Dumon blinked up at his ceiling. He was exhausted after the battle, but it was impossible for him to fall asleep. He guessed this was what the saying, "too tired to fall asleep" meant. Lying in the dark, too tired to get up or do anything, his thoughts began to drift to his life over the past fourteen years, and to his parents, his adoptive parents, he corrected himself. He wondered if they missed him. Well, they probably were. He put his hand on his forehead and mentally scolded himself very harshly. He needed to stop thinking about them.
They are HUMANS, he thought furiously to himself, I am am a barian emperor, the white shield of Barian World. They will only live maybe a hundred yeas at the very most, I have lived for over 700 years so far. It may be alright to become friends and acquaintances with humans, like with Yuma and his friends, but a parent/child relationship between a human and a barian will never work out and is unacceptable. They will eventually wither with time and there is nothing anyone can do to prevent that while I will remain young. It will only end in heartbreak for everyone involved. Besides, it would not be fair to ask them to care for a "child" for the rest of their lives as they would do even if they understood I am a centuries old alien overlord simply because of maternal and paternal instincts.
His train of thought then turned to a more strategic musing, They said over the phone that they would look for me, despite my wishes. If they do find me, I may be forced to either tell them the truth or use force. Of course, using force may make them more suspicious and they may investigate and find out the truth. He sighed, I suppose if they do find me, I'll have to tell them what and who I really am, then tell them to leave me be. I cannot afford any unnecessary attachments to humans who have not truly proven themselves in any way. He groaned, then closed his eyes.
Suddenly, he heard a soft knocking at his door. There was a soft creak of the door being parted slightly open, then a half-whisper. "Dumon? Are you awake?"
Dumon rolled over so he was facing the doorway. "Yep. Come on in, Misael."
The dragon-tamer/emperor made his way over to Dumon's bed, where he sat down on the edge. "Did I wake you up?"
Dumon shook his head as he looked up at his friend. "No, I was already awake. I can't get to sleep. What's wrong?"
Misael frowned and sighed, "Just... I wanted to talk with you when and where none of the others could possibly eavesdrop. I really need to talk to someone about... those fourteen years."
Dumon managed to prop himself up and sit upright on his bed. "Alright then," he inclined his head to show he was ready to listen to whatever Misael had to say.
Misael sighed again, "I... when I talked to Vector earlier, before that I never really thought of what my adoptive parents did to me as abuse. But... it was so horrible, I'm amazed I never realized it," Misael bit his lip. Dumon knew he was showing the softer side of himself, a side only Dumon had ever seen more than a mere couple of times. "They made me wear dresses, day in, day out. And they were all flashy. None that could ever simply be mistaken for a too-long shirt, always something with bows, frills, and in a bright color. I tried to make them stop: I burned the dresses, I refused to leave the house, I bought clothes of my own that were not dresses to wear, heck, I even cut my hair short one time(that made me look like a schoolgirl, incidentally). They would always just buy me more dresses, drag me out of the house, and take away the clothes I bought.
"The kids at school picked on me, even the teachers did too. And when I complained to my parents or counselor at school about bullying, they would call me an attention-seeking brat, at least the counselor used that terminology, and would ground me or give me detention. When I thought I was ten, I started trying to run away. The police would always manage to catch me and drag me home, where I would get scolded and be forced to give an incredibly long lecture on how running away is not acceptable. The human children would always jeer and insult me, but the teacher would never berate them. And when I stopped talking to tell them to stop, I would always get detention for "disrupting the class".
"Whenever I was in class, the teacher would only call on me if no one else had their hand up or it didn't seem like I was paying attention. I could always see it, they detested me for things I could not control, for having to cross-dress. They even referred to me as a female, when I could always tell they knew my true gender.
"The only teacher who didn't outright despise me was my art teacher, and she's mostly blind so she probably didn't know what I was wearing. We often made 3-D projects and she would feel mine out and smile, then tell me it was wonderful. She actually liked me, when no one else did. She gave me a set of colored pencils and a sketchbook once, it was the first gift anyone had given me that was not strictly girly," Misael looked choked up, "I always had dreams of Barian World, although I did not know what I was dreaming about then. I drew what I saw in my dreams in that sketchbook. That may have been the only thing that kept me from walking out in front of a speeding car," Misael bit his lip and looked away, as if fearing he had said too much.
Dumon's eyes widened, "You... considered killing yourself?"
Misael nodded, "It was never-ending torment. Most days, it was too much to bear," he looked hesitant, then pulled off his right glove and rolled up his sleeve. Dumon stifled a gasp. From the middle of his forearm to his elbow, there were partially-healed cuts.
"Did you... do that?" Dumon asked softly.
