Vision Of Escaflowne Fan Fiction ❯ Behind Enemy Lines ❯ Scarred Again ( Chapter 4 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Behind Enemy Lines

By: rainjewel

Chapter Four: Scarred Again

~*~

"Van-sama! You can't check a person's pulse with your gloves on!" Merle squealed as she paced the entire floor of Van's room. Van himself stood in the center of it, still holding the unconscious Dilandau in his arms and wearing a look of a boy being scolded by his mother.

"Okay, so I wasn't thinking straight! Can you blame me?" he growled. Dilandau was becoming heavy, and Van was worried the psycho would awaken in his arms which would probably lead to Gaea's apocalypse.

"You should have at least had the sense to take off your gloves," Merle said under her breath.

Van almost threw up his hands in defeat, but he couldn't really with Dilandau in his arms. So he walked over to his own bed and tossed the silver-haired soldier unceremoniously unto the bed and then threw his hands up. Merle uttered a low growl and left to "check on Celena" for what Van thought must have been the fifth time this half-hour.

After the catgirl had left Van stood up and dug through his suitcase until he found the coil of rope he had thrown in (he had wanted to be prepared for ever circumstance imaginable). He then walked over to the bed and tied Dilandau down so that he was spread-eagled on the covers. Only when he was done did Van realize that he had tied the maniac to his bed.

Figures.

Van sat down on the edge of the bed, thinking of the recent happenings. After he had "checked" Dilandau's pulse (with his gloves on, as Merle had so tactfully pointed out) Van had had such a bad fright he almost had a nervous break down. And when he had returned to Schezar Manor five minutes later and seen a horse-drawn carriage with Fanelia's royal seal in the front lawn he had almost had another one. He had leapt off his still-moving horse, slinging Dilandau carelessly over his shoulder and ran into the building screaming Merle's name at the top of his lungs while visions of a flaming Fanelia danced in his head.

Van had burst into Celena's room to find Merle leaning over the slumbering girl. The catgirl had screamed bloody murder at the sight of her beloved Van-sama clutching the half-naked Zaibach warrior Dilandau Albatou to his chest. Van hadn't caught onto that, but screamed at Merle as to whether or not Celena was alive.

"Of course she's alive! All I did was stitch up that nasty cut while she was unconscious so she wouldn't feel it. What's he doing here?" Merle had replied.

"Then Dilandau's dead!" Van had said, not answering the girl. Merle reached out and pressed her paw to the albino's neck.

"No he's not…unfortunately."

"But I checked for a pulse and there wasn't one!"

Merle's face darkened. "Did you take off your gloves?"

"Of course I…no. I didn't."

And then Merle had smacked him over the head and stormed off to his room, which is where Van caught up to her and received his present reprimanding. So now that left Van with five questions.

Why was Merle here? Why had Dilandau passed out at the pub in the outskirts of Palas? Why was Dilandau even here? Celena or Hitomi? What in the fuck was he supposed to do now?

Merle thankfully answered that one for him. She waltzed back into the room and with all the tact a 14-year-old catgirl has, informed him that he needed a bath because he "stunk like a wet dog."

Van kissed her cheek and thanked her for her kindness.

"Anyways, I'm not telling you anything tonight. I'll talk tomorrow," Merle yawned, kneeling down at Van's feet and taking off his boots. Van smiled. Merle always delighted in taking care of him. He was so glad she was back here. She was something familiar he could grab onto in this world of chaos. "Until then, I don't want one question or explanation from you regarding him-" Merle jerked her finger over in Dilandau's direction-"Or Celena, or anything else! Now give me your shirt and go take a bath. I'll leave the pants to you, unless you really think you need assistance with those as well."

Van flung his shirt in her face and walked to the washroom. "Tease."

Merle stuck her tongue out. "Goodnight, Van-sama."

"Night Merle." The catgirl left, her blue dress trailing behind her.

Van smiled and stepped into the already filled bathtub (after removing his pants, of course). As he scrubbed away the day's sweat, blood and grime he began to relax. It's funny, Van thought, Merle came back, and it doesn't matter that I have a psychopath tied to my bed, a couple of dead friends, and an injured…Celena. I don't know what she is. Thank you, Merle.

