The halls are dark- the lights flickered out long ago. Nothing but a trail of dead Imperial soldiers lays behind us. My muscles ache and my head pounds as we finally come to a stop. Exhaustion is written clear over all our faces; the laboratory took much longer to traverse than we predicted it would. Even Balthier's cool, calm demeanor has melted away just enough to reveal the nerves that cause his fingertips to tremble and his breathing to go ragged. The elevator doors close behind us and I heave a sigh of relief.

And then my heart leaps into my throat as I'm thrown to the floor. I start to protest when I see Basch leaping back from the slash of an unknown man's curved swords. The knight clenches his teeth, unable to draw his sword, and presses his forearm to the other man's, preventing a deadly downward swing from reaching its target. They struggle against each other for hardly a moment before the stranger raises his dark eyebrows.

"Ah. My apologies. You bear not the stench of Cid's lackies."

"And you are…" Basch grits. "Our earlier visitor." I start to stand, a new voice freezing me in place and washing a wave of goosebumps over my skin.

"Yes, a valuable man, one I'd sooner not lose. Yet he knows too much."

I look up at Balthier and he glances back, the same answer written clear in his eyes. Doctor Cid. With a strangled growl, the mysterious swordsman sprints off and up the set of stairs to our target. Basch turns sharply to pull me to my feet. I huff, dusting my shirt off.

"You know, he's strong for a bald guy in hot pink pants."

No one replies, following Balthier's rushed lead up the dark staircase. Sighing, I shake my head and hurry after them, tugging my spear free from its sheathe on my back. A dim red light casts a glow down the stairs, flashing brighter once we reach the top. Balthier skids to a stop, the man from before standing on the ground with his swords drawn as Doctor Cid, a pudgy, well-dressed man, stands over him on a platform.

"Cid!" the swordsman calls, glowering up at his opponent. "You know deifacted nethicite brought down the Leviathan! How can you persist in this folly?"

"And you've come here to stop me?" Cid chuckles and I shudder, my heart panging. He sounds exactly like Balthier… Come to think of it, they have the same face as well…Creepy. "I'd fain to see you try."

"Consider your bones, old man," Balthier calls, stepping forward and staring up at his father defiantly. "You're outmatched." Cid's nose crinkles and rage flashes behind his familiar green eyes.

"Pirate scum of the skies," he spits, his voice mocking. His next words are low, bitter. "What brings you here?"

"Treasure," Balthier retorts. "What else would a pirate want? We'll take the Dusk Shard."

"You've come all this way for that trinket?" Cid laughs. "I thought you above this." He pauses, his attention directed to something over his shoulder. "Hm? What's that?" He sighs, turning back toward us. "The Princess of Dalmasca come to visit?" He straightens, a smug look overtaking his face. "She's not entirely without merit. A test of sorts for our princess? A trail for Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca!" he cries, throwing his hands in the air.

"You're not testing anyone," I snap, stepping in front of Ashe, eyes narrowed on the fallen scientist.

"You're a babbling fool!" Ashe calls, scowling at him. Cid chuckles.

"You lust for the Stone's power, do you not?"

"We're not to here to listen to your madman's rambles," I counter. "Balthier's already told you—we're here for the Stone, so hand it over."

"Lend him not your ears, m'ladies," the swordsman cuts in, glancing back over his shoulder. "He means to use you." A shimmering golden mist rises around Cid and he jumps down from his high place, four spiked rotators spinning around him as he bursts into maniacal laughter. Suddenly pulling a straight face, he draws two long, golden firearms.

"Manufacted nethicite! Like Bergan," Fran concludes, drawing her bow. Balthier's face pulls tight into a mixture of anger and betrayal and painful nostalgia.

"How could you do this?" he demands. "How could you fall this far?" Doctor Cid makes no reply, cackling and firing two shots into the sky. I huff, rolling my eyes and raising my spear.

"Looks as though we'll have to knock some sense into him, Balthier."

