... (on a separate line) = Flashback

No other grave-robber, Solomon mused, could ever make off with such splendor as this…

It's been a few weeks since he brought her to their new home, still wrapped in her silken cradle, and a few days since she emerged from it.

Their house is lavish, a palace nestled snugly in some remote emerald mountain range. They sit side by side on an elegant terrace, both holding wineglasses. He smiles triumphantly as he watches her sip at the blood, eyes lulling in guiltless pleasure as the thick nectar flows over her tongue.

She'd finally be free from all that faux-human nonsense.

She turns to him once her glass has emptied. "I -" she begins softly, "I'll never remember anything, will I?"

"No Saya, you wont. Amnesia always follows the end of a Queen's hibernation. It's something we've been through together many times," he lies coolly.

"You were taking care of me for all that time?"

"Of course."

She smiles. "Why? Why do you do it?"

"Why, because I'm you're husband."

Her eyes widen and she gasps. "My husband?"

"Yes."

She spends a moment thought. "But you don't even sleep in my room."

"Well, first of all, I don't sleep," he chuckles.

Her giggle fades to that sweet smile he has so longed for.

"You've been so good to me. I don't know how I can ever…"

She stops mid-sentence and slowly leans toward him, wide, trusting eyes fixed on his until their lips meet, fleeting affectionate peck transforming into a deep passionate kiss.

I wonder if she really tastes like that.

Later that night, he is whiling away the lonely sleepless hours when he looks over his shoulder to behold a radiant vision dressed in white lace, eyes locked on his as she makes her way toward him, her spine-tingling stare making a clear statement of carnal surrender…

Better not think about that part now.

Two years later, their children are born. She is happy in her new life, a doting wife and loving mother instead of an emotionally scarred murderess.

He watches from down the hall as she approaches the nursery, and appearing in the doorway to block her entrance with an ardent embrace.

"Solomon," she giggles, "it's time for their bottle…" her entreaty fades to an erotic moan as his hands slide up her thighs, lips gently caressing her collarbone. "Solomon -" she sighs.

That's when the window shatters, when undeniable inevitability declares war on fantasy.

There'd be no avoiding it. He'd find her sooner or later…

"Saya!" the loathsome intruder exclaims.

Solomon's lips break away from her skin. "Do you mind? My wife and I were about to enjoy some consensual intimacies."

The unwanted guest extends his hand. "Saya, quickly, come with me."

Her eyes have expanded to a doe-like wideness, and she clings to her husband's arm like the fragile, helpless damsel she now assumes herself to be.

"It seems she doesn't want to go with you," Solomon declares smugly.

"Who - who are you?" she asks.

"I am Haji," he states matter of factly, "your Chevalier and servant."

"Ha-ji," she murmurs.

"Saya, Solomon is not your husband," the intruder explains as he produces a dagger, "he kidnapped you during your long sleep, and has kept you hidden from me so you would not receive my blood and recover your memories," he makes a deep slit in his grotesque claw, "so he could replace your past with his lies," he extends the bleeding limb to her.

"You're blood will bring back my memories?"

"Saya, don't tell me you believe this nonsense," Solomon interrupts. "This man is your enemy," he shoots a venomous glance at Haji, "he wants you to be miserable."

"But I feel like I've seen him before."

"Of course you do, he has tried to hurt you many times in the past, and no doubt now plans to poison you with his blood."

Her eyes dart back and forth between the two men.

"Saya, you take this stranger's word over that of mine, your own husband?"

"Saya, don't listen to him. I have been searching for you for years, as have Kai and the others."

"Kai?"

"Solomon has been lying to you ever since you woke up, he has abducted, manipulated and deceived you so he could make you his whore."

"Now, sir, you have gone to far," Solomon says icily as his hand becomes a blade and the battle begins, theduel quickly migrating outside, where it belongs.

Solomon returns a few minutes later, his face and suit now with a strangely even coating of blood spatter. He finds Saya cowering in the corner, and kneels beside her.

"Is he gone?"

"Yes."

"I got such a strange feeling around him," she looks up at her husband with questioning eyes.

"Shhh. He will never bother us again."

