Chapter 4

"H-hey, Sabo," Ace said, stepping away from the mirror while his mind scrambled frantically for some kind of excuse. Unfortunately, he kept coming up blank, and Sabo's eyes were drilling into his own and making any possible ideas scatter like dust in the wind.

"Ace," Sabo repeated, "what are you doing in here?"

"I...came to tell you that dinner's ready?"

"It's not very convincing when you say it as a question, you know." Sabo stepped fully into his room, shutting off the light and pushing the mirror back into place. "Were you eavesdropping? Don't lie to me," he added.

Ace, realizing he was beaten, set his jaw. "Yeah, I was eavesdropping. What about it?"

Sabo sighed, running a hand through his hair. "No need to get defensive." He began walking out and paused in the doorway, turning back to Ace with a raised eyebrow. "Well? You gonna eat or not? I'm pretty hungry tonight, so -"

"Sabo," Ace said, cutting off the other man. "I want to know." And sure, it probably wasn't his place to pry given that he was staying in Sabo's apartment and could get thrown out on his ass if Sabo wanted to do so, but Ace was curious and very, very determined. What was his roommate mixed up in, and could it endanger him? If so, Ace wanted to be involved as well.

Sabo stared at the stubborn man in his room for almost ten seconds before he relented. "I'll talk to you after dinner, okay?"

Ace hesitated and then nodded. "Yeah, okay. Thanks."

The blond man smiled thinly. "It's not exactly something you should thank me for telling you about."

"You haven't even told me yet!" Ace snapped, more to lighten the mood than anything else, but his only response was Sabo's fading laughter. Muttering about annoying, enigmatic strangers, Ace left Sabo's room and went to eat.

Sabo let out a contented sigh, tipping his head back and slurping up the last of his spaghetti. Ace raised one eyebrow around the veritable mountain of food on his plate; Sabo had eaten quickly, and considering that the blond's plate had held almost as much as Ace's, his speed was impressive.

"You make good noodles," Sabo acknowledged, wiping his face and setting his napkin aside. He then leaned forward, steepling his fingers and resting his elbows on his knees. They were in his sitting room, and Ace inhaled the rest of his food, gulping it down with a quick drink of water before setting the plate aside and focusing on Sabo.

"So, what was that phone call about?" Ace asked. "If you would please tell me, that is."

Sabo's lips quirked into an amused smirk at Ace's belated attempt at manners. "I already agreed to tell you, did I not?" He hesitated a moment, pulling his thoughts together. "To start with, I'm a revolutionary."

Ace blinked. It figured that of all the people in the city that could have rescued him, the one man had to be a revolutionary. Of course, given how the city was separated into a "haves" and "have nots" society, he couldn't fault Sabo for wanting to change things. Still…

"Before you get any ideas," Sabo said, raising one hand, "I need to explain what I mean by that. We're working to improve the lives of everyone in Low Town by systematically sabotaging High Town and keeping tabs on Low Town to make sure that any situations don't excessively deteriorate, hence avoiding any all-out conflicts."

"So, you're sentries," Ace said. "Observers."

Sabo nodded. "Of a sort. We're a little more active than the word 'observers' implies. Our far-off goal is to force the government to equal out the wealth between the Low Town and High Town districts, but it's going to take a long time before we're completely ready to carry out that plan."

"You're trusting me with what seems like pretty important information," Ace hazarded. Sabo grinned.

"Anyone who does even a little prying into our cause - provided they notice it - will find these things out. Perhaps not in so many words, but the story will be the same."

"So, those weapons in your room - those are for...missions?"

"Right. Since I'm a member of the revolutionaries, I'm often called out on missions, which entail what I've already described. Some are more dangerous than others and warrant me carrying extra arms, which is what you saw."

Ace frowned. "You could get hurt on those missions."

"I could, but I won't."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Have a little faith," Sabo said, sitting up and resting his back against the couch cushion. "I'm good at what I do."

He said the words with such confidence that Ace believed him instantly. There was just something about Sabo, some kind of aura, that made Ace trust him and trust in him. Absently, the amnesiac wondered whether he'd just been a very trusting person or if Sabo was just that good.

"If you say so," Ace responded evenly. Sabo sighed, seeing what Ace was getting at.

"I can't take you with me. First of all, I don't know your combat capabilities. Second, I don't know if you're truly trustworthy - your old persona could have been an enemy of the revolutionaries."

"You make it sound like there's a third reason."

"Perceptive. I don't want you, the person who was recently at death's door, getting hurt."

Ace cocked his head. "Me? I'll be fine."

"Refer to the first reason."

"Then test me or something. I know I can handle myself."

Sabo gave Ace a long, considering look. Then he ran a hand through his hair, giving in to the eager expression on Ace's face. "Fine, fine."

"Yes!"

"But, we're just going to spar for a minute. Nothing big, and this won't change my mind about you joining me on missions."

Ace's triumphant expression vanished. "Wait -"

"However," Sabo continued, raising a finger to forestall Ace, "I will feel far more comfortable with you wandering around on your own if you prove that you can take care of yourself if there is a conflict, and that you aren't going to collapse from your injuries."

"Really? I'll be able to leave without your permission?" Ace's tone was dry, almost sarcastic, but lacked any real venom.

Sabo smiled indulgently. "Of course. Now, if you don't think you can handle it, because of your injuries or otherwise, I can always go with you later, hold your hand, help you cross the street -"

"Oh, shut up."