"Let's do it then," the pirate replies, drawing his gun stiffly. "Always hiding behind your toys. Pity if anything were to happen to them."

The rotating rooks around Cid shudder, washing a blue wave of light over the researcher's body. Vaan's daggers bounce right off the man with a short zap of electricity. Without hesitation, I block out all of Dern's echoing happy tales involving his broken family and drive my spear into the side of one of the spiked rooks, pulling my weight on top of the spear and flipping backward off the end to avoid the sharp points threatening to inject poison into my adrenaline-flooded veins.

Fran blocks a shot from one of the rooks with the edge of her bow, her heeled feet skidding across the ground at the harsh impact. Basch rushes in to attack the same rook, slamming his sword down over its metal frame. The combination of a sharp blade and that man's immense strength make for the perfect combination and the first rook to fall clatters to the ground. I jerk my weapon free and leap back, feeling Penelo's protect spell burn across my skin. There's a sharp tug on my hair and I stumble back into Vaan as Doctor Cid lets off a wild spray of bullets.

I wince as a shot grazes the tip of my ear, hot blood trickling down my hair and face. Pushing away from the boy, I move to attack the rook I hit before. Cid turns and fires at me, sending out an endless wave of ammunition. Three find a mark: my arm, my chest, my side. Hissing in pain, I clutch my elbow and stumble onto my free hand and knees. The deadly sharp spines of the rook draw nearer and nearer; I take a shuddering breath and try to force myself back. Balthier's shoes stop to my right and his face is in mine before I have time to register why he's here.

"The spear, Shae."

Without hesitation, I push back onto my knees and force my—rather, his brother's—weapon into his hands. Balthier immediately stabs at the rook, driving it back. Sparks flash from the machine's damage; the pirate strikes it once more. A healing spell rushes through my body as the rook clatters onto the floor and Balthier tosses me my weapon.

Taking a deep breath and feeling somewhat renewed, I watch as Cid's shield built by the rooks ripples and melts away. The remaining two rooks shudder before falling onto the ground with a pair of clangs. Vaan is the first to rush in, batting the guns out of his way and slashing at Cid's thickly woven waistcoat. The scientist, annoyed, bats at him before firing a bullet into his stomach. Stunned, Vaan stumbles back.

Penelo rushes to tend to her friend as Basch moves to take the boy's place, using the flat of his blade to wrestle his enemy's guns up against his chest where he can't hurt anyone but himself. With the aid of the nethicite, Cid's strength proves to be a match for Basch's, the two struggling to maintain the balance of their power. Never one to hesitate, I rush in behind Cid and strike the back of his head with the end of my spear. In response, Cid swings one of his guns back and knocks the butt of his weapon against my temple. My vision wavers and I stumble to the side, off balance. Doctor Cid throws his head back and laughs.

"I'm terribly sorry, Highness! I didn't see you there!" he mocks. Balthier grits something between his teeth and fires once more, directly into his father's chest. Basch steps back as Cid staggers, pulling my arm over his broad shoulders and pulling me toward the rest of the group. With a groan, Cid falls to his knees, guns falling at his sides. Before anyone can react the strange swordsman I nearly forgot about cries out, lunging into the air and swinging his blades down. Even in my wavering state of mind, I shout out a warning, stumbling forward with an arm stretched out helplessly. Suddenly, a bright blue light flashes and the man is bounced off of a brilliant magick shield and thrown to the ground near the stairs. Gasping for breath, Cid stands and straightens his sleeves.

"Venat," he rasps, "you shouldn't have." The gray shadow of a spirit appears over Cid's shoulder, bright orange eyes glowing in the dim light.

"This creature… So this is your Venat?" Balthier says in disbelief. Cid only smirks, Venat fading in a show of vermillion light.

"Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca!" he cries, turning to the princess. "Just how far will you go for power? Does your lust for nethicite consume you?" Ashe doesn't reply, scowling. "Am I right? I am, aren't I?" Cid continues smugly, his smile so unnervingly similar to Balthier's. "A worthy daughter of the Dynast-King." He cocks his head to the side, turning his gaze to me as I straighten on my own strength, my spear standing as my staff. "And you, my dear. Shera Castean Solidor, sister to Lord Vayne and the perfect example of a bastard child left behind for power. Tell me: do you crave it the same way he does?"

"I'm nothing like Vayne," I snap, clutching my weapon defensively. Cid raises his eyebrows.

"Oh? And so why are you here? It's not for treasure, is it?" He chuckles. "That wayward son of mine, Adamar, once tried reconnecting through a letter." Cid's green eyes glint with a mischief that I constantly saw in Dern's gaze. The scientist lazily picks up his weapons, scanning them nonchalantly. "He explained his ventures and expressed his pleas for my return to the mundane and all that, of course. But he also revealed to me that you may soon have been my own daughter-in-law." My heart catches in my throat and I glare daggers into his grin. "Well, if he'd lived any longer, that is. What's that? Struck a chord, have I, Highness? It's too bad… You know, I've heard rumors that it was your thirst for power that led to his murder."

"You don't know anything!" I scream.

My muscles spring into action before my mind and I rush toward him, spear raised and ready to strike through his heart as his lips quirk into a twisted smile. I'm suddenly jerked back, a tight grip pulling me back by my shirt and an arm blocking my path to my rival. I glower back at Balthier's stern look of warning, my arms trembling from my crushing clench on my spear's shaft.

"Of course, he was on the wrong path attempting to divert my attention from my purpose." Cid rests his hands of his wide hips, shrugging. "So I suppose it's good you turned on him. Though, I'm supposed to blame Vayne for that, am I not? Isn't that what you tell people these days?"

"This is utter nonsense," Balthier snaps, cutting off his father's rambling. "Hand over the Shard, Doctor Cid."

"Oh?" Cid turns his gaze first to Balthier, and then to me, and then to Balthier. Then he bursts out laughing, resting one hand on his rounded belly. "Oh! I see what it is now, Venat! Our beloved princess has moved from bedding one Bunansa to ravishing the next! It's all too good!" He swipes at a tear forming at the corner of his eye dramatically, his laughter slowing. "This visit truly has proved to be entertaining, pirate scum." I clench my jaw, swallowing the lump in my throat hard. Tears prick at my eyes, flooding my vision; they're grown too fat to blink away. "You would do well to go to Giruvegan. Who knows? You may receive a new stone for your trouble."

A two-man ship lands before us, floating and awaiting its newest passenger. Cid starts toward the ship, Ashe striding past me and shouting over the roar of the machine's engine, right beside my ear. As I cringe away, I realize Balthier's standing with his arm raised just before me, so close I can feel his warmth. I shake my head, wincing at Ashe's volume.

"Your words mean nothing to me!"

The ship shudders, its engines slowing their work. Cid ignores the princess, tracing one gloved hand down the detailed work carved into the vehicle. Under his breath, he murmurs to an unseen being.

"The reins of History back in the hands of Man…" Balthier frowns, a curious look taking over his face as he tries to decipher his father's words. Cid grins a menacing grin and turns toward us. "I too make for Giruvegan. Give chase, if you dare it!" With that, the crazed researcher hoists himself up into the ship and takes off not three seconds later. A pained look briefly crosses Balthier's face and he drops his arm.

"I hate it when he does that."

"Mayhaps you think me remiss!" the swordsman from earlier cries, dragging himself to his feet unsteadily. I turn to look at him through cloudy vision, Balthier frowning and leaning a bit closer.

"You alright, Princess?"

