Chapter 18

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.

1/06

Albel fingered the half empty tankard of mead as he sat on an uncomfortable stool at the Ready Red inn's in-house tavern. It was late, but the small establishment was busy with waitresses dodging patron's elbows through narrow isles and customers talking in loud murmurs over hot meals. The smell of food encouraged a grumble from his stomach, though he'd eaten less than an hour ago. Being lost in a desert had obviously concerned his already slender body and now it seemed to be trying to over compensate. Couldn't blame it; he'd been worried there for a bit too. But they'd made it, by some stroke of luck, to Mota.

So here he sat, at the Ready Red inn and tavern. What kind of name was Ready Red anyway? Red couldn't be ready, could it? It was just a color; an adjective. He frowned, lifting the thick glass to his lips, and drained it. Ready to spurt from the body, perhaps. He set the tankard down loudly, catching the young bar-keep's eye. She smiled, wiping down some cutlery, and gave him a slight nod. Disinterested, Albel fingered a red coaster on the table.

Ready Red. Ready to mouth off at the slightest provocation. Albel snorted softly and pushed the coaster away, watching it slide off the opposite edge of the bar. Red was such an obnoxish color; always loud, always demanding attention, and never subtle. Wherever there was red of any hue, there was also trouble.

Ready Red, indeed. Ready to piss him off, more like it. Now that he thought about it, he really didn't care much for the color blue either.

The young bar-keep appeared before him, pushing another full glass his way. Albel looked up, trading his frown for surprise. He'd seen many homely women in his years, but this was the first one he almost felt sorry for. Her skin was pasty, like unbaked bread that had set too long, and was covered in large, ruddy blemishes. Muddy eyes that were placed too far apart gazed back at him from beneath nonexistent brows. Her nose looked as if a baker rolled a lumpy piece of dough and set it upon her face. And though her hair was hidden under a shroud of white cloth, he could still see the shock of carrot frizz trying to escape along her hair line.

"Do you want something else?" the girl asked, her voice surprisingly pleasant.

Albel blinked, suddenly aware that he'd been staring. "You own this place?" he asked before he could stop himself.

"No," she replied. The girl smiled, her teeth perfectly white and straight. At least she had something going for her. "My parents do though." She pointed to a huge man with hands the size of hams and a rusty beard that hung well below his chin. They both had the same wide set eyes and doughy nose.

"Ah," Albel said, lifting his drink. The entire family was probably red-heads, he suspected, hence the stupid name of the inn--though Ready Orange was better suited. True red heads were hard to find. He'd only met maybe a handful in his years. And like all things red, every one of them had had a way of drawing attention to themselves.

How irritating.

He dropped the heavy glass back onto the table. The girl was still staring at him, smiling. "Not a chance," he growled. He watched with vague interest as hope drained from her face and was replaced by pathetic embarrassment and despair. "Go get me another," he said, lifting his drink to his lips once more. The young girl swallowed once, wiping her hands on her dingy apron, and scurried away.

"Wow. I'll be surprised if she doesn't poison you."

Albel didn't bother turning around. He didn't need to. Even if he was trapped in a cage with a thousand screeching idiots, he'd still be able to pick out her voice. He'd bet his last fol on it.

Nel sad down beside him, briefly brushing against him as she slid to onto her stool. "Bet you're a real hit with the ladies back home, prince charming."

Albel sniffed, lifting his glass. "They aren't interested in my personality," he said, taking a swallow.

"Then what else is there?" Nel replied, waving for a bar-keep.

Albel looked at her, unsure if she was being serious or sarcastic. Sometimes, only sometimes, the woman was nearly impossible to read. He really couldn't figure her out. One minute she could be screaming in his face, drooling and spitting like a soggy feline, but the next backing his ass in a bloody fight. He didn't get it. Did she hate him or not? And why should he care? Annoyed with himself, Albel replied, "Do you want to find out?"

He felt his eyes widen slightly as the words slipped out. He hadn't meant to say that. In fact, he didn't even remember thinking it. It just…sort of happened. Shit. Their relationship was built on the repeated brow beating and insulting conversations they had with one another, but there'd always been an undrawn line that neither would cross. He'd just crossed it--in a single, astounding bound.

