Slaine was tired. That was the easiest way to put his current state of being. It was nice to have Kaizuka gone. It was wonderful to have Eddelrittuo close by, and the roses she'd so lovingly given him. It was draining to deal with the woman, and her forced kindness. It had been one of the most eventful days of his incarceration. Days tended to drag on, with little to no distinguishing features. They had their major lows, but generally, days bled into one another. Today had been very different, and he found it exhausting. Whatever tolerance for weariness he'd built up over the years, seemed long gone now. His ability to handle new situations seemed like a memory long gone.
He could remember when he'd forced the world to turn in his hands, had formed alliances, ruined others. Had discarded and abused those around him for his one singular purpose. Then, he had been tired. Weary as only the damned knew, where there was never time to stop or slow down. There had been no rest, no good night sleep, no escape from what he was doing, and what he was going to do. It had been necessary, and he had pushed and pushed and pushed himself to be capable of ensuring the Princesses future. It had been his project, his life's work, the only reason to keep dragging his rotting corpse out of its grave. Tired had been a way of life. It had been a battle to keep from being eaten alive, to push himself to the absolute limit of his capabilities, and then to push some more.
In the last 9 months (had it really been 9?), his life had taken an abrupt about face. He had looked death in the face so many times, that it rarely scared him. Pain and anguish and torment had been second skins. Layers of new cloth to don that signified his shift from victim to culprit, until he'd worn the crimson blood of the other mass murders that were his Vers counterparts. Now, at the prospect of living indefinitely, he was horrified. He was already officially dead, and how appropriate that was; for the dead boy who crashed into Mars, for the dead traitor Saazbaum had murdered to save, and now the dead dictator of a new era that would never exist. If he'd ever been much for laughing, he would have tried out the sound.
He could have died at any point, should have died at many, yet here he was, a dead man, alive. Maybe he should choke Kaizuka one day, for being so very kind, for 'saving' him for a third, miserable time. As if both previous times had not ended in such utter agony and betrayal. That's what happened when people saved him, they inherited him, and every mental instability that had defined him.
Now it was Kaizuka, trying to stitch the pieces back together, without any clue that they had never been a whole piece to begin with. It was Eddelrittuo, telling him that miracles and the impossible were both sides of the same coin. It was the woman, flipping through a magazine as cello music fluttered in his ear drums. He was so tired.
The only one who had ever seen, ever taken the time to notice had been Saazbaum. He must have known how warped and twisted roots can get, because Slaine was positive Saazbaum knew the first time they met. But Saazbaum had hurt her, and even if it meant destroying the only living thing that understood him, that had actually protected him when no one would, he never could have done any differently. Saazbaum knew he was signing his own death warrant when he agreed to help the Princess, he must have, but it didn't matter. He'd still done it, and he'd accepted Slaine's judgment. He'd tried hard to live up to that shadow, for both the Princess, and for Saazbaum himself. He was convinced that their goals of making Vers fundamentally better, were not so different. They simply had vastly different forms of execution. It had been his goal to bridge those two methods into one, that would in the end, make both happy.
Saazbaum knew that if push came to shove, the royal family would get in his way, but had hated them from the start, so he'd relished the thought of being rid of them. He'd judged their sins, and found them unfit. Slaine had hoped he would be wrong, that he'd be able to placate the princesses till their ideal world was ready. Push had come to shove. Saazbaum had been right, and he didn't have the will to oppose her to fulfill his late father's wishes and her own. He'd killed Saazbaum for her, how could he have made any other choice.
He was tired, but it was a different tired than when he'd worn the clothes of Count Slaine Saazbaum Troyard. That had been a 'push until you shatter' sort of tired. He had been both the marionette and the puppet master unable to stop dancing. Now, he was broken. It was a different tired. A very, different, tired.
