Take a shot every time Nero gets carried in one of my fics. I mean, don't. You would die.
I couldn't open my eyes until the ringing faded enough that it no longer felt like a power drill whirring into my skull. But I knew where I was without having to look - the Order's library. Always that damn library. Black could have picked worse places to roost, really. At least the library was quiet, empty. No one to bother me as I put my head back together.
No one for Black to hurt.
My recollection was like a collage made of paper scraps, and I struggled to put the pieces back. Dante had shown up for some reason. It was his fault I'd fallen out of bed- No, I'd rolled off the couch. And I'd been on the couch because…
Yamato - I had it again somehow. As I curled and uncurled the claws of my right hand, I could feel the swell of dark power within my arm. Any other time, having Yamato was like salve on a burning wound, cool and calming, but I wasn't supposed to have it, and neither was Black.
He must have been the one to retrieve it, sometime after I'd started cooking. I couldn't recall the exact point when my memory went dark. My talk with Dante was a fading blur. It could have been a dream. For a moment, I wondered if it had been, but no, I'd definitely seen Dante again standing in my doorway with a smile like he was some regular visitor.
If Dante had met Black and I wasn't dead, that either meant that Dante had let Black go, or Black had found some fighting prestige and kicked the old man's ass. The thought was almost entertaining, but a bone-deep ache between my shoulders assured me that Black sucked just as much as always. Another bruise for my growing collection.
I was back at the same table and seat I'd taken last time I was in the library, however long ago that had been. Part of my aching head reminded me that it had only been yesterday. I would have preferred not remembering at all.
Wanting Yamato away again, I opened my hand, waiting for it to slip into place. I wasn't sure where I would put the sword, but somewhere, anywhere away from me. Summoning Yamato was second nature, like breathing or walking. I didn't have to think about it much until that moment, when it didn't budge from my arm.
With a growl, I closed my eyes and tensed my Bringer. Like I'd plunged my arm into a pool of ink, I pawed blindly in cold darkness only to find nothing, not Yamato, not any of the artifacts. I couldn't grasp a single thing.
"Alright, great," I said, rubbing my hand across my face. "Great. Great. Great. Everything is great. Fuck you too, Black. You know what? I don't even care. It doesn't matter! I don't care!"
And yelling that to myself repeatedly was great proof.
"I'm just going to get something to eat. I'm starving. I don't care about Yamato, stupid fucking sword. Stupid goddamn arm." I slammed the Bringer against the table, no pain reaching me through its hide. The blue glow lit up the record book I'd left the day before, still open to the same page with the same dumb questions I'd written.
But the page wasn't the same. My first question - "Who are you?" - had a single clean line swiped through it. The second question had a response.
"What do you want?" I'd written in my usual chicken scratch, and in clear, flowing script, someone had answered, "What's mine."
"Stupid," I said as I placed my hands on the table to push myself upright. "I'm hungry." The feeling eating at my stomach was less like hunger and more like nausea, so sharp that a knife to the gut would have hurt less. My vision dimmed once I found my feet, and the first few steps were unsteady. "This is what happens when you keep me from eating, asshole," I muttered. The eggs weren't going to be good by the time I made it home, though, for all I knew, Dante could have eaten them all.
Dragging myself under and over the fallen obstacles that made up the path back to the bridge was more of a challenge when my feet refused to go in a straight line, and my vision seemed to lag every time I turned my head.
"This is how I'll die," I said as I crawled under a beam. "Rest in fucking pieces, Nero, who starved to death in an abandoned building like a moron."
With my vague recollection of the layout, I made it outside, but that gave me a new problem. Getting back to the bridge required me to climb down the outside wall at an angle, or risk falling into the ocean. Whining would get me nothing but hungrier, though. Digging my claws into the wall, I pressed the soles of my boots against the cracks in the white stone and started down.
"This is fun," I huffed as my vision swam. "I'm having a great time. Aren't you, Black?"
All that kept me from the waves below were the claws of my Bringer. Once I had them locked into the stone, I had no reason to fear falling. The problem was every time I had to wrench them free to hook myself into a new spot. Each time, I would slide down a fraction as the traction of my boots failed me, and my human hand helped even less. The skin tore from my fingers and palm, leaving a bloody mess of handprints along the pristine stone. Most times I could toss out a phantom grip over the distance and get myself back to stable ground in seconds, but I couldn't even summon that ability. I felt twice as heavy as usual, and my head swam until my claws slipped past their mark, losing my grip altogether.
"Shit!" I yelped as I felt the pressure of the wall vanished from my feet. My hands pawed at empty air. Before I could try to think of a solution, stone met my back hard enough to rip away my breath. Each gasp to regain it tore at my lungs and throat. Stone was good, though. That meant I'd reached the bridge.
Lying there was all I could think to do. The sky consumed my vision. Stars must have been overhead, but they blurred into a tapestry of light and dark. The sun had still been up before Black took over. I wondered how long it had been.
"Hey, kid!" I heard, as though things couldn't have gotten any worse. "You alright? That looked painful."
