Vision Of Escaflowne Fan Fiction ❯ Behind Enemy Lines ❯ The Beginning of the End ( Chapter 15 )

Behind Enemy Lines

By: rainjewel

Chapter Fourteen: The Beginning of the End

Disclaimer: I don't own Escaflowne, you don't own Escaflowne, get over it. J

A/N: I dedicate this chapter, this story, and all my works to Sophie, who was brutally taken from this world October 26, 2001. You have been with me longer than my memory reaches. I will cherish you forever and hold you close to my heart.

~*~

"This is over my head

but underneath my feet

because by tomorrow morning

I'll have this thing beat.

And everything will be back to the way it was

I wish that is was just that easy…

...and what is real?

Just a dream."

~ Lifehouse

~*~

The next day was hell for the Dragonslayers. Dilandau couldn't help himself. Van's words, despite their lunacy, kept ringing through his mind. And it wasn't just the words themselves, it was the way that Van seemed to believe them wholly and thought them to be the truth. Dilandau couldn't understand it, and it caused him to reexamine his own doubts behind the sorcerer's tales.

Consequently he flung himself into training with far more zeal then he had ever done so before-and that was saying a lot. Breakfast had been skipped (soldiers fight better if they have a desperation of an empty stomach, he told them) and training had begun at 3:00 a.m. (the wee hours of the morning were superb for concentration). Actually, Dilandau didn't need to make excuses to any of his men. It was more for himself so that he could find the reason and logic in putting his men through suicidal training that was usually reserved for far more desperate situations.

During the half-hour lunch period Dilandau constructed an elaborate obstacle course in the gym and training fields. The Dragonslayers watched him with dread as they wolfed down their meals, but went through the next two hours without complaint. Though there were a few frightened screams as they discovered that the last obstacle was Dilandau himself. As he wielded his blade effortlessly in his anger, the lethalness of his moves enhanced through his confusion. Each boy came upon him and fell within seconds; some felt sure of their deaths and from them did the screams come. Those who cried out ran the course again.

After that the soldiers had the pleasure of escaping to the weight room for an hour to work out however they pleased. Dilandau worked himself into a frenzy, pushing the limits of his body as his mind burned with questions. He feared what could have happened in the 10 colors he couldn't remember, and he feared that he was skating on the thin ice of sanity.

Into the night the brutal training continued. Guymelefs weren't available at the moment, so Dilandau made up for their loss by schooling the Dragonslayers in alternative ways of fighting, such as wrestling, boxing, and a smattering of martial arts. Since he was by no means a master of the latter, they spent the least amount of time on it. Dilandau made a mental note to become a kung-fu prodigy. He never slowed down.

At 10:30, with hidden regret, he began the last task of the day. Sparring. He personally matched the pairs, putting the strong together and the weak likewise. It did no good for a more advanced swordsman to fight with a green bumbling fool. He ran from one pair to the next, critiquing (insulting), teaching (yelling), and punishing those who did not live up to his expectations (ouch).

But still it wasn't enough. The minute Dilandau paused those words came back to him like many unwanted ghosts. He was haunted by Van's words, his voice and, Dilandau realized, mostly by his kiss. For one damning moment he had found himself enjoying Van's lips, his closeness. He had so badly wanted to-

"Damn!" Dilandau said. He shook his head to clear his fogged mind. Leitken and Cedric stood before him, panting. They took his outburst to be directed towards their sparring. Neither of the boys were outstanding in the field.

"How shall we better ourselves, sir?" Cedric asked, his tone light and eloquent as always.

"Nothing. Continue! You can't stop in the middle of a battle," Dilandau said absently. He looked over to the old observation deck above him. It was a glass-encased box attached to the ceiling of the training room and was only accessible through two decrepit wooden catwalks on either side. In the olden times, high-ranking army officers or nobility had sat in it, checking on the soldiers progress or simply for entertainment. No one ever used them anymore.

But tonight Dilandau's eye had caught sight of a lonely soul in the observation deck.

He saw the shock of black hair and the bright red shirt and knew at once who it was. He had thought Van had left yesterday (shortly after their little…meeting). He blinked his ruby eyes, but the image of the Fanelian king remained. Dilandau felt his blood begin to boil, and for the first time he wondered if it stemmed from something other than anger. Quickly he ran outside the training hall and dashed up the stairs that led to one of the catwalks. The Dragonslayers looked up at their commander as he sprinted across the catwalk, shrugged, and went back to their sparring.

Dilandau flung the door open. "Just what in the…huh?"

