Guilty
Gear, its characters and settings are property of Sammy Studios, and are being
used in this fanfiction without permission.
This fic is rated R for violence and sexual content, and it contains
yaoi material.
Note: Since there isn’t much stated in the games as
to Testament’s backstory, I took the liberty of
making a bunch of stuff up. Please keep
in mind this isn’t entirely canon ^^;;
Happy Holidays, everyone!
Culmination
Chapter
13
By now the sun had fallen, sending a cool, ocean wind blowing across the curved shoreline. Ky and Testament stood there together, just beyond the reach of salty waves, both quiet as their eyes met in the growing darkness. The sway of the sea was calm, the calls of distant birds a charming lullaby, and Testament’s low, worn voice seemed to dissolve into their folds of serenity. As if he himself were just as natural, just as solemn, as the coming of night.
“I’d
considered telling you before,” he told Ky softly, turning to cast his gaze to
the water as locks of his hair danced over his shoulders with the breeze. “That I was once human. But I knew it would probably make it easier
for you to accept me, and I didn’t want that—not like that.” His fingers curled at his sides. “I didn’t want to mislead you into thinking
that…any part of me could still be human.
The man I was died; I’ve never thought of myself as a human who was
turned into a Gear. I am a Gear. It’s too late for me to regret that now.”
Ky
lowered his head, considering Testament’s words with all the gravity they
deserved. “I see,” he replied just as
quietly, though he couldn’t help the pang of grief stinging his chest. To think that Testament, once human, could no
longer consider himself as such…. But he
didn’t dare question when Testament was being so serious, and he only
nodded. “I understand.”
“I
barely remember anything from my human life, anyway,” Testament continued in
the same even tone. “Brief memories of
my father, the war, even the Holy Order.”
He tilted his head up slightly.
“I remember what the uniform felt like, so I think…I must have served in
the Order for a short while. I
remember…Sol, fighting alongside me.”
“Sol?”
Ky echoed, startled, his gaze swinging back to Testament’s face. “Sol was…in the Holy Order before?”
“I’m
not sure. But I do remember him.” Testament’s lip curled in a bitter
smile. “He didn’t like me very much back
then, either.”
Not
sure what to make of that, Ky only nodded again. “What happened?”
Testament’s
eyes thinned subtly. “That…I’m not
exactly sure of,” he confessed. “I died,
that much I know. My father was there,
crying…and when I woke up, I was in a lab.”
His voice deepened spitefully. “A
lab belonging to the Bureau. They’re the
ones that made me into a Gear when I should have died—I think they were hoping
the trauma of having been killed would leave a bigger imprint on my memory,
making it more likely that I would retain my consciousness despite Justice’s
power. They wanted me to be able to reason,
and…feel, the way Justice herself would.”
“But
why?” Ky turned slightly to face him,
trying to take in everything Testament was telling him. “The Bureau was supposed to be developing
anti-Gear weapons, not creating more Gears.
Are you saying they intended to pit you against Justice?”
“No. No, I….”
Testament shook his head, betraying his calm exterior with a look of
pain. “No, I was their test subject.”
“Test…subject…?”
“Their
doll. Their guinea pig.” A shudder ran through the Gear’s flesh and
tainted his eyes with agony. “They
needed a Gear that was powerful, and willful, and creative—something that could
accurately show how well their weapons worked.
Fifteen anti-Gear weapons…I survived twelve before I was able to
escape. But before then….” He lifted his palm again, and though the red
lines were no longer visible his gaze sharpened as if tracing each one. “They tested their methods on me again and
again, trying to find my weaknesses—anything they might be able to use against
a Gear as powerful as Justice.”
“That’s….” Ky could only stare at him, horrified. “My God….”
“Blacktech,
chemical weaponry, viruses, magic, curses—they tried just about everything they
could think of.” Testament chuckled
without humor. “But they made me too
well. Nothing they could come up with
would kill me. It’s…ironic, how they
could easily create more Gears—I was not the only one they used—and yet they
could devise nothing powerful enough to get rid of us. They couldn’t even use us Gears to fight each
other; not only could they not trust that Justice wouldn’t find a way to
control us, but by then something happened they should have thought of.”
“Should….” By now Ky was beyond being able to think of
reasonable questions, so he only licked his lips, waiting in tense silence for
Testament to go on. Even if all this
talk was starting to make him feel ill.
