Guilty Gear, its characters and settings are property of Sammy Studios, and are being used in this fanfiction without permission.  This fic is rated NC-17 for violence and sexual content, and it contains yaoi material. 

 

Culmination

Chapter 4

 

 

Bridget started his day the same as always: at the first sign of light streaming through the porthole in front of him.  He always slept on his right side so that he would be able to catch the sun as soon as it peeked over the clouds.  It filled him with energy as he rubbed at his eyes and jumped lightly to the floor.  A quick glance at the bottom bunk showed him that Testament was still asleep; adorably so, in Bridget’s opinion, flopped on his stomach with the blankets drawn up to his ears.  When looking at him like that, it was hard to believe any of the mixed stories about Testament he’d heard from the crew.  Grinning, Bridget changed out of his long pajamas before crouching in front of the slumbering Gear.

 

“Te~stament,” he sang, suppressing giggles, as he tickled Testament’s nose with a lock of his hair.  “Wakie wakie.”

 

Testament’s face twitched, but he didn’t sneeze as Bridget had hoped he would.  Instead his hand snapped out without warning to fasten around the younger boy’s wrist.  It hurt, but he managed not to wince as Testament’s eyelids slid open.  “What do you want?” he muttered sleepily.

 

Bridget twisted his hand slightly, and was quickly released.  “It’s morning,” he informed his roommate cheerily.  He never did get a warm reception for his early morning services, but his tenacity was unwavering—Testament would grow to like him, eventually.  “You should be up.  It’s a big day today.”

 

Testament grunted, slipping his hand back under the blankets as he edged away.  “I’ll get up when I’m ready.”

 

“Okay.”  Undaunted, Bridget popped up on his feet again and trotted to the door.  “See ya at breakfast!” he called as he left. 

 

Even this early the Jellyfish Pirate Ship was bustling with activity; the night crew was running about, finishing their duties before slipping off to bed, while their replacements woke each other and hurried to breakfast.  Bridget greeted everyone he met on his way through the corridors; not even a month into his time here and he’d learned all their names, to their delight.  As one of only two regular men on the ship he had been the focus of a lot of attention when first coming aboard.  Now, that curiosity had worn off thanks to Testament and Ky joining them, but he still had a lot of fans in the female crew.  It was a good sign that his progression towards manliness was going well.

 

First stop was the galley, where Bridget reminded the ship’s cook Leap that now that Ky was awake, he deserved a special breakfast with lots of healing nutrition.  What that entailed he didn’t know, but he trusted her to take care of it.  Next he visited the bridge to check in with Johnny for any assignments he might have had for him. 

 

“We ran into a storm last night,” Johnny told him, jotting some notes on a piece of paper.  “We had to swing east to stay out of it—no problems, but it means we won’t be in Rome until late in the afternoon.  Can I count on you to help gather supplies when we get there?”

 

“Aye aye, sir!” Bridget chirped, saluting at strict attention.  “In the meantime, I told Ky I’d help him move into his new room.  Is that acceptable?”

 

Amused by the boy’s enthusiasm, Johnny nodded.  “Take good care of him.”

 

“Sir, yes, sir!”  If Bridget had at all resembled a male sailor during his short briefing, it was spoiled by his childish grin as he skipped away from the bridge once more on light feet.

 

Ky, thankfully, had a better response to Bridget’s hair-waking technique.  His face screwed up boyishly before surrendering a quite sneeze.  “Bridget…?”  He yawned and carefully stretched his weary limbs.  “Good morning.”

 

“Good morning,” Bridget replied happily, already beginning to tug the blankets off him.  “Do you feel all right?  I thought I’d take you down to breakfast before we get you settled in your new room—move you around a little.”

 

“That sounds good,” Ky agreed.  He looked just as eager to be up and about, even if his body wasn’t cooperating as well as it could have been.  It took something of a struggle, but a few minutes later he was on his feet, dressed in fresh white pajamas.  They were soft and comfortable but much too big for him—they hung comically off his shoulders, covering his hands and heels.

