Chapter Four: Converges and Conferences

A few miles away from Critic's home, a ferry was pulling into one of many docks that lined the Channel. On it was the usual pastiche of passengers-a few tourists, some mages, any creatures that could handle crossing water, and a young woman wearing a black shirt and black pants with a sword-belt. She was standing by the rail, hooded eyes gazing at the buildings as they came into view. Things hadn't changed much, she thought. She wondered if she was doing the right thing, coming back here.

"Hey cutie."

She turned, glaring up at the ugly bastard that stood behind her. Lindsay couldn't be sure, but it looked like he had some troll in his blood. She groaned inwardly, cursing the genetics that made her look like a helpless little waif to so many. Automatically, her hand fell to her hip, resting on her sword hilt. "What did you call me?"

The brute smiled, showing teeth that would send a dentist into fits. "You wanna get a drink when we disembark?" He leered at her, and Lindsay didn't have to hear the rest of the sentence. She tightened her grip on the hilt.

"Get out of my face, or I make you uglier than you already are."

The troll laughed, a muddy, gurgling sound. "You're a little puny to be threatening me, girly. What's to stop me from simply taking what I want right here?"

Lindsay didn't even tremble. She drew her sword and pointed it at his stomach. "You mean besides the fact that I could gut you before you even had the chance? This." She pulled down her shirt, revealing the hooded skull tattooed onto her shoulder. "You know what happens when you threaten a Disciple, right?"

The troll seemed to shrink several inches. "M...my apologies, Miss! I didn't know." He backed away, still babbling apologies, and Lindsay re-sheathed her sword, trying not to grin. Men were all the same, no matter what species they belonged to.

The ferry docked, and Lindsay disembarked, heading up and down narrow streets. She didn't realize where she was going until she found herself standing in front of a building she had not been to in years. On reflex, she Looked up at the second story window, smiling. 'He still has the wards up.' She turned her Sight off and entered the building, heading straight for Critic's apartment. After a moment of doubt, she steeled herself and knocked on the door.

Lindsay expected to see Critic open the door. Instead, it was opened by a rather busty red head in a sweater that left little to the imagination, her hair tousled as if she had just woke up. "Hello?"

Chick had only been speechless once in her life, when she had realized a Necro had brought back his dead daughter to use as a sex slave. This was different though-she could feel the hot flush of embarrassment creeping up her face. "Um...I...must have the wrong apartment. I was looking for..." she caught movement behind the woman. "Critic! Umm..I can see I caught you at a bad time, nice to see you again!" She turned and ran down the hall, cursing herself for letting emotions get the best of her.

"Chick! Chick! Nostalgia Chick! LINDSAY, WAIT." Critic caught up with her, taking her arm to halt her. "Let me explain."

"Explain what? We had a fling once, it ended, and you moved on to Busty Redhead." Chick shrugged. "It happens."

Critic looked flustered. "It's not like that. She's not...we're not like that. I'm guarding her."

"From what? Virginity? If I had to guess, she's left that behind a long time ago."

"Haha. Come back to the apartment, and I'll explain everything." He gave her the puppy-dog eyes, and she groaned.

"Fine! But it had better be a good explanation."

Ten minutes later, Chick was staring slack-jawed at Critic. Layla had shyly introduced herself and was now sitting in a lotus position on the floor, her gaze turned inward. Chick looked over at her, then back to Critic. "So let me see if I got this. She's a Healer, someone who can bring back people to true life. An alchemist with a split personality and his Mage-boyfriend hired you to watch her because your insane twin brother, who is now a Black Mage, will want to use her power to basically become a god. So they hired you, whose job it is to make sure none of Death's Laws are broken, to guard a woman that, by her very existence, defies a great number of them. That about right?"

Critic nodded. "Yes."

Chick blinked, then drained her coffee, not even wincing at the bitter taste. "You realize when the Boss finds out about this, he's going to give you a True Death? This goes beyond letting a Necro slip by you, Critic. That woman is an anomaly."

Critic slammed his hand down on the table. "I know that, damn it!" He sighed deeply. "I know, but I gave my word to protect her. And between the Boss and my brother, I'll take the one that isn't an insane death-dealer." He buried his head in his hands. "God, what have I gotten myself into?"

"Deep shit."

Chick and Critic started at Layla's voice. She was still in the same position as before, and Chick could see a slight haze shimmering in the air around her. "Were you listening to that?"

"Yes. I'm meditating, not deaf. And while I don't know what Critic's twin is truly capable of, nor do I wish to know, I can tell you that I am not a helpless damsel. It's not just people I can bring to life if I want. I've made a deal that I will not perform the Resurrection Spell in Critic's presence, since I do understand he has a job." She opened her eyes and stared at Lindsay. "The same one as you, actually. And you are not bound by any promise. Why didn't you just kill me when Critic told you my Skill?"