Misael shamefully nodded, "Don't worry, I'm not even contemplating doing it anymore. It was just my one way to let out everything inside. I had no one to talk to, no friends. No one who ever cared enough to truly listen. You know me, I don't usually need to talk to anyone about my own emotions, but... during that time, I needed someone to talk to who wouldn't mock me or call me a brat. I hated everyone during those years, except for my art teacher. I would just take walks through the park to clear my mind and make myself believe that one day everything would be all right. I was taking a break from my walk when you found me.
"At the time when you came up to me, I was slightly scared of you. No one else who ever approached me ever had good intentions. They would just bully me, physically or verbally. I was scared at the time you would do your best to hurt me, like everyone else did. After we started talking though, I started to trust you, and I just knew that you wouldn't hurt me. That didn't stop me from being defensive, though," Misael took a shuddering breath and closed his eyes.
Dumon looked at his close friend and fellow emperor with tears brimming in his eyes, "They hurt you terribly," he breathed and took Misael's hand in his own, "They took your preexisting disdain for the human race and gave you even more basis for it. Your adoptive parents were not really parents at all. They only considered their own wish to have a daughter that they could play dress-up with instead of your own well-being, both physical and mental. Everyone around you was just as guilty as your parents were, if not possibly more. Only one person took notice of you as a person, not an object of ridicule. They were all consumed and filled with spite and malice, it seems to me like they made Don Thousand look like the patron saint of Barian World," Dumon's eyes had grown steadily darker as he spoke. He didn't get angry often, and when he did, you usually could tell. This was one of those times and if you were the one he was pissed at, you ran like hell and filled your pants with fear.
Misael seemed comforted by the fact that Dumon was getting angry at those who had hurt him, "You know, this may seem obvious, but no one else I told my situation to every thought it was wrong. As said before, I would get called an attention-seeking brat and be punished. Sometimes they called me worse. I- I really missed you, Dumon." with that being said, Misael threw his arms around Dumon's shoulders and let some tears fall.
Dumon froze in shock. Misael didn't hug him often, the last time was after they had all been brought back by the numeron code and everybody was hugging everybody then, just happy to be alive. Then he hugged Misael back.
"I missed you, even if I didn't remember you, I missed all you are to me. You're always there to calm me down when I'm pissed off, to cheer me up when I'm down, to comfort me when I need it, and to just be there as a friend and companion. You're the best comrade and the best friend ever. You've never laughed at my failures or embarrassing moments, even if you wanted to. I need you so badly, and I know the others do too. You may not be our leader anymore, but you keep us all sane, and Vector slightly saner. You smooth out our fights and will fix our errors if you can. You never let us down," Misael whispered out. It was an incredibly out-of-character sentiment from him, but then again, it was a sensitive subject they were talking about for him.
Dumon smiled fondly, "I need all of you as well. I'd be all alone without you. Living forever, alone," Dumon bit his lip. Being alone was his one true fear. That one day he'd be the last barian emperor alive was the thought that terrified him the most. "I never want to lose you all again, ever."
"Me neither," Misael whispered as he pulled away. "Dumon?"
"Hm?"
"May I sleep in here tonight? I keep having nightmares," Misael said, blushing at how childish that sounded.
Dumon smiled, "Of course," He scooted over to allow Misael room. The blond barian got under the covers and rolled on his side. Dumon, still smiling, lay down again and closed his eyes. Comforted by the thought that his fellow emperor was there and they were, temporarily at least, safe, he slowly managed to drift off, no longer plagued by worries.
….(^0^)...
Nasch groaned as he was jolted from sleep by the ringing of his phone. He groped for his cell, which was playing his "Under the Sea" ringtone. Hitting the 'accept call' icon, he groggily put it to his ear. "Hello?"
"Hey, squid-head!" Quattro's obnoxious voice sang out.
Nasch snarled, "Quattro... WHAT THE F*CK IS IT?! IT IS-" he checked his alarm clock, "7 A.M. IN THE FREAKING MORNING!"
"Well, SOMEone's cranky this morning," Quattro commented.
"NO DUH! I JUST SPENT A GOOD PART OF MY DAY YESTERDAY FIXING UP SARGASSO FOR A MEETING AND THEN I SPENT THE REST OF IT WORKING MY BUTT OFF MAKING THOSE MALDORIANS KICK THE BUCKET!" Nasch snapped, "WHAT DO YOU WANT?!"
"Well, some world leaders and diplomats are here and want to talk with you. I think they've noticed the volume you have been using," Quattro said.
"TELL THEM TO CALL BACK IN THREE HOURS! THEN I'LL BE WILLING TO TALK!" Nasch growled, hung up, and went back to sleep, pulling the dark purple sheets up over his head.
…... (^0^) ...