No one was there. He looked around and closed the door, making sure that if Van were hiding, he wouldn't be able to escape unnoticed. Dilandau then crossed the other catwalk and checked to make sure that no one had left through the other door.

Nope. The old rusted lock was as untouched as the one he had broken in his hurry to get to the deck.

Dilandau slowly turned and walked back to the glassed room. Quietly he shut the door, then roared in frustration and took his sword to the velvety seats within. This could not possibly be happening to him!

"You bastard!" Dilandau whispered, his shoulders heaving as he gasped for breath. He glared around the room once as if Van were there to see. Then he sheathed his blade and collected himself. He stepped out and watched his Dragonslayers from up above, noting their shortcomings. Forgetting himself for a moment he leaned against the railing, only to feel it break underneath him. Dilandau jumped back immediately, staring at the hole.

And then he had a thought.

He turned and punched the railing behind him. It shattered upon impact. Good. It was just what he needed right now.

"Watch out below boys," he called out to the soldiers below. The Dragonslayers looked up just in time to see him throw his head back and laugh like a madman. Then Dilandau sprang forward and smacked against the wood with all his might.

The Dragonslayers scattered.

Yes! Gives in just as easy as a tavern wench.

Dilandau rolled back and sprinted into the actual room, feeling the collapsing catwalk lick at his heels. He kept going; the room wouldn't be able to hold it's own without the support of both catwalks. He flung open the door to the other catwalk and saw Leitken running towards him.

"Dilandau-sama!" he cried. Forever the idiotic hero.

"Turn around!" Dilandau ordered. This catwalk wouldn't hold with two people on it. Suddenly his little game had taken a very bad turn.

Leitken frowned. The catwalk cracked beneath him and his foot went through the floor.

"Shit!" he said, realizing he was stuck

Dilandau gritted his teeth, bent down and ripped Leitken up. The catwalk crumbled under their feet.

"Hold on!" Dilandau screamed. Quickly he withdrew his daggers and threw himself at the observation deck. Leitken wrapped his arms around his commander's waist. Dilandau thrust his daggers into the wooden side of the room and dug them in as hard as he could, praying they would hold.

Leitken looked down with terrified eyes. The catwalk behind him was no more.

"Omygod," he said, his words running together.

Dilandau squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't know how long the daggers would hold, or his arms for that matter. His elbows were bent and tensed, screaming for him to extend his arms. However, he knew that he would most likely pull a joint out of socket if he did that.

Well, this is a good test for how far along I've come with the daggers. Oh yeah, most definitely. I better get a fucking A+.

"Dilandau-sama! Are you alright?" The Dragonslayers suddenly appeared below him and Leitken.

"Okay, here's what we're going to do," Dilandau said, addressing Leitken. "You're going to have to let go of my waist. Your comrades are going to have to catch you. I hope you haven't burned any bridges. Now when you fall, keep your body rigid and straight. If you flail around it will be harder to catch you."

"How-I," Leitken began, but stopped as the observation deck moaned, the promise of destruction in its sound.

"Now is not the time to be a coward. Okay men," Dilandau called down below. "You're going to catch this idiot."

The Dragonslayers looked at each other in disbelief, then moved in close together to catch their friend.

"Now," Dilandau said. Squeezing his eyes shut, the violet-haired boy let go. Dilandau almost passed out as the weight of the other boy left him. He tensed his muscles.

The Dragonslayers caught Leitken with ease. They stood him up and he sank to his knees, clutching his throat as if he was going to retch any minute.

Dilandau laughed. However, his cackling was cut short as the telltale cracking of the observation deck's demise. He looked down to his Dragonslayers and let go of his daggers.

He closed his eyes. The dusty air whipped at his face and Dilandau felt free for the first time in a very long while.

But then he felt his momentum stop and the refreshing feel of air blowing against his back was replaced by the cool grip of the Dragonslayers. His eyes flashed open to see the deck splitting and wood raining down upon him. Dilandau sprang out of the Dragonslayers' hands.

"Run!" he screamed, sending the Dragonslayers sprinting off in other directions. But two boys stood there, dazed. Dilandau ran up to one of them and pushed him as hard as he could, sending him flying away from the falling shrapnel. The other boy looked at his comrade and began running, but it was too late. Dilandau knew this and leaped at the soldier, knocking him to the ground.

"Don't move!" he yelled, covering the boy with his own body. He felt a couple of hard objects slam into his back but said nothing. The glass pane hit the ground somewhere near them and shattered into a million pieces, sending glass screaming through the air. Dilandau only had enough time to feel a dozen tiny shards imbed themselves in his side before a large wooden beam fell from the ceiling and connected with his skull.