Ashe turns to him momentarily, faltering when she realizes he's not addressing her through that oddly quieter voice. I nod, pressing my lips together and forcing my gaze to stay on the bald swordsman in bright pink pants and an open-fronted linen shirt. Something rough brushes across my cheekbone and I cringe away from the touch only to realize it was the pressed end of Balthier's sleeve. The pirate turns back to the man, nonchalant. Sniffing, I take a deep breath and blink at the tears remaining in my eyes.

"Best not ruin my cuffs," he adds in a low voice, though it's tight and impatient. The swordsman sheathes his curved blades on his back and paces toward us.

"The Lady Shera of Archadia? I presume you no longer side with your brother." He steps up to Ashe, sparing me an amicable look through deep brown eyes. "And the Lady Ashe of Dalmasca. The sky pirate Reddas, as your employ."

"Sky pirate, hm?" Balthier repeats half-heartedly. "You've a ship, then?"

"Yes," Reddas replies firmly in his enormously deep voice. "A ship to carry us on to a haven where you may regroup and choose your direction, Highness."

"Take us there," Ashe says immediately, glancing at Basch. The knight nods back respectively, his blue eyes as gentle as ever. "We must reason out our next course of action rather than run after Doctor Cid blindly."

"This way!" Reddas calls, waving an arm over his head and leading the way back down the stairs.

Gradually the others trickle out of the airy space in the laboratory. I remain at Balthier's side—unintentionally—to stare at the place where that detestable man once stood. My knuckles are white and my fingers ache from gripping my spear so tightly for so long, but I can't let go. I need something, anything, to cling to and keep me steady right now. Somehow, I've offended Balthier, though I'm not sure—Dern. I shiver, suddenly feeling sick at the reminder of the hell that brought me to utter ruin a mere five months ago—four before this bizarre venture. It… was Vayne. I look up at Balthier's pensive, bitter glare on his father's last place of stature through my eyelashes. It wasn't me. I didn't kill Adamar. It was…

"What did he mean by…?" Balthier asks unnaturally quietly, his voice the in the rawest state I've ever heard it in. "What happened to Dern?"

"It was Vayne," I choke out, those cursed tears biting at my eyes again. Balthier's eyes fall to the ground before turning to me, full of doubt. I shake my head, my hands wringing around my lance as I tremble. My gaze collapses to the ground. "He… He killed him. I didn't… do anything." I cough with a wince, suffocating on the constriction of my throat. "I didn't…" I shake my head violently, batting away thoughts and threats and the smothering urge to drive my weapon through his face and end it all. For the both of us. "I…" Who am I kidding?

A strangled sob breaks from my throat and I fall to my knees, weak and lifeless. My bones knock the ground and a sharp pain that I hardly feel shoots through my body. A lost cause of absent control, I burst into tears, a sobbing, choking, shuddering mess on the ground, my hands above my head and gripping the upright pole of my spear. My chest tightens and I feel as though I might just die here—and so be it. It's what I deserve. "I k-killed him."

An involuntary sharp intake of breath stops my words for a second, two more tears squeezing past onto my cheeks. "It was… It was me, Balthier." My arms go slack and fall onto the rough concrete, my weapon clattering to the ground with a harsh rattle. Grinding my palms into my eyes, I shudder under the weight of another crippling wave of sorrow and shake my head. "I was so sc-scared that Vayne was going to give him a death he didn't deserve, I… I've lost my mind!" I practically scream, bursting into hysterical laughter. Balthier watches the show with a blank expression, witnessing my entire façade's crumbling end. The stone walls of the mask I've cemented have fallen around me in an unceremonious, haphazard circle.

"I should have just stayed with Jonan in Rabanastre," I force out, falling onto my back and knocking my head hard against the pavement—on purpose. The dizzying effect doesn't last nearly long enough, so I do it again and again until I can hardly breathe and laughing is the only thing that feels right anymore. "I suppose the forced sex wasn't too bad when I was drunk. At least then I couldn't think. I couldn't feel anymore."

I hit my head again.

"I agree," Balthier grumbles, turning on his heels and starting to follow the others. "It would have made everything much easier, Highness."

