VANISHING POINT

A Star Ocean 3 Fanfic by Ender

Chapter Three: Care (Part 1 of 2)

It was the greatest challenge Nel had ever faced.

The red-haired swordswoman took a deep, calming breath and readied herself. She had done her best – there was nothing more that could be asked of her. Her blade ran red with blood, her fingers numbed from innumerable slices. All that was left was to wait – and pray. Finally, when she thought the time was ripe, she stabbed downwards, impaled her target –

- then took a bite.

Crunk!

Damnit... still too tough, Nel sighed to herself as she spat the unmasticated piece of meat back onto the platter. So much for the Marbled Sirloin 1000... More like the 'mangled' sirloin now. That's what she got for shooting beyond her means. Contrary to the stereotype many held about strong-willed women, Nel was hardly the world's worst cook. It was just that, as a soldier, the only types of meals that she had bothered to learn were the simple, quick meals that filled one's belly and did little else. Deciding to cook something more than military chow for Fayt was well and good, but actually creating something other than a leather-tough chunk of meat was proving to be exceedingly difficult.

Guess its back to Beef Stew, the Crimson Blade sighed to herself. Not that her house guest had been complaining about her menu – far from it. Over the past week that Fayt had been billeted at the old Manor House Nel's father had owned, here on the outskirts of Paterny, the Earther had been nothing if not appreciative and grateful. No matter how plain the food she gave him was, he always accepted it graciously, protesting that she was babying him too much. Fayt was, he would claim, on the road to recovery, and really didn't need Nel to watch his every move.

If only that were true.

Certainly, Fayt's physical condition had improved with regular food and rest, but... there was a deeper problem here than just physical exhaustion. Nel could see it in Fayt's expression when he thought she wasn't looking, a melancholy that crept into his blue eyes and lodged there... like a vulture, awaiting the inevitable death of its prey. Once, after she had brought him his breakfast, she had left on an errand only to return hours later to find that he had not even touched his food, his eyes merely staring sightlessly at nothing... or, at least, something that only he could see.

The frustrating thing was, she still didn't know why. The red-haired young woman had been loathe to approach the subject of Fayt's return directly, afraid that her friend had suffered some sort of emotional trauma. From what she had gathered from bits and pieces of their conversations, the last two weeks had passed by in a blur for Fayt – he had muttered something once about dreams, but had refused to elaborate when Nel had gently prodded him about it. His ship was 'cloaked', as he put it, somewhere near Kirlsa, but as to the reason why he had come to Elicoor, Nel was almost completely in the dark.

"Breakfast," she said, as she rapped lightly on the door to the room she had given him, carrying the now customary bread and stew on a platter, which she carried with her left hand. Even if this was, technically, her house, she'd learned the hard way that it paid to give fair warning as to her arrival. Nel's face grew warm as image from the last time she had entered the room unannounced flashed across her minds eye.

"Good morning Jailer Nel," Fayt joked, as she opened the door. He was sitting on a double-bed, propped against pillows, the morning sun bathing his face in dusty light. He smiled at her as she entered, but, perhaps due to the amount of time they had spent together, Nel could see that it was half forced.

Still, as always, she played along . "You call me that often enough, and the two of us might start believing it," she said, as she set down the tray on a chest-high night-table beside the bed. "And trust me, you wouldn't want to see what I do to prisoners. Now eat."

As Fayt dipped his spoon into the stew, Nel observed him with a clinical eye. She was finding it more difficult to be objective than she would have thought it would be. Nel was somewhat startled to realize how much seeing Fayt in such bad state distressed her: at times she was not sure if he truly did look better, or if it was just her ardent wish that made it seem so. He deserves better than this, she thought to herself, more than once. But then, life had already taught her the lesson that very few people get what they deserve.

She started wondering again, as she tended to do lately, why he had returned to Elicoor. Nel knew that his plans had been to go with Sophia and meet his mother and her parents, at the Federation planet where they had been in hiding... she knew that it was a reunion that he had been longing for during their entire journey, so she was certain that only the most compelling of reasons would make him leave once more.

