Fayt thought it would be so easy to make a new life for himself on Elicoor II—especially after everything he had already been through. But for a world considered so insignificant in the grand scheme of their dimension's existence, he underestimated the importance of the man who so desperately wanted to leave it behind.

This started when, on my second run-through of SO3, I noticed that Albel and the Aquarian Queen looked fairly similar.

Disclaimer: Who owns Star Ocean and its related characters, locales, plots, and such? greyrondo doesn't. But Fayt and Albel's dysfunctional relationship (as described in this situation), original characters, and other necessary inventions are mine.

Chapter One

Fayt struggled to his feet, and choked through the hot metallic tang of blood in his mouth. His blood. He reached to wipe it away with his hand, only to find the bleeding red stain dying his fingertips. That blood wasn't his. His heartbeat pounded in his head, and he couldn't remember where the blood had come from.

He was surrounded by flames. Curtains that rose up like walls, snapping at him as lively as electricity even as it shut out all other light with its smoky ashes. But then, even as he peered into the solid flames, charred and desolate landscape fleshed out on all sides.

He stood on the remains of a battlefield, overturned earth and smoldering ruins impromptu grave markers for the countless dead, both human and dragon, around him. None stirred; none lived. Only a silhouette standing on a rise in front of him, ruby droplets of crimson blood dripping from the tip of the lightly curved blade in its hand. The other hand was a monster's.

"You'll kill me," the silhouette called to him, defiant and proud even as it proclaimed this in despair. "You'll be my death."

And Fayt saw, around him, the telltale concentric circles and arcane symbols burned into the very ground. He had unleashed his power here.

That voice laughed. A low cackle, that rose in pitch until it sounded as though it could only escape the lips of a madman.

"So much for my own sorry blood-soaked existence," the voice continued, gasping for breath, when it had a surfeit of laughter. "Fate has no mercy for the wicked, after all…"

The voice found this wordplay incredibly hilarious. As that cackle resumed, Fayt pushed past the fire, the flames parting playfully like shades. He reached out to the silhouette and shouted out its name.

"Albel!!"

Fayt sat up, his eyes wide and breath fast. The world around him was darkened and blue, pearlescent where moonlight graced it from the open window that looked out onto the peaceful nighttime streets of Peterny.

"Damn," he said softly, with none of the force of his waking outburst, and he roughly massaged his eyebrows before leaning back into the thin, worn pillows.

The misty wisp of chill in the night air caught at his throat as he breathed in slowly, reassuring his rapid heart.

Seven nights since he'd said goodbye to his only lifeline to the rest of what he, six months prior, would have considered civilization. Seven nights since the nightmares began.

"You don't have to do this," he heard Sophia's voice tell him in the darkness. Not that she was really there. No, part of the reason he'd been so eager to stay here on this technologically backward planet was so that he would leave behind the childhood friend he'd so quickly grown apart from, and just as quickly grown annoyed with as their differences became painfully obvious.

It was just moments before he'd leave her behind, and steps away from the transporter pad that would do the deed. His last time on the Diplo, for who knows how long.

"No, I don't have to do anything now," Fayt answered back. "So there's nothing stopping me from doing what I want to do."

"Stay on this backwater planet?! When you can come back with me? I know you, Fayt, and you'll be missing our old life as soon as you step off that transporter pad."

That had upset Fayt, he remembered. Sophia claiming she knew him when she hadn't been there for everything that changed him.

"It takes a lot to really know somebody, Sophia," he'd told her, holding his tongue. The other part of the reason he was here had absolutely nothing to do with Sophia, and absolutely everything to do with something she could never know.

Even though he couldn't even stand Sophia now, the fact that they had once been close had been reason enough for Fayt to never tell her the true reason he'd wanted to stay behind on Elicoor II.

Sophia was quiet for a moment, and Fayt could hear the whisper-soft humming of the engines of the Diplo between them. But she finally found her voice.

"So who is it?" she wanted to know. "Who's the one you're staying behind for?"

"What are you talking about?" Fayt retorted.

Sophia shook her head. "Don't play like you don't know what I'm talking about-- I can tell you're lying to me. I know it's not Maria, of course, or you wouldn't be leaving. It's Miss Nel, isn't it?"

There were tears in Sophia's voice, and Fayt flushed as he felt the pairs of eyes observing this scene. The crew of the Diplo, all of whom they'd become close to, and Fayt's closer companions Cliff Fitter, Maria Traydor, even Peppita Rosetti. Not to mention the just-mentioned Nel Zelpher. Albel.

"It's nothing like that," he insisted heatedly. Then he sighed.

"Sophia, don't treat this like it's the end of the world," Fayt said, trying to mask a bit of compassion. "I mean, we know what that's like, right?" he laughed softly.

All I do is destroy, Fayt thought to himself as he wallowed in a bit of well-nursed guilt. It had been so easy to say that she didn't need to know the reason when I thought this would actually work.

But the only thing that had happened was the nightmares.

I should have told her, Fayt chided himself, I should have told her the truth. That there's no way I could have stayed behind for her, and that there's no way I could possibly be leaving her for one of the other girls. Then she'd feel better, knowing there was nothing she could do.

Fayt's self-deprecating musings stopped suddenly, and he caught his breath. A muffled cry, from the next room. It did not sound like a dreaming shout, which he had become used to. Someone had been hurt.

And then Fayt was dressed, and outside of his room with his sword in his hand, pressed against the wall, before he had even fully comprehended what he was doing. He prepared to strike as the doorknob twisted open.

"At least you've got some sense," a familiar growl said by way of greeting, its owner noting the glinting sword in Fayt's hands.

Albel. "We're leaving. Now."

