There and Back again

SD: sighs Stupid summer…..there's nothing to do….and GA1 has only Tuesday and Thursday off of work….That, and we live 30 minutes away from each other….growls Stupid parents for moving us to some random rich place….

GA1: Hey! At least you have air conditioning! Do you wanna know how hot it gets here?

SD: I'd gladly switch the AC for the boredom….Gods; this is going to kill me, if my annoying brothers aren't…

GA1: Quit complaining….

SD: ………

Disclaimer: We DO NOT own escaflowne, Nor do we own "Slipping away" by Avril Lavigne that resides within this chapter. So please do not sue us….for we have nothing of value except for our one lone brain cell that we must share to type up this fanfic for you wonderful readers. We do, however, own the plot changes and our respective characters.

Spirit Dancer: Aiko, Shiva

Glass Angel: Ayane, Fira, Merlin and any other character that I must create for the production of this story.

All rights reserved

Summary:

Not just an ordinary retelling of Escaflowne. Two girl's wish away their lives of family abuse, only to find their wish answered. Destiny plays its hands hard as these two friends find themselves caught up in a war of a world they barely know, only to be torn apart along the way. Will they be able to overcome their trouble pasts, and save this new world for its own destruction? Or will their pasts become its means of destruction?

Category: Action/Adventure/Romance

xVxVxVxVx; same place different point of view

xXxXxXxXx ;scene change

italic; vision

XoX; Flashback

Ch.21: A crack in the Porcelain mask

Stupid… Shesta rolled over in his bed to stare up at the ceiling. They had been back on the Vione for less then three hours and nothing was improving. Damn brat, somehow little boy wonder, Van Fanel, had manage to make them all look like idiots. The plan had been prefect; they would disarm and immobilize the dragon before it knew what hit him. But somehow, that…. Girl pointed at each of them. Fuck, she had pointed DIRECTLY at him before Shesta could shot out a crima claw. Then to make matters worse, the boy grew some brains and lead them to a lake. Water makes the invisibility cloaks worthless, also makes them heavy. With the cloaks being so big and having to fight around in water, mobility isn't the greatest, expectably if the depth of the lake comes up to the waist of your guymelef. It would have been fine, sure it wasn't going as plan but the damn boy was out numbered, five to one. That was until all and mighty Heavenly Knight, Allen Schezar, showed his girly face. Everything was going to the pits. Van had marked a few, good hits on both his and Gatty's melefs. And Allen? Beat the shit out of Miguel's.

Miguel…the stupid moron. He was to busy trying to protect Dilandau-sama, and fight both Allen and Van only to managed to do the unthinkable; get his freaking ass captured! Well, it wasn't completely his fault, some of the damage he took was critical, and none of them could go back and retrieve him. Lord Folken had recalled them due to an approaching transport. That was the one thing they couldn't afford, to be seen. In and out, with no one knowing that you had been there. That was their orders, and they couldn't go against it because it was vital. The Duke of Freid couldn't know of the up coming attack that would be happening in a few days. And thus, here he was now. Lying around in his room until Gatty got back. Guimel and Dallet hadn't said anything to him; the shock of Miguel's loss was still there. Viole… poor Viole. The boy hadn't said a word since they left the lake behind. He didn't even make any noise when the medic put a few stitches in the cut on his arm. Which would mean something was deadly wrong, Viole HATED needles. Shesta didn't attend the meeting with the Strategoes, or well wait outside the door for Dilandau-sama to come out and find out the fate of Miguel Lavariel. No, he too had to pay a visit to the medic or well take Viole to see the medic. So Gatty went in his stead.