He holds her tightly against him, reiterating two and a half years worth of lies. The seeds of doubt have been sown, and he knows that he must immediately stamp out the shoots before the vines tear apart the paradise he has built.

Solomon's eyes opened, and daydream faded to the sound of chirping crickets, and the sight of an Okinawan-style tomb in the foreground of a hillside jungle. No matter how vividly he imagined it, somehow reality always managed to creep into that fantasy. He knew all too well that were he to steal the sleeping Queen, no matter how far he whisked her off to, no matter how secluded he made their nest, Haji would never stop searching for her, and immortality would insure that he would eventually find her and exercise his uncanny ability to, from Solomon's perspective, ruin everything.

But his reasons for abandoning that course of action were not just due to an assurance of Haji's interference, or it's being so morally wrong, though he did prefer the idea of winning her heart as opposed to hijacking it.

No, the main reason was because he was not willing to settle for a brainwashed shadow of her former self.

Wouldn't it be magnificent to be the recipient of all that incredible passion, and to be the one to heal her battered spirit?

He would take no less than Saya as she was thirty years ago, as she was when he fell in love with her, and he wanted the security and satisfaction of the knowledge that she'd left Haji behind of her own free will.

However, he was fully aware that some adjustments would have to be made in terms of wooing. That night in New York proved that she was not the sort of woman to be won by aggressive courtship. A new strategy was needed.

It's fairly clear that the way to Saya's heart is through her family and her cause.

I have spent thirty years gaining the trust of her family and allies, of helping her brother raise Diva's children, god, even helping the damned Red Shield. That's more than Haji's done; he simply vanished into thin air until an hour ago. But I will do whatever it takes.

Determined as he was to have her, for the first time since his early days with Diva, Solomon found himself harboring a devotion that went beyond simple desire.

Love me back or not, I will be her Chevalier, if serving her is all she will allow, then that is better than not being in her life at all. Even if I am never rewarded, I will be her Chevalier… but… that doesn't mean I wouldn't prefer to fulfill that oath in a more intimate context.

He was never was one for cognitive dissidence.

Considering what he had been three decades prior, it seemed ridiculous that he could feel any more than an impersonal lust toward Saya, as Diva had for Riku. But, absurd though it seemed, Solomon really did love Saya. However hastily it began, and however recklessly it was shown, Solomon felt that love just as keenly as Haji did.

An impetuous, sanguine man will love impetuously and sanguinely, and a diffident, pragmatic man will love diffidently and pragmatically. But they both love.

"I don't have time left for sweet dreams about a future together…"

That is what she said… She does want to be with me, it's now only a matter of convincing her that it is really possible… assuming Haji doesn't suddenly grow a spine.

For all intents and purposes, Solomon had been dead during the Met incident, and thus knew nothing of the evening's heartfelt revelations, or that long-deferred kiss.

A half hour earlier, his nieces had fulfilled a well-paid request to inform him whenever Haji appeared to announce Saya's impending return. Upon receiving the message, he had rushed to the Miyagusuku tomb, with the full intention of participating in the proceedings whether her first Chevalier liked it or not.

I am her Chevalier as well. Haji will simply have to accept that, and accept my presence in her life.

He smiled when he heard the approaching click of Haji's boots, a sure signal that that Saya was awake, and would soon emmerge. Anticipating that he would soon be reunited with his beloved, he pulled a small comb from his pocket, ran it through his hair, his smile and confidence fading slightly as he recalled that he had gained an additional disadvantage in comparison to his rival.

Both men had generally been considered extraordinarily handsome in the past and they were usually taken to be equally good-looking, though in very different ways, classical versus exotic, sparkle versus smolder.

Unfortunately, classically handsome was a card Solomon could no longer play, a necessary side effect of his surviving his encounter with Saya's blood, thirty years ago.

…

His eyes opened, but everything remained out of focus. After several minutes of complete disorientation, he began to perceive his surroundings. He could feel the oxygen mask strapped tightly to his face, blowing slow puffs of air into his nose and mouth, making both uncomfortably dry, and subtle currents of warm water surrounding him made him realize that he was floating in a corpse corps development tank. His eyes finally focused on the only person in the room.

Nathan was standing in front of him, wearing an amused smirk and an uncharacteristically tasteful business suit, albeit with a purple shirt and magenta tie.

