At one time she might have found the noise around the refreshment house to be confusing. But over the half cycle of her blindness, Chiana had learned to use her other senses to sort her surroundings out to a minor extent. Over the clink of glass wear and ceramic Raslek mugs, she caught the occasional snatch of conversation from the other patrons in the Inn. There was a couple having a romantic argument a short distance off to her right somewhere and several male beings planning something slightly illegal just to her left, probably at the next table, both conversations brought a self satisfied smirk to her dark lips.
She couldn't decide which discussion was the most interesting to follow.
A tiny creak of a floorboards behind her, made her automatically sniff at the air. Her senses sorted through the accretion of scents until she found the ones that reassured her. The hint of leather and sandalwood soap that he had bathed with the morning came to her. The creak of the floor was followed by the sweet hiss of heavy silk against silk and the small click of armor plates resettling themselves on his tall, lean, frame.
She had gotten use to her blindness, but Chiana still hadn't accepted it - and doubted she ever would.
She hated the helpless feeling of never knowing what was coming but the trip to the colony world had been necessary. She was glad to have his company in the crowded tavern they waited in, glad that he had found her after she believed for so long that he was dead.
He shifted his weight once again somewhere behind her. He normally moved silently even with the extra weight of his armor, but she had the feeling he purposely made the minute noise so she'd know he was there without her having to go through the awkwardness of having to ask.
The blind Nebari girl felt the slight change in the air current as he moved closer to her; a split microt later his hand lightly touched her shoulder.
"The Luxan has returned," said the ex-Enforcer's unobtrusive neutral-toned voice.
Chiana reached up with her own hand and rested it over the top of his. She had taken to not wearing her usual leather gloves so she could better use her sense of touch to navigate her surroundings. The cool metal of the pulse armor that covered the top of his hand didn't surprise her. She let her fingers involuntarily wander down his hand until she encountered the tips of his fingers that his protective half-gloves left bare. When she found the warm digits, she squeezed onto them lightly. The remaining fellow members of Moya's crew thought the Shrike was as cold as the metal that habitually sheathed his body, but Chiana in her heart knew better. Still, unable to see his face and with the emotionless voice, even she at times needed the warm contact to remind herself that Berret wasn't the soulless creature that Rygel and Stark accused him of being. The ex-assassin almost imperceptivity squeezed her hand back for a microt and the image she held of Berret as they were escaping from the Syndicate stronghold filled her mind's eye. She used that mental photograph to turn aside what the other's told her they thought about him... and she idly wondered if she'd ever see his face again with her own eyes. Their first meeting seemed so long ago and so much had happened since then. The others only saw the dispassionate killing machine the Black Syndicate had left Berret; it was the little things like the hand squeeze that reassured her that Berret wasn't totally emotionless... or without warmth of any kind.
She inwardly sighed and guessed that being blind helped one to notice tiny allusions like that.
"Is anyone with him?" she expectantly asked the Shrike.
"No," replied Berret. "He is alone."
Chiana felt her hopes abruptly shrink. It had been a long shot that they would find the Diagnosan they were seeking here in this port town. The last three clues and stops they'd made had also been dead ends. Noranti had insisted that this healer she'd heard of was the one that could help Chiana if anyone could - so they kept searching.
"Maybe he found something new out?" Chiana offered, trying to mask her disappointment.
"Perhaps," Berret agreed noncommittally.
The Nebari girl could now feel the Luxan warrior's approach through the wooden floorboards, his great weight reverberating along the planks to the soles of her boots. She imaged the crowd of patrons parting to clear a path for the huge Luxan as he made his way toward their table.
The slight pressure of Berret's hand faded from her shoulder and she felt the slight breeze his cloak stirred as it settled back around his armored shoulders after he'd withdrawn his arm, the Shrike once again seemingly taking refuge from intimate contact within the black silk wall of his shroud.
If D'argo saw the contact he made no mention of it as he arrived at the table.
"I have found the Diagnosan," her lover announced to her surprise.
"Where?" Chiana exclaimed, her mood turning from disappointment to hope again in a heartbeat.
D'argo pulled out a chair and dropped his large frame into it before answering. He spared the cloaked man behind the blind girl an unpleased glower before continuing. As usual, the look didn't register or appear to faze Berret in any way. He remained a stolid sentinel draped in black behind the girl.
"He has a clinic on the opposite side of town," D'argo supplied a microt later. "I've confirmed it. He is the one we have been looking for."
"The eye specialist!" gasped Chiana. The Nebari's sightless eyes grew larger in hope. The bright silver-gray irises with their black pin-prick size pupils plucked at the big warriors heartstrings when he recalled the soulful dark eyes that use to regard him from Chiana's beautiful face. The altered appearance of her eyes too closely reminded him of how the Shrike's eyes sometimes were when he was on the hunt or in the heat of battle. D'argo forced all thoughts of the assassin from his mind for the moment and focused on what was important for the moment. He reached forward and clasped Chiana's hand from across the table.
"Optic neurologist," the Luxan corrected, a smile for the girl building in his normally gruff voice.
To the couple's trepidation, the Shrike spoke up behind them and callously intruded on the moment.
"That presents a problem," Berret commented without any attempt at delicacy.
D'argo let out a hiss of annoyed Luxan ire at the man, so much for his effort to ignore him.
"Why must you be the frelling voice of doom for every turn of good luck we have?" he demanded in burning sarcasm. He really disliked Berret... no; check that - he hated the Shrike. And it didn't matter to the Luxan one iota that the killer had saved them from being imprisoned on the planet where John and Aeryn had been killed. It was bad enough being what he was... a hired killer, a murder for the Scarran Black Syndicate... a Shrike Enforcer. But after they had freed Moya and escaped, Chiana had insisted that Berret be allowed to remain with what was left of the Leviathan's crew. The Nebari had latched onto the Enforcer and no amount of reasoning could make her change her mind about allowing Berret to stay. The fact that his Nebari lover refused to elaborate on exactly how she and the assassin had met irritated the Luxan to no end. Attempts to get the information from the Shrike had only led to them coming to blows. The repeated conflicts had still resulted in no answers and had only angered Chiana to the point were she threatened to end their renewed relationship if he didn't leave the ex-assassin alone.
