Believe in Me, O Dancer Girl

by Aina Song

It was a secret he had protected for as long as he could remember. And, without even realizing it, she was a part of it.

6. I'm Sorry

Title: Believe in Me, O Dancer Girl

By: Aina Song

Fandom(s): Star Ocean 3: Till the End of Time

Genre: Yaoi

Rating: NC-17

Warning(s): Language; Direct & Altered Quotes; Spoiler Alert; Slight OOC; Much Angst; Mention of past-NCS (Hell, where'd I put that Fluff? This one's gonna need some Fluff…)

Pairing(s): Albel(Peppita) x Fayt (Not the way it sounds, I swear!)

Reviews: Yes, please.

Author's Note: Standard Disclaimer. This story was not written for money.

Another Note: Hate me for this all you want, but in my own little world, Adray does not exist. Useless old coot in battle, and socially inadequate everywhere else. And, even after he joins the party, he's never included in any of the major movie scenes - you don't even see him hanging around in the background! *blows raspberry* Italics = dreams, sword telepathy, and flashbacks. Do tell.

Teaser: It was a secret he had protected for as long as he could remember. And, without even realizing it, she was a part of it.

Chapter Six - I'm Sorry

Peppita awoke and gave a small smile when Albel, now clothed but still bearing few traces of sweat, returned at last to their room. She glanced at the window, noting the very first greys of an awakening dawn, and she could not suppress a happy giggle.

Albel tossed her a mock-glare as he latched the door, though his own satisfied smirk hid nothing. "What?"

She rolled to her shoulder, burrowing further under her covers and adjusting her head on her pillow as he came and sat upon the extra bed across from her. "Nothing," she finally answered, her silvery blue eyes the very picture of innocence. "I was just marveling at your tactics. Must be very convincing…"

The dark warrior gave a short bark of a laugh that immediately sent her to giggling again.

~o~

Later that very afternoon the two were idling about in front of an unused workshop in the western district, when they saw Fayt leaving the center plaza. He saw the two, paused a moment, but then strode purposefully in their direction.

"This ought to be good," Albel muttered.

Beside him, Peppita lightly backhanded his gauntleted arm.

"I'm glad I caught the both of you," the blue-haired swordsman announced as he approached. He gave Albel a very open look, softly warning, "I'm not doing this because I have to."

The dark warrior narrowed his garnet red eyes in mild curiosity, but said nothing.

"Peppita," Fayt sighed, turning to the young dancer girl. "There's something I… implied about you, and I realize now that it wasn't fair of me to think it before trying to understand the whole story. What you share with Albel… it's the same as what I used to have with Sophia. Sometimes, it felt she was the only one to understand me. I see now that you do that for Albel. And it was wrong of me to read more into it than that." Biting his lip, he bowed his head to her. "I'm sorry. By thinking what I did, I feel I've… betrayed your trust in me. And I don't know how to make it up to you."

"I do," she readily challenged. "Let him kiss you again. Right here on the street."

"What?"

"Angel," Albel growled cautiously. "With witnesses, I could tarnish his name…"

"Exactly," Peppita insisted, stepping back to give them room. "But Fayt wouldn't care about that, if what he feels about you is sincere. Small-minded people with their smaller-minded accusations should mean little to him, right?"

The dark warrior clenched his jaw, but looked to the blue-haired swordsman to make the call. Fayt's face slowly lit with confidence, and he stepped forth, fist catching the broken chain of Albel's collar. "Right."

Albel let loose a deep growl as their mouths came together, his good arm locking around the small of the other's back and jerking him closer. The fingers of Fayt's other hand wove into the two-toned strands at the back of his head, and Albel felt the younger swordsman's lips part against his own in invitation. Just as Albel was about to take him up on that offer, however, they were suddenly and very rudely interrupted.

"What the hell?"

But where Albel would have jerked back, if only to give the unwanted fool a very dangerous scowl, Fayt's grip tightened at the back of his neck and Albel's mouth was invaded. Growling appreciatively, more than willing to follow this example, the dark warrior let his tongue battle the one exploring his mouth.