Solomon perceived the high-pitched screech of compressed air moving, and realized that the tank was slowly draining. The water level sank, lower and lower, his body floating listlessly down to the bottom along with it until the oxygen mask was pulled from his face.

He was curled up on the floor of the tank, wet and naked, shivering violently when he felt a towel being laid across his back.

True to form, Nathan coupled his first bit of useful information with teasing. "You've been floating in that stuff for almost three weeks, what's it like to be a pickle?"

Nathan began blotting away the liquid on his brother's skin. "Speaking of pickles, lets get you some undies, kay?" he giggled as he laid his nearly-limp brother out on the floor and placed each foot into the hole of a pair boxers, and then hiked the tacky, leopard print undergarment up to his waist.

Solomon was in no position to complain.

The elder Chevalier threw the thick flannel quilt around his shivering brother, picking him up almost tenderly, and tucking him into the bed at the other end of the room, as if he were a sick child. Now wrapped in warm covers, the shivering tapered off.

"Have you heard anything of Saya?" Solomon rasped weakly, his voice not much stronger than a whisper.

"She's safe under the care of the Red Shield, and should be going into hibernation any day now."

The crippled Chevalier attempted to sit up in bed.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"I need to see her before she sleeps."

"Cool you're jets Romeo, you are still in pretty bad shape, if you're anything like my poor James, you'll be too weak to do anything for at least two months."

He collapsed back into bed with a disappointed sigh. "She'll be asleep by then," the hoarse whisper was beginning to clear into his normal voice.

"Oh, thirty years isn't that long, trust me, and by then you should be almost good a new."

"How can I be alive? I - "

Nathan smirked and interrupted. "How do you know this isn't the afterlife?"

"Because if this was heaven," Solomon chuckled in spite of himself, "you'd be Saya, and if it was hell -" he stopped mid-sentence.

"If this was hell – what?" Nathan asked curiously.

"I'd rather not say, I don't want to give you any ideas."

Nathan laughed. "You think Amshel saved you just so we could torture you? Evil notwithstanding, he was far too practical to do such a thing."

"Why did he save me?"

"Because he wanted you to mate with Saya, producing more Queens. He said something about wanting chiropteran stems cells or some such nonsense, so he decided to save you, to use corpse corps grafts to replace the flesh that crystallized, including your left arm and shoulder, part of your head and face, and your legs at the knees."

Solomon weakly turned his head to look at the mirrored closet door by the bed and let out a soft groan at his reflection. There was a huge, blood-encrusted scar running down the left side of his face, starting at the chin, curving towards his ear and then up along his hairline before cutting fairly symmetrically back across his scalp.

His hair had been shaved off completely during the operation, but had grown back slightly. The right side had grown in his original pale, golden blond; the left side had grown in black as a moonless midnight.

"Amshel said you'd have to stay out of the sun, I believe he neglected mentioning that to James because he felt he had outlived his usefulness, he just put the grafts on him to see if it would work. From what I understand, he's used a higher-grade of corpse corps meat on you, but eventual thorn is still more than a possibility, after all, he only intended for you to live long enough to get between Saya's legs." Nathan's tone suddenly went from light-hearted to downright jubilant. "Amshel's dead, by the way," he paused, and spoke again, now more somberly. "I suppose I don't need to tell you about Diva." He looked his younger brother in the eye. "You feel it, don't you?"

"She has died, hasn't she?" There was a genuine note of sadness in Solomon's voice.

"Yes. Even a traitor like you isn't immune to the cold, empty feeling one experiences when first becoming an orphan-widower. But don't worry, like all other wounds for our kind, it fades with time. Trust me, I know." Nathan paused. "And you ass! You just had to kill James, didn't you?! Just when I was making progress with him! I heard him taunting you down there, that whole Salome thing! He was either referring to the Strauss opera or the Oscar Wilde play or both! If that's not a declaration of not-hating-Nathan, I don't know what is!"

"Surley when you released me, you knew I would end up fighting him."

Nathan squinted as he smirked. "Shut up," he chirped dismissively.

"Why did you really let me go, Nathan?"

Nathan gave a distinctly sinister chuckle. "Trust me, someday, it'll all make sense."

