Chapter 7

By:Zosocrowe

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Ocean: Till the End of Time

I have merely borrowed a couple characters to create

a silly fan story. I have no money either

2/11/05

WHY did the transfer to ff . netnot load ANY question marks, comma's, or spaces? This chapter was ready awhile ago, but after the nightmarish fiasco of missing puncutation marks and the computer at work deleting my entire zip disk, with all my edits and corrections,I had to walk away for awhile...Anyway, I hope I managed to fix everything...if not, I apologize...If this upload goes screwy, I'll fix things as soon as I can!

"What do you mean you only have one room available?" Nel was trying hard not to shout at the poor, mousy little desk clerk. It'd been a bad day. She was tired, cranky, and in dire need of a bath and bed. It wasn't personal. She leaned forward, both hands flat against the polished counter top. "I reserved two rooms when I passed through here yesterday. What happened?" She smiled, or rather tried to, but by the way the young girl grimaced, she'd failed in her attempt to appear civil.

Miserably.

The small woman flipped through a large book, more out of nerves than necessity. She'd already looked at the ledger three times. "Ummm...Well, you see Lady Nel," she stammered, "You did reserve two rooms. The last doubles we had, actually. Today, two men from Kirlsa arrived shortly before you and said they were part of your party..."

Nel's eyes widened. "Oh no," she whispered. It had to be the two goons Woltar sent. She'd forgotten about them. They'd left immediately after she confirmed her agreement with Woltar. That had been in the morning, so no doubt they'd arrive in Peterny near nightfall by lum. She hadn't counted on them staying. Hell, she hadn't even expected the lum.

The girl eyed her warily. "Is that wrong, Lady Nel?" she asked in a tiny voice. "If they aren't part of your group, we will have them removed immediately."

Nel sighed and shook her head. "No, no. It's fine," she lied. "They just slipped my mind, that's all." It wasn't fine, but she could hardly kick them out of their room after they traveled all the way from Kirlsa. Even though Woltar had ordered it, the two men had done her a service by seeing the lum to Peterny. It would be pretty crass and ungracious to send them packing now.

The bell above the door chimed and Nel turned around. Albel sauntered into the lobby, looking very much a predator on the prowl. He had his burlap satchel thrown over his shoulder, katana at his hip, and his reddish eyes traveled the room in one long sweep. Two young girls tittered when his gaze lingered on them a moment, thinking that perhaps the warrior found them favorable in someway. Nel knew better. Albel was doing a body count, making sure everything was as it seemed. Everyone inside and out of his world was a potential enemy.

He curled his lip when saw her.

Funny, she felt the same way.

She really didn't want to share a room with him. It wasn't that he was male, she'd bunked with men before, but she'd at least trusted them not to knife her in the back. Not that Albel was into blind murder. No, if he ever decided to cut her open, he'd want to watch her squirm while he did it. That didn't make her feel much better. Not only that, Albel made her uncomfortable in ways she couldn't explain. She could never tell what he was thinking, nor did he offer to share. Sometimes, when he watched her, she felt like he was peeling aside all her carefully built shields and seeing things that she wanted no one to see. It was silly. He was psychotic, not psychic, but still, she'd rather share a room with a hungry chimera.

Albel closed in on her and stopped just short of the check in desk. He stared at her, as if waiting for something. "Well?" he said impatiently.

"We have a problem," she stated. Albel raised a brow. "The two soldiers Woltar sent took one of our rooms."

"So?"

Nel frowned. "So...it means we're short one room."

A puzzled look crossed Albel's face. "Did you do something stupid? Like reserving one double and a single?"

"No," Nel snapped. "I reserved two doubles. It was all they had..."

A line formed in Albel's brow. "Then what's the problem? There are four beds and four people." He held up held up four talons, counting at her like she was a child. They stared at each other for a long moment and then Albel cocked his head slightly. "Oooh...I get it," he remarked, a condescending smirk slipping across his lips. "Is it rooming with me that bothers you so much, or is it just men in general?"