For Berret's part, he stood aloof from the rest of the crew, only really associating with Chiana... and occasionally with Pilot, to D'argo's surprise. However, Chiana was the only one he even allowed close enough to touch him. Something Noranti found out unexpectedly when she tried to offer him medical aid after the small skirmish to free Moya and she laid a hand on him without asking, as she was wont to do with almost everybody usually. In response, the Shrike hurled her into a bulkhead before anyone could stop him. The old woman handled the incident as she did all others with her crewmates. The blow was quickly forgiven and forgotten, though she has never tried to touch Berret again to the best of D'argo's knowledge.
"Are you forgetting your escape from the authorities in this system?" the ex-Enforcer inquired in his exasperatingly dispassionate tone. "That portion of the city is better patrolled then this side."
D'argo grimaced with impatience. "I know that! Are you forgetting the guards you slaughtered in the break out that made us wanted?" he said irately, "Its hard to forget we're fugitives in this system with all the farbing wanted beacons around very bend. That doesn't change the fact that this Diagnosan is Chiana's only chance at getting her sight back."
"Agreed," the Shrike answered.
"I'm so happy that you do," the Luxan warrior replied with dripping cynicism.
D'argo hated it when the assassin started a debate and then went back to one-word answers... even if he was agreeing with what D'argo was saying. He wondered why Berret even bothered raising the subject if he was going to concur in the end away. The Luxan considered the thought that maybe the Shrike was doing it just to get on his nerves.
"You don't have to come with us to the Diagnosan, Shrike," D'argo sneered the next moment. "You can return to Moya if you're afraid."
"No," replied the Shrike, his expression as blank as always.
Chiana interrupted, moving her sightless gaze from side to side where she judged the two males to be.
"Are you sure, 'Ret?" she asked sincerely. "D'argo and I can go alone to see the Diagnosan. You've done enough already with helping free us from that jail."
"I am sure," the ex-Enforcer confirmed from somewhere behind her.
"Thank you," Chiana responded with a grateful smile. D'argo muttered a slight annoyed curse.
After John and Aeryn's "murder", D'argo had flown into a rage. While Noranti, Stark, and Rygel had retrieved their crewmates remains from the rowboat, the Luxan had taken his ship in search of the craft that had killed his friends. Instead of vengeance, he'd flown straight into an ambush. His ship was snared in some sort of power draining device and he was captured after being rendered unconscious at the controls.
He had woken in a cell sometime later to find that the rest of Moya's crew had been taken prisoner as well and were occupying various cells nearby. Moya was also being held captive, secured at a military shipyard.
Somehow as near as D'argo could tell, Berret had learned of Chiana's whereabouts and tracked them to the water-planet where they had stopped to heal the Leviathan.
The Shrike had appeared one night on the cell level and slashed through the lock of Chiana's cell with gore-stained brace blades. At first the Luxan helplessly screamed and threatened the cloaked man as he entered blind girl's cell. Instead of the cries of terror from the Nebari that D'argo expected, Chiana's panicked voice first turned to confusion after the man had spoken a few muffled words, to one of disbelief, then to one of joy.
The pair exited her prison cell a moment later. The Shrike would have continued on with the escape but Chiana had made him turn back and free the rest of her shipmates.
As the group left the detention center, the Luxan found himself thinking that he was glad for the first time of Chiana's blindness. The carnage that the Shrike had left behind him on the way inside unsettled even his battle-hardened warrior constitution. It didn't help that Stark constantly babbled over the slaughter and had to be dragged along by force several times when the Banik stopped to attempt to help a dying guard across into death.
The Syndicate Enforcer that Chiana had hastily introduced as Berret stepped over the bodies as he led them out without notice or concern, his apathy at the destruction seemingly to exceed even Rygel's.
The group concluded their escape from prison in Berret's nearby ship, which turned out to be an unmarked Peacekeeper Wraith Cruiser. A three-man surveillance vessel that was a little crowded with six beings inside it. It was also well armed, which was a great help when a few arns later they returned to bust Moya out of the shipyards and retrieve D'argo's Luxan warship. After this - as John use to say - Everything went to hezmana in a hand-basket.
It soon became obvious that Berret had shown up with the full intent of taking Chiana with him when he left. To make matter worse, the Nebari hadn't exactly told him straight out that she had no intentions of leaving Moya... or D'argo. Instead the girl had danced around the subject for several arns until finally asking to speak with the Shrike privately in her quarters. D'argo fumed the longer the pair remained cloistered in the locked chamber. Chiana had stubbornly refused to elaborate on how or where she came to know the assassin... saying only that he was a friend and that she trusted him.
D'argo was pacing in his quarters, next-door to Chiana's, when he heard her door cycle open. The Shrike's metal shod boots rang on Moya's deck as he marched from the converted cell. The Luxan moved closer to his door to listen, concealed by the heavy drapes that covered the access way.
"Berret..." he heard Chiana call from her doorway. The footsteps halted in the corridor. A peek through the curtains showed the Shrike standing in the middle of the hallway, his back to the cells.
"I understand," the Enforcer said without turning, his voice almost a whisper.
"I-I wish I could see your face," the Nebari continued. "I don't think you do."
The tenderness in Chiana's tone left a cold feeling in D'argo's stomach. His fists clenched at the heavy drapes and he realized he was on the verge on ripping them to shreds in his effort to keep from rushing out to confront the pair. If he and the Nebari girl were to ever fix their relationship, he had to learn to trust Chiana again despite her betrayal with Jothee and the hurt it caused him.
The Shrike turned slightly back to look at the gray girl.
"It does not matter," he said tonelessly, "I will respect your decision." He started to turn away again.
"What will you do?" she asked.