Nel turned to look at him, her gaze steady and unrevealing. Under her scrutiny, Albel felt the urge to squirm. Why was she being so quiet? She wasn't actually considering his proposition, was she? His body reacted to that thought. Panic set in. He hadn't been serious! A joke! A simple quip at her nonsensical need pick a fight with him.

But what would happen if she actually took him up on the offer? A mocking chuckle seemed to echo from the depths of his brain. A few images passed by his eyes and he felt his mouth go a bit dry. This wasn't just a natural response to stimulus--being a male, he was all too familiar with those. Sensations like that were detached and easy to control. But this was different. His body and subconscious had joined teams. When had this happened? He took a drink of mead, but it did nothing to ease the sandpaper feel in his mouth or his nerves.

This could be a problem.

"You're drinking," Nel finally said.

Albel blinked and looked down at his glass. The alcohol. Of course--it made sense. Now he remembered why he hated the stuff. "So I am," he replied, feeling relieved.

"You better stop," Nel said.

Albel agreed, but didn't say so out loud. He rarely drank. The common side effects of liquor never appealed to him. He hated being out of control. But there were occasions where he'd tip back some mead to nurse his nerves--and lately his nerves needed some nursing. Content with the excuse, he finished off his glass just as the bar-keep appeared with his next. Nel raised a brow at him, but didn't say anything.

The bar-keep glanced at Nel, giving her the sweeping once over that only women were capable of. Nel didn't seem to notice as she asked for a menu and a glass of ice water. The girl gave her an unfriendly nod and stiffly made her way back to the kitchen.

Albel pulled the new round close to him, but didn't drink. He'd nurse this one, then head off to bed. The girl returned with Nel's menu and water, placing them in front of her and slinking off without so much as a glance at either of them. Albel looked at the water. "None for you, eh?" he said.

"No, I don't like the stuff," she said, looking over the menu. "Especially when I'm on a mission and demons are out to kill me."

The irritation in her voice was obvious--and infectious. "Shouldn't be a problem for you. You seem man enough to handle a few tankards," Albel replied, snatching the menu from her hands. A little food in his belly seemed like a good idea.

Nel took it back and held it out of his reach. "Please tell me you don't actually plan on drinking yourself into a stooper."

"Well, I hadn't thought about it, but it doesn't sound like such a bad idea now." He took a long drink, looking at her as he did.

Nel let out a half growl and grabbed the tankard from his hand, spilling some of the pale amber liquid onto the table. "Will you just stop already! What happens if they show up now? Did you bother to think of that?"

He had. He was always thinking about it, but life didn't stop because a few pissed of demons were after you. Did she really think he was that stupid, or was it her overbearing need to control everything around her talking? Whatever it was, it gave him an instantaneous headache. "Why should I worry?" he asked, reaching for his glass. "I've got you here to watch my back. If things get hairy, you can just blow up another town."

Nel sat back down. "I didn't…"

Albel arched his brows.

"I thought you didn't drink," she said instead.

He shrugged. "On occasion." He could feel her staring at him. Probably thinking he was cracking, turning to booze to numb the pain. Stupid woman. There wasn't enough drink in all of Elicoor to do that. Annoyed, he finished off the glass and pushed it away. He signaled a near-by hostess, intending on getting their orders for food--nothing more.

"Albel," Nel said.

The last of his melancholy mood dissipated. "Why are you here?" he snapped. "Surely not for the company."

Nel folded the menu and took a drink of her water. After a few seconds, she gave him a brief look. "I was hungry."

Right. And he was the king of Airyglyph. He could sense the worry just beneath the sardonic tone of her voice. He hadn't noticed before, but she looked tired. It was to be expected. They'd been though quite a lot. She had every right to be worried. Her mission was in the crapper. But it seemed her exhaustion had different roots.

"We've come too far to go back," Nel said suddenly.

Albel looked at her, then over his shoulder. His eyes scanned the rest of the tavern.

"What are you doing?" Nel whispered, moving her hands to her lap where her weapons were hidden.

"Checking for soul sucking asses," he replied.

Nel gave him a dirty look and put her hands back onto the counter. "Don't worry. There's only one here and he's not that dangerous," she muttered.

Albel smirked. "Just trying to be helpful. For a moment it sounded as if you were ready to turn back." He'd always believed that her objective was pointless, but it wasn't his mission. He was just the hired muscle. Whether they succeeded or failed never really concerned him. He only wanted to get this adventure over with as soon as possible so he could be free of Woltar's pestering and finish the business that had been started so many years ago.