"What happened," Fayt wanted to know. "I heard…"

Fayt saw the suggestion of a huddled shape inside the room, lying haphazardly on the floor. It was still, and Fayt caught the faint scent of blood. That was when Fayt noticed Albel was injured. A small wound blossomed low on Albel's waist.

"Later," Albel promised, forcing himself past Fayt and stepping into the hallway. He was fully dressed, or as much as Fayt figured he would be wearing. It was time to go.

The innkeepers were sleeping; so was the rest of Peterny, it seemed. Darkened market stalls waited patiently in the starlight for the morning and trade; even the cobblestones were hushed by the night. There was a single mote of light glowing in the window of the Church of Apris, as Fayt doubted the direction of Albel's lead.

"Albel, isn't Aquios north?" Fayt told him, wondering if something worse than that graze had been inflicted. It wasn't like Albel to be so unfocused, otherwise.

Albel turned on Fayt, his voice only a breath, but vehement and urgent.

"Listen to me, fool. Six minutes ago I killed a man who was after my blood. He wore this," Albel produced an embroidered badge. The emblem was Crimson Blade's.

Fayt took a moment to register this. "But that's…"

"He was Lady Nel's, but I find it hard to believe this is her handiwork. We'll be in Arias by morning. I want answers."

So do I, Fayt thought to himself. Only you're the one that has them. "Is this about that letter the Aquarian court sent you?"

Fayt would not have even known it was from Aquaria had it not been sealed in wax by one of the many Aquarian emblems, a maiden pouring water from a vase on her shoulder. He could only guess at its contents, from the expression of suppressed rage that darkened Albel's features as he read it. He'd tossed it in the simmering fire before wordlessly gathering together his cloak and sword, for the journey. Albel had refused the company of his soldiers, and would have done the same to Fayt himself, had he not refused to leave Albel's side.

Albel didn't answer until they left the protective walls of Peterny. "I suspect it does," he said, his short temper showing in his voice. But even as he said it, Fayt couldn't help but notice the lack of energy behind it. Albel stumbled on a rock in the dark, and growled to himself.

At first he thought that was just Albel being Albel. He hated being ignorant in any situation, as Fayt remembered all too well from their time in 4D, and Fayt had long since accepted that aggression and aggravation were Albel's preferred methods of reciprocating.

But something felt wrong. Maybe it was because he'd heard that hollowed-out sound in Albel's voice before, but it wasn't when he was agitated. Maybe Fayt was just imagining this, since for the first time, there was something troubling Albel and Fayt hadn't been included in knowing what it was.

Or maybe he remembered where he'd heard that tone before, and it had been just before Albel had given up trying to hold on to his consciousness after the Vendeeni had shot him.

"Albel, you're really hurt, aren't you?" Fayt said. "Stop. Let me heal your wound before it gets worse."

"We can't stop," Albel argued, his voice painfully shallow as he moved on. "Do you really think that my would-be assassin went in alone? Crimson Blade works in pairs, at the very least. The sooner we get to Arias, the sooner we can get this taken care of."

Albel breathed in jaggedly, and then shuddered through his next step.

Fayt looked at the back of Albel's head in disbelief. "You can't possibly expect to travel all the way to Arias wounded like that! Sure, it'll be risky if we stop, but at least you won't die halfway!"

Albel did stop at that. "You have no idea what I've lived through."

Fayt wanted to ask what that was supposed to mean, but then Albel hushed him, for he'd heard something.

Great, Fayt mused. The last thing we need is to waste time fending off wild beasts. Unless it was the reinforcements that Albel predicted.

Then Fayt relaxed the tension in his stance, letting his sword drop to his side. He'd heard a shout, and it had been familiar.

"Tynave! Farlene! Flush the surrounding areas for the rest of Astor's men!" Nel barked to her own subordinates, presumably the ones rustling in the darkened surroundings, as she approached them. Seeing that Albel had done nothing to relax the tension in his own sword, Nel took out her blades and held them, harmless, in her open palms.

"Lord Albel, you were smart to leave Peterny. And if my messengers had not been intercepted, you would never have entered and been placed in harm's way." Nel's voice was oddly formal, apologetic, even.

"You're telling me that he wasn't yours? Then explain this," he said breathlessly, sheathing his sword and bringing forward Nel's emblem.

Nel nodded as she registered the familiarity of her own emblem, then looked at it with what appeared to be restrained displeasure. "Please allow me to explain—Lord Albel!!"

Nel, who was closest to him, kneeled and caught Albel as he fell. Fayt was by his side in a breath of a moment. Albel was awake, but his eyes were half-closed and his focus was not with them.

"He wouldn't let me heal him," Fayt said to Nel's widened eyes. Nel was silent for a moment, quiet in thought, and then answered.

"You wouldn't have been able to heal him anyways. This is Crimson Blade poison, and only we have the antidote."

Fayt and Nel locked their gazes for just a moment, a wordless argument taking place between them. Finally, Nel acquiesced and told Fayt to take Albel while she rummaged in her clothing for what ended up being a small vial. She uncorked it, then hesitantly handed it to Fayt.

Tynave and Farlene entered the clearing just as Fayt tilted the vial into Albel's parted lips. They took one long look at the half-awake man whose second-in-command had tortured them within a breath of their lives.

"Gone to Peterny, or maybe even on their way to Aquios or the Sanmite Republic by now, Lady Nel," Tynave reported. "I'm sorry."

Nel sighed. Obviously, it wasn't satisfactory to her, but Tynave and Farlene could hardly be blamed. "Do you think you could carry him? Our caravan's on the road just ahead," she explained.

"I can walk, thanks for asking," Albel told them, the effect somewhat diminished by his weak voice.

"That's why I didn't ask you," Nel mused to herself as she stood up. "I'll explain everything on the way back. Let's move now."