Berret paused once more, his shoulder's slumped slightly. It was apparent to the Luxan that the Shrike was anxious to leave the conversation behind after it hadn't turned out as he'd hoped.
"I am going to the Wraith," Berret explained. "I'm leaving to attend to some unfinished business with the Syndicate. I suspended my plans for the time when I heard word of your whereabouts."
"Don't leave!" said Chiana, "Stay here with us."
"Why?"
Chiana cautiously left her quarters and slowly made her way to him, her senses guiding her to the Shrike's position in the corridor unerringly. She halted when her outstretched hands came into contact with his black-silk cloak.
"There's nothing to be gained by seeking vengeance," the blind girl told him.
"Its all I have," Berret answered. For the first time, D'argo saw his eyes register a hint of emotion.
Chiana's silver-gray irises regarded him almost as if she could see him. She then shook her head.
"No! No, that's not all you have," she countered. "You still have me, we will always be friends. You can have a home here on Moya with the rest of us."
Berret turned his gaze off to one side for the moment. When he looked back, his eyes had become soulless once more.
"The others do not want me here. They have made that perfectly clear," he replied.
"They will if I make them," Chiana responded with certainty. "Please... I've lost enough friends these last few weekens. Don't you leave me too. Not after I found you again."
The Shrike hesitated. D'argo found himself silently encouraging the assassin to stick to his first plan and to leave Moya.
"It will not work," Berret finally said.
"Trust me," pushed the Nebari woman.
"This is not my place."
Chiana's face fell. She lowered her hands from were they rested on his chest. The Nebari turned her sightless gaze away from the Shrike as if she'd been rejected by the man she thought her friend.
"If that is what you believe," she said, "Then it never will be. Can you tell me then... if your place isn't here? Then where is it? Back with the Syndicate? Alone and on the run? Where is it you think you belong?"
Berret looked as if he was trying to come up with an answer, but one evaded him.
"I don't know," he finally admitted.
"Then stay here until you do know," Chiana told him.
The Enforcer looked about him as if in silent debate with himself. Much to the Luxan's disappointment he finally turned back to Chiana and said,
"Very well. I will try... only because you believe."
"That's all I ask," Chiana answered with a small smile.
"But you are the only one I do trust," the Shrike put in a microt later.
Chiana nodded in understanding. "That's a start," she told him.
"When can we go, D'argo?"
Chiana's question brought the Luxan out of his reflection and back to the moment. He glanced up and saw that the Nebari had tilted her head to one side in query and he wondered how many times she'd asked him her question before he noticed. Behind her, Berret was also looking at him with some interest - though not much.
D"argo cleared his throat before supplying the answer.
"Ah-hem... The doctor is out of the clinic at the moment. I was told he should return there within two arns," the warrior explained.
"So we're going then?" asked Chiana.
"Yes. I thought the less time we spend in that section of town the better," Dargo continued. He hadn't wanted to admit it, but the Shrike was right about the law patrols being heavier in the Diagnosan's part of the city.
"Good," replied Chiana as she squeezed D'argo's hand.
The Luxan gave her a warm smile she couldn't see just as Berret stepped around and away from the table.
"In the meanwhile, I have some business of my own to take care of while we wait," announced the ex-assassin.
Despite himself, D'argo felt an eyebrow raise in question. Not only was this one of the longest sentences he could remember the Shrike ever speaking, but also it was the first time that Berret had indicated he had other plans beside what the group had hoped to accomplish on the planet. He also found it slightly suspicious that the Shrike suddenly developed the courtesy to inform them of his plans.
"What sort of business?" inquired the warrior suspiciously.
"Personal business," the Shrike answered, with what D'argo might have thought was a hint of annoyance.
"That... is NOT a good enough answer," growled the Luxan.
Berret's only reply was to gaze at D'argo with unexpressive eyes. It was obvious that the assassin had no attention of explaining himself further.
"Bah!" D'argo spat a moment later. "Do what you want, just don't expect us to wait for you," he said, deciding that it was far better to be rid of the Shrike if even just for a short time. "If you haven't joined us or returned to the Transport Pod by the time we're ready to leave... we'll go without you."
Berret gave him a slightly disdainful stare and then pulled the hood of his cloak up over his head before turning to leave the refreshment house without further comment.
"Frelling Shrike," D'argo muttered at Berret's departing form. The warrior turned back to Chiana to find her biting at her lower lip in concern. The Nebari girl had kept her peace while the two males had their test of wills. The big Luxan knew that Chiana hoped that Berret would eventually find a way to fit in with the Leviathan crew, but D'argo knew it was a lost cause. The ex-Enforcer and D'argo would never come to a truce. There were no more natural enemies than a Luxan warrior and a Shrike assassin.
D'argo sighed heavily to himself and shook his head. Chiana would simply have to learn for herself that there could be no lasting peace among the crewmates as long as Berret remained with them. Still, with Chiana in the condition she was in, he didn't have the heart to force the issue. He would wait and let her come to the conclusion for herself... and hope in the mean time that the Shrike didn't betray them in some way before she came around to seeing the light.
He forgot about the Enforcer for the time being. Hopefully the Diagnosan would know of a cure for the gray woman's blindness and he focused once more on those thoughts.
"So," he said out loud, getting Chiana's attention back and endeavoring to put them both into a better mood. "What do you say we have something to eat while we wait?"
LaSaResh didn't need to hear the man's footsteps at his front walk to know the visitor was approaching.
Just before he knew the man's fist would be knocking on the shack's door jam, he called out in greeting.
"The door is open, enter if you will."
The hovel's slatwood door gently swung open on tough leather hinges. LaSaResh glanced up from his reading to inspect his company. He knew someone was coming, just as he always knew when someone was seeking him - it was part of the gift he'd always had for as long as he could remember. He no longer gave the talent any thought and just accepted it. What his gift never told him was who the visitor would be. He expected it as usual to be one of the other people who resided in the shantytown on the outskirts of the city, looking for his advice on one thing or another... or perhaps some type of medical treatment that they couldn't afford at the more expensive Healers in the city. He was known for having more then one home remedy for many types of afflictions the poorer denizens of the commerce port suffered, herbal knowledge that was handed down to him from his grand-sire.
