Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Though he had been living in the quiet Illyrian town for several weeks now, Bedman could concede that he barely had any idea what most of the buildings were for. He had avoided the various storefronts and shops out of impulse, in fear that someone would recognize him and call the police.

For the most part, he hadn’t had a reason to go near them, anyway. Sticking to the alleys had suited him just fine. Nobody noticed or cared when he dug through the various dumpsters in search of food, aside from the rare instances when he had been found and chased off with a broom.

That, to him, was kind of funny. Before, he had been able to take on explosions without flinching and could tear through a fight with ease, and now he was being shooed away like a stray cat.

In the sparse glints he spotted in puddles and shards of glass, Bedman could say with certainty that he didn’t look much like himself, either. With his body constantly exposed to the elements, his arms and legs had become riddled with filth and scratches, his clothing was worn-down and stained, and his hair was unkempt and greasy. It was disgusting, but there weren’t many ways for him to get clean outside of straight-up standing in the rain and letting it half-ass the job.

And with how hard the rain was coming down right then, there was absolutely no way that he was standing in it.

Currently, he was huddled under the awning for a new store that had appeared recently. Like most of the other shops in town, he didn’t know what they sold, only that it seemed to have suddenly opened service very recently, out of nowhere. There was a chalkboard propped by the door, but the torrents of rain had washed it blank, leaving no indication of what it had been.

An arc of lightning lit up the black clouds, followed lazily by a deafening thunderclap. Bedman clasped hands over his ears in an attempt to block it out. The wind and rain was bad enough, but the noise was overwhelming. Though he had been hesitant at first, the lightning finally got him to reach out and push open the glass door and enter the shop for refuge.

On an ordinary day, the cool air inside the shop may have felt nice, but with him being dripping wet, the chill quickly soaked in and made him wrap bare arms around himself and shiver. The coarse welcome mat felt itchy under his bare feet.

In curiosity, and to distract himself from the cold, he strayed over to the front counter, which was strangely vacant. A bell had rung as he’d entered, but nobody responded. That was good. If the shopkeeper found him in such a state, he would probably be thrown out into the rain immediately.

He peered into the nearby shelves, finding them all to be filled with various breads and pastries. A bakery? On second thought, that explained the pleasant smell. As soon as he realized, Bedman could feel his stomach growling. How long had it been since he’d eaten? Sure, he still found the prospect and sensation of food awkward and unpleasant, but he wasn’t an idiot. He wasn’t going to starve unless it was the last possible option.

As he turned back around to the counter, one foot stepped into a small puddle that he’d left behind on the floor and skidded. With the sudden shift of weight, he found himself stumbling face-first into the countertop, banging his head against the wood and crashing to the floor in a heap.

“Aghh…” He hissed, clutching the spot that had struck the counter. When the fingers came away wet and red, he paled. Any remaining color left his face as the back door’s knob rattled.

“Robo?” A familiar voice called as the door was open. “Robo, was that you? Did you knock down another-”

It was difficult to exactly name the expression that Venom wore. Part of that was due to the fact that he had never actually seen Venom’s face before. The man’s curtain-like bangs had been pulled back and tucked under a tall white hat, allowing his dark skin and vibrant blue eyes to be visible. It was kind of a shame, really. His features were rather pleasant, from an aesthetic point of view, but they were currently twisted into a decidedly un-pleasant expression.

“You!” Venom’s voice was just below a shout. “I killed you! You’re supposed to be dead!”

“Yep. I’m just as surprised as you are.” Normally, Bedman prided himself on being more eloquent, but considering that he was currently sprawled out on the floor, dripping water, covered in cuts and dirt and bleeding, it seemed unimportant in contrast.

“I-I- why are you here? Come to try to kill me again?!” In his anger, Venom reached for the nearest object that could be used as a weapon. It wound up being a large pot of red flowers. The boy would have laughed at the absurdity, but he realized that, being an experienced assassin, he could very easily find a way to kill him with it.

“Wait- wait a minute, stop-” Genuine panic made its way into his voice, and he raised his arms up defensively. “I swear I didn’t know this was yours, I was just trying to take shelter from the rain and-”

“Rain?” Venom turned and looked out the window, just in time for another clap of thunder. “Oh.” Very hesitantly, he placed the flowerpot down and looked over the mess of a human on his floor, taking note of the red-stained fingers held up in front of him. “I...you’re bleeding.”

“Oh. Right.” He’d forgotten rather quickly, despite the small throbs of pain in his temple. Is this what a normal memory was like? It seemed very inefficient. “I slipped.”

Venom gave him another look over, and after several moments of silence, he sighed heavily, and turned away. “Wait there.”

Bedman had no intention to disobey. He still felt freezing cold, and since he’d remembered the injury, it only seemed to grow more aggravating and distracting. He honestly wasn’t sure he could move if he wanted to.

Something coarse and light was dropped on his head.He panicked and yanked it off, only to realize that he was grasping a towel.

“Dry yourself off.” Venom had returned, arms crossed and slightly stern. “You’re a mess.”

In theory, he understood what Venom was saying. In execution, his fine motor skills were still a wreck from disuse, and even then, it was kind of hard making things move correctly when the cold still made him shiver. He only really succeeded at throwing the towel back over his head and sitting there, tightly gripping the ends as he shook in place.

Venom tilted his head, looking at him with a mix of irritation and confusion. “What are you doing? What are you trying to pull?”

A faint whirring noise cut through the relative silence. Both of them turned to look as a disembodied mechanical head hovered into the room, held aloft by a little propeller. Within its ‘teeth’ a bag of something was clutched.

“INFERIOR HUMAN. I HAVE FOUND THE DISGUSTING YEAST PRODUCT YOU REQUES-”

Just as Venom had, the head of Robo-Ky went silent as he took in the unusual scene. After a few awkward moments, he dropped the bag on the counter, hovered back through the door, and returned clutching a bread knife in his jaws.

“Ack!” Upon seeing the knife, Bedman scooted back and away from the counter. Without seeing where he was going, he would up backing up into one of the shelves and slamming against it. “Ow, ow-”

“Hey, Robo. No.” Venom reached over and pulled the blade from the robot head’s mouth, placing it on the counter.

“IT APPEARS YOUR HUMAN MEMORY IS INFERIOR AS WELL.” If he didn’t know any better, it seemed like Robo’s nearly monotone voice sounded angry. “DO YOU NOT RECALL HOW THIS ONE TRIED TO KILL YOU?”

“I’m aware, but what exactly do you expect to accomplish with a bread knife?”

“YOU...HAVE A POINT. I WILL GO FIND A MORE ADEQUATE BLADE-”

“Robo, no-” Venom reached out and grabbed him by the powerbox in his neck. “We’re not going to stab him.”

“WHY NOT? HE IS ALREADY INCAPACITATED.”

“That’s not the point.” Venom groaned, letting go and pinching the bridge of his nose. “I understand why you want to stab him, but we’re not going to do that. It wouldn’t accomplish anything. Do you understand?”

“SCARCELY. I DO NOT UNDERSTAND WHY YOU SEEM DISINTERESTED IN KILLING HIM.”

“Well, for starters, we already tried that. And see where it got us?” He gestured to Robo’s lack of a body. “So what would be the point?”

“Er, if I may ask, what exactly do you intend to do with me?” Bedman had been watching the proceedings with confusion, clutching the new sore spot on the back of his head.

“Hmm. How about answers.” Venom strode over, looking down at him. “How exactly did you survive?”

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that.”

Venom scowled, gaze hardening. “The Sanctus Maximus is gone, you know. It’s all over. Your plans failed. I don’t know what you gain from being deceptive at this point.”

“No, I mean that quite literally. I can’t tell you. I don’t know.”

“DON’T KNOW?” Robo’s voice cut in, head hovering closer. “HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE?”

“I hope that question was rhetorical, as I don’t know how I could know why I do not know something.” Bedman sent the head a look. “I merely awoke in the same garden where we fought. There was nothing else aside from my destroyed bedframe, so I left. Based on the newspapers I spotted, I believe it was about two days post-fight.”

“You were asleep for two days?” Venom tilted his head.

“I fail to understand what is incredulous about that fact. I had been asleep for long before that.”

“...Fair point.”

“Anyways, I was not expecting to wake up. Your efforts in attempting to do so were successful- oh yes, I have to admit, that technique of yours was rather impressive.”

That earned him another odd look. “Erm, thank you? Wait, so you did wake up?”

“Temporarily. When I did, I found Ariels there. It seemed that our fighting had drawn her to the area.” The boy felt his anger bubbling up, and gripped the towel. “She...she betrayed me. All of those promises she had made...just filthy lies. All of my dreams of the Absolute World were just her way of using me for her own gains. I thought I would be able to fix everything that I had done! And she…”

“You didn’t know?” Venom’s voice had softened slightly, but it was hard to notice.

“Ariels had been deceiving me the entire time. I thought I would be able to give humanity happiness. I-I...I thought I would finally be able to see Delilah again…” He trailed off, looking at the floor. He could feel the sensation of hot tears running down his face, but he was far beyond caring who saw them.

Venom and Robo silently exchanged glances with one another. Neither of them wanted to be the one to interrupt, but Venom stepped up.

“And after that…?” The man’s tone was quiet, barely a murmur.

“Everything went black. When I woke up the second time, I didn’t know what to do with myself, so I just walked. I kept going for a few days and just...wound up here.” A hollow, empty look settled over his eyes, matching his hollow, empty voice. He glanced up at Venom. “I’m not sure why I resisted. By all means, if killing me would give you the satisfaction you desire, then feel free. I’ve spent the last few weeks doing nothing but scavenging food. I have no reason to live anymore.”

Bedman sat up, spreading both arms out wide to expose his chest and throat. “Go ahead. Whenever you wish.”

The ex-assassin sent Robo and uneasy look, watching the head bob slightly, seemingly in thought. Wordlessly, he floated down to the floor, settling himself across from the boy.

“DO YOU REMEMBER?”

“Hnn?”

“THE THINGS I TOLD YOU. WHAT I SAID ABOUT DREAMS. DO YOU REMEMBER?” He didn’t get a reply, but Bedman relaxed slightly from his position, so he took it as a prompt to continue. “I TOLD YOU. YOU SHOULDN’T MAKE FUN OF SOMEONE ELSE’S DREAMS. YOU NEVER KNOW HOW MUCH THEY COULD MEAN TO SOMEONE ELSE.

I SUPPOSE YOURS IS SIMILAR. A DREAM CAN DRIVE SOMEONE TO GOOD THINGS. OR TERRIBLE THINGS. JUST FOR THE SAKE OF FULFILLING IT. YOUR DREAMS OF A NEW WORLD LEAD YOU TO DO TERRIBLE THINGS.”

Venom cut in. “Robo-”

“SILENCE, HUMAN.” The head snapped back. “YES, YOUR ACTIONS LEAD TO TERRIBLE THINGS. BUT THEY WERE INTENDED AS GOOD. I HEARD WHAT YOU SAID. YOU HAD EVERY INTENTION TO BRING BACK THE DEAD. TEMPORARY DEATH WAS MEANT AS A MEANS TO REBIRTH. YOU ARE NOT BLAMELESS, BUT YOUR ACTIONS WERE NOT OUT OF PURE MALICE- ONLY GOOD INTENTIONS.

CAN WE NOT SAY THAT MANY TERRIBLE THINGS CAME FROM GOOD INTENTIONS? BOTH I AND THE HUMAN ARE NOT BLAMELESS FOR WHAT WE HAVE DONE, EITHER. AN ASSASSIN DOES NOT HAVE CLEAN HANDS, AND SOME OF THE THINGS I DID FOR THE P.W.A.B. STILL HAUNT ME TO THIS DAY. BUT BOTH OF US HAVE MOVED ON NOW. WE RECOGNIZE OUR MISTAKES AND FAILURES AND MOVED ON. WHILE IT CAN BE PAINFUL, SOMETIMES IT IS NECESSARY TO FAIL AND SEE A DREAM CRUSHED TO KNOW JUST HOW MUCH IT TRULY MEANT AND HOW IT SHAPED YOU.

YOU ARE NOT A MONSTER. YOU ARE MERELY A HUMAN. AND OFTENTIMES, HUMANS FAIL, DESPITE GOOD INTENTIONS. THE TRUE DETERMINATION OF YOUR CHARACTER IS NOT THE HARM YOU HAVE CAUSED BY MISTAKE, BUT IF YOU WILL MOVE ON FROM IT. YOU CAN EITHER CHOOSE TO FIND AND PURSUE A NEW DREAM, OR YOU CAN STAGNATE IN YOUR MISTAKES AND LET THAT BE SOLELY WHAT DEFINES YOU.

BUT THAT IS YOUR CHOICE. YOU ARE THE ONE WHO NEEDS TO MAKE IT.

SO TELL ME. UNDERNEATH THAT BROKEN DREAM, WHAT KIND OF PERSON ARE YOU?”

The tension in the room was thick and heavy. Sullen brown eyes met determined artificial yellow. The silent exchange between the two went uninterrupted for what felt like an eternity.

Finally, a single sound shattered the emptiness. Bedman let out a sharp, hitching breath, slumping over and hiding his face in his hands as a strangled sob followed it a moment later. More tears- far heavier than the last time- ran in torrents down his face, for the first time since the two had known him looking like a relatively normal, if distressed, little boy.

Venom knelt down, carefully stroking his back with a hand. Comfort wasn’t his strong suit, but he tried his best to come across as calming.

“So that’s just it, huh? In the end, you thought you were helping people...I guess I kinda know what that’s like.” He sent a look to the disembodied head, who looked rather pleased with himself. “I’ll admit, I don’t know how you did that, but it seems to have worked.”

“SOMETHING I’VE LEARNED ABOUT HUMANS. AS SUPERIOR AS I AM TO LACK EMOTIONS, IT’S UNHEALTHY TO EMULATE NOT HAVING THEM IF YOU AREN’T A ROBOT. SOMETIMES IT’S GOOD FOR HUMANS TO EXPRESS THEIR FEELINGS, NO MATTER HOW VULGAR AND DISGUSTING THE INFERIOR HUMAN BODY IS IN DOING SO.”

“...Right.” Venom wasn’t sure what felt more absurd to him- Robo’s continuous disdain for organic beings, or the prospect that he himself didn’t have any feelings to express. But he’d known the guy for quite a bit of time, and he’d seen the sort of person he was, even if Robo didn’t make it obvious.

The three of them merely stayed in place for a while, allowing Bedman to let out all he needed to, until the sharp breaths smoothed out and the sobs quieted. Venom gave him a reassuring pat, smiling a little until he noticed the column of half-dried blood trailing down his face as he uncurled on the floor and pulled his hands away.

“Shit, I forgot about that.” The man removed his hand and reached for the long-abandoned towel. He found a damp section and pressed it over the wound, ignoring the flinch and slight hiss as it made contact. “You said you slipped?”

“Yes.” Bedman replied, voice hoarse and weak from crying.

Venom gave him a slight look over, taking note of the dirt and numerous cuts. “I said it already, but I’ll say it again. You’re a mess. I take it when you mentioned all that about wandering and scavenging for food, you didn’t leave out mentioning a home?”

“No.” With the recent events, the typical chatterbox seemed to be preferring short, quiet answers. Venom could deal with that. The assassins he had worked with in the past were occasionally the less talkative sort. He could be the one to do the talking now.

“Well, considering the weather, we can’t exactly kick you out. Then again, it seems in bad manners to kick you out regardless of the weather, given the circumstances. Though I no longer associate myself with the assassin’s guild, I still consider myself a man of manners and dignity.”

“You...left?”

“Recently, yes. In the aftermath of the Universal Will’s attempt to end the world, and after my initial efforts for a sacrificial attack against you in the garden, I went into hiding and began performing menial work to buy a new body for him.” He pointed to Robo. “As a parting gift of sorts, the deed to this shop was given to me by Lord Zato. Since then, I’ve been trying and working for an honest living. It was jarring at first, but it’s actually quite nice.”

Bedman seemed interested by the concept, though his expression remained dull. Robo-Ky, on the other hand, looked entirely unimpressed.

“I STILL DON’T GET THE APPEAL OF A BAKERY. HUMANS ARE BIZARRE.”

“Easy for you to say, you don’t need to eat.”

“YES, BUT WHAT IS THE POINT OF A STORE THAT SELLS A SINGLE TYPE OF FOOD? I WOULD OPPOSE TO THIS FAR MORE IF IT WEREN’T FOR THE FACT THAT THIS WILL PAY FOR MY NEW BODY.”

“Whatever you say.” Venom shook his head and sighed. “I suppose we aren’t going to get much business in this weather, anyway. Might as well close early for the night.” He stood up, looking down at Bedman. “We’ve got a bathroom upstairs. Would you like to get cleaned up?”

He gave Venom a hesitant look, but reached out to take the hand offered to him and stood up, using the other hand to keep pressing the towel down. For a brief moment, a small smile ghosted across his face.

“That sounds nice.”

Despite the fact that Venom knew the kid probably knew what he was doing- hell, he was some sort of genius, after all- he hadn’t been able to stop himself from lingering in the bathroom after finishing filling up the bathtub.

Bedman had given him an odd look as he’d stripped off his damp clothing and sat down in the hot water, only growing more confused as the man stayed behind, not looking at him but not moving to leave, either. As it seemed, whatever hunch Venom had wasn’t completely meritless, as he realized as the minutes ticked by that Bedman was merely sitting in the water and doing nothing else.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“Perhaps a bit, why do you ask?”

“You’re just sitting there. Aren’t you going to clean off?”

Another odd look was sent his way. “I am, aren’t I? Isn’t this how a bath works?”

If he were a crueler man, Venom would have burst out laughing. Instead, he took notice of the other person’s features, and realized that he was being completely, entirely serious.

“You...don’t know how to take a bath?” He tilted his head. “That seems kind of absurd.”

“Hmm.” Bedman looked down into the rising steam. The ensuing lens fog prompted him to remove his glasses and place them on the side of the tub. “To be fair, I haven’t had the need to bathe since I was put to sleep, and that was quite a while ago. And seeing how faulty my memory has been lately, I do often forget things that took place before that.”

That got Venom curious. “Faulty? I thought you said your memory was flawless? That’s how you remember everyone that you killed?”

“That was when I was asleep.” He flinched upon being reminded of that. “With the state my mind was in, being asleep allowed me to utilize and process things without overheating. That was also what allowed me to enter the minds of others and teleport, due to the continuous connection to the Backyard while unconscious.”

“I was going to ask about that…”

He nodded slightly. “Yes. Most if not all of my abilities were directly tethered to a sleeping state. With you managing to wake me up, those abilities, including my memory, have become severed or distorted. Although to be honest, I had expected being woken up to have far more catastrophic effects. I anticipated the physical taxation to be monumental, but either through your machinations or just sheer dumb luck, the effects seem to have only resulted in the loss of my abilities.”

“I see.” Venom tapped his chin for a moment, then came to a small realization. “So...is that just a complicated way of saying that no, you don’t know how to take a bath?”

“...Yes.” His cheeks reddened slightly, and it was obvious that the steam wasn’t the culprit.

Venom sighed, but smiled a little. He walked over to the tub, rolling up his sleeves, and grabbed a rag hanging off of the side.

“You know, for all the trouble you gave everyone, you’re kind of ridiculous.” He quipped, wetting the cloth by dunking it. He fished out the nearest arm and began scrubbing the dirt away, earning a few hisses and flinches as the coarse rag scratched against old cuts. “You’re awfully roughed up.”

“Well, living in alleyways and fishing through dumpsters is hardly the nicest of accommodations. You and the robot didn’t exactly help with that, either.”

“I can tell.” Venom reached out and traced a circular mark just below the boy’s collarbone, which had just begun scarring over. “There was some sort of nail here, wasn’t there?”

“It was part of what kept me tethered to the frame. I don’t recall, but the force of the explosion must have knocked it out.”

He finished up cleaning off the arm in silence. When that was done, he glanced around, trying to figure out what to clean next. The angle was awkward, and he wasn’t entirely sure how he was going to crane around and clean the other side when he managed to get to that point.

“Hmm. Do me a favor and move forward a little,” Venom said, putting the rag down and pulling off his shirt, “I’m getting in, too.”

“What?” Bedman gave him yet another strange look, but complied.

After removing the rest of his clothes, Venom slid into the bathtub behind him. The angle was a bit awkward, so the larger man ended up folding one leg across lengthwise, while the other extended out past him on one side.

“I’m not sure if this is an odd question,” Bedman shifted around, trying to adjust to the higher water level and smaller available space, “but would most people consider this normal?”

“Somewhat. Although I don’t think this whole situation could really be considered ‘normal’ in the first place.”

“Hmm.” He stopped squirming. “I’ll admit, my experiences with camaraderie of this nature are very limited. It’s plausible that this is normal among assassins.”

Venom laughed, forcing down a small blush at the thought of being in a bathtub with Zato. Instead, he cupped his hands and scooped up some of the still-warm water, and dumped on the other’s head. That earned him a little panicked noise and jolt in response.

“Relax. I’m just getting it wet so I can clean it.” He explained, scooping up more water. Wet fingers ran between oily purple strands. Geez, the kid was filthy. The more he thought about it, the less he wanted to know how long it had been since he’d bathed.

The man retrieved one of the little bottles perched on the other side of the tub. The faint scent of honey filled the room as it was uncapped and a bit was dumped into his free hand.

After years of working with the guild, his hands were riddled with minuscule scars and calluses, but Venom kept his touch gentle as he worked the shampoo into the smaller boy’s hair. Part of him couldn’t help but find the whole thing strange. He had used all of his strength in their fight together, and even with Robo’s assistance, they barely made it out alive. His own gentleness surprised him now, as though he were afraid of hurting him by being too rough.

After seeing him without the bed and breaking down sobbing on the floor, Venom was having a harder and harder time as seeing Bedman as anything more than a fragile little kid- at least in comparison to what he was used to. Hell, he didn’t even look very old, probably a teenager at best. He very well could have been his own son.

Venom anxiously shooed the thought away, instead focusing on washing out the last of the soap. He reached for the rag and began scrubbing the other arm clean. He’d been right, it was easier to clean from this angle.

“Pardon my audacity, but...were you ever a father?” Bedman’s voice reached his ear. “You seem rather used to this.”

“No.” Venom responded, surprised by his own quiet tone. “Not really something I could manage with my line of work. And it never really seemed important enough to risk.”

Alright, that wasn’t entirely true. He’d had little thoughts of it over the years. On rare instances there were dreams, a quiet little house and a little blonde boy whose name and face seemed so familiar and yet so far away. It was just a nonsense dream, and nothing more, but there had been times where his mind betrayed him and he found himself daydreaming and perhaps longing for them, just a little bit.

Venom was pulled from his thoughts by a sharp flinch that made the water ripple. He’d brushed a little too hard with the rag again.

Deeming the area to be clean enough, he moved back and starting scrubbing across the shoulder blades. A similar pair of circular scars were spaced apart from where the nails had been hammered through. Unlike his arms, though, that was the only blemish, and the rest was pale, untouched skin wrapped around a bony frame.

“I don’t think I mentioned this yet, but you’re free to stay the night.”

The muscles went tense under his fingertips. “I am?”

“It isn’t the most spacious, but we can find a place for you to get comfortable.” The rag was run down the ridge of the spine until it just barely dipped below the waterline. “There’s plenty of leftover bread, too, if you’re hungry.”

The man didn’t even need a response. At the sound of ‘bread’ he could hear something growl. He smirked. “When’s the last time you ate?”

“I don’t exactly remember. Not today, at least.”

Venom frowned, glancing up at the wall clock. 6:46 PM.

“Well, as good as it is for you to get clean, it is getting to be kind of late. Probably should wrap this up so you can eat.” He didn’t realize how far back he’d managed to slip until he sat up. The lack of space made him press his chest against the back he’d just cleaned, looking out over the boy’s shoulder.

“Hmm.” Bedman made a small noise of disapproval, but he couldn’t tell if it was from his movement or his words. Out of his peripheral vision, he noticed that he already looked half-asleep, with eyes struggling to stay open. He didn’t seem interested in moving at all.

Despite his better judgement, Venom reached his arms around from underneath and wrapped the around the smaller one’s torso. He didn’t resist as Venom leaned back against the end of the tub, arms still wrapped around. In the water, the boy felt weightless on top of him, and he had to avoid holding him tighter in fear that he’d dissolve or float off or any other number of nonsensical thoughts that were currently overriding his usually calm and logical mind.

This was bizarre. What was even going through his head? Despite everything, Venom could only recognize the feeling as being protective. But what of? Bedman wasn’t going to do anything in this state. He wasn’t worried about anything that he was going to do. No, the more he thought about it, he was afraid of things happening to him, not because of him.

Perhaps it was what being a parent felt like. Venom would be lying to himself to say that he didn’t like it, just a little bit. Both of them had been through a lot. Both of them had been broken by the world. Maybe it would be easier if they could be broken together.

It was a strange feeling for both of them. Bedman leaned into it, resting his head against Venom’s chest and shoulder. It felt safe. It felt comfortable. Something about the strong, steady heart rhythm that he could feel against his spine was welcoming, in a way. Venom wasn’t scared of him. Not anymore.

Venom could feel him falling asleep, limbs slowly going limp against his grip. He tried not to make any noises or sudden movements to avoid waking him up. Instead, he ran slow, reassuring hands down the smaller one’s arms, rubbing warmth into the skin. He could feel a slow, fluttery heartbeat, a sensation that was somewhere against his chest but not his.

He had planned to get out, but by his own doing, he’d only ended up trapping himself inside. So instead, Venom stayed where he was, for now content. He leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling, suddenly wondering how it was that he had ended up bathing with- and acting as a makeshift bed for- someone that, a few weeks ago, had tried to kill him.

Well, he was an assassin, after all. He had seen weirder things.

Something must have happened while he was asleep. It took a few half-conscious moments for Bedman to figure that out. Rather than laying on top of Venom and sitting in lukewarm bath-water, he’d awoken to find himself nestled into something soft that surrounded him on all sides.

He sat up. Tugging on the softness, he found it to be mostly due to a large quilt that someone had tossed over him. The rest of it underneath was the mattress, which, despite his limited vision, seemed to be in someone’s bedroom.

Locating his glasses on the bedside table, he retrieved them and put them on. Yep, definitely a bedroom. Logically, it must have been Venom’s, but there wasn’t much around to indicate ownership. The room was largely bare aside from furniture, like it had only been moved into the night before.

The covers were tossed off, and he hopped out of bed. Doing so made him aware of two things. Firstly, he wasn’t naked anymore, but the clothes he had on weren’t his- rather, some old nightshirt that was far too big for him and admittedly rather comfy. Secondly, many of the gashes that he had obtained were bandaged over. Reaching up, it seemed that also applied to the head wound he’d gotten the night before.

The faint smell of something cooking lured him to the door. Something about wandering around someone else’s house seemed rude, but it didn’t stop him from opening the door and wandering down the hall towards the smell.

He was greeted by the sight of Robo-Ky, head perched on the countertop over a stove. He clutched a spatula between his teeth and was busy trying to flip something over.

“AH. IT’S THE OTHER HUMAN.” The mechanical head took notice of him. “GOOD TO SEE YOU’RE STILL ALIVE.”

“...You too?” He offered in reply. “Is Venom here?”

“DOWNSTAIRS. HE ALWAYS GETS UP EARLY TO START BAKING.”

“Oh. Then what are you cooking for?”

“BOTH OF YOU.” A closer look made him realize that Robo was cooking eggs. “HE’LL BE BACK SOON. UNTIL THEN, SIT AND WAIT.”

There was a small table situated near the counter, with enough chairs for all of them. Bedman approached the nearest one and sat down. Early-morning sunbeams passed through a nearby window, sending a warm feeling down his back.

“SO,” Robo called, “DO YOU PLAN ON STAYING FOR LONG?”

“I’ll admit, I don’t know.” He replied with a little shrug. “I don’t have anywhere else to go, but I don’t want to trouble you for more than I have to.”

“IT’S NOT TROUBLE. THE OTHER HUMAN IS TAKING SO LONG TO EARN ENOUGH FOR MY NEW BODY, I WOULD NOT COMPLAIN IF THERE WAS ANOTHER TO MAKE IT GO FASTER.”

“So you want me to stay, just so I can make money for you?”

“IT’S A GOOD DEAL. I GET A BODY, YOU GET FOOD AND A PLACE TO LIVE. SOUNDS GOOD, DOESN’T IT?”

The far door swung open. Venom strode in, wearing the same clothing he had been the night before, although many part of him, including his hands, were covered in flour.

“Alright, Robo, the next batch is in the oven, should be done in about an hour. Is breakfast ready?” He noticed his guest. “Oh, you’re awake? Glad you could join us.”

Venom went over to the sink to clean off his floury hands and grabbed a few things from the countertop. After Robo scraped the eggs of of the stove, he returned carrying two plates, passing one to Bedman and sitting down across from him.

“Thank you very much. I realize that falling asleep last night meant I never ended up eating anything…” He picked up the slice of buttered bread and took a nibble.

“Not a problem. Just as long as you’re doing it now.” Venom also dug in, taking forkfuls of egg. “Huh. Robo’s gotten better at this.”

“OF COURSE I HAVE!” The head popped out the propeller and hovered over to the table. “I MANY NOT NEED TO EAT, BUT I’M STILL SUPERIOR TO A HUMAN IN EVERY WAY! THAT INCLUDES COOKING!”

“I find it impressive that you’re able to do so much as a head.” Bedman added.

“OF COURSE, OF COURSE! NO THANKS TO YOU!”

“Oi, Robo, be nice.” Venom gave him a little smack.

“HMPH.”

“Oh, if you don’t mind me asking,” Bedman gestured to himself, “where are my clothes?”

“IN THE LAUNDRY.” Replied Robo, to his surprise. “I’M WASHING THEM. THEY SHOULD BE DONE LATER TODAY.”

“Yeah, yours were really dirty, so I just gave you something I had lying around. If you want, I can find you something else after breakfast. Maybe something that would be easier to work in.”

“Work in?” He tilted his head.

Venom put his fork down and propped up on one arm. “Based on what I’ve seen, you still aren’t used to working your hands quite yet. I thought maybe it might be a good place to start by having you help out a little with the bread. It’d be a simple practice exercise, and if it doesn’t come out great, we can just eat it ourselves instead of selling it. What do you think?”

“Hmm.” He had to admit, the idea did sound enticing, and not particularly complicated. And after all that Venom had done for him, it only seemed fair to help out. “That sounds good. I’d like to be helpful, if I’m going to be staying.”

“Alright, then! Sounds like we have a good arrangement.” Venom nodded, and picked up his fork again. “Make sure you eat first, though. It won’t end well trying to eat on an empty stomach. Trust me.”

“ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT THE TIME YOU FELL ASLEEP ON THE DOUGH?”

“That was something else entirely, and you promised to never speak of that again!”

Bedman laughed at that, and as he finished up the meal, he found himself smiling. It wasn’t ideal. None of it had turned out the way he had wanted to in the end, but still, he could say that he was happy. If he was told only a few months ago that all of the things had been working for were destroyed and gone, he would have been enraged. Yet now, after everything, he could honestly say that he was the happiest he had been in a long time. For a moment, it almost felt like home.

It wasn’t the Absolute World he dreamed of, but perhaps it was merely absolution, instead. And for the time being, that was more than enough.

Chapter Text

The wilderness on the outskirts of western Illyria had gained a reputation for being ruthless. Even if one had the survival skills and luck to avoid the wild animals and any lingering Gears, the land itself seemed to have a vendetta against travelers, twisting and pitching into craggy gorges and lines of sharp mountains, all lined with dense foliage that mandated a sharp blade to cut through and move on.