~*~

"How bad is he hurt?"

"Concussion, a few scrapes and bruises. Nothing too serious."

"Is it going to affect the…the…"

"No."

"Good. He's slipping into insanity, you know."

"Why the present tense?"

"Ha…he confronted the king in his room. Do you think his memory is returning?"

"No. He threw that dagger and he meant it. Absolutely."

"Wait. Who saw the confrontation, the one on the balcony?"

"I did."

"And?"

"We were wrong. He knew about Celena."

"Oh gods."

"But he doesn't remember anything else."

"And so why the sudden insanity?"

"Sudden?"

"You know what I mean."

"The king didn't forget anything that happened in the past colors."

"Obviously. I suppose they had a conversation that he didn't understand at all."

"Not a bit. Drove him mad, no pun intended."

"I'm not surprised."

"No one is."

"I take it he thinks Fanelia's insane."

"Ironic, isn't it?"

"Definitely."

"He'll get over it."

"I'm sure he will. He always does, doesn't he?"

"Yes."

~*~

"I'm an idiot," Van sighed.

Merle smiled and kneaded her king's legs. He was sitting in Folken's old bedroom (Hitomi was still in his) on a long couch. Merle had her head in his lap and he absently stroked her hair while he talked. She couldn't be happier. Today was definitely a Cat Day.

"Yes, you are. Dilandau was not the best decision you ever made," Merle said.

"He acted as if he didn't even remember anything that happened in the past colors. He kept babbling about being in a coma for 10 colors," Van said.

Merle frowned. "I can't imagine Dilandau making up a story that corresponds with his sudden secular amnesia. Doesn't seem like him. I would think that if he didn't want to acknowledge what happened he would simply beat the crap out of you and act like nothing had ever transpired."

"Yeah…but Dilandau's always been a hard cookie to figure out."

"Tough cookie?"

"Sorry. One of Hitomi's sayings."

"Oh." Merle tried to keep her body relaxed. Hitomi's name made her fur stand on end.

"I bet she's wondering why I haven't seen her since we arrived," Van said. He ran his fingers through Merle's hair.

"We've only been here 15 minutes," Merle pointed out. "And it's midnight."

"So she's probably asleep."

Merle rolled her eyes. "Brilliant deduction."

"I bet Dilandau's still up," Van said, his tone taking on a wistful quality that Merle didn't like. She nipped his leg.

"Ouch!" he cried. "What did you do that for?"

"Sorry, it slipped," Merle said. Van didn't catch her sarcasm.

"Hmm…" Van didn't say anything more about the lost Zaibach boy, but Merle knew he was thinking about him. She rolled onto her back and put her arms behind her head and stared up at her quiet king.

"You have exactly 22 nose hairs," she finally said to break the silence. Van looked down at her with amusement and smiled like his older brother.

"I don't believe you," he scoffed. He reached out and tickled her stomach. Merle growled as menacingly as possible but dissolved into giggles as she always did.

"Feel better?" she asked when her laughter had abated.

"Yes…that helped. I…no, it didn't. Sorry," Van said, turning his head away. "…I just can't understand him."

Merle sat up. "I don't think that's the problem. No one's ever understood Dilandau so you might as well stop trying. Perhaps you're not understanding yourself."

"Don't start turning into my psychologist," Van said. His look was sharp.

"I'm not going to, but that doesn't mean you don't need one," Merle replied. It was time to get down to the nitty-gritty. Nothing was ever going to change if Van was allowed to sink into a confused state of depression.

"Well, Dr. Merle, what in the hell is my problem? Or since you like turning things around, what in the hell's yours?" Van snapped.

Merle wasn't fazed by Van's abrupt turn towards anger. She was used to it. Actually, she was kind of comforted by the familiarity of it. Now was the time to nail him and make him see the light. After all she hadn't read all those psychology texts during her self-imprisonment for no reason.

"The problem here is that you have the emotional state of a five-year-old, which you've had ever since Folken and the Queen disappeared. You lash out in childish anger whenever someone suggests that there might be a problem with you. Van, you always strive to be the perfect person for the ones you care about and you insist on taking on all the responsibility. Granted- " Merle held up a hand as Van opened his mouth to object. "-You did have a lot on your plate during the Great War and the years before them. Your judgment cannot posses a single flaw, and you always have to have things in a crystal clear unshakable view."

"And what does this have to do with Dilandau?" Van interrupted, irritated.

Merle's eyes flashed. "See? I'm talking about you here. But to answer your question-it has everything to do with it. When Dilandau and you…uh…'met' in Zaibach your view of him was totally wrong. You are no longer a 'perfect' friend to him, obviously."