"Why are you helping me now?"

"Same reason, and besides, come now! What kind of question is that? Strangely enough, I am kind of fond of you and we may not be blood-brothers, but we are blood relatives."

"What do you mean, not blood-brothers?"

Nathan smirked yet again. "Use your head, Solomon. You know Saya's mission was to kill all of us, then doesn't it strike you as strange that she's chilling in Okinawa even though I'm still alive."

Solomon's eyes narrowed in thought. "So you joined them too…"

"Good lord no! Now you're just projecting, and Haji isn't that cute. No, Saya thinks, nay, is absolutely sure that I'm dead. She sliced me clear in half with her blood-coated sword."

"That's impossible, you would be dead."

"Saya's blood had no effect on me," Nathan declared smugly.

"That's impossible."

Nathan pursed his lips in irritation. "Damn it, you must know by now that I hate giving straight answers, but if you absolutely insist - Saya's blood didn't kill me because I am not Diva's Chevalier."

Solomon looked at his brother questioningly. "That's impossible."

"Think of a different word, will you! Jeez, did you loose your vocabulary along with your arm and legs?"

"But what you're saying really isn't possible. I saw your transformation."

Nathan rolled his eyes and gestured to himself. "Drama queen! Hello!?"

"But you are obviously a real Chevalier, if Diva didn't make you, who did?"

Nathan let out what sounded like a love-struck sigh. "She had a beauty that only a Queen could be worthy of, Saya and Diva inherited something of her looks."

"You're saying that you were made by their mother? You would have to be thousands of years old."

"Oh, I see your deductive reasoning has returned to you, and for your information I am around nine-thousand eight hundred – I lost the exact count a few millennia ago."

Solomon stared at his nurse incredulously. "You're serious, aren't you?"

"Mmm-hmm. May I live forever and never taste another drop of blood or hear another note of music if I'm lying," Nathan paused as he pulled out a blood pack. "Now shut up, and take your medicine."

Solomon did as he was told, and suckled at the tube, eyes wandering around the room, briefly passing over, but not really attending to what appeared to be a very large ebony chest sitting next to the now-empty tank.

It was several minutes before he spoke again. "What of Haji?"

"Actually, I don't know. The Metropolitan Opera House collapsed on top of him. As far as I know, he is missing and presumed dead."

Much as the notion of Haji's demise pleased him, Solomon knew that it wasn't so. Their duel at the Zoo had been concluded by Haji being crushed beneath several tons of boulders, but he had recovered in under an hour. If Haji could recuperate from that so quickly, then surely he could survive a building collapsing on him.

Nathan nodded thoughtfully. "You think Haji survived, that's good to know."

"How would you know what I'm thinking?"

"You don't live as long as I have without learning how to read people, and besides, if you really thought

he was dead, you'd be cackling like victorious villain." Nathan sighed melodramatically. "I'm afraid you're still second in line for Saya's hand." Nathan paused and grinned. "But I do know of an aspect of chiropteran biology that should level the playing field a bit."

…

Solomon smiled to himself. Perhaps Nathan's theory will prove useful someday, but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.

Haji slowly approached the tomb, but stopped dead in his tracks a few feet shy of the door, and spoke in a menacing tone that he seemed to reserve only for conversing with Solomon.

"Leave, now."

It was more a warning than a threat.

"I cannot do that," the soft lyrical tones came from behind the tomb, Solomon Goldsmith finally making his entrance a few seconds later.

Haji seemed to either not notice, or not care about Solomon's change of appearance.

"Leave. Now."

Now it was a threat.

"That will not happen."

"Get out," Haji growled, a hint of frustration intermingling with the obvious anger.

Something about Solomon always seemed to stifle Haji's famous patience. Haji was by no means a confrontational man, but that charming, confident, covetous blond somehow always managed to activate a protective streak that bordered on possessive, resulting in outbursts of violence.

"I will take my place at her side, as her Chevalier."

"You are not her Chevalier. You are a traitorous libertine."

Solomon laughed briefly at the quip before making his rebuttal. "Whether or not I am her Chevalier is not for you to decide."

"I will not let you take her. She is all I have."

"Well then, that makes two of us."