Nel had to give him points for being quick. Albel was no dummy. She'd forgotten how smart he was under all that tightly wound aggression and testosterone. He wasn't just violence and muscle. He was intelligent violence and muscle. A scary combination.

She was too cranky to put up with his sarcasm. "If you must know, yes. It does bother me, but I don't want to bunk with two soldiers I don't know either. I thought you three could share a room."

Albel settled back on his hip, seeming to think about it, which made Nel instantly suspicious. After a moment, his expression turned dark. "Don't be selfish, woman. Why should one bed go unused because of your groundless, prudish reservations" Like a striking snake, his hand lashed out and snatched the key from her hand. "Ridiculous! Gimme that key!" Before she could protest, he stalked down the hall, his boots sounding like angry drums against the tiles, and disappeared around the corner.

Nel watched him go, her mouth agape. If she didn't know any better, she'd just received a scathing lecture from Albel the Wicked, and for once, he was right. She was being selfish. And silly.

Talk about a humbling experience...

Albel had tucked himself away at the end of the bar at The Biting Kid tavern. A tumbler of Sapodilla juice sat practically untouched next to an equally ignored plate of pasta salad. The bartender, a large, burly man, swept by with his dingy rag glancing at him only once. Albel ignored the big man and was left alone. Behind him, the noise of the bar was mediocre at best. A drunk stumbled up the step and fell to the floor. Weary travelers and ragtag ruffians talked and laughed amongst one another. Occasionally an argument would break out, but nothing worth noticing. A few played cards, others darts, but mostly everyone just ate, drank, and enjoyed the musty, yet comfortable atmosphere.

A woman with a mound of auburn hair piled high on her head and enough make-up on her face to put war paint to shame sidled up to him. Her breasts bulged from a bright crimson bustier, practically spilling over the top. When she sat down, her short skirt slid up her thighs, and Albel knew in an instant she wasn't wearing any undergarments. She smiled at him with a mouth to large for her face and leaned forward to whisper in his ear, "You look lonely."

"And you look disgusting," Albel replied.

The woman's thinly plucked brows nearly shot from her forehead and her ugly mouth opened into a stunned "o". She sputtered several times, her face breaking into a blotchy, red flush. Finally, she managed to appear outraged instead of embarrassed and scooted away from him. "I like my men with more 'meat' anyway," she spat, giving him a critical once over before turning on her heel and storming away.

"Hn. Fool," Abel muttered, taking his fork and making a nest out of his noodles. He had more than enough 'meat' on him, but not that whore such as she would ever know. Women like that disgusted him, always groveling for attention, unable to stand on their own two feet, preening like peacocks when they were nothing more than common barnyard fowl.

Now that he thought about it, most women were like that. At least most of the women he'd known in his life. In Airyglyph, there were little expectations placed upon females. The peasant and middle classes might work, but noble women never did anything more breed children and gossip. They couldn't be trusted to do anything else. They were bred to be demure, agreeable, and foolish. Women didn't need to be strong the way men did. They weren't made for rougher things.

However...

Nel Zelpher defied all logic. She was definitely a woman, but she was more skilled with a blade and at the art of warfare than many of the soldiers Airyglyph employed into its ranks. Albel had come to accept that...on some level...begrudgingly. He could easily overwhelm her in a fair fight, but she would face him until the end, he had no doubts about that. He could even respect her for it, though it perterbed him to no end. She was a woman, not a man, and females weren't supposed to be powerful, dangerous, or brave.

Ka...she...certainly hadn't been.

She'd not been much different than the other nobles in Airyglyph, always attending court, meetings at the ladies convention, and other ridiculous functions high-bred women found important. Thankfully, she never asked him to attend with her, despite the urgings of the pretentious nags she chummed around with. No, his late wife had been a quiet woman, submissive and biddable in almost every fashion. She rarely nagged at him and had spent most of her waking hours weaving rugs or doing some confounded needle point in the sun room of their home. He often wondered how anyone could be so content while being so utterly useless.