 

“I feel like a child,” he confessed.

 

“You look like one,” Bridget replied with a laugh.  “It’s because you’re so skinny—but it’s cute on you.”  He reached up to fix Ky’s hair, actually making it appear more tousled than it already was.  “The girls love it when I walk around like this.  You want them to like you, don’t you?”

 

“Well…they are criminals ….”

 

Bridget made a face at him.  “If you’re going to stay with us for a while, you’re gonna have to stop thinking like that,” he admonished lightly, beginning to lead him towards the door.  Ky was still a little unsteady so he allowed him to lean on his elbow as he chattered on about the ship.  “This place is really great.  We all have a great time, and everyone pitches in to do their jobs.  Usually I work down in the engine room, ‘cause they need strong people—man’s work, you know—but they said it was okay for me to look after you for a while.”

 

“I see.” 

 

Bridget snuck a quick glance up at him, smiling happily.  Ky was looking even better this morning, which he took as something of a personal accomplishment.  He and Dizzy had been mostly responsible for the man’s care the four days of his being unconscious, keeping his fever down while changing his dressings and cleaning his wounds.  He’d taken it seriously, and the results were enough to make him almost giddy with pride.  Ky was all right, and despite his lingering injuries even more gracious and noble than Bridget had expected.  He was enjoying the change, after having spent his time sharing a bunk with Testament who was always so dark and brooding.

 

Bridget ducked his head slightly, blushing, when Ky looked down at him.  Though he had dealt with other police officers in the past concerning his bounties, until now he hadn’t met any quite as impressive.  It filled him with even greater motivation to become a man like that someday.

 

*****

 

Ky glanced about curiously as he was led down the corridors toward what he assumed was the galley.  Bridget prattled on the entire way, but he was only partially listening.  His sleep the night before had been restless; he tossed uncomfortably when he dozed, and in his dreams the faint images from his memories pursued him, preventing him from feeling at all revitalized.  Still, he didn’t want to disappoint Bridget, as the boy seemed so intent on his recovery.  He kept his posture straight as they walked, his face serene despite the tiny tremors of pain in his yet-healing flesh. 

 

He was, however, by now somewhat accustomed to the familiar sting of burns crossing his skin.  He even imagined that his body was becoming used to it.  With the sensation came old memories, and he had to fight to keep his expression carefully even.  Again his mind was drawn to Sol, where he might have been and what he was doing.  It was almost too much to think he might have seen the report of Ky’s disappearance, or that he would care.  However, if the man was targeting the Postwar Administration Bureau, as he had intimated in their last encounter, their paths may yet cross—and soon.  It was a possibility that made something in the back of his skull tighten as if in preparation of a fight.

 

Ky was so lost in his reprieve that he barely noticed whey they reached the galley.  It was Bridget’s cheerful declaration that alerted him.  “Here we are!  I told them to make something special today, just for you.”

 

“You didn’t have to do that,” Ky replied, but he was smiling lightly as Bridget led him inside.  “I am already in debt to everyone, considering that under different circumstances I would be trying to arrest them….”

 

Ky trailed off when he was finally able to take in the scene before him.  The galley was almost obnoxiously alive; there were girls everywhere, bantering back and forth, now and again high-pitched laughter rising over the morning commotion.  Though there were several older teenagers among them, many appeared much younger than Ky had expected to see there.  Even if the Jellyfish Pirates were famous for their youthful crew he noticed several that could not have been much older than twelve. 

 

What drew Ky’s attention more than anything, however, was a group near the center of the long dining table.  Testament was seated among the lines of young women, looking ridiculously out of place in his black shirt and pants, his shoulders higher than most of the girls’ heads.  He appeared to be calmly eating his meal despite the trio of pirates swarming over him.  They were giggling among themselves as they spread out locks of his thick black hair, combing it with pink and blue brushes.  The youngest of the three appeared to be braiding a strand of hair close to his right ear, her tongue peeking out of the corner of her mouth as if dedicating herself to her task with great concentration.  It was an absurdly heart-warming image: the way Testament continued on with his meal despite their treatment; the affection with which his attendants smoothed and untangled his hair.  And to Ky’s even greater shock he could have sworn that the Gear, just before lifting another spoonful of oatmeal to his lips, smiled faintly to himself.

