Feather Flight: Can I Protect You from Yourself? (part 19)

An AU Kuja fic, shonen-ai, language

*****

The day came and went in a flurry of activity reminiscent of the hours before Nazer-Kai’s departure. Clay snorted at the thought. The parallelism was not unthinkable. Now that Kuja was functionally recovered from his illness, he was even more determined to see the battle lines than his lover had been. Sighing, he glanced over reports that someone had thrust at him only to point the man down the hall to where the Duke sat working. It was nice to see the usually plodding bureaucracy moving at top speed but he couldn’t help but wish it had been him and not a particularly demanding courtesan that had been the impetus.

// … If I want to go to the front, I’m told to sit on my hands and wait my turn… Kuja wants to go to the front? Holy hell, stand back because they’ll do everything short of moving heaven and earth to get him there… //

He couldn’t begrudge the silvery man, /mage/, he corrected himself. If anyone was going to make a sudden and powerful impact on the situation, it would be Laro’s sharp-eyed lover. The soldier couldn’t help but wonder how the general would take the news. As far as he knew, their arrival would be a complete surprise to the man. All the distant officer had been told was that he was getting a standard mail shipment or the like. It promised to be a drama right out of one of the plays; a lover secretly joining with a soldier who had gone off to war.

Clay shook his head in wonder as he ducked through the map room and out onto the causeway beyond. To think, less than a month ago he had stood here as the old duke had all but threatened to destroy his career. Less than a week ago, he still hadn’t had a prayer in hell of seeing the front again any time soon. Kuja at least was as good as his word in that sense. The silvery beauty might be sweeping towards the battle zone on little more than ego and mystical whimsy, but he wasn’t stupid enough to go without proper escort.

// At the very least it lets him swan around and talk politics while leaving /me/ to figure out who to bring, and how to transport them… general indeed… porter more like it… //

For all his grousing, he couldn’t help but take his task seriously. The courtesan seemed to think that /he/ had what it took to be a good commander. In all likelihood, Kuja was the /only/ one who believed it. He hated to admit it, but he owed the man for that. If the sickly mage wanted ‘General Gerrick’ to lead his expedition, that was what the man would get. As for him, he got to return to the fight. That was what mattered, wasn’t it?

// No… this has absolutely nothing to do with wanting to see those bugs on the receiving end of some serious magical smiting… nothing at all… //

Two dainty figures stood watching the view from the airy path, peering from the convenient walkway down into the courtyard beyond. It was a common enough loitering place. From a distance he might have even mistaken Kuja and his doctor as a lady and her maid, but Anne was far too practically dressed, and the courtesan, as beautiful as he was, was certainly not a woman.

Sensing his arrival, the pale man turned and raised a hand in greeting. “General Gerrick, how go your preparations?”

“Surprisingly quick. How are you feeling?” The silver haired man made an eloquent face.

“Stop that, I get it from everyone else…”

“It is rather the question of the hour.” The officer murmured. Glancing over at the prim young medic, he noted that she seemed to have been receiving fashion advice from the courtesan. Anne had traded her ‘uniform’ for a rather charming summer dress. Her change of costume hadn’t affected her true purpose however and he was relieved to see her discrete nod. All was well for the moment.

*****

It was easier to move as the sun sank below the horizon. The cooler temperatures were as much a benefit to the humans as they were a hindrance to the insects. On more than one occasion Ibat had abused the weakness of his enemies, using the hours between dusk and dawn to outmaneuver the more placid minded aliens. He really was getting to old to be out creeping around in the grit at all hours, he decided as he did just that. Crawling slowly to the edge of a deep crevasse, he peered down to see what it was that had spooked his scouts so badly. The bottom of the ravine was flooded with light. Sickly pink, it illuminated the fact that its creators were still very much awake and alert.

“There sir, by the far wall… behind the… whatever it is…” His aide pointed gingerly, careful to not disturb any gravel. Beneath, their quarry shuffled about their business unawares. On the far side of the opening, was an unmistakable piece of ‘technology’.

The general frowned at the sight of the carefully plated metal deck. At the first he couldn’t puzzle out what it was, the mammoth disk looked almost like a stage, but then one of the drones shifted, revealing the massive coils that the platform rested on. Ibat hissed in understanding. “Hover plate.”