It wasn't as if he ruled his house like a tyrant. He hadn't cared what she did with herself...much...yet she'd insisted on asking his permission in everything, even if it was taking a short trip with one of the servants to the market. What had she done while he was away? Sat in their home like a prisoner? Her passive nature had set his teeth on edge. More than once, he'd attempted to bait her into an argument, trying to draw out any spark of life inside her, but the result was always the same. She'd start crying and he'd leave the manor angry, feeling like a jackass for some reason he couldn't quite figure out.

She'd always been that way, even when they were children. Impossible to anger, letting the people around her walk all over her like she was a doormat. If insulted, she always smiled and agreed with a shy nod of her head. Only later would she react, usually with tears, when they couldn't see her.

It had irritated Albel to no end. He couldn't begin to count the all the times he'd wanted to shake the complacency out of her. Shake her so hard her that her teeth would rattle inside her head. As often as he'd thought about it, he'd never done it though. Laying hands on an enemy was one thing, but hitting a spouse out of pure anger or meanness just wasn't done. Not even for him.

How a person could be so adverse to confrontation was beyond his comprehension. His temperance was geared to fight when attacked, whether it be verbally or physically. He enjoyed the rush it gave him, the flare of life that jolted through him when his anger was tapped. The only way he'd roll over was if he was dead.

But maybe if he had been harder on her, had paid more attention, she'd have been tougher for it and…

Albel scowled and dropped his fork, pushing away his plate. He was many things, but hungry wasn't one of them. Tired, irritated, and sore to name a few. A decent night's sleep would be refreshing and clear his head, but the possibility was slim. His life held no comfort anymore, what little he had before was just dust on the wind.

His torment would cease if he could just find that duplicitous monster, Romero. It was, after all, the demon's fault that everything in his life had gone from just plain bad to utter hell in a matter of a few years. Their last battle ended abruptly, with both parties wounded badly. Albel had the upper hand and Romero, bleeding profusely, just laughed and disappeared into a puff of smoke.

He'd screamed the monster's name for days in his bed, delusional and sick with fever from poison talons and infected injuries.

Romero hadn't shown himself since that day. Months had passed by them already, but no matter where Albel searched, he couldn't find his prey. Some speculated that Romero had died, but Albel knew he was out there, watching, waiting, and planning. He heard his laughter, a reminder of what was to come, and Albel knew the demon prince thought of it all as a game. A theatrical to pass the time of a limitless existence. Sir Albel was a toy, a mere plaything on the whim of an immortal.

Albel hated that creature. He loathed the ache in his chest the monster had put there. It fueled a rage so deep that it swallowed him whole at times. He couldn't contain it. He couldn't control it. He couldn't even name it. Not when he could see their faces shrouded in blood, reaching for him, crying his name...and feel that emotion known as terror eat through his body like cold fire. Terror that he was helpless, that he was...

Albel blinked. His hands were clenched and trembling. His upper lip was damp with sweat and a bead rolled down his temple. He inhaled sharply and let the breath go long and slow, gently quaking. Damn that impertinent Woltar and his moronic deal. The old man had once again successfully tied his hands. He'd given his word, and would uphold his end of the bargain, but after they'd rescued the idiot Fayt, nothing would stand in his way. Romero was as good as dead.

"Captain!"

Out of habit, Albel looked over his shoulder. The two soldiers from Kirlsa were walking towards him carrying what looked like a round of Howling Fox Cider. He could tell they'd been drinking for quite sometime, their steps loose and smiles lopsided. Bravely, they pulled up the stools next to his and sat down, oblivious to his unwelcoming stare.

"You're up late," said a man who was taller than Albel by several inches, so skinny he appeared skeletal.

His companion, who was so stout he resembled a square, laughed and nudged him. "If I had a pretty little thing like that in my room, I'd be up late too."

Albel narrowed his eyes. "I'm not in my room, as you can see."

Both men looked at each other and then at him. "Yeah, what's up with that...sir?" the bean pole man asked. "Did she kick you out when she was finished with you?"

"I heard those Aquarian women were like that," the square interjected, ignorant to the indignant look on his captain's face. "They're loose with their virtue and even looser with their tongues." The two men nodded at that and raised their glasses in salute.