"Sometimes the smartest move is to admit defeat and regroup," Nel said quietly.

He should've felt happy about Nel considering returning home, but elation wasn't what he felt. He felt angry. She was giving up? Quitting? That wasn't the Zelpher he knew. She had the tenacity of a fire drake and the temperament of a rutting lum. When things got difficult, she'd always been strong enough to hold her ground. Of course her strong personality and control-freak nature annoyed the hell out of him, but he admired her for sticking to her scruples when challenged. Why was she suddenly acting like such a--such a woman?

Albel snorted and turned away from her. "I really don't care what happens to that blue-haired idiot. If you ask me, he can save himself, so this mission has always been pointless." He glanced over his shoulder, checking to see if his words where sinking in. They were. Nel's forlorn expression was replaced by angry, glittering eyes. Albel continued, "But as pointless as it is, if you dragged me halfway across the Greeton for nothing, I'll be pissed off."

Nel glared at him, he lips a tight white line. "Am I suppose to be frightened?"

Albel shrugged. "Repayment for wasting my time is never pleasant. Ask my men," he replied.

"You don't scare me, Nox," Nel bit out, leaning forward on her stool. "I never said anything about going back. I said we need to re-group. As for your wasted time, I won't remind you that you're under orders to do as I say. You are on my time."

Albel chuckled lightly. She was far too easy sometimes. "So what next, O' Mighty Leader."

Nel's face went blank. "Wha--? Next?"

The bar-keep appeared with their order. Albel reached into his pocket and placed a few coins on the table. "Next, as in what do we do now? I assumed you had a plan of some sort. Or are you making this up as you go along?"

"Of course not! But thanks to your 'friends', my plan is shot to hell."

Yes, there was that. Shot to hell was a bit extreme though. Sighing, Albel reached over and plucked a green olive from Nel's salad, popping it into his mouth. "Might I suggest disposing of some extra baggage?"

"You mean Rusia and Leylan."

Albel nodded, making a sour face was he chewed the tart food. "I would have left them back in Plum."

"That's because you're heartless and cruel," Nel snapped, stabbing at his hand with her fork.

"I don't like them. Especially the woman." Albel snatched another olive, smirking at his companion.

Nel speared some lettuce and egg. "You don't like anyone. Not even yourself."

The olive hovered at his lips for a moment as he gave Nel a long, considering look. "Ha!" he barked, making her jump. He toss the olive into his mouth and gestured with a slim hand. "Truth is your sword, eh? Well, here's a bit of truth for you to slice at. That woman is a liar."

Nel looked up from her salad. "What woman?"

Albel gave an exasperated sigh. "Who do you think, stupid?"

Nel chewed her food, her expression thoughtful. "Rusia?" She shook her head at Albel when he nodded. "You are the most paranoid person I've ever met. Not everyone is out to get you, Albel."

"And not everyone is your friend, Nel," he shot back.

"I know that," she snapped, setting her fork down with a clank.

Albel rolled his eyes. "Do you now? You pick up lost people like a dog picks up fleas, woman!"

It was Nel's turn to sigh. "Just shut up. What grounds do you have for such an accusation. Rusia and Leylan have never done anything suspicious. They're people who got messed up in a tragic affair. You have no compassion for anyone."

She was right. Compassion was something he wasn't familiar with. He'd never had time to be compassionate to others. He was too busy killing them. But being uncompassionate gave him an advantage over people like Nel. He judged everyone by the same worth. Either they were a threat or they weren't. Simple as that. He cut out all the fronts and niceties that other humans placed on each other--because he frankly didn't care if a person was good or bad.

He reached out and pulled on the thin chain that was around Nel's neck. His fingers brushed her collar bone and they both flinched. The pendant with the strange stone fell out of her shirt and between her breasts. "Maybe so. But instead of questioning my personality flaws, perhaps you should be asking yourself more important questions."

"Like what?" Nel asked, her voice quavering slightly as she pulled away from Albel's hovering hand. They stared at each other for a moment.

"Like how many pendants does it take to protect four people? And how many do we have on our persons?"

Nel stared at him, her eyes growing wide. "Oh Apris," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

Albel stole another olive and popped it into his mouth.

Sorry for the long delay. I have no excuses! But the story hasn't been abandoned, so no worries. Happy New Year to everyone. Thanks for sticking this one out! Take care