Testament
tilted his chin up subtly, and in his eyes burned something Ky hadn’t seen in
him for a long time: malice. The
gleaming, unwavering bloodlust that he had seen in far too many Gears. It had been so long since he’d last seen
Testament like that, and in that time he had witnessed so much of Testament’s
calmness and even tenderness that the reappearance of that gleaming wrath was
shocking. He nearly retreated a step.
“We
hated them,” Testament continued, his voice having dropped to almost a
growl. “All the torture we were put
through, their tests and their weapons, each new invention of theirs carving
new scars—we despised our captors, and the humanity they represented. Like beasts driven mad.” Though the Gear’s voice was still hardened Ky
could see a tremor spread through his flesh, like a quiver of fear. “The Ninth was one of them. We’d fight to a standstill every time, and
eventually the program continued, determining he wasn’t effective enough. There were other Beasts. Other magic users, other weapons. But it was the humans that were responsible
for our torment, and when we finally escaped all we had was our hatred of
them. That hatred….” He shuddered again. “That insanity, which made it easy for
Justice to manipulate us….”
“Testament.” Though Ky was himself shaken he knew he had
to say something. There had to be
something. “I’m…I’m so sorry, that I
never knew. The Holy Order would have
never stood for such a thing.”
Ky
reached out, hoping that some connection of touch would calm the Gear, but as
soon as their fingers brushed Testament abruptly jerked away. “Don’t,” he hissed, and Ky was startled to
see all Testament’s vehemence crumble abruptly away. “You don’t understand.”
“I
understand hatred,” Ky confessed, his eyes thinning subtly with the shame of
that statement. “It…has been my greatest
sin. You already know that.”
The
words seemed to wake Testament a little, and hesitantly his eyes swiveled to
meet Ky’s carefully maintained expression.
“You hated Gears,” he murmured, almost testing.
Ky
stood a little straighter. “I did. I lost many things to the war—to Gears. But now, I regret just as many of my own
actions.” He smiled grimly. “If I had been able to find another way to
end the war without so much bloodshed, I would have tried.”
“Yes,
I know.” Testament looked away
again. “That’s how you are. You…don’t hate us anymore.”
The
Gear closed his eyes. “But I still hate
humans,” he went on, his voice hushed, maybe even shameful. “I hoped—I convinced myself that it might be
possible, with these children and this simple life, to be happy. To forget the past and live however I
could. And even before we came here,
even when I knew I could never live quite like Dizzy, I believed that, with
time, I could come to terms with my hatred and let it be. When you said you didn’t hate me…” his smile
was crooked, but sincere, “…I thought it might be possible. If humanity’s champion--with so many Gears’
lives to his credit--could come to forgive a creature like me, surely my own
salvation was not so far away.”
“Testament….”
“But
it’s not that simple.” Testament shook
his head, letting his hair fall before his face to hide the flutter of pain
across his pressed eyelids, his twisted lips.
“Strange, how this place has shown me that. All it took was one reminder, and it all came
back to me. I….” He lifted his hands, fingers curling
stiffly. “I was afraid I would hurt them. All of them innocent children—orphans, like I
was once—and all I could think was…‘don’t let me hurt them.’ I don’t want to hurt them….”
Ky
bit his lip, watching the Gear beside him: his lowered head, his slack
shoulders, the shiver in his hands. His chest
was aching, drawn tight with too much emotion.
All that grief, shame, and fear were already buried in his own heart,
and to see it painted so clearly across Testament’s tortured visage shook him
deeply. For a long moment he could only
stand there helplessly, praying that somehow God would guide his hand. This was a chance for both of them, maybe for
redemption, and if only he knew what to do he would have taken all of
Testament’s doubt and uncertainty away.
If he’d only had the words….
At
long last Ky reached out, calloused fingers sliding down Testament’s upper arm
coaxingly. The Gear flinched, and after
some hesitation opened his eyes to meet Ky’s gaze. Ky almost lost his nerve, faced with all of
Testament’s questions and remorse, but before he could give in to his own
doubts he lifted his other hand to a strong shoulder, turning him so they could
face each other.
“It’s
all right,” Ky said quietly, clinging firmly to his faith as he assured the
Gear. “I know, Testament. And it’s all right.”
