Three hours later, Yylfordt was almost asleep in his chair where he listened to Findorr read news, one 'click' at a time. One 'click' per page…
'Click.'
'Click.'
'Click.'
'Click.'
'Click.'
"Yylfordt!" A voice woke him with a start.
"What?!" The Arrancar sat up in his chair. "I had a horrible…oh… damn… it wasn't a dream…"
"No." Findorr turned to look at him, smile on his face. "I am afraid it wasn't. I woke you to tell you I actually found something. It's really insane, this newspaper thing… but, listen to this:"
"Are you sure I want to?" Yylfordt yawned and began to put his hair back in place.
"Yes." Findorr was so excited, he couldn't help but dance from one foot to the other. "You want to. This is a gem. And you know what?"
"What?" Yylfordt stared at his friend with tired eyes.
"You wrote this! You're a-"
"Wrote what?"
"This… just listen already, damn it!" Findorr grouched and began to read off the computer screen in front of him. "Okay. December 2nd 1911. 'Alair Grants, 24, passed away the night before after what the Coroner ruled as an 'unfortunate drunken accident' and unfortunate was indeed as he was a beloved brother. My beloved brother and I shall forever miss him.' And this is amazing! This, right here, is your name!"
Yylfordt leapt out his chair and rushed over to the screen. "Forever miss him, Alair's bereaved brother, Ceion. That's… weird… I wrote that piece of shit?"
Findorr choked on his smuggled coffee. "Ahhack! What? This was beautiful!"
"It was well written, but I don't buy it." Yylfordt said, hitting his friend on the back repeatedly to save him from suffocating. "Beloved my foot. I think there is more to this than is written here."
"Sure there is." Findorr coughed a few more times before saying, "because who wants the world to know his brother was in incurable drunk? No wonder Szayel doesn't hit the booze."
"Yeah… that suddenly makes sense."
"But what else I want to know is, why it doesn't say anything about poison here."
"Maybe I didn't want to mention it."
"Nah. I think you would have because you already slandered your brother's name by making him look like a drunk idiot." Finodrr pointed out, his mind trying to figure this out. "And so, we are missing something big here. Now, I suggest we print this out and go research alcohol in…1911."
"You sure?" Yylfordt stammered, not wanting his friend to dig up any more dirt on him that he had no idea existed. "I mean, we know I killed him. Isn't that enough?"
"I wanna know how. And don't worry, I won't hate you for it either. We all do stupid thing-oh… damn, damn!"
"What?!" Yylfordt cried, hoping the newspaper didn't say something like, 'I miss my dear brother so much I cry all the time' "What is it?!"
"I didn't get the connection! How could I have missed it!" Findorr held up the printed copy for Yylfordt to read along with him. "'My beloved brother… da, da, da, and may he rest in peace with our parents, Daughtry and his beloved wife, Tilly."
"And?" Yylfordt was so glad they were dead for who would want to live with names like that.
Findorr set the print out on the end table next to the chair that Yylfordt had been sitting in. "This says that your parents were dead at this time and so, that might give us another clue or something. I just know they play a part."
"Yeah… yeah…." Yylfordt muttered. "Make me in to a serial killer, will you?"
"Oops, too late!" Findorr laughed and ran off to get newspapers a good five years back and Yylfordt sat down in his chair to nap. "I think I hate him…"
"AND I was right!"
"Shhh!" Yylfordt hushed him. "We're in a library!"
Findorr blushed a little. "Oops. Sorry."
"Okay." Yylfordt slowly climbed out his chair where he had been curled up like a kitty cat, sleeping. "Ow… ow… stiff…pain…"
"Sorry." Findorr didn't know it would take him another five hours to find what he wanted. "But I have some good news and so some bad news."
"I don't like how you announce any news."
"Whatever." Findorr moved aside from the screen so Yylfordt could read with him. "Good news, I found your obituary too. By going ahead in time by 8 years. Isn't that strange?"
"Strange how?" Yylfordt did want to really read what someone had to say about him after he died.
"8." Findorr repeated, setting the print out on the keyboard. "Your brother's rank in the Espada was the 4th for the longest time. Then he was kicked out and you know the rest of the story. He came back and was the 8th. So, lucky number for him? Dividends of 4?"
"I have no idea. You read too many Numerology Books, Findorr."
"True. Now, this is your obituary written by a… Daniel Willcox. Ring a bell?"
"Nope." Yylfordt wished he remembered. "I don't recall anything of my past that I haven't been told. Hollowfication wiped my mind pretty cleanly."