And again.

~3 months before~

There it is again. That blank stare. Dern's face is washed over, lost in painful contemplation. He's been this way since I brought him back from Vayne's hold and nursed him back to health. Since I became paranoid of the Empire coming and stealing him away. Since Vayne carved the crest of House Solidor into my flesh. I sigh, pulling the blankets up higher and watching him. Broken from thought by the creaking of the bed, Dern glances toward me, settled in the chair at his desk. His dark eyes are blank, empty.

"How are you feeling?" I ask when he turns away, watching the window again.

"The same as always," he replies dryly, watching me sit up with a wince. "I see you've yet to take the potions I gave to you."

"I used them on you," I admit, rubbing my sore side. "Still thinking about what happened?"

"It's all I see when I close my eyes," he mutters, turning back toward the window. All the nights of waking in a cold sweat, of taking turns in search for signs of nightmares… it's taking its toll on us. Heavy, dark bags mark the skin beneath his eyes. "But that's not all."

"Your brother?"

He nods, though his eyes stay on the desert sands outside. I lean back against the headboard, staring at the ceiling.

"Either he never got it or he's a real prick," I huff. He sighs, shaking his head.

"I knew better than to try," he murmurs. "Ffamran… he's a stubborn one. Doesn't cling to the past. Once a deal's been made, it's made." Green eyes turn to me, irritated and hurt. "Though, I thought him better than to leave his brother at the mercy of the Empire."

"Did you mention why you were there?"

"Of course not," he scoffs, irate. "Shae, do you think I'd give your cover away for all the riches in the world?"

"That wasn't what I meant."

"Like hell it wasn't."

"Dern—"

"Don't." Dern stands, crossing his scarred arms and pacing the length of the room restlessly. "I apologize. I'm not quite feeling like myself."

"You haven't been yourself for quite a while, it seems." I stare down at my lap, my breathing ragged around the pain in my chest. "Perhaps this is just who you've become."

"And you're a mere coward waiting for the Empire to whisk me away. That's it, isn't it? Everything must be face-valued." Dern shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. "No, this isn't us. Time is all we need."

"Time," I repeat under my breath, looking out the window wistfully. To feel the sun on my skin again, to see the golden light tanning Dern's face, bleaching his hair… But all I feel outside is fear, a paranoia so strong I can't breathe and every shadow has me startled. Terrified of what Vayne has in store. The mattress sinks and Dern sits in front of me, cross-legged.

"How are you?"

"I suppose I'm the same." I shrug, unable to meet his eyes. "I can't stop worrying about it, Dern. Vayne… He has sources well beyond our reach. If he finds us…"

"Don't think about it," he urges, reaching forward to grasp my hands. "He can't catch us, Shae. We'll keep running because that's what we do. I promise I won't let him get his hands on you, ever."

"You think I'm scared for myself?" I glower up at him; he frowns. "Dern, I don't give a damn about what happens to me. If he got ahold of you again…" I shake my head, voice catching on the lump in my throat. "I can't let that happen. He'd give you the slowest, most horrific end. I'd just… fall to pieces."

"And what are you doing right now?"

"Trying."

"I don't know if you understand what would happen if he were to take you." Dern reaches up a hand to brush my hair from my face, lifting my chin so I look him in the eye. "Or perhaps you do. Either way, I cannot simply let you throw your life away for my sake."

"I won't," I promise, squeezing the hand that still holds mine. He takes a deep breath, staring long and hard at my face. Please don't make this any harder. "As long as you won't throw yours away for mine." He shakes his head, leaning in to brush his lips over mine.

"I'm afraid I cannot make any promises."

"Then neither can I." He gives a weak, breathy laugh.

"What a piece of work we are."

He presses a firm kiss to my lips before pulling away and collapsing onto the bed. Pale green eyes stare up at the ceiling, pensive. Sighing, I fall beside him, curling up to his side. The rough material of his tan shirt scratches my cheek, but I pay it no mind, shutting my eyes tightly. I feel fingers entangle themselves in my hair, another hand tracing the lines of my face. It's all too easy to drift into the enticing waves of sleep.

