Chapter 18: The Truth and the Decision

A/N: So a lot of truths are revealed in this chapter... many many truths, and this is where I decide more action is needed so that will be happening too. Teehee. School is still crazy but I'm finding more time to write. Yay!

Karina's eyes fluttered open to a brightly lit room, into which the sun poured like honey. Her eyelids struggled to open with difficulty—they didn't want to open just yet, but the glare of the sun had awakened her and now she could not return to that blissful slumber. The waking also brought on the pain, sharp pangs of it everywhere on her body. Tiny points of fire were dotted along her skin; on the insides of her elbows, on her thighs, on her calves, hips, and stomach, and even in her neck she felt the ache of where needles had been shoved into her, of where things were put into her and taken out of her. Quickly she pushed back the memory of those hours and instead shifted her head to make herself more comfortable on her pillow.

Her cheek touched bare skin, and a flash of memory played before her eyes: she could see herself, dimly, just barely lit in the scant light of the hallway, naked and fragile and looking remarkably like a broken porcelain doll. She was being held in somebody's arms—the memory was from this person's point of view. With this image came a quick glimpse of Folken and a sudden surge of anger—Karina took in a sharp breath of air and lifted her head.

Her pillow was Dilandau. He was still on top of the covers and she underneath them, but during the night while they slept she had become quite close to him, snuggling up against his side and resting her head on his chest. Her cheek had touched a patch of collarbone that had been revealed by the loose fabric of his shirt. Suddenly she was very aware of the fact that she was quite without clothing under the thin sheets, and even more of the feel of his warmth pressed against her, of his hand gently resting on her waist, slightly possessively.

To her surprise, she didn't really want to move, didn't want to disturb him. He looked so peaceful, so content, his mouth relaxed and his fiery eyes hidden for once. In his sleep he let out a long breath and gently pulled her closer to him. Her cheeks flushed crimson; she could feel each of his fingers on the delicate flesh of her waist through the sheets, and the heat from his hands was causing a strange thundering of her heart.

Dilandau's eyes opened a moment later. They were slightly unfocused at first, trying to revive themselves after sleep, but then they snapped into awareness and widened with shock at seeing her so close. He seemed to realize that he was gripping her waist and that she was held tightly against him and snatched his hand back from her. Unfortunately his arm was still stuck underneath her and she had to move to let him remove it. Then he was still, no longer touching her but not leaving either, his eyes wary, waiting for her to make the next move.

She didn't know what to do, but she didn't want him to leave.

"Hello, Dilandau," she said lamely, her voice sounding much too loud in the quiet of the room.

"You're alive, Telepath." He wouldn't meet her eyes now, just kept looking up at the ceiling, as if something on it fascinated him far more than she did.

"Yeah, I'm alive." She bit her lip and pulled the covers up higher, all the way up to her chin so that almost none of her was exposed. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Getting me the hell out of there. You pretty much saved my life." She wished he would look at her or leave or yell at her or something, anything that would tell her what he was thinking. The unreadable expression on his face frightened her.

"You really should thank Celena, she was the one who woke me up and said you were in trouble." He couldn't, wouldn't, look at her. He didn't know what he would see in her grey eyes if he did, and though part of him wanted to see whatever it was, there was still a piece of him, the safe one, that refused to risk it.

"Maybe I should go thank her then."

"Maybe you should."

Neither of them moved from their positions on the bed, though she was no longer looking at him. Instead she was contemplating all the ways she could murder him with the sheets. Why the hell was he being such an asshole? He had saved her life so obviously he didn't hate her as passionately as he used to, but then why wouldn't he look at her? Was she that repulsive in the morning?

Dilandau sat up suddenly, breaking the silence with the rustling of the sheets as he rose. "I have to go do something," he told her shortly. Quickly he stood up and grabbed her sword from its resting place against the wall.

"Hey, that's mine. You can't just—"

"Would you rather I go unarmed?" he asked as he belted the weapon around his hips.

"Where are you going?" She sat up now as well, holding the covers around her form with one hand as the other supported her injured body.

"To talk to Folken."