"Mine somewhat as well. Anyhow, let's read shall we?"
"Awe… I don't want to-"
"You have to hear it, Yylfordt. It's interesting and does give me a few leads. Or so I like to believe. It says here: Ceion Grants, 35. Wow, you lived a long life for this time era. It's like you were 101 years old!"
"Thanks?" Yylfordt wasn't sure how to take this diss/compliment. "Read on…"
"Ceion was a dear friend of mine since we were young and was the best friend a gentleman could be aquatinted with. He was also a faithful husband to his wife, Evalyn and caring father to his two children, Susie and Alexander of whom joined him in the welcoming arms of Heaven. Rest in peace, your dearest friend, Daniel Willcox. Damn, he was a good writer and…oh no… I shouldn't have read that…."
"Like hell you should have!" Yylfordt yelled, slumping into his napping chair to cry. "I…I didn't want to remember…"
"Oh." Findorr nodded, understanding the situation. "So that is what happened."
"Yeah. I don't know why…I was so confused."
"It happens to all of us." The Evil Twin said, flipping through the his pages of print offs. "I have done some things I wish I could forget. But we can't. So, the best way to deal with the pain we have in our hearts, is to accept it. And I don't think you have wanted to accept your actions."
"What father would want to?!"
"Someone like me. And I honestly think I win the, 'Boo-Hoo, Sad Dad' contest.'"
Yylfordt looked up at his friend who was clouded by the tears in his eyes. "Really?"
"Like you, I don't like to talk about it." Findorr said with a sigh and sat down on the end table next to the chair. "But I will, so you understand you aren't alone. My king turned me into a hollow and at the time, I was just a normal human. Had a life. Wife, child on the way. And when I was changed, the madness took over me as well and I have learned to forgive myself. And you should too."
"It… it will take time. Thanks."
"So, now that we have that over with," Findorr stood up and walked over to the viewing machine, "Let's look up your parent's death notes."
"Okay…" Yylfordt sat back in his chair and closed his eyes. It was going to take another-
"Found it."
"Five minutes. What does it say?"
"Oh… interesting…" Findorr coo'd at the screen. "Your brother wrote this one…maybe you were too torn up or something this time. It reads: Daughtry Grants, 40! Wow! History just got turned on end here. And his wife, Tilly, 38 were two parents with their hearts in the right place who raised two gentlemen. The loving pair sadly passed away of the Cholera Epidemic in the night and we are forever heartbroken, their loving sons, Alair and Ceion Grants."
"I smell more than fish." Yylfordt stated, knowing he was surely the one who had the talent for writing. "Because, doesn't Cholera take time and, hey! We weren't poor! We lived in a manor! And if you notice, Szayel only mentioned their hearts being in the right place…I don't know where the hell their heads were."
"Exactly!" Findorr would not have noticed anything if he wasn't looking for something. "And now the question is-"
"Which one of us killed them." Yylfordt finished, not liking the idea that he murdered his own parents, but it was already a done deed. "I could have been me because I am sure I could con Szayel into writing this for me while I locked myself in my room to laugh my head off. But then again, it could go the other way… He could have killed them and I was actually upset… I don't know."
"Or it could have been a joint effort…" Findorr hated to suggest it, but these two brothers were a little more than just dangerous. Even as humans. "You could have agreed to split the inheritance-"
"Wait!" Yylfordt cried, too happy for the subject. "Szayel told me once I killed him for his money. He must have gotten the money! But…why did I live in the house. I swear I did…"
"Maybe he got the money and you got the house."
"Makes sense. But why would we want to kill mom and dad?" Yylfordt continued. "I am assuming they were old or dying and so, we could have just taken over the household and taken control of the finances. Now it makes no sense…"
Findorr picked up his smuggled coffee and finished it off. "Maybe it's time to call Nnoitra again…"
"And what would he know that we don't?" Yylfordt was sure Szayel was far too reserved for his own good.
"Well, he is the closest person to your brother and who knows, maybe Szayel liked to have heart to heart chats?"
"I Doubt it…hand over the cards."
"Nah. Don't want to." Findorr pulled out his phone and paused. "Shoot. In a library. Anyhow, let's go research Alcohol on the internet." He cleaned up the boxes of film and set them on a cart to be re-shelved and headed over to a computer. "And…here we are. It says, according to Wikipedia, there are a few kinds of-oh… Menthol Alcohol, also known as Wood Alcohol said to be deadly. Let's click that."