Half an hour later, when they felt that their filled stomachs wouldn't get in the way of a fight, they set up a mat. Sabo surprised Ace by pulling out another mat almost twice the size of the one Ace had used to stretch. Sabo responded to Ace's questioning look by pointing out that he'd sparred with people in his apartment before, and it never hurt to be prepared. Sabo's sitting area got a makeover as the chairs, tables, and other furniture got pushed aside to make room.

"Ready?" Sabo asked, his usual nice attire shed in favor of a simple white shirt and flowing yet tight pants that would give him unrestricted movement but at the same time make it so that his clothes weren't a potential hindrance.

"Ready," Ace affirmed, dropping into a defensive stance. Sabo assumed a stance as well, choosing to go with a simple fighting style that would give him a good idea of Ace abilities and simultaneously hide the enormous strength in his fingers and hands. He didn't want to give away his actual style of fighting in case Ace did turn out to be an enemy.

At Sabo's wordless signal Ace attacked, sweeping forward and aiming a punch at Sabo's solar plexus. Sabo blocked and grabbed onto Ace's wrist, not visibly reacting to the incredible strength behind the blow, and countered with a jab at Ace's jaw. The black-haired man tilted his head to avoid the blow and spun to get his right arm out of Sabo's grasp, simultaneously attempting to sweep Sabo's legs out from under him.

Sabo stepped back, knowing better than to jump, and watched as Ace got his balance again and eyed Sabo.

With just the first few blows, Sabo had determined that Ace knew how to fight. The man wasn't hesitating between motions at all (save for what Sabo expected, given how long he'd been unconscious), and the strength behind his punch had been incredible, as had been Ace's form. He was clearly no amateur still trying to figure out how to avoid breaking his own fingers.

Sabo could have ended the spar right there. He could have, but what would have been the fun in that? After all, he was missing his usual combat missions to take care of the amnesiac, and his body itched for action. With the opportunity right in front of him, how could he go against his own instincts?

So Sabo stepped forward, throwing a feint and then a left hook. Ace didn't fall for the feint and deflected the left hook with an almost casual grace before aiming a kick at Sabo's stomach. The blond quickly sidestepped and went to grab Ace's leg to put the man into a submission hold, but Ace dropped out of reach. Instead of falling as a messy heap on the ground, however, the black-haired man did an impressive maneuver that nearly allowed him to land three separate kicks on Sabo as he spun.

Ace hopped back to his feet when Sabo had to back up, giving him time to orient himself once again. The two then got close again, throwing punches, jabs, and even a few palm strikes to try to get past the other's guard. The entire time they stayed aware of their own abilities, making sure to never cross the line between a spar and an actual fight.

Sabo blocked Ace's latest punch and smoothly stepped around him, aiming an elbow at the fleshier part of Ace's side, knowing better than to put too much force into the blow. Elbows were quite dangerous, after all.

Ace twisted to avoid the hit and tried to grab Sabo's arm, but the blond pulled the limb out of reach and retaliated with a quick series of jabs that had Ace taking a step back. Taking advantage of the man's shift in weight, Sabo pressed forward until Ace's attention was focused solely on his punches.

Then the revolutionary abruptly stopped punching and stepped through Ace's guard, his hand moving so quickly that, to Ace, it seemed to just appear under his chin.

Sabo's eyes sparkled. "I win."

Ace swallowed, stepping away from the hand that could easily have knocked him unconscious had Sabo followed through with the motion. "Yeah, I think you do."

The two grabbed waters and returned to the mat to talk.

"You can clearly handle yourself," Sabo admitted, rubbing a particularly battered and bruised spot on his forearm. He was going to have a tapestry of blues, greens, and yellows over the next few days; apparently, Ace really didn't know his own strength.

Ace pumped his fist. "Yes! Freedom!"

"Sure, something like that. Just be back by...eleven? Yeah, eleven."

"What, you're giving me a curfew?"

"Don't think of it like that. You don't have a phone, right?"

"Er...yeah."

"And, no offense, but I don't want to give you my number. So, we'll compromise. If something terrible happens and you're delayed a little, call my apartment and leave a message. Here's the number."

Sabo scribbled it on a little sheet of paper and handed the note to Ace, who tucked it into his pocket. Sabo had no doubt that the man had already memorized the number; despite his appearance, Ace had an impressively quick mind.

"Sounds good to me," Ace said as he stretched, wincing almost imperceptibly with each motion.

"One more thing," Sabo said. "I've been doing research, and I think I might - might - have a lead on who you are. Or, at least, where you came from."

Ace perked up immediately. "Really? What is it?"

"I can't be sure yet," Sabo cautioned, "so I can't give you all the details. I do know that you came from Low Town, though, since...you know."

Ace blinked. "Of course I came from Low Town."

Sabo sheepishly rubbed his head. "Right, well. That's about it. I'll let you know the rest once I get it confirmed."

"Okay." Ace didn't sound pleased, but Sabo was grateful for his patience. After all, if what he suspected was true, Ace's actual identity would be making his current situation far more complicated.

But that was a worry for tomorrow. For now, Sabo just wanted to -

Thunk.

- watch as Ace fell backwards, already snoring away.

"Apparently your current meds aren't really working," he muttered, watching Ace. He sighed, scratching his ear. "What am I going to do with you, Ace? What if you fall asleep in the middle of nowhere? What then?"

Sabo wasn't actually worried. Ace, as he had already demonstrated, could handle himself. Plus, with the curfew - and there was really no other way to put it, though the idea pained Sabo somewhat - Sabo would know whether Ace was in a bind he couldn't get out of or not within the day.

Sabo eyed the snoring man on the mat below him. His eyes slowly become cloudy, his expression unreadable.

He couldn't be sure, but it had seemed from the very start of the spar that Ace had been holding back.

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