"I'll stick to good 'ole Glyphian girls. Docile and tame, willing to do what ever you tell them," the other replied, his words a bit muddled.

"Here, here," his friend laughed. "Did you see the knives that wench was carrying? And the way she talked...Whooo! If I didn't know better, I'd swear she was a man!"

The square man chucked and had enough nerve to nudge Albel with his elbow. "Best be cautious, Captain. You might lose more than your clothes with that one." The two soldiers howled then, laughing at their one-sided conversation as if it was the funniest thing they'd ever heard.

Albel glowered at his unwanted guests. Under normal circumstances, they would've never had the gall to approach him so freely or speak to him with such frankness. Drink had made them cocky, foolish, and they'd forgotten that no matter where they were, he was still their captain. "Men with wagging tongues are worse than women with loose ones. Be cautious you don't lose yours being flippant." He let his irritation show on his face. "That wench is technically your superior officer at the moment, and as you two know, insubordination is frowned upon in our army." He touched his katana lightly.

The two men grew quiet, and Albel watched the fear fill their faces as they remembered who he was. Oddly, hearing them belittle Nel annoyed him. He wasn't concerned about her honor. No, it was the two soldier's attitude that rankled his ire. He knew their type well. Small minded, bloated, simpering men who used the army as a precedent to feel big and important. The Aquarian woman was a better warrior than the two of them put together, and no lower warrior should be allowed to disgrace their betters in such a fashion. Lesser creatures needed to remember their place in the world.

The two Glyphians didn't argue. They were drunken idiots, but not entirely stupid. They shifted nervously on their stools, looking for a respectable way to make a quick exit. Albel spared them the humiliation by standing himself. His quiet time had been considerably ruined, there was no need to linger. He pulled a small velvet bag from his inner pocket and shook out a few coins, nodding at the bartender once. He gave the two soldiers a final glare. "Those lum better be ready before dawn," he said, then turned on his heel, stepping over the fallen drunk in the door way, and made his exit.

Nel was asleep by the time Albel returned to The Front Door. She was on her side, one hand tucked next to her chest, the other curled by her face. The plaid comforter was turned down neatly at the foot of the bed so only a medium cotton blanket and light sheet covered her. Her breathing was light, but deep, and her eyes softly shut.

He didn't bother being quiet. Nel was a spy, she knew he was in the room the moment his hand had hit the door.

Albel stifled a yawn and unbuttoned his long jacket, removing the Crimson Scourge from his belt and leaning in next to the head of his bed. He folded the coat and set it in a nearby chair, then carefully pulled the mesh half shirt over his head, making certain it didn't snag on his metal arm. Boots came off next, the buckles softly clinking in the dark as he used his good hand to undo them. Once loose, he removed the armor from his toes and heels then toed the leather from his feet. He stood again, his hand going to strip the slender rope belt from his waist.

"What are you doing?" Nel was sitting up on her elbow, staring at him through the darkness.

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm going to bed, fool," Albel growled.

"Then go to bed with your pants on."

Nel could feel the weight of his gaze on her through the shadows. His face was invisible in the dark, the moonlight streaming through the window at his back. He was quiet a long time.

When he finally gave a short bark of laughter, Nel jumped. "Do give me some credit, Zelpher," he replied. "I have more class than to allow a...a common woman to set eyes upon my body."

She knew he was smiling one of his insufferable, condescending smiles. "Somehow, I doubt that," she retorted.

There was a rustling and Albel's lean silhouette appeared right in front of the window. "Unlike you Aquarians, us Glyphian's take more pride in who we give ourselves to," he stated. "My body...is my temple," he laughed, spreading his arms wide in the dim light.

"A whore is a whore, no matter how much she costs, Albel," Nel remarked snidely.

He gave a soft snort and turned his back to her. "I don't need to pay for a woman's services."

"No, you probably don't. But threatening a girl into consent is pushing the bounds of rape, isn't it?"

He was quiet again for a moment, then replied, "Perhaps."