"Kid!" Cliff shouted again, "What's gotten into you; get away from him and come to your senses!"

That got a different reaction entirely. Still fisting the broken chain of Albel's collar, Fayt pulled back and gave the blond a particularly dark look. "I already have," he spoke in that take-charge steely tone that none in their group dared challenge. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm trying to prove a point."

Albel scoffed in the face of Cliff's stuttering disbelief, allowing himself to follow the slight tug at his collar in a beeline for his blue-haired lover's mouth.

~o~

The next day, the very winds had changed, and Fayt announced that the time had come at last to be on their way. They had the Sacred Orb; they knew where to look for Luther. They had prepared as best they could, unknowing as to whether they would return. If they delayed now, they might not get another chance to save their galaxy.

But Albel knew there was still one more duty he must fulfill before they set out. It was just as their unofficial leader had said - he had put it off long enough. So, while the others were scattered about town to make their last-minute preparations, the dark warrior snatched Fayt's hand and dragged him along in search for Peppita. It was not so great an effort; because of the immediate course their hunt would soon lead them, it made sense that she would return to the empty chapel to prepare in her own way.

It was like déjà vu.

They pulled at the heavy door to let themselves into a room lit only by candles in their glass red cups that had been littered about on every available surface, casting their ethereal glow on Peppita's face as she stood within a painted circle of late afternoon sunlight. For a long moment she did not move, her head tilted back against arms that had been risen high toward the shadow-laden ceiling - one stretched as far as it would go, the hand of the other bent low to catch the elbow of the first. Her eyes were closed, and on her face was that same look of sad serenity.

As before her ropes and bells had been set aside, and her feet were bare as she began to slowly twirl about within her circle. Her arms parted and were brought down like wings spreading at her sides. She bent forward, her arms curling in around her; she arched up again to fling her arms behind her. Her movements were a melancholic mimicry of some majestic bird in flight. Her bare feet stamped quietly upon the floor as she twirled, and when the colored light painted across her face it caught the gleam of tears streaming down her cheeks.

Albel's heart tightened painfully at the sight, and beside him he could hear Fayt draw in a quick breath.

Peppita's mouth moved in a silent incantation, and they marveled as the flames of some candles left their wicks to hover in the air toward her. They surrounded her, circling to the left as she twirled to the right. She spread her arms out as she danced, the tips of her fingers reaching toward the hovering sparks of fire. The flames pushed just away if she drew too near, their light casting a poignant blue glow across her face. Her feet moved her to the center of their circle, where she spun in place faster and faster until she came to such a sudden stop that all the hovering flames were doused at once in countless puffs of smoke.

After a long minute, she gave a slow sigh and opened her eyes. She smiled, unsurprised to find she had an audience. Tossing her arm in the direction of the candles, using simple symbology to light the wicks her earlier spell had stripped, she sprinted forth and caught herself in Albel's embrace. "I did it," she whispered happily. "Did you see? I've mastered the last of my mother's routines."

So that was why she'd so often cry when rehearsing alone. A thickness lodging in his throat, the dark warrior carefully folded his good arm around her shoulders. "Yes, angel," he gruffly answered. "You truly are a strong dancer…"

Her head tilted back, silvery blue eyes curious. "What's wrong?"

He sighed, gently leading her over to a pew where he sat her down beside him. Fayt moved around to the pew in front of them, kneeing himself upon it and resting his arms along its back so that he could watch the other two. Albel gave him a quietly direct look, warning without words that anything the blue-haired youth learned here would not be repeated. Fayt nodded to it, silently giving his word, and the dark warrior returned his attention to the girl at his side.

"Angel," he began. "I don't know if I'll soon have another chance… To tell you all I know, of Elayne."

Fayt's glass-cut green eyes grew wide and curious, recognizing the name of Peppita's deceased mother.

The dancer girl was quiet a moment, but then looked up with a small smile. "I think I'd like that."