Perhaps it was because there was someone who wouldn't be joining them. It would certainly explain why he had been at Kirlsa. Nel had been there when Fayt's father had been murdered, and although she had been almost mortally wounded at the time, she still bore in her heart a scare of shame and regret that she had not been able to do anything to prevent it. Fayt had been instrumental in saving all that Nel held dear, and the fact that she had been unable to return the favor – it rankled more than she was willing to admit.

Still, there was something lacking... it didn't explain his condition, nor his sometimes cryptic comments. The only thing Nel was certain of, was that whatever was bothering Fayt, it made sleep unbearable. While the young man did eat when she instructed him to, he would at best feign sleeping, forcing Nel to resort more often than not to surreptitiously resort to runological methods – and Fayt was always distressed when he awoke the next morning... As if somehow, he was surprised to still be there.

The realization that Fayt wasn't eating pulled Nel from her ruminations. The blue haired boy was once more staring off into space, his spoon making dull noises as it languidly swirled around the edges of the bowl.

"That bad is it?" Nel asked archly, masking her worry with irritation.

Fayt blinked slowly, then turned to her as if surprised to find her still there. "Uhm no, its just that... I'm not really hungry."

Nel shook her head. "That's irrelevant. You need to eat to recover your strength." She gave him a small smile. "It's bad for morale when the savior of the universe looks more like a scarecrow than a hero."

Her friend's face clouded over suddenly, and he turned away. "I... I'd really rather not."

Had she stuck a nerve? Why would reminding him of their victory make him close himself so? Perhaps now would be as good a time as any to try to find out what was bothering him.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked him, seating herself on the edge of the bed.

Fayt shook his head. "I'm fine Nel... really," he paused then, as if about to say something else, but then shook his head again. "It's not something you'd be able to help me with anyway..." he said, in a softer voice – one that nonetheless reached Nel's ears.

"Oh? Is that so..." this time the slight annoyance she felt was not feigned. Regardless of having been in the presence of god-like beings whose powers far dwarfed her own, Nel had never liked feeling useless. Especially when she wasn't even given a chance to make an attempt. Shifting her position on the bed, she spooned up a large portion of the soup.

"Fine then. I guess the only thing I can do is make sure your body doesn't rot while your mind is off pondering such weighty matters... So you're going to eat even if I have to feed you myself."

That got a reaction out of him. "What are you – you're not serious..." Fayt said with wide eyes.

"You should know me better by now Fayt – I'm always serious."

The young man tried to escape, but in a flash Nel was sitting atop of him, her knees clamping around his waist while she held the bowl of stew in one hand. Her other hand held the spoon pointed at his mouth like a weapon.

"Now – open up," she ordered, what may or may not have been a triumphant glint in her eyes.

"Ah, no, wait a second -!" Fayt protested, just before the door to the room opened.

"Lady Nel? We – oh my!"

It's a testament to the sharpness of mind of the Crimson Blade that it only took her half a second to realize exactly what it would look like they were doing, and the rest of the second to flip herself off the bed and back onto the floor – but not before she had rammed the spoon and its contents into Fayt's gaping mouth.

"How many times do I have to tell you to knock before entering?" Nel said, a slight lilt in her voice the only indication of her displeasure as she turned to Tynave and Farleen, who were both blushing and studiously – if belatedly – looking everywhere but at their leader and the now spluttering Fayt.

"Ahm, erm... Sorry Lady Nel," Tynave said contritely.

"Sorry Lady Nel," Farleen echoed. "I guess we're just not used to you having company..."

"Or at least, not enjoying the company so mu- oof!" Tynave whispered – or thought she whispered - before she was cut off by a quick elbow from her companion.

"Shut up Ty," Farleen hissed. "We're in enough trouble already."

Nel shook her head. Honestly, sometimes it seemed like the two of them put up these performances just to make sure her day never got tedious. "We'll talk about it later," she promised, "But since you're already here, you might as well give me your report."