Nel felt her mouth drop open. She'd expected him to get angry, not admit, even jokingly, that he wasn't beneath intimidating a woman into giving him her virtue. Was he kidding? He had to be joking. Right? He was a wicked, twisted man in many things, but a rapist she'd never pegged him for. Then again, she hadn't known him to be much of a trickster, either. Half truths and omissions were more his style.

His deep chuckle gave her the answer and she could see him looking over his shoulder at her. Bastard. He was toying with her. "Whatever, Nox," Nel growled, lying back down. She wasn't comfortable giving him her back, so she hugged her spare pillow to her chest and watched him through partially lowered lids.

He stood at the window for a long time, watching the street below. From a distance, shrouded by shadows, Nel noticed how delicate Albel's shape appeared. Deceivingly delicate, that was. He was a tall man and his rangy build made him look even taller. His long arms were slender, but defined by a quiet strength carved into natural muscle. His hands were large, but narrow, and his fingers slim. The shoulders were broad enough to be masculine on his sleek frame, but his waist was long and waifishly lean, like a woman's. When he turned to the side, illuminated by the moonlight, she could see the imperfect line of his narrow torso, and the gentle swell of muscles females didn't have. His hips were bony and far too attenuated to be feminine, and though his legs were long, they weren't the skinny stick-like appendages so many others with his build had. They were toned, hardened by battle and countless years of swordplay.

In a way, his uniqueness was oddly beautiful. Not many men could look effeminate, yet pull off such obvious masculinity. His body oozed testosterone. It was in his gait, the way he stood, his voice, even the little motions of his hands and face. His movement was predatory, his gaze intense and bold. He was male. No one would mistake him for anything other.

Those who were too blind to see him for what he was were in for a terrifying surprise. Albel was strong. He was fast. He was deadly. How he managed to maintain such enormous power and frightening velocity inside that deceitful body of his, Nel couldn't begin to guess. Good genetics or ferocious tenacity? Probably a bit of both, fueled by an inexorable personality.

Albel pulled the drapes shut and padded to his bed on bare feet. Nel heard the frame creak and then the rustle of sheets as he settled down for the night. When his breathing deepened and slowed, only then did she allow herself to roll over and drift off to sleep.

It wasn't difficult to rouse Nel from her sleep. She'd always been a light sleeper, the smallest noise bringing her to alertness in an instant. In her profession, it was a blessing, but outside of work, it was an utter curse. It was also one of the reasons she wanted a room to herself. She needed to good solid rest. Her days were starting to merge together to the point she couldn't even remember the date, let alone day of the week. Fayt's capture had made her life very, very hectic indeed.

When Albel started tossing in his sleep, Nel was awakened instantly by the sounds of shifting sheets and groaning bed frame. It was an hour past midnight and the sky was still black. She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling in the dark, waiting for him to settle back down. When he didn't, she sat up on her elbow and glared at him, debating on whether she should throw something at his head.

Simply amazing. Albel Nox was just as aggravating in his sleep as he was awake. He certainly had persistence down to an art form.

Albel gasped and coughed, almost as if he was choking. Nel frowned and pulled herself to a sitting position, listening to the sound of his breathing. It was irregular and forced, as if he'd been running or fighting. A dream? Well, after all he'd been through, she wouldn't doubt the tragic warrior would have nightmares. She debated on waking him, but decided against it. Rousing an unpredictable, murderous man from the middle of a bad dream was probably a bad idea.

Nel lay back down, about to close her eyes when Albel wheezed once more, and then stopped breathing completely. She waited a moment for him to begin again, but seconds ticked by. A feeling prickled her skin, something ominous. She sat back up, a frown on her brow. "Nox," she whispered, squinting against the shadows, which seemed strangely darker in his corner of the room.

He didn't respond.

Her frown was replaced with an expression of genuine concern. She threw the blankets off and put her feet on the floor. "Nox," she said a bit louder than intended.