So, needless to say, Sol Badguy was pretty much having a perfectly nice stroll.

That didn’t exactly apply to his companion quite as much. Sol could hear the kid breathing heavily, the pack of supplies he was carrying rattling alongside it.

“Geez kid, be a little louder, why don’tcha?” He grumbled, stopping in place for a moment.

Sin huffed, looking red-faced and winded. “I don’t exactly see you helping me, old man.”

“Didn’t expect you to be so slow today. At this rate, we’re not gonna reach the peak until nightfall.”

“It’s hard enough carrying everything on my own,” Sin all but yelled back, “how do you expect me to be able to scale a mountain without hands?!”

Sol gave him a brief look over. “You only need one hand to carry that stuff. You’re already only using one.”

Indignantly, Sin raised the other hand, and released his grip on the leg that he’d been dragging for the past mile or so.

The bounty hunter pressed a hand over his face and let out a disapproving grumble. “I dunno why Ky was so insistent we bring him.”

“I’m not particularly pleased with this arrangement, either.” Bedman sent the two an irritated look, sitting on the grass and rubbing his ankle from where Sin had been gripping.

“I’m not pleased with the fact that you made me drag you.” Sin crossed his arms.

“Well, seeing as how nobody offered me a pair of shoes, I’m not exactly sure how you expected me to walk all the way up a mountain barefoot even if I did have any interest in doing so.”

Sol sent him another look. “D’you have to complain about everything?”

“Why? Have I missed something to complain about?” The boy replied with a smirk.

Sol and Sin both groaned in reply. Sin merely grabbed him by the other leg and began dragging again.

Not a single one of the three of them had anything positive to say about the current situation. After coming to the conclusion to not imprison Bedman for his interactions with Ariels (a verdict that Sol still found ridiculous, regardless whether or not the kid knew what he was doing), Ky had come up with the idea of sending him along with Sol and Sin on their travels, claiming that it would ‘teach him values’ and ‘foster constructive relationships.’ He seemed to be the only one who thought it was a good idea, though. Three days in, and Sol and Sin were already tired of Bedman’s constant complaining, while he in turn was tired of being dragged around wherever Sol damn well felt like.

With the added weight to drag, alongside some particularly unpleasant terrain that had resulted in Sin almost falling into a mile-deep chasm, by the time dusk fell, they had only managed to scale another small percentage of the mountain. It seemed like too much of a risk to keep going, so they opted to find the nearest suitable clearing and set down for the night.

Sol started the fire with ease, sending the two out to go find more firewood for later. They had returned with handfuls of sticks- along with a freshly-dead rabbit on Sin’s part- both things that the scrawny little brat had found reason to complain over until Sol sent him a harsh glare.

“Did you really need to do that?” Sin asked as he propped speared chunks of rabbit over the fire. “I know that look, and you usually only use it when you’re about to kill something.”

“If it got him to shut up, then yes.” Neither of them were making any attempts to be subtle, considering the fact that Bedman sat exactly opposite of them around the fire. It was a habit they had picked up. As long as he continued to complain, they weren’t going to be quiet about their grievances with him, either.

“As much as I am not a fan of your crass and hostile attitude, I know that it has no merit.” The kid gave them a look that was barely below another smirk. “I’m your responsibility right now, and I’m pretty sure the First King wouldn’t take kindly to the thought of you burning me alive.”

“Pfeh.” Sol scoffed, casually igniting a handful of fire. “Ky isn’t here right now. I’m sure I could come up with a good story as to how you went missing…”

Clearly, Bedman hadn’t been anticipating that, and went pale as he looked away.

“Come on you two, lighten up!” Once again, Sin was forced to play peacekeeper, even if he barely had any idea what he was doing and wasn’t fond of either of their attitudes. “The rabbit is gonna taste great when it’s done cooking!”

“Hmm, yes, rabbit meat. One of the more nutritious varieties, although the meat output tends to be very low unless mass-caught or raised by oneself.”

“Doesn’t matter, as long as it tastes good.”

That seemed to be the end of the conversation, at least for the time being. All three of them sat in silence after the meat was passed out. Aside from some exchanged glares- or in Sin’s case, half-pleading looks- there wasn’t any indication that a fight was going to break out.

“So, uh, where we headed after this?” Sin offered.

“If the Gear nest isn’t actually there by the time we make it to the top, we head west.” Sol replied, as gruff as ever. “No point in staying around if there’s nothing here.”

“Wait, wait a minute.” Bedman interrupted, looking skeptical. “We came all this way, and you don’t actually know if the Gear nest is actually there?”

“Bounty said it was here, but we can’t know for sure until we get there.”

“Oh, well that’s just wonderful, isn’t it?” His tone sharpened. “Three days trudging up a mountain, all for nothing?!”

“Yeah, well, you aren’t exactly helping at all.” Sol’s voice lowered into a half-snarl. “If you hadn’t spent so much time slowing us down, we coulda been up there and cleaned the place out already.”

Sin sent him another pleasing look. “C’mon, old man-”

“I hardly see how this is my fault. You could have given some indication to the fact of how much of a waste of time this would be before we got halfway stuck up the mountain!”

“If you’d managed to shut your goddamn trap for more than a minute, maybe you’d be able to use the space between your ears for something useful.”

“Old man, please-”

“I don’t know why it’s so hard for you to give me some semblance of respect.” Bedman stood up, glaring over the flames at Sol. “I may not be as experienced as the two of you but I don’t know how you expect me to have any interest in obeying your demands when half of the conversations you have around me are of how obnoxious and troublesome you think I am!”

“Respect? Oh, sure.” Sol let out a ribald, mocking laugh. “Maybe once you fucking earn some. I dunno how much respect I can give to a scrawny punk who never stops complaining. Why don’t you trudge your ass up that mountain and kill a few Gears, then we can talk respect.”

The two shared a glare for a moment. Bedman leaned over, grabbing a large, still-burning stick from the fire, and turned away.

“What an excellent idea. Why don’t I go do that?” He replied, walking off into the woods.

The remaining two watched him go, Sol with amusement and Sin with horror. Soon enough, the small flame light vanished under the thick growth.

“Old maaaan!” Sin protested, only growing more distressed upon seeing Sol’s unconcerned expression. “Come on, why’d you do that?”

“Kid needs to earn respect.” The prototype Gear shrugged, fishing and lighting a cigarette from his pocket.

“And you’re just letting him go?! He’s gonna get killed out there!”

“Oh, please. He’s gonna run back screaming at the first sight of trouble. And hell, if there isn’t anything up there, he can say all he wants about how pointless this was.”

Sin groaned, sitting back on the ground and pressing a hand over his face. They really were impossible, both of them.

It only took about fifty feet after leaving the campsite for Bedman to realize just how much of a terrible idea his plan had been. But upon remembering Sol’s smirk, and that absolutely infuriating condescending tone of his, it was enough to keep him trudging for well over the next hour.

Still, it didn’t do anything to lessen the pain in his feet. It was bad enough trying to work around the sharp rocks barefoot, but this section of the mountain seemed to also be home to a low-lying bramble that was prone to scraping and scratching at nearby ankles. He was already bleeding, and the further he went through the snagging tendrils, the more it dissuaded him from turning back, just for the reason that he would have to pass through them again.

Perhaps it didn’t help that he had no idea how to tell if Gears actually were nearby. Maybe he had, once upon a time, but with the whole thing about being forcibly woken up and forgetting a large chunk of one’s knowledge, something like that was deemed a non-necessity and dumped. So for all he knew, he really could have been a half-step away from planting one foot in the nest and not even knowing.

The torch’s light was slowly waning, and he mentally berated himself for only bringing the one. Of course, Sol wouldn’t have had this problem, seeing as how his magical affinity laid in fire. Although, Sol probably wouldn’t be completely lost and wandering around without shoes, either.

Rrgh. Just thinking about the Flame of Corruption made his blood boil. Regardless of his state now, the man had to recognize that he’d given him a strong fight on several occasions, didn’t he? Wasn’t that at all deserving of some respect? Even a little?

Evidently not, based on the entirety of the last few days. And the fact that he was still wandering alone through the woods.

The brambles were thinning out. That seemed to be the highlight of the whole thing. As did the ground. While still rocky, it felt softer underfoot. Oddly enough, though, it felt almost grassless, like it had been recently tilled.

That was strange. Nobody could be living up so high, right? Especially where there was supposed to be…

Oh dear.

As if on cue, numerous tremors could be felt deep within the dirt. The vibrations made the brambles shake from the force, only increasing as they seemed to grow louder.

Panicking, Bedman looked around for something to climb. None of the trees were very close, and even if they were, none of the branches appeared to be within arm’s reach. There was only the flat dirt and the brambles, both of which were exposed and wide open.

He raised the slowly dying torch, letting out a fearful whimper. The rumbling underfoot grew louder.

“Gyah!” He managed to throw himself as the dirt he was standing on began to collapse. When he managed to find his balance, he turned around to find a massive, angry-looking creature that could have been called a mole if it was about five times smaller and didn’t have metal claws that glinted in the firelight.

The Gear’s eyes shone a bright red, and it began scrabbling towards him. On instinct, Bedman threw the torch at it and ran. It wasn’t entirely pointless, as the fire made it flinch and not immediately give chase, but seeing as how soft and unstable the ground seemed to be, running on it was all but impossible, and he didn’t get very far before the Gear shook it off.

He found himself slipping as another sinkhole opened up in the ground, and another mole-like Gear burrowed its way out. Gleaming claws swiped at him, which he only managed to avoid due to being slipped up and falling into the dirt.

“No, no, no, no-” Frantic hands gripped the loose soil, trying to stand and run again. Another instinctive duck let him avoid being decapitated, but left a long trailing slash down one arm. “A-ack!”

Barely managing to find a suitable foothold, he stumbled out of the sinkhole. He was losing track of how many Gears were popping out of the ground, he only knew that it was far more than he could handle. The dirt rumbled with the force of movement.

As he ran, one foot caught oddly against the ground and twisted. A white-hot flash of pain shot up his leg as something snapped. But adrenaline kept him running, every step burning like fire as he went.

Soon enough, he neared the edge of the tilled ground, almost running headfirst into a tree. The combined exhaustion and pain in his leg and arm made him slump against the wood, panting and gasping.

Behind him, the ground still rumbled. As he turned, numerous pairs of angry red eyes were fixed on him, glowing eerily in the near-darkness. He could catch faint glimpses of the claws, outstretched, clamoring and only a few feet away-

“GUNFLAME!”

A blazing crimson arch, almost too bright to look at, lit up the clearing. Bedman could see the shadows of Gears being tossed away by the force, others staying in place and merely being burned alive.

He could make out a familiar silhouette wielding the fire, which arced and blasted in different directions, almost in a dancelike motion as Gears were roasted and shredded. Loud, primal roars intersped with the crackling flames, as though a dragon had landed to unleash carnage. It was as awe-striking as it was absolutely terrifying.

Soon enough, the flames dwindled. They hissed and sputtered alongside the creaks of dying Gears, shrinking down into a palm-sized flame. The blaze was lifted, and the light illuminated Sol’s face.

“Dammit, finally!” As usual, Sol sounded irritated as he walked over to the tree Bedman was pressed against. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I-I-” Usually, he’d have more of a response, but he was still shocked by what had just happened, especially the part where he was almost torn to little bloody chunks.

“Walking right into the nest, are you kidding me? Was that a death wish, or were you just being stupid?”

Bedman could feel the irritation coming back, overriding the distress and confusion. He managed to get to his feet, wincing at any weight put on his right ankle. Sol eyed him oddly, but the annoyance never left.

“I was doing as you told me to!” He tried not to shout. “You told me to go find and kill some Gears, that’s what I was doing!”

“You were walking into a deathtrap, is what you were doing!” The orange flame in Sol’s fist crackled and snapped. “What did you even expect to do? What did you bring, one stick? The hell kind of plan is that?”

“Why are you being angry with me, I did what you told me to do!” Bedman shouted back, hands balling into fists. “You look down on me when I don’t listen to you, and you get angry when I do what you say! Fine, I’ll admit, I don’t know how to kill a Gear like you can, but you told me to go find the nest, so I don’t know what it is that you expected! What do you want from me?!”

Sol glowered. “I want you to get your shit together and quit being such an idiot.”

“AAGH!” In a fit of anger, Bedman stumbled forward, swinging a fist. Sol easily sidestepped it, which sent him slamming his hand into another tree. The unrelenting wood hurt his fingers and the bark scraped his knuckles, but there was still something satisfying about it. “STOP TREATING ME LIKE THIS!”

“Like what? You’re acting like a little brat, so I’m going to treat you like one.”

“Stop it! Stop being so condescending!” He sent another punch against the tree. “STOP TREATING ME LIKE I’M USELESS!”

“You haven’t exactly given much merit otherwise.”

“Do you remember?! I dragged you into a world of my own creation! I managed to challenge you and I WON!” Splinters of bark went flying. “I’M NOT WEAK! I’M NOT WEAK!”

Though he couldn’t see it, Sol looked deep in thought. “You couldn’t even deal with a handful of normal-class Gears. I had to bust in and save your ass.”

“STOP LOOKING DOWN ON ME! I HATE IT! I’M NOT USELESS! I’M NOT WEAK!”

“Even when you did have powers, you still failed. The Universal Will used you as her little murder machine and she still left you to die. Now look at you.”

“AAGH! STOP IT! SHUT UP!” Already, the bark was grating into the boy’s skin, spattering flecks of blood as he drew back for another strike.

“And now you’re losing your head and screaming. You couldn’t even hit me, so you’re punching a tree instead.”

“I HATE YOU! I HATE THIS! WHY DOES EVERYONE TREAT ME LIKE THIS?! STOP LOOKING DOWN ON ME! STOP IT!”

“Whattaya mean?”

“I NEVER ASKED FOR THIS! I DIDN’T WANT THINGS TO BE THIS WAY!” The next punch made his hand crack and twist. “Even before all this! Delilah was the only one who didn’t look down on me! Everyone treated me like I was worthless, like I was nothing! AND NOW I’VE LOST EVERYTHING AGAIN!”

“Sure you didn’t have it coming?”

“WHY DOES EVERYONE SAY THAT?! DID I DESERVE TO BE PUT TO SLEEP?! DID I DESERVE TO LOSE EVERYTHING I KNEW?! TO BE LEFT TO DIE?! WHY DO I KEEP GETTING STEPPED ON BY EVERYONE?! I’M SICK OF IT! I’M SICK OF HUMANITY!”

“Stop talking nonsense, what the hell do you actually want?”

“I-I’M- I- !” His fist trembled, striking weakly against the stripped wood. “I...I’m tired…” He slumped against the tree, pressing his forehead against it and shaking from the exertion. “I’m tired of losing everything...being tossed aside. I never wanted any of this…I’m just so tired.”

Sol’s hand was like a lead weight as he laid it down on the other one’s spine. His other hand pulled Bedman’s smaller, paler one away from the tree, looking over the shredded and bleeding knuckles.

“Geez, you did a helluva number on yourself.” That was all he said. He noticed his awkward posture, with all the weight put on one foot, and sighed. “You’re a mess.”

Without another word, Sol picked him up, as though he weighed nothing, and hauled him one-handed over his shoulder. Something about it felt slightly degrading, but he didn’t have any idea how he was going to walk with a twisted ankle, so he had no reason to complain.

The walk back was quiet, the only sound being the rustling of plants and the crackling of magical fire. It was strange to see how much easier Sol handled the landscape, as even looking backwards over his shoulder, they were moving remarkably faster than he had.

Bedman wanted to say something, but he wasn’t sure what. ‘Thank you’ seemed appropriate, but not quite. Not only for the rescue, but also for letting him release the pent-up anger. He hadn’t even realized how angry he had been until he was letting out out against the tree. Still, he thought it would be a weird thing to thank someone for. And he was kind of bleeding on him.

“Hey kid, you awake back there?” Sol’s voice cut through his thoughts.

“Ah, yes? Something the matter?”

“Listen, I…” For once, the man’s low, gravelly voice sounded unsure. “I’m not gonna say I’m sorry or anything, I just want you to know that I’m really not that mad with you. I mean, I kinda am, but I’m more pissed with that delinquent king.”

“W-wait, what? What do you mean by that?” How was that possible? Hadn’t Sol hated him?

“Look, no offense to you or anything, but part of the reason I told Ky this was a bad idea was because I knew you weren’t ready for it. Living out here is pretty damn tough, and I dunno what he expected when he gave me a non-Gear with pretty much no fighting skills. It’s just reckless.”

Bedman wasn’t sure how to reply, so he remained quiet at first. He wasn’t good at understanding people, but it seemed like Sol wasn’t as heartless as he had let on. Sure, the bounty hunter was loud and rude, but perhaps he hadn’t done much to encourage otherwise.

“I...I suppose I’m sorry as well.”

“Heh, what for?” Even without seeing his face, he could tell Sol was smirking. “After all, we did make you walk up a mountain barefoot. Really should get you some shoes.”

Sin was waiting for them back at the camp, looking just short of pulling out his hair. No matter how much he insisted otherwise, he really did seem to resemble his father at times.

“Old maaaan!” Sin complained, stamping a foot. “Don’t run off like that! You left me without even saying anything!”

“Yeah, yeah, calm down.” Sol slung Bedman off of his shoulder and set him down against a tree. “Had to go rescue this idiot.”

“Rescue? Aw, crap!” Sin hissed upon seeing the blood. “The hell happened?!”

“Kid managed to find the Gear nest. Probably should have seen this coming when we let him run off without any weapons.”

“That’s what I told you! Geez, do I have to be the responsible one now?”

“Hell no. Then all of us would wind up dead.” Sol cuffed Sin over the head, earning him a glare. “And calm down, it’s like having Ky here.”

Sin grumbled something unintelligible, rubbing the sore spot from where Sol hit him. Instead of replying, he merely pouted and sat down on the grass.

Meanwhile, Sol dug through the group’s pack and dug out some medical supplies. He settled himself next to Sin and Bedman, and got started on wrapping up the latter’s twisted ankle.

“Er, pardon, but do you actually know what you’re doing?” Bedman asked, wincing as the bandage was tightened.

“Of course. I’ve been in plenty of scrapes before, this is about as basic as it gets.”

“Hmm. Alright.” Satisfied enough with the answer, he leaned back against the tree. He let himself be pulled around, not resisting when the bounty hunter finished with his leg and reached for his hands to clean out and wrap up the knuckles, along with the gash on his arm.

“There. That should do the job. Leg’ll take a few days to heal up, since you’re not a Gear, but no big deal.”

“Impressive.” He raised a hand to his face, looking over the crisscrossing white fabric. “You’re rather skilled.”

“I told ya, I’m used to this.”

“Ughhhh, finally.” Sin groaned, having long become bored with the situation. “Nobody’s gonna be running off again, right? It’s getting annoying.”

“You’d know a lot about that, wouldn’t ya?” Sol replied, grinning.

They decided to turn in for the night. Sol put out the fire and everyone found a place to lie down. Bedman didn’t move from his spot much, only curling up against the tree roots to find the least scratchy spot. Sin settled down nearby, limbs splayed in all directions as he fell asleep almost immediately. And Sol sat up against another tree, appearing perfectly comfortable despite his position.

The feeling of something warm and strong and tight woke Bedman up in the middle of the night. With the lack of light, only the feeling of clothing and the sound of his snores let him know that it was Sin, completely asleep and clutching him like a stuffed animal. It wasn’t the first time this had happened, but it didn’t stop him from wriggling a little, trying to escape the half-Gear’s vice grip as he was inevitably hugged tighter.

Sol’s low laughter reached his ears from a nearby tree. Craning his neck, he saw the man watching the two of them, face silhouetted in the moonlight, smiling in amusement.

Bedman groaned, opting to give up on attempting escape. It never worked, anyway. At least Sin served as an adequate source of warmth. It was a lot more comfortable than just lying alone.

Perhaps with time, he wouldn’t find all of this to be so terrible...no, he still hated the whole thing. That wasn’t going to change. But maybe having Sol and Sin around would compensate for it a bit. As weird as the whole thing was, it could be worse. As much grief as he gave them, Sin was a friendly and upbeat kid, while Sol, despite his gruffness, wasn’t always so bad. He could almost call them friends. They would get there.

Satisfied with his assessment, Bedman rolled over into Sin’s warm embrace, and fell back asleep.

Chapter Text

“You need to eat.”

Though it had been only two weeks since had moved in with Faust, Bedman could recognize the demand behind the man’s perpetually-chipper voice. It wasn’t a request, it was an order.

“I don’t want to. I’m not hungry.” Alright, that was sort of a lie. He was hungry, but he didn’t want to eat. Eating food still felt so uncomfortable and alien that he didn’t do it whenever he could manage to get away with skipping. It just felt so wrong. It was worth dealing with the incessant growling.

A dangerous glint twinkled in the eyehole of the doctor’s bag. “You know I don’t like it when you lie to me. You haven’t eaten since yesterday. You need nutrients in order to function, how many times have I said that?”

“Too many.” The boy grumbled back, looking at the offered plate with disdain. “I said I’m not hungry. Go away.”

“I’m a doctor, it’s my job to take care of all my patients, no matter how troublesome.” Faust’s voice was still cheerful, but there was an eerie quality about it. “One way or another, I will make sure you get all the nutrients you need to be healthy.”

Instinctively, Bedman flinched back, folding his arms to guard the undersides. A finger traced the injection mark from the last IV.

“T-that won’t be necessary.” Damn it. Faust always knew how to get him to break. Though he still looked disgusted, he took the plate and balanced it on his knees.

“Good! I’m glad we see eye-to-eye!” Faust sounded very pleased with himself. “I would rather avoid doing this the hard way, if possible. And I know you hate the needle.”

“Hasn’t stopped you before…” He picked up the fork and began irritably prodding at the food. It was some mishmash of vegetables and meat, not that he really cared. Most of it was either cut up or mashed already. Faust seemed to have the idea that dividing things into smaller bits would make him more willing to eat it. He was wrong.

To his dismay, the doctor hadn’t turned around and left upon being conceded to. Granted, the last time that he had, he’d tossed the whole plate into the trash as soon as he wasn’t being watched. The doctor was a lot more observant than he gave him credit for.

“I’m not going to leave until I see you finish at least half of that.” Faust gestured for him to proceed. “Go on.”

Bedman squirmed, looking between him and the plate. He wasn’t going to win this, was he?

Hesitantly, he speared a bit of meat and tasted it. Nope. Still not a pleasant feeling, although just doing so made his stomach growl. Swallowing was instinctive, but it didn’t change how uncomfortable the sensation was all around. It just made him nauseous.

He glanced up at Faust, only to find an expectant look trained on him. “Keep going.”

“Urk…” In an attempt to get it all finished as quickly as possible, he tried shoveling in mouthfuls as fast as he could manage and swallowing immediately, to avoid tasting anything. That worked for all of six seconds before it made him gag and spit out the mouthful of potato.

He shoved the plate further down the mattress and wrapped his arms around his knees. “I don’t want anymore.”

“Hmph.” Faust made a small disappointed noise, eyeing the plate as he picked it up. “There’s still a lot here…”

“I don’t care.”

“You know, you aren’t usually this irritable. Looking a bit pale, too...” The man’s tone became curious. That was never a good sign.

Rather than ask more questions, Faust merely turned and left. Bedman watched him go, puzzled. He never gave up this easily. He he gotten on his nerves one too many times?

He decided he didn’t really care. Instead, he uncurled and sprawled back against the mattress. The bleached sheet and stiffness would have made it obvious that it was a hospital bed even if he hadn’t been made to sleep in the examination room. Faust had seemed so oddly convinced that there was something horrifically wrong with him he’d spent the whole stay being treated like some kind of invalid. It was aggravating, but he also knew that fighting back wouldn’t really accomplish anything. Faust always knew just how to get what he wanted out of him, even when he did resist.

If he were to be completely honest, he wished that Faust treated him like a criminal, like how everyone else had up until then. He was just too damn concerned about him all the time, always going out of his way to make sure his health was improving. In addition to being annoyingly close and clingy, it just made him feel guilty. Faust just acted like he was a normal person, like he hadn’t done anything. He hadn’t even mentioned Ariels once.

“I’m ba~ack!” The doctor’s voice trilled. “You didn’t fall asleep on me, did you?”

“Unfortunately, no.” He didn’t even bother sitting up. “I thought you were leaving.”

“I just needed to get some supplies!” Faust replied, holding up a box. “Did you miss me?”

“Scarcely.”

“Well, that isn’t a no!” He positively hated how chipper Faust could be at times. Just once, he wanted him to stop being so damn cheerful. Or just leave him alone. Or both.

Faust plopped down on the rolling stool next to the bed and began digging through his box. There was the distinct grate of metal-on-metal, but Bedman couldn’t see what was in the box from his position. And he certainly didn’t care enough to sit up.

“Yes! Here we are.” Triumphantly, the giant of a man pulled out a stethoscope and began putting it on. The box itself was placed on the floor. “I’m going to check your heart. Hold still, please!”

“I- wait a minute-” Despite the warning, he still flinched when a large, thin hand laid itself across his chest. The fingers hooked around his collar and pulled, allowing another hand to slip under and place the chest-piece against the exposed skin.

“Why do you always feel so tense?” Faust’s voice was low and eager, like it was during every test. “This is good for you.”

That fact didn’t change anything. Food was also supposed to be good for you, and that didn’t make him hate it any less. Testing just made him feel so open and vulnerable, no matter how many times he had been dragged into it. He simply laid stiff, eyes firmly fixed on the ceiling.

The metal was cold as it slid across skin. After a few moments of searching, it was placed a little off-center, right by one of the scars where a nail had once been, and pressed down slightly.

“There we go, very nice. Alright, breathe in slowly for me. Gentle rhythm.” Half out of resignation and half out of stress, he complied. “Good! And out. Keep it nice and slow.”

With his free hand, Faust found and wrapped it around the smaller boy’s clenched fist, carefully stroking with a thumb. “And in. I hope this finally makes you calm down, you’re going to make yourself sick from the stress! It does terrible things to the immune system. And out.”

After what felt like far too long, the stethoscope was removed. Bedman finally felt his body relaxing, and he sank into the mattress with a relieved sigh.

“That wasn’t so difficult, was it?” The doctor asked cheerily, placing the device back in the box.

“Yes, it was. For all that trouble, you’d better tell me that you were overreacting and everything is fine.”

“Ahh, well, not quite.” He tapped his fingertips together. “It’s most definitely fluttering, and currently bordering on bradycardia. I haven’t run enough tests yet, but I’m relatively sure it’s hypoglycemia, possibly mixed with nutrient deficiency. It would certainly explain your tension and irritability.”

“Are you sure it isn’t because you constantly invade my personal space and perform these ridiculous tests?” Bedman snapped in response.

Faust stood up. “Don’t go anywhere. I’m going to go find a better monitor. I think I’m going to have to perform a blood test, as well.”

“W-wait, what? A blood test? Are you being serious?” Bedman sat up in shock, watching the doctor as he walked away. “I ate like you wanted, isn’t that enough?”

“If I have a legitimate medical concern, then the test is necessary. I’m getting the needle, whether you’re happy about it or not.”

“That isn’t fair, I- !” Fairness didn’t matter, and he knew it. He drew his knees up into his chest and huddled around them, shaking.

If he were being honest with himself, he would find the whole thing to be darkly hilarious. Plans to rebuild the universe, battles against beings like the Flame of Corruption and the First King of Illyria, and the ability to kill people just by thinking, and he had now been reduced to a guinea pig for some crazy doctor and panicking over a blood test.

The First King hadn’t even offered him the mercy of execution when they had found him, miraculously alive in the middle of the garden. He had expected to meet a quick end at the edge of the man’s sword- resigned to it, in fact. He’d anticipated it to the point where it was shocking that Ky hadn’t even pulled out his weapon, instead merely handcuffing him and dragging him off to be interrogated.

When they learned about how Ariels had manipulated and betrayed him, the king became far less interested in incarcerating him and more interested in finding somewhere to dump him off. Faust wouldn’t have been his first choice- granted, he wasn’t given one to begin with- but it was determined that someone who had, or at least used to have, powers beyond explanation was best off with a professional who specialized in the unexplainable.

Even reminding himself of what he used to be, Bedman was still terrified at the idea of more needles. Faust was very enthusiastic with the needles.

Nervously, he glanced around the examination room. He noticed the door to the bathroom, still ajar. Perhaps he could hide in that for the time being? Lock the door and stay hidden until Faust gave up and left him alone?

It would have to do. He hopped off of the bed, and as quietly as he could manage, snuck across the room and ducked into the bathroom. The tile was cold against his bare feet, but that seemed to be a far more preferable alternative than staying outside and waiting.

The door was latched shut, and he slid down against it to sit on the floor. He couldn’t hear footsteps yet. Faust would be coming back soon, no doubt, but hopefully this would serve as a good enough hiding spot for the time being, and he wouldn’t be found.

...He really wasn’t giving Faust enough credit, was he?

“Bedman, I found the sample tubes! Now-” Though the man’s voice was muffled by the door, he could still hear the confusion as he trailed off. “Hmm. Are you hiding from me? That’s no good!”

Bedman clasped a hand over his mouth, to try and keep his breathing quiet. Faust’s footsteps tapped around the room, but fortunately, they didn’t come near the door.

“Not under the bed, I see...Did you slip away while I was gone?” The footsteps grew quieter. “Perhaps I should go check the storeroom…”

He tried not to let out a sigh of relief as Faust left. If he really was going to go check the whole building for him, then it was very likely that he would get tired out and give up before he could finish the whole thing. He wasn’t going to celebrate yet, but for once it seemed like his evasion plans had actually worked.

Oddly, though, it didn’t seem to do anything for the knot of anxiety that had placed itself in his stomach. He’d been worried, of course, but it seemed silly to worry as much now. He could relax, couldn’t he?

His body seemed to disagree. While he tried to sit in silence, he couldn’t help but make a little groan as the anxious feeling twisted into something stronger, something more tangible, but still not something he could name. He leaned his head back against the door and took in little breaths, willing the feeling to go away.

Willing and wishing grew less and less effective as the minutes ticked by. The discomfort increased, making him wrap his arms around himself in a futile attempt to make it less unpleasant.

Soon enough, the pain twisted, and he was finally able to recognize what it was- nausea.

In panic, he disregarded being quiet and stealthy as he clambered on his hands and knees to the toilet. The lid was tossed up just in time as a gagging sensation dragged itself up his throat and his head pitched forward, coughing up a mouthful of stomach acid and partially-digested somethings.

Just the sight of that made the nauseous feeling worse. Trembling fingers clutched the edge of the bowl, trying to keep balanced as another stream of vomit was spat up, burning fiercely as it came. The acrid smell made his eyes water and sting.

A distant part of him remembered that he was trying to be quiet, but that was very quickly overridden by the sharp, aching pain in his abdomen and throat that made him whimper between the bouts of vomiting. If eating felt disgusting and uncomfortable, having it come back up was far, far less pleasant.

The appearance of a green teleportation door suddenly manifested over the shower curtain. Bedman looked at it as it appeared, until another muscle spasm made him turn back to the toilet and gag up more semi-liquids. The door swung open, and Faust ducked through.

“Aha! I found you!...Oh dear.” The doctor’s tone went from triumphant to quiet in the span of seconds as he took in the scene.

He knew he was going to be punished for running off, one way or another. Faust didn’t like being disobeyed. But to be completely honest, everything hurt too much to care. He didn’t even flinch as Faust knelt down next to him.