So now there was nothing to do but sit here until he came back. Set and let his mind wonder. This was turning out to be not the smartest of ideals as he turned over again to look down at the picture on the wall. The picture echoed the feeling he had seen only hours before in the hanger. True, the woman in the picture wasn't sad, Shesta couldn't recall any of the drawings Dilandau did of her being sad. The fact was that behind the no emotional painting was a sad, tormented painter. Sadness was what Shesta felt when he looked at it, and sadness was something Little Healer was good at painting over too. Dilandau dealt with it by pushing it aside, and dealing with it were no one could see him. There weren't any times Shesta could recall the man ever crying. Ayane seemed to do the same. Sadness, it fluttered passed her eyes when they all appeared on the floor, all except Miguel. But she did not break down and cry... jumping to the conclusion he was dead. Instead she went to Viole and tried to calm him down as the normally laughing clown broke down in tears. It may not seem like it, but Viole cared dearly for the partner he annoyed constantly. It was same for the all of them. The Dragonslayers wasn't just a bunch of kids working together, it was a family. He could tell, behind that fake smile, the words of reassurance that she gave to Viole, she wanted to cry. She wanted comfort too, yet wouldn't allow herself to have it. They had all seen it these pass few days. Though, whether he dare call it love was something he couldn't do, because they way the looked at each other was different. Yet it was hard to explain. Though, even though it was something he would never tell any of the others, he had also seen Dilandau looking at her in a strange way. Well, for him that was. Love triangles were something no one likes, and Shesta prayed that, that wasn't what was happening. The door to the room opened and closed quietly as someone walked in. That someone plopped down on the chair by the desk. Gatty leaned against his hand that propped up on the table to look up at him. Poor man, he looked tired and beat along with a few more things rolled into one. They all really need girlfriends, or even better, lives outside of Zaibach so they didn't have to deal with everything at once. O, wait, I forgot. Zaibach took all our freedoms and lives away…

"This is bull crap." He sighed, after a moment before he looked to the door.

"O? What did the Strategoes have to say?" Shesta sat up in his bed as Gatty shook his head.

"We can't go get Miguel... If we do, we'll blow the whole damn thing…"

"But Gatty, Freid has-"

"Ya… But it seems Folken's got away to deal with that, and use Miguel's capture to our advance…." The frown on his face unsettled Shesta, as he jumped down from the bed to the floor.

"How…?"

"He's sending out a fucking doppelganger!"

xXxXxXxXx

Why? The question circled in his mind as he mindlessly made his way to his room. Why did this always have to happen to him? Hadn't the gods taken enough from him? When were they going to have their full of fun by tormenting him? For the first time in what seemed like years, Folken had made a direct order, an order that Dilandau couldn't refuse to listen too. There would be no rescues for his man, no if, ands, or, buts. Miguel would be in the custody of Freid in the morning. Which made no since, but it didn't matter the boy would ever open his mouth… Unless, that was, someone forced him too. Freid had a very well renounced hypnotist called Plactu. If he was able to get Miguel to talk, there would be hell for Zaibach. Miguel knew a lot. A hell of a lot. Yet, what is Folken's response? A doppelganger! There was not chance Folken would let Dilandau simply rescue his man, no he would use this situation to the advantage of Zaibach. Full the heads of the damn Freid rulers that Allen was a traitor; that he was trying to take King Aston's throne. That Van was helping him, and Zaibach is the good guy. Trying to stop the two, and during the confusion Zaibach will still be able to pull of its surprise attack.

But at what possible cost?

Folken never mentioned what would happen to Miguel... Miguel, true at times all Dilandau wanted to do was beat him and Viole to a bloody pulp, or just sit back and laugh his head off at the man's expense. But… He couldn't… he couldn't just set aside and do nothing. Miguel was his man, his responsibility, and there was no way in hell he was going to stand by and let him die. Yet what could he possibly do? Disobey orders? Risk losing the rest of his men, the rest of his already crumbling family? Dilandau found himself staring at the interior of his room. He couldn't remember reaching the door, nor punching in the combination to come it. But it was clear he had been standing here for some time. His hands were shaking slightly as his hands held tight fists. He could always disobey anyways, retrieve Miguel, and destroy Freid in the process. But he didn't know why Zaibach wanted Freid. No one ever told him why they were taking Freid. Fanelia was burn down by his hand, only because he was told "it threatened the Empire". Dilandau had never question orders like that, never thought really hard on how the little backwards country could really threaten the vast empire of Zaibach. Yet now here he was question Folken's sanity, his sincerity that he had always shown towards Dilandau and his slayers was not present in that room. There wasn't even a hit of sorrow as the man seemed to sign Miguel's death certificate. How could he? After all these years, after all this time, how could he act as if it was nothing? As if Miguel was some faceless soldier that he didn't know nor cared for.