This time he was mildly taken aback to look up and see the tall stranger draped in a flowing black cloak. This indeed was a surprise... and more interesting then his normal guests. He closed the old script he'd been reading to pass the time and gave this new affair his full and undivided attention.
LaSaResh regard the man for a moment. The shapeless garment that covered him made it hard to tell his build but the male looked to be of Sebacean descent, approaching middle age perhaps. His dark brown hair was braided into a ponytail held together at the end by a gold colored clasp of some sort. The braid would have reached somewhere just below his shoulders, but at present it had fallen carelessly over the front of his left shoulder. His eyes were of a cold blue and lacked expression for the most part, but they alertly swept his one-room shanty as soon as he entered the door. The old man caught a glimpse of metal covered boot under the hem of the black cloak as the man took a step into his abode.
"Pardon the intrusion," the visitor apologized in a subtle voice that matched the eyes.
LaSaResh politely nodded. He didn't mind the interruption of his rather dull day. In fact, he was finding the stranger growing more interesting by the microt. The man was obviously a visitor from off world and LaSaResh was very curious why he would have come to see him of all people.
"It's perfectly all right, stranger," the old man replied in a voice that creaked almost as much as the ancient chair he was sitting in. "To what happenstance do I owe your visit, young man?"
To the elder's surprise, the younger man looked momentarily at a lost for an explanation for his presences.
For some reason the visitor didn't strike the old man as being the type to be indecisive at first impression.
"The people in the market square," the man finally said, "Say that you can... see things about people. And that sometimes... you know how to 'fix' them when they are 'troubling'."
LaSaResh leaned back in his chair, as he suddenly understood the unexpected visit by an off-worlder.
"Ah!" he exhaled with an enlightened breath. "You speak of the Second-sight nonsense that everyone in these parts believes I have." The older man gave a light rusty chuckle. "That is just backward foolishness, son," he explained. "Its nothing more than using some common sense after listening to somebody's problems and trying to give some good advice... or knowing which grass that grows can sooth a hangover. Nothing mystic about it at all like them folks like to believe."
The younger man pursed his lips in slight disappointment for a microt. The emotion faded from his face an instant later as he replied, "Never-the-less, I have heard a number of stories from many different people here about how you help them... become 'unconfused' with certain matters."
The old man chuckled. "I've never quite heard it put that way before," he said. The young man tilted his head curiously for a moment. The cloak parted slightly at the neckline, and LaSaResh observed a hint of more of the ebony metal covering his visitor's chest. "Just what is it that you wish to become 'unconfused' about?" the old man asked curiously.
The younger man lips drew into a thin line for a moment before speaking.
"There are things... thoughts I have..." the cloaked man began, "Thoughts I've never had before."
"Go on," the elder man urged, bewildered but becoming more intrigued by the microt by his strange fellow.
"I want to go back to like it was before," said the man.
LaSaResh shook his head. "You've lost me. I'm not sure what you mean," he said.
The cloaked man started to pace a short way around the shack's main room.
"These thoughts, these wants... desires, they cloud my judgment," explained the visitor. "No more is my way clear. I've become confused, uncertain. I know of no other way to explain myself."
The old man shrugged and shook his head. "Well, you've certainly proved that to me already. I still don't understand what you want," he told the younger man, "These problems you say you have seemed only natural to me for a young man."
"Not to me, they are not."
"Perhaps you can give me a specific thing that distresses you," suggest LaSaResh. "Then maybe I'll better understand the problem."
"Chiana," the cloaked male replied after a moments thought.
"Chiana?" repeated the elder. "A female name, I take it?" The other man nodded and LaSaResh found himself grinning. "Ah, woman problems," he muttered out loud.
"I find myself... doing things... more for her wishes than my own," the younger male continued. "Even when they contradicted my own stratagem or are not tactically sound ideas."
LaSaResh clicked his tongue as he regarded his very odd visitor. "Son... that is the fate of most men. To do things they normally wouldn't for the shake of a woman," he continued.
"Why?" the stranger demanded to know.
"It just is," replied LaSaResh with another shrug. "How nature intended it to be."
The young man took a step toward him. "That is not acceptable," he stated, "Can you fix it?"
"Fix what?" asked the old man in puzzlement.
"Make me the way I once was."
LaSaResh's eyebrows arched upward in sudden surprise and he let loose a choked chortle.
"No, Lad! I can't change the way you feel for this girl. If I could, I'd be a rich man by now."
The other man blinked in confusion. "Feel?" he asked.
"Why yes," confirmed LaSaResh, "It seems to me like you might be in love with this lass." The blank look on the younger man's face abruptly gave the old man pause. "You have been... in love before, haven't you?" Normally, to anyone else, the question should have been absurd. For some reason with this young man... it seemed cause for concern, as it wasn't normal.
"No," he told the elder simply. The stranger paused and then added, "I do not know."
"No?" repeated the older man dumbly. "You don't know?"
The cloaked male tilted his head slightly. "Those such as I... do not feel... or love. It is not what we are."
LaSaResh felt himself involuntarily edging away in his seat from the other man.
"If you don't believe you... can feel these things, lad... what do you think you are?
Somewhere along the line, the visitor's eyes had gradually taken on a silver sheen. The new fact abruptly struck LaSaResh as the stranger tilted his head in an odd manner. It hit the old man that he truly didn't know what kind of being his company was at that moment... now the conversation was beginning to take on a totally new significance.
The stranger's stare seemed to fade off into the distance for the moment.
"Nothing," he replied in a far-away voice, "...No one."
LaSaResh apprehensively gripped the arms of his old chair. "I don't know what you think I can do for you?" he told the younger man. The visitor moved a few paces closer to the old man and then crouched down on bent knees until he was eye level with the elder. His cloak fell open, revealing more of his strange garb. The young man was covered in blackish-blue metal plates, the same as his boots.