The boy felt a pair of gentle, meticulous hands carefully pulling his hair back and tying it in place. When that was done, they slipped the glasses from his face to keep them from sliding off.

“W-what are you-” He was cut off by another aching sensation, making him whine in pain.

“Shh.” A hand placed itself along his back and began kneading in careful little circles. The purpose behind it eluded him, but he had to admit that it did feel very nice. “Just breathe. Through the nose.”

Following orders was a bit difficult when it felt like his insides were being dragged out, but Bedman did his best to comply. The smell still made his nose burn, but getting enough air again seemed like an acceptable trade-off.

“You know, if you were feeling sick, you should have told me.” Faust’s voice was soft, caring. “I can’t take care of you correctly if I don’t know how you’re feeling.”

If he were a more honorable person, he would have admitted that it wasn’t the nausea that had made him duck out. However, it was a convenient excuse, and he had no intention of saying anything otherwise. It was hard to get anything out between the coughs and whines, anyway.

After a few more lurches, the pain began to dull. He coughed up a mix of residual acid and spit and slumped, kneeling over the porcelain. The whole experience had eaten up most of the energy he had, and he already was prepared to take a nap right on the floor.

Faust took him by the shoulders and propped him up against the wall. A warm, wet cloth brushed away the last of the slime dripping from his mouth. It was hard to tell, what with the bag and all, but he could swear that Faust looked just a bit concerned.

“Ahh, I told you the stress would make you sick, didn’t I?” The man shook his head in dismay. “You already aren’t eating enough as it is. This isn’t going to do well for your blood sugar.”

He would have complained in turn, but right now it was enough trouble just staying awake. Everything still felt sore, and he was exhausted.

“Hmm. Well, it seems like you’re finished for now.” Without warning, Faust scooped up his mostly-limp body and held him close. “You don’t seem to be in walking shape.”

Faust got to his feet and carried him out of the bathroom. The boy was placed back in bed, with a thin blanket tossed over and his glasses placed on the bedside table. He tried not to wince upon seeing the various tools that the doctor had left nearby them.

“Do I still have to…?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” The corner of the blanket was pulled off, exposing an arm. “I told you. If I have a concern, then it’s necessary.”

The man picked up a needle with one hand and lifted the limp, exposed arm with the other. Bedman tried not to hiss in pain as it was inserted, with a stream of red sputtering out almost immediately into the attached capsule to start filling it.

Just as fast as it had started, though, it was over.

“See? No need to get all worked up!” Faust shook one of the sample tubes, filled to the top with blood. A bit of gauze was pressed over the puncture. “You’re done, and I can analyze this.”

“I’m done? No more?” God, he hated how weak and childish he sounded. It was pathetic. Yet internally, he let out a relieved sigh at the thought of getting a break.

“For now. Once the tests come back, I’m probably going to need to do a glucagon injection. And you are going to have to eat after that, no ducking out again!”

He grumbled in reply, huddling under the blanket. He couldn’t stand Faust sometimes. Well, most of the time. He was far too enthusiastic for him to keep up with, even if he wanted to. He was loud, unruly, and just in general unpleasant with how he constantly invaded his space.

Maybe he was being just a bit too mean, though. As much as he liked to complain, Faust was doing it for his own good. He might not have liked it, but the man was genuinely looking out for his well-being. That wasn’t something he could really say about anyone before, except Delilah. Ariels certainly hadn’t cared about him. He’d said outright that she was his first real friend, and she had left him to die.

Faust returned with another plate of food, along with a glass of water. He wasn’t entirely sure if he was ready to try eating again, so he merely took the glass and drank quietly, at one point almost choking on it when Faust snuck up with the second needle and emptied it into his arm. Aside from that, though, the room was quiet.

“...You do know that you’re allowed to be kind to yourself, don’t you?”

“Huh?” Bedman asked in reply, giving the doctor an odd look. “I don’t understand. What does that mean?”

“Let me see…” Faust tapped his chin. “Your tendency to mistreat yourself. Your avoidance of food, avoiding anything, really, that’s supposed to help you get better.”

“Is that the justification you give yourself so you can continue violating my personal space?”

“No. That’s not it.” He went quiet for a moment. “I find that a large amount of the recovery process is helped by a want to improve. You often give off the impression that you don’t want to do that.”

The boy grit his teeth and glared. “Are you accusing me of being lazy? Is that it?”

“That is not what I meant.” The man’s tone sharpened for the briefest of moments, then softened. “It seems more like you feel undeserving of this. You don’t want to let yourself heal. Like you don’t deserve to be in good health.”

Bedman flinched, turning away. “Why would I? I know what I did. What I’d like to know is why you’re putting so much effort into taking care of a criminal. Especially one that almost killed you.”

“Don’t.” For once, Faust sounded entirely serious, devoid of his usual whimsy. “I’m well aware of what you did. I’m also well aware that you weren’t entirely aware of the connotations of what you did. Either way, you’re still a human, one that deserves kindness. You don’t have to earn the right to that.”

“But...but I-”

“I was a criminal once, myself. I’ve hurt people. I know what that sort of guilt feels like. But neglecting your health isn’t going to help anyone, least of all you. It’s okay to be kind to yourself. That isn’t something you have to deserve. I don’t think you’re really going to get better until you realize that.”

He picked up the plate and placed it on the smaller one’s lap. “Now, if you feel like you can keep it down, I’d like you to eat something.”

A slightly dirty look was sent towards the plate, but Bedman complied, taking the fork and spearing a bit of meat. If he was being completely honest, it didn’t feel as difficult. Perhaps after feeling it come back up, eating seemed less awful in comparison. It still felt weird, but he could almost stand it.

Faust placed a hand on his head and ruffled his hair, still tied back from earlier. “Let me know the next time you start feeling sick, alright? This is your home now, and I’m in charge of taking care of you. You can be honest with me.”

Home. What an odd prospect. Maybe he’d learn to like living with Faust. Or, at least, hate it less. It wasn’t really all bad. He had a warm bed, a roof over his head, and someone taking care of him. Even if he couldn’t quite forgive himself yet, it seemed like Faust already had. Hell, maybe he’d even start to like eating regularly, with time. It could be almost normal. Or whatever was normal enough with Faust.

...He still hated needles, though.

Chapter Text

He hadn’t been expecting the vampire to be so hard to find. For such a decadent and sometimes flamboyant (or, in his opinion, garish) fellow, it had taken quite a bit of digging in order to hunt him down, and even then, most of it had been by accident.

The breakthrough in finding Slayer had come in the form of what he had at first thought of as just a couple of your run-of-the-mill scum businessmen. He didn’t have any interest in speaking with them as they walked past his place in the alley, but they seemed to have taken an interest in him.

“Quite a tiny little thing, hmm? What do you think it’s doing sitting all alone?”

“Hey kid, are you just loafing around? Ain’t you got a home?”

He didn’t see any reason in lying to them. “No.”

“Hmm. He’s pretty small. Quick-looking hands. What do you think?”

“I think we could use some new recruits.” One of them knelt down. “Hey. Know anything about being an assassin?”

It had taken quite a bit of prodding and a few unresponded threats to get anything out of them. Yet again, it was annoying how he had been unable to hold onto the ability to read minds while in such a state. Very few people took someone of his appearance and stature very seriously without the mech. But still, with enough pushing, he managed to get the information that he’d needed, including the vampire’s location.

In the end, though, it seemed it wasn’t necessary. Within the next twenty-four hours, a strange hooded man had approached, claiming that he had arrived to deliver him to Slayer. It all seemed very suspicious, but he was willing to go along with it. He was aware of the vampire’s influence. It didn’t seem illogical that the men he’d encountered had conveyed a message.

Before he knew it, Bedman had found himself sitting at a long wooden table in a richly-furnished house. Though it was silent aside from the roaring fireplace, it was far from empty. Many men similarly dressed to the one who had escorted him were standing at the walls at every juncture, at attendance and still. It made for an ominous atmosphere, but he didn’t dare break the silence.

“Ahh, I see our guest has arrived!”

Slayer looked as refined and relaxed as he always did, as though he wasn’t interacting with the person who had impaled him on a metal spear and torn his arm clean off. A smoking pipe was perched between grinning teeth, and a red-clad woman hung off of his side, wearing a similarly relaxed expression.

“Ah well, I’d ask you to sit down, but it seems you’ve already seated yourself.” He settled down at the other end of the table, sitting with a posture that lent him the aura of someone powerful. “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting for me too long?”

“Let’s skip the formalities, vampire.” Bedman replied back, curt. “Aren’t you going to ask me why I came?”

“Hmm. Perhaps.” Slayer kept his relaxed tone, removing the pipe from his mouth. “But shouldn’t I treat a guest with the proper customs, first?”

Without another word, more hooded people entered from every door, carrying metal trays. They were placed on the long table and uncovered, revealing them all to be very fancy-looking food, more than just the three of them could ever eat. What was Slayer trying to pull?

“Ach, go on then.” Slayer gestured at his motionless guest. “Help yourself. You’re a growing boy, you should eat.”

The room quickly went back to its quiet state. He had begun getting the impression that Slayer was like the heart and mind, with the rest of the building and everything in it systematically operating around him as the body. The fact that it all seemed so fluid, without any words exchanged between him and the hooded servers, felt unnerving and surreal.

Still, he had no intention of being rude. He prodded a bit of meat on the plate that he had been given and tentatively bit into it. Eating was something he was still getting used to doing again. It all felt so woefully primitive in comparison to his time in the Backyard, but at this point it seemed like beggars couldn’t be choosers. Especially if he was trying to create a good impression...also, it was free. That was good, too.

“I haven’t had a meal this good in quite some time.” Slayer relaxed back into his chair, the red-clad woman leaning over to embrace him. “But one mustn’t indulge too often, yes?”

“I suppose.” He wasn’t sure how to respond. “It only seems wasteful. Excessive, and therefore, unnecessary.”

“You’re the pragmatic type? I’ve always been a romantic, but I can appreciate a man who sees the value in practical application.”

“I consider myself more of a realist.” A debate on worldviews wasn’t something he had been planning on, but there were worse topics for discussion. “I also don’t see the point in fantasizing.”

Slayer sent him a bemused look. “This, coming from the one whose abilities lain solely within dreams?”

“I don’t see the point in unrealistic fantasizing.”

“Ahh.” The vampire paused to swirl his wineglass. “I take it you’re the sort of person whose dreams and innocence were crushed young.”

“Th-that...no, they weren’t. And your statement is irrelevant.”

“So, yes, then?” A wide, toothy grin split the man’s face.

The boy scowled in reply. “I said no. If realism makes me pragmatic, then romanticism makes you self-gratifying and self-centered.”

“Mmm. Perhaps.” Slayer seemed to be genuinely considering the prospect. “Well, after a few centuries, it becomes less of a concern. Perhaps you should try it and see?”

“Absolutely not.” The response was swift and sharp. “Besides. I don’t see too many vampires around, and I’m sure that’s for a reason.”

For a moment, he swore that he could make out a hint of anger on the man’s ever-humored face. It was gone when he looked again, though, so he wasn’t sure if it was there, or if his paranoid self had merely imagined it.

“Well, now that all that is out of the way, let’s have a more pleasant chat.” Slayer waved a hand, and the woman sat down next to him. “Shall we discuss the matter at hand?”

“Ideally, yes.”

“Short and to the point. I suppose I can appreciate that, too.” He took another puff of his pipe and looked across the table. “Reminds me quite a bit of Zato. So, I don’t suppose you’re here to apologize for that little scuffle in the desert?”

“I do not feel the need to apologize for that.” Bedman responded. “I did tell you to stay out of my way, yet you felt the need to interfere.”

“Bit of an attitude, it seems.” The vampire scoffed, and the woman shook her head in dismay. “And after that lovely introduction, I hoped you’d be in a better mood. You rely too much on insults and condescension to express your points. In the end, that will only drive people away. Though to a degree, perhaps I can’t blame you. It was hard to tell with your machine, you really are quite a little thing. Are you merely just a petulant child?”

Bedman could feel his cheeks going red. He wasn’t one to succumb to emotions in such a way, but Slayer’s offhand tone just made it seem all the more insulting.

“C-call me what you will, it won’t change anything. What has been done is done, and cannot be changed.”

“Hmm. Fiery thing, aren’t you? Oh, well. I suppose I can indulge. What brings you to my estate?”

He placed his hands against the table, and looked at the vampire with seriousness. “I’ve come to ask if I may take refuge amongst your guild of assassins.”

“Oh?” Slayer quirked an eyebrow. “And after you’ve already attempted to kill many of my best agents? Not to mention making an absolute mess of my suit. You did rip my arm off, after all, and blood is rather difficult to wash out.”

“I will...consider that my reference of work. What with the current state of affairs now, I cannot merely attempt to create a ‘normal’ life for myself for many reasons, first and foremost being that I am presumed to be dead by most. While I recognize that I may have left an unpleasant impression on your little business, I fear there are few other places that I could find refuge and even fewer that I have relevant work history in. I believe I could prove myself useful if given the opportunity.”

The hall was quiet for a moment. Slayer looked the boy over with an analytical expression, not uttering a word as he stared.

Just as quickly, the large space was filled with the sound of rousing laughter.

“Ohhh, he’s quite a chatty little thing, isn’t he, Sharon?” Slayer asked between amused laughs.

“Indeed!” She replied, pressing a hand over her mouth.

“May I ask what you find so funny?” It took all of his willpower for Bedman not to sound agitated.

“Many things, to be honest. But in regards to you, I’d have to say your intentions, moreso than anything else.”

“Intentions? Do you believe I would be unfit for your guild?”

“Not so much that.” Slayer sighed, wearing a calm smile. “You’ve made an admirable effort, but it has one fatal flaw.” For the briefest of moments, there was a glint of malice in his eyes. “I’m not involved with the guild anymore. Haven’t been for a while. You did know that, didn’t you?”

Bedman felt himself go pale. Did he know that? He racked his brain for information, but everything was blurry. Since the whole incident, his once-flawless memory was prone to errors and gaps. Had he truly known this before? Had his information been outdated even then?

“But I-...y-you-”

“My fate seems to be inexorably linked with the guild’s agents, but I myself am no longer a part of them. They merely...require moderation, on occasion. Guidance. This truly is an unsteady world, especially considering the recent events. After all...you’re supposed to be dead, aren’t you?”

Any remaining color left in the boy’s face went away. As much as he prided himself on his ability to talk, Slayer was outmaneuvering him at every turn. This was taking the complete opposite direction than he had planned. Exposed, cornered, and powerless. He realized with dawning panic that all of it had been intentional. The invitation, the food, the analyzing, all of it was meant to be a power display.

“No need to look so pale, child. So it seems that you weren’t aware of that little fact? I would apologize, but…” The vampire smirked. “I don’t feel the need to.”

Slayer was making a fool of him, and he knew it. In his agitation, Bedman pushed away from the table and stood up.

“If you are going to treat me in such a degrading manner, and have nothing else to offer, then I shall take my leave. One way or another, I will find the guild on my own.”

As he turned to leave, though, one of the hooded men stepped in front of the door. When he turned back around, all the other exits were in a similar state. Even the windows had been barred beforehand. All the while, Slayer merely smiled in amusement.

“Going somewhere?”

“I don’t know what you gain from this. I wish to leave. Let me go."

“Why must you be so rash, young one? I can’t imagine it does much for you. What happened to the calculating mastermind that I fought? I almost feel let down.”

He only offered a scowl in reply. Slayer took note of it, and after a moment, sat back against the high wooden chair and sighed.

“Ahh, well. No matter. I believe I may still have something for you, if you have the interest.”

“I’m not going to act as your personal bloodbank, so if you even dare-”

“No, no, nothing of the sort.” Slayer waved a hand dismissively. “Besides, Sharon gives me all I need.”

Bedman took a step closer. “Alright, I’m listening.”

“This is something I’ve been meaning to deal with for quite some time.” Steepling his fingers, Slayer looked the boy right in the eyes. “ I fear I’ve grown a bit bored with retirement, and find myself with the desire to find something new to do. You see, I’ve had interest in rekindling some old projects, many of which involve taking on a protege. In the past I’ve worked with members of the guild, but this would be a bit different. A bit more...one-on-one experience, you could say.”

He eyed the man suspiciously. “What would it entail?”

Slayer shrugged in reply. “Not much. I can train you and send you on tasks I need completed as they arise. It would be something similar to the assassin’s guild, but I imagine it would be far more pleasant. I would provide lodging and food, of course.”

“That can’t be right.” Bedman took a step back, shaking his head. “That’s too easy.”

“Do you think I would offer such a thing to anyone? Why do you think I bothered bringing you here? Like you said, you do show promise. You have experience, and your viewpoints of the world intrigue me. I rather like being intrigued. Sharon?” He glanced at his wife. “What are your thoughts?”

“Hmm. Well, he is rather cute. I wouldn’t mind holding onto him for a bit.” She almost purred, balancing her chin on one hand.

“Well, that settles it, I suppose.” Slayer took a puff from the pipe. “If you’re interested, we’d be more than happy to take you in. It’s been far too long since we’ve had new blood around here, things were getting a bit stale.” From his place at the table, he extended a hand. “What do you say?”

“I…” The boy was silent for a minute, looking down at the floor. When he looked back up, his eyes were filled with resolve. He strode over to the other side of the table and reached out an arm. “I will agree. I’m not a fool, I know a valuable deal when I see one.”

“Ah! So a contract is sealed.” Slayer’s grip felt like iron as he shook. “I’m expecting good things from you, boy.”

“And I intend to surpass your expectations.” Bedman smirked.

The vampire stood up, taking a step closer. “So glad to hear it. In fact, I think I’ve got a task I can assign you right now, if you think that you’re prepared for it. How does that sound?”

“Whatever you need, I will do my best to satisfy.”

“Good.” Slayer grinned, showing off a bright white smile. “I’m pleased with your enthusiasm. Now, please follow my instructions…”

A dark shadow loomed overhead.

“...be a good boy, and hold still for me.”

When he was able to process what was going on, Bedman realized that he was being held in place by a tight grasp, with one hand on his shoulder and one gripping the back of his head. A tepid breath ghosted against the side of his neck, which had been exposed as his shirt collar was pulled away.

“W-wait a minute- v-vampire, what do you think you- AARGH!”

A sharp, stabbing pain shot up and down his throat as Slayer bit down, directly into the carotid artery. The pain intensified with the feeling of something being pulled, which he very quickly realized was his blood being slowly sucked out.

“N-NO STOP, STOP THIS!” He screamed. He gripped and yanked against the man’s hair and clothing, but Slayer kept his vice-like grip. “STOP, I-IT HURTS, IT- AAAAGH!”

Normally, he would hate to admit expressing emotions in such a manner. But the gradually increasing pain spidering out, combined with the unbreakable grip on his body, very quickly made him start tearing up and crying uncontrollably. It felt like his insides were being torn out. All that had happened, and this was how it was going to end?

“Oh, no need to cry, dear.” A voice echoed in his head, and he recognized it as Slayer’s. “It’ll only hurt for a little bit.”

Despite the attempted assurance, he couldn’t stop himself from screaming and sobbing as he continued raking his fingernails against the man holding onto him. His efforts to escape only seemed more futile as the dizziness from blood loss began setting in, making every attempt to fight back weaker. All the while, Sharon and the hooded men merely watched the proceedings with calm nonchalance. Did Slayer do this often, so often that nobody cared anymore?

“Just relax. Stop fighting.” The voice returned. “Don’t worry. You won’t miss it, after a while. Relax. Let go.”

Every part of him felt achy and weak, and his neck throbbed with pain. He didn’t have any idea how quickly the man could drink, nor how long it would be before he didn’t have enough blood to function. It already seemed to be getting close to that point. With every passing second, he only felt weaker, and his legs were threatening to collapse underneath him. Slayer seemed to be doing most of the work keeping him upright.

For a moment, the pain in his neck lessened. Bedman was going to question why he was still alive, until the voice came back.

“I’ve almost finished molding you to suit my needs. There should be plenty of space now. I’d brace yourself. This is going to be rather painful.”

“Hhh…” He gasped, breath hitching from the stabbing feeling. “H-h-how can it hurt any- AAAAAAAGH!”

An acrid smell hit his nostrils a half-second before the awful burning sensation stung his throat so severely that for a moment, he forgot how to breathe. It quickly branched out, replacing all of the weak soreness with burning agony that made every muscle tense up.

Slayer kept his tight grip as he continued to inject whatever it was he had into his blood system, slowly sliding his hand down the boy’s shoulder and to his back to keep him firmly upright. He felt the writhing and spasming, and in turn bit down harder, releasing more venom.

“You’re going to be so much stronger when I’m finished with you. Far sturdier. I can’t have my new protege collapsing on the job, now can I?”

Gradually, the screams of pain faded into broken whimpers. The tears dried out, as there was no energy left to cry. The boy’s arms fell limply at his sides, too weak to attempt to yank or scratch anymore. All that remained were the quiet, shuddery breaths.

Finally releasing his jaws, Slayer leaned back to get a good look. Bedman had gone completely pale aside from the fading pinkish streaks where tears had run down his face. His eyes were misty and faded over, staring at nothing in particular. He was completely limp and slack against the taller man, half-slumped into his arms. The bite marks on his neck were prominent, leaking a small bit of yellowish venom.

“Oh, that was quite the show, dear, but did you have to be so aggressive?” Sharon stepped up to her husband, planting a kiss on his cheek.

“I thought it would be best to get it all over with quickly.” Slayer replied, licking the last of the blood from his lips. “Save time and effort.”

“And explanation, it seems. It’s going to be quite interesting to see how you handle that.”

“Ahh, Sharon. He did agree to it, after all. I think he knew what he was getting into.” He noticed the limp figure twitching against him, eyes rolling back and half-lidded. “It seems as though it’s getting to be a bit too much. Perhaps it would be best to let him rest for now.”

“Hmm, it’s been a while since you’ve tried this. I wonder if it’ll be too strong to handle?”

“Oh, don’t be silly. I’ve fought him before, he’s rather strong. I’m sure it’ll take just fine.”

“He’s positively adorable, dear.” Sharon leaned in to give the boy a small tap on the nose. “I don’t know where you managed to find him.”

“I have my ways.” Slayer shrugged. “To think, perhaps the vampires won’t go extinct, after all. I will likely need to do some more experimentation, but we all start somewhere, no? I don’t need to stir up such a fuss in the world, but I don’t think one more of us will cause too much trouble. It's for the best- for humanity, and for him. He seems better suited to our kind.”

“Well, you are quite right. I just hope he doesn’t die- at least, not right away.”

Sharon walked off, and Slayer returned his attention to his guest. By that point, he was unresponsive, kept in place only by the hands gripping him. The vampire gave him a gentle, sweet smile, tousling lavender hair as the foggy eyes slipped shut.

“Go ahead and sleep, but please don’t take too long. We’re just dying to get to know the newest member of our family…ah. I think I feel a haiku coming on...

A sudden life change,
pain and pleasure intertwine,
I welcome you home.”

Chapter Text

The frigid December breeze was sharp against exposed skin, relentlessly whipping away at anything and everything it could touch. Snowdrifts were piled high and wide along every corner, ankle-deep and powdery. He vaguely recalled something about central Illyrian winters being strong. Not like it did much for him by this point.

Bedman paused for a moment, to hike the worn-down blanket back up on his shaking shoulders. It had been all he could find lying around. He didn’t have any money to his name, so the only option had been scavenging around in the various alleys for discarded trash and improvising.

Apparently, his improvising skills left something to be desired, if the gradually encroaching frostbite and bloody footprints were any indication. The blanket didn’t provide nearly enough warmth, and the cardboard and cloth scraps that he’d manage to tie into makeshift footwear kept slipping and exposing his bare feet to the snow. That was the only part of him that felt anything aside from the cold, as the weight placed on the wounds stung fiercely with each step.

A particularly harsh breeze made him slump slightly against the nearest wall. As it seemed, nobody else was stupid or desperate enough to be out in such weather. In a way, that was just fine with him. Nobody else was around to watch him freeze to death.

He turned, pressing his back against the brick, and slid down. In a last-ditch effort for warmth, he huddled the entirety of his small, scrawny body underneath the fabric in an attempt to hold onto some heat. Doing so still kept his head exposed, though, and he merely stared off into the snow, watching the little puffs of breath as he exhaled and felt it growing colder. Frost had already begun spidering across his lenses.

'All this, all that’s happened, and this is how I die?' He thought, rueful. 'I cheat death time and time again, and the snow is what gets me in the end?'

More and more of him was becoming resigned to the idea. It only seemed more inevitable as the minutes ticked by. Perhaps it was what he deserved. All the harm he had done, it seemed a bit fitting to die in such a manner. He really wasn’t sure how much longer he could last like this. He already felt sleepy, despite knowing that if he succumbed to it, he wasn’t going to wake up again.

“-When Johnny comes marching home, the old ship bell will peal with joy, hurrah, hurrah~!”

“Huh?” The sound caught him by surprise, but he didn’t have the energy to jolt. Instead, he pressed his forehead to his knees and tried to listen.

“To welcome home our darling boy, hurrah, hurrah~!”

It seemed familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it. The cold was messing with his thoughts. Just trying to keep focused felt like it was becoming too difficult.

“The Mayship’s girls and ladies say, with roses they will strew...the way…”

The song petered out awkwardly. There was the faintest sound of footsteps, and they seemed to be approaching.

“H-hey, are you okay? What are you doing out here?” In the normal tone of voice, he recognized her immediately- it was that pirate-girl. He had vague memories of the ship and crew from one fight or another. It all was rather fuzzy aside from that.

A pleasantly warm hand ran its way down the side of his face. Fingers placed themselves under his chin and lifted, exposing him to the cold again.

May. That was her name. He recognized the hair and hat, though a thick woolen scarf and a heavy-looking overcoat had been added to her usual ensemble. Her amber eyes glimmered with worry, but it quickly vanished as soon as he met her gaze.

“Wait a minute, it’s you! I know you!” May pulled back, pointing an accusing finger at him. “You attacked our ship with your freaky mech! Dead-man or bad-man or something!”

'Close enough.' He thought, a bit sharply. This was less than desirable. The pirate had no reason to help him. If anything, she would probably enjoy watching him freeze.

“What are you doing here? Where’s that freaky bed-machine?” The girl demanded. “Come on, answer!”

Bedman wasn’t entirely sure what he was going to say when he opened his mouth, but he did. The sudden influx of cold air down his windpipe only made him gasp and then sneeze, huddling instinctively into the fleeting warmth of the blanket.

Overhead, May’s expression twisted in confusion. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you outside when it’s snowing like this…?”

He couldn’t bring himself to reply. Attempting to huddle had only lead to move shivering against the icy wind, and he could feel teeth grinding as they chattered. It was all on instinct, he couldn’t make himself stop no matter how hard he tried.

Hesitantly, a hand placed itself atop his head. When he managed to look up at May, her features had softened, mixed with a slight bit of concern.

“Well...I guess I can’t just leave you here.” Without looking away, May pulled off her overcoat, immediately shivering as her arms were exposed. “Brr. I hate the cold. But you probably could use this more, huh?”

The coat was tossed over him, and he couldn’t resist a gasp of relief at the lingering warmth. Despite her small size, May scooped him up in a bridal carry, still wrapped up in the coat. In any other scenario, he would have reviled in disgust with the idea, but after feeling almost everything go numb, Bedman more or less burrowed into her grip, absorbing all of the heat that he could manage.

“Just hold on, okay? I’m gonna take you back to the ship. Sephy can look you over. Sound good?”

She was given no reply, as he had already passed out.

When he’d come to, everything felt so warm and cozy that he was pretty sure that he was dead. There wasn’t any conceivable way that anything could be this nice and toasty with the snow coming down so hard. Right?

As the dizziness subsided, he could hear voices nearby. May’s was easily identifiable, but the other only felt vaguely familiar.

“C’mon, May, you know I trust you, but are you being serious right now? Couldn’t he kill us in his sleep, right now?”

“Johnny, please!” May replied, just on the cusp of whining. “He looked so small and cold! Besides, he doesn’t have that big scary machine anymore!”

“That doesn’t matter! I’m a man of chance, and I know when not to take risks. This is a bad idea!”

“U-um, please, if you could quiet down a bit?” A third voice cut in, far softer. “I know you’re worried, Johnny, but he really does need to rest. I-I’d appreciate it if you could, uh, maybe quiet down, just a little? Please.”

The man, Johnny, sighed. “You too, Sephy? Fine. If you really think this won’t end badly…”

“Nghh.” Bedman let out a little groan, trying to sit up. All of the voices went quiet as he did, and once he finally got his eyes open and working, all of them were staring at him.

He glanced at the girl in orange. “May?”

“So you’re awake now?” She grinned. “Good. I was kinda worried when you fell asleep on the way back.”

“Asleep?” Looking down, he found himself sitting on a cot, stacked high with woolen blankets. The area around indicated it to be an infirmary of sorts. “I take it this is the Mayship?”

“I’ll be the one asking questions, alright?” The trench-coated man stepped up, crossing his arms over his chest. “What are you trying to pull? Why’d you come here? What’s your plan?”

“Plan? I have no intentions to cause trouble. It was May’s idea to bring me here.”

“Do you really think I’m gonna believe that? I thought you were supposed to be some sort of genius.”

“Well, um…” May scratched the base of her neck, sheepish. “It was actually my idea.”

“Huh?” Johnny looked at her, shocked. “May, you can’t be serious-”

“I told you, he was cold and alone! He didn’t even have any shoes or anything!” She looked at the floor. “I’m really sorry, Johnny. I know I went a little overboard, but I couldn’t help myself. I thought I could have Sephy look him over and then we could just send him off after that, no problem.”

“May…” The man sighed, shaking his head. “Fine. Fine. He can stay. For now.”

“Yaaaay! You’re the best, Johnny!” May threw her arms around him.

“Stop it, you’re gonna make me blush.” He shook it off, shaking his head again. “So where exactly did you find him again? Where should we drop him?”

“Well, uh, somewhere in Illyria…” She trailed off, looking at the boy on the bed.

“I was in central Illyria, although I don’t exactly have a place of residence.” Bedman replied back. “Simply put, I’m currently homeless, hence why I was out in the weather.”

May’s expression flickered for a moment. “...Homeless?”

“W-well, I suppose I can’t get upset with you for that.” The third girl, Sephy, approached, carrying a glass of some drink. She handed it to him. “It doesn’t seem l-like it was really your fault, in that case. Drink this, please. You need more fluids.”

The boy looked up at her, taking the glass. “Might I ask as to what the effect the weather had on my body?”

“U-uh, um,” Sephy stroked her chin, “minor frostbite, b-but I managed to heal that up alright. Both feet were bleeding, so I wrapped them up. T-they should heal within a couple of weeks, as long as you’re not on your feet too much.”

“I see.” He gave her a polite nod. “Thank you very much, then.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed May and Johnny conversing. He couldn’t tell what it was that they were discussing, but every so often, a glance would be sent in his direction.

“Sephy.” Johnny spoke up, gesturing. “Come here a moment, please.”

“Oh? S-sure.” She turned and sent a glance over one shoulder. “Make sure you drink that!”

He eyed the trio as they spoke, taking little sips from the glass. What an odd sensation. The taste was both sour and sweet at the same time as it slid down his throat. There wasn’t a need for eating in the Backyard. How long had it been since he’d been able to really drink something?

“Alright, alright. Fine.” Johnny stepped back, throwing up his hands. “I’m not saying yes, but I’m not saying no, either.”