Unless you think attempted murder is a sign of friendship. What do you call that, "tough love"?

Van said nothing. He was soaking in Merle's words.

"The whole point of this," she said slowly, "is that you worked hard at becoming perfect in Dilandau's eyes. He's cast you aside, and you're lashing out. Now all you need to do is make a simple decision: who are you going to be perfect for now? Van, you're going to have to decide for whom you're going to ride that white horse of yours."

Van still said nothing. She had tears in her eyes. She wanted to tell herself she didn't know why, but she did. Van was going to make his decision, and she didn't know if she was going to be at the receiving end of it.

Taking advantage of Van's somewhat dazed state Merle leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. However, this time it wasn't a kitty-ish lick from their childhood. No, Merle made sure she pressed her lips against his smooth cheek and the corner of his mouth, making sure that he felt the difference in this kiss compared to the others. Then she quietly stood and left the room.

~*~

It was a gray land. Fog cloaked the area so thickly that one could reach out and grab a handful. To look into it was like looking through the eyes of a blind man. The humidity was high, but the air was frightfully cold.

In short, Dilandau didn't like this place.

His clothes stuck to his skin and made it hard to move. He felt like taking off his jacket, but it was too damn cold. Where in the heck was he anyway? He'd never seen this place before.

"Hey," he called out into the grayness. "Is there anyone out there? What is this place?"

No answer.

"Oookaayy," he said, dragging the word out. I'm in a foreign place that might or might not have inhabitants, I don't know how I got here, and I can't see a damn thing. Great.

Dilandau felt the air to the left of him whoosh across his face, signaling the movement of something. He turned sharply and heard a low growling noise.

It looks like it's going to be another one of those days. He withdrew his sword.

Then suddenly the growling stopped. But there was only a breath of a moment before a slow, snake-like voice replaced it.

"My beautiful creation," it said, "You taste so gggoooodd."

"What?" Dilandau said. The voice came from all around him.

"Oh yes, you little devil. I'll never forget you. My perfect boy, you're all alone."

Dilandau began to feel uncomfortable. "Who's there?" he asked.

"Oh, you know. And even if you pretend you don't…well, I have ways of making you remember."

He started to shake. Dilandau didn't know why, but a slow and unstoppable terror suddenly started to creep over his body. The foggy mist seemed to grow darker, thicker.

"What in the hell is this?" he breathed.

"All alone, all alone," the voice chanted. "But of course there's me. What, does that frighten you?"

Dilandau said nothing.

"Yes, I see it does. I see you shake, boy. I remember when I made you shake. I remember when I touched you and you trembled."

"Fuck off," Dilandau said, causing the voice to chuckle. His voice was weak. Why was this happening?

Suddenly the fog began to swirl slowly around him, clinging to him even more so than before. Frantically he began swatting at the air, trying to cut the mist with his blade. He felt the fog slink around his thigh and he looked down to see the air actually forming into a grayish hand-like shape. Dilandau froze; stunned and unbelieving. Another misty hand snaked across his shoulder and traced a wet finger down his cheek.

Breathing deeply, Dilandau took the last of his resolve and batted the hand away. He began to march forward, searching for the voice. "Okay, where are you! Show yourself! If you don't, I'll kill you, I swear it!"

"Ha. A little late for that."

"Oh yeah?" Dilandau said. He stopped and the fog rested on his shoulders. Something slithered across his back. It felt like lips. "Look," he said, feeling weak with fear, "I don't know who you are, but just stay the fuck away from me."

"Oh, you remember me, you pretty monster. How could you ever forget your maker? You always were such the precious little ungrateful thing."

The fog crept up his neck.

"Actually," Dilandau replied with mock offhandedness, "I don't remember you at all. And…" he took a breath, "…I don't really give a shit either."

"Doesn't matter."

Dilandau frowned, confused. Then he felt the mist creep down into his collar and he gasped. The fog swirled about his shoulders, but it was inside his jacket. It felt like it was seeping into his skin. Hastily he unzipped his jacket and flung it to the ground. Immediately the cold bit into his skin, but at least the mist wasn't circulating through his clothes.

"What are you? I'm- " Dilandau stopped as the fog suddenly pressed against him. The voice was silent, but the air seemed to solidify around him. A suffocating sensation began to overcome him. He tried to use his sword to cut at the mist, but his limbs wouldn't move.

And then Dilandau did remember something. He remembered what it felt like to be scared beyond reason.