"I want you to take it away," he said to LaSaResh, his voice holding the hint of a desperate plea. "I do not wish to 'feel' anymore."
She couldn't decide which discussion was the most interesting to follow.
A tiny creak of a floorboards behind her, made her automatically sniff at the air. Her senses sorted through the accretion of scents until she found the ones that reassured her. The hint of leather and sandalwood soap that he had bathed with the morning came to her. The creak of the floor was followed by the sweet hiss of heavy silk against silk and the small click of armor plates resettling themselves on his tall, lean, frame.
She had gotten use to her blindness, but Chiana still hadn't accepted it - and doubted she ever would.
She hated the helpless feeling of never knowing what was coming but the trip to the colony world had been necessary. She was glad to have his company in the crowded tavern they waited in, glad that he had found her after she believed for so long that he was dead.
He shifted his weight once again somewhere behind her. He normally moved silently even with the extra weight of his armor, but she had the feeling he purposely made the minute noise so she'd know he was there without her having to go through the awkwardness of having to ask.
The blind Nebari girl felt the slight change in the air current as he moved closer to her; a split microt later his hand lightly touched her shoulder.
"The Luxan has returned," said the ex-Enforcer's unobtrusive neutral-toned voice.
Chiana reached up with her own hand and rested it over the top of his. She had taken to not wearing her usual leather gloves so she could better use her sense of touch to navigate her surroundings. The cool metal of the pulse armor that covered the top of his hand didn't surprise her. She let her fingers involuntarily wander down his hand until she encountered the tips of his fingers that his protective half-gloves left bare. When she found the warm digits, she squeezed onto them lightly. The remaining fellow members of Moya's crew thought the Shrike was as cold as the metal that habitually sheathed his body, but Chiana in her heart knew better. Still, unable to see his face and with the emotionless voice, even she at times needed the warm contact to remind herself that Berret wasn't the soulless creature that Rygel and Stark accused him of being. The ex-assassin almost imperceptivity squeezed her hand back for a microt and the image she held of Berret as they were escaping from the Syndicate stronghold filled her mind's eye. She used that mental photograph to turn aside what the other's told her they thought about him... and she idly wondered if she'd ever see his face again with her own eyes. Their first meeting seemed so long ago and so much had happened since then. The others only saw the dispassionate killing machine the Black Syndicate had left Berret; it was the little things like the hand squeeze that reassured her that Berret wasn't totally emotionless... or without warmth of any kind.
She inwardly sighed and guessed that being blind helped one to notice tiny allusions like that.
"Is anyone with him?" she expectantly asked the Shrike.
"No," replied Berret. "He is alone."
Chiana felt her hopes abruptly shrink. It had been a long shot that they would find the Diagnosan they were seeking here in this port town. The last three clues and stops they'd made had also been dead ends. Noranti had insisted that this healer she'd heard of was the one that could help Chiana if anyone could - so they kept searching.
"Maybe he found something new out?" Chiana offered, trying to mask her disappointment.
"Perhaps," Berret agreed noncommittally.
The Nebari girl could now feel the Luxan warrior's approach through the wooden floorboards, his great weight reverberating along the planks to the soles of her boots. She imaged the crowd of patrons parting to clear a path for the huge Luxan as he made his way toward their table.
The slight pressure of Berret's hand faded from her shoulder and she felt the slight breeze his cloak stirred as it settled back around his armored shoulders after he'd withdrawn his arm, the Shrike once again seemingly taking refuge from intimate contact within the black silk wall of his shroud.
If D'argo saw the contact he made no mention of it as he arrived at the table.
"I have found the Diagnosan," her lover announced to her surprise.
"Where?" Chiana exclaimed, her mood turning from disappointment to hope again in a heartbeat.
D'argo pulled out a chair and dropped his large frame into it before answering. He spared the cloaked man behind the blind girl an unpleased glower before continuing. As usual, the look didn't register or appear to faze Berret in any way. He remained a stolid sentinel draped in black behind the girl.
"He has a clinic on the opposite side of town," D'argo supplied a microt later. "I've confirmed it. He is the one we have been looking for."
"The eye specialist!" gasped Chiana. The Nebari's sightless eyes grew larger in hope. The bright silver-gray irises with their black pin-prick size pupils plucked at the big warriors heartstrings when he recalled the soulful dark eyes that use to regard him from Chiana's beautiful face. The altered appearance of her eyes too closely reminded him of how the Shrike's eyes sometimes were when he was on the hunt or in the heat of battle. D'argo forced all thoughts of the assassin from his mind for the moment and focused on what was important for the moment. He reached forward and clasped Chiana's hand from across the table.
"Optic neurologist," the Luxan corrected, a smile for the girl building in his normally gruff voice.
To the couple's trepidation, the Shrike spoke up behind them and callously intruded on the moment.
"That presents a problem," Berret commented without any attempt at delicacy.
D'argo let out a hiss of annoyed Luxan ire at the man, so much for his effort to ignore him.
"Why must you be the frelling voice of doom for every turn of good luck we have?" he demanded in burning sarcasm. He really disliked Berret... no; check that - he hated the Shrike. And it didn't matter to the Luxan one iota that the killer had saved them from being imprisoned on the planet where John and Aeryn had been killed. It was bad enough being what he was... a hired killer, a murder for the Scarran Black Syndicate... a Shrike Enforcer. But after they had freed Moya and escaped, Chiana had insisted that Berret be allowed to remain with what was left of the Leviathan's crew. The Nebari had latched onto the Enforcer and no amount of reasoning could make her change her mind about allowing Berret to stay. The fact that his Nebari lover refused to elaborate on exactly how she and the assassin had met irritated the Luxan to no end. Attempts to get the information from the Shrike had only led to them coming to blows. The repeated conflicts had still resulted in no answers and had only angered Chiana to the point were she threatened to end their renewed relationship if he didn't leave the ex-assassin alone.