"Let's not…" Yylfordt muttered, watching over his friend's shoulder. "I don't really want to know."
"Ah…" Findorr smiled happily at the screen. "Now that makes un-canny sense."
"What does?"
"Listen. Wood Alcohol is deadly in even small doses and causes damage to the optic nerves! No wonder Szayel wears glasses! It was always an wonder to me, but now it makes sense. And…oh…takes a few days to die. No wonder he hates you."
"Uh… huh…" Yylfordt didn't really like his criminal record so far. "Now why did I just stab him to death if I wanted him dead so badly?"
"Donno. But it seems like you got away with it as you weren't in prison."
"Cool."
"Not funny, Yylfordt." Findorr scolded, "It's not cool what you did. Even if you did get away with it. Thanks to you, no one in Heuco Mundo got any sleep for a good 50 years, damn you."
"Sorry."
"Don't bother apologizing now. But we have to call Nnoitra now and make sure my hunches are right." Findorr grabbed Yylfordt's arm and dragged him out of the library and onto the main staircase outside. "We call now. You sit here."
"Fine…" Yylfordt sighed again and sat down on the steps to keep an eye out for something that might attack. "I'll sit here."
Findorr called up Nnoitra who was thankfully winning his 10 games of Solitaire.
"What's up?" The Second Espada asked, just wishing that Szayel would come back inside and stop yelling at the Terror Twins who were now horrified by their Espada who destroyed half their vital organs.
"Well, we found out a whole, whole bunch." Findorr told him, leaning on the stone pillar to his left. "I'll make it short. I guess Yylfordt pushed Szayel down the steps and poisoned him with Wood Alcohol. Or so I think as it damages the optic nerves. Now, I am wondering, are Szayel's glasses prescription?"
"Uh…what?"
"Well," Findorr grinned and continued to explain his hunch. "If they are, it will prove that his eyes were damaged by the poison."
"Ah…makes sense now."
"I know. Aren't I good?"
"Yeah. I'll give you that." Nnoitra muttered, trying to think back. "And… I think…I actually think they are. I'll have to check next time I see him, which will be in a while as Szayel is busy smashing organs."
"Ah, someone make him upset?"
"Yeah. The Terror Twins. Long story." Nnoitra said. "Now, do you have any more news for me?"
"Nothing. Gotta go find the house and we need to really see if Alair left any journals or anything inside that give his side. Szayel is good, but he's version is surely twisted a bit more than it was. And so is Yylfordt's. Now, do you know who murdered the parents?"
"No clue. Could be either." Nnoitra confessed, not sure how he was going to keep the twins from murdering Szayel as he just broke his promise not to eat or attack them. But what was going to say to an angry butterfly?
"How sad." Findorr grouched, jut wanting to have this all solved. "Call you back later."
"Don't bother calling, I'll call you. Szayel's coming back. Bye."
"Bye." Findorr hung up and stared down at Yylfordt. "Any idea where in London you lived?"
"Not really… I think we were near the river…it all look the-I'd have to be there to get you there." Yylfordt knew his feet would lead him home the moment he stepped into the streets of his beloved city. "And I don't really-"
"We're going." Findorr announced and called up Charlotte who was busy shopping with Nelliel in Sax's. "Hey, Char."
"Yes, super-sexy?" Charlotte asked, picking up his phone as it rang.
"I'll let that slide. Anyhow, can I use some of our savings to take Yylfordt to London. It's a long-"
"You promised to tell me everything!"
"Yes, Charlotte. Brace yourself." Findorr stepped on Yylfordt's hand to keep him in pain so he couldn't protest. "Here is the story and why we need the money."
"Why can't you just take off your Gigai?" Charlotte asked after listening to the whole story. "I promised Nelliel I would take her to Urahara's shop to see if we can make her all grown up again! She has a great plan, you know! One of which I never drea-"
"It is too far to use Soindo all the way there. We are not Barragan-sama. I am sure he could have done it."
"Yes, yes… fine… " Charlotte agreed. "But bring me back a present."
"Cool. Thanks. You are the best, Char." Findorr hung up and grinned down at Yylfordt who was once again horror-struck. "Yeah, I had to tell him and now, we go to the airport." He peeled Yylfordt's hand off the cement steps and led him down to the street to catch a taxi.
Author's note: Yes. It is so going to happen. And yes, Life of a Caterpillar is going to change slightly and it shall be revised in the next month-ish. Thanks for reading!