Before the fog closed in upon him completely he heard the voice slink around him:

"Go ahead and scream. No one can hear you. Just like they never heard you before. You're mine, Dilandau. You are my beautiful creation."

Vainly he pushed at the fog with all his strength, but the air was so heavy and thick that he couldn't breathe. Somehow he let go of his sword. A foreign weak sensation seized his muscles and Dilandau sank slowly through the fog, dropping to his knees.

And then everything disappeared.

He caught himself with his hands. The tension in the air was gone. Dilandau fluttered his eyelashes, coming back from the threshold of consciousness. Everywhere he looked was a sea of white. He didn't know where the ground ended and the sky began. Or if there even was a sky.

What? Where did that thing go?

Tiredly he slid onto his stomach and closed his eyes to ward off the brightness. He covered his head with his arms

What was that? he thought. Some dark corner of his mind trembled, but he couldn't grasp why.

Something light and soft fell down upon his cheek. Dilandau tensed. Another touch came, this time on his bare arm and yet another on his back. Not again.

Dilandau rolled over as quickly as he could and put a hand on his sword which lay a few inches away. A fluffy whiteness brushed his chin. He grabbed it.

A feather lay in his hand. He looked up. There were feathers everywhere.

They fell from the sky…wherever that was. All he could see was white on white, but he felt the feathers. They felt like weightless kisses and made him dizzy. He closed his eyes and relaxed once again. His body ached. His lungs felt like they'd been through a paper press.

His fingers straightened slightly and he let go of his sword. However, the minute his touch left the handle the blade was grabbed by another hand and thrown into a place where time and reality did not exist.

Dilandau knew nothing of this. He felt only the softness of the feathers and took comfort in them.

Until he suddenly felt a touch that was almost equal in lightness to feathers, but not quite so. Lazily he opened his eyes. Ethereal fingers were entwined with his, and another hand was slipping behind his shoulder to help him sit up.

Dilandau sat up quickly. Very quickly.

"Now wha-" he was cut off by a finger being pressed to his lips. Instead of swatting it away, he blinked a couple of times. Slowly a figure began to come into view. Crouching in front of him with a smile on his face, was a young man of sixteen or so. His hair was shaggy and his eyes were large. Snowy white wings protruded from his back.

There wasn't any color in the boy. A vague pigment here and there, but nothing discernable. The winged young man had a divine quality about him.

Dilandau was speechless. He'd never seen a creature such as this.

Suddenly he had an awful feeling in his gut. Perhaps that horrible fog had really killed him. Perhaps this boy was an angel sent to tell him that "Sorry, but we don't accept psychotic bloodstained killers into Heaven."

Dilandau moved the boy's finger away from his lips. "Am I dead?" he asked.

The creature smiled and shook his head.

"Well that's reassuring," Dilandau said, rubbing his arm. "Where am I?"

The young man slipped behind him and hooked his arms around Dilandau's waist in an effort to help him stand up. Dilandau, however, was in no mood to be touched.

"I can stand up by myself!" he snapped. The boy stepped back, an eyebrow cocked. Dilandau grumbled under his breath and pushed against the ground to stand up. His arms gave out and he tried to stand again.

Only he couldn't. The fog seemed to have taken away all his strength.

"Damn," he muttered. He breathed in deeply, feeling his lungs expand painfully. He wondered if he'd broken a rib. His seemingly celestial comrade crouched to the side of him. Dilandau looked away. He felt an arm slip under his knees and around his back.

"Don't touch me," he warned. The boy ignored him and picked him up, setting him on his feet.

Dilandau didn't have time (not to mention the energy) to fight back. The winged-boy moved faster than a human did, so it seemed. He looked down at his feet and felt the ground underneath him. Suddenly it seemed so far away and Dilandau felt dizzy. For once he was glad that the boy hadn't let go of his shoulders yet.

Dilandau blinked slowly. "Where are we?"

The boy looked sad and said nothing.

"How can I get back?" Dilandau asked, moving on.

The boy smiled once again and put a finger to his lips. He then slipped his arm down from Dilandau's shoulders to his waist. Before he could object, Dilandau was lifted off the ground as the young man spread his wings and took to the air.

Now if he had thought he was dizzy before, it was nothing compared to the light-headed feeling he was experiencing now. He grabbed the wrist of his ethereal captor and tentatively raised his other hand to his face to steady himself. In response, the boy wrapped his other arm around Dilandau's shoulders, close to his neck.

Dilandau started to feel sick. His bruised lungs had trouble breathing.