Lindsay glared at her. "Because if I draw my weapon here, it will be seen as a violation of the Protective Spells Critic's cast, and combined with the Protective Spell you just silently cast, I'll end up being blasted all the way back to Comicrona." She sighed. "And before you ask, no, I won't attack you when you're not in the apartment either. It's true you pretty much should not exist, but I'm a Disciple, not a murderer." She finished her coffee, then smiled at Critic. "Dominic still in town?" He nodded, and she grinned in relief. "Good, I could use a drink. See you around, Critic. Miss Green...goodbye."

After she left, Critic turned to Layla. "Am I really in deep shit?"

"You could say that."

High above the roofs of Awesomia, in a place that was not really a place, a man in a black suit and black-rimmed glasses sat in a pristine white office, paging through a thick book that was chained to the desk. The only ornamentation in the office was a rather poorly done painting of a ship at sunset. There was no sound save for the rustle of pages as Death turned another page in his Book.

A shadow fell over the Book, and Death glanced up at Fate. She was in her Maiden guise, and he bit back a smile at the blue hair. "Can I help you?"

"The Healer, Layla Green."

Death nodded. "What about her?"

"Your Disciple is guarding her."

Death rolled his eyes. "Yes, thank you, I knew that already."

Fate conjured up her Web, lighting up two threads-one of gold and one of green. "Look." She waved her hand, and the two threads began to move, then converged, forming one unbreakable thread. "Their fates are intertwined."

Death pulled the Web closer, peering intently at it. "What about this black thread?"

Fate looked worried. "That I'm not sure of. It starts to merge with Layla's thread, but then it breaks off without warning."

"Thank you for clearing that up, Clotho."

Fate laughed. "Clotho? You haven't called me that in a few hundred millenia, Thanatos."

"I'm feeling nostalgic. So what am I supposed to do?"

"What all of us are doing. Watch and wait."

Layla stretched like a cat, yawning as she came out of her semi-trance. Critic tried to ignore what the sweater she was wearing did to her already ample bust, but she could see the small flush of heat on his face. "Do you find me attractive?"

He blushed deeper, and Layla smiled. "I...well, a guy would have to be blind to not notice your...assets."

"That's not what I asked. I asked if you personally found me attractive." Layla said, getting to her feet and heading into the kitchen. She took a carton of orange juice out of the fridge. "Cups?" Critic pointed to the cupboard behind her. "Thanks. So, do you?"

"Yeah, I do. But I'm not attracted to you. You're a mild inconvenience, nothing more. Once everything's been resolved, Spoony can pay me what he feels is my due, and we'll part ways, hopefully to never meet again."

Layla grinned at him. "You know, you're the first guy I've met that didn't immediately try to sweet talk me into his bed?" She laughed. "Well, besides Linkara, but then again I'm not exactly his type. Though judging by the young woman that was here earlier, I might not be your type either."

Critic laughed. "You mean Nostalgia Chick? Trust me, there's nothing there anymore. We worked together on a case, and things got pretty hot and heavy. I respect her as a fellow Disciple and friend, but neither of us want to relive the past."

Layla nodded in understanding, and Critic smiled back at her. "Miss Green..."

"Layla."

Critic rolled his eyes. "Miss Green, you said earlier that it wasn't just people you could bring back. Care to elaborate on that?"

Layla tried not to giggle at how distant he was being. "You mean can I bring dead animals back? Only if they're newly dead. Don't ask me to revive the dog you lost as a kid."

Critic shook his head. "I was thinking about plants."

"Oh yeah, easily. Why, do you not have a green thumb?"

Critic snorted. "You might say that. I could kill a plastic plant. But the reason I asked is because of this." He walked over to the window and gently lifted a small pot off the sill. Inside was a tiny rosebush with thorns and stems, but no roses. Critic placed it on the table. "Rob gave that to me for my seventh birthday, and every year it would put forth three sets of roses. Red for me, white for Rob, and dark blue for my brother. It hasn't had a bloom now in eight years. I've tried everything." He gently ran his finger over the thorns, not even wincing as he was pricked. "I keep thinking, maybe if I can make just one bud appear, then that means my family has a chance to reconcile. But I know that probably won't happen. My twin...he was already insane before he became whatever he is, and Rob was the one to throw me out." He hung his head, vision doubling as he teared up. Then he felt a gentle hand on his back.

Layla passed her hand over the rose bush, and a green light flowed from her palm. At first, nothing happened, but then a blood red rose appeared on a stem. "I can't bring your brothers' flowers back, but will this do for now?"

Critic couldn't speak. He just nodded, staring at the rose while Layla gently rubbed his back.