X (In Love and War: Chapter 4) X

Battle cries and swords clanking, as well as other sounds of war, could be heard all the way from the gate of Peterny, which was where Fayt had led Albel. The swordsman was still barely awake, although he seemed to slowly realize that he was outside, and that he was very, very cold in the winter night air. Once they reached the gate, having snuck around the entire battle, Fayt merely stood there panting, thinking, not even sure if what he had in mind would work.

"What the hell is going on?" Albel finally demanded, turning to glare at the blue-haired boy. He was freezing, and it was too dark to really see where he was. It didn't seem like it was Kirlsa at all, however.

The younger boy swallowed hard and met the garnet glare cast down on him. "Evia's missing, remember? You're helping me find him." Realization dawned on the older man, as it showed on his pale face, and Fayt took that to mean that his explaination would do for the time being. But the problem of the ongoing battle still existed: how would Albel be able to help him drive off the Black Brigade without being caught? He finally came up with the most mundane idea: "Albel, I need you to yell hey as loud as you can."

"...Hey?" the Wicked One grumbled, cocking an eyebrow. It didn't make any sense to him until he thought about it more, and decided that Fayt didn't know anything about finding missing people. Instead of arguing, or doing it his own way (for he was still too tired to bother), he merely gave in and shouted at the top of his lungs, "Heeeeey!"

His voice rose well over the sounds of battle in the distance and echoed for miles away. The two stood in silence, waiting. "Do it again," Fayt instructed, turning his head upward to look at Albel, who did as he was told and shouted hey again, louder than before. After a moment's consideration, Fayt took a deep breath and shouted, "Albel and I are over here!"

Again, they waited in silence. Albel glanced toward the nervous-looking blue-haired boy and frowned. "I don't think it's working. And what's all that racket out there?"

"Don't worry about that," Fayt said hastily, in perhaps the most self-assured tone he had ever used with the Wicked One around. "Just keep yelling." Indeed they did, the two of them screaming at the top of their lungs into the night. Fayt made sure to be quieter than Albel, so that the soldiers would hear his voice better.

Suddenly, after a few moments of incessant yelling, there was complete and total silence. No one in Peterny stirred; Fayt and Albel pursed their lips in anxious wait; the clanking and hollering over the hills ceased. A dragon soared overhead. Not even a cricket chirped, nor did a single nightengale whistle a shrill tune in flight. Then, out of the dark, the light of torches held by marching figures came into sight.

Fayt's blood ran cold once more, although it could have been attributed to the biting winter breeze. The Brigade had made an about-face and was coming their way. They had succeeded! But how would they get away? If they continued to stand there, someone would spot them and Albel would return to being the merciless captain sure to destroy them all. On the other hand, they couldn't turn and flee through Peterny, and they couldn't return to Aquios - that would be a dead giveaway that Albel was being lied to, and maybe he would turn and kill everyone on his own.

"Who are those people?" Albel questioned, now fully awake, and fully confused. It had to be at least three-thirty or four in the morning by now, and his internal clock was going crazy. He looked down at the blue-haired boy when he didn't answer right away, only to have his arm snatched quite suddenly. "Wha--?"

"Run, Albel!" Fayt shouted, turning tail and running right into Peterny. He was risking a terrible lot by doing this, and could only pray that the dark night would help hide the trading town from the wicked swordsman's eyes. The two of them hurried into the center, then turned down the east street. An alley on the right looked like a good enough place to hide, so the boy pulled Albel back and pressed him against the wall, clamping a hand over his mouth to prevent him from asking a bunch of questions.

Huddled against the wall of the alley, the sound of many, many people in armor rushing by was all they could hear, other than their own heavy breathing. The soldiers would mutter things like, "The Captain is this way!" and, "He must be in Surferio!" as they passed. Finally, after what seemed forever, the noise fell away, and they were left in silence again. Fayt took his hand off Albel's mouth and moved away from him, blushing hotly with the realization that he had pushed his body right against the swordsman's to keep him from moving.

Albel seemed to be baffled, even stunned, beyond words for the longest time. Finally, he snapped, "What the hell was that all about! Where are we? This is not Kirlsa!"

The blue-haired youth winced. He supposed it was stupid and presumptuous of him to think that Albel wouldn't realize that they weren't in the mining town after all, yet he was still hit with shock. "It... we're... I, uh..." His words failed him when he needed them most. All he could do was watch in shame as Albel stepped from the alley, looking around and calculating his surroundings. His green-eyed gaze dropped to the ground when the Wicked One came back to the alley.

"Peterny." That was all Albel had to say, and Fayt felt tears well up in his eyes. He just knew it: Albel had figured everything out and was going to sink those horrible claws deep into his throat until he was thoroughly blue in the face, call him a disgusting, lying maggot, and leave him there to bleed to death. Well, he thought with a hard swallow, I'll just have to face it head-on.