The strain of trying to roll myself over took away any plans to respond. Dragging my feet under me, I managed to push myself up and stumble into a haphazard balance. Dante was halfway down the bridge, his strides long as he headed for me. Though his hands were down at his sides, I could see how tense he was even at a distance, ready to pull his weapons at any moment.
I couldn't help but take a step back. Without Yamato, I was unarmed against him. "I'm fine," I said. "What's…? Did something…?" I couldn't find the right question, and my ear started ringing, growing louder with every step he took toward me like an oncoming train.
"I met your friend," he said. "He's a little rude."
He said something else, but I couldn't hear him anymore. The ringing was so loud that I crushed my hand to my ear, trying to block it out. The ground tilted beneath me, and the dark sky bled down over the world.
Through a strangling, smothering wall, I could hear Dante saying...something. A grip snapped around the wrist of my Bringer, and the world crashed back into me at Dante's yell of, "Nero! We're not doing this again!"
"What aren't we doing again?" I tried to ask, but the words slurred together into a mess. Above me, I found Dante holding tight to my Bringer, though I didn't remember raising it. All that work getting to my feet had been for nothing because I was on my back again, or I would have been had Dante not had an arm around my shoulders.
"No," I grumbled, putting my human hand on his shoulder to push him away. "Do not touch me. Who said you could?"
He let go with a snap of movement that almost sent me to the ground again. As my hands shot to keep me upright, Dante crossed his arms. "You doing alright?" he asked. "I can barely understand you."
"Fantastic," I said as I set to work trying to stand again. "Just dizzy."
"Do you have Yamato?"
I bit my tongue and froze with my knees bent under me. He must have already known the answer. He'd known I had Yamato the day I first found it, before he'd even seen it in my hand.
"Yeah," I said at length. No point in lying.
"Can you give it to me?"
Firey anger licked at my chest for an instant. The sword was mine. He'd already admitted that. Despite how illogical I knew the thought was, I struggled to snuff out the swell of spite. I had to remind myself that letting him take the sword would have been helpful. I didn't want the damn thing.
"I'd love to," I said, "but it doesn't feel like listening to me anymore."
"What do you mean?"
"Can't summon it." I waved my Bringer to show him, but I had to cut the action short and plant both hands on the ground again for stability.
Whether because of Yamato or because I must have looked like a drunken idiot, I found Dante frowning down at me. Serious expressions didn't suit him. He almost looked like a different person under a furrowed brow.
Though I found my feet again with a push, I struggled to keep them under me. The bridge seemed to sway like a carnival ride. I couldn't complain when Dante grabbed me by the arm to keep me from tipping over.
"You're a mess, aren't you kid?" he sighed.
"I'm just dizzy." No matter how hard I rubbed at my face, I couldn't seem to keep the earth still. "It's been a long day."
"Didn't you just wake up?"
Maybe, but all the days had felt like a blur of eternity lately. I couldn't tell one from the other, not with Black taking so many pieces away. "A long day," I repeated with a sigh.
"Same for me, kid," Dante said with one of those lazy grins back on his face. "Guess I'll have to get you back because your feet won't be doing you any good."
I wouldn't have argued against some assistance had he not tugged my arms over his shoulders. My spluttered attempts did nothing, and he hooked his arms under my knees. I hadn't been carried piggyback since, god, I must have been ten. I was not going to let Dante of all people humiliate me like that.
"If you try to carry me like this, I will put you in a chokehold," I spat, pushing against his shoulders in an attempt to pry myself away. His grip on my legs kept me locked in place somehow, the bastard.
"Kid, you couldn't strangle a mouse in your condition," he said as he started back toward the island. "It would be cute if it weren't so sad. Just keep talking to me so I can make sure you aren't going to go ballistic again."
His words felt like a bucket of cold water doused over my head. He did mention meeting Black, but no one had ever described it like that. "Ballistic?" I echoed. "Did it...fight you?"
"By 'it' you mean that thing Kyrie called Black, right? Weird choice of name. I would have gone with something like Fido or Princess."
"Wait, you talked to Kyrie?" I clutched my head to keep it together as questions flooded in.
"Kyrie stopped by and filled me in after your whatever-it-is decided to stab me and skedaddle."
He sounded so calm, flippant even, but I felt like another blow had stolen my air. "It attacked you?" I asked in a voice too weak to be my own. "It's never… I don't think…" Black was only supposed to hurt me, no one else, not even Dante. If it hurt other people, then it was no longer just my problem. It was theirs too, and I couldn't put that on other people.
"Relax," Dante said, glancing back with another smile. I wondered how he could wear them so easily. "Everyone stabs me. Don't you remember the first time we met? It's practically how people say hello to me."
I didn't want to look at him. The world was spinning too much, and my head ached. Everything ached, and seeing him smiling despite all that made me want to tear my Bringer into his face or scream or just fucking cry. He didn't know what he was talking about. He didn't know what he was getting into. He didn't know a damn thing, and neither did I.
I wasn't sure which one of us I hated more.