Haji tore the bandages from his chiropteran hand while simultaneously charging his opponent.

He was unable to get in a hit.

Solomon re-appeared a few feet away. "Can't we just skip this part?" he groaned. "We always end up punching hole's in each other's suits, and on this occasion, I think we'd both prefer to remain presentable. She is a Queen, after all."

Haji flew at him again, and was dodged in much the same manner.

What a pathetic creature you are, thought Solomon, you're obviously in love with her, but the closest you come to showing it is trying to kill me.

"Fine, if you insist, I'll just have to best you for the third time," Solomon declared coolly as his right hand transformed into his weapon of choice.

The two men shot in a collision course toward one another, sword and claw poised to rip each other to shreds as soon as they met, but under a millisecond before any skewering or amputation could occur, the two men, acted upon by an as-yet invisible force, were hurled backwards, Haji hitting the stone tomb with a flinch-inducing crunch, Solomon sailing over the low border wall and skidding into the mud and surrounding foliage.

A shrill voice immediately sounded.

"That's enough you two!" The effeminate Chevalier punctuated his demand with a clap, as the two men struggled to right themselves, Haji contorting slightly as a few broken ribs were repaired, Solomon picking some leaves and twigs from his hair.

Haji and Solomon stared as Nathan Mahler casually approached, and stood between them.

"Honestly, there's never a dull moment with you two, you're like a cat and a dog in more ways than one! And while watching you two squabble is rather entertaining, it's hardly appropriate for this occasion! We all know that you both love Saya, but my god, are you both such macho jerks that you actually think who gets Saya will be decided by you fighting each other! Of all the asinine notions! You claim that you live to serve her and yet you wont allow her to have a mind of her own! For all your self-righteous oaths of loyalty, you insist on treating her like a brainless child! The time will come for this matter to be settled, but that time is clearly not now!" Nathan exclaimed.

He turned to Haji. "Now then, Fido, will you please recognize that Solomon does have a right to be here, even if you don't recognize him as Saya's Chevalier, this is public property, and you have no legal authority to tell him to leave, and besides, he's right. It's not for you to say whether he is Saya's Chevalier or not."

Nathan turned to Solomon. "And Whiskers, will you please recognize that if you insist on calling yourself
Saya's Chevalier, then that would make Haji your older brother. As Saya's eldest, and thus senior Chevalier, it is Haji's right to preside over her awakening."

The rival Chevaliers still could barely look at each other.

"Come now gentlemen, who's gonna step up and be the bigger man?"

Nathan's appeal to their sense of competition appeared to have been successful, and Solomon finally spoke.

"I guess someone has to be the adult in all of this," Solomon sighed. "I'll offer you a compromise, Haji. I give you my word, I will not make contact with her until her memories have fully returned."

I suppose it's no big deal. What's a few more weeks, after thirty years? And it probably wouldn't hurt to move toward Haji's good side. Constantly exchanging blows with her friend would probably not be conducive to courtship. Plus, if I am publicly reasonable and agreeable toward him, any continued hostility on his part would be unflattering to him, and thus help my suit.

I'd be the good guy.

Haji simply continued to glare.

"You must understand that to never see her again is not an option for me." Solomon paused. "I will keep away until she remembers who I am. That is my final offer."

Haji hesitated. "Agreed," he reluctantly muttered. "But if you break your word, if you try to abduct her, if you try to take advantage of her amnesia in any way, I will kill you."

Solomon narrowly avoided laughing out loud. Every time he and Haji had dueled in the past, Solomon had the upper hand. Though arguably by default, he was always the victor.

"Very well," he chortled.

Nathan clapped again. "Well done, now, shall we get on with this?"

"Nathan, I don't recall either of us agreeing to your presence," Solomon groaned.

"And yet hear I am. Someone has to keep you two from killing each other."

Haji appeared to ignore them as he paced over to the entrance of the tomb, and pushed the heavy stone door aside as if it were nothing more than a shoji screen. Solomon moved to follow, but was stopped by Nathan's firm grip on his shoulder.

"Don't push your luck," the ancient Chevalier warned. "Of the two of you, I'd wager that you've seen her naked more recently. It's his turn to get an eyeful."

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