The two soldiers snapped to attention at her words. "Yes ma'am," Farleen said, but then she paused and gave a surreptitious glance at Fayt, who was still coughing. (Maybe Nel had pushed the spoon in a bit too hard?) Looking from the swordsman to her purple haired subordinate, Nel nodded, and gestured slightly to one side. Farleen whispered something to Tynave, then moved towards the corner of the room that Nel had indicated while Tynave went to try to keep Fayt from choking to death. It was not that she didn't trust Fayt – far from it. They'd placed their lives in each other's hands so often now it was almost a habit. But he was still recuperating and obviously had enough on his mind – Nel didn't want to chance that hearing the report would give him more to worry about. Especially if it was the one she had been expecting to receive.

"We finally received our report from our Agents in Paterny," Farleen informed her superior. "There is something brewing. There's been a lot of backroom activity amongst the more powerful merchants. Normally this would result in some sort of fluctuation in the markets but for the past month, prices have been holding remarkably steady – too steady. We've been unable to get any details yet, but signs point to some sort of coup – something that would sever ties of the city with Aquios."

The Crimson Blade crossed her arms across her chest, mind working fast. "If they're planning to secede, they'll need a larger military than the city garrison. Any indication of Airyglyph involvement?" She knew that, on one hand, she shouldn't be asking such a question – technically Aquaria and Airyglyph were at peace, with the future looking only brighter with the impending wedding of Rosalia and Airyglyph's King. On the other hand though, it was exactly the right question to ask – until recently the northern nation had been the most hated of Aquaria's foes, and such enmity does not die easily – and neither did Nel's mistrust.

But this time, she was wrong. "Not a one," Farleen replied, "There's no indication that any outside force at all is involved... Of course the truce has resulted in an upswing of Glyphian merchants, but we've been watching them like hawks."

"And?"

"No suspicious activity at all."

The red-head sighed. This didn't make sense. It was theoretically possible that the merchants would believe that they could hold the city with the garrison alone – but Nel knew their type. They were business people... They wouldn't take any action unless they had minimized their risk and maximized their profits.

"I'm missing something," she murmured to herself.

Farleen remained quiet for a second or two, looking uneasy, before speaking again. "Lady Nel, there's one other thing I have to report. It's – it's really just rumor and conjecture, no solid data as of yet- "

"What is it?" Nel asked.

The purple haired woman hesitated for a moment, then replied. "Some of our agents have heard that a band of Aquarian soldiers from outside the city would provide the military might for the cessesion... And that their leader is one of the Crimson Blade."

Nel's eyes grew wide. "What? Who?"

Farleen raised her hands helplessly. "We don't have a name – we don't even know if it's just a rumor..."

The red-head took a calming breath, then began to move towards the door of the room. "Then I'll have to find out myself."

"What? No, Lady Nel," Her friend and aide replied. "That's not what we came here for – Tynave and I can handle- "

"I'm sure you can," Nel replied, her eyes boring into Farleen's. "But this changes everything – you know that as well as I do." The purple haired woman bowed her head. "I will handle this personally."

"And what of Master Fayt?" her friend asked then, and Nel turned to her erstwhile patient, who was currently trying, rather desperately it seemed, to explain something to Tynave. "Do you want us to watch over him while you're gone?"

Nel shut her eyes a moment. She thought of Fayt's words to her, what seemed so long ago, when he had rescued her on her own attempt to free Tynave and Farleen. Then she thought of that same young man, so lost and fragile, going hungry while food lay cooling before him.

"No – he's my charge," she said finally. "There's no help for it... I can't ignore my responsibilities to him, or my people. He'll have to come with me." She allowed herself a small smile as she watched him gesture frantically to Tynave.

"I wouldn't want him to tell me again that I was neglecting my duty."

"Feel free to walk around – but stay out of trouble."

The late afternoon sun slanted down through the windows of Paterny's more reputable inn as Fayt stood by the door, holding it open for the Commander of the Crimson Blade.

"Why does that sound familiar?" he asked her, a slight smile on his face which, after a second, the red-head returned. "Don't worry, Cliff isn't around this time."

Nel shook her head. "That man was certainly a piece of work," she said, before meeting his eyes. "But I was always more worried about you."