Well, there was a thought, had Folken ever cared about any of them? Or was he just like the other high officers of Zaibach? For the passed four years, Folken had been, unknowingly, the man Dilandau looked up to, if that was even thinkable. Alone since he was five years old, and trained to be a soldier from a young age Dilandau lost respect for any of those older then him. Half of the officers he could out smart; at the age of thirteen he had claimed the title of general even if so many were against it, the youngest general in all of Zaibach written history. Dilandau was the best, and yet, Folken was…well… in a way you could probably call it his "role model". Dealing with people, real people, wasn't something Dilandau was good at it. Yet, Folken was. Once, a year ago, Dilandau had over heard his men taking about it, how Dilandau would do anything to annoy Folken. Some of them just thought he loved to do it, because it was Dilandau's habit to do that with older officers. He did it to any of them aboard the Floating fortress, but he took extra effort at Folken. Though one of his men…or well, woman that was, Refina had pointed out it was more like two brothers. The little one doing all in his power to annoy the bigger one, but it was for attention. From then that's how Dilandau sort of looked at Folken. Whether if the man knew that, Dilandau didn't know, but it didn't matter, at the moment the only thing that came to mind was multiple ways of getting back at him for this. No way, Dilandau didn't like losing exceptionally when it came to losing something that was important to him. Folken knew that, the bastard knew how highly priced his men were to him. He knew and yet…..

He still signed that invisible death certificate.

"Damn it!" The anger and frustration came out all at once as he threw the oak table against the wall, along with one of the chairs, snapping the wood frame. That was all he could do now, take his anger, his frustration out here away from everyone. He kicked the other chair against the dresser. Miguel had been capture and it was his fault. His error, it was because he allowed his judgment to be clouded. All he could thing about was capturing that damn dragon, getting revenge on that damn kid for ruining his face. His FACE! That's all he could think about making that kid feel the pain. But, hadn't he already done that enough? He had burning down his country, taken from that young king everything that was important from him, and yet Dilandau still craved more. What made him any different from Zaibach now? Maybe this was the Gods way of punishing him, maybe Folken was only carrying out their work? Anyone who had looked at his face in the past had called him a god in disguise, yet with that damn scar a part of his pride had been damage. But how much more was it now that he had carelessly lost a man. A man who was not even dead yet, but now he was force to think that. There would be no way Dilandau could retrieve him, no way to bring back Miguel Lavariel back. Even if it could happen, the likely percentage of him being alive was reaching an all time low. Unless someone could alter fate, but that was imposable, and there would be no way. Why? Why had he been so blind?

Dilandau stared into his reflection in the full body length mirror. Crimson red eyes mocked him in the reflection. Laughing at his torment, taunting him because it knew he could do nothing. Nothing, nothing, he could do nothing! How pathetic was that? Here he was, the youngest general in the record of any kingdom and empire. Victories in everything he did, trained for the utmost perfection in everything that he did do. And yet, here was a flaw, a flaw that ran deep into the makeup of his training. Revenge, he always thirsted for revenge for some many things that he was becoming what he hated. The reflection in the mirror continued to laugh at him. Mocking him for what he was becoming, the chaotic smile, and the blazing flames that lay in its eyes. He would not become this, he would never become this! His fist slammed hard into the mirror, shattering the glass into millions of little pieces. They cut into his hands as they fell, but he didn't care as he hit the mirror again distorting the mocking reflection within it.

He would not become it! He was better then them, stronger! He would not… he would not.

Falling to his knees amongst the pieces of glass he stared into what was left of the once full body length mirror. The reflection was his own now, no longer that chaotically smiling madman. Dilandau continued to look into it, as if searching for an answer he could not find anywhere else. Was that what he was bound to become, would fate make sure that he became it? Was there no escape from this path that was set before him? Had all hope left him? There was a chatter of falling plates turned his attention away from the broken mirror to the door, where a stunned Ayane stood. The food plates scattered about her feet, as the hands the once held them fell slightly. The dried paths of tears stained her face.

"A…"

xXxXxXx

He stared at the bandage hand as it sat against the white fabric of her skirt. He wasn't focused on the red sheets of the bed, nor any of it really. Her hand ran through his hair, now easily freed from the tiara he always wore. Every now and then white strands of hair would fall over his eyes. She hadn't said anything to him, simple pulled him up off the floor, sat him down on the bed, and went about bandaging his hands. Dilandau didn't resist her, didn't fight or yell at her for being in his room. Like some injured, afraid child he just sat there watching her as she took care of his cuts removing the glass. Now here he was, head resting in her lap, lying out on the bed. The feeling of her hand, though, running through his hair lightly felt…good. She was leaning against the head rest, sitting on one of the pillows another rested between her lower back on the hard wood. This was slightly weird now. Ayane hadn't said a thing, and here he was not speaking either. Falling asleep right now would be a good idea, that hand of hers running through his hair was making him feel relaxed, secure. But, something was keeping him from that restful sleep, a sleep that he really did need.