<< Close your eyes. >>

"What?" Dilandau said, putting his hand down from his face. His voice was breathy. A voice had just penetrated through his mind. He looked to the face of the winged-boy. It came again:

<< You'll feel better if you close your eyes. >>

"That's you, isn't it?" Dilandau asked. The boy looked to him and smiled.

<< Yes. >>

Dilandau looked over his shoulder to the creature's wings. "Are you an angel?"

<< No. You were the angel. Close your eyes and sleep, Dilandau. >>

"Not on your life. What do you mean I was-"

The boy raised a hand and touched the side of Dilandau's face. The minute he did so, Dilandau felt overcome with a fatigue. He fought it, but within a second his eyes closed and he relaxed in the young man's grip.

The winged-boy smiled.

~*~

Van was still on the couch. He hadn't moved since Merle had left, and he didn't know if he ever would. She had been so abrupt, so out-of-character. But maybe that was taking it to the extreme; Merle was blunt. The fact was that he'd never seen her as the type of person to analyze a situation.

And get it right.

Sort of, he amended. She'd had no idea of how much Dilandau had meant to him. She'd thought he was just a good friend (at the most) and didn't even…

…Just how much had Dilandau meant to him?

"Is it possible…that I loved Dilandau?" Van said slowly, his voice almost too soft to be called a whisper. He'd never really thought of it in those terms. There had been so much fighting to begin with, and after that…And after that, Van thought, it was simply one of the best times of my life.

Van tried soaking in this new concept. It didn't take very long-he supposed he'd known it all along. He felt a dull ache in his chest, but resolutely brushed it off.

"He never cared," he said. Van thought about Merle's words again. She was right. It was time to decide whom he really loved.

Slowly he rose from the couch and scratched his head. Then he peeked out into the dark hallway. It was pitch-black, but that didn't faze him. He remembered sneaking down the dark passage all those years ago when he used to visit Folken late at night. His big brother used to sigh in his sleep, and occasionally talk. Van loved to sit beside him before he woke up and listen to the weird things Folken would say. Then, when his brother woke (usually to Van's giggling) he would pounce on him and tickle him until he begged for mercy.

Van smiled, remembering. Subtly he wiped a stray tear and stopped. He didn't need to feel along the wall to know where he was. He reached out and turned the doorknob to his room as quietly as he could. He eased it open and peered in.

There were only a few beams of light coming from the moons outside, but it was enough for Van to make out Hitomi's figure on the bed. She was on her side with her knees curled up almost to her chest. Her hair was spread out about her head and the light glanced across it, making it seem as though a halo graced her head.

Van leaned down, took of his boots, then stepped inside. He walked over to her bedside and stood in the shadows with his arms crossed in front of him. He stood that way for several minutes simply looking at her; he didn't think, didn't suppose, and tried to love her.

Her window was open and the wind blew through the room, cold as ice. Hitomi's hair fluttered in the breeze and she shivered. Van padded over to window and shut the glass panes. He then turned and walked back to Hitomi's bedside.

With shaky hands he reached out and pulled up the covers so that they covered her shoulders as well as her waist. She felt thin and fragile. Feeling braver, Van let a hand wander to her face and he brushed her hair back. He liked the shortness of her honeyed locks. Almost every other girl in Gaea had long hair (save Celena, who had decided to keep her hair at chin-length).

Hitomi's cheek twitched at Van's touch and he saw the silvery trails of dried tears. The dull ache in his chest increased.

"I'm sorry," he said aloud. Hitomi stirred. For a second he thought he would be able to escape and that she wouldn't awaken, but then those emerald eyes popped open and gleamed in the moons' light.

"You're back," she said in a tired voice.

Van nodded. He was glad he was still in the shadows.

"How did it go?" she asked. "Was he…"

"Fine. Dilandau…well, he doesn't want anything to do with me," Van said. Hitomi frowned and attempted to sit up but Van waved a hand, saying, "No, it's fine. I'm okay with it. We never got along very well anyway."

He never loved me back.

"I'm so sorry," Hitomi said.

"Why?" he asked. "You…" he traced a finger down her cheek, "…you were the one who was crying."

Hitomi put her hand over his and closed her eyes. She motioned to the bed. "It smelled like you."

Van crouched down by the bedside and pressed his nose against the side of the mattress.

"I think it smells more like you," he whispered. Hitomi opened her eyes.

"What do I smell like?" she asked.

Not roses, not like home. Only he smelled like roses.

"Good," Van replied. Hitomi smiled and reached out, wrapping her arms around Van's neck. He rose slightly and held her. Carefully he judged his feelings. It felt good to hold her, but it wasn't any different than hugging Celena or Merle. There was a warm familiarity about the embrace.