“What?” Suitably awed at his superior’s omniscience, the younger man couldn’t help himself.

“It’s a hover plate. Transport technology.” The grizzled officer looked away from the unusual machine only to be captivated by a small crowd of aliens behind it. One of the bugs was noticeably taller than the others. “… Well hello… what do we have here? V.I.P. transport, with a V.I.P…?”

“It doesn’t look like any of the others.”

The general nodded at the obvious statement, silently watching the new development. Giant, nearly a full head taller than the surrounding flock of stingers and drones, the new alien tilted its heart-shaped head, seeming to listen to the chirps and clicks of its audience.

Even more alarming was the way that the others paused when it seemed to reply. It wasn’t quite a language, he decided. The sounds alone didn’t seem to add up to enough to say much of anything, but never the less, drones continued to come and go as if dispatched to duties around the camp.

Ibat studied his enemies for as long as he dared, wishing he had the equipment and the time to record an image to send back home. It didn’t look like the Selwe would be stirring from the light and warmth of their little camp until dawn. Deciding he had seen enough, he backed his way down the trail.

// No matter how fast we move, there’s no way to get in contact with the main battle group and get back here… and they’re the ones with all the /big/ explosives… nothing I have is big enough to stop a Mentor from this range… //

It really was a pity. This would likely be the clearest shot he would ever get at the alien general. He cursed softly, wanting more than he had wanted anything in a long while to remove the threat before it found his friends. Wishing alone wouldn’t give him firebomb the size of a small truck however, and really, that was what it would take.

// We’ll send word tonight… track them tomorrow… hopefully there will be another chance… //

*****

The crystal shard was positioned tidly in front of a large window, curtains drawn to let in the moonlight. If it had been a ball or some more obvious sort of occult prop, he would have laughed at the pretty scene it made. Flickering light seemed to drift across the surface of the opaque stone, not unalike ripples in a pond. Ripples in reverse, he decided as the twinkling little waves contracted towards where the diminutive mage’s hand rested idly on the surface. Kuja hardly seemed to notice, continuing to argue with the various college representatives without pause as the lightshow proceeded beneath his fingertips. Eventually even the Dean conceded to the new timetable, surrendering to his demands with a huff.

Clay watched her go, impressed in spite of himself. The mage wasn’t giving an inch when it came to his plans. Even the promise of new developments from the college wouldn’t delay him from his intended departure.

// Ambition maybe… doesn’t want her stealing his spotlight… //

“… We should have you give the king lessons in assertiveness.” Riquoi unfolded himself from his chair with a small smile. “… I haven’t had this much fun watching a young person politicking in ages. Compared to you our poor monarch is still in diapers when it comes to putting his foot down.”

“I was too harsh perhaps.” The expressive face shifted from imperious to candid with a sigh. Sensing when his shard had ceased his usefulness, the courtesan finally removed his hand, shaking his fingers in a way that had become something of a habit for him. “… I just… there isn’t /time/, sir. I can’t impress it on all of you enough…”

“We’ll get you there, little one. Just be patient.”

“… a few months… maybe longer if I don’t strain myself…” Clenching long fingers into a fist, Kuja studied it dispassionately. “… That’s all I can probably spare… it has to be /finished/ by then. It /can/ be finished by then… but for that to be possible, I can’t waste time…”

The old duke looked justifiably worried. None of them were quite comfortable yet with the pale man’s illness, much less his miraculous recovery, or the news that it wasn’t a flawless one. Debate was still fierce as to whether it was worth the risk to the mage’s health to have him assist efforts in the war.

// Indefinitely… he could last indefinitely, provided he’s able to ‘recharge’ on a regular schedule… but then of course, no one quite knows what will happen if he overstretches himself… // Leaning against the fireplace, the officer rather liked the way he seemed to just blend into the background of the elegant apartment. It was so much easier to think when people tended to forget you were there.

“You should rest, Kuja. It will be a long journey tomorrow.”

“At least this time it will be with the aid of wheels. I’m never riding animals again…” His aggrieved tone caused the older courtier to chuckle.

“This is true. Anne will able to attend to anything you should need, as well as monitor your progress.”

“And such a charming spy she is…” The silver haired man rolled his eyes. “I promise, I will take no unnecessary risks.”

The nobleman frowned again. “It’s the necessary ones we’re worried about.”