"It wasn't always like this…" Dilandau finally said, closing his eyes to shut out the room so that he could focus on the movement of her hand. How it felt each time it moved through his hair. She said nothing, neither telling him nicely to fall asleep nor encouraging him to continue. The movement of that hand did not flutter either. If was as if she was saying in her silence "talk if you want, my ears will listen if you care to use them." Odd, but this seemed to be the first time he ever noticed this about her. Never once had she pressured his men to talk. What the slayers said to her was uninfluenced; she never asked many questions about their lives. What was it about this woman that made him feel so at easy to talk about this or even think about talking about it? "I can barely remember those days, by that large fireplace. It's about the only thing I remember about it. Home, my really home with my family. Or well, more like my mother. She's about the only one I remember, though not in a whole. Her face is always in the shadow of her long white hair… But I remember her voice, her laughter when she was happy, and most of all how it sounded when she was sad. It's funny the only really memory I have of her was of that day, the day THEY took everything. My father, my two brothers… The Duke and his only eldest heirs, all vanished in the means of peace… Zaibach took everything from me. Everything…." His injured hand clinched into a light fist before he talked again.

"I always wondered why, why I was still here. Why didn't they just kill me off like they did them? All of them. They called the meeting in hopes of a truce and instead they killed them all. Not only my father but the ruling families of the other provinces; not leaving a single one behind. Heh... But it doesn't really matter anymore. Their gone and I'm still here. They told me, that if I wanted my home to stay the way it was, I had to become a part of them. I had to join Zaibach. Five years old, and the weight of one whole country, of one people rested on my shoulders. I loved her then, Sarran. Even as a child I love the beauty of that land; I understood what fire could do to something so green. It was a free land, a land were the people lived in a peace that I have not found anywhere else. Five years old, and I took on the weight of it all. Not understanding it completely, I accepted their offer. To save the Sarran Province, I would become part of their army. That's what they told me... Five years old, with one path to take."

"She was the last one alive then, I remember her screaming when they took me away. Away for the lush forests, the emerald of greenery, to the cold gray place I would live seven years of my live in; away from all the colors of the world. I guess then she knew what would happen. After that, I never saw mother again, the most I can guess, or wish for, is that they killed her to, like they did the rest of my family. Instead of the longing death of plague and disease that would haunt that once beautiful land. I never knew, for the years while they brutally trained me, taught me everything that I know now, that they raped her. Sarran, the once beautiful land, was turned in nothing more then a desert shadow of herself. They forced her people out, pulled out the trees only to mine for some sort of rock, and when they couldn't find any, they moved on to digging in the dragon grave yards. She's not the same anymore, I can't ever go back there again; not with out shattering what little memory I have of her. And yet, I'm still here. Fighting for a place that only exists in my mind, how pathetic is that?"

"Though… I guess now… It's not the only thing I have to fight for anymore. They're all I have left. Every single one of them is the only thing I really have left to fight for. They're all the family I have left; it doesn't matter about blood anymore. We're all the same, outcasts. Either because of where we were once born, or just outcasts from our families, but their crumbling apart, even when I'm fighting. I guess I can't even do that right. How much longer until that's taken away from me too?" Her hand stopped moving then, no longer did it linger in his hair. He looked at his hands for a few more moments, lost in some distant though before a sniffle cut through it. He pushed himself up off her lap, so that he was sitting. The cover for her hair had been removed; her hair lay limp now that it was untied. Her steel cold eyes half closed as she tried to stop the tears from going down her cheeks. She had been crying before she came in here, he had seen that. But since she walked into the room, until now not a tear had graced her cheek. Was she crying for him? Oddly that didn't make him angry. He hated the pity from others, yet he did not hate this. Dilandau held out a hand to wipe away the tears from her cheek, but before he could touch her, she jerked out from his reach the suppressed sniffle came again. There was a mystery here, a mystery he had not cared to see before. A cloud had shadowed that smile on her face, clouded the cheerfulness that she expressed. Maybe there was a wrong here. The one needing comfort was searching for it in the one who had not received some of her own. And yet, when it was offered, she rejected it to try and suppress the emotions again. An injury was inflicted here, one that may run as deep as his. He head out his hand again, this time grabbing hold of her chin before she could look again. He wiped away the tears left on her ivory cheeks. Her hands lightly raised and held onto his wrists. Dilandau found himself staring into the steal gray pools of her eyes, the fluster of confused emotions that had found themselves to the surface. A mask had been cased aside. She was not yet strong enough to call it back. Here, he glazed into the realness, the face without the mask. Her eyes held his slightly until they closed, leaving him with the calm face but trembling lips. Her hands remained rested on his wrists, though they felt like they might fall off any second.