Quattro looked at his phone that was now flashing "CALL ENDED" in bright red letters before turning to the slightly wary diplomats and world leaders, "He said, well, screamed to call back in about three hours."
"He's not always that... grumpy, right?" the prime minister of England asked.
"Nah, he's just tired, the fact that I referred to him as "squid-head" to his face didn't help," Quattro shrugged.
"He's under a lot of stress anyway," Trey said while getting medical supplies with a woman with long black-blue hair in a wheelchair.
"Yeah, what my baby brother said. Hey, who's the wheelchair chick? Potential girlfriend of yours?" Quattro teased.
Trey rolled his eyes, "She's Dr. Ines Kivigira, a surgeon who applied to help with any civilian or military injuries caused by maldorians. She's been really sick for about three years and has just now gotten well enough to get out of bed. However, she has to stay in a wheelchair for about another six months. She's also a little ticked at her old employers since they just fired her when it seemed she wasn't going to get better and cut all of her health-care benefits that went with the job. She was one of their best surgeons too and would serve as a nurse when they needed an extra or when one of the other nurses was sick and a surgeon wasn't needed at the time. And she is about 12 years older than me so no, she is not my girlfriend."
"Aw, I wanted to play matchmaker," Quattro pouted.
Ines laughed, "Sorry, but your brother is a little to young for me," she said, with sarcasm on the 'little', "But I will probably be in and out of here since he and I are honestly the most qualified medical professionals on the medical team."
"That's my baby brother, the famous and highly respected quack," Quattro said while pretending to wipe a tear from his eye. Trey threw a first-aid kit at him and Ines laughed.
"Can we get serious? I have a schedule," a diplomat with slicked back magenta hair and a pompous attitude complained.
"You are going to have to wait for three hours anyway, unless you want me to call Nasch back, put him on speakerphone, and let you talk to a very pissed off alien king who can choke you to death like Vader if he so wishes to," Quattro said. None of the diplomats looked extremely thrilled about THAT suggestion.
"So we're just supposed to wait here?! I have plenty of other things to do that desperately need my attention," the same pompous diplomat demanded.
"Again, unless you want me to try and call the pissed off barian emperor back, yes," Quattro said with his arms crossed. The diplomat stepped back and gave in.
…... (^0^) ...
Nasch stuffed a pillow over his head as his cellphone rang. He just let it go to voice-mail. He knew it had been three hours, but he still wasn't quite ready to talk to a bunch of politicians yet.
Sadly, his phone's ringtone had attracted a certain ice queen's attention.
"Nasch~" she sang, "You're supposed to answer that. It has been three hours."
Nasch took the pillow off his head and glared at Merag who was standing in his doorway. "How do YOU know about that?"
Merag smirked and rolled her eyes, "Nasch, you were loud enough that everyone in Astral World probably knows about that. Now call Quattro back and talk to those diplomats."
"You do it, I'm exhausted," Nasch flopped back down and pulled the covers over his head.
Merag frowned, then smirked, pulled out her cellphone, and dialed Quattro while walking downstairs and into the kitchen. "Hi Quattro, it's me."
"Hey, Merag. What's up with Shark-head?" Quattro's voice rang out from her phone.
Merag made a noise like an angry cat(ironically enough) as she got out a pitcher from the cupboard. "He's just being a prat, I'll wake him up in a second."
She could almost hear Quattro's smirk as she filled up the pitcher with tap water. "A sibling version of "wake up"?"
"Of course," Merag replied haughtily as she dropped a tray of ice cubes from the freezer into the pitcher as well.
She heard Quattro laugh as she pulled out a bag of onions from the fridge, "Ah, this should be good."
"Yeah, I think I'll hang up and have Nasch call you when he "wakes up", just so the diplomats don't get scared by all the screaming," Merag said as she walked back upstairs, using her shoulder to hold the phone to her ear since she was holding the pitcher in one hand and the bag of onions in her other hand.
Quattro laughed again, "Alright."
Merag hit the "end call" button and opened the door to Nasch's room. She loomed over him holding the pitcher out above a sleeping Nasch. Smiling, she began to dump the contents of the pitcher on her twin.
….(^0^)...
Nasch shivered and snarled as he dialed Quattro. He could not believe Merag had dared to shove onions down his throat and dump them on him as well! Especially after throwing ice-cold water on him! That did it, she was going to wake up to a herd of cats one morning, just wait.
"Well hello, Mr. Early Bird. You have a good sleep, your highness?" Quattro snickered.
Nasch seethed, "I hate you."
"Hey, I didn't cause the nice wake-up call, your sweet sister did. What are you angry at me for?"
Nasch growled, "Shut up." he took a deep breath and changed to his barian voice. "Alright, let's get this over with. Put me on speakerphone."
"Will do, have fun," Quattro said. Nasch groaned, he hated this so much.