Warnings for language and OOCness in this chapter and lemon, fluff, angst, and yaoi in future chapter(s).

Jazz sighed, ducking to avoid the low-hanging branches he could just make out in the moonlight. 'Fucked up' didn't even start to do his life justice.

He had spent the night arguing with Crescendo and ex-spy fiancé about the good of the people, Falsetto was off leading the rebellion since Jazz was "too much of a coward to do it," Allegretto was stuck in the infirmary after getting himself spitted, the children were tired and restless after living for so long on combat-time, and Frederic – the peace maker of the family – was moody and withdrawn, spending half the time locked in his room. Jazz kept meaning to find something to brighten everyone's day, when he had the chance.

He never had the chance, though; that was the problem. There was an entire mutinous, leaderless kingdom to deal with now that Waltz was gone. Prince Crescendo's father was on his deathbed, Serenade's place as future queen in serious debate, and while their crisis played out Andantino suffered from lack of funding, lack of supplies, lack of weapons and clothes and doctors and survivors. Those that still supported Waltz were out for blood, and it wasn't safe anywhere anymore. Jazz was putting his life on the line by coming home from Baroque so late at night, and although cutting through the woods was twice as fast as going around, the place was dark and crowded with shapeless trees: the perfect place for assassination attempts.

He sighed again. This madness was taking a toll on all of them, and there wasn't much of an end in sight. Tempers were running high, and if the angry civilians of Forte didn't kill them, they'd probably rip each other apart instead. It was too dangerous for the kids to go outside and the grown-ups were high strung, and truth be told Jazz wasn't sure he wanted to go home. The only person who hadn't screamed or cried in the last week was Frederic, who instead seemed to be living in a dream world, disconnected from everyone else. He seemed tired and apathetic… lonely, almost, and the rebellion leader had to wonder if in his mind he was back in Paris.

It was hard enough to lose Claves so suddenly, but it was another thing altogether to watch the man he regarded as his brother waste away, dying by his own hand. And yet, Jazz didn't care enough to confront him about it. He felt the guilt in his throat again, that feeling, that gods damned feeling that there was something he was missing, something obvious he always overlooked.

Before his thoughts could go any further, something ahead of him moved in the darkness. Jazz stopped dead. The soft rustling of leaves and twigs continued, and he could tell it wasn't an animal. It was definitely a person… a person trying very hard to be quiet, although it was obvious they had no formal training.

Damn it. He didn't want any more civilian blood on his hands. He readied his blade just in case, and took a step back into the dense underbrush. With any luck they wouldn't notice him, maybe walk right past, and no one would get hurt. He took another step back and a dead branch snapped under his boot.

Damn it all! He held his breath as the footsteps got closer, trying to make himself as small as possible. He really didn't want to deal with this tonight.

"Fugue…?" Jazz jumped a little, not because of the proximity of the voice but because of the voice itself. "Is that you?"

And between the leaves the swordsman could make out a mass of violet and white, moving slowly and scanning the surrounding trees.

"Frederic." Jazz moved out of his hiding place, right in front of his friend. Frederic made a small, chocked noise in the back of his throat, obviously fighting the urge to run. Instead he backed away a few paces, both hands held out before him as though afraid of being struck.

"O-oh, hi," he managed, sinking a little against a tree trunk.

"Are you alright?" Jazz demanded, coming closer and laying a hand on both his trembling shoulders. "What happened? What's wrong?"

Frederic opened and closed his mouth, though no sound came out. He looked like a frightened deer, wide, glossy eyes reflecting the dappled moonlight, every muscle tensed to run. Jazz shook him a little.

"Look at me. What's going on?"

Another voice, maybe a hundred yards away, rang through the cold night air. "Frederic!"

Jazz glanced off to his left and then back to the man in front of him, alarmed. Who the hell–

But before he could get any words out, Frederic broke away and took off running in the opposite direction, away from the voice. What the hell? Jazz hesitated for a moment before deciding to chase after the composer, leaving whatever evil that had scared the man away to lurk in the undergrowth.

For being so small the pianist was much faster than they gave him credit for, and it took Jazz nearly a full minute to catch up with him. He took the slighter man in a backwards hug to keep from harming him, pulling the struggling mass of violet up close to his chest and wrapping his free arm about his legs.

"Frederic, what the fuck?"

Frederic thrashed for another moment before going limp. Jazz frowned. Usually he was too proud to let anyone touch him, let alone hold him like this.

Suddenly the swordsman regretted being so harsh.

"Frederic, are you okay?" Silently the man nodded, and Jazz realized he was crying. Oh, gods. "Don't cry! Are you hurt?" Jazz stood him up carefully and ran one hand down his shirtfront, checking for wounds. "What's wrong?"

Finally Frederic found his voice again. "N-no, I'm not… I'm not hurt, Jazz, I'm alright." Feebly he pushed the large hand away. "It's alright."

"It's not alright or you wouldn't be crying! What's the matter?"

The pianist licked his lips, and Jazz could almost see the gears in his head running, trying to come up with a believable excuse. "I- you frightened me. I must have been sleepwalking, and it startled me to wake in the middle of the forest when I remember being in bed. I am awake now, though, so please don't worry about it any longer." He gave a half-hearted smile that Jazz didn't return, didn't believe. It hurt to know his friend didn't trust him enough to tell him the truth, but it hurt even more to know that he was helpless to do anything about it. If he confronted him about it, Frederic would just give him another bullshit explanation and withdraw further… but if he didn't confront him, the man might get himself killed wandering out in the forest all hours of the night.

"Have you been sleepwalking a lot lately?"

"I am… not sure. That would certainly explain quite a bit, wouldn't it?" Frederic smiled again, straightening up, and Jazz could tell he was eager to get away as soon as possible.

"Well, let's get home and we'll figure this all out in the morning." He took Frederic's arm and began leading him back towards the caves, noting the way his friend looked almost wistfully over his shoulder at the dark mass of trees. "You coming?"

"Hm? Oh, yes." With his free hand he touched his hair, as though that were meant to be an explanation. "I was, ah, wondering where my hat got to, that's all."

"It's too late to go look for it tonight." Frederic nodded, stealing one more longing glance before allowing himself to be led back to bed.

Wow... hi! It's been a while! ^-^ I'm not entirely happy with this chapter, but I have the day off today (shh, I'm supposed to be sick XD) and this story WILL NOT leave me alone, so I'm posting it anyway. Any comments or suggestions are welcome as always.

This story (an eventual Fugue x Frederic, if you hadn't noticed) is dedicated to all the lovely people who read, reviewed, and faved my earlier story "The Angel and the Demon." That was my first lemon and my very, very first yaoi, so all the support and love was much appreciated. Thanks, everyone! 3