Fayt lifted his head to meet Albel's stare, and was amazed to find a look of concerned worry on his face, rather than the anger he had expected to see. "Wh-what?" the boy murmured, staring right into the ruby eyes, unable to look away despite how badly he wanted to. "Why... are you looking at me that way?" His cheeks reddened, beyond his control as usual.

"The distance between Kirlsa and Peterny is pretty far," Albel said, not answering the boy's questions right away, "Just what is going on with Evia? Why would he go this far away? And were those guards after him?"

A giant weight was lifted from Fayt's chest. So Albel still hadn't figured it out yet. They were safe for now, or so he hoped. "I'm not sure," he said, trying to think as quickly on his feet as he could. "I only heard from Nel that he was missing, and ran out to look for him right away."

"I... see..."

"Mmhmm... I-I thought if I could find Evia before the guards did, I could find out what he had done and help him... or something... and I wanted you to come, too... because... I..."

Fayt couldn't even finish his sentence; he was too nervous, and his teeth were chattering too violently. Behind the cloak of night, the boy's entire face was red, and his lips were beginning to turn blue. Albel seemed to be able to see right through the dark, and his eyebrows furrowed some. "Whatever, shut up. Let's find the inn. You'll freeze to death before you can finish explaining everything to me."

Somehow, Fayt felt unnerved by the way the Wicked One had worded the last part of that sentence, but decided to put the thought aside for the moment. He nodded and stumbled shakily from the alley with numb feet and legs. As if only to make things harder for him, a heavy, snowflake-filled gust picked up, nearly knocking the blue-haired boy over. Albel gently pushed him along, all the way through the town center and down the west street until they reached the inn.

Thankfully, the building was relatively warm - warmer than Fayt's house in Aquios, anyway. Albel left Fayt standing near the door to go book a room, then returned after a bit of negotiating. "Come on, fool," he murmured, motioning for the blue-haired boy to follow as he moved down the hall. Their room was the third on the left.

"Oh," Fayt said as they entered, before he could stop himself. As he observed, there were two beds, covered with several thick blankets. He glanced away to hide his disappointment, and crossed over to the bed closest to the window.

"Oh? Oh, what?" The Wicked One asked, sitting down on the second bed, one leg crossed over the other. "Is this not satisfactory? It's far better than where you live, that's for sure."

The boy lowered his eyes. "Oh, no, it's not that... it was... Oh, as in, 'Oh, this is so great!' You know?" Albel said nothing, kicking his boots off, wriggling from his shirt, and burrowing deep under the blankets, just as he did every night. Only this time, Fayt thought with a slight twinge in his heart, he won't stretch out his arms and tell me to 'come lay down, whether I like it or not.'

"I see," the wicked swordsman finally said, after he was nice and comfortable. "Do you plan on going to sleep any time soon? Or would you rather explain to me what is going on first?"

Fayt considered. He was tired, still rather cold, and going through a cycle of feelings like he'd never been through before. "There isn't much to explain... Nel didn't tell me anything."

"Then what do you think happened? And how did we manage to get to Peterny before sunup? Even the fastest runners on foot could not get from Kirlsa to Peterny that fast." Albel glanced toward Fayt, a strange glint in his eye that the boy noticed and did not like in the slightest.

The blue-haired youth paused to think, deciding that it would be okay for him to do so. "Well, maybe it's because we--"

"Maybe it's because we didn't come from Kirlsa at all?" Albel interrupted, propping himself up on his elbows. Fayt was too stunned to say anything, and merely stared with his mouth open at the older man. "Why look so surprised, maggot? I knew all along where we were."

"K-Kirlsa!" Fayt choked out, a last-ditch attempt to keep the secret going. He opened his mouth to spew more lies, but was dead silenced by the slightest glare from Albel.

"Not Kirlsa. Aquios." Now sitting up all the way, Albel bent his knees and rested his arms on them, never once looking away from Fayt. "Do you really think I'm that stupid? That I wouldn't glance out the window every now and then? It's not like I haven't seen Aquios before, fool. I knew as soon as I looked outside where I was." Fayt found himself unable to speak, due to a growing lump in his throat. "And what's more, you are... the shittiest liar I have ever met."

Again, Fayt felt tears welling up, but forced back them with all his might. He was already being made an idiot - crying would only make him look worse. "Why... didn't you say anything? Or fight me and leave, or sneak off, or anything?" he bursted suddenly, face growing red with anger and embarassment. "Why did you stay and... and humor me like that? And was everything you did just a cherade?"

"Everything I did? Listen to you talk! What in the world are you going on about, maggot?"

"All that... making me sleep with you, and being nice to me on the occasion, and... everything!"

Albel the Wicked's expression was indecipherable. He continued staring at the outraged boy, even when he had looked away to force his tears back down. Opening his mouth to speak, he stopped before uttering a word, and merely kicked the blankets off his legs, sliding to the floor.

Fayt, who was turned away at the time, took the silence as one would take a slap to the face. His breath hitched several times, and he swallowed hard repeatedly, fighting to the bitter end against his crying fit. In truth, he wasn't sure what it was that was going to make him cry, but he somehow felt that it had nothing to do with discovering that Albel knew he was lying all along. But if it wasn't that, what was it?