It's all blood, screams, pleas, explosions, tears. It's all agony. It's all suffocation. Night has fallen by the time I jerk awake, breathless, sweaty, and shaking. Unsteadily, I peel myself from the bed, away from Dern's side, and look out his window. I see them, the shadows of Imperials waiting in the dark. Watching. Waiting. Nauseous, I stumble backward into Dern's chair, taking a shaky breath. They won't leave until I do something.

I grit my teeth, swallowing hard as tears well up in my eyes. Dern sleeps peacefully in the bed, lips parted and hair mussed beyond repair. It's only a matter of time before a nightmare about Vayne stealing me away wakes him. It's all me… It's why he's suffering. Before all this, I'd never heard Dern scream. I'd never seen him cry. After… it's all I see anymore.

It's all he's become because I was careless. There's a reason he was a treasure out of reach before he broke down that barrier… I shattered him with a single breath. And now… it's my time to fix him. But he's unfixable. He lies to himself, to me, but I know he's all too fragile for this ruthless world. He may be Archadian, may have been a Judge, may be all brains and heart, but he's far too innocent. Far too naïve. A positive force drowned out in the voice of the negatives. I shudder. There's only one way to fix this.

I won't let the Imperials get their hands on him. Never again. Vayne will never get to touch that bright smile. No… It's mine to give and take away. I won't let him suffer any longer. Even if it means… I take a deep breath and turn away from the sleeping man I once knew better than anything else in this world.

I throw his desk drawer open, pulling his revolver free and reloading it with the ammunition scattered about the bin. Trembling, I stagger to my feet. My heart leaps into my throat when Dern blindly reaches for me in his sleep, frowning when he finds me missing. And then he's awake, staring down the barrel of the gun that unsteadily wavers in his face.

"Shae…?" He stares dead ahead at me, raising a shaking hand. "Shae, what are you doing?"

"I can't…" I choke out, hot tears rolling down my cheeks. My hands tremble, the gun rocking with every rattle. "They can't take you from me."

"They won't," he reassures me, sitting up slowly. "Shae, it's alright. You're anxious, I understand. Put the gun down and we can talk. We can fly somewhere else if you like." I shake my head as if it'll throw his words far away from my ears.

"They can't take you," I repeat, blinking away the tears to stare at him coldly, fending off all feeling.

"And they won't," he replies earnestly, eyes locked firmly on mine. My lips curl up into a sickening smile driven purely by insanity, a blind panic, terror.

"No, they won't."

The gun fires twice; it clatters to the floor once. I fall to my knees, sobbing uncontrollably as Dern's lifeless body slumps on the bed, blood and brains splattered on the wall behind him. I turn to the window, screaming at the shadows.

"He's gone! You can't have him!" I beat a fist against the glass, shrieking. "There's nothing left!"

Satisfied, they dissipate. I fall back to the floor, trying to catch my breath around my sobs. I never knew grief could be so painful. My chest is tight, stinging, begging the gods for a rewind. Rage bubbles up in my chest and I scream again, overflowing with agony and anger. Beating my fist to the hard floor, I smack the pistol away so hard it clatters into the wall across the room. Drowning in tears, I drag myself up onto the bed, clinging to Dern's limp frame.

"I'm s-sorry… It h-had to be done, D-Dern…" I take a deep, shuddering breath and brush the hair off his bloody face and press a kiss to his forehead, right beside one of the bullet holes. "He can't hurt you now. You're safe!" Fresh tears well up in my eyes as I close his empty eyes. "You're safe, Adamar. It's like you always wanted." I laugh weakly, looking over to the pistol. "We'll be together soon enough."