“Why not?” May asked, though it sounded teasing. “Is it because he isn’t a girl?”

“N-no! I mean, he is kinda girlish-looking, so not like that really matters-”

“J-Johnny!” Sephy cried, blushing.

“Hey, relax. I’m gonna go find Febe and round up the rest of the girls, see what they think. Sound good?”

“Mmhm.” The two girls nodded, and Johnny turned and left.

“So, might I ask what your little discussion was about?” Bedman asked.

“Oh! Well, y’see…” Sephy wrung her hands together. “May was trying to convince the Captain into letting you stay with us.”

“Stay with you?” He tilted his head. That made very little sense. “Why?”

“You said you were homeless.” May cut in. “The Jellyfish are all about taking in people who need help, so I thought...y’know, why not? We can’t exactly drop you off back in Illyria if you don’t have a place to stay, you’ll just freeze again.”

“While I appreciate the sentiment, I still question the logic. Admittedly, I am already outside the law, as it were, I am no stranger to rule-breaking, but are the Jellyfish Pirates not a girls-only organization?” He couldn’t help but take note of how he had been referred to as ‘girlish-looking.’

“No, actually.” Sephy shook her head, and sat down in a nearby chair. “I mean, Captain Johnny does seem to have a preference, but it seems that it just sort of happened that way. I doubt he’d turn you away just because you’re a boy, if you’re the sort of person who needs a place to stay.”

“But don’t think that gives you the right to cause trouble if he says yes!” Added May, wagging a finger.

Sephy clasped her hands together, smiling. “I think it’d be rather nice to have a new crew member. What’s your name?”

“Uhh, Bad-man, or something.” The girl in orange answered before he had the time to. “It sounds kind of silly, is that your actual name?”

“It’s Bedman, and no.” He huffed a little. “I...will admit, I don’t exactly remember what my name actually is.”

“You don’t know your own name?” May looked incredulous.

“Ever since I was awoken from my deep sleep by the assassin and the robot, my memory has fractured and become rather faulty.” He looked down, staring into the empty glass. “I remember quite a bit, but many things have been lost to me. Perhaps this is what a normal memory is supposed to resemble? Nonetheless, yes, I can’t remember it.”

“Hmm. I suppose you need a new one, then?” The two girls looked at one another. “May?”

“Well, if he’s gonna be a Jellyfish, he’s gotta sound like one!” May seemed to be taking the whole scenario in stride. “Besides, it is December! It fits perfect!

Sephy nodded. “I certainly agree. How about...Decim? Sort of like Octy and Novel’s?”

“I like the sound of that!” May beamed. She put her hands on her hips and looked at Bedman. “So, what do you think? You want to be a Jellyfish?”

As it turned out, scrubbing the side of an airship while traveling at over a hundred kilometers per hour was actually rather difficult. Perhaps doing everything by thought for the longest time made him lose appreciation for the sheer amount of effort such physical tasks required.

Granted, Sephy had told him that he had already done more than enough cleaning and was free to take a break. But he was nothing if not stubborn, and if he wanted to get along with the rest of the pirates, it would do best to make a good impression.

Initially, the reception had been rather tepid. May explained that it was mostly due to the fact that he had attacked the ship before. It made sense, and he had no trouble seeing the logic in their distrust. As for how they had expressed it, though...that was a bit worrying.

“I like his scary eyes! Can I have them?” A tiny girl in red had asked, all but hanging from his sleeve. Apparently such comments were common among that nobody gave it a second look.

“May, are you absolutely sure about this?” Another girl in blue had tried to whisper. “Sure he’s not gonna like, blow our heads up or anything?”

“Absolutely, April! He’ll fit right in, I’m sure of it!”

“If you say so, first mate.” Someone with an eyepatch shrugged, grinning darkly. “If he causes any trouble, we can just toss him over the railing.”

Just the thought of that sent a shudder up his spine, and he scrubbed harder against a stubborn stain.

“Decci! Decci!”

He perked up at the sound of the voice. He started sliding down the side of the turbine, and tried to ignore the sting in his feet as he landed on the deck. The frostbite had been healing, but the bandages had yet to be removed. Sephy had advised him to take care and go easy with the standing, but it hadn’t stopped him from working hard so far.

A familiar red uniform was there to greet him, clutching a stuffed penguin. While March, as she was apparently named, had come across as creepy at first, she nonetheless had a sort of charm to her. Perhaps it was because they shared a penchant for the disturbing, or perhaps it was because he was just something new to play with, but March was always eager to follow him around.

“Hello, March, what do you need?” He reached out to ruffle her pink hair.

“Hehe! Auntie Leap says food’s ready!” She looked up at the turbine he had been cleaning. “Didn’t Sephy tell you not to clean that yet?”

“Ah, yes, well…” He nervously picked at the gray collar of his uniform. “I was hoping I’d be able to impress everyone by doing it early.”

“Decci!” March whined, stamping a foot. “Sephy said no! So come on!” She grabbed him by the hand and began pulling. “It’s food time now!”

“Alright, alright, I’m coming.” For such a small thing, she was awful strong. The again, he could say the same about May. Perhaps it was a trait shared among the Jellyfish?

The dining hall was in full swing by the time the two arrived. As usual, Auntie Leap was at the stove, handing out bowls of whatever the day’s concoction was to the girls as they approached.

“Oh, hello, Decim!” Sephy waved as they approached. “March did end up finding you? I’m glad.”

“Heya, shrimp.” The eyepatched girl, July, sent him a two-fingered salute. “Better be workin’ hard.”

He nodded. “Yes, July. I am. I’m almost finished with the work on turbine four.”

“Turbine four?” Sephy gasped, almost dropping her bowl of stew. “I told you to stop at three today! You need to go easy on your feet so they can heal!”

“Yes, yes, I know.” He waved off her concern. “I know what I’m doing. I will be fine. I need to exceed expectations in order to be a positive contribution to the crew as a whole.”

“Decim.”

“That’s what I told him, Sephy!” March shook her little head. “I told him! He doesn’t listen good.”

“Listen well, and I do just fine.” He stepped away from the group and up to the counter, putting on a smile. “Afternoon, Miss Leap.”

“Hello there, Decim!” The large woman beamed at him, dipping a ladle into the pot. “I told you, call me Auntie! Everyone does. Now, are you getting along well with the girls?”

“Er...somewhat.” He glanced off.

“Ahh, well, all I can ask you to do is try! They’re all sweethearts, I promise. They’ve just gotta warm up to you, is all!” She grabbed a bowl and filled it to the top, then thrust it into his hands. “Now go on, eat up! You’re such a small thing! I swear I can count your ribs just by looking at you.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” As he walked away, he tried to pull the shirt’s hem down. Due to his short height, it functioned fine and covered everything, but it still left little to the imagination at times, especially while in motion. He wasn’t going to complain about the skirt, though. In all honesty, he was rather grateful that nobody batted an eye at him wearing it. The gray color was nice and neutral, and it was far more comfortable than the pants July and the others preferred. It suited him all just fine.

“Hey, Decim! Come on over!” May waved, gesturing at an empty seat next to her.

“Greetings, May.” He placed the bowl down and smoothed out the skirt as he sat. “How are you faring?”

“...I’m good!” She blurted out, after taking the time to figure out what exactly ‘faring’ meant. That had come up quite a lot. May didn’t seem accustomed to many of the words he tended to use, but they made it work. Like many things regarding his joining of the crew, it was a work in progress.

“Glad to hear.” He nodded in reply and began on the soup. Eating had been getting easier as well. There was definitely an air of oddness to the whole thing still, but it felt a lot more calm and normal when doing it with a group.

“Hey, newbie.” Augus made a ‘come hither’ motion with a finger. “Did you get around to cleaning up the weapons barrack?”

He felt the color leaving his face. “That was my job?”

May groaned a little. “Come on, Augus, be nice.” She turned to him. “No, Decim, it wasn’t your job. She’s just messing with you. Besides, you’re already overworking as it is.”

“Oh, you noticed?” He replied, with a hint of eagerness. “Excellent, I hope I’m leaving a good impression-”

“Are you seriously still doing that?” A look of disappointment crossed her features. “You already got pardoned, you don’t need to prove anything-”

He sent her a look. “You say that, but many of the crew members seem to still treat my presence with wariness or hostility. I’d like to remedy that by showing my desire to contribute.”

“What do you mean? You seem to be getting along with them, for the most part! I’ve seen you talking to Sephy and March all the time!” She gestured to his hair, tied back in a small tail with a slate-colored ribbon. “Sephy gave that to you, didn’t she?”

“Hmm, this? Yes.” He felt along the trailing end of the ribbon, smiling a little. “But still, I’d like to be on good terms with the rest of the crew. I feel as though I’m not truly part of the Jellyfish yet, no matter how much I work. I know it’s only been a few weeks, but...”

May tapped her chin and sat back in thought. “Let’s see...so overworking yourself to exhaustion isn’t an option, firstly. Hmm…”

“Oh, ohhh!” From behind, March jumped up and wrapped her sleeves around his neck. That still took him by surprise every time.

“M-March please get off I can’t breathe-”

“Moo-ral!” The little girl shouted, releasing her grip. “Maaaaay let’s show him the moo-ral!”

“Moo...the mural, right!” May banged a fist on the table, making stew splatter. She paid it no mind. “We didn’t show him the mural yet!”

“Mural?” He asked. “I presume it’s related to the various graffitis made around the ship’s exterior?”

“Kinda, sorta.” May grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him out of the chair. “Come on! I’ll show you!”

It seemed that grabbing and pulling was a common method of communication around here. Maybe it was just with him, though. With how strong and fast the Jellyfish were, perhaps he was just having trouble with keeping up.

The Mayship was absolutely massive, he’d realized that very quickly. Despite his excess work, he hadn’t seen nearly all of it. As May dragged him to who-knew-where, he spotted a large tank containing a dolphin.

“Question, why is there a dolphin on an airship?”

“Ohhh, Mr. Dolphin! Hiya!” May raised her free hand to wave at the animal. “He’s my friend. Very nice guy, you should get to know each other! Have a nice chat!”

“May, I’m not sure how good at conversation a dolphin would be.” Even with living on the ship for a while, he still didn’t get the way that the first mate thought. It puzzled him very much.

As they neared the nose of the Mayship, the red metal and industrial markings painted on were overtaken and swallowed up by a pastiche of colors and designs. It was common to spot such graffiti all over the ship, but this was far larger than anything he had seen before.

Just by analysis, it was easy to tell that different parts of the massive mural had been painted by different hands. He recognized Janis’ paws tracking out a pattern, May’s somewhat sloppy but enthusiastic hearts, April’s pointed and precise-handed flowers, Sephy’s loose and flowing willow tree, Novel’s elaborate gears and cogs, March’s jagged and drippy eyes, and Johnny’s smooth, vibrant rose, among others. It all detailed around large white letters, spelling ‘JELLYFISH’ in the center.

“Wow…” The size was astounding, as was the intermingling of styles and the effort put into each. There was something different to see everywhere he looked.

“It’s cool, right?” Asked May, who somehow had managed to get March hanging off of her arm again. Goodness, she was fast for a little thing. “Everyone adds something to the mural!” She pointed to something he hadn’t noticed before, a pair of mismatched wings spread wide. “That one was Dizzy’s. She left long before you, though.”

“Dizzy, huh?” The name seemed vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t recall. Instead, his attention was stolen by several cans of paint that had been left by the base of the mural. “I think I know what you’re getting at.”

“Yep!” The girl smiled. “I want you to scrub the whole thing down and clean it up!”

His expression fell. “Oh.”

“Ahh, that was a joke!” She leaned over and gave him a light punch to the shoulder. “You’re really bad at sarcasm, Decim! Of course I want you to paint something, don’t be ridiculous! You’re one of us now!”

“I see. Right.” A little flustered by the exchange, he stepped up and looked for a blank spot on the metal. He spotted one at about shoulder height. “So, what do I paint?”

“Anything you want! Pick something that everyone would be able to tell you made! Something that just screams ‘you.’”

“Hmm. Something that screams ‘me’?” He stroked his chin in thought, looking over the paint cans. A drum containing dark purple was grabbed from the available cans, along with a brush. That part was easy enough. Purple and gray were his favorites. Now came the hard part.

The tip of a paintbrush hovered over the metal, and he could feel May and March’s stares boring into him. Every idea for a drawing that had come to mind were terrible. All of it was violent or disturbing- blood and nightmares and suffering. Sure, March probably wouldn’t have minded, but he’d been spending all of this time trying to forget the past and move on. How could he if something like that was all he could think of when it came to himself?

“Hey, May!” He could hear Augus approaching, and with the second pair of footfalls, he presumed July was with her. “You ran out on lunch, something going on?”

“Hey there, guys! I was just showing Decim the mural! He’s gonna make an addition!”

“Oh~?” A few more steps, and he felt July’s stare looking over him. “You’re gonna make us a painting, shrimp?”

“Ideally, yes.” He replied, keeping the answer short. “I’m still not sure what of, though.”

“Well, don’t stay there all day, your feet will fuse to the floor.” Augus quipped.

“Or worse,” July added, “it’ll get super boring and we all fall asleep.”

Sleep. He was amazed with how much some of them enjoyed sleeping. He didn’t think he’d ever like the idea of sleep again. Too much of his his life had been wasted doing that. Too many unpleasant memories.

“Sleepy-time, sleepy-time!” March shouted. “I can count the sheep!”

Sheep?

Thinking back, he had a vague recollection of some sort of sheep summon- hemi-jack, wasn’t it? Something to do with nightmares. It was intended as an attack, but sometimes, when there was nobody around to talk to, he could just summon it and have it listen- even if it didn’t have free will and couldn’t really listen, anyway. He’d held on to an affinity for sheep since then. There was just something so endearing about the fluffy coats.

Without really thinking about what he was doing, the paintbrush met the wall and began stroking, little violet curves bunched together in a cloud-like body.

“Ohhh, it looks fluffy!” March said.

All of the strokes were short and a little jagged. Fine-motor coordination was a skill that was hard to relearn when you were basically in a coma for the last few...well, who even knew how long. Still, there was determination. When the cloud was finished, pointy little horns were added to the head, and tiny hooves poked out from underneath.

“I think I’m done.”

“Let me see!” May stepped up. “Oh, it’s cute! You drew a little sheep?”

He nodded. “I like them.”

“It looks great! You did a good job!”

“Well, well.” Augus nodded in approval. “Not too shabby.”

“Decci, Decci!” March tugged on his arm. “Draw me one later, okay? Draw me a creepy sheepy!”

“I will admit,” July shrugged with a smile, “it’s kinda cute, in a shrimpy sorta way. Just like you, Decim.”

“Really?” He smiled, before realizing. “Wait a minute. July, you called me De-”

“C’mere, dork!” In a flash, July looped an arm around his throat and dragged him into a playful headlock. “Jellyfish rite of passage!”

He couldn’t help but smile, despite the splitting pain in his skull. While he struggled to break free of the headlock, March and Augus had gone over to the paint buckets and grabbed brushes of their own.

“Hey, First Mate!” Augus called to May, brandishing her brush. “Decim’s got us in a painting mood, mind if the two of us add more stuff?”

“Sure! I kinda want to now, too…” She conceded, shrugging.

“Ehh, well this is rare.” July broke off from grinding her knuckles into the hapless boy’s scalp to put a hand on her hip. “Not often we get group activities. I think ya just started something, kid.”

“Hey, yeah!” Augus was already busying herself with painting a portrait of Janis. “Everyone should still be in the mess hall, but I think Novel’s in her workshop. Anyway, why don’t we ask who’s up to join in?”

May nodded. “Great idea!”

After several minutes of asking around, May and July returned with the rest of the crew, who seemed more than happy to cut lunch short in favor of the impromptu group activity. The deck became a hub of activity, with girls bantering and chattering cheerfully.

With the amicable atmosphere, Decim found himself chatting with people he’d barely spoken to before. Octy asked for assistance with her trajectory calculations while the two of them worked on painting a whale together. Febe provided some hair-cutting tips while she doodled out a cake slice, and offered to teach him how to braid. Novel and April traded jokes, eventually pulling out so many cheesy puns that he couldn’t hold his brush straight.

For the most part, though, it was very friendly and relaxed...at least until Novel’s mech accidentally dropped a bucket of orange on June while its pilot was trying to paint an anatomically-correct grandfather clock. After that, more paint was thrown than actually used for painting. Despite the sudden change, he took it in stride, throwing palmfuls of paint at anyone who came near, not even caring that his own clothing was smeared in three different colors. Everyone was content with dousing one another in dye, not caring about who saw, at least until the noise attracted Johnny...to which everyone proceeded to direct their paint-throwing at their captain.

“Hey, hey, alright.” The man spoke sternly, despite the amusement on his face. “Look at you! This is gonna be one big laundry load, I hope you’re prepared to help with the chores.”

“Yes, Johnny.” The group replied all at once, still a bit exhilarated by the past few minutes’ events.

“Good.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Now go wash off, you’re all dirty.”

Nobody disagreed with him at all.

“Haha, that was so fun, Decci!” March babbled excitedly as he scrubbed the paint out of her hair. “We made such a mess!”

The communal washroom was another thing that he was learning to work with. It had been a bit awkward at first, but in the end, both he and the girls decided that trying to avoid one another was too much effort and just all showered together. Besides, it was one more person to help deal with March, and she was a notoriously fussy bather.

“Very messy, March. Please hold still.” He took a sponge and began wiping off more green paint that had been splattered down her back.

“Yeah, you got more paint on you than anyone!” July added, currently busy with scrubbing the girl’s other side. “You weren’t supposed to dump the bucket on yourself, ya know!”

“But it was so fuuun!” March protested, kicking her bare feet. “Why can’t we do that all the time?”

“March, you can’t always just play around, there’s work to be done.”

“Come on! You should have more fun anyway, Decci! Sephy says you work too much!”

“Hmm…” He tapped his chin. “How about this: spend more time on your chores, and I’ll try not to work as hard.”

The pink-haired girl pinched her face in thought, then thrust an arm out. “Deal!”

“Aww…” July sighed, leaning back against the washroom wall. “It was so much fun having someone to order around.”

“July, you’re such a meanie!” In a movement neither of them seemed to see coming, March jumped up and put July in a headlock of her own, gripping on tightly. “Say you’re sorry!”

The eyepatched girl laughed a bit, intermixed with a wince. “Ow, ow, okay, I’m sorry, man. It was just too much fun messing with you- ow, March!”

“Hmph!” The girl let go, satisfied and smiling.

“Sheesh, you’ve got March on your side, you lucky little shi- dude. She’s ruthless.” July smirked, rubbing her neck.

“Yeah!” March threw a tiny fist in the air. “Anyone mean to Decci gets their eyes stolen!”

Before he could mention how the said eye-stealing would probably make things worse, Octy scooted up, followed behind by June. “Decim!”

“Huh? Oh, hello, Octy. Need something?”

“June and I are gonna work on the navigation plans for when we cross over Germany. Mind lending a hand? We’re gonna play chess afterwards!”

He smiled at the two. “Of course. Sounds fun! I’ll stop by after I finish cleaning off.”

Far too long after the girls left did he realize what had just happened. Turning a little red, he covered his face with his hands.

“Ahh! Decci, Decci, you’re making friends!” March said, far too loudly. “May’s gonna be so happy!”

“Well, um, if you say so…” He couldn’t even manage a convincing tone in his flustered state. Not only had someone just asked him for his help, but they had invited him to chess! Though he knew little about having friends, this seemed like a very friend-ish thing to do. In any case, people desired his company, which was something that he was very unused to. It was a nice feeling.

It was an odd arrangement, that was for certain. But he had no intention to complain. The Jellyfish had given him a new place to live, a new name, a new life. He couldn’t have asked for anything more. Though it seemed that he had managed to avoid death in the garden, perhaps that wasn't necessarily true. Bedman had died, but Decim still walked free, happier than he ever thought he would be in his life.

Before long, he was practically family to them, a common sight around the ship like any of the other girls, just as much a Jellyfish as any of his newfound friends were. A pleasant feeling seemed to settle over him and the crew. For the first time in a long time, he could relax, knowing that there were people who genuinely cared about him, and a place where he was always welcome.

This was a nice feeling. It felt like home.

Chapter Text

Asuka R. Kreutz considered himself a patient man. He considered himself a logical man. Over a hundred years filled with magic, Gears, and war had lead him to believe that he had become a calm and tolerant person.

Still, there were other times where he could swear that he was nothing more than a cosmic babysitter for three overgrown children. Well, sometimes four, when that mouthy British kid appeared out of nowhere, as he was prone to do.

At the very least, Jack-O had an excuse, back when she was still around. She pretty much was a child, about half the time. Still, her childishness was cheerful and friendly. Perhaps that’s why he missed her so much in the aftermath of Justice’s almost-rebirth. Perhaps part of it was that he missed Aria almost as much as Sol did, too.

So here he was, stuck in an empty white void with three noisy guests, whose antics were making it nigh-impossible to get any work done.

“Come on, kiddo, don’t you want to play a game?” I-no, lascivious as always, wore a seductive smirk.

“Absolutely not! The last time I went along with what you wanted, you threw me across a room!” Their most recent occupant was currently propping up a napping Raven to be used as a makeshift meat-shield. Under I-no’s gaze, he looked equal parts annoyed and terrified.

“Don’t be so shy, it’ll be fun!” The red-clad woman strummed a fret on Marlene, releasing a shockwave that the half-conscious Raven did an adequate job guarding from.

“Mmm, yes, yes…” The immortal murmured sleepily. “Hit me harder…”

“Ugh…” Asuka groaned, once again distracted from the energy readings he was trying to study. It seemed like it was impossible for the three of them to be quiet for more than a minute at best.

Raven was the only one of the three who wouldn’t be guaranteed to cause problems if sent off. Even then, he was still prone to causing a panic with his tendency to get involved in accidents for the sake of his own pain. Otherwise, I-no was far too prone to running around and causing destruction, and even within the confines of the blank white world, it was difficult to keep an eye on Bedman due to his frequent escape attempts.

Taking a deep breath, Asuka tried to focus on his work again. Keeping them where they were was the best option. And at the very least, it wasn’t going to get any worse.

“‘Ello, everyone!” Axl’s voice echoed in the empty space, accompanied by the warp of a time portal.

“Alright, that’s it.” Dispersing his notes, Asuka turned around and tried to stifle the irritation as best he could manage.

I-no looked him over lazily. “What’s up with you?”

“Look. I have quite a bit of work to do, and I’m having trouble getting anything done with your chatter.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. “Please. Do you think you could just find a place to be for the afternoon so I can focus?”

Bedman gave him a skeptical look. “You trust me with that? Wasn’t there some point to keeping me trapped in this blank hellscape?”

“I know, I- I just need an afternoon. One afternoon of quiet, without any of you causing trouble. No fires, no blowing up cities, no alterations to the timeline, no homicides, and no letting Raven throw himself off a cliff again. Just find something quiet and low-key to do. Can you manage that? Please?”

The ragtag trio looked at one another, with Raven still half-asleep. Reluctantly, I-no grumbled. “Fine. I’m sure there’s something interesting to do.”

“Good. Wonderful.” Asuka nodded gratefully, feeling relief wash over him. “Just a few hours, I promise.”

“Whatever. Come on, boys. Let’s go find something interesting.” Tearing open a portal, I-no grabbed Raven by the leg and hopped into the vortex, followed by Bedman and a very confused Axl.

“As much as I appreciate not being dropped in the middle of the mountains, why Illyria, of all places?”

“Can it, Bed-brat.” I-no dropped Raven on the cobble roughly, resulting in another pleasured moan. “It seemed like the best option.”

“I’m still not entirely sure how I’m involved in this.” Admitted Axl, looking around awkwardly.

“That Man needed some quiet time and told us to go play somewhere else. And you’re noisy.” The woman didn’t look at any of them, opting to analyze her perfectly-painted nails. “Dull as it sounds, I guess it’s doable.”

“Says the one who finds common amusement in wanton destruction.” Bedman sent her a half-glare.

“Oh, you hear something?” Sarcastically, she cupped a hand around her ear. “It sounds like a pot, calling the kettle black.”

“Oi, both of you calm down.” The Brit stepped between the two, shaking his head. “We promised not to cause anything.”

The two scowled at each other, but fortunately didn’t say anything. On the cobble, Raven was slowly coming to, glancing around in puzzlement with his mismatched eyes.

“What year is it now?”

“You were only asleep for three hours, Raven.” I-no sent him a look, as though she were resisting the urge to grind him into the ground with a boot. “Still the same year.”

“That’s pretty vague.” He yawned, scratching the skin at the base of his head-spike. “Half the time I think it’s still the 13th century.”

“Architecture might look medieval, but it sure as hell isn’t the 13th century.” Axl replied, shaking his head. “Anyway, so what’s on the agenda?”

“Agenda?” Asked Raven. “...Did you annoy That Man again?”

“Yep.” I-no crossed her arms. She looked out across the quiet district streets. “Now we gotta find something to do for an afternoon until he cools down.”

“Goodness, I knew sleeping was a bad idea. You two need to stop getting into so much trouble.”

“In my defense,” Bedman cut in, “most of what I do is in response to I-no’s actions. I’d behave better if she wasn’t so provoking.”

Axl threw up his arms and cleared his throat. “Alright. Sitting here and complaining isn’t going to accomplish anything. I might as well stick around. Besides, I think the lil fella needs an adult who doesn’t toss himself under buses or wander around practically half-naked.”

I-no smirked. “Says the man in those shorts.”

“Listen, I’m pretty sure I’m the only one here who hasn’t caused a wide-scale disaster.”

“I could argue that.” She shrugged casually. “Don’t care if you stick around or not, I’m not your mommy.”

“Good. Great. Excellent.” Axl already sounded worn out. He clasped his hands together. “So. Let’s just try and find somewhere to be that doesn’t involve the police or anything explosive.”

“So what do you suggest, then?” Asked Bedman, crossing his arms.

“Look, how about we just go take a wander around and see if we find anything interesting. Sound good?”

“Wait a minute.” I-no sent them an incriminating look. “Who decided Casanova is in charge?”

“What, you want an election or something?”

“Yeah. Sure. Who’s in charge, boys?”

“Axl.” Bedman replied immediately.

“Axl.” Agreed Raven, looking amused.

“Aaaand that’s three, then.” The Brit smirked, shrugging good-naturedly. “Can’t argue with democracy.”

The woman scowled darkly, taking on the look of someone who wasn’t long from being released from court on technically unprovable murder charges. After a few moments, her glare was directed at the smallest among them.

“Fine. Need to find the brat a leash, first. Otherwise he’ll wander off.”

“Are you serious?!” Her comment was met with an admittedly rather immature look of irritation. “Why do you insist on treating me like some kind of child?”

“One, your expression right now.” I-no ticked off on her fingers. “And two, you’ve spent almost the entire time with us trying to escape. Trust me, if you could see yourself right now, you’d agree. You’re probably the most annoying piece of jailbait I’ve ever met, and that’s saying something.”

The anger was replaced with confusion. “Jail...bait?”

Another scoff. “Read my mind, genius. I know you can.”

Axl gave her a look of dismay. “Come on, he doesn’t need to know-”

“I can't do that.” Bedman replied. “So it really would be easier if you could explain.”

“Wait...so you’re saying you can’t read minds?” She tilted her head, wearing another dirty look.

“Not anymore, no.” A moment later, he glared at I-no. “I request that you cease imagining whatever lewd thoughts you’re having about me. I have seen more than enough of them, and I swear some of the things I saw could put someone in jail. Some of the things you people think made me seriously consider finding pants, and I hate pants.”

“Oh?”

A haunted expression crossed his face. “I never knew what a shotacon was until...you know what, let’s not talk about this anymore. I don’t want to imagine throwing up on an empty stomach.”

“Lunch! Brilliant idea.” Axl snapped his fingers. “Anyone up for food?”

“That sounds nice.” Raven nodded. “I’d prefer it to be strong, though, or else I can’t taste it.”

“I’m sure we can find something. Might as well go take a look around!”

At that, it seemed like the matter was decided. Axl picked a direction and walked off, followed reluctantly by I-no. Raven took notice of the still hollow-eyed and pale-faced Bedman and looped an arm around his waist, easily picking him up and carrying him under one arm as he jogged off to catch up with the others.

“Huh.” Remarked I-no. “Finally found a way to shut him up.”

“Oh, you shut up.” The boy snapped. “You try hearing everyone else’s thoughts for a while and then come out completely sane.”

“Yeesh, I get it. Mind is a terrible thing to read, or whatever.”

“Do I hear fighting back there?” Axl called over his shoulder. Two minutes into the ‘leader’ role, and he already sounded like a disappointed dad.

“No.” The two replied in unison.

“I have always wondered what went on in your mind, I-no.” Raven confessed.

“Imagine the world’s most grotesque porn show.” Bedman replied, visibly unimpressed. “Most of it’s on fire, too. Just about everything has been put into some orifice at some point.”

I-no quirked an eyebrow. “‘Just about’ everything? Not just ‘everything?’”

“Yes.”

“Huh. Maybe I am going celibate.”

“I-no, please compose yourself.” Raven chided, almost playfully. “There are children around.”

The guitarist rolled her eyes. “You of all people do not get to tell me that.”

“I at least know when to rein it in. There’s more to life than sex, you know.”

“You sound boring.”

“That, coming from someone so single-faceted?”

The witch glared. “Listen up, you freak. I know 85 bondage positions and I’m gonna put you in all of them. With barbed wire.”

“Mmm.” Raven licked his lips, shuddering in delight. “Sounds lovely. Let’s save that for dessert, though, shall we?”

“You are both disgusting.” Bedman, still in Raven’s tight grip, had taken on the pallor of moulding cheese. “If you’re going to engage in such lewd conversation, can I request that you put me down first?”

“Oh. Ah…” Raven moved to put the boy down, but seemed to get an idea. Instead, he easily hefted him over his head. Bedman immediately started wriggling in the older man’s grasp, shouting in panic.

“AGH! PUT ME DOWN PUT ME DOWN PUT ME DOWN YOU AGGRAVATING PILE OF- !”

He immediately silenced as he was placed on Raven’s shoulders. He looked a bit panicked at first, grabbing onto the man’s throat so harshly that it probably would have choked a regular person to avoid falling off. After realizing he wasn’t going to slide off, he relaxed a little, sitting up.

“You alright up there?” Asked Raven, head turned carefully so he wouldn’t impale the boy with the end of his horn.

“I...I’m so...tall.” Dark eyes twinkled with awe. “I...like being tall.”

I-no stifled a snicker. “Wow, you really are eight years old.”

Fortunately, for once I-no’s remarks didn’t manage to incite him. Instead, a mischievous smile crossed his face. “Well, at least I don’t have to walk like you do. Cobblestone is unpleasant when one has to walk around barefoot.”

Raven began walking again, earning him another accidental choking from the sudden movement, but he didn’t even react. He spotted Axl up ahead. He eyed them with disappointment once again, but there was an undeniable hint of amusement mixed with it.

“You three done yet?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Raven offered a little smirk of his own.

“Dunno why I even bother. Anyway, I spotted a nice-looking little tavern up ahead, that sound good?”

“Hey,” I-no shrugged, “as long as they have a high chair for the kid.”

“I hate you, witch. So much.”

After several minutes of waiting, several odd looks from the wait staff, and at least three attempts to separate Raven and Bedman without accidentally crippling the latter in some form, things actually managed to quiet down a bit as they settled down at a booth and started looking over menus.