There was a mystery here, one that Dilandau found himself intrigued by. He wanted to be the one to find out the person below the mask, the one he saw now. And by the heavens, he would be the one to do it.

There was a few seconds waver of uncertainty, before he leaned forward lightly pressing his lips against hers.

XxXxXxXx

How in the hell did he get himself into this? Miguel groaned as he leaned his head against one of the many crates that surrounded him. It was freezing in this room. Couldn't they have like found somewhere better to put him, instead of the storage room for the produce? At least they could have left him with his boots, and even his jacket! He shivered slightly, and watched his breath as it floated about. Each white puff seemed to become deeper in its white color with each breath. He was so going to freeze to death; if Viole found out about this he would never hear the end of it. The cold nipped at his bare arms, the flimsy tank top was too thin to give any warmth. And his soaks weren't doing much for his poor feet. The rope bit down into his arms that were tied tightly behind him, another rope went around his waist to keep him from doing anything. This so sucked. How in the world did he let that damn blond knight better the crap out of him?

It would be a matter of good luck if his melef worked again, Dilandau-sama was going to have his head on a silver platter. That was, if he ever got back to the Vione. The chances of that though were becoming slimmer by the minute. Wasn't anyone going to come get him from this rat hole? The crusader crew made a nice little threat before throwing him in here, their captain dies, he dies. Nice right? Had these people no respected to their superiors? Probably not, Miguel at the moment did not look his title; then again he had left that all behind hadn't he? When he walked out of his father's house and enlisted in to the military. Money, name, and class all cast aside over a single argument. Though even at this moment he didn't regret it, his old man could burn in the fires of hell for all he cared. Another puff of white smoke left his lips as he exhaled. This was horrible; he was going to become a Popsicle. What a great way to die.

Maybe with this string of luck, the blond knight would too. That would be great; at least one annoyance will be gone. His eyes scanned the room about him; there were crates of vegetables all over the place, and there was a hint smell of salted pork. Didn't this people know any better? Greens should not be sorted in the same place as meat. There were all sorts of things that could grow here, in this possible disease greenhouse. Worms could be crawling all over the damn place; he was so not going to eat anything in Freid. He would rather starve to death then eat any of this. No wonder the lower kingdoms always had disease problems. They were creating these problems themselves, not storing foods correctly, they probably had sanitation issues too. As far as he knew, only a few select countries had running water, but the majority didn't. Lord, did he miss the damn rock fortress. Maybe little boy wonder would get some worm infection in his intestines; Miguel could almost image the young king running to the bathroom constantly. It would serve him right for putting that scare on his lord's face. The redhead shivered again from the cold. He really need to think about something else, like how to keep himself warm or better yet keep his mind off of freezing slowly to death. His toes were starting to tingle a bit. Knocking his head against the crate again, he stared up at the ceiling.

XxXxXxXx

Aiko walked around the Freid transport with no desire to go anywhere, she just wanted to get away from the room. Allen was in poor condition when she had left them all, slipping out without being noticed. All she could remember last hearing was the mole man trying to convince Millerna to save Allen. Right, that girl playing doctor was like giving an infant the controls to an airplane. There was no other doctor here though, so it looked like miss blond was going to have to try and save the life of the man she just left her home chasing after. The girl was so dumb, it was annoying. She really felt sorry for that country of hers; if Millerna was the heir Asturia was in some trouble. She pulled the jacket one of the merchants had given her closer. It was so cold on this damn ship. Rounding a corner, she continued to walk aimlessly. Maybe Van would notice that she was missing and come look for her, Aiko was pretty damn sure she had gotten lost on this airship at least fifteen times. There was no way she was going to be able to retrace her steps. This so sucked, where was Ayane when you needed her?

She had come so close today, staring down the bridge of death as that silver claw went flying though the air at her. And maybe for the second time since she had been on this planet, she was afraid. Why? Why was she afraid of it? Wasn't trying to kill herself a common thing at home? She could remember walking out into traffic once not caring that there were speeding cars coming. So what was the difference? She was stuck in fear back there, afraid to die. She could remember that she was thinking "No, I don't want to die now. Please someone…Anyone…" Why? What was wrong with her? She really needed someone to talk to, but the only person she could wasn't here. No, she was off on the Vione with the bad guys! What in the world was wrong with her? This is so stupid, Ayane shouldn't be there… she should be here, where she was needed.