This time he gasped, as if coming up for air. He rolled onto his back, his features contorted with pain, what little light sparkling off the dew like sweat beading his face. What appeared to be water streamed from the corner of his eyes and he choked again, so violently his body arched beneath the tousled sheets. Both hands went to his throat, his talons dangerously near his soft jugular.

Panic touched Nel, setting her into motion. Something was wrong. Nightmares could be horrible things, but this was something more. She quickly made her way into the shadows, shivering as she passed through the darkness. Once she reached his side, she could see the waxy pallor of his complexion and noticed something darker on the white skin of his neck and shoulder. Blood. He'd nicked himself, but how badly she couldn't tell.

Not thinking, she reached out and shoved him harshly where skin met metal. "Albel? Hey! Are you okay?" she asked, her voice loud with worry.

Albel's eyes popped open and his hand reached out, snagging her by the arm and yanking her of balance. He pulled her to the bed, rolling them like a shark so she was pinned beneath his larger, heavier body. His face, with eyes deadly and far away, was inches from hers. She could feel his breath on her cheek. The cold press of steel against her throat lay poised, waiting to administer a killing blow that would rip her open.

Nel lay very still. Struggling would ensure her demise, for if she fought, he'd see it as aggression and tear out her throat with those chilling talons. She couldn't see him in his eyes. He was elsewhere, somewhere not Peterny. Someplace that haunted him.

Something wet splashed against her face and rolled down her cheek. She tried not to flinch, afraid to bring his attention to herself. Whatever it was, it was warm.

Albel looked at her, his eyes slow and full of death. She watched them close and for a second she thought he was going back to sleep. She'd rather die than have that happen. Before she could struggle beneath him, they opened again and he pulled away, kneeling between her legs. For an instant, he looked confused, almost lost, but that blanket of anger she was so used to seeing quickly enveloped him.

"What do you think you're doing?" he snarled, looking down at her.

Nel quickly scooted back and off the bed, out of his reach. "Me? I thought you were dying over here! Just look at your throat!"

Albel frowned and touched his hand to his neck, pulling away reddened fingertips. He looked up at her, his eyes questioning.

Nel shook her head. "Don't look at me. You did that yourself. All I did was try to wake you up." The front of neck glittered in the pale light, and Nel knew he'd given himself a decent cut or two. "Let me look at those," she said, stepping closer.

Albel backed away, holding his hand to the bleeding cuts. "Mind your own business," he snapped.

Nel crossed her arms and shifted a hip, glaring at him. "Look, I don't want to know your problems..."

"No. You don't."

Nel gave her exhausting companion a look and went on "...but if your problems are going to become my problems and interrupt this mission, then go home."

Albel shook his head and moved off the bed. He took a case off of a pillow and tore it in half, wadding the cotton up and pressing it to his wound. "Do you think I want to be here, playing bodyguard to the likes of you? I assure you, I'd like nothing more than to get on with my business and if I could, I would leave...this instant."

"The go. No one is stopping you. It's obvious to me now that you can't handle a mission like this anymore. You'd only slow me down," Nel replied coolly.

Albel glared at her. Obviously Woltar hadn't informed her of the details of their little 'arrangement'. He wasn't about to head back to Kirlsa, let alone Airyglyph, and be stashed away to rot in some dungeon. "You can't do this alone," he snarled. "You need my help and you know it."

"Not if you're going to try and kill me every night," Nel snapped, rubbing the place where his talons had scratched the skin. It still stung, and she suddenly realized how close she'd come to being ripped in half. "Does this happen every night?" The thought chilled her.

Albel went quiet and looked away. Nel could hear him breathing in short, even breaths, but she could no longer see the features of his face. "No," he replied, his tone muted, as if unsure of himself. "I wouldn't kill you. Not like that, anyway."

Oh, as if that made her feel any better. "You didn't answer my question," she stated.

The warrior sighed and moved into the light. He was scowling so hard his face was full of deep creases. His body shook in a fine tremor, though Nel wasn't sure if it was out of fear or anger. Whatever it was, he was trying very hard to contain it. He swung his head about and looked at her with hazy red eyes. "Listen," he said, "just leave me be."