“Ky….” Testament’s eyes thinned as if in pain, and
without warning he sagged wearily against Ky’s shoulder. The officer stumbled a bit, trying to keep
his balance, but the sand was giving way beneath his feet. By the time he’d slung an arm around his shoulders
it was too late; Testament’s legs were already folding, and with the added
weight Ky couldn’t keep himself upright.
With a tiny gasp he sank to his knees in the sand. The pair landed with a jolt, causing Ky’s
arms to tighten around the weakened Gear.
“Ky….” Testament, leaning on his side and nearly in
Ky’s lap, rested his weight against a firm chest. His breath hissed shallowly as he hid his
face beneath waves of ebony hair. “I’m
so tired,” he whispered, a harsh tremor running through him. “I’m tired…I was looking for you.”
“Testament….” Ky felt his eyes begin to burn as he
tightened his arms around Testament’s broad shoulders, holding him close. It was then that he realized that he, too,
was shaking. “I’m sorry,” he replied in
kind, his voice thick with sympathy and regret.
“I’m sorry, Testament. I’m so
sorry….”
*****
It
was getting late—everyone was already settling down to go to sleep, and neither
Ky nor Testament had returned. Bridget
knew better than to worry, but he was anyway. He hid it, for Dizzy’s sake, but when the
girls started to tug him down toward the mattresses for sleep he slipped away
from them. “I’m gonna go look around one
more time,” he said brightly, adjusting the T-shirt that served as half his
pajamas. “You guys go ahead and go to
sleep.”
“We
won’t save a spot for you,” Noverre informed him smartly.
“Well
fine, be that way,” Bridget retorted, sticking his tongue out.
“Fine,
I will.”
“Fine.”
Bridget
scampered away before Noverre could retort again, flashing Dizzy a bright smile
on his way out of the sleeping room. He
knew she was probably worrying just as much as him, but hopefully Johnny would
look after her, and soon enough he would have brought the two delinquents back. It wasn’t like there was anything dangerous
on this island, after all. Nothing could
have happened to them.
It
wasn’t easy to spot them in the dark, but after much squinting Bridget decided
that the lump of shadow against the shore could be nothing other than one of
their two missing companions. He skipped
lightly across the cooling sand to the water’s edge. “K~y?” he sang questioningly, “Or is that
Testament?” When he got closer, however,
he was startled to see it was actually both.
He hesitated a moment. “Ky?”
“Oh. Hello.”
Ky raised his head. “You weren’t
worried about us, were you?”
They
were situated together on the beach; Ky on his knees, cradling the limp form of
a slumbering Testament against his chest.
The latter was curled on his side like a young child. It was both adorable and sobering—Ky’s face
was haggard, as if having endured some battle.
“Are you all right?” Bridget asked seriously.
“Yes,
we’re fine,” Ky assured. “Testament…fell
asleep. He seemed like he really needed
it, so I didn’t have the heart to wake him.”
He frowned at the ocean creeping up towards them. “Will you help me move him, though? I don’t want disturb him, but I’m not sure if
the tide is coming in or out.”
“Shouldn’t
we take him inside?” Bridget suggested as he moved around to support Testament’s
legs.
Ky’s
frown deepened as he hooked his arms under Testament’s, and together they
carefully carried Testament a safe distance away from the shoreline. Thankfully, he was so deeply asleep by now
that he didn’t even stir. “I don’t think
so. This might be the best thing for him
right now. Away from everyone.”
“…Okay. If you say so.”
They
carried Testament several meters up the beach, and when Ky deemed it far enough
he started to lower Testament to the sand.
It really would have made more sense to take Testament inside, to give
him a bed and a blanket, but…it might be best if Testament were able to avoid
the children for now, given his earlier concerns, and a trip that long risked
waking him up.
Bridget
helped them settle once more; Ky sitting down with his legs crossed, Testament
lying on his back with his head pillowed in Ky’s lap. It would most likely render his legs asleep
in no time, but when the Gear sighed contentedly in his sleep he gave up any
protests. Instead he reached down, drawing
ebony locks away from Testament’s face as Bridget darted back to the House to
gather a pair of blankets and assure Dizzy that the pair was well.
“Are
you going to stay out here with him?” Bridget asked as he returned to drape the
first of the blankets over Testament.