"Don't worry about me…I'll be fine, just…… Worry about yourself for once…" That's what she had said, and that was it. No matter how many times Aiko replayed that message she didn't get it. Though, she had tried to call Ayane back, her phone still had service on it, but the phones wouldn't connected. Aiko couldn't even get Ayane's voice mail. Was Ayane trying to avoid her? She knew that she didn't mean too, Aiko would never ever hit her. She was fucking sleepwalking!

Na na, na na na, na na

I miss you, I miss you so bad

I don't forget you, oh it's so bad

I hope you can hear me

I remember it clearly

Why! Aiko's mind screamed as she continued to walk, more slowly. Her hands dropped to her sides as she came to a stop, and leaned against the wall. Her black hair fell over her jade eyes as she started at the dark hallway. Some much was happening, and in so little time. How long had they been on this planet? Almost a month and a half now, she was losing track of time. Everything seemed so twisted together, she couldn't even remember what she ate yesterday. O, wait yes she could. Fried lizard, which was in more or less forced. Van was going to get as bad as Ayane soon if he keeps making her eat stuff. Though the lizard wasn't THAT bad... As long so she didn't look at it while she was eating it.

The day you slipped away

The day I found it wouldn't be the same

Oooh

Aiko jumped when she heard what sounded like singing coming from the other side of the wall. On further expectation, she found out that it wasn't a wall, but a door. She stood there for a couple of minutes as the singing continued; the words muffled by the thick wooden door. Finally, curiosity got the better of her, and she opened the door, revealing a dark room with different meats and vegetables. As soon as she opened that door, the singing stopped. The singer stared at her blinking at the bright light that had flooded the small room. Goosebumps ran up and down her bare arms as the cold air came in contact with her body, but she didn't seem to notice. She was too busy trying to process what was happening. The silence dragged out as the two stared at each other. Aiko had gotten over her shock first.

"…Who are you?" The redhead blinked at her for a moment, blue eyes hidden slightly by his hair. He looked a little cold being tied up in a blue tank top, and not having any shoes on. There were some bruises here and there on his exposed skin. It took her a moment to realize, this was that Zaibach soldier that they captured. But that wasn't why she realized who he was; it was because he was one of them. He was in that group that Ayane ran to back in Asturia.

"Who are you?" Aiko stared at him for a second. This could go on forever.

"Aiko……" she replied hesitantly, and looked at him. Up until that point, she hadn't realized that she had walked into the room. She rubbed her arms in a poor attempt to warm them up. Gods it was freezing in here. She temporarily forgot about the boy in front of her as she knelt down until her knees were right underneath her chin. Then she looked up, now eye level with the boy and a little more comfortable in the freezer. She looked at him; her right eye brow was raised. "OK, this is the part when you give me your name so that I know how to address you. It would be rude if I called you "guy" or "hey you" all the time…" Despite herself, she tried to lighten the situation. She couldn't understand why she wanted to cheer him up….maybe it was more for herself then for him. She was so confused with all the thoughts racing through her head, that she wasn't really sure what she was even saying. As it was, her voice sounded far away and almost foreign. And this sudden and new problem wasn't making it any better.

"Lavariel…Miguel Lavariel..." Ok, what was with this kid? He was talking sort of slowly like she was dumb or something. That was really annoying. What was he thinking? That he was all and mighty verses her being some poor lonely servant? She narrowed her eyes at him. "You shouldn't be in here you know…" The corner of her mouth moved to the slightest degree.

"Do you actually think that they care? Even if they did catch me in here, they couldn't stop me…"

"From what, freezing your butt off? Get out of here before you catch a cold…" Aiko's semi smile turned into a frown.

"Ya know what? Hold tight here for a sec ok?" She turned around and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her. Her heavy footsteps slowly faded until there was nothing but silence. Within a matter of minutes, her footsteps came back, and the door opened. "It must be your lucky day. " She laid a heavy jacket over his shoulders, and put one on herself. The cold feeling on her arms slowly went away. He looked at the jacketed for a moment at that laid across his shoulders, frowning. Was this girl nuts or something? He didn't need her help, he was fine. He looked over at the girl as she sat down again on the floor. Why was she still in here? What, was this the 'torture Miguel' thing that they got going on her? Right, if it was they were doing it poorly, the girl wasn't his type.