“Well, at least they have a decent amount of booze. Spending the day with you three, I’m certainly going to need it.” I-no casually flipped through the menu.

Axl shook his head. “You’re not getting alcohol.”

“Listen here, blondie.” She grit her teeth. “I’m not getting paid to babysit. You can’t tell me what to do.”

“Very mature comeback, miss I-no, I’m highly impressed.” Bedman replied flatly.

“Oh, go back into another coma, you twerp.”

“Aaaaanyway,” Axl butted in before the two could start attempting to maul one another. “Aside from the drinks, what are you guys getting?”

“Steak, probably. I don’t care. You’re the one paying for this, right?”

“Eh...w-well yeah, I-no, I guess I am, but-”

“Steak it is, then.”

“Ugh…” Quickly turning away and rubbing his temples to stave off the oncoming headache, he looked over at Raven. “What about you?”

Raven shook his head. “Taste is of no consequence. Do you think I could convince them to serve me as tomorrow's pan-seared special?” A manic smile split his face.

“Sit down, ya bloody weirdo.” Axl reached over to push Raven back into his chair. “We can get’cha something hot ‘n spicy, but you sure as hell aren’t going in the oven.”

“Good enough~”

“Jesus- what about you, kiddo? And please, don’t say ‘people’ or anything, one of you has to be normal.”

“Mmph.” Bedman was hunched down in his chair, practically glaring at the menu in his hands.

“Uhh...kid? Everything alright?”

Offering barely even an aside glance at Axl, the boy let out a weak groan and let his head bang on the table.

“I don’t remember what anything tastes like.”

“Wait, wh-”

“I forgot what food tastes like.”

“Did I really just hear that right?” I-no offered an incredulous look. “He’s joking, right?”

“No, I am not joking.” Bedman propped himself up on his arms, glaring at nothing in particular. “Of all the memories to lose, I forget what food is supposed to taste like.”

Axl looked horrified. “What the hell was That Man doing, not feeding you?”

“Not really a necessity there, as far as I know. Never felt hungry.”

“Good lord,” The Brit covered his face with a hand, “and they say I’d be a shit parent. So did he do anything besides stick you in a void with nothing to do?”

Bedman shrugged. “Not really. Said I needed to be isolated for safekeeping.”

“Oh, for the love of-” Axl leaned back in his seat, throwing his arms skywards. “Punishment, I get, but he’s a goddamn kid! Might as well just stick him in a box underground-”

“Can it, Low.” I-no suddenly hissed. “People are staring.”

He sat back up, realizing the numerous heads that he’d managed to turn. “Oh.” He sank back behind his menu. “Macaroni. We’re getting you macaroni. And a child custody lawsuit.”

In an attempt to divert the odd looks, the next few minutes were spent in complete quiet, only briefly broken when the waitress came to take everyone’s orders.

“It’s bad enough that I’m back around here, with the rest of you here, I’m practically asking for the authorities to show up.” Bedman muttered to himself.

“Hey, what’d I do?” Axl sounded genuinely hurt.

“At least you’re the only one who isn’t wanted, but you have too many connections. Statistically speaking, we are bound to encounter someone who knows you.”

“Jeez, kid.” I-no rolled her eyes. “Do you always have to be such a wet-blanket?”

Raven offered a cheery smile. “Don’t worry! If the police show up, I’ll be more than happy to get stabbed!”

Bedman looked at him, disgusted. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“Ah, I remember back when they had firearms…” Already, Raven was off in another wistful fantasy. “No feeling like getting a bullet in the lung...ahahaha…”

Axl sent a look of alarm to I-no. “How do you make him shut up?!”

“Raven.” The witch grabbed her colleague by the horn and glared at him. “Shut your mouth before That Man sticks us in that bland white hellscape and never lets us out.”

“Food’s here!” A cheery-looking waitress arrived at the table, carrying a steaming tray. “Everyone ready?”

“Oh, thank God…” Axl murmured under his breath. “I thought we were going to jail…”

“Let’s see, steak for the lovely lady, roast for the blonde, the super-spicy plate for…” She trailed off, staring at Raven with an odd expression.

“Low, get ready to run.” I-no whispered through gritted teeth. “She’s gonna scream.”

“Ahh! I absolutely love your cute horn, mister!” She squealed excitedly. “So stylish! Is this a new fashion trend?”

Axl and I-no exchanged dumbstruck looks while Raven offered a smile. “I suppose you could say that. It’s difficult to get it in place, though, I definitely don’t recommend it.”

The waitress nodded. “Oh, definitely! It wouldn’t look very good on me. Besides, I think it’d bump on everything while I was working. It looks super cool on you, though!”

She suddenly seemed to remember the task that she was in the middle of, and went pink. “Ahh, my bad! So sorry! And the house macaroni and cheese for your son.”

“We’re-” Axl only managed to get the first word out before the waitress was gone. “Not...his…”

“Well, we basically are.” I-no shrugged, reaching over to ruffle the boy’s hair as he made an indignant noise.

“Yeah, but…”

“If anything, you’re more like bizarre, ethically-questionable uncles.” Bedman shook off I-no’s hand and smoothed his hair back into place. “Technically, you’re adults capable of guardianship. The question not currently being asked, however, is if you should be.”

“I’m an uncle!” Axl threw his hands up again, seemingly having ignore the entire last half of what Bedman had said. “Finally! Chief doesn’t like it when I say that around lil Sin.”

I-no rolled her eyes. “I dunno why you like that idiot kid so much. He’s got the brains and looks of a goat.”

“Oi, the kid’s what, five? Back off!”

“Hmph. Suit yourself.”

Bedman sent Raven a pleading look, but was only met with another pat to the head.

“Eat your lunch...nephew.”

“...I despise each and every one of you.” Grumbling irritably, he grabbed the fork in the sort of manner that one would do if they had never seen a fork in their life, and jabbed at his plate.

“As much of a grump as That Man can be, I’m sure he’s calmed down by now.” Said I-no, as she picked up the steak knife.

Axl smirked. “What, aren’t you having fun?”

“Hardly. I have better things to be doing than playing nanny for a group of immature boys.”

While the two of them continued to bicker, Raven sent an aside glance over the table. He reached across, nudging the fork that Bedman was unsuccessfully trying to use.

“What, pray tell, are you doing?” An annoyed glare was sent in his direction.

“You’re holding it wrong.”

Bedman continued to scowl, flushing red in embarrassment. Before he could say anything, Raven threw up a hand. “I’m not trying to mock you. I’m only trying to assist.”

The immortal picked up his own fork holding it in demonstration. “Like this, see?”

“I have a difficult time trying to not see this as a mocking gesture.”

“I’m well accustomed to having to learn and adapt to new technologies with the passage of time. This isn’t too dissimilar, no?”

“Hmm, that- that’s actually a rather insightful thought.” Bedman looked as though he was going to be annoyed, but was quickly caught up in his own thoughts. While he was distracted, Raven grabbed his hand and oriented it properly. “Oh. Um, thank you?”

“No trouble at all.”

A faint smile crossed the boy’s face, but it vanished immediately when he spotted I-no and Axl looking at each other in panic.

“Is something wrong?”

I-no’s eyes flicked away. “The waitress…”

A second server was chatting with theirs, sending a horrified look towards the group. Whatever she was saying must have been terrible, as the waitress’ puzzled expression soon matched that of the second.

Axl slowly turned to the group. “...Run.”

Before the waitress could even say ‘excuse me, mister,’ they were already clambering out the open window. Bedman didn’t have enough time to react, so Raven merely grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and dragged him along as they all started sprinting down the road.

“My macaroni…”

“Alright, so that was a disaster.”

Axl was hunched over, breathing heavily from the last ten minutes of running. “The hell do you think that was about?”

“I dunno. Either they recognized one of us from the wanteds, or they realized that Raven’s got a spike through his head and freaked out.” I-no slumped against the alley wall, arms crossed.

“I didn’t even get to taste it…”

In spite of his tiredness, Axl reached over to offer Bedman a pat on the head. “It’s okay. I can get’cha some another time, okay?”

“I think the food is the least of our concerns right now.”

“Hush up, you red bint. I wanted that roast.” Axl scowled. “I guess at least I didn’t have to pay for it.”

Raven looked equally morose. “I wanted to burn my tongue off..."

“U-um, uh…” Axl turned his head, trying to find something. He jogged to the mouth of the alley. His expression lit up. “Hey, we may not be able to have lunch, but how about a treat? There’s a candy shop right down the way!”

That immediately made the dull mood lessen. Perhaps they really were that hungry, or perhaps everyone was just hoping that something would go right today. Either way, the rest of the group ran to catch up with Axl.

“Ohhh!” Raven’s eyes were shining as he licked his lips. “I hope they have marzipan! I haven’t had it in over a century!”

“Well, suppose we can take a look!” Axl seemed glad to have lifted the mood, and pointed towards the shop. “C’mon, then!”

Though the other two looked a bit less enthused, they followed behind the first and entered the confectioners. Bright trays of sweets and candies lines almost every surface, and the air was thick with the scent of sugar and vanilla.

Almost immediately, Raven made a beeline for one of the cases. He was already drooling by the time his spike tip scraped against the glass.

“Marzipan!” He cried. “Rolled in sugar! It looks so good…”

“Oi, don’t scratch it all up.” Axl pulled the man back slightly to he wasn’t pressed so close to the display. He glanced at his other companions. “You guys can go take a look around if you want, but don’t go outside!”

I-no rolled her eyes, wandering off into the aisles. Sugar could be nice sometimes, but she wasn’t extremely into candy in general. Instead of browsing for something tasty, she entertained herself by trying to find candies in suggestive shapes. Someone at the taffy-makers’ must have either had a very naughty imagination or was the most unlucky sap to ever set foot in a kitchen.

Rounding the corner, she noticed Bedman looking at a display of candy sticks. It was hard to tell from a distance, but as she approached, she noticed an almost longing expression on his face as he stared.

“What, you broke or something?” She spoke up, making him jump. “They cost like, a dollar. Or did you forget what this stuff tastes like, too?”

“Actually, I remember these perfectly.”

I-no put a hand on her hip and raised an eyebrow. “Eh?”

He pointed to a jar of red sticks. “Delilah liked that flavor best. I’m not sure if I remember every detail, but...on fridays, mom and dad put a dollar in our lunches and told us we could use it for whatever we wanted. The two of us went to the cornerstore after school and bought snacks. Delilah always got a raspberry stick. I could never pick a favorite, so I got a different flavor every time.”

The witch was going to roll her eyes at the sentiment, at least until she notice the boy’s teary eyes. “You’re not gonna cry, are you?”

“N-no.” He furiously rubbed at his eyes. “It’s stupid. It’s a stupid memory, and it doesn’t matter. I-I shouldn’t-”

Despite his words, he continued to stand there, sniffling. I-no watched the somewhat pitiful sight, not saying a thing. Without changing her expression, she reached over, grabbed the entire jar of raspberry sticks, and turned back towards the counter, boots clunking loudly.

Axl turned to the sound, and watched her with confusion. “The hell you doing? I hope you aren’t gonna use those for what I think you are.”

“The brat wanted candy, I thought I could shut him up with it.” I-no dropped the jar on the counter. “I’m buying all of these.”

The cashier girl sent her a slightly odd look, but went to the register. “17 world dollars, please.”

The witch pulled a stack of bills from her back pocket and slapped it on the countertop. Immediately after, she turned back around with the jar and shoved it into the boy’s hands. “Don’t eat ‘em all at once, you’ll throw up.”

Axl seemed to have already figured it out, and wore a wry smile. “So you do have a soft side, eh?”

“You can go shove your sickles up your-”

“What am I supposed to do with a jar?” Bedman rattled the container for emphasis. “I don’t own anything.”

“Well, ah, here. I can hold those for ya.” Axl pulled the sticks out of the jar and tucked them into his pocket, leaving one out to hand back over. “Go nuts, ya little ankle-biter.”

Bedman seemed somewhat miffed by the nickname, but eagerly unwrapped the sweet and began happily gnawing on it. “They taste just like they used to…”

“I bought marzipaaaan~!” Raven crowed in delight, swerving around the counter with his arms full of wrapped treats.

“Uh, what’s with all the snacks?” The Brit tilted his head.

“It’s been so long since I’ve had marzipan! I’m going to feast until my stomach ruptures!”

“Oh, ha ha, you’re so funny, Raven.” I-no grabbed him by the ear and started dragging him out of the shop, teeth bared. “You’ve got a great sense of humor.”

“Erm, miss I-no? I don’t think he’s-”

“Shush.” The woman snapped. “I am not going back to jail.”

“...Back?” Axl questioned as he followed behind. He couldn’t help but flinch as Raven was tossed back into the street, though Raven himself hardly seemed to care.

I-no scoffed cooly. “What, you think the cops never pegged me before? Of course, the real challenge is keeping me in prison.”

Axl wisely decided to not ask any more questions, and turned away. He spotted a grove of trees down the way, apparently surrounding some sort of pond.

“I’m basically doing improv by this point, wanna go check out the pond?”

Bedman groaned. “My feet hurt…”

“Hmm…” Axl turned away and kneeled down. “Hop on! I can carry you, then you won’t get gutted.”

“Oh. Well, ah, if you insist-”

Several minutes and multiple terrified screeches later, Axl had his passenger on his shoulders. He couldn’t help but take note of how Raven and I-no just watched in amusement instead of contributing anything. He wanted to be mad, but something about it was too silly to be mad about.

Once he was back to his preferred height, Bedman pointed out towards the trees. “Onwards!”

“Whatever you say.”

There was a certain point where Axl had stopped considering the situation as ‘keep three dangerous people from causing havoc’ and instead saw it more as ‘babysitting with his weird friends.’ It was bizarre, and he knew it, but it seemed like tension was finally winding down between the three of them.

I-no was still a destructive, seductive creep with no filters to speak of, but it had been easy to rope her into skipping rocks over the lake. Raven was no less sadomasochistic, but had been the one to teach Bedman how to toss the stones properly so they could skip across the surface a half-dozen times before vanishing. And Bedman was no less grumpy and bratty, but he did offer to share his candy with everyone, and lit up with childish glee every time he got a rock to bounce on the water.

It seemed like Axl had finally hit the right spot, trying to entertain everyone without causing havoc. It was competitive enough but still relaxed and good-natured. Raven passed out some of his marzipan, and Axl managed to find a man selling cart-food on the other side of the lake.

Before he knew it, the sun had begun setting, and Bedman slumped against Axl, complaining that he was tired.

Axl had taken another shift to carry him, and currently had the boy slumped against his back. After the day’s events, Bedman had immediately dozed off, one arm still tossed over Axl’s shoulder while the other hung limp at his side.

“Hmph. Y’know, he’s kinda cute when he isn’t screaming, isn’t he?” I-no asked, looking on with a little smirk.

“I’ve met many children throughout my lifetime, he’s certainly not the worst.” Raven nodded.

“Yeah…” Axl trailed off, staring at the horizon. “I’m taking him with me.”

“Wait, what?” I-no immediately stopped, face twisting and voice sharpening. “You can’t just-”

“Listen, I don’t care what That Man says. You’re not gonna accomplish anything by locking him up except making him more pissed off at the world. I don’t think he needs that.”

“Low, you’re being idealistic again. You can’t take care of a kid, let alone this kind of fucked-up criminal.”

Axl turned to glare at her. “You think what you’re doing is good for a kid, either? I might not be the best at this kinda thing, but I can at least show ‘im that the world isn’t as shitty as it looks. I’ve got a loft rented a few towns away, it’ll work for now, at least. I make enough odd-job money to support two people. I can keep an eye on him.”

Raven looked less averse than I-no, but still doubtful. “And if you can’t?”

“Then...you can take him back.” Axl sent a look over his shoulder. “If I can’t do the job right, or if he wants to leave, or if he tries to cause anything. If anything goes wrong, you can have him. Just give me this one chance. Give him a chance.”

With the flick of a wrist, I-no tore open a wormhole on the space behind them. Axl took a defensive step back, but I-no gave a dismissal wave.

“Relax, blondie. If you want to try and raise that little gremlin, I sure as hell ain’t gonna try and stop you. I’m just gonna tell That Man that the whole thing was his idea, just in case he tries to crystallize me again.”

Raven offered a polite bow. “I wish you the best, Axl.”

The man turned, only to be pulled back by the sound of I-no clearing her throat.

“By the way,” the witch grinned at him. “Thanks for today.”

The two stepped through the portal, offering one last look before it closed. The wind kicked up behind it, making his hair billow around him.

“Hnnh…” Bedman gave a little sleepy noise, shifting against Axl’s back. “Wh’s going on? Where we goin’ now?”

“Home.” Turning towards the afternoon sun, Axl began to walk again. “We’re going home.”

Chapter Text

“...huh?

Hey, you! Over there! Are you alright?”

“...”

“Hey! Can you hear me? Are you awake?”

“...”

“Are- oh man. Oh man, that can’t be good…”

“...”

“Um, d-don’t worry! Just don’t move- stupid, of course he can’t move- Just- just relax. I’m gonna help you, okay? You’re gonna be just fine…”

Everything hurt. There really wasn’t a better way to say it. A deep, hot, aching soreness had settled over him, and even just lying in place was a miserable experience. If it weren’t for the fact that the pain was currently keeping him awake, he would have immediately gone back to sleep.

The sensation of something cold and damp being placed over his face was enough of a surprise to make him tense- a decision that he immediately regretted, as it gave him a new, more unpleasant variety of pain to experience.

“Shh…” What felt like a gentle hand tousled his hair. “Relax. It’s alright. I know you’re not feeling too good right now, but it’s okay. You’re gonna be alright.”

The statement felt dubious, especially considering that the voice was completely unfamiliar. Yet for some reason, something about it felt soothing. The hand and voice were soft and gentle, and the cool wetness felt wonderful against the warmth that seemed to be intertwined with the pain.

“Just go back to sleep. You’ll feel better after a bit more rest. You still aren’t very strong yet…”

The gentle touches and coolness were enough to stifle the pain. With it settling back down into a dull ache, the tiredness took over, pulling him back into the pleasant, empty darkness.

The pain was still there when he woke up, but it had waned into a bearable soreness that didn’t make him want to immediately roll over and die. He could be grateful for that much. Even though there was no longer a hand or a voice, and that it was something that agitated him for reasons he couldn’t name.

Tiredness still clouded his thoughts. He didn’t like being awake, but he told himself that he’d slept far too long for the time being- whatever that was supposed to mean.

Still, he was operating on instinct. Currently, instinct was telling him to get up and walk away. Where to, he also didn’t know. Just ‘away.’ Away from here. From now. From whatever was going on around him.

He became vaguely aware of the world as he sat up and tried to stand. A cold, damp something slid off his face and into his lap, onto something dry and warm. It was hard to see anything aside from blurring, dull smears, at least in part due to the fact that his glasses were somewhere other than on his face.

Sitting up was easy. Standing, on the other hand, was not. He didn’t really have the mental capacity to acknowledge that him currently collapsing was a bad thing, he just knew that it was happening. Just another detail on a long list of things that he didn’t have enough awareness to care about.

“Oh!”

From seemingly nowhere, a pair of careful, gentle hands interrupted his descent. That was polite, he supposed, even if they didn’t seem like anyone familiar.

“I leave for one minute…” The voice sounded dismayed, and almost a little saddened. “You’re not gonna heal if you keep doing this!”

Despite the voice’s upset and wavering tone, the hands were strong and steady. He could feel himself being lifted up, held closely against something warm for a moment before being put back down on whatever he had been sleeping on. What must have been a blanket was dragged over him, followed again by that strange coolness on his face.

“You can be such a little troublemaker.”

Ah. That seemed vaguely familiar. Yes, he recognized the voice now. He couldn’t put a name to it at all, but it was definitely the same voice from the last time he had woken up. At least he had that much.

He wanted to say something, but felt too tired to try. With his recent walking attempt being a massive failure, he wasn’t entirely sure what he was going to do with himself. Wherever he was, he was with a stranger, albeit a very kind one. That was all he could conclude.

“Here, are you thirsty? You should drink.” The lip of a glass was pressed to his mouth. Taking a sip made him realize just how dry and sore his throat felt, and he gladly took the rest of it in.

With the fingers of his free hand, the stranger traced the side of his face delicately. The contrast made him realize just how warm he still felt. It took all the willpower he could muster in his half-asleep state to not immediately forego the water in favor of leaning into the gentle touch.

“There we go. You needed more liquids. U-um, well, that’s what Dr. Faust said…”

Faust? That sounded familiar. Why…

Oh.

Bedman bolted up in place, suddenly unable to breathe. The last month’s events flooded his mind all at once, bringing along with it a torrent of emotions that he no longer had the capacity to process. He may have screamed, or he may have gasped breathlessly, he couldn’t tell. All he did know was that he was burying his face in his hands, the only thing that did any good in blocking everything out.

“A-ah?” The stranger sounded confused by the sudden noise and motion, but he managed to quickly recover. A strong, supportive hand was braced against the smaller one’s spine, the other hand finding one of his and stroking it reassuringly. “Shh, you’re alright. Breathe. Take a deep breath. Relax. You’re okay.”

If he had the capacity to reason, he would have made it very clear that it was not fine and that he definitely wasn’t alright. For the time being, though, that was channeled into another raspy cry.

Despite the overwhelming panic, the gentle hands gradually broke it down. Bedman didn’t realize how much it had tired him out until he felt too drained to sit up. The hands took note of his movements and carefully lowered him down into the pillow.

“There, see? You’re alright.”

The stranger’s face was just as unrecognizable as his voice. That would have put him on edge, but there was something kind in his bright eyes that made the worry fade. At the very least, that meant that the man didn’t know who he was.

“Where…?” Talking felt difficult.

“You’re in my apartment.” The man replied, smiling gently. “I brought you here a few days back, after I found you. You’ve been asleep for most of the time, though. I’m really not even sure how you wound up in that garden in the first place with the state that you were in.”

With the new information, he was able to start piecing things together. Somehow, he must have survived the fight with Venom and the robot. How, he didn’t have the slightest clue, but that seemed to be irrelevant now.

“Well, you have been pretty delirious lately, maybe you just wandered off again.” Shrugging a little, the stranger reached across him to retrieve what turned out to be a wet cloth. “The fever finally started going down, but I’m worried you’re just going to keep aggravating it with all this movement.”

Fever? Well, that explained the warmth. He couldn’t help but sigh as the rag was draped across his forehead again, enjoying the coolness. It felt good. He had no idea why the stranger had been so kind as to do this for him, but he was grateful.

“Just let yourself rest, okay? I have a hard time relaxing, too, but it’s okay to lay low for a bit. I’m gonna take care of you until you’re feeling better.”

Bedman wasn’t entirely sure what the alternative was in his current state. Not only was there the warmth to deal with, but a persistent ache flared up in his chest every time he breathed. A bit curious, he reached around under the blankets, under clothing that must have been leant to him by the stranger, to feel around.

“You were pretty injured when I found you, too.” The man took note of his movements. “Lots of cuts and burns. A couple of really big holes in your chest, too. Part of the reason I didn’t want you moving around a lot.”

That much was true. The skin underneath stung as he touched the various bandages. Soon enough, he gave up, shifting a little under the blankets and settling down. Though he wasn’t at all happy about it, he clearly wasn’t going anywhere in his current condition. The stranger seemed kind, though, or at least oblivious. If he was charitable enough to take him in while in such a state, there was no point in trying to resist the help.

“I...thank you.”

The man beamed. “Not a problem at all! Just try and relax, alright? Leave the whole caretaking business to me. You just focus on healing up, okay?”

“...Alright.” With a bit of hesitance, Bedman let himself be pulled by the ever-persistent tiredness that was trying to drag him off again. Before he nodded off, though, a thought came.

“What’s your name?”

“My name is Zappa.” A hand stroked the side of his face again as he fell asleep. “It’s nice to meet you.”

As miserable of an experience as being sick was, it fortunately didn’t last very long. After a few more days mostly spent sleeping, he regained enough energy to begin wandering listlessly around the room, and then the rest of the house.

“Hey there.” Zappa greeted him as he wandered into the kitchen. “Want some lunch? I was gonna make grilled cheese, but I can do something else if you’d like.”

Bedman offered a noncommittal noise. He didn’t really care. Even if he did, he didn’t have the energy to protest. That was how it had been for the majority of his stay. He ate what he was given, washed when he was told, and went to bed when his caretaker did. None of those actions were ones that he was familiar with doing, at least not regularly. It was easier to just follow the schedule he was given. Schedules were nice and clean.

“Okay, then. Just let me finish the dishes first, then I’ll get started on that.”

He probably could have managed at least getting the supplies himself. By that point, he had a pretty good idea of where Zappa kept his things. Yet he didn’t move.

I called into work, I should be fine taking time off for a couple more days. Have you decided if you want to go with me yet?”

Another toneless sound. “Well, as soon as you decide, let me know. I don’t mind having you stay at home if you’d prefer, I just want to know so I can find you some books or something to keep you from getting bored.”

“Ok.”

Zappa put the plate he’d been cleaning down. “You know you can talk to me, right? You don’t have to be afraid to talk.”

“M’not.”

“Just don’t have much to say?”

That seemed closer, but still not quite there. Bedman just didn’t know what to do with himself at all. What was there to talk about? He was barely able to process the fact that he was alive still, where was he supposed to go with that? How was he just supposed to shoot the breeze like nothing had ever happened?

So, instead, he simply shrugged in silence once more.

The man frowned, finally turning away. They sat for a minute in silence as he cleaned.

“Where are your parents? I was wanting to contact them, but I don’t know your legal name, so I couldn’t check the Illyrian register.”

“Not sure. Long gone.”

“Oh.” He paused to reach for a new dish. “I can be your dad, then.”

He spoke with such nonchalance that Bedman forced himself to look over the statement, almost having taken it at face value. “What?”

“Your parents are gone and you’re living with me, so I suppose I’m sort of like your dad now.” Zappa repeated, shrugging a little. “Does that bother you?”

It did, a little, but he couldn’t exactly pin down why. “I suppose not.”

“Alright.” Another plate was added to the stack. “I don’t mind if it does. You can say if it makes you uncomfortable. You’re allowed to speak up. Just tell me.”

That was how most of their ‘conversations’ ended. Though it never seemed that Zappa had given up, just that he’d said all he wanted to.

When the dishes were done, he pulled out a loaf of bread and some cheese. “Do you like it with one slice or two? I can’t remember.”

“...”

Zappa sighed, putting down two. “Well, you’re still growing. Cheese is good for the bones. I’m not a huge fan of this kind, but the stuff I like is harder to get up here. I’d like to try and bring some back the next time I visit my mother. Would you want to try some of it, Bedman?”

For a moment, he was ready to be silent and still as usual. As soon as the man’s question sank in, he felt something cold blooming in the pit of his stomach.

“H-how did you…?!”

In spite of his fear, Zappa remained perfectly calm. “Faust recognized you when I brought you in to see him. The tattoos do make it rather obvious.” He gestured to the boy’s still-bandaged arms, which offered a slight view of the spindly black ink that marked his skin.

Bedman took a step back from the counter. Was this all some sort of joke? If he’d known all along, then why hadn’t Zappa done anything yet?

“Relax.” The man said, glancing over his shoulder. “If I had any intention to turn you in, I would have. I’m not going to do that to you.”

It seemed like a small consolation. He wasn’t sure if he could trust the man at all now. But, when he thought about it, what was the alternative? He was in no state to fight or to run away. Even if he did, where would he go?

“Sandwiches are done.” Zappa seemed to have already moved on from the topic. He slid both off onto a plate and put it down on the small table nearby. When he sat down, he realized that he hadn’t been followed. “Aren’t you hungry? You can sit down, you know.”

Reluctantly, Bedman complied. As soon as he did, he felt a hand press itself against his forehead.

“Your fever’s gone down, but you still seem kinda sickly.” The man said. “Maybe you should stay home and rest some more.”

For the first time in a while, there were too many thoughts to process all at once. Bedman was so used to the thoughtless dullness of just following along and doing what he was told. It only served to remind him that he had absolutely no idea what he was doing. Trying to think about what was happening and what was going to happen for too long just made his skin itch and head ache.

“Can you eat for me, please?” Zappa’s voice cut through the fog in his mind. “I know you didn’t eat dinner last night. You can go lie down later if you want, but I just want to make such you’re getting something into you.”

He obliged. It didn’t taste like much. He knew it was probably supposed to, but it just tasted like nothing in his mouth.

Maybe sleeping would be a better idea.

“O-oh, done already?” Zappa watched him slide out of the chair, leaving behind most of a sandwich. “You didn’t…”

The couch had ended up being the place where he spent most of him time since coming to the man’s house. It was an old, worn down thing, probably second-hand, but comfortable all the same. It hadn’t been straightened out since the night before, leaving a tangle of blankets that he slid back into.

Zappa trailed behind, looking defeated. “Going to try and rest some more? Alright. Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

Bedman rolled onto his side, facing the wall. Light footsteps approached. For a moment, he stiffened up, wondering just what was coming. But all that came was hand, gently patting his head.

“Get well soon, okay?”

Something about that hurt, and he didn’t know why. Zappa merely left without another word, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

He hoped that he would have been able to sleep, to forget everything for a while. Sleeping was supposed to be easy. It was one of the few things that he was good at, pathetic as that was. So it was all the more aggravating that he found himself tossing and turning, shifting back and forth, adjusting and re-adjusting blankets, only to feel no less awake than he had been before. The only thing breaking the monotony was the occasional sound of Zappa’s footsteps moving through the small apartment. The sound of the broom sweeping the floor. Leaving and coming back with an armful of crinkling bags. Paper shuffling.

Eventually, he could make out the faint crackle of magic. Zapppa wasn’t a magic specialist, and during his entire stay, Bedman hadn’t seen him manage so much as a basic spell. What was he up to now?

“Um, Dr. Faust?” The man said, tone hushed and soft. “Hello, it’s me again.”

Faust. He was calling Faust? Should he have been afraid or worried about that? He wasn’t sure. All he could think to do was lie still and listen.

“He’s still not doing so well, I’m getting really worried…”

Unsure footsteps paced the kitchen tiles. What could Faust be saying?

“I know, I know, I just can’t help but feel like I’m doing something wrong. I’ve done everything you said I should, but he still seems so lifeless...it feels like I’ve got a ghost wandering around the place. I just wish I knew what I was doing wrong.”

There was a sadness to the man’s voice. At times, Zappa could sound melancholy or downbeat, but never outright sad. It hurt to listen to.

“I know you’re busy in Romania right now, but I don’t suppose you could…? Faust must have cut him off, as he trailed off halfway through the question. “Y-yes, I understand. I’m sorry. I just want to help him, but I don’t know how. He won’t talk to me. I can’t figure out what I have to do…”

A few brief snippets of conversation were exchanged, nothing of substance for him to dissect. “Alright, thank you, doctor. Come back soon, okay?”

The magic fizzled out. He could hear Zappa let out a shaky exhale. Though he sounded like he was on the verge of crying, he simply walked out of the room, past the couch, and closed the bedroom door behind him, only pausing briefly to switch the living room light off.

Bedman couldn’t tell what Zappa was thinking, or what he was up to. All he really knew was that is was his fault. Just the concept of that sat like a heavy stone on his chest. He wanted to apologize for something, but he couldn’t bring himself to get up and do anything. Instead, he tugged the blankets up to his ears, wishing that the emptiness would come back and get rid of all the thoughts swirling around in his head. It was easier to not think.

Finally, after what felt like hours, he managed to fall into tenuous, fitful sleep.