He promised to himself, with resignation, that he wouldn't speak to Eddelrittuo again. He wouldn't saddle her with any more of his problems. She had been to kind to him already, and she shouldn't have known he would be here. She shouldn't have known he was even alive. Eddelrittuo belonged at the Empresses side, with her emotional eyes, and her compassion, Eddelrittuo was an ideal friend for the Empress. It was hard for him to imagine she had chosen time away from that, and it enraged him that the new Emperor would dare use her in such a way. She was not safe as a spy, yet Klancain had sent her, and the Empress had supported it. He didn't know what to think of that. Was she meant to spy on him? Certainly she had grown to know him a little better than most, but was this some sort of plot or ploy for information?
He didn't know, and it really didn't matter. He was a dead man, what did he have that anyone wanted? The answer was very simple. Nothing. He could find no discernible reason to keep him alive. Though, he had never seen any logical reason for someone to save his life, yet it had happened time and time again.
Still, even if none of it mattered, he wanted Eddelrittuo safe. She deserved that much for her loyalty and dedication. They had suffered those long months' together, waiting and hoping. In that time, he had been so unspeakably happy to show her the wonders of earth, and to see her eyes light up with interest, her lips poise around questions. There were so many things he'd wanted to tell her, that he'd wanted to show her. Just having someone who understood, someone who would listen, had been a blessing.
He wanted her away, because he wanted her safe. He'd never deserved her affection, but he'd clung to it in those long months, where the Princess had been so close and far at the same time. She saw him as more than Terran scum now, and he almost wished she didn't. It was so much easier to think that no one cared. It would be so much easier to let her disappear out of his life, if she only thought of him as some lowly Terran.
As Bach's Cello Suite No. 4 in E-flat Major concluded, the room was once again thrown into silence. He let his eyes drift closed as he heard the crinkling of the magazine paper the woman was fiddling with. The woman -he should ask what her name was, but he was to ashamed to find out it was also Kaizuka- made a hm sort of sound, and stood up. He opened his eyes, and looked at her general direction, but not at her.
"It's nice." She said, placing her magazine back into her bag. He nodded once in agreement, but it was barely noticeable. She shook her head. "I'll put in the other CD, but first, we're taking a walk." He watched the woman as she walked over to the foot of his bed, produced a key, and promptly removed the cuff on his ankle. "There." She turned back towards him, but he could tell that she was looking above his head, in an attempt to not look at him. She still didn't like to actually see him. He couldn't blame her for it, he was also thankful not to be on the receiving end of a mirror.
"That's off. I'll call the nurse and okay it. No trouble till then." Her command wasn't chiding or kind. It was forceful. He didn't know what to make of her.
She walked back over to the nurse call button by his right side, and pressed the little red button. Her eyes settled on the blue roses again, and more specifically, the card. The woman frowned. "What are the two means of blue roses?"
"Just what you'd expect." He muttered, looking at the roses again. They really were beautiful. "Miracles, or the impossible."
"Because they aren't natural?" His only answer was to nod, but he actually felt her eyes on him for just a flash. Oh why couldn't she be vile and mean? She sighed. "Guess that makes sense." Her eyes were thankfully back on the roses. "So, which one do you want?"
He looked at her in confusion for two seconds, before settling his eyes on something past her. Looking at her was hard. She motioned toward the card. "Which one would give you peace. The impossible, or a miracle?"
What an impertinent question. "Does it matter?"
The woman shrugged. "Sounds like the person who sent those knows you pretty well. Who's E?"
He averted his eyes back to the roses. "I don't know."
"You do know." And she said it with such authority, that he had no doubt she knew. "You know exactly who sent those. Keep your mouth shut for now, but if this becomes a problem, I won't let you lie about it in the future."
His answer was clear and unwavering. "It won't become a problem."
Silence lingered between them for a few moments, and he could feel her eyes boring into his skull. She was looking right at him, and it was horrible. "Good. You're way more agreeable these days, so I'll give you the benefit of the doubt."
He wondered if she was lying, or telling the truth. It didn't really matter. What had trust ever gotten him anyway.