forward. "I vouch for him. Gears do talk, the Omni-Gears quite a lot, in fact, and Vendetta did say what he said." They all stared at the girl in surprise. She very rarely did anything of the sort, yet here she was, telling them all that Ramsus was totally right? Then she smiled, Elly's smile, at the other. "Go ahead, Kahr-niisan."
If she had wanted to shock them into silence, mission accomplished.
Ramsus nodded a thank you at her, then continued. "Well, we know the types of places Bart would like, we know the places a Gear can't get to, and we also know that Andvari was around during Roni Fatima's life. Fei," he asked, turning to his archrival. "Do you think you could search places that might mean something to Roni? Dan may be acting on Roni's experiences. After all, Dan hasn't known Bart that long, so he may fall back on the memories he made with Roni."
Fei shrugged. "Most everything that mattered to Roni was here in Aveh, or in Nisan. Especially right here in Bledavik. I can try looking at a few other places, but I doubt it will turn up anything."
"We need to check all possibilities," Sigurd said quietly, though his lack of volume didn't prevent anyone from hearing him. His single eye seemed to be blocking all of them out of his thoughts, and the grim line of his mouth was forbidding. "We will need sand buggies if we want to get anywhere without Gears. I will go retrieve us some." He walked away, his gait not betraying the rage Fei, at least, now knew lurked under the surface.
After a few minutes, Citan finally snapped then out of inaction. "Well, then. Since we will probably spend a lot of time searching, everyone should get ready for a long day. Make sure you take food and plenty of water, as well as weapons. Good luck."
*
It was just past noon when the call came in, from Billy, of all people. A simple transmission over the rough radios they had, consisting of "This is Billy. I've found Andvari. Wait for further details," was all that alerted them. The former Etone was barely on speaking terms with the former pirate, most of the time; how he had managed to find him so quickly was certainly one of the questions of the moment, right up there with whatever the hell Bart was up to.
After a few minutes more, longitude/latitude coordinates crackled across their speakers, and the searchers turned their buggies toward the location they'd been given. It was an insignificant piece of coastline; beautiful, but near no landmarks, or anything resembling civilization. There were high igneous cliffs, a beautiful, if narrow, black sand beach, and pretty shells strewn all over.
And a huge red Omni-Gear perched atop the cliffs.
All of the searchers jumped out of their vehicles, and scrambled to where the Etone stood, waiting for them. He nodded over to where the Gear stood. A tiny form was visible against the huge red machine and the black of the cliffs, and they started toward it.
Sitting on the edge of the cliff was Bart. He was dangling his feet over the side, swinging them slowly back and forth over the beach far below. His customary braid was undone, in favor of a loose pony-tail, and his golden bangs floated loosely on the soft sea-breeze. His grimy clothing—deliberately grimy, or so it appeared—had been cast aside except for his pants. The sun accented his dark skin beautifully, casting golden highlights and deep shadows over the contours of his fit body. They could not see his face.
"Oi, Bart!" Fei hailed. The blond turned to face them, and Fei and Elly were rocked back by what they saw there. Even the others, who did not comprehend completely all they saw, were stunned by the face looking back at them.
Onto Bart's young face had settled fresh lines. Not enough to make him look 'old', but enough to make him look 'not young'. He looked slimmer, as if he hadn't been eating (which was probably true), and his hair fell into his face in golden waves, which he absently pushed aside.
Fei's heart just about stopped. /Roni… He looks just like Roni!/
Bart's lips turned up in a tired smile. "Hey, Lacan. 'S been a while."
"Roni," Fei murmured, and heard the stir in the people with him. Only Elly was unmoved, having already suspected from the moment Bart turned to face them.
The blond smiled at him, and gestured to a space beside him on the edge of the cliff. "Come. Sit. You look tired."
Fei moved to sit beside him. "How've you been, Roni. I haven't seen you in…it seems like forever!"
The blond shrugged and went back to gazing over the shifting sea. "Not much, really. Got married, had kids, made a kingdom, died, reincarnated. You know, the usual." At Fei's surprised and skeptical look, Roni laughed. "Oh, Fei, I'm still Bart! And Bart is, and has always been, Roni. There's no real difference."