 

All at once the dining room took notice of the officer, and a frenzied cheer rose among the girls as they offered their greetings and made room for him at the table.  As they ushered him inside he caught a few of the older ones straightening their outfits and hair.  Feeling a little dazed, Ky took a seat at the table with Bridget just beside, only once he was settled realizing he was just across from Testament.  The Gear offered him only a glance before returning to his meal.

 

“How are you feeling, Mr. Kiske?” one—or maybe a few—of the girls asked as several plates were pushed in front of him.  “I hope you’re hungry.”

 

“We made waffles—waffles are Swedish, aren’t they?  We heard you were Swedish.”

 

“Are you going to arrest us?”

 

“Are you all okay now?”

 

Someone poked him in the back, and Ky clenched his teeth against a wince of pain.  Thankfully, Bridget quickly shoed the offending child away.  “Thank you all, for your concern,” Ky told them, and the girls abruptly hushed to hear him.  It was almost intimidating.  “I am originally from France, not Sweden.  But…I do like waffles.”

 

He would have mentioned that he wasn’t sure waffles were originally either Swedish or French, but the girls already seemed delighted with his response, and he thought it best not to interrupt them.  Moreover, he quickly found it more important to keep them from smothering his breakfast in all manner of sauces and jams.  Eventually they calmed, though still he was the center of attention throughout his meal.

 

As Ky ate, he couldn’t help but raise his eyes to Testament once more.  The Gear was eating his breakfast calmly, as if having paid no notice to the commotion around.  There was no trace of the smile Ky had thought he’d seen; he began to wonder if he had imagined it altogether.  But there was no mistaking that Testament looked content, despite the people touching and prodding him, and Ky watched his serene expression with almost wonder.

 

Testament leaned back suddenly, untangling the young hands from him as he shook his head.  The girls groaned in dismay as his hair was tossed once more into a mess around his face.  “Testament!” they declared in unison, childish faces twisting in pouts.

 

“It’s all messed up.”

 

“Now we have to do it all over again,” the eldest chided.

 

Testament lowered his head slightly, his now tousled hair hiding from everyone but the man across from him another tiny smile.  “Sorry.”

 

With muttered complaints the three returned to their work, gathering some attention from the others as well as they clucked over Testament’s poor manners.  Ky lowered his head slightly, and finished his own meal in silence.

 

Too many waffles later, Bridget escorted Ky to the room he would be occupying for the duration of his stay.  Bridget had selected a low bunk across from what he later learned was Testament’s; clean sheets had already been laid, and flasks of fresh water were within easy reach.  There was also some space at the back of the room with a table, chairs, and bench--enough that Ky would be able to move around at least.  Altogether he was pleased, as it would allow him to rest and recover his strength equally.  For now he was content to relax at the table, stretching his legs to work some strength back into them as he looked over the information he and Bridget had gathered the day before.

 

Bridget excused himself soon after, claiming he had to meet with May to prepare for when they landed in Rome.  Ky was grateful for the peace left in his wake; though he appreciated the high spirits of the crew, it had been some time since he’d been around so many children.  It was exhausting, and not the best environment for recuperation.  He was looking forward to a quiet morning on his own.

 

The opportunity was short-lived.  Ky had only just spread his papers out across the table when the door to the cabin was opened again, revealing the last person he was prepared to face.  He tried not to look uneasy as Testament slipped inside, didn’t glance up when the footsteps paused and the door closed quietly behind him.  There was silence, thick and awkward, and then, “I won’t disturb you for long.”

 

Ky lifted his gaze cautiously as the floorboards creaked beneath Testament’s boots.  The Gear was moving past him, to a small circular mirror mounted on the wall.  It was then that Ky at last noticed the state of Testament’s hair: it was a mess, arranged in any number of half-formed ponytails, sloppy braids, and loose knots.  Had it been anyone else, Ky would have laughed good-naturedly at the antics of the girls.  But this was Testament standing across from him, trying to loosen the complicated arrangements covering his skull—a Gear with blood on his hands—and he had no idea how he should respond to it.