Sleeping through the night without interruptions was something he hadn’t quite gotten used to. Although it didn’t help that this time, he had been awoken by shrill, godawful screaming.

He’d convinced himself for a moment that it had just been part of the most recent nightmare. But another round of shrieks muffled by the nearest wall confirmed that it had been real.

“...?”

Annoyed, but just a twinge concerned, Bedman slipped off of the couch and padded off towards the bedroom. The sound grew louder as he approached, giving enough evidence that it was the source.

He reached out and opened the door. “Uh...hello?”

It was difficult to tell at first if someone had actually managed to break in. The bed against the far wall was a flurry of movement, sheets being tossed and thrown and tangled. In the low light, it was hard to tell what he was looking at.

As he approached the bed, he almost immediately had to jump back to avoid a swinging hand. The closer view allowed him to realize that, despite the lack of knife-wielding assassins or dangerous animals trying to kill him, Zappa was writhing and screaming like his life depended on it.

Unsure of what to do, he avoided the twisting limbs to reach out and tap his caretaker on the face. “Excuse me, are-”

“GET OFF!” The man howled, swiping at the hand, missingly by only an inch or two.

Bedman grasped at his own hand protectively, looking on in shock. “What?”

“P-please!” The response was just as confusing. “H-help me! Please, the- they’re hurting me- I-I can’t- !”

Nightmares. He was having nightmares?

Well, he couldn’t just let him sleep. He was going to hurt himself like that.

“Mr. Zappa!” Ducking under the swiping arms again, Bedman reached out and gave him a few hard pokes. “Wake up! You’re dreaming!”

“D- wha- ?!” His eyes snapped open as he bolted up in bed, every muscle taut. “W-where- I’m-”

He took notice of his surroundings. “...Oh. That was...no, it wasn’t real…”

Bedman wasn’t sure what to do. He found the lightswitch and flipped it on, letting a calm yellow glow bloom out from the table lamp.

Zappa rubbed at his eyes, blinking in confusion. “I’m sorry, did I wake you up? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“‘M fine.” He was more shaken than anything else. What on earth had that been about? “Nightmare?”

“Y-yeah. Thank you for waking me up. Usually they end on their own, but it feels like such a long time.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He offered a halfhearted shrug.

Zappa donned a soft, sad smile. “It’s okay. I know you’ve been having them, too.”

That was a bit of a shock. “I am?”

That answer didn’t make the other man’s sadness go away. “You cry a lot, in your sleep. Ask for forgiveness. Sometimes there’s screaming.”

Bedman stared at Zappa, eyes wide. “I...I do? I do that?”

“I’m a little surprised. Don’t you remember? Sometimes you wake up during them. You can’t fall asleep until I…”

“What?”

“Well, here.” With the current disorientation and confusion, Bedman didn’t react as Zappa pulled him onto the bed, into his lap. One arm was looped around his ribs, keeping him in a tight hug that, admittedly, did feel vaguely familiar. The other hand buried itself in his hair and began moving slowly, in a way that was somewhere between a massage and gentle scratches.

Despite the sudden moving and pulling, the sensations were incredibly soothing. Without really trying, Bedman found himself slumping back against the man, settling into the welcoming warmth. Zappa began rocking slightly in place, a gentle, slow movement that made any lingering tension fade. A quiet melody hummed out by his ear, unrecognized but undeniably calming.

“There have been a lot of nights where you fell asleep like this. You get sad if I try to leave early.” Zappa paused to hum a few more bars. “I get the feeling you were the sort of kid who didn’t cry much.”

“No, not really. Delilah said I didn’t express my emotions much in general.”

“Huh.” He seemed taken aback by the response. Or at least how non-monosyllabic it was. “See, I had the opposite problem. Everything terrified me. Could hardly get through a day without an incident.”

“Oh, I was afraid of a lot of things. Just didn’t show it much.”

Zappa noticed the way that he tensed slightly as he spoke. “What were you afraid of?”

“People. And being alone. Sort of ironic, I suppose…”

“Understandable, though. People are complicated, but it’s hard being alone, too. It takes a very rare breed to live on his own and not go mad.”

“I mean, I may not have understood them, but I still wanted to be with them.” Bedman was already rambling, and Zappa let him talk. “Even if it was only Delilah, I needed someone to talk to. I hate being alone, o-or being left behind...maybe that’s why I was so willing to let myself be used. Why I let Ariels use me.” His voice began wavering. “I should have been smarter. I knew she wasn’t a good person, and- and I listened to her-”

“Shh...it’s alright.” The fingers pressed reassuring lines into his scalp. “You were scared and lonely, and you made a mistake. I understand that you’re upset with yourself, but it was an accident. And you know what? She’s gone now. She can’t hurt anyone.”

“I never wanted to hurt anyone.” He sniffed. “I had lost everything, I just wanted something to be normal again. I just wanted Delilah...”

“Shh...” The hug tightened slightly. “It’s over. It’s all over. You’re here now. And I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, okay? You’re safe with me.”

Zappa simply let him sit in place and talk, offering calm reassurances and gentle pats until the hiccuping sniffles evened out and he could speak normally again.

“...Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you being...so nice to me?”

Zappa sighed, stroking a little more. “Well, kind of a long story. A few years ago, right out of nowhere, I got really sick. I would black out all the time, get violent towards people. I’d get into fights without knowing, and wake up all covered in wounds. Now, believe it or not, turns out it wasn’t even actually a disease. Somehow, I was summoning ghosts, and they would take over my body and pull me around.”

“Really?” Well, he had seen odder things. “Is that what the nightmares were about?”

“Yeah.” The man let out a nervous little laugh. “It was a pretty terrible part of my life. I was always confused, always in pain. I kept trying to find Dr. Faust to see if he could heal me, but every time I tried to ask for help, nobody would. They just attacked me and left me to die.

I ended up having to deal with my issue all alone. While it did make me a stronger person, I knew that I wasn’t going to let anyone go through that sort of thing alone like I did. So when I found you in the garden, bleeding out and burning up, I just had to help.”

So that was it then? It seemed like so much and so little at the same time. No noble aspirations or grand gestures, just empathy and a gentle hand.

“What can I do to help you?” Zappa asked.

That alone sent his mind back into disarray. He tried to think of something to say, only to come up with nothing. “I don’t know.”

Unexpectedly, that got a quiet chuckle out of him. “That’s perfectly fine. It’s okay if you don’t know what you want. I really wasn’t sure for the longest time, myself. When something manages to interrupt your life that massively, it’s weird trying to go back to regular old life. You’ve only been at this a week, take your time. You’re not in a rush to get anywhere. Just try to focus on taking care of yourself first, okay?

“Okay…”

“Good boy.” Zappa smiled, gently ruffling his hair. “Feeling a little better now? Want to try and get some more sleep?”

“Yes, please.” He slid out of the man’s lap and turned to the door, only to realize how much colder the room felt when he was standing by himself.

Sucking in a breath, Bedman turned back around. “Mr. Zappa?”

“Hm?” The man paused from his task of straightening out the pile of blankets. “Something wrong?”

“...Can I sleep in here tonight?”

Zappa looked surprised for a moment. But then he smiled, and lifted a blanket for him to crawl under. “Of course. If that’s what you want.”

Chapter Text

“Focus...focus...c’mon, you’re slipping again!”

Bedman was going to offer a snippish comment, only to be interrupted by a stick to the head. “Ow, dammit! What was that for?”

“I told you, you need to work on keeping your cool!” Chipp tapped his leg with the end of the stick, looking unimpressed with the sight before him.

“I am!”

The ninja shook his head. “You have to be able to do it without moving so much. I can see you squirming.”

There was more grumbling after that, but Chipp chose not to comment on it. Instead, he shook his head and let his shoulders slump. “I guess we’re done training for now. We can try and pick things up in the afternoon. I’ve got a meeting coming up soon, so you’re gonna have to play with Answer until I’m done.”

He didn’t get a response to that, but the irate glare explained enough. Chipp simply sighed and walked off towards the nearest tent. “We can do a bit more practice once I’m finished. I really think you’ll be able to get the meditation down with a little more practice.”

“I would advise against wasting your time and efforts, but warning you of that hasn’t exactly worked so far.”

“You-” A scowl came to his face, but only for a moment before he let it fall away. “It’ll only be an hour. Maybe two, tops. You can be nice for that long, can’t you?”

“I could, if I-”

“Great!” Chipp cut him off, ducking inside. Bedman blinked at the unexpected interruption, before rolling his eyes and reluctantly following along. He knew from experience that Chipp was a lot more aware than his goofy persona implied, and with any attempt to turn and leave, he would somehow already be there waiting for him.

The tent was still a bustle of activity from whatever they had been using for. He tended to not care about whatever frivolous nonsense Chipp did during his day job. Even for someone of his advanced mental capabilities, politics were a bore. There were plenty of other things he’d rather be doing, like shoving his head into a woodchipper, but if he wasn’t stuck in the man’s nonsensical ninja training, he was stuck being chaperoned like a child.

“Answer! Just the man I was hoping to see!” He winced back at the man’s loud voice. His secretary looked up from the table he was clearing off and nodded politely.

“Yessir? I wasn’t expecting you yet, is everything alright?”

“Yeah, it’s all good! I just needed to see if you could take over babysitting while I’m in the next meeting.”

“Baby-” There was something almost artistic about how Answer’s face managed to turn from polite neutrality to disgust tangible enough to be visible on his face, but still not quite enough to be rude. Bedman wasn’t good with facial expressions, but he was very good at spotting that one. Mostly because it was how Answer looked at him about ninety-nine percent of the time they were within twenty yards of each other.

At first, he’d actually had expectations for the secretary. He seemed like an educated man, maybe he would actually have someone intelligent to talk to. But even if Answer wasn’t constantly busy with bureaucratic work, as he often was, Bedman realized very quickly that Answer still harbored some kind of grudge for what he’d tried to do to his boss. Any attempts for anything other than basic conversation was met with a scowl.

So he wasn’t going into this with much enthusiasm. Answer probably wasn’t, either. But Chipp paid it little mind, simply walking off into the throng and leaving the two behind.

“Of course he couldn’t bother warning me ahead of time…” Answer grumbled, not hiding his disdain. He grabbed his new charge by the arm and dragged him off towards another tent, where Answer did most of his administrative work. It was a smaller space, pleasantly furnished at least in the half the man worked in, though he did not pull Bedman over to it, instead turning towards the nearly-empty second half, occupied only by a wooden stool.

Answer unceremoniously dumped him next to the rickety chair. “Sit in the corner and stay quiet.”

“Another riveting task you’ve planned for me, I see.” He grumbled, sitting with as much disdain as humanly possible. “I’m blown away by this level of mental stimulation.”

The man didn’t offer him the dignity of a response, instead choosing to sit at his desk and start on work without any acknowledgement of his existence.

That seemed to be the general rhythm of his life, lately. Annoying training with Chipp, and stretches of nothing with Answer. Both were obnoxious and frustrating to sit through, equally miserable experiences that he wanted nothing to do with. Somehow they’d managed to create an existence more unbearably dull than being in a coma.

He slouched over on the stool, groaning at the sound of yet another phone call starting. At least the paperwork-heavy days were quiet, and he could take some comfort in the mental image of them both being equally miserable in their silence.

Bedman didn’t want it to be over, though. Dull as this was, as soon as it was over, it was back to being jabbered at with so many words managing to say so little and being forced into more meditation exercises that, ironically, only made him want to rip his hair out. He had half a mind to say this was designed to be his perfect hell. Maybe he really was dead, after all. It would be less insulting than to think that he’d miraculously been able to survive everything he had only to be stuck in a dead-end nightmare until he got lucky and pissed one of them off enough that they’d finally put everyone out of the collective misery of him being there. He was genuinely amazed Chipp hadn’t just gotten that over with already.

There was little to do besides fidget. Twist fingers together, bend one leg around the other, then the other, then the other, pick away at the flakes of paint on the stool legs and watch them form sparse piles on the tarp floor. Riveting.

The zeal lights hanging in strings overhead hurt to look at. The memory of being able to make things burst into flames or just straight-up explode just by willing it was a strangely fond memory, one he found himself wishing for. Well, if he had that much, he could have just set these stupid tents on fire and fled into the woods.

He’d thought about doing that before, at least the latter half. He was no navigation expert, especially in his current state, but he’d seen how thick the woods were that bordered the small settlement they were currently in. It would be easy to get lost in, if he could just make the dash over to it. That, however, was the major roadblock. Chipp or Answer were just about always within grabbing distance, even at night. If he did manage to get that far, the other people living and working in the other tents knew about him and what he was there for, and would immediately raise a fuss at seeing him unsupervised.

Although, the thought occurred to him, Answer seemed awfully engrossed in whatever call he was taking, without focusing on much else.

Bedman hesitated for a moment, knowing that Answer was a smart man. It was entirely possible he was aware of everything around him. After all, it couldn’t be that easy, could it? But still, even if it only gave him a short head start, it still increased the odds of making a clean getaway by a good margin.

He slid to the edge of the stool. He put his feet firmly on the ground. Answer continued writing down something on the other end of his call.

He stood up, still hunched over enough that it could be justified as simply finding a more comfortable way to sit. Answer didn’t react.

He took a slow step away. Answer still didn’t react.

He ran.

Answer immediately noticed.

“Wh- don’t you dare!”

A simple command wasn’t enough of a deterrent for him to continue running, though Answer was already jumping out of his seat after him. Bedman threw back the tent flaps and silently hoped it would be enough of an impediment for him to gain some distance between them. He could see the taunting greenery not-so-far away, and that alone was enough of a prompt to tap into whatever adrenaline he could manage and start running off in that direction.

He made it all of two steps before he felt an arm loop around his waist. How had Answer caught him already?! Even with just the one arm, it had enough force in it to do a good job holding on. Giving up was probably the best option, but Bedman still attempted to weasel his way out with the dirtiest tricks he could manage in his current situation. He wriggled and fidgeted as hard as he could until Answer’s hand was close to his face, and then he bit down on his fingers as hard as he possibly could.

Answer didn’t immediately let go, but it did get an agonized howl as he yanked his hand free. Bedman could feel his grip become looser, and he doubled down on the squirming, flailing his limbs and kicking at whatever was within range, all the while Answer tried to keep his grip and avoid being bitten again.

“STOP!”

The sudden noise made them both freeze in place. From behind a nearby tent, Chipp jogged into view, looking equal parts concerned and annoyed.

“Answer?!” Chipp shouted. “Just what the hell is going on over here?! I could hear you shouting from three tents away!”

In shock, the secretary managed to drop the child he had just been wrestling. Though he hesitated for a moment, Bedman took the opportunity to scrabble to his feet and begin to run.

“Woah-woah-woah, you’re not running off anywhere.” Chipp managed to grab him by the scruff of the neck. “I’ll ask it again, what the hell are you two doing?”

“Put me down!” Bedman snarled back at him, attempting to grab Chipp’s arm and scratch at him. “Let me go!”

“Ghh- he tried to make a run for it while I was in a meeting.” Answer said, clutching his hand. “Little bastard managed to bite me.”

“You bit him? What the hell, kid?!”

Bedman was growing more annoyed by the second. “And I could very well ask the same question, couldn’t I?!” He shouted back. “Why do you think trying to make me into some fake-ninja apprentice is going to accomplish anything aside from stoking your own ego? It’s a waste of both of our time! So for the love of whatever deity created this miserable existence, can you please just take me behind the nearest tent and slit my throat already?!”

Chipp was silent. He was less concerned with that and more with the fact that he was still being grabbed onto. At least, until rather out of nowhere, he felt it loosen. The grip on his collar shifted into a hand on his back.

“...Kid, let’s go take a walk.”

“What?!” Both Answer and Bedman shouted.

“You heard me.” Chipp replied. “Sounds like you need some air, and Answer needs some quiet time. We’ll go take a walk, and Answer can work on whatever he was doing before...so he can work.”

“But-”

“Answer.” Chipp said, more forcefully. “Let me handle this.”

“But he- I-” The man stuttered, before taking a breath and letting his shoulders relax and square back into place. “If you say so, boss.”

“President. C’mon, kid.” As Answer walked away, Chipp gestured for Bedman to follow.

He glanced off, considering trying to run again. But some part of him knew it would be futile. Reluctantly, the boy turned back and started after him.

“I hate this.”

“We’ve barely started!” Chipp replied, sounding far too upbeat considering the circumstances. Bedman was fairly certain that this endgoal of this situation was going to be the ninja gutting him and dumping his remains in a ravine, and as unpleasant as that sounded, it still beat having to put up with the two of them for any longer.

Still, it didn’t mean he was happy having to trek out to wherever the hell it was they were going. By some cruel irony, Chipp had finally taken him along into those vibrant green woods, following a foot-worn path surrounded by massive trees and dense plants. Yet again, he’d considered taking the opportunity to run off, but being face-to-face with the foliage made it clear actually running through it would be difficult if not impossible, not even mentioning what sorts of animals may have been dwelling in it for him to accidentally step on and get bitten by. So as much as he loathed it, he followed Chipp.

They continued along for a while. Bedman clung onto his bitter silence, and Chipp seemed uninterested in striking up a conversation. Very little of interest- or, indeed, much of anything managed to interrupt their trek. After what felt like an eternity, the path finally opened up. The area was still dense and overrun with plants, but large stones and fallen trees dotted the ground, and the overhead canopy let in more light.

Chipp gestured for him to follow again. “Come on in, take a seat.”

He selected a relatively-clean-looking rock, while the ninja sat cross-legged on a fallen tree-trunk. “So, what exactly is the point of this nature walk? Are you looking for a good place for my shallow grave? I can offer some excellent tips, that mossy patch over there has some good qualities-”

“Hold it.” The man raised a hand, folding arms against his chest. His stoic composure lasted for only a moment before he slumped over and sighed. “Guh, nobody’s getting stabbed, alright? That’s not the point.”

“So enlighten me, then. If you have the ability to do so.” Bedman replied, thoroughly unimpressed with the situation.

Chipp took a deep breath and straightened himself out, palms upturned as he let his hands rest in his lap.

“You just need to let it go.”

He scowled back. “Let what go?”

“All that hatred you’ve got simmering inside of you. You’re gonna…” Chipp went quiet, deep in thought. After a good minute, he clicked his tongue and spoke up again. “I’m gonna say something, and I know you’re not gonna like it. And that’s okay, I didn’t, either. But I think it’ll help.”

Bedman was already rolling his eyes. “So?”

“You’ve gotta stop waiting for the world to apologize to you, because it isn’t.”

It was such a bizarre sentiment that he couldn’t even manage sarcasm. “...What?”

Chipp still appeared completely serious. “Well, think of it this way.” He made a little gesture with his hand. “Let’s make it like a game. Imagine there’s a whole bunch of metal pins in a wall, and a whole bunch of buckets underneath. If you drop a ball from the top of the wall, it bounces off all the pins and goes back and forth until it lands in one of the buckets at the bottom. You following so far?”

“O...kay?”

“Cool. So lets say there’s something neat in the buckets, something you really want. And if you manage to drop your ball in that bucket, it’s yours! So you go to the top of the wall and drop your ball down it. It bounces off the pins and goes all over the place, but when it finally reaches the bottom, it doesn’t go into the bucket you wanted. So which of the pins would you blame? Which one is at ‘fault?’”

“The last one it touched.”

Chipp’s expression drooped. “That didn’t go right. Uh, lemme try again.” He drummed his fingers on one knee. “I’m shit at metaphors.”

Bedman wasn’t sure why he was entertaining him. This was just half-insane prattle. But not like he had much of a choice in the matter, or really anything better to do anyway.

The ninja seemed entirely unaware of his annoyance with the situation, and continued to ramble. “The universe is full of millions of people, yeah? Millions of people do millions of different things. It’s hard to keep track of them all. Are you following me?”

“Yes…?”

“A million is a lot. Even for you, it’s probably a lot. So if we’re talking a million different people, and each of them makes a dozen decisions, it’s probably really hard to break down how every single one of those decisions impacted everyone else, or how they affected everyone else’s decisions. There’s so many options that could be made, you can’t pick them all apart.” He paused. “Better?”

Bedman thought to himself. “I...suppose that makes sense…”

“Ohhh, now we’re getting somewhere!” The ninja perked up. “So, let’s make up a fake situation. Imagine you ran into someone on the street. You know nothing about them. But you can tell that they look frustrated. Can you guess why they’re upset, or what they’re mad about?”

“I could, if I had all the relevant background data and investigative tools.”

Despite his response, Chipp nodded, a smile slowly growing. “But that’s it, right there. ‘if’. Maybe it could have been one thing, or maybe it was a whole bunch of annoying things that happened all day. You couldn’t tell just from looking at them.”

“What is the point of this, exactly?”

“It’s about the perspective of it all. I know it can be so easy to get eaten up by your own frustration and anger, and you forget a lot of important stuff. Or even some really basic stuff! I mean, I know I’m not exactly a genius or anything, sometimes I don’t think ahead and forget about really obvious stuff I should already know.”

“I know.” He deadpanned. “Your mental ineptitude certainly isn’t news.”

There was a brief glint of frustration in the man’s eyes for just a moment, but to Bedman’s dismay, it didn’t last.

“Did I ever tell you that you remind me a lot of Answer?”

“I already dislike whatever you’re trying to lead into.” Bedman replied, but ultimately sighed in defeat a moment later. “Fine. Continue.”

Chipp nodded, standing back up and motioning for him to follow. Reluctantly, he complied, trailing along onto another path leading further into the woods.

“So, Answer.” The man continued, pushing aside branches as he walked. “He was really prickly at first, wouldn’t let me get through a sentence without telling me how much I sucked. Absolutely hated my guts. Sound familiar?”

“What a shame. If he really was like that, he must have been a far more interesting person to be around than he is now.”

Most of the branches weren’t at his height, but Chipp still held them out of the way for him. When he let one go early to smack him across the face, he could only assume it was intentional. “Anyway. Guy didn’t want anything to do with me when I first showed up around here. Guess I can’t totally blame him? I did just appear out of nowhere and make promises he didn’t have any reason to believe. As far as he knew, I was just some snake-oil selling jackass there to steal folks’ money and bail before actually doing anything. I mean, I knew that wasn’t what I was doing, but he had no reason to trust me. He just pushed me away no matter what. And Answer’s a stubborn guy, so this went on for a good long while. It would have been easy to just get mad and leave.”

“And you didn’t, because…?”

“Because I could tell he was missing something.”

Bedman rolled his eyes. “How kind of you, Mr. savior.”

“That’s not the point.”

The path opened up on a stream. Chipp didn’t break pace, continuing on over via a trail of smooth rocks poking out of the water. He made it look effortless, but as his companion approached the riverbank, he hesitated at the rushing water and the distance between the stones. Realizing that he would be stuck in the middle of nowhere by himself if he stayed where he was, Bedman managed to take a shaky step onto the first rock, holding his arms out to try and keep balance.

“See, people aren’t mean for no reason.” Chipp said, continuing along the rocks. “I mean, yeah, sometimes it’s a bad reason, like they think hurting people’s good fun or it makes them feel important. But it’s always for some reason. Answer came from a place where almost everyone was poor. So in order for him and his family to survive, you couldn’t be too kind. You had to look out for yourself first, otherwise you’d starve.

So he was mad, too. You could tell he was brilliant, and there were so many things he could have done with those smarts, but there was no way for him to really use it since he had to focus on just staying alive. That’s one of the worst ways to live, y’know. All the smartest and most talented people in the world didn’t become famous just because they were so smart and talented, it’s because they had all the money and stuff to show the world what they could do.”

Bedman wanted to offer another retort, but he was too busy trying to keep his balance and stay out of the water. He managed to catch his balance and try to step out to one of the rocks by the riverside. One foot firmly planted on the new step, but as he shifted his weight, a wet spot made his foot slip and sent him toppling backwards.

“H-up! Watch yourself!”

A hand managed to snag his wrist before he could fall too far back. Chipp held on until he could find his balance again. Bedman scowled back at him, and tried to pull free, but Chipp simply shook his head and guided him along on the last few stones.

“Lean over- there you are. Shift your weight over onto the other leg. So, to get back to what I was saying, one ruined life isn’t a big deal. It’s the result of a million little things going wrong, in the end- ah, watch your step, that one’s at an angle.”

Before he knew it, Bedman found himself on the other side of the river. He wasn’t sure if he should say something in response, but Chipp just gave him a pat on the back.

“Something like that isn’t any one person’s ‘fault.’ And the universe doesn’t care about a single person, so it’s never going to apologize. You’ll never get that kind of satisfaction, so you can’t keep holding onto the idea that you will. Trust me, I know coming to terms with that sort of baggage is heavy, but you just can’t keep clinging onto it, it’s not healthy.”

Any progress he’d made immediately vanished. Bedman glared at him, arms crossed and jaw stiff. “Don’t you dare pretend to understand what I’ve gone through. I can accept your paltry platitudes, but that doesn’t mean you get to pretend you have the right to say you have any idea.”

This was good. He wanted to be mad. This stupid heart-to-heart would be over, they could scream at each other, and hopefully the man would finally storm off in frustration and leave him be.

And yet, instead of shouting, Chipp shrugged. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

He was so dumbfounded at the lukewarm response that he couldn’t manage a reply. So the ninja continued on his own. “See, I didn’t hit it off with Answer because I was some noble savior that could rescue him. We fell in with each other because, in a lot of ways, I knew the sorts of things he’d been through, and I could relate. But at the same time, I didn’t really know. Everyone’s story is different, even if you’re familiar with some of the beats. It’s presom- prezo- pres-” He paused in thought. “It’s a dick move to think you know more about someone’s situation than they do. Best you can do is connect based on the experiences you’ve shared, and be willing to listen to the experiences you haven’t.”

“An upbringing of poverty and misery, trapped in a dead-end situation.” Bedman said, more than a little skeptic. “I’m sure someone like you knows all about that.”

“Well, I wasn’t given much of a good hand. I was an orphan, raised in a shitty orphanage that could barely afford to feed half of us, and the city was filled with drug addicts and gang violence and all that shit. I thought life was pretty much trying to kick me in the dick as much as it possibly could. So I wanted revenge. I wanted some kind of messed-up justice. However I could, I wanted to grab life by the throat and strangle it until it told me ‘sorry.’”

It was supposed to be sarcasm, but Chipp responded in earnest. And while he wanted to refuse his claims, Bedman saw no hint of dishonesty in his eyes. “You lived through all that…?”

“Heh. That’s the same face Answer made when I told him. But, yeah. Not many nice childhood memories. So I wasn’t exactly a decent guy back then, either. I got hooked on drugs myself, since that felt like the one way I could pretend I wasn’t constantly miserable. I used to be one pissed-off jackass, losing my temper at just about anyone, even when I wasn’t roided stupid. Seriously. I was...a dick. Not the best time of my life, and I can admit that.”

“Hmm. Well, most people can’t even manage admitting it.” Said Bedman. “Alright, you’ve piqued my curiosity. How exactly did you end up all the way out here?”

Chipp’s demeanour grew more dismal. “Well, for the longest time I didn’t think anything would ever look up. I thought I’d be stuck hooked on drugs and struggling to survive until something managed to kill me. That was just the life I was used to. And- and I thought at one point, my life was starting to look up. I got rescued by this old ninja master, and he took me in. He’s the one I learned ninjutsu from. He was one of the first people who genuinely gave a shit about me, and I wasn’t used to that. At first, I really didn’t like it. I didn’t want to believe it was really happening. I was sorta like Answer, how I was uncomfortable- heh, terrified, really- with the thought of having someone care for me, because anyone I’d known before that just used all that stuff to trick me. As much as you hate living that way, when you encounter something new, you’re still a little uneasy.”

The path underfoot suddenly sloped. It was a gentle angle, but Bedman was too distracted by Chipp’s talking to notice. He stumbled over it, eventually bumping right into Chipp’s back.

“Woah! Bit of a fumble, there?” He turned, managing to catch his companion and set him upright again. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” Replied Bedman, pushing away. “Continue.”

Chipp nodded, going back to the trek. “Right. Anyway. I got a question for you. What do you think’s the most vulnerable part of being human?”

“What does this have to do with-”

“Just gimme your answer.”

“...The trachea? That’s rather exposed.”

The man smirked over his shoulder. “Alright, wiseass. Well, for me, I think it’s just the concept of being cared for.”

Bedman tilted his head, finding himself unexpectedly intrigued. “I don’t follow.”

“Think of it this way.” He continued on. “If you live in your head all the time, you know what to expect. You know your own limitations, likes and dislikes, all that. As soon as a new person comes into the picture, there’s only so much you can know. Do they have some hidden agenda? Do they secretly hate you? Are they lying about their abilities to impress you? You’ll never know stuff like that, not unless you can read minds.”

“But I can.” The boy faltered. “I...used to…”

Chipp raised a finger. “And I think that’s part of your problem. You need to know everything. Like, I’m not saying trying to learn is a bad thing, but sometimes you just can’t know stuff. That’s what I’m saying about being cared for. It’s not about knowing, it’s about trust. You need to trust someone that they really will care for you. It took me a while to gain that sense of trust with Tsuyoshi- he was my master, the one I was talking about- but once I felt safe enough to expose that sense of vulnerability and let him help for and care for me, it felt...freeing.”

The gentle path began to grow erratic, with sparse stones poking out of the ground. And with those, Chipp’s expression grew stony and dark again.

“But they killed him.”

“What?”

“A few years after I met him, once I felt like someone really did care for me, Tsuyoshi was assassinated. Apparently he de- defact- he left the assassins once he met me, so they took their revenge by hunting him down and killing him.”

He wasn’t used to the brittle, spiteful coldness coming from the man’s mouth. Without thinking, Bedman found himself shuddering. “But not you?”

“No. I wasn’t there at the time. I wasn’t around to help. I couldn’t…” Though he was still the one leading, with his face obscured, Chipp’s head and shoulders slumped, and his pace briefly slowed. “Just like that, I had nothing again. The one comfort I had, the one turn for the better...it was all gone. And I had nothing to fall back on but my old, fucked-up ways. I managed to not get hooked on the drugs again, but I was pissed off, and that really wasn’t much better. It stuck with me for so long...it faded with time, just a little bit, but I never got those thoughts of anger and vengeance out of my head. I never gave up on the idea of getting back at the person who had taken away the only good thing I had in life. And in a way, it vented all the other frustrations I’d tried so hard to rein in. Getting abandoned to die in a trash can in the middle of February. Everything I had to live with at the orphanage. All those years of violence and drugs and pain and misery, I sunk it into that one focal point into just- just a pit of anger that all built on itself until I was barely containing it anymore.

...You know, a few years later, a few years before now...I thought I’d finally gotten what I wanted. At least, as close as I could get. I found the man who killed my master. I had the chance to get revenge. I found him, and I killed him too.”

“And?”

“It didn’t change anything.”

“How is that possible? You got what you wanted, didn’t you?”

“Well, yeah...I mean, not really? Lemme explain. I got revenge. I thought that was what I really wanted. And once it happened, I still didn’t feel any better. And I agonized over it, wondering how I could finally get the feeling to go away. If I destroyed the Assassin’s Guild entirely. If I found some way to change time and keep my master from dying at all. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I was desperate for some kind of closure. And it just consumed me. Before I knew it, that was all I thought about. All I cared about. I’d sank so much time and effort into it that I’d convinced myself that somehow, I would finally get what I wanted...but I didn’t even know what that was. It was some mystical, ungrabbable thing that I was willing to do anything to get.

But I realized the only way that I would get the feeling I wanted, was to just let it all go.”

“How can you say that!?” Bedman recoiled. “How can you just give everything up?”