Fei shrugged uncomfortably. "So…ah…what are you doing out here?"
Bart smiled again. "Well, Dan brought me out here. I haven't been here in…God, I think it was before I married Mary! It hasn't changed much."
Fei stared at Roni for a long moment. "Is that why you won't marry Margie? Because you still think of yourself as being married to Mary?"
Roni snorted. "Big diff, Lacan. As Bart is Roni, Elly is Elly, and Fei is Lacan, so too is Margie Mary. No real change. Naw, I don't want to marry Margie anymore than I wanted to marry Mary. I probably will, though. That's how royalty works."
Bart was obviously depressed, so Fei cast about for something else to talk about. "Why are you still out here? Is Andvari out of power?"
Bart shrugged and swung his feet far too casually over a heart-stopping amount of empty space. "I was considering jumping," he said calmly, almost lightly, his one eye fixed on the beach far below. Fei felt his eyes widen and his stomach drop out, and he clamped a hand over one of Bart's wrists—/too skinny. He's lost too much weight./—without really realizing it.
Bart glanced at him and shook his head. "Don't worry. I talked myself out of it several hours ago, or you would never have known what happened to me. I didn't want to do to you and to my people what was done to me, so long ago." He suddenly snorted in wry humor. "God, and now I sound like Ramsus must, when he gets onto the subject!"
Fei cast his eyes down, remembering how, as Lacan, he had just abandoned Roni and everyone he'd ever known in search of power so he would never lose someone he cared about again. His own actions had lost him everything he'd ever cared about. "I'm sorry, Roni. I…was being selfish. I thought…if I could just get enough power, I would never have to lose anyone again. But I just dropped you and Rene and everybody for nothing."
Roni smiled slightly. "Don't be like that. Everyone screws up, sometimes. It's just a matter of not repeating it." Then he glared, deep blue eye narrowing. "But if you ever do that again, I won't be so forgiving. Don't forget it."
Fei held up his hands between them, nodding frantically. "Of course, of course! I won't do it again, Roni, honest!" Roni blinked slowly at him, then tilted his head back and laughed, a sound of such joy that Fei felt his own lips stretch into a smile.
"So, you ready to go back yet? Everyone in the castle was seriously frantic, you know. Besides, we may have convinced Sigurd to stay home, but I doubt he'll be willing to sit around much longer. Actually, I'm surprised he hasn't already shown up."
Roni's laughter faded. He sighed and cast a listless stare over the water below. "Yeah, I guess I oughta get back. So much for my little 'vacation.'" He rose slowly, stiffly, as if all the years of every incarnation, the cares of every person he 'ruled,' had come crashing down on his shoulders, settling in his bones. Fei smiled a sad, sympathetic smile and started to rise…
Only to be bowled over by something huge and red. As he hit the hard rock—perilously close to the edge of the cliff, of course—he could hear the cries of alarm from the others, but only faintly past the ringing in his ears. As he shook off the blow, he saw Andvari looming over him, active, and radiating 'anger' as much as any machine ever could—maybe more.
Then Bart was standing in front of him, facing the Gear, arms outstretched. "No, Dan! Don't do it. Fei's a friend, remember, a friend!" The Gear faltered, and a low humming whine filled the air, a sound so mournful that Fei could not believe that this Omni-Gear was not every bit as alive as any biological life-form.
Bart walked up to the Gear, and placed one hand on the red metal. He began to stroke in the slow, random patterns humankind had long ago discovered to be soothing. It seemed to work even on the Gear, for it dropped into a crouch, turning its glowing camera eye away from Fei. "It's all right, Dan. It's all right. Don't worry about me, okay?"
Bart sighed and turned back to them. "Let's go," he said quietly, and his eye was dark. Fei shivered, for he had never seen such a bleak expression in that bright blue eye, in any incarnation. His heart was cold with dread, but he hid his concern, knowing it would do no good at this time. But he was not about to let this one slide: once he got back, he was going to have a chat with Maison and Sigurd.