I'm not afraid that he's going to kill me, Fayt thought, knowing that at there was at least some truth left inside him. But then why... why am I crying?

The blue-haired youth hadn't the time to finish his thoughts before Albel spun him around by the shoulder. With one of those tapiring metal claws his chin was tilted upward, so he had no choice but to face the older man and stare headlong into those slitted, garnet eyes. "What are you snivelling about?" the wicked swordsman demanded, staring contemptuously at the tears on Fayt's face.

"I..." Fayt hesitated. He still couldn't figure out what he was crying for. Ever since that day in the field, when he had first felt that he ought to spare Albel for the sake of doing what his family would have wanted him to do, it was as if the Wicked One had meant just a little more to him than a guest deposited practically at his doorstep courtesy serendipity. Yet here he was, many months later, and he didn't understand his feelings. "I don't know."

Albel continued to merely glare at him, holding his chin up with an extended claw. The blue-haired boy almost felt that he should ask, why was he being stared at, or why wasn't he being torn to shreds yet? But he couldn't even manage to open his mouth, let alone get any words out. All he was capable of was staring straight into the red eyes, and nowhere else.

"Was this your way of protecting your country?" Albel questioned, sounding as if he were striking up a casual livingroom conversation. "Of defending your friends, or maybe even saving your own skin?" He paused, simply daring Fayt to try answering any of those questions. "Or was it... to uphold your family's honor?"

Icy daggers stabbed at Fayt's stomach, then turned into an giant, icy snake and wrapped around his heart, squeezing it so that he thought he might never breathe. How in the name of Apris did he know all this? He was either a psychic, a detective, or a spy. It wasn't possible for someone to be that obvious, was it? Am I really that readable?

The Wicked One took Fayt's silence for an answer. He moved his hand away, letting the boy's chin go. "Yes, the Leingods, I remember them... and the Esteeds as well." The Captain of the Black Brigade gave a slow, thoughtful nod. "Only a few years ago, wasn't it? Just before sundown, the Brigade stormed Aquios and--"

"Stop!" Simply bawling by now, Fayt could take no more of the conversation. "Yes, okay? Yes. ...Nel... told me who you were, and what you did to my family." Head hung, the blue-haired boy's shoulders shook heavily as he cried. "But I let you live, because..."

"There is no avengement in killing a killer?"

"...Yes..." Fayt swallowed hard. "But now I'm..."

"Sorry that you let me live?"

"No, I'm afraid to let you go, because I know if you go back, you'll only kill again." Fayt lifted his head, paying no mind to the streaming tears or the lump in his throat anymore. "That's why I kept you like that. Caged up like... some animal. ...I didn't want you to go."

Albel smiled wryly, but said nothing, going back to staring at Fayt. He was interested to find that the boy was staring right back; he hadn't thought the fool was strong enough to do even that. He lifted his eyebrows, as if urging the youth to go on.

"And once I had started all the cherades... and lies... I had to go on with them. Everyone kept saying you would kill me if you found out what I was doing, but I just went on with it..." It slowly became evident to Fayt that he was rambling, and he swallowed hard, squaring his shoulders. "Albel... I'm sorry."

"That's all I was looking to hear," the Wicked One admitted calmly, sitting down on his bed and situating himself under the covers as if nothing had happened.

"What, an apology?"

"M'hm, for months now, fool."

Fayt lowered his head again, aware that he had stopped crying. "Sorry..."

"That's enough. Go to sleep already. We return to Aquios in the morning."

The blue-haired boy had to wonder if that was a safe idea, but was too tired, cold, and riled up over all the events that had taken place to really think about it. He decided to just trust the wicked swordsman for now, and see where that got him later. Rolling over on his side, he pulled the blankets up to his chin and shut his eyes, feeling incredibly out-of-place laying there by himself. "G'night, Albel..."

When Albel didn't answer, he figured that the older man had to be asleep already, and uttered a soft, unhappy sigh, closing his eyes. For hours upon hours he remained that way; eyes closed, laying there as still as can be, but stuck in limbo between awake and asleep. Finally when he heard birds twittering outside he forced his eyes open. The sun wasn't up at all yet, but the morning birds were already rising. It had to be four, maybe five in the morning.

Fayt rolled over to look at Albel, and found his eyes stuck there. With a soft, hmph, the boy quietly rose from his bed and crept over to the swordsman's, peering warily at him before slipping beside him beneath the blankets. Albel muttered softly in his sleep and shifted, just enough for Fayt to wriggle into his arms and remain there for the time. As soon as he had nuzzled close to Albel he fell asleep, feeling quite complete indeed.

The sun had barely begun to rise when Albel woke, and noticed with a start that he was holding a softly purring Fayt in his arms. As seemed to be the trend that whole day, all he could do was stare. "...Foolish maggot..." he murmured at length, resting his cheek against the top of the blue-haired head beneath him, and shut his eyes. A few more hours of sleep wouldn't hurt... no... just a little longer would be alright.