For Berret's part, he stood aloof from the rest of the crew, only really associating with Chiana... and occasionally with Pilot, to D'argo's surprise. However, Chiana was the only one he even allowed close enough to touch him. Something Noranti found out unexpectedly when she tried to offer him medical aid after the small skirmish to free Moya and she laid a hand on him without asking, as she was wont to do with almost everybody usually. In response, the Shrike hurled her into a bulkhead before anyone could stop him. The old woman handled the incident as she did all others with her crewmates. The blow was quickly forgiven and forgotten, though she has never tried to touch Berret again to the best of D'argo's knowledge.
"Are you forgetting your escape from the authorities in this system?" the ex-Enforcer inquired in his exasperatingly dispassionate tone. "That portion of the city is better patrolled then this side."
D'argo grimaced with impatience. "I know that! Are you forgetting the guards you slaughtered in the break out that made us wanted?" he said irately, "Its hard to forget we're fugitives in this system with all the farbing wanted beacons around very bend. That doesn't change the fact that this Diagnosan is Chiana's only chance at getting her sight back."
"Agreed," the Shrike answered.
"I'm so happy that you do," the Luxan warrior replied with dripping cynicism.
D'argo hated it when the assassin started a debate and then went back to one-word answers... even if he was agreeing with what D'argo was saying. He wondered why Berret even bothered raising the subject if he was going to concur in the end away. The Luxan considered the thought that maybe the Shrike was doing it just to get on his nerves.
"You don't have to come with us to the Diagnosan, Shrike," D'argo sneered the next moment. "You can return to Moya if you're afraid."
"No," replied the Shrike, his expression as blank as always.
Chiana interrupted, moving her sightless gaze from side to side where she judged the two males to be.
"Are you sure, 'Ret?" she asked sincerely. "D'argo and I can go alone to see the Diagnosan. You've done enough already with helping free us from that jail."
"I am sure," the ex-Enforcer confirmed from somewhere behind her.
"Thank you," Chiana responded with a grateful smile. D'argo muttered a slight annoyed curse.
After John and Aeryn's "murder", D'argo had flown into a rage. While Noranti, Stark, and Rygel had retrieved their crewmates remains from the rowboat, the Luxan had taken his ship in search of the craft that had killed his friends. Instead of vengeance, he'd flown straight into an ambush. His ship was snared in some sort of power draining device and he was captured after being rendered unconscious at the controls.
He had woken in a cell sometime later to find that the rest of Moya's crew had been taken prisoner as well and were occupying various cells nearby. Moya was also being held captive, secured at a military shipyard.
Somehow as near as D'argo could tell, Berret had learned of Chiana's whereabouts and tracked them to the water-planet where they had stopped to heal the Leviathan.
The Shrike had appeared one night on the cell level and slashed through the lock of Chiana's cell with gore-stained brace blades. At first the Luxan helplessly screamed and threatened the cloaked man as he entered blind girl's cell. Instead of the cries of terror from the Nebari that D'argo expected, Chiana's panicked voice first turned to confusion after the man had spoken a few muffled words, to one of disbelief, then to one of joy.
The pair exited her prison cell a moment later. The Shrike would have continued on with the escape but Chiana had made him turn back and free the rest of her shipmates.
As the group left the detention center, the Luxan found himself thinking that he was glad for the first time of Chiana's blindness. The carnage that the Shrike had left behind him on the way inside unsettled even his battle-hardened warrior constitution. It didn't help that Stark constantly babbled over the slaughter and had to be dragged along by force several times when the Banik stopped to attempt to help a dying guard across into death.
The Syndicate Enforcer that Chiana had hastily introduced as Berret stepped over the bodies as he led them out without notice or concern, his apathy at the destruction seemingly to exceed even Rygel's.
The group concluded their escape from prison in Berret's nearby ship, which turned out to be an unmarked Peacekeeper Wraith Cruiser. A three-man surveillance vessel that was a little crowded with six beings inside it. It was also well armed, which was a great help when a few arns later they returned to bust Moya out of the shipyards and retrieve D'argo's Luxan warship. After this - as John use to say - Everything went to hezmana in a hand-basket.
It soon became obvious that Berret had shown up with the full intent of taking Chiana with him when he left. To make matter worse, the Nebari hadn't exactly told him straight out that she had no intentions of leaving Moya... or D'argo. Instead the girl had danced around the subject for several arns until finally asking to speak with the Shrike privately in her quarters. D'argo fumed the longer the pair remained cloistered in the locked chamber. Chiana had stubbornly refused to elaborate on how or where she came to know the assassin... saying only that he was a friend and that she trusted him.
D'argo was pacing in his quarters, next-door to Chiana's, when he heard her door cycle open. The Shrike's metal shod boots rang on Moya's deck as he marched from the converted cell. The Luxan moved closer to his door to listen, concealed by the heavy drapes that covered the access way.
"Berret..." he heard Chiana call from her doorway. The footsteps halted in the corridor. A peek through the curtains showed the Shrike standing in the middle of the hallway, his back to the cells.
"I understand," the Enforcer said without turning, his voice almost a whisper.
"I-I wish I could see your face," the Nebari continued. "I don't think you do."
The tenderness in Chiana's tone left a cold feeling in D'argo's stomach. His fists clenched at the heavy drapes and he realized he was on the verge on ripping them to shreds in his effort to keep from rushing out to confront the pair. If he and the Nebari girl were to ever fix their relationship, he had to learn to trust Chiana again despite her betrayal with Jothee and the hurt it caused him.
The Shrike turned slightly back to look at the gray girl.
"It does not matter," he said tonelessly, "I will respect your decision." He started to turn away again.
"What will you do?" she asked.
Berret paused once more, his shoulder's slumped slightly. It was apparent to the Luxan that the Shrike was anxious to leave the conversation behind after it hadn't turned out as he'd hoped.
"I am going to the Wraith," Berret explained. "I'm leaving to attend to some unfinished business with the Syndicate. I suspended my plans for the time when I heard word of your whereabouts."