Van let himself soak for another good ten minutes until his hands resembled raisins and his scalp was pink from scrubbing. Then he decided he should probably get out (he conveniently overlooked the fact that he had almost fallen asleep in the tub and had nearly drowned himself in his own bath water). So the Fanelian King gingerly stepped out of the tub, wrapped a towel around his body, and then strolled out of the washroom.

As Van lackadaisically discarded his towel in favor of a pair of briefs and his pajama pants, he took a glance at Dilandau. He was struck by how…well…angelic the boy looked in his sleep. The soldier's eyes were closed and soft looking while his lips parted in a way that reminded him of a sleeping child. Van pulled up his pants, his eyes locked onto Dilandau's closed ones. The soldier's face for once wasn't contorted by maniacal bloodlust, but was instead a picture of peacefulness. Carefully Van stepped closer to the bed. He was also surprised at how thin Dilandau was. The boy had the same frame as himself, but Dilandau was taller. Maybe that's why he looks so thin, he thought, or it could be because I've never seen him without his armor on.

Tentatively Van reached out and placed two (ungloved) fingers to Dilandau's throat. As he did so, Dilandau turned his head slightly, baring his jugular to Van's fingers. The black-haired boy gasped, feeling his enemy's cold, silky skin moving under his fingertips. It felt like a snake. He finally found Dilandau's pulse; it was slow and steady in contrast to his own racing and erratic heartbeat. This was, for him, like looking at enemy battle plans. Van felt like he was uncovering military secrets. He supposed there wasn't a bigger secret than Dilandau Albatou.

Van lifted his hand away from Dilandau's icy neck. He tilted his head as if searching for weaknesses. He found one. Again he reached out. Gently he brushed Dilandau's hair aside, marveling at the softness of it. Then Van lowered one finger and he, ever-so-slightly, traced the scar he had given Dilandau so many colors ago. He had made the Zaibach fall to his knees, just because of some stupid cut.

"You're such a vain bastard," Van whispered. He knew Dilandau had a right to be vain; he was handsome, but the maniac took it to extremes. He ran his finger down the length of the scar again. But this time Dilandau cried out as if in pain and flinched away from Van's touch violently. Van knew he was in danger of waking the boy up, but he was so very curious about the mystery Dilandau possessed.

However, Van also wasn't an idiot. He had no idea what Dilandau would do if he woke up to find Van Fanel stroking his hated scar. Van didn't doubt for a second that Dilandau would do everything in his power to strike him down.

So the Fanelian King quietly retreated to the couch and stretched out on it. Briefly-sleepily-he considered going into Celena's room to be with her, but decided to keep an eye on the bound pyromaniac.

Even if it was a closed one.

~*~

Dilandau woke up. He did not move, he did not open his eyes, he didn't even quicken his breathing. He simply became aware of his surroundings. Though he almost panicked when he felt the bindings on his wrists and ankles. Flashbacks from a far darker time flew in his memory, and Dilandau was thrust into Zaibach once more. The world of the Madoushi who had poked and prodded him until he screamed in anguish so that he could be the efficient killing machine he was today. And then there was the man with the glasses. The evil man who-

"Is he awake?" whispered a soft voice. Dilandau calmed himself. The voice was female and young. "I thought I heard him groan."

"No, he didn't. Go take Celena to the garden," said a voice. Dilandau recognized it as Van's.

"But Van-sama, I-"

"Go." Dilandau heard some cat-like grumbling and then the slamming of the door.

"Good morning Dilandau," Van stated solemnly. Dilandau smiled and opened his eyes.

"Morning it may be, but as to whether it's 'good' or not is debatable," he said brightly. He chose not to look at Van (who was standing at the foot of the bed, arms folded and face set like stone) but directed his eyes to the ceiling. Slowly he began to feel a sore, dull throbbing in his right arm.

"Is that so?" Van replied neutrally. Dilandau chose not to dignify the boy's moronic question with an answer. He moved his right shoulder, and suddenly he was aware of just how weak he really was. Dilandau closed his eyes for the light was too harsh. His limbs felt as if they were made of lead. He supposed the separation must have used all of his strength. He tried to experimentally lift his head, but that proved to be too taxing.

Dilandau found this very frustrating. He would have yelled to vent his anger, but he didn't have the energy.

Van decided to take advantage of the situation.