“I assure you, my health is of great personal importance.” Escorting the soberly dressed duke to the door, Kuja dismissed him in that genteel way that was both unmistakably a dismissal and yet still gracious. It was almost enough to make the general laugh.

“You’re still here I see…”

“Oh yes.” Meeting the droll tone with one of his own, Clay raised his glass in silent toast to his unlikely ally. “… You are terrifying when you set your mind to things, has anyone ever told you that?”

“I believe Riquoi just did.” The mage smirked slightly as he draped a cover over his crystal. “… Surprised I still have the knack for it. It’s been ages since I had to throw my weight around.”

“Given how little you are, that’s saying something.” He couldn’t resist the tease, entertained by the look of exasperation on the smaller man’s face. “… Might I ask you a personal question?”

“You might,” the reply was guardedly curious. “And what may I satisfy you on this evening sir, that cannot wait until morning?”

“You. This.” Clay made a vague gesture with his glass, taking in their plans, the random trunks full of supplies, the door through which the duke had departed. “… You put a bold face on it, but I can’t help but get the distinct impression that you’re thinking you won’t be coming back.”

Blue eyes watched him from beneath the decorative sweep of silver hair. “Do you now.”

“Yes.” The officer raised an eyebrow, daring the courtesan to deny it.

“Well well, how astute of you. I wonder how many others have figured it out.”

He blinked, not expecting such a candid reply. “Everybody, probably, at some point or another… they’re just too nice to say it.”

“Ah, and of course you’re not.” The polite smile turned into a real grin, giving the pale man a wickedly playful look. “How kind of you.”

“Whatever… I’m just curious.” He found the mage’s stare to be a little disconcerting, but asked anyway, “What happened to ‘not fighting fate…’?”

“Excuse me?” Amused, Kuja turned away from his random fussing to look at him.

“You were willing to play dead a few days ago, now you’re all…” He made an eloquent gesture.

“There’s a difference between fighting when there is no hope, and passing up a perfectly obvious opportunity.” The courtesan smirked.

“So if that crystal shard hadn’t shown up so conveniently…”

“I’d probably be dead by now.”

“You take it rather calmly.”

“Is there any other way a rational person could possibly take things?” The mage shrugged. “How can I help things that are beyond my control?”

“Doesn’t it annoy you?!”

“Excessively,” His expression was disgusted. “But what’s done is done… I don’t fight fate, general. That hasn’t changed. If the crystal hadn’t come, then it wouldn’t have been meant to come.”

Seeing the soldier’s disbelief, Kuja simply shrugged. “I used to believe freewill could conqueror all… maybe I’ve just gotten more pragmatic with age.”

“So now it’s your fate to do something tragically heroic for the sake of your lover?” Clay matched the cool detachment, mocking it deliberately. “How convenient.”

“I don’t question your motives, general. And I really don’t see why you should care about mine.”

Grinding his teeth, the officer had to silently agree. It really didn’t have anything to do with him whether the little idiot had a death wish or not. But when he thought about it again, he realized it did. “… Put it this way, I’m not too keen on being responsible for someone who I know is going to take the first opportunity presented to him to die a ‘glorious’ death. I don’t need that sort of thing on my record, I’ve got enough already, thanks.”

Kuja looked at him in surprise, as if seeing things from his side for the first time. “Is that what you think I’ll do? Throw myself in front of a spear? Hardly likely, now is it…”

“Honestly I don’t know anymore,” he muttered, embarrassed by the matter-of-fact tone. “… Tell me, what /are/ your plans.”

“Survival.” Lips pursed in a thin line, the cool beauty turned back towards the window. “That too has never changed, I suppose… I’ve always fought to survive, that basic animal instinct… to do what ever it takes to keep breathing… just one more day.”

Slim hands pressed against the windowpanes as if trying to catch the moon. “… But I suppose, it’s not quite enough anymore… Win or lose, I’m still done. Sooner rather than later, I expect. So maybe this time, I fight for something else…”

“… for love, perhaps.” He had meant the words to be mocking, but somehow they came out thoughtful instead.

“Perhaps,” Kuja didn’t turn to look at him again. “… I can promise you that I won’t throw my life away cheaply. If it makes you feel better. It is… something very dear to me after all. But I will end this. For /his/ sake, if for no other reason.”