“Yes. I want to be here when he wakes up—I think
it’s important.” He paused as he
watched the Gear. “He…looks all right
for now, though, doesn’t he?” Ky asked quietly.
“I
guess so.” Bridget flopped down at Ky’s
right, folding his legs beneath him as he leaned forward to see Testament’s
face. He didn’t look peaceful as much as
deeply asleep. “Did something happen?”
Ky
sighed. “Sort of. He told me about his past.” He struggled a moment with how much to
disclose to the younger boy.
“It’s...awful, Bridget, the things that were done to him. I couldn’t even say anything.”
Bridget
sobered a little as he sat up. He didn’t
know what Ky had done to earn Testament’s trust like that, but he was a little
envious; it must have really been something, to open up the usually stoic
Gear. “He looks all right now,” he
offered.
“Yes,
but…when he wakes up….” Ky had no idea
what he might say then, and already he had gone over in his mind several times
the possible assurances he could offer. None
of them seemed like they would help much.
“I don’t know. He’s trying so
hard to be happy here, but it’s not going to be easy for him.”
Bridget
nodded vaguely, remembering how Testament had been avoiding everyone that
day. He still didn’t really understand
what was going on, and though it was a little frustrating he knew Ky would be
able to handle it better than him. “He
was looking for you earlier,” he reported.
“Was
he?” Ky returned his hand to soft hair,
idly twisting a few of the thick strands between his fingers. “I wish I could help him better than
this. I….” He trailed off abruptly.
Bridget
cocked his head to the side. “Hm?”
“That
is…I’m not sure what to think of him,” Ky admitted, his eyes growing a little
vague as he watched the movements of his hand.
“This sudden…affection I feel towards him.” He smiled ruefully. “I can’t be sure if I’m honestly growing fond
of him, or if it’s only my sympathy.”
Bridget
considered this for a long, silent moment, and Ky was a little concerned he’d
said something strange. But then Bridget
was sliding closer, settling his chin on Ky’s slender shoulder as he draped the
second blanket over them both. He
frowned slightly, trying to see the boy, but with his head so close he could
only make out a few strands of shadowed blonde.
“Bridget?”
“It’s
all right either way, isn’t it?” Bridget asked lightly, though there was
something hidden in his tone that Ky hadn’t expected. It sounded like regret—something he never
would have thought to hear in Bridget’s cheerful voice. “If you don’t wanna get close to someone just
because you feel sorry for them…you might not find anyone to care for.” He pressed a little closer against Ky’s back. “Everyone could use a little sympathy.”
Ky’s
eyes opened a little wider, and he turned his head slightly, wishing he could
see the boy’s face, but all he could manage was a faint brushing of their
cheeks. “Bridget…?”
“Right?”
“I….” Ky glanced back towards the ocean,
considering those words and their unlikely source. “Bridget.”
He lifted a hand; even if he couldn’t see the boy he pressed his palm
gently against the side of his face.
“You’ve been taking care of both of us all along, haven’t you. Thank you.”
Bridget
was almost unnaturally still, and then he wriggled a little like the youth he
was, turning his face briefly against Ky’s wide palm. “Can I stay with you two? Just for a while?”
“Of
course.” Ky smiled quietly, patting
Bridget lightly on the head before lowering his arm once more. He wasn’t sure how well he’d be able to sleep
like this, with one weight against his back and another in his lap, but…he was
warm, and content, here. These two had
taken such care of him in the past week, and it was
a welcomed comfort to have the both of them so close to him. Maybe he was even looking after them this
time. And before he knew it his eyes
were slipping shut, carrying him, also, into deep dreams.
*****
Anji
was still humming a cheerful tune as he stepped out of the motel bathroom, one
towel wrapped around his waist and the other draped over his head. “Shower’s free,” he called, scrubbing at his
hair to dry it. He paused when he
spotted Baiken.
She
was seated on the bed closest to the window, dressed in a simple, pale sleeping
robe that had parted around her bent knee.
Her hair was down for once; it shielded the scar running down the side
of her face so that her visage now appeared without blemish. She would have even been beautiful, her eyes
calm and manner relaxed, if not for the blade held between her teeth. The handle of her sword was wedged between
her toes, holding it in place so she could polish its sharpened metal surface
with her one good hand.