“...Has trying to take revenge ever made you happy?”

He scoffed. “Of course it…”

“Think about it.” Chipp replied, tone firm. “Did it ever make you happy?”

It...it had to, didn’t it? That feeling of vindication, that he could finally inflict something back at the world in response to all the pain and loss he had felt. The idea of being able to show that he wasn’t some terrified little boy who could be victimized over and over again without repercussions. Finally having some kind of power to get back at people…

But, his mind volleyed back in his direction, most of the vengeance he had taken wasn’t of that sort. The Universal Will had told him to kill for her plan, for reasoning he wasn’t supposed to question. People he’d never known, and who had never known him. Was that still vengeance? Was it the ‘right’ kind of revenge?

He thought of all those terrified faces, now little more than fuzzy snapshots he could just barely cling onto. None of those people had known what he had planned, how it was all supposed to be for the greater good. All they knew was that they were being killed. And he never had the opportunity to prove that wrong. It was all supposed to be a means to the end, but the end never came. All that planning...all the harm he’d done...and at the end of it all, it meant nothing.

Bedman didn’t realize his pace was dragging to a halt. Chipp stood over him as he stared at the dirt he stood on.

“There’s a point where you gotta ask yourself, ‘if I succeeded tomorrow and got everything I ever wanted, would it be worth the amount of time, effort, and suffering it took to get there?’”

“But-” without trying to, he felt his voice crack. “That didn’t happen.”

“Yeah.” Chipp replied. “It didn’t. But what if it did?”

“It doesn’t matter. It never happened, and the possibilities of it doing so are so infinitesimally small that for all intents and purposes, it would be impossible.”

“Okay, but just- but just pretend, okay, for the sake of this, just pretend it could.”

“But it doesn’t matter!” Bedman tried to cling onto his anger as it surfaced again, but to his shock and further frustration, he found it deforming and melting as soon as he did, like ice cream on a hot day. “Why should I waste time thinking about what could have happened?”

“Well, you’re supposed to be a smart guy, aren’t you? Always thinking about stuff like that?”

He gave a bitter laugh. “Smart. Of course. The sort of smart that decides to trust some genocidal AI because she says you can trust her? The kind where you don’t even think about the fact you’re killing people because you’ve got some half-baked excuse that you won’t even know actually works? The kind where you don’t realize your boss is lying out the ass to you about everything because you can’t bother to think for yourself? The kind of smart where you know everything but how to get along with anyone?! That kind of smart? Stop me whenever I hit the mark, because clearly you’re seeing something that I don’t-”

“Kid.” Chipp said, cutting him off cleanly and concisely. “No offense, but it sounds like you’re calling yourself out here, more than anything.”

Bedman was silent. It felt like he was frozen where he was, feet stuck to the ground as he stared. Chipp was right, undeniably, but it didn’t do much to combat the frustrated tangle of his thoughts, always bringing him back to the same handful of places. He’d set out to change the world, but couldn’t manage to do a single fucking thing right.

“Why are you telling me this?”

The man tilted his head. “Huh?”

Bedman tried again to muster up some anger behind his words, but it only came out broken. “What, is this some sick joke to you? Rip down everything I have and make me into some simpering coward you can laugh at? What do you gain from this? Do you find it funny?”

“...Let’s keep walking.”

“I-” He wanted to object, but Chipp just turned and started walking. He reluctantly followed, arms wrapped around himself.

The walk went quiet again, and Bedman wasn’t sure what to think. Was this deliberate? Was Chipp enjoying watching him flounder? The man seemed so simple and easy-to-read at first, but the whole excursion kept leaving him hopelessly lost as to what Chipp would start on next.

The path turned rougher and rougher. It was harder to keep up on the terrain. Eventually, though, he found himself staring at a swooping incline, sitting on the border between a slope and a full-on hill. It had clearly been walked on before, as the thick roots and half-buried rocks almost formed a makeshift set of stairs. Chipp began on it with the same level of ease as he'd done before, but Bedman just looked back and forth at the mess of obstacles, unsure of how to approach.

“C’mon, kid!” Chipp called. “Just hop on up!”

He took a hesitant step toward one of the big roots. “I...I don’t think I can.”

“Trust me, it’s easier than it looks!” After a moment, Chipp let go of the branch he was holding and slid back down to the bottom of the incline. He offered his companion a hand. “Besides. I’ll help you, okay? If you get stuck, I can pull you up. But you can’t give up now, not when we're close to the end!”

“End…?” He didn’t realize it had come so fast. He couldn’t just give up on the last stretch then, could he?

The first step up was as awkward and uncomfortable as he’d expected. But true to his word, Chipp grabbed his hand and held it tight until he could haul the other leg up and find footing.

“See? Nothing to it! Just take it bit by bit.”

“Okay. Okay, I can do that.” Bedman murmured to himself, though not especially quietly. “Bit by bit. I can do it a bit at a time.”

Chipp laughed, before going back to climbing. “Yeah, that’s the spirit! Little by little. I gotta say, kid, you’re getting into this a whole lot easier than I was expecting!”

Bedman took another tenuous step up. “So, why did you bring me out here in the first place? I still don’t understand. I definitely wasn’t expecting this much...chatter.”

“Aha, I was hoping you’d ask.” The man replied with a smile. He hopped up a few more rocks and roots, before stopping to pull Bedman along again. “What are mountains made of?”

“What?” In his confusion, he would have slipped and fallen if Chipp hadn’t kept a grip on his wrist. “What kind of question is that?!”

“Just roll with me here. What’re they made of?”

“...Rock? In the majority of cases, a mountain is formed by the shifting of tectonic plates, which results in rock protrusions or-”

“Yeah, yeah, right there, that’s what I was looking for.”

“A rock?”

“Not ‘a’ rock.” Chipp replied, hauling the two of them up onto a flatter dirt path. “Just rock.”

“Alright, fine, but what does rock have to do with anything?” He asked, dusting the dirt from his clothing.

“Well, if mountains are made out of rocks shifting, that means each one’s made out of more than one. A mountain’s a whole collection of rocks, all stacked up on top of each other! And like you said, a mountain isn’t born a mountain. It’s gotta get built up!”

“I’m still not following.”

Chipp rolled his eyes, but with a smile on his face. The path had grown dense with trees again, which he pushed aside. Between the cracks of branches, narrow slits of sunlight peeked through, every so often painting the man’s face in warm yellow as he passed by.

“What I’m saying is, making a mountain takes work. You get a mountain by stacking things up. By building something, by taking time and effort to keep going and going and going. It takes a while, but eventually, all those rocks turn into a mountain.”

“Your metaphor still confuses me. What’s the point of building a mountain in the first place?”

“Well, why bother staying a bunch of rocks your whole life?” Chipp asked back. “Life’s full of ups and downs. Mostly downs. But, anyway, life’s all about different experiences and what those experiences turn you into. You could just stay the way you are and not change much. Plenty of people do that! Change is pretty hard! But, well, when you do that, you tend to get comfortable where you are. Nothing wrong with that, I guess, but sometimes you start to think that’s all there is to the world. You get stuck in your own head, your own viewpoint. Like I used to, and like Answer used to. And sometimes, you don’t even realize how much of a rut you’re in until you get out of it. But when you reexamine things, you learn new stuff and change things up, you build yourself higher, and when you finally get out of that rut…”

He pushed aside a throng of weeping willow branches. From behind it came a cascade of sunlight.

“...You can see the world from a whole new perspective.”

Without thinking, Bedman found his breath catching in his throat. “Wow…”

They’d made it to the top of a massive cliffside, covered in swathes of flowers and foliage spidering along the rocks. The outcropping offered a panoramic view of land that seemed to never end. On the swatches of dirt and grass below, a few small villages clustered, with people that looked no bigger than ants hurrying to wherever they needed to be.

Transfixed, he took a few steps closer to the edge, to see how the mountain sloped down towards the ground.

“There was no mountain around the settlement. How did we get up here…?”

“It’s all perspective, kiddo. The capital is built on a big hill, but if you only ever lived and stayed there, you would think the flatland went on forever.”

Once more, he found himself speechless. Although now, it felt like it was for a good reason. In his shock and amazement, he didn’t realize what Chipp was doing until he coughed for his attention.

“Hey. Sit over here with me.”

Chipp had pulled a piece of cloth from somewhere and laid it out on a large stretch of stone like a picnic blanket. As Bedman sat down next to him, he pulled a paper-wrapped package from his side pocket.

“What’s that?”

The man grinned, unwrapping it with a little flourish. “Lunch.”

Bedman smirked back. “So that’s what all this was for? Lunch?”

“Lunch.” Chipp repeated. “And, so we could have a little bit of a chat. I’ve found it’s helpful to go for a walk and talk every so often, it helps clear out the mind.”

So that’s what it was for. In hindsight, it felt obvious. At the same time, he couldn’t help but feel almost a sense of relief. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d had a frank conversation with someone. Certainly not Ariels. She was his boss, so they certainly weren’t pouring their hearts out to one another on a regular basis. It felt...good.

When he looked back up, Chipp was staring off into the horizon. “That’s why I think it’s important to be nice to people, even if they aren’t nice to you at first. You never know what’s going on with them. You have to learn.”

“You know, Mr. Zanuff, I’m getting the impression you think too highly of people.”

“Heh, maybe.” He chuckled. “But what’s the point in being a dick all the time? The world’s already full of dicks. It’s easy to be a dick, because the world’s a sad place. And I think sadness is something that nature made, but kindness is something people made. Animals share things because it benefits them. People share things because it makes other people happy.” At that, he split his sandwich in half, offering a piece to his companion.

Bedman reluctantly took what he was offered. Instead of eating it immediately, he turned it over in his hands, scrutinizing every inch.

“How do you do it?”

“Hm?”

“How do you just...let it all go? How do you move on, even with all that still in the back of your mind?”

“I guess when I talk about it, I make it sound easy, huh?” Chipp smiled weakly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Took me a long time before it finally sank in. I wondered if it really just made me a coward for not seeing it through ‘till the end. For not trying to keep getting back at the world even though I probably could have justified it. But really, who gets to decide that aside from me? When it all comes down to it, all that really matters if I’m satisfied with the choices I’ve made.

You get new stuff to fill up your head. Some useless stuff, some important stuff. After a while, once you get your mind full up on new stuff, all the old things just sort of fade into the background. I can’t say all of it’s gone- I can admit, sometimes I do still get mad about the things that’ve happened to me, but you just have to choose what you want to be important to you.”

Chipp picked a bit of crust off his sandwich and flicked it over the edge. “I’m happy where I am now. I’ve done something constructive with my life, and it's let me help other people, too. I think that’s the best part of it all. Not the politics, or status, or money, or any of that crap. It’s the helping people. After all, where would I have been if someone hadn’t decided to help me?”

“I see.” Bedman eventually replied. “I think I’m starting to understand now.”

“Hey, there you go!” Chipp gave his hair a friendly ruffle. “It’s all about trying. Learning new stuff’s hard, but what’s important is that you’re trying to grow and learn.”

He finally took a bite of his sandwich. “Fried chicken?”

“It’s tonkatsu! It’s Japanese!”

That didn’t seem right, but he didn’t know enough to object. “So, answer me this...what exactly is the point of those bizarre ninja exercises?”

Chipp suddenly looked sheepish again. “...heh, so I guess you figured me out. Yeah, kid, I’ll tell you.” He reclined against a mossy rock. “I’m not a ninja because I think it’s fun. I mean, it is, in some ways. I like it a lot. But Master Tsuyoshi, the way he trained me wasn’t just some magical way for me to get my shit together.”

“So what was it, then?”

“Relax, I’m getting to that part.” He paused to take a bite. “Well, like I said, I used to be one massive asshole. And part of the reason behind that was because I could never get out of my own head. I didn’t have any hobbies, or much of a life outside of drugs, so I spent a lot of time in my own head. But a huuuge part of ninja training involves a focused mind. You can’t fight properly unless you can keep your head clear. It was a good way for me to get out of the tangle of my thoughts. It’s how I managed to start thinking about other stuff, and let the old, bad things shift out of my center of focus. It’s, uh...what’s what thing, not ‘therapy,’ it’s close but it’s not therapy-”

“Therapeutic?”

“Yeah! That. That’s what I was thinking of.” Chipp nodded. “So I’m not gonna force you to be a ninja. Really, I’m not. If it’s something you really decide you aren’t into, I’ll respect it. But the reason I dragged you into it was because I can just see how you’ve got all those thoughts buzzing around that you can’t stop getting tangled up in. I thought the best way to help you with that was to try out what was useful for me.

“There.” He said. “And now you’ve seen it from my perspective.”

The conversation ended after that, but they didn’t need to say anything else. The two merely stayed where they were, watching the birds fly and the people below living their lives.

Chipp had sent him a call to say when they’d started heading back, but it was still a little surprising for Answer to see two people leave and the same two come back. If his boss hadn’t planned to leave the little brat in the woods, then he would have assumed Bedman would have managed to run off and get himself lost, or fall into a ravine.

He hadn’t been waiting with bated breath for their return, he had a million other things to handle, but he had managed to catch sight of them while ferrying paperwork between tents.

“Answer, hey!” Chipp raised a hand to wave at him and smile.

The secretary skidded to a stop, willing to take a few seconds to chat with his boss, but not anything more. Especially with Bedman there, goodness knew he’d probably try to bite him again, or throw his papers all over the place. He increased his grip on them as he approached.

“Hello, sir, it’s good to see you. I hope you enjoyed your walk?” He asked, refusing to acknowledge Bedman’s presence.

“Haha, yeah! We got some fresh air and had a good chat.” Said Chipp. “I think we’re all going to try and get along a little better from hereon in.”

“I see.” Answer didn’t believe it, not one bit. “Well, it was good to catch up with you, boss, I’ll just be off-”

He turned to leave, but as soon as he did, Bedman was standing in his way. Answer resisted the urge to groan. “Can I help you?”

To his surprise, Bedman gave a polite bow.

“Answer. I suppose I need to apologize for my conduct earlier. I believe I went too far. I’m still trying to learn how to be better. I hope you can forgive me.”

The grip he had on his paper meant it managed not to drop and fly everywhere, but it was still the closest Answer had ever come to passing out in shock.

Chapter Text

Sin had been enjoying a quiet lunch when he’d been interrupted by the commotion outside.

“Huh?” Elphelt interrupted her own words and swiveled her head towards the door. “Are they fixing something?”

The three of them abandoned their food in order to poke their heads out into the hallway. Sure enough, a cluster of people had gathered, presumably for some kind of political task or another. It wasn’t something they weren’t used to. Living in the castle often involved too much ducking around officials, at least in Sin’s opinion, especially when he just wanted to go outside or go down to the kitchen for a snack. It wouldn’t have been as bad if Ky didn’t insist he always be on his best behavior around them, as though they were strangers in his house.

(Was it ‘his’ house? It was his father’s house, so didn’t that mean it was his, too? Something about that just didn’t feel right, no matter how many times he thought about it.)

Needless to say, he tended to avoid them if possible. Sometimes, though, sometimes they piqued his curiosity. Sin could see his father in the midst of whatever was going on outside, doing what he did best- ordering people around. That alone made whatever it was significantly more boring already, yet still, he found himself harboring curiosity.

Sin ducked out from the stack and approached with innocent curiosity. “Hey! What’s going on?”

In how engrossed he was with the situation, Ky hadn’t noticed his approach, and stiffened in shock. “Ah- oh. It’s nothing you need to worry about, Sin. I didn’t mean to interrupt whatever you were doing.”

That, of course, only ignited his curiosity further. He tried to peek past his father’s shoulders, which wasn’t too hard considering how he was a few inches taller.

“Sin,” Ky said, taking note of his son’s not-so-subtle behavior. “I said it’s nothing. It’s a political matter, I can’t have you poking around in something so delicate.”

At the mere word ‘political,’ Sin’s face scrunched up. “Yeah, in that case, definitely not interested. More stuff with Ram and El’s shitty mom?”

“Language, Sin. But yes, somewhat. As I said, it’s delicate. I’m sorry for causing a fuss here, we should be long gone in just a few minutes.”

“Oh, okay! Gonna go finish lunch, then. Bye!”

He scurried off back to their room. Ram and Elphelt had hidden themselves by the doorway, but their expressions made it clear they had been listening intently.

“...We’re going to see what they’re doing later, aren’t we?”

“Of course we are, Ram.”

“-We have no expectations that anyone will pass through here, but it’s important to still keep eyes out and maintain safety. According to every analysis they’ve done so far, there should be no issues with magical outbursts, and physically, you and the rest of the staff should have no real trouble handling any physical altercations, should they occur at all.”

“What are they talking about?” Whispered Elphelt.

“Dunno,” Sin replied, straining his ears. “Haven’t said any names.”

They didn’t often use the cells under the castle, unless it was for a specific reason. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, putting criminals in a central location surrounded by plenty of guards, but putting them directly under where all of the very important political officials worked sounded like an accident waiting to happen.

The lack of use was made all the more obvious by how the place looked. That went both for the sheer amount of dust and cobwebs that had managed to accumulate, and for the cells themselves. It was a rudimentary prison, at least in its current state. Any of the higher-tech magical barriers had been shut off when it fell out of use and had yet to be switched on again. It was still plenty durable, with barred metal and concrete, but it was bare-bones.

Ky and several other uniformed men were deeply entrenched in conversation. Something was passed between them, but the moment was so brief that none of the onlookers could catch any details. Sin watched his father shake his head at one of their responses.

“Make sure you keep an eye on things. This is a very important matter, and as unassuming as he may look, we can’t risk any lapses in judgement. We are working with a very intelligent individual; any interactions should be approached carefully. If anything goes wrong, if anything appears even the slightest bit unusual or questionable, you are to immediately report it.”

“Of course, your majesty. I just gotta know, though…why only me?”

“Between the rebuilding efforts and ensuring the former Sanctus Maximus Populi is under control, we have, admittedly…run low on manpower. I fully intend to have more placed on this, rest assured, but for these few days, this will be your responsibility. I hope it’s something I can trust you with.”

“Understood. It’s an honor, sir.”

“None of this makes sense…” murmured Ram. “Why are they using the castle dungeon? What’s so important?”

Nobody could supply an answer. As they tried to dredge one up, they nearly missed the group beginning their retreat.

“-eep!” Elphelt jerked back into hiding, nearly knocking all three of them down in the process. After the momentary fumble, they managed to duck behind another nearby archway before Ky and the others rounded the corner and found them. Sin felt Ram hold a hand over his mouth, and she didn’t move it until the sound of footsteps was distant and muffled.

The very moment that the door to the dungeons slammed shut, the guard’s expression relaxed from uptight seriousness to disinterest. He slouched against the wall behind him. From his back pocket came a dog-eared magazine, covered in images of scantily-clad women. Sin wondered if it had recipes inside, like the ones his mother ordered.

Finally tumbling out of their tower was more a matter of gravity than intent. The guard immediately noticed, scowling at the heap on the floor.

“Hey, back it up, kids. You aren’t supposed to be down here! How’d you even get in?”

“The door was unlocked.” Sin plainly replied. “Can we see who you’ve got down here?”

“Wh- Hell no!”

“Please?” Elphelt asked, eyes shining. “Pretty, pretty please?”

“Can’t you kids hear a word I’m saying? Get outta here before I call the king!”

Ram looked between the man and his magazine, now in a heap on the floor. “If you tell Mr. Kiske we came through, then we’ll tell him you were slacking off on the job.”

“You sonuva- !” The man’s face twisted, showing several of his teeth. “Shit...Fine. But if I see any sketchy shit, I’m throwing the lot of you out. Go ahead and gawk, but that’s it.”

“Deal.”

The trio filed down the concrete corridor. Elphelt glanced back, finding that the guard was staring at them with squinted eyes.

“He’s still watching us…”

“Ignore him.” Said Ram, taking her sister’s hand and pulling her along. “He knows we have blackmail.”

Sin led the line, but his attention was practically everywhere except right in front of him. He’d never been in a jail before. The closest he’d gotten was the bounty offices, but even in the rare times Sol didn’t make him wait outside, he wasn’t allowed to see the back where all the holding cells were. The empty cells weren’t absurdly interesting, mind, but something new always stoked his sense of curiosity.

A hand on his collar jerked Sin back to attention. He wondered what the fuss was about, until he noticed Ramlethal’s hand pointing into one of the cells. Unlike seemingly every other one in here, it wasn’t empty.

”You.”

Tucked into the corner sat a spindly figure, little more than fabric draped over skin and bone. Sin wondered why the Valentines looked so threatened, but upon second look, the details started becoming more familiar to him. He understood why he hadn’t immediately noticed. He didn’t recognize Bedman without the object of his namesake.

Upon being spoken to, he had no reaction. Briefly wondering if he was simply still asleep, Sin jerked back in shock when the body started to move. It did, in some sense, resemble the bed, in how his movements were stilted, more like a machine than a man. A hand had to be placed behind him against the wall to stay standing.

The Gear couldn’t help but remark to himself how skinny his legs were.

“Ah. Valentines, your sense of curiosity has always led you into trouble. You really are all alike.”

All three were stunned into silence, equal parts discomfort and fear. Ramlethal was the first to find her words. “Why are you here?”

“A criminal in a prison cell. Doesn’t that question answer itself?” In spite of his awkward movements, the other boy had enough motor skills to turn up his nose at them. “I’d ask you the same. Granted, the Valentines have done plenty of harm on their own to warrant it, but the brat prince pulled enough strings to get you off the hook. How nice.”

“You-...” Elphelt’s face furrowed, and she half-turned away.

“I don’t suppose I would be awarded the same favors? Then again, I’m not a cute girl, so the likelihood is far lower, regardless of the severity of my crimes.”

Feeling a sudden sense of protectiveness, Sin ushered the girls behind him. “You killed Ram’s dog.”

“The dog of an agent of attempted genocide? I would argue that Ramelthal presents far more danger to you than I, and yet you feel the need to physically defend her.” He pushed the bridge of his glasses back up his nose, in a way that somehow made him appear even more unpleasant. “Though to answer your question- in the name of education, and from a strictly objective standpoint, yes, I killed the dog. What of it? Do you wish to make me pay? I have no dog of my own to kill. Would you, perhaps, prefer to break my leg? By all means.” He hiked up the skirt of his pajamas, or dress, or whatever it was supposed to be. “I have no intention of stopping you.”

The three stared into the cell in silence, each with a mix of confusion, horror, and anger. Unperturbed, Bedman merely scowled back with increasing severity. “Well? Are you just going to gape all day? Were that the case, I’d much prefer solitude than being treated as a zoo novelty. How ironic. For once, the intelligent animal is the one being put on display for the masses to stare at.”

Elphelt had begun to fluster. “Y-you…you’re…” The earlike fronds of her headband almost appeared to twitch. “You’re a really bad guy!”

“How erudite. I know you Valentines are practically fresh out of whatever sludge pit birthed you, but I had still assumed you were made with a half-decent vocabulary.”

Elphelt didn’t even reply to that, not coherently. She gave an irritated huff and stormed off. Ram trailed after her immediately, worry overtaking her face.

Sin watched them go, but remained in place. When he looked back, Bedman was unrepentant. “No wonder you three get along so well. You’re all idiots.”

“What the heck, man?” Protested Sin. “El’s not stupid! Ram isn’t either! Where do you get off on saying stuff like that?”

Bedman shrugged him off. “I take no amusement in it, I simply say what needs to be said. I don’t deny yours or the Valentines’ physical superiority, but, aha, when it comes to intellect, I would say I’m far better suited for issuing feedback.”

Sin stared at him in silent anger.

“Sorry, was that too multisyllabic? I can try and simplify-”

“God, El’s totally right! You’re a bad guy, and you’re a huge asshole!”

Finally hitting his breaking point, Sin stormed off after his friends. There was some sort of snide remark that chased after him, but all it did was push him into leaving faster, not relaxing any of his clenched muscles until the heavy dungeon door slammed shut behind him.

He sighed. The room around him was empty. El and Ram must have already hurried off somewhere else. He didn’t blame them. Nor did he blame them when he finally found the two half an hour later, with Ram’s face buried in her puppy’s side and Elphelt three-quarters of the way through her second bucket of strawberry ice cream.

None of them talked about what happened. Elphelt and Ramlethal seemed content to let that piece of their past fade. This was supposed to be their new life, free of the limitations and restrictions of their loveless ‘mother.’ Sin didn’t want to make them uncomfortable by reminding them. And it wasn’t as though he could talk to his father or mother about what he’d done. They’d just get mad at him for being someplace he shouldn’t have been.

He tried to forget it for a few days. This wasn’t his business. Especially after he’d been such a massive jackass, Sin didn’t want to go anywhere near him. Illyria could do whatever they wanted to the guy; Sin didn’t care.

…

…Sin didn’t want to care. He didn’t, and yet…his thoughts just kept coming back to it. To the dungeons. How long would he be there? What did you even do in jail? He hadn’t paid much attention, but there weren’t any books or anything inside Bedman’s cell. Maybe they had given him some later…?

When the curiosity became too much to bear, he once again descended into the dismal bowels of the castle. The same guard stood there in wait, glancing up at the intruder.

Sin moved to walk by without a word, only for an arm to block the way.

“Kid, you can’t-”

“I’ll tell my dad you were slacking off, and that you let me in already.”

“...Little shit. Fine.” The guard jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “But don’t stay long, they don’t pay me to watch you, too.”

Sin merely nodded and nudged past. The dungeon was just as empty as before, vacant cell after vacant cell. He wondered if it ever got any busier than this.

The sound of his footsteps must have alerted the only prisoner there. When he passed the occupied cell, he was already being stared at. He tried not to show his discomfort, both in being stared at, and just from being here again to begin with.

“Kiske.”

“Uh…Man.” Sin tried for a scowl that didn’t take form.

“Close enough.” Bedman rolled his eyes. “Come to pester me once more. And by yourself this time?”

“You hurt their feelings.”

“Good. That was the point.”

Sin noted the emptiness of his cell. Just as devoid of anything as it had been before. A bench, a stone cot, and a toilet. No books, no puzzles, not even a pencil in sight. It made him antsy just looking at it. That was it? That was really it?

“Do they give you anything to do?” He asked, eye flicking between the cell and its occupant. “Talk to you? Do you even see anybody else down here?”

“I see the guard. I see someone twice a day when they bring me food. Why would they give me anything?

Immediately, Sin’s face scrunched up. “Isn’t that, like, super-turbo-boring?”

“Of course it is.” Bedman shrugged. “What of it?”

“It just seems kinda…y’know…” he tried and failed to think of the words he wanted. It wasn’t usually his strong suit. It didn’t help that he knew that he was speaking to someone far smarter than him, one who would go out of their way to point it out.

“No, I don’t know. I don’t suppose you could illuminate in any way whatsoever? Use any kind of useful adverbs?”

Sin thought for a minute, trying to process what exactly he’d been asked. “No.”

“...Well, points for honesty, I suppose, if there was any sort of score being kept.” Spinning around to face the wall, Bedman made a sweeping gesture to his near-empty cell. “You said it yourself, Kiske. I’m a ‘bad guy.’ What would be the point of granting me any kind of pleasantness? Book-dumb as you are, I’d hope you’d have at least heard of the word ‘punitive.’”

He hadn’t, but he didn’t want to admit that. “That’s messed up…”

“So am I. Fitting, isn’t it?”

Frustrated once more, Sin departed in silence.

Neither Valentine asked where he had gone. Given the short visit, they likely hadn’t considered he was doing anything of note. He let it be. For their sake, and for his own.

Anger was temporary. It lasted even shorter the second time around. It burnt itself out and replaced itself with more curiosity, and more concern. This wasn’t his business, he knew perfectly well. He knew that he was contending with someone who absolutely deserved the position he’d found himself in…yet thinking about it for too long just made his guts clench. If nothing else, he couldn’t help wondering if there was anything he could do to ease the boredom.

With enough brainstorming, the kernel of an idea took form. Several days passed as he plotted and schemed between hangouts and homework. It was a little private project, one that he’d been keeping to himself. Not the Valentines, not his father, not even his mother was privy to it. Sin was never the best at keeping secrets, but he’d been diligent with this one. Still, it hadn’t quite come together until he’d happened across the corner of the library where they kept the games.

He spotted a dusty box on the shelf and pulled it down, pawing away the layer of gray that had settled over it. Smart guys liked chess, didn’t they? Maybe that was a good idea. It’d at least be a way to pass the time.

With the Valentines out for the afternoon, Sin had all the space he needed to set things moving. He snuck into the library, swiped the chess box, and quietly slunk all the way down to the bottom of the castle for a third time.

“Nobody’s allowed-”

“I can still tell my dad.”

“Damn kid...” The guard hardly even glanced up at him, only doing a double-take upon noticing the extra luggage. “Lemme see the box, gotta make sure you didn’t stash a nail file or some shit in it.”

Sin donned his cheesiest, cheeriest grin. “Nope! Just chess. Just a couple ‘a guys playing chess.”

The guard gave him a strange look. “Sure, kiddo. Have fun with that.”

Sin was shooed away without a lick of hesitation. He was happy to take advantage of it. The fewer people he had to downplay his nerves in front of, the better.

He shook his head. No, he had to keep a handle on things. He couldn’t act like he was being ordered around. This whole thing was entirely his idea, and if Bedman wanted to act all high and mighty, well, what was stopping Sin from just walking away? Nothing, that’s what.

Maybe it was a little mean of him to be happy that he was the one not being taken off-guard this time. He found the cell’s occupant lying down on the fabric-covered concrete slab that passed for a bed (jeez, Sin was used to roughing it, but just looking at that thing made his back hurt). Hard to say whether its owner was asleep or not, but in any case, Sin’s presence went unnoticed until he audibly cleared his throat.

“Morning, Beddy!”

Bedman immediately jerked up, making a funny noise that was hard to describe the sound of. It was even funnier to see him looking confused, without that glare he seemed to nearly always have on.

It didn’t last, though, and as soon as he realized who had disturbed him, the scowl slipped back into place. “I do hope I am still dreaming, and that I’m not currently being bothered by you yet again.”

“Sounds like a good dream to me!” Sin beamed. He was starting to realize that getting flustered and upset was exactly what Bedman wanted out of him.

It was already obvious. When he responded calmly, the other boy had looked somewhat off guard himself, not getting the reaction he’d expected. It was momentary, before vanishing under another mean look, but he couldn’t hide it.

“...I’d have hoped our last encounter had put the issue to rest.” Bedman frowned. He stood up from his excuse for a bed. As he approached the locked door, he pointed an accusatory finger at his unwanted guest. “I want nothing to do with you, and you, likewise, should want nothing to do with me. I assumed you would be off somewhere with those friends of yours. Surely you have something better to do with your time.”

“Doesn’t look like you do, though. And I don’t think there’s such a thing as having too many friends!”

Bedman stared at him with unusual silence. Sin shook the game box like a bag full of treats. “C’moooon. It’ll be funnnn!”

“...Fine. I suppose I’m not doing anything else.”

The Gear sat down upon the concrete floor and tugged the lid off his box. Amber eyes scowled at his every movement.

“You know, you really could be doing better things with your time.”

“I guess.” Nonetheless, Sin placed the board down and began organizing the pieces. “But I want to spend time with you.”

Bedman watched him with disinterest, like he’d expect Sin to get up and leave. The longer he didn’t, the more reluctant curiosity began showing.

“Why me, though? You have actual friends, dim as they may be.”

“Yeah. But I want to play with you.” He slid the last few pieces into place. “White or black?”

“...Black.”