Hours later, still under the cover of night, I pull Dern outside the Castean and into the desert sand. It takes over two hours for me to dig a deep hole enough with my bare hands, my skin raw and bleeding. The sun's coming up over the horizon by the time I press another chaste kiss to Dern's forehead and lower him into the grave. Kicking the sand over his body until it the ground's like new, I retrieve a gnarled branch from a nearby dead tree and drive it into the sand. With my knife, I carve "Adamar 'Dern' sien Bunansa" into the wood and sit back on my heels.

Shakily, I reach for the pistol and kneel atop the rough grave. I take a deep breath, shutting my eyes and pulling back on the hammer with my thumb. Trembling, I press a hand to the sand right over Dern's body. The sound of the wildlife stirring awake, the feeling of the sunlight on my skin, the taste of the desert air… It's all beautifully deceitful. The finger on the trigger of Dern's gun twitches. I take another breath, willing it to be my final.

The pistol flies across the sand just as it fires, struck from my hand. Stunned, I stare at the glint of its metallic body as the person behind me clicks their tongue in disappointment.

"You thought you could get out this that easily?" The man leans closer to my ear, hands pressed to my shoulders. "You've made yet another foolish, fear-driven mistake, Shae. You have quite the affinity for those, now don't you?" Jonan shakes his head, dragging me to my feet. I stare up at him, void of all emotion. He stares back, not at all as unfazed as his voice sounds. He keeps looking back to the grave, back to the bloodstains on my clothes, back to the crazed look in my eyes. "Gods, Shae, what…?"

"Vayne won't get him now," I reply, voice barely over a whisper. Jonan stares back at me, confused, stunned, horrified. "He… He can't take him away."

"You twisted…" He huffs, tugging at his hair, obviously distressed at the weight of the situation. "Fates. Let's get you inside."

I don't reply, letting him guide me with a gentle touch to my back. He brings me to my room, nudging me into bed. He sits on my chair the wrong way, keeping the paneled back between his legs as he watches me stare at the ceiling. With a sigh, the boy looks out the window.

"Your brother did a number on your sanity." I don't reply, swallowing the lump in my throat. "I knew you were out of your mind, but this… Gods, Shae—"

"He won't suffer."

"He's gone, Shae!" he shouts suddenly, standing. The chair cracks as it clatters to the floor. "You fucking murdered your only friend in cold blood. I don't care about your intentions. He could've healed, could've gotten better, but you ended him because you were afraid." He shakes his head, fists clenched at his sides. "I didn't even know him, but I knew he was a good man. He turned you around for the better and you threw him away." Shuddering, he continues in a lower voice. "You're a goddamn coward. He was a liar, a crook, a thief, but he deserved far better than a spoiled princess who thinks of nothing but her own wishes. All he wanted was you and you force-fed him bullets."

"I get it!" I snap, scowling at him. Rolling over so I face the wall, I hug my arms to myself, my voice a mere whimper. "He's gone. It's my fault. I'm a selfish bitch. What more do you want from me, Jonan? The world's a lot crueler when you look away from your money and your sob-story past." I squeeze my eyes shut. "Just go."

Instead of leaving, Jonan mutters something about how he can't leave me like this, sets up the splintering chair, and plops back down, face buried in his intertwined fingers.

By late evening, I'm awake again. The halls are eerily silent and the sun doesn't shine nearly as bright as usual. I step outside, standing beside Dern's grave. Vayne… He drove me to this. Struck fear into our hearts and drove me to insanity and hallucination… My fists clench at my side. He's going to pay. I turn back to reenter my ship only to see her pulled to pieces, her parts scattered across the sand, her engines gone and her body scraped beyond repair. I shake my head, staring at the obvious spot in the distance where Jonan's ship once rested. I don't have the energy to chase him down, nor do I honestly care any longer. After all, what's my baby without the laughter of her father to lighten her up? A dark cave of scrap metal and tears. Worth nothing at all.

I scoff, staring up at her looming figure with dry eyes. At least we have that much in common.