Anji
paused, his lip curling in a smile as he watched her. “You’re something,” he chuckled, shaking his
head. “You know that?”
“Hm?” Baiken’s gaze flickered to him, and when she
caught the look on his face she scowled, ruining the image of almost serenity
she’d displayed a moment ago.
“Whatever,” she muttered around the sword’s tip.
Still
grinning, Anji hopped onto his own bed, continuing to dry his hair. “So, we’re stuck here a while longer, huh?”
he asked idly. They’d stayed the last
two days here, spending their money sparingly and wandering around the
city. “What’s this business you have in
“Nothing
much,” Baiken replied carefully, her teeth tapping lightly against the
metal. “It’ll be another day.”
“And
here I thought we were catching a flight.”
Anji was silent a moment, wondering if now might be the best time to
bring up his earlier concerns.
“Hey. Where are we going, after
this?”
Baiken
didn’t glance up from her work. “Does it
matter?”
“Yeah.” Anji took a deep breath. “We’re going to the colony, aren’t we.”
This
time Baiken did pause, then gave her sword one last stroke of the cloth before
taking it out of her mouth. She set it
aside and began to put her polishes away.
“Yeah. You gotta problem with
that?”
“Not
really,” Anji admitted. “Just…you could
have told me, you know.”
Baiken
shrugged her one shoulder stiffly. “Didn’t
want to hurt your feelings, big guy.”
Anji
snorted, pushing off the bed as he hunted up a T-shirt. It wasn’t that he was upset about it; merely
put out that she hadn’t thought to tell him.
“It’s not like I have any problem going back for now, anyway,” he
muttered, tossing his towel aside as he slipped the white shirt over his head.
“Listen,
Anji,” Baiken started to say, sheathing her sword.
“No,
it’s all right. It’s probably
best.” Anji stepped behind the bathroom
door to switch his second towel for his long pants—didn’t exactly match the
shirt, but it would be good enough.
“Hey, I think I’m gonna go down to the motel bar for a drink.”
“Anji,”
Baiken tried again. “Don’t take it
personally. We could both use a break.”
“Yeah,
yeah.” Anji waved vaguely as he dug a
few bills out of his travel pack and headed for the door. “Don’t wait up, alright?”
“Anji—”
By
then Anji had closed the door behind him, a tiny sigh slipping past his
lips. He wasn’t upset. It was just difficult to deal with Baiken
sometimes, because she always found a way to be right about everything. He didn’t want her to be right about this;
she hadn’t been there, hadn’t heard that man speak so calmly and reasonably
and…innocently…about everything. She
shouldn’t have had any idea what he was feeling.
For
a moment those concerns were forgotten when he entered the small motel bar, his
eyes alighting on a familiar head of wild, pale hair among the people at the
bar. “Hey!” A grin broke across his features as he
trotted across the room. “Chipp!”
“Oh,
there you are,” said the bartender with a nod.
“Mr. Mito—this man’s been looking for you.”
Anji
chuckled as he came up behind the man in question. “Hey there, Chipp,” he laughed, slapping his
shoulder. “You’re just in time—I could
use a drinking partner right about now.”
Perched
on the barstool, Chipp turned slowly to meet Anji’s friendly gaze. It was immediately apparent to the Japanese
man that something was wrong. Chipp’s
usually excitable features looked weighted and dull, his eyes oddly dilated in
the well-lit room. Anji frowned. “Chipp…?”
He gave the man’s shoulder a shake.
“You okay, man?”
Chipp
blinked slowly, unspeaking, and Anji was about to question him again when a
thick hand wrapped suddenly around his throat.
He barely had time to realize who it was; he was being dragged away from
the bar, unable to quite get his legs beneath him in time. “Chipp—”
He
hadn’t thought Chipp capable of it.
Without warning he was being lifted off his feet—thrown, bodily, through
the bar’s glass door. Shards scraped
along his back and arms as he was sent flying into
“Mr.
Mito.”
Anji
froze, realizing that unfamiliar voice had come from behind him. Slowly he turned, and gasped sharply as his
gaze slid over more than a dozen pairs of gleaming neon eyes—and the man at
their forefront.
“You’re
a lot taller than I’d imagined,” the stranger declared icily as Chipp moved to
stand beside him. “