"I thought you weren't going to come back," Hitomi said softly.

"Why in the world would you think that?" Van asked.

"I thought that you were…I don't know what I was thinking. I'm just glad you're back. I missed you," Hitomi said.

"I'm sorry," Van said.

"You don't need to be," Hitomi said. She released him and scooted to the far side of the bed. "Here," she said, patting the mattress, "Come here. Lay down and talk to me."

"About what?" Van asked, easing himself onto the bed. He lay on his back.

"Anything," Hitomi replied. She inched a little closer to him.

Van blinked. "Uh…"

"Oh, never mind. I have a better idea," Hitomi said. "How about you ask me question and I'll answer, then I can ask you a question and you have to answer."

"And what's the point of this?" Van asked.

"Because I feel as if I don't know anything about you," Hitomi said. For a second there wasn't a sound. Both of them kept their eyes trained on the ceiling.

Van felt stunned. "Alright. I want to know…uh…what…I want to know what your favorite color is."

"What kind of a question is that?" Hitomi asked exasperatedly.

"A valid one," Van said, relaxing a little.

"Light blue," Hitomi replied. "What's yours?"

"What color are you wearing?" Van replied.

"White."

"Oh. I like black the best."

"Jerk," Hitomi giggled. She rapped him lightly on the chest. Van winced as he felt the cut on his chest. Hitomi felt the bandage under her hand. She stopped giggling.

"Oh I'm sorry. Are you okay?" Hitomi's eyes narrowed. "Did he…did Dilandau do that to you?"

Van turned on his side to face her. "I'm fine, calm down. Yes, he did it. Like I said, our meeting wasn't exactly a friendly one. Actually, I'm pretty lucky-he chucked a dagger at my head during the meeting."

"Really?" Hitomi gasped.

Van nodded.

"I don't think you should go over to Zaibach anymore," she said.

Van nodded again. "I think that would be wise. Okay, next question."

"It's yours."

"Oh…are you happy here?" Van searched her eyes.

Hitomi bit her lip. "Before I answer that, can I ask my question?"

"Yes."

"Can I kiss you?"

Van blinked, Hitomi watching him. If he said yes, then he would be leading her on, but if he said no, he'd only hurt her. Then again…a kiss could be the final test to find out how he felt about her.

"Yes," he said finally.

Hitomi moved in close to him and leaned against him, her manner shy. He closed his eyes before her lips met his, but when they did he responded instantaneously. He reached out and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer to his body.

Dilandau…Van thought. He jerked back.

"Sorry," he said. He let her go.

Hitomi's eyes were wide. "It's…fine. I…I…did I do something?"

"No," Van said. Gods he was confused now.

"Did you, uh, like it then?" Hitomi asked, blushing. Her innocence was a sharp contrast to Dilandau's knowing, cunning manner.

And did I like that cunning manner?

Time froze as Van thought.

He loved Dilandau. He knew that. But, didn't he also love Hitomi? Isn't that how that whole blasted war was won? Sure, it wasn't the passionate, mind-blowing, experience he felt whenever Dilandau was within 25 meters of him, but he knew that he cared deeply for the girl with the emerald eyes; the girl who he'd gone to the moons and back for.

Wasn't that enough?

"Yes," he answered, finally. Van smiled a shaky grin. "Yes."

"Thank God," Hitomi said, her voice flowing with relief. She slid over to him and curled against him, pressing her hands against his back. She didn't look at him; instead she simply sighed and kissed his collarbone. Van, a little dazed, kissed the top of her head in reply. They lay there for a moment until he finally broke the silence:

"You never answered my question. Are you happy?"

Hitomi smiled. "Yes."

"Good," Van said.

Hitomi breathed in deeply. "Do you have any more questions?"

"Yeah," Van said with a smile. "In fact I do."

~*~

Soon the sleepy and numb feeling left Dilandau's body and he slowly regained consciousness. He opened his eyes and lifted his head, feeling very groggy.

<< Morning. >>

Dilandau stiffened in surprise. He'd forgotten about his angelic comrade. He realized that he was still being carried to some new and equally weird place as the land he had come from.

"How can you tell if it's morning?" Dilandau asked, looking out into the whiteness.

<< I can. >>

"I asked how," Dilandau said, irritated. However, he didn't pursue the question.

<< We're almost there. >>

Dilandau frowned. "Where?"

<< You asked to go back. I'm taking you. >>

Dilandau nodded and said nothing. Suddenly he felt the air shift around him, and he realized the young man was taking him down towards the ground. The wind whipped at his face and Dilandau put up a hand to shield his eyes as the radiant whiteness gleamed once, then changed into a soft blue. Below him he could see the brown and green land with it's many trees and mountaintops.