 

Ky lowered his head once more, trying to return to his work and put the matter out of his mind; but when Testament shook his head suddenly, hair making a soft swish in the silent room, he had to look back.  He licked his lips, idly fingering the silver cross necklace beneath his shirt as if it would grant him strength.  “They…seem pretty fond of you,” he remarked, though he didn’t really expect to find any answers for himself.

 

Testament, busy unraveling a long braid near the back of his head, didn’t glance back.  “They’re little girls,” he replied evenly.  “They’ll look up to anyone.  You’ve seen how they idolize their captain.”

 

Ky frowned slightly.  “Do you mean May, or Johnny?”

 

“Whichever.”

 

“Still, to let them do all that….”  Ky’s fingers curled into fists.  “I thought you hated humans.”

 

He should have known better than to press the issue; it was only going to make Testament defensive, or worse.  He had no intention of disturbing the peace on this ship, especially if Testament was somehow contributing to it.  It was his own memories, however, that prevented him from remaining still, maybe even his instincts.  He hated to think that his prejudice would resurface at a time like this, but someone like Testament, a Gear and murderer, should not have been able to sit so calmly among innocents.

 

Testament didn’t respond at first, though his hands did still in their work.  After a moment he resumed clearing his hair of obstructions.  “I thought you hated Gears,” he replied in kind.

 

Ky pursed his lips—this was not going to end well.  “I never hated Dizzy,” he said carefully.  “And…right now I’m finding it difficult to hate someone who saved my life.”

 

“And ‘right now’ I’m finding it difficult to hate innocent children.”  Testament’s eyes flickered to him through the mirror.  “Let’s just leave it at that.”

 

Of course, Ky had no intention of doing so.  His stomach was twisting nauseously, though he couldn’t be sure if it was in disgust for his present company or for himself.  There had been a time in his life when he would have rather died alone in the rain than accept Testament’s assistance; would, even now, risk his freshly healed life to destroy the creature whose eyes were focused seriously on his.  He could still feel shadows of that person inside him, lingering in his mind and clouding his judgment.  “I suppose that means…you still hate me, and the rest of us…?”

 

The Gear snorted bitterly.  “That would certainly make it easier on you, wouldn’t it?”

 

“I….”  Ky paused, regretting his choice of words again.  But he would not be made out as the only guilty one here.  “I’m sure you can understand that my concerns are not ill-founded.”

 

“And neither are mine,” Testament retorted, turning to face him properly at last.  His red irises seemed to gleam more brightly in the dim light.  “I have every right to hate humans—they created me to be hunted and despised.  Hate me, if you want, but don’t you dare think yourself justified.”

 

Ky sat up taller in his chair despite the strain it put on his back.  “One man was responsible for the creation of Gears,” he said firmly.  In this matter especially he could not back down.  “And the rest of humanity suffered for it.  We had nothing to do with your creation and yet we were slaughtered; is it our fault if we were raised fearing you?”

 

Testament’s eyes thinned, but he was unable to counter Ky’s logic immediately.   They seemed to have argued to a standstill; both sides blamed, both sides innocent.  When the Gear spoke again his voice was considerably lower.  “There was not only one man responsible.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I mean….”  Testament glanced away, his fists tensing faintly at his sides.  “That one man didn’t make me.  It was your people—the Bureau that betrayed you.  We are both their victims now.”

 

“Testament….”  Ky was at a loss for words.  Before, he might have protested, as the Bureau had always appeared more interested in anti-Gear weapons, not Gears themselves.  Now, he could not claim to believe that with certainty.  Whatever Testament had witnessed in the rain that night may be proof enough that they were operating differently than in the past.