"I don't know what's worse… Your persistent annoyance at helping…" He sighed and leaned his head against the crate. "Or Lady Ayane's…" Whatever the girl had been thinking at the time, it changed instantly when he said Ayane's name. It almost looked like she was scared.

"Ayane? You know where Ayane is? Is she ok?" She got up, and was now on her hands and knees in front of him. Their faces were inches from each other, and she looked straight into his eyes. "She's not hurt is she?"

"Hey girl, not so close!" He yelped falling against the crate. Aiko leaned back a little more so that she wasn't so close. Was it her, or was there a line of blush on his face? Lord, this girl was scary. Now that she had managed to get him to hit his head, he winched when he looked back at her. He was right, this was the other one. The other Mysticer, she wasn't what he thought she'd look like. Back in Asturia, he didn't get a very good look at her. But then again, this was the girl from back at that blasted blonde's castle. She was the one who had the nerve to kick Dilandau-sama. Though this one wasn't in the least bit like Ayane, she was defiantly loud. "She's….. Fine last time I saw her." Aiko let out a breath of relief, and sat back down at her original spot.

"That's good…" the corners of her mouth perked upwards in the same semi smile she gave before. She went on mumbling to herself, but it was loud enough for Miguel to hear. "I was afraid that I'd hurt her last time…." The rare semi smile turned into the usual frown. "I was hoping that I hadn't wounded her…." He watched her, as she looked away from him to the side. Ayane did say her friend had 'flipped out'. That was all she said about the bruises that were on her throat. Viole said that there were a few more, mostly on her arms. Now that he had a good look at the girl here, he could see light bruises, fading away in time. Something was amidst here, something that Ayane had been hiding.

"She's ok… There are a little bit of bruises… That's about it…" The frown on the girl's face deepened, but she did not look back at him. She seemed lost in thought about something. Great, just what he needed awkward silence. Well, he need to break it the ideal of being in this cold room, with a girl lost in her own head wasn't very interesting. He moved his foot back and forth again, keeping the time as he went back to thinking through what he had been doing before the girl had walked in here. The sound would be better then silence, and it was probable that this little conversation was over anyways.

I had my wake up

Won't you wake up

I keep asking why

And I can't take

It wasn't fake

It happened, you passed by

Now your gone, now your gone

There you go, there you go

Somewhere I can't bring you back

She snapped out of her thoughts when the boy had begun singing again. For a boy, he had a pretty good voice. She didn't look at him right away; she just sat there and listened. When she did look at him, he was staring at the ceiling, his head leaning against the crates. When he had finished he continued to look at the ceiling, and silence filled the room.

"You have a very nice voice…." She looked down as random thoughts entered her head, and left again. She looked at him, with slight confusion. "Who were you singing it for?"

"Um?" He looked back at her and shrugged though the coat. "You, I guess... Its not finished yet… That about all I have written for it…" She blinked at him as his words sunk in, before a small smile graced her lips…a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"Well, I think it sounded great….whether it's finished or not."

xXxXxXx

"I can't believe it….House cleaning sucks…." Guimel groaned slightly as he whipped down the table in the sitting room. The idea of him opening his mouth was just to lighten the mood of everyone else. Ya that so did not work. Dallet seemed to be holding an 'empty' look on his as he worked on organizing the books that were scattered about the book shelf. Shesta were working on straightening up their room. No one had opened their mouths since Dilandau-sama had walked into the door early this morning kicking them all out of bed. They were to take care of their own needs this morning. Ayane would not be, probably for some time. So they would have to get use to the idea of keeping this place straightened on their own. Thus here they all were, making a morning round of doing that, no one had gotten around to cooking breakfast, and with a glace at the clock by the door, Guimel was starting to think they would all be eating the morning gruel from the mess hall. The room fell into its acquired silence again no one talking. About the only dominate sound that there was that of Dallet reorganizing the books for the third time. Sighing Guimel went back to wiping down the table for the last time.