"To talk to Folken? Are you insane? How do you know he won't just capture you and experiment on you too?" Karina was irritated to find that she was genuinely concerned for his safety. She wasn't supposed to be concerned about him when she was pissed at him.

Now Dilandau turned and looked her squarely in the eye. "Do you doubt that I can defend myself against that soulless bastard?"

Karina glared at him defiantly. "I have my doubts." she said icily. "And who are you to talk about somebody being soulless? You're the one who kills people for fun."

"Exactly," Dilandau said softly, "when I kill, I kill for fun or out of anger or revenge or because I've had a bad day. Folken kills because he does, because the deaths are means to an end. He doesn't kill the people he hates, he doesn't hate anybody, because he can't. He's an empty bastard who should have had his guts ripped out of him to go along with his soul."

Karina frowned. "If he's so empty, then why did he want to, you know—"

"Take you into his bed and have his way with you? Because that particular part of life doesn't have to involve a soul."

"Oh. Yeah, I was just wondering because, when he—"

"When he what?" Dilandau snapped, his fiery eyes glinting dangerously.

"When he kissed me, I could almost feel what you were talking about, the emptiness. More than that, I saw it, or didn't see it, I guess." She tensed as she remembered the terror of that moment, of seeing the world blur before her as the drug took effect, of falling into the dark of which she wasn't sure she would ever awaken from.

"Karina?" Dilandau said softly, his hand on the door. "Did he—did he touch you? I mean really touch you?"

Karina looked up at him and memory filled her eyes. "Other than the kiss? Yes. He—he kissed me while I was bound to the table on my neck, and...and lower. That was all though." A bitter smile crossed her face. "Maybe the rest was planned for later."

Dilandau nodded, but his shoulders were stiff in anger and his knuckles white on the hilt of the sword that hung from his belt. "I will return in a while. Don't leave this room. You can let the Dragonslayers in or Celena if they come, but nobody else." And with that, he was gone, disappearing into the hall like an angel of fire.

∞§∞

Folken, Strategos of Zaibach, and once the heir to the throne of Fanelia, glanced up as a sharp rap sounded on his door. He wasn't expecting anybody at this hour of the morning, and his Master had already come to him and—scolded him for his losing of the girl, though why it should be his fault he didn't know.

"Enter," he called, a little hesitantly.

The door slid open at his call, and his cool aqua gaze met fire. A flicker of fear showed briefly behind his eyes, but he masked it as the General stepped into the room.

"Dilandau," he greeted him smoothly. "I did not know you were planning on discussing tactics today."

Dilandau's trademark smirk crept over his face, and he moved with panther-like grace over to the Strategos' desk. "I'm not really here to discuss tactics, Strategos."

"Really?" Folken watched the General from his seat behind the desk warily, knowing that such a fluidity of movement was a dangerous sign. Only snakes moved so easily when as much anger was in their eyes, and Folken had no wish to be struck by such a snake.

"I wish to discuss the telepath, actually." Dilandau said casually, pinning Folken with his crimson eyes.

"Karina?"

"Is there some other telepath I should know about?"

"No, of course not." Folken forced a smile. "Now what do you wish to discuss about our lovely Karina?"

"Well, I was intending to do most of the talking." In a flash Dilandau was around the desk with his hand wrapped in a crushing grip around Folken's throat. "If you ever touch her, or if any of your sick masters ever try to get near her ever again, I will rip out your heart and your entrails and shove them into your soulless mouth. Is that clear?"

Folken made a noise between a gurgle and a moan, and Dilandau smiled. His hand eased around his once-mentor's throat and he turned and left the room without another word.

Folken sat rubbing his throat for several minutes after Dilandau had gone, thinking about far more than his bruised windpipe. Something he had not foreseen had occurred, and he would have to tell his masters about it with all haste—as soon as he could speak again.

Dilandau's attachment to the telepath had become a problem.

And there was only one thing to be done with problems.

∞§∞

Karina had never been a terribly patient girl, nor was she very good at being bored when there was something to be done. So when Dilandau came striding into the room she was pacing the length of the chamber like a caged tiger, having gone through the arduous task of getting dressed, and her temper rising by the second, blocking out the slight pain from her wounds.