But the blue-haired swordsman glimpsed in his lover's dark red eyes that the older warrior had his doubts:

~o~

Elayne Rossetti was a woman, bright and pure. Her heart was kind, laughter shone in her eyes, and her delicate bronzed beauty was unmatched.

She came to Airyglyph, a curiosity to its people. Yet her charm and soft-spoken words caught the eyes and ears of those of the higher court, and she was given her own room in the royal castle, and proved a polite and welcome guest.

It was not long before she captured the heart of one of the king's trusted captains. He loved her dearly, and wooed her unrelentingly until she agreed to his offer of marriage. The announcement, and then the ceremony, were celebrated for many days, so beloved was she by the people who chanced to know her.

She was not one to be encumbered by the depressive politics of the higher court, and her new husband did not wish to destroy the unbridled freedom of her heart. She was given a smaller second house of her own, with which to do as she willed. Her joy in the gift was obvious, for she transformed that house into a stage in which she could dance for all who deigned to watch.

Perhaps some months later, the happy couple were blessed with a child. A son. She danced less, and devoted more of her heart to her family. He continued to fight for his king, but was diligent in only accepting assignments that did not obviously demand more of himself than he was willing to sacrifice.

Yet their happiness was compromised. Little more than two years after their son's birth, it was revealed that another child was born in the mining town Kirlsa. The mother of this child had died giving birth, but not before firmly declaring who was the father.

Elayne was devastated, but her heart was simply too large to turn the babe away. And so, she took in and raised her husband's second son along with her own. Her love for her husband remained strong, but her trust in him had been fractured.

For a number of years, they did indeed seem to have forged a happy family. But then, perhaps ten years after the discovery of the younger son…

~o~

"What?" Peppita softly begged, her hands gripping his good arm. "What happened, then?"

Albel hesitated. "Angel… This will not be easy to hear…"

She shook her head, "It probably wasn't easy for one of my brothers to learn that he was a product of illegitimacy, either. But if he can live through that, then I think I can handle hearing the rest of the story."

"It was your brother that was unfortunate enough to witness this next event," he carefully revealed. After another long hesitation, he forced the words passed clenched teeth, "On a night of drunken idiocy, the captain… bedded his wife against her will."

A muttered curse fell from Fayt's lips, but otherwise his blue-haired lover kept silent.

Peppita grew very still, her hands on his arm suddenly a dead weight he could not bring himself to remove. Jaw working, he met Fayt's gaze and lifted his left arm. The younger swordsman understood immediately, quickly unbuckling the straps of his gauntlet and pulling it free. Albel nodded gratefully, turning back and carefully tugging the dancer girl into his strong embrace. "Angel…"

"When," she whispered, faintly. "When did it happen?"

"… Fourteen years ago."

The calculations were not lost on her quick mind, and she gave a small cry, pushing closer against him. "Then… I-"

"Yes," he sighed. "I'm sorry." Taking a breath, he let the last of the story unfold. "Even Elayne's heart could not withstand such an evil. The sun had not yet risen the next morning, before she'd disappeared. All of Airyglyph grieved for her. But eventually, no one could bring themselves to even mention her name. Your brothers - they were the most heartbroken. And the captain found the most despicable way to deal with the results of his crime. He drowned himself in drink, growing angrier and more dangerous with each passing day."

Peppita did not need to be told what such a combination could mean. "But my brothers-!"

"The younger one seemed to always find himself in the wrong place, at the wrong time." Albel shook his head, a part of him surrounded by memories of the past:

~o~

He tried to hide his torment from his brother, who still held some lingering hope for their father, but eventually he was found out. It was then the younger one shared what he had witnessed just before Elayne's disappearance, and his suspicions for their father's current behavior. The elder son was devastated, and ashamed that his brother had had to bear this weight alone. When next the younger son was targeted by the captain's anger, the elder one stepped in, taking the worst of the blows and for the first time letting his fist counter them.

~o~

"Good for them," Peppita whispered.

Albel shook his head, "No."

"What? Why?"