He didn't have to pretend that it was alright, he could never do that. What this group needed to lighten the mood was Viole. But, even the Dragonslayers' own joker could not find light during this time. No, in fact, at the moment Viole was in his and Miguel's room. He hadn't bothered to come out of there since their lord came in, and even then the boy just stood by his door. If there was anything that built the most tension in the room it was probably that. But with Gatty not here it seemed to have tipped the ice burg. The blond commander had been gone before even Guimel got up. In the passed he had always beat everyone else up. The word from Shesta was that he left to 'drop off' Folken's decoy. Whatever the hell that was, none of them knew, and Shesta wasn't about to tell them, all they could get from it was that Miguel would not be coming back anytime soon. That is… if he ever comes back. Standing up, the young slayer walked across the room into his room. By the gods, this was killing him. Viole…Shesta, they were all acting like the redhead slayer was never coming back, and then there was Dilandau-sama. He didn't even seem to notice it this morning; he didn't even say anything to them about it. It was like, Miguel didn't even exist. This hold thing was becoming so freaking annoying. Guimel didn't even want to think what it was going to be like to face the lower cadets. They were the best, everything that those kids were suppose to strive to be like, but what example they were all showing. Even Miguel, it was his foolish pride of not asking for help that had gotten him it that situation to begin with! This whole thing was the redhead's fault; Guimel banged his head against the bunk bed. Dallet was going about the books again; Shesta was doing something now in the sitting room. That was, until there was a commotion in Viole's room, and a sharp cry.

"Viole?" Shesta was the first to responded, Guimel could here his footsteps walk in that direction as he came out of his own room. Dallet remained at the book shelf for a few more moments before dropping them and making his way in the same direction the other two were going. They find the poor kid in the center of his room on the floor, with a small crate there. The room looked as if it had been torn apart; the dresser had been half emptied. The closet was open, several things that had been there before were no longer there, but where on the floor surrounding the dark brunette. It was all of Miguel's stuff; the top bunk had even been stripped down.

"Ole?" The young slayer's old nickname slipped pass Guimel's lips as they all looked down at him. He was sitting on the floor, rocking back and forth as he hugged on to something. There were suppressed sniffles that passed through his lips as he tried to keep from crying out loud. Guimel walked slowly passed the other two, as if sudden movement might frighten the slayer. He touched Viole's shoulder lightly. "Ole?"

"Why….." The brunette finally managed after a moment, still rocking back and forth holding on to what Guimel could see to be a small, worn out black notebook. There were pieces of paper hanging out of it, the neat hand writing that could belong to only one man. It was Miguel's journal. By the gods! It was then that it hit him what the poor brunette had been doing here. He was packing up Miguel's stuff, to send back to the slayer's family. Viole had locked himself in here just to do that and none of them had thought the wiser to stop him. The brunette slayer was already thinking that there was no possible way that the redhead slayer was coming back. Guimel felt his stomach cramp out, he found himself frozen to the spot unable to move. By the gods, was it really possible? Was Dilandau-sama not going to get him back, but leave him to be executed? Would that become their fate as well?

"Viole…."Shesta's voice came, it was then that Guimel had taken notice that their second-in-command had moved from were he stood at by the book. The blond had a hand firmly on the brunette's other shoulder to keep him from rocking. His blue eyes were focus on nothing else but Viole.

"Shes…." There was a whimper from Viole as he fell into Shesta's arms. He wasn't crying anymore, but he had taken up to shaking slightly.

"It's alright, Ole….. It's alright….."The blond kept repeating that phase over and over again, as if he needed it to reassure himself that those words were true. He ran his hand up and down Viole's back slowly, as he stared off to the side to look at the mess of Miguel's stuff. After a few times of saying those words, Shesta's voice seemed to crack slightly. It was then Guimel noticed that there were tears in those normally clear blue eyes. Was this all of their destinies? The mushroom hair shaped slayer balled his hands into tight fists as he look at them two. Would they all just pack up Miguel's memories, and be done with him? Would Shesta have to lie like this every time? Damn them all. Damn Zaibach for what they've done; damn Folken for not letting them get Miguel back…Damn Miguel for being captured; damn Viole for being weak. Damn Gatty for not being here when he was needed; damn Dallet for his silence, and damn Shesta for his lies.

Damn Dilandau, too, for being a coward!

When Guimel focused on the two again, Dallet was there with his arms draped around the other two. It took a few moments for him to make his legs move towards them. If it was going to happen this way, if this family was going to crumble apart like this now… Then by the gods… Guimel fell to his knees next to the rest of them, arm draped partially on Viole and Dallet. Let me be the next to go. I don't think I can handle being the last.

SD: Crys and clutches Van plushie Its sooo sad!

GA1: Oh cut the tears. Its not going to be like this for long….And give that doll of yours some air.

SD: Chuckles Ya….but I'm still bored….

GA1: Oh good grief…..

Edited 7/25/05