She looked up as he entered, pausing in her anxious movements, and her brows snapped together in a frown.

"What the hell took you so long?" she demanded angrily, grateful to be able to unleash her temper on him. "I've been waiting here for you just like you asked and I haven't been very happy about it wondering if Folken had captured you or killed you or turned you into some kind of zombie-super-killer and—"

"Shut up, Karina." Dilandau interrupted sharply. He drummed his fingers against his thigh and then lifted his eyes to hers. "We're going to kill Folken."

Karina blinked. Her frown morphed to one of confusion, then of disbelief, then of amusement. "Sure we are," she said sarcastically.

Dilandau smirked and pulled off his gloves, carefully setting them on the dresser in front of the mirror. "We are. He can't live, no man like that deserves to live." His voice was soft, and held an anger that Karina had seldom witnessed even from him.

"Some people would say that about you," she pointed out reasonably.

"Maybe I don't, but since there's nobody who can kill me, I get to live. I can kill Folken, so he doesn't get to." His smirk faded and a frown crossed his alabaster face. "The only thing I regret about killing him now is having waited so fucking long to do it."

"Why did you wait until now?" she asked after a moment, her eyes searching his for an answer she wasn't sure she knew the question to.

Why? Why had he waited until now to decide that Folken needed to be eliminated? Because Folken had crossed the line. Because he had messed with nature. Because he had no soul. Because he was a bastard and Dilandau wanted to rip out his organs one by one and listen to him scream, and the waiting had sweetened that pleasure. Because he had hurt one of the only things Dilandau had ever cared about. But he wouldn't—couldn't tell her that.

Instead he opted for a noncommittal shrug, looking away from her compelling eyes so that he wouldn't feel the need to tell her the truth. Though the truth was becoming harder to hide every time he looked at her.

Karina bit her lip, and then said hesitantly, "I know why I want to kill him, but—but what are your reasons? You're not exactly a kill-the-bad-guy-because-he's-bad kind of guy. Why do you want to kill him, other than the fact that he's a soulless bastard, as you mentioned before?"

Dilandau's expression hardened as she voiced her question, and his fists clenched at his sides. "Folken is Van's brother, which I think you know from the books you've looked at on Gaea's history, and he failed his test to become the king. Bastard couldn't kill a dragon even when he did have two working arms. Then instead of returning he disappeared and reappeared here, as Strategos. That's all I know about his past up until I had the misfortune of meeting him." His jaw tightened and he still wouldn't look at her, but he pressed on anyway.

"I was Celena then, and they experimented on her and turned her into me, the perfect fighting machine. No feelings except for bloodlust, hate, rage, insanity. The Dragonslayers were acquired over time, carefully selected for their abilities and then kept for their unfailing loyalty. Then came Van, and the battle in the mountains where—" he broke off, finding it somehow difficult to go on. A hand touched his arm and he looked down into Karina's upturned face.

"You don't have to keep going if you don't want to," she told him softly, not moving her hand.

"Where almost all of the Dragonslayers were killed," he finished defiantly. "Chesta, Dalet, Guimel, Viole, they all died there. Miguel had died before at the hands of a Doppleganger called Zongi."

"I don't understand. How are they here if—"

"They're not supposed to be here. They're dead, but Folken and the damn Sorcerers brought them back to finish the battles they started so they could take over Gaea and have their 'ideal future' bullshit."

Karina's eyes were fixed on his face, disbelief and a certain horror in their grey depths. "They're dead?" she whispered incredulously. "All of them?"

"Only some of them. And none of them are dead anymore, they're alive enough." Dilandau's voice was bitter and filled with a suppressed rage that Karina could practically feel radiating from him.

"But you didn't die."

"No, I didn't. I survived and turned back into Celena for awhile. Then we sort of started sharing thoughts. We got tired of being one person, so we found a way to separate us. And now there are two of us, twins, I guess."

"Where the hell do I fit into all of this?" she asked, releasing his arm and sitting back down on the bed.

"I don't know. You've only been used as an interregator, but there has to be something else you're meant for. I can interrogate a man and get the same information out of him as you did, thought in a little more time. They wouldn't bring you here just for that." He frowned as he thought of the Sorcerers, as images of his last session on their cold operating table sprang to his mind.