Dilandau opened his eyes to find the boy-king on the lower side of the bed, untying his ankles. This would have been a fine time to kick Van in the face and break his nose, but Dilandau realized he couldn't left his leg sufficiently. Damn.

Well, this is just fan-fucking-tastic! I get the chance to nail the bastard and I'm too weak to do it. How typical. It seems that no matter how much one manipulates Fate she still retains her horrid sense of irony.

Van, meanwhile, moved to Dilandau's wrists.

"And why are you risking this?" Dilandau asked, his eyes on the boy-king's bowed head. Van leaned over him, untying his other wrist. Dilandau grimaced; he hated being this close.

"I'm not risking a damn thing. You're too weak to fight me adequately from whatever you had to do with Celena. I'm taking advantage of it," Van replied, stepping back. Dilandau burned with anger. Carefully he moved his arms to his sides. Relief flooded through his right arm.

"Oh, then what the fuck are you going to do with me?" he spat at Van. The black-haired boy didn't respond at first, but reached out and grabbed Dilandau's upper arm and hauled him to a sitting position.

"Hey!" Dilandau protested.

"Time for your potty break," Van said with a grin. Dilandau shoved his arm off his shoulder.

"You're sick," he stated in one of his deadlier tones. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up slowly, adjusting to his weakness. He took a deep breath and steadied himself as the world swam before him. Dilandau would get through this, he would function as best he could.

Van stood motionless, observing all this with a raised eyebrow. "Can you walk?"

"Shut up," Dilandau growled, his hands clenched into fists. He marched past Van with an arrogant smirk and shaky knees. Let the boy-king think he was weak. His defenses would slip, and Dilandau wasn't that weak; he could compensate and accommodate. He would strike him down.

"Keep the door open," Van called. Dilandau turned his head.

"Yes sweetheart," he tossed back, sounding exactly like Celena. He smiled as he heard Van come running. Quickly Dilandau sidestepped, leaning against the doorway as Van flew past. However, the black-haired boy turned just as quickly and tackled Dilandau who went easily flying on his back.

As Dilandau felt himself hit the ground, he felt the last of his strength wither away. Van immediately straddled him, pinning him to the ground. But neither of these things stopped Dilandau from cackling hysterically while Van's furious face seethed above him.

"Temper, temper. You are such a barbarian," Dilandau cackled. Van painfully tightened his grip on Dilandau's shoulders, but the albino refused to wince.

"Don't mock her, you sadistic bastard," Van said through clenched teeth. Dilandau cocked his head to the side, amused with his anger.

"Well then, perhaps you shouldn't mock me. Celena and I are very close you see," Dilandau replied. His hand brushed against Van's boot and he felt the dagger that lurked in the top of it.

"You are nothing like Celena!" Van roared.

"Oh really? And what do you know, boy-king? I think I am the authority on matters concerning the relationship between her and I," Dilandau replied. He saw Van's eyes flash brightly. "Ah, so that's it, isn't it? You're jealous! You certainly are one sick fuck."

"Shut up!" Van shouted. Dilandau knew he had hit a sore spot.

"You're upset because ever since your beloved Celena recovered she hasn't been quite the same, has she? She's like a child, a 5-year-old who always has to be looked after," Dilandau crowed, "And you miss the other Celena, the one you helped, the one that cried on your shoulder, the one you kissed. But she never existed, Van. Only I did."

"God damn you!" Van cried. His hand flashed out and he smacked Dilandau on the left side of his head. Dilandau rolled with the blow, grimacing at the jarring and pain that screamed in his ears. He focused that same pain (not to mention anger) into his left hand. Quick as lightening, his hand darted and snatched the dagger from Van's boot. He swung up and felt the blade connect with Van's right cheek. He then swiftly drove it down, creating a perfect imitation of his very own scar.

Suck on that, Van Fanel.

Van grabbed the dagger from Dilandau as soon as the blade left his flesh. The albino's hand fell limply on the floor, his strength gone. Van's eyes were wide and unbelieving and his lips were open slightly. Dilandau watched in anticipation, soaking in the other boy's shock and horror.

"Does it hurt?" Dilandau whispered. Van's eyes flashed, the words switching him on like a light. The hand that held the dagger came flying down, the blade penetrating the floor beside Dilandau's head. Van leaned down.