"Don't leave!" said Chiana, "Stay here with us."
"Why?"
Chiana cautiously left her quarters and slowly made her way to him, her senses guiding her to the Shrike's position in the corridor unerringly. She halted when her outstretched hands came into contact with his black-silk cloak.
"There's nothing to be gained by seeking vengeance," the blind girl told him.
"Its all I have," Berret answered. For the first time, D'argo saw his eyes register a hint of emotion.
Chiana's silver-gray irises regarded him almost as if she could see him. She then shook her head.
"No! No, that's not all you have," she countered. "You still have me, we will always be friends. You can have a home here on Moya with the rest of us."
Berret turned his gaze off to one side for the moment. When he looked back, his eyes had become soulless once more.
"The others do not want me here. They have made that perfectly clear," he replied.
"They will if I make them," Chiana responded with certainty. "Please... I've lost enough friends these last few weekens. Don't you leave me too. Not after I found you again."
The Shrike hesitated. D'argo found himself silently encouraging the assassin to stick to his first plan and to leave Moya.
"It will not work," Berret finally said.
"Trust me," pushed the Nebari woman.
"This is not my place."
Chiana's face fell. She lowered her hands from were they rested on his chest. The Nebari turned her sightless gaze away from the Shrike as if she'd been rejected by the man she thought her friend.
"If that is what you believe," she said, "Then it never will be. Can you tell me then... if your place isn't here? Then where is it? Back with the Syndicate? Alone and on the run? Where is it you think you belong?"
Berret looked as if he was trying to come up with an answer, but one evaded him.
"I don't know," he finally admitted.
"Then stay here until you do know," Chiana told him.
The Enforcer looked about him as if in silent debate with himself. Much to the Luxan's disappointment he finally turned back to Chiana and said,
"Very well. I will try... only because you believe."
"That's all I ask," Chiana answered with a small smile.
"But you are the only one I do trust," the Shrike put in a microt later.
Chiana nodded in understanding. "That's a start," she told him.
"When can we go, D'argo?"
Chiana's question brought the Luxan out of his reflection and back to the moment. He glanced up and saw that the Nebari had tilted her head to one side in query and he wondered how many times she'd asked him her question before he noticed. Behind her, Berret was also looking at him with some interest - though not much.
D"argo cleared his throat before supplying the answer.
"Ah-hem... The doctor is out of the clinic at the moment. I was told he should return there within two arns," the warrior explained.
"So we're going then?" asked Chiana.
"Yes. I thought the less time we spend in that section of town the better," Dargo continued. He hadn't wanted to admit it, but the Shrike was right about the law patrols being heavier in the Diagnosan's part of the city.
"Good," replied Chiana as she squeezed D'argo's hand.
The Luxan gave her a warm smile she couldn't see just as Berret stepped around and away from the table.
"In the meanwhile, I have some business of my own to take care of while we wait," announced the ex-assassin.
Despite himself, D'argo felt an eyebrow raise in question. Not only was this one of the longest sentences he could remember the Shrike ever speaking, but also it was the first time that Berret had indicated he had other plans beside what the group had hoped to accomplish on the planet. He also found it slightly suspicious that the Shrike suddenly developed the courtesy to inform them of his plans.
"What sort of business?" inquired the warrior suspiciously.
"Personal business," the Shrike answered, with what D'argo might have thought was a hint of annoyance.
"That... is NOT a good enough answer," growled the Luxan.
Berret's only reply was to gaze at D'argo with unexpressive eyes. It was obvious that the assassin had no attention of explaining himself further.
"Bah!" D'argo spat a moment later. "Do what you want, just don't expect us to wait for you," he said, deciding that it was far better to be rid of the Shrike if even just for a short time. "If you haven't joined us or returned to the Transport Pod by the time we're ready to leave... we'll go without you."
Berret gave him a slightly disdainful stare and then pulled the hood of his cloak up over his head before turning to leave the refreshment house without further comment.
"Frelling Shrike," D'argo muttered at Berret's departing form. The warrior turned back to Chiana to find her biting at her lower lip in concern. The Nebari girl had kept her peace while the two males had their test of wills. The big Luxan knew that Chiana hoped that Berret would eventually find a way to fit in with the Leviathan crew, but D'argo knew it was a lost cause. The ex-Enforcer and D'argo would never come to a truce. There were no more natural enemies than a Luxan warrior and a Shrike assassin.
D'argo sighed heavily to himself and shook his head. Chiana would simply have to learn for herself that there could be no lasting peace among the crewmates as long as Berret remained with them. Still, with Chiana in the condition she was in, he didn't have the heart to force the issue. He would wait and let her come to the conclusion for herself... and hope in the mean time that the Shrike didn't betray them in some way before she came around to seeing the light.
He forgot about the Enforcer for the time being. Hopefully the Diagnosan would know of a cure for the gray woman's blindness and he focused once more on those thoughts.
"So," he said out loud, getting Chiana's attention back and endeavoring to put them both into a better mood. "What do you say we have something to eat while we wait?"
LaSaResh didn't need to hear the man's footsteps at his front walk to know the visitor was approaching.
Just before he knew the man's fist would be knocking on the shack's door jam, he called out in greeting.
"The door is open, enter if you will."
The hovel's slatwood door gently swung open on tough leather hinges. LaSaResh glanced up from his reading to inspect his company. He knew someone was coming, just as he always knew when someone was seeking him - it was part of the gift he'd always had for as long as he could remember. He no longer gave the talent any thought and just accepted it. What his gift never told him was who the visitor would be. He expected it as usual to be one of the other people who resided in the shantytown on the outskirts of the city, looking for his advice on one thing or another... or perhaps some type of medical treatment that they couldn't afford at the more expensive Healers in the city. He was known for having more then one home remedy for many types of afflictions the poorer denizens of the commerce port suffered, herbal knowledge that was handed down to him from his grand-sire.