 

He closed his eyes.  “I…don’t hate you,” he said quietly, his words measured and sincere.  He felt Testament’s gaze slide back to him but he didn’t look up.  “When we met in the tournament over a year ago you were under the influence of Justice.  When we fought in the forest you were merely protecting Dizzy, with good reason.  Just recently you saved my life.  So…until I find evidence that you mean to do harm against innocents, I have no reason to hate you.”

 

Silence followed for nearly half a minute, and then Testament shifted his weight slightly, replying, “I don’t hate you, either.”

 

Ky sighed, more relieved than he thought he would be from hearing those words.  The ill ease in his stomach dissipated at last as he nodded to himself.  This was progress—the kind of resolution he had been hoping for—and he was proud of them both for it.  He would have said more, something perhaps encouraging or insightful, but Testament was suddenly next to him, one palm pressed to the table as he leaned over it.  Ky pressed his lips and fought the urge to lean back.

 

“What is this?” Testament asked, indicating the papers strewn across the table with a nod of his head.

 

“Um…something Bridget and I were working on,” Ky answered, arranging them a bit more neatly on the table.  He glanced briefly at Testament, and his eyes were drawn to a lock of the Gear’s hair that hadn’t yet been straightened.  It appeared to be the last remnants of a braid.  “It’s a list of names recovered from that robot.”

 

“Trying to find a pattern?” Testament assumed, nodding thoughtfully as he scanned the lists.

 

“Yes.  Hopefully we’ll be able to figure out exactly what the Bureau wants from us.”  Ky’s lips pursed as his gaze returned to Testament.  He reached out almost cautiously to slip his fingers through the locks.  Testament jerked his head back, fixing him with a pointed glare.

 

“You missed one,” Ky explained quietly.

 

Testament’s eyes thinned, and he passed a hand self-consciously through his hair to make sure it was straightened this time.  “Anyway,” he prompted.

 

“Anyway,” Ky quickly continued, embarrassed, “we were able to find a few patterns.  Most of the names on the list of people meant to be apprehended are Japanese.  Some others are practitioners of Japanese fighting styles.  A few, however, seem completely unrelated.  Such as Millia Rage.”  Ky rested his chin on the back of his palm.  “Her bounty should have been cleared by now, and I can’t imagine what they would want with a former member of the Assassin’s Guild.  Unless she has some knowledge of the organization they want suppressed.”

 

“Or just her fighting skill,” Testament pointed out.  “Her strength comes from the Forbidden Beast she carries, which was originally developed as an anti-Gear weapon.”

 

“True.  Though by that explanation shouldn’t they be looking for Zato-1 as well?”

 

“If he’s even still alive.”

 

Ky nodded vaguely.  “Then there’s Johnny,” he continued.  “Other than being a substantial pirate, he doesn’t seem to have any outstanding offenses—nothing remarkable enough that the Bureau would want him killed.”

 

Testament was silent a moment, considering his words as if they held some significance for him.  “What about me?” he asked guardedly.  “Am I in there?”

 

Ky flipped through the papers.  “There was something strange, when we asked it about you,” he admitted.  “And Sol, as well.  The robot said that, according it its orders, neither of you were to be approached.  Only that the Bureau was to be notified of your whereabouts, and to await reinforcements.”

 

Testament snorted quietly, the closest to sounding amused as he ever did.  “I wonder if that means they thought normal robots couldn’t handle us.”

 

Though Ky was not usually susceptible to something as base as jealousy, he couldn’t help but be somewhat perturbed.  “Sol, at least, I can understand,” he murmured.  “But I’ve defeated you before, and they didn’t mention anything like that about me.”

 

The Gear cocked an eye at him, and for a moment Ky was worried that he might be offended, but he moved past the issue quickly.  “And Dizzy?”

 

“They have no orders regarding her, apparently.”

 

“I see.”  Testament straightened, trying to be inconspicuous as he checked his reflection in the mirror.  “It’s not much to go on, is it?  You might have better luck looking for the origin of the robots, rather than their intent.”