I was nearing the edge of something, something unhinged and ugly, so I dropped my face against his shoulder to keep myself from seeing anymore. "How long ago did Black take over?" I asked, certain I didn't want the answer.
"Uh, it's been a few hours." Maybe it was the new angle, but his voice seemed softer. "Takes so long to get to this headquarters from the city. How was that practical?"
A few hours was longer than usual. Much longer.
"It doesn't take that long to get here," I said. "You just follow the market street. It's a straight shot here. Please don't take some weird path back."
"Oh, that would probably have been better."
I didn't even want to know what absurd route he'd taken. "How'd you know how to find me?"
"Kyrie said you've been spending a lot of time here."
"Yeah, no one goes to the library. It's quiet." After the words left me, I wondered why I'd bothered to lie, but then again, it wasn't technically a lie. Just the first thing that came to my addled mind.
"How are you feeling?" Dante asked with a slight nudge of his shoulder against my forehead. "I don't want you falling asleep, alright?"
"Hungry."
What exhaustion I did have snapped away at Dante's barking laugh. "Same here! I'm starved. Kyrie said something about you not eating much. When was the last time you ate?"
Silence pressed in like some demons circling us as I struggled to recall.
"Kid?" Dante pressed.
"I had a piece of bread last night."
"And?"
I couldn't make sense of the question at first, couldn't understand what more there needed to be. "Put some jam on it," I said.
"Right. And the last time you ate before that?"
"I don't know. A couple days maybe." I'd had some sort of soup that tasted like nothing. Eating that could have been years ago.
Dante breathed a sound like a stifled growl before he spoke. "Damn, no wonder your healing's trashed. Let's get you back home so you can eat. I think I can find the way back. Maybe."
I raised my head to the blur of a world. "Dante."
"No, don't worry. I'm sure I can-"
"Dante, why do you care?"
His lazy gait faltered for a moment.
"I know you act all chummy, but we hardly know each other," I continued. "And it's not like we're paying you. Wait, are we paying you?"
He turned enough for me to see his smile, but he wasn't looking at me. "It's all coming out of your account, kid."
"It had better not be," I hissed. If Kyrie could manage something like that, I wouldn't have put it past her.
His laugh was empty as he turned forward. "No, it's not. We just need to stick together when things get weird. Look after each other and all that."
"Why?" I asked. That sounded cheesy even for Dante.
His voice fell so soft that I almost couldn't hear him over his trudging footsteps. "Who else can keep me in check but you? Who else can keep you in check but me?"
The ringing in my right ear picked up and faded away again so quickly that I didn't have time to flinch before it was gone altogether. With a deep breath that wasn't as steady as I'd hoped, I forced myself to ask what I should have much sooner. "Do you know what's wrong with me?"
"Honestly, I'm not sure, but we're going to figure it out."
With the edge of the city a hazy gleam in the distance, I almost let myself feel comfort. That would have been so easy, so simple. "And if we don't?" I asked, always having to be difficult.
"We will."
He couldn't say that for sure. "But what if I get worse?"
"I can keep you wrangled."
"What if I try to hurt Kyrie?"
"I'll make sure-"
"Would you kill me?"
I hated myself for how much it sounded like a plea, how desperate and insane I must have seemed. I'd never meant to ask him that. It had slipped out just like everything else.
His steps halted. He still didn't look back, but he didn't hesitate in his answer. "That's an unfair request, and you know it. If I were out of it, would you want to kill me?"
No, of course not. I wouldn't have wanted to kill anyone, not even an ass like him. He didn't wait for me to respond, which was for the best because my throat had constricted against me.
"You're giving up too easily," he said. "It's unlike you. Where's the fire, kid?"
"Sorry." I must not have sounded genuine through a grumble, but I'd never been good at apologies. "I'm just really pissed about this whole thing, and I'm hungry."
He turned to me again, grinning. "Aw, you're cranky."
"Shut up. It's not that."
"It sounds like it's that."
"Well then, I'm allowed to be!" Even when I smacked the side of his head, he barked another one of those laughs as he set to walking again. "Anyone would be pissed in my situation."
"I think you're just generally pissed about everything."
"I have a lot to be pissed about! My healing sucks, and my arm isn't listening to me, and everything hurts. My damn eye won't heal at all."
"Your eye?" he said, cutting my rant short. I still had plenty to complain about. "Is something wrong with…"
He was still talking, but it was like I'd tuned halfway to a different radio station. His words turned into a static buzz, and that damn ringing swam up over everything. I didn't know anything could be so loud, so loud that I thought my skull might crack.
I wanted to scream. Maybe I was screaming, but I couldn't hear it over the ear-bleeding shrill that tore through my head. When the sound cut short, and the world fell to empty silence, I welcomed it.
A voice that seemed everywhere yet soundless was all that reached me through the darkness.
"Enough. Stop talking to him, or I'll have to silence you."
Whoa, here he comes. Watch out boy, he's real pissed.
Ahh gosh, I got some reviews. Thank y'all so much.