Even if Sigurd did scare the crap out of him.
*
Sigurd managed to get off the hook. The circumstances were depressing, though, and Fei had not the heart to speak to him at the time.
Upon returning to Bledavik, the searchers learned that Ramsus had suddenly fallen into a coma, not long after they left. He was still out, and Sigurd could not be pried away from his side. Citan had gone immediately to the room given to Kahr, where Jessiah was standing watch with Sigurd. Emeralda had also gone to the room, plunked herself down on the bed beside the comatose Solarian, and refused to budge.
Fei stood watching the quiet activity as Citan marshaled the efforts of the doctors, and the low-toned council he had with Jessiah and Sigurd. His eyes floated up to Ramsus's face of their own accord, and he had to suppress a shudder.
Kahran Ramsus lay perfectly still, in one of those posed positions doctors lay people in when they are unconscious, that no aware person would be able to tolerate for more than a few minutes at a time. His flesh was pale, lacking the golden-ivory sheen it typically possessed, making him look like he hovered on the brink of death.
Of course, he was on the brink of death, though Fei was not going to think about that now.
It was just so strange to see Ramsus so pale and still, to see his strong, capable hands limply resting at his sides on those horrible hospital-white bed sheets, making him look even more washed-out. Ramsus had never been still, even from the first time Fei had met him. Now it was as though a gale could break out in the room and not even rustle his hair.
At least it was too soon for him to be losing weight and muscle mass. Seeing Ramsus not only still, but weak, too, would just unnerve Fei to no end.
Emeralda was also starting to scare Fei. She was sitting on the edge of Ramsus's bed, staring at his face as if she could will him awake. She hadn't so much as blinked since Fei had come in half an hour ago. Anxious, he padded up to her, and rested a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"Are you okay, Emeralda?" he asked softly. She didn't look at him, but gave her head a tiny shake. Emeralda was always honest, a fact that won Fei's admiration, but seeing her openly admit to a weakness when she could have just done nothing chilled him. He knew that she had trouble with emotions, and still more trouble expressing them, so he sat on the bed beside her and looped an arm around her. "Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked.
Emeralda tore her eyes from Ramsus at last, and they were filled with tears. "Fix him!" she said, her voice husky with emotion. "Fix him now! I don't want to take care of Zebulun! I can't! Zebulun needs Kahr-niisan, not me!"
Fei was guessing that 'Zebulun' was the name of the Anima Relic in Vendetta. He remembered that Emeralda had said that the Gears talked. He had a sudden vision of Andvari looming over him, angry, protective, as if it knew that going back to the life he'd been leading would hurt Bart. Was Zebulun the same way? Did it really need Ramsus?
Fei made a decision. "Emeralda," he started, and made sure he had most of her attention before he continued. "We don't know how to fix him. Or you. Or the Gears. But I promise, we're trying, and we won't stop trying. Okay?"
Emeralda nodded, and threw her arms around him. "Thank you, Fei!"
Awkwardly, Fei put his arms around the unusually emotional young woman, and petted her green hair in what he hoped was a soothing manner. Emeralda bundled closer, and sighed into his chest. Fei sat with her until her crying quieted.
*
Bart sat quietly at his desk signing all sorts of official documents. He'd hardly been back when the paperwork fell upon him again. He hadn't even been able to look in on Ramsus, yet, and thus, his brother. Poor Sigurd was really taking Ramsus's illness hard, by all accounts, and even Bart's own pitifully underdeveloped empathic sense corroborated the stories.
Not that it surprised Bart that much.
He'd always known there was a vacuum in Sigurd's life where a best friend was supposed to be. The times Bart had overheard Sigurd talking with Jesse or Citan all seemed to point to there being a fourth in their little group, but it hadn't been until the Solarian commander had been rescued from Merkava that Bart had known for sure that Ramsus was both the fourth Element and Sigurd's best friend. He didn't pretend to be a great friend-maker himself—despite his friendly personality, his position of power had always forced him apart from potential friends of roughly his age, so most of his friends were either much older than he, or very recently made—but Bart knew that it was bad for Sigurd to dwell on Ramsus's incapacitation.