Nel clenched her teeth. "Kinda hard to do when we have to work together, Albel."

He shook his head, his eyes closing. "When I dream...just let me alone." The lines in his face faded a bit and he opened his eyes to give her a tired look.

Puzzled, Nel cocked her head. If she hadn't woken him from his nightmare, he might have killed himself with those steel claws. How could she just sit by and watch something like that happen? She wouldn't, that was for sure. "You nearly ripped your own throat out. I ca...won't stand idle while you harm yourself that way."

Albel shrugged and ran his hand through his damp hair. "You will if you value your life."

Nel made a frustrated noise in her throat. There was never any middle ground with this man, the word compromise wasn't in his vocabulary. "Awake or asleep, Albel, it makes no difference. How do I know you won't get up some night and go on a mad killing spree? You hurt yourself, why not me?"

Albel glared and shook his head. "Do you think I'm insane, woman? I know my enemies from my allies when I'm awake."

Nel raised a brow, putting a hand on her hip. "I don't know," she replied. "I don't think you're...crazy. A little deranged and misguided, but not insane." It was the best answer she could think of. Albel was a different man, with very different ideas and morals. Most people thought he was 'off', but as long as she'd known him, he'd always been very aware of who and what he was.

The tall man gave a harsh laugh. "You've been talking to Woltar," he stated. "He thinks I'm a loon! Oh, don't look so surprised. I pay attention. I know what that old goat says about me."

Nel could only hunch her shoulders. "It's none of my business."

"Correct. Woltar only thinks he knows everything. You do as I say, you won't get hurt." He sneered at her, moving to stretch his long frame across the bed. He hissed softly, peeling the bloodied fabric from his neck. Blood still oozed from the cuts, but it was no longer streaming down his throat. Sometimes he missed that confounded collar he used to wear.

Nel stared at him, a small frown on her face.

"What?" Albel snapped. He was tired, shaken, and fed up. He was fairly certain no more dreams would come to him again tonight, but the damage was done. There'd be no sleep. He only wanted to lay his head down and conserve what little energy he had left. All the chatter and questions were giving him a considerable migraine. He rolled over, putting his back to the woman, hoping she would leave him alone.

"Are they that horrible?" came Nel's quiet voice.

The question surprised him and he blinked. No one had bothered to ask him before, he wasn't sure how to answer. His dreams were a terrible, hellish reality for a sinner such as himself. Some were so horrific he couldn't begin to explain them, but they were always washed in blood and violence, the very things he'd embraced his entire life. However, the carnage was different, something he couldn't enjoy. His nightmares served as a painful reminder that he was only a mortal man, and there was a price to pay for such lust of battle.

"...maybe," he grumbled, not sure if she would hear him.

"Do...don't you want someone to wake you?"

Albel frowned at the window and then shrugged. He pulled the sheets closer about his head, remaining silent. It didn't matter. Awake or asleep, he was haunted by his memories. Even with his eyes open, he'd catch glimpses of that horrid night and see their faces. It was a constant reminder of his failure, that he hadn't been strong enough, that he was too weak.

Nel watched him and knew he was finished. She wanted to know more. Perhaps if she could understand what he went through, she could minimize the risk to both their lives, and, well, she was also curious. What did he see in his dreams that caused him to tremble in fear? Was he reliving the death of his family over and over again? Was he seeing their murderer drive home his sword?

How utterly terrible.

Nel went back to her bed and laid down, but continued to watch the still lump lying in the bed across the room from her. She knew he was still awake by the regular rise and fall of his shoulders and the unnatural stiffness of his body. There'd be no more sleep for Albel tonight and probably not for her as well.

Hi! Thanks for reading again! Another looong chapter. Most of them will be fairly lengthy. I think this story will be pretty long too…if I want to pace it right, that is. No hurrying! It's bad! Next chapter, the journey REALLY begins…Oh! I'm going to buy the Star Ocean manga! Yay! I can't wait! Also, I've created a "Deviant Art" page with some Albel fan art. There's not much, but if you're curious, the link is in my bio. Take care! Happy Valentines Day!