"Does this hurt?" he whispered in Dilandau's ear. Van then raised his hand and punched him straight in the diaphragm. Dilandau curled upwards with the blow and his chin knocked Van's shoulder. As his vision swam and his world dimmed, he grasped Van's forearms with his hands and managed to breathe…

"…What you do to one side you must do to the other…"

~*~

Slowly Celena crept down the hall. She felt good. She had managed to escape from Merle, who was currently sleeping on the great armchair in Celena's room. The young Schezar thought it was incredibly funny that the catgirl could sleep in a little round ball anywhere she liked.

Celena opened the door to the room she believed Dilandau and Van to be in. carefully she peeked in, looking to see if anyone was still awake. It was hard to see through her untamed golden curls (her hair was now a little past her shoulders) but she could tell that no one was awake. She shut the door silently. She didn't know how she knew to be so quiet, but she was pleased at how good she was at it.

On the couch was the black-haired boy named Van. Celena remember meeting him in the garden, and she remembered everything that had happened today, but she couldn't remember anything of the past day or two (except that it didn't feel too good). And Dilandau was gone. He had always been her invisible, private friend in her dream world, but now he was here in the real world. Celena had decided that it didn't matter to her what world he chose to exist in, just as long as he existed.

Celena found her "friend" sleeping on the bed. She tiptoed over to where Dilandau lay and noticed that there was rope around his wrists and ankles. Celena thought he was rather silly to have done that to himself, so she went around and untied him.

Gosh, how thin and cold he looked! Celena had never seen anyone so pale! Except for a large black bruise on his stomach, Dilandau looked like he had been bathed in milk. Celena quietly went to the closet by the washroom and grabbed a blanket from it. She walked back over to Dilandau and put the blanket over him.

Celena then leaned over and kissed Dilandau on the forehead.

Dilandau opened up one very surprised eye.

Celena smiled and smothered a giggle.

Dilandau smiled and put a finger to his lips.

He slowly stood up from the bed, stretching and flexing his muscles as if testing his strength. His smile widened and he walked (still holding a finger to his lips) to the washroom and closed the door. Celena waited patiently for a few minutes until he returned. He then came over and took her hand, leading her out the door.

The minute they were down the hallway and out of earshot, Celena dared to speak.

"Why are you so white?" she asked, looking at Dilandau's pale chest. He opened the door to Allen's room and smiled at her.

"I'm an albino. It's a rare genetic something-or-other. Very special," Dilandau explained. He was damned if he was going to say "genetic disorder." He grabbed a white long-sleeved shirt from the closet and slipped into it, leaving it unbuttoned.

"Oh. What am I then?" Celena asked, following Dilandau as he walked through the halls in the direction of the kitchen.

"Why, you're beautiful," Dilandau replied absently, opening the kitchen door. Celena blushed.

"You're beautiful too," she said shyly. He turned and grinned at her.

"Are you hungry?" Dilandau asked. Celena shook her head. "Well I am," he said. He grabbed an apple from the icebox and some bread and cheese as well. He also took a large bottle of vino from a cabinet. Dilandau then heaved himself up on the counter, munching. He offered an arm to Celena and pulled her up beside him. She watched him eat for a few minutes.

"Why were you and Van fighting?" she asked. She remembered hearing yelling as she and Merle had come back from the garden. That was when she had learned Dilandau was here.

"Van and I don't get along. He wasn't very nice to me in the past, and I wasn't very nice to him either," Dilandau admitted, uncorking the wine. He turned and looked at Celena. "You're the only one I'm nice too.

Celena felt disturbed and pleased with that statement. Dilandau offered the bottle of vino to her, but Celena shook her head.

"My brother says I'm too young to drink that stuff. It's not allowed."

Dilandau shook his head. "You can do anything you want to Celena. You're independent now. Allen can't control you anymore."

"Well, it doesn't smell good anyway. No thanks," Celena said. Dilandau grinned and brought the bottle to his own lips. They sat in contented silence for awhile.

"So," Dilandau asked finally, "Are you healing alright?"

Celena rubbed her stomach gently, feeling her stitches. "My cut's healing fine. I don't remember where I got it, but it doesn't hurt anymore. Though while I was in my room I had an awful pain right her," she said, motioning to her ribs. "But, I think I fell asleep or something, because all I remember after that was Van waking me up saying he was sorry about something. I didn't have the slightest clue what he was talking about. I thought it might have something to do with that bandage on his cheek, like he had been punished, but I didn't say anything."