Fayt blinked at her words, a slight flush going to his cheeks. "Wha – what do you mean by that?" he stammered, cursing for the hundredth time Tynave and her over-active imagination: The brown-haired agent had been quite... illustrative when she had been explaining to Fayt exactly what she had thought he and Nel had been doing when Tynave and Farleen had arrived, and ever since, Fayt was having trouble looking Nel in the face. Not that Fayt didn't find Nel attractive – who wouldn't? It was just that... well, she was Nel. The Crimson Blade was not the kind of woman you allowed yourself to fantasize about – unless you were a man like Cliff of course, but that was another story.

The red-head was giving him an odd look. "I mean that, for all his bluster, Cliff knows how to operate undercover. You on the other hand, tend to make a career out of sticking your nose in other people's business."

Oh. That's what she meant. "Hey! You were the one who asked for my help remember?"

Nel shook her head, smile still in place. "Don't be defensive – your compassion is one of your most endearing traits," her tone turned serious though before he could blush again. "But... I brought you with me because I think some time outdoors will do you good, but don't think you're fully recovered. I'd say you're at about a fifth of your normal strength so for now... just take in the air alright? Lay off the heroics, at least for today...And keep your hood up."

Fayt raised his hands in surrender. "Yes ma'am. I'll be good," he said, while pulling up the head covering of the cloak that Nel had given him to hide his identity.

"I'll hold you to that," she replied, as she began to walk away. Nel turned back once before she left the inn however. "I just have to go over some reports with my agents in the city – don't wait up if you're tired."

And then she was gone, leaving the staff of the inn bowing in her wake. Fayt had to smile – she certainly had that effect on people, bending them to her will by her sheer presence. Maybe it was because people back on Earth did a lot of their interaction through technological mediums, but for one reason or another, there weren't a lot of people back home who were like Nel. She'd even been able to keep his mind off his dreams – his nightmares – if only for a short time.

As Fayt walked the streets of Paterny however, his eyes taking in the simple, yet joy-filled ordinary acts of people engaged in the simple act of living, hi dark mood returned. He knew, in his mind, that his nightmares were just that – nightmares. After all, people had gone to sleep everyday since Luther had 'deleted' the Eternal Sphere, and he hadn't heard of any mass disappearances. There was obviously no truth to ground his fears.

However, while his mind wanted to be certain, in his heart the nightmares were building a breeding ground for fear. Logic told him to dismiss the dreams as rubbish - but every time his nightmares found a way to make him doubt. Doubt that they had won anything at all...

Stop it, he told himself, as he entered the central area of the town, the rotunda where the vendors hawked their wares for the eager and unwary, look at this place! Look at everyone here... They're alive. Your dream can't erase that – its all in your head.

At the same time though, a small voice scoffed in the back of his mind. Sure - they look alive. But then, that's only if you trust what your senses are telling you. And aren't your senses 'in your mind' as well?

His head swirling, Fayt stopped by a stall, and gripped one of its wooden poles to steady himself. He raised his eyes, and suddenly realized he was standing just below the steps where he had first met Ameena. As if it had triggered something in his very bones, the memories came flooding back – how they had first met, rescuing her from the forest, her tragic death... She had been one of the gentlest people he'd known.

Yes, and now she's dead, the voice reminded him, where do you think she is now Fayt? Where do you go when you can't even dream?

"Stop it," he hissed under his breath, pressing his let fist against his head, "Stop it stop it stop it."

"But – but I'm not doing anything mister!" A voice answered him, unexpectedly, braking him out of his trance.

Fayt raised his head to find a the manager of the stall staring a thim. She was very young – no more than ten he thought – with wide green eyes and dirty blonde hair tied in pigtails.

"Are you alright Mister?" she asked. "You look really sick..."

"Ah, erm," Fayt replied, suddenly embarrassed, "It's nothing really..."

"'Nothing never makes you act like something's the matter'," the girl said, "Least that's what my mom says. And she's always right!"

The boy had to smile at that. "I'm sure she is..."

"Mother also says that the best thing to do when you're down is do something fun... I know!" the girl said, as she leaned down and rummaged through her stall's inventory. Finally she straightened and handed Fayt a sausage on a stick. "Here! We make the best Sausa-Sticks in Paterny!," the girl proclaimed proudly. "You can have one – on the house!"