This time he was mildly taken aback to look up and see the tall stranger draped in a flowing black cloak. This indeed was a surprise... and more interesting then his normal guests. He closed the old script he'd been reading to pass the time and gave this new affair his full and undivided attention.
LaSaResh regard the man for a moment. The shapeless garment that covered him made it hard to tell his build but the male looked to be of Sebacean descent, approaching middle age perhaps. His dark brown hair was braided into a ponytail held together at the end by a gold colored clasp of some sort. The braid would have reached somewhere just below his shoulders, but at present it had fallen carelessly over the front of his left shoulder. His eyes were of a cold blue and lacked expression for the most part, but they alertly swept his one-room shanty as soon as he entered the door. The old man caught a glimpse of metal covered boot under the hem of the black cloak as the man took a step into his abode.
"Pardon the intrusion," the visitor apologized in a subtle voice that matched the eyes.
LaSaResh politely nodded. He didn't mind the interruption of his rather dull day. In fact, he was finding the stranger growing more interesting by the microt. The man was obviously a visitor from off world and LaSaResh was very curious why he would have come to see him of all people.
"It's perfectly all right, stranger," the old man replied in a voice that creaked almost as much as the ancient chair he was sitting in. "To what happenstance do I owe your visit, young man?"
To the elder's surprise, the younger man looked momentarily at a lost for an explanation for his presences.
For some reason the visitor didn't strike the old man as being the type to be indecisive at first impression.
"The people in the market square," the man finally said, "Say that you can... see things about people. And that sometimes... you know how to 'fix' them when they are 'troubling'."
LaSaResh leaned back in his chair, as he suddenly understood the unexpected visit by an off-worlder.
"Ah!" he exhaled with an enlightened breath. "You speak of the Second-sight nonsense that everyone in these parts believes I have." The older man gave a light rusty chuckle. "That is just backward foolishness, son," he explained. "Its nothing more than using some common sense after listening to somebody's problems and trying to give some good advice... or knowing which grass that grows can sooth a hangover. Nothing mystic about it at all like them folks like to believe."
The younger man pursed his lips in slight disappointment for a microt. The emotion faded from his face an instant later as he replied, "Never-the-less, I have heard a number of stories from many different people here about how you help them... become 'unconfused' with certain matters."
The old man chuckled. "I've never quite heard it put that way before," he said. The young man tilted his head curiously for a moment. The cloak parted slightly at the neckline, and LaSaResh observed a hint of more of the ebony metal covering his visitor's chest. "Just what is it that you wish to become 'unconfused' about?" the old man asked curiously.
The younger man lips drew into a thin line for a moment before speaking.
"There are things... thoughts I have..." the cloaked man began, "Thoughts I've never had before."
"Go on," the elder man urged, bewildered but becoming more intrigued by the microt by his strange fellow.
"I want to go back to like it was before," said the man.
LaSaResh shook his head. "You've lost me. I'm not sure what you mean," he said.
The cloaked man started to pace a short way around the shack's main room.
"These thoughts, these wants... desires, they cloud my judgment," explained the visitor. "No more is my way clear. I've become confused, uncertain. I know of no other way to explain myself."
The old man shrugged and shook his head. "Well, you've certainly proved that to me already. I still don't understand what you want," he told the younger man, "These problems you say you have seemed only natural to me for a young man."
"Not to me, they are not."
"Perhaps you can give me a specific thing that distresses you," suggest LaSaResh. "Then maybe I'll better understand the problem."
"Chiana," the cloaked male replied after a moments thought.
"Chiana?" repeated the elder. "A female name, I take it?" The other man nodded and LaSaResh found himself grinning. "Ah, woman problems," he muttered out loud.
"I find myself... doing things... more for her wishes than my own," the younger male continued. "Even when they contradicted my own stratagem or are not tactically sound ideas."
LaSaResh clicked his tongue as he regarded his very odd visitor. "Son... that is the fate of most men. To do things they normally wouldn't for the shake of a woman," he continued.
"Why?" the stranger demanded to know.
"It just is," replied LaSaResh with another shrug. "How nature intended it to be."
The young man took a step toward him. "That is not acceptable," he stated, "Can you fix it?"
"Fix what?" asked the old man in puzzlement.
"Make me the way I once was."
LaSaResh's eyebrows arched upward in sudden surprise and he let loose a choked chortle.
"No, Lad! I can't change the way you feel for this girl. If I could, I'd be a rich man by now."
The other man blinked in confusion. "Feel?" he asked.
"Why yes," confirmed LaSaResh, "It seems to me like you might be in love with this lass." The blank look on the younger man's face abruptly gave the old man pause. "You have been... in love before, haven't you?" Normally, to anyone else, the question should have been absurd. For some reason with this young man... it seemed cause for concern, as it wasn't normal.
"No," he told the elder simply. The stranger paused and then added, "I do not know."
"No?" repeated the older man dumbly. "You don't know?"
The cloaked male tilted his head slightly. "Those such as I... do not feel... or love. It is not what we are."
LaSaResh felt himself involuntarily edging away in his seat from the other man.
"If you don't believe you... can feel these things, lad... what do you think you are?
Somewhere along the line, the visitor's eyes had gradually taken on a silver sheen. The new fact abruptly struck LaSaResh as the stranger tilted his head in an odd manner. It hit the old man that he truly didn't know what kind of being his company was at that moment... now the conversation was beginning to take on a totally new significance.
The stranger's stare seemed to fade off into the distance for the moment.
"Nothing," he replied in a far-away voice, "...No one."
LaSaResh apprehensively gripped the arms of his old chair. "I don't know what you think I can do for you?" he told the younger man. The visitor moved a few paces closer to the old man and then crouched down on bent knees until he was eye level with the elder. His cloak fell open, revealing more of his strange garb. The young man was covered in blackish-blue metal plates, the same as his boots.
"I want you to take it away," he said to LaSaResh, his voice holding the hint of a desperate plea. "I do not wish to 'feel' anymore."