"Can they send me back? Back to Earth—the Mystic Moon, I mean?"

He looked over at her and his eyes met hers, crimson and grey locked for a moment. There was a question there, one neither was sure they could answer. "Do you want to go back?"

"Why wouldn't I?" Though now that she thought about it she was having trouble seeing why she would.

"You never talk about it. If you wanted to go back, you would have obsessed about finding a way, with that damned stubborn streak you've got. So I figure you've got nothing to go back for. No reason to return."

"But do I really have a reason to stay?" she pointed out reasonably.

"Do you?" His voice was casual, and he looked away from her so that she wouldn't see into him like he was sure she could. She might not be touching him but he knew that she could read him if she wanted, not his mind, but his eyes would betray him.

"I like the Dragonslayers and the Vione, though I wish I could be on land again sometime soon. I'm not a fan of the torture aspect or the being used for my powers, but—" she broke off with an ironic little laugh. "But I find I like it here a lot better than I did back on Earth. At least here if somebody's betraying me or trying to kill me I can run them through."

"If you want to run anybody through, kill the fucking Sorcerers." he growled. Her answer had baffled him. Why couldn't she ever just say anything straight out? Why did it always have to be two sides to everything, no black and white, no I hate you or I—or she what? a part of him demanded.

"All right."

"What?"

"Let's go run the Sorcerers through. You want to kill Folken so let's get them too. They shouldn't be here. They brought the Dragonslayers back, they've brought war to nearly every place on Gaea, they're tortured me, you, ruined part of Celena's life. I'm going to take a leap and say they're not good." She grinned, a slightly ruthless smile that she had picked up from Dilandau. "So let's get rid of them."

Dilandau stared at her for a minute, wondering for the first time in his life if there actually was somebody crazier than he was. But she was serious, he could tell by that merciless little smile and the determination in her eyes.

"We'll need a plan," he said slowly. He must be insane. Why the hell was he following her suggestion? Except for the fact that it was a good idea and that he was itching to kill somebody and in particular the Sorcerer's and their whiny little slave Strategos, he had no reason to agree with her.

"You're pretty good at those, aren't you?" she asked, with only a slightly teasing note in her voice.

He glared at her, and drummed his fingers on his thigh. "I'll have to talk to the Slayers. Come on," he commanded shortly, turning to leave.

Karina slowly got up from the bed and tugged her boots on—God, it was a lot harder to get up than it was to stay up.

Dilandau stopped at the door and turned around, nearly running into Karina who had come up behind him. She started and looked up at him, puzzled by the look in his eyes.

"Are you sure you want to go?" he asked in a rather clipped voice. "I can handle this, you could stay. You don't have to fight them."

"Dilandau, if you're expressing concern for my safety I may die of shock." Her tone was light, but she wanted to know, ached to know what was really behind that concern. Worry for a comrade, respect for an opponent, or more?

"You aren't in the best condition to be fighting. If you slow us down I won't be happy." he finished harshly.

Karina rolled her eyes. Same old Dilandau.

His expression softened ever so slightly and his hand reached up, brushing her arm and shoulder on its way. His fingers stretched, a feather-light touch on her cheek with his gloved hand. Her lips parted as her heart sped up, she could feel it pound in her chest. His palm caressed her face, his thumb stroked softly along her cheekbone. What the hell am I doing? a reasonable part of him asked, but he ignored it.

"Karina," he began, moving closer to her. "The truth is that I—" he broke off when he felt her hand slide over his own, the one that was touching her, and hold it there.

"Yes? What's the truth?" Tell me, Dilandau, for goodness' sake just tell me that you need me, tell me.

"I..." he trailed off and his face drew nearer to hers. His breath was soft and warm against her cheek, his lips so close to her own. "Stay with me."

"Yes," she breathed, and pulled his mouth down to hers.

A/N: Well, that's all for now. I have more time to write now because this semester isn't absolutely insane unlike the last one. What did you think? You know you want to review for me. I'll try to get the next one up pretty soon. More action, in more ways than one, and only a few more chapters left.