Sin grinned. “Nice! That’s good, because I like playing white. It matches my jacket!” He reoriented the board until the right colors were on the right side. “I can’t remember how it goes, which one goes first? Ah, who cares, you can go first.”

After several more moments of hesitation, Bedman sat down across from him, cautiously reached out through the bars and grabbed a pawn. As soon as he finished, Sin mirrored the movement with one of his own.

“That’s a terrible opening move.”

“Eh? Whazzat?”

“E4 is the classic chess opening- as you have relinquished the opener to me, you have to focus more on your defense strategy. Did you mean to attempt a Sicilian Defense? You’ve put your pawn right where I can capture it.”

“You can already tell just from the first move?”

“Chess is a strategy game,” replied Bedman. “You need to consider every possible move available, and how each of those moves sets up for later strategies.”

Looking between the board and his opponent, Sin scooted his piece back to where it had started. “You gotta think about that so far ahead of time? Sounds kinda annoying.”

“Strategizing is, quite literally, the entire point of the game.”

“Huh.” With his initial move undone, Sin stared at his pieces, trying to decide which one to move instead. “Hmm…” He picked up a piece, then put it down again. Maybe he should have looked up some strategy stuff beforehand? Oh well. Unwilling to overthink any more than he already had, Sin selected a random pawn and slid it ahead a space.

Bedman put a hand to his chin. “Interesting.”

That was probably the closest he’d ever gotten to praise from that mouth. Sin watched him select another pawn and slide it across the board. More copying his opponent, he picked up the same one on his side and moved it so they were parallel to each other.

“What sort of strategy are you attempting to set up by doing that? It’s completely illogical.”

“What kinda strategy would it be if I told you?” Sin chuckled. “Nah, I’m just playin’ it by ear! Just picking what feels right.”

It seemed that was the wrong answer. He wondered if there were any right ones in Bedman-land. The thought almost distracted him from the eyeroll sent his way. “Of course. I should have assumed as much.”

“Assumed what?”

If you have no aptitude for strategy, nor any sort of capacity to plan, then chess is exactly the sort of game you are designed to fail at, you’ve absolutely put yourself at a disad- “

“Oh my gawd,” Sin good-naturedly rolled his eyes back at him. “Y’know, with all the words you’ve got in that head of yours, I woulda’ figured some of ‘em would be nice!”

“Is that your intention with this?” Bedman replied. “Are you under the misconception that if I watch your ineptitude enough times, I’ll form some kind of fondness for it?”

The Gear said nothing. He simply slid another piece across the board.

“That’s not how that piece moves, bishops can only move diagonally.”

“Oh. Whoops.” Sin slid the piece back into its starting place and moved another pawn instead. “Dad’s tried teaching me how to play this, like, three times now. I keep getting ‘em confused!”

Bedman pinched the bridge of his nose. “Astounding. They look nothing alike, and you still can’t remember which is which?”

“They’re the same color! And they’re both kinda thin and swoopy at the top.”

Another stare was sent his way. It roved down to the board. Back up.

In a sudden burst of anger, Bedman reached through the bars and shoved the board away, scattering the pieces everywhere. “I can’t take this anymore. Just- just being exposed to your incompetence is making my skin itch! Take your idiotic game and your idiotic self and leave me be! I’d rather be in solitude than listen to your drivel!”

He stormed off into the corner of his cell, in a way that wasn’t particularly intimidating. It was hard not to laugh, but he kept it in. Seeing Bedman out of his element was already painting a very different picture from the threatening figure he’d encountered weeks ago.

“Fine,” Sin replied, “I’ll do what you say. But, if we’re not gonna finish playing, then we gotta finish later!”

Bedman gave no reply, only an irritated groan. Sin simply packed up the board and its pieces. “I’ll be back tomorrow!”

“I will not look forward to it.”

Despite saying that, though, upon his arrival the next day, Bedman was already seated within arm’s reach of the door.

“I was only sitting here because I was shooing away an insect.”

“Well, that’s nice of you.” The chess box was placed on the ground once more. “As long as you’re here, wanna keep playing our game?”

“Not particularly,” he sniffed, “but I doubt you’ll leave me be until I agree to your banal amusements, will you?”

“Nope!”

“You absolute nuisance…”

Without warning, Bedman reached through the bars and grabbed the box. While he worried it was about to be torn apart, he watched as the other boy calmly opened it, set the board out, and replaced every piece, right back in the exact orientation it had been right before being thrown.

“Huh.” Sin looked down at it. “You remembered?”

“Recollection is a skill in which I’m naturally astute.” Bedman glanced off. “...And there was very little else to memorize. Dense as you are, even you seem aware that this cell is not…the most intellectually stimulating.”

“You’re bored, you mean?”

“A pedestrian word, but if that’s all you can comprehend, then fine, yes, I was ‘bored.’”

“Well, let’s fix your ‘bored,’ with some ‘bored’-games! Haha!”

Bedman sighed in irritation. “You’re already trying my patience, Kiske.”

The game resumed. Temporarily. Four more rounds passed by without much issue, until he was harshly shooed away once more. Upon being asked if ‘Bedman’ really was his name, he had immediately clammed up, refusing to acknowledge he was being spoken to at all, speaking no words outside of ’get out!’

It was even less intimidating the second time. Sin came back again the next morning, box in hand.

“You’re really quite incorrigible, you know.”

“Aww, thanks!” He beamed. “I rinse twice a week!”

“That’s not- ! Oh, why do I bother…”

He hadn’t told the Valentines what he’d been up to. With how brief the game tended to be, it was rare it intersected with anything to the point of raising suspicion. On the few instances it did, or his mother asked what he was busy with, Sin would lie and claim he had homework, or was just going for jogs around Illyria. It wasn’t entirely lying, was it? He was doing those things, just not as often as he claimed.

The urge to throw in the towel had absolutely crossed his mind more than once, but Sin persisted, if out of nothing more than stubbornness. He knew that getting upset and storming off was exactly what Bedman wanted out of him, and he wasn’t about to give up after already making it this far.

“Can you tell me a neat chess fact?”

Bedman gave him a look like he was deranged. When he realized that Sin wasn’t joking, he sighed, moving a rook to snatch up one of the boy’s knights. “‘Checkmate’ is derived from the Persian phrase ‘Shah Mat.’”

“What does that mean?”

“‘The king is dead.’”

“Oh. That’s cool!”

“...Leave. You’ve annoyed me again.”

He came back the next day. And the next. They could only get through a few rounds each time before Bedman shooed him away, but Sin always returned. Before long, it had become a fixed habit. Bedman no longer pretended he wasn’t expecting a return. Every morning, he sat in the same spot, right at the door, ready to play a little bit more.

Letting Bedman talk seemed to be the key to letting him stay longer. If he could get him carried away on a subject, more rounds of play would pass without him realizing how long he’d been ‘bothered.’ Trivia facts, personal insight, anything that came to mind. Sin didn’t find it wholly unreasonable. With basically nobody else to talk to, no wonder he wanted to get all his words out to the one person who would listen.

As unpleasant as Bedman had been at first, he still found himself less and less coming out of spite and more out of genuine interest. He liked to learn about chess, or whatever topic his opponent was in the mood to prattle on about. In the time spent between his daily obligations, he’d daydream about what different chess moves to try the next time. He wondered if he could make any cool patterns with them. He still wasn’t entirely sure what the horse did.

Did Bedman spend his nights alone, wondering what to say to him? Sin wondered if, at any point, he also looked forward to their meetings.

He didn’t ask, though. There were plenty of questions he did ask, but he tried to keep away from ones he worried would end their chess game sooner.

Sin mused on what to say as he drummed his fingers against the floor. “So why do smart guys like chess so much?”

“It’s a sport of wit. Among the world of intellectual games, this is one of the most detailed and cerebral.” A bishop slid halfway across the board, and Bedman gestured for his fellow player to take his move. “But, I will admit, I am not opposed to mancala on occasion.”

Huh. He’d have to look that one up. That wasn’t a game he’d recalled seeing on the shelf, but then again, he hadn’t been looking for it. Sin moved his king diagonally.

His move was scrutinized with a quiet hum. Bedman reached for a rook. “If you’re going to ask me so many inanities, I have a question for you, then, Kiske.”

“Shoot.”

“If you acknowledge chess as a ‘smart guy’s game,’ your preference for it eludes me, logically.”

“Eh, it’s not my favorite.” Sin shrugged. “I picked it ‘cause I figured you’d like it.”

That response looked to be what he’d expected. “Ah. Unsurprising. I presume you’ve scarcely picked up a game prior to this.”

“Oh, I do play sometimes, though! Played a bunch with my mom and dad when I was a kid! Sometimes, I even won!”

“Were that true, then, I’d presume your strategy would be less…minimalist.”

Huh. That almost didn’t sound like an insult. Hey, Sin would take it. “Well, in the end, it’s still a game, right?”

He noted the other’s look of disbelief. “You don’t think so?”

“Well- yes, I suppose, ostensibly, that it is a game, but to act as though it’s on the level of charades and go-fish is insulting.”

Something about that made the Gear chuckle to himself. “I dunno. I think we play for really different reasons. I’m not good at chess. I know I’m not good at chess, but I still like playing it! Even if I lose, I’m having fun. When you play, it feels like…like you have to win. It’s not about having fun, it’s about winning, and showing off how smart you are. Like, do you think you need to prove how smart you are to me?”

“I don’t need to prove anything, especially not to you.”

“Oh.” Sin calmly leaned over and moved a rook. “So do you need to prove it to yourself, then?”

Bedman made a little noise in his throat, somewhere between an indignant squeak and a honk. He looked away from the chessboard, towards the side of his cell. “On the intellectual battlefield, I am clearly the superior combatant. It’s not ‘proving’ anything, it’s simply the expected outcome.”

He shot Sin a condescending look, yet all he got back was an unfazed shrug. “Okay. You said the rook can go sideways too, right? I think it was the rook.”

“Y…yes, it goes sideways.”

“Okay, thanks!” He slid it across the board. “Your turn! You gonna move one of those, too? You seem to like the horsey pieces a lot!”

“...”

“Beddy?” Sin asked, glancing up from the board. “Did’ja hear me?”

“...Are you mocking me?”

“Wha?”

“‘Are you mocking me,’ I said. But the question answers itself.” Bedman had turned a shade of indignant pink. “I should have known. That’s what this is. You’re making a mockery of me. Trying to drag me down to your level.”

He blinked. “But…I’m taller than you…?”

Pink began shifting to scarlet. “For goodness’ sake, Sin Kiske, you’re an academic black hole. A dunce. The longer I spend around you, the more I can feel my IQ drop. Are you so dense that you need me to tell you that you’re an idiot? Because I will. Gladly. I’m not going to allow you the comfort of living your life utterly clueless of your own stupidity-”

“Hold it, hold it,” he cut Bedman off. “You seriously don’t think I don’t know all that already?”

“I…I beg your pardon?”

Something about that made Sin burst into giggles. “Man, you do! Everyone thinks I don’t know I’m kinda dumb. Of course I know! It ain’t news to me. I’m fine with it!”

“What- Why would you take pride in your mediocrity?”

“I don’t. I take pride in the stuff I accomplish! I mean, yeah, I’m sure a lot of people can do their times tables, but I didn’t know how to a couple months ago, and now I do! So it’s something I’m proud of.”

“Th- that’s-” Bedman was practically spitting in his frustration. “That’s idiotic! That’s such a minor accomplishment! You learned something that the population at large can do with ease! You think that’s impressive? That it’s something to be proud of?

“Can you climb a tree?”

The question seemed to catch him off guard. “I don’t- what? Why are you asking me that?”

“It’s like that quote mom told me! ‘Everyone’s smart,’ uh, something-something-something, ‘if you climb a tree and put a fish in it, it’ll call you stupid.’”

“That’s…I’m fairly sure that’s now how it goes…”

“Aw well, that’s not really the important part. I’m not all that smart!” Sin smiled. “But I can make a really good chicken kebab, and I get along really good with dogs, and I like making people laugh! I’m not just ‘smart’ or ‘not-smart’ and that’s all there is to me. Which is really good! If someone’s better than me at something, then it’s not really a big deal. My old man’s good at grilling, but he and dogs really hate each other. And my dad’s a whole lot smarter than me, but he always burns dinner! Of course I’m dumber than you; you’re pretty smart. But there’s probably a whole bunch of stuff that I can do that you can’t! That’s one of the reasons it’s good to have a lot of friends.

And, see, uh…I got into this chat with Ram- couple weeks ago, I think? She wanted to try out this new burger joint. They had this thing, this- uhh, don’t remember the name, but it was this thing with a bunch of fries and a bunch of the sweet potato kind, all mixed together! ‘n Ram’d never tried sweet potato before. I told her to try it, because I like those a whole lot!” Sin chuckled to himself. “Well, she did try ‘em, but she hated it! Said they tasted- ‘tasted like earwax,’ I think she said. And for a second, she looked real upset, because I liked ‘em and she didn’t.

But I wasn’t mad, y’know? I can’t imagine getting mad over something like that, anyway. Point was that she tried it! And the nice thing about her not liking sweet potatoes? It means I didn’t have to share! I could have them to myself! I’m not a super huge fan of regular potatoes, anyway, I think they’re kinda boring unless you put a buncha stuff on ‘em. So I ate all the sweet potatoes, and Ram got all the regular ones, and everyone was happy.”

Sin nodded in satisfaction at his own anecdote. “If everyone likes different things, and everyone’s good at different stuff, then there’s a lot less reason to get upset and fight, right? Because everyone puts in a little of their own stuff. Does that make any kinda sense?”

The space went silent as his words hung in the air. The two stared at one another.

“Well, amid the distraction of your nauseatingly saccharine ramblings, you seemed to have let your guard slip.” Donning his sly smile once more, Bedman reached across the board to deftly knock over Sin’s king piece and swipe it away. “Checkmate. I win.”

Bewilderingly, in the face of his own thorough trouncing, Sin smiled, and began to applaud.

“Ooh, good job! You’re right, I totally didn’t see that coming!”

In the face of such a reaction, his smile slipped. “Why are you…?”

“It was a good strategy! A lot of the fun of this is trying to come up with good strategies, right? Isn’t that what you said?”

“Wh- no!” Bedman retorted. “No, that’s how you win. ‘Having fun’ is a separate matter entirely.”

“Well, I did! I tried my best! Even if I didn’t win, I still tried, so I had fun! Besides,” he beamed, “It’s nice to see you happy.”

“Was I not before?” The other asked.

“No, not like that.” He chuckled. “Whenever you start talking about stuff. Like the chess facts. You get this really bright smile, and it makes me happy to see it. Like you’re having fun for the sake of it.”

A pinkness started to overtake his opponent’s face once again. “Why do you care? I’m the villain, why would you give a damn about my happiness?”

At that, Sin immediately scoffed. “What’s with you and the whole ‘ooooooh I’m the bad guy’ thing? Is it fun or something? You don’t really act like it is. You think that just because you did bad stuff, that means it’s all you are, forever and ever? Ah, jeez…”

“In any case, you should hate me. It’s better for both of us that way. Why do you choose to be so stubborn with anyone, let alone me?”

Sin leaned back, upper body propped up by his arms. “So, my dad’s pretty religious,” he started, gesturing aimlessly at the spiderwebbed concrete ceiling. “I don’t get a lot of that stuff. Like, there’s god, and his kid, but also his kid is kinda him, too? And then there’s some third guy that’s also him? Then there’s this whole part about blowing up the ocean or something, and a bunch of naked people, and I think a bear? A couple of times?” Sin shrugged. “I dunno, I tried reading the whole book through once, but it had a lot of words I didn’t really get, and the plot was sorta confusing. Uh, anyway-” Sin twisted his wrist, like he was trying to sweep something away. “-I think a lot of it’s about that you should help people. Sometimes you can do it in all different ways. It doesn’t always have to be super complicated, though. Sometimes it’s just like this!” He gestured to their game board. “Having a chat, fooling around, making friends! Even if I try and it doesn’t work out, it’s better that I tried, right?”

Bedman found himself unable to respond. His mouth was just slightly slack, but no words came from it. Though he’d won the chess match with ease, the mastermind had been rendered silent.

For a moment, he looked at Sin like he was something else. Not a halfwit simpleton fumbling to success on accident, but something subtly radiant. Wisdom from the gutter, as the saying went. A worldly philosopher in a black wifebeater and slip-on sandals.

“You’re a jerk.” Sin said, “and you like to insult me a lot, even when I haven’t really done anything. But, I mean, I used to do that a lot, too. ‘n I think a lot of the reason I did it was because I thought it was the only way I could get anyone to listen to me. I had this- this whole thing with my old man, and this huge thing with my dad, so I lashed out all the time, because I thought it’d make me feel better.

When I got a little older, I grew out of it. It stopped being fun. Wanna know why? It’s ‘cause I realized I was being dumb. Y’know, being a jerk is really easy. Being mean is easy. Actually thinking and trying to be better was really hard at first, and I’m not even gonna pretend like it’s easy now.” He sucked air through his teeth. ”Gotta be honest, I think you’re kind of a jackass. And my old man is a biiiiig one. But, I mean, if I still love him anyway, I guess that means I can make space for you too, right?”

“You don’t- you shouldn’t-”

“What, shouldn’t care about you? Shouldn’t like you? Well, too bad. You can hate me all you want, but that just means I can try and like you all I want, anyway. And I’m pretty stubborn! My heart is, and always will be, open to all. Just because you pretend to be all big and bad and evil, it doesn’t mean I’m gonna change my mind. In fact, since I know you’re trying to get me to stop, that just means I’m gonna be even more stubborn!”

At the sound of silence, Sin nodded to himself. “I think you’re getting the point now.” He hauled himself off the ground, shaking out the stiffness in his joints and the grit on his palms. He looked to the dungeon’s front entrance and found it barren. Over the past few weeks, the guard had gotten long bored of his presence, all but letting him come and go as he pleased. The thought of wandering off to the bathroom without having someone take over his position wasn’t something he had any hesitation in doing. After all, what was there to worry about? All they did was play chess.

Sin scurried to the entryway. A ring of keys hung from a wall peg. Not even that had been taken with the guard upon his departure- and, well, why would he? Nobody else came down here. Nobody but the three of them. A guard, a prisoner, and some annoying yet harmless nuisance.

He might have been a little slow on the uptake, but Sin was nowhere near as stupid as people tended to assume.

The keys jingled as he snatched them and brought the entire ring back to Bedman’s cell. “Now let’s do some homework! Smart guys like homework, right?”

“You didn’t- “ The other’s eyes went wide at the sight. “You have to be- no, you- “

Rather than excitement, Bedman shrank away from the door like a frightened mouse. Sin lowered his head and went to work inserting each key into the lock. He hadn't gotten a good look the first time, and even if he had, that was a while ago. But there were only so many keys to be tried.

“Sin, stop this right now! You can’t- ! You can’t…”

Something about it reminded him of those big armor-plated Gears he’d hunted down in the past with his old man. Not in appearance, obviously. Those things were twice his size at their smallest. Sin saw a resemblance more in behavior. The armor was jagged and kept them safe. Trying to attack them back often didn’t end well. To really get anywhere when it came to that kind of Gear, you had to get underneath the spiky armor and snarly jaws until you hit its soft underbelly. It still didn’t make the job easy, though- as soon as they realized their weak spots were exposed, those Gears would shift from aggressive and vicious to defensive and sheepish, unable to guard themselves with their vulnerable spots for all to see.

Though, of course, he had no intention to kill here. Upon finally finding the key to make the lock click open, Sin didn’t force his way into the cell, merely sliding the door out of the way.

“You ready to go, Beddy?”

“I’m not…” Bedman said, soft and uncertain. “You can’t…”

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” said Sin, extending an arm into the open doorway. “I promise. But you gotta promise not to hurt me too, okay? If neither of us wanna hurt each other, that means there’s nothing to be scared of, right?”

“I…”

Hesitantly, Bedman extended a shaking arm through the cell. Sin took it and pulled, just enough that the other had to take a little step. When he looked down, Bedman found that he’d passed the line where the door had cut him off from the rest of the world.

“Come on.” Said Sin, “I wanna introduce you to some friends.”

There was that softness again, the one that Sin had finally begun to see slipping out through the scowls and smugness. He watched how his companion’s eyes never quite settled on one part of the castle, flicking back and forth to various things as he was led through it. The high ceilings and decorated banisters made for a far cry from the monochrome dungeon that sat below it all.

“So this is Illyria Castle…?” He mused aloud. “I’ll admit, the craftsmanship is quite impressive.”

“What parts did you see before?” Asked Sin.

“I saw very little of it during my arrival, if that’s what you mean. Far less aesthetically pleasing.” Bedman took a brief break from sightseeing to glance at his guide. “Where exactly are we going?”

“To see some friends, like I said!” Sin looked over his shoulder. He noted a look of continued unease in Bedman’s expression, “Don’t worry, there’s nothing to be worried about! Promise!” Despite that, he saw no change. “Double-promise! That’s what you’re worried about, isn’t it?”

“Yes, although, in part, I’ll admit my concern is more for how many flights of stairs there will be.” He sighed. “I can’t deny, using my bed for most ambulatory needs and then immediately being confined to a small space hasn’t left me with a stunning degree of stamina.”

Though Sin didn’t understand several of those words, he understood enough. “Oh!” He immediately halted, kneeling down. “Wanna hop up, then? I can carry you, if you’re tired!”

Bedman looked him over oddly. “...No. But your sense of concern is…appreciated.”

For a moment, Sin could almost swear there was a smile in there somewhere. “Ah, well, we’re almost there, anyway. Think I can hear ‘em…right over…”

Truthfully, he hadn’t had any idea where they had been, more of just a guess. A pretty good guess, mind, but his enhanced sense of hearing did the rest of the legwork. It made sense they’d be someplace near here around this time of day.

While under normal circumstances, he’d have no hesitation letting himself in, he was far more restrained today. He knocked on the doorframe, just slightly poking his head inside. “Ram? El? ‘s it cool if I come in?”

He spotted the tail end of a toothy cloak and a hand gesturing toward him. Sin took that as enough of an invitation. He was sure to grab his companion’s wrist and pull him along, just in case he realized what was happening and tried to bolt.

“Hey, Sin!” Elphelt sat next to her sister, both scribbling away at something with various art supplies. She turned to wave with a pink colored pencil between her fingers. “Ram was just wondering where you were!”

The other Valentine nodded as he entered. “We hadn’t…seen you…”

He could tell the exact moment they’d realized who had been brought with him. The room’s mellow atmosphere all but froze over in a flash. Calm, friendly faces overturned and revealed teeth. Behind him, Sin could feel a jerk against his grip, far from enough to put up a real resistance, but enough to make it clear how little its owner wanted to be there.

Taking a gamble, he let go, pushing Bedman in front of him. It appeared to baffle everyone in the room. Sin took a half-step away, raising his arms. “So- “

Elphelt lunged.

“I- you- !!”

“Woah, woah!” Sin pushed his way between the two parties, keeping either at arm’s length. Though it likely would have been easy to just go around, Sin’s presence was likely the actual thing keeping things from immediately devolving into screaming and biting.

“What is he doing here??” Elphelt snarled, with more vitriol than Sin had ever heard her utter before. He briefly reconsidered his little plan, but with how far he’d already gone with it, that felt like cowardice.

Still, he had to take a calming breath before trying to speak again. “Ram, El, this is Bedman.” He gestured from one to the other. “Bedman, Ram and El! I know it’s been a while since you guys talked, but I think you two have some stuff to say to each other, don’t you?”

The bewilderment of the situation left both parties silent, but it didn’t last.

“Why isn’t he in jail?!”

“Well, I could certainly ask the same for you, Valentine, but I’m not that sort of- !”

“Both of you, cut it out!” Sin shouted over them. “I didn’t bring him here just so you guys could go at each other’s throats again!”

“So then why did you?!” Hissed Elphelt.

“I brought him up so you guys could talk. Just- just talking, okay? That’s all.”

Looking back and forth several times, it was only after many moments that Sin took a tenuous step out of the way. “Can you promise not to immediately lose it?”

Nobody nodded, but likewise, there was no shouting. None of them looked anything close to happy, and Sin was left standing on the sidelines, ready to jump back in and start pulling people off of each other if anyone decided to go from ‘loud’ to ‘violent.’

“I hate you,” Ram said.

Bedman looked uneasily to Sin, then to the Valentines.

“...Yes, you should.”

It was a similar line to what he’d said before, back in the castle dungeons. This time, though, the Valentines were taken off-guard by the softness of the other’s voice. It sounded much less like mockery now, more like a genuine guilt and loathing for the one saying it.

Elphelt peered over her sister’s shoulder. “What?”

“Ramlethal is correct. You should hate me. And I’m…sorry.” He struggled around the word, but it tumbled out, in the sort of awkward somersault that ended with one landing flat on one’s back in an undignified pile.

The two girls exchanged looks. “What are you…?”

“I’m agreeing with you.” Bedman lowered his head, the shadow of his bangs hiding his eyes from sight. You should be furious with me, because I did terrible things to you.”

Ramlethal looked over to Sin, who merely nodded in silence.

“While I had justified my actions before, I’ve come to understand how severely they have impacted you all. While my actions were a product of Ariels’ deception, I will not claim to be guiltless.”

“Just saying ‘sorry’ isn’t gonna make it better!” Elphelt protested, though lacking much force.

“Yes, I know.” He nodded. “So I am not asking that you forgive me. I’ve hurt you both, along with many others. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, nor am I going to ask for it. All I wish to do is to extend an overdue apology to you both. And…” Bedman faltered. “If I may be allowed, all I ask for is that I’m allowed to pay reparations, through whatever means I can. I may never be able to earn, nor justify you ever viewing me with anything other than loathing, but I…I beg you for the opportunity to try and right my wrongs, in some form. You do not have to forgive me- not now, not ever. What I want is not your forgiveness, just the opportunity to show I am capable of something other than evil and cruelty.” Even with how he hid his face and tried to keep his voice formal, it was obvious that he was losing composure, voice turning wet and warbly. “I understand that you hate me. I hate myself too. I just want to try and make up for this. Somehow.”

Ramlethal’s mouth fell open. Initially to speak, then merely being stuck in place. The room was silent. Trying to read the atmosphere was difficult. Sin remained where he was, off to the side, mentally crossing his fingers in hope.

The two Valentines stared at each other in silence. Not a word was spoken. The intensity of their shared gaze briefly made Sin wonder if they were capable of some sort of sibling telepathy. That they were having a silent conversation right that moment, some intense debate nobody else could be privy to.

After many long moments, Elphelt broke their eye contact. Her neutral expression shifted to a slight smile. Gingerly, she extended a cautious hand and placed it on the boy’s head.

“Mother really messed all of us up, huh?” She turned to her sister. “Ram, what do you think?”

Her expression remained unreadable. She was quiet for another moment of thought, then spoke.

“A wise man once taught me that anyone is capable of change. I can’t take back what I did to Babylon, and that still haunts me. Holding a grudge against you would be hypocritical. As long as you really mean it, then...I can forgive you. Or at least give you the chance to prove you’ve changed. If I killed you now- and if Sol had killed me before, neither of us would have any chance to be different.”

Elphelt nodded. “Yeah. Just ‘cause the Kiskes let us live here doesn’t change that we did some pretty bad stuff, too. Mister Ky doesn’t talk about it, but…” she chewed on her lip. “It feels really bad. Ram ‘n me aren’t saints. I’m still mad at you. I’m not gonna pretend I’m not. But I’ll let you try and change my mind, okay?”

“...Alright.” Bedman stood up straight, conviction clear through his watery eyes and tearstained cheeks. “I don’t need everyone to forgive me. I’m not sure I’d even want that. All I want is to have the opportunity to show that I can be better.”

Across the room, Sin smiled with pride. A hand came to tap at his chin. “A wise man…” He murmured. “Hey, I did that!”

A titter of nervous laughter rippled through the room. The moment of levity was swiftly interrupted by the sound of a knock. Before any of them had the opportunity to reply, to even react to the sound, the knocker allowed themselves in of their own accord.

“H-hey, we’re already- !” Sin froze at the sight. “Dad?!”

There in the doorway stood First King Ky Kiske.

The atmosphere turned frigid once more. Sin threw himself between his father and the person he’d arrested, despite knowing full well he couldn’t hide anything. “Uh, dad, I can explain- !”

“No. There is no explaining to be done.”

“I-it’s not what it looks like, I’m just- !”

Ky raised a hand, and his boy fell silent. “...Sin, we have security cameras down there. You’ve been going every day; that sort of thing is easy to follow. And you weren’t particularly subtle the first time, either. You left dust all over the place when you took the chess box.”

“Oh.” His cheeks went pink. “I-...uh…I- “

Even with his lies and smuggled prisoner thoroughly exposed, Sin stayed where he was. He didn’t want a fight. He hoped there wouldn’t be one. He didn’t want things to end this way. The thought of grabbing Bedman and making a break for the nearest window crossed his mind. Insane as it was, he wouldn’t deny it was tempting. It didn’t matter that he was defying his own father for the sake of a criminal. This wasn’t how he’d let all this end, this wasn’t- !

He felt a hand nudge his side. Bedman strode forward, head tilted back to look the First King in the eyes.

“I’ll go without argument.”

“What?” Sin cried out in protest. His father’s reaction was subtler, merely a silent, raised eyebrow.

“I will follow you back to the dungeon. I will not protest, nor will I make any attempt to escape. Your son meant well, I was the one manipulating his good nature. I am the only one at fault in this scenario. Please don’t blame- “

Ky raised his hand once more, and again, the room fell silent.

“There is no need to explain anything to me.”

“So you understand, then, that I must be pu- “

Another raised hand, along with a furrowed brow, cut off anything Bedman tried to say. Yet that budding scowl eased, and Ky looked to his son with a faint smile.

“I’m quite proud of you, Sin.”

Sin blinked, bewildered. “You’re…what?”

“I’m proud. And rather impressed,” Ky said, arms folded behind his back. “Though I was willing to allow you and the Valentines your first unauthorized visit, I had not expected any of you to return. I’d considered intervening, but after some thought, I realized you were making far more headway than I could have hoped to make by myself, or with conventional interrogation. Then again, after seeing how you bonded with Ramlethal, maybe I shouldn’t be so surprised.” The king paused, rubbing at his temple. “Even if it was ill-advised, I can’t deny your intentions were good. And, as it seems in this instance, that sense of earnestness appears to have rubbed off.” He gestured to Bedman, still standing in front of him. “That you were willing to shoulder the blame yourself, rather than bludge all responsibility on Sin, it’s something I have to genuinely respect of you, Bedman.”

“It wasn’t me,” he replied. “Really, it wasn’t. Common courtesy isn’t something to be lauded.”

“Nonsense. The act of doing good is a constant effort, not an ambient quality. Sin’s interactions with you may have encouraged those behaviors, but in the end, such actions are entirely of our own choice.”

Sin shifted his weight from foot to foot. “So…if you saw all the important stuff, does that mean he doesn’t have to go back to jail?”

Ky sighed, but with a little smile in the corner of his mouth. “It will take some effort, and I’ll likely have to call in some political favors, but I’m sure I’ll be able to convince the judicial department that someone so young would be better off doing community service than sitting in a jail cell somewhere. It won’t be the same as pardoning him altogether, but Ramlethal is currently under a similar program, we should have the draft paperwork lying around somewhere for us to make a second copy.

Of course, that also means I’ll need to have someone appointed as his parole officer during the duration of his sentence. Preferably someone resilient enough for the job, or with personal insight.” Ky gave his son a look. “I don’t suppose you know any open candidates?”