"You're a smart girl. Tell me, why did you come to my room?" Dilandau asked, finishing up his meal.

"Because I missed you silly. I heard you earlier today and I knew that you weren't in my head anymore, but you were here in the real world," Celena explained. Dilandau smiled.

"Nope, I'm certainly not in your head anymore," he repeated. He hopped down from the counter. "We need to get back. If Van woke up and I'm not there he won't be happy with me at all."

"I thought he wasn't happy with you to begin with," Celena said, puzzled. Dilandau laughed and gently eased her off the counter and onto the ground.

"He'll learn," Dilandau said, looking off into the distance. "Celena, do you love me?"

Celena blushed. "Of course I do, Dilandau-chan."

"Why?"

"Because…because you're nice to me, and you love me back. And you know lots of neat stuff!" Celena said with enthusiasm. Dilandau looked a little shocked, but he shrugged and began walking, Celena beside him.

"Are you still in your room?" Dilandau asked after awhile. Celena nodded.

"Yes, but I was wondering if I could sleep with you tonight," she said softly. She looked at Dilandau with big eyes. "I miss Allen a little, and well…"

"I don't…" Dilandau began, then a queer half-smile appeared on his lips. "…Okay then. You can, just make sure not to wake Van up."

Celena was ecstatic. "I'll be good!"

"I know you will," Dilandau whispered. He cautiously opened the door to the room and looked pleased to find that Van hadn't budged. He tiptoed over to the bed, Celena following him with equal quietness. This was a very exciting game they were playing. Silently Dilandau took off his boots and then slipped under the covers. Celena took off her own shoes and climbed in with him, thrilled with the secret-ness of it all. Dilandau was lying on his side and Celena turned to face him. She noticed the black bruise on his ribs again.

And then she had an idea.

Celena kissed the palm of her hand and then carefully pressed it to Dilandau's stomach. To her dismay, the bruise didn't go away, but remained a dark stain on his rare, white skin. For some reason this upset her…Dilandau was now in the real world, and problems were harder to deal with. Celena hugged him fiercely, crushing her left arm against his chest and wrapping her right arm around his waist. She lay her head down on Dilandau's shoulder, crying. After a moment, Celena felt him shift onto his backside and his arms wrapped around her. Delicately he kissed her hair.

"What's wrong?" he whispered.

"I can't fix you," Celena said.

"I don't need to be fixed, I'm safe."

Celena buried her face in his neck. "You're safe."

"And so are you," Dilandau whispered back. With his words, Celena stopped her tears, and eventually fell asleep. Dilandau himself waited until she had fallen asleep, and then he let himself slip into slumber.

"We're safe…"

~*~

A/N: ARGH! What a horribly short chapter with hardly any action! And I ended two things in a row with Dilandau speaking. Man, I must be tired or something. ACK! I watched the Digimon: The Movie…excuse me, where was the Great Golden God Yamato Ishida? All he did was ride around on Omnimon's shoulders and have a deaf grandma! Too much Taichi and Daisuke! I'm being overloaded with hair and goggles! Dear god! Bring back my Matt! But Wallace or Willis, or whatever the fuck his name is, was HOT! And T.K. was hot! Everyone looked incredibly sexy (I'm not talking about the girls here). And Sora was upset over a hairpin? WHAT? She wears a bucket on her head in the first place! Oh my. And there was no Ken. *Sigh* Nothing goes how I want it to.

Amelia: So this would be a bad time to bring up the completely retarded ending to the first set of "Slayers," wouldn't it?

rainjewel: Damn you, 5-year-old child with big breasts! Shut your infantile chatter about victory and justice or I will roast you like the chicken you are! And who in the world paired you up with my Zelgadis anyway? And why did Eris the spiked-shoulder-padded bitch have to die? Why?

Eris: Because I had to die to prove the situation is serious.

Guy: (from the movie "Galaxy Quest"): Yeah, why do you think she didn't have a last name?

rainjewel: Serious? "Slayers" isn't serious!

Eris: Uh, yeah, well…why did I have to die?

Zelgadis: And why in the hell do I get the 5-year-old? Haven't I had enough torture?

rainjewel: I'll gladly torture you…

Folken: Run, just run as far and as fast as you can.

~*~