"Because it was with that first defiance that the younger son discovered guilt." Sighing, his eyes still cast afar, he went on:

~o~

From that day on, whenever the captain lost himself to drink and anger, the elder son would hide his brother away and take it all upon himself. The punishment often varied between beatings and even lashings across his back, but still the first son never wavered. The younger son could not let his brother suffer on his account, and so began teaching himself to become a warrior. At fourteen, he had grown strong enough to fight back for the both of them, and he convinced his sixteen-year-old brother to leave Airyglyph and take his alchemic studies to the far-away city of Aquios, where their father's wrath could never follow.

~o~

"Alchemic studies," Peppita softly echoed. She pulled slightly away, her eyes wide as she lifted her head. "The older brother was Mackwell?"

Now Fayt's expression held just the tiniest amount of confused curiosity. Up until then, he thought he had done fairly well in following the tale. But it seemed his dark lover had already disclosed some small facts to the dancer girl that he had not been witness to.

Albel nodded:

~o~

He was… very reluctant to leave, but the younger son gave his word to write often so that he would not worry. The captain realized too late the long list of wrongs beneath his name, and slowly began to free himself from his drink. Yet he had already destroyed his younger son's trust in him, and the new warrior refused to reveal where he had sent his brother. But the captain tried often to prove he was sincere, and one year later… got his wish.

There is a ritual, that some new warriors attempt in order to join Airyglyph's Dragon Brigade. One must stand in the midst of a number of air dragons, open his heart to them and let his spirit commune with theirs. It was the younger son's day to make this attempt, but after years of fearing his father's shadow and then hardening his own heart so that he could learn to free his brother from the burden of protecting him…

~o~

The dancer girl gasped, "He couldn't do it?"

"No," Albel sighed. "And when this particular ritual is failed, its candidate must suffer the fiery rage of every air dragon present. Yet at the last minute, the captain stepped in, shielding the new warrior and giving his life so that his younger son might survive."

Fayt frowned, something in those last words stirring a memory of his own. Hadn't Albel's father been a captain before him, of that same Dragon Brigade? Fayt had never learned the details but Count Woltar, of the Storm Brigade, had mentioned that part of the mystery that was Albel the Wicked was that he carried much guilt over his father's demise…

"Albel," Peppita whispered, breaking the silence. "What was my… the captain's name?"

His jaw worked with indecision, but eventually he yielded.

"Sir Glou Nox."

A heavy silence fell within the chapel, during which the delicate form pressed against his side grew suddenly still. Albel did not look at her, but turned his gaze aside, fearing that with those three words he had finally destroyed her trust in him. The dark truth had been brought out into the open. How many years had he strove to keep his pathetic history buried in the past. Even with Mackwell, he could never have brought himself to mention the pain they had shared. But just as he cared for his brother, he cared too for his sister. And she deserved to hear it all, to know the truth of why her mother had fled Elicoor.

"Nox," Peppita slowly echoed, the silence shattering at her whisper. "The captain was your father…"

"Yes."

"Oh, Albel!" Her arms suddenly tightened around his stomach, nearly pinching his ribs with her enthusiasm, and he stared down at her in shock. Her eyes were hidden by her soft white hair, but he saw that her small mouth was quivering. "I'm so sorry for you!"

Pushing beyond his surprise, he carefully eased her grip around his sides. She looked up, tears spilling from her silvery blue eyes, and he knew a moment's guilt. "Don't apologize, angel. Having gotten to know you has all but erased the very memory of it from my mind."

A tiny smile quirked at the corner of her lips, "So… when this is all over… We can be a family? A real family?"

"Why do you think I've been fighting so hard? I did promise Mackwell, after all."

With a happy little cry, she threw herself into his embrace once more. The dark warrior held her to him, a sense of long-awaited forgiveness washing over him at last. Glancing up, he found Fayt watching him, glass-green eyes fierce with barely checked emotion. And his blue-haired lover's mouth silently moved in a sympathetic apology of his own.

I'm sorry…