Clay felt cold, wondering if such absolute devotion could be believed. // Not ambition after all… dedication…? Duty…? He really believes what he’s saying… //

“… Why…?” He couldn’t help but whisper. “What the hell did Laro promise you, /give/ to you, that could make you love him so much...”

“… I’ve answered your first question, sir. Take it or leave it. The second… is none of your damn business.” Wistful mood broken the small courtesan turned with sudden energy, all but throwing him out with the force of his annoyed glare. “We leave on the morrow.”

“Good night, Kuja.” Last part spoken to the door as it was closed hastily against him, the general ran a hand through his hair. It wasn’t until he was almost back at his room that he could shake his nervous mood.

“Damned martyrs, the pair of them.”

*****

Antenna tickled his face in the darkness, the feathering touch invasive despite its gentleness, causing twinges of pain from the long gash down his cheek. Blood stung his eye from earlier when the weak scabbing had broken open. They hadn’t even noticed when they had dropped him, or maybe they had, and were just fascinated with his ‘self sealing’ and soft exterior. He feigned unconsciousness, better than then being forced to touch the weird crystal again. The sensation of /something/ crawling around in his head was enough to make him want to retch.

Laro wanted to curl into a ball, he wanted to wipe the blood from his face. More than anything he wanted to be left alone in his cell for a few short hours to try and gather his thoughts from their scattered resting places. Every time he was interrogated he felt a little more of his humanity get scraped off, replaced with thoughts and impulses not his own. Something was poking him, prodding him, inadvertently cutting into his arm. Nothing but sharp edges and hard armor, they didn’t notice such incidental injuries to their captive.

Eventually the impersonal mauling stopped, seeing to whatever it was they had wanted, the spindly creature retreated back through the door, sealing it tightly with it’s glue-like spit. The itching of his eye, of the wound on his face, was maddening but the bonds on his hands remained fast. He couldn’t remember the last time he used his fingers, lost amidst a mass of hardened ‘goo’ his hands might as well have been encased in a block of stone behind his back. They had a tendency to go numb after the first week. He wondered if it was a bad sign. Dragging himself into the relative safety of a corner, the soldier closed his eyes and tried to think about something beyond the hexagonal walls of his tiny prison. The scraping, clicking sounds of his tormentors all around him, echoing down the halls and through the floors made it hard.

“Nazer-kai… the scouts say it’s urgent!”

The general’s eyes flew open, reality trickling back slower than he liked. Sitting up he rubbed his wrists gingerly, subconsciously reminding himself of where and when he was. “… What is it?”

His aide knew better than to try and shake him awake. The veteran sat on his heels instead, waiting at the end of the bed for his superior to gather his wits about him. Looking at the dark circles under the officer’s eyes, Laro couldn’t help but mourn for better wake-up calls.

// Better dreams too… hard to be lost in nightmares when curled around dreams-come-true… //

Somewhere near by was his box filled with carefully packed notes. Lately he couldn’t help but notice that Kuja’s tone had become more sympathetic, or at least more worried sounding. He wasn’t sure what had brought about the change, but somehow he got the sense after reading them that his lover was trying to cheer him up. It was a little strange, but very much appreciated.

// Still not the same as actually /talking/ to him though… // Scrubbing his face with his hands, he dragged himself out of bed. It was still night, he realized. He’d barely slept an hour. Following his officer, he tried to tug the worst of the wrinkles out of his shirt as he followed his secretary out and over to where the scouts were being debriefed.

// Basket cases… we’re all going to be basket cases by the time the war is over if we don’t get a rest soon… //

The Selwe weren’t attacking at night, not yet anyway. Grimly he looked out over the moonlit battlefields visible from their rocky hill, wondering if that too would start to change. A black line just over the next crest of jagged hills marked their impossible goal. Between them and the Tower was the bulk of an insect army. He had little hope it was the only one. Even if they did, by some miracle, demolish their enemy and claim the Tower, what would it accomplish?

// There’s always another army. //

Pushing the depressing thought aside, he crouched next to the battered looking men and accepted the packet they passed to him. “From Ibat-Kai, sir… urgent…” The leader panted.

“Thank you.”