As the ground rushed up at him, Dilandau began to feel a little sick to his stomach and he closed his eyes. The arm around his waist tightened and he sensed the immediacy of the landing. He heard the great fwap sound of the creature's wings and then his feet touched solid ground.

He opened his eyes. All around him was a forest of evergreen trees. They looked extremely familiar to him, but he didn't know why.

<< Here we are. >>

"This isn't Zaibach," Dilandau said, realizing that the young man still hadn't let go of him. He twisted out of the boy's grasp.

<< You never said Zaibach. You said you wanted to go back. >>

Dilandau spun around. "What do you mean by-oh. What happened to you?"

The young man standing before was not the ethereal creature he had been a few moments ago. No, this boy was no longer translucent; in fact, he seemed to be bursting with color. He had dark hair and large eyes that were mostly cinnamon in color. He wore a shirt of red and pants the color of wheat.

<< Ah, your memory is coming back, Angel. >>

"Van," Dilandau said, his voice airy with amazement. He shook his head. "What in the hell is going on here?"

<< I brought you back to what you lost. >>

"The only thing I've seemed to have lost is my sanity. What is this? A dream?" Dilandau asked. Van shook his head.

<< Unfortunately, no. >>

"I don't believe you," Dilandau said, crossing his arms. He wished for a sword.

Van frowned. << Here they come. >>

"Who?" Dilandau asked. He turned around. Behind him, marching like an army of zombies, were his Dragonslayers. Some were from the first regiment, every one of them bleeding and shimmering like phantoms. The others, the second crop, seemed worldlier, but they lurched toward him like demented puppets.

Dilandau was transfixed by the sight of his men. "Gatti…Chesta…Dalet. Migel?"

<< Do you want to back to that? To that violent, cold, and lonely world? >>

The Dragonslayers simultaneously raised their hands and reached towards their commander. Dilandau suddenly felt a sinking sensation in his stomach.

"No," he said, backing away from the soldiers. The boys' familiar faces suddenly seemed monstrous. He supposed they were monsters; after all, hadn't he made them that way?

Van put a hand on Dilandau's shoulder.

<< Then don't forget this Dilandau. Remember everything and forget nothing. >>

"Remember what?" Dilandau asked desperately. The Dragonslayers had reached him and their cold hands pulled at his clothing and skin, dragging him into their ominous circle.

<< I'm sorry, Dilandau. I'm so sorry. >>

Dilandau tried to fight against the soldiers, but no matter how hard he fought or how loud his orders were shouted the boys still held on. He managed to catch of a glimpse of Van over his shoulder.

He was crying.

~*~

Merle pressed an ear against the door. Van's voice echoed through the thick wooden slab and pricked at her heart.

"I'm fine, calm down. Yes, he did it. Like I said, our meeting wasn't exactly a friendly one. Actually, I'm pretty lucky-he chucked a dagger at my head during the meeting."

Jerk. Ooh, if I could get my claws into him. I'd kill him. I'd start by ripping his fingernails and toenails off and then move up to skinning his sorry ass. And then-what did she just ask?

"Yes," Van said. The door muffled his voice, but Merle heard the uncertainty in it. There was a long moment of silence and she pressed her ear closer to the door, trying to figure out what was going on. There was a few mumbled words, but she couldn't make them out.

Finally Van spoke again: "You never answered my question. Are you happy?"

"Yes," came Hitomi's voice.

"Good," Van said.

Merle furrowed her brow. What question had Van asked? She had to stop thinking and pay attention to what was going on.

"Do you have any more questions?" Hitomi asked.

"Yeah," she heard Van say, "In fact I do."

"What?" Hitomi said. The bed squeaked and Merle opened her ears. There were footsteps on the floor. They sounded like Van's.

What is he doing?

"Hitomi Kanzaki," Van said, his voice low, "Will you marry me?"

~*~

"Would you catch me if I fall out of what I fell in

Don't be surprised if I collapse down at your feet again

I don't want to run away from this

I know that I just don't need this

'Cause I cannot stand still

I can't be this unsturdy

This cannot be happening

…What is real?

Just a dream."

~ Lifehouse

~*~

A/N: If it seems as if there is a lot of dying going around my little corner of the world, that's because there is. No, I'm not performing ritual animal sacrifice for my devilish ideas…it simply seems as if there has been a lot of tragedy in my life lately. I've lost a lot in a relatively short period of time and I'm rather upset so I apologize if the quality of my work is deteriorating.

~*~