Signing one last overly official-looking document with a heavy sigh of relief, Bart turned his keen mind to the problem of distracting Sigurd. The older man was a friend, a brother, a loyal subordinate, an advisor, and nearly a father-figure for Bart. Knowing he was suffering was almost too much for him to bear. He really wanted to run to the other, throw his arms around him, and demand that he 'get better soon or else!' but he knew that it was impossible to just turn off one's emotions.
So instead of acting on his first impulse, Bart thought. Sigurd needed a distraction: legitimate, of a great enough magnitude to pull him from his depression, of a long enough duration to be meaningful, and unlikely to result in deepening his depression. Basically he needed to have a whole lot of concentrated fun.
…What the hell did Sigurd do for fun?
Drinking was out; brawling…any other time, maybe; reading…doubtful; thinking…not something Bart wanted him doing too much of right now…
…What the hell did Sigurd do for fun?!
Just then, there was a light tap at his door, and Bart hurriedly sat up straight, tidied up his desk (he could never find anything on it if it was clean, so he kept it messy, for the most part), and cleared his throat quietly.
"Enter," he said loudly enough to be heard, but quietly enough to still sound dignified. Maison had been upset with him the last time he had been 'screaming through the door like a hooligan'.
To Bart's surprise, the very object of his recent thoughts walked in. Sigurd looked weary, a little unsteady on his feet, and astoundingly open with his feelings. His eye was a dull ember in its socket and his shoulders were slightly slumped. Still, he mustered a small, fake smile for Bart. "Hello, Young Master."
Bart nodded and did not point out to Sigurd how heart-wrenching his paper thin facade was. "Hello, Sigurd. Please have a seat." He indicated a chair, into which Sigurd dropped with none of his usual grace. Bart's eyebrows were fighting up toward his hair line, but he kept them in a nice, neutral position and smiled.
"What can I do for you, Sig? How's Ramsus?"
Sigurd looked pained, and Bart wanted to kick himself. Of course he'd bungled everything in the first couple seconds. How very typical of him. However, Sigurd shrugged. "As well as can be expected, I suppose. He seems to be comfortable. Emeralda mentioned something about Zebulun being distressed, but I don't know about that."
Bart sighed, then looked at Sigurd's face more closely. There could only be one reason for Sigurd to come to him at a time like this. Bart leaned back in his chair, and met his mirrored gaze steadily, waiting for Sigurd to just come out with it. At last, the Noln native sighed.
"I guess I can't leave you to guess anything these days, can I? You've come to know so much. Actually, there were two reasons I came today. One, you already know, the other…" Sigurd shook his head. "Fei didn't say anything, but I heard Elly and Billy talking in the hall. Young Master," his gaze bored into him, and Bart blinked. "Why were you thinking about committing suicide?"
Bart's eyes widened. He'd hoped—rather unrealistically, of course, but still he'd hoped—that Sigurd wouldn't hear about that. Then he sighed and dropped his impeccable posture, signaling that this talk was person to person. "Sig, look at all of this. Do you see all these papers? All this work? This is what makes a country work, Sig. But it's not what I'm cut out for. I can do it well enough, but…" he shook his head. "This isn't me. This has never been me, and will never be me. I just feel so…trapped. And it seems like the more I push for democracy, the more people want me to stay in place as King."
With an only slightly disjointed feeling, he added. "It's not like I ever really meant for my family to become a generations-long monarchy, anyway. Aveh was never supposed to be under the sole control of one person. Too much power in the hands of too few people; we've all seen what that did to Solaris and, to lesser extent, Shevat."
Sigurd's brow furrowed, and Bart wished to swallow his words. Sigurd, however, just shrugged after a moment's thought. "So that's true, too. I suppose it is strangely fitting for the one that established the kingdom to be the one to dismantle its royal house. I'm guessing Roni was about as enamored of paperwork as you are?"