Moving back into the lamp light, he fumbled through the envelope and read through the hastily scrawled note on top. Rescanning it to be sure his tired eyes weren’t playing tricks, he passed the whole stack off to one of his senior officers. He didn’t particularly want to read any more, not right away. Laro’s stomach twisted in a way that promised he’d get sick if he didn’t try very hard not to for a few minutes.

“… captain?”

“Yes sir!”

“… Double the watch on the perimeter.” He rubbed the back of his neck to try and distract himself. “… Move one of the cannons around to the western slope.”

“… yes sir.”

“… I’m going for a walk.”

*****

Sitting securely in a padded seat as the vehicle bounced along the rutted highway was a big improvement over his /last/ journey, but that didn’t make the constant rattling anymore tolerable. Slouching lower in the back seat, Kuja gave up any pretense of caring about his surroundings. Instead he settled for resting his head against Anne’s shoulder and closing his eyes. The woman was decent padding and fussed over him with satisfying thoroughness. It was taking advantage, he supposed, but there was something rather nice about her constant nagging to eat, rest, put on a jacket. Maybe it would feel stifling in time, but for now he was content to be babied.

// … as soon as this war is over… I’m going to have to tell these people about decent transportation… How hard could it be to invent some way of getting here-to-there without making everyone involved motion sick? //

He could hear Gerrick’s grumble of amusement and knew he had been caught by the man in the front seat. Not bothering to look, he just smirked, knowing how much the officer would have dearly liked to complain. He had a hunch the cynic was starting to warm to his medical escort, and wasn’t above making life more difficult for him whenever he could help it. Love stories always needed a few challenges to help them along.

// Besides what is gained easily isn’t appreciated half so much, so why not make him work a bit… especially if it will save her a broken heart. //

He wasn’t above admitting he was a romantic, to himself, when no one was looking. Kuja smiled at the thought. Laro had certainly seen through his intended aloofness. He still wasn’t entirely sure what he would do about that. With the chaos during the days before the warlord’s departure, and his own uncooperative health, things had not exactly gone as planned.

// Two days, and then… what? No excuses on my side… and I /do/ want to see him again… //

The others would follow his lead, it would be his decision, what to reveal, what to keep to himself. He was sure of that much. His first impulse was to say nothing at all. Going to the front changed nothing, Laro still had more than enough to worry about without any additional burdens. It might take some work to keep his medic close, but there had to be some way to disguise her, and the crystal’s real purpose.

// If there’s no other choice… only then… until that. Let him have the good news, it sounds as though he could sorely use some. //

He closed his eyes, promising himself that he would rest just a minute, but fell asleep just the same. Strangely, when he dreamed, he dreamed of a sad-eyed mouse-man he had met once during his travels in Gaia.

Drinking and listening to the minstrel while he waited for the rain to pass. They had spent a night in Trueno long before his war was ready to begin. The wanderer, calling himself ‘Fratley’, confessed that he had lost all memories of himself during his adventurers. He had wandered the continent for years working where he could, when he could, and had come to Trueno as a guard for one of King’s auction shipments. They had talked for a time about what the soldier could remember of his past, and he had wondered aloud that he must have loved once, because he remembered the pain of loosing it, but not the girl whom he had shared it with. Something in that haunted look stayed with the genome long after they had parted company, Fratley off to the city to ride another airship, himself off to the auction house to procure… something… he couldn’t remember anymore.

“Kuja… wake up… it’s time to set up camp and maybe you should, you know, hold the shard a while… you look tired.”

Blinking, he came awake to find he had his head in Anne’s lap, the sky all sunset colors overhead.

// … Freya… Zidane’s friend… the woman looking for a lover who had abandoned her years before… that was her name… I wonder if she ever found him… and if he remembered her… //

He sat up with a sigh, watching the others move about with their chores. // It would be nice… if they did… //

“Anne…?”

“Yes?” The young doctor looked up from digging through her bag to give him a worried look. He couldn’t blame her, if he sounded half as dazed as he felt, she ought to be worried.

“… Do you believe that love is forever?”

Blushing prettily the woman looked down again, industriously tidying her things and handing the packs off to one of the young men under Gerrick’s command. “I’d like to think so… but… I suppose it’s different for everyone.”

“I suppose it is.” Kuja allowed himself to be pulled from the truck with a minimum of grumbling, more than ready to curl up and sleep again despite his long nap. “Silly question I suppose…”

*****

*****

rollin’ rollin’ rollin’

--Lunar