 

“Maybe….”  Ky watched, a little subdued, as Testament moved away once more.  Though it seemed they had reached a truce he wasn’t sure how he was expected to react to him from now on.  He felt as if he should say something, to be certain that this bizarre encounter had even taken place.  Just as his lips parted to speak, however, Testament turned abruptly to fix him with an even stare.

 

“June told me to tell you that she would be coming by soon,” he said.  “If you’re going to be moving around more you’ll need to get your wounds cleaned and your bandages changed.”

 

It wasn’t anything like what Ky had been expecting to hear, and he only managed to nod blankly.  “Um…yes, of course.  Thank you.”

 

Testament nodded back, and before Ky could think of what he’d wanted to say, he had slipped outside the room once more.

 

---

 

When Dr. Leona Mariot was called over by one of her technicians to receive a call, she wasn’t surprised by the low, gravely tone of the voice she was met with.  She was relieved, even—several days had passed since the report had reached her of the incident in Genoa, and even if the man’s greeting was less than hospitable it put all her fears to rest. 

 

“Mariot.  Give me your report.”

 

She waved the technician away, unconsciously straightening the front of her dark suit coat.  “We have been operating smoothly and without incident since your departure.”  Her response, as always, was clear, rehearsed, and to the point.  “Another thirteen units were cleared for active duty this morning, and there are currently seventeen undergoing Final Phase programming.”

 

“Good.  We’ll need them as soon as possible.  We’ve suffered massive causalities—I’ve already sent a unit with the report.”

 

Leona nodded faintly, though she would have appreciated a better explanation.  But she dared not question the man, especially when he was speaking so quickly, a clear sign of the agitation he was famous for.  “All thirty units will be deployed before nightfall, along with the extra dozen we predict to be ready by then,” she promised.  “Fully armed and operational, as always.  Though we’ve updated their parameters.”

 

“I see.  Then he’s arrived.”

 

“Yes.”  Leona wandered across the large chamber she had been working in before the call, the tap of her heels echoing hollowly from the dull metal floor.  Half a dozen technicians were buzzing around her, drifting from consol to consol, reading off and imputing new data.  She joined a pair of them at the far end of the chamber where a long, metal, slab-like table bore the fruits of their latest labor.  “We lost three units earlier this morning when he recovered from the effects of our drugs too quickly,” she reported, eyes skimming over the man imprisoned there.  “Since doubling the dosage he’s given us no problems.  And don’t worry,” she quickly added.  “Your test results won’t be affected.  He’ll just sleep here until you return.”

 

“There’s been a slight change of plans,” her superior on the other end said abruptly.  She could just imagine his dark eyes narrowing to match his tone.  “I was unable to dispose of Officer Kiske in Genoa.  Someone else interfered.  He’ll have to be dealt with before we move on to the next phase of the project.”

 

“I see.”  Though it wasn’t promising news, Leona had expected as much.  The man may have been a genius in his own right, but even he had failed to realize it was still far too early to be challenging an enemy as formidable as Ky Kiske.  She made no further comment.  “Where would you like the new units deployed to, Sir?”

 

“Rome.  I’ll be there myself soon.  And be careful—we’ve lost an unusual amount of units in the last seven days.  Someone may be closing in on your location.”

 

“Understood.”  There was any number of people who could be responsible, and none of the possibilities were promising.  Though operational, with so many of their “children” being put so quickly on active duty as per their superiors’ orders, there were very few left to guard the factory.  “I wish you luck as well, sir.”

 

There was a pause at the other end of the line, and after a long moment the man gruffly replied, “Don’t be ridiculous.”  And the line was cut.

 

Leona sighed quietly, slipping the device into the hand of a waiting technician as she turned back to her newest subject.  “It’s no wonder he gave us trouble, really,” she said thoughtfully, drawing her fingertips over the curve of a sculpted bicep.  “Though he’s not even native Japanese.  What good can he do us at this stage?”

 

“Ma’am?”  One of the lab-coated men on her right watched her curiously.  “We can begin any time.”

 

“Yes, of course.”  Leona snorted quietly, ruffling the youth’s pale hair.  “Let’s see what this boy can do for us.”

 

 

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