Bart smiled, a bit of the disjointedness fading. "Oh, some things never change. Paperwork just flat sucks. On the other hand, the sun probably wouldn't rise tomorrow if someone didn't fill out the paperwork for it. I figure it must be a universal constant."
Sigurd smiled ironically in return. "You never saw Solarian paperwork. Trust me, that was an experience." He sobered. "You know, they only want you to stay because they love you. You freed them from a tyrant, sought to alleviate their suffering any way you could, helped them through a time when a huge chunk of the world's population died or disappeared. With things as unsteady as they've been, it's really little wonder they cling to you so. The people need stability, right now, and they think you can give it to them. Even if it's unfair to you to expect such a thing, they want you to give them their happiness back. And you'll try, because, no matter how much you hate being King, you love the people of Aveh in ways most rulers would never consider. I suppose, that's why you suffer under the weight of your responsibilities, instead of reveling in your privileges."
Bart laughed. "Well, let me indulge in a little revelry right now. I want you to take whatever time off you need to see to your friend. I'm not going to order you to stay out of the offices, since you may need the distraction at some point, but I don't want you to feel obligated to come in and work when you really want to be with Ramsus, or standing over the researchers and cracking the whip. We may not know Ramsus well, but I think we all respect him, and would hate to see him go. If Citan's interested, I'm going to see if we can squeeze him onto the project staff. I don't know how much he knows that may be of use to Ramsus or Emmy, but he knows Gears inside and out. God, if we could just get a power source…! We're also working on getting Balthasaar and Taura Melchior here for their input…especially Taura. He's got so much experience with nanomachines, he could probably come up with a dozen alternate approaches we haven't even thought of, yet."
Sigurd smiled, gratitude on his face. "Thank you very much, Bartholomew! I appreciate your understanding."
Bart stood, and walked around to the other side of the desk to hug his still-sitting half-brother. "Of course. You've always been there for me, now it's my turn to be there for you. We've all had it rough the past while; I think everyone on the planet has! It's only fair we support you when you need it, just as you supported the rest of us." Bart pressed a kiss into his brother's hair, smelling antiseptic and something faintly metallic over his usual sharp desert-spice-and-sand scent. "Besides, I love you, and want you to be happy. I can't do much more than I have to help you, or Emmy, or Ramsus, but by God I'll do what I can!"
Sigurd curled in his embrace a moment longer, soaking in all the comfort and strength his little brother was offering him, before disentangling himself. "Thank you, Bartholomew. For everything. I think I'll go peek in on Emmy and Ramsus, then I'll start, ahem, 'cracking the whip' at our dear scientists. I'll be careful not to damage them permanently, though."
Bart smirked. "Awesome! And if you see Doc Citan or the research foreman, could you send them my way? I think I'd like to get Citan settled as quickly as we can, before we have to deal with the old men and big guns coming in."
Sigurd nodded and offered a half-bow before sweeping out. Bart settled back behind his desk to attempt to do some more paperwork. He was just glad he could help Sigurd a little bit. It made him feel just a bit more grown up, like all the years he remembered might eventually mean something. Now, if only he could be strong enough to get them all through this.
*
So, there you have it. Part Three of Zebulun.
Poor Bart is under a lot of stress, and Roni is making his presence felt. Bart's trying so hard to be grown up about everything, trying to live up to the expectations places on him. Kahr has—at least temporarily, possibly permanently—fallen below the power level he needs to maintain consciousness. So Sigurd and Emeralda are desperately worried for him. Sigurd's temper got a little workout, too! Come on, the man's got a navel piercing, you know he's more than a nice, calm elder half-brother.
I hope everyone enjoyed my little piece of Xenogears-worshipping fiction. More to come in part Four! We might get a little of other characters' viewpoints, possibly Billy, Citan, and maybe Margie. Also, a little of the title character's thoughts. *grin*
Please stay tuned. I hope not to go so long without updating, this time! As an apology, I have also written a short Vagrant Story piece that can be found here on ff.net, for anyone who is interested. It is a kind of underrepresented fandom…