"Oh no, I can't- "

The girl scowled at him. "Mama said it isn't nice to refuse gifts."

Finally after a few more exchanges, Fayt was compelled to take the food. It was good he had to admit after his first bite. He smiled at the child. "Thanks... I needed this."

The girl beamed at him. "My name is Leetha. What's yours?" she asked, but before Fayt could come up with a suitable name, a fat man in rich clothing bumped into Leetha and sent her sprawling.

"Ow!"

"Out of my way brat!" the fat man said, as he hurried on his way, tailed by two armored bodyguards with shifty eyes – a merchant of some sort obviously, and a paranoid one at that.

"Hey you – don't just walk away!" Fayt called out. The merchant didn't even look back, but one of his guards turned to sneer at Fayt.

"Mind your own business low-life – unless you want to meet the business end of my sword!"

The Earther clenched his fists, but Nel's words came back to him. Much as he'd like to teach these arrogant scumbags a lesson, he just wasn't up to it. Cursing his nightmares, Fayt instead helped the little girl to her feet.

"Hmph... I thought so," the body guard said, before falling back into step behind the merchant.

"Are you okay?" Fayt asked Leetha, who nodded, although she was obviously holding back tears. Fayt rummaged through his pockets and scooped out a handful of gold, which he gave to the little blonde.

"For the great Sausa-Stick," h said smiling, and while she looked at her haul with wide eyes, Fayt began to make his way determinedly in the direction the fat merchant had gone. He had no plans of causing any trouble, as he'd promised Nel – but surely it wouldn't hurt just to tail them long enough to figure out who the merchant was. That way, he could tell Nel when she returned and the Crimson Blade would take care of the rest. Weakened or not, there was no way he was going to let the fat man get away with such rudeness.

So focused was Fayt on the merchant, that he didn't even notice the men falling into step behind him, nor the quiet hiss of air as they unsheathed their blades.

Author's Notes:

Sending this out ahead of my schedule so you guys have something to read when FFNet is on down-time. Just be sure you review when you're able to This is really only the first part of the chapter I had planned out, but I decided to split it into two chapters instead, sharing the same title. Care can be shown in many different ways...

I hope people don't mind the slow pace of the romance portion of the fic, and the fact that there's all this politics going on – I don't tend to do 'instant love' fics, as from my experience of that emotion, it takes time to blossom – especially in the case of someone like Nel, who has been trained to control her emotions. Remember that quotation in Mulan? The 'Flower that blooms in adversity'? That's the Fayt Nel relationship I have in mind. So... expect quite a bit of adversity :P (And a lot of Tynave and Farleen mucking things up, hehe...)

For those interested: Yes I'm taking the Paterny merchant rebellion thing from Fayt's solo ending scene, though of course the details to come later are all my doing.

Anyway, on to the comments portion:

Obsidian Ideals: I'm glad you liked the dream scene... It was difficult to craft And I hope the little I showed of Domestic Nel didn't disappoint :)

As for the useage of 'said' – I think we were trained differently. My teachers always went on about how not to overuse that word, and the importance of equivalents for variety and illustrative purposes – but I guess sometimes I tend to overcompensate. :P I'll try to mitigate that though, so please bear with me – and thanks for pointing it out!

Sining: It's true that when we sleep our minds are still active – but for Fayt, the basis of the 'deleted' reality of the Milky Way is not mere mental activity, but conscious belief – a willing of our own existence. Our brains might be active when we sleep, but very few of us (the lucid dreamers) can exert any willpower in our dreams. This idea becomes quite focal later on... kudos for your sharpness in pointing this out

Red Mage Neko: Yeah – having a The Matrix like awakening is bound to be disconcerting – especially when you were never part of the 'real' world to begin with. This had an effect on Fayt, an on Nel too – although Nel's crisis will have to wait until later. There's a hint about it in this chapter though.

To everyone else: Thank you for reading and reviewing! Feedback always inspires me :)

Next Chapter: Some of that 'adversity' I was talking about above... Can Nel stop a rebellion all by her lonesome? And is Fayt any use at all when he weighs less than, oh, Adrai's left bicep? Stay tuned...Next chapter is when the sparks really start to fly!